“My poor goods,” whined Smith, “the cursed brutes have stolen them all.  I wish that keg of rum had a pound of arsenic in it; there would be some consolation in knowing that the devils were destroying themselves.”

“Hush!” cried Fred, for that instant the growl of the dog gave token that some one was approaching.  With one hand on the animal’s leather collar to restrain him, and another on his massive jaws, we waited his approach.

The bushranger walked with hasty step towards us, and then suddenly stopping, he spoke aloud,—­

“Jim,” he said, evidently thinking that he should find his companion still there, “the men won’t leave their rum; come and speak to the devils.”

He turned in every direction to get sight of his companion, and as he was facing the hut, I felt a warm pressure from Fred’s disengaged hand, and understood him without a word being spoken.

We noiselessly arose, and relinquished our hold of the dog; but strange to say the animal appeared to understand our movements, and did not spring forward as we feared he would.  He looked into our faces, wagged his tail, and remained silent.

“Jim!” cried the bushranger, in a louder tone of voice than he had used before, “Jim, the boys—­”

He had no time to utter more.  Fred placed his strong hands around the fellow’s throat, and compressed his grasp until I fancied I heard bones crack; at the same moment I dropped upon my knees, and seizing both his legs we had him at our mercy.  He kicked violently, and struggled manfully, but in spite of all we bore him to the bushes, when Smith, beginning to understand our attack, uttered a chuckle of delight, and threw his whole weight upon the prostrate bushranger, and began to bind his arms with cords which he always carried about him in case of need.

Even the hound was not idle, for standing over the astonished ruffian, with his powerful jaws in close proximity to his face, he showed such a set of strong teeth that the bushranger manifested many symptoms of terror, and endeavored to move from such a dangerous neighborhood of ivory.

The feet and hands of the robber were soon bound by the active Smith, and then holding a knife at his throat, with an understanding that it should be plunged into him if he gave an alarm, Fred relinquished his grasp, and asked a few questions.

“How many are in your gang to-night?” Fred inquired.

The villain looked from one face to the other, as though he was almost resolved to evade the question; but receiving no encouragement from the scowling countenances which he encountered, replied,—­

“There’s twelve of us.”

“Who’s your leader?” he demanded.

“Jim Gulpin.”

“As big a scamp as ever went unhanged!” ejaculated Smith; “I have heard of his tricks, before.”

“What is your object, in attacking the stock-hut?”

“To recover the gold which was stolen from Darnley, and also to revenge his loss.”