Macdougal’s face was literally convulsed with the fury of his hate; he spat at Ryder as he spoke, and then, with the swiftness and the strength that had marked them in health, the outlaw’s fingers fastened upon his hairy throat.  The long, thin hands clamped themselves upon his neck, and for a moment Monkey Mack was helpless in the agonies of suffocation.  Then his left hand pointed the revolver at Ryder’s ear; there was a sharp report, and the outlaw fell limply, and rolled back upon the flat water-worn rock, his shattered head to the stone, his arms out thrown, his lifeless face turned up to the blue sky.

XXIII

Monkey Mack stood for a few seconds gazing down upon the dead man, unconscious of the fact that at the moment his shot was fired Lucy Woodrow and Jim Done had come suddenly upon the scene around one of the huge boulders with which the gorge was strewn.  He was recalled to himself by the exclamation of horror uttered by the girl, and discovered Jim, revolver in hand.  Turning, he fled up the right side of the gorge, where the timber offered good cover.  Jim raised his revolver, and took deliberate aim at the flying figure, but Lucy seized his arm and bore it down, and, clinging to him, she cried: 

‘No, no! for God’s sake, not that!’

Jim tore himself from her with bitter words, and the next moment they saw Macdougal riding furiously along the side of the gorge, swinging his apparently maddened horse through the thick timber with marvellous dexterity.  Done uttered a cry, and ran for the horses, and Lucy followed him, calling piteously.  She saw Jim spring upon Wallaroo and turn his head down the gully, and, knowing his intention, snatched the revolver from Yarra’s hand and fired at the stallion.  The shot took effect in the horse’s neck, and he plunged forward, throwing Jim heavily, and, rolling on his side, lay half submerged in the water of the creek.

Done was stunned and shaken by the fall, and it was some minutes before he quite recovered.  Then, turning upon Lucy in the blind fury that filled his soul, he said: 

’You have saved that foul murderer, and while he lives I swear I’ll never forgive you!’

She made no reply, but followed Jim to Ryder’s side, trembling in every limb, with a bursting pain at her heart and a feeling of utter desolation upon her.  Done knelt by the dead outlaw, looking into the white face, and remembered standing as a boy gazing into another dead face wonderfully like this, the face of his mother.  He felt no sorrow; there was room in his soul only for his black wrath.  For some minutes he remained kneeling, with set teeth, his hands clenched, his blood hot with rage.  When he arose Lucy was by his side, but her eyes were bent upon the dead man.

‘You stood between me and my brother’s murderer,’ he said.

She looked at him vaguely, as if she had not heard aright, and passed a faltering hand across her eyes.