remain mounted in
the road and ride him down if he shows fight."

So the pair in the pugarees walked one at either stirrup of their
crooked chief, leaving the two horses tethered to a tree, until of a
sudden the whole party halted as one. They had rounded a bend in the
road with great caution, for they all knew where they were; but only one
of them was prepared for the position of the light which flashed into
their eyes from the heart of the scrub.

It was a tiny light, set low upon the ground, and yet it flashed through
the forest like a diamond in a bundle of hay. It burnt at no little
distance from the track, for at a movement it was lost, but it was some
hundreds of yards nearer the station than the scene of the murder. The
chief whispered that this was where he had found the buried booty, and
over half the distance he led the way, winding in and out among the
trees, now throwing a leg across his horse's withers to avoid a hole,
anon embracing its neck to escape contact with the branches. It was long
before they could discern anything but the light itself amid the trunks
and branches of the scrub.

Suddenly the horseman stopped, beckoning with his free hand to the pair
afoot, pointing at the fire with the one that held the reins; and as
they crept up to him he stooped in the stirrups till his mouth was close
to the sergeant's ear.

"He's sitting on the far side of the light, but you can't see his face.
I thought he was a log, and I still believe he's asleep. Creep on him
like cats till he looks up; then rush him with your revolvers before he
can draw his, and I'll support you with mine!"

Nearer and nearer stole Cameron and Tyler; the rider managed to coax a
few more noiseless steps from his clever mount, but dropped the reins
and squared his elbows some twenty paces from the light--a hurricane
lamp now in the sharpest focus. The policemen crawled some yards ahead;
all three carried revolver in hand. But still the unsuspecting figure
sat motionless, his chin upon his chest, the brim of his wideawake
hiding his face, a little heap of gold and notes before him on the
ground. Then the Superintendent's horse flung up its head; its teeth
champed upon the bit; the man sat bolt upright, and the light of the
hurricane lamp fell full upon the face of Hardcastle the squatter.

"Rush him! rush him! That's the man we want!"

But the momentary stupefaction of the police had given Hardcastle his
opportunity; the hurrican