“Who goes there?” challenged the sentry as he approached, for the night was very dark.
“Mesilf, av coorse.”
“An’ who may that be, for yer not the only Patlander in camp, more’s the pity!”
“It’s Flinders I am. Sure any man wid half an ear might know that. I’ve come to relave ye.”
“But you’ve got no rifle,” returned the man, with some hesitation.
“Aren’t revolvers as good as rifles, ay, an’ better at close quarters? Shut up your tatie-trap, now, an’ be off to Muster Gashford’s hut for he towld me to sind you there widout delay.”
This seemed to satisfy the man, who at once went away, leaving Flinders on guard.
Without a moment’s loss of time Paddy made use of the key and entered the prison.
“Is it there ye are, avic?” he said, in a hoarse whisper, as he advanced with caution and outstretched hands to prevent coming against obstructions.
“Yes; who are you?” replied Tom Brixton, in a stern voice.