The critical time has come. No one can
see him move, for he changes his position such a little and such a
little more that he is in a new place without seeming to have left the
old one. His actions are as imperceptible as those of water. Five
yards. Four and a half. Four. Nearer and nearer. Three. Two.
Surely he will strike now! He is on hands and knees. He waits for a
moment or two and then straightens his body, pulls up one knee, and
poises the axe behind him. He is like a spring. In another second the
terrible tension will be relaxed and that supple black body will launch
itself at the sleeping man. The axe will split the skull in two from
forehead to chin, and not a sound will tell that the forces of the
desert have claimed another invader as their victim.

The silence of the night is shattered by a shot. The poised axe falls
to the ground. The crouching native springs into the air with a yell
and puts a broken finger in his mouth. There is a mighty shout, and
Mick hurls himself at his would-be murderer. A blow under the chin
which would have felled a bull sends the black-fellow spinning to the
ground several yards away. The white man follows like an incarnate
fury and grapples at his enemy's throat. A terrible struggle ensues.
Over and over they roll. Now the black is on top, now the white, but
Mick never relaxes his hold on the man's throat. Gradually the
native's struggles weaken. The white stockman digs deeper with his
thumbs into the neck of the gasping man and waits the inevitable end.
Finally all resistance ceases. The black body grows limp and the head
falls back.

The green-hide ropes are lying near. Mick reaches for them and binds
his captive more securely than any clean-skin cattle have ever been
bound. Then he looks up and meets the startled gaze of Sax and Vaughan.

CHAPTER XIX

Chivalry in the Desert

Mick had expected to be attacked. He had worked with natives for
thirty years and had had many narrow escapes for his life, and had come
to anticipate danger and thus avoid it. When Eagle's head had poked up
over the opposite sandhill, Mick had been lying in that half-sleep
which cattle-men get used to and from which they are instantly awakened
by the slightest unusual sight or sound. He had seen the native and
had known from experience exactly what the man would do. With nearly
closed eyes he had followed the stealthy movements of the man down to
the packs, had s