Twice Bought | Page 8

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 to be fetched.
Paddy Flinders, who had a schoolboy tendency to stuff his various pockets full of all sorts of miscellaneous articles, at once stepped forward and handed the leader a piece of strong cod-line.
"There ye are, sor," said he.
"Just the thing, Paddy. Here, catch hold of this end of it an' haul."
"Yis, gineral," said the Irishman, in a tone and with a degree of alacrity that caused a laugh from most of those who were looking on. Even the "gineral" observed it, and remarked with a sardonic smile--
"You seem to be pleased to see your old chum in this fix, I think."
"Well now, gineral," returned Flinders, in an argumentative tone of voice, "I can't exactly say that, sor, for I'm troubled with what ye may call amiable weaknesses. Anyhow, I might see 'im in a worse fix."
"Well,