"It's all right, boys! Hurroar! Dad broke the handle of the corn-sheller this evening, and sent me over with it to the blacksmith's. I'm to wait till it's mended. Wait a jiff an' I'll be with you," cried he, as he ran to the smithy, returning as fast as his legs could bring him, with the news that the broken handle could not be repaired under three hours owing to other urgent work.
Joe rapidly detailed the plan, informing Tom, at the same time, that his name and character were to be that of Red Murphy, one of the blood-thirstiest and most rapacious cut-throats in the Colonies.
CHAPTER III
A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER
"Falstaff: I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut through; my sword hacked like a handsaw ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man; all would not do."—SHAKESPEARE, Henry IV.
Joe had barely made his explanations before the rumbling of the approaching cart was heard. It was the Royal Mail starting on its adventurous trip.
"Time to be off, pals!" cried the leader. "Now then, Hawkeye, whip 'em up."
Off started the trio, Thundercloud, Hawkeye, and Red Murphy; each delivering a blood-curdling yell which rang up and down the street, as they passed through it at a smart canter. It had never fallen to the lot of horse, before, to bear upon its back at the same time three such ferocious outlaws, bent on so diabolical an errand. Behind them, and at a slower pace, came the Royal Mail goatcart, drawn by four strong billies, skilfully driven by coachman Jimmy, and attended by Trooper Billy astride his cud-chewing steed.
After leaving the township the road skirted the river for a mile or so, then, crossing a plank bridge, bore away to the hills. The silver moon shone from the clear sky through the pure air, making the tree shadows as they lay across the road to resemble fallen timber. The nocturnal 'possum, having ventured to the ground to feed upon the tender grass, scudded up the trees, frightened by the rumbling vehicle and the baaing steeds. The thud of paddy-melon[#] and wallaby could be distinctly heard, as they smote the earth in their jumping movements; while from the heights of some lofty tree the mopoke[#] tolled his mournful cry.
[#] "Paddy-melon," a small marsupial or pouch-bearing mammal.