“Give him a drink, one of you,” grunted the chief.  “It’s probably the last one he will ever ask for.”

“Don’t say that,” exclaimed the snake-bitten man, struggling to rise.  “I am not going to die just yet, I can tell you.  I have not half revenged myself upon those who injured me.”

“Live, and be hanged, if you can,” retorted the chief, coolly, seating himself upon a log, and lighting his pipe; “I don’t hinder you from getting well, do I?”

“No, no.  Nosey, I know that you would rather assist me,” said the man, with a faint attempt at a smile, but it was soon banished from his face, and then he again sought to rise, but without success.

The poison was spreading swiftly through his veins, and we could almost see his body swell, so rapidly was it bloating him.  He had unbuttoned the wristbands and collar of his shirt, for the pain was too great to keep them fastened; and as he lay at our feet a spectacle too dreadful to be looked upon without pity, we wished that we had the means to save a life that had been passed regardless of laws or man.

“If one of you fellers are acquainted with a prayer or two, p’raps it would be well to mutter it over the poor devil, so that his soul may not be snatched by the evil one as soon as it leaves his body,” said a bushranger of grim aspect, speaking to Fred and myself.

“I will willingly do all that I can to comfort the dying man,” I replied; “but first I want my arms untied, so that I can hear his last words.”

“Well, that’s only asking for a reasonable thing, and hang me if I won’t risk it,” replied the grizzly robber, proceeding to untie my hands.

“Hullo,” shouted the chief, “what are you about?”

“I’m going to let this feller confess Ben, ’cos I believe he’s half priest or parson, and I think it’s hard if a man can’t have a little religion occasionally.”

“Tie the prisoner up again,” said Nosey, sternly, laying his hand carelessly upon a pistol which was stuck in his belt.

“Shan’t do any thing of the kind,” replied the robber, firmly.  “Old Ben is going to die, and he wants religion before he starts.  I’m not the one to refuse him.”

“Once more I tell you to make the prisoner fast to the tree,” cried Nosey, drawing the pistol and cocking it.

“Look a-here—­is that your game?” demanded the humane robber; “let me tell you that you had better put up the barker, ’cos I’ve got one that can speak when it’s told to.”

The old bushranger drew a pistol and held it in his hand for a moment, and then, turning to his companions, said,—­

“You ain’t going to see me shot ’cos I want to ’friend as good a man as was ever transported?  How do we know how soon we may want a prayer or two to help fix things up in the other world.”

“Let him have the prayers,” muttered the gang, with one accord.  “What harm can they do?”

Thus backed up, the old robber, who had formerly been a sailor, continued to unbind my hands, while Nosey replaced his pistol without further remonstrance.