By this time Julia was on her knees by the side of the stretcher, holding the canteen to the lips of the wretched man, who drank with avidity, rolling his starting eyes from side to side. "Has there been a battle?" whispered Julia to the pensioner who had handed her the water-tin. "He is dreadfully wounded, is he not? Will he die?" Julia's quickly following questions were heard by the eight convicts, who were looking on with heavy, brutal curiosity, but not one glanced at his companions. "Bless your heart, no, miss. A few days in horspital will put him right," said the man, smiling. "How can you be so cruel?" panted the girl indignantly. "Suppose you were lying there?" "Well, I hope, miss," said the man good-humouredly, "that if I had been blackguard enough to have my back scratched, I should not be such a cur as to howl like that." "Julia, my child, come away," whispered Bayle, taking her hand and, trying to raise her as the sergeant looked on good-humouredly. "The man has been flogged for some offence. This is no place for you." "Hush!" she cried, as, drawing away her hand, she bent over the wretched man and wiped the great drops of perspiration from his forehead. He ceased his restless writhing and gazed up at the sweet face bending over him with a look of wonder. Then his eyes dilated, and his lips parted. The next moment he had turned his eyes upon Mrs Hallam, who was bending over her child half-trying to raise her, but with a horrible fascination in her gaze, while a curious silence seemed to have fallen on the group--so curious, that when one of the convicts moved slightly, the clank of a ring he wore sounded strangely loud in the hot sunshine. "By your leave, miss," said the sergeant, not unkindly. "I daren't stop. Fall in, my lads! Stretchers! Forward!" As the man, who was perfectly silent now, was raised by the convicts to the level of their shoulders, he wrenched his head round that he might turn his distorted features, purple with their deep flush, and continue his wondering stare at Julia and Mrs Hallam. Then the tramp and clank, tramp and clank went on, the guard raising each a hand to his forehead, and smiling at the group they left, while the old sergeant took off his cap, the sun shining down on a good manly English face, as he took a step towards Julia. "I beg pardon, miss," he said; "I'm only a rough old pensioner--but if you'd let me kiss your hand." Julia smiled in the sergeant's brown face as she laid her white little hand in his, and he raised it with rugged reverence to his lips. Then, saluting Mrs Hallam, he turned quickly to Bayle: "I did say, sir, as this place was just about like--you know what; but I see we've got angels even here." He went off at the double after his men, twenty paces ahead, while Bayle, warned by Julia, had just time to catch Mrs Hallam as she reeled, and would have fallen. "Mother, dear mother!" cried Julia. "This scene was too terrible for you."