For a moment not a sound escaped the group, as the tall figure of the shepherd, mounted on the gray horse, moved slowly and majestically towards them.  Presently I heard one fellow utter a yell of terror, and break away from his companions, and run wildly towards the camp—­then another followed, and then another, until the remaining ones turned, and, with shrieks and yells of horror, followed the first fugitive as rapidly as their legs could carry them.

A number of the most timid threw away their guns, and every thing that impeded flight, and although the ghost did not depart from his grave and dignified bearing, and solemn walk, yet in less than five minutes no one was in sight except the cause of the fright, our new friend, Day.

CHAPTER LXXI.

SAM TYRELL AND THE GHOST.

As soon as we saw the result of the shepherd’s ruse, we crossed the bridge and joined him.

“Didn’t I do that in good style?” he asked.  “Did you ever hear of a ghost that was more successful than me?”

I complimented him by replying in the negative, and also assuring him that I considered he was at the height of his profession.

“You may well call it a trade,” he exclaimed, removing his heavy headdress and wiping his moist brow, “for there ain’t a man in the country who knows how to do such things in shape unless he has been in the funeral line, like me.  Did you see ’em run?”

I assured him that the retreat of the bushrangers was so sudden that we could not help noticing the fact.

“I didn’t believe that coveys could cut so; and they threw away their guns, too, that shows how skeert they was,” continued Day, apparently so overjoyed at his success that he could talk of nothing else.

“But it will not do for us to stand here and talk when the bushrangers are liable to come back at any moment and surprise you holding communication with beings of this earth,” I said.  “Let us get under the shadow of the trees, where we can talk without danger.”

My suggestion was agreed to, and in a few seconds we were on our old camping ground and debating what we should do next.  I was in favor of an immediate retreat to the banks of the Loddon, which river I proposed to cross, and find refuge at Hawswood station, where we could remain for a few days, and then return for another examination of the earth for the treasure.  Mr. Brown, whether fearful to trust to Day’s honesty, or the bushrangers’ superstitious feelings, did not coincide with me, and was for remaining until daylight at any rate, and during that time make further search for the gold, and if not found in that period, he proposed giving up the expedition altogether and returning to Ballarat.

The shepherd heard us discuss the merits of our several propositions without interruption, and while we were still uncertain what to do,—­avarice bidding us to stay, and caution and prudence to fly,—­he spoke,—­“I have no wish to advise you coveys in any course that ain’t right, but if you will listen to me I’ll get you out of this affair in safety, and with the money that is buried.”