if it wasn't so confoundedly dark. There's a log
somewhere--ah, here it is; we'll be able to see better if we mount it."

"I wish we had more light," growled the so-called captain; "it won't be
easy to make off on horseback in such--is this the log? Here, lend a
hand."

As he spoke the robber-chief put one of his heavy boots on the little
finger of Pat Flinders's left hand, and well-nigh broke it in springing
on to the log in question!

A peculiarly Irish howl all but escaped from poor Flinders's lips.

"I see," said Stalker, after a few moments. "There's enough of us to
attack a camp twice the size. Now we must look sharp. I'll go round to
the prison and set Brixton free. When that's done, I'll hoot three
times--so--only a good deal louder. Then you an' the boys will rush in
and--you know the rest. Come."

Descending from the log on the other side, the two desperadoes left the
spot. Then Paddy rose and ran as if he had been racing, and as if the
prize of the race were life!

"Bad luck to you, ye murtherin' thieves," growled the Irishman, as he
ran, "but I'll stop yer game, me boys!"

CHAPTER SEVEN.

As straight, and almost as swiftly, as an arrow, Flinders ran to his
tent, burst into the presence of his amazed comrade, seized him by both
arms, and exclaimed in a sharp hoarse voice, the import of which there
could be no mistaking--

"Whisht!--howld yer tongue! The camp'll be attacked in ten minutes! Be
obadient now, an' foller me."

Flinders turned and ran out again, taking the path to Gashford's hut
with the speed of a hunted hare. Fred Westly followed. Bursting in
upon the bully, who had not yet retired to rest, the Irishman seized him
by both arms and repeated his alarming words, with this addition:

"Sind some wan to rouse the camp--but _silently_! No noise--or it's all
up wid us!"

There was something in Paddy's manner and look that commanded respect
and constrained obedience--even in Gashford.

"Bill," he said, turning to a man who acted as his valet and cook,
"rouse the camp. Quietly--as you hear. Let no man act however, till my
voice is heard. You'll know it when ye hear it!"

"No mistake about _that_!" muttered Bill, as he ran out on his errand.

"Now--foller!" cried Flinders, catching up a bit of rope with one hand
and a billet of firewood with the other, as he dashed out of the hut and
made straight for the prison, with Gashford and Westly close at his
heels.

Gashfor