“Here we are! I see the top of Bracewell’s hut.”
We gave a cooey to let those at the station know of our approach, and in another moment old Bob came hurrying out to meet us.
“Thankful you’ve come, gentlemen,” he exclaimed; “though Mr Bracewell’s round the corner, he’ll be glad of your society. He’s in terribly low spirits at having only me to look after him. But, whom have you there? Picked up a couple of pirates on the road?”
We soon explained who our captives were. Old Bob shook his fist at them.
“You rascals! You’re caught at last, are you? You’ll be having your legs in chains before long I
hope, and not be keeping honest folk in fear of their lives.”
“We must see where we can stow these fellows until we can send for the police,” said Guy.
“We’ll stow them safe enough,” said old Bob, “and, provided we keep their arms lashed behind their backs, and their legs in limbo, they’ll not escape from where I’ll put them.”
The captive bushrangers cast angry glances at the speaker, but as their mouths were still gagged, they could not express their feelings by words.