“Now, boys, have him out,” he cried.
Julia shrieked, and threw herself before the helpless man, when the convict rudely caught her by the arms to swing her aside, but was sent staggering sideways from a blow dealt by Bayle.
“Save him, Mr Bayle,” shrieked Julia, as she clung to Eaton. “Father! oh, father, help!”
Neither Hallam nor Crellock stirred as the man whom Bayle had struck uttered an oath which was echoed by his companions, who seized Bayle and held him as others of the party dragged out Eaton, fortunately insensible to all that was going on.
In their insensate fury believing that they had a long list of injuries to repay the convict guard, who in guarding them had only done their duty, in another minute Eaton’s life would have been sacrificed, when there was the tramp of feet, an order given in a loud voice, and a party of soldiers led by Captain Otway dashed up with bayonets fixed. And then two wounded convicts were lying on the floor, the others were in full flight down the gully, pursued by the troops, a shot every now and then breaking the silence that had fallen upon the group.
Hallam was the first to speak, and he turned angrily upon Bayle.
“Were you mad to bring him here?” he snarled.
“Father!” cried Julia with a reproachful look, as she knelt down beside Eaton to hold her handkerchief to his wounded head.
Bayle made no reply to the question, but said sternly:
“Mr Hallam, you had better send for medical aid. My dear Julia, you must go.”