here's my
fist."

He took the strong labour-hardened hand in his, and then dropped it
hastily, for just as he pressed it there was a deep sigh and the convict
opened his eyes to stare blankly in the old man's face. Then, as
recollection came back, he struggled up into a sitting position, rose to
his feet, and stood with one hand resting against the boarded side of
the bothy.

"Come, that's better," said old Sam. "You're a-coming round now. I
tell you what you do: just you lie down in your bunk and get a good
sleep; you'll be all right then. I began to think as you'd had a lob
just a bit too hard. Here, what are you going to do?"

"Go on with my work," said the convict.

"Yah! That's foolishness; you can't do it, Leather."

"I must," said the man gravely. "Thank you for what you've done,
Samson. It was not true. I did not raise the axe against Brookes."

"I know that, my lad. He'd say anything when he's nasty. But I'm sorry
you hit back--very sorry."

"Yes, I know," said the convict; and he walked slowly out of the low
wooden building, and five minutes later the regular _chop, chop_ of the
axe was heard, and the rattle of rails as they were laid back in a heap.

"Well," said old Sam, "that's better than him being as I thought I
suppose I may go on with my work now, and get that garden in a bit of
order. Well, all I've got to say is this: if Brooky's gone to lay a
complaint before the magistrate he's no man."

Man or no man, midday had not long passed before old Sam, as he raised
himself up from his digging to give his back a bit of a rest, caught
sight of a flash of something bright, and there was another flash--the
sun glinting from the barrel of a gun; and turning his eyes, there about
a mile away, spurring across country, he made out a party of five
mounted men advancing at a trot.

The old man drove his spade savagely into the ground and trotted out of
the garden and round to the wood-yard, where Leather was going on slowly
and laboriously with his rail trimming.

"Leather, my lad," he said, in a quick whisper, "they're a-coming over
the hill: hadn't you better go off for a month or two?"

"To be hunted down by the dogs and blacks?" said the convict bitterly.
"No, old man; I shall get Justice Day, here or--in the next world."

"But, my lad," pleaded the old fellow, "they're close here."

"I am ready," said the convict quietly; and there was a pause.

Then he spoke again.

"Perhaps I sh