The Crooked Stick

or; it yielded, but this apparently excited no suspicion. It is not the custom to lock up houses in the bush of Australia. Burglars are unknown

oom,' said some one cautiously. 'I sa

whispered Gray. 'I'd kno

swered. 'There's not a dashed soul awake

sly round the silent room they could hardly restrain a start of surprise as their roving eyes fell upon the sergeant in full uniform, the a

d and action followed. Outman?uvred, outnumbered as they were, the cool courage of the rac

roared the sergeant. 'It's no use

man, with the soft, deliberate intonation of the na

nt's first word, shot Bertram Devereux through the body, sending also a second bullet into Harold Atherstone's right arm without loss

ay's and Mossthorne's revolvers. When the smoke cleared, Mossthorne lay dead with a rifle bullet through his he

ithout me,' he said, 'but I felt cowardly like, stowed away behind the sheepskins. But surel

ntinued, addressing himself to that gentleman, who had raised Devereux's head with his left arm, and was trying to discover the nature of the wound. 'I'd rather have taken the Doctor alive, but he gave us no time; shooting's too good for him! As for poor Billy, he's bet

oan horse and ride like h-l to Wannonbah. Tell Dr. Ryan to come here straight. Then go to the barracks

rush of flying hoofs told in marvellously short space that he w

d. Faintish, I daresay. Gateward, bring the brandy out of your room; a taste will do him good-and Mr. Atherstone too, for the matter of that. Seems the ba

lty. 'I must have fainted, I suppose. That scoundrel was too quick fo

bone grated. 'The fellow did not shoot badly, either. Billy just

s revolver bullet went through his shoulder. You dropped the Doctor in good time, Mr. At

f, wrapped in a dressing-gown. In her eyes, wide and shining in the half-light, was horror un

with anxiety. Mother is praying still. Are the men both dead? This one is Billy Mossthorne

for the moment riveted

ead men

sing terror. She raised her arms with a gesture of despair, and for the moment seemed as if about to abandon herself to a transport of grief. But recovering with a stro

t. And you too, Harold? Your arm is hurt; and I was wicked enough to joke about h

upon the patient is uncertain, but as he opened his eyes, h

ause-for-alarm-much better. Flesh wound-only.

passionately. 'He may die yet for want of assistance, and we are s

been lost. If I might suggest, you will help us best by asking Mrs. Devereux to be

Dr. Ryan comes. I know I am unreasonable and foolish, bu

.' Upon this Pollie retired; and with but little loss of time Mr. Bertram Devereux was placed upon his own bed i

milar wound at the hands of the same man. For the truth had leaked out through Mr. Gateward. The widow of Brian Devereux now knew that the hand stained with her husband's life-blood had be

ld extend to no other man as the avenger of my husband's blood. But oh! if the boy be likewi

d. The mother watched, hour after hour, with the unwearied patience of women under the excitation of grief or duty. Ere day

ss had been caused by loss of blood, which symptom was natural, but not necessarily dangerous. He commanded Mrs. Devereux to seek the rest she required, saying that h

e me useful. It will all come to the same in the bill. I shall be wante

id of exceptional good fortune, verified his favourable diagnosis by extracting the bullet, which had lodged in the outer muscle. The bleeding having ceased and the wound been dresse

ng impanelled, by whom a verdict of justifiable homicide was returned, the slain men being declared to have been killed in righteous defence. A rider was added to the effect that 'the conduct of Sergeant Herne and Constable Gra

he case in some rural Australian cemeteries, where a closely paled fence divides Protestant from Catholic, and Jew from Dissenter. At Wannonbah the dead slept much as they pleased, or rather, as their relatives desired. So Billy Mossthorne, having kins

ccount in extenso of the 'battle, murder, and sudden death,' had been first published in the Wannonbah Watchman, and then had gone the round of the metropolitan and provincial papers. Sergeant Mi

attendance to 'bring him through,' as Dr. Ryan expressed it himself. In this labour of love both mother and daughter were closely engaged for many a day after the event. It was the first time that Pollie's feminine instincts had been called into play by the necessity for personal service which a wounded soldier generally imposes upon the nearest available maiden. No situation, as persons of experience will admit, is more favo

rame lay helpless, the heart of the maiden, unfolding flower-like, grew tender and loving. She persuaded herself that a fate mightier than themselves had decreed their union. She awaited but the avow

r with feelings of sufficiently romantic intensity, who aroused in her as yet untouched heart the longing and the dread, t

, so clever as that, or so amusing as the other; but still, why was it? Who can tell? who explain the birth of fancy

e letters of her patient. About these he had always been reticent, never encouraging conversation thereon,

bered having noticed at an earlier period of his sojourn. The characters were delicately formed, but the abru

ng here! She was my best friend when I was a graceless schoolboy, and takes an interest in the poor exile now.' He opened the other letters one by one, but did not seem to avail himself

ss of the letters, she deserves some gratitude. But when we women harness

ning look, 'I am the last man living to deny. But what must we do? It is crue

on that my offering was tolerated would madden me. "All or nothing" i

her eyes have pie

unconsciously bore to t

all, 27t

was not by any means satisfied with the tone of your last letter, sir! I read it, yes, fool that I am, over and over again, t

y lines of your writing, every letter of which I know so well, brea

about whom you have been suspiciously silent or guarded of late. You can deceive, have deceived many people, but you never deceived me. So beware! If for money, or what you men call love,

mpunity. I hold you bound to me by the most sacred oaths, by what I have forfeited on earth irrevocably, by what in heaven

less regret of desertion and contempt-but no, you cannot dream of perpetrating such fiendish cruelty. I am mad

de W

was feverishly active. His soothing draught failed of its effect. When Pollie came to his bedside with h

, and a child's mischievous gleam in her eye, 'if they affect you like this. Your cousin's country chroni

nt matter upon which I had set my heart. But I am so weak that the least thing tells upon me.' Here he lifted his eyes to the sympathetic, te

e plainest of print-with love's surrender in every line. He saw that pity, measureless and tender, as is woman's sympathy for man's strength laid low, had completed the spell which had been working on her sensitive, imaginative nature since his arrival. But for his wound, his near escape from death, the long hours of tendance, he doubted whether the capture of this shy, sweet wild-bird of the waste would have been effected. But now he doubted no longer. Sh

tricken lover, with his wasted hand in hers, she felt as if the surrender of her every thought and feeling to his future welfare would be a price all too small to pay for the boundless h

r minute. Mother will bring you your medicine. You must then have a good sleep, and wake up quite a new

e shaded verandah; later on, to wander amid the orange trees by the lagoon edge, supported indeed by Pollie's fair round arm, and closely pressed to that true and tender heart. At the termination of his illness, when but for a slightly added pallor, a languor, that but accentuated his ordin