The National tribune., 1882-03-25
THE
GULLY OF BLUEMANSDYKE,
AN AUSTRALIAN STORY.
III.

III
It was long and a weary night for
Trooper BraxtOn. Any moment he might
come on an outpost of the rangers, so every
step had to be taken slowly and with care
But ne was an experienced woodman, and
hardly twig snapped as he crawIed along.
A norass barred his progress, and he was
compelled to make a long detour. Then he
found himself in thick brushwood, and once
more had to 60 out of his way. It was very
dark here in the depth of the forest There
was heavy smell, and dense steam. laden
with miasma rose from the ground. In the
dim light he saw strange creeping things
around him. A bUshmaster writhed across
the path in front of him, a cold dank lizard
crawled over his hand as he crouched down,
but the trooper thought only of the human
reptiles in front and made steadily for his
coal. Once he seemed to be pursued by
imal; he heard crealling behind
= it ceased when he stopped and lis
he continued his way.
1t was when he reached the base of the
hill which he had seen from the distance
that the real difficulty of his undertaking
began. It was almost conical in shape, and
very steep The sides were covered with
loose stones and an occasional large boulder.
One false step here would send shower OF
these tell-tale fragments Gathering down
the hill The trooper stripped off his high
leather boots and turned up his trousers
then he began cautiously to climb, covering
down hehind every boulder.
There was little patch of light far away
on the horizon, very little gray patch, but
il caused the figure of man who was
moving upon the crest of the hill to loom
out dim and large. He was a sentry appa-
TentIy, for he carried gun under his arm.
The top of the hill was formed by little
plateau about hundred yards in circum-
ference. Along the edge of this The man
was pacing, occasionally stopping to peer
down into the great Guslly sea beneath him.
From this raised edge the plateau curved
down from every side, so as TO form a crater
like depression. In the centre Of this hOl-
low stood large white tent. Several horses
were picleted around it, and the ground
and harness. You could see these details
from the edge of the plateau, for the gray
patch in the east had become white, and
was getting longer and wider. You could
see the sentTys face, too, as he paced round
and round 4 handsome weak-minded
face, with more OF the fool than the devil
impressed on ii. He seemed cheerful, for
thousand voices rose from the bush below.
He forgot the forged note, l think, and the
dreary voyage, and the wild escape, and the
dark gully away beyond the Tapu range,
for his eyes glistened, and he hummed
quaint little Yorkshire country air. He
was back again in the West Riding village.
and the rough boulder III front shaped itself
into the hill behind which Nelly lived
before he broke her heart, and he SAW the
jviod church that crowned it. lie would
have seen something else had he looked
again, something which was not i'll his
picture: a white passionles5 face which
glared at him over the boulder, as he turned
upon his heel, still singing, and unconcious
that the bloodhound Of justice was close
at his heels.
The troopers time for action had come.
lie had reached his last boulder; nothing
lay between the plateau and himself but
few loose stones. lie could hear the song of
the sentry dying away in the distance; he
drew his regulation sword, and with his
Adams in lis left he rose and spraug like a
tiger over the ridge and down into the hol-
low.
The sentry was startled from his dream Of
the past by a CHATTER and a rafting Of stones.
He spIaug around and cooked his gun. No
wonder that be ga5ped, and that change
passed over his bronzed face. A painter
would need q dash Of u.trauarine in
his Gesh-tints 10 represent it NOW. 80
wonder, l say, for that dark active figure
with the b.r5 feet and the brass but
tons meant disgrace and The gallUws to
him. lie saw him spring across to the tent;
he s&w the CLEAN Of Il sword, and heard q
clash as the teut-pole was severed, and The
canvass came down with a run upon the
heads Of the sIeepeTs. And then above
oatns and shouts he heard a mellow Irish
voice. I've twelve shots ia my hands /
have re, every mothers son. Up with your
arms up, say, before there is blood upon
my soul. One move, and ye stand before
the throne" BraXton had stopped and
parted the doorway of the fallen tent, and
was now standing over SIX rufiians who
occupied it. They lay as they had waken,
but with their hands above their heads,
for there was no resisting that quiet
voice. backed up by the two black muz-
zles. They imagined they were surrounded