"When I get the money," he said to himself, "I can decide whether to let the fellow go or not. I don't care for the boys, but I'd like to give this Yankee a good flogging, he's so confoundedly sarcastic. Plague take it, the fellow doesn't know when he's down, but talks as if he was on equal terms with me."

Meanwhile, though Fletcher did not know it, the train of bushrangers had steadily advanced to the neighborhood of the place where the government escort were encamped.

In fact, he was ignorant that they were so near. But Obed knew it, and he was watching his opportunity to apprise his friends of his situation.

Harry had noticed the same thing. Lest he should make a premature revelation, Obed placed his hand to his lips, as a sign of silence.

Harry understood, and seemed indifferent, but his heart was beating fast with excitement.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

THE TABLES ARE TURNED.

It was certainly an oversight in Fletcher not to have ascertained the situation of the government encampment. He was under the impression that it was in a direction opposite to that in which they were moving, and this determined his course. He was therefore wholly unconscious of danger, and tranquil in mind, though his situation was critical.

Obed was puzzled to know in what manner to get the necessary intelligence to his comrades. Chance gave him a suggestion. The man next him wore round his neck a whistle--designed doubtless to use in case of emergencies. It was of rather peculiar shape.

"That's an odd whistle you've got there, my friend," he said, "where did you get it?"

"In Melbourne," answered the fellow unsuspiciously.

"I think I've seen one like it in the States. Let me look at it a minute."

The bushranger allowed Obed to take it in his hand.

Suddenly Mr. Stackpole put it to his mouth, and gave a sharp, loud whistle that awakened the echoes in the forest.

Like a flash Fletcher turned from his place at the head of the train and eyed the bushranger with a frown. Obed had dropped the whistle, and was walking on with an innocent look.

"What is this foolery, Hogan?" demanded Fletcher sharply. "Don't you know better than to whistle?"

"I didn't, lieutenant," answered Hogan. "It was this man here."

"The Yankee?"

"Yes."

"How did he get the whistle?"

"He asked to look at it."

"What does this mean, Stackpole?" asked Fletcher angrily.

"Don't get riled, squire," said Obed imperturbably. "I just wanted to try it, that's all. I had a whistle once a little like it. When I was workin' for old Deacon Plummer in New Hampshire----"

"Confound old Deacon Plummer!" retorted Fletcher impatiently. "Don't you know I might have you shot for what you've done?"

"Shot for whistling! Well, that beats all I ever heard of. I say, squire, your laws are stricter than any I ever came across. I didn't think I was doin' any harm."

"I will overlook it this time, but if you take any such liberty again, I'll have you tied to a tree and whipped."

"That's better than bein' shot, anyway. I won't do it again, squire. I aint particularly anxious to get into trouble."

"These Yankees are about as stupid and presuming as any people I ever met," Fletcher remarked to the comrade who rode beside him. "That fellow is a nuisance, but I mean to teach him a lesson before twenty-four hours are over."

Obed and the two boys awaited with anxiety the result of the summons.

The camp was but an eighth of a mile away, but hidden by the trees.

"Will they hear it?" thought Obed.

It is doubtful whether this would have been the case, but luckily for our three friends one of the escort--by name Warner--was taking a walk in the woods, and heard the whistle. His curiosity was excited, and peering through the trees he saw the bushrangers and their captives.

He was a man of promptness, and returning to the camp with all expedition made a report to the officer in command.

"How many are there in the band?" inquired Captain Forbush.

Warner reported.

The captain immediately started, under Warner's guidance, with ten men, and arranged to intercept the bushrangers.

The first intimation Fletcher had of his danger was the sudden appearance of the government soldiers, who broke through the underbrush and took the astonished bushrangers in the flank.

"Surrender instantly, or you are dead men!" exclaimed Forbush sternly.

Fletcher fell back in dismay, and was at first speechless with consternation.

"Do you surrender?" repeated the government officer impatiently.

Fletcher's eye ran over the party that confronted him. They outnumbered his own forces two to one. He felt that resistance would be useless.

"We will release our captives if you let us go," he said.

"So you would make conditions? You are in no condition to do that. We propose to free your captives, and to take you to our camp."

"You had better not," said Fletcher, hoping to intimidate the officer.

"Our main band is close at hand, and they will avenge us."

"I'll take the risk," said Forbush indifferently. "Throw down your arms!"

As this order was given with each of the bushrangers covered by the weapons of his own party, the bushrangers found it prudent to comply.

"Very well; now follow me."

First, however, the rifles surrendered by the bushrangers were gathered up, and in their defenseless condition they were marched to the government camp. It added to Fletcher's annoyance that the weapons dropped by his party were picked up and carried by their late captives, Obed and the two boys.

"So you're comin' to make us a visit, Fletcher?" said Obed, with an exasperating smile. "It's just as well as if we had gone home with you.

We shall be together anyway, and I know you value our society."