Chapter VIII: Part 8

The girls, now really terrified, need no pressure to leave; so they scurry from the field and reach their horses, some distance beyond spear reach. There they watch the tide of battle as it ebbs and flows until it dies, which it is not long in doing, from its very violence.

When the casualties were reckoned it was found that most of the combatants had received bruises or gashes, limbs were broken, but the only fatalities were those of the lads who began the quarrel. Now that the fight is over, both sides settle down to supper in the best of humours. The slate has been cleaned in this primitive fashion, and now friendships are renewed over handfuls of luscious tree-grubs and hunches of roast kangaroo. To-morrow there will be weeping in common over the biers of the departed braves.

"Well, Denny, what do you think of this dreadful corrobberie?" exclaimed Jessie to the Irish boy as they rode home about midnight.

"Phwat div Oi think iv it, Miss Jassie? Whoi, it's been a lovely foight, shure. Och, they're the very divils ontoirely! Nivir seen sich a bit of divarsion since Oi left owld Oireland, bedad! Begorrah, it'd ta-ake owld Tipperary itself to bate it."

"Do you know what I've been thinking of, Denny?" continued the mischievous girl.

"Nawthin' but lovely thoughts, Miss Jassie."

"You of course are the best judge, Denny, being an Irishman. What I was thinking was this: scratch an aboriginal, and you have an Irishman."

"Och, dear-a-dear, Miss Jassie, to maline me poor counthrymen loike that! Troth, then," cried the lad, with a serio-comic air and the suspicion of a wink, "there's one thing indade which Irishmen have in common wid these poor naggurs."

"What is that, Denny?"

"We both suffer at the hands of Saxon landlords."

And Jessie had no answer.

*CHAPTER XXV*

*IN THE BUSHRANGERS' CAVES*

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree,
Where Alph the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
KUBLA KHAN.

"Joe!"

Silence.

"J-o-o!"

No answer.

"J-o-o-o!"

Profound stillness, broken only by a buzzing fly.

"If you don't answer within five seconds, an' short ones at that, look out for squalls. You're only 'possumin', you rascal!"

Presently a hurtling pillow, and not too soft a one either, struck Joe Blain, who lay flat on his back, with open mouth, closed eyes, and deaf ears. The missile hit him fair and square on the face, hermetically sealing his breathing apparatus for a moment.

A muffled sound, a quick contortion of the body, and an instinctive clutch of the hands got rid of the obstruction, which in a twinkling described a trajectory that impinged on Tom's left ear.

"Well, what's in the wind, now?" asked Joe, after this customary exchange of shots, which was an everyday occurrence.

"I've an idea, Joe."

"Howly Moses, you don't mean it! Terrible, terrible! Where did you catch it?"

"Catch your grandmother's sister's cat! Only, you're such a numskull, I'd try an' put it in your head."

"What! my grandmother's sister's----"

"No, you ass; a simple idea!"

"Then I'll bet tuppence it's simple enough, you goat!"

After this complimentary interchange Tom proceeded: "When we went out to the caves the other day, we said we'd return before the holidays were ended, an' we've come to the larst day, ole man. Ding-bust it! we'll have to make for home to-morrer, an'----"

"Ugh! don't mention it! Go on about the caves."

"Well, then, that day we went out---- Oh Joey! shall we ever forget the sight of 'Fevvers' rollin'----?"

"Look here, Hawkins, if you can't spit out that idea of yours quick an' lively, you'd better swallow it! If you think to waste my valuable time----"

"Your time wasted! Pish! Listen, then. I vote we go out to the caves an' have a look round for the place where Ben Bolt kep' his horses. It'd be no end of a lark for us to find, after the police an' others have given it up. What say?"

"There's not much in your notions, Hawkins, generally speaking; still, you've struck ile this time, sonny. Gewhillikins! it's all right. Let's have a talk with ole Sandy about it."

"Oh, he's sure to be nuts on it! He's always talkin' about the mystery."

"Up, guards, an' at 'em! as Cromwell sang out at the battle of Marathon," quoth Joe, in slight historical confusion, as he tumbled out of bed.

They dressed quickly and then rushed out to find Sandy, who had risen earlier to yard the horses. Sandy was nothing loth. Indeed, he was as eager as the others, if not more so. He had often brooded over the puzzle, and discussed it at times with his mates, but oftener with himself. Like the others, he had theories.

"I've got to take the harrow to the cultivation paddock after breakfast, an' then I'll be free."

"Can't you take it now?" suggested Tom. "Good hour yet to breakfast. You'll have whips of time, an' we'll help you."

Sandy was agreeable, and the boys soon hoisted the harrow on to the cart. They returned in good time for breakfast, and got Mr. M'Intyre's consent.

"Best take us with you, Sandy."

"Girls 'd only be in the way, Mag."

"Thanks, me brither! Just wait till you ask me to cut your lunches!"

"Oh, mother'll do that."

"Yes; rin to your mither and hold on to her apron-strings. For selfishness and for cheek, commend me to a brother! You're all alike. I expect Tom and Joe are no better at home, for all they put on mighty innocent airs here," prattled the girl, in mock sarcasm.

"I hope you'll count me in, boys?" said Neville. "I have intimated to Mrs. M'Intyre that I shall be forced to tear myself away from her unbounded hospitality,"--"Fevvers" was still a trifle stilted,--"but she will not hear of my leaving till the end of the week. You know," he went on, "I did not have an opportunity--the last time I--er--we were out there--and----"

"You lassoed an Englishman with a stock whip," broke in Jessie the tease.

"And behaved like a brick," interposed Maggie, who noticed the involuntary wince on the part of the Englishman. This was, indeed, a sore spot; but he was growing rapidly in grace.

Neville winced under Jess's sally, but took it in good part. "It's all part of the breaking-in process, Miss Jessie. I believe I can dismount now a little more gracefully. I shall be glad of an opportunity to see the famous bandit's caves. It will be something to relate in England."

It did not take the boys long to get ready. Half an hour later the party was _en route_ for the caves, determined to solve the puzzle.

"You'll do nothing rash, boys?" said the careful mother at parting, "Have you enough candles?"

"Plenty; also ropes and tucker. Don't worry about us, mother; we may not be back till near bedtime--depends on what luck we have."

"You've got a scheme, Sandy, I s'pose?" remarked Joe, as they jogged along the road.

"Yes, Joe, I've an idea; but of course only testing it will prove its worth. The caves are situated in a spur running north and south. The opening, we know, is on the east side. Nothing bigger than a wallaby or a dingo, save of course a man, can squeeze through that opening. Either there is another and separate cave adjacent, where the 'rangers stalled their horses, or there is an easier entrance somewhere in the spur that has a connection with the ones we have already visited."

"You must remember, though, Sandy, that Inspector Garvie and his men spent days in searching the locality, an' how are we chaps to do in a day what they failed to do after several days, and with black trackers, too?"

"I'm not likely to forget that."

"I vote, then," said Joe, "we go straight to the caves an' explore 'em first."

"It'd take us all day to search those ravines and bluffs on the west side," added Tom, "so I'm in favour of Joe's proposal."

"I'm not sure that I should have a voice in this matter," spoke Neville. "You fellows will have to settle it between yourselves. Whatever you decide upon will be agreeable to me."

"Matter's decided, then," answered Sandy. "Joe and Tom are for the caves direct. Honestly speaking, although I would dearly love a try at the western side, for I'm convinced that the outlet lies there, I think, on the whole, we'd better stick to the caves, giving them first show, anyhow."

"Carried unanimously by a large majority, as Denny would say," cried Joe the spokesman.

On arrival at the camping grounds, the place of the late serio-comic adventure, the explorers--for such we must call them--unsaddled, and short-hobbled their horses.

"I vote," said Joe, "that we boil the billy an' have a go at the tuck before we tackle the caves. It'll be better than taking the prog with us, an' 'll save us coming out for lunch."

"Agreed!" chorus the rest with a readiness and gusto which in matters of meat is almost an instinct of boyhood. Accordingly the wood is gathered, and ere long, with whetted appetites, they are absorbingly engaged on a substantial meal.

"There are three things to remember, mates. First of all, the candles. We'll divide them equally, three apiece. Here's a box of matches for each. Father gave me a caution, about lights. We're to carefully watch the candles as we proceed through the passages. He says the poisonous gases collect in places that are not well ventilated, an' that means death in no time if we remain in such spots."

"How'd we know, Sandy?"

"I was just going to tell you. If we get into such places, father says, the candle will burn dimly, an' if it's very bad, will go out altogether. When we happen on such spots, if there are any, we are to retreat immediately; so don't forget, boys, should we be separated."

"That," said Neville, "is most important." He related one or two incidents of fatal accidents in connection with English collieries through fire-damp. That danger, though, is seldom encountered in such caves as the boys were intent on exploring.

"What's the third thing, Sandy?"

"The third thing, Hawkins, is to make fast to this green-hide. It is twenty-five feet long, an' we'll tie on to it as we go through the passages. Father says there are often holes in the floors and very steep inclines. Best to be on the safe side, though I don't suppose we'll really need it."

"I say," queried Neville, "hadn't we better take some stout cudgels with us, for fear of snakes and wild beasts?"

"Happy thought, Mr. Neville. Not for wild beasts, though an old-man kangaroo can be as dangerous as a bear with his paws when he's bailed up by the dogs."

"What about monkeys, then?"

"Monkeys? We haven't any."

"Well, I heard one of the travellers say, while he was having a feed at the men's hut, that he'd been engaged to go for a mob of monkeys."

"Ha--ha--ha! Well, you are a----Why, the man was talking about sheep. Monkey is a pet name for them. We'll want some sticks, though, as well as the tomahawk."

So saying, Sandy proceeded to hack at a cluster of gum saplings, and cut three waddies about five feet in length, and a fourth one eight feet long, and proportionately thick. Armed with these and carrying the other necessaries, including a billy of water and a snack of food, the exploration party proceeded to the cave entrance.

After gaining access to the first cave, the boys allowed Neville a few minutes' pause to get at home with his surroundings, before going on to the second or cathedral chamber. They then pursued their way through the tortuous and difficult passage between the two chambers, till at length they arrived at the opening.

"Hello!" exclaimed Sandy, who was in the lead, with an involuntary gasp.

"What's up?" cried Joe, who was immediately behind him.

"Why, ladder's gone!"

"Jemima! you don't say so. Why--how----?"

"It's gone, all right," replied the leader, as he peered by the light of his candle into the gloomy recesses of the cave. "Clean gone! Don't see it on the floor below, so it can't have dropped."

Joe, squeezing abreast Sandy, and doubling the light power, added his eyes to those of his mate in the search.

"No go," said he, after a keen but vain search. "Anyway, I can see how to get down easy enough." So saying, he placed his stick across the mouth of the passage, jamming it on either side into an interstice. "There!" he exclaimed, as he hung his weight upon the transverse beam, which, though bowing, did not crack when bearing his weight. "Let's put the rope round this, an' we'll slip down less'n no time."

"Wait a jiffy, Joe," said Sandy, who had been critically eyeing the staff. "We'll make 'assurance doubly sure,' as your father said in his sermon last Sunday,"--poking his stick while he spoke, into the same cavities as the other occupied. "That will stiffen it. It's easy enough getting down: we could jump, for that matter. It's the getting up that's the problem. There, it's as stiff as a fire-bar now. Here's the first to go down."

Holding the rope, the boy swung off, and was soon standing on the floor of the lower cave. The others followed rapidly. They could find no trace of the missing ladder. Not only was the ladder spirited away, there were other signs which showed that the caves had been entered since the last visit of the boys, and on proceeding to the third chamber, where the bushrangers slept, there were manifest signs of disturbance.

"Some un's been here, that's certain."

Sandy gave voice to the one opinion. The bark bunks occupied by the outlaws were thrown off their trestles to the ground. There was no gainsaying Sandy's statement. The situation was peculiar. The boys might well be pardoned for being a little fearsome and creepy under the circumstances.

"I heard Dickson tell your father, Sandy, at the brumby hunt, that a party was comin' out from Tareela to visit the caves. P'r'aps it's them that have moved the ladder."

"Don't think it could have been," persisted Joe. "There's no sign of their camp outside."

"What about the 'rangers?"

The thought was decidedly unpleasant, and when voiced it struck a chill in the hearts of all. As a matter of fact, the thought had lain in Sandy's mind from the time he missed the ladder.

Ben Bolt was not a desperado of the Morgan or Kelly type--men who were conscienceless, treacherous, and full of the blood-lust. Many, indeed, of his acts of gallantry and open-hearted generosity, if theatrical, were nevertheless redeeming qualities in the old-time bushranger. A man of great resource and daring, a thorough bushman, a superb rider, mounted always on the finest of horses,--stud stock mostly, which he "lifted" from celebrated breeding stations,--the 'ranger was, in some respects, a picturesque figure, and had a most adventurous career. Often located and even sighted by the police, he was always able to make good his escape, either by bush strategy or by an amazingly daring piece of riding in rough country, at which even his intrepid pursuers, themselves accomplished horsemen, stood aghast.

There was a spirit of romanticism about the fellow. His dress and appearance gave colour to that. He was passionately attached to his wife and children, and often incurred desperate risks in visiting them when "home-sickness" seized him. His house was ever under the surveillance of the police, who fondly hoped to catch him by that lure. Yet, though often within an ace of capture, he always escaped. Outwitting the subtlest efforts of the police, he was their despair. Though of a sanguine temperament, there were seasons when he was the victim of a black mood. At such times he was most dangerous and cruel.

"It could hardly be Ben Bolt," said Sandy at length. "It's quite possible that the town party has been. How could Ben be here an' in Queensland?"

"Well, what's next, Sandy?"

"I'd like us to explore the opening in the passage first, Joe. Come, boys, let's shin up."

This was speedily accomplished, and the pals proceeded to the spot that was in Sandy's eye, so to speak.

"Here's the place I meant!" exclaimed he, when they had retraced their steps some distance through the passage. The opening, at first sight, appeared to be a deep recess. Upon close examination, however, it was found that the wall and the roof did not meet. There was a hole some two feet in diameter.

"I spotted this when I came with father," explained the leader. "Now, if one of you fellows will give me a hoist, I'll get my head and shoulders into that opening above, and find out whether it's a chimney, or takes a turn and forms a passage."

Accordingly Joe, stooping a little, received Sandy on his shoulders, by which he was able to rise into the hole.

"Hurrah--hurrah!" he exclaimed a minute later. "It's a passage all right, boys. There's a sort of landing, anyway, and it looks as though there's a passage beyond. Hold steady, Joe, an' I'll try an' get my hands on the ledge."

The boy made several efforts without avail, for he was an inch or so too low.

"Step on my shoulders, Sandy." It was Neville who had placed himself alongside Joe. His shoulders were at least three inches higher. Thus raised, Sandy had no difficulty in grasping the ledge of the landing. Catching the lad's feet with his hands, Neville pushed the boy higher, and soon he worked his way on to the floor of the ceiling, as it were.

This done, he proceeded to light his candle and explore, for it was impenetrably dark. Following the passage inwards, the boy advanced some distance. He found that it widened as he proceeded, and became easier to traverse.

"I'd better return now for the other chaps," muttered the lad. Accordingly he retraced his steps and explained matters to the anxiously waiting group. By the aid of the green-hide lariat, the others were soon up with the leader on the landing.

Here, then, was a new situation. In all probability the foot of man had never trodden this place. There were no traces of any living thing. It was in no light mood, therefore, that the boys made a start. Their position was unique and thrilled them. They might, in a literal way, bring to light the hidden things of darkness. Not for ages, or ever, in all likelihood, had those walls been lighted up and gazed upon. Whither would the pathway lead?

Proceeding, they encountered no difficulty for some time, as the passage widened in places, enabling them to walk abreast. Soon, however, it began to contract, and in places it became a squeeze. The roof, too, dipped considerably, so that it could be touched by the extended hand.

Sandy, who was still leading, began to experience a tired feeling. There was a peculiar sensation in his ears, and a tightening in the throat. After advancing a few steps farther he stumbled and almost fell. His candle, too, began to burn very dimly. His followers were experiencing similar feelings. In a moment the cause of this untoward feeling came flashing across his mind.

Joe, behind him, cried out, "I say, Sand ... I'm gettin' ... short..."

"Back, everybody! Fire-damp!" cried the leader in a raucous voice, after a violent effort.

It was a narrow squeak. Though only a few minutes in the poisoned air, they were all on the verge of unconsciousness. Gasping, trembling, the sweat oozing from every pore, they struggled on until they reached the widened area of the passage, and then sank, exhausted, to the ground. Tom, who was at the tail of the procession was not so bad as the others, not having penetrated so far into the poison zone.

The pure air soon revived them. Their respiration, which was very laboured at first, improved as soon as the sweet, dry air entered their lungs, and ousted the putrid gas which had lodged there. A pull at the water-can, which fortunately they had brought with them, helped them a lot, and in a short time they were themselves again.

"That ends chapter one," said Joe dryly. "Whereaway now, Captain?"

"We've come to the end of our tether sudden enough, and with a vengeance. It'll be something, Mr. Neville, to tell 'em in England. Let us get back to the old passage. This is nothing but a death-trap."

*CHAPTER XXVI*

*THE EXPLORERS*

"'The best hearts, Trim, are ever the bravest,' replied my uncle Toby."--STERNE.

"That's a valiant flea that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion!"--SHAKESPEARE.

"How quickly we ran into that poison-trap! No smell or anything to warn us," remarked Neville, when the normal condition of the lads was restored, "save a nauseous feeling which supervened."

"Whatcher think made it hang like that, Mr. Neville? Seemed to me like an invisible fog that we suddenly encountered."

"That is really what I believe it to be, Tom. I know from what I have read and heard, the gas is colourless and quite heavy. An uncle of mine is a colliery manager in Wales, and this fire-damp, or choke-damp, as it is sometimes called, is often fatal, because it fills the lungs so that no other air can enter, and in this way suffocates its victims. We were just on the fringe of it, I think.

"As I was saying, this fire-damp, which is always much more dangerous after an explosion in the mines, is generally formed by the decomposition of certain substances in vegetable fibres, or in veins of carbonised mineral. That is why it is called carbonic acid gas. It is much heavier than the air. You remember the passage was contracted, and the air seems to have become impregnated at that particular place."

"Well, whatever it is," said Joe, who had just made a few spasmodic heaves, "it's good enough to keep out of. Let's give the acid, or gas, or damp, or whatever it's called, leg bail."

The party of defeated but not disgraced explorers now retraced their steps. Eagerly scanning the walls as they retreated for signs of diverging passages, they soon found themselves at the landing, whence they swung down into the blind alley that led to the main passage.

"Sandy," said Joe, when the party had emerged, "give that passage a name. Leichhardt gave names, you know, to all the creeks, hills, and water-holes he discovered in his travels. I reckon yon's our discovery. Faugh!" ejecting a mouthful of saliva, "it tastes like rotten soda-water. Let's call the beastly place by a name that'll fit it."

"Christen away."

"Me! Well--er--how'd 'Poison Pot' do?"

'"Death Trap' would be better," replied Sandy. So thought the others, and it was accordingly named "Death Trap Passage."

"Now, chaps, let's get back to the cathedral. There's a likely spot there--that hole, I mean, where the boulder was jammed."

"What's the time, Mr. Neville?" asked Joe, on arrival at the big chamber.

"Quarter to one."

"Why, we've hardly been three hours in! I made sure it was about six."

"I vote we have a go at the prog," chipped in Tom. "It'll help to take the nasty taste away."

"Good idea!" was the general verdict.

The pals had lost a good deal of their natural spirits. Three hours groping in semi-darkness, with a throat full of choke-damp thrown in, was enough to stale the strongest; yet they had no thought of surrender. They were "baffled, to fight better."

In a few minutes the outer entrance is gained, and in another five minutes they reach camp.

The hot tea was particularly acceptable. Nothing in the wide world could have been more refreshing and stimulating. Billy-tea boiled with gum sticks, just so far sweetened as to countervail the natural roughness without impairing the aromatic flavour, stands at the head of all beverages--whether aerated, brewed, distilled, or concocted.

"My word, this is bully tea, ain't it?" cried Tom, smacking his lips with satisfaction, after emptying his pannikin for the third time.

Neville in particular--to whom the outing and the exploration was a new experience--felt, as he puffed at a cigar, the stirrings of a larger and a nobler nature than that which had hitherto exercised him. Business life seemed flat and stale compared with this al fresco existence.

"Time to be goin' back again," said the practical Sandy, breaking in on a post-prandial reverie. "Gimme the tommie, Joe."

Tomahawk in hand, the boy walked to the sapling clump, and selecting a stout specimen, vigorously attacked it with the weapon. From this he cut two six-foot lengths, sharpening the thicker ends, crowbar fashion.

"What's that for, Sandy?"

"To prise the boulder. They'll make capital levers."

Armed with these additional implements, the lads returned to the caves, and in due course lowered themselves into the cathedral.

The spot which Sandy had mentally marked as a likely one has already been described. It was a cleft in the floor at its junction with the wall, and immediately behind a huge stalagmite. It must have escaped the vigilant eyes of the professional trackers. The corner was a very dark one, and unless one looked closely behind the boulder the cleft would not be observed. Sandy had lit upon it in a promiscuous search, and was impressed by its possibilities as another outlet, or inlet, to other cavities.

No sooner had the boys arrived at the spot, and Sandy had cast his eye upon it, than he exclaimed, "Somebody's been here!"

"How d'yer know?"

"This stone is not in the same position as when I last saw it."

"Who could it 'a' been?"

"Dunno. I'm crack sure, however, that this stone was not square down the other day. The flat of it was down and the point of it up. Now it's reversed. Besides, here are crowbar marks."

"It'll be hard enough to get out--much harder than it would 'a' been if it hadn't been touched."

"Must have been a strong chap that turned it!"

"Strong? No one man could ever have done it! It would be difficult for two. Why, that stone's not a pound less than four hundredweight!"

"Well, time's goin'," said Joe, "and what's done's done. Let's at it, Sandy. Up-end her, and throw her over on the floor."

The lads vainly tried to insert the wooden bar. The cracks between the lid, so to speak, and the edge at the opening were not sufficiently wide to admit this.

"It won't do," said Sandy after a while; "we're gettin' no forrader."

"I suggest," interposed Neville, "that you widen the cracks."

"How can we do that?"

"Will you let me have a try?"

"My!--rather. Anything to get the blame thing out."

Neville picked up the tomahawk that was lying near at hand, and began striking the edges of the hole where Sandy had been prising.

"That's the stitch!" cried Tom. "Well done, Mr. Neville!"

The limestone readily yielded to Neville's strokes, and the crevice was soon wide enough to take in the thick end of the stout gum sapling.

Sandy and Neville, taking a pull at the end, levered the stone high enough for Joe, who had the other bar ready to insert between the raised end and the floor stone. With this additional lever power the "stopper" was canted on one side, high enough to put the stone chocks in. Another application of the bars, with two boys hanging on each and pulling simultaneously, brought the "stopper out of the bottle," and toppled it over with a thud that shook the floor; bringing down a stalactite with a crash, fortunately without harm to the exploring party.

Before venturing down, Joe, in whose mind an idea had been fermenting while the stone-raising business was being carried on, critically surveyed the stone "stopper."

"Look here!" remarked he, "these are the marks of an iron crowbar. Whoever removed this had the proper tools for it. Whatcher make of that? That upsets the town party theory, don't it?"

"It certainly makes the puzzle harder," said Neville.

"Think so? Makes it easier to me," quoth Sandy.

"How's that?"

"Looks more'n more like Ben Bolt's work."

"Think he's in there now?" exclaimed Tom, in an awed whisper.

"No, I don't think that. But it shows me that he's knocking about here again, an' he's been in the caves quite recently."

The boys looked into each other's faces, and felt--well, just as you would feel, brave reader, were you in the cavernous depths of earth, in the very haunts of proclaimed outlaws, not knowing at what moment they might spring upon you. Standing in the cold, damp, dim underground, at the mouth of an unknown passage, which might take you to the innermost den of the outlaws, could you contemplate advance without an attack of the creeps? The crevice, after going down sheer a few feet, turned on a level plane, right across the floor of the cathedral, in a westerly direction. How far could be known only by actual travel.

"Come on, boys," said Sandy, after a moment's silence; "it's what we've come here for. I believe, for one, we're goin' to solve the mystery."

One by one the lads dropped into the bottom of the well. The passage was of unequal width, but always wide enough to allow the party to proceed without squeezing, and had a fairly level floor. The floor, after extending two hundred paces or so in a westerly direction, began to decline somewhat sharply, and presently Sandy gave a warning shout--

"Water ahead!"

The others crowded round him as well as they could. There, at their very feet, was a pool of water of unknown depth.

"Here's a go, chaps! Looks as if it might be a swim."

The pool covered a fairly wide stretch, and was in a dip of the passage.

"Don't think it's a swim myself," remarked Joe. "Let's take off our boots an' pants. I fancy we'll find it only a wade. We can move cautiously and test it with a bar as we proceed."

The party did as suggested, and found to their satisfaction that the water did not rise above their knees; for none of them relished a swim in the icy water. After re-dressing, the company moved forward, and soon emerged into a spacious cavern that fairly sparkled with lime crystals. Little time, however, was spent in admiration. They moved across it in the same direction, and found two exits. After a short consultation, they decided to take the larger of the two passages, because it seemed to be a continuation of the old track. Just as they started, Tom, who was in the rear, on looking round, saw what appeared to be a bundle on the floor of the cave, some distance to the right.

"Wait a moment," cried he, as he ran to the object. "Oh, I say, here's a find!"

The others, who were in the entrance, backed out, and ran to his side. Tom held the old vine ladder in his hands.

There was no longer any doubt. There could be only one conclusion. At the sight of this the boys had a bad attack of the creeps.

"It's the 'rangers all right. They've slipped the police again." There seemed to be no alternative to this conclusion. "Seems to me," continued Joe, who was the quickest of the lot in reasoning out a thing, "that they've been back here again, and knowing that the bobbies'll be on the watch to trap 'em at this spot, they've locked up the house, in a way of speakin', an' thrown the key inside. I vote that we go on."

No one said nay, and so the advance was made. The passage presented no serious obstacle, widening and narrowing at intervals, but never too narrow to proceed. As they were squeezing through a difficult place, Sandy again sounded the alarm.

"What's up now?" said Joe, who was just behind.

"'Nother big cave, an' a deep drop into it, same as the other. There's a bar across here where they've slung ropes. Undo the lasso, chaps."

"Let's hope we're getting near the end of it."

The speaker was Joe. The truth is, the work was most tiring in its nature, and the spirits of the party were yielding to a very uneasy feeling, despite Joe's plausible theories that the end might be the reverse of pleasant. Should Ben Bolt, after all, be in hiding, well--the worst might happen.

Fixing the rope, they slipped down to the floor of the new cave. This, though not remarkable for beauty, was commodious enough, and had several outlets, in one of which there were indubitable evidences of the one-time presence of horses.

"Hello! here's the stable," cried Tom, who was first in this recess.

Sure enough in a vault-shaped but very roomy cavern, entered by a wide passage, was the robbers' stable. Several bundles of bush hay were stacked in one corner. A manure heap filled the other. All this pointed to a prolonged occupation. The idea of the robbers' presence had so materialised by these later evidences that the boys felt they might be confronted at any moment by the desperadoes.

"What'll we do, Joe?" said Tom. "Slip quietly back again?"

"Slip back again, after getting this far! Don't be frightened, Tom."

"I'm not; y'are yourself."

"Well," replied Joe, with a smile, "I'll not deny that I've felt like it more'n once. But there's one thing you've not noticed, chaps."

"What's that?" chorused the group.

"There's not been any horses here for weeks."

"How d'yer know?"

"No fresh droppings."

That fact was indisputable, conclusive, and enheartening. It lifted a load of apprehension, to call it by no harder name; and now, with buoyant spirits, to which they had been strangers for some time, the boys continued the search. The end, indeed, was close at hand.

"Look out sharply for tracks," was the command of the leader on leaving the stable, stooping low as he spoke, and eagerly scanning the floor. Hoof-prints were discovered and followed. They led to a corner of the big cave which narrowed at that point, and continued on as an opening. After going a few paces, Sandy called out, "Hurrah--hurrah! Light ahead!"

Sure enough, a few yards farther the passage was lighted with natural rays that shot through a small opening some distance ahead. The party was exultant, and needed no telling that this was sunlight. In this subterranean fashion the explorers had traversed, mole-like, the range spur, and proved the theory of the dual entrance.

Like as the exultation of Columbus when the first sight of the new world convinced him that he had solved the riddle of ages, or as Leichhardt felt when he and his dauntless band stood upon the shores of the great northern gulf, after having passed through the very heart of Australia's _terra incognita_, so did the breasts of these brave youths swell with the spirit of triumph when that ray of light revealed the joyful fact that they, a group of mere youngsters, had succeeded where the experts had failed.

The whole company darted through the spacious passage to the opening. It was in the face of a cliff, and fully fifty yards from its sloping base. So steep was the cliff that, viewed from a distance, it appeared perpendicular; forbidding to anything save rock wallabies and--Ben Bolt.

Its very roughness, however, made its ascent a possibility. Had it been a smooth face, no horse, however capable, could have climbed it. Ben Bolt was always able to achieve the possible. Many of his wild rides bordered on the miraculous. His personality magnetised his steeds. Wherever he led they would go, and so the steep ravine that rose from the rocky base to this entrance afforded a precarious footing for the outlaw's horses.

"Now then, boys, before we go down, let's give a cheer," said Sandy. Led by the leader, the group signalled its victory--for such it was, and no mean one--by a rousing cheer that woke the echoes of the precipice and spread wave-like over the landscape beyond.

It penetrated the ears of two men who were riding quietly in the bush that lay beyond the rocky plateau which formed the base of the cliffs.

"What's that?" exclaimed the elder to the youth who rode at his side.

"Sounds like a cheer," replied the youth. "Who can it be--traps?"

Turning their horses' heads, they rode swiftly but silently to the edge of the scrubby timber which they were traversing. Halting just within the bushy barrier, they parted the leaves, and there, perched high up the cliff's side, were four youthful forms--the band of cave explorers.

"Now, boys, we'll go back an' have another look round before we leave. Might find something belonging to Ben Bolt worth carryin' away. We can easily get out on this side, and cross the spur a little higher up, where the cliff runs out. 'Twon't take long neither! I say--won't we have a yarn to spin to-night!"

But the unexpected is yet to happen. The company retraced their steps to the cave, and did a little exploration; finding nothing, however, but a couple of leather mail-bags and some opened letters--the remains of coach-robbery spoils.

"This is the last one, mates," remarked Sandy, as the group entered the mouth of a passage. After traversing its course a little distance, it opened up into a small cave, twenty feet square. On one side of it were bunks similar to those in the other cave. While in the act of examining it, Joe fancied he heard a footfall. Stopping a moment to listen, he distinctly heard the sounds of stealthy footsteps.

"'S-s-sh-h-h, boys! Some un's followin'!"

At this startling statement the boys halted and turned round, to be confronted by two forms hardly distinguishable in the surrounding gloom. The pals gave a gasp of terror as the call peculiar to highwaymen smote their ears and they faced two weapons, levelled point blank.

"Hands up!"

Candles are dropped in sheer fright in an eye-wink, and hands go up in gross darkness.

The sun had just set as the four youths, in company with two men, mounted their horses and took the track leading to Bullaroi. Strange to say, the lads showed no signs of fear, nor were they bound with cords.

"By jingo!" cried Tom, who had just put his horse at a big log and cleared it in fine style, followed in order by Joe, Sandy, and Neville, "this is the grandest outin' I've ever had!"

"It's a' very weel," answered Mr. M'Intyre, who with Denny Kineavy had been following the tracks of some strayed cattle which were making for the ranges, and were passing the cliff opening while the cave explorers were ringing the welkin with cheers, "but supposin' that instead o' us, it 'd really been the bushrangers returnin' and catcht ye trespassin'? What then, ma laddies?"

This query raised visions of possibilities that sobered the vaulting spirits of the pals for some brief moments. Very thankful were they in a moment of reflection that they had been bailed up by a friendly enemy.

"Heigho!"

"What's matter, Joe?"

"Fun's all over: measly school opens to-morrow!"

*CHAPTER XXVII*

*A RESPITE*

"Ah! those were the days of youth's perfect spring,
When each wandering wind had a song to sing,
When the touch of care and the shade of woe
Were but empty words we could never know,
As we rode 'neath the gum and the box trees high,
And our idle laughter went floating by."
GEORGE ESSEX EVANS.

Joe little thought when making the melancholy statement, "measly school opens to-morrow," how prophetic the utterance was.

The first words that greeted the party on their return to the homestead were: "School won't open for another three weeks; the town's full of measles."

The pals tried hard to look sober and concerned as Mrs. M'Intyre dilated upon the nature of the epidemic. It was a vain attempt. To their credit be it said, they were very poor hypocrites. Whatever sorrow they might feel on account of their friends who were in the grip of the disease was more than counterbalanced by the blissful intimation that, owing to the epidemic which had unexpectedly broken out, the school authorities had resolved, for at least three weeks, to keep the school closed.

"There's no going home at present, boys. I wouldn't dream of letting you return. I'll just write to your mothers to say I intend keeping you here, unless they want you particularly. I feel sure they will be thankful for your absence at such a time. So you'll have to make the best of it, boys. Are you sorry?"

"Well--er--of course--I'm a----"

"Yes--a--of course--you're--a--shedding tears at the thought of staying here another fortnight or so--aren't you, Joe? You and Tom do look as miserable as moulting fowls in wet weather at the bare thought of holiday extension."

The lads burst out laughing at Jessie's sally, and declared that it was the crummiest news they had received during the holidays.

"That's a' very weel, and ye needna fash, laddies, that you'll ootwear your welcome. But here's some news that may no' be so pleasant," said the squatter, who had been busy with his mail. "Here's a letter frae Inspector Garvie to say that Ben Bolt and his mate are in the deestric' again. He stuck up Dirrilbandie Station three days ago, drivin' a' the hands aboot the homesteed, along wi' Wilson and his faimily, into ane o' the men's huts, in which they were held by his youthfu' confederate while he ransacked the place."

"Oh! the poor Wilsons! Did he hurt any of them? and did he get much?"

In reply to a fusillade of questions from the excited household, M'Intyre stated that though Ben Bolt was in one of his black humours, was in fact on the point of shooting one of the men for cheeking his mate, and was only dissuaded from this atrocity by the pleading of Mrs. Wilson, no one was injured. He had taken a considerable amount of loot, however, in the shape of jewellery; also a pair of new improved revolvers, as well as three horses, one of them being Wilson's handsome chestnut gelding, the finest hack in the district, and for which he had a short time previously refused seventy pounds from the police authorities.

There had been an outcry against the Government for not having provided a better class of mount for the troopers. Again and again the schemes of the police to capture the bushrangers in various parts of the colony failed, chiefly because they were out-classed in horse-flesh. A tardy Government, aroused at last to action by the clamour of the people, was doing its best to remedy this unequal condition.

"I suppose, sir, the police are in full chase of the desperadoes?"

"They're doin' their best, ye may be sure, Mr. Neville. Garvie has two pairties oot scoorin' the country, and is holdin' himsel' in readiness to move to ony pint at a moment's notice. As the scoondrels hae cut the Walcha telegraph line, the presumption is they will be raidin' the place, and Sergeant Hennessey is following up with the utmost speed. The Sub wants the loan o' Jacky or Willy, or both, as trackers, and to let him ken at aince should there be ony signs o' them on Bullaroi, 'specially aboot the caves."

"Are you goin' to lend him the boys, father?"

"Weel, it's very awkward, but I'll hae to assist the coorse o' juistice when ca'd upon. We maun dae oor pairt to catch the rascals."

"Suppose you _had_ tumbled across the 'rangers in the caves, boys?"

"Well! an' s'p'osin' we had, Miss Jessie?" replied Tom, whose answer in tone and query suggested unspeakably bad things for the outlaws had they been unfortunate enough to meet the cave heroes.

"Let me pit ye a sum in arithmeetic, Thomas, ma laddie; juist a sma' sum in proportion. If twa stock wheep hondles, pinted at fowr cave explorers, each wi' a lighted candle in his hand, would cause the said candles to drop to the flure and fowr pair o' hands to go up like a toy acrobat when ye pu' the strings, what attitudes would the aforesaid explorers strike if a pair o' rale loaded peestols had been presented?"

"Tom is always a duffer at proportion," interjected Joe laughingly. "He has a trick of givin' answers that make Simpson sit up. To tell you the truth, sir, I don't think that the real article could have given us a greater shock. Speaking for myself, I confess that I've never had so bad an attack of the shakes before. My skin went goosey in a moment, an' my hair stood up like a hedgehog's spikes. I couldn't 'a' said a word for a hatful of sovereigns. You see, sir, _it was all very real to us for the moment_, and none of the others felt any better than myself, I bet tuppence."

"Joe's quite right, sir. I had a most dreadful feeling as we stood there in the black darkness. It seemed as if a vast abyss had suddenly engulfed us and we were sinking to fathomless depths."

"I'll back up Joe and Mr. Neville, dad. My word, when you spoke, it was as if some one had suddenly pulled me out of a dreadful nightmare."

The pals went to bed early, as they were tired out after the unwonted exertions of the day, but not to sleep. They were too excited for that.

"I say, chaps," exclaimed Sandy, jumping out of bed after he had tossed about for a few minutes, dragging his stretcher alongside the bigger bed, "let's settle what we're goin' to do."

"Was just thinking of doin' a sleep, Master M'Intyre, when you commenced to drag the jolly stretcher with enough noise to wake the seven sleepers. An' as for ole Tom, I fancied I heard a snore comin' through a hole in his pumpkin----"

"Pumpkin yourself, Blain. I'm as wide awake as you, or that grinnin' ape Sandy."

"How d'yer know I'm grinnin'?"

"'Cause I can see your jolly teeth shinin' in the dark. But I say, ole chap, I'm on for a confab. Ouch! my legs _are_ stiff. Wish I'd taken that hot bath your mother advised. Whatcher got in your ole noddle?"

"Something big, mates, but the difficulty will be with mother. You see, now ole Ben's prowlin' about, mother'll be hard to persuade."

"Well, tell us what's up your sleeve; we can discuss ways an' means after."

"It's this: go on a campin' trip to the Bay, where there's grand fishin'; then go out to the gold-diggin's, an' put in a couple o' days with the fossikers."

"Jemima! that'd be no end of a prime lark! It'd top off our stay here, wouldn't it, Tom?"

"Susan Jane! it would that, Joe. My word, it'd be a scrumptious finish! but what charnce would we have of carrying it out?"

"I don't think that either your Jemima or Susan Jane'll have much to do with it. Mother'll be the chief obstacle."

"What about a tent, Sandy? We'd have to get one, wouldn't we?"

"There'll be no trouble about that part of the business. There's a big drover's tent in the harness-room; 'sides, Harry has a small one he'd lend if necessary. Lemme see: what _would_ we want? First an' foremost, a tent or tents, an' a packhorse to carry 'em an' the other things. Then plenty o' prog, o' course: fishing lines--there's tip-top schnapper-fishin' down the Bay, to say nothin' of jew, bream, an' whitin'. Then, the guns--we ought to get some good shootin'; both fur an' feather."

"A fryin'-pan and a camp-oven 'ud come in handy, pannikins too, and some tin plates."

"Yes, yes, we'll need those; at any rate, the fryin'-pan for the fish. Don't think there'll be any need to bother about a camp-oven: it's a plaguey thing to carry; we wouldn't use it 'cept for bread, an' we can make plenty of damper in the ashes. But I'll tell you what we must have, an' that's a couple o' small barrels an' a good few pounds o' salt."

"Why, what for?"

"Fish. We'll be down at the Bay pretty near a week, I reckon; an' as we'll catch whips o' fish, it'd be a fine chance to dry some, an' salt some as well. Mother's got two good barrels that hold about half-a-hundred-weight each; they're salmon casks. The salmon's all used, an' I reckon schnapper is as good as salmon any day. That reminds me we'll want three or four sheath-knives; they'll come in handy for scalin' an' splittin' the fish."

"I say, Sandy, when'll we start?"

"Start! Ah--well--we'll talk about that when we get leave--which, let me tell you, is pretty doubtful. 'Twouldn't take long to get ready once we have permission: a day at most. I declare I'm gettin' sleepy. Good-night, chaps."

The boys opened at short range during the breakfast hour the next morning. In other words, they pled most vigorously for permission to camp out for a week or so, according to the programme concocted the night previously. The chief objection lay in the reappearance of Ben Bolt in the district. It was all in vain that the boys insisted that even were the redoubtable 'ranger to visit their camp, which was most unlikely--he would not harm them: would, in fact, have no interest in bailing up a parcel of boys. Mr. M'Intyre showed palpable signs of yielding, and had it been left to him would have granted a reluctant permission. The insurmountable barrier, as indeed the boys knew beforehand, lay in Mrs. Mac's excessive fear. She held the fort, so to speak, against all comers.

"I'm more sorry than I can tell you, boys, to say no, but nothing you could say would alter my mind. Neither Joe's mother nor Tom's would dream of letting them go camping out while those dreadful men are about."

The pals felt the reasonableness of the refusal, and showed not a flicker of resentment, though of course their disappointment was keen.

"I say, chaps, let's put in the mornin' fishin'," suggested Joe.

The vote was unanimous, and in a few minutes, armed with rods and lines and a tomahawk--the latter for use in cutting grubs out of the honeysuckle trees--the boys were _en route_ to some of the deep pools in the creek. They had a really good time with some giant perch. The dangling grubs formed an irresistible lure to these voracious denizens of the water-holes, and the fishermen had no reason to grumble at the result. On their return home to lunch they were dumbfounded with the news shouted out by Denny as soon as they were within speaking distance, "Owld Ben's dead!--shot by the p'lice in th' ranges."

The whole household was greatly excited by the news, which had been brought by a stockman from Captain White's station. There seemed no reason to doubt the intelligence, which had come via the "bush telegraph." Hennessey's lot had picked up the 'rangers' tracks and partly surprised them in the mountains. The outlaws promptly but barely succeeded in getting away. They gradually drew away, however, from all save the Sergeant, who was on a new mount--one of the Tocal noted breed--which proved to be a "ringer."

The leader and his companion, who was a light weight, tried every dodge to shake off the pursuit, and in this they were past masters; but they had to reckon with Hennessey, who was one of the finest troopers in the force--as dare-devil a rider as Ben Bolt himself.

After some marvellous riding among the ravines and tangled mountain scrub--during which a few long-range shots had been exchanged--Hennessey began to draw upon the outlaws. Even that equine magician, Samson, was reaching his limits. The capture of this illusive freebooter seemed now a certainty, could the Sergeant hold out another ten minutes.

He was now within a hundred yards of his man. He lagged a little behind his youthful mate, who was riding the chestnut gelding looted from Wilson's station. Had he wished he could have shot the 'ranger down; but being extremely anxious to capture him alive for the bigger reward, he refrained. The only advantage Ben Bolt possessed was an intimate knowledge of the ground, by which he often gained a bit. They were now racing up a steep ravine which presently terminated abruptly at a precipice. Down this the outlaws apparently flung themselves; or so it appeared to Hennessey.

Arriving at the spot a few seconds later, the trooper perceived a winding, narrow pass. He was a stranger to the precipitous track, but both the bushrangers and their horses were familiar with it, for they slithered and scrambled down at breakneck speed: a single stumble, and man and horse would inevitably be dashed to pieces. In vain did the gallant Sergeant spur his steed towards the pass. His horse resolutely refused to face it. His chances of capture are fast diminishing to a vanishing point, as in a few minutes his prize will have escaped.