James declined doing this, and told him of his proposed plan.
“Nothing like taking time by the forelock!” exclaimed the Irishman. “I’ve my raisons, and I’ll be off—as soon as I can stow some food in my inside and catch the horse—before it is daylight, so that it will be a hard job for any of them fellows to find me, even if they have a fancy for that same.”
As there was no time to be lost, James went out and brought in Larry’s horse, to which he gave a sop of damper and spirits and water, while Larry was refreshing himself.
“It’s good luck I’ll have on a good errand, I hope,” he exclaimed, as he leaped into the saddle; “for though the police and I weren’t over friendly once on a time, I can now face them like an honest man, thanks to yer honour.”
Larry was soon lost to sight in the gloom which prevailed at a distance from the yet burning wood. Daylight came. All hands were on foot. The wounded man appeared to be no worse. A sad change had taken place in the once picturesque appearance of the surrounding scenery. In the place of the green wood, with many noble trees, a few blackened stems, gaunt and branchless, with still smouldering ashes at their base, were the only objects to be seen on the hillside. The Gilpins scarcely liked to keep Craven and his companion from their posts, though at the same time they felt the importance of having a sufficient guard over their prisoner. They were surprised that none of the stockmen or hut-keepers from the neighbourhood had made their appearance. It proved but too plainly that all were disaffected; and it made them resolve not to quit the vicinity of the hut till the arrival of the police. They could not, however, come for some hours. Breakfast was just over, when Green, who had gone down to fetch some water from the river, came hurrying back, and reported that he had seen several men collecting, with arms in their hands, on the opposite side. “Who could they be? What could be their object?” was the question.
It was decided that while every precaution should be taken to prevent surprise, they should be treated as if they could only have come on a friendly errand, and that every attempt should be made to conciliate them before resorting to force. Scarcely five minutes had passed before several men were seen approaching, from the direction of the river, in single file. They were all disguised, either with blackened faces or masks, while they wore either kangaroo or sheep skins over their shoulders, or were covered with the thick-leaved branches of shrubs, so as completely to conceal their figures. It was evident that they intended mischief. They halted at about twenty paces from the hut, seemingly surprised at finding the windows barricaded and the door closed, with the muzzles of firearms protruding from the walls. Seeing their hesitation, James instantly went out, and, with his rifle in his hand, confronted them—
“Men, you have amused yourselves seemingly with what might be a harmless mummery, were it not for the weapons in your hands,” he began, in a firm tone; “put them down, and let me hear what you have got to say.”
The leading man, after consulting with his companions, replied, “You have got shut up there a friend of ours, and you must give him up to us, or take the consequences.”
“I am not at all likely to yield to demands made by strangers in the tone you make them, or to tell you whether or not we have any one shut up inside this hut,” said James; “you will risk your own lives, and gain nothing by persisting in such folly.”
“Yours is the folly, master, in refusing our demands!” exclaimed the man. “You can gain no good by keeping the man a prisoner, but will do him and us harm!”