lent
knocking at the outer door.

"Bunny, it was the outer door of the banking-chamber! My candle must
have been seen! And there I stood, with the grease running hot over my
fingers, in that brick grave of a strong-room!

"There was only one thing to be done. I must trust to the sound
sleeping of Ewbank upstairs, open the door myself, knock the visitor
down, or shoot him with the revolver I had been new chum enough to buy
before leaving Melbourne, and make a dash for that clump of trees and
the doctor's mare. My mind was made up in an instant, and I was at the
top of the strong-room stairs, the knocking still continuing, when a
second sound drove me back. It was the sound of bare feet coming along
a corridor.

"My narrow stair was stone, I tumbled down it with little noise, and
had only to push open the iron door, for I had left the keys in the
safe. As I did so I heard a handle turn overhead, and thanked my gods
that I had shut every single door behind me. You see, old chap, one's
caution doesn't always let one in!

"'Who's that knocking?' said Ewbank up above.

"I could not make out the answer, but it sounded to me like the
irrelevant supplication of a spent man. What I did hear, plainly, was
the cocking of the bank revolver before the bolts were shot back.
Then, a tottering step, a hard, short, shallow breathing, and Ewbank's
voice in horror--

"'My God! Good Lord! What's happened to you? You're bleeding like a
pig!'

"'Not now,' came with a grateful sort of sigh.

"'But you have been! What's done it?'

"'Bushrangers.'

"'Down the road?'

"'This and Whittlesea--tied to tree--cock shots--left me--bleed to
death ...'"

The weak voice failed, and the bare feet bolted. Now was my time--if
the poor devil had fainted. But I could not be sure, and there I
crouched down below in the dark, at the half-shut iron door, not less
spellbound than imprisoned. It was just as well, for Ewbank wasn't
gone a minute.

"'Drink this,' I heard him say, and, when the other spoke again, his
voice was stronger.

"'Now I begin to feel alive ...'

"'Don't talk!'

"'It does me good. You don't know what it was, all those miles alone,
one an hour at the outside! I never thought I should come through. You
must let me tell you--in case I don't!'

"'Well, have another sip.'

"'Thank you ... I said bushrangers; of course, there are no such
things nowadays.'

"'What were they, then?'

"'Bank-thieves; the