Day broke on as wild a looking set as can be imagined; jaded, exhausted,
blackened with smoke, our men sat and lay about for the most part
unhurt, though several showed traces of the desperate struggle made by
the surprised gang, whose one-handed leader told Mr Raydon with a
savage oath that he thought our party had been burned in the forest.

"Then it was your doing," said Barker, fiercely.

"Course it was," said the ruffian. "Give me a chance, and I'll burn
this place too."

Barker raised his fist to strike the fellow, but Mr Raydon seized his
arm.

"Don't do that," he said; "we shall not give him a chance."

And so it proved, for that night, when I rose after a long deep sleep, I
found that a party had started down the valley with the prisoners.

"You came just in time, Mayne Gordon," said Mr John to me. "I was so
frightened that it made me desperate too. I'm afraid I hurt one man."

"You did, sir," I said laughing. "Grey told me how you swung your rifle
round, and struck him down."

"I did, my boy, I did," he said. "Don't laugh. I do not feel satisfied
that I did right."

"You did it to defend your wife," said Mr Raydon, who came up; "and I
never felt so proud of you before, John. There, I must go and see my
injured men."

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

WE MAKE A FRESH START.

The wounded prisoners were not got rid of for quite a fortnight, during
which time matters settled down again into the regular routine, one of
my principal tasks being helping Mr Gunson to take little walks, then
longer and longer ones, after which we used to go and have a chat with
Grey, who made very light of his wounds.

One day I asked leave of Mr Raydon to go and have a look at the valley
where we had had so narrow an escape. He gave me leave freely enough;
and as Mr Gunson did not care to accompany me, saying he had no taste
for works in charcoal, I asked leave for Esau to come; and in due time
we stood at the mouth of the valley gazing up.

"'Nuff to make a fellow sit down and cry," said Esau, as I recalled our
escape.

"Pitiful!" I said sadly.

"Ah, that ain't half strong enough," he said, as we tramped on amongst
the ashes and charred wood, with the tall stumps of the great pines
standing burned for the most part to sharp points, and looking like
landmarks to show the terrible devastation in the once lovely wooded
vale.

"I only feel as if I could not use words strong enough," I replied, as
we slowly tramped