“It is selling us, Dan Brian, you are,” cried half a dozen voices, and there were shouts and oaths of rage at the thought.

“’Pon my honor, I’m not,” reiterated Dan; “I never sold a pal in my life, and, by the blessing of God, I won’t.  It’s a poor devil they’ve got now, of no account to any of us.”

“He’s a thief, and in the hands of ‘Traps,’” shouted one, “and if we let him go without a blow, none of us will be safe.”

“That’s so,” yelled the crowd, and the most violent pushed Dan aside, or attempted to, for the purpose of getting at us.

“We will listen to nothing,” roared the ruffians, “until the poor devil is free, and then we will talk until daylight, if it will please the police.”

An almost imperceptible signal was exchanged between the inspector and Dan, but to no purpose, for our party continued to retreat, and the others advance, with many menacing gestures, and the only thing that surprised me was the reluctance to use firearms on the part of our enemies.  This, I afterwards found, was owing to the fear of bringing a squad of mounted police to the spot, large numbers of whom were constantly patrolling “Gravel Pit Hill” during the night, and the signal for a disturbance would have been the arrest of every one present, simply by surrounding the house and searching the underground passages.

By the time the last demand was made, we were at the door and all ready to take down the bar, when a rush was made towards us, and by the rather dim light I saw a dozen long knives, such as the stockmen of the plains wear in their belts for the purpose of killing cattle, flash from their sheaths, and grasped as though business was intended.

“Keep your backs to the door,” cried the inspector, calmly, not at all dismayed by the formidable array against us, “and don’t let a man approach within a yard without getting a good shot.”

We covered our prisoner in such a manner that he could do us no harm, and then formed in a triangular manner, so that our fronts and sides would be equally well guarded, then glanced over the excited crowd, in hopes that Dan would array himself on our side—­but that enterprising gentleman had suddenly disappeared, and left us to our fate.

“Stand back,” shouted the inspector; “it will be the worse for you.  There’s many of you present who know me, and know that I have a large force of policemen on hand.  If you strike a blow, not one of you shall escape justice.

“Unbar the door as quickly as possible,” whispered the inspector, after getting through with his threatening speech.

I lifted the heavy gum wood bar from its place, and then raised the latch, expecting that it would yield, but to my surprise it did not—­it was locked, and the key in the pocket of the doorkeeper, who had made his escape from the room in company with Dan.

I almost uttered a groan of agony when I made the discovery, and to add to the perplexity of our situation, the ruffians must have understood our case, and known that the key was never left in the lock, for they uttered a discordant and ironical hoot, and then a shout of sardonic laughter.