As the residents of Fern Vale early bestirred themselves on this eventful morning their astonishment was great at the continued altercations which seemed to agitate the black's camp. None of the party had ever heard them continue their discussions so unceasingly; and the Fergusons and their friends were disposed to think that it presaged some evil. They therefore proposed, that their intended visit for that day should be made at once, so that they might learn the cause of the strange agitation; and acting on this decision the four horsemen were speedily mounted and on their way to the "flats."

They had reached the bank of the river, and were about entering the water to cross, when they were stopped by hearing a voice in their rear calling upon Tom Rainsfield. He instantly turned towards the new comer, whose appearance greatly surprised him, and anxiously demanded of him the nature of his message. This was given in as few words as Mr. Billing's habitual sinuosity of expression could devise utterance; and hastily desiring the storekeeper to remain where he was with the cart until his (Tom's) return from the camp, he joined his friends and rode through the ford.

"What is the matter with you, Tom?" said William as they passed through the water, "you seem quite nervous and agitated? Has Billing brought you any news that has annoyed you?"

"He has indeed, my dear fellow," replied Tom, "brought me news that overwhelms me. How my brother will be able to reconcile the act to his conscience I do not know; when I, who, as God knows, had no participation in it, feel the weight of murder on my soul."

"Murder!" exclaimed his friends. "What on earth do you mean Tom? you're surely raving! How murder? explain yourself," said John.

"I wish to God I was raving," replied he; "that my fears were only a fantasy of the mind; or that that prating idiot Billing had merely dreamed the story he has just now told me. But it seems too substantial; all the circumstances that have transpired, and those that are at this very time transpiring, lead to prove it. There! hear you that wail? that is the death-cry of scores of those wretched blacks. Hark! there it is again; does not that cry rise up to heaven? and will not our family there be judged for this? If I could but think it were accidental I would be satisfied; though I fear, I fear, oh, horrid thought! murdered by my brother."

"Calm yourself, my dear sir," said the minister, who had with deep sorrow been witnessing the outpourings of his companion's grief. "Though you have not mentioned to us the nature of the communication received through the messenger from your home, we would infer from your remarks that some dreadful calamity has come upon this tribe through the agency of your brother; whom, God forbid that you should condemn, without being thoroughly convinced of his guilt. It affords us consolation to hear you express only a fear that your brother has not acted up to the precepts of his Maker, and the dictates of his conscience. I sincerely trust, as I believe, that your fears are groundless, and that you over-estimate the criminality, if any criminality exist. I pray you dispel any such belief from your mind, until at least you have indubitable proof of your brother's crime; and, in the meantime, be charitably disposed towards him, for you may be doing him an injustice by your harsh suspicions. It is true we are unacquainted with the circumstances which arouse them, but we sincerely trust you will find you have been deceived."

"I would readily, oh! I long to believe," exclaimed Tom Rainsfield, "that it was unintentional; but my heart tells me there has been duplicity. I feel a portion of the mental load, consequent on crime, attached to me; for only the night before I pledged my word to those who may be now in the convulsive agonies of death that I would befriend them and bring about a reconciliation with my brother. I know his nature well; he is hasty and impetuous; and, though kind-hearted and generous, he is severe and even cruel where his passions are aroused; so I fear the worst. But I will tell you the cause of these people's wails. It appears that my brother, after I had left the station yesterday, poisoned a sheep for the purpose, he said, of destroying the native dogs on the station. That sheep was left in the store during the night, when it was stolen by the blacks, who have, no doubt ere this, feasted on it, and are meeting their fate in a violent death. Now, the circumstances which I am surprised at, and deprecate, are these:—Leaving the poisoned meat in a place above all others where, if the blacks intended to visit us, they would go first; sending Billing clandestinely into Alma for the poison; and having all the stores removed into the house during his absence, leaving nothing in it but the poisoned meat, and a bag of flour, in the full expectation, I am afraid, that the blacks were going to rob us. But the most extraordinary part of my brother's conduct is, that he kept me in entire ignorance of Billing's journey, which in itself was unusual, for he never before left the station on any pretence; and the next incongruity was this crusade against the dingos, which have given us no annoyance for some time past. Many smaller events now flash across my mind, which tend to stimulate my fears; however, as you kindly remark, I ought not to judge too harshly of my brother; and I will try, until I see more definite cause for my alarms, to believe him innocent of any intentional murder. But listen to those poor wretches; are not their cries piteous?"

Truly they were; and as the shrieks and howls of the victims pierced the ears of the quartette, as they crossed the river and entered the scrub, all their feelings of compassion were aroused; and they accelerated their speed, hoping to be of assistance, where no human efforts could avail.

The picture that presented itself to their astonished vision, as they emerged from the mazy labyrinths of the scrub into the area of the camp, was fearfully sickening and revolting. Scattered on the ground, in indescribable postures and contortions, were writhing bodies of men women and children, giving vent to cries that would have melted a heart of stone; anon starting from their recumbent position, to stand erect in the freshness of the morning breeze, only to enjoy a momentary respite; and then flinging their arms wildly in the air with an agonizing shout, to fall again prostrate to the earth, and yield, with a convulsive shudder, their spirits to their Maker.

Our party had gazed upon this scene for some minutes ere the miserable objects before them noticed their presence; the extent of their sufferings absorbing all their faculties, and our friends remained unnoticed or unheeded spectators of the dire destruction working around them. However, they were at last perceived; and, before they could devise the meaning, many of the suffering objects crawled to their feet, and with imploring looks and gestures, sought relief from that death which they imagined was the result of some mysterious agency caused by the will of the white man. The malady had reached its exacerbation; and the miserable sufferers, as they prostrated themselves at the feet of their white-skinned brethren, sank in groups to rise no more. The picture was more than affecting (even if such existed) to natures possessed of no spark of human feeling; while to Tom its contemplation was fearful, and he turned from the spot to conceal his emotion.

Mr. Wigton, recovering from a momentary abstraction into which he had been cast by sorrows of the event, addressed to the sufferers in their own language words of commiseration and comfort. He did not, however, disguise from them their condition; but told them they would not live, for that they had eaten of that which destroyed life, even the white man's life; and that no white man could help them.

"Then why did the white man kill us?" they piteously asked.

"My brothers," replied the messenger of peace, "the white man made the food for the dingos which kill his sheep, and your brothers did steal the food, and did eat it, and will die; but the white man is sorry that you eat it, and is sorry that you die. We would all save you if we could, but we can't; and, my poor brothers, we can only ask the great Spirit in the skies to look down upon you and save you if He will. He is a good and great Spirit and could save you, if you would be His children and His brothers; He loves even the black fellow, if the black fellow will love Him; and He knows all about the black fellow, what the black fellow likes, and does, and thinks. He lived a long time ago down on the ground with us, and told us all these things, and He now lives in the skies, and sees all that the black fellows do. He saw the black fellows last night steal the food, and He was very angry with them; but He would forgive, even as the white man forgives them, if they would be sorry for doing bad things, and would do them no more, but love the great Spirit. But the great Spirit says some of you have been very bad, and that you will not love Him; and so you must die. But if you will love him, He will save some of you, even some of you that have eaten the white man's food."

The wail that followed this petite sermon of Mr. Wigton was the death knell of many; while the preacher himself was so overcome by the horrors of the scene that he had not perceived the approach of a ferocious black, who, leaping over the bodies of the dead and dying, advanced to within a few feet of him. This being confronted him in a menacing attitude almost face to face, and held a spear poised in his uplifted hand ready to bury it in the heart of the clergyman whenever he should so determine.

He was a tall athletic black, of good make, and, for an aboriginal, considerable muscular development; he had a determined and ferocious aspect; his eyes were blood-shot and swollen; his nostrils were dilated, while they exuded a fetid secretion horribly offensive. He foamed at his mouth, and the sinews and muscles of his face contracting spasmodically under the influence of the agonies caused by the poison he had taken, he presented a most hideous spectacle. Instantly upon confronting the clergyman, he accosted him thus:

"You not know me, white man? I am Barwang; brother belonging to Dugingi, and he is dead. The white fellow kill him, and kill plenty of black fellow: but I live. I not die, though very sick. I live to kill all white fellows. You like to see black fellow die: you think black fellow cannot kill white fellow, you shall see." He stretched his arm with the poised weapon to pierce the heart of Mr. Wigton; but just at that moment, when the spear was leaving the fingers of Barwang, it was suddenly snatched from his grasp by a black, who sprang from some covert, and, passing behind his countryman with a bound, deprived him of the offensive weapon; and stood in his turn with it balanced towards the frustrated homicide. At the same moment Tom Rainsfield, who had witnessed the danger of Mr. Wigton, leapt forward to protect him with his person, though the opportune act of the friendly black rendered such unnecessary; while Barwang, thus seeing himself assailed on both sides, made good his retreat.

"Thank you, Jemmy Davies," said Tom, "that was nobly done, and an act I will not forget. I have been looking out for you ever since I have been in the camp, but have never seen you until this moment. At last I began to fear that you had fallen a victim to this dreadful malady, but am pleased to see that you at least have escaped. This has been a fearful business, Jemmy, and it has given me much sorrow; from what I told you last night, and from what you told me, I thought we would have been able to have established a friendship between your tribe and ourselves, and I felt perfectly satisfied that our hostilities were at an end. I did not go home last night, Jemmy (perhaps if I had I might have prevented the robbery, and averted the fate of so many of your tribe); and this morning my brother sent over to tell me that the black fellows had robbed his store, and taken away a sheep that he had poisoned for the native dogs. So you see, Jemmy, your tribe came by their death by persisting in stealing our goods. Many would say that they merit their fate, but I, Jemmy, am very very sorry, and would have given anything I am possessed of to have prevented it."

"I believe you, Mr. Tom," replied the black. "I know you are a good friend to the black fellow, and would not do him any hurt; but Dugingi and his friends behaved bad to us, and to you, and have died, and it is well. They left the camp in the night, after promising me and my friends that they would not steal any more from your brother; and we went to sleep, believing them that they would not go. But they did go, and stole the meat and the flour, and the first that I knew of it was, in the morning, hearing them make a noise as they were roasting it. I saw at once what they had done, and spoke to all the tribe. I told them they would never live in their country if they stole from the white fellow, because the white fellow was strong and would kill them; and that it was better to be friends with the white fellow and live. But the friends of Dugingi would not hear me, and they did eat; but all my friends, that wished to be friends with the white fellow, would not eat it, and I told them they were right, for the food would do them no good. But Dugingi laughed at me, and roasted the meat and made damper with the flour; and he and his brothers and friends eat the meat, and they gave the damper to their gins and piccaninies. They all died, except Barwang and two or three more, who quarrelled over their shares, and had it eaten by the others. So they have not died because they did not get enough to kill them. If they had seen you alone they would have tried to kill you; and it was because I saw Barwang coming to you that I watched him and took his spear. He won't stop with us now, he will be too frightened, and will go with his friends to the tribe in the mountains."

"Did you say," asked Tom, "that the gins and piccaninies only eat the damper? did they not get any of the meat? Surely they did not die by only eating the damper?"

"Yes, Mr. Tom," replied the black, "only damper, and they died too. The damper and meat were both poison together; the black fellows eat the meat and they died, and the gins and piccaninies eat the damper and they died."

A cloud came over the brow of Tom Rainsfield as he heard this. "As I dreaded!" he muttered to himself. "I would almost have given my life, Jemmy, to have prevented this; but it is done, and it cannot be remedied. The only satisfaction I feel is that you were wise, Jemmy, and would not let yourself or your friends taste the poison, thus saving yourself and them. I will stop with you now a little while, and see what I can do for you; but wait;" and turning to his friends he said to them: "I will remain here with Jemmy Davies for some hours, but I need not detain you. Leave me here, and return home; and if you will merely mention to Billing what you have seen, that will be sufficient for him to communicate to his master."

"William was going over to your place this morning," replied John, "and he may as well depart at once; but for ourselves, I will remain with you, and I have no doubt it is the intention of Mr. Wigton to do the same."

The latter gentleman having expressed his determination to wait at the camp William was dispatched to join Mr. Billing, to whom he was to communicate the tidings of death, and then proceed to Strawberry Hill to take home his sister.

The three whites, accompanied by their black friend, now walked through the camp; and for the first time saw the extent of the devastation. It was now stilled. Bodies lay scattered in every direction, while no strife or contention now agitated their minds. It appeared as if the destroying angel had spread his arm over the devoted tribe, and hushed their voices for ever; for death had done his work with an effectual hand; and though only a portion had suffered, the rest, from a fear to face the grim tyrant in the majesty of his presence, lay concealed within the precincts of their own habitations.

When we stand by the couch that supports the frame of some dear friend or relative, while the spirit wafts itself from its earthly shrine to that ethereal haven of its rest where it "beacon's from the abode where the eternal are;" and when the slightest utterance of grief is suppressed in the solemn silence that we maintain to catch the last breath of the departing loved one: and when that soul is fled, and we gaze on the placid features, and fear ourselves to breathe lest we should disturb the sleep of the quiescent and unconscious clay, and recall its spirit to a renewal of its earthly trials: when we visit the scene of some mighty conflict (sombred and silenced by the shades of night), where the powers militant have exhausted their strength, and left their best blood and blossom of their countries to bleach upon the battle plain: when we walk through the desolate streets of an infected city, where pestilence has cut off the first-born in every family, and where no sound is heard save the faint cries of the dying, or the distant rumbling of mortals' last mundane vehicle: wherever, in fact, and whenever we gaze upon scenes where the grave reigns paramount, then we feel the true force of the expression "the stillness of death prevailed." And as Tom Rainsfield and his party threaded the corpses of young and old, men, women, and children, they felt the awfulness of the scene, and were too much absorbed with their own thoughts, to break a silence that was a mutual comfort and respite.

"Here is some of the damper, sir," said Jemmy Davies, as he pointed to the lifeless form of a gin, with a large piece in her hand, clutched as in the agony of death. "You see, sir, she has been eating that, and it has killed her; for the black fellows themselves eat all the meat."

What the feelings of Tom were, when he stooped to release the pernicious food from the grasp of the woman, we cannot describe; but sorrow was depicted in his countenance, and his strong manly features were disturbed by the force of his mental sufferings. He silently broke off a small piece from the lump; and, kindling a flame from the embers of one of the fast dying fires, burnt it to endeavour to detect the presence of arsenic by its exhalation of a garlic odour. Not satisfying himself by this test, he put the remains into his pocket while he said to the black, "I will take this with me, Jemmy, and see if it contains any poison; but I trust to God you are mistaken, and that these poor deluded wretches have at least in this eaten wholesome food. "Oh, harrowing thought!" he exclaimed, "to think that my brother should have been the witting instrument of this people's destruction."

"By this," said Mr. Wigton, "it would certainly appear strange; but we must not deprecate your brother's conduct on mere suspicion. You know the Scriptures tell us that we are to 'judge not lest we also be judged;' and also that vengeance rests with the Almighty. If your brother has committed this great wickedness and sinned against his God, let his Maker be his judge, and his own conscience his scourge; for 'cursed are they who worketh iniquity,' and 'the judgment of the Lord overtaketh the evil-doers,' even in this life; while in the next, 'the wages of sin is death.' He may escape the punishment of a human judicature, but he can never wholly satisfy the still small voice of conscience, nor at all escape the high tribunal of his Maker. When the last trump of the archangel shall summon him before the 'great white throne,' to give an account of the deeds done in the body, then shall the true nature of this action be known, whether it was the result of a mere inadvertency, or the premeditated plan of murder. In the meantime, with all sincerity, I pray God that it may be the former; and that the soul of your brother may not be inscribed with the guilt of so diabolical a crime as the destruction of so many of his fellow-creatures. It is but right that all justice should be given him; and therefore, in the first place, I think you are correct in determining whether or not the flour contains poison, as surmised by Jemmy Davies. If it does, submit the fact to your brother for explanation, and afford him an opportunity (if it be possible) of exculpating himself."

"I agree with you perfectly, Mr. Wigton," replied Tom; "let the Almighty and my brother's conscience be his judges, if he has committed this crime. But I feel for these poor blacks, the more that I have endeavoured to bring about a reconciliation, and only last night pledged myself to befriend them."

"I know and all my friends know, Mister Tom," exclaimed Jemmy Davies, "that you would not do us any harm, and we all like you; yet most of our tribe hate your brother for this, though Dugingi did steal the meat, and they did not want him to. I am not angry with your brother, but my friends are; and I am afraid they never will like him. You will not be troubled any more with us, for my friends will never steal from your brother; but they will always be frightened to take anything from him as friends."

"I am exceedingly sorry to hear you say that," said Tom, "as I had hoped, even out of this catastrophe, some good might have resulted. I had thought that since the removal of our implacable opponent we could have lived on terms of amity with your tribe; and I yet hope to accomplish that aim. However, in the meantime, let us see what can be done with the bodies."

"If you will permit me to make a suggestion," said John Ferguson, "you will let me go home, and get one or two of our men with spades, that we may dig one grave for the whole of the bodies."

"No, Mr. Ferguson," replied Jemmy Davies. "My tribe would not like them buried that way; they would rather do it their own way, thank you. We will bury them here in the camp, and then leave it for ever. We will bury them all to-day, and then good-bye. You had better not stop Mr. Ferguson and Mr. Tom; leave us now, and we'll say good-bye."

"My friend! permit us to stay," said Mr. Wigton; "we wish to befriend you if it be in our power. Let us help you to bury your dead, and when you have finished let me say a few words to your tribe."

"You can all stay if you like," said Jemmy; "but we are many and we don't want you to help us, it is not work for white fellows. I will tell my tribe you want to stay, and they won't heed you; and I will tell them you want to speak to them, and they will hear you." With this Jemmy Davies shouted some words in his own vernacular, at which the survivors of the tribe emerged from their concealment; and he continued to his visitors: "They say that if the white fellows wish they can stop, and if the budgery (good) white fellow who woollers (talk) belonging to great Spirit, wishes to talk to them, they will listen."