The Gold Hunters' Adventures Part 145

The result justified my expectations, for when I had crawled as noiselessly as a cat to within a rod of the light, I saw that the robbers had in some way managed to kindle a fire, which, by the way, attracted myriads of flies and mosquitoes, and they were biting as only Australian flies and mosquitoes know how to bite, much to the rage of the bushrangers, who were cooking meat, and endeavoring to beat off the cloud of insects by thres.h.i.+ng their heavy hands about their heads, and uttering oaths that were frightfully original and emphatic.

They were coa.r.s.e-looking fellows, but dressed better than bushrangers usually were, and I accounted for it by supposing that they had made a successful plundering expedition, and got new suits from their victims; and such I afterwards found to be the case.

I endeavored to get a view of the faces of the women, and by changing my position I succeeded. The youngest one was not more than twenty-five years of age, but she looked careworn and weary, and seldom removed her hands from her face, except, to answer a question addressed to her by her companion, who seemed about forty years of age, and by the flickering light of the fire I read determination upon every line of her countenance, weather-beaten and grim as it was.

The bushrangers were broiling their meat upon sticks, and eating it with a relish that smacked of a long fast; and while the women were seated near the fire on saddles taken from the horses, which were tied to a tree, and were browsing upon the tender branches, the men did not offer them food, until one fellow, whose appet.i.te seemed sated, offered the younger one his stick, upon which was a huge lump of flesh nearly raw.

She declined the tempting morsel with a shudder, and the action produced an oath from the ruffian, and an insulting gesture, so vile that I could hardly keep my hand from seeking the lock of my revolver and shooting him on the spot.

"O, well, Miss Dainty, you'll come to your appet.i.te one of these days, see if you don't. Mark what I tell you;" and the other ruffians smiled at their companion's wit.

"There's blood on the hand that offered her food--her husband's blood.

How do you suppose she can touch what you feel disposed to give?" cried the elderly woman, who was called Nancy.

"Hullo, old croaker, I thought that you were asleep," the bushranger said; but still I noticed that he glanced at his hand, and wiped it on his clothes, as though the stain was burning his flesh like a coal of fire.

CHAPTER LXXVII.

CAPTURE OF THE BUSHRANGERS.

"I've not been asleep, but still I've had a dream," Nancy replied to the insulting taunt of the robber.

"Hullo, here's a go. An old woman can dream with her eyes open. Tell us what it was all about, old Tabby."

The woman looked sternly at her tormentor, but did not deign to reply; but the robbers were not disposed to have her rest in peace.

"Come, Tabby, tell us the dream," cried the first speaker.

"You would know it, would you?" she asked, her dark face looking grim and sardonic in the wavering light of the fire, which was kept up by throwing on wood that had long laid exposed to the hot sun of Australia.

"To be sure I would; and, while you are about it, tell my fortune.

Whether I shall be rich and marry a princess, like them old fellers, hundreds of years ago, that we read about in some book, blast me if I know the name of it. Come, fire away while I smoke my pipe, and try to kill a few of these d----d mosquitoes that have got bills longer than a criminal lawyer in full practice in Old Bailey."

The man filled his pipe with tobacco, an example that was followed by those who had finished gorging, and after he had lighted it, he turned his head in the direction of the prisoners, as though signifying that he was ready to listen.

"The only wife that you will marry will be the gibbet," the old woman said, spitefully.

"Peace, you old hag," cried the bushranger, angrily. "How dare you talk to me in that sort of way?"

"I thought that you wanted to hear what I have been dreaming about?" she replied, with a sneer.

"So I do, but don't you mention gibbets, do you hear, 'cos you might provoke me, and then you would dangle from one of these trees, a scarecrow that would cause old Wright much wonder. Now you go ahead."

"I dreamed that I was in a crowd of excited people, who were walking towards a prison where they said an execution was to take place. I went with them, for I felt that I had received so many injuries at the hands of men that it would be joy to my wounded heart to see them suffer. I struggled until I reached the front ranks of the crowd, and then waited patiently until a procession, headed by soldiers with solemn music, left the prison and marched towards the scaffold."

"Didn't I tell you not to talk about such things?" cried the bushranger, fiercely.

"Then I will not;" and the woman remained silent.

"Let her go on with the yarn," the other robbers exclaimed. "Let her tell what she likes about hanging coveys, if she pleases. Fire away, old woman."

Thus commanded, she resumed the subject of her pretended dream.

"I thought that I saw three prisoners, with faces covered with black c.r.a.pe, march with trembling steps towards the scaffold, while the hangman, who walked beside them, continually shouted, with a voice so loud that it was heard by every one, 'Behold, these men are about to be executed for murder and robbery. Don't pray for them, Christians, for your prayers will be in vain. They are denounced by G.o.d and man, and h.e.l.l alone knows how to punish them as their many crimes deserve.'"

"You old she devil, can't you tell us something more lively than that?"

demanded one of the bushrangers, glancing around uneasily.

"The best is yet to come," she replied, calmly, her eyes fixed upon vacancy, as though she really saw the scenes she was narrating.

"Well, let's have the rest, and don't be too hard on bushrangers, if it's all the same to you."

"I saw the procession reach the scaffold, and the three condemned men ascend the steps, although they trembled so that they had to be supported by the soldiers, for, though they could kill and rob, they were cowards at heart, and were to die like dogs."

"They should have given the coveys a pint of brandy each, and then they would have been all right," grunted the fellow whom the bushranger called Bill.

"A prayer was made by the clergyman," continued Nancy, not heeding the interruption, "and then the men were informed they could say any thing if they wished. The c.r.a.pe was removed from their faces, and I saw--"

"Who?" exclaimed the listeners, eagerly.

"Your face, and yours, and yours," she cried, pointing to three of the men, who sprang to their feet with frightful oaths, and murder in their hearts.

"Let's hang her," cried one.

"Burn her for a witch," said another.

"D----m her," cried the third; while the fourth, who seemed to be much pleased that he was left out of the galaxy of rascality, remained silent and thoughtful.

"Don't harm her," exclaimed the younger woman, removing her hands from her face, and endeavoring to shelter the person of her companion; but the bushrangers were regardless of her entreaties, and pushed her aside with rudeness.

I did not stop to see more. I rapidly made my way back to Mr. Wright and party, who were anxiously expecting me, for they had begun to grow alarmed at my absence.

"Not a moment is to be lost," I said. "Follow me, and make no noise."

"What is up?" demanded Mr. Wright, who perhaps did not like to have his command usurped so rudely, although he did not object.

"I cannot stop to explain now. Haste, or there will be murder committed," I replied.

No more questions were asked, and in less than five minutes after we were in motion we were near enough to the bushrangers to witness their operations. They were holding a council, and debating violently what sort of death poor Nancy should die, but could not agree. They supposed her words were deserving of instant punishment, and each man thought his method of taking her life the more praiseworthy. The discussion saved Nancy, for we were enabled to reach the spot before the fellows could make up their minds.

Even in that dreadful moment the tongue of Nancy did not lose its bitterness, and she was bold enough to boast that her words would come true, and them what she had told as a vision would prove a reality.

"Now, then, men, rush on, but don't use your pistols unless necessary.

Let us make them prisoners," whispered Mr. Wright.