It seemed that the party knew us, and had followed us ever since we had left Ballarat, for the purpose of robbing us of our horses, and probably murdering us, into the bargain.

We heard the bushranger selected for the purpose, commence descending slowly, for the task was one of considerable difficulty, and required some caution.  His comrades stood upon the bank and joked him for being so long, and at length we concluded that they had stretched themselves upon the grass to wait until he had performed his work; for their voices became nearly inaudible, although we could hear the fellow who was approaching us grunt and swear at the obstacles which he had to overcome.

Fred’s brow grew black as he unsheathed his long knife, and passed a finger across the blade to test its keenness.

“What do you intend to do?” I asked, fearful of his reply.

“Preserve our lives at the expense of the scoundrels,” he answered, in a whisper.  “Leave the blow to me, but stand ready to grasp the fellow by the throat, and remember that a cry will destroy us.”

I made no further remonstrance against the course that Fred had marked out, but I inwardly dreaded to think that it was necessary to shed more human blood for the sake of preserving our lives.

Nearer and nearer did the bushranger draw, and we could hear him mutter an oath at the difficult task that was assigned him.  By the direction of the sound, we calculated that he would land directly in front of us; and we were not mistaken, for he jumped to clear the shelf under which we were hid, and when he struck the earth, it was within a foot of us.

Before he discovered us—­for his back was towards me—­I flew at him, grasped him firmly around the throat, and then fell backwards, drawing my prisoner with me.  He struggled desperately for a moment, but I saw a knife gleam before my eyes, and I felt a convulsive shudder run through the frame of my prisoner, and then his resistance ceased.

I rolled him from me, and allowed the body to remain face down.  I could not encounter the ghastly face of the dead.  It seemed to me like murder.

Fred noticed the expression of my face, and must have surmised my feelings, for he grasped my arm, and whispered hoarsely,—­

“Remember that it is to save our own lives, and the life of Mr. Brown, that we resort to the knife.  I would give all the gold that I am worth, or hope to get, for a chance to escape such a massacre, but it is impossible.  Another victim will descend, and he must share his fate, and then—­”

He ceased speaking, for just then a voice called out, and wanted to know where their companion, who had descended to get the horses, was.

“You, Jim,” called out the fellow who appeared to be in authority.

“D——­ him, he has gone to sleep, I’ll bet a nugget.  Go down, Sam, and wake him with a kick of your boots.”

The man addressed as Sam grumbled some at the order, but we could hear that he was obeying the command, for the dirt rolled down the bank and fell at our feet, and the oaths and exclamations uttered by the gang hurried him in his descent.  “The same operation is to be repeated,” Fred whispered; “use all of your strength, for this fellow is a dangerous customer, I’m convinced.”