"To the Vile Dust"
inal with a high price upon his head. It weighed not a grain with Vanheimert that the criminal happened to have saved his life.
"Come and eat," shouted Stingaree at last; and Vanheimert trailed the blankets over his left arm, his right thrust idly into his pocket, which bulged with a red bandanna handkerchief. "Sorry it's sardines again," the bushranger went on, "but we shall make up with a square feed to-night if my mate gets back by dark; if he doesn't, we may have to tighten our belts till morning. Fortunately, there's plenty to drink. Have some whiskey in your tea?"
Vanheimert nodded, and with an eye on the bushranger, who was once more stooping over his beloved Australasian, helped himself enormously from the gallon jar.
"And now for a siesta," yawned Stingaree, rising and stretching himself after the meal.
"Hear, hear!" croaked Vanheimert, his great face flushed, his bloodshot eyes on fire.
"I shall camp on the shady side of my tent."
"And I'll do ditto at the other."
"So long, then."
"So long."
"Sweet repose to you!"
"Same to you," rasped Vanheimert, and
87
