Mat had once, when camping with Carew, caught a glimpse of the mysterious man in the tent, who he was told was such a drunkard that he never stirred out; and now, as he gazed carefully at the features of the wounded man before him, he recognized the great scar on his face.
Astonished at this recognition and the man’s words, he said,—
“Why, then, you’re Boyd!”
“In course I was, and now I’m Jack Magan, and shall be both Boyd and Magan under the sod soon. How did that nigger tell you where to shoot? If it hadn’t been for him, I’d ’av got a thousand pounds ransom for that wench, after killing you! I wish you and him felt as I do now. They’ve tried to take me these years, and never would, only for you two finding out the secret; but perhaps that liar who lived with Bell, that liar we called ‘Frenchey,’ perhaps he peached. But my senses are going; what’s the good of talking to a ghost? I saw your black beard fly into the air when I shot you one moonlight night at the paddock, and I’ll swear you never stirred afterwards.”
Every sentence of the foregoing remarks was larded with horrible oaths, and Magan soon after died, cursing with his last breath the man who had dealt him his death-blow. But Mat, seeing that his presence only infuriated the bushranger, placed some shady branches lightly around him before he was dead, and turned away.
The horse he found in a miserable condition, so tied that he could neither lie down nor get about to seek for food or water, so our forester freed him, led him to a small pool in the rocks, and left him at liberty amongst some good feed.
He then rejoined Annie, whom he found brighter, and refreshed from her rest.
In answer to his questions, she told him that the men had treated her without insult, and that the wretch called “Jack” had informed her that he had killed the gipsy days ago, which she knew at the time must be a story. He also told her that some of his men were guarding his camp; it was quite impossible for her to get away, and that his intention was to get a large sum of money for her ransom, keeping her prisoner until he could communicate safely with her father. If his hiding-place was discovered, and a force sent against him, he did not intend to be taken himself, nor should he burden himself with her if he had to fly, but should simply cut her throat before going.
“Oh, it’s so dreadful!” continued Annie. “But I will tell you more as I think of it. Yes, and when we arrived here I was given damper and meat and water, and then they tied a handkerchief round my mouth, and my legs and arms together, and put me in that dreadful cave. When they struck a match in there I glanced round and spied that ledge, so when the firing began I remembered the man’s threats, and struggled inch by inch, until, in despair, I got not only on to the ledge, but rolled beyond it out of sight, and there I lay shaking with fear. At last I recognized your voice—though in black-fellow language I knew it—and I knew I was saved! And I just managed to kick a stone down, as I could not call out. But, oh! Mr. Stanley—Mat, I mean—are my parents safe? Tell me everything. And how was it you came up alone? How I prayed for you all, and my prayers have been answered, have they not? I knew you would come, as you can track anything, but where are the others?”
Mat assured her that her people were all safe, and would be with her soon, at all events the squire would, and that as he had started first, so he had arrived before the others, having gone night and day; as she had surmised, he had followed the tracks, and at a run, whereas the other white men were not accustomed to tracking, and, moreover, they would be mounted, which would still more add to their difficulties in following a trail; and, “believe me,” concluded Mat, “I would have followed across Australia to save you, Miss Annie.”