The overseer did not forget this act of Repton's, and next time one of the merchants came to the barracks to choose a servant from among the convicts (as was then the custom), he recommended the lad for the coveted post.

Now, indeed, Repton felt almost happy for the first time since his conviction. He was still a convict, it is true, and might be flogged at his master's will, or be sent back to the convict barracks, if he misconducted himself in any way. But, for the moment, he was actually free; he lived in a little shed of his own next the stable, and groomed the horses as a free man; and the relief of no longer being herded with wicked men, day and night, was too great for words.

Repton loved horses, too, and took such care of his master's beautiful mare, and the little girl's pony, that there never was any fault to be found with him. As the months went on, he was trusted more and more by both master and mistress, and treated more like a humble friend than a despised convict.

Those were lawless days in the Colony; convicts were constantly escaping into the bush, where they lived as they could--often venturing out to rob houses, or attacking and plundering, sometimes even murdering, solitary travellers.

Mr. Edmonds, Repton's master, had a house in a somewhat lonely position, half-a-mile or more from any neighbour. He was, however, a man prepared for all emergencies, and, as he was known to be well provided with fire-arms, and not afraid to use them, his house had hitherto been left unmolested.

One night, however--a dark, stormy night--Repton was roused by the sound of steel grating against something. Listening more intently, he heard whispers, and finally came to the conclusion that men were trying to force open the house-door. Then it suddenly flashed into Repton's mind that Mr. Edmonds had been summoned hastily away that very evening by a message from a sick friend on the other side of the town, and there was no one in the house but a young nursemaid to protect the mistress and her little girl.

Hastily flinging on his clothes, he crept up in the darkness, and, getting behind the two men, who had by this time almost forced the door, he felled one of them to the ground with a well-aimed blow. The other, however, turned savagely on Repton, and the two were soon locked in fight. The burglar was, however, the heavier man of the two, and things were going badly for Repton, whose strength was all but exhausted, when the welcome sound of horses' hoofs was heard, and Mr. Edmonds came galloping up.

'Help, help, master!' cried Repton. 'Here, I cannot hold him much longer!'

Mr. Edmonds sprang from his horse, and came to him, and, with the lad's help, both burglars were bound hand and foot, and left in an outhouse till the police could fetch them away.

Then Repton's turn came, and his master shook him by the hand, convict though he was, and thanked him for his bravery, and he was taken indoors, where Mrs. Repton with her own hands brought some soothing lotion to bathe his wounds.

Nor was this the end. Mr. Edmonds, who had great influence with the Governor, obtained in time a free pardon for Repton, and set him up in business, and now some of the most respected families in Australia are the descendants of Repton the Convict.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The two were soon locked in fight."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Soon all three were scooping up handfuls of cartridges."]

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(_Continued from page 379._)

CHAPTER XXII.

'Here they come,' Ping w.a.n.g said, and as he spoke a shouting, wild-looking mob of Chinamen came running down the road to the mission station. Halting about twenty yards away from the mission wall, they waited until their whole force had arrived, contenting themselves in the meanwhile with yelling 'Down with the foreigners!' brandishing their weapons and waving their flags. Soon there were quite three hundred Boxers in the road facing the front of the mission, it being their hope to strike terror by a display of their numbers.

At a signal from the leader of the Boxers, about fifty rifles were fired point-blank at the wall. Fred raised his rifle, pressed the trigger, and the Boxer leader threw up his arms and fell on his face. Fred's shot was taken by the other defenders as the signal to fire, and they did so promptly.

The surprise and terror of the Boxers on discovering that they were not invulnerable formed a sight which none of the defenders will ever forget. Every man was seized with a desire to escape from the foreigners' bullets, and they turned and ran in confusion.

'Cease fire,' Barton commanded, when he saw the enemy routed, and Fred, Charlie, and Ping w.a.n.g obeyed instantly.

'I don't fancy that the Boxers will trouble us again to-night,' Barton said, a few minutes later, 'for their leaders will have some difficulty after this in convincing them that they cannot be wounded. There is no need for all of us to remain on duty. I dare say you fellows are hungry; come inside.'

'We are not presentable,' Fred said. 'Just look at the rags we are wearing.'

'They are pretty bad,' Barton admitted. 'Come into my room, and I'll see if I can't find you some better ones.'

Barton went into the rooms of two other missionaries, and returned with an armful of clothes. 'Now I will go and see about a meal for you,' he said. 'I will be back in a few minutes.'

When he returned, he could not help smiling at what he saw. Ping w.a.n.g, wishing to dress like his friends, had put on knickerbockers and a college blazer, down the back of which hung his black, silky pigtail.

Charlie was wearing flannel trousers and a khaki tunic, while Fred was attired in a black and somewhat moth-eaten suit, which was too short for him both in arms and legs.

'You look better than you did,' Barton declared. 'But, now, come and have your supper.'

He led the way along the verandah, and into a large airy room at the back of the building, where the supper was laid. Four ladies were hard at work making sandbags, a task at which they had been busy since early in the morning. Barton introduced the Pages and Ping w.a.n.g to them. In spite of the anxiety which the fact of the mission being besieged caused them, they were cheerful in their conversation, and insisted upon the new-comers making a hearty meal. After supper Charlie, Fred, and Ping w.a.n.g returned to their posts, relieving the missionaries, and enabling them to have some rest.

The night was very cold, and the sentinels had great difficulty in keeping themselves warm.

'I hope,' Fred said to Charlie, 'that the Boxers won't attack us while my hands are numbed, for I'm sure I could not shoot just now.'

'It's my opinion,' Charlie answered, 'that the reception we gave them has taken the pluck out of them, and that we shan't be troubled with them for some days. Then, perhaps, they will screw up their courage to make another a.s.sault.'

'Their silence strikes me as very suspicious,' Ping w.a.n.g declared. 'It's my belief that they are planning a surprise.'

Ping w.a.n.g's opinion was at once communicated to Barton, with the result that every man on duty was instructed to keep an extra sharp look-out.

The order was, as a matter of fact, not needed; for the sentries were as alert as they possibly could be. Hour after hour they peered into the darkness, but without seeing any signs of the enemy.

At daybreak Number One and his a.s.sistant cooks brought breakfast to the shivering defenders. They enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly, and thanked Number One for its excellence. He smiled, and sent his a.s.sistants away with the crockery. He himself remained, without asking permission, upon the platform. A spare rifle was there, and he took possession of it. Barton was about to send him back to the kitchen when Charlie suddenly exclaimed, 'What's that, just over there?'

'It looks to me uncommonly like an overturned wheelbarrow,' Barton replied. 'We shall know when it gets a little lighter.'

'It is a wheelbarrow,' Fred declared, a few minutes later.

'Well,' Charlie exclaimed, 'this is the first time that I have heard of a man coming into battle on a wheelbarrow!'

'I can see what it was used for!' Fred exclaimed. 'It carried the ammunition. I can see the cartridges lying on the ground. We must have those. I will go down and get them. Where's the ladder?'

'We certainly need more ammunition,' Barton admitted, 'but it would be a dangerous job for you to get those cartridges.'

'I object too,' said Charlie. 'It would be madness to run the risk of losing our best shot. I will go and get the cartridges, and, with Mr.

Wilkins and you two to keep off any one who approaches me, I shall be pretty safe.'

'Charlie's plan is the better of the two,' Ping w.a.n.g joined in; 'but he mustn't attempt to carry it out without help. If he has one or two men with him the Boxers will be less likely to attack him, and certainly the job will be done more quickly. I'll be one of the men to accompany him, and I should like Number One to be the other.'

Ping w.a.n.g asked Number One in Chinese if he would care to take part in fetching the ammunition. His face beamed at the idea.

'Get the ladder, then,' Barton said; and Charlie added, 'Bring a sack.'

Number One fetched both at once. The sack was thrown down into the road, and the ladder lowered quickly.

Charlie was the first to descend, but his companions followed so quickly that all three were on the ladder at the same time. s.n.a.t.c.hing up the sack the moment that he touched the ground, Charlie ran to the overturned wheelbarrow. Ping w.a.n.g and Number One were only a yard or two behind him, and soon all three were scooping up handfuls of cartridges and dropping them in the sack.

'Guns, mistah,' Number One exclaimed when the sack was about half full, and pointed to three rifles lying near.