"Oh, yes, I know!" cried Moya.
So Theodore was hand-in-glove with the enemy! Not that the police were the enemy at all; they were only his enemies; but the fact remained that Theodore was one of them. Very likely he had already made them a present of his suspicions; nothing likelier, or more fitting, than the exposure of her "lover" through her own brother's agency. It will be seen that her bitterness against one was rapidly embittering Moya's view of all and sundry. She was not original in that.
"I forgot my water-bag," the jackeroo remarked. "I shall have to gallop to catch them up."
But he was too polite to move.
"Must you catch them up?" inquired Moya, in flattering dumps: but indeed it would be deadly at the station all day, and such a day, without a soul to speak to!
"Well, they won't wait for me, because they told me what to do," said Ives on reflection.
"And what have you to do?" asked Moya, smiling.
"Go down the fence; it's easiest, you know."
"But what are you all going to do? What does this mustering mean?"
Ives determined in his own mind to blow the odds. He was not only a gentleman; he was a young man; and Miss Bethune should have all the information she wanted and he could give. Ives began to appreciate her attractions, and Rigden's good fortune, for the first time as they deserved. It would be another place after the marriage. She was a ripper when you got her to yourself.