"You see," said the lieutenant, "your surmises were groundless. We have had our journey for nothing, and for once the dog has proved a false prophet."
I began to fear that I had rendered myself liable to ridicule, and was thinking how I should recede, when the sharp report of a gun was heard, in the direction which we were travelling.
"The d——!" cried Murden, suddenly; "I know the sound of my carbines as well as I know when pay-day comes. That gun was discharged by one of my fellows, and there is trouble, or he would have been asleep before this."
Three or four flashes of light were seen, and then the report of an irregular volley was heard, as though some force outside of the hut was firing at it from spite.
"The affair is explained," the lieutenant said; "a gang of bushrangers have attacked the hut, and my men are defending it bravely. Forward, men, to the rescue."
"One second," cried Fred, laying his hand on Murden's arm. "Let us reason for a moment, because there is no pressing haste; those in the hut can keep twenty men at bay until daylight, and I think if we use a little stratagem, we can secure a few of the gang, and run but little risk."
"Speak quick," cried the impatient officer, who longed to be where he could smell the burning powder, and as another discharge of muskets was heard, he almost broke away from the cool, indifferent Fred.
"There are two suggestions which I have to offer," Fred said. "In the first place, the party that is attacking the station think that the force under your charge is gone for the night."
"Well, what then?" cried Murden.
"Or else the party, not knowing that your command is near here, rallied to avenge the death of Black Darnley and his comrades. Now, if we charge up to the very door of the station, we shall most probably get a volley, not only from the bushrangers, who will hear the sound of the horses' feet, but as likely as not receive a shot from our friends."