it."

"This filthy den is somewhat too crowded for a private
discussion--unless you wish to let every one here know what you are.
Come outside."

"You want me to fight you, Aulain, do you?" The steady, unmoved tone of
his voice sounded clearly through the crowded room.

"Yes, you treacherous hound, I do. I'll _make_ you fight."

"You shall not. I do not fight with lunatics--and you speak and act like
one. Come here to-morrow morning--or I will come to you if you wish."

Vale put his hand on Aulain's arm, with rough good-humour. "Get back to
your tent, my lad, or sit down and keep quiet This is my house. You can
see Mr Gerrard in the morning. I'll engage he won't run away."

Aulain thrust him aside with savage determination, and again faced
Gerrard. "Are you coming outside?" he asked hoarsely.

"No, I am not. But don't try my patience too long, Aulain."

"Will you come or not?" he almost shouted, and he drew back a step,
amidst a hot, expectant silence.

"No, you are not in a condition to speak to any one, let alone
fighting," was the contemptuous answer.

"Then take that, you wretched cur!" and he swung his heavy whip across
Gerrards face, cutting the flesh open from temple to chin, and sending
him down upon the earth floor.

In an instant the maddened man was seized by Vale and another man,
and borne to the ground. Then amidst oaths and curses, he was dragged
outside, struggling like a demon, and carried to his horse, which was
tied up to the fence. He was hoisted up into the saddle, and at once
tried to take his pistol from its pouch, but the diggers took it away,
and then seized his Winchester carbine.

"Here, take your reins, you murderous dog!" cried Vale, putting them
into his hands.

"Stand back, boys, and well start him off to blazes."

"He has a Derringer inside his shirt," cried one of the men, "I've seen
it."

"Let him keep it," and Vale raised the whip which he had torn from
Aulain's hand, and gave the horse a stinging cut on the flank, and with
a snort of pain and terror the animal leapt forward into the darkness.

Never again was Randolph Aulain seen alive, but weeks afterwards his
horse wandered back to Hansen's Rush, and began to graze outside his
master's tent. And all that was left of Aulain was found long after in
a gully in the ranges, with a rusted Derringer pistol lying beside some
bleaching bones.

Gerrard had a great send-off when he left Hansen's for the coast. The
terribl