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Informed That Sam Did Not Even Take The

Trouble Of Leaving The City That Night, But Changed His Clothes, And

Passed A Large Portion Of His Time With A Lady Who Was Somewhat Noted

For Liberality Towards The Male Sex; And When He Was Tired Of A

Metropolitan Residence, He Dressed Himself In Female Attire, And With A

Veil To Conceal His Face, Passed Soldiers And Police, And Rejoined His

Gang, Who Were Fifty Miles From Melbourne.

 

The Story Of The Aide-De-Camp Was A Curious One. He Said That The

Stranger Requested Time To Pencil A Note To A Distinguished Gentleman In

Town, Who Was To Vouch For His Respectability; That After He Had

Finished Writing And Directing It, Sam Approached Him, As Though To

Request Permission To Send It By A Bearer, But Before He Was Aware Of

His Intentions Tyrell Had Garroted Him In Such A Manner That All

Resistance Was Impossible, And When About Half Dead, He Was Laid Upon

The Floor, Bound With Cords, And Then Had A Handkerchief Stuffed In His

Mouth, Threats Being Made At The Same Time That Death Was Certain If The

Least Alarm Was Given.

 

The Bushranger Then Waited Until The Guard Turned His Back, When He

Dropped From The Window Like A Cat, And Made His Escape. The Officer Was

Laughed At So Outrageously, That He Sold His Commission And Left The

Army.

 

Such Was One Of The Exploits Of The "Gentlemanly" Bushranger Whose

Actions We Were Watching, And Over Whose Head A Reward Of Five Hundred

Pounds Was Hanging.

 

"If You Must Call Each Other Liars, And Rush To A Fight, Why Don't You

Do So In A Gentlemanly Manner, At Ten Paces Distant, And Not Shoot Or

Cut Each Other Down Like Dogs? Can I Never Learn You Manners, And Be

D----D To You."

 

The Speaker, Of Whom Mr. Brown Had Whispered, Was Tyrell--He Walked

Towards The Young Fellow, Who Had, But A Moment Before, Killed The Old

Pirate, And Stopped In Front Of Him. From Our Place Of Concealment We

Could Admire The Athletic Form Of The Leader Of The Gang, And As The

Flames From The Camp-Fire Blazed Up And Showed Us His Features, We Could

Not Help Being Struck With Their Stern Beauty.

 

"Well, Captin, He Began It," Cried The Young Assassin, In A Snivelling,

Apologetic Sort Of Tone; "I Didn't Want To Hurt Him, Sure, If He Hadn't

Told Me I Lied. I Don't Take That From Nobody, You Knows."

 

"You Lie, You Dog, You Know You Do," Cried 'Gentleman Sam,' In A Tone

Expressive Of Profound Contempt. "You Stabbed Old Bill When His Back Was

Turned, And Did Not Give Him A Fair Chance. I'll Have No More Such

Doings. A Stop Must Be Put To Such Kind Of Work. Do You All Understand

Volume 2 Chapter 70 (Sam Tyrell And The Ghost) Pg 162

Me?"

 

"I'm Willing To Abide By The Regulations," The Murderer Said, With

Alacrity.

 

"I Intend That You Shall, For I Am About To Constitute Myself A Judge

And Jury, And Punish You For Shedding Blood, As I Think It Should Be

Punished. Stand Up."

 

The Fellow Staggered To His Feet, And We Could See Him Glance With

Apprehension Upon His Leader, And Then Turn Towards His Comrades An

Appealing Look, As Though Desirous Of Their Support During His Trying

Ordeal.

 

"You Killed Old Bill Without A Moment's Warning For Telling The Truth,

For I Have Been Told By Others That You Was One Of The First To Run, And

Yet You Saw Nothing But A Shadow, At Which You Was Frightened. You

Deserve Death, And At My Hands You Shall Receive It."

 

"For God's Sake Don't Kill Me, Cap'en!" Shrieked The Young Fellow, In

An Agony Of Terror, Throwing Himself Upon His Knees, And Begging For

Mercy; "I Have Served You Long And Faithfully, And Robbed As Many Miners

As Any Man In The Gang."

 

"That Certainly Should Entitle Him To Mercy," Whispered Mr. Brown,

Giving Me A Nudge With His Elbow, As Though I Was Asleep.

 

The Leader Of The Bushrangers Did Not Make Any Reply, But Coolly Drew A

Pistol From His Belt.

 

"The Cold-Blooded Scoundrel Intends To Murder The Man!" Mr. Brown Said,

Trembling With Excitement And Indignation; "Why Don't The Brutes

Interfere, And Save The Life Of Their Comrade?"

 

"Take Notice, Men," Said The Robber Chief, Addressing His Gang, "That I

Am About To Punish A Man For Committing A Murder, And That Hereafter, If

You Must Quarrel, Refer The Matter To Me For Settlement, And If I Do Not

Satisfy You With My Decision, Then You Can Appeal To The Knife Or

Pistol, As Can Be Agreed Upon. Have You Any Reason Why Sentence Should

Not Be Executed Upon This Man?"

 

There Was No Response. The Villains Would Not Even Raise Their Voices To

Save A Comrade's Life.

 

"I Should Imagine The Fellow Was The Lord High Chancellor Of England To

Hear Him Talk," Muttered Mr. Brown; "Lend Me Your Revolver, And The

Instant The Ruffian Fires I Will Give Him A Shot If It Costs Me My

Life."

 

"And It Would Cost Not Only Your Life, But Mine, And That I Am Not

Disposed To Relinquish Yet. Be Patient, For We Can Do Nothing To Save

The Poor Devil," I Replied.

 

The Man Whose Doom Had Been Pronounced, A Second Time Threw Himself Upon

Volume 2 Chapter 70 (Sam Tyrell And The Ghost) Pg 163

The Ground, And Crawled To The Feet Of The Leader In Humble Supplication

For Mercy. He Shed Tears, And Vowed That If His Life Was Spared, He

Would Steal With Renewed Energy, And Be More Faithful Than Ever; And For

A While I Thought The Chief Would Relent, But During A Moment's Pause, I

Distinctly Heard The Click Of A Pistol Lock, And Saw Tyrell's Arm Raised

As Though Taking Aim.

 

'I Shut My Eyes To Hide The Dreadful Sight, And Expected To Hear The

Report Of The Weapon And The Groans Of The Victim, But While I Was

Speculating On The Length Of Time That The Poor Devil Was Kept In

Suspense, I Received A Tremendous Nudge From Mr. Brown's Elbow,

Accompanied By The Exclamation Of--

 

"The Devil Has Come At Last!"

 

I Opened My Eyes, And Was Gratified To See That The Ghost Whose

Disappearance I Had Noticed, Re-Appeared Upon The Scene, But With One

Important Change In His Aspect, Which Rendered His _Tout Ensemble_ More

Hideous Than Ever.

 

By Some Means He Had Managed To Light A Fire Upon His Bony Head, And The

Flames Were Twisting And Squirming Like So Many Fiery Serpents,

Revealing The Long Bullock's Horns With Telling Effect. So Well Had He

Managed The Affair, That, Accustomed As I Was To His Presence, I Had

Half A Mind To Run, Not Knowing But A Real Devil, Or Being Of The Other

World, Had Usurped Day's Especial Functions In The Ghost Line.

 

If The Sudden Appearance Was Startling To Myself And Mr. Brown, How Much

More Must It Have Astonished The Bushrangers, Who Were Anxiously

Awaiting The Death Of Their Companion At The Hands Of Tyrell. I Saw The

Arm Of The Latter Fall As If Paralyzed, And He Started Back, But

Disdained To Fly Upon The First Alarm. Not So With His Comrades. With

One Accord They Dropped Knives, Meat, And Blankets, And With Shouts Of

Frantic Terror Rushed Towards The Woods, Tumbling Over Each Other In

Their Eagerness To Escape, And Looking Over Their Shoulders As They

Fled, As If They Feared That Satan Had Already Laid A Hand Upon Them,

And Was About To Claim Them As His Own.

 

Even The Young Fellow Who Had Murdered The Old Pirate, Seemed To

Entertain Some Hope Of Escape From Earthly Enemies, For He Commenced

Crawling Away From The Fires As Fast As He Could On Hands And Knees, And

Bent His Course Directly Towards Our Ambush. Once Or Twice I Saw Him

Look Back, Apparently With The Expectation Of Receiving A Shot In His

Rear, But Finding That His Captain Was Too Much Occupied With His Own

Matters, He Seemed To Think That Providence Had Interfered In A Most

Wonderful Manner In His Behalf, And Recommenced Crawling With Renewed

Energy And Hope, Not Caring Half As Much For The Ghost As He Did For The

Vengeance Of His Chief.

 

"Here Comes This Fellow Directly On To Us," Whispered Mr. Brown; "What

Can We Do To Start Him In Another Direction?"

 

"Groan Him Away," I Replied, Recollecting The Efficacy Of Diabolical

Sounds In My Own Case; And Forthwith We Uttered In Chorus The Most

Volume 2 Chapter 70 (Sam Tyrell And The Ghost) Pg 164

Hideous Noises Possible For Human Beings To Produce. So Frightful Were

They That Even Tyrell, Who Had Made His Boast Of Being Able To Endure

All Things, Gradually Retreated As He Saw The Ghost Advance Towards Him

With The Flaming Headdress, And At Length, After Giving One Quick Glance

Around, And Finding That He Was Deserted By His Crew, Fairly Turned, And

Bounded Into The Brush And Disappeared From Sight.

 

We Listened Attentively, And Could Hear The Bushrangers Making Their Way

Through The Woods In Hot Haste; But Fearing The Shrewdness Of Sam, We

Kept Perfectly Quiet, Until We Were Certain That Gentleman Had Really

Left His Quarters, And Was Not Lurking In The Vicinity To See What Sort

Of A Ghost Had Frightened Him.

 

"A Splendid Performance," I Said, As Mr. Brown And Myself Stepped From

Our Ambush, And Congratulated The Shepherd, Who, Much As He Liked To Be

Praised, Didn't Think It Worth While To Listen In So Conspicuous A

Place.

 

"Follow Me As Fast As Possible," He Exclaimed, Removing His Still

Smoking Headdress, And Exhibiting A Face Blackened And Singed By The

Flames. "We Ain't Safe Here Even For A Minute, For The Devils Will Come

Back After Their Traps, And If They Should Get Hold Of Us We Would Be

Real Ghosts In Less Than An Hour."

 

I Had The Same Impression, And Therefore Followed Our Guide Through The

Woods In A Directly Opposite Course From That Which The Bushrangers

Took, And In A Few Minutes We Had The Satisfaction Of Gaining Our Island

And Finding Our Horses As We Had Left Them.

 

"Now That We Are Beyond The Reach Of The Robbers, Tell Me How You

Prepared Your Fiery Headdress?" Mr. Brown Asked, Turning To The

Shepherd, Who Was Rubbing His Burnt Face And Singed Hair And Whiskers.

 

"The Fact Is," Replied Day, "The Flames Are A New Sort Of 'Speriment,

And I've Hardly Got Use To 'Em. I Think That I Should Do Better

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