“An eerie, waesome spot, they tell me. The gunyahs hae na been leeved in this mony a year. The few fra-agments o’ the tribe conseeder it to be haunted, and winna gang near. It’s a’ strewed wi’ skulls, and skeletons of whites and blacks mingled, nane having been at the pains to bury them. The grass grows rank abune the mouldering relics o’ baith races. The banes gleam white when the moon is at her full, lying matted thegither amaist concealed by the growth of years.
“Weel, aweel! I’m just daundering on toward the eend, the sair, sorrowfu’ eending o’ a fearsome tale. The twa pairties, that wad be the Queensland gang, and the Sydney-side lot, were nigh hand to the ‘Ghost Camp’ aboot the same time.
“That’s sayin’ the three Lawless bodies had ridden night and day – picking up fresh horses for the men, as they came along. Kate rode the roan pony mare all through, a grand little crater she was, and weel she earned her name ‘Wallaby,’ sae ca’ed after the kangaroo beastie that wad hop frae rock to rock, like ony goat o’ the cliffs.
“The Inspector reckoned that Bradfield’s gang wad show up in the gloaming o’ the appointed day. No kenning that they had been betrayed, they wad camp careless like. Dayrell’s tracker creepit oot and lay ahint a rock while they unsaiddled and turned loose their horses. Bradfield he knew – a tall powerfu’ chiel, with a big beard, a Sydney-side native, and if he wasna the best bushman in Queensland, he wasna that far aff. Of the four men with him, twa had ‘done time,’ and were worse after they cam’ oot o’ gaol, than when they gaed in. They had grog in them; they made a fire – not a black fellow’s one – and talked and laughed and swore, as they didna care wha might hear them.
“So far, a’ went weel. Dayrell’s party lay close – made no fire – prepared to deleever attack at dawn, when dootless Bradfield’s men wad be asleep or all unsuspeecious. But were they? By no manner of means. The twa Lawless brithers and Kate had won to Wandong Creek i’ the nicht – Ned and Kate had lain them doon, joost dead beat and like to dee wi’ sheer exhaustion. Dick stowed the horse away in the gulley. It’s deep, and amaist covered in wi’ trees and fern. Then being a tireless crater and in hard work and training, he thocht he would tak’ a wee bit look oot, to make a’ safe. It was weel thocht on – though not for the police party. It wasna lang ere he heard a horse whinnie. Not the nicher o’ a brumbie, either. Then cam’ the tramp o’ anither and the jingle o’ a hobble chain. Could it be the police? He would soon know. Creeping frae tree to tree, he came on the mob. Six riding horses, and two ‘packers’ all with the Crown brand on. Dayrell’s dark chestnut, he knew him again. And a light bay with two white hind fetlocks. Police horses all, well fed and groomed. Now where was the camp?
“Keeping wide and crawling from log to log, like a night-wandering crater o’ the forest, he thought he saw a glimmer o’ a fire – not a small one either. What d – d fool had lighted that, with a hot trail so close? So he walkit, ye ken, till what suld ail him to come ram-sham on six sleeping men. Police in plain clothes? Never! It was Bradfield’s gang, believing that Dayrell was no within a colony o’ them. And now to get speech. Their revolvers were under their hands, their rifles handy ye ken. If an alarm was given it might spoil the whole plan. With two other rifles, not counting Kate (and she was a fair shot at short range), they might turn the tables on Dayrell and his blasted police.
“Keen and ready witted as are the de’il’s bairns at their master’s wark, Dick Lawless wasna lang in conseedering the pairt he was to play. Crawling on hands and knees, he got as near Bradfield as was wise like without awaking him. He then gave a low whistle, such as stockriders give to tell of cattle in sight.
“‘Who the hell’s that?’ growled Bradfield, awake and alert.
“‘All right, Jim, only Dick Lawless. Cattle going to break camp. (They had been droving in old days.) Quite like old times, isn’t it?’
“‘Wish I was back again behind a thousand Windorah bullocks,’ said the bushranger.
“‘I wouldn’t mind either, Jim. But all that’s behind us now – worse luck! Where do you think Dayrell is? Give it up? D’ye see that black ridge, with three pines on it? Well, he’s there, waiting for daylight. He’s not fool to make a fire you can see miles off. You’ve nearly been had, Jim. He came up on purpose to collar you. T’other side the black ridge, he’s planted men and horses, six of ’em and a packer.’
“‘Who’s with you?’
“‘Just Ned and Kate. They’re lying down in Wandong Creek. Kate’s goin’ dotty now, poor thing, but she would come with us. Thinks she’ll see the last of Dayrell.’
“‘Strikes me it’s a case of “Just before the battle, mother,”’ said Bradfield. ‘I’ll wake these chaps. We must have a snack and fix up the Waterloo business. It’s an hour to daylight yet.’
“Thus speaking he touched the man on his left, who awoke and touched the next. Without a spoken word the five men were aroused.
“‘Now, chaps!’ said the leader, in low but distinct tones, ‘Dick Lawless is come to give in the office. He’s on the job too. Dayrell’s behind the black ridge, with his five fancy troopers. He’s come to collar us. Dick here and Ned have come to pay off old scores. With us to help he’s like enough to do it. We’re nigh about equal members, not countin’ Kate, but the surprise they’ll get’s as good as two men.’
“‘How’s that?’ asked one of the gang.
“‘It’s this way, we’ll have first go. He thinks we don’t know he’s here. We’ll take cover, and as soon as he shows out to surprise us, we roll into him. Dick here, Ned and Kate, go at him from Wandong Creek side. That’ll put the stuns on him. Ned and Dick, both dead shots, will account for Dayrell. If he goes down the other traps won’t stand long. Dick, you’ll have a snack? No? Then, so long.’
“The faint line of clearer sky was slowly making itself veesible in the east as Dayrell at the head of his troopers moved towards Bradfield’s camp. The black tracker had showed him the position. The glimmering fire did the rest. ‘Now for a rush, men, we’ll catch them asleep.’ Saddles and swags were strewn around the fire, billy and frying-pan were there, not a man to be seen. But from five rifles at short range came a volley at the troopers, well-aimed and effective, and Dayrell’s right arm fell to his side broken or disabled.
“Three shots immediately followed from the Wandong Creek timber, on the left flank of the police. Confused at finding themselves between two fires, their leader wounded – for Dayrell’s right arm still hung useless – the troopers, after a second ineffectual volley, wavered. Just then three figures appeared, standing on a rock which ran crossways to the narrow outlet by which alone could the police party mak’ retreat.
“At the second volley two troopers dropped, one mortally, the other severely, wounded. ‘Hold up your hands, if you don’t all want to be wiped out,’ shouted Bradfield.
“‘By the Lord! that’s Kate Lawless,’ said one of the troopers, pointing to a tall woman who waved a rifle and shouted defiance after the first volley was fired.
“‘And that’s Ned, or his ghost,’ said another. ‘I thought he was safe in Ballarat Gaol. How the h – l did they get here?’
“As he spoke, the two men on the rock took deliberate aim and fired, the Inspector in return firing his revolver with the left hand.
“The clean-shaved man dropped dead, wi’ a bullet through his head; Dayrell staggered for a few seconds and making an attempt to recover himself, sank to the earth. The woman sprang down from the rock, and rushing across the line of fire raised the dying man’s head from the ground and gazed into his face, in which the signs of fast-coming death were apparent.
“‘So this is the end of Inspector Frank Dayrell,’ she said, ‘trapped like a dingo by the poor devils he was hunting down. I told you you’d repent it, if you didn’t let us alone. And now my words