swept and stung his face, as she broke away from him once and for all. He saw her bare feet flashing in the moonlight; they fell too softly for his ears. But he heard her sobbing as she ran. And he pitied himself the more passionately for the little he found it in him to pity her.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE LITTLE GREY MAN
To abscond from assigned service was to break yet another law of the land of bondage. And though he little knew it (but cared less), Tom Erichsen was now liable to further transportation—even to Norfolk Island—and that for life.
Six months in a chain-gang was, however, a likelier term; he might even get off with another fifty lashes, and doubtless would, if he fell alive into the ruthless hands through which he had slipped at last. He set his teeth at the thought. It should never be. They might take his body—there would be one or two more to go with it when they did.
The stars were still sharp in the sky. They remained so for some hours longer, when a breath of wind blew them out like candles, and day broke, or rather burst like a shell.
Meanwhile Tom had struck a creek, waded a mile in it to destroy the scent—waded within a stone’s-throw of Jarman’s hut—turned tail in a panic—and waded back, and miles further, in the opposite direction. In
