on the back of a horse in my life, and
I am weak. I have not had food for nearly two days, and no water since
last night. Ah, heaven! give me that water-bag again."

He drank deeply, and Monk pondered as to what had best be done. He soon
made up his mind. He would carry him to the top of the bluff, leave him
food and water and his Winchester, and then ride as hard as he could to
the station for assistance. But, to his astonishment, the man implored
him not to do so.

"See, my friend. You have saved my life and I am grateful. But I shall
be doubly grateful to you if you do not bring assistance--I want none.
This spear-wound--bah! it is nothing. But I do want food."

His words, few as they were, rang with earnest entreaty, and then it
flashed through Monk's brain who the man was. He was Kellerman, the
notorious escapee from New Caledonia, for whom the North Queensland
police had been seeking for the past six months, after his breaking out
of Cooktown gaol. For the moment Monk said nothing; but, with sudden
sympathy, he lit his pipe and handed it to his companion. "Take a smoke,
old man, and we'll see presently what is best to be done."

The story of Kellerman's escape from that hell upon earth, the prison
of He Nou, in New Caledonia, was well known to Monk, and had filled him
with pity, for the man before him was the only survivor of a party of
five escapees who had landed at Cape Flattery; the others were killed
and eaten by the blacks. Kellerman, who was a man of powerful physique,
had succeeded in reaching a beche-de-mer station on the coast, where
for six or eight months he worked steadily and made a little money. From
there he went to a newly-discovered alluvial goldfield north of Cooktown
with a prospecting party, who all spoke well of him as "a plucky,
energetic fellow, and a good mate." Then, one day, two mounted troopers
rode into camp; and Kellerman, with despair in his eyes, was taken in
handcuffs to Cooktown. He was at once identified by a French warder from
Noumea, and was placed in prison to await transhipment to the terrors of
Noumea again. On the third night he escaped, swam the alligator-infested
Endeavour River, and hid in the dense coastal scrubs. What horrors the
man had gone through since then Monk could well imagine as he looked at
his gaunt frame and hollow, starved-like eyes. The overseer made up his
mind.

Carelessly picking up his rifle he strolled over to where his horse was
standing, and p