Dudgeon let go the buckle and took two slow, deliberate steps nearer Durham.
"Brought it with him?" he exclaimed. "And only arrived about noon?"
"About that, I believe," Durham replied.
The old man snatched the hat from his head and flung it on the ground.
"Sold! by God! Sold!" he yelled. "If I'd been there before that chap arrived, I'd have beaten them—they couldn't have paid, and I'd have cried off the deal. Why didn't you come and tell me earlier? What's the good of your coming here now?"
"Don't you think it rather risky to drive through the bush with a pile of money like that in your buggy while those bank robbers are still at liberty?" Durham said quietly.
Dudgeon stood back and looked at him quizzically.
"Oh, you're on it too, are you? That's your game, is it? Well, see here, my lad, anyone who can take this money without my knowing it is welcome to it. Do you understand?"
He resumed his work of unharnessing the horse, leading it away, as soon as it was clear of the shafts, to a lean-to shed at the side of the hut where he hung up the harness and turned the horse free.
"Well, how about that half-crown? Are you going to stay, or aren't you? Government won't pay that, you know. You find your own tucker, my lad."