"Did the man you call Burley hire you to redress his fancied wrongs?" Fred asked.
"He told me that you both had money, and that if I was a mind to, I could make myself rich, and pay you up for his wound in the hip."
"I'm going," he gasped, at length, "and I feel sorry for my past crimes. Do you believe that there is a hell where sinners burn forever and ever? Forgive me. I should have murdered you both had it not been for that d——d snake. I crept under the canvas while you were at supper, and while waiting for you to retire, I fell asleep. I am glad that I didn't kill—. D—— the sn——"
There was a gasping in the man's throat, and with a slight struggle his breath departed, and his soul flew up to God to be judged, and treated according to the crimes which were recorded against his name.
"What's to be done?" asked Fred, when he found that the robber's heart ceased to beat.
"We can do nothing until daylight. Let us go back to bed and try and sleep."
"And wake up and find a snake for a bedfellow? No, I feel that I shall not sleep again for a month. I am almost ready to declare that I will not stop another day at Ballarat, or in Australia. We have met with nothing but dangers since our landing, and it seems that on each occasion our lives have been spared as by a miracle."
"I can feel only too grateful that they are spared, without questioning the means," I replied. "Whether a gracious Providence, or our shrewdness, has prevented us from being food for worms, is a subject we will not discuss."
"But I feel tired of this kind of life," Fred said, as he seated himself upon his bed and looked around the floor, covered with blood, and the bodies of the huge snake and the dead man. "A few weeks ago there was nothing that I liked so well as an adventure, but now I am surfeited, and would fain enjoy a respite. A few weeks of inactivity would not come amiss, for ever since we have been on the island we have seen nothing, heard of nothing, but blood. I am sick of it."
"Well?" I inquired, anxiously.