"

And as the door was opened and the fresh evening breeze floated in to
waft away the horrible dank odour of burnt gunpowder, it seemed hardly
possible to believe that so deadly an encounter could have occurred
lately, and no one on their side been even scratched.

"But I should have liked to save some of that mutton," said Rifle,
thoughtfully. "It is quite time we had a change."

The hour came for barricading the door only too soon, and once more the
watch commenced, half of the tiny garrison lying down, while Aunt
Georgie and one of the girls pressed for leave to share the watch,
urging that they were not weary, and would perhaps be able to detect by
eye or ear the approach of danger.

The captain, who was nearly exhausted by his efforts, reluctantly
consented, and lay down for a few minutes, giving orders that he should
be called at the slightest alarm, and a few minutes after--as he
believed--he sprang up looking puzzled and confused.

For the door was wide open, the morning sun shining in, and there was
the sharp crackling of a fire, and the smell of baking bread.

"What is the meaning of this?" he said.

"Only that you've slept all night, father, and never moved," cried
Rifle, merrily.

"But I gave orders to be called at the slightest alarm."

"And there never was the slightest alarm," cried the boy,
joyfully.--"Hi! Man--Tim--father's awake."

Norman and his cousin came to the door gun in hand.

"See anything?" cried Rifle.

"No.--Morning, father.--I believe they've gone."

"Impossible! But you have not heard them all night?"

"Not once."

"But you should not have let me sleep."

"I ordered them to," said Mrs Bedford, quietly. "Who needed rest
more?"

At that moment Uncle Jack and Sam came round from the back, where they
had been reconnoitring.

"Ah, Ned," said the former, "heard the news? Too good, I'm afraid, to
be true."

"Yes, yes; don't let's put any faith in it," said the captain, and he
went out, glass in hand, to scan every patch of scrub.

"Not a sign of them; no fire. But--" He looked round again before
finishing his sentence:

"No sheep--no cattle."

"Not a hoof left," said Uncle Munday, grimly. "But that is the most
hopeful sign."

"What do you mean?" said his brother.

"They seem to have driven everything away, and gone off with them into
the bush."

The captain did not speak, nor relax the watchfulness kept up, but as
the day wore on various little things we