"Yes? Well?" enquired Peckover, curiously.
"And two of them are there now," continued Lalage with a world of uncomfortable meaning.
"I wish you two were," thought Peckover. "Tell us all about it," he said resignedly.
"Go on, Carnaby," his sister commanded.
Whether or not the man of thews and sinews had been keeping up his constitution injudiciously at the Three Pigeons, certain it was that his brain did not seem in glib working order. "Ah, yes," he said slowly, quailing under Lalage's eye, "three mounted constabulary——" after which thrilling statement he paused.
"Came after you in the Bush," the flippant Peckover ventured to supply. "Yes, we've heard that." For the little man saw no chance of ending the interview till the narrative was concluded.
Mr. Leo, failing to stimulate his imagination to the required point, fell back upon a more ready and less intellectual form of address. "I'll eat you in a minute, boots and all," he informed his impatient listener with an undue amount of emphasis. Then, as though the outburst had spurred his invention, he went on, "Three—three mounted police at me at once. Three to one——"
"Cowards," commented Peckover warmly.
"I was alone," shouted the son of Mars, now plunging recklessly into the recital; "no bush-armour; nothing but my fighting-jacket. They—they——" he stammered and stopped as the trickling stream of imagination ran dry. He, however, sought to make up for verbal shortcomings by fixing Peckover with a stare of the most appalling ferocity. Lalage saved the situation by prompting from the darkness behind him into which she had slipped. "They came on at the charge," he roared, never relaxing his truculent glare at his listener; "one in front, one on each flank——"
"That's right," whispered Lalage. "Keep it up."