The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-05-26

upon one cruelty bruised wrist Clay
rose that instant, and was gone the
next. r''.~
He galloped straight to Sellers camp.
The tent stood out in the starlight, but
it was empty, and the squatter nodded,
because he had expected it. He struck
a match and poked about. The man
had taken all his belongings with him
had rolled up his swag and gone for
good. Clay sat down on the bed in the
dark and wondered what was the best
thing to do.
Sellers had rabbited in that paddock
only; it was inclosed by four wire
fences, each some five miles long;
therefore, if he had crossed the wires,
it should be possible to see where, and
a definite trail would then be struck.
Robert Clay had been born and bred
in the bush The blacks had taught
him tacking, and were hardly his su-
periors at that subtle art. 1t was mere
ly a case of riding the boundary till
he found the place where Sellers had
crossed. And find it Clay would, though
he had to ride the full length of every
fence.
The stars in their courses saw most
of that grim game; the one man tuck
ed up so snugly in his blanket beneath
a hop-bush, the other slowly but surely
dogging him down through mile upon
mile of wild waste forest. Sellers had
made the most of his time. When the
trail was found, there We're two five
mile paddocks and part of a third be-
tween the men. 1t led now over soft
sand, where the tracks could be fol-
lowed at a hand-gallop in the STAR
light, and now over hard, sun-baked
clay-pans, where the squatter had to
go upon his hands and knees and strike
matches to make certain of a foot
print. But he was always certain in
the end; and in his blanket Sellers was
very sound asleep. Now the fifteen
miles had been reduced to ten, now to
five: and now the squatter strapped
down his last fence, and led the night
horse over with the attentive stars
still sharp in the sky.
Sellers was lying on his right side,
with his face to the hop-bush, and the
| blanket wound tightly about his frame.
Clay deserted him at a hundred yards,
, tethered his horse, and crept up behind
| his back until he had but to lean for
ward in order to arouse the sleeper.
| Instead, he sat down tailor-wise, and
| grimly waited. He now produced his
| reVolvers, and pushed one under the
| arch of Sellers back so that he should
| feel and find it the moment he turned
over; the other he sat fondling as he
watched.
How the man slept. Once there was
| little movement, and terrible smile
distorted the watchers face, but it was
not wanted yet.
LET him have his sleep out" thought
the squatter. "He will shoot the
straighter for IT, and 1 think his fac,
will be all the funnier when HI
stretches and turns round"
The thought brought others. Clay
was not naturally cruel but the brut,
that is in every man had got the bet
ter of him, and the demon of reVengt
possessed him utterly. A new refine
ment occurred to him he stretched for
ward and took away the revolver h
had arranged for Sellers use.
The fellow is a skunk" said Clay T.
himself. Il shall make him howl 70
mercy before let him fight"
A puff of wind chilled the watcher L
the marrow: he looked up, and tn,
stars were going out; he wished de
vOutly that Sellers would awake AM
now the sleeper's posture began to pre-!
upon his nerves. II was as rigid, II
the cold grey light as though the bush
mans blanket were already his wind
ing~sheet, and yet Clay had seen tn
blanket move. He set his teeth, 70
thy were chattering with the cold, am
he watched for the blanket to NOV
again. 1t never did. Clay's eyes Wer
fixed, were fascinated. The run ros
upon him waiting and watching still
But now the revolvers In bis lap wer