Wishing to be convinced that I was on a track which corresponded with the last words of Gulpin, I set the compass, and by the light of a match, noted its bearing.

The place where I had been at work bore in a south-west direction, and on pacing off the distance where the hut stood, I found it to be exactly ten paces.

“Hurrah, boys!” I shouted, commencing work with renewed energy, “I think that I have discovered the spot!”

My comrades hurried to my side, and all of us concentrated our energies upon that particular spot, and none worked harder than the aged convict, who appeared, since his recovery from the effects of too intense an application to my flask, to be desirous of making amends for his weakness.

“You are not vorking in the right place!” shouted Steel Spring, from his excavation, stopping his labors to watch our movements; “you will find nothing there, I gives you varning.  Come and hassist me, and we shall find all the gold!”

“Cease your cries,” said Smith, sternly; “do you wish to bring a band of bushrangers upon us in this lonely spot, where they can murder us without opposition?”

“There’s no fear of ’um,” retorted the fellow, raising his voice to an unnecessary pitch; “but listen to my varning—­you’ll find not a bit of gold there.”

We paid no attention to his words, but worked with energy, and while Smith examined with his hands every shovelful of dirt that was thrown out, so that we should not miss any thing, Fred and myself dug along the edges of the ground, carefully, yet rapidly.

Still Steel Spring persisted in calling to us that we were wasting time, and that we should find nothing; and just as he echoed his words for the third or fourth time, my shovel struck upon some tough substance.  Breathless with hope, I stooped and felt of it with my hands, and to my joy I discovered a small canvas bag, which appeared to be stuffed with a heavy substance, for I found some trouble in lifting it.

“I have found it!” I cried, so excited that I could hardly stand; “here—­feel of it, lift it, and see if its contents are not gold!”

I was about handing the bag to Fred, when a wild, shrill scream, apparently proceeding from our very midst, was heard, startling us by its unnatural character.

Fred dropped the bag, and sprang for his rifle, which was lying near him, ready for use, while Smith and the stockman appeared paralyzed with terror.

“For God’s sake what noise was that?” asked the stockman.

Before we could reply, we heard an answering yell, which appeared to be distant about a quarter of a mile, while near at hand, the rustling of the bushes showed that either an enemy or a wild beast was regarding our movements.

“Who goes there?” cried Fred, bringing his rifle to his shoulder.

There was no reply, but I thought I detected a chuckling laugh which sounded familiar.  Before I could interpose, Fred had fired at the moving bushes, and for a brief second the clearing was lighted up with the flash of his rifle.  I glanced towards the hole in which Steel Spring had been at work; it was empty; that notorious liar and singular genius had made himself scarce.