“Yes, my lad, gone,” said Gunson; “and we shall have to follow their example. It is a horrible shame, but till we have people sent up by the governor, those scoundrels take the law in their own hands.”
“But they will not dare to come back.”
“I don’t know. But I shall not dare to try and hold the place against such a gang.”
“But you weren’t afraid of ’em?” said Esau.
“Indeed, but I was,” said Gunson, with a bitter laugh, “horribly afraid. I should have fought to the end though, all the same, and so would you.”
“Dunno,” said Esau; “but I was going to try and hit one, for I thought it a pity to waste a shot, and I can hit without killing; can’t I, Mayne Gordon?”
“Don’t talk about it,” I said, with a shudder.
“Why not? Wish we could wound all that lot like I wounded you, and that they would be as bad for six months.”
“Don’t talk,” said Mr Gunson. “We will not stir to-night, and the best way will be not to show ourselves—only one at a time to make up the fire. No sleep to-night, lads; or if there is, it must be in turns. Here, Quong! What tree has he gone up?”
There was no reply, and we sat listening with the darkness closing in all around, and the silence growing painful. It was a weary watch in the gloom, though outside the fire lit up the valley, and from time to time I went out and threw on a few sticks, just enough to keep it up.