"Yes; but he didn't belong to that lot. He used it as a hiding-place, I fancy. He'd had a miserable life from what he told me."
Gray was putting on his boots, and apparently paying but little attention to Harding's remarks.
"I suppose you could find it, though?" he said carelessly.
"Easily enough. You've just got to follow the track till Rodwell's Peak is right in front of you. You've never been in the uplands, have you, Gray?" Harding broke off to say. "It's grand scenery. You ought to go there one day."
"Suppose we go there now."
Gray had finished putting on his boots, and was taking his whip down from the nail. He said it laughingly, looking back at Harding over his shoulder. Harding, who was washing the dishes at the table, returned his laughing look with a wondering glance.
"How could we? Who'd look after the stock?"
"Leave them to take care of themselves, the ugly brutes," went on Gray in the same laughing way. "Let us run up to Deadman's Gully and appropriate that coin, Harding. What do you say to that plan, eh?"
Harding laughed, but half-sadly.
"I believe you'd make a joke of anything, lad. But don't joke about that money. It don't seem right."