“This has stood some shooting,” continued Bell, “and here’s your ‘brand’ too,” as he pointed to a couple of deep dents in the breastplate. “We’ll keep all this gear, and bury the body under that tree in the scrub, where the others can’t see us at work; I’m glad that Annie did not see this frightfully-mutilated corpse.”
So they scraped a hole, put Magan’s body in, marked the tree, and made a “cache” of the armour.
“I saw you limping when helping to carry the body,” said Bell; “are you wounded?”
“No, it’s nothing,” answered Mat, “else I couldn’t walk, but I may as well look at it before we go back.”
Mat found that the ball from Magan’s pistol had travelled just under the skin of his outer thigh, causing a slight flesh wound, but causing him little inconvenience.
After the little party had refreshed themselves, they prepared to start for home.
Terebare brought up the horses; Annie was mounted on her father’s, the squire insisting on Mat’s riding Magan’s, taking turn and turn about with him.
In this manner they reached home by easy stages, and without further adventure. As they approached the house, Mrs. Bell, rushed out to meet them, having recognized them from far off, and once again the family party met in safety and happiness on the verandah of Bulinda Creek.
When they had partly got over the first feelings of thankfulness at the rescue of Annie, Mrs. Bell said to her husband,—
“And who do you think is the wretch we caught?”