Garry was silent. Should he tell Glen how much he knew? There was no necessity for it, and he might be dragged into trouble if he did.
"I've never seen him walk in his sleep," he replied eventually, "but he's a queer fellow, and has more on his conscience than I'd care to carry."
"I've heard of strange doings at Mintaro when I was on the fence," said Glen.
"What sort of doings?"
"About women who came and stayed for a time and were sent away."
"I'd rather say nothing about it," answered Garry.
Glen did not press the subject; he could find out what he wanted later on. In case it were necessary, he would put a straight question or two to Garry.
It was late when they arrived at Five Rocks and camped for the night. The place was well named. Five large rocks rose from the ground in the strangest manner. They were conical, smooth, not many yards apart. Their formation was a strange freak of nature. They were probably the result of a fierce upheaval in some far distant age, when natives and wild animals were the only occupants of the vast territory.
There was a water hole in the centre of the group, fed from the rocks, and Garry said it was this which brought the horses round, for it was seldom dry.
The six Boonara men were strong sturdy fellows used to a life of hardships. They were not given to conversation and quickly rolled over, with their saddles for pillows, and went to sleep.