“My life is as dear to me as the rest; but while I cannot see how we are to save the bushrangers, I would gladly give all my wealth for the privilege of so doing,” was the honest answer.

“Spoken like a man,” replied Fred, rubbing his side, which, owing to his neglect to turn at the right moment, was somewhat scorched.

Faint moans, uttered by men who stood upon the brink of the grave, hastened us in our deliberations.  We glanced towards the poor wretches and found that they were endeavoring to work their maimed bodies towards us for the purpose of pleading for mercy.

There was one man, however, who did not move from the spot where the policemen had first deposited him, and although the flames were roaring within forty feet of his position, he merely turned a dimmed eye towards them, and appeared to be resigned to his fate.  I thought I recognized his weather-beaten countenance and grizzly hair, and nearer inspection convinced me that my surmises were correct.  It was the old sailor who had so manfully resisted the orders of Nosey, and insisted upon allowing me to administer consolation to the snake-bitten bushranger.  “Here is a man who must be taken care of, if I go without shelter,” I said, pointing to the sailor.

“It is impossible,” Murden replied.  “He is badly wounded, and would occupy the room of three or four men.  Let us retreat, for already do I feel as though my lungs were being boiled.”

“You may go,” I answered, firmly, “but not a step do I stir until I see that old sailor provided for.  He saved my life, and I will try and save his.”

“Don’t mind me, matey,” cried the wounded man, in a feeble tone; “my cruise is nearly up, and the log book will soon record my fate.”

“If you die you shall expire without the torture of fire.  We cannot save your companions, and indeed hardly know whether we can save ourselves, but the experiment shall be tried.”

“Well, well,” Murden said, seeing that I was firm in my demand, “we will share our den with him.  Lift him up, men, and place him in our vault as carefully as possible.”

The policemen performed the duty with an alacrity that I did not anticipate, and after I had seen the old sailor placed in a corner of the vault, and Rover by the side of him, I turned to join Fred and Murden, who were still arguing whether they could desert the other bushrangers and yet appear honorable in the eyes of the world.

“The old follow seems a little cast down,” said one of the police, as I prepared to leave the vault.

I answered in the affirmative, and was continuing on, when the man touched me on the arm.

“Hist,” he whispered; “don’t say a word, but it’s a little wine I have in my canteen which the old robber is welcome to, if you think it will do him any good.”

I grasped the treasure with more pleasure than I should have experienced had I found a bag of gold flung at my feet.  I thanked the kind-hearted man for his offering, and in another instant.  I had poured a portion of the contents of the canteen down the grizzly old fellow’s neck.