Bindle's cry had attracted general attention to Graves, but too late to stop him. With a bound he reached the door and tore down the stairs.
"After him, you chaps," cried Guggers, and with yells and cries ranging from "Tally-ho!" to the "Bushmen's war-cry" the whole company streamed out of Bungem's and tore down "the High" in hot pursuit.
That night those who were late out beheld the strange sight of a white-faced man in evening-dress running apparently for his life, pursued by a pack of some two hundred other men similarly garbed and uttering the most horrible shouts and threats. Windows were thrown up and heads thrust out, and all wondered what could be the meaning of what the oldest, and consequently longest-suffering, townsman subsequently described as defying even his recollection.
Late that night the porter at St. Joseph's was aroused by a furious ringing of the bell, accompanied by a tremendous pounding at the door. On the doorstep he found, to his astonishment, the dishevelled figure of Graves, sobbing for breath and sanctuary, and with terror in his eyes. In the distance he heard a terrible outcry, which next morning he was told was the Australian Bushmen's war-cry.
Bindle was awakened next morning by a continuous hammering at his bedroom door.
"Who the 'oppin' robin are yer?" he shouted; "shut up and go 'ome."
The door burst open, and Tom Little, Guggers, and Travers entered.
"Up you gug-gug-get," cried Guggers. "You must catch the 11.6."
"Look 'ere, ole Spit and Speak, if you're wantin' to get 'urt you're on the right road." Bindle grinned up at Guggers impudently. "I'm as tired as yer mother must be o' you."
"Up you get, you merry wight," cried Tom Little, laughing; "there's the devil to pay."
"There always is, exceptin' sometimes it's a woman," remarked Bindle, yawning. "Devils are cheaper, on the 'ole. What's the trouble?"
"The Master has invited you to lunch," broke in Travers, "and that ass Gravy never told us."
"You must be recalled to town," said Tom Little, "or we shall all be sent down. Now up you get."
Bindle climbed out of bed resplendent in pyjamas with alternate broad stripes of pale blue and white.
"'Oo's the Master? I'll lunch with anybody wot's not temperance." Bindle was sleepy.