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not other people there with the cattle?”

“Yes; there was an oldish, very quiet, but determined-like man⁠—he had a stunnin’ dorg with him⁠—and a young man something like this gentleman⁠—I mean the prisoner. I didn’t see the other young man nor the half-caste in court.”

“That’s all very well,” says our lawyer, very fierce; “but will you swear, sir, that the prisoner Marston took any charge or ownership of the cattle?”

“No, I can’t,” says the chap. “I see him a drafting ’em in the morning, and he seemed to know all the brands, and so on; but he done no more than I’ve seen hired servants do over and over again.”

The other witnesses had done, when someone called out, “Herbert Falkland,” and Mr. Falkland steps into the court. He walks in quiet and a little proud; he couldn’t help feeling it, but he didn’t show it in his ways and talk, as little as any man I ever saw.

He’s asked by the Crown Prosecutor if he’s seen the bull outside of the court this day.

“Yes; he has seen him.”

“Has he ever seen him before?”

“Never, to his knowledge.”

“He doesn’t, then, know the name of his former owner?”

“Has heard generally that he belonged to Mr. Hood, of Momberah; but does not know it of his own knowledge.”

“Has he ever seen, or does he know either of the prisoners?”

“Knows the younger prisoner, who has been in the habit of working for him in various ways.”

“When was prisoner Marston working for him last?”

“He, with his brother James, who rendered his family a service he shall never forget, was working for him, after last shearing, for some months.”

“Where were they working?”

“At an outstation at the back of the run.”

“When did they leave?”

“About April or May last.”

“Was it known to you in what direction they proceeded after leaving your service?”

“I have no personal knowledge; I should think it improper to quote hearsay.”

“Had they been settled up with for their former work?”

“No, there was a balance due to them.”

“To what amount?”

“About twenty pounds each was owing.”

“Did you not think it curious that ordinary labourers should leave so large a sum in your hands?”

“It struck me as unusual, but I did not attach much weight to the circumstance. I thought they would come back and ask for it before the next shearing. I am heartily sorry that they did not do so, and regret still more deeply that two young men worthy of a better fate should have been arraigned on such a charge.”

“One moment, Mr. Falkland,” says our counsel, as they call them, and a first-rate counsellor ours was. If we’d been as innocent as two schoolgirls he couldn’t have done more for us. “Did the prisoner Marston work well and conduct himself properly while in your employ?”

“No man better,” says Mr. Falkland, looking over to me with that pitying kind of look in his eyes as made me feel what a fool and rogue I’d been ten times worse than anything else. “No man better; he and his brother were in many respects, according to my overseer’s report, the most hardworking and best-conducted labourers in the establishment.”

XVIII

Mr. Runnimall, the auctioneer, swore that the older prisoner placed certain cattle in his hands, to arrive, for sale in the usual way, stating that his name was Mr. Charles Carisforth, and that he had several stations in other colonies. Had no reason for doubting him. Prisoner was then very well dressed, was gentlemanly in his manners, and came to his office with a young gentleman of property whom he knew well. The cattle were sold in the usual way for rather high prices, as the market was good. The proceeds in cash were paid over to the prisoner, whom he now knew by the name of Starlight. He accounted for there being an unusual number of brands by saying publicly at the sale that the station had been used as a depot for other runs of his, and the remainder lots of store cattle kept there.

He had seen a shorthorn bull outside of the court this day branded “J-E” on the shoulder. He identified him as one of the cattle placed in his hands for sale by the prisoner Starlight. He sold and delivered him according to instructions. He subsequently handed over the proceeds to the said prisoner. He included the purchase money in a cheque given for the bull and other cattle sold on that day. He could swear positively to the bull; he was a remarkable animal. He had not the slightest doubt as to his identity.

“Had he seen the prisoner Marston when the cattle were sold now alleged to belong to Mr. Hood?”

“Yes; he was confident that prisoner was there with some other men whom he (witness) did not particularly remark. He helped to draft the cattle, and to put them in pens on the morning of the sale.”

“Was he prepared to swear that prisoner Marston was not a hired servant of prisoner Starlight?”

“No; he could not swear. He had no way of knowing what the relations were between the two. They were both in the robbery; he could see that.”

“How could you see that?” said our lawyer. “Have you never seen a paid stockman do all that you saw prisoner Marston do?”

“Well, I have; but somehow I fancy this man was different.”

“We have nothing to do with your fancies, sir,” says our man, mighty hot, as he turns upon him; “you are here to give evidence as to facts, not as to what you fancy. Have you any other grounds for connecting prisoner Marston with the robbery in question?”

“No, he had not.”

“You can go down, sir, and I only wish you may live to experience some of the feelings which fill the breasts of persons who are unjustly convicted.”

This about ended the trial. There was quite enough proved for a moderate dose of transportation. A quiet, oldish-looking man got up now and came forward to the witness-box. I didn’t know who he was; but Starlight nodded to

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