“I really don’t know,” answered Aunt Annie, “all I know is that they went to Sydney. But I think I heard that Lucy was married.”
Just then Uncle Abe and Andy came in to breakfast. Andy sat down in the corner with a wooden face, and Uncle Abe, who was a tall man, took up a position, with his back to the fire, by the side of the senior trooper, and seemed perfectly at home and at ease. He lifted up his coat behind, and his face was a study in bucolic unconsciousness. The settler passed through to the boys’ room (which was harness room, feed room, tool house, and several other things), and as he passed out with a shovel the sergeant said, “So you haven’t seen anyone along here for three days?”
“No,” said the settler.
“Except Jimmy Marshfield that took over Barker’s selection in Long Gully,” put in Aunt Annie. “He was here yesterday. Do you want him?”
“An’ them three fellers on horseback as rode past the corner of the lower paddock the day afore yesterday,” mumbled Uncle Abe, “but one of ‘em was one of the Coxes’ boys, I think.”
At the sound of Uncle Abe’s voice both women started and paled, and looked as if they’d like to gag him, but he was safe.
“What were they like?” asked the constable.
The women paled again, but Uncle Abe described them. He had imagination, and was only slow where the truth was concerned.
“Which way were they going?” asked the constable. “Towards Mudgee” (the police-station township), said Uncle Abe.
The constable gave his arm an impatient jerk and dropped Uncle Abe.