The Gold Hunter's Adventures Or, Life In Australia Volume 2 ( Of 2 ) by William H. Thomes (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📕

Quarters, Where He Had Been Nearly Strangled With Smoke.

"This Fellow Appears To Be Quiet Enough," I Answered, Turning My

Prisoner Over On His Back, So That I Could See His Face.

"Is He?" Asked The Fellow In A Sarcastic Tone; And Quick As Lightning He

Started To His Feet, And I Saw A Long Knife Flash In The Starlight, And

Before I Could Spring Aside He Aimed It Full At My Breast.

In Another Instant I Should Have Been A Dead Man, But, Fortunately,

Murden Saw The Move, And Struck The Ruffian's Arm Up, And The Knife

Passed Over My Shoulder Harmless. The Next Instant My Prisoner Was

Measuring His Length On The Hard Ground, With Blood Spirting From His

Nose And Mouth, The Effects Of A Tremendous Blow, Which The Lieutenant

Delivered Full Upon His Unprotected Face.

"Lie There, You D----D Midnight Incendiary," Cried The Officer,

Indignant To Think That He Wished To Add Murder To His Other Crimes.

The Wretch Only Groaned In Reply; But Murden, Thinking That He Was

Shamming, Slipped A Pair Of Handcuffs On His Wrists, And Then Served The

Irishman, Whom Fred Had Rendered Tongue-Tied By A Blow From His

Revolver, In The Same Manner.

"A Neat Pair Of Handcuffs Is An Ornament That Disgraces No One, While

They Add To A Person's Security Eighty Per Cent. There Is, To Be Sure, A

Slight Prejudice Against Having Them On In Unmixed Company, But It Is

Astonishing How Soon The Feeling Wears Off. Next To A Good Revolver,

Believe Me, A Pair Of Handcuffs Is A Policeman's Best Friend."

While The Lieutenant Was Speaking, He Gave The Prostrate Irishman A Kick

With His Heavy Boot, As An Illustration Of His Argument Perhaps, And The

Blow Was Sufficient To Restore The Fellow To His Senses.

"Holy St. Patrick, It's Murdering Me, Ye Are," He Exclaimed.

"No, But We Intend To, Unless You Inform Us Who Hired You To Set Fire To

Our Store," Rejoined Fred.

The Fellow Maintained A Profound Silence, And Murden Was About To Repeat

His Blow When Fred Checked Him.

"No More Kicks," He Said; "They Have Been Punished Sufficiently Already,

And We Must Now Try What Effect Kindness Will Have On Them."

"I'll Try The Effect Of A Stout Halter," Cried The Angry Officer; But

Fred Was Resolute, And Refused To Allow Them To Be Punished.

Our Prisoners Listened To The Words That Passed Between The Lieutenant

And Fred, And I Could See By The Bright Starlight That Astonishment Was

Plainly Visible Upon Their Faces. It Was Evident That They Expected

Different Treatment.

"Let Us Take Them Into The Store, And There We Can Examine Them At

Leisure," Fred Said; And As The Idea Met Our Approval, We Helped Them To

Stand Upon Their Feet, And Then Escorted Them Into The Building, Where

We Lighted Our Candles, And After Wiping Some Of The Congealed Blood

From Their Faces, We Examined Their Countenances To See If We Had Ever

Met Them Before In Ballarat.

"Where Have We Seen You Before?" Fred Asked, Addressing The Irishman.

The Man Hung His Head And Refused To Reply; And He Even Appeared To Act

As Though Ashamed Of His Conduct.

"I Can Tell You Where We Have Met Him Before," I Remarked. "Don't You

Remember The Irishman Whose Wounds You Dressed On The Second Night Of

Your Arrival, And Who Swore That He Would Yet Live To Reward You?"

Fred Nodded, And His Face Grew Dark With Passion.

"Well, This Is The Person. He Was Destitute Of Money And Credit, And To

Save His Life We Spent Many Hours In Cleansing His Injuries, And

Dressing Them With Care. He Has Already Attempted To Pay Us His Debt Of

Gratitude, And Perhaps When He Is Again Sick He Will Visit Us."

"You Miserable Apology For A Man," Cried Murden, Raising His Arm, And

The Fellow Cowered At The Threatened Blow; But Fred Interposed, And

Stopped The Impetuous Officer From Carrying His Intention Into Effect.

"What Excuse Have You To Offer For Plotting Against Us?" Demanded Fred,

Addressing The Irishman.

"I Was Poor, And Wanted Food," He Returned, With A Face Of Shame.

"Why Did You Not Come To Me, And I Would Have Supplied Your Wants? It Is

But A Poor Return To Attempt To Burn Us Out For The Attention That We

Showed You. Is Your Heart Made Of Stone?"

"I Was Told That You Two Was Plotting Agin The Miners Concerning The

Tax, And That It Would Be A Good Thing To Ruin Ye, And Make Ye Lave The

Country," Answered The Irishman, Not Daring To Raise His Downcast

Glances From The Floor.

"And The Miners Hired Both Of You To Commence The War Of Burning, Did

They?" Asked Fred.

"No, Not The Miners," Returned The Man, "Although They Think That You Is

Agin 'Um, And That You Had Better Move. A Man, Whose Name We Don't Know,

Gave Us Five Pounds To Set The Place On Fire."

"You Are Lying, And We Know It," Retorted Fred. "Tell Us Who Paid You

The Money, Or You Will Fare Badly," He Continued, In A Stern Tone Of

Voice.

The Incendiary Stammered, And Looked Towards His Accomplice, As Though

Uncertain What To Say, And While Hesitating, The Latter Exclaimed:

"It Is Useless To Mince Matters, Pat--We Are In A Fix, And Have Got To

Make The Most Of It. We Belong To A Secret League, Whose Object Is To

Resist Paying The Taxes Imposed By Government Upon Miners, And Hearing

That You Were With The Government, We Determined To Clip Your Claws, And

Prevent You From Doing Mischief. If Your Store Had Taken Fire, We Might

Have Made A Few Pounds By Plunder, But As For Receiving Five Pounds, Or

Any Money For The Work, It's All Sham, And Pat Knows It. We Talked The

Matter Over With A Dozen Or So, And Agreed To Do The Business. That's

All About It, And You May Make The Most Of It, And Hand Us Over To The

Police As Soon As You Please."

The Ruffian Spoke In As Free And Easy A Manner As Though He Had Been

Engaged In Some Meritorious Work, Instead Of A Piece Of Black Villany.

"You Did Not Know, Then, That We Were Opposed To The Government On The

Tax Question, And That While We Determined To Take No Part In The

Struggle, We Sympathized With The Miners?" Inquired Fred.

"One Of The Men To Whom We Talked Said As Much," Answered The Fellow,

"But We Did Not Pay Any Attention To Him, And Neither Do I Believe It

Now."

"Then Let This Convince You," Exclaimed Fred, Taking The Key Of The

Irons From Murden's Hand, And Unlocking The Handcuffs. "There, You Are

Free. Go And Tell The Dissatisfied Miners That We Will Never Plot

Against Them, Although It Is Probable That We Shall Not Take Up Arms In

Their Defence. We Are Traders, And Have Done With Fighting, And Wish To

Remain Neutral."

The Fellows Stared In Unfeigned Astonishment At Fred, And Then Around

The Store, As Though Hardly Convinced That They Had Heard The Welcome

Intelligence.

"Is Your Honor Serious?" Asked The Irishman.

"Quite So--Go; But If Another Attempt Is Made To Burn Us Out, We Have

Weapons That We Know How To Use. Say So To Those With Whom You Plotted."

"I Won't Say That I'm Sorry For What I've Done, 'Cos No Great Harm Has

Happened Any How," Said The Englishman, Who Appeared To Possess More Of

An Education Than His Companion; "But I'll Say This--Had We Burned Your

Store Down, And Then Learned That You Was Not Agin Us, I Should Have

Felt Bad, And Would Have Tried To Right It In Some Way. We Are Poor

Devils At Best, And Ain't Got Much In Common, But We Are All Liable To

Make Mistakes, And So We Supposed That We Were Really Doing Something

For The Cause."

"It's Little I Thought It Was Ye," Said The Irishman, Who Seemed

Determined Also To Offer An Excuse. "Faith, Had I Known It Was The Two

Rael Gintlemen Who Healed Me Sores, It's Little I'd Thought Of Setting

Ye On Fire. Long Lives To Ye, And Don't Be Afraid Of Bad Luck After

This. It's Paddy O'shea Who Will Fight For Ye To The Longest Day That He

Lives."

We Received The Apologies With Due Dignity, And Without Placing Too Much

Stress Upon What Was Said By The Men; And At Last They Concluded To Take

Their Departure, But Just As They Got To The Door, And While Fred Was

Unlocking It, O'shea Expressed A Desire To Whisper A Few Words To My

Friend.

"If Ye Have Such A Thing As A Thimble Full Of Whiskey In The Store,

Perhaps Ye Will Give Us A Drink?" He Said.

Fred Hesitated For A Moment, But At Last Concluded That It Would Be A

Cheap Riddance By Giving Them A Drink. He Drew A Couple Of Stiff Glasses

From The Barrel, And They Swallowed The Liquor With A Relish That Would

Have Delighted The Heart Of A Manufacturer.

"Ah, How I Should Like To Drink Such Stuff As That All Day, And Have

Nothing To Do!" Cried Pat; And He Glanced Fondly Towards The Barrel, As

Though Anticipating Another Invitation, But He Didn't Get It.

They Still Hesitated About Going, And The Two Villains Looked First At

One And Then At Another, As Though They Still Had A Matter That They

Wished To Speak About.

"I Also Have