Fletcher’s eye wandered anxiously around the circle. To his chagrin not a single hand was raised save his own. There was a cheer of derision which brought an angry flush to his cheek.
Then a clear voice was heard. It was that of the young man, Wyman, whose conversation with the two boys has already been recorded.
“I nominate Rupert Ring for our leader,” he said.
There was a chorus of approval, which emboldened Wyman to add: “As he can’t very well put the question on his own nomination, I will do so. Those of you who want Ring for your captain, please hold up your right hands.”
All hands were raised except that of Fletcher.
“That settles it,” said Wyman, who was unversed in parliamentary language. “I call for three cheers for Captain Ring!”
The woods echoed to the lusty cheers of the bushrangers. It was evident, from the general expression of satisfaction, that the choice was a popular one.
“Comrades,” said the new captain modestly, “I did not look for this promotion, as you may have thought from my taking the lead just now, but I saw that it was necessary for somebody to act. I don’t know whether you have made a wise choice or not, but I will do my best to make you think so. Since I am your captain, it is my duty first to see that proper honour is paid to the remains of your late captain. Prepare a coffin, and at daybreak we will commit him to the earth.”
“I would like to suggest,” said Fletcher, “that the two boys”—here he turned in the direction where Harry and Jack had been standing, and ejaculated in dismay, “I don’t see them. What has become of them?”
“They have taken advantage of the excitement and confusion to run away, I fancy,” said the new captain quietly.