Come, read me my riddle! Come, hearken my tale!

And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale.

The imperfect light which streamed through the chinks of the slabbed partitions between the place of confinement in the lock-up house and the room occupied by the constables enabled Rashleigh to see that the other confine was a very tall and bulky man, who lay upon the rude floor, wrapped up in an opossum-skin cloak. He scarcely deigned any reply to Ralph’s salutation of good-evening, but aroused himself, after a little while, upon observing that our adventurer had brought in a lighted pipe with him, and asked the other to fill one for him, which the stranger could not do for himself, as he was handcuffed.

This little piece of kindness, being performed, seemed to abate something of the stranger’s sullen reserve, for he sat up, and in reference to the mirth of his captors, who, it appeared by their jovial conversation, were now getting merry over their grog, the new-comer observed, in a tone of grim irony, “Aye, booze away, my boys. You think you’re all right now; but my turn will come again yet.”

This remark exciting Rashleigh’s curiosity, he asked what his companion in captivity was confined for, but received only an evasive reply; and finding that the other eschewed any conversation, Ralph made a sort of bed with a few articles lent to him for that purpose by the lock-up keeper, on which he lay down and soon fell asleep.

Far in the night he was awakened by someone who said, “Get up, and come along,” shaking him as he did so. Not being thoroughly aroused, he could only at the moment notice that the door of the lock-up was open, and that a tall figure was going towards it. He involuntarily arose to dress himself; but before he had got his jacket on, the same figure reappeared, saying, “Why the hell don’t you make haste?”

Rashleigh thereupon went forth into the outer apartment, where he saw half a dozen men, in various dirty dresses, but all armed to the teeth. The two constables were fast asleep, with their arms resting on the table.

“Now,” said a voice which Ralph recognised as being that of the late captive, “get some fire sticks. We’ll set light to the hut and burn both it and these blasted dogs together.”

“Aye, aye!” responded his companions, thronging around the fireplace to obey the cruel mandate.

“For God’s sake,” cried Rashleigh, “don’t burn the men, but go away. As you’ve got out, they won’t know anything about it, and you may be far enough before they awaken.”

“Hold your infernal tongue!” retorted the other. “Or else we’ll handcuff you and chuck you neck and heels into the lock-up again, to be roasted like a snake in a log.”

Ralph was about to reply; but the man, whose strength was equal to his tremendous size, put one hand over his mouth, and gripping him by the collar with the other, led him out. They walked to a small distance in front of the hut, when Rashleigh’s companion halted and released him. Turning towards the lock-up, Ralph could see the roof was already in a light blaze; and as it was thatched with reeds, that combustible covering was rapidly consuming with a loud crackling noise, which contrasted fearfully with the perfect stillness of all around, and which, as our adventurer hoped, could not fail of awakening the slumbering inmates.

Apparently his huge captor thought so too, for he asked of those standing near, “Has anyone fastened the jigger and the jumps (door and windows)?”

“Yes, I did,” responded another. “I took blasted good care not to leave the rascals a hole to creep out of.”

“Heavens!” said the horror-stricken Rashleigh. “You surely will not let the poor wretches die such a dreadfully lingering death.”

“You mind your own business, and be damned to you,” was the reply.

“At least, then,” persisted Ralph; “save the woman and her children. Think of your own mothers,”

“Now by hell and the devils!” roared the former captive. “If you breathe another whisper, I’ll blow your head off!” And as he said so, he cocked a horse-pistol, which he held close to his prisoner’s ear.

The stern determination of this ferocious ruffian’s countenance, rendered plainly visible by the light of the burning hut, which cast a ruddy glare around, told Rashleigh he was not to be trifled with, and he wrung his hands in an agony of horror. Still, though the thatch of the lock-up house was now all consumed, and the flames had seized upon the slabbed ceiling, the doomed inmates slept on. Ralph supposed the men were insensible through intoxication, but knew not how to account for the sound sleeping of the woman, who, with her two children, had retired to rest at the same time that he was himself locked up. In a few minuters more, a portion of the roof that had stood over their sleeping-room fell in, blazing up bright and fiercely just before its fall, its concussion scattering myriads of burning flakes, which flew far up into the sky.

The next instant arose such a shrill and piercing scream that it agonised Rashleigh’s inmost soul, for he knew it emanated from the hapless mother just awakened to behold this dire calamity. Next came the wailing cry of the children, shriek upon shriek, and the vain attempts of the men to break the clumsy fastenings of the door and windows, accompanied by many oaths and exclamations of despair. The timber walls now began to blaze, when Ralph, seizing an opportunity that offered by his guard’s relaxed vigilance for an instant, rushed towards the hut, bent on rescuing the inmates by forcing the door. At this moment one of the constables, having succeeded in breaking down the window shutter, jumped out of the flames. In an instant four or five guns were discharged. The half-escaped wretch leaped convulsively up and fell to the earth, and immediately afterwards, Rashleigh received a violent blow from behind on the back part of his head, which stretched him, bleeding and insensible, on the ground.

When he recovered, he felt very stiff and sore; but on attempting to rise, he found himself fastened down to the earth so strongly as to prevent his doing so. His struggles apparently had the effect of attracting the attention of some watchful guard, who in a menacing tone bade him, “Lie still, and be damned to you, if you don’t want another knock on the head that will settle you altogether!”

This language effectually put an end to the attempts of our captive, who remained passive in his painful posture until the dawn of morning; in fact, from the mode in which he was bound, he was unable even to turn himself.

As soon as it became light he cast his eyes around and discovered that the party of men, whom he had seen at the lock-up house the night before, now lay in various positions upon the ground near him. The spot they occupied seemed to be only sheltered partially by an overhanging rock, and to be open to the bush on all sides save one, and from the edge of this semi-cavern the ground appeared to dip or sink into a valley. It was late in the morning when some of the party arose, made a fire, and commenced preparing breakfast, which consisted of tea made in tin quart pots, meat broiled upon the coals, and dough cakes cooked in the same way.

The remainder of the party, having now got up from their various lain, assembled round the fire, and Rashleigh then perceived that they were seven in all, variously dressed, some clad in government slops, and others in better habiliments, obviously unsuited to their station in society and most probably stolen from some settler. The nature of their avocation was now plain to Ralph. Their arms and the outrage they had committed after rescuing their captive leader from the lock-up spoke them to be one of those bands of ruthless bushrangers who then roamed at large in the wilds of Australia, carrying terror and devastation wherever they made their appearance.

While he was thus commenting upon the character of his guards or captors, and puzzling himself by vain conjectures as to what they could propose to do with him, the party had discussed their breakfast, which done, one of them approached our adventurer, and casting loose part of his fastenings, bade him get up. Rashleigh complied, and guided by the other, now approached the leader, who had seated himself on a small hillock near the entrance of the cavern. This man, whose name was Foxley, was of stature far above that of his fellows, and muscular in proportion; he was dressed in a fustian shooting-coat, with a broad riding-belt round the middle, containing two large pistols. Shaggy cloth trousers, a blue woollen shirt, fur cap and pampoos or rough hide boots completed his costume.

His first salute to the captive was, “Stand off, and don’t come too close. What were you in the lock-up for?”

“I gave myself up to complain of my master,” replied Rashleigh.

“Oh, you’re one of the complaining sort, eh? Who was your master?” demanded the other.

“One Arlack of Airds,” was the rejoinder.

“Well and what did he do to you?” enquired the bushranger.

“He wanted to starve me to death and work the flesh off my bones,” responded Ralph.

“Why the devil didn’t you knock the beggar’s brains out and take to the bush?” asked Foxley.

“Why, I thought it better to get away quietly,” was the answer.

“But wouldn’t you like to be revenged of the old tyrant?” demanded the outlaw.

“Why, yes,” returned Rashleigh, with some hesitation; “if 1 could without murdering him or his family.”

“Murder be damned!” said the other fiercely. “If it was me, I’d set fire to the old brute’s hut and burn both him and all that belonged to him in it. Bad egg, bad bird, as we used to say long ago in Tipperary!”

Ralph made no answer to this speech; but the truculently diabolical look that accompanied it, and a remembrance of the dreadful catastrophe of the last night, which it naturally excited, shot athwart his mind, and upon the recollection, too, of the woman’s piercing cry of horror, a shuddering fit seized our adventurer, which was plain enough to the bushranger, who added, with a strong expression of contempt, “But 1 can see you are a regular chicken-hearted crawling fool, who would stand anything and be trampled upon like a dog rather than turn out like a man. I wish I’d left you in the lockup, for you an’t worth saving; and maybe you’d hang us all if we was taken.”

“Aye, I told you so,” said another of the party, whose name was O’Leary. “I knew he was a cur.”

“Let’s knock the beggar on the head, to make sure of him,” said a third. And many threatening expressions burst from the rest of the party, who began to handle their weapons and eye poor Rashleigh with looks of the most hostile import.

“Silence!” cried the leader in a commanding voice. “I’ll not have him hurt, and you know I will have my way. We want somebody to carry our swag (plunder) and cook our grub, for you all grumble like hell to take it in your turns; and this fellow shall do that. It is damned hard if seven men can’t watch one; and if we find him out in any treachery, he shall die like a dog, if he were twenty times my own father.”

To this the rest grumbled a surly sort of acquiescence, and one of them was told by the chief that for one day he should be answerable for the captive, while another was warned to take charge of him at night, this duty being thus destined to all in turns.

Ralph was now completely unbound and informed that he might get his breakfast and then gather up the utensils and food in readiness to move off when he had done. In a very short time, all being prepared, the party set forward, Rashleigh bearing a heavy load and being closely followed by the person who had been directed to guard him. With this exception, no particular order appeared to be observed, nor were they very scrupulous in preserving silence. Indeed, from the nature of the country through which they passed, little danger was apprehended. They travelled on some hours over a succession of broken ranges and at nightfall they found themselves near a small running creek, the course of which they followed for a considerable distance. Having chosen a commodious spot, the fire was quickly kindled and Ralph prepared a meal, which all sat down together to partake of.

The conversation turned on their recent exploits. And now, for the first time, Rashleigh had reason to believe that the whole of the wretched inmates of the lock-up had perished miserably in the flames, for from words dropped in broken sentences, he learned that the man who had broken out in his sight and another who followed him through the same outlet had both been remorselessly shot dead, and their lifeless remains hurled into the blazing ruins. The fate of the woman and children was left to conjecture; but as he gathered that some of the bushrangers had stayed by the burning lock-up house until it was completely consumed, there remained not the slightest hope that any had escaped with life.

After the band had finished their meal, Rashleigh was directed to prepare some dough for baking in the ashes, and on the flour bag being produced, Foxley remarked that it was getting low, but it was no matter, they would soon fill it again. From this remark and other expressions which fell from individuals of the party, our adventurer concluded they contemplated the commission of some fresh act of violence very soon. It was wearing late before the party lay down to rest; and when they did so the man who now took charge of Rashleigh for the night handcuffed his prisoner to himself.

Early the next morning they arose and after taking a meal, proceeded on their route. About midday one of the men observed he knew, by the shape of a certain hill close by, that they were not far from Campbelltown, which rather surprised our adventurer, as, from his idea of the distance they had walked, he imagined they were much nearer to Sydney, or to Liverpool at least, towards the sea-coast; but he afterwards found that in order to avoid the settled districts the bushrangers had made a very wide circuit, first going towards the east and then returning westward,

The party now lay still in the heart of a very luxuriant scrub, or thicket of bushes, which was in fact so dense that nothing could be seen at the distance of a couple of yards. Here the men prepared their arms, made masks to conceal their features, and then lay quiet until dusk.

Shortly after nightfall they were again in motion, and having proceeded about four miles through a tract of open forest land, they again halted, two of the party being now sent forward to observe the intended object of attack. On their return they communicated their intelligence to Foxley, and all proceeded with stealthy caution in the way indicated by these spies. The bushrangers soon came to a narrow lane, and a dog was heard to bark at a very small distance. After a short consultation the body was divided, four of them getting over the right fence of the lane, along which the others continued to proceed in silence, Rashleigh being attached to the last-mentioned, who after proceeding a few rods farther, arrived before a small cottage, which Ralph, to his great pain, soon discovered was the neat little abode of Marshall, in which he had passed so pleasant a night a few weeks before. His consternation increased when he discovered, by the threatening execrations of their leader, that Bob, who had once been Foxley’s overseer, had in that capacity procured him the punishment of a flogging, for which the latter was now come to exact revenge according to his own brutal code of undiscriminating vengeance.

Ardently did Rashleigh pray that some lucky chance might defeat the vindictive object of this ruthless ruffian, whose cold-blooded atrocity, on the former occasion, had made a deep and heart-felt impression upon the mind of our adventurer; but all seemed as peaceful as the grave within and about the doomed dwelling. Not a light glimmered through any opening, nor did even a dog bark outside — a circumstance which much surprised Rashleigh, who knew that the owner had more than six of these animals, some of whom were tied up all day, but allowed liberty to roam about the yards at night. And Marshall had boasted to him respecting the vigilance of two of them in particular, who, he asserted, would not suffer even a leaf to fall without giving the alarm, and were so ferocious that they would tear a stranger limb from limb after dark. He afterwards found that all these faithful guardians had been fastened up for this occasion in a distant shed by the family, in order to avoid any accidental rencontre with the company they had invited to celebrate the christening of their youngest child. Of this gathering, of course, the bushrangers knew nothing; and they were consequently most amazed, while waiting the appointed signal from their detached confederates, to hear a peal of merry laughter emanating from some building in the rear of the cottage, whence also soon after issued the notes of a fiddle and tambourine, the staple music of a colonial sheevo, or merry-making. There was an open gate beside the dwelling, through which the bushrangers cautiously passed into a stockyard that seemed to contain the building the sounds proceeded from; and on passing round some smaller sheds, they found this to be the case, for just before them was a large barn, through the chinks of which much light streamed, and other indications of revelry were manifested which audibly proclaimed the occupants of the barn were amusing themselves with a dance. The marauders were now joined by their four companions, who had approached by some back way.

The leader, Foxley, now issued his commands, that all the outbuildings should be searched to secure any stragglers and prevent them from escaping. This being done and no person discovered, the bushrangers now approached the only door of the barn, where they knocked some time without being heard; but when at length the door was opened, and the grim array of armed and masked figures in their uncouth and dirty dresses met the gaze of the festive party gathered within, a scene of universal consternation ensued. The women shrieked, the children screamed with affright, and the men huddled themselves together.

Foxley now advanced into the middle of the floor, which terror had completely cleared, and he shouted out in loud and savage tones, “What! Are you all scared at a few young fellows that have come to your spree without being invited? Won’t anybody welcome us? No! Why, where’s the master of the house? Ha, I see you, Mr Marshall! Come out here”

And with that he very deliberately cocked his gun, which he levelled at the unfortunate man, while those who were near him slunk away, and he, seeing escape hopeless, reluctantly advanced towards the bushranger, saying as he did so, “You an’t a-going to murder an unarmed man, are you?”

Foxley deigned him no reply, but made a sign to one of his comrades whose name was O’Leary, who came to his side and having received a whispered command from his leader, produced a pair of handcuffs, with which he secured Marshall’s wrists and then retired with his prisoner.

Foxley now ordered all the terrified inmates of the barn to get together on one side of the door; and two of the other bushrangers coming in, one proceeded to search the pockets of the festive group, and laid whatever he found upon the floor at Foxley’s feet. The demented ones, after having been thus closely examined, were passed over to the other side of the barn, where they were strictly guarded.

It chanced however that one of the females was attacked by some sort of unusual fit, which produced a considerable degree of confusion, during which a young man and woman had the address to escape through die open door unobserved by any of the bushrangers. Rashleigh saw them, and going round the barn, suddenly confronted them as they were about to get over the fence.

The young woman, seeing him masked, shrieked; but our adventurer made a deprecatory motion and was about to approach her when her male companion said, “Stand back. I dare say you are armed; but by the heaven above us, you shan’t lay a finger on that girl, unless you do so over my dead body.”

“Be quiet,” returned our compulsory outlaw. “It seems the noise the young woman has made was drowned by the shrieks of that poor creature inside, or else you would find others who might not be inclined to let you go.

“Well,” replied the youth; “here’s all the money I’ve got, and my watch. I’ll give you that to let her go. I don’t care for myself.”

“No,” rejoined Rashleigh, suddenly making up his mind. “Go, both of you. I don’t want your money; but for the sake of heaven, make haste in to Campbelltown and tell the chief constable that Foxley the Murderer is here. Beg him to hurry; or Marshall will be slaughtered and all his family. Do not delay, as you hope for salvation.”

“I’ll run every step,” said the girl, now recovered from her terror; and, jumping, over the fence, both disappeared, while Rashleigh, fearing lest he might have been missed, crept back in the shade of the barn to the spot where he had been placed by the bushranger who had the care of him.

In the mean time the sufferers in the barn having been reduced to order by the stern threats of Foxley, the ceremony of fleecing them proceeded anew. Both sexes underwent this ordeal, being stripped of their money, trinkets, watches, and in several cases of their silk handkerchiefs, coats and waistcoats to boot, until there was a great heap of these articles of spoil upon the floor. All were plundered in this way, which, however, was not done without some delay, and a vast deal of tears, lamentations and entreaties from the females, as a cherished trinket or valued scrap of finery was snatched from its possessor by the rude hands of this unwonted toilet assistant; but Foxley was inexorable to all the prayers, entreaties, or all the soft artillery of blandishments with which he was plied by the fair victims, and in reply to their most moving supplications only ordered them to stand off.

At length, the whole party had been completely shorn of their disposables and the robber now directed the clothing to be stowed in some wheat sacks, loading his own pockets and filling his hat with the watches money and jewellery. When this was accomplished, the sacks were put outside the door, and all — but two, to whom was deputed the task of guarding the prisoners in the barn — the bushrangers withdrew into the stockyard, where O’Leary and poor Marshall were standing. Foxley directed them to accompany him and Rashleigh to follow with his provision bags; they then all went to the back door of the dwelling-house.

This entrance was fastened in some way; but a blow from the butt end of Foxley’s piece made it fly open, and all the party went in. The interior was in darkness, and O’Leary was dispatched to the barn for a light. When he returned they saw a goodly store of poultry and other eatables, ready dressed, together with many bottles of wine and spirits, apparently prepared for transmission to serve as a supper for the party assembled in the barn.

Foxley, directing his address to Marshall, said, “What money have you got in the house?”

“Only about four pounds,” was the reply.

“Where is it?” was the next brief demand of the bushranger; and on being informed it was in the bedroom, he ordered Marshall to point it out and they both withdrew.

Presently the noise of breaking woodwork was heard, and loud curses from Foxley, apparently produced by disappointment at the meagre amount of the plunder. The door being left open when they came out, Rashleigh cast a glance into the once neat bedroom, which was now strewn with articles of dress and bedding, broken drawers, boxes, etc., in dire confusion.

“Where’s your tea and sugar?” now demanded Foxley; and the chest of tea and cask containing sugar being indicated, Ralph, under the direction of O’Leary, began to fill the bags he had brought with him for this purpose.

While this was doing, Foxley demanded of their unwilling host what had become of the money he had lately received for the wheat he had sold, and was answered that it had been all paid away, except the sum Foxley had got.

“I know that’s a damned lie,” was the rejoinder. “But no matter. Though I can’t get it, I’ll take precious good care you don’t live to enjoy it!”

The poor man, upon whom the stern brutality of Foxley began to produce an effect of fear, now again asked with a tremulous voice, “surely you will not murder a defenceless man, who has not done you any harm.”

“Silence, liar!” was all the reply.

“For God’s sake, think of my poor wife and helpless children!” persisted Marshall.

“Think of your damned tyranny!” now roared Foxley, suddenly removing the crape from his face. “Look in my face, wretch! I am Philip Foxley, that you got flogged for neglect of work. Don’t you know me?” And then, sinking his voice to a sort of half whisper of concentrated malignity. “If you had as many lives as I got lashes through you, aye, ten times told, I’d take them every one tonight. So you may make up your mind to die . . . I’ve already slaughtered eleven of my old masters and overseers, and you shall make up the dozen!! For I’m a good mark. I never forget to pay my debts.”

Marshall’s whole frame shook with terror at the sight of a man whose face he knew too well and whose bloodthirsty name was a terror to the whole country; but after a, strong effort, apparently perceiving the inutility of more ............