“Would you? Then be hanged, you rat!” said Grear.
And Wilson lifted the spade, and split Grear’s head with it, and the man fell back into the water, and dyed it with his blood. But he was dead before he touched the silver grey stream that had slain him.
And Wilson fell to work digging.
“Good God!” said Hill, and the dead squatter’s men cried out.
“Dig, dig,” said Wilson. “Dig! Grear’s got his water. I’ll have mine.”
When the sun rose his sheep were content.
“Now we’ll see what the law says,” cried Wilson. And he rode south to find the law.
THE KING OF MALEKA
By H. DE VERE STACPOOLE