The Gold Hunters' Adventures Part 15

"Can we bid her farewell, at parting?" asked Fred.

"If you wish it, yes," answered the convict: "but I have prayed with her all night, and have besought the Lord to strengthen her heart under this load of affliction. She is calm now, and when you speak do not allude to her bereavement, or recall yesterday's b.l.o.o.d.y tragedy."

As he ceased speaking, he returned to the hut, and emerged leading the widow. Her looks were much changed since we had seen her the day before.

Weeping and fasting, and sleepless nights, and above all, the thoughts of her husband's sudden death, had so preyed upon her spirits that she seemed like another person.

"Here are the two Americans, child, who wish to bid you farewell," her father said, when he saw that she was disposed to pay no attention to us.

Twice did he speak before she comprehended him; and after she had placed her hands to her head, as though to recall a recollection of our features, a faint look of recognition came over her face, and her leaden eyes were lighted up with some such expression as we had seen the day before, when she asked if Black Darnley was dead.

"You are sure that he is dead?" she asked in a low whisper, seizing Fred by the arm, and gazing into his blank-looking face.

"Whom do you mean?" Fred inquired, evading her question.

"You know; Black Darnley,--the wretch who killed my husband, and injured me. You look like him; but your face is not so black, and your hair is lighter. But you may have changed it for the purpose of deceiving and wronging me again. Ah, the more I look at you the firmer am I convinced that you are the wretch."

She pushed his arm away, and turned with flas.h.i.+ng eyes upon her parent, speaking vehemently,--

"You told me that Darnley was dead, and that my injuries were avenged; and yet you see him standing before you alive, and insulting me with infamous propositions. Have I no friend here to protect me?"

"We are all your friends," I replied, in a soothing tone.

"It is false! There is not a man here, or Black Darnley would not live to see another sun. Men, indeed? Ha, ha! my husband possesses more spirit than a dozen of you."

She folded her arms, and rocked her body to and fro, shaking her head, and muttering incoherent sentences, with her eyes fixed upon the ground intently, as though trying, amid the dirt, to discover the blood of her destroyer.

Poor Fred, who looked about as much like Black Darnley as the man in the moon, turned slightly red with mortification; and to this hour, an allusion to his wonderful likeness to the celebrated bushranger is sure to bring on a fit of the sulks that will last a day or two.

Fred retired as soon as he found that his presence irritated the unhappy woman, who, it was very evident, was slightly deranged by her acc.u.mulation of trouble.

"We are all friends here," I said, at length, "and are willing to do your bidding. See, here is your father; and do you think he would stand unmoved in the presence of a man who had wronged you. You must surely recollect my face. Look at me closely."

"Ah, I do remember you now," she cried.

"That's right," I said, encouragingly. "I thought you would know the man you had leaned upon and talked with on the night--"

Before I had a chance to finish my remarks, with a wild, mad cry, she sprang forward, and, with a movement like lightning, drew my bowie knife, which was stuck in a belt around my waist, and had not Smith intercepted the blow I should not now be writing sketches about my adventures.

In spite of his interference, however, the knife, sharp as a razor and ground to a point like a needle, fell upon my unprotected forehead and opened a gash two inches long, almost penetrating the brain. The hot blood blinded me for a moment as it gushed from the wound. I staggered back from the unexpected attack, but before the mad woman had an opportunity to repeat the blow, my faithful friend was by my side, and had wrenched the steel from her hand.

"Ha, ha!" she shrieked; "blood!--blood!--his blood flows freely, and I avenge my own wrongs. Look at him bleed!--'twas my hand that struck him, and now he'll die like a dog. I triumph--I--I--"

She could say no more, but fell back in convulsions. Smith caught her in his strong arms, and was about to bear her into the house, when he was interrupted by what appeared like so many apparitions.

Mounted upon strong, well-trained horses, were a dozen of the mounted police of Melbourne, who, during our interview with the convict's daughter, had stolen upon us unperceived, and had formed a circle in which we were the centre, to prevent an escape had we been so disposed.

So quiet had they ridden, that it seemed as though they had sprung from the ground at the command of some genii of the lamp.

We did not form a very prepossessing group, and, at first, much less suspicious people than police officers would have imagined that something was wrong.

"h.e.l.lo!" cried the man who appeared to command the squad, riding towards us; "what have we here--a wounded man and a dead woman. Whose work is this?"

"We can explain this to those having authority to ask," cried Fred, carelessly throwing his rifle across his arm; yet it was done in such a manner that the officer reined his horse back several paces, and shouted,--

"Ready with your carbines, men!--we have fallen upon a gang of bushrangers."

I heard the ominous click of the locks of the guns, and cleared the blood from my eyes to get a view of our a.s.sailants.

"We are no bushrangers," shouted Smith, starting forward and fronting the officer. "You should know my face, lieutenant," he continued, to the man in command.

"Ah, Smith, is it you?" the lieutenant said, in a sort of patronizing way, and riding forward. "Put up your guns, men; we are not among bushrangers, I think." And in obedience to his command, the men slung the carbines at their backs, and rode forward.

"What is the matter with that fellow?" the officer of police asked, pointing to me.

"He was just injured by a knife, sir, in the hands of this woman, who has lost her reason," answered Smith, in the most obsequious manner.

"Lost her reason, hey," said the lieutenant, carelessly. "Then she has no business here; or rather I should say that no persons of sense would be here if they could help it."

The mounted troop laughed, as in duty bound, and even Smith suffered his features to relax in token of appreciation of the officer's facetiousness.

"Where are you two fellows from?" inquired the lieutenant, turning towards Fred and myself abruptly.

By this time I had bound up my head with a handkerchief, and wiped some of the blood from my face. The wound had nearly ceased bleeding, thanks to some lint which I always carried about me.

"Are you talking to me?" asked Fred, in a careless tone.

"To whom else?--speak!" cried the officer, impatiently.

"Perhaps you would not know where the place is located, even if I told you its name," replied Fred, with provoking indifference.

"I am the best judge of that," answered the lieutenant, turning red in the face.

"O, you are?" Fred laughed.

Smith, who had acted in a nervous manner ever since the conversation commenced, approached and whispered in Fred's ear,--

"Speak civilly to him, or he may take you to Melbourne."

This, instead of having the desired effect on Fred, only rendered him the more impudent; for he didn't relish being called "fellow," even if he had on a flannel s.h.i.+rt.

"Will you tell me where you belong?" demanded the officer, angrily.

"O, certainly."

"Well, where?"

"Have you ever heard of such a place as Boston?" Fred asked.

"Yes--it is in England."