"And the fence?" asked Bill "We don't want those cursed rabbits to get through to our side."
"There are plenty to look after it; men are always disappearing. There are good and bad among us. Some fellows are there fighting down the drink curse. I don't blame 'em; it's their only chance. I know two of 'em, good men in their way, but I can tell how it would be with them if they went back to a town life. They'd go under quick. I've been in many a jag myself, but that's not why I came out. I can stifle it; it's only a matter of will," declared Glen.
"I don't know so much about that. I've had a lot of experience in that line. Some of the poor beggars can't help themselves," said Bill, and then added, "They've buried Calder. There'll be no inquiry. Most people think he shot himself. Anyhow we've shovelled him away in Boonara. If any trouble is made they can dig him up again and call him as witness. He's the only one who could give evidence. All your fellows are glad he's gone."
Jim listened in silence, with a feeling of relief; he did not in the least regret what he had done. He regarded it as a righteous act.
The woman sat up. When she saw Bill she asked, "When did he come?"
This was almost the first sentence she had spoken correctly. Hitherto her words had come disjointedly—in jerks.
"Me, my lass? I've just dropped in to see my friend, Glen. He told me you were here."
"I've been here a long time. Oh, such a long time. I must have been sleeping for weeks. I've forgotten which is Glen," she answered.
"I'm Glen—Glen Leigh," he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
"How silly of me that I didn't remember, but I shall not forget again. You have been very good to me. Have I been very ill?"