been yelling at his heels, he could not have
proceeded.

He sought the shelter of a rocky mound,
near at hand, and lay down in its dark
shadow, intending to rest for a brief interval
only. But he unwarily sank into a deep
sleep.

From that dangerous slumber, Jim Walker
would probably never have awoke in this
world, but for the faithful guardianship of
his dog Sandie. Aroused by the barking of that
vigilant companion, he opened his eyes just
as the grey light of morning was spreading
over the horizon. Above his head the rock
rose perpendicularly to the height of about
fourteen feet. Over the margin appeared
a human head, which caught his startled
gaze as he awoke. Instinctively he
recognised the presence of his pursuers. The
savages had tracked him to his hiding-place.

Springing to his feet, he darted forward
with renewed velocity; and as he did so, a
spear whizzed by close to him. Jim felt
that he had thrown away another chance
of life by halting in the open country.
Shelter there was none; for the track
of flight lay now over a treeless plain.
Again and again spears glanced by him,
and, looking around, he saw that he was
pursued by three savages, one of whom was
considerably in advance of the others. With
set teeth and straining muscles, the hunted
man pressed on, desperation and agony in
his soul. The savages rapidly gained upon
him; and, although a stern chace is always
a long chace, nothing could prevent their
closing with him, before many minutes elapsed.

Suddenly he turned and fired at the nearest
black. The shot was fatal. With a loud
screech, the savage leaped up into the air,
and fell to the earth, mortally wounded.

Almost immediately thereupon, a faint
sound, as of the bleating of sheep reached the
fugitive's ear. He was near assistance. He
strove to shout aloud, but his voice failed.
A low hill was before him, and in the valley
beyond was the home-station, could he but
reach which his life was safe. The space
between was short, but into that space were
crowded unnumbered hopes and fears. The
savages were fast nearing him. Once more
facing round, he fired, and in the excitement
of the moment, missed. It was his last shot,
and now in his speed lay the last remaining
chance of escape.

He scarcely dared to hope, yet mechanically
continued to fly. A thousand wandering
thoughts of happy days, of boyish sports
beneath an English sky, fond reminiscences
of home, and recollections of a mother's love
—a mother, too early lost; passed with
wondrous rapidity before his mental vision, he
said, in the brief agonizing moments of that
fearful struggle for life.

He reached the hill unharmed, and had
accomplished nearly half the ascent, when a
spear entered his shoulder, and threw him,
stunned and bleeding, to the ground. The
next moment the savages were upon him.

Sandie, faithful to the last, flew at the
throat of the nearest foe, and forced him back
to the earth. Frightened at this novel
assailant, the fellow shrieked for help, and
with a single blow of his tomahawk, his
comrade laid the honest brute senseless and
disabled. But the temporary diversion in
Jim's favour, saved Jim's life.

As the savages turned from the dog to
their human victim, Bang! bang! came two
shots from the summit of the hill, and several
white men rushed forward to the rescue.
The hunters now became the hunted; and I
need scarcely add, that neither of them
escaped.

The last shots fired by Jim had fortunately
been heard by a shepherd employed at the
head station; apprehensive of danger, he
immediately aroused the other men. Little
time was lost in dressing, for the simple
reason that bushmen seldom undress; and
starting in the direction of the hill, they
arrived just in time to deliver Jim from
the hands of his enemies.

The spear-wound in Jim's shoulder speedily
healed; and Sandie, although long despaired
of, eventually recovered from the effects of
the savage's tomahawk. A perceptible limp
always remained to bear witness of his
courageous attack; and surely Jim was
right in saying, that Sandie's lame leg was
as honourable to the noble dog as scars to a
soldier. He was of little use afterwards as a
sheep-dog; but Jim would not part with
him. He elevated him to the rank of a
special pensioner, and never ate himself until
he had fed the companion of that eventful
night.

I may add, that a party sent over to the
old hut found it burnt to the ground, and all
the sheep driven off. With the assistance of
neighbouring settlers, the greater part of the
flock was ultimately recovered; but not until
after many days' hunting for them, and
several sanguinary encounters with the
Tatiara blacks, wherein more than one
European received wounds.

MR. CHARLES DICKENS
WILL READ AT ST. MARTIN'S HALL:
On THURSDAY EVENING, MAY 13th, his "Christmas
Carol."
On THURSDAY EVENING, MAY 20th, his "Cricket on
the Hearth."
Each Reading will commence at Eight exactly, and
will last two hours.
PLACES:—Stalls (numbered and reserved), Five Shillings;
Area and Galleries, Half-a-crown; Unreserved
Seats, One Shilling. Tickets to be had at Messrs.
Chapman and Hall's, Publishers, 193, Piccadilly; and at
St. Martin's Hall, Long Acre.