The fellow maintained a profound silence, and Murden was about to repeat his blow when Fred checked him.

“No more kicks,” he said; “they have been punished sufficiently already, and we must now try what effect kindness will have on them.”

“I’ll try the effect of a stout halter,” cried the angry officer; but Fred was resolute, and refused to allow them to be punished.

Our prisoners listened to the words that passed between the lieutenant and Fred, and I could see by the bright starlight that astonishment was plainly visible upon their faces.  It was evident that they expected different treatment.

“Let us take them into the store, and there we can examine them at leisure,” Fred said; and as the idea met our approval, we helped them to stand upon their feet, and then escorted them into the building, where we lighted our candles, and after wiping some of the congealed blood from their faces, we examined their countenances to see if we had ever met them before in Ballarat.

“Where have we seen you before?” Fred asked, addressing the Irishman.

The man hung his head and refused to reply; and he even appeared to act as though ashamed of his conduct.

“I can tell you where we have met him before,” I remarked.  “Don’t you remember the Irishman whose wounds you dressed on the second night of your arrival, and who swore that he would yet live to reward you?”

Fred nodded, and his face grew dark with passion.

“Well, this is the person.  He was destitute of money and credit, and to save his life we spent many hours in cleansing his injuries, and dressing them with care.  He has already attempted to pay us his debt of gratitude, and perhaps when he is again sick he will visit us.”

“You miserable apology for a man,” cried Murden, raising his arm, and the fellow cowered at the threatened blow; but Fred interposed, and stopped the impetuous officer from carrying his intention into effect.

“What excuse have you to offer for plotting against us?” demanded Fred, addressing the Irishman.

“I was poor, and wanted food,” he returned, with a face of shame.

“Why did you not come to me, and I would have supplied your wants?  It is but a poor return to attempt to burn us out for the attention that we showed you.  Is your heart made of stone?”

“I was told that you two was plotting agin the miners concerning the tax, and that it would be a good thing to ruin ye, and make ye lave the country,” answered the Irishman, not daring to raise his downcast glances from the floor.

“And the miners hired both of you to commence the war of burning, did they?” asked Fred.

“No, not the miners,” returned the man, “although they think that you is agin ’um, and that you had better move.  A man, whose name we don’t know, gave us five pounds to set the place on fire.”

“You are lying, and we know it,” retorted Fred.  “Tell us who paid you the money, or you will fare badly,” he continued, in a stern tone of voice.