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"Corbon budgery. All good. Get away and no work."
"Work?" cried Rifle. "Why, you never did any work in your life."
"Baal work. Mine go mumkull boomer plenty hunt, find sugar-bag. Yah!"
He uttered another wild shout, which resulted in his having to trot off after the packhorse, which took to its heels, rattling the camping equipage terribly, while the boys restrained their rather wild but well-bred steeds.
"Old Tam's so excited that he don't know what to do," cried Tim.
"Yes. Isn't he just like a big boy getting his first holidays."
"Wonder how old he is," said Rifle.
"I don't know. Anyway between twenty and a hundred. He'll always be just like a child as long as he lives," said Norman. "He always puts me in mind of what Tim was six or seven years ago when he first came to us."
"Well, I wasn't black anyhow," said Tim.
"No, but you had just such a temper; got in a passion, turned sulky, went and hid yourself, and forgot all about it in half an hour."
"I might be worse," said Tim, drily. "Heads!" he shouted by way of warning as he led the way under a group of umbrageous trees, beyond which they could see Shanter still trotting after the packhorse, which did not appear disposed to stop.
"Well, I'm as glad we've got off as Shanter is," said Rifle as they ambled along over the rich grass. "I thought we never were going to have a real expedition."
"Why, we've had lots," said Tim.
"Oh, they were nothing. I mean a regular real one all by ourselves. How far do you mean to go to-night?"
"As far as we can before sunset," said Norman; "only we must be guided by circumstances."
"Which means wood, water, and shelter," said Tim, sententiously. "I say, suppose after all we were to meet a tribe of black fellows. What should we do?"
"Let 'em alone," said Rifle, "and then they'd leave us alone."
"Yes; but suppose they showed fight and began to throw spears at us."
"Gallop away," suggested Tim.
"Better make them gallop away," said Norman. "Keep just out of reach of their spears and pepper them with small shot."
After a time they overtook the black, and had to dismount to rearrange the baggage on the packhorse, which was sadly disarranged; but this did not seem to trouble Shanter, who stood by solemnly, leaning upon his spear, and making an occasional remark about, "Dat fellow corbon budgery," or, "Dis fellow baal budgery,"—the "fellows" being tin pots or a sheet of iron for cooking damper.
"Fellow indeed!" cried Rifle, indignantly; "you're a pretty fellow."
"Yohi," replied the black, smiling. "Shanter pretty fellow. Corbon budgery."
But if the black would not work during their excursion after the fashion of ordinary folk, he would slave in the tasks that pleased him; and during the next few days their table—by which be it understood the green grass or some flat rock—was amply provided with delicacies in the shape of 'possum and grub, besides various little bulbs and roots, or wild fruits, whose habitat Shanter knew as if by instinct. His boomerang brought down little kangaroo-like animals—wallabies such as were plentiful on the range—and his nulla-nulla was the death of three carpet-snakes, which were roasted in a special fire made by the black, for he was not allowed to bring them where the bread was baked and the tea made.
So day after day they journeyed on over the far-spreading park-like land, now coming upon a creek well supplied with water, now toiling over some rocky elevation where the stones were sun-baked and the vegetation parched, while at night they spread the piece of canvas they carried for a tent, hobbled the horses, and lay down to sleep or watch the stars with the constellations all upside down.
They had so far no adventures worth calling so, but it was a glorious time. There was the delicious sense of utter freedom from restraint. The country was before them—theirs as much as any one's—with the bright sunshine of the day, and gorgeous colours of night and morning.
When they camped they could stay as long as they liked; when they journeyed they could halt in the hot part of the day in the shade of some large tree, and go on again in the cool delightful evening; and there was a something about it all that is indescribable, beyond saying that it was coloured by the brightly vivid sight of boyhood, when everything is at its best.
The stores lasted out well in spite of the frightful inroads made by the hungry party: for Shanter contributed liberally to the larder, and every day Norman said it was a shame, and the others agreed as they thought of cages, or perches and chains; but all the same they plucked and roasted the lovely great cockatoos they shot, and declared them to be delicious.
Shanter knocked down a brush pheasant or two, whose fate was the fire; and one day he came with something in his left hand just as breakfast was ended, and with a very serious aspect told them to look on, while he very cleverly held a tiny bee, smeared its back with a soft gum which exuded from the tree under whose shade they sat, and then touched the gum with a bit of fluffy white cottony down.
"Dat fellow going show sugar-bag plenty mine corbon budgery."
"Get out with your corbon budgery," cried Norman. "What's he going to do?"
They soon knew, for, going out again into the open, Shanter let the bee fly and darted off after it, keeping the patch of white in view, till it disappeared among some trees.
"Dat bee fellow gunyah," cried Shanter, as the boys ran up, and they followed the direction of the black's pointing finger, to see high up in a huge branch a number of bees flying in and out, and in a very short time Shanter had seized the little hatchet Rifle carried in his belt, and began to cut big notches in the bark of the tree, making steps for his toes, and by their means mounting higher and higher, till he was on a level with the hole where the bees came in and out.
"Mind they don't sting you, Shanter," cried Tim.
"What six-ting?" cried Shanter.
"Prick and poison you."
"Bee fellow ticklum," he cried laughing, as he began chopping away at the bark about the hollow which held the nest, and brought out so great a cloud of insects that he descended rapidly.
"Shanter let 'em know," he cried; and running back to the camp he left the boys watching the bees, till he returned with a cooliman—a bark bowl formed by peeling the excrescence of a tree—and some sticks well lighted at the end.
By means of these the black soon had a fire of dead grass tufts smoking tremendously, arranging it so that the clouds curled up and played round the bees' nest.
"Bee fellow baal like smoke," he cried. "Make bee go bong."
Then seizing the hatchet and cooliman he rapidly ascended the tree, and began to cut out great pieces of dripping honeycomb, while the boys laughed upon seeing that the hobbled horses, objecting to be left alone in the great wild, had trotted close up and looked as if they had come on purpose to see the honey taken.
It was not a particularly clean process, but the result was plentiful, and after piling his bark bowl high, Shanter came down laughing.
"Plenty mine tickee, tickee," he said; but it did not seem to occur to him that it would be advantageous to have a wash. He was quite content to follow back to the camp-fire and then sit down to eat honey and comb till Tim stared.
"I say, Shanter," he cried, "we didn't bring any physic."
"Physic? What physic? Budgery?"
"Oh, very budgery indeed," said Rifle, laughing. "You shall have some when we get back."
Shanter nodded, finished his honey, and went to sleep till he was roused up, and the party started off once more.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
"DON'T SAY HE'S DEAD."
It was comparatively an aimless expedition the boys were making. Certainly they were to note down any good sites for stations; but otherwise they roamed about almost wherever Shanter led them. Now it would be down some lovely creek, overhung by wide-spreading ferns, in search of fish; now to hunt out and slay dangerous serpents, or capture the carpet-snake, which the black looked upon as a delicacy. Twice over they came across the lyre-tailed pheasant; but the birds escaped uninjured, so that they did not secure the wonderful tail-feathers for a trophy.
The last time Tim had quite an easy shot with both barrels, and there was a roar of laughter when the bird flew away amongst the dense scrub.
"Well, you are a shot!" cried Norman.
"Shanter plenty mumkull that fellow with boomerang," said the black, scornfully.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Tim, reloading coolly. "The feathers would only have been a bother to carry home."
"Sour grapes," said Rifle, laughing.
"Oh, all right," replied Tim; "perhaps you'll miss next. Why—"
Tim stopped short, with the little shovel of his shot-belt in his hand, as he felt the long leathern eel-shaped case carefully.
"What's the matter?" said Norman.
"You feel here," cried his cousin.
"Well," said Norman, running his hand along the belt, "what of it?"
"Full, isn't it?" said Tim.
"Yes. Quite full."
"You're sure it's quite full?"
"Oh yes."
"Then I didn't put any shot in my gun, that's all. I loaded after I came out this morning."
"Well, you are a pretty fellow," cried Rifle. "I shouldn't like to have to depend on you if we were attacked by black fellows."
"Black fellow," cried Shanter, sharply. "Baal black fellow. Plenty wallaby. Come along."
That day, though, they did not encounter any of that small animal of the kangaroo family, which were plentiful about the hills at home, but went journeying on along through the bush, with the grass-trees rising here and there with their mop-like heads and blossom-like spike. Even birds were scarce, and toward evening, as they were growing hungry and tired, and were seeking a satisfactory spot for camping, Tim let fall a remark which cast a damper on the whole party.
"I say, boys," he exclaimed, "whereabouts are we?"
Norman looked at him, and a shade of uneasiness crossed his face, as he turned in his saddle.
"What made you say that?" he cried.
"I was only thinking that this place is very beautiful, but it seems to me all alike; and as if you might go on wandering for years and never get to the end."
"Nonsense!" said Rifle.
"But how are we going to find our way back?"
"Go by the sun," said Norman. "It would be easy enough. Besides we've got the compass, and we could find our way by that."
"Oh, could we?" said Tim; "well, I'm glad, because it seemed to me as if we've wandered about so that we might get lost."
"What, with Shanter here?" cried Rifle. "Nonsense! He couldn't lose himself."
"Want mine?" said the black, running back from where he was trudging beside the packhorse.
"How are we to find our way back?" said Tim. The black stared without comprehending. "Here, let me," said Rifle. "Hi, Shanter! Mine find big white Mary over there?" and he pointed.
"Baal fine big white Mary," cried the black, shaking his shock-head hard. "Big white Mary—Marmi dere."
He pointed in a contrary direction.
"How do you know?" said Rifle.
The black gave him a cunning look, stooped, and began to follow the footprints of the horses backward. Then turning, he laughed.
"Of course," said Norman. "How stupid of me! Follow the back track."
"But suppose it comes on to rain heavily, and washes the footmarks out. How then?"
"Don't you croak," cried Norman, who was himself again. "Who says it's going to rain?"
"Nobody," said Tim; "but it might."
"Pigs might fly," cried Rifle.
Just then Shanter gave a triumphant cry. He had come to a large water-hole, by which they camped for the night, and had the pleasure of seeing their tired horses drink heartily, and then go off to crop the abundant grass.
"Now, boys," said Norman that night, "I've something to tell you. To-morrow we go forward half a day's journey, and then halt for two hours, and come back here to camp."
"Why?" cried Rifle.
"Because we have only just time to get back as father said."
"Why, we've only—"
"Been out eight days, boys," interrupted Norman; "and there's only just time to get back by going steadily."
"But we can't get back in time," argued Rifle. "We shall only have five days and a half."
"Yes we shall, if we don't make any stoppages."
"Oh, let's go on a bit farther; we haven't had hardly any fun yet," cried Rifle.
But Norman took the part of leader, and was inexorable.
"Besides," he said, "the stores will only just last out."
To make up for it, they started very early the next morning, so as to get as far away as possible before returning. Then came the mid-day halt, and the journey back to the water-hole, over what seemed to be now the most uninteresting piece of country they had yet traversed, and Shanter appeared to think so too.
"Baal black fellow; baal wallaby; baal snakum. Mine want big damper."
"And mine must plenty wait till we get back to camp," said Norman, nodding at him, when the black nodded back and hastened the pace of the packhorse, whose load was next to nothing now, the stores having been left at the side of the water-hole.
It was getting toward sundown when the ridge of rocks, at the foot of which the deep pure water lay, came in sight; and Shanter, who was in advance, checked the horse he drove and waited for the boys to come up.
"Horse fellow stop along of you," he said; "mine go an' stir up damper fire."
"All right," replied Norman, taking the horse's rein, but letting it go directly, knowing that the patient would follow the others, while with a leap and a bound Shanter trotted off, just as if he had not been walking all the day.
"I am sorry it's all over," said Rifle, who was riding with his rein on his horse's neck and hands in his pockets. "We don't seem to have had half a holiday."
"It isn't all over," said Tim; "we've got full five days yet, and we may have all sorts of adventures. I wish, though, there were some other wild beasts here beside kangaroos and dingoes. I don't think Australia is much of a place after all."
"Hub!" cried Norman. "Look, old Tam has caught sight of game."
"Hurrah! Let's gallop," cried Rifle.
"No, no. Keep back. He's stalking something that he sees yonder. There: he has gone out of sight. I daresay it's only one of those horrible snakes. What taste it is, eating snake!"
"No more than eating eels," said Rifle, drily. "They're only water-snakes. I say, though, come on."
"And don't talk about eating, please," cried Tim, plaintively; "it does make me feel so hungry."
"As if you could eat carpet-snake, eh?"
"Ugh!"
"Or kangaroo?" cried Rifle, excitedly, as they reached the top of one of the billowy waves of land which swept across the great plain. "Look, Shanter sees kangaroo. There they go. No, they're stopping. Hurrah! kangaroo tail for supper. Get ready for a shot."
As he spoke he unslung his gun, and they cantered forward, closely followed by the packhorse, knowing that the curious creatures would see them, however carefully they approached, and go off in a series of wonderful leaps over bush and stone.
As they cantered on, they caught sight of Shanter going through some peculiar manoeuvre which they could not quite make out. But as they came nearer they saw him hurl either his boomerang or nulla-nulla, and a small kangaroo fell over, kicking, on its side.
"Shan't starve to-night, boys," cried Tim, who was in advance; and in another minute, with the herd of kangaroos going at full speed over the bushes, they were close up, but drew rein in astonishment at that which followed.
For as the boys sat there almost petrified, but with their horses snorting and fidgeting to gallop off to avoid what they looked upon as an enemy, and to follow the flying herd, they saw Shanter in the act of hurling his spear at a gigantic kangaroo—one of the "old men" of which they had heard stories—and this great animal was evidently making for the black, partly enraged by a blow it had received, partly, perhaps, to cover the flight of the herd.
The spear was thrown, but it was just as the old man was making a bound, and though it struck, its power of penetration was not sufficient, in an oblique blow, to make it pierce the tough skin, and to the boys' horror they saw the blunt wooden weapon fall to the earth. The next instant the kangaroo was upon Shanter, grasping him with its forepaws and hugging him tightly against its chest, in spite of the black's desperate struggles and efforts to trip his assailant up. There he looked almost like a child in the grasp of a strong man, and to make matters worse, the black had no weapon left, not even a knife, and he could not reach the ground with his feet.
Poor Shanter had heard the horses coming up, and now in his desperate struggle to free himself, he caught sight of Raphael.
"Boomer—mumkull!" he yelled in a half-suffocated voice. "Mumkull— shoot, shoot."
The gun was cocked and in the boy's hands, but to fire was impossible, for fear of hitting the black; while, when Norman rode close up, threw himself off his horse, and advanced to get a close shot, the kangaroo made vicious kicks at him, which fortunately missed, or, struck as he would have been by the animal's terrible hind-claw, Norman Bedford's career would, in all probability, have been at an end.
Then, in spite of Shanter's struggles and yells to the boys to shoot—to "mumkull" his enemy—the kangaroo began to leap as easily as if it were not burdened with the weight of a man; and quickly clearing the distance between them and the water-hole, plunged right in, and with the water flying up at every spring, shuffled at last into deep water.
Here, knowing the fate reserved for him, Shanter made another desperate struggle to escape; but he was wrestling with a creature nearly as heavy as a cow, and so formed by nature that it sat up looking a very pyramid of strength, being supported on the long bones of the feet, and kept in position by its huge tail; while the black, held as he was in that deadly hug, and unable to get his feet down, was completely helpless.
Without a moment's hesitation, Norman waded in after them to try to get an opportunity to fire; but the kangaroo struck out at him again with all the power of its huge leg, and though it was too far off for the blow to take effect, it drove up such a cataract of water as deluged the lad from head to foot, and sent him staggering back.
The next moment the object of the kangaroo was plain to the boys, for, as if endowed with human instinct, it now bent down to press poor Shanter beneath the water, and hold him there till he was drowned.
Rifle saw it, and pressing the sides of his horse, and battling with it to overcome its dread of the uncanny-looking marsupial, he forced it right in to the pool, and urged it forward with voice and hand, so as to get a shot to tell upon Shanter's adversary.
It was hard work, but it had this effect, that it took off the kangaroo's attention, so that there was a momentary respite for Shanter, the great brute rising up and raising the black's head above the water, so that he could breathe again, while, repeating its previous manoeuvre, the kangaroo kicked out at Rifle, its claw just touching the saddle.
That was enough, the horse reared up, fought for a few moments, pawing the air, and went over backwards. Then there was a wild splashing, and Rifle reached the shore without his gun, drenched, but otherwise unhurt, and the horse followed.
The black's fate would have been sealed, for, free of its assailants, the kangaroo plunged the poor helpless struggling fellow down beneath the surface, attentively watching the approach the while of a third enemy, and ready to launch out one of those terrible kicks as soon as the boy was sufficiently near.
"Oh, Tim, Tim, fire—fire!" cried Norman, as he saw his cousin wade in nearer and nearer: "Quick! quick! before Shanter's drowned."
Tim had already paused four yards away, and up to his armpits in water as he took careful aim, his hands trembling one moment, but firm the next, as the kangaroo, bending downward with the side of its head to him and nearly on a level with the water, which rose in violent ebullitions consequent upon Shanter's struggles, seemed to have a peculiar triumphant leer in its eyes, as if it were saying: "Wait a bit; it is your turn next."
It was all the work of a minute or so, but to the two boys on shore it seemed a horrible time of long suspense, before there was a double report, the triggers being pulled almost simultaneously. A tremendous spring right out of the water, and then a splash, which sent it flying in all directions, before it was being churned up by the struggling monster, now in its death throes; then, gun in one hand, Shanter's wrist in the other, Tim waded ashore, dragging the black along the surface, set free as he had been when those two charges of small shot struck the side of the kangaroo's head like a couple of balls and crushed it in.
Drenched as they were, the three boys got Shanter on to the grass, where he lay perfectly motionless, and a cold chill shot through all, as they felt that their efforts had been in vain, and that a famous slayer of kangaroos had met his end from one of the race. The sun was just on the horizon now, and the water looked red as blood, and not wholly from the sunset rays.
"Shanter, Shanter, old fellow, can't you speak?" cried Norman, as he knelt beside the black.
Just then there was a tremendous struggle in the water, which ceased as suddenly as it had begun.
"Man, don't say he's dead!" whispered Tim, in awe-stricken tones.
Norman made no reply, and Rifle bent softly over the inanimate black figure before him, and laid a hand upon the sufferer's breast.
"You were too late, Tim; too late," sighed Rifle. "I'd heard those things would drown people, but I didn't believe it till now. Oh, poor old Shanter! You were very black, but you were a good fellow to us all."
"And we ought to have saved you," groaned Norman.
"I wish we had never come," sighed Tim, as he bent lower. "Can't we do anything? Give him some water?"
"Water!" cried Norman, with a mocking laugh. "He's had enough of that."
"Brandy?" said Rifle. "There is some in a flask. Father said, take it in case any one is ill."
"Get it," said Norman, laconically, and his brother ran to where, not fifty yards away, the saddle-bags were lying just as they had been left early that morning.
The brandy was right at the bottom, but it was found at last, and Rifle hurried with it to the black's side.
Norman took the flask, unscrewed the top, drew off the cup from the bottom, and held it on one side to pour out a small quantity, but as he held it more and more over not a drop came. The top was ill-fitting, and all had slowly leaked away.
The lad threw the flask aside, and knowing nothing in those days of the valuable hints for preserving life in cases of apparent drowning, they knelt there, with one supporting the poor fellow's head, the others holding his hands, thinking bitterly of the sad end to their trip; while, in spite of his efforts to keep it down, the selfish thought would come into Norman's breast—How shall we be able to find our way back without poor Shanter?
The sun had sunk; the water looked dark and black now. Night was coming on, and a faint curl of smoke showed where the fire left in the morning still burned feebly. But no one stirred, and with hearts sinking lower and lower in the solemn silence, the boys knelt there, thinking over the frank, boyish ways of the big sturdy savage who lay there before them.
Once or twice a piping whistle was heard from some rail, or the call of a waterfowl, which made the horses raise their heads, look round, and then, uttering a low sigh, go on cropping the grass again, after looking plaintively at their masters, as if protesting against being turned out to graze with their reins about their legs and their bits in their mouths.
Then, all at once, just as the stars were beginning to show faintly in the pearly-grey sky, the three boys started back in horror, for there was a curious sound, something between a yawn and a sigh, and Shanter suddenly started up and looked round. Then he rose to his feet, as if puzzled and unable to make out where he was.
Then his memory came back, and he ran to the edge of the water-hole, peered through the darkness with his hand over his eyes, and without hesitation waded in, seized the kangaroo, as it floated, by one of its hind-legs, and dragged it ashore.
"Marmi Rifle; chopper—chopper," he cried.
One was handed to him in silence, for a curious feeling of awe troubled the boys, and they could hardly believe in the truth of what they were seeing in the semi-darkness. But the blows they heard were real enough, and so was the wet figure of Shanter, as he approached them, bearing the great tail of his enemy.
"Big boomer go bong," said Shanter in a husky voice.
"Want mumkull mine. Shanter mumkull big boomer. Now fire big roast and damper."
With a sigh of relief the boys made for the fire, threw on a few twigs to catch first, and as there were a good heap of embers, larger pieces of wood soon followed. Then after removing the horses' saddles and bridles, and hobbling them to keep them from straying, the boys gladly took off some of their soaking garments and huddled round the fire, where the black was busily roasting the tail of the smaller kangaroo, which he had fetched, while the boys were occupied with their horses.
"Mine wear baal clothes," he said pityingly, as he, with his skin dry directly, looked at their efforts to dry themselves. Then the big tin billy was boiled and tea made, its hot aromatic draughts being very comforting after the soaking, and by that time the tail was ready, enough cold damper being found for that evening's meal.
But though all was satisfactory so far, Shanter did not join in. He would eat no damper, drink no tea, and he turned from the roast tail with disgust, squatting down over the fire with his arms round his knees, and soon after going off to a spot among the bushes, where he curled up under a blanket and was seen no more that night.
"Poor old Shanter doesn't seem well," said Norman.
"No wonder," replied Tim.
"And he thinks he killed the old man. Why didn't you speak, Tim?"
"Wasn't worth it," was the reply. "I didn't want to kill the great thing."
An hour later the boys were under their canvas shelter, forgetting all the excitement of the evening, and dreaming—of being home in Norman's case, while Rifle dreamed that a huge black came hopping like a kangaroo and carried off Aunt Georgie.
As for Tim, he dreamed of the encounter again, but with this difference—the boomer had still hold of Shanter, and when he took up the gun to fire it would not go off.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
"CAN'T FIND WAY BACK."
It was long before sunrise when the boys rose to see after Shanter, expecting to find him still lying down, but he was up and over by the water-hole examining the huge kangaroo.
"Mine mumkull kangaroo," he said, as the boys came up, and then, "Baal."
"Didn't you kill it, Shanter?" said Norman, smiling. "Baal. Who kill boomer? Big hole all along." He pointed to the terrible wound in the animal's head caused by the shots Tim had fired. And as the black spoke he examined the knob at the end of his nulla-nulla, comparing it with the wound, and shook his head.
"Baal make plenty sore place like dat. Go all along other side make hole. Baal."
He stood shaking his head in a profound state of puzzledom as to how the wound came, while the boys enjoyed his confusion. Then all at once his face lit up.
"Bunyip mumkull boomer. All go bong."
"You should say all go bong Tam. Why, can't you see? Tim shot him while he was holding your head under water."
"Eh? Marmi Tim shoot? What a pity!"
"Pity?" cried Rifle, staring at the black's solemn face. "Pity that Tim saved your life."
"Mine want mumkull big boomer."
"Never mind: he's dead," cried Norman. "Now come along and let's boil the billy, and make some damper and tea."
"Mine don't want big damper," said Shanter, rubbing himself gently about the chest and ribs.
"What? Not want something to eat?"
"Baal, can't eat," replied the black. "Mine got sore all along. Dat boomer fellow squeezum."
Norman laid his hand gently on the black's side, wondering whether the poor fellow had a broken rib, when, with the most solemn of faces, Shanter uttered a loud squeak.
Norman snatched back his hand, but placed it directly after on the other side, when Shanter squeaked again more loudly; and at every touch, back or front, there was a loud cry, the black looking from one to the other in the most lugubrious way.
"Why, Shanter, you seem to be bad all over," said Rifle.
"Yohi. Mine bad all along, plenty mine bad. Tam go bong."
"Nonsense!" cried Norman. "Come and have a good breakfast. Plenty damper, plenty tea, and you'll be better."
"Baal damper—baal big tea," said the black, rubbing himself. "Boomer mumkull Tam o' Shanter. Mine go bong."
He laid himself gently down on the grass, rolled a little and groaned, and then stretched himself out, and shut his eyes.
"Oh, it's only his games," said Rifle.—"Here, Shanter, old chap, jump up and say thanky, thanky to Marmi Tim for saving your life."
"Marmi Tim baal save Tam o' Shanter. All go along bong."
"I'm afraid he is bad," said Norman, going down on one knee to pass his hand over the poor fellow's ribs, with the result that he uttered a prolonged moan; "but I don't think there are any bones broken. Let's get some breakfast ready. He'll be better after some hot tea."
They threw a pile of wood on the embers, in which a damper was soon baking; and as soon as the billy boiled, a handful of tea was thrown in and the tin lifted from the fire to stand and draw. But though they took Tam a well-sweetened pannikin of the refreshing drink he would not swallow it, neither would he partake of the pleasant smelling, freshly-baked cake.
"I say, I'm afraid the poor chap is bad," whispered Tim.
"Not he," said Rifle. "His ribs are sore with the hugging the boomer gave him, but he's only shamming. I'll rouse him up."
He made a sign to Norman, who looked very anxious, and when the lads were a few yards away, Rifle made them a sign to watch their patient, who lay quite still with his eyes shut, and then suddenly shouted:
"Quick, boys, guns—guns! Black fellows coming."
Shanter started up into a sitting position and tried to drag out his nulla-nulla, but his eyes closed again, and he fell back heavily.
Norman tried to catch him, but he was too late, and a glance showed that there was no deceit in the matter, for the drops of agony were standing on the black's face, and it was quite evident that he had fainted away.
He soon came to, however, and lay gazing wonderingly about him.
"Black fellow?" he whispered anxiously, as if the effort caused him a great deal of pain.
"All gone along," cried Rifle, eagerly; and the black closed his eyes again, while the boys consulted as to what they had better do.
"That's soon settled," said Norman. "We can't fetch help to him, and he can't move, so we must stop here till he gets better. Let's cut some sticks and drive them in the ground, tie them together at the tops, and spread a couple of blankets over them."
This was done so as to shelter their invalid from the sun, and then they saw to their own tent and prepared for a longer stay. After this Tim and Rifle went off to try to shoot something, and Norman stopped to watch the black.
It was a weary hot day, and the boys were so long that Norman began to grow anxious and full of imaginations. Suppose the lads got bushed! He would have to strike their trail and try to find them. Suppose poor Shanter were to die before they came back! How horrible to be alone with the dead out there in that solitary place.
The sun rose to its full height, and then began to descend, but the black neither moved nor spoke, and the only companionship Norman had was that of the two horses—his own and the one which carried the pack. These cropped the grass round about the camp, their hobble chains rattling a little, and the peculiar snort a horse gives in blowing insects out of the grass he eats were the principal sounds the boy heard. It was some comfort to walk to where they grazed and pat and talk to them.
But he was soon back by Shanter's blanket-gunyah watching the shiny black face, which looked very hard and stern now. He had tried him again and again with tea, water, and bread, but there was no response; and at last he had settled down to letting him rest, hoping that his patient was asleep, and feeling that he could do nothing but leave him to nature.
But it was a sad vigil, and not made more pleasant by the sight of the great kangaroo lying just at the edge of the water-hole, and toward which a perfect stream of insects were already hurrying over the dry ground, while flies buzzed incessantly about it in the air. Then, too, again and again some great bird came circling round, but only to be kept at a distance by the sight of the watcher by the tents.
"Will they never come back!" cried Norman at last, quite aloud, and he started in alarm, for there was a loud discordant laugh close at hand.
He picked up a stone and threw it angrily into the ragged tree from whence the sound had come, and one of the great grotesque-looking kingfishers of the country flew off.
At last, after scanning the distant horizon for hours, seeing nothing but a few kangaroos which looked like black fellows in the distance, and a couple of emus stalking slowly across the plain, Norman could bear it no longer.
"Shanter," he said; "must go and find Marmi Rifle and Marmi Tim. Do you hear? I'll come back as soon as I can."
But there was not so much as a twitch at the corners of the black's lips, and the boy hesitated about leaving him. At last though he rose, caught and saddled his horse, gave one final look round, but could see nothing; and he was about to mount when a sudden thought occurred to him, and taking a couple of halters he knotted them together, hitched one over the kangaroo's neck, and attached the other end to the saddle.
The horse jibbed and shied a little, but at last he made a plunge, and the dead animal was dragged into a hollow a couple of hundred yards away, so that there should be no fear of its contaminating the water-hole. Then the halters were cast off, thrown over the tent, and after a glance at Shanter, Norman mounted to take up the trail made by Rifle and Tim, but only leaped down again, and turned his horse out to graze; for there away in the distance were the two boys cantering gently toward the camp, and half an hour later they rode up, well supplied with clucks which they had shot right away upon a creek.
That night passed with one of them watching, and the next two days glided by in the same dreary way, Shanter lying as if unconscious, and nothing passed his lips.
"Father can't be angry with us for not keeping to our time," said Rifle, sadly. "Poor old Shanter, I wish I could do him some good."
That night passed and still there was no change, and about mid-day the boys were dolefully examining their stock of provisions, which was getting very low; and it had been decided that they should watch that night and shoot anything which came to the water-hole to drink, though the animals likely so to do were neither many nor tempting for food to a European.
There was no choosing as to whom the duty should fall upon; for all decided to watch, and after seeing that Shanter lay unchanged, night had about waned, and they were gazing at the stars in silence, for fear of startling anything on its way to the pool, when just as they were feeling that the case was hopeless, and that they might as well give up, Norman suddenly touched Tim, who pressed his hand, for he too had heard the sound of some animal drinking.
They strained their eyes in the direction, but could see nothing, only the bushes which dotted the edge of the water-hole on its low side, the far end being composed of a wall of rocks going sheer down into the deep water.
What could it be? They had had no experience in such matters, and in the darkness there all was so strange and weird that sounds seemed to be different to what they would have been in the broad day.
But they wanted food, and there was some animal drinking, and though they supposed the country to be utterly devoid of deer, it still was possible that such creatures might exist, and it would be a new discovery if they shot an antelope or stag.
But the moments glided by, and the sound ceased without either of them being able to locate the position of the drinker. Their cocked guns were ready, and if they could have made out the slightest movement they would have fired; but there was the water gleaming with the reflection of a star here and there; there was the black mass where the rocks rose up, and that was all. They could not distinctly make out so much as a bush, and quite in despair at last, Norman was about to whisper a proposal that one of them should fire in the direction they fancied to be the most likely, while the others took their chance of a snap shot, when there was a noise straight before them, just at the edge of the water. Norman levelled his piece, took careful aim, and was about to draw trigger, when he distinctly caught sight of a moving figure a little beyond where he had heard the noise, and a voice grumbled out: "What gone along big boomer?"
"Shanter!" shouted Norman, excitedly. "Oh, I nearly fired."
"Marmi," said the black as the boys ran up trembling with the thought of the mistake they had nearly made, "Baal find big boomer."
"No, no, it's gone; but what are you doing here?"
"Mine have big drink. Go back sleep now."
"But are you better?" said Rifle.
"Mine all sore along. Boomer fellow squeezum."
He spoke rather faintly, and walked slowly as they went back to the blanket-gunyah, where the black lay down directly, uttering a deep groan, as he moved himself painfully.
"There was plenty of water here, Shanter," said Norman.
"Piggi (the sun) gone sleep. Mine can't see."
They spoke to him again, but there was no reply, his breathing told, however, that he had dropped off, and Norman elected to keep watch till morning, and the others went to the tent.
It was just after daybreak when Norman heard a rustling, and looking round there was Tam creeping out from his shelter.
"Make big fire—make damper," he said quietly, and to the lad's delight the black went slowly about the task of blowing the embers, and getting a few leaves and twigs to burn before heaping up the abundant supply of wood close at hand.
Breakfast was soon ready, the boys being in the highest of glee, and Shanter sat and ate and smiled broadly at the friendly demonstrations which kept greeting him.
"Mine been along big sleep, get well," he said in reply to the congratulations showered upon him, and then proved quite willing to sit still while the packhorse was loaded—lightly now—and the others caught, saddled, and bridled, and a glance round given before they made a start to follow the trail back home.
Then followed a little discussion as to the order of starting, but Shanter settled it by tucking his nulla-nulla and boomerang into his waistband, shouldering his spear, and starting off at the head of the packhorse which followed him like a dog.
"All right," said Norman.
"Yes. What a rum fellow he is!" whispered Rifle. "But I wouldn't go very far to-day."
The boys mounted, and gave a cheer as they said farewell to the water-hole.
"It almost seems as if all this had been a dream," said Tim, as they rode on behind the black. "You wouldn't think he had been so bad."
"Yes, you would," cried Norman, urging his horse forward, as he saw Shanter make a snatch at the packhorse's load, and then reel.
But Norman saved him, and the poor fellow looked at him piteously. "Big boomer squeeze mine," he whispered hoarsely. "Legs baal walk along."
That was very evident, for he was streaming with perspiration, and gladly drank some water from their tubs.
Then the difficulty was solved by Norman making Shanter mount the horse he had himself ridden, and the journey was continued with the black striding the saddle and holding on by the sides of the stirrup-irons with his toes, for he could not be induced to place his foot flat on the bar, which he declared to be plenty "prickenum," and always placing his first and second toes on either side of the outer edge of the upright part of the stirrup.
The pleasure had gone out of the trip now. It had been full of hard work before, but it was labour mingled with excitement; now it was full of anxiety as the little party noted Shanter's weakness, and felt how entirely they depended upon him to follow the track they had made, one often so slight that they could not trace a sign on the short grass or hard ground. And as Norman said, if the black broke down again they might never be able to find their way home.
But the black kept his seat on one or other of the horses very well for two days, and then they had to halt for a whole day, when it seemed as if they were going to have a repetition of the former anxiety. The morning after, though, he expressed a desire to go on, and as the boys packed up the half-dried canvas and blankets which had formed their cover during a night of heavy rain, they looked anxiously at each other, the same thought being in each breast, though neither of them could find it in his heart to speak.
That thought was—suppose all our horses' footprints are washed away?
And now began a wonderful display of the black's power of vision. As a rule he sat perfectly upright on horseback, took the lead, and rode on over tracts of land, where to the boys not a vestige of their trail was visible; though, when now and then they saw the black guide lean forward, grasp the horse's neck with his arms, and place his head as low down as was possible, they felt that he too was evidently rather at fault.
But no: by his wonderful perception he kept on picking up some tiny trace of a footprint, losing the trail altogether at times, finding it again when all seemed at an end and they had heard him muttering to himself. And so the journey went slowly on, till about noon on the fifth day, as Shanter was intently scanning the ground, he suddenly said:
"Baal can't go. Mine no see no more. Stop eat damper."
The horses were turned loose to graze, a fire lit, and as usual the water boiled for tea, just a sufficiency having been brought from the last spring in the tub slung to the packhorse's side. But there was very little appetite for the cold kangaroo tail and cakebread, as they saw that the black did not eat, but began to beat the ground in all directions like a spaniel, till too weak to do more, when he came and threw himself down on the grass, and said: "Mine can't find way back no more."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
"WE SHALL RUN AGAINST THEM."
What did it mean?
Lost in the great uninhabited plains, where by aid of their compass they might go on day after day travelling in the direction they believed to be homeward, but it would only be as the result of a guess. Certainly, they knew that the sea lay somewhere due east, but even if they could reach the sea, where would they be—north or south of a settlement?
Norman felt that their case was hopeless; and in obedience to the mute prayer he read in brother and cousin's eyes, he went and sat by the black.
"Can't mine find the track, Shanter?"
"Baal find um," he replied coolly. "Plenty all gone way."
"But come and try again."
The black shook his head.
"Baal go no more," he said; "mine sore. Plenty hurt all over. Go sleep, piggi jump up."
The black turned away, and Norman returned disconsolately to the others.
"What does he say?" whispered Tim, as if afraid that his voice would be heard out there in the great wild.
"Says we are to go to sleep till the sun rises to-morrow."
There was a dead silence.
"Shall we go and try ourselves?" said Rifle, at last.
"If he can't find it, we can't," said Norman, despondently.
"Never mind, boys," cried Tim. "Never say die. When the provision's done, we'll eat one of the horses, if we can't shoot anything. Surely we shall come across settlers some time during the next ten years; and if we don't, I say that if black fellows can live, we who know so much better can, till we reach a settlement once more."
"But we don't know so much better," said Norman, sadly. "Shanter can beat us hollow at tracking. I wouldn't care, boys, only I seem to have poor mother's face always before me; and it will kill her if we don't get back."
Another deep silence followed, for neither could trust himself to speak, till all at once from where he lay, sounding incongruous at so solemn a time, there came from the black a succession of heavy snores; and so near is laughter to tears, mirth to sadness, that the boys burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and Rifle exclaimed: "There, what's the good of our being in the dumps. It can't be so very bad when old Tam o' Shanter can go to sleep like that."
"No," said Tim, taking his pitch from his cousin.
"Let's have a good long rest, and then see what to-morrow brings; eh! Man?"
Norman smiled and nodded, joining in the preparations for their evening meal, and that night they all lay down as if to sleep, nothing being heard but Shanter's deep breathing in the great solitude beneath the glittering stars, till a deep sigh escaped from Norman's breast; and rising from his blanket couch, he stole softly out to go and kneel down beneath the great, violet, gold-spangled arch of heaven to pray for help, and that there might not come that terrible sorrow in his home— the tale to be told to future generations of how three happy, contented lads went forth into the great wilderness and left their bones there beneath some tree, or by some water-hole, bleaching in the sun.
He was picturing it all in that solemn silence; the very scene rose before him, but it was swept away directly, and he was gazing in the agony-drawn face of his mother, when he heard a faint sob, and turned as Rifle dropped upon his knees by his side, laid his clasped hands upon his brother's shoulder, and bent down his head.
But poor orphan Tim, who looked upon his cousins more as brothers than aught else, had been as wakeful as they. It had been a mutual deception; each had pretended that he was asleep, so as not to let the others know how he suffered, and many seconds had not elapsed before he too was kneeling by Norman's side.
And there they knelt for a long space, before Norman began repeating aloud the old, old prayer, followed by the others, till he came to the words, "And deliver us from—"
There he broke down, and the prayer was finished in a husky voice by Tim alone.
A few minutes after they were lying once more in the shelter of the sheet of canvas, and the next thing that happened was their starting up into wakefulness with the sky one glow of gold and orange, and the black face of Tam o' Shanter peering in at them with a grin upon his countenance, as he cried:
"Now, Marmi boys, piggi go jump up. Mine baal sore now. Go along fine way back."
For a marvellous change seemed to have come over the black. He had been sleeping heavily for sixteen hours, and the breakfast he ate was something like that to which they had been accustomed, in spite of the fact that the flour was getting excessively low.
But it was as if a black cloud had rolled away from them during the night, and the bright sun of hope was shining warmly into their hearts.
All at once, to their great astonishment, Tam leaped up, flourished his nulla-nulla, and shouted:
"Mine want big boomer here. Makum sore along plenty like Tam o' Shanter."
"But he has gone bong," cried Rifle.
"Yohi. Gone bong. Marmi Tim mumkull big boomer. Now, come along, mine fine back big white Mary."
"Yes: let's start," cried Norman; but with a pang at his heart as he wondered whether they would ever reach home again, home which seemed now the most lovely place on earth.
Tam refused to mount when they started.
"Mine want see close along," he said; and after a few casts here and there, to the astonishment of all, they saw him suddenly point down, and they all ran to his side.
"Why, there's nothing there," cried Tim.
"Yohi. Horse fellow tick um toe along."
"Yes; there is a faint mark of a hoof," said Norman in delight; and with rising spirits they went on again, to sight the Wallaby Range and strike Dingo Station just at dusk on the following night, after missing the track again and again on the previous day; while on this, the last of their return journey, Shanter marked down hills and mountains which were familiar, so that they made extra speed, and it was necessary, for they reached home nearly starved.
It is needless to tell of the joy at the wanderers' return, save that Mrs Bedford's face showed the agony she must have suffered, while Aunt Georgie had a severe scolding in store.
But all that was soon over. Shanter had gone off to a favourite nook of his to digest damper, and the boys had about wearied themselves out telling of their adventures, and of how wonderfully Shanter had recovered during the last few days.
"Yes, it is wonderful," said the captain. "I suppose the way in which they get over dangerous wounds is more wonderful still. Poor fellow! he must have had a horrible squeeze, and the drowning, no doubt, acted like a shock. I wish, though, you had thought to bring home the old man's skin."
"Yes, we ought to have done that," said Norman, "for Tim's sake."
"But we had enough to do to bring home Shanter."
"Ay, that they had," cried Uncle Jack. "I don't know what Sam German would have done without him."
"Why, he always grumbles at him for a lazy nigger," said the captain.
"Yes, but he likes him all the same."
"So we all do," chorused the boys.
"He can't help being black," said Tim.
"No," said the captain; "but you have said nothing about the camps of black fellows you struck."
"Because we did not find any, father," cried Rifle.
"Humph!" said the captain. "Strange! There must be very few in these parts, but I always feel that we shall run against them some day."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
"WE'LL FIND 'EM."
The troubles of the expedition had died out to such an extent that there was some talk of another, the captain saying that for exploring reasons he should head this himself.
Just then Uncle Jack kicked his foot under the table, and the captain looked up to see such a look of agony in his wife's face that the subject dropped.
All was going on admirably, oxen and sheep were increasing, the garden was flourishing, and Dingo Station was daily growing more and more the home of peace and plenty.
"Ah, Jack," said the captain to his brother, as they sat one evening smoking tobacco of their own growing, "if it were not for the thoughts of the black fellows, what a paradise this would be!"
"Perhaps the blacks say something of the kind respecting the whites."
"Why, we don't interfere with them."
"No; but I'm afraid others do."
But just at this time Aunt Georgie was a good deal exercised in her mind, and she confided her trouble and suspicions to the two girls, but bade them say not a word to Mrs Bedford.
"It would only worry her, and she has plenty of troubles over those wild, harum-scarum, neck-breaking, horse-riding boys."
But the next morning at breakfast she let the cat out of the bag.
"Flour? Stolen?" cried Mrs Bedford, excitedly.
"Oh, auntie!" cried the girls, reproachfully.
"Well, I didn't mean to say anything, but I'm quite sure that a quantity has been taken out of the tub three times lately," said Aunt Georgie, emphatically.
"Nonsense, aunt!" protested Hetty; "it's your fancy, or else Ida must have taken some without speaking."
"No," said Ida, quietly, "I have not touched it. If I had wanted some for cooking, I should have asked aunt for it."
"Of course you would, my dear, and I should not have spilled and wasted some on the floor."
"Had we not better tell Edward?" said Mrs Bedford. "No; don't worry him," said Aunt Georgie; "he has quite enough on his mind."
"The boys must have been at it for something," said Ida, quietly.
"Boys have been at what?" said Norman, who was with the others in the veranda as these words were said.
"Been taking the flour," said Hetty.
"What should we take the flour for?" cried Rifle, indignantly.
"No, my dears, I do not suspect you, and I am sorry to make the charge, for I have always thought Shanter lazy, but honest."
"Why, you don't mean to say you believe poor old Shanter would steal flour, do you, aunt?" said Rifle, indignantly.
"I regret it very much, my dear, but the flour has been stolen, some spilled on the floor, and there were the prints of wide-toed feet in the patch."
"Here, hi! Shanter, Tam o'!" cried Rifle. "Coo-ee!"
The black came running up with glistening face.
"Plenty mine come fast," he said.
"Here," cried Norman; "what for you come along steal flour?"
"Mine baal teal flour," cried the black, indignantly.
"Aunt says you have, two or three times."
"Baal teal flour," cried the black again.
"There, aunt," said Norman; "I told you he wouldn't."
"But I'm sure he did, my dear, for there were the marks of his black feet."
"Baal teal flour," cried Shanter again; and drawing himself up he was turning away, but Norman caught his arm.
"Look here, Shanter," he said. "You brother. Baal go in storehouse."
"Yohi," said the black, nodding. "Big white Mary pialla. Shanter carry tub."
"Then you have been in the storehouse sometimes."
"Yohi. Baal teal flour."
He wrenched himself free and walked away.
"I don't believe he took it, aunt," said Norman.
"Nor I," said the others eagerly.
"Well, I wish I was sure, my dears, as you are, for I don't like to suspect the poor fellow."
"But if he had taken it, aunt," cried Rifle, "he is such a big stupid boy of a fellow he couldn't have kept it secret. He'd have made a lot of damper at a fire in the scrub, and asked us to come and help to eat the nasty stuff all full of ashes."
"Well," said Aunt Georgie, drawing her lips tight, "we shall see. Nobody else could have stolen it but the black or German."
"What, old Sourkrout?" cried Tim, laughing. "Oh, aunt!"
"And it's oh, Artemus!" said the old lady. "For I do wish you boys would not be so fond of nicknames."
"All right, aunt."
The incident passed off and so did Shanter, for he disappeared altogether for a couple of days, and was a good deal missed.
"Never mind," said Norman, "he'll come back loaded with grubs, or bring honey or 'possums."
"I believe he is too much offended to come back," said Tim. "No fellow, whatever his colour may be, likes to be called a thief."
"No," said Rifle; "and I believe aunt used her flour in her sleep."
"Here, boys," cried the captain just then; "take the horses and go round and fetch up that lot of bullocks from the plain. I fancy they have gone right away some distance, or the dingoes have scared them; it will be a good ride for you."
"And no Shanter here," said Norman, as they went off to catch and saddle their horses.
"I wonder father hasn't made a bother about it. He doesn't seem to have missed him."
"Too busy over getting down that big gum over yonder," observed Rifle. "My word, what a time it seems to take!"
"Nice bit of amusement for Uncle Jack and old Sam. He is getting too fat."
The others laughed, and then after they had caught, saddled, and bridled their horses, they walked them up to where the captain was examining the edge of a felling-axe, Uncle Jack and German being similarly armed.
"Off you go, boys," said the captain.
"And let's see whether you'll be back before we get down the great gum-tree," said their uncle, smiling.
"We shall be back," said Rifle. "You will not get down the big gum for a week."
German chuckled, and the boys sprang into their saddles.
"You'll have a long ride, boys," said the captain. "I was up on the big rock yesterday," he continued, nodding toward the top of the precipice whence Norman had seen the black fellows, "and I could not see them with the glass."
"We'll find 'em, father," said Norman, confidently.
"Off then," said the captain; and away they went, riding now with wonderful ease and skill; while, bent on getting down the great gum-tree by the creek because it impeded part of the view from the house, and in addition its trunk being wanted for boards and its branches for fuel, the captain led his little force of axemen to the assault.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
"BUNYIP! BUNYIP!"
That same afternoon, soon after dinner, the captain and his fellow-wielders of the axe again went down to carry on their wood-cutting. The boys were not back, nor expected, and in the course of the afternoon the girls proposed that Mrs Bedford and Aunt George should go with them for a walk, and to take some refreshment to the wood-cutters.
They refused, of course, and then gave way, and soon after the little party left the house, and strolled slowly away toward the creek, all enjoying the delightfully fresh breeze which came across the plains and sent the blood dancing in the young girls' veins.
Hardly had they walked a couple of hundred yards away, when one of the cows in the fenced-in paddock raised her head from grazing, and uttered a deep-toned bellow. She ceased munching the rich grass, and whisked her tail about, as if trying to tie it in knots, for she saw a black approaching the paddock, and that black was one she did not know.
The black came cautiously on, crawling from tree to bush, and from bush to tree, and always getting nearer to the house. Finally, he reached the fence, and along by this he crept like a great black slug, till he was at the end, and within a dozen yards of the store.
Fifty yards away a couple of dozen of his fellows, all spear and club armed, lay hidden among the shrubs and trees which the captain and Uncle Jack were unwilling to cut down, and these men watched intently every movement of their companion, and in perfect silence, till they saw him raise himself very slightly, and then almost run on all fours across the space which divided him from the storehouse, the movement being upon his hands and toes.
Then a low murmur of satisfaction ran through them, and they turned to look in the other direction, where the ladies were all making their way, basket-laden, toward where the captain and Uncle Jack were continuing their attack upon the great tree.
No fear of interruption in that direction; no fear of any one coming in the other, for the boys had been seen to ride right off over the hills, as if on a long expedition.
The black fellow disappeared from his companions' sight; and as soon as he was well inside, he rose up, detached a bark bag from his 'possum-skin waistband, and grinned with satisfaction as he ran his eyes round among the casks, packages, and tins upon the rough shelves.
Then he stopped short, and stared at the cask before him, for there was something suspicious about it. That was not the cask from which he had filled his meal-bag last time, and carried off such a glorious haul. It looked wider and bigger, and he hesitated, and passing his right hand behind him, carefully drew out his club, ready for that tub if it should be dangerous.
But the tub stood there perfectly innocent-looking, and the head had evidently lately been moved by floury fingers, which had left their marks. In addition, there was a dusting of flour on the top, and a tiny sprinkle of the same on the rough boards in front.
All this reassured him, and tucking his nulla-nulla back in his band, he gave the bag a shake, took a cautious look round, and then advanced to the tub, and with one quick movement, thrust the head off, so that it fell behind upon the floor.
Then, bag in one hand, his other resting on the edge of the barrel, he stood perfectly still, as if turned to stone. His eyes were starting, his mouth open, and his lips drawn back in a ghastly grin, as he stood gazing at a hideous-looking face rising slowly out of the flour, red, as if covered with blood, and dashed with patches of white meal. Nearer and nearer this object approached him, till, with a yell of horror, he dragged himself away, and dashed out of the storehouse, shouting "Bunyip! bunyip!" as he ran to where his companions were waiting for his spoil.
Then a low whispering followed, and the result was that six of the party crawled in the same manner as that in which the first black had approached.
An observer would have said that they were evidently doubtful of the truth of their companion's statement, and had agreed to go together and test it.
Their advance was exactly in every respect like that of the first man; and they reached the shelter of the fence, and paused till the last man was close up, when all went through the same manoeuvre together, running on their hands and feet, with their bodies close to the ground.
At the door they paused again listening, and no doubt the slightest sound would have started them off in full retreat. But all was perfectly still, and taking courage, they gathered themselves up, and club in hand leaped into the storehouse, to stand gazing wildly round.
Nothing was there to startle them—no sign of danger. The bag their companion had dropped lay upon the floor, but the flour-barrel was covered; and after a couple of them had exchanged a whisper, all stood with their nulla-nullas ready to strike, but no one attempted to move the cask head.
At last two who appeared to be the leaders extended a hand each, gazed in each other's eyes, and at a signal gave the lid a thrust, and it fell off behind with a loud clatter, which made all bound out of the storehouse. But the last man looked back as his comrades were taking to flight, and uttered a few words loudly.
They were sufficient to arrest the flight and all stood in a stooping position, gazing wildly at the tub, which stood looking harmless enough, and after a little jabbering, they advanced once more, as if they all formed units of a large machine, so exactly were their steps taken together, till they reached and once more entered the open door of the store.
Then, as if strung up, ready to meet anything, they bounded into the place, when, as if worked by a spring, the horrible figure in the tub started upright like a monstrous jack-in-the-box.
The black fellows literally tumbled over one another in their hurry to escape from the terrible-looking object which, in their eyes—imbued as they were with superstitious notions—was a fearful demon of the most unsparing nature, and a minute later, they were back in the clump of trees and bushes, spreading news which made the whole mob of blacks take flight.
"Baal come teal flour. Mine make black fellow frightenum," said the jack-in-the-box, leaping lightly out, and then rolling the empty cask aside, he replaced it by the flour-tub.
Then, going round to the back, application was made to a bucket of water, from which a cooliman or native bark bowl was filled, and in a few moments Shanter's good-humoured, clean, black countenance was drying in the sun. For his scheme to defeat the flour-thieves had been very successful, and that evening he related it proudly to the boys.
"You did that?" said Norman.
"Yohi. All yan. Baal black fellow now."
"What?" cried the captain, when Norman called him aside, and told him. "I don't like that, my boy."
"But they must be a poor, cowardly lot, father," said Norman, "or they would not be so easily frightened by a bogey."
"A lesson to us," said the captain, thoughtfully. "There must be a camp of the black fellows somewhere near, and while they are about, we had better keep about the place."
"But they will not come again after such a fright, will they?" said Norman.
"I don't know, my boy. It is impossible to say. Perhaps, as soon as the scare is over, they may be taking each other to task for being such cowards. We are all alone here, and far from help, so it is as well to be upon our guard. Don't let them know indoors."
The order came too late, for, as soon as they entered the house, Mrs Bedford began anxiously: "Edward, is it a fact that there have been myall blacks trying to rob the place?"
"Pooh! What have you heard?"
"Rifle has been telling us of the black's trick to frighten them."
"Oh yes, a few wandering rascals tried to steal the flour."
"And I'm very, very glad to find that I misjudged that poor fellow, Shanter," said Aunt Georgie. "I certainly thought it was he."
"Yes; and to clear himself of the suspicion," said Uncle Jack, cheerily, "he hid and frightened them away. Come, people, don't look so anxious.—Why, Hetty—Ida—surely you are not going to be scared at a little adventure like this."
"Of course they are not," said the captain, quickly. "There is nothing to be alarmed about."
"Father says there's nothing to be alarmed about," whispered Rifle that night, when the boys retired to the part of the house they called the barracks.
"Yes, I heard him," said Norman, softly. "Talk low, Tim's asleep."
"No, I'm not," said that individual. "I'm awake as you are. You're going to talk about uncles' whispering together, and then going and loading the guns and pistols."
Norman was silent for a few moments.
"Yes," he said at last. "It means that they are very uneasy about the black fellows."
"And a fight," said Rifle.
"I hope not, boys. One doesn't want to kill."
"But one doesn't want the myall blacks to kill us," said Rifle. "Well, they will not come to-night, will they?"
"If they do," replied Norman, "father will soon wake us up, if it's only to load the guns for them. They're sure to sit up and watch in turns with Sourkrout. Shall we dress again, and go and offer to help?"
"No," said Tim. "Uncle would not like us to interfere without being asked, but I shall lie and listen all night. I couldn't go to sleep fancying that black fellows were crawling up to attack us."
"No," said Rifle, softly; "one feels all of a fidget, and ready to fancy all sorts of things."
"Nonsense!" said Norman. "It's because it's so hot to-night. That's all."
"Man don't mean it," said Tim, quietly. "He's as fidgety as we are."
"Yes, of course I am, but it's only the heat."
"Call it what you like," said Rifle; "but you don't feel as if you could sleep to-night."
"Well, I don't feel sleepy yet," said Norman, carelessly.
But a long day on horseback and the quiet of their quarters, joined to the knowledge that their elders would be on guard, sufficed to nullify all their declarations, and half an hour had not elapsed before the regular, steady breathing of three healthy lads told that they were passing the night in the most satisfactory way.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
"THAT ISN'T THUNDER."
"Hi! Rouse up! Black fellows!" shouted Rifle, and his brother and cousin started up in bed, ready for the moment to believe him, for there was a black face peering in at their window.
"Get out!" cried Tim, hurling a boot at his cousin, who dodged it, while as soon as Norman had grasped the fact that the face belonged to Shanter he made a rush at his brother, who laughingly avoided it, and then hurrying on their clothes, they went out to find the captain and Uncle Jack, each with a double gun in the hollow of his arm.
"Seen anything, father?" cried Norman.
"No, my boy, all peaceable, and Shanter says there are no black fellows near."
"Baal black fellow," said that gentleman. "See plenty mine bunyip, baal come again."
Here he burst into a roar of laughter, and began imitating the action of a myall black creeping up to the storehouse, going close up to the flour-tub, and looking in before uttering a wild yell, darting back, tumbling, getting up, falling again, rolling over and over, and then jumping up to run away as hard as he could.
He came back panting and grinning in a minute or two, looking from one to the other as if for applause.
"I hope he is right," said Uncle Jack; "but we shall have to be more careful."
"Yes," said the captain; "we have been too confident, boys, and I must now declare the station in a state of siege."
"Won't it be time enough when the black fellows come, father?"
"Will it be time enough to lock the stable door when the steed is stolen, sir?" replied the captain, sternly.
Rifle rubbed his right ear, as if his father's words had buzzed in it, and said no more.
"Talk about steeds," said the captain; "let's go and have a look at the horses. There'll be plenty of time before breakfast."
For the captain had of late given a good deal of attention to one of his young horses which promised to prove of great value. The boys were already well mounted and provided most satisfactorily. There were the quiet mares, too, which the two girls rode, and Uncle Jack had a good sturdy mount; but this graceful colt had thoroughly taken the captain's attention, and he was looking forward to the day when some wealthy settler would come up the country, see it, and purchase it, or make some valuable exchange in the shape of articles as useful to them as money.
They reached the paddock, which was always increasing in size, when they could find time to enclose more land with posts and rails, and the horses came trotting up for the titbits they were accustomed to receive from their owner's hand; and as the pet of the little drove thrust its head over the rail, it was patted and caressed, a halter attached and passed round its lower jaw, Shanter watching eagerly the while.
"Now, Norman, up with you. I want to get him used to being backed."
Norman hesitated for a moment naturally enough, for it was mounting a bare-backed unbroken colt; but the next minute he had accepted a leg up, and was in his place, with the result that the beautiful creature reared right up, pawing the air, and threatened to fall over backwards.
"Grip him well, boy," shouted the captain.
The command was needless, for Norman was already gripping the horse's soft sides with all his might; and he kept his seat as it now came down on all fours, and darted off at a rate which startled all the rest of the occupants of the paddock into a gallop. They followed their companion round till Norman seemed able to control his mount, and brought it back to where the rest had been watching him with some anxiety.
"Well done, my boy!" said the captain, as he caressed the colt. "Down with you. Now, Raphael, you give him a turn."
Rifle sprang into the place lately occupied by his brother, had a gallop round the great enclosure; and Tim followed and cantered up.
"That will do for this morning," said the captain. "I like his action more and more, Jack. He'll want very little breaking in."
"Yes," said Uncle Jack; "a martingale will soon check that habit of throwing up his head."
"Hullo!" cried the captain; "what's that?"
"Oh nothing, father," cried Rifle, laughing. "Only Shanter. He wants to have a ride round on the colt."
"What and scare the poor animal with his black face? Besides, he can't ride."
"Yohi!" shouted the black, excitedly. "Plenty mine ride. Plenty mine ride bull-cow horse fellow. Plenty mine ride."
He strode toward the colt to mount but the captain laid his hand upon his shoulder.
Shanter started round angrily.
"Mine go ride plenty mine," he cried.
"No. Don't touch the horse," said the captain, sternly.
White man and black stood gazing in each other's eyes for some moments, and then Shanter took his spear from where it leaned against the rails, and marched off toward the nearest patch of scrub, displaying such airs of offended dignity that the boys all laughed, with the result that Shanter turned upon them furiously—like a ridiculed child—threw himself into an attitude, and threatened to throw his spear. But, as the boys laughed all the more heartily, he turned and went off.
"You have offended his majesty, father," cried Norman.
"Oh, he'll forget it all in a few hours," said Rifle and they went back in to breakfast.
Soon after the captain had a ride round, ostensibly to see the more distant cattle; but, as he owned to Rifle, who accompanied him, really to see if there were any traces of blacks; but there were none.
"I'll send Shanter out scouting," said the captain, as they rode back; but there was no Shanter to send. He had evidently not forgotten, and not come back.
The next morning a visit was again paid to where the horses were enclosed every night, the captain meaning to have the colt ridden daily now, so as to break it in by degrees, when, to his annoyance, he found it looking rough and out of order, but that evening it seemed to be much better, and was grazing heartily as usual.
The next morning it was the same, and so on for several more mornings.
"I don't understand it," said the captain.
"Looks as if it had been galloped, father," said Norman.
"Yes; but the others are all right, and it would not go off and gallop alone. Flies have worried the poor beast, I suppose."
Meanwhile there had been no sign of Shanter. He had gone off in dudgeon and stayed away, his absence being severely felt in the house, for his task of fetching wood and water had to be placed in Sam German's hands; and as this was not what he called his regular work, he did it in a grumbling, unpleasant manner, which very much raised Aunt Georgie's ire.
"Shanter will come back soon, aunt," Tim kept on saying.
"But he does not come back, boy," cried Aunt Georgie; "and you boys will have to do his work, for I am not going to have that grumbling gardener to bring my wood and water. I must say, though, that it does make a good deal of difference in the consumption of bread."
And still Shanter did not come back, neither was anything seen of him by the boys in their long stock-herding rides; while to make things more annoying the colt grew worse, and the captain complained bitterly.
"But I don't think father ought to grumble," said Rifle, one night when they were going to bed. "Everything else has got on so well. Why, we shall soon be having a big farm."
"Yes," said Norman; "but the colt was a pet, and he had given so much attention to it."
They went to bed and all was quiet, but somehow Rifle could not sleep. It was a sultry, thunderous night, and at last he rose, opened the window, and stood to gaze out at the flashing lightning as it played about a ridge of clouds in the east.
"Can't you sleep?" said Norman, in a whisper.
"No; come here. It's so jolly and cool."
There was a faint rustling sound in the darkness, and the next minute Norman was by his brother's side, enjoying the soft, comparatively cool, night air.
"Lovely," he said; and then they both stood gazing at the lightning, which made the clouds look like a chain of mountains, about whose summits the electricity played.
All at once there was a dull, low, muttering sound, apparently at a distance.
"Thunder," said Norman. "We're going to have a storm."
"Good job," replied Rifle, in the same low tone as that adopted by his brother. "Things were getting precious dry."
There was a long pause, and the lightning grew nearer and the flashes more vivid. Then, all of a sudden as the same peculiar sound was heard, Rifle whispered:
"I say, Man; that isn't thunder."
"No," was the reply. "I was just thinking so. Sounds to me like a horse galloping."
"Of course it does. I say, it isn't the colt, is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Our colt gone mad, and galloping about all night so as to make himself look bad to-morrow morning."
"Rubbish!"
"But it does come from the paddock."
"Yes; it does come from the paddock," said Norman, after a pause.
"And no mistake about it. Only one horse too."
"It's very strange," said Norman; "let's go and see."
"What, in the middle of the night, like this? Father would hear us and take us for black fellows."
"We could drop quietly out of the window. Why, Rifle, you're right; there is a horse galloping in the paddock. Let's dress and go."
"Shall we call father and tell him first?"
"No; because we might be wrong. Let's go and see first. A 'possum must have got on the horse's back and be scaring him into this gallop. Look sharp."
The boys soon had on their flannel shirts and trousers, generally their every-day costume, and after satisfying themselves that Tim was fast asleep, they squeezed themselves out of the window and dropped one after the other, and then hurried along in the thick darkness, across the garden, past the storehouse, and then along under the shelter of the fences till, perfectly satisfied now, they neared the corner of the paddock, just as a horse galloped by at full speed.
"No wonder he looks so bad of a morning," whispered Norman. "Here, go on a little farther and then we can look through and see."
They went down now on hands and knees, and crept along till they could look through into the great paddock, just as a flash of lightning revealed to them a group of horses in the centre of the field all pretty close together, and quietly cropping the grass.
"Strange, isn't it?" whispered Norman. "Listen! here he comes round again."
For the beat of hoofs approached from their left, and the next minute a horse thundered by at full speed.
"Why, it was!" whispered Rifle, "I saw one of those 'possums perched on its back."
"No," said Norman, excitedly. "I saw something distinctly; but it was too big to be a 'possum. I think it was one of those big things that Shanter killed. Father said it was the koala or native bear."
"Let's wait till it comes round again."
The time seemed long, but the horse came thundering past once more, evidently steadily coursing all round the paddock close to the rails, while its fellows clustered in the middle out of the way.
"It is one of those things," said Norman, triumphantly.
"It wasn't," said Rifle. "I saw it quite plain, and it was one of those kangaroos as big as a man. I say, whoever would have thought of their doing that?"
"What shall we do? Hadn't we better go and rouse up father?"
"No," said Rifle; "let's stop and see the end of it; and to-morrow night we can all come and catch or shoot the beast. If we went now and fetched him, it might be gone before we got back, and he would think we had been dreaming."
"Here it comes again; hish!" whispered Norman; and once more there was the rapid beat of the horse's feet on the dry ground, and it tore by just as there was a brighter flash of lightning; then the flying object had darted by, and Norman uttered a loud ejaculation.
"Did you see?" whispered Rifle.
"Yes; it was a myall black. I saw him quite plainly."
"Not quite plainly," said Rifle. "But I saw him. It was a black on the poor horse, but it was old Shanter."
"What?"
"It was! I saw his face as plain as possible. Don't you see? He wanted to mount the horse and father wouldn't let him, so he determined to have a ride, and he must have come and had one every night, and then gone off again into the scrub."
"But—"
"Don't say 'but.' You know how fond he has been of horses, always wanting to ride when he went out with us."
"Yes, I know; but still I can't think he would like to do that."
"But he is doing it. Here he comes again."
This time, as the horse galloped by, they both had a perfectly plain view of the black's excited face and position as, evidently in a high state of glee, he tore by on the well-bred horse.
"Now," said Rifle; "was I right?"
"Oh yes," said Norman, with a sigh. "You were quite right. But be ready to shout and stop him as he comes round again."
They waited for the sound of the warning thunder of hoofs, but though they heard them grow more faint, and then sound softer as they paced along on the far side of the paddock, the sound did not increase, and while they were listening there came a distinct snort, followed by a loud neighing nearer to them; another snort, and then a flash of vivid lightning illumining the paddock long enough for them to see the drove of horses in the middle all gazing in one direction toward another horse walking in their direction. Then there was black darkness, another snort, an answering neigh, and silence, broken by the faintly-heard sound of grass being torn off from its roots.
"He's gone," said Norman, in a whisper. "Let's run and wake father."
"What's the good now? Let's go back to bed, and tell him in the morning. No: I don't like to. Why, he'd be ready to half kill poor old Shanter."
Norman was silent, and they tramped back to the house when, just as Norman was reaching up to get hold of the window-sill, a hand was stretched out.
"Hallo! you two. Where have you been?"
"Never mind," said Norman. "Wait till we get in again."
They both climbed in silently, and Tim began again.
"I say, it was shabby to go without me;" and when they explained why they had hurried off, he was no better satisfied. "I wouldn't have served you so," he grumbled. "But I say, won't uncle be in a way?"
"Yes, if Norman tells him," said Rifle. "Don't you think we had better hold our tongues?"
A long discussion followed, with the result that Rifle found himself in the minority, and went to sleep feeling rather unhappy about the black.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
"GOOD TASTE FOR A SAVAGE."
Rifle felt obliged in the morning to join cousin and brother in the announcement to the captain, who looked as if he could hardly believe it at first, but ended by walking straight to the paddock, to find the colt looking more distressed than ever; and on a closer inspection there plainly enough, though it had remained unnoticed before, on account of the dry time, were the marks of the nightly gallops on the hard sun-baked soil.
"That explains it all, eh, Jack?" he said to his brother.
"Yes; the black scoundrel! I had noticed for some time past how fond he was of horses."
"Yes," said Norman; "nothing pleased him better than petting them and giving them bits of his damper."
"Very good taste for a savage to appreciate how noble a beast is the horse, but I'm not going to introduce the said noble animal for the delectation of black savages."
"But you will not be very hard upon him, father?"
"No," said the captain, tightening his lips, "not very."
"What shall you do?" said Uncle Jack.
"Lay wait for his black lordship to-night, and give him a sound horse-whipping."
Rifle's face twitched a little, and the three boys exchanged glances.
"Better be careful, Ned," said Uncle Jack. "These fellows can be very revengeful."
"I am not afraid. He must have a severe lesson, and as I am his master—Marmi, as he calls me—I shall give it at once."
"But you will not sit up for him alone?" said Uncle Jack.
"Oh no. I shall want you all to help me; and so as to make sure of him, there is to be no riding out to-day. He is, of course, hiding in the scrub somewhere, and I don't want him disturbed."
Rifle looked very hard at Norman, who turned to his father.
"Well, Norman?"
"We all like Shanter, father," he said. "He is not much better than a child in some things."
"Exactly; I know that."
"We want you to let him off, father—forgive him."
The captain looked more stern, and tightened his lips.
"I appreciate your generosity, my boys, but it must not be looked over. I must punish him. Words will be of no use. I am afraid it must be blows. But look here; I will be as mild as I can. Will that satisfy you?"
"I suppose it must, father," said Rifle, dolefully.
"Yes, my boy, it must; and now look here: not a word to them indoors. It would only startle mamma and the girls. Your uncle and I will be going to keep watch to-night, and you can slip out of your window as you did last night."
Hence it was that about ten o'clock that night the little party were all crouching by the palings watching, as well as the darkness would allow, and listening for the faintest sound, not a word being uttered for fear the black's abnormally sharp ears should detect their presence, and make him keep away.
Time glided by, till an hour must have passed, and then they heard a sharp neigh, followed by the trampling of feet, as if the horses had been startled. Then came the low murmur of a voice, followed by a few light pats as of some one caressing a horse; and, a minute later, in spite of the darkness, Norman made out that his father had passed through the rails into the paddock.
Then, just as he was in agony for fear the captain should be ridden over, or some other accident should befall him, he heard the approaching pace of a horse, but only at a walk.
Like the others, he was crouching down, and it seemed to him that his father was doing the same, when, all at once, the faintly-seen figures of man and horse towered up close by them, and what followed was the work of moments.
There was the loud whisk of a hunting-whip, the darting forward of a figure, followed by the plunge of a horse, as it galloped away, drowning the noise of a heavy thud, though the struggle which followed was quite plain.
"Hold still, you dog!" roared the captain. "I have you tight.—Here, Jack, come and help to hold him."
"Baal baal mumkull mine," cried the black, piteously. "Give in then, you scoundrel. Take hold of his hair, Jack. I have him by his loin-cloth."
It was no question of giving in, for the black made no further struggle, but stood up writhing and twisting up his right shoulder, and rubbing it with the back of his left hand passed behind him.
"Don't hit him again, father," cried Norman, quickly.
"Silence, sir!—Now you—you black fellow!"
"Baal black fellow," shouted Shanter, indignantly; "baal black fellow."
"How dare you come stealing here in the dark and meddling with my horses?" roared the captain.
"Baal steal a horse fellow, Marmi," cried the black, indignantly. "Horse fellow all along all lot."
"Sneaking there in the darkness, to ride my poor horses to death."
"Marmi no let Shanter ride when piggi jump up."
"Not let you ride in the day, sir? Of course not. Do you suppose I keep horses for you?"
"Baal plenty mine know."
"You don't understand?"
"Mine want ride horse fellow like white fellow."
"Then you are not going to learn to ride on mine. Now then, I've done with you, sir. Be off and don't show your face here again. Go!" |
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