"We're betrayed!" he yelled, in a voice so shrill that it awoke every bushranger as suddenly as though the blast of a trumpet had rang through the room.
There were mingled oaths and exclamations, and desperate attempts to gain their feet; and one young fellow, who, in spite of warnings and threats, persisted in getting up, was shot through the head, and his brains spattered upon his comrades, who were lying by his side.
"Kill all who resist!" yelled Murden, scenting blood like a tiger; "if they submit, spare them, but death to the refractory."
The shooting of one appeared to have a good effect on the others, for although many a menacing glance was east upon us, and many a half-uttered oath was checked, yet there was no more struggling, or thoughts of resistance.
"I thought you dead," muttered Nosey, after a keen glance at the face of the lieutenant.
"It is not your fault that we are not," answered Murden, dryly.
"No, that it is not, for I meant to roast you and your force; in a few hours we intended to start on an expedition, and look for your bones. How did you escape?" asked the unabashed robber.
"That you will never know; be assured that Providence has no such fortune in store for you, and that if enough wood and rope can be found, the manner of your death will not remain a mystery."
"Perhaps you mean by that I shall die on the gallows?" demanded the bushranger.
Murden nodded his head in token of assent.