A hasty discharge greeted us, and one man fell badly wounded, but we had no time to pause to administer to his relief.  On we rushed where the bushrangers were endeavoring to make a stand, and were calling upon each other to fight to the last.  Even Nosey was evidently determined to sustain his great reputation and die facing his enemies; but as we advanced upon a run we delivered our fire and tumbled over two or three others, and that, with the complete surprise which had been gained over them, completed their confusion.  They broke, and dashed into the woods, but not before half of their number was placed hors du combat, and amidst them, stretched upon the ground bleeding from two bad wounds, was the old sailor who had released me.

“No mercy—­kill the accursed dogs,” roared the stockman, swinging his long gun over his head, and dashing after a young fellow who had fought desperately, but now sought to escape.

“Come back,” shouted Murden, in a voice of thunder.  “Venture beyond the edge of this clearing, and your life is not worth a sixpence.  The bushrangers know every turn of the woods, and are already in ambush, waiting for victims.  Extinguish that fire, men, as soon as possible, and don’t too many of you venture near it until it is smothered.”

“You are the last man that I expected to see to-night, Murden,” I said, grasping his hand with a pressure that expressed my gratitude at his arrival.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” he replied, “I must say that three hours ago I had no idea of shaking hands with old friends.  But let me station the men to prevent a surprise, for I shall have to stop here all night, as the risk is too great trying to reach the prairie until morning, and then we will compare notes.  I see that you are well, and that is all that I care about now.  Even Smith has not lost an ounce of flesh since our last meeting.”

“I may not have lost flesh, but my worriment of mind for the last few hours has been awful,” replied the teamster, with a grin of satisfaction at his escape.

“A few hours’ sleep will restore you,” cried the lieutenant, pleasantly.

By this time the police had extinguished the fire, which was burning too brightly for safety.  The half-consumed logs were thrown aside to smoulder and die out, and dirt thrown upon the coals to extinguish their brightness.

“Maurice,” called the lieutenant, speaking to his old orderly, “station four men at different quarters, and tell them to give an alarm if they but hear a stick move.  The bushrangers have not gone far, I warrant you, and perhaps they will beat up our quarters before morning.”

“Yes, sir,” promptly replied the policeman.

“How many of our force are wounded?” the officer asked.

“Sam, sir, has got a shot in his thigh, and the blood flows pretty fast from the wound.  I have tied it up as well as possible.”

“I will go and attend on him, and see what can be done for his relief;” and the lieutenant started at a brisk pace towards where the injured man was lying.