The shepherd was so well acquainted with the country that he guided us by a short route towards the camping ground, stealing along between the bushes and trees so quietly and rapidly that, with all my knowledge of woodcraft, I had difficulty in following him and keeping close to his heels.  At length we saw the reflection of a camp fire, and then we grew more cautious in our movements, frequently stopping for a few minutes to listen if we could hear other sounds besides our footsteps.  But we encountered no one, for the bushrangers had apparently fallen back upon the main body, convinced that the coast was clear of all earthly intruders.  The shepherd stopped when he thought that we were within sound of the camp, and beckoned us to his side.

“There’s no use in you coveys getting your necks in halters follering close arter me, ’cos ’tain’t any use.  We ain’t going to fight the fellers, but to frighten ’em.  You jist keep a little back and watch me, and if any thing happens, why, don’t stop to see how it terminates.  Get off the best way that you can.”

“That would be ungenerous,” I replied.  “You are now risking your life to serve us, and we should not desert you to save ourselves.”

“Don’t you be afeard of me,” the shepherd said, quite coolly.  “I can take care of myself, and if the bushrangers finds out the cheat I can explain it to ’em some way or other that will satisfy ’em.  Is it all right?”

We assured him that we would be governed by his wishes, and with this declaration he led the way towards the camp, first taking the precaution of putting on his head gear, in case he should meet with stragglers.  We followed in his footsteps at some distance until we reached the edge of the woods, when the ghost motioned for us to take up a position in a clump of bushes, while he skulked behind a tree.

We stole carefully forward and saw that we were within five rods of the bushrangers, who were seated around half a dozen fires, cooking their mutton on long sticks, and endeavoring to obtain a cessation of hostilities from the attacks of mosquitoes by beating the air wildly with their huge black fists when not engaged in cutting meat, or throwing on light brush to feed the fires.  The men all seemed excited, and we listened to their conversation with some pleasure, showing, as it did, how mistaken they were in their estimate of the true appearance of the ghost.

“For ten years I’ve knocked about these woods, and done some very pretty tricks, but I never met with such a looking devil as I’ve seen to-night,” I heard an old grizzly fellow (an exact representative of a pirate) say, as he ripped off about a pound of flesh from the carcass of a lamb, thrust it upon a stick and held it over the coals, after which he looked around upon his brother devils with an air that showed how much he should like to kill every one present merely for the fun of the thing.

“I would have stopped and spoken to the darn thing if any one had kept me company,” a young fellow said, apparently desirous of raising himself in the estimation of his companions; but, if such was his intention, it was a failure, for the old pirate turned on him like a hungry wolf with snapping jaws.