was the afternoon of a day of oppressive heat on which Mr.Wyville and Hamerton started from Perth to ride to the mountains of the Vasse. They were lightly equipped, carrying with them the few necessaries for the primitive life of the bush.
For weeks before, the air had been filled with an irritating smoke, that clung to the earth all day, and was blown far inland by the sea-breeze at night.
As the horsemen were leaving Perth, they met a travel-stained police trooper, carrying the mail from the southern districts. He recognized the Comptroller General, and saluted respectfully as he passed.
"Where is the fire, trooper?" asked Mr. Wyville.
"In the Bunbury district, sir, and moving towards the Vasse Road. It has burnt on the plains inside the sea-hills for three weeks, and in a day or two will reach the heavy bush on the uplands."
They rode at a steady and rapid pace, conversing little, like men bent on a long and tedious journey. The evening closed on them when they were crossing the Darling Range. From the desolate mountain-road, as they descended, they saw the sun standing large and red, on the horizon. Before them, at the foot of the range, stretched a waste of white sand, far as the eye could reach, over which their road lay.
The setting of the sun on such a scene has an awfulness hard to be described. The whiteness of the sand seems to increase until it becomes ghastly, while every low ridge casts a black shadow. During this time of twilight the sand-plain has a weirdly sombre aspect. When the night comes in its black shroud or silvery moonlight, the supernatural effect is dispelled.
As the travellers rode down towards the plain, impressed by this ghostly hour, Mr. Wyville called Hamerton's attention to two dark objects moving on the sand at a distance.
Hamerton unslung his field-glass, and looked at the objects.
"A man and a woman," he said, "they are going ahead, and the woman carries a load like the natives."
Soon after, the sun went down beyond the desert, and the plain was dark. The horsemen spurred on, oppressed by the level monotony before them. They had forgotten the travellers who were crossing, the wearywaste on foot.
Suddenly Hamerton's horse swerved, and a voice in the darkness ahead shouted something. It was a command from the man on foot, addressed to the woman, who, in her weariness and with her burden, had not been able to keep pace with him, and had fallen behind.
"Come along, curse you! or I'll be all night on this plain."
The speaker had not seen nor heard the horsemen, whose advance was hidden by the night and the soft sand. They rode close behind the woman, and heard her laboured breathing as she increased her speed.
A sense of acute sorrow struck at once the hearts of the riders. They had recognized the voice as that of Draper—
they knew that the miserable being who followed him and received his curses was his wife.
They rode silently behind her, and halted noiselessly as she came up with her husband. He growled at her again as she approached.
"I am very tired, Samuel," they heard her say in a low, uncomplaining voice; "and I fear I'm not as strong as I thought I was."
She stood a moment as she spoke, as if relieved by the moment's breathing-space.
"Look here," he said in a hard voice, meant to convey the brutal threat to her soul; "if you can't keep up, you can stay behind. I'll stop no more for you; so you can come or stay. Do you hear?"
"O, Samuel, you wouldn't leave me in this terrible place alone! Have pity on me, and speak kindly to me, and I will keep up—indeed, I'll not delay you any more to-night."
"Have pity on you?" he hissed between his teeth you brought me to this, and I am to have pity on you!"
He turned and strode on in the dark. She had heard, but made no reply. She struggled forward, though her steps even now were unsteady.
Mr. Wyville, having first attracted her attention by a slight sound, so that she should not be frightened, rode up to her, and spoke in a low voice.
"I am the Comptroller-General—do not speak. Give me your burden. You will find it when you arrive at the inn at "Pinjarra."
She looked up and recognized Mr. Wyville; and without a word she slipped her arms from the straps of the heavy load, and let him lift it from her.
"God bless you, sir!" she whispered tremulously; "I can walk easily now."
"Here," said Hamerton, handing her his wine-flask, keep this for yourself, and use it if you feel your strength failing."
"Where is your husband going?" asked Mr. Wyville.
"He is going to the Vasse, sir. A whale ship has come in there, and he thinks she will take us off."