tative fashion while he ate. It was he who became communicative when he had finished. Suddenly thinking of it, he told them of the ghastly discovery he had made among those very trees, about an hour before.
The effect was curious. Neither Hookey Simpson nor Wall-eye nor Slipper seemed in the least surprised or perturbed; but De Gruchy showed teeth as white as those of the corpse, and ground them horribly; and Hookey Simpson fixed his spectacles upon De Gruchy, leaning forward with the tip of his hook between finger and thumb.
“The fact is,” said Tom, “I thought it must be the work of that Italian brigand-fellow.”
All but De Gruchy burst out laughing.
“And when I first saw your fire,” he added, “I thought you must be his band!”
All but De Gruchy laughed louder than before. De Gruchy hid his sullen, foreign face in his hands. And the little grey man held up his hook for silence.
“We are!” said he.
“What? Bushrangers after all?”
“The band you speak of.”
“Then where’s the Italian?”
“You saw him for yourself about an hour ago!”
And the little man’s eyes were twinkling through their horn-rimmed lenses as if he had made a joke. But there was no more laughing outright, though Tom heard Slipper chuckle and De Gruchy snarl. As for himself, he was shuddering in the most mortifying fashion under the fascinating spectacles of the little grey man.
“That was your leader!” he stammered out.
“So he flattered himself.”
