He threw his weapon upon the ground, folded his arms, and said, in a tone devoid of fear: "Comrades, do with me what you will. I could not help doing what I did. It was either my brother's life or his. Sandy was innocent of the crime charged against him. He had no thought of treachery, though he did mean to leave your ranks. Is there anyone among you that would stand by and see his brother murdered before his eyes when he had the means of preventing it?"
The bushrangers looked at each other in doubt. They had at first accepted the captain's statement that Sandy Graham was a traitor. His brother's explanation of his attempted desertion put a new face on the matter. Then, again, there was not one among them that had not tired of their despotic leader. Alive, he had impressed them with fear, and held them in strict subordination, but he was far from popular, and had no real friend among them. So, though they were startled and shocked, there was no one to shed a tear over the dead. It was a moment of doubt when a leader was wanted.
"Well," said Robert Graham, after a pause, "what are you going to do with me? I wait your pleasure."
"He ought to be served as he served the captain," said Fletcher, who disliked Graham, and had always been a toady to Captain Stockton.
"I say no," rejoined Rupert Ring, a man of medium height, but of great muscular development. "It was a terrible deed, but had my brother—I have a brother in England, whom I have not seen for fifteen years—been in Sandy Graham's shoes, I would have done the same."
There was a half murmur, which seemed like approval.
"And after all," continued Ring, "though Sandy Graham was in fault, he is not the first man that has been beguiled by a fair face."
"No, no!" was heard from several of the bushrangers.
"I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, but he drew the reins too tight at times. He forgot that we have rights."
Again there was a murmur of assent. It was evident that he was carrying his comrades with him.