I understand.  You were one of Lalor’s men.’  Ryder nodded.  That idea would suit him very well.

Then, if it wasn’t that I love the boy in there, I’d do it for your sake as a good man and true,’ continued Mary.

Ryder gave a few directions as to the treatment of the patient and then turned and sauntered away, carrying the loaf under his arm.  Mary reentered the tent, and found Aurora, very pale but apparently quite calm, busying herself about the patient.  She had removed all the blood articles, and they lay in a heap on the floor.  These Mrs. Kyley would have gathered up, but the girl interfered.

‘No, no,’ she said, ’leave it to me—­leave it all to me!  I must work—­I must be busy!  If I stopped now my heart would break.  Look at him!’

‘My God! it is very like death,’ whispered Mrs. Kyley.

It was not easy to get a doctor in Ballarat that day.  Ben was entrusted with the mission, and warned to proceed cautiously.  He found the doctors in urgent demand.  There were wounded men hidden away in many places, and the authorities had obtained a monopoly of the services of the practising physicians.  At ten o’clock that night Ben led a young Scotchman named Clusky in triumph to the tent.  Clusky had qualified but gold on the rushes had proved more attractive than the wearisome hunt for fees in a Scottish villages and on Ballarat Dr. Clusky was a working miner.

‘He’s the third to-day,’ Clusky said to Mary, ’and the worst—­by far the worst.  No fool did that, though,’ he continued, referring to the bandaging of the shoulder, as he rapidly removed the linen.  ’The damage is not so very great here, after all,’ he said a moment later; ’but there’s no blood to spare left in his veins, poor devil!’

The doctor refused to interfere with Ryder’s stitching in the scalp wound, and gave a long prescription and much advice, and Jim was left to the tender mercies of Aurora, Mary, and Ben.  Ryder called every night for a week, and then, having received a favourable verdict from the doctor, disappeared, his disappearance being satisfactorily accounted for by the earnest inquiries of a police officer who called upon Ben a few days later.  Meantime, Harry Peetree, who had remained in Ballarat to try and discover the whereabouts of Jim and Mike, hunted the Kyleys out, and learned the truth.  He left a message for Jim, and then followed his father and brother, who had made for Simpson’s Ranges again immediately after their escape from the stockade.  But ere this, and long before Jim Done was again conscious of the world about him, poor Mike Burton had been buried with the rest of the slain insurgents in a common grave.