to allow such an emotion to be observed. I continued my
occupation, therefore, and while I kept my eyes on the hiding-place of
the convict, I did not neglect to note the movements of the bushrangers,
who were grouped around the fire, and wholly unsuspicious of the
presence of their most deadly enemy.

"Hist!" said the stockman, after successfully imitating the singing of a
cricket to attract my attention.

I turned my head towards him, but I still pretended to be busy attending
to the wants of the dying man.

"Cut Smith and your friend loose, and then stand ready to aid us in
striking a blow. Be cautious, and not a word."

I was left in wonder, for the head disappeared so quietly, it was only
by a slight rustling of dried leaves that I knew the stockman was
working his form through the bushes to rejoin whomever he had enlisted
to assist him.

I puzzled my head for a few minutes, trying to think who was near at
hand, but it was in vain; and I at length concluded that a passing train
of miners had volunteered, under a promise of a large reward, which now
I had not the means of paying. I tried to invent excuses for the purpose
of approaching Fred, and at length I hit upon a plan.

"I think," I said, speaking to the old sailor, "that I might relieve the
man's sufferings were I to bleed him."

"Go ahead, then, matey," he answered, with a nod of his head.

"Let me see," I said, feeling in my pockets; "I believe that my friend
has my lancet. Will you get it, or shall I?"

"Get it," he replied, mechanically, not even taking his pipe from his
mouth to answer.

I had carefully secreted a knife which I had found upon the person of
the bushranger, and with it I cut Fred's bonds, whispering words of
caution as I did so.

"I haven't got the lancet," cried Fred, with a sudden shake, as though
to prevent me from searching his pockets. "You know that I gave it to
Smith."

"I'm sure that you didn't," Smith said, surprised at Fred's assertion.
Before he could utter further remonstrance I had severed his bonds and
repeated my words of caution.

"Are you ready?" I heard a voice whisper close behind me.

I glanced to the spot where the rifles were lying, and then surveyed the
bushrangers, as they lay stretched out before the fire, perfectly
unconscious that we were plotting their destruction.

"All ready," I responded, making a signal to Fred to be on the alert.

"Stoop down a little," was the whispered injunction. I obey