"I beat it before they could get me," she gasped. "If the bulls grab me it's three years for mine."
He let go his hold of her and she fell in a heap on the floor, sobbing bitterly. Dr Macphail stood up.
"This alters the whole thing," he said. "You can't make her go back when you know this. Give her another chance. She wants to turn over a new leaf."
"I'm going to give her the finest chance she's ever had. If she repents let her accept her punishment."
She misunderstood the words and looked up. There was a gleam of hope in her heavy eyes.
"You'll let me go?"
"No. You shall sail for San Francisco on Tuesday."
She gave a groan of horror and then burst into low, hoarse shrieks which sounded hardly human, and she beat her head passionately on the ground. Dr Macphail sprang to her and lifted her up.
"Come on, you mustn't do that. You'd better go to your room and lie down. I'll get you something."
He raised her to her feet and partly dragging her, partly carrying her, got her downstairs. He was furious with Mrs Davidson and with his wife because they made no effort to help. The half-caste was standing on the landing and with his assistance he managed to get her on the bed. She was moaning and crying. She was almost insensible. He gave her a hypodermic injection. He was hot and exhausted when he went upstairs again.