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‘Permit me to introduce myself as Arnold Banneret. My mate and I are travelling due north, unless we strike something attractive.’

‘Just our case,’ said the elder of the two young men—they were neither of them far from the legal standard of manhood—‘except that we’re ssss1 travelling due south—isn’t it south, Denzil? I’m not much of a geographical chap, but we’re going back to Coolgardie—if we can get there. Sorry we can’t join forces—awfully so; give you my word.’

The Commissioner gazed searchingly at the strangers. Accustomed to reading faces—and in circumstances where a mistake might have cost him dear, he had often been forced to act upon a hasty summing-up of presumed character. He did so in this instance. ‘Swells out of luck,’ was his unspoken verdict. ‘Temporarily, of course. The dark one has the face, the bold and steady look, of a born explorer. He’ll go far yet. The other boy is the well-bred youth of the day, with little experience but that of Oxford or Cambridge. Athletics are chiefly in his line. But they are men as well as gentlemen, I’m convinced.’