s some three or four yards ahead. Simultaneously the
detonating roar of an explosion, seeming to come out of the ground
itself, rent the air, and a perfect hail of missiles cut leaves and
twigs from the bush, or ploughed up the ground a few yards to the right
of the path they were pursuing.

"Hold up, man, hold up! Not hit, are you?" sung out Bully Rawson, with
great concern. "No? That's all right. Blast me if that wasn't one of
them spring-guns I've been settin' around this land for the bucks we've
just been talking about Man, there was half a pound of loepers in it if
there was one. You must have kicked the string. The wonder is I
didn't."

"Bit risky, isn't it?" struck in Fleetwood, drily.

"Course. But I haven't been seeing to them for some time. I swear I'd
forgotten there were any left set at all."

"Well, I saw the string," rejoined Fleetwood, and his tone was decidedly
short. "Wyvern was about to kick it, and so I sent him flying just in
time. Legs blown off at the shins--no doctor--shock and loss of blood--
stone dead in three minutes. Seems to me your place is a bit dangerous,
Bully."

"So it is. The wonder is I didn't kick it myself. Well let's chuck
mouching about and get back to the store and have another drink. We
deserve it after that. Well, I'll hammer someone sweetly for leaving
that thing there, that's one consolation."

"It's none," said Wyvern, also shortly. "Hammer yourself."

"Eh? What do you mean?" said the other, trying to suppress his rising
fury. "Ah well. Let's have a look at the gun."

There it was--a clumsy-looking, half-rusty iron tube like unto a young
cannon, secreted in the bushes. To the peg which held up the hammer was
attached a long string, its other end being made fast so that it came
across the path. Any unwary animal which should collide with that
string, would find all its worldly interests at an end there and then.
Again Rawson was profuse in his apologies.

But thereafter, the tone of conversation between the two and the third
became somewhat strained, and their farewell was none too cordial. As
they rode back to their outspan Fleetwood said:

"He's beginning early."

"Do you think he meant to shove that tree down on me?"

"Of course he did. When that failed he remembered the spring-gun."

"Do you think that was a put up thing too?"

"I should rather say so. Look here, Wyvern. I saw him step _over_ the
string. He knew it was there."