They retorted that he had not spared Bourke's, and also that 'he had boasted that he would have the reward which the Government had offered for their capture.'
Mrs. Keightley replied that he had never dreamed of a reward: he was the last man to take blood-money; if he had shot Bourke it was in defence of his home, which any man would do. Furthermore, if they would allow her to ride to Bathurst, she would undertake to bring them five hundred pounds in notes on the following day.
'How could you get that?' asked Ben Hall.
'From my father. You know that he is a wealthy man, and would gladly give it to me for such a purpose. Surely you will not kill my husband in cold blood before my face?'
The lady was young and beautiful. Her tears and entreaties in this dread position were such as to have moved the sternest heart. She was a native-born Australian, like themselves.
They had shed blood, but it had been in fair fight. They had never been accused of inhumanity otherwise. They relented, finally agreeing to take the five hundred pounds if brought to a certain tree, visible for a considerable distance, by a specified hour on the next day. The messenger was to come alone. They would hold her husband as a hostage for the performance of the bond.
The two men told off as executioners had by this time called upon their prisoner to turn his back towards them for the fatal shot.
'I have never done that to any man living, and will not now,' returned he; 'fire away!'
As he folded his arms and looked his captors in the face, a voice was heard from below—
'Hold on! There's to be no shooting; we've agreed to take the money.'