As straight, and almost as swiftly, as an arrow, Flinders ran to his
tent, burst into the presence of his amazed comrade, seized him by both
arms, and exclaimed in a sharp hoarse voice, the import of which there
could be no mistaking--
"Whisht!--howld yer tongue! The camp'll be attacked in ten minutes! Be
obadient now, an' foller me."
Flinders turned and ran out again, taking the path to Gashford's hut
with the speed of a hunted hare. Fred Westly followed. Bursting in
upon the bully, who had not yet retired to rest, the Irishman seized him
by both arms and repeated his alarming words, with this addition:
"Sind some wan to rouse the camp--but _silently_! No noise--or it's all
up wid us!"
There was something in Paddy's manner and look that commanded respect
and constrained obedience--even in Gashford.
"Bill," he said, turning to a man who acted as his valet and cook,
"rouse the camp. Quietly--as you hear. Let no man act however, till my
voice is heard. You'll know it when ye hear it!"
"No mistake about _that_!" muttered Bill, as he ran out on his errand.
"Now--foller!" cried Flinders, catching up a bit of rope with one hand
and a billet of firewood with the other, as he dashed out of the hut and
made straight for the prison, with Gashford and Westly close at his
heels.
Gashford meant to ask Flinders for an explanation as he ran, but the
latter rendered this impossible by outrunning him. He reached the
prison first, and had already entered when the others came up and ran
in. He shut the door and locked it on the inside.
"Now, then, listen, all of ye," he said, panting vehemently, "an' take
in what I say, for the time's short. The camp'll be attacked in five
minits--more or less. I chanced to overhear the blackguards. Their
chief comes here to set Muster Brixton free. Then--och! here he comes!
Do as I bid ye, ivery wan, an' howld yer tongues."
The latter words were said energetically, but in a low whisper, for
footsteps were heard outside as if approaching stealthily. Presently a
rubbing sound was heard, as of a hand feeling for the door. It touched
the handle and then paused a moment, after which there came a soft tap.
"I'll spake for ye," whispered Flinders in Brixton's ear.
Another pause, and then another tap at the door.
"Arrah! who goes there?" cried Paddy, stretching himself, as if just
awakened out of a sound slumber and giving vent to a mighty yawn.
"A friend," answered the robber-chief through the keyhole.
"A frind!" echoed Pat. "Sure an' that's a big lie, if iver there was
one. Aren't ye goin' to hang me i' the mornin'?"
"No indeed, I ain't one o' this camp. But surely you can't be the man--
the--the thief--named Brixton, for you're an Irishman."
"An' why not?" demanded Flinders. "Sure the Brixtons are Irish to the
backbone--an' thieves too--root an' branch from Adam an' Eve downwards.
But go away wid ye. I don't belave that ye're a frind. You've only
just come to tormint me an' spile my slape the night before my funeral.
Fie for shame! Go away an' lave me in pace."
"You're wrong, Brixton; I've come to punish the blackguards that would
hang you, an' set you free, as I'll soon show you. Is the door strong?"
"Well, it's not made o' cast iron, but it's pretty tough."
"Stand clear, then, an' I'll burst it in wi' my foot," said Stalker.
"Och! is it smashin' yer bones you'll be after! Howld fast. Are ye a
big man?"
"Yes, pretty big."
"That's a good job, for a little un would only bust hisself agin it for
no use. You'll have to go at it like a hoy-draulic ram."
"Never fear. There's not many doors in these diggin's that can remain
shut when I want 'em open," said the robber, as he retired a few paces
to enable him to deliver his blow with greater momentum.
"Howld on a minit, me frind," said Paddy, who had quietly turned the key
and laid hold of the handle; "let me git well out o' the way, and give
me warnin' before you come."
"All right. Now then, look out!" cried Stalker.
Those inside heard the rapid little run that a man takes before
launching himself violently against an object. Flinders flung the door
wide open in the nick of time. The robber's foot dashed into empty
space, and the robber himself plunged headlong, with a tremendous crash,
on the floor. At the same instant Flinders brought his billet of wood
down with all his might on the spot where he guessed the man's head to
be. The blow was well aimed, and rendered the robber chief incapable of
further action for the time being.
"Faix, ye'll not `hoot' to yer frinds this night, anyhow," said
Flinders, as they dragged the fallen chief to the doorway, to make sure,
by the faint light, that he was helpless. "Now, thin," continued Paddy,
"we'll away an' lead the boys to battle. You go an' muster them, sor,
an' I'll take ye to the inimy."
"Have you seen their ambush, and how many there are!" asked Gashford.
"Niver a wan have I seen, and I've only a gineral notion o' their
whereabouts."
"How then can you lead us?"
"Obey orders, an' you'll see, sor. I'm in command to-night. If ye
don't choose to foller, ye'll have to do the best ye can widout me."
"Lead on, then," cried Gashford, half amused and half angered by the
man's behaviour.
Flinders led the way straight to Gashford's hut where, as he
anticipated, the man named Bill had silently collected most of the
able-bodied men of the camp, all armed to the teeth. He at once desired
Gashford to put them in fighting order and lead them. When they were
ready he went off at a rapid pace towards the stable before mentioned.
"They should be hereabouts, Muster Gashford," he said, in a low voice,
"so git yer troops ready for action."
"What do ye mean?" growled Gashford.
To this Flinders made no reply, but turning to Westly and Brixton, who
stood close at his side, whispered them to meet him at the stable before
the fight was quite over.
He then put his hand to his mouth and uttered three hoots like an owl.
"I believe you are humbugging us," said Gashford.
"Whisht, sor--listen!"
The breaking of twigs was heard faintly in the distance, and, a few
moments later, the tramp, apparently, of a body of men. Presently dark
forms were dimly seen to be advancing.
"Now's your time, gineral! Give it 'em hot," whispered Flinders.
"Ready! Present! Fire!" said Gashford, in a deep, solemn tone, which
the profound silence rendered distinctly audible.
The marauders halted, as if petrified. Next moment a sheet of flame
burst from the ranks of the miners, and horrible yells rent the air,
high above which, like the roar of a lion, rose Gashford's voice in the
single word:--
"Charge!"
But the panic-stricken robbers did not await the onset. They turned and
fled, hotly pursued by the men of Pine Tree Diggings.
"That'll do!" cried Flinders to Brixton; "they'll not need us any more
this night. Come wid me now."
Fred Westly, who had rushed to the attack with the rest, soon pulled up.
Remembering the appointment, he returned to the stable, where he found
Tom gazing in silence at Flinders, who was busily employed saddling
their three horses. He at once understood the situation.
"Of course you've made up your mind to go, Tom?" he said.
"N-no," answered Tom. "I have not."
"Faix, thin, you'll have to make it up pritty quick now, for whin the
boys come back the prisoners an wounded men'll be sure to tell that
their chief came for the express purpose of rescuin' that `thief
Brixton'--an' it's hangin' that'll be too good for you then. Roastin'
alive is more likely. It's my opinion that if they catch us just now,
Muster Fred an' I will swing for it too! Come, sor, git up!"
Tom hesitated no longer. He vaulted into the saddle. His comrades also
mounted, and in a few minutes more the three were riding away from Pine
Tree Diggings as fast as the nature of the ground and the darkness of
the hour would permit.
It was not quite midnight when they left the place where they had toiled
so long, and had met with so many disasters, and the morning was not far
advanced when they reached the spring of the Red Man's Teacup. As this
was a natural and convenient halting-place to parties leaving those
diggings, they resolved to rest and refresh themselves and their steeds
for a brief space, although they knew that the robber-chief had
appointed that spot as a rendezvous after the attack on the camp.
"You see, it's not likely they'll be here for an hour or two," said Tom
Brixton, as he dismounted and hobbled his horse, "for it will take some
time to collect their scattered forces, and they won't have their old
leader to spur them on, as Paddy's rap on the head will keep him quiet
till the men of the camp find him."
"Troth, I'm not so sure o' that, sor. The rap was a stiff wan, no
doubt, but men like that are not aisy to kill. Besides, won't the boys
o' the camp purshoo them, which'll be spur enough, an' if they finds us
here, it'll matter little whether we fall into the hands o' diggers or
robbers. So ye'll make haste av ye take my advice."
They made haste accordingly, and soon after left; and well was it that
they did so, for, little more than an hour later, Stalker--his face
covered with blood and his head bandaged--galloped up at the head of the
mounted men of his party.
"We'll camp here for an hour or two," he said sharply, leaping from his
horse, which he proceeded to unsaddle. "Hallo! somebody's bin here
before us. Their fire ain't cold yet. Well, it don't matter. Get the
grub ready, boys, an' boil the kettle. My head is all but split. If
ever I have the luck to come across that Irish blackguard Brixton
I'll--"
He finished the sentence with a deep growl and a grind of his teeth.
About daybreak the marauders set out again, and it chanced that the
direction they took was the same as that taken by Fred Westly and his
comrades. These latter had made up their minds to try their fortune at
a recently discovered goldfield, which was well reported of, though the
yield had not been sufficient to cause a "rush" to the place. It was
about three days' journey on horseback from the Red Man's Teacup, and
was named Simpson's Gully, after the man who discovered it.
The robbers' route lay, as we have said, in the same direction, but only
for part of the way, for Simpson's Gully was not their ultimate
destination. They happened to be better mounted than the fugitives, and
travelled faster. Thus it came to pass that on the second evening, they
arrived somewhat late at the camping-place where Fred and his friends
were spending the night.
These latter had encamped earlier that evening. Supper was over, pipes
were out and they were sound asleep when the robber band rode up.
Flinders was first to observe their approach. He awoke his comrades
roughly.
"Och! the blackguards have got howld of us. Be aisy, Muster Brixton.
No use fightin'. Howld yer tongues, now, an' let _me_ spake. Yer not
half liars enough for the occasion, aither of ye."
This compliment had barely been paid when they were surrounded and
ordered to rise and give an account of themselves.
"What right have _you_ to demand an account of us?" asked Tom Brixton,
recklessly, in a supercilious tone that was meant to irritate.
"The right of might," replied Stalker, stepping up to Tom, and grasping
him by the throat.
Tom resisted, of course, but being seized at the same moment by two men
from behind, was rendered helpless. His comrades were captured at the
same moment, and the arms of all bound behind them.
"Now, gentlemen," said the robber chief, "perhaps you will answer with
more civility."
"You are wrong, for I won't answer at all," said Tom Brixton, "which I
take to be _less_ civility."
"Neither will I," said Fred, who had come to the conclusion that total
silence would be the easiest way of getting over the difficulties that
filled his mind in regard to deception.
Patrick Flinders, however, had no such difficulties. To the amazement
of his companions, he addressed a speech to Stalker in language so
broken with stuttering and stammering that the marauders around could
scarcely avoid laughing, though their chief seemed to be in no mood to
tolerate mirth. Tom and Fred did not at first understand, though it
soon dawned upon them that by this means he escaped being recognised by
the man with whom he had so recently conversed through the keyhole of
Tom Brixton's prison door.
"S-s-s-sor," said he, in a somewhat higher key than he was wont to
speak, "my c-c-comrades are c-c-cross-g-grained critters b-both of 'em,
th-th-though they're g-good enough in their way, for all that. A-a-ax
_me_ what ye w-w-want to know."
"Can't you speak without so many k-k-kays an' j-j-gees?" demanded
Stalker, impatiently.
"N-n-no, s-sor, I c-can't, an' the m-more you t-try to make me the
w-w-wus I g-gits."
"Well, then, come to the point, an' don't say more than's needful."
"Y-y-yis, sor."
"What's this man's name!" asked the chief, settling the bandages
uneasily on his head with one hand, and pointing to Brixton with the
other.
"M-Muster T-T-Tom, sor."
"That's his Christian name, I suppose?"
"W-w-well, I'm not sure about his bein' a c-c-c-Christian."
"Do you spell it T-o-m or T-h-o-m?"
"Th-that depinds on t-t-taste, sor."
"Bah! you're a fool!"
"Thank yer honour, and I'm also an I-I-Irish m-man as sure me name's
Flinders."
"There's one of your countrymen named Brixton," said the chief, with a
scowl, "who's a scoundrel of the first water, and I have a crow to pluck
with him some day when we meet. Meanwhile I feel half-disposed to give
his countryman a sound thrashing as part payment of the debt in
advance."
"Ah! sure, sor, me counthryman'll let ye off the dibt, no doubt,"
returned Flinders.
"Hallo! you seem to have found your tongue all of a sudden!"
"F-faix, then, it's b-bekaise of yer not houndin' me on. I c-c-can't
stand bein' hurried, ye s-see. B-besides, I was havin' me little
j-j-joke, an' I scarcely sp-splutter at all whin I'm j-j-jokin'."
"Where did you come from?" demanded the chief, sharply.
"From P-Pine Tree D-Diggin's."
"Oh, indeed? When did you leave the camp?"
"On M-Monday mornin', sor."
"Then of course you don't know anything about the fight that took place
there on Monday night!"
"D-don't I, sor?"
"Why don't you answer whether you do or not?" said Stalker, beginning to
lose temper.
"Sh-shure yer towld me th-that I d-d-don't know, an I'm too p-p-purlite
to c-contradic' yer honour."
"Bah! you're a fool."
"Ye t-t-towld me that before, sor."
The robber chief took no notice of the reply, but led his lieutenant
aside and held a whispered conversation with him for a few minutes.
Now, among other blessings, Flinders possessed a pair of remarkably
acute ears, so that, although he could not make out the purport of the
whispered conversation, he heard, somewhat indistinctly, the words
"Bevan" and "Betty." Coupling these words with the character of the men
around him, he jumped to a conclusion and decided on a course of action
in one and the same instant.
Presently Stalker returned, and addressing himself to Tom and Fred,
said--
"Now, sirs, I know not your circumstances nor your plans, but I'll take
the liberty of letting you know something of mine. Men give me and my
boys bad names. We call ourselves Free-and-easy Boys. We work hard for
our living. It is our plan to go round the country collecting taxes--
revenue--or whatever you choose to call it, and punishing those who
object to pay. Now, we want a few stout fellows to replace the brave
men who have fallen at the post of duty. Will you join us?"
"Certainly not," said Fred, with decision.
"Of course not," said Tom, with contempt.
"Well, then, my fine fellows, you may follow your own inclinations, for
there's too many willing boys around to make us impress unwilling ones,
but I shall take the liberty of relieving you of your possessions. I
will tax _you_ to the full amount."
He turned and gave orders in a low voice to those near him. In a few
minutes the horses, blankets, food, arms, etcetera, of the three friends
were collected, and themselves unbound.
"Now," said the robber chief, "I mean to spend the night here. You may
bid us good-night. The world lies before you--go!"
"B-b-but, sor," said Flinders, with a perplexed and pitiful air. "Ye
niver axed _me_ if I'd j-j-jine ye."
"Because I don't want you," said Stalker.
"Ah! thin, it's little ye know th-the j-j-jewel ye're th-throwin' away."
"What can you do?" asked the robber, while a slight smile played on his
disfigured face.
"What c-can I _not_ do? ye should ax. W-w-why, I can c-c-c-cook, an'
f-f-fight, an' d-dance, an' t-t-tell stories, an' s-s-sing an'--"
"There, that'll do. I accept you," said Stalker, turning away, while
his men burst into a laugh, and felt that Flinders would be a decided
acquisition to the party.
"Are we to go without provisions or weapons?" asked Fred Westly, before
leaving.
"You may have both," answered Stalker, "by joining us. If you go your
own way--you go as you are. Please yourselves."
"You may almost as well kill us as turn us adrift here in the
wilderness, without food or the means of procuring it," remonstrated
Fred. "Is it not so, Tom?"
Tom did not condescend to reply. He had evidently screwed his spirit
up--or down--to the Turkish condition of apathy and contempt.
"You're young, both of you, and strong," answered the robber. "The
woods are full of game, berries, roots, and fish. If you know anything
of woodcraft you can't starve."
"An' sh-sh-sure Tomlin's Diggin's isn't far--far off--straight
f-f-fornint you," said Flinders, going close up to his friends, and
whispering, "Kape round by Bevan's Gully. You'll be--"
"Come, none of your whisperin' together!" shouted Stalker. "You're one
of _us_ now, Flinders, so say goodbye to your old chums an' fall to the
rear."
"Yis, sor," replied the biddable Flinders, grasping each of his comrades
by the hand and wringing it as he said, "G-g-good-bye, f-f-foolish
b-boys, (Bevan's Gully--_sharp_!) f-farewell f-for i-i-iver!" and,
covering his face with his hands, burst into crocodile's tears while he
fell to the rear. He separated two of his fingers, however, in passing
a group of his new comrades, in order to bestow on them a wink which
produced a burst of subdued laughter.
Surprised, annoyed, and puzzled, Tom Brixton thrust both hands into his
trousers pockets, turned round on his heel, and, without uttering a
word, sauntered slowly away.
Fred Westly, in a bewildered frame of mind, followed his example, and
the two friends were soon lost to view--swallowed up, as it were, by the
Oregon wilderness.