The Moving Finger | Page 9

way when he saw, greatly to his
astonishment, that the bank, instead of being a steep drop of about
twenty feet, gently sloped like it did near the hut, and a track, half
hidden by thick scrub, ran down the slope. Down this track the girl
went swiftly, her skirts raising a little whirl of dust behind her. The
man paused a moment, and by the light of the moon examined his

pistols to see they were loaded, for he judged he was doing an unwise
thing. Should there be men there, as he more than half suspected, there
was no knowing what might happen; but still he never thought of
turning back, that Nellie was there was more than sufficient reason he
should follow. When he looked again he 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