My Friend The Murderer | Page 6

mate," says the man with the hat, "we've been looking out for
you some time in these parts."
"And very good of you, too," I answers.
"None of your jaw," says he. "Come, boys, what shall it be--hanging,
drowning, or shooting? Look sharp!"
This looked a bit too like business. "No, you don't!" I said. "I've got
government protection, and it'll be murder."
"That's what they call it," answered the one in the velveteen coat, as
cheery as a piping crow.
"And you're going to murder me for being a ranger?"
"Ranger be damned!" said the man. "We're going to hang you for
peaching against your pals; and that's an end of the palaver."
They slung a rope round my neck and dragged me up to the edge of the
bush. There were some big she-oaks and blue-gums, and they pitched
on one of these for the wicked deed. They ran the rope over a branch,
tied my hands, and told me to say my prayers. It seemed as if it was all
up; but Providence interfered to save me. It sounds nice enough sitting
here and telling about it, sir; but it was sick work to stand with nothing
but the beach in front of you, and the long white line of surf, with the
steamer in the distance, and a set of bloody-minded villains round you
thirsting for your life.

I never thought I'd owe anything good to the police; but they saved me
that time. A troop of them were riding from Hawkes Point Station to
Dunedin, and hearing that something was up, they came down through
the bush and interrupted the proceedings. I've heard some bands in my
time, doctor, but I never heard music like the jingle of those traps' spurs
and harness as they galloped out on to the open. They tried to hang me
even then, but the police were too quick for them; and the man with the
hat got one over the head with the flat of a sword. I was clapped on to a
horse, and before evening I found myself in my old quarters in the city
jail.
The governor wasn't to be done, though. He was determined to get rid
of me, and I was equally anxious to see the last of him. He waited a
week or so until the excitement had begun to die away, and then he
smuggled me aboard a three-masted schooner bound to Sydney with
tallow and hides.
We got far away to sea without a hitch, and things began to look a bit
more rosy. I made sure that I had seen the last of the prison, anyway.
The crew had a sort of an idea who I was, and if there'd been any rough
weather, they'd have hove me overboard, like enough; for they were a
rough, ignorant lot, and had a notion that I brought bad luck to the ship.
We had a good passage, however, and I was landed safe and sound
upon Sydney Quay.
Now just you listen to what happened next. You'd have thought they
would have been sick of ill-using me and following me by this
time--wouldn't you, now? Well, just you listen. It seems that a cursed
steamer started from Dunedin to Sydney on the very day we left, and
got in before us, bringing news that I was coming. Blessed if they
hadn't called a meeting--a regular mass-meeting--at the docks to
discuss about it, and I marched right into it when I landed. They didn't
take long about arresting me, and I listened to all the speeches and
resolutions. If I'd been a prince there couldn't have been more
excitement. The end of all was that they agreed that it wasn't right that
New Zealand should be allowed to foist her criminals upon her
neighbors, and that I was to be sent back again by the next boat. So

they posted me off again as if I was a damned parcel; and after another
eight-hundred-mile journey I found myself back for the third time
moving in the place that I started from.
By this time I had begun to think that I was going to spend the rest of
my existence traveling about from one port to another. Every man's
hand seemed turned against me, and there was no peace or quiet in any
direction. I was about sick of it by the time I had come back; and if I
could have taken to the bush I'd have done it, and chanced it with my
old pals. They were too quick for me, though, and kept me under lock
and key; but I managed, in spite of them, to negotiate that caché I told
you of, and sewed the gold up in my belt. I