Fred returned with but one barrel of the revolver loaded, and that he saved because the inspector was in the same condition as ourselves, having left his powder and ball at Ballarat.
"Now, then, let us return," Mr. Brown said; "you have shed blood enough for one day, I hope."
The words had hardly passed his lips, when, upon the top of the mountain that we had descended two hours before, I saw the forms of five or six men stealing along the trail, as though desirous of gaining the cover of a number of trees, for the purpose of watching our movements.
I pointed them out to the inspector, and he stopped and examined them through a pocket spy-glass which he usually carried when he left town.
"Well, are they friends or foes?" asked Fred.
The inspector made no reply until the men were lost to view beneath the branches of the trees.
"Are you sure," he asked, "that you left your powder and lead at Ballarat?"
"Quite sure—why do you ask?"
"Because, unfortunately, there are six as great rascals as ever went unhung on the hill, and they mean mischief, I'll swear."
The inspector put up his glass, and examined his nearly-emptied revolver with a rueful look.