Twice Bought | Page 8

immediately ran in
the direction whence it came; while others of the party, having

discovered the fugitive's track, had followed it up.
"Too late," groaned Fred on hearing Crossby's voice.
"Not too late for this," growled Brixton, bitterly, as he quickly loaded
his rifle.
"For God's sake don't do that, Tom," cried his friend earnestly, as he
laid his hand on his arm; but Tom shook him off and completed the
operation just as Crossby burst from the bushes and ran towards them.
Seeing the fugitive standing ready with rifle in hand, he stopped at once,
took rapid aim, and fired. The ball whistled close past the head of Tom,
who then raised his own rifle, took deliberate aim, and fired, but
Westly threw up the muzzle and the bullet went high among the
tree-tops.
With an exclamation of fury Brixton drew his knife, while Crossby
rushed at him with his rifle clubbed.
The digger was a strong and fierce man, and there would doubtless
have been a terrible and fatal encounter if Fred had not again interfered.
He seized his friend from behind, and, whirling him sharply round,
received on his own shoulder the blow which was meant for Tom's
head. Fred fell, dragging his friend down with him.
Flinders, who witnessed the unaccountable action of his companion
with much surprise, now sprang to the rescue, but at the moment
several of the other pursuers rushed upon the scene, and the luckless
fugitive was instantly overpowered and secured.
"Now, my young buck," said Crossby, "stand up! Hold him, four of you,
till I fix his hands wi' this rope. There, it's the rope that you'll swing by,
so you'll find it hard to break."
While Tom was being bound he cast a look of fierce anger on Westly,
who still lay prostrate and insensible on the ground, despite Paddy's
efforts to rouse him.

"I hope he is killed," muttered Tom between his teeth.
"Och! no fear of him, he's not so aisy kilt," said Flinders, looking up.
"Bad luck to ye for wishin' it."
As if to corroborate Paddy's opinion, Westly showed signs of returning
consciousness, and soon after sat up.
"Did ye kill that bar all by yerself?" asked one of the men who held the
fugitive.
But Tom would not condescend to reply, and in a few minutes Crossby
gave the word to march back towards Pine Tree Diggings.
They set off--two men marching on either side of the prisoner with
loaded rifles and revolvers, the rest in front and in rear. A party was left
behind to skin the bear and bring away the tit-bits of the carcass for
supper. Being too late to return to Pine Tree Camp that night, they
arranged to bivouac for the night in a hollow where there was a little
pond fed by a clear spring which was known as the Red Man's Teacup.
Here they kindled a large fire, the bright sparks from which, rising
above the tree-tops, soon attracted the attention of the other parties, so
that, ere long, the whole band of pursuers was gathered to the spot.
Gashford was the last to come up. On hearing that the thief had been
captured by his former chum Westly, assisted by Flinders and Crossby,
he expressed considerable surprise, and cast a long and searching gaze
on Fred, who, however, being busy with the fire at the time, was
unconscious of it. Whatever the bully thought, he kept his opinions to
himself.
"Have you tied him up well!" he said, turning to Crossby.
"A wild horse couldn't break his fastenings," answered the digger.
"Perhaps not," returned Gashford, with a sneer, "but you are always too
sure by half o' yer work. Come, stand up," he added, going to where

Tom lay, and stirring his prostrate form with his toe.
Brixton having now had time to consider his case coolly, had made up
his mind to submit with a good grace to his fate, and, if it were so
decreed, to die "like a man." "I deserve punishment," he reasoned with
himself, "though death is too severe for the offence. However, a guilty
man can't expect to be the chooser of his reward. I suppose it is fate, as
the Turks say, so I'll submit--like them."
He stood up at once, therefore, on being ordered to do so, and quietly
underwent inspection.
"Ha! I thought so!" exclaimed Gashford, contemptuously. "Any man
could free himself from that in half an hour. But what better could be
expected from a land-lubber?"
Crossby made some sharp allusions to a "sea-lubber," but he wisely
restrained his voice so that only those nearest overheard him.
Meanwhile Gashford undid the rope that bound Tom Brixton's arms
behind him, and, holding him in his iron grip, ordered a smaller cord