ground.

Never had Buck Tom been nearer to his end than at that moment, for Hunky
Ben, seeing clearly what would be the consequence of the Englishman's
non-compliance with the command, was already pressing the trigger that
would have sent a bullet into Buck Tom's brain, but the Englishman's
strange conduct induced him to pause, and the effect on the robber
caused him to raise his head and open wide his eyes--also his ears!

"Ah! Ralph Ritson, has it come to this?" said Charlie, in a voice that
told only of pity and surprise.

For some moments Ralph did not speak. He was evidently stunned.
Presently he recovered, and, passing his hand over his brow, but never
taking his eyes off the handsome face of his former friend, he said in a
low tone--

"I--I--don't feel very sure whether you're flesh and blood, Brooke, or a
spirit--but--but--"

"I'm real enough to be able to shake hands, Ritson," returned our hero,
dismounting, and going up to his former friend, who suffered him to
grasp the hand that had been on the point of taking his life. "But can
it be true, that I really find you a--"

"It is true, Charlie Brooke; quite true--but while you see the result,
you do not see, and cannot easily understand, the hard grinding
injustice that has brought me to this. The last and worst blow I
received this very night. I have urgent need of money--not for myself,
believe me--and I came down to David's store, at some personal risk, I
may add, to receive payment of a sum due me for acting as a cow-boy for
many months. The company, instead of paying me--"

"Yes, I know; I heard it all," said Charlie.

"You were only shamming sleep, then?"

"Yes; I knew you at once."

"Well, then," continued Buck Tom (as we shall still continue to style
him), "the disappointment made me so desperate that I determined to rob
you--little thinking who you were--in order to help poor Shank
Leather--"

"Does Shank stand in urgent need of help?" asked Charlie, interrupting.

"He does indeed. He has been very ill. We have run out of funds, and
he needs food and physic of a kind that the mountains don't furnish."

"Does he belong to your band, Ritson?"

"Well--nearly; not quite!"

"That is a strange answer. How far is it to where he lies just now?"

"Six miles, about."

"Come, then, I will go to him if you will show me the way," returned
Charlie, preparing to remount. "I have plenty of that which poor Shank
stands so much in need of.