anding in the shade of the west bank
for the purpose of getting rid of some of the insects which were
hovering in the air, and biting with a sharpness that proved they had
been without food for many days.

We were almost in despair of our plan succeeding, when we heard a
crashing overhead, as though a number of heavy-footed men were stepping
upon dried branches, and did not care who heard them. Suddenly there was
a silence, as though the party had halted to view the very place we
anticipated they would look at, and then a voice exclaimed:--

"D---- it, what can you say to that place, I'd like to know?"

"Ah, Bill, I've got nothin' to offer agin that place, 'cos it's suthin
like. A man can get down there without trouble."

"Well, then, down you go, and lead the horses out of the ravine, and
wait for us," cried a man who appeared to have some authority with the
bushrangers.

"But I want somebody to go with me, don't I? S'pose the fellers should
make a jump at me?" cried the man, who was evidently the slave of the
gang.

"But they won't make a jump at you, 'cos they are at the other end of
the ravine, looking after Brown. Get hold of the horses, and then we
shall have um at our mercy."

"All right, Bill; I'll go, 'cos I killed the hoss, when I meant to kill
one of those d----d Yankee chaps. I thought that I had him sure, but my
pistols didn't carry straight."

It seemed that the party knew us, and had followed us ever since we had
left Ballarat, for the purpose of robbing us of our horses, and probably
murdering us, into the bargain.

We heard the bushranger selected for the purpose, commence descending
slowly, for the task was one of considerable difficulty, and required
some caution. His comrades stood upon the bank and joked him for being
so long, and at length we concluded that they had stretched themselves
upon the grass to wait until he had performed his work; for their voices
became nearly inaudible, although we could hear the fellow who was
approaching us grunt and swear at the obstacles which he had to
overcome.

Fred's brow grew black as he unsheathed his long knife, and passed a
finger across the blade to test its keenness.

"What do you intend to do?" I asked, fearful of his reply.

"Preserve our lives at the expense of the scoundrels," he answered, in a
whisper. "Leave the blow to me, but stand ready to grasp the fellow by
the throat, and remember that a cry will destroy us."

I made no furthe