."

He left his rifle with me, and then, getting upon his hands and knees,
crept forward, carefully sheltering his body, as far as possible, with
stumps and tufts of grass, until he reached the door, which stood open.
He glanced hastily in, and then, without wasting time, turned his steps
towards us as fast as possible.

"Well," we whispered, "what have you to report?"

"The bushrangers are in the hut, and sleeping, I think."

"Are you sure?" asked Murden.

"No. I am not sure that they are sleeping, but I am sure that they are
lying on the floor, and apparently are not aware of our approach,"
returned Fred.

"Then let us move onward without delay, for the cracking of a branch
might cost us our lives, and that is something none of us wish to spare,
just now."

With cautious steps the men moved towards the hut, led by Fred and
Murden. We met with no opposition, although it would not have surprised
me to have heard a discharge of musketry as we advanced.

We gained the door without awakening our adversaries, and saw them
stretched upon the floor, little dreaming that danger was so near.

On we stole until all our force was within the hut, and each policeman
held a cocked carbine at the head of a bushranger. Still they did not
awaken, and it could only be accounted for on the supposition that they
had been up all night making merry over our supposed death by fire.

"Kill the first man that offers to stir, in his defence," the lieutenant
said, after having carefully collected all the guns that could be found
handy.

The whisper, slight as it was, had the effect of causing the chief, the
hideous Nosey, to open his eyes and look around, as though half
dreaming; it, was not until his eyes met those of Murden that he fully
awoke, then he made an effort to start to his feet, but he found the
cold muzzles of Fred's and my own rifle pressed to his brain.

"We're betrayed!" he yelled, in a voice so shrill that it awoke every
bushranger as suddenly as though the blast of a trumpet had rang through
the room.

There were mingled oaths and exclamations, and desperate attempts to
gain their feet; and one young fellow, who, in spite of warnings and
threats, persisted in getting up, was shot through the head, and his
brains spattered upon his comrades, who were lying by his side.

"Kill all who resist!" yelled Murden, scenting blood like a tiger; "if
they submit, spare them, but death to the refractory."

The shooting of