Chapter 4

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_ CHAPTER FOUR.

The Gilpins found that the superintendence of a large station did not afford a bed of roses. All day long they were in the saddle, overlooking twenty stockmen and shepherds, examining the herds and flocks, and often themselves doctoring any which were found diseased or injured. This they were obliged to do, in consequence of the ignorance or carelessness of the people in charge of them. These, with few exceptions, had been convicts. Of those who had been convicts, some were still working out their sentences with tickets-of-leave, while others, who were free to go where they liked, were too old and destitute of energy to venture on a change of occupation, and remained as before, hut-keepers or shepherds. At each inferior station there was a hut with a hut-keeper, whose duty was to look after the hut, to cook the provisions, and to tend the sheep or cattle brought for any special purpose into the fold or pen. The office was usually held by some old convict or other person unfit for hard labour. Though occasionally there is enough to do, it is considered an idle, lazy life.

The brothers often rode together to the stations, to assist each other; but they had lately, for the sake of covering more ground in the course of the day, taken separate districts, that the stockmen might be kept constantly on the alert, not knowing any moment when the active young managers might pay them a visit. Notwithstanding this, cattle and sheep continued to disappear as before, and they came to the resolution of making every man responsible who lost an animal, and stopping his wages till it was replaced. One day, after a hard morning's work, Arthur Gilpin found himself approaching the rear of a hut, on an out station, at the extreme end of the territory over which the cattle ranged--the whole being considerably larger than many a German principality. The ground was soft, and his horse's hoofs making no noise, it was not till he got in front of the hut that the dog, ever found as its guardian (either well-bred deer-hound or cur of low degree), came bounding up towards him, barking loudly. In this case the animal was a remarkably handsome deer-hound, of a size and strength sufficient to drag him from his horse. The hut-keeper was seated in a rough sort of easy-chair, and was apparently fast asleep.

"Hillo, my man, call off your dog, or he and I may do each other an injury," shouted Arthur; "he is a noble brute, and I should not like to hurt him, if I could help it!"

The man started up, a book dropping from his hand. "Come back, good Brian; come back, sir!" he cried out. "I must apologise, Mr Gilpin, for not hearing you; but I was overcome, I believe, by the heat," he added, as he took the horse from which Arthur had just dismounted.

As the stock-keeper unsaddled the animal, Arthur's eye fell on the open page of the book from which he had been reading. It was a superior edition of Horace, well used.

Roughly clad and unshorn and haggard in his looks as the man was, Arthur could not but conclude that he had once moved among the educated classes of society. The ever-ready damper and pot of tea were produced; and Arthur, having satisfied his appetite, made the usual inquiries about the station. Everything seemed to be satisfactory.

"You appear to be fond of reading," said Arthur, glancing at the Horace, which had been placed on a shelf among a few other books.

"Ah! a friend of my early days. He serves to beguile many a weary hour," answered the hut-keeper, with a sigh.

Arthur did not like to ask questions. "We brought a few books with us into the bush; I shall be glad to lend them to you," he said.

"They will be most acceptable, sir," said the hut-keeper, his countenance brightening; "my own stock is small, and I have read each volume over and over again till I know them by heart. I believe that if a chest of new books were to reach me, like the half-starved wretch who suddenly finds himself in the midst of plenty, I could sit down and read till my eyesight or my wits had left me."

"I can enter into your feelings," said Arthur kindly. "The life you lead must indeed be dull."

"Ah! it might be far worse, though," answered the hut-keeper; "poverty out here can scarcely be said to pinch. I often ask myself what might it have been, or what certainly would it have been, had I remained in London till my last shilling was gone. To rot in a poorhouse or to sweep a crossing would have been my lot, or there might have been a worse alternative. I had enough left to pay my passage out here. It was a wise move--the only wise thing I ever did in my life. My expectations on landing were foolish, and before I could realise them I had the chance of going to gaol or becoming a hut-keeper." The last remarks were made as he stood holding the rein of Arthur's horse.

Arthur rode round the run, inspected the flock, and had to pass near the hut again on his return homeward. The hut-keeper, Charles Craven he called himself, was on the watch for him.

"I must have a word with you, Mr Gilpin," he said. "You are the first man I have met since I landed on these shores who has sympathised with me. I would do something to serve you. First, I must warn you never to be unarmed, either in your hut or out of it; and especially advise you and your brother, when you ride out, always to keep together. Many of the hands on the station are exasperated with you for your style of proceeding, and they think that if they could get rid of you they would have things their own way."

Thanking Craven for his advice, Arthur pushed on towards home as rapidly as his grey would carry him. He was relieved on finding that James had just before arrived. He told his brother of the warning Craven had given him.

James was at first inclined to laugh at it. "The scoundrels dare not injure us!" he exclaimed. Then he remembered Basham's revengeful looks, and the surly manner of several of the hands, and finally agreed with his brother that it would be wiser to go armed, and keep together.

They had removed the hut-keeper to another post, and placed Green in charge of their abode. This would have been necessary, if for no other reason, for the purpose of having it kept clean and habitable, which the dirty habits of the former occupant rendered impracticable. The exact situation of the hut has not been described. It stood on a hillside, the ground immediately round it cleared, but with bush both above it and on either side, extending to a considerable distance. In some places the trees were fine and lofty, in others only stringy-bark or low bushes. A river passed in front at the distance of less than a quarter of a mile, full and flowing in winter, but after the heats of summer consisting of a succession of water-holes connected by a trickling rill. During the shearing season the river was a scene of the greatest animation, as all the flocks from far and near were driven up to it, that the sheep might be washed before being deprived of their fleeces. After a sudden downfall of rain, the quiet stream became a roaring, boiling torrent, sweeping onward with terrific force, now forming a wide lake, and, once more confined by high and narrow banks, whirling along with rapid eddies; and at spots, where a few hours before a person could pass on foot, the current would test the strength of the strongest swimmer or most powerful horse to cross; at other times it relapsed into a state of silence, not without much picturesque beauty of a tranquil character. The hut commanded a view of the river, but it, as well as the sheds, sheep-folds, and stock-yards, were placed far too high above it to be reached by the widest inundation it could cause.

Arthur did not forget his promise to Craven, and, as soon as he was able, he rode toward his hut with several books in his pockets. The hut-keeper was very grateful, and expressed himself in a way which showed that he was really a gentleman and a man of feeling. The brothers, as they rode away, agreed that it would be but an act of common kindness to ask him to visit them, and that they might send another man to take his place.

Craven considered a moment. "No; I had better not," he answered; "the men about here look upon me as one of themselves, and if I were seen with you, I should no longer be trusted by them. They are mischievously inclined; and if I can turn them from their purposes, or give you warning of their intentions, and help, if needs be, it will afford me the satisfaction of believing that I have been of some little use in the world."

They could not but agree with him, and expressed a hope that an employment more suited to a person of his education might be found for him.

Craven gave a sickly smile. "You are young, and think change is easy," he said. "The sapling is quickly bent, but when an old tree has long grown in the same direction, it cannot be straightened again. Supply me with books and tobacco, and, a few years hence, perhaps, a pair of spectacles, and I shall have no desire to quit these wilds."

"Perhaps you will change your mind," said James, putting out his hand, which the broken-down gentleman shook warmly.

Many years had passed since his palm had pressed that of an equal in intellect and education. It seemed to raise him out of the state of hopeless apathy into which he had fallen.

The hut at headquarters had greatly improved in appearance since it had become the residence of the Gilpins. There were three glazed windows, and it was partitioned off into a bedroom, a sitting-room--where books and papers could be arranged on shelves and kept clean--and a kitchen, which served as dining-room and hall. A good-sized storeroom had been built at the back, with a door opening into the kitchen. They and Sam Green were the only inmates of the building.

It was late at night, the Bible had been read, and family prayers had been offered up--when two or three were gathered together that custom was never departed from in that rude hut in the wilds of Australia-- thanksgivings for past, petitions for future protection. Sam had thrown himself on his bed in a corner of the hall, and his loud snoring told that he was fast asleep. The brothers had been reading in their sitting-room, and were on the point of retiring to bed, when a slight tap was heard at the window. They thought it was some night bird attracted by the light, and took no notice. A louder tap was heard; Arthur opened the window.

"Wisht! mister, dear; just let me in, for I've something to say to ye," said a voice, which he recognised to be Larry Killock's.

"I will let you in by the door, Larry, unless you like to jump through the window," said Arthur.

"The quickest way's the best," was the answer, as Larry leaped through the opening, adding, "shut the shutters, lest any one's eyes should be looking this way." Larry was out of breath, and looked faint and weary, as if he had come a long distance.

"What brings you here, Larry?" said Arthur, in a tone of anxiety, which it was natural he should feel.

"It's bad news I've to tell yer honours; but if I'd had to lose my life, I'd have come to tell it," he answered. "No matter how I found it out, but I did find it out, that the people on the station, just because you have put a stop to their robberies and rogueries, have determined to do away with you. As villains is mostly cowards, there's none of them dares to bell the cat themselves, and so they've engaged some of them black fellows--the thieves of the world--to do the job for them. It was to be done quickly, and I came along, ignorant entirely if I'd be in time or not to save yer honours' lives; but they've not killed you yet, and we'll see if we can't be a match for them." The Irishman went on to say that the plan proposed was to set fire to the surrounding bush, and that while they ran out, as they naturally would, to stop the flames from approaching their dwelling, by cutting down the surrounding grass and bushes, they were to be knocked down with boomerangs by the blacks, and their bodies dragged into the fire.

The brothers immediately decided what to do. Waking up Sam and telling him what they had heard, they bade Larry take care of the house and make a good supper; and, reaping-hooks and axes in hand, they sailed out to clear the ground of all fuel capable of bringing the flames up to the hut. Beginning at the back of the building, they worked away energetically, gradually extending their circle till they had cut down and raked away all fuel, almost up to the woods, when they heard Sam's voice calling them--

"Come back, come back! the black fellows are close upon us! I wasn't comfortable in my mind, and went out to listen. I heard them calling to each other, and their dogs barking."

Although they believed that the bullock-driver's anxiety or fears might somewhat exaggerate the danger, they felt that it was, at all events, prudent to retreat to their hut. All remained quiet: they were beginning to hope that the alarm might be a false one. Arthur again went out, and as, rifle in hand, he was pacing as sentry round the hut, he saw a bright light burst forth above the trees, half a mile or so off to the south-west. He watched it for some minutes; it increased, extending on either hand, the forked points of the flames appearing high above the intervening trees. There could be no doubt that the wood was on fire. Thus far the information obtained by the bullock-driver was correct. There was too much reason, therefore, to fear that their destruction would be attempted by the savages. He hurried into the hut to consult what was best to be done. Their horses were at hand; they might mount them and ride away from the danger; but such a proceeding was not to be thought of. If, however, they were not secured, they would be carried off by the blacks. Arthur and Sam accordingly went out and brought them up to the hut; there was just room for them to stand in the kitchen by removing the table; the door was then closed and barred. None of the party, however, felt inclined to wait inactive till the conflagration reached their neighbourhood without knowing what progress it was making. There was no window at the back of the hut.

"We will make holes in the roof," said Arthur; "we shall be able to see through them what is going on, and if we are besieged in our fortress by the savages, we shall be the better able to defend ourselves and annoy them."

A stool, placed on the top of the table, enabled them to reach the roof, and by stringing some boards to the rafters, they found convenient standing places. The square holes cut in the shingles forming the roof gave them a look-out. There was enough in the spectacle they beheld to try the courage of the stoutest hearted. In front of them, that is to say, at the back of the hut, was a narrow neck of forest, which was as yet intact, but above the branches--between the stems which stood out in bold relief--the flames were seen raging furiously, devouring, as they advanced, everything in their course, both to the right and to the left. Strange sounds, too, were heard: there was the roaring, hissing, and crackling of the fire, and ever and anon a report like that of heavy guns, as some tall tree was riven in two by the intense heat which surrounded it; the air also came like a blast from a furnace, laden with smoke, ashes, and often sparks, which threatened to ignite the dry roof of the building. The danger was increasing, for the flames were advancing towards the confines of the wood nearest them. Now the fire, snake-like, would be seen creeping along the grass, then catching hold of some bush, which would speedily be wrapped in its deadly embrace; next the lower boughs of the trees would catch, or the dry wood and twigs round the stumps, and upward it would mount triumphant, roaring and crackling--the slighter trees falling prostrate before it; the older and thicker still withstanding its fierce assault, though left branchless and blackened, with all vitality destroyed.

As yet the hut remained uninjured, though a semicircle of fire raged furiously close to it, and here and there, where a bush still stood, or some tufts of grass had not been closely cropped, the flames made advances, and, winding along the ground, rose up, flickered, and died. From the first outbreak of the conflagration various animals had been seen crossing the open ground, as they escaped from the burning forest. Birds innumerable, of varied plumage, aroused from their roosting places, flew by, some uttering discordant screams of terror, many, with scorched wings, falling dead before they reached the hut. As yet no human beings had been seen.

"I trust that the savages will not venture to attack us," said James; "only in the last extremity could I feel justified in firing at them."

"Arrah! it's but little of that sort of treatment they have received since the white man first put his foot on their shores," observed Larry. "I've heard tell of their being shot down by scores at a time, like vermin. Many and many's the black fellow I've seen killed, and no notice taken of it, and no thought by the man who did the deed, any more than if he had fired at a wild beast."

Arthur interrupted Larry's remarks by exclaiming, "There they are, though, and in no small numbers too, just coming round the edge of the burning wood to the south-east!"

The rest of the party looked in the direction indicated, and there, seen clearly by the light of the flames thrown on their dark bodies, armed with spears, clubs, and boomerangs, was a numerous body of savages. They appeared to be looking cautiously about, as if expecting to find their intended victims engaged in extinguishing the flames round the hut.

"The black chaps are no cowards, Mr Gilpin. We shall have a fierce fight of it, and our three firearms won't do much against all them, I'm thinking," observed Larry.

"There are still more of them coming!" exclaimed Arthur; "and see! there's a fellow has just joined them who looks like a chief. They are pointing this way. We may look out to be attacked in a few minutes. We may fire surely, James, if they come on? A few shots will probably send them scampering off. They have no firearms among them."

"Not so sure of that, yer honour," said Larry. "Look, the fellow you called the chief has a gun of some sort, and he is showing it to the rest to encourage them. He handles it like a man who knows the use of it, too."

In spite of the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, the little garrison resolved to maintain their position. Little could be gained by flight, and all their property would inevitably be destroyed should they desert the hut. The risk they ran in either case was very great. They might pick off some of the savages, but there were so many that they might easily surround the hut and burn it to the ground.

"If we had two or three more fellows with us, we might bid defiance to the whole mob," said Arthur.

"To my mind, if we was to shoot down that chap with the gun in his hand, the rest would show us their heels," observed Sam Green, who had not before spoken since the appearance of the savages; "they none on 'em shows much stomach for the fight."

Sam's remark was correct. The savages were evidently aware that the defenders of the hut possessed firearms, and even the chief showed no inclination to expose himself. From their movements, however, it appeared that they were about to make a rush towards the hut. At that instant the tramp of horses' hoofs was heard approaching, and a voice cried out--

"Open the door! Be quick! Let us in!"

James and his brother, who had been watching the savages from the roof, jumped down at the moment that a rifle-ball whistled by.

"That bullet was never fired by a black chap," said Larry to Sam, as they also descended from their perches to receive the new-comers. The Gilpins, without hesitation, opened the door, and Craven with a stranger appeared, just dismounting from their horses, whose foam-covered bits and reeking backs showed that they had ridden at no slow rate.

"No time for words. If you have room for our poor brutes, take them in; if not, they must run their chance outside," he said. "Here, we have brought arms and ammunition. We knew that you would be hard pressed, and have come to share your fate."

"Come in, come in," said James, leading in the horses, who, trembling with fatigue, were quiet enough.

The new-comers had brought a rifle, a musket, and two fowling-pieces, with powder-flasks and bullets. This reinforcement raised the confidence of the little party in the hut. The blacks, discovering Craven and his companion, made a rush to intercept them. They sprang in after the horses; but before the door was closed, a shower of darts and boomerangs rattled against it, and again a shot was heard, and a bullet flew by among them. Those inside hurriedly closed the door; but, almost before the bar could be replaced, the blacks were thundering with their clubs against it. James had been strongly averse to shed blood, even the blood of savages endeavouring to destroy him and his companions, yet there was no longer any other alternative; the blacks must be driven off, or they would burn down the hut. It became James's duty to take the command, and to give the word. Loop-holes were speedily cut in the walls.

"Be ready, friends; pick off the leaders, each of us those more immediately in front as we stand. Do not throw a shot away. Fire!"

Three of the blacks were seen to fall to the ground, the rest ran back in disorder, two of them wounded. This gave the defenders of the hut time to reload and to make some fresh loop-holes. The blacks were again met by the chief, who was seen urging them to return, though he showed no inclination to place himself in danger. Craven, seeing the look-out places in the roof, proposed getting up there.

"I think that I might bring down that fellow if I could get a steady shot at him," he said, taking up his rifle. "The fellow has disappeared!" he exclaimed. "I cannot make it out, yet the rest obey him, for they are coming on again, and with fire-brands, too. We must beat them, or they will roast us."

The spectacle was indeed appalling. There were from fifty to sixty blacks, each with a burning brand in his left hand and a spear or club in the other, all leaping and shrieking in concert, as they sprang on towards the hut. The defenders waited till they got within thirty paces, and then all together fired. The result was the same as before. Several fell, others ran howling back wounded, the rest, throwing down their brands, followed. Another volley was sent after them, in the hope that it might induce them to abandon the attack. Craven reloaded, and sat watching at his post. The crack of his rifle was again heard.

"I have hit the scoundrel!" he exclaimed. "He is no black man; he is ordering them to lift him up; they are carrying him off. I have not the heart to send another bullet through him, but he deserves it."

"We may capture him, though," cried Arthur. "Let us jump on our horses; we shall soon overtake them."

The proposal was instantly adopted; no one was more eager and full of animation than Craven. The horses were led out, and, Larry remaining with the spare firearms in the hut, the party urged on the animals in the direction the blacks had gone. The flames of the burning forest lighted up the country, and enabled them to ride at full speed, though it was with difficulty they could make the horses keep near the fire, edging along which the blacks had gone, hoping probably, if they could get round the furthest end, to place it between themselves and those they had so ruthlessly attacked. Mounting to the top of a ridge, the horsemen caught sight of a party of natives on a hill before them, with a valley intervening. The blacks got to the top, on some open ground, when it was seen that they were carrying a burden among them. The white men dashed down into the valley, and, making their way across it, urged their horses up the opposite height. The blacks saw them coming; in vain the man they were carrying ordered them to remain by him. Oaths, entreaties, promises were of no avail. Putting him down, they ran off as fast as their legs would carry them.

The last exclamations he uttered showed his pursuers that he was no native. They were in English, and too horrible to be repeated. The Gilpins reached him. He glared fiercely at them as they dismounted, and seemed to be feeling for a pistol in his belt. They grasped his hands to prevent his using it. The oath he uttered betrayed him. Though his face and arms and the upper part of his body was blackened, they at once recognised him as Basham, the late overseer. The wretched blacks had already suffered so severely that the settlers had no desire to overtake them. Dismounting, therefore, one of the party led the horses, and the rest, lifting up the wounded man, bore him back towards the hut. They frequently looked behind to ascertain if the blacks were following for the purpose of recovering him, but no attempt of the sort was made. It was hard work carrying him, for he was a heavy man. Some deep groans which burst from him showed that he was suffering much pain. From a feeling of mercy they stopped, and found that the bullet had entered his leg, and had probably grazed, if it had not broken, the bone. Craven had a knowledge of surgery, especially valuable to a bushman; and while all were stooping down round the injured man, he probed the wound, and extracted some of the black cloth which had been carried into it. Had Basham been a friend who had been fighting for them, he could not have been treated more tenderly. He, however, scarcely spoke, and displayed no sign of gratitude. At length they reached the hut in safety. The horses were tethered outside, ready for instant service. The wounded man was placed on Sam's bed, and such restoratives as the brothers possessed administered to him. These arrangements concluded, the whole party thankfully sat down to a meal, which was rather breakfast than supper. The Gilpins now learned from Craven that he had heard a rumour of the proposed attack of the savages, instigated by the stockmen, though he did not understand that Basham was the prime mover; that there was only one man whom he could trust, and that, having invited him, they had both set forward to their assistance. His companion was evidently, like himself, a man of superior education and fallen fortunes. In Craven the necessity for unusual exertion had worked a marked change, and he no longer appeared the spirit-broken man he had seemed when Arthur first met him.

The fire continued raging, but made no further progress, and, in spite of its dangerous neighbourhood, all the party except James, who insisted on remaining on watch, were fast asleep. The hours of darkness passed by slowly and anxiously. He kept his ears ever ready to catch any sound outside, and he occasionally looked forth, thinking it possible that the blacks might return, or that some of the white companions of their prisoner might come to look for him. The nearest police-station was about thirty miles off. It was necessary to convey their prisoner there; but then it was very possible that they might be attacked on the road, and that he might be rescued. Knowing the bad feeling of the people around them, it would be imprudent to weaken the strength of their party at the hut. James therefore resolved, if Larry was sufficiently rested, to send him off, as soon as it was daylight, for a sufficient force to escort the late overseer to prison. Scarcely had he formed this plan when Larry jumped up, and exclaimed--

"Now, yer honour, you have had watching enough, and I'll just take my spell. I'm as fresh as a daisy with the dew on the grass."

James declined doing this, and told him of his proposed plan.

"Nothing like taking time by the forelock!" exclaimed the Irishman. "I've my raisons, and I'll be off--as soon as I can stow some food in my inside and catch the horse--before it is daylight, so that it will be a hard job for any of them fellows to find me, even if they have a fancy for that same."

As there was no time to be lost, James went out and brought in Larry's horse, to which he gave a sop of damper and spirits and water, while Larry was refreshing himself.

"It's good luck I'll have on a good errand, I hope," he exclaimed, as he leaped into the saddle; "for though the police and I weren't over friendly once on a time, I can now face them like an honest man, thanks to yer honour."

Larry was soon lost to sight in the gloom which prevailed at a distance from the yet burning wood. Daylight came. All hands were on foot. The wounded man appeared to be no worse. A sad change had taken place in the once picturesque appearance of the surrounding scenery. In the place of the green wood, with many noble trees, a few blackened stems, gaunt and branchless, with still smouldering ashes at their base, were the only objects to be seen on the hillside. The Gilpins scarcely liked to keep Craven and his companion from their posts, though at the same time they felt the importance of having a sufficient guard over their prisoner. They were surprised that none of the stockmen or hut-keepers from the neighbourhood had made their appearance. It proved but too plainly that all were disaffected; and it made them resolve not to quit the vicinity of the hut till the arrival of the police. They could not, however, come for some hours. Breakfast was just over, when Green, who had gone down to fetch some water from the river, came hurrying back, and reported that he had seen several men collecting, with arms in their hands, on the opposite side. "Who could they be? What could be their object?" was the question.

It was decided that while every precaution should be taken to prevent surprise, they should be treated as if they could only have come on a friendly errand, and that every attempt should be made to conciliate them before resorting to force. Scarcely five minutes had passed before several men were seen approaching, from the direction of the river, in single file. They were all disguised, either with blackened faces or masks, while they wore either kangaroo or sheep skins over their shoulders, or were covered with the thick-leaved branches of shrubs, so as completely to conceal their figures. It was evident that they intended mischief. They halted at about twenty paces from the hut, seemingly surprised at finding the windows barricaded and the door closed, with the muzzles of firearms protruding from the walls. Seeing their hesitation, James instantly went out, and, with his rifle in his hand, confronted them--

"Men, you have amused yourselves seemingly with what might be a harmless mummery, were it not for the weapons in your hands," he began, in a firm tone; "put them down, and let me hear what you have got to say."

The leading man, after consulting with his companions, replied, "You have got shut up there a friend of ours, and you must give him up to us, or take the consequences."

"I am not at all likely to yield to demands made by strangers in the tone you make them, or to tell you whether or not we have any one shut up inside this hut," said James; "you will risk your own lives, and gain nothing by persisting in such folly."

"Yours is the folly, master, in refusing our demands!" exclaimed the man. "You can gain no good by keeping the man a prisoner, but will do him and us harm!"

While the man was speaking, he and his companions advanced still closer to the hut.

"Stand back!" cried James, endeavouring to bring his piece to his shoulder; but before he had done so, the men, stooping low, sprang forward, keeping him between themselves and the hut. Those inside opened the door to admit him, but instead of retreating he stood fast, till the leader of the ruffians had struck up his rifle, and, grasping him by the throat, bore him backwards. Arthur, rushing out to his rescue, was seized likewise, and the whole party dashed together into the hut, overthrowing Green, who came out to help his young masters. Fortunately their eyes first fell on the wounded man as he lay on a bed in the outer room. The stretcher of boughs, on which he had been brought to the hut, still remained outside. A few words passed between them. They lifted him on the litter, neither the Gilpins nor Green being able to prevent them, and, with a shout of triumph, they carried him off towards the river. The Gilpins and Green were quickly on their feet. For an instant they stood irresolute whether to follow.

"Do not attempt it," cried a voice from within; "the villains will not scruple to fire if you do."

It was Craven who spoke. James was inclined to accuse him of cowardice till he reflected at what risk he had come voluntarily to their assistance. Craven himself, too, explained that being assured the outlaws would murder him and his companion had they seen them, they had retreated into the storeroom, where they lay hid among casks and cases. It was provoking to have lost their prisoner, but at the same time they had reason to be thankful that no life had been sacrificed.

"If they find out from Basham that we are here, they will to a certainty return," observed Craven; "and we must be prepared."

"The police will be here by that time," was Arthur's remark. "If they come, we may follow, and we should have our horses ready."

"None of them said a word about the police," observed James; "I don't think that they were aware that we expected them."

"Then, depend on it, when they find out that Richards and I are away from our posts, they will return to punish us. Basham will not say anything, however, till he thinks that they have placed him in safety, and then, of course, he will tell them of our being here."

In consequence of Craven's very just apprehensions, the party set to work to fortify the hut more completely, by putting stronger bars to the windows and doors, and by placing a stockade outside at the weaker parts, so as to make it more difficult for any assailants to reach the roof.

These preparations were scarcely completed, when Green, who happened to be on the roof, cried out--

"There come the chaps again, and twice as many as before!"

This was serious news; for it was not likely that the ruffian band would have returned, unless with the intention of destroying those who had offended them. It is very probable that they hoped to make it appear that the blacks, having set the wood on fire, had afterwards killed them. The whole party in the hut felt, therefore, that they must fight to the last extremity. A line was drawn round the building, and it was agreed that if an enemy passed it they would fire; but they would refrain as long as possible from shedding blood. They had scarcely time to barricade the door and windows before the outlaws appeared, mounting the hill from the river, not as before, in single file, but scattered over the ground, so as to take advantage of the shelter any inequalities might afford. Some were disguised, but there were several blacks who were in their usual unclothed state, and were evidently not masqueraders. It might have been difficult to identify even those, as their faces and bodies were bedaubed with pigments in strange and hideous devices.

This time James took care not to show himself. "Stand back, men!" he shouted in a loud voice. "If any one advances across the line we have marked out, we must fire. We do not wish to shed blood, but the consequence be on your own heads. Back, black men! you get killed."

The outlaws hesitated, and even the natives seemed to understand what was said. Whereabouts the magic line was drawn, at which some of them would be certain to lose their lives, they could not tell. Soldiers in battle will dare any danger, but villains engaged in a criminal act are always cowards, unless driven to desperation. Such was not the case at present. A white handkerchief was shown on a stick, and a voice cried out--

"We don't want to hurt you, Mr Gilpin, or your brother, or man, but there are two fellows there, and we must have them; give them up to us, and we will go away."

"I ask you, would you give up people who had put confidence in you?" said James.

"We have nothing to say to that; give up the men, or we will burn down the hut and you in it," was the answer.

"Remember the warning I have given you," said James; "however, we will just talk the matter over, and let you know what we decide."

"Be sharp about it, then," said the first speaker; "we did not come here to shilly-shally, and we shall advance directly the time is up. We give you five minutes to settle the matter."

"We must take ten; and recollect that our rifles will be kept ready for use," added James, firmly.

"I am afraid the fellows will put their threat into execution," said Craven. "Now, you see, our lives are of no use to any one, and so, when the ten minutes are up, tell them that we will go with them, if they will take their departure quietly, and not injure you."

"On no account would we do so!" exclaimed the brothers in the same breath. "I would not trust them, even if we should be base enough to give you up."

"Noa, sur; I'd sooner cut out my tongue than give ye up to them arrant knaves!" exclaimed Green, doubling his fist, and shaking it in the direction he supposed that the outlaws were collected.

The minutes passed slowly by. They were doubtful whether the outlaws would begin the attack at the end of the five minutes, or wait till the termination of the ten. The dread of the fatal line, however, seemed to keep them back. The muzzles of the firearms were kept protruding from the walls, and, as there were several pistols as well as rifles, they made a good display of force, rather damping the courage of those who came expecting, probably, an easy victory.

The ten minutes came to an end, and fully another five had passed by, and the outlaws did not advance. It was very clear, therefore, that they had not intercepted Larry, nor were aware that he had gone for the police. How long it might be before they could arrive it was impossible to say; perhaps when Larry reached their quarters the larger number had been sent in an opposite direction, and considerable time might be lost. However, the importance of gaining as much time as possible was very great; for though the little garrison did not despair of beating off the enemy, they earnestly desired to avoid the bloodshed which must ensue if fighting once began.

James therefore waited with a sad and beating heart to give the fatal order, should the outlaws overstep the prescribed boundary.

"Well, what are you going to do?" shouted one of the men; "are you going to give up those fellows?"

"Who is it you are looking for?" asked James, glad of any means to spin out the time.

"Gentleman Jim and Sulking Sam," was the answer. "Come, turn them out; you've got them."

"I know no men by those names," said James.

"The rogues are right enough, though. I have the honour of being designated as 'Gentleman Jim,'" said Craven, with a smile.

"I say, what are the right names of the chaps?" asked one of the outlaws of a comrade.

"I never knowed 'em by any other," was the answer.

"Come, come, master, you hand them out, and be done with it!" cried several of the men together.

"Supposing they were with us, and that we were to deliver them into your hands, what would you do with them?" asked James.

"Hang them up on the nearest tree, as we will you also, if you don't come to terms pretty quickly!" shouted the first ruffian who had spoken.

"I won't help you to be guilty of so great a crime," said James; "think better of it, and go away."

"No more of this; time's up!" cried a loud voice. "Charge, lads!"

The whole body sprang forward towards the hut. The whites instantly began firing their muskets or fowling-pieces, the blacks at the same moment casting their spears.

"Hurra! Here come the police! Look out for yourselves!" cried Sam Green, who had been keeping watch at a hole near the roof, looking eastward.

The words, uttered before any one had time to reload, had a magic effect. One of the outlaws, springing on one side to ascertain whether the announcement was true, shouted out the fact to his comrades. Down the hill they rushed, as fast as their legs could carry them. Their bullets had either passed over the hut or had lodged in the thick planking which formed the sides, without injuring any of those within. The sound of the shots, however, made the police put spurs to their horses' sides, and they came galloping up as the last of the outlaws disappeared across the river. Their steeds were pretty well knocked up with their long and rapid journey, but Lieutenant Graham, the officer in command, was most anxious to catch some of the men. "We will join you!" cried Craven, running out. Their horses were found in a grassy nook to the left. Craven, with his friend Richards, and Arthur Gilpin, and ten of the police, led by their officer, joined in the pursuit. Before long they came in sight of the outlaws, scattered far and wide over the country, each man endeavouring to make his escape by himself. Most of them had thrown away the boughs and the skins with which they had been covered. Three men kept closer together than did the rest. Craven, who thought he recognised them by their figures as stockmen belonging to the station, recommended that they should be followed. The men soon discovered that they especially were pursued. When they saw that all chance of escape was gone, they turned round and stood at bay; but as the troopers advanced with drawn sabres, they threw down their arms and cried out for quarter. Their lives were of course spared, but their hands being lashed behind them, they were conducted back to the hut. Another man was caught, but the rest were allowed to escape. "We can always get any we require," observed one of the police. The prisoners were the men Craven supposed. He himself was the chief cause of their being taken. Except that his dress was rough, as usual, his whole manner was changed as he galloped across the field. Graham looked at him more than once with astonishment.

They were all once more collected in the hut, doing justice to the fare Sam and Larry had provided.

"I am nearly certain that I know you!" said the police officer, addressing Craven. "My name is Graham, and yours is--"

"All right, old fellow!" cried Craven, jumping up and grasping his hand; "it is pleasant, indeed, to meet a near relation out here. I never heard of your coming."

"Nor did I know of your being here. However, we will not lose sight of each other again," said the lieutenant.

As scarcely any of the stockmen or hut-keepers could be trusted, the Gilpins begged that some of the police might remain, while they went round to drive in and concentrate the herds of cattle and the flocks of sheep, now probably without keepers, and subject to the depredations of the outlaws. It was very hard work; but, with the help of Craven, a few of the better-disposed men, who were found at their huts (having probably returned there after the ill-success of their expedition), were selected, and the task was accomplished. Fresh hands were sent for. Craven was appointed overseer, with his friend under him. Graham set off with his prisoners for headquarters, Norfolk Island being, without doubt, their ultimate destination. No tidings could be gained of Basham. He was probably hid away in the mountains, but it was not likely that he would make any further attempts on the station. The disorderly servants were dismissed, fresh ones arrived, and for some time the affairs entrusted to the young settlers went on quietly and prosperously. _

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