“It’s the police,” she gasped. “It’s—it’s shooting. They’re—behind. They’re right after me—O-oh!”
She had fainted again with her last word, and the dead weight in the man’s arms became almost unsupportable.
But now there was no longer any uncertainty. Kate was alive. The police were behind. At all costs—the woman he loved must be saved.
Charlie looked up at Bill, and his voice became harshly commanding.
“Quick! On your horse, man,” he cried, almost fiercely. “That’s it,” as Bill flung himself into the saddle without question. “Here, now take her. You’re strong. Get her across your saddle in front of you. There, that’s it—lift. So. Gently. Get her right across your lap. That’s it. Now take my horse and lead it. So.”
Bill obeyed like a well-disciplined child, and with equal enthusiasm. He leaned down from the saddle and lifted the fainting woman out of his brother’s arms. She was like a babe in his powerful arms. He laid her across his knee. Then, as his brother passed the reins of his own horse up to him, he took them and slung them over his supporting arm. The command died out of Charlie’s tones, and his whole attitude became an irresistible appeal.
“Now, Bill,” he cried, urgently. “Down there, along the bank of the slough.” He pointed away southwards. “Along there, into that bush. Get into hiding and remain till the coast is clear. Then get her back to her home. Leave the police to me, and—and remember she’s all I care for—in the world.”
Bill waited no further word. Once he understood what was required of him he could do it—he would do it—with all his might. He moved off with all the confident air of his simple, purposeful nature.
Charlie watched him go. He saw him vanish amid the shadows of the bush. Then he turned to Kate’s horse and sprang into the saddle.
For a moment he sat there watching and listening. But his purpose was not quite clear. It had not been clear to Bill, who had asked no question, feeling such to be superfluous at the moment.