“Why do you—— who are you? Ah, my God—you know me!”
“Yes, I know you; sit down. You are Kellerman, but I will not betray you.”
“You will not betray me?”
The anguished ring in his voice went to the overseer's heart, and rising he placed his hand on the convict's arm. “Sit down. I will give you a proof that I harbour no evil intentions to you.” Then he walked away to where his Winchester lay, picked it up, and returning placed it in the convict's hands.
“In that rifle there are left twelve cartridges. I have thirty more in my saddle-pouch. They and the rifle are yours to defend yourself from the blacks on your way down the coast. If you use it against white men you will be a murderer.”
Kellerman clutched the weapon convulsively for a moment, and his eyes flashed. Then he thought a moment.
“I promise you that I will not use it against a white man—even to save myself.”
In less than an hour Monk had fixed the wounded man comfortably under the overhanging ledge of rock, boiled him some tea, and made him a damper, of which he ate ravenously. His wound troubled him but little, and as he lay on the overseer's blanket he talked freely of his past life. His earlier life had been spent in England and America. Then came the Franco-German war, and from America he had returned to France to take part in the struggle, and when the dark days of the Commune fell upon Paris, Kellerman was one of its warmest adherents, and paid the penalty with worse than death—he was sentenced to transportation for life. His only relatives were a brother and a sister, both of whom were little more than children when he was transported.
Monk listened with deep interest, and then bade him try and sleep. The Frenchman at once laid his head upon his pillow of leaves and was soon slumbering. At dawn Monk rose and saddled his horse; then, making some fresh tea, he was about to bid his companion goodbye till the following morning when Kellerman asked him if he had a pencil and paper with him.
The overseer pulled out an old pocket-book which he used when out mustering cattle to note down the brands of any strange cattle on Willeroo run.