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For there, just in front of him, and one on either side of the hole, half hidden by clumps of fern, crouched, like a couple of terriers watching a rat-hole, two of the convicts whom he had forgotten, but whose features and peculiarities were once more filling his brain.
Yes, there they were; he did not remember their numbers, but their features were clear enough: those of the pitiful, hang-dog, pleading-looking convict, whom he had set down as a sneak; and the good-humoured, snub-nosed, common scoundrel who had amused himself by making grimaces whenever he encountered his eye.
But that which startled Nic the most was the fact that they were inimical to the tenant of the cavern, for, as they watched so intently that they had not heard the boy's approach, each man held a native war club or nulla-nulla--poised ready to strike the poor fellow who raised his head above the edge of the hole, and a blow from one of those clubs meant death.
For some moments Nic felt too much stunned to even think, while the silence and the rigid motionless position of the two men before him added to the idea that it might be after all imagination.
Then all at once one of the men showed him that it was no fancy, for he raised his eyes looked across at his companion, and made a mocking grimace, just as he had been wont to do on shipboard, getting as answer a deprecating shake of the head.
And what did it mean? Death to Frank Mayne as he came up. For it was easy to see these were two of the convicts who had escaped. They were to blame for the missing sheep, and they must have seen and tracked Mayne to his hiding-place and meant his death.
This last was hard to comprehend, for why should one escaped convict wish to injure another? But Nic had no time for arguing out problems.
The men intended harm to his friend, and it was his duty to try and save him. He had his gun, and if he could only hear Frank Mayne coming, a shout of warning would send him back.
But that gun: he wanted it for his own protection as well; and a shudder of horror ran through him as at that moment he again recalled the deck of the ship, with the convicts marching round and round, the soldiers resting upon their muskets, the stern-looking warders with their cutla.s.ses, and that other man with the lowered, restless eyes and savage, wild-beast aspect, who pa.s.sed him by from time to time looking ready for any evil deed.
How well Nic remembered now, and the old warder's words! and the cold shiver ran through him once again.
For suppose that wretch had escaped as well, and was lurking about free so near the Bluff? The idea was horrible, and but for Frank Mayne's sake Nic would have gloried in seeing the mounted police at hand.
But that gun! How could he have been so idiotic as to sling it across his shoulder just where he could not get at it without making some rustling sound!
Still it must be done, and he very softly drew his fingers toward the buckle at his breast, meaning to undo the strap instead of drawing it over his head. He kept his eyes fixed upon the men as they still watched that hole waiting for their prey. The nulla-nullas were balanced in their hands, and moment by moment, as his fingers busied themselves over the tongue of that buckle, which would not yield, Nic expected to see Frank Mayne's head rise above the surface by the moist mossy sides. The water bubbled and gurgled, the insects hummed overhead, and that tongue would not yield till he put more pressure on, and then, with a sudden rush, it was loose.
The two men sprang up quickly, and Nic was in the act of rising too, presenting the gun, when there was a quick rustle, and a tremendous load fell across his back, driving him forward; the gun went off, and the boy was wrenched round and over upon his back, with a man's hands at his throat, heavy knees upon his chest, and the horribly savage eyes of the ruffian of whom he had been thinking a minute before glaring into his.
"Hooroar!" cried the droll-looking convict, pouncing upon the gun and dragging it from Nic's hand; "just the little tool I wanted! Where's its bread and cheese, mate? Why, deary me, if it ain't the little chap as used to look at us aboard the ship! How do 'ee do, mate?"
He made a droll grimace, with his tongue in his cheek; but he turned serious directly, as the savage convict roared at him:
"Look round, you fool! See if any one's coming."
The other two were startled for a moment, and looked round wildly. Then there was another grimace.
"There ain't no one to be coming. Our bunny won't show out of his hole after hearing that row; so you won't have no chance of knocking him on the head to-day, mate. Here, I say, don't choke all the life out of the boy."
"What!" growled the ruffian. "Why, I'll cut his very heart out if he don't speak. Here, how many's along with you?"
Nic made no answer, and the ruffian drew out a knife.
"Did you hear what I said?" he croaked, in a low, guttural tone. "Who's along with you?"
"Don't kill him," said the other fellow, with his smooth aspect gone.
"It's murder. Take him to the edge yonder, and let him fall over by accident."
"Yah!" cried the other man, making a grimace: "let him be. Here, young un, they won't hurt yer. You and me's old friends. But you must oblige me with them shoes, and that there nice warm jacket and clean shirt.
Tain't had one for weeks. And I'll just trouble you for the powder and shot. Let him get up, mate. He won't try to run, because he knows I should have to wipe his head with this little nutcracker. Why don't you let him get up?--Yah! Quick! Look out!"
As the man spoke he swung round the gun and took aim at a figure which came rushing up. He drew trigger, but the hammer struck out a few sparks--that was all, for he had forgotten that it was not loaded.
What followed was very quickly done. Frank Mayne--for it was he--sprang at the savage ruffian who was holding Nic, and struck at him sidewise with the stout stick he held in his right hand. It did not seem much of a blow, but he delivered it in leaping through the air, just as a mounted soldier would direct a cut from his left.
The effect was wonderful: the man rolled over and over, and Nic sprang up, free to gaze after Mayne as he sprang at the other man.
The scoundrel struck at him savagely, and Nic heard the blow take effect. Then he had to fend for himself; for the man with the gun came on.
"Here," he cried: "out with that powder and shot, or--"
He raised the piece with both hands by the barrel, and swung it back as if to get force for a blow. But, boy as he was, Nic sprang at him.
"Give me my gun!" he cried, and he was too close in for the blow to have any effect, as he seized the fellow by the throat and clung to him with all his might.
But Nic's muscles were not yet hardened, and the man swung him round and round just as he liked, the boy gradually growing weaker; while, as he struggled, he saw with despair that Mayne was evidently getting the worse of it, for the man he had attacked partially disabled him at the first blow, and had now got his hand free and was striking brutally with the club.
Mayne evidently felt that he was beaten, but he clung to his adversary tenaciously, bore him backward with his hands fast at his throat, and, bending down his head to avoid the savage blows, he leaped forward so that he and the convict fell, the latter undermost.
"Joe, mate--quick!" roared the latter; and the big ruffian, who had now risen to his feet, stooped and picked up a piece of stone, raising it with both hands to bring it down on Mayne's head.
"Leather!" yelled Nic; "look out--look out!"
"Surrender!" roared a stern voice which sounded familiar, and the man with the stone paused for a moment to glance about like a wild beast.
Then, seeing that he was surrounded by mounted police, who covered those present with their carbines, he hurled the stone with all force at the nearest man and made a rush to escape, when there were three puffs of smoke, three reports, and the convict tripped and fell.
Taking advantage of the smoke and excitement, Frank Mayne's adversary struck at him once more, and made a leap to escape, dragging the half-insensible a.s.signed servant with him; but the grasp was too tenacious, and though he tried hard, Mayne held on to the end; only sinking back when a pair of handcuffs had secured the prisoner's hands behind his back.
"Now then, you with the gun there, surrender!" shouted the man who led the mounted police.
This to the convict who had confined his fighting to his struggle with Nic.
"'Course I do," said the man, making a grimace. "That young shaver's got all the powder and shot: where's the good of an empty gun? Here, ketch 'old. No, I forgot; it's yourn, young un. Well, how are you all?"
The police laughed as the man held out his hands for the irons.
"We've had a nice little 'scursion out here, only the nights was rather cold. Well, Mr Government clerk, you won't have a chance to pull your friend a topper now. How's old Joe? What, more company?"
This was accompanied by another distortion of the face, as two blacks came running up, followed by the doctor, the governor, Brookes, and Sir John's two men.
"Got them?" cried the governor.
"Yes, Sir John," said the leader of the police, whom Nic recognised now as the chief warder whom he had talked with during the voyage out; "but we had to shoot one of 'em down."
"Here, quick, 'fore he goes!" said Brookes to the warder, huskily.
"Handcuffs," and he pointed to Mayne.
"Eh? What? Him?" said the warder. "Why, he helped to take one of 'em."
"Yes," cried Nic; "he was fighting to save me."