The youngster, who was still retained by the two miners, had, upon our first interference in his behalf, trembled with hope; but when he heard the savage cries, his heart seemed to sink within him, and he appeared as though about to faint.

“You are choking the lad to death,” cried Fred.  “Don’t you see that he can hardly breathe?  Let me take charge of him until the police call for him.”

“Do you suppose that we are fools?” replied one of the men, who was disposed to be more obstinate than his companions.  We knows rogues when we sees ’em.”

“Then it’s probable you know your own face when you consult a looking-glass,” Fred said; and the bitter taunt told well with the crowd, for they roared with laughter, and appeared to be changing their views regarding the guilt of the lad.

The ruffian looked at us for a moment, as though almost determined to rush upon us and try his strength in an encounter; but our coolness confounded him, and he hesitated, and appeared to seek counsel by looking upon the numerous faces by which he was surrounded.

“You ain’t a-going to let a couple of bushrangers abuse honest miners who pays their taxes, and only axes for what is right, is you?” the fellow said.

“No, no; you shan’t be hurt, Tom,” a number of the crowd said, the epithet of bushranger being sufficient to excite the worst prejudices of the miners; and we saw that already a number of lowering brows were bent upon us, and that but a few words were required to cause the whole pack to yelp in concert.

Tom saw his advantage, and was quick to follow it up with another blow.

“I knows that this little devil [giving his prisoner a shake] is in league with these fellows, and that they sent him into town for the purpose of robbing us honest miners, and they intended to wait outside until he returned.  He didn’t jine ’em, and now they want to get him out of our hands so that they can all make their escape.  Let’s lynch all three.”

“Lynch ’em!  Lynch ’em!” were the cries, and the crowd pressed towards us to carry into effect the words.

Fred’s hand involuntarily sought his revolver, but I restrained him.

“No firearms,” I whispered; “if we shed a drop of their blood we are doomed men.  Keep cool, and trust to chance.”

“Miners of Ballarat, will you hear me?” I shouted, determined to make one more appeal to them, and then try the virtues of a revolver, for I did not wish to die unavenged.

“No, no; we’ve heard enough!  Down with the bushrangers!” cried Tom, yelling with exultation, and the crowd took up the cry and reechoed it.

“I have a proposition to make,” cried Fred, and his loud voice was heard above the tumult, and curiosity outweighed the thirst for vengeance.

“What’s the proposition? spit it out!” shouted the crowd; “will you come down liberal with stolen property?”

There was a general roar of laughter at this sally, and when it had died away, Fred said,—­