"Go on," Slaughter cried, with a savage energy.
"I only talk to a mate I can trust," the man answered. "I didn't come here because it's your hut. We struck it on the road, and called in for a boil of the billy, and finding no one in, borrowed what we wanted. Seeing it's yours, and we ain't welcome, we'll move along. If the taint of Kate Blair in both our lives don't make us mates, why, it's so long to you and——"
He saw the lips press closer together and the frown grow deeper as Slaughter heard the name again, and he went on—
"But maybe you're friends with her now, friends with the"—he laughed, not too musically—"the woman who well-nigh hanged you."
The taunt let loose the rage and fury that had been gradually growing in Slaughter's mind; let loose from his restraint all the passionate emotions stirred and re-stirred by the events of the day; and before the storm of fierce denunciation to which he gave vent, one of the two men quailed, and strove to edge nearer the door. The black-browed man stood still, watching Slaughter as he raved, with an evil smile lurking round the corners of his thin lips.
When, from sheer exhaustion, the enraged Slaughter paused for a moment, he had his words ready.
"Good," he said. "You've not forgotten. More have I. Now that I know you, I'll tell you. I'm going back to make things square. Will you join me?"
Slaughter looked at him, his rage still rankling and burning.
"Going back?" he said. "Back? What! back to Sydney?"