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'I know who those fellows are,' said Stevenson. 'They are Gunbower blacks—I was there some months ago, when that scoundrel Peel and a party of curs sneaked on them, and played just such another trick as this. They have paid us off for that exploit, at any rate! But where is old Toby? Can it be possible that he has escaped?'

After some further search we found the old man's body at some distance from the fires, his head, arms, and body covered with wounds. By the traces, as seen next day, we found he had made a most desperate resistance. His hand still grasped the yam-stick with which he had done battle with the dogs; probably it was the first thing he had caught up. His prolonged resistance had saved him from the mutilation which had befallen the others, as our approach had disturbed the murderers and forced them to recross the stream. For fear they should return and complete their work, the bodies were drawn up to the huts by Stevenson and myself, while Harris started for the ferry, where some more of our blacks were camped, to warn them of what had occurred. Except the hut-keeper, who was still quaking in the kitchen, there happened to be no other men on the head station that night, the two bullock-drivers and carpenter being absent, one splitting and drawing timber in the bush, the other bringing a load of salt from the lake.