An hour quickly passes when there is something to occupy the mind, and at the end of that time we were not more than half a mile from the house which we had left at sundown.

“You see,” said the lieutenant, “your surmises were groundless.  We have had our journey for nothing, and for once the dog has proved a false prophet.”

I began to fear that I had rendered myself liable to ridicule, and was thinking how I should recede, when the sharp report of a gun was heard, in the direction which we were travelling.

“The d——!” cried Murden, suddenly; “I know the sound of my carbines as well as I know when pay-day comes.  That gun was discharged by one of my fellows, and there is trouble, or he would have been asleep before this.”

Three or four flashes of light were seen, and then the report of an irregular volley was heard, as though some force outside of the hut was firing at it from spite.

“The affair is explained,” the lieutenant said; “a gang of bushrangers have attacked the hut, and my men are defending it bravely.  Forward, men, to the rescue.”

“One second,” cried Fred, laying his hand on Murden’s arm.  “Let us reason for a moment, because there is no pressing haste; those in the hut can keep twenty men at bay until daylight, and I think if we use a little stratagem, we can secure a few of the gang, and run but little risk.”

“Speak quick,” cried the impatient officer, who longed to be where he could smell the burning powder, and as another discharge of muskets was heard, he almost broke away from the cool, indifferent Fred.

“There are two suggestions which I have to offer,” Fred said.  “In the first place, the party that is attacking the station think that the force under your charge is gone for the night.”

“Well, what then?” cried Murden.

“Or else the party, not knowing that your command is near here, rallied to avenge the death of Black Darnley and his comrades.  Now, if we charge up to the very door of the station, we shall most probably get a volley, not only from the bushrangers, who will hear the sound of the horses’ feet, but as likely as not receive a shot from our friends.”

“At any rate, we can capture two or three of the villains,” cried the officer.

“I doubt it,” answered Fred.  “Knowing that they will have to raise the siege, two or three saddles will be emptied, and when we seek to return their fire, we shan’t find an enemy to contend against.  They will scatter in various directions if their force is small; and if large, why; a bushranger is a dangerous foe, and fights with a halter around his neck.  Let us oppose craft to craft, and surprise the scamps, as they have surprised us.”

“But how?” asked Murden.

“You have never lived in a country where waging war against Indians is regarded as mere pastime, or you would have comprehended my meaning.  Let us dismount from our horses where we are, and let my friend and myself steal forward, and mingle with the bushrangers; or if that is impracticable, find out their numbers, and whether they have made any impression on the hut—­where the main body is stationed, and whether they suspect the presence of your force.  An hour will be ample time to go and return.  What say you to the proposition?”