Part 10 (1/2)

”Not much--only a new b.u.mp--but it's wan among many, so it don't matter.

Now, listen. Time is precious. I've come for to set you free--not exactly at this momint, howiver, for the boys o' the camp haven't all gone to bed yet; but whin they're quiet, I'll come again an' help you to escape. I've only come now to let you know.”

The Irishman then proceeded to give Tom Brixton a minute account of all that had been done in his behalf. He could not see how the news affected him, the prison being as dark as Erebus, but great was his surprise and consternation when the condemned man said, in a calm but firm voice, ”Thank you, Flinders, for your kind intentions, but I don't mean to make a second attempt to escape.”

”Ye don't intind to escape!” exclaimed his friend, with a look of blank amazement at the spot where the voice of the other came from.

”No; I don't deserve to live, Paddy, so I shall remain and be hanged.”

”I'll be hanged if ye do,” said Paddy, with much decision. ”Come, now, don't be talkin' nonsense. It's jokin' ye are, av coorse.”

”I'm very far from joking, my friend,” returned Tom, in a tone of deep despondency, ”as you shall find when daylight returns. I am guilty-- more guilty than you fancy--so I shall plead guilty, whether tried or not, and take the consequences. Besides, life is not worth having. I'm tired of it!”

”Och! but we've bought you, an' paid for you, an' you've no manner o'

right to do what ye like wi' yourself,” returned his exasperated chum.

”But it's of no use talkin' to ye. There's somethin' wrong wi' your inside, no doubt. When I come back for ye at the right time you'll have thought better of it. Come, now, give us your hand.”

”I wish I could, Flinders, but the rascal that tied me has drawn the cord so tight that I feel as if I had no hands at all.”

”I'll soon putt that right. Where are ye? Ah, that's it, now, kape stidy.”

Flinders severed the cord with his bowie knife, unwound it, and set his friend free.

”Now thin, remain where ye are till I come for ye; an' if any wan should rap at the door an' ax where's the sintinel an' the kay, just tell him ye don't know, an don't care; or, if ye prefer it, tell him to go an' ax his grandmother.”

With this parting piece of advice Flinders left the prisoner, locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and went straight to Fred Westly, whom he found seated beside the fire with his face buried in his hands.

”If Tom told you he wouldn't attempt to escape,” said Westly, on hearing the details of all that his eccentric friend had done, ”you may be sure that he'll stick to it.”

”D'ye raaly think so, Muster Fred?” said his companion in deep anxiety.

”I do. I know Tom Brixton well, and when he is in this mood nothing will move him. But, come, I must go to the prison and talk with him.”

Fred's talk, however, was not more effective than that of his friend had been.

”Well, Tom,” he said, as he and Flinders were about to quit the block-house, ”we will return at the hour when the camp seems fairly settled to sleep, probably about midnight, and I hope you will then be ready to fly. Remember what Flinders says is so far true--your life has been bought and the price paid, whether you accept or refuse it. Think seriously of that before it be too late.”

Again the prison door closed, and Tom Brixton was left, with this thought turning constantly and persistently in his brain:

”Bought and the price paid!” he repeated to himself; for the fiftieth time that night, as he sat in his dark prison. ”'Tis a strange way to put it to a fellow, but that does not alter the circ.u.mstances. No, I won't be moved by mere sentiment. I'll try the Turk's plan, and submit to fate. I fancy this is something of the state of mind that men get into when they commit suicide. And yet I don't feel as if I would kill myself if I were free. Bah! what's the use of speculating about it?

Anyhow my doom is fixed, and poor Flinders with his friends will lose their money. My only regret is that that unmitigated villain Gashford will get it. It would not be a bad thing, now that my hands are free, to run a-muck amongst 'em. I feel strength enough in me to rid the camp of a lot of devils before I should be killed! But, after all, what good would that do me when I couldn't know it--couldn't know it! Perhaps I _could_ know it! No, no! Better to die quietly, without the stain of human blood on my soul--if I _have_ a soul. Escape! Easy enough, maybe, to escape from Pine Tree Diggings; but how escape from conscience? how escape from facts?--the girl I love holding me in contempt! my old friend and chum regarding me with pity! character gone!

a life of crime before me! and death, by rope, or bullet or knife, sooner or later! Better far to die now and have it over at once; prevent a deal of sin, too, as well as misery. `Bought, and the price paid!' 'Tis a strange way to put it and there is something like logic in the argument of Paddy, that I've got no right to do what I like with myself! Perhaps a casuist would say it is my _duty_ to escape. Perhaps it is!”

Now, while Tom Brixton was revolving this knotty question in his mind, and Bully Gashford was revolving questions quite as knotty, and much more complex, and Fred Westly was discussing with Flinders the best plan to be pursued in the event of Tom refusing to fly, there was a party of men a.s.sembled under the trees in a mountain gorge, not far distant, who were discussing a plan of operations which, when carried out, bade fair to sweep away, arrest, and overturn other knotty questions and deep-laid plans altogether.

It was the band of marauders who had made the abortive attack on Bevan's fortress.

When the attack was made, one of the redskins who guided the miners chanced to hear the war-whoop of a personal friend in the ranks of the attacking party. Being troubled with no sense of honour worth mentioning, this faithless guide deserted at once to the enemy, and not only explained all he knew about the thief that he had been tracking, but gave, in addition, such information about the weak points of Pine Tree Diggings, that the leader of the band resolved to turn aside for a little from his immediate purposes, and make a little hay while the sun shone in that direction.