The noise awakened Murden and his men; and just as they began inquiring the reason of our violence, there was a loud shout heard within the hut, the door was rudely thrown open, and at the head of the robbers, brandishing his carbine, was Gulpin.
The police fell back a few paces in astonishment; but a rallying cheer from Murden reassured them, and in spite of the known desperate characters of the bushrangers, they charged on them.
Gulpin did not stop to discharge the weapon which he held, but swinging it over his head he brought it down upon the skull of the foremost man, with a crash, shivering the gun into a hundred pieces, and knocking the fellow senseless.
Gulpin did not wait to repeat the blow, but eluding the many hands thrust out to seize him, he sprang one side, and leaving his gang to continue the unequal combat, ran swiftly across the prairie, as though determined to escape at all hazards, even if his gang were captured.
"The villain will escape!" shouted Murden, more anxious to secure the person of Gulpin than his men.
The lieutenant rushed to the shed to mount the horse usually kept in readiness, but Bimbo had turned him loose upon the plain.
With a bitter oath the officer grasped one of his men's carbines and discharged its contents after the runaway. The ball flew wide of its mark, and we could hear a taunting laugh from the fugitive, at his aim.
"Show me a specimen of your American skill," cried Murden, after a hasty glance at his men, and finding that every robber was secured excepting the chief; "cripple that devil for me, and I am your debtor for life."
Gulpin was about forty rods from us, when the lieutenant spoke, and was running almost as rapidly as a kangaroo dog. In a few minutes he would have been beyond our reach, and recommenced his career of crime.