Stingaree
"I wish you'd stop a bit at Mazeppa," whined Stingaree, drooping like a candle in the heat.
The station roofs gleamed through the trees far off the track.
"Why?"
"Because I'm feeling sick."
"Gammon! You've got some friends there; on you push!"
"But you will camp somewhere in the heat of the day?"
"I'll do as I think fit. I sha'n't consult you, my fine friend."
Stingaree drooped and nodded, lower and lower; then recovered himself with a jerk, like one battling against sleep. The party pushed on for another hour. The heat was terrible; the bound men endured torments in their bonds. But the nature of the Superintendent, deformed like his body, declared itself duly at every turn, and the more one prisoner groaned and the other blasphemed, the greater the zest and obduracy of the driving force behind them.
Noon passed; the scanty shadows lengthened; and Howie gave more trouble of an insensate sort. They reined up, and lashed him tighter; he had actually loosened his cords. But Stingaree seemed past remonstrance with friend or foe, and his
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