“The wind will not bring rain,” he pointed out.

“I know. But… but are you a stranger in these parts?”

“Yes.”

“Then you don’t know about the Strangler?”

“Well, I have heard of him.”

It was, perhaps, his easy smile that brought her from the tank to stand closer to him. Fear still lurked deep in her eyes. Despite the day, she appeared fresh andcool in a house-frock of brown linen. There was character in the moulding of her mouth and chin and grace in the outlines of her body.

“Wait here and I will fetch you some meat,” she requested abruptly.

From inside the house a woman called:

“Mabel, who’s that?”

“Only a swagman, mother. He wants meat,” replied the girl, and now more composed she flashed Joe Fisher a half-smile and then hurried across to thecanegrass meat-house.

The man’s critical eyes took inthe out-houses, noting their condition and neat preservation. It was obvious that Storrie’s Selection prospered. The girl returned carrying meat wrapped in newspaper, and when she gave it him she again attempted to advise him not to camp beside Catfish Hole.

“Oh, I’ll be all right,” she was assured. “I’ve camped often enough in wild country, and to be forewarned is to be forearmed. Besides, the last attack made by this mysterious strangler was last March, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. And this time last year, too. You want to be very careful. No one walks about, or camps in the open anywhere along these creeks. I’m going to the dance at Carie tonight, but my brother is taking me on the truck.”

“Late in the year for a dance, isn’t it?” he questioned.

“Yes, it is so, but then, you see, we haven’t any other amusement in Carie.”

Again Joe Fisher smiled.

“Well, thank you for the meat. I hope you will enjoy the dance. Do you think I would have a chance of work on Wirragatta Station?”