Twice the fleeing party had to double back, for it seemed that they were being headed; but Wahika was inexhaustible in his knowledge of the ground; and at last he reached once more one of the many little mountain streams, trickling down a steep chasm, whose sides were too precipitous to be scaled; and telling Murray to go first with the trembling girl, he laid his hand on Bray’s arm.
“They go—we stop fight,” he whispered; but Bray refused.
“Why should not Mr Murray stay, and fight for his lady-love?” he said bitterly.
“No, no, no! Keep with me,” whispered Katie, clinging to Murray’s arm.
Smothering his resentment, Murray slowly, and hardly able to press on himself, helped his tottering charge up the gully. Slow, cruel work, with Bray lingering behind, so as to keep them in sight, and the faithful savage covering their retreat. So far, the convicts had not hit upon the gully; and if they did find out their route, it was a place that two determined men could have held against a score. But though Murray made every effort he was but human; his wound had been a tremendous drain upon his system; and at the end of half a mile of incessant climbing, he sank at Katie’s feet with a groan, saying, “I can go no farther.”
“Mr Bray,” he said huskily, “I am dead beat. You must take my place; but while power is left me to lift my gun, no one shall pass here!”
Bray leaped to Katie’s side in an instant; but she held out her hands to keep him at bay. Murray pressed the poor girl hard to leave him.
“Wahika would protect you,” he said earnestly; “and after a while I could follow.”
“Would you leave me?” she whispered.
Murray did not respond; and they waited, listening to the distant shouts—now nearer, and echoing, as if close at hand, then growing more and more faint, when the hearts of the pursued would rise; but only for their spirits to be again damped; for once more it was evident that the enemy were nearing.