New-York tribune., 1900-07-08

ana now IL mad all come to thiS-that he had
struck down his friend, and the word 'mur-
derer' was written in letters of fire across his
soul,
lie shivered, drew a long breath and awoke.
There was a refreshing undercurrent Of cool
ness in the air and golden lights slanted down
among the ferns. It must be evening then. He
looked at his watch; it was , o'clock. He rose,
stlll shivering a little. and looked around him.
| What should ne do2 SeIf-preservation urged
| him to some immediate course, but where had
he best turn for safety?
He stumbled on Iistlessly for a while, swearing
! hard now and again at the tangles of Creeper
and brambles through which ne had to force his
way. All at once he stood stock still trembling
in every limb. He rubbed his hand across his
eyes to assure himself that he was not dream
ing, and then grew worse feeling-that mad
ness had come upon him. He had often heard
of murderers being haunted by the corpses Of
their victims. and an here the ghastly thing
had come upon him, Bits body lay almost at
his feet and already it was overarched by long,
luxurjant ferns.
He knelt down with little. stihed cry and
hid his face. When he looked again il was still
there; but as he looked a sudden ray of hope
darted into his mind. This thing wore coarse
plaid It could not be Bill The sudden over
powering sense of relief made him sick and
iA<'S A4-eii iitS u't4tSf- 4tS FAeitlllI4t
the body carefully with a new gentIeness of
touch and a nav reverence Slowly he identified
1t as that Of an old stockman who had lived in
lonely hut on the ranges: and then the whole
story came back TO him The man had gone
away to town, and nothing further had ever
been heard Of him He had lived SO solitary
life that he had not been missed at once, and
little wonder was raised when he was. for he
was known TO be j queer, eTratic being He was
believed 10 have no relatives on this side Of the
world and public opinion conjectured that ne
had taken ship and gone home to his people
And here he had parisned. far from all kindly
human sounds, in this mockeTy of green, silent
beauty Ii made Jack shudder afresh.
In the dead mans pocketbook he found crisp
banknotes for 100. Good God, Had he had
these YESTERDAY he had not now been mur-
derer, He bowed mis- head. then started up
wildly. for ne seemed to hear footsteps gather
ing all around him and voices accusing him
from every tree. IN agony of fear his reso-
luton was taken. He would take this mans
clothes and personate him IN his hermits hut
tilI the crime had blown over sufficiently for
him to slip off TO Australia with safety. Any
thing rather than be taken
II was nearly midnight when ne reached the
deserted sod hut for ne Was footsore and weary
and walked but slowly. 1t was cIoudless sum
nler night, and the moon a her full. Under
such skies as these even the rugged hills looked
lovely folded into soft, ample curves in the
quiet moonlight. And the nodding tussocks in
Jacks eyes looked far more friendly and beauti-
ful thau the wonderful shimmering ferns ne had
left He pushed open the door of the hut and
went in. a eobweb catching mis- brow as he did
So He strucl, match and looked around him.
All was neat and in good order as the dead
man had left it. His blankets We're rolled up
IL one corner. the kettle swung over the empty
fireplace. and pipe with some tobacco was on
the shelf above. There was cupboard, TOO
with some cheese, tea flour and mouIdy loaf IN
it, The sight of food reminded Jack that he had
had nothing since-since that last drink with
his chum. Was it only years ago. or in some
ether existence
He brought water from the little spring by the
door, built UP the fire and put the kettle on 10
make tea. Then ne made himself some 'damper,"
and took mis- meal with relish He was not used
to fast so long. After that he sat smoking a
while then put out the tallow dip, rolled him
self up IL the blankets and slept htfuliy till
morning.