"But we don't want to take home prisoners of war as well as plunder," said Geordie, with a nod of his head towards the end of the gully where the gold was.
"I know we don't, but we will keep this gentleman—pretty fellow, isn't he?—till we have caught the horses and are quite ready to start, and then we can let him go."
"In the meantime we'll take him to the humpie and bandage the poor beggar's head up. That cut would have knocked most men over, but these black fellows do stand pain wonderfully. Come along, old ugly," said Geordie, putting his hand under the man's arm and helping him to rise.
Between them, and followed by the wondering Murri, they led the myall to the humpie, and George, who felt all right again directly that there was anything for him to do, managed to tie up the gash on the side of the man's head, from which a great stream of blood was pouring. He was not particularly clever at that sort of work, and the bandage was doubtless a clumsy one, but it stopped the bleeding, and that was the main point.
The utter ingratitude and treachery of these Australian myalls were shown very brutally by this fellow whilst George was doing what he could for him. Having dropped one of the strips of the flannel shirt he had torn up for bandaging, Geordie stooped to the ground to pick it up, and the myall instantly aimed a deadly blow at the back of his head with a short, heavy nullah, which the boys had not removed from his girdle, and which he snatched from his thigh. But Alec, who was standing by his left hand side, saw the movement of his hand, and before the blow could descend he had struck the man to the earth with one blow of his fist.
"You infernally ungrateful brute!" he shouted, livid with passion at the dastardly fellow.
"Good gracious, Alec, whatever's the matter?"
"Why, this black demon tried to beat your brains out the instant you stooped down. I believe Murri is right after all. I've a good mind to put a bullet through his wicked head."
"Oh, no, you haven't. Loose him, Murri," for that worthy fellow had pounced on him and was nearly throttling him with his hands. "You know what they are well enough; they are born and bred and live in treachery and cunning. They are like dingoes or snakes in that respect."
"Yes, and deserve equally to be shot with those beasts."