outlaw felt that he might rely upon immunity from further attack for some
time, and meanwhile all the strength and energy remaining to him must be
devoted to the task of reaching another refuge. In Macdougal be had met
an enemy of a kind he had never before been called upon to deal with. The
squatter was indefatigable in pursuit of his vengeance, evidently an
expert Bushman, and bent upon dealing retribution with his own hand. Wat
Ryder wasted no time in fruitless lamentation over his folly in not
having made good his escape while the opportunity offered. Already he had
lost much blood. The muscle on the right side of the neck was badly
lacerated. First of all, the wound must be dressed. For years he had been
prepared for an exigency of this sort, and was never without materials
for the treatment of serious hurts. With Yarra's assistance, the wound
was washed with a lotion, closed as well as possible, and then carefully
bandaged, without the waste of a moment.

Ryder lay with his revolver by his side. He knew perfectly that he might
be engaged in a life or death struggle at any moment, and was prepared to
die by his own hand the instant the fight became hopeless.

'Go, Yarra; pick up his track; find which way he has gone; come back one
minute.'

He knew there was no occasion to warn the half-caste, in whom the
instincts of his mother's people were paramount. Yarra was a child of the
Bush; nothing would escape his eye or his ear, and at the same time he
would be as swift and as secret as a snake.

While the boy was away Ryder wrote a note in pencil addressed to Lucy
Woodrow. Yarra was back within five minutes.

'Him Boss belonga me all right. Him run longa gully, catch up horse by
ole man blackbutt, ride longa gorge same debble chase him,' reported the
half-caste.

'Right, right! Yarra plurry fine feller!' said Ryder. 'Now we go up over
small spur, down by gorge, sit down little stone cave near big splash.
Pretty quick you come back, catch Wallaroo, lead him down to the gorge
along down the creek. Make a track by the bank some time, turn him in
pool where black fish sit down, and ride back up creek again, and tie
horse up by big rock same monkey bear. Then to-night you creep down by
Boobyalla, knock on Miss Lucy's window, gib Miss Lucy this letter. No one
else must see. If Miss Lucy say yes, when sun jumps up to-morrow you take
Wallaroo down by wattle track, gib her horse, come back sit down by me.
Yarra catch hold