"But won't they join?" inquired the captain, turning completely round in his saddle, where he was riding in advance of us, to get a look at our faces.
"I am afraid not," replied Murden; "they have got their American ideas of independence, and are as firm set in their notions as our countrymen."
"I'll have them yet," returned the captain. "I'll have them dressed up and presented to Latrobe; he is an old courtier, and can wheedle the devil with his tongue. When we reach the city, see that they are clothed in decent suits, and are provided for."
Fred, who was riding by my side, overheard the conversation as well as myself. We looked at each other and smiled, and thought how little the captain knew of the American character, if he thought, we intended to depend upon the bounty of himself or the lieutenant for clothing while we possessed a dollar with which we could purchase for ourselves.
While the officers were conversing, the sergeants had formed their men in such a manner that the crowd, which began to press eagerly forward, was completely excluded from the cart, and could only get a sight at the prisoners through a broken rank, or by peeping between the horses' legs.
Our entire into Melbourne was a perfect triumph; and to this day, I am uncertain which excited the most curiosity—the chained bushrangers, confined in the body of the cart, or Fred and myself, with our short beards and unshaven faces, ragged clothes, and deadly array of rifles, revolvers, and bowie knives.
The escort of policemen cleared the crowd, who stopped to gaze and ask questions, and as the former advanced with their heavy horses and drawn sabres, the latter receded to the right and left, leaving a space for the procession to pass.
Down through Collins Street we went, every window on the thoroughfare filled with eager faces anxious to get a sight of the novel procession, and I don't know how many times Fred and I were pointed at by women, who appeared to possess as much curiosity to see murderers as the sterner sex, and called us bushrangers and villains; and once we were hooted at by an excitable old lady, who did not for a long time discover her mistake; and Smith afterwards told us in confidence, that he heard her muttering, that if we were not bushrangers, our countenances belied us shamefully, and she would not like to trust herself with us, after dark.
"Where do you intend to confine the prisoners, sir?" asked Murden of his captain.