LITMIR.BIZ

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rider on the fence. Both men were among the legion of the lost, why was only known to themselves, but they had given this woman what many a one of her sex in a great city would have been thankful for – human kindness.

      "Sleep's best for her," he thought, as he moistened her lips again. "She's been hot and cold, but there's a nice glow on her now. It's healthy. She'll pull through. I'll bet she pulls through, and we'll have done it, Jim, and I, and Bill. He's had a big share in it. I should say the three of us will be able to look after her and find out all about her."

      Jim had his rest. Glen roused him when he found sleep would overcome him whether he willed it or no.

      "Wet her lips with it when they're dry. Place your finger on and feel."

      Jim nodded. He thought how he had placed his lips to hers when Glen was away. He was ashamed of it; somehow he thought he ought to tell him. He'd think it over while he slept.

      In the midst of nature's great silent solitudes these three were working out their fate. It was so still that to most people the silence would have been worse than the noise and rush of traffic. Outside, Ping, neglected after his long journey, unsaddled, was finding refreshment. The horse was weary, leg tired, but his heart was in the right place. He was the sort that never gives in until something snaps.

      Spotty called a halt when he had gone a couple of miles, and considered the question of the unjustness of his master. He must have arrived at some conclusion for he retraced his steps slowly. Near the hut he encountered Ping, so nosed round him as though apologising for the sudden bolt under him. Ping and Spotty were chums. They were both mongrels, but there is often a lot of good to be found in such animals. Eventually when Ping lay down Spotty curled up close to his back; the silence was unbroken.

      When Glen awoke he saw at a glance the woman was coming round. She began to mutter. They listened but could make out no words.

      "She's pulling through. I reckon she'll mend now. We've all of us got to get her round."

      "All of us?"

      "Yes, you and Bill and me."

      "And what about the fence?" asked Jim.

      "Damn the fence," answered Glen fiercely, "I've done with it."

      "Then so have I," echoed Jim almost gladly.

      "Good boy. It's a cursed job. Keepers of the fence. I tell you, Jim, it's slow murder. I'd as lief have solitary confinement."

      "I guess we'd get better tucker in prison," said Jim.

      The word murder recalled to Glen's mind the death of Calder.

      "Jim!"

      "Well?"

      "Joe Calder's been shot dead on the track."

      "Serves the brute right," replied Jim in a hard voice.

      "You haven't told me yet what brought you here," said Glen looking at him.

      "That was it."

      "What?"

      "The Calder business."

      "You – ?"

      Jim nodded.

      "I shot him."

      CHAPTER VI

      "COME"

      Glen asked no questions. If Jim Benny had shot Calder he must have had good reason for it. He waited to hear if he would say more.

      "Do you want to know why?" asked Jim.

      "Please yourself."

      Jim pulled off his shirt, or tried to. It stuck.

      "The water," he said faintly.

      Glen gave him a damp cloth. Jim bathed the shirt, near his breast. For the first time Glen noticed a deep red mark.

      "That's better," said Jim, as he felt the shirt give, and pulled it off. Then he went on, "He did that with his knife, and I shot him."

      "It served him right," returned Glen.

      "We quarrelled, not for the first time. He said brutal things to me, and called me names no man would stand, so I struck him between the eyes. He whipped out his knife, and I had it before I could think. I pulled my revolver from my belt, and shot him through the heart. He fell like a log. I left him there. I never even looked at him, but came on here."

      "Why did you come here?"

      "Because I thought I could depend upon you, and you would give me good advice. I didn't tell you at first, because of her. One thing at a time's enough."

      "You can depend upon me. I'll help you if there's trouble, but no one knows you shot him, and there'll not be much fuss made over him," declared Glen.

      The woman opened her eyes, and looked at them. Then a faint smile spread over her face.

      "Are you better?" asked Glen.

      No answer.

      "Do you feel stronger, my lass?"

      She pressed her hand over her forehead feebly, and a vacant look came into her eyes.

      "She's weak. She's had no food. Warm some of that milk, Jim."

      When it was ready Glen gave it to her with a spoon. She took it greedily. In a few minutes she dozed again.

      "Her head's sure to be bad for a time," said Glen.

      There was a brief silence, then Jim said, "While you were away I did something."

      "What?"

      "I kissed her on the lips. I couldn't help it. Something prompted me."

      Glen started. For a moment he felt angry, then muttered, "When you were outside I kissed her on the forehead."

      These kisses were characteristic of the men and showed the difference between them.

      They said no more about it. Both thought it strange, and the subject dropped.

      The woman progressed slowly but surely. As she recovered some strength they found her memory had gone; she did not know her name, or where she came from. She appeared to imagine she had been there all her life.

      Bill Bigs arrived in his buggy, and did not come empty-handed; there was an ample supply stowed away in the back.

      "That's her, eh?" he asked.

      "Yes. Do you believe me now?" replied Glen smiling.

      "I believed you before, but I wanted to see her. I say, Glen, she'll be a grand-looking woman when she's picked up and filled out a bit. Where the deuce did she come from? It's miles away from everywhere here," said Bill.

      "It'll be hard to find out. She's lost her memory; she fancies she's been here all her days, but she's sane enough. She'll talk all right in a bit," replied Glen.

      "Jim Benny!" exclaimed Bill.

      "He's been here ever since she came. It was funny he should turn up almost at the same time."

      Jim came into the hut and greeted Bill.

      "I never expected to see you here," exclaimed the latter.

      "He came to consult me. We're going to throw it up," Glen told him.

      "Throw what up?"

      "The fence. We've done with it; we're sick of the whole thing. It's too much for flesh and blood to stand."

      Bill stared.

      "Going!" he cried. "Why you're the best man on the job."

      "Am I?" answered Glen. "I'm glad to hear someone has a good opinion of me."

      "I always had," pursued Bill. "I'm not surprised. I've often wondered why you came. I remember the first time I saw you in Boonara. I thought you'd dropped from the clouds. Have you sent in your resignation?"

      "No. What does it matter. Let 'em find out. You can drop a line to the overseer when we're gone."

      "And the fence?" asked Bill "We don't want those cursed rabbits to get through to our side."

      "There are plenty to look after it; men are always disappearing. There are good

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