"Smithers, Graham, and Brown," replied Rainsfield.
John ushered Rainsfield into the room where Eleanor lay still and motionless in a bed, at the side of which sat her watchful friend and nurse, who rose and left her seat as Rainsfield approached. He stood silently looking on the placid features of his cousin, which, but for the gentle heaving of the snowy linen that covered her breast, would have appeared as if inexorable death had already left the impress of his hand.
In the meantime John walked down to where the party of gentlemen lay stretched on the ground; and, addressing those whom he knew in a manner as if nothing had ever happened to mar the good feeling and fellowship that should have existed between them, invited the party up to the house. He prevented any refusal from Smithers (who could not dissemble his shame and mortification) by taking him cordially by the hand, and requesting that he would not give him the pain of a refusal, and of seeing him encamped with his friends within sight of his windows. He stated the accommodation he could afford them was not very commodious, but he would consider it unsocial if they did not accept it. The consequence of this appeal was that within a few minutes their horses were running in an adjoining paddock and they were all walking up together to the Fergusons' domicile.
The next day was devoted to the interment of the earthly remains of the victims of the Strawberry Hill massacre; and, as that beautifully sublime and solemn ritual of the Anglican Church was read by one of the party over the bodies they were lowering respectively in their rough and hastily-constructed encasements into that lodgment where the grim tyrant retains his grasp until the last trumpet shall summon the dead from the caverns of the earth; and, as the heavy clod resounded with a hollow dullness on the lids of the coffins, more than one eye was moistened, and more than one tear rolled its course down the cheek of some of the strongest minded of the manly group. The grave was speedily filled in, and the party returned to the house to partake of a repast; after which they took their departure.
CHAPTER XIII.
"O! pardon me thou bleeding piece of Earth
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers."
Julius Cæsar, Act 3, Sc. 1.
When "the Society" left Fern Vale they jaunted leisurely on for a short distance, when they were overtaken by Sawyer and his son-in-law, the notable Captain Jones, who made up to Mr. Rainsfield and told him they had come out to join his party against the blacks. Though these volunteers were not exactly the sort of men "the Society" would have desired to enroll they were determined looking characters, and had the appearance of those, who, if they could be trusted, could be made serviceable in any desperate act. Therefore their aid was accepted, and they were forthwith admitted into the confidence of the brethren. Such is the influence of either perpetrated or contemplated crime that it breaks down all social demarcation and collects in the bonds of unity and friendship the most heterogeneous natures of man.
The cavalcade had proceeded about half-way towards Strawberry Hill when some distance in advance of them a bullock crossed the road followed by a black on horseback at a hard gallop. Both animals Rainsfield at once recognised as his own; and, dashing spurs into his horse, he joined in the chase, followed by the remainder of the party, with the intention of sending one of his family's destroyers to a last account. The bullock ran with his head carried low and his tail erect at a speed which for some time kept him considerably in advance of his pursuer; but after a while his pace relaxed and the superior mettle of the horse soon brought him alongside the bovine fugitive. As the animals ran side by side the rider seized the uplifted tail of the bullock in a firm grasp, while he stimulated his horse to additional exertion, and with the application of very little force he tilted the beast over its own head, and it fell with its own velocity, breaking its neck.
The black was quite conscious all this time that he was the object of pursuit; so giving a glance at his fallen prey to ascertain if his work had been effectual, and another behind him to see if his pursuers were in an unpleasant proximity, he continued his career through the bush until he arrived at the banks of the river Gibson. Into it he plunged without hesitation, and slipping from his saddle, as the horse entered the water, he held on by the bridle and stirrup, and swam by the animal's side. The black kept his eye upon the bank he had just left until he saw approaching through the bush a number of horsemen; who, as they reached the edge of river, presented their guns and fired. The next moment the horse rolled over in the stream, dyeing the water with his blood, and floated lifeless down the current.