h off the
track, and when Stingaree dared to open his eyes, he was nearer closing
them perforce, and the scene swam before him with superfluous realism.

Cairns and Cameron, dismounted (while the trooper sat aloof with Howie
in the saddle), were at high words about their prostrate prisoner. Not a
syllable was lost on Stingaree.

"You may put him across the horse yourself," said the sergeant. "I won't
have a hand in it. But make sure you haven't killed him as it
is--travelling a sick man like that."

"Killed him? He's got his eyes open!" cried Cairns in savage triumph.
Stingaree lay blinking at the sky. "Do you still refuse to do your
duty?"

"Cruelty to animals is no duty of mine," declared the sergeant: "let
alone my fellowmen, bushrangers or no bushrangers."

"And you?" thundered Cairns at the mounted constable.

"I'm with the sergeant," said he. "He's had enough."

"Right!" cried the Superintendent, producing a note-book and scribbling
venomously. "You both refuse! You will hear more of this; meanwhile,
sergeant, I should like to know what your superior wisdom may be pleased
to suggest."

"Send a cart back for him," said Cameron. "It's the only way he's fit to
travel."

Stingaree sought to prop himself upon the elbow of the splintered wrist
and hand.

"There are no more bones broken that I know of," said he, faintly. "But
I felt bad before, and now I feel worse."

"He looks it, too," observed the sergeant, as Stingaree, ghastly enough
beneath his blood and dust, rolled over on his back once more, and lay
effectively with closed eyes. Even the Superintendent was impressed.

"Then what's to be done with him?" he exclaimed, with an oath. "What's
to be done?"

"If you ask me," returned Cameron, "I should make him comfortable where
he is; after all, he's a human being, and done no murder, that we should
run the risk of murdering him. Leave him to me while you two push on
with his mate; then one of you can get back with the spring-cart before
sundown; but trust me to look after him till you do."

Stingaree held his breath where he lay. His excitement was not to be
betrayed by the opening of an eye. And yet he knew that the
Superintendent was looking the sergeant up and down, and he guessed what
was passing through that suspicious mind.

"Trust you!" rasped the dictatorial voice at last. "That's the very
thing I'm not inclined to do, Sergeant Cameron."

"Sir!"

"Keep your temper, sergeant. I don't say