we left fred hastening through the forest to the help of his friends at bevan’s gully.

at first, after parting from his comrade, he looked back often and anxiously, in the hope that tom might find out his mistake and return to him; but as mile after mile was placed between them, he felt that this hope was vain, and turned all his energies of mind and body to the task that lay before him. this was to outwalk stalker’s party of bandits and give timely warning to the bevans; for, although flinders’s hints had been vague enough, he readily guessed that the threatened danger was the descent of the robbers on their little homestead, and it naturally occurred to his mind that this was probably the same party which had made the previous attack, especially as he had observed several indians among them.

young, sanguine, strong, and active, fred, to use a not inapt phrase, devoured the ground with his legs! sometimes he ran, at other times he walked, but more frequently he went along at an easy trot, which, although it looked slower than quick walking, was in reality much faster, besides being better suited to the rough ground he had to traverse.

night came at last but night could not have arrested him if it had not been intensely dark. this, however, did not trouble him much, for he knew that the same cause would arrest the progress of his foes, and besides, the moon would rise in an hour. he therefore flung himself on the ground for a short rest, and fell asleep, while praying that god would not suffer him to sleep too long.

his prayer was answered, for he awoke with a start an hour afterwards, just as the first pale light of the not quite risen moon began to tinge the clear sky.

fred felt very hungry, and could not resist the tendency to meditate on beefsteaks and savoury cutlets for some time after resuming his journey; but, after warming to the work, and especially after taking a long refreshing draught at a spring that bubbled like silver in the moonlight, these longings passed away. hour after hour sped by, and still the sturdy youth held on at the same steady pace, for he knew well that to push beyond his natural strength in prolonged exertion would only deduct from the end of his journey whatever he might gain at the commencement.

day broke at length. as it advanced the intense longing for food returned, and, to his great anxiety, it was accompanied by a slight feeling of faintness. he therefore glanced about for wild fruits as he went along, without diverging from his course, and was fortunate to fall in with several bushes which afforded him a slight meal of berries. in the strength of these he ran on till noon, when the faint feeling returned, and he was fain to rest for a little beside a brawling brook.

“oh! father, help me!” he murmured, as he stooped to drink. on rising, he continued to mutter to himself, “if only a tithe of my ordinary strength were left, or if i had one good meal and a short rest, i could be there in three hours; but—”

whatever fred’s fears were, he did not express them. he arose and recommenced his swinging trot with something like the pertinacity of a bloodhound on the scent. perhaps he was thinking of his previous conversation with tom brixton about being guided by god in all circumstances, for the only remark that escaped him afterwards was, “it is my duty to act and leave results to him.”

towards the afternoon of that day paul bevan was busy mending a small cart in front of his hut, when he observed a man to stagger out of the wood as if he had been drunk, and approach the place where his plank-bridge usually spanned the brook. it was drawn back, however, at the time, and lay on the fortress side, for paul had been rendered somewhat cautious by the recent assault on his premises.

“hallo, betty!” he cried.

“yes, father,” replied a sweet musical voice, the owner of which issued from the doorway with her pretty arms covered with flour and her face flushed from the exertion of making bread.

“are the guns loaded, lass?”

“yes, father,” replied betty, turning her eyes in the direction towards which paul gazed. “but i see only one man,” she added.

“ay, an’ a drunk man too, who couldn’t make much of a fight if he wanted to. but lass, the drunk man may have any number of men at his back, both drunk and sober, so it’s well to be ready. just fetch the revolvers an’ have ’em handy while i go down to meet him.”

“father, it seems to me i should know that figure. why, it’s—no, surely it cannot be young mister westly!”

“no doubt of it, girl. your eyes are better than mine, but i see him clearer as he comes on. young westly—drunk—ha! ha!—as a hatter! i’ll go help him over.”

paul chuckled immensely—as sinners are wont to do when they catch those whom they are pleased to call “saints” tripping—but when he had pushed the plank over, and fred, plunging across, fell at his feet in a state of insensibility, his mirth vanished and he stooped to examine him. his first act was to put his nose to the youth’s mouth and sniff.

“no smell o’ drink there,” he muttered. then he untied fred’s neckcloth and loosened his belt. then, as nothing resulted from these acts, he set himself to lift the fallen man in his arms. being a sturdy fellow he succeeded, though with considerable difficulty, and staggered with his burden towards the hut, where he was met by his anxious daughter.

“why, lass, he’s no more drunk than you are!” cried paul, as he laid fred on his own bed. “fetch me the brandy—flask—no? well, get him a cup of coffee, if ye prefer it.”

“it will be better for him, father; besides, it is fortunately ready and hot.”

while the active girl ran to the outer room or “hall” of the hut for the desired beverage, paul slily forced a teaspoonful of diluted brandy into fred’s mouth. it had, at all events, the effect of restoring him to consciousness, for he opened his eyes and glanced from side to side with a bewildered air. then he sat up suddenly, and said—

“paul, the villains are on your track again. i’ve hastened ahead to tell you. i’d have been here sooner—but—but i’m—starving.”

“eat, then—eat before you speak, mr westly,” said betty, placing food before him.

“but the matter is urgent!” cried fred.

“hold on, mr fred,” said paul; “did you an’ the enemy—whoever he may be, though i’ve a pretty fair guess—start to come here together?”

“within the same hour, i should think.”

“an’ did you camp for the night?”

“no. at least i rested but one hour.”

“then swallow some grub an’ make your mind easy. they won’t be here for some hours yet, for you’ve come on at a rate that no party of men could beat, i see that clear enough—unless they was mounted.”

“but a few of the chief men were mounted, paul.”

“pooh! that’s nothing. chief men won’t come on without the or’nary men. it needs or’nary men, you know, to make chief ’uns. ha! ha! come, now, if you can’t hold your tongue, try to speak and eat at the same time.”

thus encouraged, fred set to work on some bread and cheese and coffee with all the gusto of a starving man, and, at broken intervals, blurted out all he knew and thought about the movements of the robber band, as well as his own journey and his parting with brixton.

“’tis a pity, an’ strange, too, that he was so obstinate,” observed paul.

“but he thought he was right” said betty; and then she blushed with vexation at having been led by impulse even to appear to justify her lover. but paul took no notice.

“it matters not,” said he, “for it happens that you have found us almost on the wing, westly. i knew full well that this fellow buxley—”

“they call him stalker, if you mean the robber chief” interrupted fred.

“pooh! did you ever hear of a robber chief without half a dozen aliases?” rejoined paul. “this buxley, havin’ found out my quarters, will never rest till he kills me; so as i’ve no fancy to leave my little betty in an unprotected state yet a while, we have packed up our goods and chattels—they ain’t much to speak of—and intend to leave the old place this very night. your friend stalker won’t attack till night—i know the villain well—but your news inclines me to set off a little sooner than i intended. so, what you have got to do is to lie down an’ rest while betty and i get the horse an’ cart ready. we’ve got a spare horse, which you’re welcome to. we sent little tolly trevor off to briant’s gulch to buy a pony for my little lass. he should have been back by this time if he succeeded in gettin’ it.”

“but where do you mean to go to?” asked fred.

“to simpson’s gully.”

“why, that’s where tom and i were bound for when we fell in with stalker and his band! we shall probably meet tom returning. but the road is horrible—indeed there is no road at all, and i don’t think a cart could—”

“oh! i know that” interrupted paul, “and have no intention of smashing up my cart in the woods. we shall go round by the plains, lad. it is somewhat longer, no doubt, but once away, we shall be able to laugh at men on foot if they are so foolish as to follow us. come now, betty, stir your stumps and finish your packing. i’ll go get the—”

a peculiar yell rent the air outside at that moment, cutting short the sentence, and almost petrifying the speaker, who sprang up and began frantically to bar the door and windows of the hut, at the same time growling, “they’ve come sooner than i expected. who’d have thought it! bar the small window at the back, betty, an’ then fetch all the weapons. i was so taken up wi’ you, fred, that i forgot to haul back the plank; that’s how they’ve got over. help wi’ this table—so—they’ll have some trouble to batter in the door wi’ that agin it, an’ i’ve a flankin’ battery at the east corner to prevent them settin’ the place on fire.”

while the man spoke he acted with violent haste. fred sprang up and assisted him, for the shock—coupled, no doubt, with the hot coffee and bread and cheese—had restored his energies, at least for the time, almost as effectually as if he had had a rest.

they were only just in time, for at that moment a man ran with a wild shout against the door. finding it fast, he kept thundering against it with his heavy boots, and shouting paul bevan’s name in unusually fierce tones.

“are ye there?” he demanded at last and stopped to listen.

“if you’ll make less noise mayhap ye’ll find out” growled paul.

“och! paul, dear, open av ye love me,” entreated the visitor, in a voice there was no mistaking.

“i do believe it’s my mate flinders!” said fred.

paul said nothing, but proved himself to be of the same opinion by hastily unbarring and opening the door, when in burst the irrepressible flinders, wet from head to foot, splashed all over with mud and blood, and panting like a race-horse.

“is that—tay ye’ve got there—my dear?” he asked in gasps.

“no, it is coffee. let me give you some.”

“thank ’ee kindly—fill it up—my dear. here’s wishin’—ye all luck!”

paddy drained the cup to the dregs, wiped his mouth on the cuff of his coat, and thus delivered himself—

“now, don’t all spake at wance. howld yer tongues an’ listen. av coorse, muster fred’s towld ye when an’ where an’ how i jined the blackguards. ye’ll be able now to guess why i did it. soon after i jined ’em i began to boast o’ my shootin’ in a way that would ha’ shocked me nat’ral modesty av i hadn’t done it for a raisin o’ me own. well, they boasted back, so i defied ’em to a trial, an’ soon showed ’em what i could do. there wasn’t wan could come near me wi’ the rifle. so they made me hunter-in-chief to the band then an’ there. i wint out at wance an’ brought in a good supply o’ game. then, as my time was short, you see, i gave ’em the slip nixt day an’ comed on here, neck an’ crop, through fire an’ water, like a turkey-buzzard wi’ the cholera. an’ so here i am, an’ they’ll soon find out i’ve given ’em the slip, an’ they’ll come after me, swearin’, perhaps; an’ if i was you, paul bevan, i wouldn’t stop to say how d’ye do to them.”

“no more i will, paddy—an’, by good luck, we’re about ready to start only i’ve got a fear for that poor boy tolly. if he comes back arter we’re gone an’ falls into their hands it’ll be a bad look-out for him.”

“no fear o’ tolly,” said flinders; “he’s a ’cute boy as can look after himself. by the way, where’s muster tom?”

the reason of brixton’s absence was explained to him by betty, who bustled about the house packing up the few things that could be carried away, while her father and fred busied themselves with the cart and horses outside. meanwhile the irishman continued to refresh himself with the bread and cheese.

“ye see it’s o’ no manner o’ use me tryin’ to help ye, my dear,” he said, apologetically, “for i niver was much of a hand at packin’, my exparience up to this time havin’ run pretty much in the way o’ havin’ little or nothin’ to pack. moreover, i’m knocked up as well as hungry, an’ ye seem such a good hand that it would be a pity to interfere wid ye. is there any chance o’ little tolly turnin’ up wi’ the pony before we start?”

“every chance,” replied the girl, smiling, in spite of herself, at the man’s free-and-easy manner rather than his words. “he ought to have been here by this time. we expect him every moment.”

but these expectations were disappointed, for, when they had packed the stout little cart, harnessed and saddled the horses, and were quite ready to start, the boy had not appeared.

“we durstn’t delay,” said paul, with a look of intense annoyance, “an’ i can’t think of how we are to let him know which way we’ve gone, for i didn’t think of telling him why we wanted another pony.”

“he can read, father. we might leave a note for him on the table, and if he arrives before the robbers that would guide him.”

“true, betty; but if the robbers should arrive before him, that would also guide them.”

“but we’re so sure of his returning almost immediately,” urged betty.

“not so sure o’ that, lass. no, we durstn’t risk it, an’ i can’t think of anything else. poor tolly! he’ll stand a bad chance, for he’s sure to come gallopin’ up, an’ singin’ at the top of his voice in his usual reckless way.”

“cudn’t we stick up a bit o’ paper in the way he’s bound to pass, wid a big wooden finger to point it out and the word ‘notice’ on it writ big?”

“oh! i know what i’ll do,” cried betty. “tolly will be sure to search all over the place for us, and there’s one place, a sort of half cave in the cliff, where he and i used to read together. he’ll be quite certain to look there.”

“right, lass, an’ we may risk that, for the reptiles won’t think o’ sarchin’ the cliff. go, betty; write, ‘we’re off to simpson’s gully, by the plains. follow hard.’ that’ll bring him on if they don’t catch him—poor tolly!”

in a few minutes the note was written and stuck on the wall of the cave referred to; then the party set off at a brisk trot, paul, betty, and flinders in the cart, while fred rode what its owner styled the spare horse.

they had been gone about two hours, when stalker, alias buxley, and his men arrived in an unenviable state of rage, for they had discovered flinders’s flight, had guessed its object, and now, after hastening to bevan’s gully at top speed, had reached it to find the birds flown.

this they knew at once from the fact that the plank-bridge, quadrupled in width to let the horse and cart pass, had been left undrawn as if to give them a mocking invitation to cross. stalker at once accepted the invitation. the astute bevan had, however, anticipated and prepared for this event by the clever use of a saw just before leaving. when the robber-chief gained the middle of the bridge it snapped in two and let him down with a horrible rending of wood into the streamlet, whence he emerged like a half-drowned rat, amid the ill-suppressed laughter of his men. the damage he received was slight. it was only what flinders would have called, “a pleasant little way of showing attintion to his inimy before bidding him farewell.”

of course every nook and corner of the stronghold was examined with the utmost care—also with considerable caution, for they knew not how many more traps and snares might have been laid for them. they did not, however, find those for whom they sought, and, what was worse in the estimation of some of the band, they found nothing worth carrying away. only one thing did they discover that was serviceable, namely, a large cask of gunpowder in the underground magazine formerly mentioned. bevan had thought of blowing this up before leaving, for his cart was already too full to take it in, but the hope that it might not be discovered, and that he might afterwards return to fetch it away, induced him to spare it.

of course all the flasks and horns of the band were replenished from this store, but there was still left a full third of the cask which they could not carry away. with this the leader determined to blow up the hut, for he had given up all idea of pursuing the fugitives, he and his men being too much exhausted for that.

accordingly the cask was placed in the middle of the hut and all the unportable remains of paul bevan’s furniture were piled above it. then a slow match was made by rubbing gunpowder on some long strips of calico. this was applied and lighted, and the robbers retired to a spot close to a spring about half a mile distant, where they could watch the result in safety while they cooked some food.

but these miscreants were bad judges of slow matches! their match turned out to be very slow. so slow that they began to fear it had gone out—so slow that the daylight had time to disappear and the moon to commence her softly solemn journey across the dark sky—so slow that stalker began seriously to think of sending a man to stir up the spark, though he thought there might be difficulty in finding a volunteer for the dangerous job—so slow that a certain reckless little boy came galloping towards the fortress on a tall horse with a led pony plunging by his side—all before the spark of the match reached its destination and did its work.

then, at last, there came a flush that made the soft moon look suddenly paler, and lighted up the world as if the sun had shot a ray right through it from the antipodes. this was followed by a crash and a roar that caused the solid globe itself to vibrate and sent paul bevan’s fortress into the sky a mass of blackened ruins. one result was that a fiendish cheer arose from the robbers’ camp, filling the night air with discord. another result was that the happy-go-lucky little boy and his horses came to an almost miraculous halt and remained so for some time, gazing straight before them in a state of abject amazement!