Story 3--Chapter XV.

This bullet was wider of the mark, but a dull feeling of despair seized upon Murray, as, leaving his gun, he glided back to where Katie crouched, telling himself that he could not die with her so close at hand, without a farewell.No words, though, were uttered, as he took the weeping girl to his heart; and then, softly unclasping the arms that tightened round his neck, he left her, whispering the words, “Pray for us!”As Murray retook his place, another bullet almost instantly struck up the splinters of stone, blinding him for a few minutes, and compelling him to wipe the blood from his face.It seemed that Wahika was not within sight of their enemy, for no shot had been aimed at him; and now, with a low-muttered exclamation of resentment, he crawled to his companion’s side, and with him watched in vain for an opportunity to fire. They could see again the raised arm above the rock as the ramrod was driven into the piece; then came the puff of smoke, there was a dull thud by Murray’s side, and, springing up with a cry of rage, the savage shook his piece fiercely for an instant in the direction of his foe, and then fell, rolling to the back of the ledge, bleeding profusely.In spite of his efforts, a despairing groan burst from Murray’s breast as he saw his faithful ally gasping upon the rock, his teeth set with anguish, and the tide of life welling from a wound in his shoulder. But, after the first cry of rage and pain, no sound escaped the savage, and he lay passive; while, between them, Murray and the girl did what they could to stop the effusion of blood, for the bullet had passed completely through his shoulder.Cheer after cheer had greeted this success, and half-a-dozen shots were fired in a volley at the face of the rock, but only to bring down a shower of stones; and on turning once more to regain his place, to his horror, Murray made out that the convict, elated by his victory, and missing both of his enemies, had climbed a little higher, so as to better command the ledge, forgetful that he was exposing himself to his enemy’s aim.Just then Murray once more appeared in sight, when the startled wretch dropped to his former position, but not quite in so secure a fashion, for his fall swept down a portion of the foliage that had before concealed him; and as two reports rang out almost as one, Murray had the satisfaction of seeing a hand thrown up, and the convict’s gun fall clattering down into the gully.Murray loaded again as expeditiously as possible; but seeing that his antagonist was helpless, he refrained from firing another shot, reserving it for the next who should attempt to scale the gully-side, and it was not long before he had an opportunity; but his aim was bad, and he had the misery of seeing another daring fellow climb to the rock, and then coolly shelter himself behind his comrade’s body.Watching attentively his enemy’s movements, Murray prepared to recharge his piece; but once more his heart sank, for he had sent his last bullet winging its way; and on turning to Wahika, he found that the charge in the savage’s gun was the last that he, too, possessed.There was nothing for it but to withdraw into such shelter as he could reach—little enough; for the fresh man, more energetic even than his disabled fellow, kept on firing furiously, but without effect; while terribly unnerved by this enforced inactivity, the horrors of thirst now attacked afresh the occupants of the ledge, the wounded savage’s sufferings seeming to be intense, as he turned his dull eyes from one to the other, as if asking the help they could not give.The sun rose higher and higher; and, save the occasional shout of directions to the man on the rock, the convicts preserved an almost unbroken silence. But, suddenly, Murray saw three or four begin to dart from stone to stone, as if in retreat, and descend the gully; but too unguarded an exposure of himself brought a bullet whizzing by his ear, and he felt, with justice, that those who had gone had probably departed on a foraging expedition, while they were to lie there and die.“Would no help come? Had there not now been ample time?” he asked himself, as he gazed at poor Katie’s parched white lips. Their thirst was terrible, while their sufferings were like those of Tantalus; for, in full view, they could see the cold water trickle from stone to stone, and drop plashing into the rocky basin beneath their feet.What should he do? Should he leave her to fall alive into the hands of the convicts, or should he—He covered his face with his hands and groaned, as the bright scene of the happy home—the rifled nest—came flashing through his memory.“Don’t heed me, Katie,” he whispered, as he felt his hands drawn away from his face, to be kissed and pressed to a tender throbbing heart. “Don’t heed me. I’m weak and childish with my wounds, and it unmans me to see you in such peril.”“Hush, hush,” whispered the poor girl; “do not grieve. It cannot be very hard to die—not very. See there, how poor Wahika, who has fought so nobly, seems to bear his fate; for he is going, Ned,” she continued; and she pointed to the glazing eyes and motionless form at their side. “If that poor savage can die so peacefully, cannot we, who have received so much greater light, pass away even as gently as he?”The young man sighed heavily, as he pressed her again and again to his breast, but he could not speak.“Will they kill us quickly, Ned?” she went on. “I hope so now; for things seem strange, darling, and I want you to hold me tightly—O, so tightly; for it is as though I were being dragged away; and I can see dear father beckoning to me, and—Yes, yes; I’m coming!” Looking up suddenly in Murray’s face, she kissed him tenderly. “Good-night, father dear!” she murmured; “it was a dream, a troubled dream; and my head, my head—”The heat had now grown insufferable, and the silence down the gully that of death—so complete, that when, as Katie lay there with her head upon Murray’s breast, she started and laughed a little happy-sounding laugh, it seemed to be repeated from the mountain side.“There, there!” she muttered gently; “I can sleep now; but it was terrible—yes, it was terrible—such dreams are bad. Poor Ned! his face all crimsoned, and his hands blackened with powder. But he was fighting for me—for me whom he loves—and—Yet did they not kill him?—did they not leave him in the burning—Ned!” she added, starting, as it were, into sensibility again, and gazing at him with terror-stricken eyes, “what was it? What did it mean? Was it real?”Then she trailed off again into a broken incoherent murmur, now lifting her parched lips to his, then hiding her face in her hands; but these fits of delirium were succeeded by moments of calm.Hour after hour, Murray crouched there—alone now, he told himself, for poor Katie’s mind seemed to have passed away. She had borne up bravely, but her sufferings had been greater than she could bear; and Murray knew that if the prayed-for help came not soon, there would be nothing for him to do but to meet the bullets ready for his breast, for all would be over, and the tragedy of Golden Gap complete.Story 3--Chapter XV.Seeking Aid.Slowly up the sheep-track toiled the minister’s pony with its sad burden.Seeing how painful was any attempt at consolation to the stricken woman, Mr Meadows dropped behind, thoughtfully gazing around from time to time, and whenever from a turn of the road there was a view of the rifled hut, pausing to take a long and sorrowful look at the ruins of the once happy home. But not once did he draw the attention of Mrs Lee to the scene.How he thought of the quiet Eden-like aspect of the place as he had descended that toilsome way; the picturesque house, with its sheep and cattle dotted about; but now, though the scene was the same, and a clump of trees often hid from view the ruined house, yet how changed all seemed to his weary gaze!Catching the pony’s bridle, when he had regained his place by its side, he began to try and hurry its pace, but without effect. Making, therefore, a virtue of necessity, they trudged slowly on until, with a sigh of relief, the ravine which led over the summit was reached, the view of Golden Gap shut out, and the next valley beginning to open before them.What should he do? Go from station to station, telling the terrible news, and summoning the settlers to take arms for the purpose of crushing an enemy that might assault each farm in turn, or hurry on to the settlement at Kaitaka Bay, and there spread the alarm?His reason told him that this latter would be the slower process, while if he trusted to the settlers in these far-off regions, the news would set them aflame, and they would muster readily. There would be no cumbrous arrangements for the expedition, but each man would seize his piece and mount horse, ready to join the little levy, and help to drive the invader from the neighbourhood of his home—the home which each had won for himself from the wilderness, and which was now in danger from these marauders.He halted for a while by the side of one of the many streams, pressing upon his companion food and rest beneath the shady foliage, and watched her in the hope that sleep would visit the weeping woman—a short halt being absolutely necessary, on account of the ruggedness of their path, the excessive heat in the ravines, and the distance they had to travel.Seeing, however, that Mrs Lee’s thoughts were wholly upon bringing rescue to her child, they were soon again upon their way, and before many hours were over, receiving the hearty welcome of a bluff settler, who with his wife and child stood at his door to receive the travellers.“Glad to see you, Mrs Lee,” he exclaimed. “And where’s Martin? Parson Meadows, too! But what’s wrong? Why, you’ve got a cut on the head there, and—what does it all mean?”Mr Meadows led him aside, wondering, as he saw Mrs Lee throwing herself sobbing into his wife’s arms. The business was soon explained, and the settler’s hearty English face grew stern and overcast.“Heaven preserve us!” he muttered. “Poor Martin Lee! and it might have been here first! But are you in earnest, parson? Convicts?—landed? What should they come here for?”“Spoil!—plunder!—desolation!” replied Mr Meadows.The settler drew his guest into the house, forced him into a chair, and then dashed out of the room, shouting to a couple of his men. Ten minutes after, two stout well-mounted fellows galloped off in different directions.“Mr Meadows,” said the settler, returning to where he had left his visitor, “I couldn’t go myself and leave them, or I’d have been one of those to gallop off; but the news will spread fast, and by morning we shall have a gathering here, I hope, that shall crush out these blood-thirsty locusts. Don’t think me unneighbourly that I did not go myself.”“A man’s first worldly duty is to his wife and children, friend Lawler,” said Mr Meadows. “I blame you not, for we may perchance even yet have to fight for them before help comes.”“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed the settler; but he took down with nervousness fowling-piece and rifle, and began to wipe and oil them ready for service.“I’d almost ask you to help in a time of need like this,” he continued, “but for your cloth.”“Help, friend Lawler! Yes, I’ll help; for I have already turned man of war in defence of the Moa’s Nest, and am afraid that I did some mischief amongst these men you call locusts; but they deserved it all, I fear.”“Fear, parson!” exclaimed the other. “I would that you had had the scoundrels in a row, so that one bullet would have killed the lot! It would have been the best message of peace you ever sent through the district.”“But had I not better ride in some other direction to summon help? If you could lend me another horse, I would gladly go: Joey, my pony, is slow, and not suited to the work.”The settler mused for a few moments.“You might ride to Black Rock!” he returned. “It will be a dark journey, and a long one; but the Allens would come to a man, and all stanch fellows, who can use a rifle.”“Put on the saddle, and give me a morsel of bread; for no time should be lost. You will be kind to our poor afflicted sister.”“Kind!” was the reply, in such a tone that the clergyman smiled gently, and pressed the rough hand extended to him.Half-an-hour after, he was in the saddle and galloping in the direction of Black Rock.He was no mean horseman, and mile after mile was left behind, till the darkness and the increasing difficulties of the road compelled him to go more slowly—at a rate, indeed, that but ill accorded with the impatience of his spirit, now that he was in some degree rested and refreshed. For, during the early part of his journey from the Moa’s Nest, he had suffered from a strange feeling of oppression, due to his late sufferings; but this was fast wearing off. And now, troubled in mind about the fate of those he sought to save, he once more pushed on, till the broken ground again compelled him to draw rein.Long residence, and occasional visits from station to station, had made him pretty familiar with the roads; and as the horse picked its way along the stony part they were passing, he began to calculate how many men could be mustered; how long it would be before help could be afforded; and whether that help would be in time.He pressed his horse forward as these last thoughts came, until he was again progressing at a long swinging gallop. He had been some three or four times to Black Rock, but not by this road, which was not familiar to him; but, keeping to the track, he pressed on till it seemed to end in a stony wilderness, when he once more had to draw rein; for the rugged path required careful riding. Here the track seemed almost lost; but just in front two valleys opened out, and in his directions his host had told him to take the left—no, the right—no, the left. Was it to the left? His head must be weak and confused, he told himself; for the settler had explained exactly and carefully the route he should follow.He grew excited as he recalled the importance of his making speed, and at last drew up, pained and troubled. He essayed to go a little way along the valley to the right, but in a doubtful fashion; and, drawing rein at the end of a mile, he rode hastily back, feeling assured that he was wrong; and on reaching the headland that separated the valleys, he urged his steed onward, peering eagerly in advance the while, in search of some tokens of civilised man.He was angry with himself for the mistake he had made—wasting minutes that might prove to have been of inestimable value; but he felt that he must soon reach the settlement now, since it was situated in the bottom of the valley, and could not be missed even by a traveller by night.On past long park-like sweeps of rich land, varied by portions where the valley closed in till huge nestling crags, crowned with glorious vegetation, made darker the way he traversed, and seemed threatening to topple over upon the traveller; but still no signs of civilisation: no shepherd’s hut, no folding hurdles, no cattle—all solitary and grand. Twice the idea occurred to him that he must, after all, be wrong; but he rejected or crushed down the thought, and hurried his horse along; for it had begun to show signs of fatigue.Then Mr Meadows allowed the reins to fall upon the poor beast’s neck, while he tried to think out the best course to pursue.But little reflection sufficed to make him understand his position—he had been mistaken in the route he was to have pursued. He sighed heavily as he acknowledged his failing; for it was but too true. With Katie Lee in the hands of the convicts, and that young man awaiting the succour he was to bring, he had wandered from the right path, and travelled miles upon miles out of his way.Story 3--Chapter XVI.Collecting the Levy.John Lawler barricaded his place as strongly as he could for the night; and then, with loaded gun and rifle by his side, he awaited the return of the messengers. He felt that there was not much cause for fear; but he determined to watch and wait.Soon after reaching the hospitable place, Mrs Lee had sunk back in her chair, faint and exhausted.It was anxious work for the master of the house, watching alone, with the knowledge that a terrible danger might at any time come upon his home. As the darkness came on, sounds, heretofore passed unnoticed, seemed to have an ominous import. Each time a dog barked the watcher started, and tried to pierce the distant gloom, seeing in every tree an enemy, and a lurker behind every bush.After a while, watching in the silence, he started; for his wife had stolen to his side, begging to be allowed to stay with him, since Mrs Lee slept heavily, and she feared to be alone.John Lawler tried to persuade her to go; but not energetically. And then the couple watched on, shivering at every sound, until there came, from a distance, the tramp of a horse, at a slow weary pace; and at last one of the settler’s own beasts made its way into the yard, and then into the familiar stable by the side.Lawler went out, to find that the animal was saddled and bridled; but on leading it into the yard, he found that it halted on one of its forelegs.“Must have fallen lame,” he muttered; “and Sam has gone on, thinking the poor brute would find its way back.”Another hour’s watching, and then came again the slow pacing of a horse; but this time there was a man leading it; and upon his coming up, Lawler heard that the horse had stumbled in the dark, fallen, and thrown his rider heavily, the poor fellow having been hardly able to make his way back to the station.Then came more watching, hour after hour, till daylight began to chase away the dim shadows of night.John Lawler’s spirits rose as the sun sent its warm rays once more over the brightened earth; but he shuddered as he thought that perhaps that night the home that he had been years in winning from the wilderness might become a blackened ruin.Hour after hour passed but no gathering party of neighbours clustered round; and though Lawler climbed from time to time the hill behind his house, there was no sign of Sam.After all these hours, surely, he thought, some neighbours might have come down to his help. Supposing that his place had been attacked, it would have been by this time a heap of blood-stained ashes. His brow knit as he watched, here for enemies, there for friends, with none to meet his eye, and the lines on his brow told the inquietude of his mind. At last, maddened with anxiety, he summoned his wife, had the two lamed beasts and Mr Meadow’s pony brought out, and prepared to mount the two women, and flee farther inland, to where there were friends.“I’d stop and fight to the last gasp for my bit of property, Nell,” said Lawler to his wife, “if it wasn’t for you and the child.”“No, no; let’s go,” she replied, as if fearing that he might stay.The few arrangements being made, the little caravan had prepared to start, when a cheery shout from the men made Lawler shade his eyes, and his heart leapt up as he saw two mounted men, each carrying a gun, come cantering up.“Hallo!” exclaimed one. “Just off out—pilgrimage to Egypt, eh? And Mrs Lee, too! How are you all? Bad job, though; for we wanted a rest and feed for the horses. S’pose we can have that all the same?”John Lawler laid his hand upon the saddle of the speaker, and looking wonderingly in his face, he said:“What! didn’t the news reach you last night?”“News?” echoed the other.Lawler drew him down, and whispered in his ear, so that the drooping woman upon the horse should not hear again of the horrors that had devastated her home.“Good God!” exclaimed the new-comer. “But have you sent out for help?”“Yes,” said Lawler; “three messengers. One miscarried; and I’ve had no news yet of the others.”A short conference was held as the new-comers, with darkened brows, learned more fully the state of affairs, and discussed it with John Lawler—earnestly, too, since each had a stake in the district, and knew full well that his might be the next turn to suffer as had suffered the family of Martin Lee.Five minutes after, Lawler’s wife was clinging to him, begging that, for the child’s sake, he would accompany her to a place of safety; but although torn to the heart, the settler held firm. In a short consultation, it had been decided to let the women proceed, accompanied by Lawler’s crippled man, while the three remained to garrison the little farm, and cover the retreat of the fugitives, agreeing that, if hard pressed, they could but follow them.“We must stay and help one another,” said Lawler gloomily. “You attend to poor Lee’s wife; we’ll see if we cannot save his child.”“But could not he stay?” said his wife piteously, as she pointed to the man.“Would you have your husband turn coward, Nell?” Lawler said gently. “Should we not say that man was contemptible who kept back from us in time of need? Be a woman! There will be help soon; and it would never do now for neighbours to come at my asking, and find me gone. Half an hour ago it was different, and there was good excuse; now there is none.”Mrs Lawler uttered no complaint; only one sob rose from her breast as she hung on her husband’s neck; and then, with the man leading the horses, the party passed slowly out of sight.“Heaven be praised!” said one of the new-comers. “One seems free to act now.”After a little consideration, it was determined that nothing better could be done than for one of the party in turn to act as scout, and watch the ravine leading towards the Gap, the only way by which danger could approach; while the others patiently waited the succour that was expected.Story 3--Chapter XVII.The Start.Hour after hour the little rescuing party waited for further assistance; for sooner or later they well knew that there would be a strong gathering; but night was fast approaching before two horsemen were seen; and of these one, Mr Meadows, had to be lifted from his horse, and then supported into the house.“Better soon, friends all,” he said feebly. “I’ve been hard tried lately.” And then he sank into a chair, and would have fainted, but for some brandy. “I’ve proved a sorry messenger, friend Lawler,” he said after a pause. “You see, I was a good deal knocked about at the Nest, and I took the wrong track, and was lost; and, but for my horse, I fear there would have been no help through me. I was confused and weak, and not myself; but don’t be hard upon me.”“I came on with him directly,” said the fresh arrival; “and I’ve sent round in all directions; but it will be some hours before more help can come.”But still this was a reinforcement; for the settler was well armed, and loaded with ammunition; while, just as it grew dark, there came the sharp “thud, thud” of horses’ hoofs, and Lawler’s first messenger hastily came up with three neighbours, armed, and eager to assist.“The mare fell lame,” said the man, “before we’d gone three miles; so I turned her loose, and tramped it.”“And I was cattle-driving,” said one. “And I at the sheep-station,” said another. While the third had been ill in bed; but forgot his pains when the dire news was brought.Again there was a council of war; and it was decided that nothing better could be done than to wait for daylight and farther reinforcements.“Don’t you think so, Lawler?” said one of his friends, noticing that the settler looked gloomy and discontented.“Yes, I think so,” he said. “It’s quite right—quite right; but I could not help thinking of those poor creatures waiting for our help, and wondering, hour after hour, why no aid comes. But we have done our best, neighbours, and I must agree that it would be folly to go on now in the dark, and weak-handed; for I suppose they would still outnumber us, according to Mr Meadows’s account.”“It’s giving them a few more hours to live,” said one of the last arrivals grimly; “for I’m afraid they will not meet with much mercy.”“Nor give much,” said another. And then he made a motion to the rest to preserve silence; for Mr Meadows was listening, half shuddering, to the remarks made.“What do you advise, parson?” said one, who had not yet spoken. “You know most about this sad business. Should we go or stay?”“Friend Laing,” said Mr Meadows feebly, “I would that you had not asked me that question. With the thoughts of that poor lamb in the clutches of those ravening wolves, my heart says, Go—go at once, and strike to save her. But then reason saith, Would you send these men—fathers of children, dear husbands of loving and anxious wives—to encounter useless peril, and come to ruin and death, for want of a little care? But I think this: the miles are long between this and the Moa’s Nest. Suppose that we proceeded with caution during the dark cool hours, so as to be ready to pursue the task at daybreak? One of your number could stay here, ready to bring on the rest of our friends when they arrive; while, without proceeding to attack, we might draw off the attention of the convicts, as well as succour Edward Murray and the brave savage, who must be faint and weary long ere this—if they still live,” he muttered to himself.The advice was received with general tokens of satisfaction; but when it came to the question who should stay behind, no man displayed his willingness to undertake that tame part of the duty. One suggested that Mr Meadows would be unable to accompany them; but he did not know the stanch spirit of the old man, who sturdily declared his intention of following.“This food and rest were all I required,” he said; “and I shall be no hindrance to you. My pony will bear me; and if I should be left behind for a while, I daresay I can overtake you.”Seeing his determination, lots were drawn as to who should stay; for there was a certain feeling of respect shown by all towards their common friend.The preparations were soon made, each man carrying a supply of provisions; and then they filed cautiously along the track, keeping ever on the alert, for each man knew that at any time a volley from behind some clump of trees or rocks far overhead, might perhaps empty half the saddles of the little party.Story 3--Chapter XVIII.The Avengers’ Way.Daylight found them standing, dark of face, around the barely cold ashes of the Moa’s Nest; and the stern determination of the party might have been read in their compressed lips and fierce looks, as more than one man mentally registered an oath of the stern vengeance he would take for this cruel desolation of a peaceful home.A short interval of rest and refreshment, and the horses were stabled in one of the sheds yet standing; arms were examined, and the party began to ascend the Gap, slowly and cautiously, for they knew that unless the convicts had made their way round by the sea, they must be somewhere higher up, amongst these natural fortresses.It was a very slow rate at which they progressed, for they anxiously searched for and examined every trace left by the convicts, though these were comparatively few, Wahika having previously picked up and hidden the greater part as he followed the ruffianly crew.But soon these tokens disappeared, and they pressed on higher and higher, watching eagerly for farther signs of their enemy.Once the foremost man halted, holding up his hand as a sign to those who followed, for there was the distant sound as of a gun; but it reached their ears in a strange, muffled way, as if discharged on the other side of the mountains; and another, which followed soon after, was even less distinct.“They must be farther up, round the bend,” said one; and on they proceeded, taking advantage of every inequality for concealment. Every man’s rifle was ready to reply to the shot which was expected at any instant; but on they still went, without encountering a foe.Hour after hour had passed; and at length, heated and wearied, a halt was called by the side of a rapid, babbling stream. Provisions were brought out, and then, for the first time, it was seen that one of the party was missing.“Where’s the parson?” exclaimed the one who first made the discovery; when, upon comparing notes, it was found that he had not been noticed by any one for some hours.“Poor old fellow, he could not keep up,” said Lawler. “We shall find him under a tree, resting, when we go back. He was not without food, fortunately, for I saw that he had it, or he would have gone without.”“I hope no mischief will befall him,” said another; and then they fell to consulting, in cautious tones, as to the next best proceeding; whether to press on farther, or to retrace their steps, and examine some of the ravines, so as to join the strength they hoped by that time to meet approaching from the lower part of the Gap, while, at the same time, they would pick up Mr Meadows.“I should be for going on,” said Lawler, “only that I think the last plan is the better; for I can’t help thinking they have never come up here. Let’s go back: we’re losing time.”Following out his suggestion, the men rose, and began, with the same precautions, to retrace their steps, by this time spreading out in a more extended line; while, about the same time, a party of a dozen friends commenced the ascent of the Gap, following the plainly-marked track left by the first detachment.Story 3--Chapter XIX.Mr Meadows’s Weakness.Mr Meadows struggled on, hour after hour, with his companions, only enabled to keep up with them by their exceedingly slow progress; for, from time to time, he would sit for a few minutes while they passed on for some little distance, and then, following the track, he would overtake them at their slow, watchful pace.He pressed on; sometimes tottering, sometimes resting so long that he had to strive hard to reach the last man. The heat seemed to overcome him; and at last, seating himself by the bright stream, upon whose banks he was, he let five, ten, twenty minutes, an hour slip away, heedless of all save the exhaustion that had enervated him.Gradually a delicious sleep stole upon him, and then for a while all was blank.But at length the weary man awoke, and started in pursuit of his companions, reproaching himself for his cruelty in sleeping at an hour like this; though, at the time, his forward progress was but a weary totter from tree to tree, against whose trunks he was often glad to lean his hands.“It is of no use,” he groaned. “I’m worn out; and until Nature has done her part of restoration, I am helpless as a child.”He sat down, and rested again, and then rose; for the distant report of a gun fell upon his ear; repeated, too, once or twice; and turning from his companions’ track, he faced towards that side of the Gap from amidst whose craggy fastnesses the sound seemed to proceed.“I have no strength,” muttered Mr Meadows feebly; “but I have still my eyesight, and I may be able to play the spy. Why are they not here? They have gone on too far; but if they hear the firing, they will soon return.”He passed through the dense undergrowth, and then stopped short, for he had hit upon a well-marked track, which looked as if the grass had been trampled down by footprints to and fro.“Strange,” he said, “that it should fall to the weakest of the party to discover this. I’ll go on; but not in the guise of warfare;” and he leaned his gun against a tree, and toiled patiently along the track. No easy task, for it led up and up, along the valley side, higher and higher; each few steps giving a view over the tops of the trees just passed.“Not the way taken by the gallant young man,” he muttered, “for not one of the branches he was to have broken, has met my eye. It is plain that I have not struck upon his track; but I may be able to report good news to our friends on my return.”Once more came the faint, muffled sound of a gun; and collecting his fast-flagging energies, Mr Meadows pushed on, until breathless, and with bleeding hands and knees, he stood looking down with astonishment into a little rocky amphitheatre, strewn with provisions and the plunder taken by the convicts from the Moa’s Nest.He stepped down, for the place appeared to be quite forsaken, and vainly tried to make out the cause of its being untenanted, when, looking round, he started with dismay; for half-seated, half-lying, with his back to the rocks, was the form of a human being, but so disfigured, that it seemed impossible for life to exist in such a ruin. But life was there; for, to the clergyman’s horror, he saw that the man was engaged with a knife in his left hand, slowly and deliberately trying to back off his right at the wrist.For a few moments, Mr Meadows could not speak; then, hurrying up, he arrested the man, exclaiming, “Surely, friend, that operation cannot be necessary?”“Let it be—let it be,” was the answer, in a strange, muttering voice, which came from the mutilated face. “It’s a vile hand—a bad hand, stained with crime.”It required but little effort to wrest the knife from the convict’s hand; and then, binding a handkerchief round the bleeding wrist, Mr Meadows gazed, shuddering, in the man’s face, as his head fell back, and he fainted.“He cannot live through those injuries,” muttered the clergyman. And leaning forward, he dropped a little brandy from the flask he carried between the man’s lips, when, after a few minutes, he revived, and spoke in a more collected way.“Is any one there?” he asked.“Yes; there is one here,” was the reply.“Come back to finish your work, I suppose?” said the man hoarsely; and he raised his arms, as if to protect his head, but only to drop them directly.“Where are your companions?”“Companions—companions?” said the wounded man inquiringly. “Who, then, are you?”“One of those whom you so much injured.”“Injured—injured? What does it mean? What’s this red blind over my eyes? Where are we—in the valley? Or—I can’t see—can’t see with my eyes, nor yet with my understanding!” he gasped, apparently struggling hard with his misty, clouded intellect. “Yes, I can—I know now. Where is the girl?”“Yes; where is the poor girl?” repeated Mr Meadows anxiously; and he again poured a few drops between the poor wretch’s lips.“Girl! Yes, yes; I saved her. I told young Murray I’d pay him. Lee’s girl, the other woman told me. I knew the Lees once, at home. Yes, at home; and I saved her twice, andtheysaved her.”He trailed off into a wild, incoherent string; and in spite of all Mr Meadows’s efforts and anxiety, no farther information could he obtain. He was about to turn and leave the dreadful spectacle, when he felt a light touch upon his arm; and starting round, he saw, standing pale and trembling by his side, a woman whom he hardly recognised as one of the shepherds’ wives he had more than once seen at the Moa’s Nest.He elicited that she had lain concealed amidst the ferns for many hours past, so overcome with dread, that, though provisions in abundance had been almost within sight, she had not dared to crawl out until she heard a voice she knew to be friendly.She told, too, how the miserable man at their side had twice acted in defence of Katie and herself; and how, in the midst of a wild struggle and confusion, Katie had been snatched away: when, availing herself of the absence of the convicts in pursuit, the woman had crawled amongst the ferns, and lain there, not daring to more. Then, some time after, she heard the oaths and raging of the men on their return, and the murderous way in which they had set upon their companion, whom they accused of betraying them, leaving him at last, probably for dead.“And I did not dare to move, sir,” she sobbed; “but had to lie there, listening to his groans, hour after hour, till I prayed that he might die out of his misery, as I felt that I must, or else be driven mad.”“But where do you think they are now?” said Mr Meadows.“Somewhere up the valley that runs beside here, sir; and that’s where Miss Katie must have been taken, if they’ve not killed her, for there’s been shooting ever since.”“Did you not see who snatched her away?”“No, sir, no; it was all in the night-time, when she was clinging tightly to me, and I was struck down at the same moment.”“Let us descend from here, my child,” he said; “for there are friends below in the valley, seeking for us.”He turned to lead his new companion away, but she suddenly exclaimed, “They’re coming again! O, sir, save me—save me!”—and she clung to Mr Meadows, who heard far down below him the rustling and snapping of the trees, as if several people were forcing their way through them. “That’s the way they went,” sobbed the woman; “and they’re coming again.”Mr Meadows had no doubt as to the truth of what she said; and glancing round, he tried to make out the part of the rocky wall around by which he had descended, but for a while his efforts were fruitless; and he could not leave the woman to search for his path, since at the least effort to unclasp her hands, she clung to him the tighter, imploring him in whispers not to leave her—not to go away.“No, no; we will go together. Quick! the wretches are upon us, and we shall be taken. Heaven give me strength! What shall I do?”His tones were anguished, for the crashing through the leaves seemed now to be close at hand; while, as he spoke, the woman fell from him, quite inanimate.“Must I leave her?” he murmured to himself; and then he stooped and tried to lift her, but it was beyond his strength, and in his despair it seemed to him that he must be already seen. An hour sooner, he would not have cared so much; but, with the information he had gained and the care of this poor creature upon his hands, he felt that he would give anything to escape; for might not this snatching away of Katie mean an act of daring performed by Murray or the savage, and the shots fired, a conflict still going on between them?The leaves and boughs crashed together, and whoever they were, either friends or foes, were coming ever nearer and nearer.(Twelve lines of the scan are not readable here.)The trees could be plainly seen moving now, and Mr Meadows caught a glimpse of an approaching figure. It was only a shadowy glimpse, but exerting his little remaining strength he dragged his companion on her side, forced her down amongst the waving undergrowth, and then crouched himself, gazing with swimming eyes between the strands down into the amphitheatre, and wondering whether, after all, his efforts had not been in vain.Story 3--Chapter XX.Friends in Need.It seemed almost impossible for the convicts not to have seen them, as now, to the number of five, they leaped down and seized the provisions that lay scattered about, hunting out such bottles as remained, and more than once coming so near to Mr Meadows that he hardly dared to breathe. Then they went farther away, first one and then another, contemptuously kicking the body of their late associate.But it was after they had gathered and tied up a portion of the food that the danger of the hiding couple culminated; for once more drawing near, a convict said:“Now then, down into the valley once, just for a look about for squalls, and then back again.”“After breakfast and a bit of ’bacca,” said another, coolly seating himself, when his companions laughed and followed his example.Mr Meadows shuddered. They were so near, that he felt that they must hear them if they moved; and still he knew that in another few minutes they would trample upon him and the woman in their downward progress. It must be done; the attempt must be made; and after turning and gazing at the convicts, he bent down towards the pale face at his side.He had no occasion to speak; for he read in her looks that she had heard every sound. He dared not trust himself to state his wishes, but pointed along the track so plainly marked through the long grass, here abundant; and slowly the woman rose to her knees, then, with a slight rustling, to her feet, and began to glide gently away.Mr Meadows could not watch her, but dared only to keep his eyes fixed upon those of one of the seated convicts, just seen through the leaves; when, to his consternation, he saw him shift his position so as to gaze, as it were, right in his watcher’s face, till, trembling with dread, Mr Meadows’s eyelids sunk, and he knelt there motionless.When he again unclosed his eyes, the man had ceased to look in his direction; and then, calling up his strength, he slowly backed, inch by inch, upon his hands and knees, till the descending nature of the ground took him below the edge which overhung the depression where the convicts were seated. Then, and then only, he raised himself gradually into a stooping position, listened attentively, and, with beating heart, began softly, step by step, to follow the woman, whose own retreat he tried vainly to hear.Gradually he set down each foot, lest a sound should follow, holding his breath, and pressing a hand upon his heart to stay its throbbings; when, accelerating his pace, he strode on to overtake the woman, whom he could now see hurrying down from stone to stone, or along the well-marked grassy track, with fear-given wings.He trembled lest she should miss the track in her fright; but no, she kept to it without deviating, until she reached the spot where Mr Meadows left his gun; and there he overtook her.What was to be his course? Should they proceed farther up the Gap, or down towards the ruins? Friends should be coming from either way, unless they had returned, and passed downwards, giving up the search so far, until joined by the expected reinforcements.He was woodman enough, though, from his long residence in the colony, to be able, in a short time, to determine whether his companions had returned. Though the upward tracks were easy to find, no descending footprints could he discover; but a joyful cry was half uttered as twice he came upon a broken twig, which told him of the promise of Edward Murray, and showed that he had passed in that direction.There needed now but little reflection for Mr Meadows to decide what course would be the best. Up the valley there were certainly friends; down the valley there might be; but it was uncertain.Turning then to the woman, who had followed him step by step, he pointed upwards; and in silence they moved towards the higher portion of the Gap. But they had hardly traversed a quarter of a mile before she halted, exclaiming:“I can’t go any farther, sir;” and, without another word, she sank fainting upon the grass.“Then we must sit and rest, my child, until our friends come,” he said in encouraging tones, which did much towards soothing the woman; and then, opening the wallet slung by his side, he forced her to partake of some refreshment.They waited patiently as the afternoon wore on, listening for some token of coming friends. Once voices were heard approaching, evidently those of the convicts; but they soon passed away again; and at last came the rustling sound of cautiously advancing footsteps, to right of them, to left of them, and in front, and ever coming nearer and nearer.“Friends, my child, friends,” said the old man cheerfully.But the woman looked at him with a troubled anxious gaze, not doubting his word, but distrusting his ability to tell; until, rising suddenly from where they sat, he called loudly, and, from close at hand, the cry was responded to.“No news, sir—not a bit,” said Lawler; for it was he. “We did not miss you till we got to the top; but perhaps it was as well you stopped behind, and saved yourself fatigue that you could scarcely have borne.”“Quite as well, John Lawler,” said Mr Meadows, smiling faintly; “but I have not been idle;” and he pointed to the trembling woman behind him.Lawler gave a low whistle, which was responded to from different quarters; and in a few minutes the party of settlers had collected round, listening eagerly to Mr Meadows’s narration; when it was immediately decided to make their way at once to the track, leaving one of their party to watch for the hoped-for aid, and then proceed to the convicts’ lair, following their trail to where it was evident that some conflict must be going on.But they had no occasion to weaken their little force. Before they reached the path that led upwards, it was plain that some one was approaching; and, after due precautions, a joyful encounter took place; when, eager and forgetful of fatigue, the now tolerably strong company filed up the track.It was now so plainly beaten that it was followed quickly; Mr Meadows, who declared himself sufficiently rested, insisting upon being one of the party, lest they should fail for want of guidance; while one of the new-comers was intrusted with the care of the shepherd’s wife.Well armed and determined, and now outnumbering the enemy, though they knew it not, there seemed every prospect of Justice laying her sword upon the outlaws’ heads.The depression was reached at last; and men’s brows darkened as they looked upon the scattered plunder; but they paused not; and half-an-hour’s climbing and toiling brought the party to the entrance of the narrow gorge, where they halted to look inquiringly at Mr Meadows.Marks on grass and mossy stone were plain enough to be seen, though, after a short inspection; and a careful advance was made over the rugged ground, until the leader stopped short, to point out something he had discovered.Only a trifle; but enough to convince them that they were on the right track; for upon a thorny bush hung a shred, evidently fresh torn from a woman’s dress—a significant fact, when found in one of the wilds far away from a civilised home.Then, satisfied of the near approach of the conflict, each man looked to his piece, and eagerly scanning every rock and stone in advance, they pressed on, until suddenly the foremost man raised his hand, and pointed to where, far in advance, and high above them, they could see perched up a figure, upon whose bright gun-barrel the sunbeams played and flashed, as, resting upon a stone, he seemed intently gazing at something in advance.Lawler was acting the part of leader; and he appointed two of the party to watch this one man.“If he turns to fire, bring him down,” he said sternly.The attention of the rest of the party was directed to what seemed the end of the gorge; for, right in front, they could now see the upper part of the vast scarped rock, from whose ledge so gallant a defence had been kept up; but it was not until they had advanced another hundred yards, so as to surmount a broad ridge of stone, that they could see the ledge, up which, with their companions eagerly watching their progress, and covering them with their guns, two of the convicts had clambered.These two had just reached the shelf, so that, in another minute, they would have stood upon it, when the sharp echoing crack of a rifle was heard, almost accompanied by two more; for the man upon the rock high up had suddenly turned, caught sight of the coming danger, and fired. His aim, however, was too rapid to be effectual; while, in answer to the double shot from below, the convict started to his feet, dropped his piece, clutched at the air for a few moments, and then leaped upwards, to fall heavily into the gorge.The two men who had scaled the rock slipped back, hung by their hands; and then one fell; while the other, with catlike activity, managed to descend unhurt; but only to fall, the next instant, under the volley sent in answer to that of the enemy, who, roused to action by their fellow’s shot, had faced round and fired at their assailants.Then followed a rapid exchange of firing for some five minutes; but the advantage was all on the side of the settlers, who had the greater part of the cover; and upon a sharp dash being made with clubbed guns, after the convicts had fired, and before they had time to reload, a fierce hand-to-hand struggle ensued, in which more than one settler fell beneath the outlaws’ knives; for they fought desperately, like rats at bay, till, one by one, they were beaten down; till the remainder sullenly threw away their arms, and suffered themselves to be bound.Story 3--Chapter XXI.Just in Time.Immediately after the victory over the convicts, all attention was drawn to the ledge; but not before the wounded had received the needful attention, careful arrangements being made to prevent farther danger.But there was a manifest repugnance exhibited amongst those present to attempt to mount the ledge, whose silence terrified the men who had but a few minutes before faced death by rifle and knife; but at last, stern and rugged of brow, John Lawler laid down his gun, and, with much difficulty, made his way up to stand upon the ledge, peering forward into the rift for a few moments, and then, stifling the sob which rose from his breast, he turned sorrowfully, and pointed to the rough green rope yet lying by; and, upon its being thrown up, he held one end, while a couple of his companions climbed to his side.“The savage isn’t dead,” said one, kneeling by Wahika’s side, and laying a hand upon his breast.Carefully making the rough rope fast round him, they lowered the savage down; when, with the tears dimming their eyes, the three stout-hearted men stood gazing upon the couple before them, till they were reverently lowered down in the same way, to be received in the arms of Mr Meadows, who then knelt anxiously, rose hastily to fetch water and dash it in their faces, and afterwards tried to force some between their teeth.“No hope, sir,” whispered Lawler sorrowfully, as he watched his proceedings.“Mr Lawler,” was the stern reply, “it is our duty on this earth never to be too soon disheartened. I have hope here; and I pray heaven that that hope may not be vain.”In spite of his weakness, Mr Meadows was now unceasing in his efforts to restore animation to those who had been found upon the rocky ledge. For a time, though, all his toil seemed vain. It was a hard battle, too; for he who ministered was more fit to receive ministrations.At last, though, there was a faint sigh from Katie’s lips; and, soon after, a few muttered, unmeaning words from Murray told that the flame of life still burned feebly.Wahika, too, with the hardihood of the savage, had, sooner even than his fellow-sufferers, shown that he was ready to fight for the last few sparks of life faintly burning in his breast; though had the rough, surgical aid of the old clergyman been much longer delayed, those sparks must have died out.“Little flower of Moa’s Nest?” he said at last, in an inquiring whisper, as his eager eyes gazed from face to face.“Safe, I hope, friend savage,” said Mr Meadows, as he laid a cool, wet hand upon the New Zealander’s fevered brow, when a quiet, satisfied smile flitted over the tattooed face; and he closed his eyes, to wait patiently, as became a warrior, for the fate that was to be his.“Thank heaven, friend Lawler!” said Mr Meadows, at the end of an hour; “matters are even looking hopeful. I was ready to despair myself at one time; but providentially, I was able to conquer the weakness. Prompt action, John Lawler—prompt action has gained us the day. And now, good men and true, prepare something in the shape of a litter, and let us bear these poor sufferers gently down from this dreadful place before the night falls.”“Mind! Take care! Here, lean on me, sir,” cried Lawler eagerly; for Mr Meadows had turned deadly pale, and now reeled, and would have fallen but for the friendly arm.“Thanks. Lawler, thanks,” said Mr Meadows. “I’m afraid that I am very weak. I feel unstrung by what we have gone through; and it only wanted the sight of that poor fellow Bray, carried down—but a few hours ago a strong, healthy man—now so much clay—it only wanted that to completely overcome me.”In a few minutes, though, Mr Meadows’s brave heart sustained him again; and in spite of all advice to the contrary, he insisted upon superintending the removal of the sufferers, himself adjusting their heads, that the rough journey might not add fresh pangs.Story 3--Chapter XXII.The Old Story.Busy hands and strong soon provided a shelter from the ruins of the Moa’s Nest—the fragments of the schooner playing no inconsiderable part in the rough erection that was prepared for the sufferers; Mr Meadows declaring that it would be madness to yield to the wish of John Lawler, and convey them to his home.And here, forgetting his own sufferings, the old clergyman fought a long and arduous fight with the fever that had seized his patients, but to be triumphant in the end—“Even though I am no doctor,” he said with a smile.The hardy savage was the first to recover, and then to follow Mr Meadows about like a dog, never seeming weary of watching to do his bidding, in return for the life he had saved.But months of weary weakness, and mourning for the father who was slain, succeeded before Katie Lee was again the bright-eyed maiden of old, though she struggled hard to be the stay and solace of her widowed mother.At last came a day, an eventful day in the lives of two of the characters in this short narrative, when they knelt before Mr Meadows, to listen to his quaint but earnest voice repeating those words addressed to all who, in God’s name, are joined together; while, as they rose, it was for him to gaze at them with bent head and moistened eyes; and the words of fatherly benediction spoken were husky and low.“But these are no days for tears, my children,” he said, at last; for, indeed, the time had glided swiftly away. And under the management of him who had just reaped the reward of his patient forbearance, the Moa’s Nest, rebuilt, stood once more homelike and prosperous in the smiling valley, with the Gap, more golden and glorious, shining around rich in tokens of harvest, and the flocks and herds so carefully supervised by that stern-looking, tattooed chief, half savage, half-civilised man.For Wahika clung to Edward Murray, who, tempting the sea no more, had settled in the old pleasant vale, for the dread of so dire an invasion occurring a second time troubled him not; though for long years to come the story was told in the settlers’ homes, through the length and breadth of the three islands, of the gallant defence, the cruel slaughter, and the brave way in which the prisoners had been rescued, and the invaders put to the rout, their ringleaders expiating their crimes at Port Caroline, the residue, few indeed, ending their career in Van Diemen’s Land.Such is the old story—a story of fifty years since, but fresh yet in the memory of grey-haired men, who listen to the chime of the church-bell, and walk the streets of the busy port that now stands at the mouth of Golden Gap. But a few minutes’ walk will take you to the farm at the foot of the mighty volcanic cliffs, clothed nearly to their icy tops with gorgeous verdure; and, as you gaze upon the scene of peace, the heart seems to say it is impossible that such deeds of violence could have occurred to blur the beauty of the verdant vale, till memory recalls in new settlements scores of scenes as tragical as that at the rifling of the Moa’s Nest.

This bullet was wider of the mark, but a dull feeling of despair seized upon Murray, as, leaving his gun, he glided back to where Katie crouched, telling himself that he could not die with her so close at hand, without a farewell.

No words, though, were uttered, as he took the weeping girl to his heart; and then, softly unclasping the arms that tightened round his neck, he left her, whispering the words, “Pray for us!”

As Murray retook his place, another bullet almost instantly struck up the splinters of stone, blinding him for a few minutes, and compelling him to wipe the blood from his face.

It seemed that Wahika was not within sight of their enemy, for no shot had been aimed at him; and now, with a low-muttered exclamation of resentment, he crawled to his companion’s side, and with him watched in vain for an opportunity to fire. They could see again the raised arm above the rock as the ramrod was driven into the piece; then came the puff of smoke, there was a dull thud by Murray’s side, and, springing up with a cry of rage, the savage shook his piece fiercely for an instant in the direction of his foe, and then fell, rolling to the back of the ledge, bleeding profusely.

In spite of his efforts, a despairing groan burst from Murray’s breast as he saw his faithful ally gasping upon the rock, his teeth set with anguish, and the tide of life welling from a wound in his shoulder. But, after the first cry of rage and pain, no sound escaped the savage, and he lay passive; while, between them, Murray and the girl did what they could to stop the effusion of blood, for the bullet had passed completely through his shoulder.

Cheer after cheer had greeted this success, and half-a-dozen shots were fired in a volley at the face of the rock, but only to bring down a shower of stones; and on turning once more to regain his place, to his horror, Murray made out that the convict, elated by his victory, and missing both of his enemies, had climbed a little higher, so as to better command the ledge, forgetful that he was exposing himself to his enemy’s aim.

Just then Murray once more appeared in sight, when the startled wretch dropped to his former position, but not quite in so secure a fashion, for his fall swept down a portion of the foliage that had before concealed him; and as two reports rang out almost as one, Murray had the satisfaction of seeing a hand thrown up, and the convict’s gun fall clattering down into the gully.

Murray loaded again as expeditiously as possible; but seeing that his antagonist was helpless, he refrained from firing another shot, reserving it for the next who should attempt to scale the gully-side, and it was not long before he had an opportunity; but his aim was bad, and he had the misery of seeing another daring fellow climb to the rock, and then coolly shelter himself behind his comrade’s body.

Watching attentively his enemy’s movements, Murray prepared to recharge his piece; but once more his heart sank, for he had sent his last bullet winging its way; and on turning to Wahika, he found that the charge in the savage’s gun was the last that he, too, possessed.

There was nothing for it but to withdraw into such shelter as he could reach—little enough; for the fresh man, more energetic even than his disabled fellow, kept on firing furiously, but without effect; while terribly unnerved by this enforced inactivity, the horrors of thirst now attacked afresh the occupants of the ledge, the wounded savage’s sufferings seeming to be intense, as he turned his dull eyes from one to the other, as if asking the help they could not give.

The sun rose higher and higher; and, save the occasional shout of directions to the man on the rock, the convicts preserved an almost unbroken silence. But, suddenly, Murray saw three or four begin to dart from stone to stone, as if in retreat, and descend the gully; but too unguarded an exposure of himself brought a bullet whizzing by his ear, and he felt, with justice, that those who had gone had probably departed on a foraging expedition, while they were to lie there and die.

“Would no help come? Had there not now been ample time?” he asked himself, as he gazed at poor Katie’s parched white lips. Their thirst was terrible, while their sufferings were like those of Tantalus; for, in full view, they could see the cold water trickle from stone to stone, and drop plashing into the rocky basin beneath their feet.

What should he do? Should he leave her to fall alive into the hands of the convicts, or should he—

He covered his face with his hands and groaned, as the bright scene of the happy home—the rifled nest—came flashing through his memory.

“Don’t heed me, Katie,” he whispered, as he felt his hands drawn away from his face, to be kissed and pressed to a tender throbbing heart. “Don’t heed me. I’m weak and childish with my wounds, and it unmans me to see you in such peril.”

“Hush, hush,” whispered the poor girl; “do not grieve. It cannot be very hard to die—not very. See there, how poor Wahika, who has fought so nobly, seems to bear his fate; for he is going, Ned,” she continued; and she pointed to the glazing eyes and motionless form at their side. “If that poor savage can die so peacefully, cannot we, who have received so much greater light, pass away even as gently as he?”

The young man sighed heavily, as he pressed her again and again to his breast, but he could not speak.

“Will they kill us quickly, Ned?” she went on. “I hope so now; for things seem strange, darling, and I want you to hold me tightly—O, so tightly; for it is as though I were being dragged away; and I can see dear father beckoning to me, and—Yes, yes; I’m coming!” Looking up suddenly in Murray’s face, she kissed him tenderly. “Good-night, father dear!” she murmured; “it was a dream, a troubled dream; and my head, my head—”

The heat had now grown insufferable, and the silence down the gully that of death—so complete, that when, as Katie lay there with her head upon Murray’s breast, she started and laughed a little happy-sounding laugh, it seemed to be repeated from the mountain side.

“There, there!” she muttered gently; “I can sleep now; but it was terrible—yes, it was terrible—such dreams are bad. Poor Ned! his face all crimsoned, and his hands blackened with powder. But he was fighting for me—for me whom he loves—and—Yet did they not kill him?—did they not leave him in the burning—Ned!” she added, starting, as it were, into sensibility again, and gazing at him with terror-stricken eyes, “what was it? What did it mean? Was it real?”

Then she trailed off again into a broken incoherent murmur, now lifting her parched lips to his, then hiding her face in her hands; but these fits of delirium were succeeded by moments of calm.

Hour after hour, Murray crouched there—alone now, he told himself, for poor Katie’s mind seemed to have passed away. She had borne up bravely, but her sufferings had been greater than she could bear; and Murray knew that if the prayed-for help came not soon, there would be nothing for him to do but to meet the bullets ready for his breast, for all would be over, and the tragedy of Golden Gap complete.

Slowly up the sheep-track toiled the minister’s pony with its sad burden.

Seeing how painful was any attempt at consolation to the stricken woman, Mr Meadows dropped behind, thoughtfully gazing around from time to time, and whenever from a turn of the road there was a view of the rifled hut, pausing to take a long and sorrowful look at the ruins of the once happy home. But not once did he draw the attention of Mrs Lee to the scene.

How he thought of the quiet Eden-like aspect of the place as he had descended that toilsome way; the picturesque house, with its sheep and cattle dotted about; but now, though the scene was the same, and a clump of trees often hid from view the ruined house, yet how changed all seemed to his weary gaze!

Catching the pony’s bridle, when he had regained his place by its side, he began to try and hurry its pace, but without effect. Making, therefore, a virtue of necessity, they trudged slowly on until, with a sigh of relief, the ravine which led over the summit was reached, the view of Golden Gap shut out, and the next valley beginning to open before them.

What should he do? Go from station to station, telling the terrible news, and summoning the settlers to take arms for the purpose of crushing an enemy that might assault each farm in turn, or hurry on to the settlement at Kaitaka Bay, and there spread the alarm?

His reason told him that this latter would be the slower process, while if he trusted to the settlers in these far-off regions, the news would set them aflame, and they would muster readily. There would be no cumbrous arrangements for the expedition, but each man would seize his piece and mount horse, ready to join the little levy, and help to drive the invader from the neighbourhood of his home—the home which each had won for himself from the wilderness, and which was now in danger from these marauders.

He halted for a while by the side of one of the many streams, pressing upon his companion food and rest beneath the shady foliage, and watched her in the hope that sleep would visit the weeping woman—a short halt being absolutely necessary, on account of the ruggedness of their path, the excessive heat in the ravines, and the distance they had to travel.

Seeing, however, that Mrs Lee’s thoughts were wholly upon bringing rescue to her child, they were soon again upon their way, and before many hours were over, receiving the hearty welcome of a bluff settler, who with his wife and child stood at his door to receive the travellers.

“Glad to see you, Mrs Lee,” he exclaimed. “And where’s Martin? Parson Meadows, too! But what’s wrong? Why, you’ve got a cut on the head there, and—what does it all mean?”

Mr Meadows led him aside, wondering, as he saw Mrs Lee throwing herself sobbing into his wife’s arms. The business was soon explained, and the settler’s hearty English face grew stern and overcast.

“Heaven preserve us!” he muttered. “Poor Martin Lee! and it might have been here first! But are you in earnest, parson? Convicts?—landed? What should they come here for?”

“Spoil!—plunder!—desolation!” replied Mr Meadows.

The settler drew his guest into the house, forced him into a chair, and then dashed out of the room, shouting to a couple of his men. Ten minutes after, two stout well-mounted fellows galloped off in different directions.

“Mr Meadows,” said the settler, returning to where he had left his visitor, “I couldn’t go myself and leave them, or I’d have been one of those to gallop off; but the news will spread fast, and by morning we shall have a gathering here, I hope, that shall crush out these blood-thirsty locusts. Don’t think me unneighbourly that I did not go myself.”

“A man’s first worldly duty is to his wife and children, friend Lawler,” said Mr Meadows. “I blame you not, for we may perchance even yet have to fight for them before help comes.”

“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed the settler; but he took down with nervousness fowling-piece and rifle, and began to wipe and oil them ready for service.

“I’d almost ask you to help in a time of need like this,” he continued, “but for your cloth.”

“Help, friend Lawler! Yes, I’ll help; for I have already turned man of war in defence of the Moa’s Nest, and am afraid that I did some mischief amongst these men you call locusts; but they deserved it all, I fear.”

“Fear, parson!” exclaimed the other. “I would that you had had the scoundrels in a row, so that one bullet would have killed the lot! It would have been the best message of peace you ever sent through the district.”

“But had I not better ride in some other direction to summon help? If you could lend me another horse, I would gladly go: Joey, my pony, is slow, and not suited to the work.”

The settler mused for a few moments.

“You might ride to Black Rock!” he returned. “It will be a dark journey, and a long one; but the Allens would come to a man, and all stanch fellows, who can use a rifle.”

“Put on the saddle, and give me a morsel of bread; for no time should be lost. You will be kind to our poor afflicted sister.”

“Kind!” was the reply, in such a tone that the clergyman smiled gently, and pressed the rough hand extended to him.

Half-an-hour after, he was in the saddle and galloping in the direction of Black Rock.

He was no mean horseman, and mile after mile was left behind, till the darkness and the increasing difficulties of the road compelled him to go more slowly—at a rate, indeed, that but ill accorded with the impatience of his spirit, now that he was in some degree rested and refreshed. For, during the early part of his journey from the Moa’s Nest, he had suffered from a strange feeling of oppression, due to his late sufferings; but this was fast wearing off. And now, troubled in mind about the fate of those he sought to save, he once more pushed on, till the broken ground again compelled him to draw rein.

Long residence, and occasional visits from station to station, had made him pretty familiar with the roads; and as the horse picked its way along the stony part they were passing, he began to calculate how many men could be mustered; how long it would be before help could be afforded; and whether that help would be in time.

He pressed his horse forward as these last thoughts came, until he was again progressing at a long swinging gallop. He had been some three or four times to Black Rock, but not by this road, which was not familiar to him; but, keeping to the track, he pressed on till it seemed to end in a stony wilderness, when he once more had to draw rein; for the rugged path required careful riding. Here the track seemed almost lost; but just in front two valleys opened out, and in his directions his host had told him to take the left—no, the right—no, the left. Was it to the left? His head must be weak and confused, he told himself; for the settler had explained exactly and carefully the route he should follow.

He grew excited as he recalled the importance of his making speed, and at last drew up, pained and troubled. He essayed to go a little way along the valley to the right, but in a doubtful fashion; and, drawing rein at the end of a mile, he rode hastily back, feeling assured that he was wrong; and on reaching the headland that separated the valleys, he urged his steed onward, peering eagerly in advance the while, in search of some tokens of civilised man.

He was angry with himself for the mistake he had made—wasting minutes that might prove to have been of inestimable value; but he felt that he must soon reach the settlement now, since it was situated in the bottom of the valley, and could not be missed even by a traveller by night.

On past long park-like sweeps of rich land, varied by portions where the valley closed in till huge nestling crags, crowned with glorious vegetation, made darker the way he traversed, and seemed threatening to topple over upon the traveller; but still no signs of civilisation: no shepherd’s hut, no folding hurdles, no cattle—all solitary and grand. Twice the idea occurred to him that he must, after all, be wrong; but he rejected or crushed down the thought, and hurried his horse along; for it had begun to show signs of fatigue.

Then Mr Meadows allowed the reins to fall upon the poor beast’s neck, while he tried to think out the best course to pursue.

But little reflection sufficed to make him understand his position—he had been mistaken in the route he was to have pursued. He sighed heavily as he acknowledged his failing; for it was but too true. With Katie Lee in the hands of the convicts, and that young man awaiting the succour he was to bring, he had wandered from the right path, and travelled miles upon miles out of his way.

John Lawler barricaded his place as strongly as he could for the night; and then, with loaded gun and rifle by his side, he awaited the return of the messengers. He felt that there was not much cause for fear; but he determined to watch and wait.

Soon after reaching the hospitable place, Mrs Lee had sunk back in her chair, faint and exhausted.

It was anxious work for the master of the house, watching alone, with the knowledge that a terrible danger might at any time come upon his home. As the darkness came on, sounds, heretofore passed unnoticed, seemed to have an ominous import. Each time a dog barked the watcher started, and tried to pierce the distant gloom, seeing in every tree an enemy, and a lurker behind every bush.

After a while, watching in the silence, he started; for his wife had stolen to his side, begging to be allowed to stay with him, since Mrs Lee slept heavily, and she feared to be alone.

John Lawler tried to persuade her to go; but not energetically. And then the couple watched on, shivering at every sound, until there came, from a distance, the tramp of a horse, at a slow weary pace; and at last one of the settler’s own beasts made its way into the yard, and then into the familiar stable by the side.

Lawler went out, to find that the animal was saddled and bridled; but on leading it into the yard, he found that it halted on one of its forelegs.

“Must have fallen lame,” he muttered; “and Sam has gone on, thinking the poor brute would find its way back.”

Another hour’s watching, and then came again the slow pacing of a horse; but this time there was a man leading it; and upon his coming up, Lawler heard that the horse had stumbled in the dark, fallen, and thrown his rider heavily, the poor fellow having been hardly able to make his way back to the station.

Then came more watching, hour after hour, till daylight began to chase away the dim shadows of night.

John Lawler’s spirits rose as the sun sent its warm rays once more over the brightened earth; but he shuddered as he thought that perhaps that night the home that he had been years in winning from the wilderness might become a blackened ruin.

Hour after hour passed but no gathering party of neighbours clustered round; and though Lawler climbed from time to time the hill behind his house, there was no sign of Sam.

After all these hours, surely, he thought, some neighbours might have come down to his help. Supposing that his place had been attacked, it would have been by this time a heap of blood-stained ashes. His brow knit as he watched, here for enemies, there for friends, with none to meet his eye, and the lines on his brow told the inquietude of his mind. At last, maddened with anxiety, he summoned his wife, had the two lamed beasts and Mr Meadow’s pony brought out, and prepared to mount the two women, and flee farther inland, to where there were friends.

“I’d stop and fight to the last gasp for my bit of property, Nell,” said Lawler to his wife, “if it wasn’t for you and the child.”

“No, no; let’s go,” she replied, as if fearing that he might stay.

The few arrangements being made, the little caravan had prepared to start, when a cheery shout from the men made Lawler shade his eyes, and his heart leapt up as he saw two mounted men, each carrying a gun, come cantering up.

“Hallo!” exclaimed one. “Just off out—pilgrimage to Egypt, eh? And Mrs Lee, too! How are you all? Bad job, though; for we wanted a rest and feed for the horses. S’pose we can have that all the same?”

John Lawler laid his hand upon the saddle of the speaker, and looking wonderingly in his face, he said:

“What! didn’t the news reach you last night?”

“News?” echoed the other.

Lawler drew him down, and whispered in his ear, so that the drooping woman upon the horse should not hear again of the horrors that had devastated her home.

“Good God!” exclaimed the new-comer. “But have you sent out for help?”

“Yes,” said Lawler; “three messengers. One miscarried; and I’ve had no news yet of the others.”

A short conference was held as the new-comers, with darkened brows, learned more fully the state of affairs, and discussed it with John Lawler—earnestly, too, since each had a stake in the district, and knew full well that his might be the next turn to suffer as had suffered the family of Martin Lee.

Five minutes after, Lawler’s wife was clinging to him, begging that, for the child’s sake, he would accompany her to a place of safety; but although torn to the heart, the settler held firm. In a short consultation, it had been decided to let the women proceed, accompanied by Lawler’s crippled man, while the three remained to garrison the little farm, and cover the retreat of the fugitives, agreeing that, if hard pressed, they could but follow them.

“We must stay and help one another,” said Lawler gloomily. “You attend to poor Lee’s wife; we’ll see if we cannot save his child.”

“But could not he stay?” said his wife piteously, as she pointed to the man.

“Would you have your husband turn coward, Nell?” Lawler said gently. “Should we not say that man was contemptible who kept back from us in time of need? Be a woman! There will be help soon; and it would never do now for neighbours to come at my asking, and find me gone. Half an hour ago it was different, and there was good excuse; now there is none.”

Mrs Lawler uttered no complaint; only one sob rose from her breast as she hung on her husband’s neck; and then, with the man leading the horses, the party passed slowly out of sight.

“Heaven be praised!” said one of the new-comers. “One seems free to act now.”

After a little consideration, it was determined that nothing better could be done than for one of the party in turn to act as scout, and watch the ravine leading towards the Gap, the only way by which danger could approach; while the others patiently waited the succour that was expected.

Hour after hour the little rescuing party waited for further assistance; for sooner or later they well knew that there would be a strong gathering; but night was fast approaching before two horsemen were seen; and of these one, Mr Meadows, had to be lifted from his horse, and then supported into the house.

“Better soon, friends all,” he said feebly. “I’ve been hard tried lately.” And then he sank into a chair, and would have fainted, but for some brandy. “I’ve proved a sorry messenger, friend Lawler,” he said after a pause. “You see, I was a good deal knocked about at the Nest, and I took the wrong track, and was lost; and, but for my horse, I fear there would have been no help through me. I was confused and weak, and not myself; but don’t be hard upon me.”

“I came on with him directly,” said the fresh arrival; “and I’ve sent round in all directions; but it will be some hours before more help can come.”

But still this was a reinforcement; for the settler was well armed, and loaded with ammunition; while, just as it grew dark, there came the sharp “thud, thud” of horses’ hoofs, and Lawler’s first messenger hastily came up with three neighbours, armed, and eager to assist.

“The mare fell lame,” said the man, “before we’d gone three miles; so I turned her loose, and tramped it.”

“And I was cattle-driving,” said one. “And I at the sheep-station,” said another. While the third had been ill in bed; but forgot his pains when the dire news was brought.

Again there was a council of war; and it was decided that nothing better could be done than to wait for daylight and farther reinforcements.

“Don’t you think so, Lawler?” said one of his friends, noticing that the settler looked gloomy and discontented.

“Yes, I think so,” he said. “It’s quite right—quite right; but I could not help thinking of those poor creatures waiting for our help, and wondering, hour after hour, why no aid comes. But we have done our best, neighbours, and I must agree that it would be folly to go on now in the dark, and weak-handed; for I suppose they would still outnumber us, according to Mr Meadows’s account.”

“It’s giving them a few more hours to live,” said one of the last arrivals grimly; “for I’m afraid they will not meet with much mercy.”

“Nor give much,” said another. And then he made a motion to the rest to preserve silence; for Mr Meadows was listening, half shuddering, to the remarks made.

“What do you advise, parson?” said one, who had not yet spoken. “You know most about this sad business. Should we go or stay?”

“Friend Laing,” said Mr Meadows feebly, “I would that you had not asked me that question. With the thoughts of that poor lamb in the clutches of those ravening wolves, my heart says, Go—go at once, and strike to save her. But then reason saith, Would you send these men—fathers of children, dear husbands of loving and anxious wives—to encounter useless peril, and come to ruin and death, for want of a little care? But I think this: the miles are long between this and the Moa’s Nest. Suppose that we proceeded with caution during the dark cool hours, so as to be ready to pursue the task at daybreak? One of your number could stay here, ready to bring on the rest of our friends when they arrive; while, without proceeding to attack, we might draw off the attention of the convicts, as well as succour Edward Murray and the brave savage, who must be faint and weary long ere this—if they still live,” he muttered to himself.

The advice was received with general tokens of satisfaction; but when it came to the question who should stay behind, no man displayed his willingness to undertake that tame part of the duty. One suggested that Mr Meadows would be unable to accompany them; but he did not know the stanch spirit of the old man, who sturdily declared his intention of following.

“This food and rest were all I required,” he said; “and I shall be no hindrance to you. My pony will bear me; and if I should be left behind for a while, I daresay I can overtake you.”

Seeing his determination, lots were drawn as to who should stay; for there was a certain feeling of respect shown by all towards their common friend.

The preparations were soon made, each man carrying a supply of provisions; and then they filed cautiously along the track, keeping ever on the alert, for each man knew that at any time a volley from behind some clump of trees or rocks far overhead, might perhaps empty half the saddles of the little party.

Daylight found them standing, dark of face, around the barely cold ashes of the Moa’s Nest; and the stern determination of the party might have been read in their compressed lips and fierce looks, as more than one man mentally registered an oath of the stern vengeance he would take for this cruel desolation of a peaceful home.

A short interval of rest and refreshment, and the horses were stabled in one of the sheds yet standing; arms were examined, and the party began to ascend the Gap, slowly and cautiously, for they knew that unless the convicts had made their way round by the sea, they must be somewhere higher up, amongst these natural fortresses.

It was a very slow rate at which they progressed, for they anxiously searched for and examined every trace left by the convicts, though these were comparatively few, Wahika having previously picked up and hidden the greater part as he followed the ruffianly crew.

But soon these tokens disappeared, and they pressed on higher and higher, watching eagerly for farther signs of their enemy.

Once the foremost man halted, holding up his hand as a sign to those who followed, for there was the distant sound as of a gun; but it reached their ears in a strange, muffled way, as if discharged on the other side of the mountains; and another, which followed soon after, was even less distinct.

“They must be farther up, round the bend,” said one; and on they proceeded, taking advantage of every inequality for concealment. Every man’s rifle was ready to reply to the shot which was expected at any instant; but on they still went, without encountering a foe.

Hour after hour had passed; and at length, heated and wearied, a halt was called by the side of a rapid, babbling stream. Provisions were brought out, and then, for the first time, it was seen that one of the party was missing.

“Where’s the parson?” exclaimed the one who first made the discovery; when, upon comparing notes, it was found that he had not been noticed by any one for some hours.

“Poor old fellow, he could not keep up,” said Lawler. “We shall find him under a tree, resting, when we go back. He was not without food, fortunately, for I saw that he had it, or he would have gone without.”

“I hope no mischief will befall him,” said another; and then they fell to consulting, in cautious tones, as to the next best proceeding; whether to press on farther, or to retrace their steps, and examine some of the ravines, so as to join the strength they hoped by that time to meet approaching from the lower part of the Gap, while, at the same time, they would pick up Mr Meadows.

“I should be for going on,” said Lawler, “only that I think the last plan is the better; for I can’t help thinking they have never come up here. Let’s go back: we’re losing time.”

Following out his suggestion, the men rose, and began, with the same precautions, to retrace their steps, by this time spreading out in a more extended line; while, about the same time, a party of a dozen friends commenced the ascent of the Gap, following the plainly-marked track left by the first detachment.

Mr Meadows struggled on, hour after hour, with his companions, only enabled to keep up with them by their exceedingly slow progress; for, from time to time, he would sit for a few minutes while they passed on for some little distance, and then, following the track, he would overtake them at their slow, watchful pace.

He pressed on; sometimes tottering, sometimes resting so long that he had to strive hard to reach the last man. The heat seemed to overcome him; and at last, seating himself by the bright stream, upon whose banks he was, he let five, ten, twenty minutes, an hour slip away, heedless of all save the exhaustion that had enervated him.

Gradually a delicious sleep stole upon him, and then for a while all was blank.

But at length the weary man awoke, and started in pursuit of his companions, reproaching himself for his cruelty in sleeping at an hour like this; though, at the time, his forward progress was but a weary totter from tree to tree, against whose trunks he was often glad to lean his hands.

“It is of no use,” he groaned. “I’m worn out; and until Nature has done her part of restoration, I am helpless as a child.”

He sat down, and rested again, and then rose; for the distant report of a gun fell upon his ear; repeated, too, once or twice; and turning from his companions’ track, he faced towards that side of the Gap from amidst whose craggy fastnesses the sound seemed to proceed.

“I have no strength,” muttered Mr Meadows feebly; “but I have still my eyesight, and I may be able to play the spy. Why are they not here? They have gone on too far; but if they hear the firing, they will soon return.”

He passed through the dense undergrowth, and then stopped short, for he had hit upon a well-marked track, which looked as if the grass had been trampled down by footprints to and fro.

“Strange,” he said, “that it should fall to the weakest of the party to discover this. I’ll go on; but not in the guise of warfare;” and he leaned his gun against a tree, and toiled patiently along the track. No easy task, for it led up and up, along the valley side, higher and higher; each few steps giving a view over the tops of the trees just passed.

“Not the way taken by the gallant young man,” he muttered, “for not one of the branches he was to have broken, has met my eye. It is plain that I have not struck upon his track; but I may be able to report good news to our friends on my return.”

Once more came the faint, muffled sound of a gun; and collecting his fast-flagging energies, Mr Meadows pushed on, until breathless, and with bleeding hands and knees, he stood looking down with astonishment into a little rocky amphitheatre, strewn with provisions and the plunder taken by the convicts from the Moa’s Nest.

He stepped down, for the place appeared to be quite forsaken, and vainly tried to make out the cause of its being untenanted, when, looking round, he started with dismay; for half-seated, half-lying, with his back to the rocks, was the form of a human being, but so disfigured, that it seemed impossible for life to exist in such a ruin. But life was there; for, to the clergyman’s horror, he saw that the man was engaged with a knife in his left hand, slowly and deliberately trying to back off his right at the wrist.

For a few moments, Mr Meadows could not speak; then, hurrying up, he arrested the man, exclaiming, “Surely, friend, that operation cannot be necessary?”

“Let it be—let it be,” was the answer, in a strange, muttering voice, which came from the mutilated face. “It’s a vile hand—a bad hand, stained with crime.”

It required but little effort to wrest the knife from the convict’s hand; and then, binding a handkerchief round the bleeding wrist, Mr Meadows gazed, shuddering, in the man’s face, as his head fell back, and he fainted.

“He cannot live through those injuries,” muttered the clergyman. And leaning forward, he dropped a little brandy from the flask he carried between the man’s lips, when, after a few minutes, he revived, and spoke in a more collected way.

“Is any one there?” he asked.

“Yes; there is one here,” was the reply.

“Come back to finish your work, I suppose?” said the man hoarsely; and he raised his arms, as if to protect his head, but only to drop them directly.

“Where are your companions?”

“Companions—companions?” said the wounded man inquiringly. “Who, then, are you?”

“One of those whom you so much injured.”

“Injured—injured? What does it mean? What’s this red blind over my eyes? Where are we—in the valley? Or—I can’t see—can’t see with my eyes, nor yet with my understanding!” he gasped, apparently struggling hard with his misty, clouded intellect. “Yes, I can—I know now. Where is the girl?”

“Yes; where is the poor girl?” repeated Mr Meadows anxiously; and he again poured a few drops between the poor wretch’s lips.

“Girl! Yes, yes; I saved her. I told young Murray I’d pay him. Lee’s girl, the other woman told me. I knew the Lees once, at home. Yes, at home; and I saved her twice, andtheysaved her.”

He trailed off into a wild, incoherent string; and in spite of all Mr Meadows’s efforts and anxiety, no farther information could he obtain. He was about to turn and leave the dreadful spectacle, when he felt a light touch upon his arm; and starting round, he saw, standing pale and trembling by his side, a woman whom he hardly recognised as one of the shepherds’ wives he had more than once seen at the Moa’s Nest.

He elicited that she had lain concealed amidst the ferns for many hours past, so overcome with dread, that, though provisions in abundance had been almost within sight, she had not dared to crawl out until she heard a voice she knew to be friendly.

She told, too, how the miserable man at their side had twice acted in defence of Katie and herself; and how, in the midst of a wild struggle and confusion, Katie had been snatched away: when, availing herself of the absence of the convicts in pursuit, the woman had crawled amongst the ferns, and lain there, not daring to more. Then, some time after, she heard the oaths and raging of the men on their return, and the murderous way in which they had set upon their companion, whom they accused of betraying them, leaving him at last, probably for dead.

“And I did not dare to move, sir,” she sobbed; “but had to lie there, listening to his groans, hour after hour, till I prayed that he might die out of his misery, as I felt that I must, or else be driven mad.”

“But where do you think they are now?” said Mr Meadows.

“Somewhere up the valley that runs beside here, sir; and that’s where Miss Katie must have been taken, if they’ve not killed her, for there’s been shooting ever since.”

“Did you not see who snatched her away?”

“No, sir, no; it was all in the night-time, when she was clinging tightly to me, and I was struck down at the same moment.”

“Let us descend from here, my child,” he said; “for there are friends below in the valley, seeking for us.”

He turned to lead his new companion away, but she suddenly exclaimed, “They’re coming again! O, sir, save me—save me!”—and she clung to Mr Meadows, who heard far down below him the rustling and snapping of the trees, as if several people were forcing their way through them. “That’s the way they went,” sobbed the woman; “and they’re coming again.”

Mr Meadows had no doubt as to the truth of what she said; and glancing round, he tried to make out the part of the rocky wall around by which he had descended, but for a while his efforts were fruitless; and he could not leave the woman to search for his path, since at the least effort to unclasp her hands, she clung to him the tighter, imploring him in whispers not to leave her—not to go away.

“No, no; we will go together. Quick! the wretches are upon us, and we shall be taken. Heaven give me strength! What shall I do?”

His tones were anguished, for the crashing through the leaves seemed now to be close at hand; while, as he spoke, the woman fell from him, quite inanimate.

“Must I leave her?” he murmured to himself; and then he stooped and tried to lift her, but it was beyond his strength, and in his despair it seemed to him that he must be already seen. An hour sooner, he would not have cared so much; but, with the information he had gained and the care of this poor creature upon his hands, he felt that he would give anything to escape; for might not this snatching away of Katie mean an act of daring performed by Murray or the savage, and the shots fired, a conflict still going on between them?

The leaves and boughs crashed together, and whoever they were, either friends or foes, were coming ever nearer and nearer.

(Twelve lines of the scan are not readable here.)

The trees could be plainly seen moving now, and Mr Meadows caught a glimpse of an approaching figure. It was only a shadowy glimpse, but exerting his little remaining strength he dragged his companion on her side, forced her down amongst the waving undergrowth, and then crouched himself, gazing with swimming eyes between the strands down into the amphitheatre, and wondering whether, after all, his efforts had not been in vain.

It seemed almost impossible for the convicts not to have seen them, as now, to the number of five, they leaped down and seized the provisions that lay scattered about, hunting out such bottles as remained, and more than once coming so near to Mr Meadows that he hardly dared to breathe. Then they went farther away, first one and then another, contemptuously kicking the body of their late associate.

But it was after they had gathered and tied up a portion of the food that the danger of the hiding couple culminated; for once more drawing near, a convict said:

“Now then, down into the valley once, just for a look about for squalls, and then back again.”

“After breakfast and a bit of ’bacca,” said another, coolly seating himself, when his companions laughed and followed his example.

Mr Meadows shuddered. They were so near, that he felt that they must hear them if they moved; and still he knew that in another few minutes they would trample upon him and the woman in their downward progress. It must be done; the attempt must be made; and after turning and gazing at the convicts, he bent down towards the pale face at his side.

He had no occasion to speak; for he read in her looks that she had heard every sound. He dared not trust himself to state his wishes, but pointed along the track so plainly marked through the long grass, here abundant; and slowly the woman rose to her knees, then, with a slight rustling, to her feet, and began to glide gently away.

Mr Meadows could not watch her, but dared only to keep his eyes fixed upon those of one of the seated convicts, just seen through the leaves; when, to his consternation, he saw him shift his position so as to gaze, as it were, right in his watcher’s face, till, trembling with dread, Mr Meadows’s eyelids sunk, and he knelt there motionless.

When he again unclosed his eyes, the man had ceased to look in his direction; and then, calling up his strength, he slowly backed, inch by inch, upon his hands and knees, till the descending nature of the ground took him below the edge which overhung the depression where the convicts were seated. Then, and then only, he raised himself gradually into a stooping position, listened attentively, and, with beating heart, began softly, step by step, to follow the woman, whose own retreat he tried vainly to hear.

Gradually he set down each foot, lest a sound should follow, holding his breath, and pressing a hand upon his heart to stay its throbbings; when, accelerating his pace, he strode on to overtake the woman, whom he could now see hurrying down from stone to stone, or along the well-marked grassy track, with fear-given wings.

He trembled lest she should miss the track in her fright; but no, she kept to it without deviating, until she reached the spot where Mr Meadows left his gun; and there he overtook her.

What was to be his course? Should they proceed farther up the Gap, or down towards the ruins? Friends should be coming from either way, unless they had returned, and passed downwards, giving up the search so far, until joined by the expected reinforcements.

He was woodman enough, though, from his long residence in the colony, to be able, in a short time, to determine whether his companions had returned. Though the upward tracks were easy to find, no descending footprints could he discover; but a joyful cry was half uttered as twice he came upon a broken twig, which told him of the promise of Edward Murray, and showed that he had passed in that direction.

There needed now but little reflection for Mr Meadows to decide what course would be the best. Up the valley there were certainly friends; down the valley there might be; but it was uncertain.

Turning then to the woman, who had followed him step by step, he pointed upwards; and in silence they moved towards the higher portion of the Gap. But they had hardly traversed a quarter of a mile before she halted, exclaiming:

“I can’t go any farther, sir;” and, without another word, she sank fainting upon the grass.

“Then we must sit and rest, my child, until our friends come,” he said in encouraging tones, which did much towards soothing the woman; and then, opening the wallet slung by his side, he forced her to partake of some refreshment.

They waited patiently as the afternoon wore on, listening for some token of coming friends. Once voices were heard approaching, evidently those of the convicts; but they soon passed away again; and at last came the rustling sound of cautiously advancing footsteps, to right of them, to left of them, and in front, and ever coming nearer and nearer.

“Friends, my child, friends,” said the old man cheerfully.

But the woman looked at him with a troubled anxious gaze, not doubting his word, but distrusting his ability to tell; until, rising suddenly from where they sat, he called loudly, and, from close at hand, the cry was responded to.

“No news, sir—not a bit,” said Lawler; for it was he. “We did not miss you till we got to the top; but perhaps it was as well you stopped behind, and saved yourself fatigue that you could scarcely have borne.”

“Quite as well, John Lawler,” said Mr Meadows, smiling faintly; “but I have not been idle;” and he pointed to the trembling woman behind him.

Lawler gave a low whistle, which was responded to from different quarters; and in a few minutes the party of settlers had collected round, listening eagerly to Mr Meadows’s narration; when it was immediately decided to make their way at once to the track, leaving one of their party to watch for the hoped-for aid, and then proceed to the convicts’ lair, following their trail to where it was evident that some conflict must be going on.

But they had no occasion to weaken their little force. Before they reached the path that led upwards, it was plain that some one was approaching; and, after due precautions, a joyful encounter took place; when, eager and forgetful of fatigue, the now tolerably strong company filed up the track.

It was now so plainly beaten that it was followed quickly; Mr Meadows, who declared himself sufficiently rested, insisting upon being one of the party, lest they should fail for want of guidance; while one of the new-comers was intrusted with the care of the shepherd’s wife.

Well armed and determined, and now outnumbering the enemy, though they knew it not, there seemed every prospect of Justice laying her sword upon the outlaws’ heads.

The depression was reached at last; and men’s brows darkened as they looked upon the scattered plunder; but they paused not; and half-an-hour’s climbing and toiling brought the party to the entrance of the narrow gorge, where they halted to look inquiringly at Mr Meadows.

Marks on grass and mossy stone were plain enough to be seen, though, after a short inspection; and a careful advance was made over the rugged ground, until the leader stopped short, to point out something he had discovered.

Only a trifle; but enough to convince them that they were on the right track; for upon a thorny bush hung a shred, evidently fresh torn from a woman’s dress—a significant fact, when found in one of the wilds far away from a civilised home.

Then, satisfied of the near approach of the conflict, each man looked to his piece, and eagerly scanning every rock and stone in advance, they pressed on, until suddenly the foremost man raised his hand, and pointed to where, far in advance, and high above them, they could see perched up a figure, upon whose bright gun-barrel the sunbeams played and flashed, as, resting upon a stone, he seemed intently gazing at something in advance.

Lawler was acting the part of leader; and he appointed two of the party to watch this one man.

“If he turns to fire, bring him down,” he said sternly.

The attention of the rest of the party was directed to what seemed the end of the gorge; for, right in front, they could now see the upper part of the vast scarped rock, from whose ledge so gallant a defence had been kept up; but it was not until they had advanced another hundred yards, so as to surmount a broad ridge of stone, that they could see the ledge, up which, with their companions eagerly watching their progress, and covering them with their guns, two of the convicts had clambered.

These two had just reached the shelf, so that, in another minute, they would have stood upon it, when the sharp echoing crack of a rifle was heard, almost accompanied by two more; for the man upon the rock high up had suddenly turned, caught sight of the coming danger, and fired. His aim, however, was too rapid to be effectual; while, in answer to the double shot from below, the convict started to his feet, dropped his piece, clutched at the air for a few moments, and then leaped upwards, to fall heavily into the gorge.

The two men who had scaled the rock slipped back, hung by their hands; and then one fell; while the other, with catlike activity, managed to descend unhurt; but only to fall, the next instant, under the volley sent in answer to that of the enemy, who, roused to action by their fellow’s shot, had faced round and fired at their assailants.

Then followed a rapid exchange of firing for some five minutes; but the advantage was all on the side of the settlers, who had the greater part of the cover; and upon a sharp dash being made with clubbed guns, after the convicts had fired, and before they had time to reload, a fierce hand-to-hand struggle ensued, in which more than one settler fell beneath the outlaws’ knives; for they fought desperately, like rats at bay, till, one by one, they were beaten down; till the remainder sullenly threw away their arms, and suffered themselves to be bound.

Immediately after the victory over the convicts, all attention was drawn to the ledge; but not before the wounded had received the needful attention, careful arrangements being made to prevent farther danger.

But there was a manifest repugnance exhibited amongst those present to attempt to mount the ledge, whose silence terrified the men who had but a few minutes before faced death by rifle and knife; but at last, stern and rugged of brow, John Lawler laid down his gun, and, with much difficulty, made his way up to stand upon the ledge, peering forward into the rift for a few moments, and then, stifling the sob which rose from his breast, he turned sorrowfully, and pointed to the rough green rope yet lying by; and, upon its being thrown up, he held one end, while a couple of his companions climbed to his side.

“The savage isn’t dead,” said one, kneeling by Wahika’s side, and laying a hand upon his breast.

Carefully making the rough rope fast round him, they lowered the savage down; when, with the tears dimming their eyes, the three stout-hearted men stood gazing upon the couple before them, till they were reverently lowered down in the same way, to be received in the arms of Mr Meadows, who then knelt anxiously, rose hastily to fetch water and dash it in their faces, and afterwards tried to force some between their teeth.

“No hope, sir,” whispered Lawler sorrowfully, as he watched his proceedings.

“Mr Lawler,” was the stern reply, “it is our duty on this earth never to be too soon disheartened. I have hope here; and I pray heaven that that hope may not be vain.”

In spite of his weakness, Mr Meadows was now unceasing in his efforts to restore animation to those who had been found upon the rocky ledge. For a time, though, all his toil seemed vain. It was a hard battle, too; for he who ministered was more fit to receive ministrations.

At last, though, there was a faint sigh from Katie’s lips; and, soon after, a few muttered, unmeaning words from Murray told that the flame of life still burned feebly.

Wahika, too, with the hardihood of the savage, had, sooner even than his fellow-sufferers, shown that he was ready to fight for the last few sparks of life faintly burning in his breast; though had the rough, surgical aid of the old clergyman been much longer delayed, those sparks must have died out.

“Little flower of Moa’s Nest?” he said at last, in an inquiring whisper, as his eager eyes gazed from face to face.

“Safe, I hope, friend savage,” said Mr Meadows, as he laid a cool, wet hand upon the New Zealander’s fevered brow, when a quiet, satisfied smile flitted over the tattooed face; and he closed his eyes, to wait patiently, as became a warrior, for the fate that was to be his.

“Thank heaven, friend Lawler!” said Mr Meadows, at the end of an hour; “matters are even looking hopeful. I was ready to despair myself at one time; but providentially, I was able to conquer the weakness. Prompt action, John Lawler—prompt action has gained us the day. And now, good men and true, prepare something in the shape of a litter, and let us bear these poor sufferers gently down from this dreadful place before the night falls.”

“Mind! Take care! Here, lean on me, sir,” cried Lawler eagerly; for Mr Meadows had turned deadly pale, and now reeled, and would have fallen but for the friendly arm.

“Thanks. Lawler, thanks,” said Mr Meadows. “I’m afraid that I am very weak. I feel unstrung by what we have gone through; and it only wanted the sight of that poor fellow Bray, carried down—but a few hours ago a strong, healthy man—now so much clay—it only wanted that to completely overcome me.”

In a few minutes, though, Mr Meadows’s brave heart sustained him again; and in spite of all advice to the contrary, he insisted upon superintending the removal of the sufferers, himself adjusting their heads, that the rough journey might not add fresh pangs.

Busy hands and strong soon provided a shelter from the ruins of the Moa’s Nest—the fragments of the schooner playing no inconsiderable part in the rough erection that was prepared for the sufferers; Mr Meadows declaring that it would be madness to yield to the wish of John Lawler, and convey them to his home.

And here, forgetting his own sufferings, the old clergyman fought a long and arduous fight with the fever that had seized his patients, but to be triumphant in the end—“Even though I am no doctor,” he said with a smile.

The hardy savage was the first to recover, and then to follow Mr Meadows about like a dog, never seeming weary of watching to do his bidding, in return for the life he had saved.

But months of weary weakness, and mourning for the father who was slain, succeeded before Katie Lee was again the bright-eyed maiden of old, though she struggled hard to be the stay and solace of her widowed mother.

At last came a day, an eventful day in the lives of two of the characters in this short narrative, when they knelt before Mr Meadows, to listen to his quaint but earnest voice repeating those words addressed to all who, in God’s name, are joined together; while, as they rose, it was for him to gaze at them with bent head and moistened eyes; and the words of fatherly benediction spoken were husky and low.

“But these are no days for tears, my children,” he said, at last; for, indeed, the time had glided swiftly away. And under the management of him who had just reaped the reward of his patient forbearance, the Moa’s Nest, rebuilt, stood once more homelike and prosperous in the smiling valley, with the Gap, more golden and glorious, shining around rich in tokens of harvest, and the flocks and herds so carefully supervised by that stern-looking, tattooed chief, half savage, half-civilised man.

For Wahika clung to Edward Murray, who, tempting the sea no more, had settled in the old pleasant vale, for the dread of so dire an invasion occurring a second time troubled him not; though for long years to come the story was told in the settlers’ homes, through the length and breadth of the three islands, of the gallant defence, the cruel slaughter, and the brave way in which the prisoners had been rescued, and the invaders put to the rout, their ringleaders expiating their crimes at Port Caroline, the residue, few indeed, ending their career in Van Diemen’s Land.

Such is the old story—a story of fifty years since, but fresh yet in the memory of grey-haired men, who listen to the chime of the church-bell, and walk the streets of the busy port that now stands at the mouth of Golden Gap. But a few minutes’ walk will take you to the farm at the foot of the mighty volcanic cliffs, clothed nearly to their icy tops with gorgeous verdure; and, as you gaze upon the scene of peace, the heart seems to say it is impossible that such deeds of violence could have occurred to blur the beauty of the verdant vale, till memory recalls in new settlements scores of scenes as tragical as that at the rifling of the Moa’s Nest.

Back to IndexNext