ll the recesses of these ravines,
and was determined to put an end to the gang; and when it became known
that Harold Alison was at home, and would act as guide, a fully
sufficient party of squatters, shepherds, and police rallied for the
attack, and Dermot, in great delight, found himself about to see a
fight in good earnest.

A very sufficient guide Harold proved himself, and they came, not to
any poetical robber's cavern, but within sight of a set of shanties,
looking like any ordinary station of a low character. There a sudden
volley of shot from an ambush poured upon them, happily without any
serious wounds, and a hand-to-hand battle began, for the robbers having
thus taken the initiative, it was hardly needful to display the search
warrant with which the party had come armed. And to the amazement of
all, the gang was headed by a man who seemed the very counterpart of
Harold, not, perhaps, quite so tall, but with much the same complexion
and outline, though he was somewhat older, and had the wild, fierce,
ruffianly aspect of a bushranger. This man was taking deliberate aim
at the magistrate who acted as head of the party, when Harold flung
down his own loaded rifle, sprang upon him, and there was the most
tremendous wrestling match that Dermot said he could have imagined.
Three times Harold's antagonist touched the earth, three times he
sprang from it again with redoubled vigour, until, at last, Harold
clasped his arms round him, lifted him in the air, and dashed him to
the ground, where he lay senseless. And then, to the general
amusement, Harold seemed astonished at his state as he lay prone,
observing, "I did not want to hurt him;" and presently told Dermot, "I
believe he is old Mrs. Sam Alison's son."

And so it proved. He was the Henry or Harry Alison of whose deeds the
Stympsons had heard. The gang was, after all, not very extensive; two
had been shot in the fray, one was wounded, and one surrendered.
Alison, though not dead, was perfectly helpless, and was carried down
the rocky valley on an extemporary litter, Harold taking his usual
share of the labour. The sheep and cattle on whom were recognised the
marks of the Alisons of Boola Boola, and of sundry of their neighbours,
were collected, to be driven down and reclaimed by their owners, and
the victory was complete.

CHAPTER XII.

THE GOLDEN FRUIT.

While all this was passing on the other side the world, Eustace
fulfilled his wish for a