mistake, and to live is misery."

"Has it come to that?" Cayley asked huskily. "Is there no way--no better
way? Are you sure that Death mends things?" Presently he put his hand
upon Houghton's arm, as if with a sudden, keen resolve. "Houghton," he
said, "you are a man--I have become a villain. A woman sent me once on
the high road to the devil; then an angel came in and made a man of me
again; but I lost the angel, and another man found her, and I took the
highway with the devil again. I was born a gentleman--that you know. Now
I am..." He hesitated. A sardonic smile crept across his face.

"Yes, you are--?" interposed Houghton.

"I am--a man who will give you your wife's love."

"I do not understand," Houghton responded. Cayley drew Houghton back
from where they stood and away from the horse.

"Look at that horse," he said. "Did you ever see a better?"

"Never," answered Houghton, running him over with his eye, "never."

"You notice the two white feet and the star on the forehead. Now,
listen. Firefoot, here!"

"My God!" said Houghton, turning upon him with staring eyes, "you are--"

"Whose horse is that?" interjected Cayley. Firefoot laid his head upon
Cayley's shoulder.

Houghton looked at them both for a moment. "It is the horse of Hyland
the bushranger," he said. "All Queensland knows Firefoot." Then he
dazedly added: "Are you Hyland?"

"A price is set on my head," the bushranger answered with a grim smile.

Houghton stood silent for a moment, breathing hard. Then he rejoined:
"You are bold to come here openly."

"If I couldn't come here openly I would not come at all," answered the
other. "After what I have told you," he added, "will you take me in and
let me speak with your wife?"

Houghton's face turned black, and he was about to answer angrily, but
Cayley said: "On my honour--I will play a fair game," he said.

For an instant their eyes were fixed on each other; then, with a gesture
for Cayley to follow, Houghton went towards the house.

Five, minutes later Houghton said to his wife: "Alice, a stranger has
come."

"Who is it?" she asked breathlessly, for she read importance in his
tone.

"It is the horseman we saw on the hillside." His eyes passed over her
face pityingly. "I will go and bring him."

She caught his arm. "Who is it? Is it any one I know?"

"It is some one you know," he answered, and left the room. Bewildered,
anticipating, yet dreading to recognise her thoughts, she sat d