The men listened in silence, and by their looks appeared to agree in the conclusion to which Murden had arrived.

For a few minutes not a word was spoken, and not a man moved from his position or even offered to fan his heated face, for fear the act would be construed into one of suffering.

Almost over our heads we could hear the roaring of flames as they gathered force and fury in their course; but worse than all, the groans of the wounded bushrangers fell upon our ears with awful distinctness, in spite of the falling trees, which at times crashed upon our heavy roof, and sifted down dirt through the cracks like falling rain.

The flames were almost forgotten—­the heat, oppressive as it was, seemed endurable when compared to the sufferings which we knew the bushrangers were experiencing.

We listened attentively, and could tell when they expired, one by one, by the cessation of groans, oaths, and curses which they heaped upon us.

Those who survived the longest appeared to have become insane; and after dragging their mutilated bodies to the entrance of the vault, laughed as they told us of the delicious warmth which they were experiencing, and died cursing their Maker, and their mothers who bore them.

I stopped my ears, but, long after the most hardy had died, I fancied that I could hear their dreadful ravings; and even at this late day, I frequently start from my sleep as I dream of the frightful scenes which I encountered in that black forest.  Better death a thousand times than again purchase life at such an expense of suffering at the hands of others.

Hour after hour passed, and it seemed as though we could not possibly survive many minutes longer.  Our tongues were swollen and hanging from our months, dry, parched, and apparently ready to crack for the want of moisture.

Our eyes were expanded, fierce, and fixed—­our brains seemed melting, and a heavy pressure rested upon our temples.  I counted my pulse, and found that, as near as I could judge, it was beating at the rate of two hundred per minute.  My heart appeared to keep pace with my pulse, and throbbed so violently that it seemed as though it would force itself through my side.  A feeling of death-like sickness stole over me—­I closed my eyes, and tried to fancy that I was by the side of a cool stream, and at length, I think that my senses did wander; for I was brought to myself by feeling a hand laid upon my shoulder, and no gentle shake aroused me.

“Courage, friend Jack,” cried the consoling voice of Fred.  “Cheer up, man! the worst is over, and in a short time we shall be free again.  Come, cheer up.”

I remember looking at my friend long and anxiously, and trying to settle in my mind where I had seen his face before.  I think that I even laughed, and told him that he was taking great liberties with a stranger, and demanded what he meant by striking me on my shoulder.