Mr. Brown pricked up his ears and listened, for he had a slight knowledge, of the aboriginal language, and understood a portion of the conversation.
"Men take child and throw against a tree. No cry more," Kala said.
"The brutes!" muttered Mr. Wright, struck with consternation at the atrocity of the deed.
"Four men, two women," continued Kala, holding up his fingers for us to count. "All come this way, and seem in a hurry. Women cry, and men swear; men make them ride on horses to go fast."
"This is news indeed," Mr. Wright said, turning to us, "and I hardly know what to make of it. Can you solve the riddle?" addressing Mr. Brown.
"It is plain," my friend rejoined. "A party of miners have been attacked by the bushrangers, and the latter are now endeavoring to escape with two women prisoners. The fellows probably belong to Tyrell's gang, and will make towards Mount Tarrengower to join him."
The solution seemed probable, and for a few moments there was a profound silence. The natives glanced from face to face as though endeavoring to read the thoughts of the white men, although they did not appear much distressed at the events which they had related.
"I pity the poor women," remarked Mr. Wright, at length. "Their fate will be a sad one, and death a welcome release from their sufferings."
"Can't you make an effort for their release?" I asked, but our host shook his head.