Whether or not the man of thews and sinews had been keeping up his constitution injudiciously at the _Three Pigeons_, certain it was that his brain did not seem in glib working order. "Ah, yes," he said slowly, quailing under Lalage's eye, "three mounted constabulary----" after which thrilling statement he paused. "Came after you in the Bush," the flippant Peckover ventured to supply. "Yes, we've heard that." For the little man saw no chance of ending the interview till the narrative was concluded. Mr. Leo, failing to stimulate his imagination to the required point, fell back upon a more ready and less intellectual form of address. "I'll eat you in a minute, boots and all," he informed his impatient listener with an undue amount of emphasis. Then, as though the outburst had spurred his invention, he went on, "Three--three mounted police at me at once. Three to one----" "Cowards," commented Peckover warmly. "I was alone," shouted the son of Mars, now plunging recklessly into the recital; "no bush-armour; nothing but my fighting-jacket. They--they----" he stammered and stopped as the trickling stream of imagination ran dry. He, however, sought to make up for verbal shortcomings by fixing Peckover with a stare of the most appalling ferocity. Lalage saved the situation by prompting from the darkness behind him into which she had slipped. "They came on at the charge," he roared, never relaxing his truculent glare at his listener; "one in front, one on each flank----" "That's right," whispered Lalage. "Keep it up." "And one----" roared the encouraged swashbuckler. "Thought you said there were only three," objected the irrepressible Peckover. "I'll wring any man's neck who interrupts me and puts me off my stroke," was the savage response, and as the application of the remark could bear but one interpretation, its object decided that it would be better to curb his critical faculties before they brought on an interference with his personal appearance and comfort. "On they came like a hurricane," roared Carnaby, as the promptings reached him, "one here in face: one on the right flank, one on--on----" He stopped with some hazy notion that he had made a mistake. In his graphic action illustrating the narrative he had landed himself beyond ear-shot of his prompter. "On the left," Peckover supplied sympathetically. "What's the matter?" For the reciter seemed confused. "He has had so many fights that he forgets them," explained Lalage, emerging from the darkness to the rescue. "More than the other fellows do, though. Go on, you great fool!" she politely adjured the free-lance under her breath.