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.