Chapter XI: Part 11

Knowing his peril, Murray sank at the first discharge, and behind a mass of rock crouched with anxious heart, waiting for the coming of his executioners. For it seemed to him that, sooner or later, they would dash on, ignorant of the inaccessible mass of rock, and then, in their rage and disappointment, kill him upon the spot.

He smiled bitterly as he thought of this new act of treachery; and as he watched the barrels protruded above his head, he would have felt little surprise had that of Bray covered him; and a thrill of rage ran through him as he thought of his helpless position--weak and unarmed, and waiting for his end.

But would not aid come? The news of such an outrage, as spread by Mr Meadows, must bring the settlers of the whole district down to the destruction of the villainous crew. But would the aid come in time to save Katie?

As for Bray, he lay there watching the coming on of the convicts, as they now grew more cautious, and darted from stone to stone for protection. Twice he withheld his hand when he might have slain an enemy; for he told himself savagely that it was not for him to stay them from reaching his rival. And then as to Wahika--what was he, that he should oppose his will? There was his home in ruins; but he could build another; his cattle and sheep were uninjured; and here, miles away from another station, and with her friends cut off, Katie must gladly accept of his protection and become his wife; and the past would soon be forgotten. He knew nothing of Mrs Lee's escape, nor of the sought-for aid; and silent and thoughtful he lay there, almost a spectator of the little siege.

Twice his barrel covered Murray, and he took deadly aim at the young man; but the blenching was not on the sailor's side. He saw his peril; but he trembled not, but gazed full up at his rival with a calm untroubled mien, almost a smile of contempt upon his lip, when the fierce eyes of his enemy were withdrawn, the barrel of the gun pointed in another direction, and Bray's conscience told him that he dared not fire.

Meanwhile precipice and crag sent thundering back the echoes of the discharged guns; for every time Wahika, from his more exposed position, showed hand or head, bullet after bullet was sent whistling through the air; but except being struck and bleeding from the rocky splinters, he was but little injured. Not so, though, his enemies; for more than one poor wretch, on rising to fire, from what he conceived to be a place of safety, received his death wound, and staggered down the gully, to fall with a crash over some fragment of rock, and then dye the streamlet with his heart's blood. Now the strife would seem to cease, and attacker and defender would remain in concealment; but only for the convicts to renew their assault, coming in their rage nearer and nearer, until, but for Wahika's well-plied gun, they must have reached the spot where Murray lay sheltered by the rock.

He did not want for food; for there was a portion of the provision dropped at his feet; but while the stream trickled close by where he sat, and he could quench his thirst and lave his heated brow, those above him on the rock suffered severely from want of water, as the sun beat down upon their heads, and the stone grew hotter and hotter, till the verdure around them flagged and drooped.

The times of cessation were, if possible, more trying than those of the active firing; for when the enemy was invisible, the dread was always great that they had scaled the sides of the gorge, and would before long reach them by some side-path, or, climbing far above where they lay hid, would hurl down huge stones and crush them as they sought in vain to avoid each ponderous mass. But no such thoughts seemed to trouble Wahika, who, with his gun-barrel commanding the pass, lay there watchful and patient, the barrel at times growing so hot that it seemed within the range of probability that the charge might explode. In his rough way he comprehended to a great extent the cause of the enmity between the young men, and placing Katie in a rift, half chasm, half cavern, behind where he knelt, he kept a double watch, and waited patiently for the help that he, too, felt must soon come. As the heat grew more intense, reflected back as it was from the rocks, but never reaching the hollow where Murray was concealed, the savage picked and chewed leaves to allay his thirst, offering some, too, to the trembling girl behind him.

The shades of evening began at last to fall, and to Murray it was an anxious time, for he rightly guessed that the convicts would take advantage of the obscurity to close up and attack their enemies hand to hand; for since daylight had enabled them to discover the gully by which the fugitives had escaped, every check received had tended to madden them and make them reckless of consequences. Not that they dreaded attack themselves--the country had seemed too sparsely inhabited; therefore as each man fell, his comrades had sworn the most binding oath each to avenge him; and as soon as darkness closed in, they began to creep cautiously from rock to rock, higher up the gully. In spite of their caution, though, they had not made much progress, when a heavy stone was dislodged, and, as if in consequence, a gun was seen to send forth its messenger of death, and the convicts once more halted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

ATTACK AND DEFENCE.

It was bitter work sitting there beneath the shelter of that stone, striving with his thoughts; and Edward Murray's heart sank as the darkness increased, and he reflected on his situation. Yet, in spite of his anxiety of mind, that day's rest had not been without its good effects. The stiffness had to some extent worn off, and at last, when the night had quite closed in, and the darkness rendered such a proceeding safe, Murray rose, and began to search along the side and face of the precipice for a spot whence he might contrive to scale the crag, and reach the shelf where his companions were concealed.

He moved cautiously, for it struck him that he had heard the sound of approaching enemies in the gully below, though the darkness was too profound for anything to be seen; but though he tried all along to find the spot where Wahika has ascended, it was in vain, and he turned to regain the spot where he had lain, when, almost simultaneously, he heard the rolling down of a dislodged stone, and the sharp crack of a rifle, when a bullet whizzed by his ear, and seemed to strike the spot where he had so lately rested, the loose stones flying in all directions, and then pattering down.

A pang shot through Murray's breast, as he thought of whose hand must have fired that shot; and then listening for a while for sounds from below, he stepped back to the face of the precipice, eager now to confront the treacherous villain who thus again sought to take his life, after having threatened it twice before during the day. He passed along the face of the rock, stumbling heavily amidst the loose stones; and then his hand encountered something that made his heart leap, and seizing it with both hands, he climbed slowly and painfully, higher and higher, till his feet rested on a loftier ledge; and he stopped, panting, and wondering whose was the hand that had let down the rope. Was it Wahika? or was it a fresh act of treachery on the part of Bray? Was he to climb nearly to the top, and then feel his support suddenly slacken, that he might fall a heavy, helpless mass upon the cruel rocks beneath? He could not help it; he feared that it was so, and for a few moments felt disposed to slide down again. But no! only a few feet above him he knew that Katie needed his protection. He would persevere at all hazards; and once more the rough rope quivered beneath his weight, as slowly he clambered higher and higher, till with a violent effort he got one knee upon the edge, and grasped a tuft of herbage; when, just as a hand was gliding down his arm--that of the savage--there rang from beneath a loud shout--six or eight shots were fired from close at hand--and then, with the aid suddenly withdrawn, Murray's knee slipped from the edge, and he had only time to loose the slackened rope, and force his bleeding fingers into the crevices of the rock, to save himself from falling.

The darkness was awful; the tension upon his weakened arms such as he could hardly bear; but finding some slight support for his feet, he continued to hang on until he had somewhat recovered from the shock, and then made another effort to save himself. He dared not call for aid, lest he should point out his position to the convicts. But his faint whisper was heard in the dead silence, and in an instant he felt himself clutched, just as his hands were slipping over the stone, and he felt that he must fall.

That grasp stayed him; but, at the same moment, a heavy foot struck at his hands, and it seemed that in the darkness a struggle was going forward upon the ledge. The fragments lying loose were thrown down, and then came a couple more shots, a loud shriek, and then a heavy, sickening fall upon the rocks beneath.

A strange, deathly feeling crept over Edward Murray--a feeling of horror and weakness. His hands seemed to relax, his arms to become powerless; and though a voice he well knew whispered to him in anguished tones to try once more, his attempt was without success. He seemed only to sink lower; one foot slipped from the tuft upon which it had rested, and though he tried hard to regain the hold, it was in vain. He knew that it was Katie who pressed down his hands into the chink where they now rested; but it seemed to him that he was drawing her over with him in his vain efforts; and that in a few more moments, she, as well as himself, would be crushed on the points beneath.

Her encouraging whisper came, close to his ear, to try again. But he was exhausted and helpless, till he felt his arm seized, dragged almost out of the socket, and then he lay motionless upon the ledge, with a hand grasping his on one side, and the sound as of some one panting hard from exertion on the other.

Twice again came the crash and rattle of bullets striking above their heads; but they were too well-sheltered for harm to befall them, now that their enemies were close beneath, evidently trying hard to find some means of ascent, while Katie's hand trembled as she listened to the corses and threats which defiled the quiet of the night.

As he lay, each moment recovering strength, Murray tried in vain to interpret the meaning of what had taken place in the darkness, for he had not seen the tussle between Wahika and Bray as the latter had furiously sought to thrust his rival from his hold. The intense darkness had prevented his making out the meaning of the sounds he had heard; but when he crept forward, and found out that Murray had nearly reached the ledge, his rage knew no bounds, and, but for Wahika's devotion, the clinging hold would have been destroyed. The volley from below did the rest; and there, close beneath the cliffs, lay the body of Bray, shot through the heart, and insensible to the farther cruelties practised by the convicts now in revenge for their losses.

The silence upon the ledge, though, soon lent support to Murray's suspicions; but he said nothing, except whispering to Wahika an inquiry as to the possibility of an escape, but only to learn that there was none.

Another rattling volley startled them; but apparently feeling now that their efforts only ended in waste of ammunition, the convicts ceased firing, and, for the rest of the night, save an occasional whisper, the silence was oppressive. But there was not the agony of spirit Murray had before suffered. Two soft hands were now clasping his; and when all hope of relief was gone, he thought, as they sat there waiting for the day, that they could still die together.

But he was hopeful yet. There was the prospect of help coming through Mr Meadows; and he told his thoughts to the trembling girl.

"But would they find this gully?" was the response, to which he could only speak hopefully.

The sound of Wahika reloading a gun made the young man ask for a piece, which, with the much-lightened horn and pouch, was pushed into his hands, and, with knitted brow, he sat still, waiting for the light, feeling stronger each hour, and determined to give a good account of more than one assailant, before finger should be laid upon the sleeping form at his side.

For now, completely worn out, and feeling herself in comparative security, the poor girl's head had sunk lower and lower, until it had rested upon her breast, and she slept.

At last, morning again, bright and glowing. Murray felt that if they could only hold the convicts at bay, that would be sufficient. The help must come soon; and if they could avoid farther bloodshed, he should be thankful. But he knew that all must depend upon the actions of their assailants, and he looked about anxiously now, to see the state in which they, the besieged, would be.

Wahika had told him that man could not climb the sides of the gully; but the savage had not allowed for the possibility of one or two daring spirits climbing to a height wherefrom they could command their place of refuge, and render it untenable for any length of time; and it was with no little anxiety that Murray saw that, from the first, faint light, the convicts had been carefully trying the sides, and that now a couple of men were slowly crawling up from crag to crag to a projection similar to that on which the besieged rested, and from which, while finding shelter themselves, they would be able to fire down upon those at the end of the gully.

There was no time for consideration--it was life for life; and having turned to see whether the savage had made out the new danger, Murray took careful aim, fired, and had the mortification of seeing a puff of dust close by one of the convicts' heads as the bullet struck the stone, while the shot sent by Wahika had no better effect.

A loud shout of derision greeted their failure; and as hands were raised in loading, shot after shot was discharged at the ledge, but also without effect. Wahika was first ready to fire again. Murray's hand trembled so from excitement that he was long in preparing; and then they took aim again at the uppermost convict, who they found, to their dismay, had gained the shelf, and was reaching down to help his companion, who was toiling patiently after him. Two steps, a strong drawing up of the hands, and he was within reach, so that he could grasp the other, and in another minute destruction would have been certain for the fugitives, when simultaneously Murray and Wahika discharged their pieces, and Katie hid her face in her hands, for there was a strange surging movement in the higher convict, who pulled his companion upward for a few inches, and then seemed to bow forward, gliding over the edge of the precipice, the two falling from crag to crag, full sixty feet, to roll over at last, crushed and helpless, among the ferns and long grass.

A cry of rage followed this defeat; and darting from behind a stone, another man began fiercely to scale the side, climbing actively till he had nearly reached the same height as his companions, and then, escaping a couple of bullets, taking a leap which landed him upon a jutting mass, behind which he glided; but the next moment his gun-barrel was raised, with his cap thereon, by way of signal to his companions, who greeted it with a cheer. Then Murray saw it withdrawn, and an ominous silence followed.

But the suspense was not of long duration; for before Murray or the savage could see sufficient of their enemy to take an aim, a puff of smoke seemed to jet out from the rock, and Murray was conscious of a sharp twinge on the shoulder, a bullet having passed through his coat and grazed the skin. He remained motionless though, his eye glancing along the barrel of his gun, as he waited for a good opportunity for delivering his shot, but in vain. Twice or thrice he saw the motion of a lifted arm, as of one loading his piece, and then again came a shot, and the puff of smoke, only visible as it darted outward, and then gently floated up on the still morning air.

This bullet was wider of the mark, but a dull feeling of despair seized upon Murray, as, leaving his gun, he glided back to where Katie crouched, telling himself that he could not die with her so close at hand, without a farewell.

No words, though, were uttered, as he took the weeping girl to his heart; and then, softly unclasping the arms that tightened round his neck, he left her, whispering the words, "Pray for us!"

As Murray retook his place, another bullet almost instantly struck up the splinters of stone, blinding him for a few minutes, and compelling him to wipe the blood from his face.

It seemed that Wahika was not within sight of their enemy, for no shot had been aimed at him; and now, with a low-muttered exclamation of resentment, he crawled to his companion's side, and with him watched in vain for an opportunity to fire. They could see again the raised arm above the rock as the ramrod was driven into the piece; then came the puff of smoke, there was a dull thud by Murray's side, and, springing up with a cry of rage, the savage shook his piece fiercely for an instant in the direction of his foe, and then fell, rolling to the back of the ledge, bleeding profusely.

In spite of his efforts, a despairing groan burst from Murray's breast as he saw his faithful ally gasping upon the rock, his teeth set with anguish, and the tide of life welling from a wound in his shoulder. But, after the first cry of rage and pain, no sound escaped the savage, and he lay passive; while, between them, Murray and the girl did what they could to stop the effusion of blood, for the bullet had passed completely through his shoulder.

Cheer after cheer had greeted this success, and half-a-dozen shots were fired in a volley at the face of the rock, but only to bring down a shower of stones; and on turning once more to regain his place, to his horror, Murray made out that the convict, elated by his victory, and missing both of his enemies, had climbed a little higher, so as to better command the ledge, forgetful that he was exposing himself to his enemy's aim.

Just then Murray once more appeared in sight, when the startled wretch dropped to his former position, but not quite in so secure a fashion, for his fall swept down a portion of the foliage that had before concealed him; and as two reports rang out almost as one, Murray had the satisfaction of seeing a hand thrown up, and the convict's gun fall clattering down into the gully.

Murray loaded again as expeditiously as possible; but seeing that his antagonist was helpless, he refrained from firing another shot, reserving it for the next who should attempt to scale the gully-side, and it was not long before he had an opportunity; but his aim was bad, and he had the misery of seeing another daring fellow climb to the rock, and then coolly shelter himself behind his comrade's body.

Watching attentively his enemy's movements, Murray prepared to recharge his piece; but once more his heart sank, for he had sent his last bullet winging its way; and on turning to Wahika, he found that the charge in the savage's gun was the last that he, too, possessed.

There was nothing for it but to withdraw into such shelter as he could reach--little enough; for the fresh man, more energetic even than his disabled fellow, kept on firing furiously, but without effect; while terribly unnerved by this enforced inactivity, the horrors of thirst now attacked afresh the occupants of the ledge, the wounded savage's sufferings seeming to be intense, as he turned his dull eyes from one to the other, as if asking the help they could not give.

The sun rose higher and higher; and, save the occasional shout of directions to the man on the rock, the convicts preserved an almost unbroken silence. But, suddenly, Murray saw three or four begin to dart from stone to stone, as if in retreat, and descend the gully; but too unguarded an exposure of himself brought a bullet whizzing by his ear, and he felt, with justice, that those who had gone had probably departed on a foraging expedition, while they were to lie there and die.

"Would no help come? Had there not now been ample time?" he asked himself, as he gazed at poor Katie's parched white lips. Their thirst was terrible, while their sufferings were like those of Tantalus; for, in full view, they could see the cold water trickle from stone to stone, and drop plashing into the rocky basin beneath their feet.

What should he do? Should he leave her to fall alive into the hands of the convicts, or should he--

He covered his face with his hands and groaned, as the bright scene of the happy home--the rifled nest--came flashing through his memory.

"Don't heed me, Katie," he whispered, as he felt his hands drawn away from his face, to be kissed and pressed to a tender throbbing heart. "Don't heed me. I'm weak and childish with my wounds, and it unmans me to see you in such peril."

"Hush, hush," whispered the poor girl; "do not grieve. It cannot be very hard to die--not very. See there, how poor Wahika, who has fought so nobly, seems to bear his fate; for he is going, Ned," she continued; and she pointed to the glazing eyes and motionless form at their side. "If that poor savage can die so peacefully, cannot we, who have received so much greater light, pass away even as gently as he?"

The young man sighed heavily, as he pressed her again and again to his breast, but he could not speak.

"Will they kill us quickly, Ned?" she went on. "I hope so now; for things seem strange, darling, and I want you to hold me tightly--O, so tightly; for it is as though I were being dragged away; and I can see dear father beckoning to me, and--Yes, yes; I'm coming!" Looking up suddenly in Murray's face, she kissed him tenderly. "Good-night, father dear!" she murmured; "it was a dream, a troubled dream; and my head, my head--"

The heat had now grown insufferable, and the silence down the gully that of death--so complete, that when, as Katie lay there with her head upon Murray's breast, she started and laughed a little happy-sounding laugh, it seemed to be repeated from the mountain side.

"There, there!" she muttered gently; "I can sleep now; but it was terrible--yes, it was terrible--such dreams are bad. Poor Ned! his face all crimsoned, and his hands blackened with powder. But he was fighting for me--for me whom he loves--and--Yet did they not kill him?--did they not leave him in the burning--Ned!" she added, starting, as it were, into sensibility again, and gazing at him with terror-stricken eyes, "what was it? What did it mean? Was it real?"

Then she trailed off again into a broken incoherent murmur, now lifting her parched lips to his, then hiding her face in her hands; but these fits of delirium were succeeded by moments of calm.

Hour after hour, Murray crouched there--alone now, he told himself, for poor Katie's mind seemed to have passed away. She had borne up bravely, but her sufferings had been greater than she could bear; and Murray knew that if the prayed-for help came not soon, there would be nothing for him to do but to meet the bullets ready for his breast, for all would be over, and the tragedy of Golden Gap complete.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

SEEKING AID.

Slowly up the sheep-track toiled the minister's pony with its sad burden.

Seeing how painful was any attempt at consolation to the stricken woman, Mr Meadows dropped behind, thoughtfully gazing around from time to time, and whenever from a turn of the road there was a view of the rifled hut, pausing to take a long and sorrowful look at the ruins of the once happy home. But not once did he draw the attention of Mrs Lee to the scene.

How he thought of the quiet Eden-like aspect of the place as he had descended that toilsome way; the picturesque house, with its sheep and cattle dotted about; but now, though the scene was the same, and a clump of trees often hid from view the ruined house, yet how changed all seemed to his weary gaze!

Catching the pony's bridle, when he had regained his place by its side, he began to try and hurry its pace, but without effect. Making, therefore, a virtue of necessity, they trudged slowly on until, with a sigh of relief, the ravine which led over the summit was reached, the view of Golden Gap shut out, and the next valley beginning to open before them.

What should he do? Go from station to station, telling the terrible news, and summoning the settlers to take arms for the purpose of crushing an enemy that might assault each farm in turn, or hurry on to the settlement at Kaitaka Bay, and there spread the alarm?

His reason told him that this latter would be the slower process, while if he trusted to the settlers in these far-off regions, the news would set them aflame, and they would muster readily. There would be no cumbrous arrangements for the expedition, but each man would seize his piece and mount horse, ready to join the little levy, and help to drive the invader from the neighbourhood of his home--the home which each had won for himself from the wilderness, and which was now in danger from these marauders.

He halted for a while by the side of one of the many streams, pressing upon his companion food and rest beneath the shady foliage, and watched her in the hope that sleep would visit the weeping woman--a short halt being absolutely necessary, on account of the ruggedness of their path, the excessive heat in the ravines, and the distance they had to travel.

Seeing, however, that Mrs Lee's thoughts were wholly upon bringing rescue to her child, they were soon again upon their way, and before many hours were over, receiving the hearty welcome of a bluff settler, who with his wife and child stood at his door to receive the travellers.

"Glad to see you, Mrs Lee," he exclaimed. "And where's Martin? Parson Meadows, too! But what's wrong? Why, you've got a cut on the head there, and--what does it all mean?"

Mr Meadows led him aside, wondering, as he saw Mrs Lee throwing herself sobbing into his wife's arms. The business was soon explained, and the settler's hearty English face grew stern and overcast.

"Heaven preserve us!" he muttered. "Poor Martin Lee! and it might have been here first! But are you in earnest, parson? Convicts?--landed? What should they come here for?"

"Spoil!--plunder!--desolation!" replied Mr Meadows.

The settler drew his guest into the house, forced him into a chair, and then dashed out of the room, shouting to a couple of his men. Ten minutes after, two stout well-mounted fellows galloped off in different directions.

"Mr Meadows," said the settler, returning to where he had left his visitor, "I couldn't go myself and leave them, or I'd have been one of those to gallop off; but the news will spread fast, and by morning we shall have a gathering here, I hope, that shall crush out these blood-thirsty locusts. Don't think me unneighbourly that I did not go myself."

"A man's first worldly duty is to his wife and children, friend Lawler," said Mr Meadows. "I blame you not, for we may perchance even yet have to fight for them before help comes."

"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the settler; but he took down with nervousness fowling-piece and rifle, and began to wipe and oil them ready for service.

"I'd almost ask you to help in a time of need like this," he continued, "but for your cloth."

"Help, friend Lawler! Yes, I'll help; for I have already turned man of war in defence of the Moa's Nest, and am afraid that I did some mischief amongst these men you call locusts; but they deserved it all, I fear."

"Fear, parson!" exclaimed the other. "I would that you had had the scoundrels in a row, so that one bullet would have killed the lot! It would have been the best message of peace you ever sent through the district."

"But had I not better ride in some other direction to summon help? If you could lend me another horse, I would gladly go: Joey, my pony, is slow, and not suited to the work."

The settler mused for a few moments.

"You might ride to Black Rock!" he returned. "It will be a dark journey, and a long one; but the Allens would come to a man, and all stanch fellows, who can use a rifle."

"Put on the saddle, and give me a morsel of bread; for no time should be lost. You will be kind to our poor afflicted sister."

"Kind!" was the reply, in such a tone that the clergyman smiled gently, and pressed the rough hand extended to him.

Half-an-hour after, he was in the saddle and galloping in the direction of Black Rock.

He was no mean horseman, and mile after mile was left behind, till the darkness and the increasing difficulties of the road compelled him to go more slowly--at a rate, indeed, that but ill accorded with the impatience of his spirit, now that he was in some degree rested and refreshed. For, during the early part of his journey from the Moa's Nest, he had suffered from a strange feeling of oppression, due to his late sufferings; but this was fast wearing off. And now, troubled in mind about the fate of those he sought to save, he once more pushed on, till the broken ground again compelled him to draw rein.

Long residence, and occasional visits from station to station, had made him pretty familiar with the roads; and as the horse picked its way along the stony part they were passing, he began to calculate how many men could be mustered; how long it would be before help could be afforded; and whether that help would be in time.

He pressed his horse forward as these last thoughts came, until he was again progressing at a long swinging gallop. He had been some three or four times to Black Rock, but not by this road, which was not familiar to him; but, keeping to the track, he pressed on till it seemed to end in a stony wilderness, when he once more had to draw rein; for the rugged path required careful riding. Here the track seemed almost lost; but just in front two valleys opened out, and in his directions his host had told him to take the left--no, the right--no, the left. Was it to the left? His head must be weak and confused, he told himself; for the settler had explained exactly and carefully the route he should follow.

He grew excited as he recalled the importance of his making speed, and at last drew up, pained and troubled. He essayed to go a little way along the valley to the right, but in a doubtful fashion; and, drawing rein at the end of a mile, he rode hastily back, feeling assured that he was wrong; and on reaching the headland that separated the valleys, he urged his steed onward, peering eagerly in advance the while, in search of some tokens of civilised man.

He was angry with himself for the mistake he had made--wasting minutes that might prove to have been of inestimable value; but he felt that he must soon reach the settlement now, since it was situated in the bottom of the valley, and could not be missed even by a traveller by night.

On past long park-like sweeps of rich land, varied by portions where the valley closed in till huge nestling crags, crowned with glorious vegetation, made darker the way he traversed, and seemed threatening to topple over upon the traveller; but still no signs of civilisation: no shepherd's hut, no folding hurdles, no cattle--all solitary and grand. Twice the idea occurred to him that he must, after all, be wrong; but he rejected or crushed down the thought, and hurried his horse along; for it had begun to show signs of fatigue.

Then Mr Meadows allowed the reins to fall upon the poor beast's neck, while he tried to think out the best course to pursue.

But little reflection sufficed to make him understand his position--he had been mistaken in the route he was to have pursued. He sighed heavily as he acknowledged his failing; for it was but too true. With Katie Lee in the hands of the convicts, and that young man awaiting the succour he was to bring, he had wandered from the right path, and travelled miles upon miles out of his way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

COLLECTING THE LEVY.

John Lawler barricaded his place as strongly as he could for the night; and then, with loaded gun and rifle by his side, he awaited the return of the messengers. He felt that there was not much cause for fear; but he determined to watch and wait.

Soon after reaching the hospitable place, Mrs Lee had sunk back in her chair, faint and exhausted.

It was anxious work for the master of the house, watching alone, with the knowledge that a terrible danger might at any time come upon his home. As the darkness came on, sounds, heretofore passed unnoticed, seemed to have an ominous import. Each time a dog barked the watcher started, and tried to pierce the distant gloom, seeing in every tree an enemy, and a lurker behind every bush.

After a while, watching in the silence, he started; for his wife had stolen to his side, begging to be allowed to stay with him, since Mrs Lee slept heavily, and she feared to be alone.

John Lawler tried to persuade her to go; but not energetically. And then the couple watched on, shivering at every sound, until there came, from a distance, the tramp of a horse, at a slow weary pace; and at last one of the settler's own beasts made its way into the yard, and then into the familiar stable by the side.

Lawler went out, to find that the animal was saddled and bridled; but on leading it into the yard, he found that it halted on one of its forelegs.

"Must have fallen lame," he muttered; "and Sam has gone on, thinking the poor brute would find its way back."

Another hour's watching, and then came again the slow pacing of a horse; but this time there was a man leading it; and upon his coming up, Lawler heard that the horse had stumbled in the dark, fallen, and thrown his rider heavily, the poor fellow having been hardly able to make his way back to the station.

Then came more watching, hour after hour, till daylight began to chase away the dim shadows of night.

John Lawler's spirits rose as the sun sent its warm rays once more over the brightened earth; but he shuddered as he thought that perhaps that night the home that he had been years in winning from the wilderness might become a blackened ruin.

Hour after hour passed but no gathering party of neighbours clustered round; and though Lawler climbed from time to time the hill behind his house, there was no sign of Sam.

After all these hours, surely, he thought, some neighbours might have come down to his help. Supposing that his place had been attacked, it would have been by this time a heap of blood-stained ashes. His brow knit as he watched, here for enemies, there for friends, with none to meet his eye, and the lines on his brow told the inquietude of his mind. At last, maddened with anxiety, he summoned his wife, had the two lamed beasts and Mr Meadow's pony brought out, and prepared to mount the two women, and flee farther inland, to where there were friends.

"I'd stop and fight to the last gasp for my bit of property, Nell," said Lawler to his wife, "if it wasn't for you and the child."

"No, no; let's go," she replied, as if fearing that he might stay.

The few arrangements being made, the little caravan had prepared to start, when a cheery shout from the men made Lawler shade his eyes, and his heart leapt up as he saw two mounted men, each carrying a gun, come cantering up.

"Hallo!" exclaimed one. "Just off out--pilgrimage to Egypt, eh? And Mrs Lee, too! How are you all? Bad job, though; for we wanted a rest and feed for the horses. S'pose we can have that all the same?"

John Lawler laid his hand upon the saddle of the speaker, and looking wonderingly in his face, he said:

"What! didn't the news reach you last night?"

"News?" echoed the other.

Lawler drew him down, and whispered in his ear, so that the drooping woman upon the horse should not hear again of the horrors that had devastated her home.

"Good God!" exclaimed the new-comer. "But have you sent out for help?"

"Yes," said Lawler; "three messengers. One miscarried; and I've had no news yet of the others."

A short conference was held as the new-comers, with darkened brows, learned more fully the state of affairs, and discussed it with John Lawler--earnestly, too, since each had a stake in the district, and knew full well that his might be the next turn to suffer as had suffered the family of Martin Lee.

Five minutes after, Lawler's wife was clinging to him, begging that, for the child's sake, he would accompany her to a place of safety; but although torn to the heart, the settler held firm. In a short consultation, it had been decided to let the women proceed, accompanied by Lawler's crippled man, while the three remained to garrison the little farm, and cover the retreat of the fugitives, agreeing that, if hard pressed, they could but follow them.

"We must stay and help one another," said Lawler gloomily. "You attend to poor Lee's wife; we'll see if we cannot save his child."

"But could not he stay?" said his wife piteously, as she pointed to the man.

"Would you have your husband turn coward, Nell?" Lawler said gently. "Should we not say that man was contemptible who kept back from us in time of need? Be a woman! There will be help soon; and it would never do now for neighbours to come at my asking, and find me gone. Half an hour ago it was different, and there was good excuse; now there is none."

Mrs Lawler uttered no complaint; only one sob rose from her breast as she hung on her husband's neck; and then, with the man leading the horses, the party passed slowly out of sight.

"Heaven be praised!" said one of the new-comers. "One seems free to act now."

After a little consideration, it was determined that nothing better could be done than for one of the party in turn to act as scout, and watch the ravine leading towards the Gap, the only way by which danger could approach; while the others patiently waited the succour that was expected.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE START.

Hour after hour the little rescuing party waited for further assistance; for sooner or later they well knew that there would be a strong gathering; but night was fast approaching before two horsemen were seen; and of these one, Mr Meadows, had to be lifted from his horse, and then supported into the house.

"Better soon, friends all," he said feebly. "I've been hard tried lately." And then he sank into a chair, and would have fainted, but for some brandy. "I've proved a sorry messenger, friend Lawler," he said after a pause. "You see, I was a good deal knocked about at the Nest, and I took the wrong track, and was lost; and, but for my horse, I fear there would have been no help through me. I was confused and weak, and not myself; but don't be hard upon me."

"I came on with him directly," said the fresh arrival; "and I've sent round in all directions; but it will be some hours before more help can come."

But still this was a reinforcement; for the settler was well armed, and loaded with ammunition; while, just as it grew dark, there came the sharp "thud, thud" of horses' hoofs, and Lawler's first messenger hastily came up with three neighbours, armed, and eager to assist.

"The mare fell lame," said the man, "before we'd gone three miles; so I turned her loose, and tramped it."

"And I was cattle-driving," said one. "And I at the sheep-station," said another. While the third had been ill in bed; but forgot his pains when the dire news was brought.

Again there was a council of war; and it was decided that nothing better could be done than to wait for daylight and farther reinforcements.

"Don't you think so, Lawler?" said one of his friends, noticing that the settler looked gloomy and discontented.

"Yes, I think so," he said. "It's quite right--quite right; but I could not help thinking of those poor creatures waiting for our help, and wondering, hour after hour, why no aid comes. But we have done our best, neighbours, and I must agree that it would be folly to go on now in the dark, and weak-handed; for I suppose they would still outnumber us, according to Mr Meadows's account."

"It's giving them a few more hours to live," said one of the last arrivals grimly; "for I'm afraid they will not meet with much mercy."

"Nor give much," said another. And then he made a motion to the rest to preserve silence; for Mr Meadows was listening, half shuddering, to the remarks made.

"What do you advise, parson?" said one, who had not yet spoken. "You know most about this sad business. Should we go or stay?"

"Friend Laing," said Mr Meadows feebly, "I would that you had not asked me that question. With the thoughts of that poor lamb in the clutches of those ravening wolves, my heart says, Go--go at once, and strike to save her. But then reason saith, Would you send these men--fathers of children, dear husbands of loving and anxious wives--to encounter useless peril, and come to ruin and death, for want of a little care? But I think this: the miles are long between this and the Moa's Nest. Suppose that we proceeded with caution during the dark cool hours, so as to be ready to pursue the task at daybreak? One of your number could stay here, ready to bring on the rest of our friends when they arrive; while, without proceeding to attack, we might draw off the attention of the convicts, as well as succour Edward Murray and the brave savage, who must be faint and weary long ere this--if they still live," he muttered to himself.

The advice was received with general tokens of satisfaction; but when it came to the question who should stay behind, no man displayed his willingness to undertake that tame part of the duty. One suggested that Mr Meadows would be unable to accompany them; but he did not know the stanch spirit of the old man, who sturdily declared his intention of following.

"This food and rest were all I required," he said; "and I shall be no hindrance to you. My pony will bear me; and if I should be left behind for a while, I daresay I can overtake you."

Seeing his determination, lots were drawn as to who should stay; for there was a certain feeling of respect shown by all towards their common friend.

The preparations were soon made, each man carrying a supply of provisions; and then they filed cautiously along the track, keeping ever on the alert, for each man knew that at any time a volley from behind some clump of trees or rocks far overhead, might perhaps empty half the saddles of the little party.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE AVENGERS' WAY.

Daylight found them standing, dark of face, around the barely cold ashes of the Moa's Nest; and the stern determination of the party might have been read in their compressed lips and fierce looks, as more than one man mentally registered an oath of the stern vengeance he would take for this cruel desolation of a peaceful home.

A short interval of rest and refreshment, and the horses were stabled in one of the sheds yet standing; arms were examined, and the party began to ascend the Gap, slowly and cautiously, for they knew that unless the convicts had made their way round by the sea, they must be somewhere higher up, amongst these natural fortresses.

It was a very slow rate at which they progressed, for they anxiously searched for and examined every trace left by the convicts, though these were comparatively few, Wahika having previously picked up and hidden the greater part as he followed the ruffianly crew.

But soon these tokens disappeared, and they pressed on higher and higher, watching eagerly for farther signs of their enemy.

Once the foremost man halted, holding up his hand as a sign to those who followed, for there was the distant sound as of a gun; but it reached their ears in a strange, muffled way, as if discharged on the other side of the mountains; and another, which followed soon after, was even less distinct.

"They must be farther up, round the bend," said one; and on they proceeded, taking advantage of every inequality for concealment. Every man's rifle was ready to reply to the shot which was expected at any instant; but on they still went, without encountering a foe.

Hour after hour had passed; and at length, heated and wearied, a halt was called by the side of a rapid, babbling stream. Provisions were brought out, and then, for the first time, it was seen that one of the party was missing.

"Where's the parson?" exclaimed the one who first made the discovery; when, upon comparing notes, it was found that he had not been noticed by any one for some hours.

"Poor old fellow, he could not keep up," said Lawler. "We shall find him under a tree, resting, when we go back. He was not without food, fortunately, for I saw that he had it, or he would have gone without."

"I hope no mischief will befall him," said another; and then they fell to consulting, in cautious tones, as to the next best proceeding; whether to press on farther, or to retrace their steps, and examine some of the ravines, so as to join the strength they hoped by that time to meet approaching from the lower part of the Gap, while, at the same time, they would pick up Mr Meadows.

"I should be for going on," said Lawler, "only that I think the last plan is the better; for I can't help thinking they have never come up here. Let's go back: we're losing time."

Following out his suggestion, the men rose, and began, with the same precautions, to retrace their steps, by this time spreading out in a more extended line; while, about the same time, a party of a dozen friends commenced the ascent of the Gap, following the plainly-marked track left by the first detachment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

STORY THREE, CHAPTER NINETEEN.

MR MEADOWS'S WEAKNESS.

Mr Meadows struggled on, hour after hour, with his companions, only enabled to keep up with them by their exceedingly slow progress; for, from time to time, he would sit for a few minutes while they passed on for some little distance, and then, following the track, he would overtake them at their slow, watchful pace.

He pressed on; sometimes tottering, sometimes resting so long that he had to strive hard to reach the last man. The heat seemed to overcome him; and at last, seating himself by the bright stream, upon whose banks he was, he let five, ten, twenty minutes, an hour slip away, heedless of all save the exhaustion that had enervated him.

Gradually a delicious sleep stole upon him, and then for a while all was blank.

But at length the weary man awoke, and started in pursuit of his companions, reproaching himself for his cruelty in sleeping at an hour like this; though, at the time, his forward progress was but a weary totter from tree to tree, against whose trunks he was often glad to lean his hands.

"It is of no use," he groaned. "I'm worn out; and until Nature has done her part of restoration, I am helpless as a child."

He sat down, and rested again, and then rose; for the distant report of a gun fell upon his ear; repeated, too, once or twice; and turning from his companions' track, he faced towards that side of the Gap from amidst whose craggy fastnesses the sound seemed to proceed.

"I have no strength," muttered Mr Meadows feebly; "but I have still my eyesight, and I may be able to play the spy. Why are they not here? They have gone on too far; but if they hear the firing, they will soon return."

He passed through the dense undergrowth, and then stopped short, for he had hit upon a well-marked track, which looked as if the grass had been trampled down by footprints to and fro.

"Strange," he said, "that it should fall to the weakest of the party to discover this. I'll go on; but not in the guise of warfare;" and he leaned his gun against a tree, and toiled patiently along the track. No easy task, for it led up and up, along the valley side, higher and higher; each few steps giving a view over the tops of the trees just passed.

"Not the way taken by the gallant young man," he muttered, "for not one of the branches he was to have broken, has met my eye. It is plain that I have not struck upon his track; but I may be able to report good news to our friends on my return."

Once more came the faint, muffled sound of a gun; and collecting his fast-flagging energies, Mr Meadows pushed on, until breathless, and with bleeding hands and knees, he stood looking down with astonishment into a little rocky amphitheatre, strewn with provisions and the plunder taken by the convicts from the Moa's Nest.

He stepped down, for the place appeared to be quite forsaken, and vainly tried to make out the cause of its being untenanted, when, looking round, he started with dismay; for half-seated, half-lying, with his back to the rocks, was the form of a human being, but so disfigured, that it seemed impossible for life to exist in such a ruin. But life was there; for, to the clergyman's horror, he saw that the man was engaged with a knife in his left hand, slowly and deliberately trying to back off his right at the wrist.

For a few moments, Mr Meadows could not speak; then, hurrying up, he arrested the man, exclaiming, "Surely, friend, that operation cannot be necessary?"

"Let it be--let it be," was the answer, in a strange, muttering voice, which came from the mutilated face. "It's a vile hand--a bad hand, stained with crime."

It required but little effort to wrest the knife from the convict's hand; and then, binding a handkerchief round the bleeding wrist, Mr Meadows gazed, shuddering, in the man's face, as his head fell back, and he fainted.