"Curse you," muttered Smith, "what have you done with my goods?"
"Never mind the goods now, Smith," said Fred. "We shall find them all, I think, when we capture the gang. Do you take care of the prisoners, and above all things, keep them quiet. Jack and myself will take a near survey of the rest of the robbers, and then return."
"I'll keep them quiet—never fear," replied Smith, and he glanced towards his long knife in an unmistakable manner.
We followed the edge of the stream along for a few rods—each step bringing us nearer the voices which we had heard while lying in ambush; and although the bushrangers were sensible enough not to build a fire to reveal their location, yet the clamor which they raised while drinking from Smith's cherished keg of rum, was sufficient to lead a party to their seclusion without fear of being discovered.
We skulked behind a clump of bushes, and for a few minutes listened to the conversation. Oaths, robbery, and murder were themes as common on their lips as prayers from a minister desirous of getting an increase of salary.
"We have heard enough of this, Fred," I said. "Let us return, bring up Murden and his party, and take the villains alive."
"Agreed," cried my companion; and retracing our steps, we were once more by the side of Smith, who sat, in company with the hound, watching his two prisoners with great diligence.
"Your keg of rum is a blessing, Smith," I said. "The bushrangers are taking to it finely, and in an hour's time they will be unconsciously drunk."
"We are now going to join Murden and his policemen, and bring them up for the purpose of capturing the remainder of the gang."
"Good—I'll wait here with these two, and give a good account of them when you return. Let me keep the dog," he said, as the hound rose to follow us.