stand motionless while firing guns or
pistols from their backs. We were enabled to buy them, owing to a
surplus of horses which the department owned, and had no use for.

Our hardest task was when, on the evening of the seventh day after Fred
had met the officer in mortal combat, Smith yoked his oxen, attached
them to a moderately filled cart, and declared he was ready for a start.

Murden, Wattles, Merriam, Doctor O'Haraty, and a dozen others, whose
acquaintance we had cultivated during our brief residence in Melbourne,
were assembled at "Smith's villa," and came to say farewell.

"You heard the word, gentlemen," said Fred; "our leader says that he is
ready, and we must not detain him. We wish to place twenty-five miles
between us and Melbourne before morning, and to do so requires an early
start. The next time we meet, I hope that our days will not be limited.
In the mean time, if any one present should visit Ballarat, don't fail
to make our tent his home."

"Ballarat be blessed!" growled O'Haraty; "the idea of two dacent,
sinsible people digging for gold, when there's so much can be had
without work."

"I have only my left hand to offer you," said Wattles, presenting it to
Fred, "but my grasp is as friendly and sincere as though both were
free."

"Your arm is improving?" inquired Fred, who had not seen his adversary
before, since the morning of the meeting.

"Thanks to the doctor, and your kindness in not aiming at a more
vulnerable part, I shall soon be well. Do we separate as friends?"

"I say yes, with all my heart," cried Fred, eagerly.

Some one locked the door of "Smith's villa," and handed him the key, and
then once more bidding good-by, the oxen were started, and in company
with Murden, we soon reached the outskirts of the city.

It was past dusk when our friend, the police lieutenant, drew rein, and
decided to return to the city. We allowed Smith to continue on, while we
stopped and chatted for a few moments.

Murden appeared sad at parting, and more than once he declared that he
wished he was to accompany us, for now that we were to leave him, he
should have no one who would enter into his adventures with the same
degree of interest which we had shown.

"There is one question which we wish to ask, Murden," I said, a few
minutes before he left us.

"Name it," he replied.

"How many of the bushrangers whom we captured have been condemned to
death?"

"Why do you ask?" he inquired.

"Becaus