escaped all this," he whispered, in broken accents, "but my fate has pursued me to the end. What devil put Robberson in my way?"
"Speak lower," Slinger whispered," he lays near you, badly wounded."
"I know it," Bayley said, "and by my hand, would it were not so."
"Amen," Slinger ejaculated.
The word fell upon the ear of the magistrate, whose breathing became hurried and irregular. In scarcely intelligible language he begged his position might be changed. As Dodge and Raymond were performing this little service, he looked eagerly round the hut as if expecting some consolation was at hand, but the figure that met his gaze was not the one he sought.
On seeing Bayley, he raised himself a little, and stretching out his hands, exclaimed, "Take me away—anywhere;" and his quivering lips gave evidence of the mental struggle he was enduring. "Take me away, I say: take me out of this place."
"We are past hurting each other further now," said Bayley, mournfully: "it is too late for anything but mutual forgiveness: let us forget the past, if we can; but if you feel any difficulties on that score," this was said almost fiercely, "remember it was you who helped to make me what I am."
"Move me," Mr. Robberson moaned; and as his request was being complied with—" No: I can't bear it. Move him away out of my sight."
A fresh flow of blood from his wound left him exhausted and speechless in the arms of Dodge and Raymond, but his eyes were still fixed on Bayley, who averted his face as he whispered to Slinger, "How is it I can't look at him, and he can
