he convict's nerves quiver; but he
thought of Nic, and, controlling his anger, he took a step or two to the
block on which he cut the rails, picked up one, and gave it a couple of
chops.

"Quicker there, lout!" roared Brookes; "and none of your sulky looks
with me."

The convict took up another rail, while Brookes stood over him with the
fork-shaft playing up and down in his hand; while, emboldened by the
other's meekness, he went on with a brutal tirade of abuse, calling up
every insulting expression he could think of, and garnishing them with
bad language, till the convict winced as if under blows.

"Trying to humbug me with your lying gammon about the axe. It's as
sharp as sharp."

"It is not, sir," cried the convict, angrily now. "Take it and judge
for yourself."

He held it out so quickly that Brookes started back, and brought down
the fork-handle with all his might, striking the axe from the man's
hand.

"What!" he roared. "Would you, you murderous dog? Take that--and
that--and that!"

As he spoke he struck again savagely with the stout ash handle, the
second blow falling heavily upon the convict's shoulder, the third
coming sharply upon his head and making the blood spurt forth from a
long deep cut.

Then the fork was raised for another blow; but, quick as lightning, the
convict flung himself forward, and his fist, with all the weight of his
body behind it, caught his assailant full in the face, sending him down
to strike the back of his head against the edge of the wood block, and
lie there yelling for help.

"Murder! help! Sam!" he roared, as he lay there, a ghastly object, with
the convict's foot planted upon his chest, he too bleeding freely from
the wound in his head.

At one and the same time Mrs Braydon, her daughters, and old Samson
came running up in alarm.

"Here! what's the matter?" said the latter, while Mrs Braydon turned
sick at the horrible sight, and caught at her elder daughter's hand.

"Can't you see what's the matter?" cried Brookes. "Get a gun, Sam,
quick! He tried to murder me."

"No, no!" cried the convict, startled by the charge, and shrinking from
the horrified and indignant-looking Mrs Braydon and the two girls.

"He did, missus," cried Brookes, struggling to his feet. "I had to
speak to him for idling, and he struck at me with the axe. There it
lies, and if I hadn't had this fork he'd ha' killed me. You see, he's
most mad: why don't you get a gun, Sam?"

"