Everybody knew him, and everybody liked him, and there was great chaff and much popping of corks ‘ere he started down to C— with the avowed intention of getting married. Walters had shares in one or two good mines, and had a tidy sum of money with him when he left the field amidst the congratulations of ‘the boys’ on his approaching nuptials. Jack was a friend of mine; when he was temporarily crippled by a blasting accident I used to write his love-letters for him.Three days after he left, Inspector Frost and his black troopers, who all knew Walters, rode into the township. Naturally, the first question asked was, had they met Jack, and how far he’d got on the road?“Never saw or heard of him,” was the unexpected reply, “perhaps he was off the road.”“No, he said he was going down easy and expected to meet you.”“Hum!” said the inspector, “I’m going back to-morrow, and I’ll keep a sharp look-out for him.”Fifty miles from H— was a creek with permanent water and a good feed, a favourite camping-place.
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