A light appeared at the window of the public-house; a sash was thrown open, and somebody shouted, "Who is there?"
"Can you get hold of it?" asked Joe, as he stood to clean the sweat from his unshaven face.
"I cannot," I answered. "It's a wonderful bird."
"Wonderful damned fraud!" said my mate bitterly. "Why didn't it die decent?"
"Who's there? I say," shouted the man at the window. I made a desperate rush after the rooster, and grabbed it by the neck.
"It will not get away this time, anyhow," I said.
"Where is my other boot, Flynn?" called out Joe.
"I do not know," I replied truthfully.
The door opened, and Moleskin's boot was not to be found. We sank into the shadow of the earth and waited, meanwhile groping around with our hands for the missing property. Across the level a man came towards us slowly and cautiously.
"We had better run for it," I said.