sprung up and carried the flames crashing into its very centre; long shreds of bark[1] hanging from the trees afforded fresh food for its insatiable appetite, and many monarchs of the forest, whose age might perhaps have been reckoned by centuries, were left stricken never to revive again, whilst those which had suffered from former conflagrations continued burning fiercely after the great body of flame had passed them.
All this time the shield and those it sheltered remained stationary, but Dodge declared he could restrain himself no longer, and bidding those who chose to follow him, he prepared to make a dash for the door. At this moment a man was seen through the smoke on the top of the hut throwing down the logs which it is the fashion of bushmen to lay upon all bark roofs to prevent the heat of the sun from warping them. Slinger was following close on Dodge's heels when this figure attracted their attention, and the gun of the old bushman was already at his shoulder, when Slinger griped him by the arm and exclaimed, "Come back, there's a good fellow; for God's sake, if it be not too late, save that unfortunate man."
"What is up?" Dodge exclaimed; "are you growing sentimental? He is past all saving, and it is only a question now whether he dies by lead or hemp. Believe me, that fellow is not going to be taken alive."
As if to make the surmise good, the person who was the subject of conversation was seen to stagger and seek support by grasping an angle of the chimney; a cloud of smoke hid him momentarily from view, and then he fell headlong to the ground. His fall was the signal for a general rush. There was no cheering this time, and although some shots were fired upon the attacking party and several fell, the result was no longer doubtful.
- ↑ Many of the trees of Australia shed their bark and not their leaves.
