e. God only knew if, by this
time, he had not succumbed to them.

"My good man, one does not die of pain alone."

They followed a flat, treeless road, the grass on either side of which
was burnt to hay. Buggy and harness--the latter eked out with bits of
string and an old bootlace--were coated with the dust of months; and
the gaunt, long-backed horse shuffled through a reddish flour, which
accompanied them as a choking cloud. A swarm of small black flies kept
pace with the vehicle, settling on nose, eyes, neck and hands of its
occupants, crawling over the horse's belly and in and out of its
nostrils. The animal made no effort to shake itself free, seemed
indifferent to the pests: they were only to be disturbed by the hail of
blows which the driver occasionally stood up to deliver. At such
moments Mahony, too, started out of the light doze he was continually
dropping into.

Arrived at their destination--a miserable wooden shanty on a sheep-run
at the foot of the ranges--he found his patient tossing on a dirty bed,
with a small pulse of 120, while the right thigh was darkly bruised and
swollen. The symptoms pointed to serious internal injuries. He
performed the necessary operation.

There was evidently no woman about the place; the coffee the father
brought him was thick as mud. On leaving, he promised to return next
day and to bring some one with him to attend to the lad.

For the home-journey, he got a mount on a young and fidgety mare, whom
he suspected of not long having worn the saddle. In the beginning he
had his hands full with her. Then, however, she ceased her antics and
consented to advance at an easy trot.

HOW tired he felt! He would have liked to go to bed and sleep for a
week on end. As it was, he could not reckon on even an hour's rest. By
the time he reached home the usual string of patients would await him;
and these disposed of, and a bite of breakfast snatched, out he must
set anew on his morning round. He did not feel well either: the coffee
seemed to have disagreed with him. He had a slight sense of nausea and
was giddy; the road swam before his eyes. Possibly the weather had
something to do with it; though a dull, sunless morning it was hot as
he had never known it. He took out a stud, letting the ends of his
collar fly.

Poor little Mary, he thought inconsequently: he had hurt and frightened
her by his violence. He felt ashamed of himself now. By daylight he
could see her point of view. Mar