"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.