"'But you have been! What's done it?'
"'Bushrangers.'
"'Down the road?'
"'This and Whittlesea—tied to tree—cock shots—left me—bleed to death ...'"
The weak voice failed, and the bare feet bolted. Now was my time—if the poor devil had fainted. But I could not be sure, and there I crouched down below in the dark, at the half-shut iron door, not less spellbound than imprisoned. It was just as well, for Ewbank wasn't gone a minute.
"'Drink this,' I heard him say, and, when the other spoke again, his voice was stronger.
"'Now I begin to feel alive ...'
"'Don't talk!'
"'It does me good. You don't know what it was, all those miles alone, one an hour at the outside! I never thought I should come through. You must let me tell you—in case I don't!'
"'Well, have another sip.'