The Argosy, Vol. XXIV No. 2 — page 81: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE TRACK OF MIDNIGHT. 273 They found the cave was a small chamber formed by a projecting ledge, the underside of which sloped inwards, leaving barely room for a man to stand upright in the middle. A couple of blankets thrown together, with the ordinary articles of a bushman’s camp lying beside them, were all the cave contained. : ‘“‘T think we shall be better on the bank,’’ Johnson said, as he glanced round him. ‘“"There’s not much here,’’ Douglas answered, as he held the vine back and made as if to step out. But a sound caught his ear, and he grasped Johnson by the ari. : ‘“He’s coming,’’ he whispered hoarsely. There was the noise of some one treading heavily and clumsily beyond the boulder, and then a man staggered round it. He groaned as he leaned against it for a moment before he slipped weakly to the ground. ‘There was no inistaking the jet black hair and beard, but the face was ghastly pale now, and the swaggering form of the once redoubtable Midnight was limp and helpless. — As the two squatters stood watching him from behind the sheltering vine, a momentary twinge of pity passed through each, as they saw the man make a great effort to rally himself. Painfully he struggled to unloosen his coat, and when he had it open they saw under it a crudely, heavily fashioned cuirass. He pulled and tugged at the straps with which it was fastened, and as it fell from him, he leaned back against the boulder once more and gasped. His: head drooped forward on his hands, and the watchers saw his fingers working amongst his hair, and then the mass of raven locks slipped over the head, carrying with them the beard and a roughly made helmet. ‘The exer- tion of getting them off had almost exhausted the wounded outlaw, and once more he let his head rest against the boulder. As his face became visible, Johnson and Douglas started to their feet and sprang towards him with loud cries. The face of the stricken man was the face of him whom they had long known as Giles ! He turned towards them and strove to get on his feet ; but he was too far gone, and rolled over in a swoon. The two men stood over him, too horrified to speak, and too indignant to feel even pity for the wretch whose life was ebbing away at their feet. Slowly he regained consciousness, and looked at them with malignant hatred. , “Too late,’’ he gasped out, and lay back, dead. ‘Thank God Wilton does not know !’’ Johnson exclaimed. “He never shall, nor his wife either,’’ Douglas answered quickly. ‘* But the story must leak out,’’ said the other. ‘Only if you tell it,’’ Douglas replied. ‘‘ We will bury him where he, lies, and bury his secret with him.’’ G. Firth Scott. THE END (Fr) Eomichbooks 3