Bold Dick Donahue [pp. 113-124]

BOLD DICK DONAHUE.
pouring into his camp by trusty scouts
and faithful employ~s, he broke up for
an excursion.
About nine o'clock, one fine summer's
morning, several horsemen appeared on
the Bogolong sheep-station, and inquired for Mr. Robertson, the proprietor.
Mr. Robertson was in the court-yard engaged in business of importance; but
if the gentlemen would proceed thither
the servant had no doubt his master
would see them. The equestrians without dismounting proceeded as directed.
There they found a man tied to an extemporized triangle, and a flogger preparing to flagellate him, while Mr. Robertson, seated in an easy-chair in the
shade of an umbrageous Eucalyptus,
was superintending the philanthropic
ceremonial, repeating his injunctions
to the executive of the "cats" to
spare neither whip nor muscle in the
operation on hand. He had, he assured that official in his happiest vein
of humor and good-nature, plenty of
hemp to make new "cats" when the old
ones were worn out, and lots of pickle
in which to season them; and he therefore exhorted him in the most persuasive accents "not to be over-particular
as to a few slicds of skin, or a few ounces
of flesh, or a pint or so of'claret,' assuring him that if he should betray
any weak compunction as to the skin
or flesh or'claret,' he (said official)
should take the culprit's place." Mr.
Robertson was Very funny that morning.
"Hold!" shouted the Captain, most
unceremoniously interrupting his facetiousness. "Don't move an inch, any
of you, at the peril of your lives! Untie
that man, flogger-untie him instantly.
Mr. Robertson, come forward and take
his place."
Mr. Robertson was thunderstruck;
he hesitated, turned deadly pale, and
shook like an aspen leaf. He had heard
of "BJold Dick Donahue," and surmised
VOL. III-9.
it was he. Seeing he hesitated, Deliv erer was prancing at his side in an in stant.
"To the triangles, or take this!
shouted the brigand, holding his pistol
at Mr. Robertson's ear. "Decide, and
quickly; I have no time for parley."
Mr. Robertson, half dead with fear,
tottered to the triangles and stripped.
"Bind him, flogger-bind him tight,"
continued the brigand; "and do you see
this? Do you see this pistol?" he
added, holding that convincing reasoner
in rather unenviable proximity to the
flagellator's head. "Do you see this
pistol?" Oh, yes! There was no
doubt about it. The flogger saw the
pistol-never, perhaps, saw any thing
plainer in his life; but it was rather, if
arly thing, too close to his ear. He saw
it, however, and accepted the fact.
"Well," added Donahue, "the pistol
is loaded with powder and ball. The
ball will pass through your head, unless
you make skin and flesh fly!"
"How much punishment shall I give:
him, sir?" asked the executioner, with
a smile of fiendish joy.
"Fifty!" was the laconic answer.
"This is not much, considering the
many fifties he has himself given to
others."
Mr. Robertson was accordingly bound,.
and the first lash from the willing and
powerful arms of the flogger extorted a
loud cry of agony from the sufferer.
"Give it him!" shouted the brigand..
"There is no fear of a man who bleats."
And again the "cats" came down with
terrible force; ancf again a loud cry for
mercy escaped the victim. Here, a
respectably-dressed female rushed from
the house into the yard, attracted by
the cry for mercy, and supposing it to
have come from the wretched man who
was doomed that morning to suffer.
"I insist on it, George," she uttered,
with passionate vehemence, "I insist
that you do not punish that or any other
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