"I guess we may
meet again."
"I'm not afraid of you, and don't you think it!" cried McMurdo.
"My name's Jack McMurdo--see? If you want me, you'll find me at
Jacob Shafter's on Sheridan Street, Vermissa; so I'm not hiding
from you, am I? Day or night I dare to look the like of you in
the face--don't make any mistake about that!"
There was a murmur of sympathy and admiration from the miners at
the dauntless demeanour of the newcomer, while the two policemen
shrugged their shoulders and renewed a conversation between
themselves.
A few minutes later the train ran into the ill-lit station, and
there was a general clearing; for Vermissa was by far the largest
town on the line. McMurdo picked up his leather gripsack and was
about to start off into the darkness, when one of the miners
accosted him.
"By Gar, mate! you know how to speak to the cops," he said in a
voice of awe. "It was grand to hear you. Let me carry your grip
and show you the road. I'm passing Shafter's on the way to my
own shack."
There was a chorus of friendly "Good-nights" from the other
miners as they passed from the platform.
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