he man fiercely. And Nic stamped angrily
upon the rock.

"Why don't you shoot me?" he cried. "You've got the gun. There, be
off; I don't want to see which way you go. Look here, Sorrel's over
yonder somewhere. Go and find him, and ride off up the country as far
as you like. Only send him back some day by one of the blacks, I'll pay
him with blankets and things. I can't give him to you, because, as you
know, he was father's gift. There's a pack of meal on his back; I
brought it in case I could find you; but you'd better take this lump of
damper too."

The convict made no reply for some minutes, but lay there at the edge of
the rocks gazing sadly down at Nic, who had thrown himself upon his
chest, and was looking into the gorge.

"Nic," he said at last.

"Well," was the reply; but the boy did not turn his head.

"Don't misunderstand me, lad; I said don't try to come up, because the
risk of going along there made me shudder. I'm coming down to help
you--where's your hand?"

"Oh, I say, I beg your pardon," cried Nic, springing up. "I didn't
mean--I thought--I--I say, Leather, mind how you come."

"Yes, I'll mind," said the man. "But the gun. It is not safe to pitch
it down to you."

"No; leave it up there."

"For another enemy to get hold of it. No, my lad, that won't do.
There, if I hold it crosswise like this, and drop it down, you can catch
it."

"Yes, I think so."

"Then try."

As he spoke the man went down upon his face, held the gun at arm's
length as far down over the edge as he could, and then after a warning
let it fall.

"Right," cried Nic, catching it cleverly. "Now, how are you going to
manage? I came down just there."

"And I'll try twenty feet to my left here," said the convict; and,
selecting a place, he lowered himself down until he hung by his hands,
and then began to descend with wonderful activity, reaching the bottom
without a slip, solely from the rapidity of his movements.

"Why, Leather," cried Nic, grasping his hand, "you are as active as a
squirrel."

"A man needs to be to lead my life, boy," said the convict quietly.
"Hah! that seems to put humanity into one again. The blacks are
friendly enough; but it is for the touch of a white hand one yearns."

"Have some damper?" said Nic suddenly, so as to hide a peculiar feeling
which troubled him.

The convict took the bread cake, broke it, and began to eat, seeking
refuge in the act for the same reason.

"Hah!"