But would not aid come? The news of such an outrage, as spread by Mr Meadows, must bring the settlers of the whole district down to the destruction of the villainous crew. But would the aid come in time to save Katie?
As for Bray, he lay there watching the coming on of the convicts, as they now grew more cautious, and darted from stone to stone for protection. Twice he withheld his hand when he might have slain an enemy; for he told himself savagely that it was not for him to stay them from reaching his rival. And then as to Wahika—what was he, that he should oppose his will? There was his home in ruins; but he could build another; his cattle and sheep were uninjured; and here, miles away from another station, and with her friends cut off, Katie must gladly accept of his protection and become his wife; and the past would soon be forgotten. He knew nothing of Mrs Lee’s escape, nor of the sought-for aid; and silent and thoughtful he lay there, almost a spectator of the little siege.
Twice his barrel covered Murray, and he took deadly aim at the young man; but the blenching was not on the sailor’s side. He saw his peril; but he trembled not, but gazed full up at his rival with a calm untroubled mien, almost a smile of contempt upon his lip, when the fierce eyes of his enemy were withdrawn, the barrel of the gun pointed in another direction, and Bray’s conscience told him that he dared not fire.
Meanwhile precipice and crag sent thundering back the echoes of the discharged guns; for every time Wahika, from his more exposed position, showed hand or head, bullet after bullet was sent whistling through the air; but except being struck and bleeding from the rocky splinters, he was but little injured. Not so, though, his enemies; for more than one poor wretch, on rising to fire, from what he conceived to be a place of safety, received his death wound, and staggered down the gully, to fall with a crash over some fragment of rock, and then dye the streamlet with his heart’s blood. Now the strife would seem to cease, and attacker and defender would remain in concealment; but only for the convicts to renew their assault, coming in their rage nearer and nearer, until, but for Wahika’s well-plied gun, they must have reached the spot where Murray lay sheltered by the rock.
He did not want for food; for there was a portion of the provision dropped at his feet; but while the stream trickled close by where he sat, and he could quench his thirst and lave his heated brow, those above him on the rock suffered severely from want of water, as the sun beat down upon their heads, and the stone grew hotter and hotter, till the verdure around them flagged and drooped.
The times of cessation were, if possible, more trying than those of the active firing; for when the enemy was invisible, the dread was always great that they had scaled the sides of the gorge, and would before long reach them by some side-path, or, climbing far above where they lay hid, would hurl down huge stones and crush them as they sought in vain to avoid each ponderous mass. But no such thoughts seemed to trouble Wahika, who, with his gun-barrel commanding the pass, lay there watchful and patient, the barrel at times growing so hot that it seemed within the range of probability that the charge might explode. In his rough way he comprehended to a great extent the cause of the enmity between the young men, and placing Katie in a rift, half chasm, half cavern, behind where he knelt, he kept a double watch, and waited patiently for the help that he, too, felt must soon come. As the heat grew more intense, reflected back as it was from the rocks, but never reaching the hollow where Murray was concealed, the savage picked and chewed leaves to allay his thirst, offering some, too, to the trembling girl behind him.
The shades of evening began at last to fall, and to Murray it was an anxious time, for he rightly guessed that the convicts would take advantage of the obscurity to close up and attack their enemies hand to hand; for since daylight had enabled them to discover the gully by which the fugitives had escaped, every check received had tended to madden them and make them reckless of consequences. Not that they dreaded attack themselves—the country had seemed too sparsely inhabited; therefore as each man fell, his comrades had sworn the most binding oath each to avenge him; and as soon as darkness closed in, they began to creep cautiously from rock to rock, higher up the gully. In spite of their caution, though, they had not made much progress, when a heavy stone was dislodged, and, as if in consequence, a gun was seen to send forth its messenger of death, and the convicts once more halted.