A RUTHLESS VILLAIN.
It was just before sunrise that they started on their way; Lumley
riding the horse, and Gray walking by the horse's side. It was with
great difficulty that Gray had managed to get his companion on the
horse. Lumley had made it more difficult than it need have been. He
was anxious that Gray should believe his foot was much worse than it
really was. The night before he had found himself quite capable of
getting rapidly along on hands and feet, and even of standing for a
moment, holding on by the horse.
"Goes like a lamb, don't he?" he said to Gray as they went across the
plain. "No fear of his kicking up his heels again, is there?"
"Not much," said Gray with a pitiful look at the poor worn-out creature.
"Well, he won't run off with anything this time," said Lumley with a
laugh; "I've taken care of that. But he'll go straight for the water
again, that's what he'll do, and carry me with him."
Lumley spoke again after a moment
"You might go after that wagon when we get to water, partner. What do
you think of that plan, eh?"
"I think it's the best plan."
"And you could take the money with you, couldn't you? I suppose you
wouldn't leave it with me?"
"I had better take it," Gray answered heavily.
Lumley darted a suspicious glance at him.
"You're down in the mouth, ain't you, partner? You'd better be advised
by me." He stopped the horse. "Come, mate, let's strike a bargain.
Share and share alike. Half of it's a pretty pile for any cove. And
who'd be the wiser or the worse for it? You go off to England and live
like the gentleman you are. I'll not blow on you, and nobody else
knows a word about it. Come, there's a fair offer; and I mean it, mind
you."
Gray looked steadily up at him.
"It's no good, Lumley; nothing you could say would tempt me. You're
wasting your words."
A sulky frown settled on Lumley's face. He jerked on the horse.
"Wastin' my words, am I? I won't waste any more of 'em. You can do as
you like."
They went on in silence for some time. Gray broke it.
"There are the trees," he said.
Lumley gave a sudden start, and Gray saw his face change colour.
"I didn't expect 'em so soon," he said huskily. He stared at them with
a gloomy troubled look, and then glanced at Gray, who was walking on a
pace or two ahead with his head sunk on his breast. Lumley's hand
stole to his pocket. There was a pistol there. He gripped it, then
let it go and dragged his hand away.
"Look here, partner," he cried out hoarsely.
Gray turned round.
"You'll leave us the reward? The bank will pay it in a jiffy, and glad
enough. You ain't goin' to be fool enough to lose us that?"
Gray's face set in stern determination.
"You are wasting your words, as I told you just now. What claim have
we to the reward? They don't reward thieves for returning what they
stole. I have told you what I mean to do. I shall do it."
Lumley's hand had gone back to his pocket, and lay hidden there. He
did not speak again for some moments. They were full in sight of the
trees now, and to the left the low ridge had become visible.
"We'd better strike off here, I think," said Gray. "It will be easier
for the horse a little lower down."
They turned as he suggested.
"It's pretty close now, ain't it?" asked Lumley huskily.
"Just over the ridge. The track was plain enough, even by moonlight,
We can't miss it."
Lumley made no answer, but the moment after he came to a stand-still.
"What's the matter with the horse?" he exclaimed. "It's dead lame."
Gray turned round and looked at it
"A stone in the hoof, perhaps," he said, bending down to take a look.
The moment he stooped Lumley drew out his pistol and took aim at him.
Gray's life was saved by the horse. As he bent down and lifted up the
hoof it made a sudden, violent swerve away from him. It was at that
moment Lumley pulled the trigger. The bullet whistled past Gray's
head, and he sprang up, dazed and horrified, but quite unhurt, and made
a clutch at Lumley's arm. But the arm was already lifted with the
smoking pistol in it, and it descended with crushing force on Gray's
upturned brow. Lumley had no need to repeat the blow. Gray fell back
without a groan, and lay upon the earth as senseless and motionless as
one already dead. For the moment Lumley thought he was dead.
[Illustration: A TREACHEROUS BLOW]
"He brought it on himself," he muttered, as he stared down at the still
figure. And then added, "I'll make sure; it's safest."
He levelled his pistol again, but he did not fire. His arm fell by his
side. He could not fire. An oath at his own weakness broke from his
lips. He thrust from him the pity that had taken the strength from his
arm, and raised the pistol again. He meant to fire this time. But his
opportunity was gone. The horse had been straining at the reins ever
since he had fired, and now with a sudden jerk it got its head free and
bolted off at a wild gallop along the bottom of the ridge. Lumley
clutched at the reins again, but the horse was beyond control, and he
had the utmost difficulty in keeping his seat. He tried to turn the
horse up the ridge, but the frantic animal rushed blindly on. It was
mad with terror.
The blow had badly stunned Gray, and it was some time before he
recovered consciousness. Even then he could not recall clearly what
had happened or where he was, but lay looking up at the sky, trying
vainly to get his confused thoughts clear.
After a few moments he raised himself slowly and languidly on his arm,
and looked round him. The trees were close at hand. There were crows
sitting on them watching him, and on the sand not far off him two or
three more had stationed themselves. Quite near them there lay
something that Gray recognized with a thrill. It was the pistol Lumley
had dropped as the horse dashed away.
Gray could remember it all now. He lived over again that terrible
moment when the bullet had sung past his ear, and he had leapt up to
clutch Lumley's murderous arm. But where was Lumley?
Gray raised himself into a sitting posture as he asked himself that
question, and looked up the ridge, half expecting to see Lumley just
crossing it to the water below; but the ridge showed no signs of him or
of the horse. Yet as Gray looked and listened he could plainly hear
the sound of galloping hoofs, just as he had heard them two nights
before.
He turned his head away from the ridge, and looked in the opposite
direction. And then with a cry he staggered to his feet. The horse
was coming rapidly towards him with Lumley clinging to it, his body
thrown forwards, his arms clutching the horse's neck.
"Help me! Save me! Stop the horse!" broke in shrill cries from the
lips of the terrified man as he was whirled past Gray.
Gray staggered forward and made a clutch at the hanging rein; but he
might as well have tried to stop a whirlwind. The horse dashed past
him along the ridge, in the path it had traversed before, and then, as
before, swerved aside and rushed away into the Bush.
Gray sank back upon the ground, and covered his face with his hands.
He could do nothing.
It was not long before he heard the sound of the returning hoofs. He
struggled to his feet once more and looked.
The horse was coming back on its path, swaying wildly from side to
side, with foaming mouth and staring eyeballs; and this time no
terrified, white-faced suppliant was clinging to its back shrieking out
to Gray for help. The horse was riderless!
Riderless! But what was that dark lifeless weight hanging by the
stirrup, dragged across sand and bramble as the horse staggered on? A
sickening, paralysing fear took possession of Gray as he saw and knew.
He stood with his eyes fixed upon it unable to move.
The horse staggered on, but not far. It suddenly gave a dreadful cry
and fell. There was a struggle, a moan, and then it lay still, as
still as the dead body by its side.
Gray drew near, drew close. He looked down upon the face of the man
who had deserted him, and attempted to murder him. Then with
difficulty he dragged the body from under the horse and straightened it
out. The wallet containing the money fell from the shoulders of the
dead man as he did so, and opened, showing the gold and notes. Gray
did not even look at them. He laid the body out in decent fashion, and
covered the dreadful face.
Then he stumbled away across the sands, caring not whither he went,
caring only to get away from the spot where the dead man lay. His eyes
were burning and throbbing, there was a great singing in his ears. He
sank down again. His limbs refused to carry him further. Then came a
sudden silence, a great darkness, and he knew no more.