green-hide was as hard as
nails, and that horse set off straight for the track where the dead gum
lay, and with me after it. Through the bush it went, racing like mad,
with its flanks dripping red as I landed blow after blow with the good
old green-hide. Soon it was on the track, racing, galloping, blindly,
madly, like hell out for an airing, straight for my toasting-fork,
straight--God!"

In the fury and excitement of his story the man had forgotten his
injuries, and to give emphasis to his words, and perhaps make the pale,
set face that was turned towards him grow paler and more set, he had
reached out his arms, and held his clutching fingers towards Tony as he
sought to rise and peer with his vengeful eyes nearer and closer to his
victim, till the pangs of agony cut short both his fury and his
invective. He fell back, his lips pressed together till they were thin
and white, and his fists clenched as he strove to battle with the
jarring torture in his nerves. The sweat stood out in glistening beads
on his forehead, and his brows contracted down until they almost hid the
eyes in the frown of determined will.

The mute agony of the man's face sent back the disgust which was growing
in Tony's heart. The tale might be a lie--it might be only delirium; but
the man was in agony, in the death-agony perhaps, and Tony went to his
side.

"What can I do to help you?" he asked, as gently as he could.

"Pull the damned leg down--it's shifted," the man muttered between his
clenched teeth; and Tony did as he asked.

The man lay still with closed eyes for a few moments without heeding
Tony's query whether he was easier. Then he raised his eyelids, and,
with a short, forced laugh, turned his head on one side.

"I'm going to finish the yarn," he said in a voice that was strained,
but in marked contrast to the one he had previously used.

"Never mind the yarn; lie quiet for a bit," Tony exclaimed.

"I'll finish the yarn," the man replied, with a touch of his old
fierceness in his voice. "Where was I when the damned bone moved? I
remember. We were riding for the jump, riding as I never rode before or
since, riding like--like----I wonder if they ride in hell? If they do
they can't ride wilder, for I cut that horse's flanks to ribbons--yes,
cut it till the bone showed through--and it fled down that winding track
so fast that I was left behind. It went out of sight, it and its rider,
round the bend where the red gum lay. Ha, sonny,