Bold Dick Donahue [pp. 113-124]

BOLD DICK DONAHUE.
get some one else to do it if you don't."
"Don't," remonstrated Donahue, in
a kindly tone; "while there's life
there's hope, and who knows but we
might live to take revenge on some of
these tyrants yet."
While Donahue was talking and pretending to work, but in reality watching his sentinel, Smith slipped from his
side through the neighboring thicket,
proceeding toward a gang of three or
four men who were working close by.
The next instant a crash and a groan
were heard. Smith had sunk his axe
in another convict's skull to earn the
happy privilege of getting hadged!
This is not an isolated instance of
such murderous desperation. Scores of
similar cases could be cited from the
convict chronicles of New South Wales.
Whether on account of his robust
constitution, which seemed to defy all
attempts at breaking it, or our hero's
comely exterior, or the jauntiness of
his deportment, Donahue at any rate
became quite obnoxious to his keepers,
and they flogged him and flogged him,
until the doctor at last was forced to
admit that he was no longer able to
work, and had him sent to the hospital.
Being now a patient and almost dead
-though the Fates ordained he was not
to be killed with flogging- his manacles
were taken off, and when able to go on
crutches he was permitted to walk in the
yard. He remained in the hospital for
two weeks, at the end of which time he
was as convalescent as convicts were
allowed to become before being sent
to work, and to work he was accordingly
ordered for the following morning. In
a few minutes after this pleasing intelligence was communicated to him he
walked into the closet, and the next
tidings heard of him was that he was
a bushranger on the Bathurst Mountains. He effected his escape, as some
enterprising gentleman in San Fran
cisco contemplates achieving fortunes,
by exploring the sewers of the city.
Having achieved his liberty in this
romantic fashion, his first exploit on
gaining the open air in dusk of evening
was to go into a house on Brickfield
Hill, take a gun from the mantel-piece
and a flask of powder and some ball
cartridge from a shelf, and when, with
this scanty equipment, he was proceeding on his way, the mistress of the
house, who happened to have been the
only inmate at the time, feeling a sym pathy for an escaped convict, freely fur nished him, in addition, supper and a
suit of her husband's clothes.
"The die is cast," he soliloquized as
he proceeded on his way. "Life is a
lottery, and I have made my draw.
There is nothing for it now but courage
and resolution. I'd sooner be hanged
a thousand times over than live a life of
such horrible torture. Halt! your
money or your life," he roared, as a
horseman came galloping toward him.
"What! so near town," was the exclamation of the astonished equestrian.
"I am aid-de-camp to his Excellency."
"Dismount, sir, on the instant, or
you're a dead man!"
The officer dismounted.
"Put down on the road your purse,
watch, and such other valuables as
you've got," ordered the brigand, his
gun leveled at the officer's head, "and
then turn your back and walk off. You
shall be unharmed."
The gentleman obeyed, the brigand
mounted and galloped away. The
former, naturally very much crest-fallen,
walked to his quarters, reported the
"casualty," adding that he had been set
upon by six armed bushrangers and had
escaped death as by a special interposition of Providence. In corroboration
of which narrow escape he showed several bullet-holes in his gold-laced frockcoat, which said bullet-holes had been
inflicted on the unoffending frock-coat
II8
[AUGUST,