I examined the thicket, and to my surprise, found that it was composed of a species of brier, with long, needle-like thorns upon every twig, and that the idea of a man’s passing through it, unless dressed in armor, was impossible, as he would have been punctured in every pore, and would have shed blood at every step.  I did not like to think that I had been subjected to an optical delusion, and so I continued on for a short distance, but could find no trail, although I observed that Rover snuffled around in an unusual manner, and appeared uneasy.

“Hullo,” cried Fred, who had now entered the woods with the rest of the party, “what are you doing away from the path?”

I returned a trivial answer, and joined them in their walk towards the clearing; yet I felt as though I had not done my duty, and examined the mysterious disappearance of the shadow which I saw, with sufficient attention.  A fear of ridicule and a dread of wasting time alone prevented me from speaking.

“The woods are unusually quiet,” the stockman said, as we moved along in Indian file.  “I never visited here without being provoked at the ceaseless chatter of the parrots, and yet to-day but few are to be heard and none seen.  They have become shy, and an explanation would be satisfactory to account for the fact.”

As no surmise was made by either of the party, the conversation dropped, and it was not until we were standing over the half charred bones of the bushrangers, which had been pawed around by the fox-like animals of the woods, that we again spoke.

The ashes of the burned hut were still visible, so that its location was defined without trouble, but the great question to be solved was where the treasure lay buried.  To determine this we had purchased an excellent pocket compass in Melbourne, and upon taking the bearings we found that the bushrangers were exactly in a south-west direction from where the hut stood.

“Now,” said the old stockman, “repeat the exact words of Gulpin, when telling you of the buried money.”

“Ten paces in a south—­,” I replied, promptly.

“Nothing more?” he demanded.

“Not a syllable.”

“Then let us set the compass and pace off the distance in a south-west line, and begin digging.”

The ten paces were gravely gone through with, and I found that the grass where they terminated bore no indications of having been disturbed.  I shook my head and expressed a decided opinion that no ground had been broken there for a year, at the least calculation.  Fred was of my opinion, and began to have serious doubts of the truth of the story of Gulpin.

I was still hopeful, and glanced over the opening to see if I could discover signs of the earth having been recently disturbed.  While I was thus occupied, Rover was scratching among the bones which were plentifully strewed around, and a sudden thought occurred to me.  I consulted the compass, and was glad to find that my surmises were not contrary to the dying confession of Gulpin.