Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/97

 But now, in the shadows’ deepening When the last sun-spark has ceased to burn, Afar she catches the sullen ring Of horse-hoofs swinging around the turn; Then painfully down the narrow trail Comes Alec McCrae with the Greytown mail.

‘The fever-and-ague, my girl,’ he said— ‘’Twas all I got on that northern trip: When it left me then I was well-nigh dead— Has got me fast in its iron grip; And I’d rather rot in the nearest gaol Than ride to-night with the Greytown mail.

‘At Golden Gully they heard to-day— ‘Twas a common topic about the town— That the Mulligan Gang were around this way. They wouldn’t despatch the gold-dust down; And Brown, the manager, said he thought ’Twere wise to wait for a strong escort.

‘I rode the leaders; the other nags I left with the coach at the ‘Travellers’ Rest.’ Kitty, my lass, you must take the bags— Postboy, I reckon’s about the best; ‘Tis dark, I know, but he’ll never fail To take you down with the Greytown mail.’