“We had been in this situation about two hours, when we espied four of the Bushmen; Howe was one of them; and the native girl, whom I saw playing with his curls before, was with him. Both were armed with pistols. Her dress was neither native nor European, but a very pretty sort of costume made up of skins, feathers, and white calico. They advanced towards the hut, until they came to within about three hundred yards of it, when the girl, who was before them, ran quickly back, seized Howe by the arm, and pointed to the hut. What was the reason of this I cannot tell: perhaps she saw something about it that excited suspicion—but, be that as it may, the whole party turned round, and fled for the valley, by an open, clear, and slanting ground which led into it. Out we ran after them, and were gaining a little upon them when we came to the bottom of the valley. They here took different directions; but Howe was our man; so after him we all went, dashing up the opposite hill from that on which the hut was; for all parties had forded—the water taking nearly up to the middle. When Howe and his girl, who followed him closely, gained the summit of the hill, he turned round, deliberately took aim at one of us with his fusee, and fired; but without effect. This was returned by three of our party, but also without effect. Our chase now was over a tolerably open country, and I dare say that we all ran at nearly full speed for about a mile—Howe before us, apparently taking it very easy; but he must have run amazingly well, to have distanced us so much in a mile, and with such seeming ease to himself. The girl, we could observe, was falling fast behind, but she still ran, and we could see Howe frequently motioning her on: at last the poor thing stopped short at once, as if overcome by fatigue. Howe roared at her, with a voice that sounded over the plain, and although five hundred yards from us, we heard it like the blast of a trumpet. What do you think he did, when he found that she could not move? the dog drew his pistol—fired at her—and the poor girl fell. I could not resist the feeling of rage which then took possession of me: I dropped on my knee, took a cool aim, and fired.”
[“Did you kill the rascal?” interrupted O’Callaghan.
“No. I suppose from the exertion of running, my aim was not as it in general was. However, we were rather far away for any thing like a certain shot.”]
“We continued the chase, and in about five minutes Howe arrived at an abrupt ravine, into which he darted; and we might as well have attempted to seek him in the bottom of the sea, as the place he sunk into; so we returned to the girl, whom we found was not dead, but severely wounded in the shoulder and neck. When we lifted her up, she trembled, and attempted to fall on her knees, to supplicate for mercy, as she expected to be shot instantly: but we soon relieved her fears, and led her to a shade, where we made a covering of branches for her, and otherwise assisted her, by tying up her arm in a sling, and washing the blood off it. The unhappy girl now offered to point us out the track of the robbers, and do every thing she could, to forward our views. We halted for the night, and at daybreak next morning proceeded on our search, guided by the girl, who was now able to walk.
“After a slow march of three hours, having passed through the ravine into which Howe went, we arrived at the verge of the river Shannon. Here were several huts which the girl said the Bushmen occasionally inhabited—that is, whenever they moved in that part of the country; nothing, however, was in these huts but beds of leaves and dry grass: there were strewed about several sheep skins, and marks of recent fires. The girl informed us that she had been there with Howe four days before. In a few minutes she ran over to the Sergeant, and pointing to the opposite bank of the Shannon, exclaimed, ‘There is Geary.’ We all looked across the river and saw one of the Bushmen with his gun levelled at us: he fired, and the ball splashed in the water close to us. It was no use to waste our powder, for the fellow disappeared. We then set fire to the huts, and guided by the girl proceeded on our march. It would astonish you to see how she discovered the tracks of the robbers; she would sometimes go on fast, and at others stop, look attentively at the grass and leaves under her, and although we could see no mark of footsteps, she declared she did: she would minutely examine each leaf and brier and blade of grass on a spot where she was ‘at fault,’ in order to see were they broken or pressed; and in this way she brought us to a creek of the river near which she said was a hut, and that very likely some of the gang were there. We had scarcely arrived on a high rock which overhung the water of the creek when we heard a shot close to us, and a desperate-looking fellow with a rifle in his hand instantly darted past us: he evidently had no expectation of meeting such friends as the soldiers at this place, for when he saw us he wheeled about and attemped to retreat, but two active fellows of our party leaped down into a hollow and completely cut him off. We were on the top of the rock, and within twenty yards of the Bushman. The fellow stopped an instant: we were just going to seize him, when he at once made a spring, and down off the rock he leaped into the water below, first having flung his gun away. The distance he fell was about a hundred feet. He sunk; but rose in a moment and commenced to swim to the opposite side. The two of our party who before had stopped him, now made for the other bank of the creek, and if they had not run extremely well and leaped a craggy ravine at the upper end of it, the Bushman would have escaped; but they were in time; and when the fellow was approaching the bank, they appeared, and pointed their muskets down at him. I almost pitied the wretch when this took place, he looked so miserable; but he did not surrender: he swam back to the centre of the creek and there cried out to us that if we would not fire he would propose fair terms: he was then below us; muskets were levelled at him from both sides, and an instant would have sent him to the bottom. The Sergeant asked what terms he wanted? He replied that he wished to be taken as an approver, and that he would discover all he knew of the gang. ‘Come ashore,’ said the Sergeant, ‘trust to the Governor for your life—I can make no terms with you: but if you refuse to submit, we’ll blow you into atoms the next instant.’ The fellow paused, and looked wildly up at both sides of the creek, there death was staring him in the face—and such a face of horror I never saw. He had nothing left him but submission; so he cried out, ‘Very well, Sergeant, I’ll submit; but I hope you’ll mention my proposal to the Governor.’ The wretch now swam to the opposite bank, and yielded himself to the custody of the two soldiers there, while we proceeded round to join them. On our way we had to go a considerable distance, unless we all leaped the ravine, which was so well done by the two of our party on the other side; this we had no motive for,—it was dangerous; and besides that, the female who was along with us could not, if we could. We were passing through very long grass and high weeds, nearly up to our heads, when the girl cried out to us to stop. She said that somebody had gone this way bleeding; and showed blood on the weeds, evidently but lately spilt. She also said, that there was a Bushman’s hut, about a hundred yards away. We therefore changed our intention of going to the other side of the creek, and sent a man to assist in bringing round to us the prisoner, while we went to the expected hut; at the same time marking the spot where the blood was. The girl pointed out the place where the hut lay,—we could not then see it; but on approaching a little further, discovered it in a hollow, beautifully surrounded with trees and close brushwood. We halted, and presented our muskets at the opening of the hut, while the Sergeant called out to know was there any body there? and threatening to fire, if they did not come out. No answer:—so we advanced—entered it—and there beheld a dead man—his head nearly severed from his body, and a bloody razor beside him—the ground and grass bed on which the body lay, soaked with blood. Without removing the corpse, we waited, until the prisoner and his escort came up. The Bushman was led to see the body: he showed no astonishment; but merely said, with an affected pity, ‘Aye, that’s poor Peter Septon: he often said he’d cut his own throat, but now I see he has done it completely.’ ‘That’s a lie, you villain,’ said I; ‘no man ever cut his own throat in that manner: this was done by you.’ The wretch’s countenance could not change much for the worse; however, his clammy lips quivered, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead, as he replied that he knew nothing about the murder. ‘Murder!’ said I; ‘then you think it is a murder?’ ‘Why,’ replied he, ‘when a man cuts his own throat—isn’t that murder?’ ‘You did it!’ cried out every one present; and the prisoner’s eyes evidently answered, ‘I did.’
“It was now proposed to trace the track of the blood, and having left four of our party at the hut to take care of the prisoner, we followed the girl, at a short distance, through various places: she of course was guided by the blood. In about ten minutes, our guide beckoned to us, and we quickly approached to where she stood; there she pointed to a man lying in the long grass, and bleeding profusely—it was a desperate Bushman of the name of Collyer.[19] We raised him up; he was weak and faint from loss of blood; his hand was shattered by a shot, and his throat partially cut. The poor wretch was then carried by the men back to the hut, and having tasted a little spirits grew something stronger. He sat leaning against a tree; and looking at the other prisoner with a scowl, he cried out to him, ‘You treacherous villain! thank God, you are taken!’ Then addressing us, he said, ‘That rascal, while I was asleep, attempted to cut my throat with a razor, after he had killed his comrade Septon, who slept beside me; and as I was trying to escape from him, he fired at me, and shattered my hand.’ The murderer now, like a fiend, roared out ‘D—n your eyes and heart, I wish I had cut your throat first, and now you would not be here to tell me of it.’ At this moment, the girl cried out to him, ‘Hillier, you killed my sister, too.’ ‘Yes, you black devil, and if I had you now in the Tallow Chandler’s Shop,[20] I’d serve you in the same way.’
“We immediately tied Hillier’s arms well, and having bound up Collyer’s wounds, and refreshed ourselves, we took the direction of home. Collyer was able to walk after he rested and took a little spirits and water. The dead man’s head we made Hillier cut off and carry—hung round his neck in a haversack.”
[“What was that for?” demanded Sergeant Dobson.
“Because,” replied the old man, “there was 50l. reward for every Bushman’s head; a hundred for Howe’s or Geary’s, and seventy-five for Collyer’s.”
“That was sufficient reason,” rejoined the Sergeant.