The Camp, for its part, was screened by a breastwork of firewood,
trusses of hay and bags of corn; while the mounted police stood or lay
fully armed by their horses, which were saddled ready for action at a
moment's notice.
Neither Ned nor Purdy put in an appearance, and the night passed without
news of them. Just before dawn, however, Mahony was wakened by a tapping
at the window. Thrusting out his head he recognised young Tommy Ocock,
who had been sent by his father to tell "doctor" that the soldiers were
astir. Lights could be seen moving about the Camp, a horse had neighed--
father thought spies might have given them the hint that at least half
the diggers from the Stockade had come down to Main Street last night,
and got drunk, and never gone back. With a concerned glance at Polly
Mahony struggled into his clothes. He must make another effort to reach
the boys--especially Ned, for Polly's sake. When Ned had first
announced his intention of siding with the insurgents, he had merely
shrugged his shoulders, believing that the young vapourer would soon
have had enough of it. Now he felt responsible to his wife for Ned's
safety: Ned, whose chief reason for turning rebel, he suspected, was
that a facetious trooper had once dubbed him "Eytalian organ-grinder,"
and asked him where he kept his monkey.
But Mahony's designs of a friendly interference came too late. The
troops had got away, creeping stealthily through the morning dusk; and
he was still panting up Specimen Hill when he heard the crack of a
rifle.
Pages:
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154