I also think that I saw him carefully remove my revolver, and place it beyond my reach.  But all was uncertain; a blur appeared to be before my eyes which prevented my seeing distinctly.

“Here, drink of this,” whispered Fred, and as he spoke he raised a small bottle to my lips.

The draught restored me to full consciousness.  The liquor was claret—­warm, almost hot; yet I thought that I never tasted any thing half so sweet and reviving.

I saw a score of eager eyes fixed upon the bottle which I held, and even Murden glared like a famished wolf as he heard the gurgling of the liquor in my mouth.

“Softly,” whispered Fred, as I was about to apply the bottle to my lips the second time.  “Remember there are others suffering as well as yourself.”

Noble-hearted Fred! when did you ever fail to sympathize in the sufferings of others, and use your utmost endeavors to contribute to their relief?

“If hell,” groaned Murden, “is hotter than this hole, I have no desire to go there.”

“You would not get liquor like this to cool your tongue there,” Fred said, handing the lieutenant the bottle to wet his parched lips.

“The bushranger is dying, sir,” cried one of the men, who was seated nearest to the wounded man.

Murden hesitated while raising the bottle to his lips for a moment.

“If I thought, that the contents of the flask would save him, I would yield it,” he said; “but all the wine in the universe would not bring him to active life, while a few drops will help sustain me.  My duty is clear.  I will try and preserve my own existence.”

He barely wet his lips, however, but even while he was doing so, I saw by the appearance of the men that they were perishing from thirst; yet such was their pluck and discipline that not one of them uttered a groan, or spoke in an angry tone.

“Divide it fairly, men,” Murden said, passing the bottle to Maurice.  “Remember, each one can only wet his lips.”

The injunction was obeyed, and the half pint of claret went the rounds, and came back to Fred with a few drops remaining.

As though to reward the men for their forbearance, a slight breeze, deliciously cool, swept over our heads, and revived us with new life.  At the same time we heard a hissing on the outside, which sounded like a piece of hot iron suddenly thrown into a pail of water.  We all listened attentively at the sound, hardly daring to believe that what we heard was real.  The noise grew louder and louder, and through the small opening we caught, sight of huge drops of rain falling.

“Hurrah!” yelled Murden, starting to his feet and poking his head out of the den; “we are all right now—­it’s raining in torrents.”

The news was so good that we shook hands with each other, and congratulated ourselves as being under the especial care of Providence.  Even Rover added his joyful barks to our cheers, and so eager was he that I suffered him to go out and roll in the wet to his heart’s content.