"Well, Jim, I don't want you to go; that is to say, I should miss you very much; but if you could find out the haunts of these scoundrels, you would be doing me a very great service, as well as the people of all the stations."
"Jim no care about oder people," the black said. "He care for de captain, and will go out and try and find tracks."
"Be careful, Jim, and don't get into trouble with them. If you were to fall into their hands, and they were to find out you were connected with the police, they would shoot you like a dog."
"Dey won't find out. White man not understand. Black fellow all one to him. You hab no fear for Jim. Who look after hoss, while Jim away?"
"I shall appoint one of the policemen as my orderly, Jim, and he will look after him."
Jim made a contemptuous gesture, to signify that he had little confidence in the power of any white man to look after Tartar. For the rest of the evening Jim was occupied in cooking, and in the morning he was gone.
A week later, Reuben was among the outlying stations again. He had heard nothing of the bush rangers, and no fresh attacks had been made by them, since that upon Dick Caister's station.
One evening, just as he had gone up to bed, he was roused by a sharp knocking at the door of the house in which he was stopping. The settlers had grown cautious now, and an upper window was opened, and Reuben heard the questions, "Who is there?" and "What is it?"
"Is Captain Whitney here?"
"Yes, do you want him?"