The Moving Finger | Page 9

was startled to find she had vanished, and the measured sound of a horse's hoof-beats broke on his ear. At the same moment he saw the path took a turn in the scrub, and drawing out a pistol, ran down it. As he turned the corner, he came full on Nellie standing motionless in the moon-light; the covering had fallen from her head, and she was stretching out her arms to a mounted figure which was draped, horse and all, in a long white cloth which fell almost to the ground.
It flashed across the overseer that this was the "Trotting Cob," this was the ghost he had been warned against, and a very substantial, life-like ghost it was too. He wondered as he stood there that any man could be deceived.
The girl stood right in its path, right between the two men, and to move, the horseman must either ride over her or turn into the scrub.
He seemed inclined to do neither, but with an angry oath flung back the covering from his face.
"You, girl!" he said.
Then she burst out, half-sobbing, "Oh, Jim, Jim! I was afraid I 'd be too late. Oh, Jim, Gran wouldn't let--"
"Too late!" said the man; he spoke apparently with an effort, but in such grave, cultured tones that Fisher, who was a man of but little education, himself stood silent with wonder. "Too early, I think. I told you how it would be, Nell. I believed in you, Nell, so help me God, I did, but I saw you this afternoon with that man, and now you have betrayed me. You will have it then," and before Fisher could stop him or shield her, he had drawn a pistol from his belt and shot her in the breast. So close she was there was not a chance of missing, and she fell backwards and lay there in the dusty track, the pale moonlight lighting up her fair hair, and the dark stain widening, widening, on the bosom of her dress.
Fisher's first thought was for vengeance, but his hand shook and his shot flew wide, and the other man, apparently giving no heed to him, flung himself from his saddle on to the ground beside the girl.
"Oh, Nell, Nell, little girl, and I trusted you."
She put her little bloodstained hand on his arm, and smiled up into his face with such a world of love in the dying eyes, that Fisher looking on dared not for very pity mar her last moments by word or sigh.
Time enough when she was gone, for the two men to settle accounts.
"Jes' so," she gasped, her one idea strong in death; "I was--near, too late--don'--go--nigh the camp. Ben Fisher--will--shoot the ghost--on--sight."
"But--but--"
Pity for the girl, dying misjudged by the hand she loved, impelled Fisher to speak.
How great had been his share in the tragedy he hardly as yet realized; that would come later.
"It wasn't her fault this afternoon," he said roughly; "it was mine, and this evening she never knew I followed her."
"Oh, my God--my little girl, my poor little girl."
He lifted her up in his arms and made a half effort to staunch the wound, but she was evidently dying fast--past all human aid.
"Jim--you--won't--go--anigh--the--camp?"
"Nellie, Nellie, don't die, my darling--don't leave me; don't let me have this on my conscience. I love you, Nellie--you are all there is to live for. I love you."
"Better 'n her?" she gasped.
He looked down at her in wonder, then covered the white face with kisses.
"Better a thousand times--better than any woman that ever lived. Forgive me, Nell, forgive me."
She was going fast, but she understood him, and the man looking on saw peace and happiness on her face.
"I love you, Jim."
"There never was a daughter of Eve, but once ere the tale of her years be done, Shall know the scent of the Eden rose--but once beneath the sun! Though the years may bring her joy or pain, fame, sorrow, or sacrifice, The hour that brought her the scent of the Rose--she lived it in Paradise!"
The horse's hoof-beats kept time to the rhythm of the song. "The hour that brought her the scent of the Rose--she lived it in Paradise!"
"An' I guess," said the driver's voice--breaking in on my reverie--"that's about all there is to tell. Them's the lights of Wongonilla over there. The rest of the story--Lord bless you, it all 'us ended where the gal died. The men I guess did'nt feel much inclined for fighting after that. Anyhow I b'lieve Ben Fisher came back dazed like to camp an' told 'em what 'd happened. But though they scoured the country, Gentleman Jim got clean away. Fisher? Oh, he weren't no account after it, I b'lieve--gave him a sort a' shock, same as if he 'd killed her hisself. He was speared