The company were anxious for the train to be kept running, but offered no protection, if it could supply any.
The round trip on this day was made without any shots being fired by the enemies, though at least twenty bush-raiders were seen drawn up in sight of the train, as it wound its way through one of the gloomiest spots of the entire route.
One of the disreputable looking party waved a red cloth on the muzzle of his short-barreled carbine as they whisked past.
“Look out for to-morrow,” said Jack. “That looks to me like a sort of warning.”
It proved that he was not the only one who had his suspicions, for as he swung himself upon the engine the following morning some one stepped from out of the motley crowd collected about the station and thrusting a scrap of paper into his hand instantly disappeared.
As soon as they were fairly on their way Jack smoothed out the crumpled paper to read in a scrawling hand:
“Look out for the bush-raiders to-day.”
The sheet bore no signature or date.
“Looks like a scare by some one,” remarked Jack, as he handed the missive to Fret. “But there can be no harm in keeping a sharp lookout,” he admitted. “I suppose the trouble has got to begin soon, and it might as well be to-day as to-morrow.”
Fret Offut, whose stock of courage was small, turned pale, as he read the brief message: