Over the Sliprails by Henry Lawson
page 140 of 169 (82%)
page 140 of 169 (82%)
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She's mad sure enough," he thought to himself; "I thought it was a ghost."
"I don't know," she wailed, "I don't know. You're a man, and I'm a helpless girl. They turned me out! My mother's dead, and my brothers gone away. Look! Look here!" pointing to a bruise on her forehead. "The woman did that. My own father stood by and saw it done -- said it served me right! Oh, my God!" "What woman? Tell me all about it." "The woman father brought home! . . . I want to go away from the bush! Oh! for God's sake take me away from the bush! . . . Anything! anything! -- you know! -- only take me away from the bush!" Bob and his mate -- who had been roused -- did their best to soothe her; but suddenly, without a moment's warning, she sprang to her feet and scrambled to the top of the rock overhanging the camp. She stood for a moment in the bright moonlight, gazing intently down the vacant road. "Here they come!" she cried, pointing down the road. "Here they come -- the troopers! I can see their cap-peaks glistening in the moonlight! . . . I'm going away! Mother's gone. I'm going now! -- Good-bye! -- Good-bye! I'm going away from the bush!" Then she ran through the trees towards the foot of Long Gully. Bob and his mate followed; but, being unacquainted with the locality, they lost her. She ran to the edge of a granite cliff on the higher side |
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