The drink revived him.  He expressed his pleasure at my kindness by a glance from his sunken eyes that told of a warm heart, even if it beat within the breast of a robber.

“Thank you, matey,” the old man said; “but it’s of little use to try and right the hull when there’s a shot between wind and water, and the top-hamper is gone.  Nevertheless, I take it in kindness.”

I could not reply, for I understood enough of his nautical language to know that he had given up all hope of living, and that the two wounds which he had received were fatal.

I returned the canteen to its owner, and hastened to join Fred and Murden.  The fire was still working its way towards us on one side, and receding on the other.  The heat, however, had lost none of its intensity, and every breath which we drew appeared to parch our lungs and consume us internally.

“Have you decided what to do with the wounded men?” I asked, as I joined my friends.

“Our first decision still holds good,” replied Murden.  “We cannot save them and save ourselves.”

“Hark!  Do you hear that shout?” Fred said.

We listened intently for a moment, and above the roaring of flames and crushing of trees we could hear the shouts of exultation which the bushrangers in a distant part of the forest uttered, as they thought how we were struggling for life.

That cry, so joyful in the thought of our misery, steeled our hearts against the wounded wretches, who, with uplifted hands, were praying for drink, for life, for protection.

“In, men,” shouted Murden.  “We can endure the heat no longer.  Already do yonder trees threaten to fall and crush us with their weight, and a minute’s delay may prove our ruin.”

There was no struggling to see who should first obey the order.  With military precision the men filed in as calmly as though parading for a drill, and in a short time no one but Murden and myself were uncovered.

“Enter,” motioning to me.  “I will be the last man who seeks shelter.”

“But what shall we do with this poor devil?” I said, pointing to Steel Spring, whose agonizing yells for help had often interrupted our deliberations.

Murden made no reply, but walked towards the scamp, who redoubled his calls for help when he thought it was to be rendered.  The officer untied the hands which confined him, and without a word he retreated with us towards our vault.

Steel Spring eyed us for a moment, as though uncertain whether he was included in the invitation or not, but when he found that the latter was the case, he broke forth into lamentations that fairly rivalled the shrill yells of triumph which we had heard his companions utter.

He pleaded and threatened, promised and protested; and when he found that we were invulnerable and unmoved, he uttered curses upon our heads so bitter that it seemed as though he had spent all his life in framing them.