The Bushranger's Secret

by Mrs. Henry Clarke

A TREACHEROUS BLOW

"He brought it on himself," he muttered, as he stared down at the still figure. And then added, "I'll make sure; it's safest."

He levelled his pistol again, but he did not fire. His arm fell by his side. He could not fire. An oath at his own weakness broke from his lips. He thrust from him the pity that had taken the strength from his arm, and raised the pistol again. He meant to fire this time. But his opportunity was gone. The horse had been straining at the reins ever since he had fired, and now with a sudden jerk it got its head free and bolted off at a wild gallop along the bottom of the ridge. Lumley clutched at the reins again, but the horse was beyond control, and he had the utmost difficulty in keeping his seat. He tried to turn the horse up the ridge, but the frantic animal rushed blindly on. It was mad with terror.

The blow had badly stunned Gray, and it was some time before he recovered consciousness. Even then he could not recall clearly what had happened or where he was, but lay looking up at the sky, trying vainly to get his confused thoughts clear.

After a few moments he raised himself slowly and languidly on his arm, and looked round him. The trees were close at hand. There were crows sitting on them watching him, and on the sand not far off him two or three more had stationed themselves. Quite near them there lay something that Gray recognized with a thrill. It was the pistol Lumley had dropped as the horse dashed away.

Gray could remember it all now. He lived over again that terrible moment when the bullet had sung past his ear, and he had leapt up to clutch Lumley's murderous arm. But where was Lumley?

Gray raised himself into a sitting posture as he asked himself that question, and looked up the ridge, half expecting to see Lumley just crossing it to the water below; but the ridge showed no signs of him or of the horse. Yet as Gray looked and listened he could plainly hear the sound of galloping hoofs, just as he had heard them two nights before.

He turned his head away from the ridge, and looked in the opposite direction. And then with a cry he staggered to his feet. The horse was coming rapidly towards him with Lumley clinging to it, his body thrown forwards, his arms clutching the horse's neck.