Stingaree
"But Stingaree," put in Tyler in the end. "What's happened to him?"
"He also has been here. But he was many a mile away at the time."
"What brought him here?"
The crooked Superintendent from Sydney was sitting strangely upright in his saddle; his face was not to be seen, for his back was to the moon, but he seemed to rub one of his eyes.
He may have wished to clear his character. He may have itched to uphold the honor of that road of which he considers himself a not imperfect knight. He may have found it so jolly easy to play policeman down in Victoria, that he couldn't resist another shot in a better cause up here. At his worst he never killed a man in all his life. And you will be good enough to take his own word for it that he never will!"
He had backed his horse while he spoke; he turned a little to the light, and the eye-glass gleamed in his eye.
The young constable sprang forward.
"Stingaree!" he screamed.
But the gray sergeant flung his arms round their prisoner.
"That's right!" cried the bushranger, as he trotted off. "Your horses and even your pistols
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