Gable knuckled his eyes with vigour, and began to snivel.  He hated to have a beard on his chin, but would put off shaving longer than Mrs. Hardy thought consistent with perfect neatness.  The ability to shave himself was the one manly accomplishment Gable had learned in a long life.

This ludicrous incident had not served to draw Harry’s thoughts from his project.  All his life he had seen his Uncle Jonnie treated as a child, and there was nothing incongruous in the situation, even ’when the grey-haired boy was rated for neglecting to shave or sent supperless to bed for similar sins of omission or commission.  To Mrs. Hardy also it was a simple serious business of domestic government.  Ever since she was ten years old Uncle John, who was many years her senior, had been her baby brother and her charge, and although gifted with a good sense of humour, the necessity of admonishing him did not interfere with the gravity of mind she had brought to bear on the former conversation.

‘Mr. Holden was an old friend of your father’s, Henry,’ she said.

‘I know,’ Harry replied.  ’They were mates at Buninyong and Bendigo.  I’ll remind him of that.’

Harry Hardy found Manager Holden in his office at the Silver Stream when he called on the following morning.

‘Couldn’t do it, my lad,’ said the old miner; ’but I’ll put in a word for you with Hennessey at the White Crow.’

‘I want a job here on the Stream—­want it for a purpose,’ said Harry.

’There’d be a row.  The people at Yarraman would kick up, after the other affair.  I’d be glad to, Harry; but you’d best try somewhere else.’

‘Mr. Holden,’ said the young man, ‘do you believe my brother guilty?’

The manager met his eager eyes steadily.

‘’Tisn’t a fair question, lad,’ he answered.  ’I always found Frank straight, an’ he looked like an honest man; but that evidence would have damned a saint.’

‘Do you think the gold-stealing has stopped?’

The manager looked up sharply.

‘Do you know anything?’

’I know what the men hint at; nothing more.  If they could speak straight they wouldn’t do it.’

’Well, to tell you God’s truth, Hardy, I believe we are still losing gold.’

‘Send me below, then, an’ by Heaven I’ll spot the true thieves if they’re not more cunning than the devil himself.  You think Frank guilty, so do most people; it’s what we ought to expect, I s’pose.’  Harry’s hands were clenched hard—­it was a sore subject.  ’We don’t, Mr. Holden; we believe his story, every word of it.  Give me half a chance to prove it.  You were our father’s mate; stand by us now.  Put me on with the same shift as Frank worked with.’

‘Done!’ said the manager, starting up.  ’Come on at four.  Go trucking; it’ll give you a better chance of moving round; and good luck, my boy!  But take a hint that’s well meant:  if the real thief is down there, see he plays no tricks on you.’