“Will you believe me now?” said Mr Raydon. “I tell you there are men all round you, and every one is a marksman who can bring you down. Do you surrender?”
“No,” cried the big ruffian, through his set teeth, as he dragged himself up on his hands. “It’s the same one fired both shots. Mates, you won’t cave in and give up a claim like this?”
“No!” came in chorus. “It’s our claim, and we’ll fight for it.”
“It is Mr Gunson’s claim,” I cried, angrily; “and it was ours before he came.”
“If any one has a right to the claim, it is I,” said Mr Raydon; “and I give you warning, my men, if one of you is seen in these parts after to-day, he shall be hunted down and placed in irons till he can be sent back to the coast for attempted murder and robbery.”
“Don’t listen,” cried the big ruffian, hoarsely; and I could see that he was ghastly pale. “He’s nobody. He’s trying to scar’ you. Stand up and fight for your rights.”
“Mr Raydon, quick!” I shouted. “Take care!”
I was too late, for a revolver-shot rang out, fired by the second man; but it was with his left hand, and I uttered a cry of joy, for it had missed.
“Keep to your places,” cried Mr Raydon; “I am not hurt. Grey and number two advance. Stop number two and number three advance, and collect their weapons. You others cover your men. Grey, bring down the next who lifts a hand.”
Two of the men from the Fort ran out from the pines, rifle in hand; but at that moment there was a crackling and rustling of branches, and one by one at least a dozen gold-finders from below came running up, armed with rifles and revolvers.