"I don't want to have any
communication with you, and every word you say will go against you."
"Bah!" said Hawker. "I must swing. I know that. I shan't make any
defence. Why, the devils out of hell would come into court against me
if I did. But I want to ask you a question or two. You haven't got the
character of being a brutal fellow, like O----. It can't hurt you to
answer me one or two things, and ease my mind a bit."
"God help you, unhappy man;" said Desborough. "I will answer any
questions you ask."
"Well, then, see here," said Hawker, hesitating. "I want to know--I
want to know first, how you got round before me?"
"Is that all?" said Desborough. "Well, I came round over Broad-saddle,
and got a fresh horse at the Parson's."
"Ah!" said Hawker. "That young fellow I shot down when you were after
me, is he dead?"
"By this time," said Desborough. "He was just dying when I came away."
"Would you mind stopping for a moment, Captain? Now tell me, who was
he?"
"Mr. Charles Hawker, son of Mrs. Hawker, of Toonarbin."
He gave such a yell that Desborough shrunk from him appalled,--a cry
as of a wounded tiger,--and struggled so wildly with his handcuffs
that the blood poured from his wrists.
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