"Well," we whispered, "what have you to report?"
"The bushrangers are in the hut, and sleeping, I think."
"Are you sure?" asked Murden.
"No. I am not sure that they are sleeping, but I am sure that they are lying on the floor, and apparently are not aware of our approach," returned Fred.
"Then let us move onward without delay, for the cracking of a branch might cost us our lives, and that is something none of us wish to spare, just now."
With cautious steps the men moved towards the hut, led by Fred and Murden. We met with no opposition, although it would not have surprised me to have heard a discharge of musketry as we advanced.
We gained the door without awakening our adversaries, and saw them stretched upon the floor, little dreaming that danger was so near.
On we stole until all our force was within the hut, and each policeman held a cocked carbine at the head of a bushranger. Still they did not awaken, and it could only be accounted for on the supposition that they had been up all night making merry over our supposed death by fire.
"Kill the first man that offers to stir, in his defence," the lieutenant said, after having carefully collected all the guns that could be found handy.
The whisper, slight as it was, had the effect of causing the chief, the hideous Nosey, to open his eyes and look around, as though half dreaming; it, was not until his eyes met those of Murden that he fully awoke, then he made an effort to start to his feet, but he found the cold muzzles of Fred's and my own rifle pressed to his brain.