“The strangers were soon at the veranda, evidently resolved to take us by storm. Foremost among them was my visitor of the day before. He sprang down from his horse in the most reckless manner, and began thundering at the door with the butt end of his rifle. My house had not been built with the view of its sustaining a siege at any time, but was constructed of rather light materials, so that the door began to groan and creak under the assaults of the bushranger, whose every movement I could see through a small opening in the shutters.
“‘What do you want here, friend?’ I asked.
“‘Open the door,’ was the only reply.
“‘Tell me what you want,’ I said again.
“‘Open the door,’ was all that was returned in answer; and then came a thundering blow, which fairly crushed in one of the panels.
“‘Shall I fire?’ asked Mr Jackson, in a hoarse whisper.
“‘No, no! Not yet, not yet,’ I cried.
“Then came a united rush of three of the men, and the door came crashing into the outer room. The foremost villain then sprang at me, and we wrestled together, after I had knocked up his revolver. In a few minutes I had hurled him back from me, and he fell to the ground and was seized by one of my men. Gasping for breath, I paused and looked about me. A pistol was presented at me by another bushranger, but before it could be fired Horace’s poor father had thrown himself in front of me; he received the bullet in his own breast, and fell to the ground grievously wounded. But now help was at hand; alas that it did not come sooner! A strong body of mounted police came up, and having secured all the robbers, carried them off in triumph.
“But what was to be done with my dear wounded friend, who had saved my life by perilling his own? I knew enough of surgical matters to ascertain by inspection that the injury, though severe, was not likely to be mortal. So, having bandaged up the wound with the best appliances I had at hand, I drove my friend as rapidly as he could bear it to my town house, where he was at once placed under the care of the best medical skill in the city. And for some time I had every hope that he would recover, and earnestly did I pray that it might be so, if it were the Lord’s will. But it was not so to be. A constitution once strong, but impaired in early youth, and much tried when he was at the diggings, had not sufficient vigour remaining to enable my poor friend to regain health and strength. But he did not pass away rapidly, nor did he lose any of his power of mind in his last days. And then it was, on his dying-bed, that he opened his whole heart to me, and told me what I am about to tell you, and, as nearly as I can remember, in these words:—
“‘My name is really Horace Walters, and I am the owner of an estate called Riverton Park in my dear native country. But I ruined myself by my mad love for gambling, and when my poor wife died, and left me with Horace a baby, and my estate was become sadly encumbered, I resolved at once that I would leave my native land, go over to Australia, live a life of hard work and self-denial, and not come back again until, by the accumulated rents and by what I could earn, I could make my property absolutely and honestly my own, and leave it unencumbered to my dear child. You have seen enough of me to know that I have some strength of will in my character; and so, when I had made this resolution, I began immediately to carry it out. Taking with me our old nurse, whom I bound to secrecy, I came over to this colony, got employment, and then went to the diggings. There, by diligence, perseverance, and self-denial, I managed to accumulate a large sum, which is safely deposited in the bank. I had some thoughts of going back at once to England; but on learning what had happened to Horace, and about your noble and loving-care of him, I resolved to wait a while, and to get employment in your neighbourhood—at any rate, for a time. And that resolution I have never repented of; indeed, I have felt my dear Horace’s—ay, I will say our dear Horace’s—position in your house such a privileged one, that I have gladly delayed taking any further steps homeward, wishing to see him all that we both could desire him to be before I let him know his real name and position. You can easily understand why I changed my name to Jackson. I felt that I had brought shame and dishonour on my own name in my native land and I resolved that in this distant country I would change it for another, and not take it back again till I could do so with honour and credit to myself and my child.’