bushrangers in these parts get the alarm, I may defy you yet! See, I
grow stronger, and my leg no longer troubles me with a racking pain."

In his desperation, the outlaw struggled to sit upright, and smiled a
ghastly smile, at his supposed triumph over death.

"Foolish man," I replied, "the cessation of your pains is a sure
harbinger of death. Already has mortification set in, and the best
surgeon in the world cannot save you."

"Is it so?" he asked, hoarsely, after a sharp glance at my face to see
if he could not read trickery, and an attempt, to deceive him.

"Upon my word as a man, you are dying," I replied.

"Well, death and me has met many times, and why should we fear each
other? Let him come; he will not find me unprepared."

"But your peace with God?" I asked, earnestly.

"Look you, young man," the outlaw said, "for ten years I've led a life
of crime; I've committed murders, and robbed all who crossed my path,
and laughed at the agony of those I have rendered penniless. Do you
think that God is willing to pardon sins on such short notice?"

"There is hope for all," I replied.

"You may think so, but I don't believe in that kind of mummery. Go away
from me, and let me die in peace."

"But, consider," I urged.

He waved his hand impatiently, as though the conversation wearied him,
and he wished to terminate it without farther discussion. I joined
Murden, who was standing a short distance from the dying man, calmly
smoking his pipe, and apparently indifferent to the remarks which his
prisoner made.

"Has he been grumbling?" asked Murden.

"No, he appears to be rejoiced to think that he will cheat the courts of
Melbourne of a victim, and declares that if a man is accused of being a
bushranger, his death is scaled, whether innocent or guilty."

"There is much truth in what he says," replied the officer, after a
moment's thought; "the judges act upon the principle that it is better
ten innocent persons should die, than one robber escape. They do not
prove a man guilty, but require him to prove that he is innocent; hence
the burden of proof rests upon the defendant, and he has no means of
establishing, unless possessed of unbounded wealth, the fallacy of such
reasoning."

"And the people of Australia call that law?" I asked, indignantly.

"That is law, and very good law, too," replied Murden; "you can hardly
wonder at such a state of things, when you take into consideration the
lawlessness of the