Nic, boy!--I beg your pardon, sir," he cried bitterly--"Master, your slave wonders sometimes that he is alive.

I tell you I've prayed night after night for death, but it would not come: no spear, no blinding stroke from the sun, no goring by the half-wild bullocks which have chased me; no fall when I have desperately climbed down the side of that gorge.

No! spite of all risk I have grown stronger, healthier, as you see--healthier in body, but more and more diseased in mind." He stopped and threw himself down upon his breast, to bury his face in his hands; and just then there came a low, chuckling sound, as of laughter, from one of the great grey kingfishers in the tree above them, followed by a wild, dissonant, shrieking chorus from a flock of parrots, as if in defiance at the cruel laugh.
"I don't mind your speaking to me as you did, Leather," said Nic at last, as he turned his head aside to hide his emotion, and he sat down to watch his beautiful horse quietly cropping the grass, thinking how much happier the dumb beast was.

"I only mind when you talk in your bitter way .-- I'm sorry for you." "God bless you, my lad!" said the convict, in smothered tones: "I know it.

You've shown it to me a score of times.