“You a coward!” I cried, scornfully.
“Yes, my lad,” he said, with a smile. “I do not feel a bit like a brave man should. Well,” he cried, with a laugh, “that is strange!”
“What is?” I cried.
“Look,” he said, pointing out of the window to a group of men coming in at the gate; “the very man I was speaking about—Barker.”
“There’s something wrong,” I said, excitedly, as I sprang from my chair.
“Go and see,” he cried; but I was already at the door, and rushed out just as Mr Raydon and Mr John came from the office, and Grey from one of the block-houses.
“How are you?” said Barker, coming up with a serious look on his face that told of bad news before he spoke.
Mr Raydon took the extended hand.
“Well,” he said, “what is it? That gang again?”
“Yes,” said Barker, rather huskily; “we were in hopes that we had seen the last of them, but they made an attack last night. We did not know till quite late this morning, when a man from the next claim went down to the bar nearest the big river.”