“‘Of course it’s possible he’s walked in the water,’ Baker said.
“‘We’d have caught him by now if he had,’ Len said—‘he couldn’t get along quickly in the water. Anyhow, if I don’t see anything of him before we get to the next bend, I’m going back to the fire.’
“They were nearly up to the bend, and Len was feeling desperate, when he saw a boot-mark half-way down the bank on the other side. He was over like a shot—the creek was very shallow—and there were tracks as plain as possible, leading down to the water!
“You can bet they went on then!
“They caught him a bit farther up. He heard them coming, and left his swag, so’s he could get on quicker. They caught that first, and then they caught him. He had ‘planted’ in a clump of scrub, and they nearly passed him, but Len caught sight of him, and they had him in a minute.”
“Did he come easily?” asked Wally.
“Rather not! He sent old Len flying—gave him an awful black eye. Len was, up again and at him like a shot, and I reckon it was jolly plucky of a chap of Len’s age, and I dare say he’d have had an awful hiding if Sam hadn’t arrived on the scene. Sam is a big, silent chap, and he can fight anybody in this district. He landed the swaggie first with one fist and then with the other, and the swaggie reckoned he’d been struck by a thunderbolt when they fished him out of the creek, where he had rolled! You see, Sam’s very fond of Len, and it annoyed him to see his eye.
“The swaggie did not do any more resisting. He was like a half-dead, drowned rat. Len and Sam brought him up to the men at the fire just after we’d left to try to save Dad’s Shropshires, and they and Mr. Morrison could hardly keep the men off him. He hid behind Sam, and cried and begged them to protect him. They said it was beastly.”
“Rather!” said Harry. “Where’s he now?”
“Melbourne Gaol. He got three years,” said Jim. “I guess he’s reflecting on the foolishness of using matches too freely!”