“Why, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. Has it been a hoax after all?” said the doctor, wonderingly, as they reached and passed the depot building and arrived at the big shed, which appeared to be safely shut up and secure.
“Looks like it!” exclaimed Sam Peters, blankly.
“What’s that?” said one of the volunteers, suddenly darting across the railway track to where something dark showed, lying on the ground near to the derelict freight-wagon.
The something was Nell, who moaned when they lifted her up, and appeared to be bleeding from a wound on her cheek or her ear.
“Doctor, where are you? Here’s something in your line,” shouted the man who had first found Nell, but who feared to lift her up lest he might hurt her more.
Dr. Russell came up at the run. “There’s more on hand than we thought for. Some one is shut up in that shed, and making a fine row, but he will have to wait until we are ready to let him out,” the doctor said grimly. He then sent four of the men to watch the doors of the big shed, asked another to carry Nell across the track to the telegraph office, while he went in front to open the door.
Nell was not unconscious, but she seemed unable to speak, or was, perhaps, too dazed from the blow she had received.
The other men, at the doctor’s suggestion, spread out to have a look round, but nothing could be done or settled until Nell was able to explain the situation.
“There is certainly some one in yonder who is pretty anxious to get out,” remarked one of the volunteers. “Just hark at him, whining and crying like a whipped schoolboy. It’s a rum go this; we come tearing up here fit to break our necks to catch the robbers, only to find when we get here that one seems pretty securely caught.”
“Luckily for Miss Hamblyn the doctor stopped wide of the depot, for she was lying too near to the track for safety,” said one of the miners.