ed, came in a flash upon a fresh theory
and a small fact in its support.

"Then they don't know who it is they're after!" cried Moya. "You're not
even _their_ man; his eyes were brown; it was in the description; but
yours are the blackest I ever saw."

It was not a good point. He might well make light of it. But it was
enough for Moya and her woman's instinct; or so she said, and honestly
thought for the moment. She was less satisfied when she had caught the
horse and still must hear the mangled man; for he railed at her, from
the gunyah she had built him, to the very end. And to Moya it seemed
that there was more of triumph than of terror in his tone.

XV

THE FACT OF THE MATTER

Sergeant Harkness had his barracks to himself. To be sure, the cell was
occupied; but, contrary to the usual amenities of the wilderness, such
as euchre and Christian names between the sergeant and the ordinary run
of prisoners, with this one Harkness would have nothing to do. It was a
personal matter between them: the capital charge had divided them less.
Constable and tracker had meanwhile been called out on fresh business.
That was in the middle of the day. Since then the coach had passed with
the mail; and Harkness had been pacing his verandah throughout the
sleepiest hour of the afternoon, only pausing to read and re-read one
official communication, when Moya's habit fluttered into view towards
four o'clock.

"Well, I'm dished!" exclaimed the sergeant. "And alone, too, after all!"

He hastened to meet her.

"Where on earth have you been, Miss Bethune? Do you know there's another
search-party out, looking for _you_ this time? My sub and the tracker
were fetched this morning. I'd have gone myself only----" and he jerked
a thumb towards a very small window at one end of the barracks.

"Mr. Rigden?" said Moya, lowering her voice.

"Yes."

"So you've got him still! I'm glad; but I don't want him to know I'm
here. Stay--does he think I'm lost?"

"No. I thought it better not to tell him."

"That was both wise and kind of you, Sergeant Harkness! He must know
nothing just yet. I want to speak to you first."

And she urged the dapple-grey, now flagging sorely, towards the other
end of the building; but no face appeared at the little barred window;
for Rigden was sound asleep in his cell.

"We're all right," said Moya, sliding to the ground; "we stopped at a
tank and a boundary-rider's hut, but not the Eureka boundary. I d