"Who asks us to surrender?"
"The police of Melbourne!" cried Murden.
"Curse the police of Melbourne! Come, my hearties, let's give it to the fools!"
An irregular discharge of half a dozen muskets followed his words, and a man at my side was struck down, and wounded terribly. He was shot through the heart, and died instantly.
Their firing revealed their position, and we saw that they were determined to rush to close quarters, and try the odds, drunk as they were. Murden no longer hesitated.
"Give them a volley, my men," he cried; and the police, enraged at the loss of a comrade, poured in a murderous discharge from their carbines.
Yells and imprecations followed, and loud above the groans we could hear one or two shouting that they would surrender, and begging the police not to fire again. Murden granted their prayer, and when daylight made its appearance, the dead bodies of four bushrangers, and three mortally wounded, were lying by that quiet stream, the waters of which received their blood, and bore it to the ocean.