“That is easily said; but while I am gone, my men, who are but human, will probably make free with that keg of rum, which I have thus far kept from their reach; and if they are without restraint, would be just as likely to let the prisoners escape, or shoot them, or get to quarrelling among themselves, as any thing else.”

“Where is the keg?” asked Fred.

The officer poked aside some bushes where he had placed it, and revealed its hiding place.

“I’ll soon quiet your anxiety,” Fred said, and as he spoke he pulled out the spigot, and the Jamaica rum mingled with the earth.

“A harsh proceeding, but the best under the circumstances,” cried the lieutenant, with a mournful look, as he heard the rum gush forth as though saying “good, good;” “I love a drop of good liquor, but men, when drinking, have no discretion.”

Murden turned away with a sigh, as though the strong fumes which assailed his nostrils were suggestive of lost hopes, and for the remainder of the day, he was melancholy.

On reentering the stockman’s hut, we found him seated beside his daughter’s rude couch, tenderly bathing her head with fresh river water.  She was conscious now, but still very weak and feeble, and spoke in whispers.  She held out her hand to us when we entered, and smiled, as though thanking us for the care which we had taken to revenge her injuries.

Her pulse we found to be more regular, and if she received no fresh shock, we thought there was a prospect of her being entirely well in a few days, and so we told her.

At our request Murden stationed one of his men at the door with strict orders to admit no one who would be likely to disturb her, and after we had partaken of our rude repast, we got ready for our hot ride over the plain to the forest.

Before we started, however, we paid a visit to the bushrangers, still chained to trees, and incapable of assisting each other.  We were greeted with derisive shouts and fierce taunts, which did not disturb our equanimity in the least; and when the robbers discovered such to be the case, they again stretched themselves upon the ground, as well as their irons would permit, and relapsed into sullenness.

Murden left eight of his men to take charge of the prisoners, with strict orders for two of them to keep guard without rest or sleep.  We were about to mount our horses, when a brawny ruffian we had made prisoner the night before shouted,—­

“Aren’t you going to give us something to eat, or are we to be starved like dogs?  You are all cowards, and dare not give us fair play, and an open fight, but I didn’t suppose that you were so frightened as to refuse to let us have a mouthful.”

“Dress a sheep for them, and let them eat their fill,” ordered Murden; “but mind that they escape not, on your lives.”

We rode off, followed by the shouts and maledictions of the gang, and even when we were one hundred rods distant I could hear the ruffians call after us, bidding us return and learn bravery from them.