f, you know. How is your arm, Doctor?"

"Shooting a little," said the Doctor; "nothing to signify, I believe.
At least, nothing in the midst of such a tragedy as this. Poor Mary
Hawker; the pretty little village-maid we all loved so well. To come to
such an end as this!"

"Is it true, then, Doctor, that Hawker, the bushranger, is her husband?"

"Quite true, alas! Every one must know it now. But I pray you, Sam, to
keep the darkest part of it all from her; don't let her know that the
boy fell by the hand of his father."

"I could almost swear," said Sam, "that one among the gang is his son
too. When they rode past Alice and myself yesterday morning, one was
beside him so wonderfully like him, that even at that time I set them
down for father and son."

"If Hamlyn's strange tale be true, it is so," said the Doctor. "Is the
young man you speak of among the prisoners, do you know?"

"Yes; I helped to capture him myself," said Sam. "What do you mean by
Hamlyn's story?"

"Oh, a long one. He met him in a hut the night after we picnic'd at
Mirngish, and found out who he was. The secret not being ours, your
father and I never told any of you young people of the fact of this
bushranger being poor Mrs. Hawker's husband. I wish we had; all this
might have been avoided. But the poor soul always desired that the
secret of his birth might be kept from Charles, and you see the
consequences. I'll never keep a secret again. Come here with me; let us
see both of them."

They followed him, and he turned into a little side room at the back of
the house. It was a room used for chance visitors or strangers,
containing two small beds, which now bore an unaccustomed burden, for
beneath the snow-white coverlids, lay two figures, indistinct indeed,
but unmistakeable.

"Which is he?" whispered the Doctor.

Sam raised the counterpane from the nearest one, but it was not
Charles. It was a young, handsome face that he saw, lying so quietly
and peacefully on the white pillow, that he exclaimed--

"Surely this man is not dead?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I have often seen them like that," he said.
"He is shot through the heart."

Then they went to the other bed, where poor Charles lay. Sam gently
raised the black curls from his face, but none of them spoke a word for
a few minutes, till the Doctor said, "Now let us come and see his
brother."

They crossed the yard, to a slab outbuilding, before which one of the
troopers was keeping