anguish. When he knew
all, we waited to see what course he would pursue.

To our surprise, he did not speak, but turned away as though about to
seek his home.

"Stay one moment," cried Smith, laying his hand upon his shoulder.

"Well," cried the convict, impatiently.

"What do you propose to do?" we asked.

"Are you Americans, and ask that question?" he demanded.

"You think of seeking Black Darnley?" Smith continued.

"I do."

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"You shall not," cried Smith, with sudden energy. "You are no match for
him and his gang."

"My daughter's injury must be avenged. I go alone to consummate it."

"Stay until to-morrow, and we will accompany you," Fred and myself cried
with one accord.

The convict hesitated for a moment, then suddenly extended his hands,
and while he wrung ours, promised a compliance. The next instant he had
lifted his daughter in his arms, and was walking with the burden towards
his hut.

We saw no more of him until towards night, and then he was in front of
the hut cleaning his long, heavy musket.

CHAPTER VIII.

AN EXPEDITION.--A FIGHT WITH BUSHRANGERS.--DEATH OF BLACK DARNLEY.

"I don't like the expedition," said Smith, pettishly, as he saw Fred and
myself examining our powder-flasks and counting bullets.

"Then stay here and await our return," cried Fred, bluntly, looking up
from his work.

Smith moved uneasily, muttered something in an under tone, felt the edge
of his constant companion, a heavy axe, and then replied,--

"If you two harum-scarum youngsters are determined to get your throats
cut, I don't see but that I shall have to be near at hand. But I tell
you it is bad business, and none but crazy men would think of
penetrating that dark forest in search of bushrangers."

"You wouldn't let that old man go alone, would you?" we asked.

"No; but then--"

He stopped a moment, as though to collect his thoughts, and pettishly
exclaimed,--

"D---- it, you are going in search of the worst gang on the island.
Black Darnley is equal to all three of us in a personal encounter."

"But suppose we kept him at bay, and tried the effect of rifle shot?" I
asked, holding up a short, heavy, instrument, carrying about twenty-five
to a pound.

"The rifle looks like a true one, and I know that you boys can shoot,
but suppose that you didn't get the chance?"

"Then we must trust to luck," answered Fred, coolly.

"I'm no great hand at bush-fighting," replied S