‘Read,’ she said.  ‘He says you will understand.’

‘But, Lucy, won’t you dismount?  You are tired.’

‘For pity’s sake, waste no time!  Read!’

He unfolded the note, and read: 

’Dear miss Woodrow,

’I am seriously wounded, and lying helpless.  My life is in danger.  There is one man who will save me; there is one woman whom I can trust to go to him.  You are that woman.  I appeal to all that is good, kind, and merciful in you to help me.  Believe nothing you have heard.  I am the victim of circumstances—­circumstances of the most terrible kind.  Only be the sweet, tender woman you have always seemed to me.  Ride to Jim Done at Blanket Flat as soon as possible in the morning; bring him to me.  I know he will not hesitate when he knows that I am crippled in the Bush, and at the mercy of my enemies.  The boy will explain the rest.

’Your unfortunate friend,

‘Walter Ryder.’

’The half-caste boy at the station, who knows where Mr. Ryder is hidden, brought that to me,’ Lucy said.  ’He met me at a gorge leading into the range this morning with this horse.  The boy is to meet us at the mouth of the gorge and take us to him.  He escaped from Boobyalla when the troopers came, and hid in the Bush.  He was seen and shot in the neck, but found another hiding-place, and is waiting for you.  You will come?’

She had spoken in a hard, unimpassioned voice, as if repeating a lesson; only her eyes betrayed the intense feeling that possessed her.

‘I will go,’ he answered.  ’Hadn’t you better have some tea and something to eat?  It is a long ride.’

‘No, no,’ she said; ‘we cannot spare a moment.’

‘I insist.’  He put up his hands to help her.  His words were quiet, but his tone was masterful.  She looked into his face, and obeyed him.  ’Better rest a while now than break down later—­and I do not know the way.  Harry,’ he called, turning to his mate, ’will you give the horses a drink?  You have not pressed them?’ he said to Lucy.

‘No; I was afraid, knowing they would have to carry us back.’

’My mate will change the saddles.  I must ride the stronger horse.  Meanwhile, get something to eat.  We have just breakfasted; there is tea in the billy.’

He showed neither hurry nor agitation, he displayed no feeling, but, watching him narrowly, Lucy was convinced of his great earnestness, and the strain of anxiety that had gripped her heart like a band of steel relaxed.  She breathed freely.  Part of the burden had gone to him, and he would bear it.

Jim felt himself strong again in the face of this great need.  Apart from the tie of blood, he owed Ryder the best service of which he was capable—­his very life, if need be—­but he did not question the matter, even in his own heart, and it was not till Blanket Flat lay four or five miles behind them that he sought further information from his companion.  They had ridden in silence, Lucy overwrought, thinking only of the wounded man hunted like a beast, perhaps dying in the Bush, Jim endeavouring to decide upon a plan of action.  The news had not greatly surprised him; ever since Ryder’s declaration of his identity Done had foreseen some such possibility.