ide by side, the
outward differences between them lessened, the smouldering irritation of
the present leaping up into the red-hot flame of hatred. Perhaps it was
just as well for John Francis that the man who walked so sullenly by
his side had not the eyes of a seer, for it was a wild country and Trent
himself had drunk deep of its lawlessness. A little accident with a
knife, a carelessly handled revolver, and the man who was destined to
stand more than once in his way would pass out of his life for ever. But
in those days Trent knew nothing of what was to come--which was just as
well for John Francis.

* * * * *

Monty was sitting up when they reached the hut, but at the sight of
Trent's companion he cowered back and affected sleepiness. This time,
however, Francis was not to be denied. He walked to Monty's side, and
stood looking down upon him.

"I think," he said gently, "that we have met before."

"A mistake," Monty declared. "Never saw you in my life. Just off to
sleep."

But Francis had seen the trembling of the man's lips, and his nervously
shaking hands.

"There is nothing to fear," he said; "I wanted to speak to you as a
friend."

"Don't know you; don't want to speak to you," Monty declared.

Francis stooped down and whispered a name in the ear of the sullen man.
Trent leaned forward, but he could not hear it--only he too saw the
shudder and caught the little cry which broke from the white lips of his
partner.

Monty sat up, white, despairing, with strained, set face and bloodshot
eyes.

"Look here," he said, "I may be what you say, and I may not. It's no
business of yours. Do you hear? Now be off and leave me alone! Such as
I am, I am. I won't be interfered with. But--" Monty's voice became a
shriek.

"Leave me alone!" he cried. "I have no name I tell you, no past, no
future. Let me alone, or by Heaven I'll shoot you!"

Francis shrugged his shoulders, and turned away with a sigh.

"A word with you outside," he said to Trent--and Trent followed him
out into the night. The moon was paling--in the east there was a faint
shimmer of dawn. A breeze was rustling in the trees. The two men stood
face to face.

"Look here, sir," Francis said, "I notice that this concession of yours
is granted to you and your partner jointly whilst alive and to the
survivor, in case of the death of either of you."

"What then?" Trent asked fiercely.

"This! It's a beas