mate. But they were on the Wanaaring track, and, next morning, after an early breakfast, Cooney, who had rolled his swag at daylight, took the track. He had the bulk of the tucker in his nose-bag, for they would reach the township in the afternoon, and would not need it. Bob walked along the track with him for a bit, while Jim sulkily rolled up his swag. Jim saw the two men stop about half a mile away, and something pass between them, and he guessed it was a pound-note, possibly two, and maybe a stick or so of tobacco. For a moment Bob stood with his hand on Cooney's shoulder, then they shook hands, and Cooney went on, and Bob came back to camp. He sat for a few minutes on his swag in front of the fire (for early mornings can be chilly Out Back, even in midsummer), and had another pint of tea to give zest to his morning pipe. He said nothing, but seemed very thoughtful.
"Well, Bob!" Jim blurted out at last. "What the —— are yer thinkin' about? Frettin' about yer new mate? Hey?"
Bob stood up slowly, and stood with hands behind, looking down at the fire.
"Jim," he said, in his sadly quiet way, "that man and me was in gaol together."
It brought Jim to his feet in an instant.
"Bob," he said, holding out his hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was drivin' at."
"It's all right, Jim," said Bob, with a quiet smile; "don't say no more about it."
But Jim had driven to gold.
A friend or a chum might have shunned Bob after
