A FORCED MARCH TOWARDS MELBOURNE.
I removed the cross from the neck of the dead robber, placed it around
my own, and reported his death to Murden.
"Dead, is he?" repeated the officer, carelessly; "did he make any
confession?"
"He spoke about an unjust sentence," I replied, "that is all of any
importance, excepting a history which he confided to me; it would be
uninteresting to you, however."
"Ah, I dare say," answered Murden, languidly; "but to tell you the
truth, the man always passed for a person of good birth, even at the
hulks; and there was some romance connected with his sentence, but what
it was, I have forgotten. Old Pete, however, the same whom Gulpin
murdered when he made his escape, used to receive money from some source
or other, for keeping them posted concerning his health and habits, but
the old fellow was a sly dog, and never divulged secrets."
"If a portion of his story is correct, why not the whole?" I asked
myself, as I thought of the hidden treasure, buried somewhere in the
vicinity of the last resting place of Darnley.
The more I pondered over the subject, the more firmly I became convinced
that Gulpin meant honestly by me, when he said that thousands of
dollars' worth of gold dust, taken from people returning from the mines,
was deposited in the earth for safe keeping, and perhaps with a hope
that some day it might be removed, when its owner was ready to flee the
country.
Resolving to consult with Fred, as soon as I could do so without
exciting suspicion, I left, the lieutenant and Fred talking together,
while I went in search of a proper place to bury the dead bushranger.
I had been employed but a few minutes, when Smith joined me, and in
spite of my remonstrance, relieved me of the work which I was
performing.
I did not think it necessary to tell him, at that time, of the
confession of Gulpin, although I knew very well that his assistance
would be necessary when we commenced our search for the gold.
In spite of the intense heat, Smith soon had a grave large enough to
admit, the body of the bushranger, and then we returned to the hut, and
got Murden to allow three or four of his men to carry the body to the
spot.
Fred, Smith, and myself followed the procession, and consigned the body
to the earth, without a word being spoken. It was a solemn moment, and
as I heard the dirt fall upon the corpse, my thoughts wandered to the
proud lady, and the stern father through whose instrumentality the lover
and son became a leader of bandits, and died a violent death, while
setting at defiance the laws of his country.
Fred and myself lingered behind, and suffered the rest of the party to
reach the hut in advance of us; and while we sauntered leisurely along,
I confided to him the confession of Gulpin, and asked his opinion
regarding the means to be employed to discover the dust.
"I think the man was honest," Fred said, after a pause, "when he made
the confession; in fact, the gang must have gold dust buried somewhere,
for it is notorious that two escorts have been plundered by bushrangers
within three months. The robbers have not been able to go into town to
squander their money; they buy nothing, because they take every thing by
force, and therefore it is very evident to me that the treasure which
they have stolen must be in the ground; but the question is, to find the
spot."
I repeated the last words the robber had uttered,--
"Ten paces in a south--"
"He may have meant south-east, south-west, or even south; there are a
dozen points of the compass governed by south, and the only way we can
solve the mystery is to visit the spot, and trust to our tact in finding
earth recently disturbed. If there is money within the radius of ten
paces from that hut, we'll find it, unless some one gets there before
us."
"And Smith," I asked, "we shall want his services."
"Of course, and a better man we could not have to accompany us. His team
will not only carry all the tools that we shall need to work with, but
provisions sufficient to last us a month, if we think it will pay to
spend that length of time in the search. We must have Smith as a
companion, by all means."
"Let us promise him a share, if successful, and if we fail, nothing," I
said; "he is too stout a friend to be offended, and his knowledge of the
country can be turned to a profitable account."
"We must hurry Murden," Fred remarked, "and get him to use more
expedition, or we shall not reach the city for a week. Time is precious
to us, until we find the buried treasure."
"But, remember," I whispered, as Murden came out of the hut to meet us,
"do not lisp a word of this to him."
"You appear earnest, gentlemen," said Murden, as he joined us; "pray,
what perplexes your minds now?"
"We were conversing on the subject of making a forced march to
Melbourne," Fred replied, gravely.
"And why need that trouble you?" the officer inquired.
"It does not trouble us much, but we were discussing the probability of
losing our prisoners before reaching the city, in case the various bands
of bushrangers in this part of the country should concentrate their
forces, and make a sudden onslaught. We do not number many fighting men,
for remember that Haskill's skull is cracked, and he can do nothing but
hold it with both hands and groan. The man is threatened with a brain
fever, and should be in a hospital, instead of on the plains."
Murden cast his eye over his men, who were cooking their suppers, it
being near sundown, and was apparently debating in his mind the force of
our words. He knew that we were no cowards, for we had given him proof
of our fighting qualities; and not understanding the secret motive which
actuated us in pressing for a speedy march to Melbourne, began to think
that there might possibly be reason in what we said.
"I hardly think the robbers would dare to attack us," Murden said, at
length; "the scamps know that my bullies can fight when roused."
"But you do not look at things in their true light," Fred said. "Your
present expedition is the first one that has ever been able to cope with
the lawless scoundrels: and you can readily comprehend how the
bushrangers will feel when they know that two of their most formidable
bands have been broken up, and by only a dozen men. In Melbourne, one
dauntless escaped convict is considered more than a match for four
policemen, because the former fights with a halter around his neck, and
unless he conquers, death is certain. Be assured that the gangs in the
vicinity understand the advantage of having a terrible name, and that
before we reach the city they will seek to retrieve it. I should not be
surprised if even now our trail was followed, and runners sent, from one
haunt to another, for the purpose of arousing the devils to fall upon
us, and take vengeance."
"If I thought so," muttered the lieutenant, glancing along the trail
which we had made on the broad plain, as though he already saw squads of
enemies in the distance.
"We cannot, of course, be certain that we are followed, but I think that
it is better to be over-cautious than neglectful. One hundred pounds on
each prisoner delivered to the government, is a sum of money that should
not be thrown rashly away."
"By St. George!" cried the Englishman, with warmth, "that last argument
decides me. I don't fear a battle with bushrangers, but I should dislike
to lose my prize-money. Hurry through your suppers, men, and bring up
the animals. In fifteen minutes we start, and there will be no rest
until we reach Boomerang River."
"Come and share my supper--there's not much of a variety, but what there
is you are welcome to," Murden said, turning to us, after he had given
his order.
"You did well," whispered Fred, as we followed the officer to the hut;
"don't let him grow cold."
"We've said enough for once; let him allude to the subject the next
time, or he will suspect," Fred rejoined, in the same low tone; and
without renewing the conversation, we sat down upon the floor of the
hut, and ate our beefsteak, broiled upon coals, and drank our strong
coffee, with a peculiar relish.
There was no allusion to the dead robber we had just buried, and, in
fact, Murden already appeared to have forgotten that there ever existed
such a person. But if his memory was so defective, mine was not, and I
could hear the last words of the bushranger ringing in my ears, as he
gasped for breath, and exclaimed, "Ten paces in the south--"
The gold cross, too, which I had taken from the dead man's neck, seemed
to sear my bosom, and parch the skin, so heated did I fancy it grew when
my thoughts wandered to the dying man and his buried treasure.
"What are we to do with these goods, which make such a display?" I asked
of Murden, glancing around at the miscellaneous collection which
surrounded us.
"Return all but the wine and provisions to the hole from whence they
came, and let government send after them," answered Murden.
"And the wine?" I asked.
"We'll take it with us, and drink it on our way to the city. We shall,
by that means, prevent some other party from being led into temptation."
Many hands made light work of returning the goods to the secret cell, as
there was not much formality in stowing them, and then the floor boards
were replaced, and we were ready to start on our long journey.
"Are we all ready?" asked our commander.
"All ready, sir," was the answer, and a loud crack of Smith's whip, as
he touched up one of the leading oxen, which appeared too eager to start
before the word was given, made us think of the time when we first left
Melbourne under his guidance.
"Then forward we go!" cried Murden; and we had got some paces from the
hut, when a shrill voice exclaimed,--"O, don't leave me--go to
thunder--who cares for bushrangers? Bimbo--Bimbo--where's Bimbo?" "I
had forgotten the parrot; what shall we do with him?" asked Murden,
ordering a halt.
"Let me stop and look after him until you come back again," cried the
innocent Bimbo, raising his dirty face from the team, and gazing at us
with an air of simplicity charming to behold.
"Silence, you miserable traitor!" shouted the exasperated officer, "or I
shall be tempted to beat you with my whip."
"I don't see what this cove has done, that he should be snatched up and
lugged off this way. P'aps Mr. Sherman, who owns this stock-house, won't
scold when he comes to hear of it. He won't say nothing, and swear to
think that his cattle is all running wild, 'cos nobody takes care of
'um."
"Lend me your whip, Smith," Murden said, as the fellow raised his voice
in a sort of howl, at the thought of being carried away from the hut
which had sheltered and screened his rascalities for so many years.
Smith handed the short-handled instrument of torture to the officer, who
waved it over his head with a scientific flourish, like one accustomed
to its use, and in another instant Bimbo would have had something to cry
for, but the cunning rogue ducked his head just in time to escape
punishment. The long lash passed over his body, and cracked like the
report of a pistol; and while the officer was drawing back his arm for
another attempt, the impudent, dirty face of the rogue was raised, and a
leer of contemptuous pity expressed upon it.
Neither Fred nor myself could prevent laughing at the fellow's coolness,
and our mirth extended to Murden, who began to be aware that he was
making a ridiculous exhibition of his temper, and tossed the stockman's
whip to the owner, exclaiming,--
"I was foolish to allow the fellow to provoke me, and am glad that I did
not touch him with the lash; although if he had not been as quick as
lightning, I'd have taken a good piece of his hide."
"But what are we to do with the parrot? Remember we are losing time," I
said.
"Yes, what's to be done with me--where's Bimbo?" shrieked the bird.
"Put the cage into the cart--he will excite curiosity when we reach
Melbourne, and perhaps bring a round sum."
The order was obeyed, and with shrill screams of delight the bird and
his cage were stowed among the prisoners, and long after dark we could
hear the talkative parrot ask the bushrangers how they felt, and when
they were going to die? Questions of great significance to them at the
time. After a while he dozed off to sleep, but during the night awoke
about once every half hour, and with a shout of,--
"Where's Bimbo--darn Bimbo--lazy Bimbo!" and then would drop off to
sleep again.
At about nine o'clock we reached "Boomerang stream," the same place
where we had witnessed the natives of Australia gorge themselves with
kangaroo meat until stuffed to repletion. The place was alive with oxen
and stockmen, and carts filled with stores on their way to the mines.
Many of the drivers had just arrived, having been on the road from
Melbourne all night, and were turning their cattle loose, intending to
pass the day by the side of the stream, for the purpose of recruiting,
and avoiding the heat of the noonday sun.
We forded the river, the waters of which were not more than twelve
inches deep, and with many flourishes of his immense whip, Smith drew up
his cattle directly under the shade of a friendly tree growing near the
bank.
Before the cattle were turned loose, we were surrounded by anxious
inquirers desirous of asking a dozen questions regarding the safety of
the country, and what the men whom we had ironed had been guilty of.
Murden, who was both cross and hungry by his night's ride, attempted to
satisfy their curiosity by replying; but he might just as well have
attempted to dam a river with a sieve; and the few words which he spoke
were almost lost in the confusion.
"We shall never get any breakfast or rest at this rate," he whispered to
Fred and me, "so lend us a hand to clear the ground, and then I'll keep
them at a distance, or break their necks."
We mounted our horses, and telling the stockmen, miners, adventurers
like ourselves, speculators, and two or three fat old fellows, who were
visiting their cattle-raising districts to see how their stock thrived,
that we feared some of them were in league with bushrangers, and that we
would have no one that did not belong to our force inside of the lines
at present, drove them back until we had cleared a sufficient space for
our convenience, and then the men stretched a rope from two posts, and
inside of that barrier no one dared to venture without permission.
"Hullo, you feller with the blue flannel shirt," cried one of the
rough-looking outsiders, addressing Fred, "did you do any thing towards
grabbing them ere chaps?" alluding to our prisoners.
"Them ere two fellers is hextry policemen, I suppose," cried a newly
arrived cockney, with great staring eyes, watching our movements as
eagerly as though we were wild animals confined for his especial
amusement.
"I wonder if the stealings are good in that department?" asked another.
"Do you hear, Murden?" Fred inquired, with a laugh, and a thought how
appropriate the question was under the circumstances.
"Curse the fellow's impudence," muttered the lieutenant; "but I'll learn
him a lesson that he'll remember for a few days," he continued; and then
turning to Maurice who was unsaddling his horse, he said,--
"Take a man with you and arrest that blackguard. I suspect him to be a
bushranger in disguise."
The policeman abandoned his horse on the instant, grasped his carbine,
spoke a word to a companion, and before the inquisitive genius, who
wished to know whether the stealings in the police force were good, had
a chance to think of his unfortunate remark, he was in custody, and
threatened with instant death if he even made a movement towards
resistance. He was hustled before the commander of the corps, and with
an indignant look and blustering voice, wanted to know for what he was
seized.
"You think that I don't know you," said Murden, in a tone of pretended
sternness, "but you are mistaken. You are Sam Firefly, the leader of a
gang of bushrangers. I knew you the instant that I got sight of your
face."
"So help me God, I'm not--I don't know the gentleman you speak of. I'm
a stranger here--I only arrived in Australia week before last;--for
God's sake let me go, and I won't do any thing but what you wish me to;"
and the fellow wrung his hands, and looked the very picture of woe and
fright.
"I think I'd better order you to be shot, for if I should let you off,
and find that you are Sam after all, I should always regret it," the
lieutenant said, with mock gravity.
"Don't shoot me; please don't--I never hurt anyone in my life. I'm only
in the country to make my fortune, and when I get it I'll leave. I swear
that I will."
"On those conditions, then, I will let you go--but remember, I shall
have an eye on you hereafter."
The fellow expressed his thanks in a confused manner, and darted from
the enclosure, and during the remainder of our stay at the stream we did
not hear an impudent remark concerning our blue flannel shirts or the
perquisites of Australian policemen. The heterogeneous maps were
suddenly struck with Murden's display of authority, backed as it was by
about a dozen men, well armed and ready to do his bidding without a
question or murmur.
Fires were lighted and kettles soon boiling, and the smell of burning
meat, as it crackled on the coals, made not only the hound but the weary
guard look with eager eyes for the call to breakfast.