"Joe Calder's dead," said Garry.

Bellshaw started.

"Dead," he exclaimed.

"Murdered. Shot through the heart."

"Who did it?"

"n.o.body knows, but I have a suspicion," Garry answered. "He's buried, and so far as that goes it's done with, but he was a friend of mine, and yours, and we ought to do something."

"I shan't. Let it be, man. What's the good of kicking up a fuss?" argued Bellshaw.

"Two men have cleared out from the fence."

"Who are they?"

"Glen Leigh and Jim Benny."

"Good riddance to them. They were rotters--no good to me."

"You don't like Leigh. He's been one too many for you once or twice."

"I hate him. It was Leigh who kicked up a fuss about that mob of cattle that broke the fencing down. He complained that I ought to have them driven off, and said it was not the duty of the keepers of the fence."

"It's part of their duty. They are a lazy lot of beggars," replied Garry. "I fancy Glen Leigh and Jim Benny know a good deal about Joe Calder's death."

"Do you think that's why they have cleared out?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"It may have something to do with it; I wish I could find out."

"You said a minute or two back it was best left alone," said Garry.

"But this is different. I'd like to put a halter round Leigh's neck."

"Why? Have you any strong reason?"

"I'm told Abe Carew and he were pals, and that Abe told him a good many things about Mintaro. Calder gave me the information," Bellshaw answered.

"Did he now, and Abe wouldn't spare you, would he?"

"Spare me? What do you mean? He'd tell a lot of infernal lies about me, the scoundrel."

"You should be more careful how you send men away. You were not over polite to him," said Garry.

"He didn't deserve it. He robbed me right and left."

"I don't think he did. I told you so at the time."

Bellshaw made an impatient gesture.

"You know nothing about it; I shan't be sorry when you're gone, Garry.

You've been getting above yourself for some time."

"You think so, do you? I shan't be sorry to get away from Mintaro.

There's some things a fellow can't stand."

Bellshaw laughed harshly.

"I didn't think you were soft, or chicken-hearted," he said.

"I'm not, but I'd like to know what became of the woman," retorted Garry.

"I told you I took her away with me because I was tired of her, and that she was going back to Sydney with me," said Bellshaw.

"Did she go to Sydney with you?"

"Yes."

"And she's there now?"

"Yes."

"With her mother, I suppose," sneered Garry.

"Never mind who she's with. She's all right."

"I don't believe you took her to Sydney," said Garry.

Bellshaw glared at him.

"Where else could I take her?" he asked fiercely.

"Nowhere."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's pretty lonely about here. One woman would not be missed."

Bellshaw caught him by the arm in a fierce grip and raised his fist.

"Be careful, or I'll make it hot for you," he snarled.

Garry wrenched himself free.

"Let me alone. I guess I'm a match for you, and I'm not afraid of you, if other people are," he cried. "You lent me the money to buy Bill Bigs out. Well, it will be better for you to make me a present of it."