“He ’s gone mad!  God pity him, he ’s gone mad!”

Winston drew himself together sharply, one hand grasping the other’s arm.

“Then leave it to him,” he said, quickly.  “Whoever did this deed deserves his punishment.  Let us do what he bade us—­look to the body of this poor girl.”

They turned back, dreading their task, moving still as though half dazed.  As they advanced, a dark body just beyond suddenly rose to its knees, and began crawling away.  With a bound Hicks succeeded in laying hands upon the fellow, and flung him over, face upward to the stars.  With gun at his head he held the man prostrate, staring down upon the revealed features in manifest astonishment.

“Damn me!” he cried, a new note of surprise in his voice, “Winston, look yere!”

“What is it?” and the younger man pressed forward, his rifle ready.

“Ain’t that Burke?  Ain’t that the same feller they had you pinched fer murderin’?”

The helpless man lying upon the ground frowned savagely up at them, a dirty bandage bound about his head giving him a ghastly, unnatural appearance.  For a long moment the startled engineer gazed down at him in incredulity, unable to distinguish the features clearly, his own heart beating rapidly in suspense.

“I half believe it is.  Are you Jack Burke?”

The man attempted a grin, but there was little of merriment in the result.

“Oi think loikely ye ’re as liable as any wan to know.  Ye ’re the lad that put this head on me, but that other divil it was that broke me arm.  Let me up from here.  Begorry!  Oi ’ve had ‘nough fightin’ fer wan toime.”

“Did you know I had been put under arrest on the charge of killing you?”

Burke grinned, this time in earnest.

“Divil a bit did Oi know anything about it.  Farnham he tould me to keep damn quiet in the bunkhouse, out o’ sight, but whin they wanted for to set this fuse off, it seems Oi was the only lad that could do the job, an’ so they brought me out here along wid ’em.  It ’s a busted head an’ a broken arm Oi ‘ve got for me share o’ the fun.  Be the powers, now, let me git up!”

The two men, watching him closely, exchanged glances.

“All right, Burke,” and Winston held up his rifle suggestively.  “You can get up, only stay close to us, wid no tricks.  I want you, and I want you bad.  If you make any break, there ’ll be a dead Irishman this time sure.  Is that you, Mike?”

“Sure, sor.”

“Good; you’ve come just in time.  Drop your muzzle on this native son, and if the fellow makes a suspicious move, plug him, you understand?”

“Ye bet Oi do, sor.  Sthep out there, Burke, yer slab-sided boss o’ Swades, or Oi ’ll show ye what a dacent Oirishman—­an O’Brien, bedad,—­thinks o’ the loikes of ye; Oi will that.”