ter of her
coat-pockets her hands were clenched tightly.

"That was a waste of a good cartridge," she observed quietly. "You only
fired in the air."

Black Brady glared at her.

"If I'd liked, I could 'ave killed 'ee as easy as knockin' a bird off a
bough," he said sullenly.

"You could," she agreed. "And then I should have been dead and you would
have been waiting for a hanging. Of the two, I think my position would
have been the more comfortable."

A look of unwilling admiration spread itself slowly over the man's face.

"You be a cool 'and, and no mistake," he acknowledged. "I thought to
frighten you off by firin'."

The girl nodded.

"Well, as you haven't, suppose you allow that I've won and that it's up
to me to dictate terms. If my uncle were to see you--"

"I'm not comin' up to the house--don't you think it, win or no win,"
broke in Brady hastily.

The girl regarded him judicially.

"I don't think we particularly want you up at the house," she remarked.
"If you'll do as I say--empty your pockets--you may go."

The man reluctantly made as though to obey, but even while he hesitated,
he saw the girl's eyes suddenly look past him, over his shoulder, and,
turning suspiciously, he swung straight into the brawny grip of the
head keeper, who, hearing a shot fired, had deserted his breakfast and
hurried in the direction of the sound and now came up close behind him.

"Caught this time, Brady, my man," chuckled the keeper triumphantly.
"It's gaol for you this journey, as sure's my name's Clegg. Has the
fellow been annoying you, Miss Sara?" he added, touching his hat
respectfully as he turned towards the girl, whilst with his other hand
he still retained his grip of Brady's arm.

She laughed as though suddenly amused.

"Nothing to speak of, Clegg," she replied. "And I'm afraid you mustn't
send him to prison this time. I told him if he would empty his pockets
he might go. That still holds good," she added, looking towards Brady,
who flashed her a quick look of gratitude from beneath his heavy brows
and proceeded to turn out the contents of his pockets with commendable
celerity.

But the keeper protested against the idea of releasing his prisoner.

"It's a fair cop, miss," he urged entreatingly.

"Can't help it, Clegg. I promised. So you must let him go."

The man obeyed with obvious reluctance. Then, when Brady had hastened to
make himself scarce, he turned and scrutinized the girl curiously.

"You