Capture of all hands, by the bushrangers.

There was no time to retreat, had we been so disposed; and though Fred’s rifle flew to his shoulder with the quickness of thought, he apparently considered it better policy not to commence hostilities until the bushrangers showed their disposition.

Fighting was not to be thought of; for who would think of taking part in a struggle when eighteen or twenty guns were aimed, and ready to be discharged upon the least sign of resistance.

There was one thing which I had the presence of mind to do.  I stepped quietly behind the stockman and Smith, and dropped the bag of gold amidst a thicket of bushes, and I inwardly prayed that whatever might be our fate, the robbers would not get sight of the treasure.

“Do you surrender?” asked a voice; and following the bushranger’s words, we could hear the ominous clink of the muskets as they were brought to their shoulders.

“What promises do you make us?” replied Fred, undaunted.

“What do you wish us to promise?” continued the bushranger.

“Our lives and arms.”

“Our promises are easily broken.  Why do you request mercy at the hands of bushrangers?”

“Because, in this case, if we do not obtain your most solemn pledge that our lives shall be spared, we will die with our rifles in our hands.  I need not tell you that when we aim, we do so with the intention to kill.”

The bushrangers whispered together for a few minutes, and from their eagerness we could see that a large majority of the men were in favor of complying with Fred’s request.  Once or twice we heard the word “gold” mentioned, as though that was the chief theme of their discussion.  Presently the whispering ceased, and the man who appeared to be the leader of the band again spoke:—­

“I have talked with my men, and they are willing to comply with your desire, provided you will deliver to us the gold which you found buried in this clearing.”

“As for the gold,” returned Fred, “we dropped it some time ago, and you are welcome to it if it can be found.”

“Then lay down your arms and step towards us.  We are not to be taken by surprise, having heard of your Yankee tricks.”

“We had better trust to darkness and our guns,” muttered the old stockman; but his warning was too late, for Fred advanced towards the bushrangers and placed his rifle in their hands, and with a sigh I followed his example.

“Come!” shouted the leader, his voice growing harsher as the disarming proceeded—­“there are two more of ’em; hurry up, and don’t keep us waiting too long.”

“I make the third,” said Smith, handing in his double barrelled gun.

“Ha, driver, are you here?” laughed the ruffian, as his eyes fell upon Smith’s burly form.  “You had better have stuck to the teaming business than digging up dead men’s gold—­I think you would have found it more profitable and less dangerous.”