"I wish to stay here to-night," Durham answered.
"Then chuck over the cash."
It was obvious that if Durham wished to stay, he would have to pay, so without further demur he passed over the amount Dudgeon demanded for his supper and bed.
"Now we start fair," the old man said, as he put the money in his pocket. "I'm under no obligation to you and you're under no obligation to me. That is what I call trading square."
He unlocked the door and flung it open.
"You'll find some cold meat and bread on the shelf, and there's tea in the canister over the fire-place. You'll have to fetch what water you want from the tank."
As Durham entered the hut, Dudgeon went to the buggy and lifted one of the bags of gold in his arms, carrying it inside.
The hut was a small and unpretentious structure. The door opened directly into the living-room, to which there was only one small window looking out on the verandah. A second door led into a small kitchen, off which opened another small room used by Dudgeon for sleeping.
With the bag of gold in his arms he stood in the doorway.
"You'll have to sleep on that stretcher over there," he said, nodding to a rough framework of untrimmed saplings with a length of coarse canvas fastened across. "You won't be cold. Keep a good fire on. You'll find an axe in the harness shed if you want to get any wood."