"They'll not catch him," said Mr. Trant. "Anyhow I'll lend 'em a hand at it."
Elsie looked at him with an expression of dislike. Trant, whose eyes met hers, noticed it, and coloured. "You don't want him to he caught, Miss? " he said.
"No," said Elsie decidedly. "He is a picturesque figure. We haven't much that is picturesque in the bush."
"Surely!" said Lady Horace, "we can be picturesque without bushrangers."
The talk went on about Moonlight. Lord Horace got excited. "A man hunt." That was what he wanted. Big game! You needed sportsmen to take the thing up properly. The police were duffers. And now that there was going to be an election no one would bother about Moonlight. Frank Hallett would be responsible if any of the Luya stations were bailed up.
Mr. Trant looked interested. He turned the conversation on to the election, and they discussed the probability of the Irish vote carrying it in favour of the Radical member. He asked a good many questions as to the strength of the Irish vote, the predominance of Radicalism among the Groondi diggers, and the political leanings of the Luya selectors. Hallett fancied that the man meant to draw him, and showed Mr. Trant that he did not intend to be drawn.
Elsie also scenting Trant's motive, though she could not account for it—surely he could not be thinking of opposing Hallett—plunged into the talk. She had hitherto been very silent.
"Do you ever go to Leichardt's Town, Mr. Trant? to the balls, I mean?"
Trant looked at her admiringly from under his heavy brows. "I leave that kind of thing to my partner, Miss Valliant. He is more of a ladies' man than I am. Perhaps," he added, "I've never had any great inducement till now to stay in Leichardt's Town."
"I have never met Mr. Blake," said Elsie ignoring the implied compliment.
"Blake goes across the border when he wants a spree,"
