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Updated: May 18, 2025
Notwithstanding this warning the bushranger's right hand instantly moved towards the butt of the pistol in his belt, his left still holding the rein; he, however, quickly changed his mind, for he well knew, should he attempt to draw his weapon, before he could present it a couple of balls might be crashing through his brain. Another oath escaped his lips.
"But how came you in possession of so much gold dust?" asked Fred; a slight suspicion crossing his mind that the old convict might have employed his leisure hours at a bushranger's occupation. "Honestly, good youth, honestly. God knows all things, and he will acquit me of obtaining the dust otherwise."
Forgetting for a moment that the bushranger's guns lay beside my brother and Hector, but recollecting that the big fellow had a brace of pistols in his belt, I was afraid of firing lest I should miss; and that he, coming back, would turn the tables on us. The next instant Hector and Guy had each picked up a gun.
"I shall do my best," I replied. The bully did not utter a word in reply, but he put the point of his knife to a bushranger's arm, and pressed so hard that the prisoner uttered a half suppressed cry of pain. "You see!" the fellow exclaimed, turning to me. "Now, what are you going to do about it?" I saw that Mr.
A Chinaman, aspiring to better things, had vacated the billet in his favour! It is interesting to note the use Boldrewood makes in his novel of the suggestion afforded by the bushranger's concealment of his identity. When Starlight is overcome in his last attempt at escape, the curiosity long felt concerning his past life seems for the third time in the story about to be gratified.
Enter an unexplored region. Situation of Mr. Oxley's camp on the Peel. Westward course of the river. Kangaroo shot. Calcareous rocks. Acacia pendula first seen. Other trees near the river. Junction of the Peel and Muluerindie. View from Perimbungay. Ford of Wallanburra. Plains of Mulluba. View from Mount Ydire. Hills seen agree with The Bushranger's account. The river Namoi.
At this point Louis Bachelor swayed, and would have fallen, but that the bushranger's arms were thrown round him and helped him to a chair. "I'm afraid that I am ill," he said; "call Gongi. Ah!" He had fainted. The bushranger carried him to a bed, and summoned Gongi and the woman from the tavern, and in another hour was riding away through the valley of the Popri.
"I will tell you why I feel this bitter hatred for my enemies, and then you can judge whether I am entirely in the wrong. Raise my head slightly, for I feel that I am sinking fast." I propped his back against some spare blankets, and heard the bushranger's story. I thought he told me the truth at the time, and a few subsequent inquiries convinced me that such was the fact.
In many other parts of the ship we found, when we came to do our cleaning, initials, dates, and occasional names, rudely carved. But the only attempt at a written tribute to the derelict's quality as a camping-place was the pretended bushranger's 'Not too bad'; a thoroughly Australian commentary, and probably endorsed in speech at the time of writing by the exclamation: 'My word!
At this point Louis Bachelor swayed, and would have fallen, but that the bushranger's arms were thrown round him and helped him to a chair. "I'm afraid that I am ill," he said; "call Gongi. Ah!" He had fainted. The bushranger carried him to a bed, and summoned Gongi and the woman from the tavern, and in another hour was riding away through the valley of the Popri.
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