'You are too good to me, Lance; God bless you for it,' she murmured. 'I shall thank you to my dying day, whenever that is: I somehow think it mayn't be long. Anyway, I _will_ have a few mouthfuls. There's thirty miles of mountain road to go back, and I must be home before _he_ comes. I see you're marked,' she continued, looking with curiously blended sympathy and shyness at his discoloured face, 'but you're nothing like as bad hurt as _he_ was, or you couldn't move about or stoop to blow up that fire. He was close upon dead for a week after he got back. He didn't tell me who done it till one day we quarrelled when he was better. Then he half killed me,--kicked and trampled on me, as he's done many a time. If it wasn't for--for the child,'--here she hesitated and looked down,--'I'd have left him long ago.' 'Cowardly brute, ruffianly dog!' groaned Lance, grinding his teeth, 'why didn't I kill him when we met at Gibbo? I had two minds to finish him there and then. Things could hardly be worse than they are. But the next time we meet one of us dies; I swear it, as God hears me.' 'Oh! don't talk like that,' she cried, and even in his wrath Lance recognised with amazement the new element of pitying tenderness which anxiety for his safety evoked (oh! wondrous-fashioned instrument, the woman's heart! soaring to seraphic melody, yet at times clanging with frenzied discords, echoes from the Inferno); 'if there's anything of that sort you'll be sure to be taken, then it will be "life" or worse. But,' changing her tone to one of grave entreaty, 'what I came for to-day was this,--I knew you were here, no matter how; where I live we know a lot, all the worse for us and other people.' 'And what was it, Kate?' '_I came to warn you_,' she said, as she fixed her eyes imploringly upon his countenance, 'and you believe me, just as if Tessie was talking to you this minute.' 'To take care of my horse, Kate?' he said, half jestingly; 'I haven't any to lose.' 'To take care of your LIFE!' she cried, almost with a scream. 'You have that to lose, haven't you? and unless you are carefuller than I ever knew you to be, you'll find it out too late. I overheard him and that old wretch Caleb Coke (and of all the murdering dogs I ever heard of I think he's the worst) talking over some plan they've put up, and from words I caught I made out it was about you. There was a deal about gold-buying and some hut, and a box with nuggets and things locked up in it--money as well. You'll know if that fits. The man, whoever it was, was to be "put away," as Coke said. So you take my tip! _Trust nobody about this field_, Caleb Coke above all, and get shut of Omeo the first minute you can.' 'When did you hear this?'