children of wild australia [illustration: boy spearing fish] children of wild australia by herbert pitts author of "the australian aboriginal and the christian church" [illustration: decoration] with eight coloured illustrations edinburgh and london oliphant, anderson & ferrier printed by turnbull and spears, edinburgh to dear little mary this little book about the little black boys and girls of a far-off land is dedicated by her father my dear boys and girls, all the time i have been writing this little book i have been wishing i could gather you all around me and take you with me to some of the places in faraway australia where i myself have seen the little black children at their play. you would understand so much better all i have tried to say. it is a bright sunny land where those children live, but in many ways a far less pleasant land to live in than our own. the country often grows very parched and bare, the grass dies, the rivers begin to dry up, and the poor little children of the wilderness have great difficulty in getting food. then perhaps a great storm comes and a great quantity of rain falls. the rivers fill up and the grass begins to grow again, but myriads of flies follow and they get into the children's eyes and perhaps blind some of them, and the mosquitoes come and bite them and give them fevers sometimes. yet though much of the land is wilderness--bare, sandy plains--beautiful flowers bloom there after the rains. lovely hibiscus, the giant scarlet pea, and thousands of delicate white and yellow everlastings are there for the eyes to feast upon, but the loveliest flowers of all are frequently the love and tenderness and unselfishness which bloom in the children's hearts. i have left australia now and settled down again in the old homeland, but the memories of the eight years i spent among the dear little children out there are still very delightful ones, and they, more than anything i have read, have helped me to write this little book for you. your sincere friend, herbert pitts douglas, i.o.m., 1914 contents chap. page introductory letter 7 i. introductory 11 ii. piccaninnies 17 iii. "great-great-greatest-grandfather" 23 iv. blackfellows' "homes" 26 v. education 31 vi. weapons, etc., which children learn to make and use 35 vii. how food is caught and cooked 40 viii. corrobborees, or native dances 44 ix. magic and sorcery 47 x. some strange ways of disposing of the dead 56 xi. some stories which are told to children 60 xii. more stories told to children 65 xiii. religion 68 xiv. yarrabah 72 xv. trubanaman creek 79 xvi. some aboriginal saints and heroes 85 xvii. the chocolate box 89 illustrations boy spearing fish _frontispiece_ page hunting parrots and cockatoos 12 aboriginal children and native hut 28 learning to use the boomerang 42 youth in war paint 52 girls' class at yarrabah school 73 bathing off jetty at yarrabah 78 the first school at mitchell river 84 children of wild australia chapter i introductory this little book is all about the children of wild australia--where they came from, how they live, the weapons they fight with, their strange ideas and peculiar customs. but first of all you ought to know something of the country in which they live, whence and how they first came to it, and what we mean by "wild australia" to-day, for it is not all "wild"--very, very far from that. australia is a very big country, nearly as large again as india, and no less than sixty times the size of england without wales. nearly half of it lies within the tropics so that in summer it is extremely hot. there are fewer white people than there are in london, in fact less than five millions in all and more than a third of these live in the five big cities which you will find around the coast, and about a third more in smaller towns not so very far from the sea. the further you travel from the coast the more scattered does the white population become, till some hundred miles inland or more you reach the sheep and cattle country where the homes of the white men are twenty or even more miles apart. further back still lies a vast, and, as far as whites are concerned, almost unpeopled region into which, however, the squatter is constantly pushing in search of new pastures for his flocks and herds, and into which the prospector goes further and further on the look-out for gold. this country we call in australia "the never-never land," and it is this which is wild australia to-day. it lies mostly in the north and runs right up to the great central desert. it is there that the aboriginals, or black people, are found. the actual number of these black people cannot be exactly ascertained, but there are probably not more than 100,000 of them left to-day. much of wild australia is made up of vast treeless plains and huge tracts of spinifex (a coarse native grass) and sand. sometimes in the north-west one travels miles and miles without seeing a tree except on the river banks, but in queensland there is sometimes dense and almost impenetrable jungle, and mighty, towering trees, with many beautiful flowering shrubs. all alike is called "bush," which is the general term in australia for all that is not town. the animals of wild australia are most interesting and numerous. several kinds of kangaroo (from the giant "old man," five feet or more in height, to the tiny little kangaroo mice no larger than our own mice at home), make their home there, and emus may often be seen running across the plains. gorgeous parrots and many varieties of cockatoos are found in great numbers, snakes are numerous, whilst the rivers and water-holes teem with fish. wild dogs, or dingos, too, are very numerous. [illustration: hunting parrots and cockatoos] for hundreds and hundreds of years the aborigines had this vast country to themselves, for though spaniards, like torres and de quiros, and dutchmen, like tasman and dirk hartog, had visited their shores, and an englishman named william dampier had even landed in the north west in 1688, it was not till exactly a hundred years afterwards that white men first came to make their homes in their land. the aborigines are a dravidian people, and, some think, of the same parent stock as ourselves. thousands of years ago, long, long before our remote ancestors had learned how to build houses, make pottery, till the soil, or domesticate any animal except the dog--long years, in fact, before history began, the aboriginals left their primitive home on the hills of the deccan and drifting southward in their bark canoes landed at last on the northern and western shores of the great island continent. there they found an earlier people with darker skins than their own and curly hair, very much like the papuans and melanesians of to-day, and they drove them further and further southwards before them just as our own english forefathers, coming to this land, drove an earlier people before them into the mountain fastnesses of wales and cumberland and into cornwall. some time afterwards came a series of earthquakes and other disturbances which cut tasmania away from the mainland, and there till 1878 that early papuan people survived. as the blacks grew more numerous they began to form tribes, and to divide the country up among themselves. thus each tribe had its own hunting-ground to which it must keep and on which no other tribe must come and settle. but at length the white men came and they recognized no such law. they settled down and began to build their own homes upon the black men's hunting-grounds and to bring in their sheep and cattle and turn them loose on the plains. the blacks did not at all like the white man's coming, and sometimes did all they could to prevent their settling down. they speared their sheep and cattle for food, they burned down their houses, they threw their spears at the men themselves, and did all they could to drive them back to sea. sometimes hundreds of them would surround a new settler's home, and murder all the whites they could see. we must not blame the blacks. they were only doing what we should do ourselves if some invader came and settled in our country and tried to drive us back. but the white men were not to be driven back. they armed themselves and made open war upon the black people and i am afraid did many things of which we are all now thoroughly ashamed. for a few years the struggle between the two races went on and at length the blacks had to own themselves beaten, and so australia passed into the white man's hands. the blacks to-day may be divided into three classes:-1. the _mialls_, or wild blacks, still living their own natural life in their great hunting-grounds in the north, just as they lived before the white men came. it is chiefly about these that this little book will tell. 2. the _station-blacks_, living on the sheep and cattle stations and helping the squatters on their "runs." they are fed and clothed in return for their work, and are given a new blanket every year. the men and boys ride about the run looking after the sheep, bring them in at shearing time and help with the shearing. the women and girls learn to do housework and make themselves useful in many ways. they seem very happy and comfortable and are usually well treated and well cared for by their masters. once or twice a year, perhaps, they are given a "pink-eye," or holiday, and then away they go into the wild bush with their boomerangs and their spears, or perhaps visit some neighbouring camp further up or down the river's bank. their houses are just "humpies," made of a few boughs, plastered over with clay or mud, with perhaps a piece or two of corrugated iron put up on the weather side. in this class, too, we ought to include those blacks, some hundreds, alas! in number, who spend their time "loafing about" the mining camps and the coastal towns of the north, living as best they can, guilty often of crime, learning to drink, and swear, and gamble, and often making themselves a thorough nuisance to all around. more wretched, degraded beings it would not be possible to see--such a contrast to the fine, manly wild-blacks. the pity and the shame of it all is that it is the white man who has made them what they are. 3. the _mission-blacks_, that is the blacks on the mission stations such as yarrabah, mitchell river, and beagle bay. these will have some chapters to themselves later on and you will, i hope, be much interested in them. there are not very many of them, perhaps not more than six or seven hundred in all, but new mission stations are being started and so we may well hope that their number will soon increase. there are some splendid christians among them, some of them quite an example to ourselves. of those you shall hear more fully by and by. as you read this little book your heart will be stirred sometimes with strange feelings that you cannot quite understand. those strange feelings will be nothing less than the expression of your own brotherhood with them. their skins may be "black" (though they are not really black at all), and their lives may be wild; but they have human hearts beating within them just as we have, and immortal souls, like ours, for which christ died. never forget this as you are reading. it is so easy to forget--to claim brotherhood with those who are wiser and greater than ourselves, and to forget that just that same brotherhood unites us one by one with the countless thousands who make up what we call the wild and primitive peoples of the world. chapter ii piccaninnies people in wild australia very seldom talk about babies. they call them by a much longer name, and one not nearly so easy to spell, piccaninnies. but whatever name we call them by--babies or piccaninnies--the little black children are perfectly delightful, as all children are. i shall never forget the first little australian piccaninny i ever saw. it was not more than a few hours old, and so fat and jolly, with a little twinkle in its eye as much as to say, "i know all about you and you needn't come and look at me." of course i expected to see a dear little shiny black baby as black as coal, but very much to my surprise it wasn't black at all. it was a very beautiful golden-brown, but as the mother said to me, "him soon come along black piccaninny all right." under his eyes and on his arms and on other parts of his body were little jet black lines, and these gradually widened and spread till in a few weeks time he was a very deep chocolate colour, for though we call them "the blacks" the people of wild australia are not really black but deep chocolate. i am very sorry to tell you that many of the little piccaninnies who are born in australia, especially if they happen to be girls, are not allowed to live at all. perhaps the last little baby is still quite young and unable to help itself at all and so still needs all it's mother's care. or perhaps there hasn't been any rain for many, many months and the grass has all withered and the water-holes have very nearly dried up, and there is very, very little food for anyone and the natives are beginning to think that it is never going to rain any more. in either of these cases the little baby is almost certain to be killed almost as soon as it is born, and perhaps, so scarce has food become, it may even be eaten by its parents and other members of the tribe. there is another reason why babies are sometimes killed and eaten, and to us it seems a very horrible one indeed. perhaps it is fat and healthy and there is some other and older child in the tribe who is weakly and thin. the natives will then sometimes kill the healthy baby and feed the weakly child on tiny portions of its flesh. it seems, as i said just now, very awful and very horrible, but the idea is this, that the strength and vigour of the younger child will be imparted to the weaker one. it is the father who always decides whether the baby shall live or die. if it is allowed to live you must not imagine that it will be in any way neglected or ill-treated. quite the opposite is true. there is no country in the world where babies and older children are spoiled quite so much as they are in wild australia. they are never corrected or chastised by either father or mother, and they do just exactly as they like. sometimes, perhaps, when father and mother are both away their maternal grandmother may happen to give them a good smack in the same way and on the same part as is usual in civilized countries, but this is certainly the only form of punishment they ever receive. they are everyone's idol and everyone's playthings, and yet they are never kissed, because no australian aboriginal knows how to kiss. if a mother wants to show her love for her little one she will place her lips to his and then blow through them, and this is the nearest to kissing she ever gets. but baby crows with delight whenever mother does this. australian mothers never carry their piccaninnies in their arms as british mothers do, neither of course do they have any fine perambulators or mail-carts to push them out in. the most usual way of carrying them when they are quite tiny is in a bag of opossum skin or plant fibre slung on the mother's back. at night baby will very likely be put to sleep in a cradle made of a piece of bent bark perhaps sown up at the ends and covered with an opossum skin or a few green leaves. this is generally called a pitchi. as soon, however, as baby is able to hold on it seems to prefer to sit astride its mother's shoulder or hip and hang on by her hair. names are usually given according to the order of birth, but on the sheep stations the babies usually receive a white child's name. "tommies" and "maries" are of course almost as frequent as they are here at home, but some babies get very fine names indeed, and some three or four. in the wild parts, however, it would be considered unlucky to name a child before it could walk. it is often called simply "child" or "girl" until then. the name, when it is given, often depends on something that happened at the time of its birth. a baby was once named "kangaroo rat" because one of these little animals ran through the _mia-mia_ (house or home) a few minutes after it was born. another was called "fire and water" because at the time of his birth the _mia_ had caught fire and the fire had been put out with water. there is a similar custom among the bedouins to-day, which has been in existence ever since the days of jacob. you can see an instance of it in genesis xxx. 10, 11. "zilpah, leah's maid, bare jacob a son. and leah said, a troop cometh: and she called his name gad (_i.e._ a troop or company.)" is it not strange that we should find this old hebrew custom still in use in wild australia? but the name which is first given is frequently changed. most boys and girls are given a new name altogether as soon as they are regarded as grown-up, _i.e._ about the age of fourteen. again, should someone die who happens to have the same name, the child's will at once be changed, for the aboriginals, for reasons which will be explained in a later chapter, never mention the names of their dead. sometimes, again, as a sign of very special friendship two black people will exchange names. there is one very curious custom among the blacks the "why" and "wherefore" no one has ever been quite able to explain. one of the things that would strike you most if you could look into the face of an aboriginal would be the great width of the nose. it sometimes extends almost across the face. it looks, if i may put it that way, almost as though it had been put on hot and before it had properly cooled had been accidentally sat upon. the reason is that when babies are quite tiny their mothers flatten their noses, but why they do this i cannot say. probably a very broad nose is part of their idea of beauty. it is always pretty to watch children at their play. you will remember how our lord jesus christ himself, like all child lovers, would often stand in the market place and watch the children playing. sometimes they played weddings, sometimes funerals, and he once drew a lesson for the jews from the conduct of those disagreeable and sulky children who would not join in. so it is a very pretty sight to see the little children of wild australia playing. like all other children they are very fond of games and grow very excited over them. little girls may sometimes be seen sitting down and playing with little wooden dolls which a kind uncle or grandfather has made for them, whilst boys and girls alike will often play "cat's cradle" for quite a long time, and very wonderful and elaborate are the figures some of them contrive. yet, like most other children, they like noisier games best. a kind of football is very popular, and they will often play it for hours at a time. some one chosen to begin the game will take a ball of fibre or opossum or kangaroo skin and kick it into the air. the others all rush to get it and the one who secures it kicks it again with his instep. they get very excited over it and their fathers and big brothers sometimes get very excited too and come and join in, and the shouts and laughter grow until the very rocks begin to echo back their merriment. at another time they will play "hide and seek" just as white children do, or a sort of "i spy." another time perhaps a mock kangaroo hunt will engage them. one of them will be kangaroo and the others will hunt him. for a long time he will elude them, but at last he has to own himself captured and allow the hunters to dispatch him with their tiny spears. so, in one way or another, the merry days roll on until childhood's days are done and the education of the young savage, of which you will learn in a later chapter, begins to be taken in hand. often when the writer has watched the little black children at their play that beautiful promise in the prophets has come into his mind, "the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in the streets thereof." the prophet was thinking of the new jerusalem and its happiness, and a great longing has come into the writer's mind for more men and women and children, too, to realize their duty to these forgotten children of the wild, and to take their part in bringing them into that heavenly city. perhaps all those who read this little book will try what they can do. chapter iii "great-great-greatest-grandfather!"[1] every little black piccaninny as soon as it is old enough to understand is told by its mother what sort of a spirit it has inside it, for the blackfellows all believe that their spirits have lived before and came in the very beginning out of some animal or plant. so some children have "kangaroo spirits," some "eagle spirits," some "emu spirits," and some, perhaps, the "spirit of the rain." the mothers know exactly what kind of spirit each baby has. if it came to her in the kangaroo country then it has a kangaroo spirit and so on. in some parts it doesn't matter a bit what kind of a spirit father or mother may have. father may have an emu spirit, mother an eagle hawk's, but if the baby came in the snakes' country it will have a snake's spirit. sometimes on the rocks in wild australia you may see a rough picture of a kangaroo drawn by some native artist in coloured clays. it is a picture of the great-great-greatest-grandfather of the kangaroo men and so also, of course, of any little child who has a kangaroo spirit, because when he grows up he will belong to the kangaroo men. the story which he will be told about his great-great-greatest-grandfather will be something like this:-"ever so many moons ago" (for the blackfellows count all time by moons), "a great big kangaroo came up out of the earth at such and such a place and wandered about for a long time. after this he changed himself into a man and then he amused himself making spirits. of course as he was a kangaroo man he could only make kangaroo spirits. these kangaroo spirits did not at all like having no bodies, so as they had none of their own they began to look about for other bodies to go into. (you will remember how in the gospel story the spirits who were cast out of the poor demoniacs of gadara were unhappy at the prospect of having no bodies, and so asked to go into the swine.) so some went into kangaroos and some into little black children who happened to come in their country. then one day great-great-greatest-grandfather called them all together--all the kangaroos and all the little children with kangaroo spirits--and told them that they all alike had kangaroo spirits and so were really brothers and must never eat or harm one another. and so to-day all the children with kangaroo spirits are taught to call the kangaroo their brother, and they will never eat or harm a kangaroo, and as you all know a kangaroo will never eat them." if they have emu spirits they will never eat emu and so on. the children are not told these stories by word of mouth as i have told you, but they are taught chiefly by means of corrobborees, or native dances, which you will read about later on. the proper name of the animal or plant whose spirit they are said to have is their _totem_, and every man, woman, and child in wild australia belongs to some totem group and calls its totem its brother. you will hear more about these totems later on. when i saw a black man, as i did sometimes, who wouldn't eat iguana i knew at once that he belonged to the iguana totem group and had an iguana spirit; and, of course, his great-great-greatest-grandfather was not a kangaroo but an iguana. now that you have learnt in this chapter something of what the little black children of wild australia are taught about where they came from and the sort of spirits which they have you will, i hope, want to do something to help to teach them the truth--that god made them all and that not the spirit of an animal or plant but a beautiful bright spirit fresh from god's own hand has been given them all, and that all have the same kind of spirit and those spirits when they leave the body will not wander about the earth again looking for some other body, but will "return to god who gave them." they, just as much as we, are meant to live and enjoy god now and be happy with him for ever hereafter. footnote: [1] i owe this title and something of the contents of the chapter to mrs aeneas gunn's very interesting book for children, "little black princess." chapter iv blackfellows' "homes" one of the first things of which a little child takes notice is its home. the pictures on the wall, the pretty things all around, the flowers in the garden are a source of ever-increasing delight to its growing consciousness. the older it grows the more it comes to know and love its home. some of those who read this book will, perhaps, have very beautiful homes richly decked with all that art and money can supply, others will have smaller and plainer ones, but the children of wild australia have scarcely anything that can be called a home at all. a blackfellows' camp will consist of a number of the plainest and rudest huts that one can either imagine or describe. sometimes there is not even a hut, but they live entirely in the open air on the bank of some creek or stream with merely a breakwind of boughs to keep off the wind and rain. during bad weather they will all huddle together as close to the breakwind as they can, whilst their limbs shake and their teeth chatter with cold. more often, however, something in the way of a hut is made. a few pieces of stick, which will easily bend, will be driven into the ground, covered with sheets of bark and a few boughs and perhaps plastered over with mud. sometimes, where kangaroos are plentiful, some dried skins will be used instead of bark and boughs. there will, of course, be nothing in the way of chairs or tables, a few skins and a pitchi or two will probably be the only furniture, but a miscellaneous assortment of odds and ends will lie around. some eight or nine souls may claim the hut as home. these huts are arranged according to a fixed plan. some will face in one direction, some in another. thus a man's hut must never face in the same direction as that of his mother-in-law and certain other of his relatives. a native camp always has a most untidy appearance. all kinds of things are left lying about, but as the black people are very honest nothing is ever stolen. they will give their things away freely but they will never think of taking what is not their own. most of their time is spent out of doors. they only use their huts in wet and windy weather or when the nights are cold. their food is always cooked and eaten outside, and bones and all kinds of remnants are littered about everywhere, but as they usually have several dogs these things do not remain for long. how thankful you and i ought to be for our homes and our home comforts, however plain and humble those homes may be! if food is becoming scarce the people will often leave their camp altogether and migrate further up the river where it is more plentiful, for their camps, you must remember, are nearly always built upon a river's bank. sometimes there may have been heavy rain in one part of their country and very little in another. then they will move to where grass and game are more plentiful. we expect our food to be brought to our home, but the blacks take their homes to their food. sometimes after a death, too, they will desert their settlement and encamp elsewhere. the dead man may have been a very troublesome person to get on with when alive, and they think if they bury him near his old camp and then move away themselves his ghost will not know where to find them and they will be rid of him altogether. this frequent moving of their homes is in many ways a very good thing. if they stayed too long in one place their huts would soon become very insanitary and diseases would begin to work havoc among them. in the camp the old man's word is law. they even decide what food may be eaten and what must be left alone. they manage to forbid all the more delicate morsels to all the younger members of the tribe and so secure the best of everything for themselves. women and girls are of little account among them. they are in fact but the "hewers of wood and drawers of water" for the men, and their life is one of terrible and never-ending drudgery. the little girls, of course, do not have to work, but they are seldom made such pets of as are the little boys. at fourteen they are girls no longer and their life of drudgery begins. [illustration: aboriginal children and native hut] where, as on the mission stations, the gospel is preached to this poor people it brings new joy and hope to the women. there is no other hope for them, nothing else that saves them from the slavery in which they are compelled to live. on the mission stations are real homes, houses like our own, into which love has entered and where woman is no longer slave or chattel, but a queen. each family on these settlements has its own little holding fenced and cleared in which fruit, flowers, and vegetables and, perhaps, rice and maize are grown. the cottages are patterns of neatness both without and within, so tremendous is the difference the religion of jesus christ makes to this poor degraded people. if we had more missionaries we should have many more such homes and many more of the black women would enter into the meaning of those words in the twentieth chapter of st john--"the disciples went away again _to their own home_" and found the resurrection light shining there in all its beauty. perhaps nothing would give us so good an idea of the position of women and girls among this people as to take our place in a native camp on the morning of some aboriginal girl's wedding day. the poor little bride, she will probably not be more than about fourteen, will have been told that her husband has come to fetch her. she has very likely never seen him before, although she was engaged to him as soon as she was born, and he will probably be much older than she. she will cry a good deal and say she does not want to go, but she knows very well that by the laws of her tribe she must do so. her father, expecting rebellion, will be standing by her side with a spear and a heavy club in his hand. the moment she attempts to resist her capture (for it is really nothing less) a blow from the spear will remind her she must go. if she tries, as she probably will, to run away the heavy club will fell her to the ground. her husband may then begin to show his authority. he will seize her by her hair and drag her off in the the direction of his _mia_. she will very likely make her teeth meet in the calf of his leg, but it will be no good. she will only receive a kick from his bare foot in return. arrived at her new home she has to cook her husband a dinner and then sit quietly by his side while he eats it. when he has finished she may have what is left, although he, not improbably, has been throwing pieces to the dogs all the time. such are the marriage ceremonies in wild australia. chapter v education there are no schools in wild australia, yet it must not be thought that the children receive no education. on the contrary their education begins at a very early age and is continued well into manhood and womanhood. up to the age of seven or eight boys and girls play together and remain under their mother's care, but a separation then takes place and schooldays, if we may call them by that name, begin. the boys leave the society of the girls and sleep in the bachelor's camp. they begin to accompany their fathers on long tramps abroad. they are taught the names and qualities of the different plants and animals which they see, and the laws and legends of their tribe. lessons of reverence and obedience to their elders are instilled into their young minds, and they have impressed upon them that they must never attempt to set up their own will against the superior will of the tribe. they are taught to use their eyes, and to take note of the footprints of the different animals and birds, and eventually to track them to their haunts. in this art of tracking many of them become wonderfully skilled. they will often say how long it is since a certain track was made, and in the case of a human foot-mark will often tell whose it is. they will say whether the traveller was a man or a woman, and in some cases have been known to say, quite correctly, that the man was knock-kneed or slightly lame. trackers employed by the police have often traced a man's footsteps over stony and rocky ground, being able to tell, from the displacing of a stone here and there, that the man whom they were seeking had passed that way. on one occasion a clergyman was travelling in the bush when he was met by an aboriginal boy who told him that a man had gone along that way earlier in the day, had been thrown from his horse about five miles further on but had not been hurt very much because he had got up after a few minutes and had gone after his horse; the man, however, was slightly lame, and the horse had cast a shoe. the same evening the clergyman met the man in question and found that the native's account of what happened was correct in every detail. he had gained his information entirely from careful observation of the tracks. so wonderfully is this power of seeing trained that every object is most carefully noted as it is passed. the foot-marks of an emu or kangaroo on their way to water, the head of a wild turkey standing above the grass some two hundreds yards away, will be pointed out to the purblind white man who has never learned to see. if one of the lessons of life is to use the eyes the aboriginal teacher teaches his lessons well. the children of wild australia are taught to use their ears. they will start up at the first faint stirring of the leaves which tells that a storm of wind will soon be down upon them or that an opossum or parrot is awakening in the tree. their ears, too, will notice the slight rustling of the grass and the stealthy footsteps on the ground which tell that some enemy is near. it takes long and careful training to bring the power of hearing to such perfection as this. they are taught to use their hands and to make and use the weapons, etc., of which you will read in the next chapter. what wonderful natural history lessons, too, theirs must be. the habits of all the various animals are learned out in the wild, and numerous stories about them are told. the traditions of all the places they come to are carefully narrated by the older men, and in this way a faithful adherence to the rules and customs of the tribe is ensured. wonderful are the tales of their old ancestors which will be narrated around the camp fires at night, whilst in the day time excursions to some of the sacred spots, whose legends were told over night, may be made. so in one way or another a remarkable reverence for antiquity--for the dim and shadowy (though, to the aboriginal, very real) heroes of the "alcheringa," or distant dream age in which these old heroes lived, and for the aged will be instilled and the children grow up in ways of reverence and obedience which are often sadly lacking in more favoured lands. sometimes the growing lad at about the age of twelve or thirteen will be sent away to school, that is he will go to stay with some neighbouring friendly tribe whose old men will carefully complete the education which his father and the men of his own tribe began. but lessons are taught not only by word of mouth but by means of sacred rites which the young lad at about the age of fourteen is allowed to witness for the first time. in these sacred performances the deeds of some doughty ancestor are portrayed, and the boy as he gazes upon them, and listens to the answers given to the questions he is allowed to ask, learns more and more of the rules and traditions of his tribe. no women and children are ever allowed to be present at these solemnities. the tribal secrets which they depict may be known only to the men. a woman or girl who dared to venture near or pry into them would have her eyes put out or be killed at once by the men. before the young lad can be allowed to attend he needs to be solemnly initiated into his tribe. he is taken away into the bush and there undergoes a kind of savage confirmation. a front tooth is knocked out, and the body is gashed with sharp stones. in some tribes a new gash is given as each new secret is imparted. into the wounds thus made ashes or the down of the eagle hawk are rubbed to make the wound heal. the actual result is a raised scar which lasts on through life. sometimes what is called a fire ceremony is also performed to test the power of endurance of those who are henceforth to be regarded as men. a large fire is lighted and then the hot embers are strewn on the ground. over these a few green boughs are placed and the boys are made to lie down upon them until permission is given them by their elders to rise. the boughs, of course, keep them from being actually burned, but the heat of the fire is very great and they are often nearly suffocated with the smoke. should the faintest cry escape one of them or should they fail to lie perfectly still they would be regarded as weak and effeminate and unworthy to be "made men," and their admission into the full privileges of the tribe would be delayed. these fire ceremonies are a very severe test of their power of endurance. the native lad will suffer a great deal rather than be thought soft and womanish, and there are few who fail to stand the severe test which is here demanded of them. chapter vi weapons, etc., which children learn to make and use the people of wild australia are still in what is called "the stone age," which means that all their tools and weapons are made of wood or stone. those on the sheep stations and near the towns are, however, learning to use tin and iron, but it is not natural for them to do so. the first tool they learn to use is a little digging stick. almost as soon as they are able to run alone one of these little instruments will be put into their hands and they will be shown how to use it. with these they learn very quickly how to dig for grubs and edible roots, and as they get a little older they may be seen making little "humpies" of sand. but the most wonderful of all their weapons is the boomerang. no other people in the world is known to use it though some have thought that it was once in use among the very ancient egyptians. there is a very interesting theory as to the origin of the boomerang. some children, it is said, were playing one day with the leaf of a white gum tree. as the leaves of this tree fall to the ground they go round and round, and if thrown forward with a quick jerk they make a curve and come back. an old man was watching them playing, and to please them he made a model of the leaf in wood. this was improved upon from time to time until it developed into the boomerang. boomerangs are of two kinds--_war-boomerangs_ and _toy-boomerangs_ or _boomerangs proper_. the first kind are rather larger and usually less curved than the others, but do not return when thrown. they are often about thirty inches long and have a sharp cutting edge. they are made entirely of wood, the branches of the iron-bark or she-oak tree being preferred. the necessary cutting and shaping has to be done entirely with sharp flints or diorite, the only tools except stone axes, which the natives in their wild state employ. they naturally take a very long time to make, but, when made, are very deadly weapons. they can be thrown as far as a hundred and fifty yards, and even at that distance will inflict a very severe wound. when thrown from a distance of sixty yards they have been known to pass almost through a man's body. boomerangs proper are usually about twenty-four inches long, but there are seldom two of exactly the same size and pattern. they are rather more curved on the under than on the upper side. a man or boy who wants to throw one of them first examines it very carefully and then takes equally careful notice of the direction of the wind. he then throws it straight forward giving it a very sharp twist as he throws. at first it will keep fairly close to the ground, then after it has gone a certain distance it will turn over and at the same time rise in the air. completing its outward flight, and perhaps hitting the object at which it was aimed, it turns over again and comes back to within a few feet of the man who threw it. boys may often be seen practising for hours at a time with their little toy boomerangs, and by the time they are men many of them have become very proficient in throwing them. a skilful thrower can do almost anything he likes with his boomerang. a native has been seen to knock a stone off the top of a post fifty yards away, but very few of them are quite as clever as this. none the less it would be rather dangerous for an unwary spectator to watch a party of native men and boys throwing their boomerangs. an enemy or a hunted animal hiding behind a tree would be quite safe from a spear or bullet but could easily be taken in the rear and seriously injured by one of these extraordinary weapons when thrown by a skilful thrower. kangaroos and emus find it almost impossible to avoid them whilst they work the most amazing havoc among a number of ducks or cockatoos just rising from water, or even among a flock of parrots on the wing. many a supper has an aboriginal boy brought home with the aid of his trusty boomerang. in western australia most of the aboriginals use a smaller and lighter boomerang than those in use in the other parts of the continent. this is called a _kylie_ or _kaila_, and is very leaf-like. it will also fly further than the heavier weapon. next to the boomerang or kylie the weapons in most frequent use are _spears_. these, too, are very remarkable and vary much in length and character. some are quite small and can be used without difficulty by a child. some are as much as fifteen feet long. the simplest form of spear is no more than a pointed stick, but the wild blacks seldom content themselves with these. often a groove is cut in one or both sides of the spear, and pieces of flint are inserted in the groove and fastened with native gum. more frequently deep barbs are cut at the sides and these will inflict a very ugly and painful wound, especially when, as is often the case, they have been previously dipped in the juice of some poison plant. the most elaborate spears are those with stone heads. these heads are often beautifully made and are securely fastened to the spear with twine or gum. where there are white men glass is often used instead, the glass being chipped into shape in a perfectly wonderful way with tools of flint. the patience displayed in their manufacture is admirable indeed. when the telegraph line was first erected in wild australia the natives caused endless trouble to the government by knocking off the glass or porcelain insulators and using them for spear heads. spears are sometimes thrown with the hand, but perhaps more frequently by means of a special instrument called a _meero_ or _wommera_. this is a flat piece of wood about twenty-four inches long, with a tooth made of very hard white wood fastened to its head in such a way that when the wommerah is handled the tooth is towards the man who is holding it. this tooth fits into a hole at the end of the spear. spears thrown with the wommerah will travel further and with much greater force than those thrown with the hand. as a protection against an enemy's spear the aborigines usually provide themselves with a wooden shield or _woonda_. these are usually about thirty-three inches long and six inches wide and have a handle cut in the back. they are cut out of one solid block; and have grooved ridges on the front. the hollow parts between the ridges are frequently painted white with a kind of pipe-clay and the ridges are stained red. why they are marked in this way and why the grooves are cut at all no one seems to know. the native men are extraordinarily quick in the use of these shields, and will sometimes ward off with their aid a very large number of spears thrown at them in rapid succession. it is very important that boys should become proficient in making and using all these things as in after days their food-supply and even their lives may depend upon their proficiency. while the men and boys are hard at work making these different implements the women and girls very likely busy themselves manufacturing bags and baskets. the baskets are made of thin twigs and the bags with string spun from the fibre of a coarse grass called spinifex, or perhaps from animal fur. in them they contrive to carry all their worldly goods as they travel from camp to camp, and occasionally baby also is safely stowed away in the same receptacle. chapter vii how food is caught and cooked in very few parts of wild australia can the black people count on a regular supply of food. sometimes there is no rain for months, and consequently the grass disappears, water dries up, and many of the animals die. in these times of drought the conditions of the people are pitiable indeed. the chief articles of diet besides seeds and roots are fish of various kinds--kangaroo, emu, lizards, snake, wild turkey or bustard, parrots and cockatoos, insects and grubs. vermin, too, are sometimes eaten, and clay is occasionally indulged in as dessert. there are many ways of catching fish. the commonest method is by means of a spear. a native boy may often be seen standing on a rock in the middle of a pool, or by the water's edge, with a spear in his hand, his eyes intently fixed upon the water. as soon as a fish comes near down goes the spear and it is seldom that he fails to land his prey. in some parts rough canoes of bark are made and the fishing will be done from these. sometimes the fish are poisoned by pouring the juices from some poison plant into the water but this method is not very often employed. their method of catching crayfish is not one that you and i would care to employ. they will walk about in the water and allow the fish to fasten on their toes, but so extraordinarily quick are they that they will stoop down and crush the creature's claws with their own fingers before it has had time to nip. even more varied than their ways of fishing are their methods of catching birds. a black boy may sometimes be seen stretched naked and motionless on a bare rock with a piece of fish in his fingers. when a bird comes to sample the fish he will with his disengaged hand, catch it by the leg. parrots and cockatoos are often caught by means of the boomerang, but the native will sometimes employ quite another method. he will get into a tree at night, tie himself to a branch, and take with him a big stick. as the birds fly past him he will lash out with his stick and bring large numbers of them to the ground. emus are far too powerful to be caught in any of these ways. they are usually taken in nets as they come in the early morning to water. a number of natives will hide themselves in bushes or behind rocks and when the emus have gathered at the water-hole will steal out almost noiselessly (for emus are very timid birds and easily startled) and stretch large nets on three sides of a square behind them. the birds on returning from the pool walk straight into the nets and are easily speared. kangaroos are sometimes captured in the same way, but more frequently they are killed with spears. a native has been known to walk very many miles stalking a kangaroo. a case is even on record where a man spent three days in capturing one. when the kangaroo ran he ran, when it stood he stood, when it slept he slept, and so on till at last he was enabled to creep up sufficiently closely to dispatch it with his spear. the way in which his food is cooked when he has caught it depends upon how hungry the aboriginal is. if he is very hungry indeed he may pull it to pieces with his teeth and his fingers there and then and eat it raw. if not quite so hungry but still impatient for his meal, the fish, or whatever it is, will be thrown upon the fire and eaten as soon as it is warmed through. the most elaborate way of all is to wrap the fish in a piece of paper bark with a few aromatic leaves, tie the ends carefully with native twine, and allow it to cook slowly underneath the camp fire. a fish cooked in this way is most delicate and tasty, and would probably tempt the palate of a white man as much as it does the blacks. [illustration: learning to use the boomerang] the natives always roast their food. they never touch anything boiled. but not even an aboriginal can cook his dinner unless he has first made a fire. there is nothing of the nature of matches among this people. when they want to make a fire they will take a piece of soft wood, place it on the ground and hold it in position with their feet. another stick is then taken, pressed down upon the first piece, and made to rotate quickly upon it. perhaps a few very dry leaves are placed near the place where one stick touches the other and as soon as the friction has caused the light dust to smoulder a gentle blow with the breath will cause the leaves to burst into flame. at other times two shields or kylies will be rubbed together until the dust catches fire. as these are rather wearisome methods of kindling flame, a fire once lighted is seldom allowed to go out. when camp is moved the women may be seen carrying pieces of smouldering charcoal in their hands. the movement through the air causes these to keep alight, and as soon as the new camping ground is reached all that needs to be done is to place them on the ground, pile a few dry leaves and sticks over them, and in a very few seconds a cheerful fire is blazing merrily. so expert are the women in keeping these fire-sticks alight that a party of them will travel all day without allowing a single one to go out. chapter viii corrobborees, or native dances among the special delights of an aboriginal boy or girl is the memory of the first corrobboree he was ever allowed to see. these corrobborees are very elaborate and curious native dances nearly always performed at night. the women and children are allowed to witness them but only the men actually take part. the black men who live on or near the stations often speak of these as "debbil-debbil dances," as they are supposed to have some relation to the evil spirits, or "debbil-debbils," of whom the blacks are so terribly afraid. it takes a long while to dress the men up for these dances. often they are first pricked all over with sharp stones to make the blood flow, and this blood is then smeared all over their faces and bodies. little tufts of white cockatoo or eagle hawk down are then stuck all over them, the blood being used as gum. if the doings of some mythical emu ancestor are to be celebrated in the dance only men belonging to the emu totem group will be allowed to perform. an enormous head-dress of down and feathers will next be made and put on, and large anklets of fresh green leaves will complete the array. a large space will be specially prepared as the ceremonial ground. in front of this huge fires will usually be lighted, and either in front of these, or at the sides, a number of women and older girls will be seated with kangaroo skins drawn tightly across their knees. on these skins they beat with sticks or with their hands, making a noise similar to that which would be made by a number of kettle-drums. all the time the dancing is going on the women keep up a weird, monotonous chant, often beginning on a high key and dying down almost to a whisper. it is not very musical to our ears but the effect is often very strange and wonderful. it sometimes sounds as though a number of singers were gradually coming towards one from afar, then standing still awhile, then turning round and going back again. one of the performers will come out upon the stage, go through a few curious antics which he calls a dance, then retire whilst another takes his place. after a while, perhaps, all will come on together and the fun for a time will be very fast and furious. the blacks are all so very serious about it, but any white people who happened to be looking on would find it very difficult to restrain their laughter. it would not do to laugh though, as the "debbil-debbils" would be very angry and might revenge themselves upon the blacks before long. after they have been dancing for some time the men present a very curious sight. the perspiration which has been pouring down their faces and bodies has disarranged their paint and feathers and their head-dresses have got very much awry. perhaps, too, they have grown almost dizzy with excitement, so that they certainly look more ludicrous than impressive. they greatly enjoy these corrobborees and get wildly excited about them, but to us they would appear very monotonous and wearisome. to them, too, they are very full of meaning and they are one of the chief ways in which the young people are taught the legends of their tribes. sometimes very useful moral lessons are taught by their means. an old man will very likely sit in the centre of a group of boys and carefully explain to them the meaning of all they see. they frequently last for hours, and some of them even require three or four nights if they are to be properly performed, so that the blackfellows spend a very great deal of time in preparing for and performing them. some of these corrobborees no women and young children are allowed to see. when this is the case a peculiar piece of sacred stone with a hole in the end, through which a string is fastened, is swung round and round by one of the men. as it is swung it makes a loud booming sound. this instrument is called a bullroarer, and is looked upon as a very sacred thing. the women and girls are taught that the noise it makes is the voice of the evil spirit to whom it is sacred, warning them to hurry away and not dare to look at the sacred ceremonies which are about to be performed. if any of them disregarded the warning their eyes would certainly be put out, and they might even be put to death. when a friendly tribe, or group of natives, is visiting another tribe they will often be entertained by a corrobboree. on such an occasion the most difficult and elaborate of all their dances will most probably be performed. the next night the visitors will provide the entertainment. though there is very little idea of religion among the people, as you will see in later chapters, yet these dances have something of a religious character about them. they keep alive the old tribal legends, and the blacks most firmly believe that the spirits of their old ancestors are pleased when corrobborees are properly performed. on the other hand they are grievously offended if anything is done carelessly and without proper thought. chapter ix magic and sorcery the blacks are great believers in magic and sorcery. some of these beliefs are quite harmless and merely help to keep them amused, but others prove a terrible curse to them, as they can seldom rid themselves of the idea that another blackfellow somewhere is working them harm by means of sorcery, and they often die from fear. the magical ceremonies of the aboriginals are of three kinds:-1. those by which they think they can control the weather. 2. those by which they endeavour to secure an abundant supply of food. 3. those by which they cause sickness and death--the use of "pointing sticks" and bones. we will speak of each of these in order. the commonest and most universal of all their magical ceremonies by which they hope to control the weather is that of making rain. every group of natives has its "rain-makers," but the methods they employ are not everywhere the same. in north-western australia the rain-maker usually goes away by himself to the top of some hill. he wears a very elaborate and wonderful head-dress of white down with a tuft of cockatoo feathers, and holds a wommera, or spear-thrower, in his hand. he squats for some time on the ground, singing aloud a very monotonous chant or incantation. then, after a time, he rises to a stooping position, goes on singing, and as he does so moves his wommera backwards and forwards very rapidly, makes his whole body quiver and sway, and turns his head violently from side to side. gradually his movements become more and more rapid, and by the time he has finished he is probably too dizzy to stand. if he were asked what the ceremonies meant he would most likely be unable to say more than that he was doing just what his great-great greatest-grandfather did when he first made rain. only men belonging to the "rain totem" are supposed to possess this power of making rain. should rain fall after he has finished he, of course, takes all the credit for it and is a very important personage for a time. if it should fail to rain, as not infrequently happens, he will put it down to the fact that some other blackfellow, probably in some other tribe, has been using some powerful hostile magic to prevent his from taking effect. if he should happen to meet that other blackfellow there would probably be a very bad quarter of an hour for somebody! sometimes the rain-maker contents himself with a very much simpler ceremony. he goes to some sacred pool, sings a charm over it, then takes some of the water into his mouth and spits it out in all directions. in the new norcia district when the rain-makers wanted rain they used to pluck hair from their thighs and armpits and after singing a charm over it blow it in the direction from which they wanted the rain to come. if on the other hand they wished to prevent rain they would light pieces of sandalwood and beat the ground hard and dry with the burning brands. the idea was that this drying and burning of the soil would soon cause all the land to become hardened and dried by the sun. in fact their entire belief in this "sympathetic magic" as it is called is based upon the notion, perfectly true in a way, that "like produces like," and that for them to initiate either the actions of their ancestors who first produced such and such a thing will have the same effect as then, or that the doing of something (such as causing water to fall) in a small way will cause the same result to happen on a very much larger scale. in some parts of western australia when cooler weather is desired a magician will light huge fires and then sit beside them wrapped in a number of skins and blankets pretending to be very cold. his teeth will chatter and his whole body shake as though from severe cold, and he is fully persuaded that colder weather will follow in a few days. in the second class of magical ceremonies are included all those which have for their purpose the ensuring of a plentiful supply of food. the people of wild australia have no knowledge of those natural laws and forces, much less of that over-ruling hand controlling them, by which their food supply is assured. they think that everything is due to magic, and therefore the performance of these magical ceremonies occupies a very large amount of their time. you have seen already that every tribe consists of a number of "totem groups" as they are called, and it is to these totem groups that the whole tribe looks to maintain the supply of their particular animals or plant. if the kangaroo men do their duty there will be plenty of kangaroos, but if they should become careless and slothful and begin to think of their own ease and comfort instead of the well-being of the tribe then the kangaroos will become fewer and fewer and perhaps disappear. these kangaroo ceremonies, as we may call them, are usually performed at some rock or stone specially sacred to this particular animal and believed by the natives to have imprisoned within it, or at any rate in its near neighbourhood, a number of kangaroo spirits who are only awaiting the due performance of the ancient ceremonies to set them free from their prison and again go forth and become once more embodied. the men gather round the rock or stone, freely bleed themselves, and then smear the rock or stone with their blood. as they are "of one blood" with their totem it is, they think, kangaroo blood which is being poured out, and as "the blood is the life" they feel quite sure that it will enable the weak and feeble kangaroo spirits to become quite strong again. then they arrange themselves in a kind of half-circle and "sing" their charm. no magical ceremonies are ever performed without "singing." the "cockatoo" ceremonies, by which the natives hope to increase the number of cockatoos are much simpler, but to a white man who might happen to be in the near neighbourhood would prove a very thorough nuisance. a rough image of a white cockatoo will be made, and the man will imitate its harsh and piercing cry all night. when his voice fails, as it does at last from sheer exhaustion, his son will take up the cry till the father is able to begin again. but of all the forms of magic or sorcery the most terrible is that of "bone-pointing" and "singing-dead." a man desirous of doing his neighbour some harm will provide himself with one of these sticks or bones, go off by himself into some lonely part of the bush, place the bone or stick in the ground, crouch over it and then mutter or "sing" into it some horrible curse. perhaps he will sing some such awful curse as this over and over again:- kill old wallaby jack, kill him dead-fellow; if he eat fish poison him with it; if he go near water drown him with it; if he eat kangaroo choke him with it; if he eat emu poison him with it; if he go near fire burn him with it; kill old wallaby jack, kill him dead-fellow quick. then he will go back to the camp leaving the bone in the ground. later he will return and bring the bone nearer to the camp. then some evening, after it has grown dark, he will creep quietly up to the man whom he wants to injure and secretly point the bone at him. the magic will, he believes, pass at once from the bone to his victim, who soon afterwards will without any apparent cause sicken and die unless some _bullya_, or medicine man, can remove the curse. the bone is then taken away and hidden, for should it be found out that he had "pointed" it he would be killed at once. [illustration: youth in war paint] all the blackfellows, men, women, and children alike are horribly afraid of these pointing-bones, and believe fully in their awful power, and anyone who believes that one of them has been pointed at him is almost certain to die. men in the full vigour of early manhood and middle life have wasted away, just as though they had been stricken with consumption, because they could not rid themselves of the belief that this horrible magic had entered them. a man coming from the alice springs to the tennant creek caught a slight cold, but the natives at the latter place told him that some men belonging to a tribe about twelve miles away had taken his heart out by means of one of these pointing sticks. he believed their story, and though there was absolutely nothing the matter with him but a cold, simply laid himself down and wasted away. probably several hundreds of men, women, and children die in wild australia every year from fear of these awful bones and sticks alone. all sickness and death is ascribed to magic. the only person who is believed able to remove this evil magic is the "_bullya_," or medicine man. these medicine men are believed to have had mysterious stones placed in their bodies by certain spirits. it is the possession of these stones that gives them their power to counteract evil magic. lest these stones should dissolve they have to be very careful never to eat or drink anything hot. you could probably never tempt one of them to take a cup of hot tea. should he do so all his powers as a doctor would be gone. medicine men, however, are not called in for simpler ailments, though these too are attributed to magic. a common remedy for head-ache is to wear tightly round the forehead a belt of woman's hair. this is believed to have the power of driving out the magic. another frequent but much nastier medicine is several blows on the head with a heavy waddy. it is wonderful how few doses are required! should a man be suffering from back-ache, or stomach-ache, he will lie down on the ground with the painful part of his body uppermost, and his friends and relations will jump on him one at a time till the "magic" goes. one day a man came home from a long journey through the bush. soon afterwards he was attacked by rheumatism and severe lameness. the medicine men told him that one of his enemies had seen his tracks and had put some sharp flints into his footmarks. his friends searched the track, found the flints, and removed them. almost immediately the rheumatism and lameness left him and he was completely cured. on another occasion a medicine man was called in to see a blackfellow who was lying very nearly at death's door. he said that some men in another tribe had charmed away his spirit but it hadn't gone very far and he could fetch it back. he at once ran after it and caught it just in time, so he said, and brought it back in his rug. he then threw himself across the sick man, pressed the rug over his stomach, made a few "passes" somewhat after the manner of a conjurer and so restored the spirit. the sick man speedily recovered. these medicine men are not guilty of any trickery. they believe in their powers as thoroughly as the best european doctors believe in theirs. they are never paid for their services, but, of course, they expect to be looked up to by the other members of the tribe and to be spared all labour and unpleasantness. they also expect the chief delicacies to be reserved for them, and that others should, as far as possible, do their bidding. no one would willingly offend a medicine man. his control of magic is much too dangerous a weapon to be used against them, far more deadly in its effects than spear or boomerang. he can put a curse in even more easily than he can get it out, and if he puts it in who is there to take it away? so you can see on the whole the medicine man has rather an easy time of it, but as no one wills it otherwise all are satisfied. what a boon a few medical missions would prove in wild australia--a few earnest christian men and women who would go and heal the bodily diseases of the black people, and by their faithful teaching destroy this awful curse of belief in magic! how glad we all ought to be that wherever missions have been started, a hospital has been one of the first buildings to be erected. at yarrabah, at mitchell river and at the roper river, all of which you will learn more fully about later on, the missionaries are devoting much time and thought to healing the sick, just as our blessed lord did when he was here among men. soon after the missionaries have settled in a new home the sick from all around will come flocking in to have their needs attended to, and often stay in the settlement long after they are cured to learn the wonderful new message those missionaries have brought about the great healer and all his power and love. chapter x some strange ways of disposing of the dead when a death has occurred in a blackfellow's camp, strange scenes are often witnessed. perhaps just before it took place the dying man or woman would be brought out of the _mia_ where he or she was lying and placed on a rug or blanket in the open air. the _mia_ would then be pulled down to prevent the spirit remaining within it and thus becoming an annoyance and perhaps a source of danger to the survivors. after death has actually occurred the mourners paint themselves all over with pipe-clay, or _wilgi_, rub huge quantities of clay and mud into their hair, and sit around the corpse making a most hideous wailing. they rock themselves to and fro for hours, keeping up the mourning cry all the time, but every now and again the women will relieve the monotony by a series of loud piercing shrieks. the bodies of very young children sometimes remain unburied for some considerable time. the mothers will carry them about with them wherever they go in the hope that the spirit, seeing their grief and so young a body, will be full of pity and return. with this exception dead bodies are usually disposed of within a few hours of death. the commonest method is burial, but bodies are sometimes burned, sometimes eaten, and not infrequently placed in trees, the bones being afterwards raked down and buried. graves are usually shallow, but the bodies are sometimes buried in a sitting position, sometimes standing. in western australia the hands, and at times the feet, are tied together in order to prevent the ghost from moving about and doing mischief. among some tribes the right thumb is cut off before burial so that the dead man may be unable to use a spear. in other tribes a spear and a boomerang will be placed in the grave as the dead man may require them in the beautiful sky country to which his spirit will go. on one of the north-west australian sheep stations a dead man who had been an inveterate smoker had his pipe and a stick of tobacco placed by his side. very often a hole is left in the grave to enable the spirit if it wishes to do so to go in and out. in some places the grave is covered with boughs. in other places a hut will be built over it in the hope that the ghost will thus be kept within bounds and will refrain from wandering about and annoying the living. the ground around the grave will be swept clean with boughs and occasionally watched for footmarks. after the burial the camp will as a rule be moved. when bodies are cremated a huge pile of dry grass and boughs is first prepared. above this a platform, also of boughs, is built, and the body placed upon it and covered with more boughs. a fire-stick is then applied by one of the nearest female relatives. the most curious of all aboriginal methods of disposing of a dead body is that which is usually called "tree-burial." this is probably done in the hope of speedy re-incarnation, but when it becomes evident, say after a year has passed, that the spirit does not intend to return the bones are raked down with a piece of bark and placed in a cave and there buried. in the kimberley district of western australia there are numbers of these burial caves. the arm-bone, however, is not buried with the rest. it is solemnly laid aside, wrapped in paper bark, and often elaborately decorated with feathers. when everything is in readiness preparations are made for bringing it into the camp with great ceremony. the bone is first placed in a hollow tree while some of the men go off in search of game which they bring into the camp and solemnly offer to the dead man's nearest male relatives. next day the bone itself will be brought in and placed on the ground. all at once bow reverently towards it, the women meanwhile maintaining a loud wailing. it is then given to one of the dead man's female relatives who places it in her hut until it is required for the final ceremonies some days afterwards. these final ceremonies begin with a corrobboree, and the bone is then snatched by one of the men from the woman who has charge of it and taken to another of the men who breaks it with an axe. as soon as the blow of the axe is heard the women flee, shrieking, to their camp and re-commence their wailing. the broken bone is then buried and the mourning ceremonies for the dead man are at an end. the most revolting of all methods of disposing of dead bodies is that of eating them. this, however, you will be glad to learn is not very often employed. sometimes it is pure cannibalism that makes them do so. mothers have been known to join in a meal upon the bodies of their own children. usually only the bodies of the famous dead, great warriors for instance, or of enemies killed in battle are thus disposed of. in some tribes it is looked upon as the most honourable form of burial. the reasons for this custom you will understand better when you have read carefully the chapter on religion. there is one very curious custom connected with mourning which i am sure you will be interested in hearing about, and the reason for which you will also come to understand when you have read a few more chapters. so far as i know it is not practised among any other people. until the period of mourning is at an end the nearest female relatives of the dead man are placed under a rule of silence, and are not allowed to utter a single word. perhaps for as long a time as two years they are only allowed to make use of "gesture language." any attempt to speak on their part would at once be visited with heavy punishment perhaps even with death itself. it sometimes happens if there have been several deaths in a tribe that all the women are under this ban, and it very seldom occurs that all are allowed to speak. chapter xi some stories which are told to children in this chapter and the next you shall hear some of the stories which the little children of wild australia are told about the earth, the origin of man, the sun, the moon, and the stars, and about how sin and death came into this world of men. these tales fall very far short of those beautiful stories which have come down to us in the early chapters of genesis, but the blackfellows all believe them to be strictly true. often when they are seated around the camp fire on some bright star-lit night when the light from the fire will be shining brightly on their eager, dusky faces these old, old tales will be told again as only an old black can tell them. they believe the earth to be flat and to stand out of the water on four huge lofty pillars, like very big tree trunks, and some think that above the sky, which they believe to be a solid dome arching over the earth, is a beautiful sky country where baiame lives and the spirits. this baiame is a god who is specially concerned in the ceremonies of making men, and is pleased when those ceremonies are properly performed. this sky country is much more beautiful and much better watered than their own, and there are great numbers of kangaroo and game so that blackfellows who go there are never hungry and always have plenty of fun. the road to it is the milky way which is made up of the spirits of the dead. in many tribes the sun is regarded as a woman because among the blackfellows it is a woman's work to make fire. here is one of the most remarkable of all the "sun stories" which the old blackfellows tell the children. in olden days before there was any sun the birds and beasts were always quarrelling and playing tricks upon one another. a kind of crane called the courtenie, or native companion, was at the bottom of nearly all the mischief. in those days the emus lived in the clouds and had very long wings. they often looked down upon the earth and were particularly interested in the courtenies as they danced. one day an emu came down to earth and told them how much she would like to dance too. but the courtenies only laughed, and one of the oldest ones among them told the emu she could never dance while she had such long wings. then all folded their wings and appeared to be wingless. the poor simple emu at once allowed her wings to be cut quite short, but no sooner had she done so than those wicked courtenies unfolded their beautiful wings and flew away. then the kookaburra--or laughing jackass--burst into a loud laugh to think that the emu could be so silly. later on the emu had a big brood. a native companion saw her coming and at once hid all her chicks except one. "you poor silly emu," she said, "why don't you kill all your chicks except one? they'll wear you out with worry if you don't. where do you think i should be if i went about with a family like that? you'll break down from over-work if you let them all live." so the silly emu destroyed her brood. then the native companion gave a peculiar cry and out from their hiding-place came all her chicks one after the other. when the emu saw them she flew into a great rage and attacked that native companion and twisted her neck so badly that in future she was only able to utter two harsh notes. next season the emu was sitting on her eggs when the courtenie came along and pretended to be very friendly. this was more than that poor tormented emu could stand and she made a rush at the courtenie. but the courtenie leaped over the emu's back and broke all her eggs except one. maddened with rage the emu made for her again, but she was not nearly agile enough, and met with no better success than before. the courtenie took the one remaining egg and sent it flying to the sky. at once a wonderful thing happened. the whole earth was flooded with brilliant and beautiful light. the egg had struck a huge pile of wood which a being named ngoudenout, who lived in the sky, had been collecting for a very long time and set it on fire. the birds were so frightened by the beautiful light that they made up their quarrel there and then and have lived happily ever after, but ever since then the courtenies have had twisted necks and only two harsh notes, and emus have had very short wings and have never laid more than one egg. ngoudenout saw what a good thing it would be for the world to have the sun, and so ever since then he has lit the fire again every day. of course when it is first lighted it doesn't give very much heat, and as it dies down towards night the world begins to get cold again. ngoudenout spends the night collecting more wood for next day. there are numerous other stories about the sun, but this one is sufficient to enable you to see the kind of beliefs the people of wild australia have on these matters. now listen to one which will show you how some of them account for the phases of the moon and for the stars. far away in the east is a beautiful country where numbers of moons live, a very big mob of moons, whole tribes in fact. these moons are very silly fellows. they will wander about at night alone, although a great big giant lives in the sky who as soon as he sees them cuts big pieces off and makes stars of them. some of the moons get away before he can cut much off, but sometimes he cuts them nearly all up and hardly any moon is left at all. "why don't stars come out in the day-time?" a young child will ask and will receive this answer:-"the stars are all very afraid of the sun. if he finds them out in the day-time he gets very angry and burns them all. so they never come out till he has gone down under the earth. sometimes, though, a little star will come and see if he has gone, but most of them wait in their country till he is really down." some of the black children in some parts of the far north call hailstones rainbow's eggs, and worms baby rainbows, because they have noticed sometimes after a rainbow has been seen hailstones have fallen. after these have melted, or, as they would probably say, burrowed into the ground, numbers of worms have appeared. this is why they call worms baby rainbows. the black people are nearly always very much frightened at eclipses either of the sun or moon. they have two chief ways of accounting for them. some tribes will say that a hostile tribe has hidden in or near the luminary and held bark in front of it, whilst others put the whole trouble down to an evil spirit which has got in front. whatever their belief as to the cause of an eclipse may be, when one takes place they will all throw spears at it in the hope that the hostile tribe or evil spirit will find things too uncomfortable to remain. there are three ways of accounting for shooting stars. some believe them to be the spirits of the dead. some think that they are firesticks thrown down by some evil spirit who has his home in the sky, whilst others would say that a medicine man flying through the air has let his firestick fall. chapter xii more stories told to children each part of australia has its own stories as to the origin of the world and man. it would be impossible to tell them all, especially when one remembers that no two tribes believe exactly the same. there is a more or less general belief in a creator who made the sun, moon, and stars, the earth, trees, rocks, birds, animals, and man, everything, in fact, except women. their origin is left more or less unaccounted for. no creator could have bothered himself to make such unimportant things as women. different tribes have different names for the creator. in some parts he is called baiame or byamee, in others pundjel or punjil, in others daramulun. here is a story about daramulun which the men of the yuin tribe tell. ever so many moons ago daramulun lived on the earth with his mother. the earth in those days was hard and bare and there were no men and women upon it, only reptiles, birds, and animals. so daramulun made trees. soon afterwards men and women appeared, but whether daramulun made them or whether they just came up out of the earth we have not been told. one day a thrush caused a great flood, and all the people were destroyed except a few who managed to crawl out and take refuge on mount dromedary. from these have come the yuin tribe of to-day. daramulun, after the flood was over, called them all together, and told them how they were to live and catch and cook their food, and gave them their laws. at the same time he gave the medicine men power to use magic. then he went away to the sky country. when a man dies daramulun meets his spirit and takes care of it. now listen to a story about punjil which the old victorian blacks have frequently told:-one day punjil was walking about the earth with a big knife in his hand. with this knife he cut two pieces of bark. then he mixed some clay and made two black men, one very much blacker than the other. he took all day over them and when he had finished he found that one had curly hair and the other smooth. the curly-haired one he named kookinberrook, the other berrookboru. at first they were like dead fellows, but after he had blown into their nostrils they began to move about. now the very next day punjil's brother pallian was paddling about in a creek in his canoe. presently he saw two heads come up out of the water. then two breasts followed. pallian paddled up to them and found that they were two women. he took them to punjil who was very pleased and blew into their nostrils exactly as he had done in the case of the two men he had made the day before. then punjil gave them names, one he called kunewarra, the other kimrook. after this he put a spear in the hand of each man and gave a digging stick to each of the women and showed them how to use them. then he gave the women to the men as their wives. here is a flood story which you will like to compare with the beautiful story in genesis. you will notice these among other differences. though the people of wild australia believe in a flood they have no idea that it was sent as a punishment from god. on the other hand it was purely an accident. again you must remember they have no belief in god like our own. there are various vague, indefinite beliefs in one or more creators and in a supreme being who is pleased when the different ceremonies are properly performed. there is nothing more than this. there is, for instance, no idea at all of sin as being against god. they only understand offences against the tribe which the old men must punish, or indignities against the spirits of the departed which those spirits themselves will revenge. the supreme being never interferes in purely human concerns. once upon a time there was no water anywhere upon the earth. all the animals, therefore, met in solemn council to find out the reason of this remarkable drought. after a great deal of foolish talking they discovered the secret. an enormous frog had swallowed all the water and the only way he could be made to disgorge it was by being made to laugh. so one after another they all tried to amuse him but none of them succeeded in even making him smile. at last a big eel came and he began to wriggle. this was more than the frog's gravity could stand. he opened his mouth and laughed loudly. at once great streams of water began to pour from his jaws, and in a short time so much water had come from him that a great flood followed, and many of the animals and some of the people perished in the waters. a large pelican then determined to do his utmost to save the people. he made a canoe and paddled in it from one island to another. wherever he found any blacks he took them into his canoe and so saved them. before very long, however, the pelican had a quarrel with the blacks about a woman, and as a punishment was turned into stone. chapter xiii religion in the really strict sense of the word the people of wild australia have no religion. there is, as you have already seen, some faint belief in a supreme being and creator who is known by a different name in the different tribes, but this belief in a supreme being makes no difference to their lives and they do not recognize that they have any duties towards him. he is pleased when certain ceremonies are performed properly, and angry when they are performed carelessly or not at all, but beyond that he takes no interest in them. they, for their part, do not think it necessary to worry themselves about him. they never say any prayers, they offer no sacrifices, they build no temples or altars, and they make no idols. for these reasons we usually say they have no religion. that which takes the place of religion among them is fear of evil spirits, the ghosts of the dead. these ghosts are always looked upon as hostile, and always ready to do them harm. this belief is commonly known as animism. it is a general belief among all very primitive peoples. among some races, like the kols of india, to whom the natives of australia are believed by some people to be very closely akin, it takes the form of devil worship, and constant offerings are made to turn away the anger of the spirits, but there is no attempt at propitiation, as this is called, among the people of australia. they live in constant fear of spirits it is true, but their efforts are all in the direction of avoiding them, or keeping them at a distance. for this reason they will seldom camp beneath trees for the ghosts of men and women whose bodies have been placed in those trees to decay may still be hovering about among them and would come down and harm them if they dared to sleep under their shadow. for this same reason, too, they never mention, as you have already been told, the names of their dead. if the ghost heard them talking about him he would conclude they were not sufficiently sorry and would be very angry and be sure to harm them. a white man was once talking with an aboriginal boy, and in the course of his talk he three times mentioned rather loudly the name of a dead black man. the boy was so frightened that he ran away as fast as he could into the bush and did not appear again for several days. when a death occurs any other members of the tribe will, as you have already been told, at once change their names, and should the dead man or woman have borne the name of some plant or animal a new name will at once be given to it. the aboriginals probably came to believe in spirits through their dreams. in those dreams they have visited friends in some far-off tribe, fought some battle, or engaged in a hunt, yet their bodies, they know, have not moved from their resting-place. how could they have done this unless they had a spirit which was able to pass out of their body during sleep and go away on a journey. some tribes give the name of _murup_ to this spirit. at death the _murup_ leaves the body and either goes across the sea, or along the milky way into the beautiful sky country, or continues to haunt the scenes of its earthly life and especially the place where the body is buried, so becoming a source of danger and annoyance to those who remain alive. this is why most tribes move their camp after a death has taken place and why the tribes in the kimberley district of western australia nearly always cross the river. the ghost will have great difficulty in finding them and in any case he could not cross water. some tribes believe that as soon as the dead body has completely turned to dust the soul goes back to the rock or water-hole whence the totemic ancestor, or great-great-greatest-grandfather of the dead man, originally came. there it quietly waits until some little baby is born in the immediate neighbourhood, when it passes into his body and so again becomes incarnate. you will have noticed from all this how the religion of the aborigines, like all heathen religions, is based, wholly on fear. there is only one religion, the religion of our lord jesus christ, which is based on love. this is the religion we want to teach them. it alone, we know, can change their lives and drive out that awful fear. how it is changing them you will learn in the next few chapters. "the christians," said a traveller in north australia one day, "always look so happy. the frightened look is altogether gone. you can always tell them." the man who said this was, i am sorry to say, a christian only in name, and had long been known as a strong opponent of all missionary work among this poor unhappy people, but this makes his words all the more remarkable. they should help to stir us up to do much more in the future than we have done in the past, and make us keener than ever to put forth all our efforts to spread the knowledge of our lord jesus christ among them that his beautiful light may shine more and more in them and that men may take knowledge of them that they have been with jesus. chapter xiv yarrabah there is an old persian story, which some of you may know, of a wonderful magic carpet on which one only needed to stand in order to be spirited away to some other land to which one wanted to go and see strange scenes and unwonted sights. let us take our place on this magic carpet and utter the correct formulã¦, and in a few moments we shall be far away in distant and beautiful yarrabah on the north-eastern shores of queensland. the name means "beautiful spot," and it is, indeed, a lovely part of wild australia where the tropic sun looks down upon beautiful palm-trees and where birds of the gayest plumage make their home, and where the coasts are washed with coral seas. [illustration: girls' class at yarrabah school] yarrabah is a mission reserve which the queensland government gave to the australian church about twenty-five years ago. it covers about sixty thousand acres and no white man except the missionaries is allowed to make a home upon it. its beginnings were most discouraging, and nothing but the indomitable faith of the first missionaries could have kept them to their work. the tribes settled on the "reserve" were extremely fierce, and within a week or two of the actual founding of the mission three men of the tribe were killed and eaten. the native who was more responsible than any others for these acts of murder and cannibalism was some years afterwards converted to christ, baptized and confirmed, and has for years been a respected and trusted christian. it was among such tribes that the missionaries went and made their home. thousands of people would have been afraid to have ventured amongst them, but the missionaries (and there was a lady in their number) were so full of the love of jesus and so earnest in their desires to win these poor degraded tribes for him, that they never stopped to think about being afraid. it was very different to going and settling down in some town or village in china or india where there were other white people near and the dangers were not so great. there were very few white people, and probably no white women at all, nearer than cairns, thirty miles away to the north. only the wild monotonous bush was around them and fierce cannibals from whom at any moment a poisoned spear might come. at first all the missionaries could do was wait. a rough little house was put up close to the sea where they lived, said their prayers, and waited. after a while a few natives came and built their _mias_ near the missionaries' home. they soon came to see that these were kind, good people who only wanted to be friendly, and little by little they began to give their confidence. soon a little hospital was erected where sick aboriginals were attended to and healed, and a little school where the children whom their parents allowed to come and live with the missionaries were taught. to-day, about twenty-two years after its first founding, yarrabah is one of the most wonderful industrial missions in the whole island continent. please take note of those words "industrial missions," for i want you to remember that it has been found that it is very little good indeed teaching the children or the men and women of wild australia about the redeeming love of our lord jesus christ unless they are at the same time taught the duty of honest and useful work. the mere preaching of the gospel and the provision of a place of worship which would be enough among a more civilized people is very far from enough in wild australia. so all missions in that land are what we call industrial. if we visited yarrabah to-day, by means of our magic carpet, what should we see? first we should see the head station, and we should be told that there were five other settlements, little christian villages in charge of an aboriginal catechist, within a few miles of the head station, and that altogether no less than 350 natives and half-castes were living happy, contented, well-conducted lives. the first visit some of us would be inclined to pay would be to the school where we should see quite a number of dusky little scholars. the head teacher is a white--one of the missionaries--but most of the teaching is done by several excellent and fully-qualified aboriginals who themselves learned their very first lessons in that same school and were once wild blacks. some might like to hear the children read and would probably be quite surprised to find that they were able to acquit themselves quite as well as british children of the same age. this would be true, too, of their writing. some of the older children would be able to bring out some really beautiful specimens of penmanship for our admiration. they also do sums, but these, perhaps, they do not take to quite so kindly as some of the other subjects. still, we should probably find that they do almost as well as children of other lands of the same age. but the subject which is regarded as of supreme importance at yarrabah school is the religious teaching. if the teachers were asked to quote some text which might be taken as the motto of their school i think they would choose those words from the last verse of the twenty-eighth chapter of the book of job, "the fear of the lord that is wisdom," and they would tell us that the most important of all knowledge is the knowledge of our lord jesus christ. this is why the christians at yarrabah have not only attained considerable intellectual development but have also, in many cases, become true saints. a few years ago at an examination in religious subjects, open to all the children in queensland, white and coloured alike, the whole of the twenty-three first-class certificates which were awarded, were won by children of yarrabah. perhaps as we came out of the schools we should like to pass into the homes where the children live. many of them, however, remain at school as boarders, their parents living in one or other of the little villages on the reserve. how different these homes are to the rough, uncomfortable humpies described in chapter iv which form the homes of the poor children of the wilderness. each home at yarrabah is a little cottage of wood and iron with two or more rooms which has been built by the people themselves. it stands in an enclosed garden in which mangoes, sweet potatoes and other vegetables are growing and for part of the year beautiful flowers bloom brightly. in some of the cottages the little flower patch is the children's especial care. everything within the house is beautifully neat and clean. the older girls help their mothers to keep it so. they wash and make and mend, and as many of them dress entirely in white there is plenty of work to do. after our visit to some of the homes we pass into the little church dedicated in the name of the first british martyr, st. alban. the very name reminds us of that for which the church stands. it stands there to turn the heathens into good soldiers of jesus christ like st. alban. it is far too small for the needs of the little community which lives in its neighbourhood, and we hope before very long to be able to build a much larger and better one. it is of white wood and across the chancel is carried a scroll with these words upon it, "lift up thy prayer for the remnant that is left." services are held in it every day at 7 a.m. and 7 p.m., and nearly every one comes. on one side are seated the boys and young men, on the other the girls and unmarried women. the missionaries and the married couples take their places at the western end, while the babies and infants squat and occasionally crawl about on the floor. most of them sit or stand very reverently with folded arms. a little black curly-headed boy plays the harmonium, and the choir enters noiselessly. their feet are bare, their long surplices reach nearly to the ground, their scarlet loin cloths sometimes showing through them. an aboriginal catechist in all probability leads the service, also wearing a surplice. everything is done exactly as it would be in an english village church. on sundays the psalms as well as the canticles are sung. on other days they are sometimes read but very, very slowly, for it must be remembered that only the younger members of the congregation, those brought up on the mission, are able to read. the lessons from holy scripture, too, are read very slowly. the reverence and devotion of all alike, the hearty singing not only with the lips but with the heart, are a wonderful illustration of what the lord jesus christ has done for these dusky children of a savage and primitive people. after church each morning there is an interval for breakfast and then a parade for work. the children pass into the school, the men and boys to their allotted tasks on the farm or in the different workshops, the women and unmarried girls to their various domestic duties. all are given something to do and all are required to perform their tasks to the satisfaction of those set over them. yet i do not think anyone would talk about "tasks" at yarrabah. there is a suggestion of unpleasantness, of an imposition about the word, but no one looks at work in that light at yarrabah. it has become almost second nature and a delight to them here. sometimes, of course, when the weather is very hot and close and sultry they do not work as well as at other times, but what white man or child would not prefer to rest under such circumstances? even the tiniest children like to feel they are doing something and very soon learn to run about and pick up rubbish and fallen leaves and so help to keep the settlement clean and tidy. up on the hillside is the hospital where the sick children, as well as the men and women are carefully nursed and cared for by a kind black matron and nurses. there is a branch of the church lad's brigade, and a most efficient brass band. [illustration: bathing off jetty at yarrabah] after dinner comes play-time for a while in which all are free to amuse themselves in any way they like. then work again till service time at 7. then follows supper, then night prayers in their homes, then bed. the life at yarrabah might well be described as a life of honourable work, and innocent recreation hallowed by christian worship. what a wonderful contrast it all is to the wild undisciplined life of the aboriginals in the bush. the contrast almost reminds us of that wonderful story in the gospels which tells of the poor wild maniac of gergesa whose savage yells were the terror of the whole surrounding neighbourhood. people were afraid to go near him, and "no man could tame him." he wore no clothes, he had no fixed dwelling-place, and often cut himself with stones. but one came where he was and had compassion on him and commanded the evil spirits to leave him. the voice was a voice of power, and when next we see him he is "sitting at the feet of jesus clothed and in his right mind." is not this just exactly what has happened at yarrabah where the lord jesus has indeed worked a wonderful miracle, delivering those poor wild aborigines from the bondage of evil spirits and causing them to sit in love and wonder as changed men "at his feet"? chapter xv trubanaman creek we step on to our magic carpet once again and after bidding an affectionate farewell to yarrabah are soon flying through the air across some beautiful tropical forests till we come to land almost on the eastern shores of the great gulf of carpentaria, eleven miles south of the mitchell river, at a spot called trubanaman creek, where another mission was established just eight years ago. it is four hundred miles from yarrabah, and there is no mission in between. there are six tribes of fierce natives within reach of the mission. the men are strong stalwart fellows who have come very little into contact with white men. some of them carry knives of sharks' teeth which they use chiefly for the purpose of making the women do their will. there are numbers of children, and it is these children whom the missionaries are specially trying to induce to come and live with them to be taught. when the missionaries went to live there nothing but the wild bush was around them. as mr matthews, the head of the mission has said, "the hoot of the kookaburra (laughing-jackass), the howl of the dingo (wild dog), or the shout of the wild man were the only early morning noises." a few buildings were put up and after a time a few men and boys came in. some of these were sick or suffering from wounds, and their wounds were carefully attended to and dressed. they went back to their tribe and told what had been done for them and of the good and regular food they had received from the white men down at the creek. the news spread, others came in, the sick for treatment, the whole for food. many ran away again unable to endure the monotony of a settled and ordered life, but some remained. to-day there are about a hundred residents. the most conspicuous and the central building on the settlement is the church, which like that at yarrabah is of wood and has been built by the people themselves. some trees were cut down, sawn into planks at the mission's own steam saw-mill, which the men work themselves, and so the material was prepared. the furniture and fittings, too, are all of aboriginal workmanship. the services are very similar to those at yarrabah and every day begins and ends with public worship. the school is under the care of mrs matthews, wife of the superintendent of the mission, who has the help of another lady. two and a half years ago the bishop of carpentaria, in whose diocese the mission is, paid a surprise visit to the school and examined the children in their work. he expressed himself as surprised and delighted with all he heard and saw. from the school he passed to the catechism class where he found twenty boys ranging in age from ten to eighteen years. much to his surprise these boys could say together the english church catechism to the end of the "duty towards our neighbour" without any hesitation or a single mistake. most of them could also answer correctly any questions put to them separately, and could explain the meaning of the more difficult words and phrases. what, however, pleased the bishop even more was to find that they were all alike making a very real and persevering effort to carry this teaching out in their own daily lives. mere ability to recite the words of a catechism or creed is nothing, it is the living it out that matters, and this the boys of mitchell river (as we call them) are honestly trying to do. of course like other boys they are often naughty and sometimes do very wicked things but they have learned enough of the love of our lord jesus christ to know that if they are really sorry for their sins and express that sorrow both with their lips and by altered lives he will forgive their sins and receive them back into his favour and his care. fifteen married couples at the mitchell river are living in little houses of their own. seven of these couples were married by the bishop on one day. they have built their houses themselves, fenced and cleared the little holdings 240 feet by 120 in which the house stands and cultivate these holdings entirely without supervision. the residents, as far as possible, are allowed to live a perfectly natural life. the men and boys are, of course, required to wear loin cloths, the women and girls short skirts, but they need wear nothing more. they still enjoy hunting and fishing exactly as in the old days, and corrobborees still afford them never-ending delight. only those things in the old life which are contrary to the gospel of our lord jesus christ are forbidden them. the first baptisms took place on sunday, august 13th, 1911, a day of great joy and gladness when eight males and four females made their solemn confession of repentance and faith and were received into the warmth and shelter of god's holy church. there are several other missions, but we have no time in which to visit them. we can only point out where they are and perhaps some of us afterwards will mark them on our maps. on the opposite side of the gulf of carpentaria is another church of england mission--that at the roper river. it was founded only a few years ago, but deserves special mention because it is the first australian mission which has ever employed full-blooded natives on its staff. on their way north to found it the missionaries halted a few days at yarrabah. the christians gathered together to meet them and to wish them god speed. all that the missionaries were going to do was explained to them, the hardships and dangers of their life among the fierce cannibal tribes of the far north were dwelt upon. would any of them volunteer to go? it would mean turning their backs upon their beautiful happy home, laying aside many of the blessings and privileges which were so dear to them, but it would bring great joy to the heart of the lord jesus if someone would go. there was no immediate answer, but some few days afterwards two men and one woman came to the superintendent and said they would go. in the northern territory there is also to be found the very successful mission at mapoon where also a very wonderful work has been done. it is one of the oldest missions in the north. it is conducted by missionaries of the moravian church, and its work among the children is done in the same way as in those other missions of which you have been told more fully. in western australia the roman catholic church has three missions. the oldest of these was founded nearly sixty years ago. it is situated at new morcia on the victoria plains ninety miles north of perth. the third generation of christians is now growing up under the kindly care of the good fathers and nuns who control the mission. all are living earnest christian lives. there are now no heathen left in the neighbourhood. another roman catholic mission is that at beagle bay, seventy miles north of broome. there are twenty-two resident missionaries of whom nine are ladies, and forty boys, and fifty-four girls in the schools. the children rise with the sun, say their prayers, attend service in the church, and then have breakfast. after a short time for play they pass at once to the schools where they do lessons for three hours. after dinner all rest during the great heat of the day. then work and lessons again till service-time and supper. soon after sundown all go to bed. among other things the children are being taught the very useful art of hat-making, the hats being afterwards sold in aid of the mission funds. [illustration: the first school at mitchell river] in the extreme north-west--near the little town of wyndham--the three remaining missions are found. the one on the drysdale river is under the care of the roman catholic church. a few miles away is another controlled by the presbyterians, while thirty miles south of wyndham on the forrest river lies the newest of all. it is impossible to give an account of these. none of them have done much more than begin. the most recent, that at the forrest river, was only founded last year. we can all pray that god will bless the good missionaries working upon them that under his guiding hand many more children of the wilderness may lay aside their fear of evil spirits and come to love and worship our dear lord jesus christ. chapter xvi some aboriginal saints and heroes there are some names so famous in wild australia, and especially on the mission stations, that they deserve and must have a chapter to themselves. the first of these is tom moreton who soon after he became a christian also became a leper. his earliest teachings were, i believe, received at yarrabah, and there he was baptized, confirmed, and made his first communion. when he was found to be suffering from his terrible disease, which is somewhat common in those parts, he was removed by the government to friday island, the leper settlement in the far north. nearly all the other lepers there were south sea islanders, and most of them had been baptized, having become christians during their time of service as labourers in the sugar-plantations. one of them had been a teacher of the london missionary society. tom evidently regarded his exile to friday island as an opportunity of earnest work for his saviour. he set himself to teach his poor fellow-lepers all he knew of the love and gentleness of our lord. they readily listened to his words as he taught the way of god more perfectly. their leprosy had attacked them before they had come to know all his love. he was no official missionary, there had been no formal sending, but he told them everything the lord jesus had done for him and how he had dealt with his soul. he awakened in them a keen desire to be partakers in the great memorial feast which the saviour had ordained, and then he began one by one to prepare them for it. when some time afterwards the bishop of carpentaria visited the island tom told him what he had done. the bishop spoke to them one by one, and finding them really in earnest administered to them the laying-on-of-hands. he then placed them in tom's care again. when he next came he administered to all the holy communion. the last scene of all is very solemn. the government decided to close friday island and remove the lepers to brisbane. so the bishop came once more steering his vessel with his own hands into the little bay. an ordinary washing table was brought out and placed beneath the trees. a white cloth covered it and upon it the sacred feast was spread. the sixteen poor leprous men "drew near," and there were tears in the bishop's eyes as he placed in those poor maimed hands the heavenly food. it was a pathetic farewell to friday island, but how those hearts must have blessed the faithful ministry of the aboriginal saint, tom moreton! the next name on our roll of honour is james noble. he was one of those who volunteered to go with the first missionaries to the roper river. for about three years he remained there and was a great help and encouragement to the founders of that mission, as he is a great help and strength to-day to the work at yarrabah. once a savage he has sat more than once as one of the representatives of yarrabah in the synod, or church parliament, of his diocese, and is always listened to with something more than respect as he pleads at different meetings the cause of his neglected people. he is now a catechist, and is trusted and much loved by all. sam smith's right to a place on our roll of honour no one who knows his story could deny. he is a native of new south wales, his home being near dubbo. he works on one of the sheep stations and is an earnest and devout christian. but there are no idle christians among the blacks. all are taught that they must undertake some definite work for our lord. sam has chosen as his work sunday-school teaching. every saturday afternoon when his week's work is done he starts off through the bush for his distant sunday-school twenty-eight miles away, takes his class on the sunday and then in the evening walks twenty-eight miles back again so as to be on the spot for his work again on monday morning. it is a long journey, but sam never fails. the last on our little list of saints and heroes is not a christian at all, but none the less we cannot refuse him a place among those who deserve to be remembered. neighbour, a native of the roper river country, had been arrested on a charge of cattle stealing. probably his poor savage heart saw nothing wrong in the deed. he was being led off in custody by police constable johns. when crossing a flooded stream the constable's horse turned over and kicked him badly on the head. he was in grave danger of drowning. neighbour was burdened with heavy chains, but he at once jumped into the river at the risk of his life and brought the constable to land. mounting the horse he then rode off for help. the chance was given him of freeing himself from his chains and making good his escape. his brave act was at once reported to the authorities, who brought it to the knowledge of king george. he was only sixteen and a savage. the king decided to confer the albert medal upon him. it was presented to him at a great public gathering at government house, port darwin, some months afterwards in the presence of many of the leading residents. it is the first time such an honour has ever been paid to an australian native, and neighbour's bosom swells with lawful pride as he points to the medal upon his breast. chapter xvii the chocolate box in a sunday-school in new south wales the children were very keen about their missionary duty. they were specially interested in the chocolate-coloured people of new guinea, a very large island to the north of australia, and determined to do all they could to help them. among other things they had a chocolate-coloured box made and they put in it all they could. during the season of lent they all gave up chocolates and other sweets and gave the pennies thus saved to what had come to be known as "the chocolate box." you have been reading in this little book about another people with chocolate skins, and one result of your reading ought to be a strong desire to make better known among them the redeeming love of our lord jesus christ. for some of them "he has done great things already whereof we rejoice," but if he had only more money he could do much more. we can all help him by means of a chocolate box. we can help him, too, by our prayers. this little book, if you have read it carefully, will have suggested much to you to pray about. just to tell the lord jesus about the poor little children of wild australia and their needs is to do much to help those needs to be supplied. call up in your mind what happened at cana of galilee where jesus made the water wine. his mother came to him and laid before him the need, and he in his own good time supplied it. so we can all lay before him the needs of these dear little children and we can trust him at his own time to do what is best. perhaps some day some may hear the call to personal service, to go out and make their homes among the children there and teach them, as others have been taught, to know and love the children's king. adventures in australia, by w.h.g. kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ a couple of young men go to australia to stay awhile with the uncle of one of them. while on the way up to the uncle's station they meet with various adventures. during the book we are introduced to various of the animals of australia, the kookaburra, the wombat, the kangaroo, the wallaby, and many others. we also meet with the aboriginal occupiers of the land. finding that they like the life in australia, the two young men decide to settle, and they buy, with the uncle's assistance, an area of land on which to create a station. this is not a long book, but it is amply illustrated. some of the drawings are very nice indeed. you will enjoy this book, and it makes a good audiobook. ________________________________________________________________________ adventures in australia, by w.h.g. kingston. chapter one. some years ago two travellers, mounted on wiry yet strong looking steeds, were wending their way through a forest in australia. they were both young and dressed much alike in broad-brimmed pith hats, loose red shirts, corduroy trousers and high boots with spurs. each of them had stuck in his belt an axe, a brace of pistols, and a long knife; while at his back was slung a serviceable-looking rifle, showing that they were prepared to defend themselves, should they encounter any treacherous blacks, a very possible contingency at that period of the country's history. they were followed by an active native also mounted, who led a horse carrying their baggage. the scenery was not especially attractive, indeed so great was its sameness that alone they would have been utterly unable to find their way. on either side rose tall stringy-bark and other gum-trees, their curious and narrow leaves affording scarcely any shelter from the rays of the almost vertical sun, the huge white stems from which the bark hung down in ragged masses giving them a weird and dreary aspect. tracks there were, but they branched now in one direction now in the other, and were more calculated to bewilder the travellers than to guide them aright. their map--for being new arrivals in the country they carried one--told them that they should soon reach a broad stream. they were now looking out eagerly for it, wondering whether they should have to wade through it or should find a ferry-boat ready to take them and their animals across. i may as well say--having thus begun, after the fashion of a writer whose pure and wholesome works i used heartily to enjoy in my boyhood days--that one of the travellers was myself, maurice thurston, and the other my brother guy, a year only my senior. we had lately lost our father, with whose sanction we had settled some time before to come out to australia and seek our fortunes. we, our mother, our two sisters, and another brother, had been left with a very limited income; and guy and i, wishing to push our own fortunes and establish a home for the rest of the family, agreed that no time should be lost in carrying our plan into execution. as soon therefore as our mother's affairs had been settled, we set sail from england, and, about two weeks before the day i am describing, arrived in australia. we had not come entirely on a wild-goose chase. a cousin of our father's, mr oliver strong, had long been settled in the country, and had replied to an application made to him some time before by our father, saying that he should be happy to receive us and put us in the way of doing well for ourselves, if we were sober, steady, strong, active, willing fellows with heads on our shoulders and without any "fine gentleman" notions. we were now making our way toward his station, some hundred miles in the interior. though we had not ridden far from our camping place, the intense heat of the sun made us feel very thirsty, and sympathise with our horses which must have been equally so; thus we were anxious as soon as possible to reach the river, where we hoped to find an abundance of water. from our black guide we could not obtain much information; for, although we were well assured that he spoke english when we engaged him, we found that it was of a character which would take us some time to learn. however he understood us better than we did him, though we had to put questions in all sorts of ways and repeat them over and over again. we then had to puzzle out his replies, not always arriving at a satisfactory conclusion. guy frequently stood up in his stirrups and looked ahead, hoping to catch the sheen of water. at last we began to have some uncomfortable suspicions that, although our black attendant professed to know the way, he had managed to lose it--a circumstance not at all unlikely to occur-and that we were wandering far out of our proper course. though the sun was of some assistance, yet we might be going too much to the north or too much to the west, and might pass a long way off from the station which we wished to reach. all we could do therefore was to exert our wits, and, should we have got out of the direct path, to try and find it. at length the foliage before us became somewhat thicker, but no sign of water did we see. we were riding on when a loud cry reached our ears. "there's some one in distress!" i exclaimed. "i fear that you are right, we must find out," answered guy. we were urging on our horses, when a peal of mocking laughter seemed to come from the wood close to us. "what can that be?" i asked; "some natives who want to frighten us, or an unfortunate maniac." the shout of laughter was repeated. "him one jackass!" observed our guide, toby. "jackass! what can the fellow mean?" cried guy. then looking up we discovered a large bird not far off who was evidently uttering the extraordinary sound we heard. it was, as toby told us, a laughing-jackass, or a gigantic kingfisher. so ridiculous were the sounds that we could not help laughing too. presently a number of cockatoos, rising with loud screams just before us, flew over the trees to pitch again not far off. as we were watching them we found ourselves at the top of a bank, some thirty or forty feet in height. below it, to the right and left, stretched a sandy bottom scarcely less than half a mile in breadth, and on the opposite side rose another bank. below the one on which we stood was a stream of water, flowing sluggishly along, scarcely twelve feet wide, and so shallow that we could see the bottom. "can this be the river we were to come to?" i exclaimed, examining the map. "no doubt about it," answered my brother; "perhaps sometimes this broad bed of sand is covered, and if we had found it so, we should have had considerable difficulty in crossing; so it is as well as it is, here is water enough for ourselves and our weary beasts." we accordingly agreed to stop and dine. having watered our horses, we hobbled them and turned them at liberty under some trees where grass was growing; then unslinging our guns, we went in search of the cockatoos we had seen. i killed one, and guy a parrot; but the report of our guns frightened away the birds, which were more wary than usual, and we had to return satisfied with this scanty supply of food. on reaching the spot we had selected for our camp, close to the water where our black boy was waiting for us, we found that he had during our absence made a fire, at which we cooked the birds, toby devouring the larger portion. we would gladly have eaten some fruit, however sour it might have been, but none was to be found. we had just finished masticating the tough parrot, when we caught sight of two natives scampering along as if they were mad, so it seemed to us, for they had their eyes fixed in the air and appeared regardless of all impediments in their way. we shouted to them, but not hearing us, on they went, now leaping over the fallen trunk of a tree, now rushing through a bush, now tumbling into a hole, still keeping their eyes fixed on the object which engaged their attention. we asked toby what they were about. "dey huntee bee. soon catchee!" he answered. the reply was intelligible enough, but why they should hunt a bee puzzled us. they however stopped, while yet in sight, under a large tree, the stem of which they began to climb. hoping, as was really the case, that they were going to rob the hive of its honey, we followed them. as we approached we could see their dusky forms among the lower branches, with vast numbers of bees flying about them, whose presence they seemed almost to disregard. the two natives were so busily employed that they did not at first perceive us; but when they came down, they regarded us with much astonishment, and we were afraid that they would turn tail and run off, without giving us the honey which it was our object to obtain. we therefore made all the friendly signs we could think of, and i having fortunately a gaily printed cotton handkerchief in my pocket, presented it to them, signifying at the same time that we wished some of the honey in return. our quiet manner quickly disarmed their suspicions, and returning with us, they poured out as much honey as our two tin pots could contain. i may as well describe the mode of finding the honey the bee-hunters adopt. on perceiving a bee sucking the juice from flowers, he hurries to the nearest pool and selects a spot where the banks shelve gradually. he then lying on his face fills his mouth with water, and patiently awaits the arrival of the bee: as the insect requires moisture, he knows that ere long it will come and drink. the moment it approaches him he blows the water from his mouth over it, thus slightly stunning it. before it has recovered, he seizes it and by means of some gum fastens to its legs a tuft of white down, which he has obtained from the neighbouring trees. the insect flies in a straight line towards its nest, while the white down serving to impede the progress, enables the hunter to keep it in view, till it reaches its home. we ate the honey with a small supply of biscuit, and found it far more satisfactory food than the tough parrots had proved. having taken a last drink and filled up our waterbottles, we parted on friendly terms with the natives; when, saddling our horses, we continued our journey. "there is little chance of our reaching another river with more water in it than the last, to camp by," observed my brother; "i see none marked down on the maps for leagues ahead." we passed through the same sort of scenery as before, with the same dreary views on either side, so that we might have fancied that we had already crossed the country a dozen times. we at length came to the bed of a stream, no longer however containing water, though i doubt not that we should have obtained it by digging beneath the surface. the appearance of the bee-hunters had warned us that there were natives about, and we had been cautioned against trusting them. we heard that they had at different times murdered a number of unfortunate hut-keepers and shepherds up the country, so that we were inclined to form very unfavourable opinions of the aborigines. toby, to be sure, was faithful enough, but then he was semi-civilised. we now asked him if he thought that there were many natives in the neighbourhood to whom the bee-hunters belonged. he shook his head--"may be!" he said; "bad mans, keep out of him way." this advice we were ready enough to adopt, and we had no fear, should we meet them on the open ground, of keeping them at bay; but we wished especially to avoid being caught asleep, either at night or resting during the noon-day heat. we had, at this time, literally no experience about australia. we had read a few books, to be sure, but mr strong had not described the country, and only advised our father to send us out without incumbrances of any description--a small stock of serviceable clothes, a few books and a box of pills apiece. we followed out his injunctions almost to the letter, adding only some well-made tools, a fowling-piece each, and a supply of ammunition, to which we added on our arrival a few necessaries for travelling in the bush. thus we found that one animal could carry all our worldly possessions, a few odd articles for immediate use being packed in our saddle-bags. we were now, as the day was wearing on, looking out for a convenient place to camp. we tried to make toby understand that we wished for one in which we could not easily be surprised by natives, or if surprised, where we could defend ourselves with some hope of success. the nature of the ground had changed since the morning, and we now entered a rocky and wild-looking district. here we should have no difficulty, we thought, in selecting a spot for our camp. we were looking about, when we spied in the distance what appeared to be the figure of a man standing against a tree. my brother instantly rode forward and i following him saw a person who, to all appearance, though in bush costume, was a gentleman, bound with his hands behind his back, and secured firmly to a tree. he was deadly pale and seemed so much exhausted that he did not even speak to us as we approached. to leap from our horses and release him without asking questions, was the work of a minute. having put him on his feet and waited until he had somewhat recovered, we inquired how he had been placed in the position in which we had found him. "some rascally bushrangers surprised, and `stuck me up,'" he answered. "i had just dismounted, when three of them, who had been lying in ambush, suddenly sprang on me, and before i could draw my revolver, knocked me down. "i fully believed that they intended to murder me, but they contented themselves with carrying off my horse and arms and ammunition and everything i had about me; having lashed me to this tree, and then galloped away, leaving me to the chance of dying of thirst and starvation, or being gnawed to death by the dingoes. had you not come up, such might have been my fate; and, believe me, i am deeply grateful to you for rescuing me from it." we had been aware of the possibility that we might meet with natives, but had not thought of the likelihood of encountering bushrangers, indeed we fancied that the country was no longer infested by such characters. we, of course, having assured the stranger that we were very glad to have been of use to him, invited him to accompany us until he could obtain another horse, and offered to let him ride one of ours by turns. "i should like however to try and catch the fellows who robbed you;" exclaimed guy. "is there any chance of overtaking them? surely they will encamp not far from this, and if we follow their tracks we might come upon them as suddenly as they surprised you." "very little chance of that," observed the stranger. "they are desperate fellows, and, knowing that every man's hand is against them, keep a strict watch. they are aware that it is possible that i might be released, and will probably ere this have got a good many miles away, i am, however, grateful to you for your offer, though i am sorry to delay you. i confess that, without a gun or flint and steel, i should be very sorry to perform the rest of the journey on foot by myself. i am going to the north-west, and i judge, from the direction you were riding, that our roads lie the same way." guy told him that we were bound for mr strong's station, which we understood was nearly a hundred miles off; and at the rate we could travel with our baggage-horse, we did not expect to reach it for three or four days. observing how ill the stranger looked i suggested that we should at once look out a good spot for camping. "i can help you, as i know the country," said the stranger. "a short distance further on there is a water-hole in what during the rainy season is sometimes a torrent; we can there obtain all the requisites for a camp." i now insisted that he should mount my horse, and we set out. pushing forward, we soon reached the spot he spoke of. our new companion, after examining the ground, told us that the bushrangers had been there, and after watering their horses had ridden on, as he supposed they would, and that we need have no apprehensions of an attack from them. we soon hobbled the horses in the usual fashion, fastening their legs together with leathern straps in such a way as to make it impossible for them to move beyond a slow walk, so that if they were inclined to stray they could not go far. toby quickly lighted a fire, while the stranger by our advice rested near it. guy and i taking our guns went out in different directions in search of game, which is usually to be found near a water-hole in australia. we soon came back, guy with a brace of pigeons and i with three parrots, so that we had ample food for all hands. as we had damper and tea, we enjoyed a satisfactory meal which greatly revived our new friend. while we were seated round the fire--toby watching the horses--the stranger inquired if we were related to mr strong. this led us to give him a brief sketch of our history. "may i ask your name?" he said. "mine is norman bracewell." "and ours is thurston," said my brother. "what! guy thurston?" exclaimed bracewell, leaning forward and grasping guy's hand; "i thought from the first that i knew your features. we were at school together. `little guy' we used to call you, and you haven't forgotten me?" "no indeed!" said guy warmly, "you always stood my friend when the big fellows tried to bully me, and i have a perfect recollection of your countenance. i have often wished to know what had become of you, but could only hear that you had gone abroad." "i thought of writing to let you know, in case you should ever come out to australia; but i fancied that that was so unlikely and the chances of meeting you so small that i did not carry out my intention. you must stop at my hut. the longer you stay the better. we will have many a talk about old times and i think i can put you up to all sorts of information which will be useful to you in the country. to tell you the truth, i doubt if you will find your cousin, mr strong, as i heard that he had gone northwards to occupy a new station, some hundreds of miles off, and if so you will probably find no one to give you a welcome at his house except some old hut-keeper." on hearing this, guy and i gladly agreed to stop a few days with bracewell until we could obtain some definite information as to the movements of our cousin. we told him of our meeting with the two bee-hunters. "this proves that there are some natives in the neighbourhood. they may be honest, but they may also be ill-disposed, as are many of the blacks in this region. i advise that we keep a strict watch at night, and i offer to stand guard part of the time," observed bracewell. we agreed to keep a watch, but after the trying time he had gone through we thought that he ought to have a quiet night's rest so as to be the better able to continue his journey the next morning. toby had put up a rough hut of boughs, which would afford two of us at a time sufficient shelter from the night air. of rain there was no fear. toby erected a hut for himself with a few boughs stuck upright in the ground, which formed all the protection he required. i undertook to keep the first watch, and i promised my brother that i would call him when i could no longer remain with my eyes open. from past experience we knew that it would not do to trust toby, who would be very certain to be down as soon as he found that our eyes were off him. guy and bracewell were quickly asleep and i commenced walking to and fro, keeping a look-out on every side and sometimes stopping to throw a few sticks on the fire. i could see the horses safely feeding hear at hand, and so perfect was the silence which reigned around that i could not fancy that there was any real necessity for keeping awake. still, as i had undertaken to do so, i should not have felt justified in lying down. i should probably have let the fire out, and the smoke from that was at all events useful to keep mosquitoes and sandflies somewhat at bay. should the fire go out it was no more than possible that a pack of dingoes might creep up, and while we were in darkness drive the horses away, or carry off our saddle-bags, or tear our saddles and sleeping-rugs to pieces. i persevered therefore, stopping every now and then to amuse myself by looking up at the star-lighted sky and trying to make out the various constellations, conspicuous among which was the brilliant cross of the southern hemisphere. except the occasional croak of a frog, the cry of a night bird, or the chirp of a cricket, not a sound had reached my ears; when suddenly, as i was watching the moon rising above the rocks on one side of the camp, the most unearthly shrieks and yells rent the air. guy, awakening, started to his feet. "what's the matter?" he exclaimed. "i dreamed that savages were upon us, and expected the next moment to have a spear through me." "i haven't seen any savages, but those sounds seem scarcely human, i wonder bracewell hasn't been awakened by them. we must rouse up toby and learn what he thinks they are." the fearful noise still continued. we stood with our arms ready expecting every moment to see a herd of savages rush in upon us, for that the sounds were produced by natives we could have no doubt. we quickly made toby spring to his feet. "what's all that noise about?" asked guy. "he-he-he, ho-ho-ho! dat corroborree," answered toby who did not appear, as we expected would be the case, at all astonished at the uproar. bracewell at length awoke and confirmed what toby had said, that the savages were indulging in one of their native dances. "i should like to go and see it," i exclaimed; "can we do so without risk of being discovered?" taking toby to guide us, while bracewell remained in camp, we set out. we were scarcely prepared for the strange and weird sight which we saw as we looked over some low bushes we had just reached. before us was an open glade, beyond which the moon was rising brightly. in the centre of the glade burned a fire. seated on the ground were a number of figures rattling sticks together. suddenly there burst forth out of the darkness a score of skeleton-like figures who threw themselves into every possible attitude, now stretching out their legs, now springing up and clapping their hands, and all the time shrieking, laughing and singing, and following a big black fellow who acted as fugleman and stood on one side with stick in hand to direct the proceedings. not for a moment did they cease, though every now and then we might have fancied that they had disappeared had we not distinguished their black backs turned towards us. we watched until we grew weary of the sight, but the dancers appeared in no way tired; and as we saw no chance of their giving in, we retreated to our own camp, pretty well tired out and assured that they would not molest us during the night. chapter two. the night passed as bracewell had predicted, without a visit from the natives; and as he assured us that they were not at all likely to attack four armed men in the day-time, we, being anxious to become better acquainted with them, agreed before setting off to pay a visit to their camp. they were sure indeed to find ours out; so that it would be as well to show that we had no fear of them, and to gain their friendship. on examining the birds we had cooked the previous evening we found they had been nearly devoured by the white ants, a large nest of which we discovered a short distance from the camp. we had therefore to look out for some fresh provisions. bracewell was a much better shot than either of us; and, taking my gun, in a few minutes he killed a small kangaroo which he found as it was about to spring out of the bush where it had spent the night, scarcely a hundred yards from the camp. having skinned it in the most scientific fashion, the joints were put on to roast. we had now an abundance for our noon-day meal; for, as the animal was about four feet long, including the tail which was nearly half its length, it afforded us a good supply of meat. we should have preferred starting at day-break, but without food we none of us felt inclined to commence our journey. toby indeed gave us to understand that he could not think of leaving while so much good meat remained to be eaten. having given him as much as we all three consumed, we packed up the remainder in our saddle-bags and then--i insisting that bracewell should mount my horse while i walked--we set off for the native village which we caught sight of a short distance to the north of our camp. the inhabitants were lying about in front of it, evidently enjoying the _otium cum dignitate_. the men mostly stretched on the ground surrounded by their dogs, while the women were squatting outside their leafy bowers. the huts, if so they can be called, were placed in a semi-circle, and were formed by thick boughs stuck in the ground joining at the top on which other boughs were lightly thrown. they were scarcely more than four feet in height and might be described rather as screens than huts, as their only object appeared to be to keep off the wind from the inhabitants and the small fires which burnt before them. on the outside were stuck their spears ready for instant use. except some pieces of opossum skin round their loins, the men wore no garments, though several of them had fillets bound round their brows. two or three were smoking short clay pipes obtained from shepherds or hut-keepers with whom they had come in contact. several of the men started up, and seizing their spears advanced as they saw us approach, but the greater number lay gorged with food on the ground, not apparently noticing us. bracewell, who could speak toby's lingo, told him to say to the black fellows, that we wished to be their friends; that their corroborree had afforded us a good deal of amusement; and that if we could kill a kangaroo we would give it to them to make another feast the next night. as soon as toby had translated what had been said, the blacks began chattering away in the most extraordinary fashion. as they ceased toby informed us that they were highly pleased with our offer. they wished to remain friends with the white men, and if we chose to stop with them we should be welcome. of course, we had no inclination to do this, but we asked if two or three of them would accompany us to carry home any game we might kill. they however declined the invitation, saying that they were well filled already, of which fact their distended condition was sufficient evidence. "well then, as we cannot turn back, you will have to go without a kangaroo, even though we may shoot one," said bracewell, and telling toby to wish them a friendly farewell we rode on. as i was very active and had been accustomed to running at school, i easily kept up with the horses. at length however, as the sun grew hotter, i should have been glad enough to remount. bracewell, observing that i was becoming fatigued, insisted on getting off his horse, but of this i would not hear. he however dismounted, when guy made him get on again and put me on his own horse. before long, however, my brother was nearly knocked up, and seeing this i proposed that he should remount, and that i should ride toby's horse. toby made a wry face, for, although better able to run than any of us, he considered that it was more dignified to ride. as we rode along we kept a look-out for kangaroos, as we should have been glad to kill one for ourselves, although our black friends were not likely to benefit by it. we had gone some way when we caught sight of a dark object appearing just above a thick mass of leaves some two hundred yards away. standing up in my stirrups i saw that it was the head of a kangaroo who was engaged in pulling off the foliage. i called to bracewell and my brother, hoping that if we could get nearer before the creature moved away, we might shoot it. throwing the halter of the baggage-horse, which i had been leading, to toby, i rode towards the spot, unslinging my rifle and as i did so ramming down a ball. the creature was more wide-awake than i had supposed. i had just got near enough to fire, when it broke from its cover in fine style and, after taking a few jumps to see in what direction to go, it started forward over the open ground without apparent effort. "that's a large _boomer_, an old one!" shouted bracewell, "he'll give us a long run. if we had dogs we should soon however catch him." in the excitement of the chase, forgetting that we ran great risk of knocking up our horses, away we started. although the animal had only two legs to run on and had an enormous tail to carry, which does not, i really believe, help it, though it serves to balance itself in its upright position, so far did it get ahead of us that it was useless firing. i had scarcely noticed the direction it was taking, but on looking round i found that it was leading us back to the spot from which we had come. how far it had got i cannot say, when four or five black fellows started up with spears in their hands uttering loud shouts and shrieks. the _boomer_ saw that it had no chance of escape in that direction, being perhaps better acquainted with its black enemies than with the strange creatures on four legs which had been pursuing it. it therefore stopped and gave us time to approach before it bounded round and made off to the right. i had thrown myself from my horse, for i had no notion at that time of firing from my saddle. i took a steady aim and pulled the trigger. my bullet must have hit it on the hinder leg, for it slackened its pace. in the meantime bracewell and guy dashed forward. the creature, instead of continuing its flight, again stopped, and facing the horsemen as they approached struck out with one of its hinder claws, and had not bracewell suddenly turned his steed, so furiously did it strike that he would have been severely wounded. turning round however he dealt it so heavy a blow on the head with his riding-whip that it staggered, and guy firing brought it to the ground. the natives, whom we recognised as our friends of the morning, now came up and claimed the prize. bracewell gave them to understand that we must first cut out as many steaks as we required. when this was done we handed the body over to them. they appeared highly delighted and especially struck by the moderate quantity we claimed. we had now to turn back to where we had left toby in charge of the baggage animal. i had some secret apprehensions that, if not honest, he might bolt with our traps and be received with open arms as a wealthy man among some of his countrymen. i was not aware at the time that he belonged to a tribe regarded as hereditary enemies by the people inhabiting the country we were travelling through, and that he was as likely to lose his life at their hands as any white man would be. we looked about in all directions and at length, to our no small satisfaction, espied him still standing by the horses and wondering what had become of us. we had lost considerable time by our hunting, though we had obtained a good dinner, and of course had been delayed also by one of the party having to proceed on foot. while we were seated round our camp-fire bracewell said-"i scarcely like to make the proposal i am about to do, and yet perhaps you will not object. if you will consent to remain in camp here and allow me to take one of your horses, i will ride forward and bring a couple of fresh ones from my station. should you not do this i must insist on walking, though i shall of necessity delay you. i confess also, that i am anxious to give notice that the bushrangers are abroad, or they may be visiting my hut or some of my neighbours, and carry off arms and ammunition, which is chiefly what they come after, for they don't find much else than food in the shepherds' huts." "pray do as you think best," said guy, "i am sure maurice will agree with me that we should not at all mind remaining stationary for a few hours, nor will our other horses, which require rest." i thought the plan a good one, and before the day had actually broken, bracewell mounted my horse and away he rode at a rate which assured us that we should not be long alone. as toby had plenty of food, he did not grumble at the delay, but sat himself down contentedly at the fire which he promised to keep alight, while we took our guns and went to shoot some birds or a kangaroo if we could see one. the great drawback to a traveller in a hot country is the impossibility of preserving fresh meat, which exposed to the sun quickly becomes uneatable. what we killed one day was therefore unfit for food the next, and we had each morning to shoot some more game, or content ourselves with damper and tea. we had already become pretty skilful in baking damper, which consists simply of flour and water, kneaded on a board, and baked in the form of a large biscuit under the ashes. we saw several kangaroos, but they bounded away before we could get near enough to shoot them, and had to content ourselves as before with a couple of parrots and as many pigeons, which was an ample supply, for although the over-high kangaroo meat did not suit our palates, toby had no objection to it. we had been shooting for some time, and were making our way back to camp, when we caught sight in the distance of three horsemen, their heads and those of their steeds, occasionally appearing above the brushwood. they appeared to be coming towards us. at first we thought that they must be bracewell and two companions; but as we could make out no led horses, and they were not approaching from the direction he would appear, we concluded that they must be strangers. "what if they should be bushrangers?" said guy. "if they catch toby alone they are certain to carry off our baggage and horses, and will probably shoot him to prevent him giving information." "the sooner we get back to camp the better," i answered. we hurried on, keeping ourselves concealed as much as possible. "it would be prudent to load our guns with ball," said guy; "the fellows won't know that we suspect them, and may think that they can stick us up with perfect ease." fortunately our horses were close to the camp, and as soon as we reached it we sent toby to bring them in, not telling him that we suspected the character of the strangers. as they approached we anxiously examined their appearance, which was certainly not in their favour. they were savage-looking fellows with long beards, their unkempt hair hanging over their shoulders. they pulled up suddenly when they saw us standing with our backs to a couple of large trees, our baggage and saddles piled on the ground, and toby holding our horses. "what is your pleasure, friends?" asked guy. the fellows examined us without answering. "you look as if you'd know us again should we come across you," said guy. "just take my advice. ride on and leave us to cook our dinner." "who are you, young chaps, and where are you going?" inquired one of the horsemen, who from his appearance we concluded was the leader of the party. "we are going our own way and are not inclined to give that information to those who have no authority to ask it," replied guy in a firm voice. "did you fall in with a young fellow who had been stuck up by bushrangers?" inquired the man. the question convinced us that we were not mistaken as to the character of our visitors. "i have just told you that we are not going to answer any questions from those who have no right to put them," said guy. "oh, oh, oh!" cried the man, making a movement as if he was about to unsling his gun. "if you do that, i'll fire," shouted guy. "our rifles are loaded with ball; now ride on, we do not wish to take your lives, but we have no intention of being stuck up." during this conversation i was looking at the other two fellows, who had not spoken but seemed to be waiting until their chief gave a sign to them to act. as my eye ranged over the countenance of one of them, it struck me forcibly that i had seen the man before, but when or where, i could not recollect. he was evidently very young, for while the faces of the others were covered with hair, he had but a small moustache on his lips, but exposure to the hot sun had so tanned his complexion, that had he been an intimate friend i might have failed to recognise him. he looked at me and then at my brother, whose attention was occupied by the older bushranger and did not notice him as i was doing. "oh, oh, oh!" exclaimed the man, after the warning guy had given him; and, without saying another word, he and his companions turned their horses' heads and rode away in the direction from whence they had come. probably they had been attracted by the smoke of our fire, and expected to find some travellers unprepared for them; so we should have been had we not fallen in with bracewell, and should certainly have lost our baggage and horses, and perhaps our lives. "we have had a narrow escape, for there is no doubt about those fellows being bushrangers," i observed to guy. "not the slightest," replied my brother. "i felt that there was only one way to deal with them. had we shown the slightest hesitation or nervousness, they would have attempted to frighten us into submission." "did you notice the countenance of one of the others?" i asked. "i could not help fancying that i knew it well. if it were not so very improbable, i should say that it was that of a fellow i remember at school when i first went there. i wish that you had observed him, for as you must have known him better than i did, you would have been more sure about the matter." "what, do you mean the youngest of the three?" asked guy. "the fact is i did note him. it struck me that he was wonderfully like a fellow i always stood clear of, though he especially tried to make friends with me. if you remember the name of the person you think he was, tell me, and i shall better be able to judge whether i am right." "i am nearly certain then that it was cyril vinson." "you are right," answered guy. "he was a clever fellow without a particle of principle; and i remember hearing it reported some time after he left school, that he had committed forgery, and that, although he was not convicted, his friends had sent him out of the country." we talked over the matter, and agreed that it was very strange we should so soon after our arrival in the country have fallen in, under such extraordinary circumstances, with two old school-fellows. the day passed by without another visit, either from the bushrangers or the blacks. as may be supposed, we kept a remarkably bright look-out during the night. either guy or i remained awake, walking up and down in the neighbourhood of our camp-fire. directly the bells on the necks of our horses sounded faint, we sent out toby to drive them in, that we might run as little risk as possible of their being carried off. bracewell had told us that sometimes natives stole up and speared the horses at night, or tried to drive them away from the camp, though they might not venture to attack their owners. we had chiefly therefore to fear a trick of this sort being played us, but it was almost impossible to guard against the horses being surprised during the darkness, should they be at any distance from the camp. as those we had fallen in with appeared to be friendly, we hoped that we should escape so unpleasant a loss. as the next day passed on we looked at our watches, anxiously expecting bracewell. with the chance of another visit from the bushrangers, we did not like to go far from the camp; but we shot as many birds as we wanted, though toby would have been happier had we brought him a kangaroo, that he might gorge himself to his heart's content. as i had been awake so much during the night, i felt very sleepy, and had thrown myself on the ground to get some rest, when i heard guy say-"here come a couple of horsemen, but whether they are bracewell and a companion, or the bushrangers returning, i cannot say. at all events we must be prepared for them." i sprang to my feet, and toby was sent to bring in the horses. our apprehensions of another visit from the bushrangers were soon set at rest when we recognised bracewell, who was followed by another man leading a spare horse. "i am sorry to have kept you so long," he exclaimed, as he threw himself from his steed. "our horses had strayed, frightened by the blacks, who have killed one of them. if we come across the fellows they must look out for broken heads in consequence. however, bob and i succeeded in catching three, and then lost no time in coming to you." when we told him of the visit we had received from the bushrangers, he exclaimed:-"we must run those fellows down. it is too bad that we should be unable to ride in security through the country without the risk of being robbed, perhaps murdered, by such villains." we immediately saddled our horses, packed our traps on our baggage animal, and prepared to go forward under bracewell's guidance. old bob, his hut-keeper and factotum, dropped behind to drive on the baggage-horse at a greater speed than toby was inclined to move. i heard him talking to the black in a lingo which was utterly incomprehensible to me. bracewell was much astonished when guy told him that we had recognised cyril vinson among the bushrangers. we were once more, on account of the slow pace of our baggage-horse, compelled to camp, but as bracewell wished to get back to his hut that night, he rode forward, leaving old bob to guide us in the morning. old bob undertook to keep watch, and as he did not look like a man who would go to sleep while so engaged, we were able to rest securely. it was nearly evening the next day when we caught sight of the huts forming our friend's station. he came forward to meet us. "i expected you somewhat sooner," he said. "as bob was away, i was engaged in performing one of his duties--feeding the inhabitants of my farm-yard. i have a curious lot, which i have caught and tamed at different times. here they are, come and have a look at them." and he led the way to an enclosure with a hut on one side of it. as he stooped down, ducks and fowls rushed forward to obtain the food he held in his hand, the pigs came grunting up, and several long-legged birds-storks i believe they were--stood by waiting for their share, numerous parrots and parroquets were perched on the railings, as tame as the barn-door fowls, while a laughing-jackass looked on complacently from an overhanging bough, every now and then uttering its strange notes. bracewell directed bob to finish feeding the birds, and ushered us into the hut. it was about thirty feet long and twelve wide, roughly built with a verandah in front, and contained a centre room and one on either side. the interior was far neater than i had expected from the appearance of the outside, and was furnished with tables and chairs, and several cupboards and some book-shelves; the walls were ornamented with a few pictures and native weapons, while two spare guns and some pistols were against them. a couple of large scotch deer hounds of a badger-like colour accompanied their master. they were intelligent, powerful-looking animals, and were used, he told us, for hunting the kangaroo. before a fire in a smaller hut on one side of the main building, two joints of mutton were roasting. "i can give you but bush fare," said our host, "mutton, damper, and tea; for of wine and spirits i have none, with the exception of a bottle of brandy, which i keep safely locked up for reasons which i will explain to you." besides the large hut i have described there were two smaller ones and a shed, which served as a stable and cowhouse. near them was an enclosed field and small kitchen-garden, such as is not often seen at an australian cattle or sheep station. to the west was a thick wood, which afforded shelter from the winds blowing at times hot and sand-laden from the interior; while in front was a slight dip, at the bottom of which was the bed of a river, but through it a trickling stream alone at present found its way to the eastward. here and there appeared groves of acacias, while as far as the eye could reach in every other direction were grassy downs, scattered over which we caught sight of a considerable herd of sheep wending their way homewards. altogether, bracewell's station presented a more civilised aspect than any we had fallen in with on our journey. chapter three. we spent a pleasant evening with bracewell, talking over old times and our future prospects. he gave us a great deal of good advice, by which we hoped to profit. "i am very glad you have come out, old fellows, for i am sure you will succeed if you stick to work," he observed. "i have not done badly. i began with eight head of cattle, and now i have three hundred; and with forty sheep, which have become upwards of two thousand. i should have had a larger number had i known more of the business when i commenced, but i have lost many by disease and dingoes, and the natives. you must make up your mind to take the rough and smooth together, and not despair though you happen to get what they call a run of ill-luck--which in nine cases out of ten arises from a man's carelessness. i confess that i have sometimes felt my solitude; but yet, with my friends on the shelves up there, and these faithful animals at my feet, i have had no great reason to complain. i also remember that i should have been much worse off in many respects had i remained at home." "but what about the blacks and the bushrangers?" asked guy. "the blacks have been troublesome at times, but i have hitherto been able to keep them at bay," answered bracewell; "and with regard to the bushrangers, none have ever paid me a visit. the fellows who stuck me up the other day were the first i had the misfortune to fall in with. i wonder if vinson recognised me; but i think not, or if he did he kept out of sight. i am grieved to think it was him, as he will certainly, before long, come to an untimely end; for no bushranger ultimately escapes, and most of them run but a very short career: they either get shot or die of starvation and sickness in the bush." when we talked of continuing our journey the next day, bracewell would not hear of it. "your relative does not expect you," he observed, "and you will pick up more useful knowledge on my station than you will on a more extensive run; besides which i want you to have some hunting with me, to show you this part of the country." nothing loth, we agreed to bracewell's proposal. it was not until a late hour, for the bush, that we turned into our bunks in one of the side-rooms, which he told us he kept as his guest-chamber. bracewell slept in a hammock in the sitting-room, while old bob occupied the other room. the first day we spent riding over the run, visiting the cattle and inspecting the sheep. in the evening bracewell proposed that we should go into the neighbouring wood in search of opossum, whose skins he wished to obtain to make some rugs, which he said he wanted to sleep on when camping out or to serve as coverlets in cold weather. his shepherd possessed a couple of small dogs, famous opossum hunters. the sheep having been penned, their master was requested to accompany us. the australian opossum is a long-bodied short-legged little animal, with a furry tail by which he can suspend himself on the branches of trees, while it assists him to make rapid progress among them. he is fond of hiding himself in the holes of decayed trees, out of which it is no easy matter to smoke him. being a nocturnal animal he is more generally captured during the day-time, for the bright light of the sun puzzles him and he knows not in what direction to make his escape. we soon arrived at a large hole in a gum-tree round which the dogs began barking, leaving us no doubt that several opossums were ensconced within. our first care was to collect a quantity of sticks and green leaves; when, a fire being kindled inside the hole, the smoke began to ascend, filling the whole of the cavity, which extended to where the boughs branched off. the moon having risen, we could see almost as well as in daylight. before long, three or four little creatures emerged from the hole and began to make their way upwards. one, however, almost suffocated by the smoke, fell to the ground; when the dogs, instantly pouncing upon it, would have torn it to pieces had not their master pulled them off. guy shot another, and two more were brought to the ground by the sticks which the rest of us hove at them before they had recovered their senses, after having been so unexpectedly smoked out of their nests. we were equally successful with two other trees, round which the dogs gave tongue, and after an hour's hunting we returned carrying our prizes, which took bracewell and his shepherd some time to clean. "of course opossum hunting is but tame work, i'll allow," exclaimed bracewell while washing his hands after having cleaned the last of the beasts; "but as you are both good horsemen and have steady nerves we will to-morrow go in chase of some wild cattle which have appeared in the bush not far off. i should not object to kill a couple of them, as we are in want of fresh meat and i cannot afford to slaughter my sheep. perhaps on the way we may fall in with a kangaroo, which is sure to give us good sport." next morning found us all three galloping along through the open forest. we trusted entirely to bracewell's guidance, for before we had gone a mile, i confess i should have had a difficulty in finding my way back again. "we are in luck," cried bracewell, as in less than half an hour we caught sight of four head of the wild cattle we were in search of. as we approached they began pawing on the ground, sticking out their tails and looking anything but amiable. "they will charge if we don't take care," observed bracewell. "shout and crack your whips, that will make them show us their flanks." we had, i should have said, our guns in readiness, and a brace of pistols in our belts, so that we were well armed for the encounter with a wild bull, who, looking upon human beings and every other animal as enemies, was a dangerous character to engage. bracewell had before instructed us how to act under such ordinary circumstances as were likely to occur. the cracking of our whips, and our loud shouts, at length frightened the three bulls, and instead of running at us they turned tail and off they went. "tally-ho!" shouted bracewell, and we made chase. our object was now to overtake them. bracewell having got up to a powerful red bull, for a few seconds he and the animal kept time together; then gaining a little and keeping it on his right side he fired, and the superb beast, with a low bellow, crashed headlong to the ground. pulling up for a moment he galloped after me, as i dashed on close to another bull i had singled out; but in consequence of a fallen tree which would have compelled me to slacken speed, i had ranged up on the wrong side, so that i could not fire with due effect. fearing however that the bull would escape, i took the best aim i could, fired, and wounded it. the bull, maddened with rage, charged wildly at my horse. "spur for your life," shouted bracewell. i did so, for i expected every moment to see the bull rip open my steed with his powerful horns, and i knew that if it was gored i might be trampled to death. the bull came thundering behind me and actually touched my horse, which nearly sent me over its head as it kicked out viciously to defend itself. happily bracewell was close behind, and coming up presented the muzzle of his pistol at the bull's head. the next moment i was safe. in the meantime guy had been pursuing a third bull. i had heard him fire twice. i now saw the animal rushing on, with head down, about to run at him. fortunately a tree was near at hand, round which he managed to guide his horse, when the bull for a moment losing sight of him he was able to take a steady aim: he fired and the monster rolled over. "nervous work!" exclaimed bracewell. "you fellows have behaved capitally, though i really forgot the danger to which you might be exposed, but i am very thankful that no harm has been done. we'll now ride back as hard as we can go, and get the cart to bring in the meat before the dingoes or black fellows or the ants have taken possession of it." we agreed that hunting wild cattle was more exciting sport than galloping after kangaroos, although we fancied that the latter was the finest amusement to be found in australia. not a moment was lost on our arrival at home in getting the cart under way, and guy and i undertook to accompany it, but bracewell could not again leave the station during the time that old bob who drove it, and toby who went to assist him, were away. as we approached the scene of action, we caught sight of a number of what at a distance i should have fancied were ordinary dogs-with sharp muzzles, short, erect ears, and bushy tails--hovering round the spot. "they're dingoes!" cried guy. "the rascals have already commenced operations on one of the bulls. we must drive them off or old bob won't have much meat to carry home." we dashed at the brutes with our riding-whips, which we brought into active play. some well-aimed lashes on their backs made the dingoes turn tail and retreat to a safe distance, where they stood watching the operation of cutting up one of the animals. while we were assisting bob and toby to load the cart with the flesh of the first bullock, the dingoes made a sudden dash at the carcase of the animal on which they had before commenced. this was more than we could stand. "if i was you, sir, i'd give them a lesson they'll not forget," cried bob; and throwing ourselves on our horses, we rode at the savage pack, using the butts of our whips with such good effect that we knocked over upwards of half a dozen before the rest of the pack took to flight. to prevent their returning, we pursued them as they went off in the direction of the station, when, firing our pistols, we brought down two or three more; but we were soon thrown behind by having to pull up and reload, and the pack, keeping wonderfully well together, again managed to distance us. still, excited by the chase, we kept on, the dead dingoes marking the course we had taken. our horses, having been somewhat tired by the chase after the wild cattle and the rides to and from the station, did not make as good play as they might otherwise have done. neither guy nor i thought of pulling up, however, while we had the chance of killing more of the brutes. at last my horse, stumbling, threw me over his head, and i lost the rein; when finding himself at liberty, away he galloped, showing no inclination to be caught. i shouted to my brother, who had got some distance on; he heard me, and seeing what had occurred went in chase of my steed, which by occasionally doubling and then galloping off again, well-nigh tired out his horse. i ran here and there hoping to catch the animal, but it took good care to avoid me. at length however guy got hold of it, by which time, of course, the pack had escaped. we now had to consider what road we should take, but when we looked round we found it was a question difficult to decide. "if we could but come across one of the dead dingoes, we could easily make our way back to where we left old bob," observed guy. we felt sure that the last dingo we had killed could not be far off. "this is the spot where my horse threw me, and i had just before knocked over a dingo," i said, "i know it by that peculiar-looking gum-tree." we rode on, expecting to come upon the dead dingo, but though we searched about we could nowhere discover it. on and on we went, still no dingoes could we see, nor could we distinguish the track made by our horses' feet. the sky had become overcast, but though we could not see the sun, we knew that it must be near setting. in a short time the increasing darkness made us feel somewhat uncomfortable about the chance of being benighted. we cooeyed as loudly as we could in the hope that bob and toby would hear our voices, but no answer reached us. had we been riding horses belonging to the station, we might have let them select their course and they would probably have taken us in; but we had mounted our own beasts, which could not be depended on. still, as long as there was light sufficient to enable us to avoid knocking our heads against the boughs of trees, we rode on, hoping that we might at length reach the station. at last, however, we agreed that we must make up our minds to spend the night in the bush, hungry and thirsty as we felt. next morning we thought we should, at all events, easily find our way. we accordingly dismounted, hobbled our horses, collected materials for a fire, and choosing a spot free from grass we soon kindled a flame, though it rather mocked us as we had nothing to cook at it. we settled that one should keep watch and look after the horses. the poor animals were suffering from thirst as much as we were, and were continually moving away to look for water, for without it they showed little inclination to crop the grass. had we thought it prudent for both of us to sleep, the night would have appeared to pass by much more quickly than it did. i was very thankful when at length day broke, and we were saluted by the merry call of the laughing-jackass. we did not shoot him, but we killed a couple of parrots, which we quickly roasted to satisfy the gnawings of hunger, and then mounting our horses made, as we thought, in the direction of the station. we felt especially vexed with ourselves for losing our way, and causing bracewell the anxiety he would naturally feel on our account, though he would guess pretty clearly what had happened from the report old bob would give him on his return. we had gone some distance, when we caught sight of a fire and a column of smoke rising, in the morning air. "perhaps that is the camp of some people bracewell has sent out to look for us," said i. "it may be that of bushrangers," observed guy. "it will be prudent, at all events, to approach it cautiously." riding on, we caught sight of a black figure with his back towards us, seated before a small fire at which he was apparently engaged in cooking something. his attention absorbed in his occupation, he did not observe us. the delicate morsel he was preparing for his meal was, we afterwards discovered, a large snake. when his ear at length caught the sound of horses' feet, he started up, and seizing the half-roasted snake, scampered off. had we not made signs to him that we wished to be friends, he would soon have been out of sight. seeing, however, that we did not unsling our rifles, he gained courage and returned to the fire. we beckoned to him to continue roasting his snake, and then endeavoured to make him understand that we wanted a guide to conduct us to the station. he seemed determined not to understand our wishes. however, we waited patiently, hoping that when he had eaten his snake he might be more inclined to act as our guide. finding that we had no intention of molesting him, he took things leisurely. the snake being roasted, he began to stow it away. "i wonder he doesn't offer us some, though i'm not inclined to eat it," i observed. "he is a perfect savage, and has no wish to part with his dainty fare," replied guy. we thought that the fellow would soon come to an end of the meal, and that then he would pack up the rest of the snake and carry it with him. to our surprise he did not stop until he had swallowed the whole of it, and when we again made signs to him that we wanted him to guide us, he stroked his stomach and signified that he should prefer sleeping by the side of his fire. guy at length, losing patience, gave a flourish with his stock whip, when an idea seemed suddenly to strike the black, and getting up he made signs to us to follow him. we naturally supposed that he intended to lead us to the station, and rode after him without hesitation. we had not gone far, however, when a cooee reached our ears. we replied, and presently, looking round in the direction from whence the sound came, we saw bracewell galloping towards us, followed by toby. "i am thankful that i found you sooner than i expected," he said. "where do you think you were going?" "to the station," answered guy. "you were riding, however, in an opposite direction," said our friend. "the black we fell in with, undertook to guide us," i remarked. "the rascal had no intention of taking you to my station. he would probably have led you into the midst of a gang of his own people who, i have had notice, are encamped in the neighbourhood, and had they found you unprepared they might have speared you for the sake of your horses and clothes. the fellow you fell in with was probably one of their scouts who had been sent forward to ascertain what we were about. should they have found us off our guard, they might have robbed the huts and carried off some of our cattle and sheep." while bracewell was speaking, i looked round and found that the black fellow had disappeared. this strongly corroborated the account our friend had given us. as we were suffering greatly from thirst, we were anxious to get back as soon as possible. we had, we found, gone at least ten miles out of our way. bracewell had, however, with the aid of toby, traced us. though our horses were tired, their eagerness to obtain water made them exert themselves, and they did not take long to cover the ground. most thankful we were when we reached the stream close to the station, where we and they could take a good draught of the refreshing fluid. we then, by our friend's advice--while old bob was preparing dinner-turned into our bunks and managed to get a sound snooze, awaking much refreshed. next morning we had completely recovered from the fatigues we had gone through, and we now felt that we ought to continue our journey to mr strong's. "but i don't like you two fellows, with only toby, to travel through the bush, with a chance of falling in with hostile blacks or those rascally bushrangers, who would only be too glad to stick you up and revenge themselves for your setting me free," said bracewell. "i have given notice to the police that the latter gentlemen are abroad, and before long, clever as they may think themselves, they will be run to earth; but the blacks are far more difficult customers to deal with--they are here, there, and everywhere. one only knows where they have been when the cattle are found speared, or the hut-keeper murdered, or the sheep driven off. i should like to accompany you myself, but i cannot at present leave my station. however, if you will wait for a couple of days longer i will ride part of the way with you, and in the meantime we will try to ascertain the whereabouts of the mob of blacks, and i shall be able to judge whether the road will be safe for you to travel." the two days passed by pleasantly enough, during which we rode round the station with bracewell, to assist him in examining his sheep and to help in the various duties of a squatter's life. meantime, toby and another native were sent out to ascertain what had become of the mob of blacks reported to be in the neighbourhood. they came back saying that, although they had come upon their tracks, the natives had moved away westward, and that we were not likely to fall in with them. we again, accordingly, told our host that we must go. "well, if you must, you must; and according to my promise i intend to ride part of the way with you," he answered. "i wish however that you could do without your baggage, and we would see how fast we could get over the ground; but as you have to take that, we must be content with a steady pace, and i'll make play on my way back so as to be at home again by night." as there was a moon in the sky, and bracewell knew every inch of the ground, we were in our saddles long before day-break, carrying with us our breakfast and kettle in which the tea could easily be made at the camp-fire. we had performed some ten or twelve miles before sunrise, enjoying the cool fresh air of early morning, and fresh it is even in australia before the burning sun gains his power over the world. we camped near a water-hole, from which we obtained all the fluid we required for our morning's meal. we had again mounted and were going round on the opposite side, when bracewell exclaimed--"the blacks have been here. see, here are the remains of their fire still smouldering. they cannot have left it very long. we must keep a look-out for them when passing any spot from which they may hurl their lances should they be badly disposed; not that that is likely to be the case, and they certainly will not venture to attack us in the open." toby, who had examined the ground, gave it as his opinion that they had gone away to the northwards and that, being probably on a hunting expedition, they would be too intent on attacking their game to annoy us. toby was right, and in about half an hour, just as we reached the top of a slight ridge or elevation which had before hidden them from view, we caught sight of several dusky figures, each holding in his hand a throwing-stick with a long spear attached to it. one of them had fixed to his left arm a shield of boughs which concealed his body as he crept towards a group of kangaroos feeding in the grassy bottom. as the hunters did not perceive us and we had time, we stood still watching them. the throwing or throw-stick, is to serve the purpose of a sling for casting the spear. a heavy flat piece of wood, between two and three feet long, has at one end a slight hollow into which the end of the spear is fitted while at the other is a heavy weight, thus assisting the hunter in the act of throwing the spear. except a small fillet of grass the natives wore not a particle of clothing, though there were several scarifications on their bodies; and what sailors call a spritsail-yard run through their nostrils which added to the ferocity of their appearance. as we wanted to see how they would proceed, we kept as much as possible behind the ridge, and as the wind came from the kangaroos to us, we were not discovered by the animals. all this time the hunters were creeping forward, concealing themselves among the shrubs and trees until they got near enough to the game to hurl their spears with effect. one fellow crept forward, holding his shield of boughs, until it seemed to us that he was almost close up to the kangaroos. then his spear flew from his throwing-stick with so tremendous a force that the animal was almost pinned to the ground. not a spear missed, and almost at the same moment three kangaroos were killed. three others hopped away, but were pursued by the nimble-footed hunters, who using their throwing-sticks as clubs, despatched the animals with reiterated blows on the head. not until the hunt was over did we show ourselves, when we astonished the savages standing over their slain game. fixing their spears in their sticks they threatened to launch them against us should we attempt to deprive them of their prizes. on seeing this we directed toby to say that we had no intention of interfering with them. whether or not they understood him, however, we could not tell, for they stood without altering their position, and not wishing to have an encounter with them which must have ended in bloodshed, we made a wide circuit beyond the reach of their weapons. when we looked back we saw them joined by a large number of their fellows who were employed in dragging off the bodies of the kangaroos. "i am afraid you will be in some danger from them on your return," i observed to bracewell. "no fear of that," he answered. "they will be too busy in gorging themselves with the flesh of the kangaroos; besides they will not be on the look-out for me, and a well-mounted man, provided he doesn't come unexpectedly on a mob, need have no fear of them. my rifle can carry farther than their throwing-sticks, a fact of which they are well aware." we soon lost sight of the blacks, and after riding on several miles further, our friend told us that he must bid us farewell, promising, however, to ride over to mr strong's station, should he find he could leave home, to see how we were getting on. "and remember," he added, "i shall be glad if one or both of you can join me, should you not find yourselves comfortable at your relative's; and if he has moved on, as he intended doing, to another station, come back if you think fit at once; though probably, if he expects you, he will have left word that you may be forwarded on to him. he has, i understand, a large family, but as we have never met i cannot give you a description of them. i need not warn you to keep as good a watch at night as you have hitherto done, and to avoid either blacks or suspicious looking white men, though i do not mean to say that you are to look upon every traveller you meet with as a bushranger." we having again thanked bracewell for his advice and the hospitality he had shown us, he turned his horse's head towards his home, and we proceeded on our journey. chapter four. we had already, according to our calculation, performed the distance to mr strong's station, but no signs of it could we discover. the heat was oppressive, and seeing a wood on our left, we were assured from the nature of the trees, that either a water-hole or a stream would be found. we agreed to camp there for a couple of hours to let our horses feed and to take our dinner, hoping then by pushing on that we should before evening at all events arrive at the station. i had ridden forward to look out for the water, when just as i caught sight of the glitter of a pool, i saw two persons emerge from the shade. they were white lads with a couple of dogs and had guns in their hands. so intent were they on some object before them that they did not perceive me. one of them fired at an opossum which they had, i concluded, driven out of its hole. the animal fell to the ground, when they dashed forward to save it from being torn to pieces by the dogs. as they did so, one of them looked up and saw me watching them. "hallo! where do you come from?" he exclaimed advancing. "from england," i answered. "we want to reach mr strong's station, and shall be obliged if you will help us to find it." "that's where we live, so we can take you to it," replied the lad. "you have, however, come somewhat out of your way, and must have passed it on your right." i thanked him. "and who are you?" i asked. "we are mr strong's sons," he replied. "we came here to look for some stray cattle which are hid in this scrub, so we shall first have to drive them out, but that won't take us long. we left our horses hobbled close at hand while we stopped, intending to take our dinner, as we have been out since the morning." "we were going to do the same," i observed. "here comes my brother guy; if you haven't eaten your dinner you'll join us, won't you?" "of course!" he said laughing. "and i conclude that you are guy and maurice thurston, our cousins we have been expecting out from the old country for some months past. my name is hector. that is my brother oliver. i suppose you have heard of us?" i had to confess that i had not before heard their names, though i did not like to say how little i knew about them. guy, toby, and i, having dismounted and allowed our horses to drink at the pool, hobbled them and let them go away to feed, while we sat down in a shady spot to discuss our provisions. our cousins produced damper, cold beef and cheese from their pockets; while toby placed before us a piece of a kangaroo which we had shot the previous day and some biscuits, while we all contented ourselves with a draught of water from the pool. the meal was quickly despatched, when our cousins jumped up saying that they must look out for the cattle, and that as soon as we saw the herd rounded up and clear of the scrub, we might follow in the rear. they advised us to take care should any of them charge us, as they were apt to be vicious, and toby might have a difficulty in escaping. "you need not hurry yourselves," they added, "but when you hear the sound of our stock whips, you had better mount and be ready to start." guy and i agreed that it was very fortunate we had fallen in with our cousins, who seemed to be wonderfully hardy fellows, and we hoped might prove good companions. we waited a short time, when we heard, coming from some distance, apparently, the sharp report of the whips, like the sound of crackers. now the sounds, mingled with a chorus of lowing and bellowing, reached us from one side, now from the other, every moment approaching nearer, so that we agreed that it would be wise to catch our horses and mount. we were quickly in our saddles, when several bulls burst out of the scrub a short distance from us. we rode forward to get out of their way as they looked very much inclined to charge us. presently others appeared in different directions, and then our two young cousins, cracking their long whips, followed, rounding up the cattle in the most scientific manner, and turning several cows which with their calves were evidently intent on bolting back into the scrub. we soon got excited with the scene, and although our horses were somewhat tired and we had no stock whips, we managed so effectually to turn the cattle with our ordinary riding-whips, that our cousins declared we assisted them very much. the mob once collected went on steadily until we got them into the paddock, an enclosure half a mile in extent, into which, some bars being removed, most of them eagerly rushed. a few however tried to bolt, but were sent back by the stock whips, and all were fortunately turned in; some to be used for beef, others for branding, while the cows were wanted for milking. "where is the station?" i asked. "i can see only this immense paddock." "there!" answered hector, pointing to where i caught sight of the roofs of several low buildings. "we shall soon be there." we put our horses into a canter, and in a short time arrived before a collection of buildings like indian bungalows, the centre of which was the dwelling house, which had slab walls and shingled roof, with a pretty verandah in front. a stout gentleman, a few grey hairs sprinkling his head and large bushy beard, came out to meet us, and on hearing from hector who we were, welcomed us cordially. our cousins took our horses, which they turned into a small paddock containing a shed at one end to afford shelter to the animals. we then entered the house, where we were introduced to the hostess, a tall lady, somewhat sallow and careworn, but with considerable animation in her manner. we were next made known to three young ladies, two of whom we understood were misses strong and a third clara mayne, a friend; besides these there were three young children. in a short time, two tall lads, sunburnt, and sinewy, made their appearance with stock whips in their hands and broad-brimmed hats on their heads. "you have not seen them all yet," observed our hostess. two more young men came in, one somewhat older than guy, the other about my own age, and i found that they also were cousins. altogether a goodly company sat down to the evening meal. we all waited on ourselves, there being no female helps in the household. a rattling conversation was kept up, the young men describing to their father the events of the day, while we had to give an account of our adventures from the time of our landing. they were all highly interested in hearing of bracewell being stuck up by bushrangers and how we had rescued him. "we must put a stop to the career of those gentlemen," observed mr strong. "we have heard before this of their doings, and i have even considered it prudent not to leave the ladies alone in the house without two or three men as guards; a most abominable inconvenience, and yet, from knowing the atrocities of which they are capable, i consider it absolutely necessary." the blacks, he said, had also been troublesome. a large mob who had been wandering about in that part of the country, might, he thought it possible, take it into their heads, to pay the station a visit; though it was not likely that they would do harm should they find his people prepared for them. after a pleasant evening, we were shown to the room we were to occupy in one of the other sheds where three of our cousins also slept. one of the elder ones was called in the night to mount guard, and we found that a watch was regularly kept in case either bushrangers or blacks should make their appearance. next morning our cousins invited us to accompany them to drive in another mob of cattle for the purpose of mustering and branding the calves. we proposed riding our own horses, but they laughed at the notion. "you'd get run down to a certainty," said hector. "as we go along i'll tell you what you'll have to do, for there's nothing like beginning at once." we were in the saddle before daylight, having first breakfasted, when we found a mob of sixty or eighty tame cattle, a short distance from the station. "what are they for?" i asked. "they are coaches!" answered hector. "we use them to entice the wild ones, who take shelter among them, and then the whole are more easily driven into the stock yards." the animals quietly pursued their way, going wherever their drivers chose to direct them. we mustered a dozen horsemen. on arriving close to the run where the wild cattle were known to be, three of the men remained with the coaches, and the rest of us rode forward, dividing into two parties, the one going to the right, the other to the left, so as to encircle the whole camp,--the name given to the spot where the wild cattle congregate. the country had a very wild appearance, there were rocks and hills and fallen trees in all directions, and i guessed that we should have a pretty rough ride. our object was to drive the cattle towards the coaches and to prevent any of them turning back and breaking through the line we formed in their rear. we were accompanied, i should have said, by a pack of dogs, of a somewhat mongrel appearance, of all sizes and shapes. on arriving at the camp one of the best mounted stockmen went ahead to lead the cattle, which curiously enough always follow where they see another animal going, and now the work began. cracking our whips and shouting at the top of our voices, off we started over the rough ground, now dashing up a hill, now descending the steep side of another, our animals springing and dodging about to avoid rocks and other obstructions. now we leaped over trees, twisting and turning in every direction to avoid the standing stumps and jumping over scattered logs; now we had to force our way through a thick patch of saplings which caught us as in a net. not occasionally but _every_ moment some of the cattle would turn and attempt to break through, some of our party having immediately to wheel round, with loud cracks of their whips, and make the beasts head the other way. none of us seemed to think of the danger we were running. though guy and i were good horsemen it was pretty hard work for us, and our whips were but of little use as we could not make them crack like the rest of the party. the cows gave us most trouble, but the dogs hung on to the animals, some catching them by the nose, others by the heels or tails, not ceasing to worry them until they took the required direction. as we were riding along, after we had got free of the bush, a huge bull made a dash out, attempting to escape. i galloped after him, belabouring him with my whip, and in spite of his continuing to try and toss me, turned him back into the herd. "well done, maurice," exclaimed hector, "you'll make a first-rate stockman, but you must practise with your whip before you can become as expert as is necessary." we visited, in the course of a day or two, other camps in which the wild cattle were collected in the same fashion; when, led by the coaches, the whole were driven into the yards, as they are called, situated at the head station. here they were allowed to remain until next morning when the operation of mustering and branding commenced. the yard was so divided that the cattle required for the various purposes were driven into different compartments; the calves into one, the cattle to be slaughtered into another, and those to be turned loose again, into a third, while the stockmen from two or three neighbouring stations attended to claim any of their masters' cattle which had got in among mr strong's. a calf having been lassoed, it was hauled up and its head held down by a plank, when a hot brand was handed to a man standing ready to press it against the creature's skin, where an indelible mark was left, when the little bellower was allowed to rise and make its escape into another pen. guy and i were not of much use, but we saw everything going forward, and lent a hand whenever we could. "now, my lads," said mr strong to us the next day; "i see the stuff you are made of. you'll do, and if you like to remain with me to learn all you ought to know, you are welcome; after that you can decide what course you will follow." we had been some days at the station when a person arrived who had occasionally been spoken of as mr kimber. he acted as tutor to our host's younger sons as he did also to another family in the neighbourhood. he was a graduate of one of our leading universities, and had been found by mr strong in the humble capacity of hut-keeper on a neighbouring station, a situation he was compelled to take in consequence of having expended the whole of his means. his present occupation was more in accordance with his tastes, although his salary was, i suspect, not very considerable. he was evidently not cut out for an australian settler, for though he could manage to stick on horseback, as hector observed, "he preferred a walk to a gallop;" while he persisted in wearing a stove-pipe hat and a swallow-tail coat, which he evidently considered a more dignified costume than the straw hat and red shirt generally worn by all ranks in the bush. he was amusing from the simplicity of his remarks, and as he was honest and well-informed, mr strong was really glad to retain him. we had been expecting a visit from bracewell, as guy had written to him to tell him that we were still remaining with our relative, who did not appear to have any idea of leaving his station, but he had received no answer. mr kimber gave two days of the week to the family of a captain mason, who owned the station next to mr strong's. his plan was to ride over early in the morning of one day and to return late in the evening of the next. after we had become tolerably intimate he invited me to accompany him, and to assist in teaching two of the younger boys. as i wished to become acquainted with captain mason, and to see his station, i readily accepted his invitation. i found a family very similar to that of mr strong, and quite as numerous; the girls and boys tall and lithe, but as active as crickets. the girls told me to tell my cousins that they would ride over some day to see them, as soon as those abominable bushrangers had been captured. we started somewhat later than usual from captain mason's, but the "dominie," as the boys called him, had frequently traversed the road, and assured me that he knew it perfectly. we pushed on, however, as fast as we could go, wishing to get in before dark, as my companion confided to me the fact that he felt not a little nervous about the bushrangers, of whose atrocious deeds the young masons had been telling him--the murders they had committed, the huts they had attacked, and the number of people they had stuck up. i could not disprove the statements, though i believe the accounts greatly exaggerated, and i described to him the way we had driven the fellows off by the exhibition of firmness and courage. "all very well in daylight," he observed; "but suppose the villains were to pop up from behind the bushes on the other side of the road, and order us to stand and deliver, and to threaten to shoot us if we attempted to draw our pistols,--and by the bye i haven't any to draw,-what should we do?" "put spurs to our horses and gallop out of their way," i answered. "they wouldn't dare to fire, and if they did, the chances are they would miss us. we must run some danger in this country, and the risk is not nearly so great as riding after wild cattle as we have still to do, so pray do not make yourself unhappy on the subject." still, i saw that my companion looked anxiously about him, especially as it began to grow dusk, immediately after which darkness came on, and we were compelled to moderate our speed for fear of getting a knock on our heads from overhanging branches, or riding against fallen logs. eager as the dominie was to get on, not being a first-rate horseman he went even slower than was necessary. we were passing through a thickish part of the forest, when, reining in his steed, he whispered to me in a tremulous voice--"pull up, pray do, i hear the tramp of horses' feet. suppose they should be bushrangers, they might shoot us down before we had time to escape." i reined in my steed to listen for the sounds which his sensitive ear had detected. "they may be simply wild cattle, or riderless horses, taking a scamper," i observed, laughing. "oh, no; they don't move about after dark," he said; "they must be mounted horses, do let us remain quiet until we ascertain who the people are." "they are very likely some of the young strongs coming out to meet us," i remarked. scarcely had i said this, however, than i caught sight of two horsemen riding across an open glade some distance off. there was sufficient light for me to make out the figures distinctly. one was a big fellow in a rough garb, the other was slighter, and both were armed. presently afterwards two others came into view, the moonbeams glancing on the barrels of their rifles, showing that they also were armed. i fully expected that they would discover us, and i intended if they did so boldly to ride up and enquire where they were going. they galloped on, however, without perceiving us. as i alone had arms i felt that it would be folly to interfere with them, as we might run the risk of being shot, while we could gain no possible advantage. i therefore remained perfectly quiet, and in another minute they were out of sight. they were going in the direction of captain mason's station. they would be, however, mistaken, i hoped, if they expected to surprise our friends; who had assured me that they kept a watch by night and day, and were well prepared for such gentry. as soon as they were out of hearing, we rode on; the dominie i saw feeling far from happy, as every now and then he turned his head over his shoulder to assure himself that we were not followed. the moon, which had now risen high in the sky, afforded us ample light to see our way. as the country became more open, we were able to push on as fast as we could go. we were to have another adventure. while still some distance from home, the loud lowing of a cow reached our ears. the animal was evidently alarmed at something. galloping towards it, we found on getting up that she was endeavouring to protect her calf from the attack of a dozen dingoes. now she would run at one with her sharp horns, now at another, but the moment she had gone in one direction the brutes would assail her helpless young one. they were not even deterred by our approach. "we must put an end to these dingoes!" i exclaimed. unstrapping one of my stirrup irons and using it as a weapon, i singled out one of the wild dogs, and succeeded, after several attempts, in giving it a blow on the head which brought it to the ground. i then attacked another, which i treated in the same fashion. the dominie tried to imitate me but very nearly tumbled over on his nose, though he assisted in protecting the calf by driving off the cowardly brutes. the cow at last pinned one to the ground with her horns, and then turning round attacked it with her heels until she well-nigh pounded it into a jelly. at length the survivors took to flight. "we have killed three at at all events," remarked the dominie. "not so sure of that," i answered as we rode away, and turning my head, i observed that one of the dingoes was beginning to move. i turned round, when it lay perfectly still, but it had crept on half a dozen yards at least. i gave it a few more blows with my stirrup iron, and then getting out my knife cut its throat. i treated its companions in the same manner, as i did not feel sure that the one the cow had tossed was really dead, so tenacious of life are the brutes. i do not know whether the cow was grateful, but we left her licking her calf where the dingoes had bitten it. when we drew in sight of the station we saw hector and his elder brother ralph coming to meet us. "we got somewhat anxious about your being so much later than usual," said the latter. "we have had a visit from some suspicious characters who said that they were in search of work and had lost their way, and begged that they might have a night's lodging in one of the out-houses, and some supper and breakfast, and that one or two of us would ride along with them in the morning to show them the road to the next station. as, however, hector had detected a brace of pistols under the shirt of the man who spoke, and saw that the others had long knives in their belts, while their countenances were of the most villainous cast, we refused to comply with their wishes, and told them that they must ride on and camp out as they had evidently previously been doing." "i did not think all had villainous countenances," said hector; "there was one good-looking young fellow among them. he kept in the background and said nothing. however, i had no doubt of what they were, and they showed it by riding away when they found that we were not to be taken in. oliver followed them, when they stopped at a piece of scrub, from which they each drew forth a rifle and several other articles, still further proving that they had some treacherous design in coming to the station." chapter five. the account we brought of the direction the supposed bushrangers were riding convinced mr strong that such was their character, and that pressed for food and ammunition, probably for both, they were going to some other station to supply their wants by force. we, however, heard nothing of them, nor had they, we found, visited captain mason's station, and in what direction they had gone we could not ascertain. some days after the events i have described, a stockman who had been engaged by mr strong's agent arrived. he had stopped at bracewell's, and brought the sad intelligence that our friend was ill, and that he had expressed a strong wish that either guy or i should come and stay with him. he also greatly wanted medical advice. no doctor was to be found within sixty miles of the station. guy and i were eager to go to the assistance of our friend, and mr strong gave both of us leave. hector having some business to transact for his father at the chief town, and the dominie, who we found had a considerable amount of medical knowledge, offered to go if he could be spared for a few days. to this mr strong did not object, and before daylight the next morning we set off carrying huge saddle-bags in which the articles we required were stowed. those of the dominie contained his medicine chest--not a very large one, but well suited for the bush, where morrison's pills are more in request than drugs in general. we were accompanied by two dogs, one of which had from my first arrival especially attached himself to me, and hector, to whom he belonged, had made me a present of him. though anxious about our friend we were all in high spirits at the prospect of a gallop across the country, which few people in good health could fail to enjoy. even the dominie forgot his fears of bushrangers and mials, or wild blacks. our road lay through a lightly timbered country, and here and there patches of scrub consisting of a sweet-scented wattle. we saw pigeons in abundance, and at times a kangaroo hopped away before us. the grass, owing to the heat of the weather, was rather yellow than green, but we knew that a few showers would soon change its hue. after traversing this country for several miles, we saw some trees evidently much larger than those round us. as we drew near, the vegetation below us looked green, a sign that we were approaching a creek or water-hole. just then we caught sight of three kangaroos leisurely cropping the grass. before, however, we could unsling our rifles, they winded us and bounded away at a rate which would have made it hopeless to follow them unless we had been accompanied by native dogs and were prepared for a long chase. we accordingly unsaddled at the hole, which was full of unusually clear water, a luxury not often obtained in the bush. the grass, also, beneath the trees being shaded was closer and greener than that elsewhere; they were mostly tea-trees and gum-trees, many of them growing to a good size. among the boughs we saw numbers of white cockatoos, parrots, laughing-jackasses, and many other birds, who received us, as we prepared to camp for our noon-day meal, with a loud chorus of varied cries. having allowed our horses some time to feed, we again mounted and rode forward. we camped again at night at another water-hole, and were at an early hour the next morning once more in our saddles. we had proceeded some little distance, when i observed that guy's horse had gone lame, and presently it made a fearful stumble from which he could with difficulty recover it. "i am afraid that i must get off and walk, and give the horse a chance of recovering himself," said guy. we pulled up, and hector examined the animal's hoofs. a sharp thorn had run into his right fore-foot, and though hector extracted it, the animal still remained as lame as before. we should not, under ordinary circumstances, have minded the delay, but knowing how ill bracewell was we were much annoyed. at last hector offered to remain with guy, if the dominie and i would ride on. to this proposal i was very glad to accede. the dominie at first looked a little uncomfortable at having to proceed with a single companion. "suppose we were to fall in with bushrangers," he observed. "what should we do?" "shoot them through the head if they offer to interfere with you," said hector. "you are always thinking of those fellows. the chances are they cleared out of our district long ago when they found that we were prepared for them." "you may do our friend bracewell a great deal of good," i observed, "for you at all events know more about doctoring than any of us. you can discover what is the matter with him." "i certainly will not decline doing what you say," he answered, and seeing to our saddle-girths we prepared for a gallop which would bring us up to bracewell's station before nightfall, hector and guy promising to follow as fast as they could, although they would have to camp out another night. we started off. the dominie had lately improved in his horsemanship, and we made good play over the ground. i felt sure that i knew the way, as the track between the two stations was tolerably well defined. there were only two places, of no great extent, passing through which we should have to pull rein. at the first the ground was unusually rough and rocky, with thick underwood. we got over it, however, and soon afterwards had to pass through a gorge in the only range of hills we had to cross. the path was narrow, so that we could not conveniently ride side by side. i therefore, as guide, took the lead, and had unintentionally got some way ahead of the dominie, when i heard him cry out, and turning round to see what was the matter i found my right arm seized by a fellow who had sprung out from behind a rock while another grasped my horse's rein, and the next instant i was dragged to the ground. "stuck up at last, young master," cried a voice which i recognised as that of the tall bushranger guy and i had before encountered and driven off. "do not be a fool and show fight, or i'll blow your brains out. here, hand out what you've got about you. you may think yourself fortunate if we leave you the clothes on your back, but we don't want them. do as i tell you, down on your knees and stay there, while i feel your pockets." as may be supposed i did not carry much money in the bush, but on leaving home i had put a couple of sovereigns in my pocket. my rifle, of course, i expected to lose. while the bushranger was performing the operation of cleaning me out, a savage bull-dog approached, and i thought was going to fly at me, but i found his eyes were directed towards some object at my back, which proved to be my faithful carlo, who, however ready to do battle in my cause, thought it prudent, in the presence of a superior force, to yield to circumstances. all this time i could not see what was happening to the dominie, but i concluded that he would wisely not attempt to make any resistance, and that he was being cleaned out as i was. i did not again hear his voice, and as the bushranger swore that he would shoot me through the head should i move, i thought it as well not to look round lest he should put his threat into execution. the fellow who had taken my horse now picked up my gun and carried it off to a short distance. two of them then produced a rope, intending, i concluded, to treat the dominie and me as they had bracewell. as the man who stood over me returned his pistol to his belt, i took a glance round to try and ascertain what had become of my companion, but he was nowhere to be seen, and i feared, therefore, that they intended to bind him to a tree at such a distance that we could hold no communication with each other. my dog carlo was also not to be seen; i felt, however, nearly sure that the bushrangers had not carried him off. i had often remarked his peculiar sagacity, and hoped that, finding he could do me no good, he had kept out of the way to avoid the risk of being either killed or captured. i soon found that my anticipations were correct. the bushranger now holding a pistol to my head made me get up and walk to a tree some distance from the track, so that should any travellers pass by i should not be discovered. i might have acted a more heroic part had i struggled desperately, seized a pistol, and attempted to blow out the brains of one of the ruffians; but as i felt that it was more than likely i should lose my own life, i considered it wiser to yield with calmness and dignity. the villains were well up to their work, and having secured my hands behind me, they fastened me in so effectual a way to a tree, that i could not possibly set myself at liberty. without speaking another word to me, the big bushranger led off my horse, carrying with him my gun and articles he had taken from me, and disappeared among the trees. i saw two other persons leading a horse, going in the same direction, one of whom i felt sure, from his figure, was vinson, though i did not see his countenance. indeed, i suspect that he had unintentionally avoided coming near me. as soon as the bushrangers had gone, i looked round in search of the dominie, but could nowhere discover him. i could scarcely hope that he had escaped, or, if he had, that he had got off on horseback. i felt nearly sure that the horse i had just seen led away by the robbers was his. i was thus left in doubt how they had treated him, whether they had bound him as they had me, or used greater violence. as soon as i fancied that they had gone off to a sufficient distance not to hear me, i shouted to the dominie, hoping to hear a reply. not a sound reached my ears, and i began seriously to apprehend that they had knocked him on the head or stabbed him. i remembered the dread he had always expressed of the bushrangers, and i thought it possible that he might have had some especial reason for fearing them. perhaps he had known one of them, or might have attempted at some time or other to betray them into the hands of the police. after shouting in vain for some minutes, i began to lose all hope of receiving a reply. what had become of carlo, i could not tell; i feared that the bushrangers must have killed him, as i felt nearly sure that he would not have deserted me, either to make his escape from the scene of danger, or to follow them. i should have been glad to have him by my side for the sake of companionship; it also struck me that should he come, he might possibly be able to bite through the thongs if i could show him what i wanted done. i called to him several times, but he did not appear. at last i arrived at the conclusion that the bushrangers had killed him. i now began to think of my own dangerous position, while thus utterly unable to defend myself. if discovered by hostile blacks, they would make me a target for their spears, or a pack of dingoes might attack me. i never had heard of their assaulting a living man, but i saw no reason why they should not do so, should they discover that i had no means of defending myself. a snake or scorpion might bite me, and mosquitoes or other stinging insects were sure to find me out and annoy me; while i had the prospect of remaining without water or food for hours, or perhaps days to come, when i might at last perish from hunger and thirst. such and other gloomy thoughts passed through my mind. i had not from the first struggled, for i felt sure that i should thus tighten the thongs which bound me. now, however, i set to work calmly to try and release myself, by drawing up one of my hands, hoping that if i could but get my head low enough to reach the thong round my arm, i might in time gnaw it through; but after making a variety of efforts i found that the attempt was vain, and giving it up, i resigned myself to my fate, whatever that might be. still it must be understood that i did not altogether lose hope. there was the possible chance of the dominie having escaped, and that some traveller might be coming by and release me, as guy and i had released bracewell. still many hours might pass before then, and i was already suffering from thirst, though i was not troubled by hunger. being out of the path, i could only hope to attract attention from passers-by by shouting as i heard the sound of their horses' footsteps. this i could do as long as i retained my senses, but i might, i feared, drop off into a state of stupor, and those who might have released me might be close at hand without my knowing it. suddenly i thought i would make one more attempt to ascertain if the dominie was within hearing. i shouted as loud as i could bawl, and then gave a cooey, which would reach further than any other sound. i listened; a faint cry came from a distance. it was the dominie's voice, i thought, but could not make out what he said. the tones were melancholy in the extreme. it might be some consolation to him, poor fellow, to know that i was alive, and i no longer doubted that the bushrangers had treated him in the same manner that they had me, though i suspected that he had been either stunned or so frightened that he had not before heard my shouts or been able to reply. i intended every now and then to give him a hail, when it occurred to me that our voices might attract any blacks passing at a distance, and that we should thus increase the risk of being killed by them. i could scare sly tell how the hours went by. at length darkness came on, and i began to doze. it was the best thing i could do, as it prevented me from feeling either hunger or thirst. i was, however, quickly awakened by the thongs cutting my limbs as i bent forward. i then tried to lean against the tree with my feet out, and in that position i escaped the pressure on my limbs, and was at last able to drop off to sleep. my slumbers, as may be supposed, were far from pleasant, indeed i was conscious all the time that something disagreeable had happened; but still, by thus snatching a few intervals of sleep, i found that the night passed away faster than i should have supposed possible. strange sounds occasionally reached my ears. i fancied that i heard in the distance the yelping and barking of a pack of dingoes, and as the brutes often hunt together in considerable numbers, i dreaded that they might find out the dominie and me, and tear us to pieces. with intense relief i saw the streaks of dawn appear in the sky. the laughing-jackass uttered his cheerful notes, and parrots and other birds began to chirp and screech and chatter. the sound tended somewhat to raise my spirits, though the pangs of hunger and thirst which now oppressed me soon became insupportable. as in daylight the blacks might be passing, i was afraid of attracting their attention by crying out, so that i was unable to ascertain how it fared with the poor dominie. when the sun rose, the heat became oppressive, and the insects began to buzz about my face, while i had no power to drive them off. this annoyance was trying in the extreme. i spluttered and spat, and winked my eyes, and shook my head, to very little effect; and although the creatures did not often bite me, their buzzing and tickling almost drove me mad. at last a sound struck my ear. it was the bay of a hound, then came a bark, and the next instant the faithful carlo bounded up to me, and licking my face, soon drove off the flies. then, having exhibited his delight, away he went barking cheerfully. presently the sound of the tramping of horses' hoofs reached my ears, but on a sudden, the sound ceased, and i feared that i had been deceived; but then it occurred to me that the rider had discovered the dominie, and was stopping to set him at liberty. in a few seconds i caught sight of a horseman. it was my brother guy, who came galloping up to me. throwing himself from his saddle, without stopping to ask questions he cut the thongs which bound me to the tree. "you looked so pale that i thought that was the first thing to do," said guy, as he supported me in his arms, and gradually let me sink down on the ground, for i could not stand. "hector is looking after the dominie, he is even in a worse condition than you are." "i am fearfully thirsty," i said. "i knew you must be," he replied, applying a water-bottle to my mouth. the draught, which was tolerably cool, had an almost instantaneous effect, and i was at once able to get up on my feet. "we thought something had happened when carlo, rushing back, came barking and pulling at our trousers; and as soon as we could catch our horses, in spite of the lameness of mine, we started off. we could not travel fast at night, but immediately day broke we galloped on; and i am thankful indeed, my dear maurice, to find you uninjured--but how did you get into this plight?" i briefly told him of the way the bushrangers had stuck me up. "the villains! i wish that we could find them. now, get up on my horse, and we will go to where i left hector and the dominie. we'll breakfast as soon as we can reach a water-hole. we passed one a little way back, and we must then try and get on to bracewell's as soon as possible." with his assistance, i mounted his horse, and we soon reached the spot where hector was attending to the dominie, who was slowly recovering. i really believe, from the condition he was in, that he would soon have died. one of the ruffians had struck him over the head with the butt of his pistol, but he had suffered more from fear than from the blow, for he fully believed that they were going to put him to death. he was lifted on hector's horse, and we soon reached the water-hole. the fire was quickly lighted, and after a good breakfast on a paddy-melon--a small species of kangaroo--which hector had shot the previous evening, we felt greatly revived, and fully able to continue the journey; indeed, i felt myself as strong as ever. guy and hector ran alongside the horses, and we made good progress. we had reached an open part of the country, when we caught sight of a figure seated on a fallen log. his back was towards us, and he did not appear to notice our approach; indeed, so motionless did he sit, that he might have been mistaken for a bronze statue. he had not a rag round his body, but on his shoulders were a number of raised marks, produced by making slashes in the skin, and filling them up with clay, so that when the wound healed, an elevated scar was made. his hair was fastened in a top-knot, and he had a long pointed beard, with moustache on his lips, his prominent nose having nothing of the negro character about it. fastened to a belt round his waist was a snake and a little kangaroo rat, on which he evidently intended to make his dinner. a cord round his neck supported a shell ornament in front, and a tassel behind completed his costume. i describe him, of course, not as we saw him when at a distance, but according to the appearance he presented on a further acquaintance. suddenly, as we came upon him, he seemed in no way alarmed; but, jumping up, he seized his spear and throwing-stick which lay on the ground at his side. seeing, however, that he could not possibly escape us, he made no attempt to run. as we approached, hector, who from a long intercourse with the blacks was able to make him understand what he said, inquired whether he had seen any white men passing that way, and should he have done so, whether he could tell us who they were. the black, without hesitation, replied, saying, that he had seen no less than four, that they were armed with guns, and were leading a couple of horses. "that looks suspicious. they must have been the bushrangers," observed hector; "and if--as i think possible--they are not far off, we must try and capture the fellows, or at all events recover our horses." hector, who closely questioned the black, was satisfied that he wished to be honest, and accordingly asked him if he thought that he could track the bushrangers. he replied, without hesitation, that if he once came upon their trail he could do so. "lead on, then," said hector. anxious as we were to get to bracewell's, it was important to recover our horses, and if possible to capture the robbers. we were five against four, for having promised the black a handsome reward, if we should catch one or more of the villains, we could trust to his aid, and his spear would be of as much use as our guns at close quarters; but we could not reckon much on the assistance of the dominie, whose nervousness we thought would prevent him from doing what was necessary. we had not gone far, when the black declared positively, that he had found the trail of the robbers, and that probably they would be encamped at a water-hole not far off. our undertaking was one requiring the greatest caution, for they were certain to be on the watch, and being well armed, would prove formidable opponents. we might, to be sure, steal upon them during the darkness of night and shoot them down, but we had no wish to do that; our object was to recover our property and bring them to justice. the black showed himself to be an admirable scout. the evening was drawing on when he told us that we were not far from where he expected to find them. how it happened that they had not ridden to a distance, it was impossible to say; probably the spot they had chosen, being out of the high road, they did not expect to be discovered. securing our horses in a thick scrub, where they were completely concealed, we cautiously advanced, the black going ahead. it was by this time getting quite dark. our great fear was that the dog they had with them would wind us, and if so it would be necessary to shoot the creature as it approached. this, of course, would give them the alarm, though we hoped to spring upon them and knock over two or three before they could escape. the horses were probably feeding at a distance, and the saddles and baggage would be at the camp. we were noiselessly making our way, when the black signed to us to halt, and then began to creep forward. anxious to have a look at the fellows i followed his example, carrying my pistols in my belt, and i found that carlo was close at my heels, evidently aware that danger was at hand. at last the black stopped, when i joined him; and looking over some low shrubs, i saw the four bushrangers seated round a fire, their saddles and baggage and their guns lying on the ground near them. they evidently did not suppose that there was any chance of their being attacked. the only one of their party who seemed to be on the watch was their bull-dog, who, lifting up his head, turned his eyes towards us. the wind was blowing from them to us, or the dog would have smelt us out. as it was i fully expected every moment to see him dash forward with a loud bark to where we lay. i did not dare to move, and scarcely, indeed, to breathe. after watching for some time, the black began slowly to retreat, and i was truly thankful when we got out of hearing of their voices. chapter six. when i got back to my friends we held a consultation as to our best mode of proceeding. it was agreed that we would wait until the bushrangers separated, which they were sure to do in the morning, and then rush on those in the camp while the others were away. the dog would prove the chief obstacle, and it was settled that i was to shoot him while hector and guy should dash into their camp. two of the men would in all probability remain, while the others went to look after the horses, leaving their arms behind them. the dominie was to remain with the horses in case any of the fellows escaping might gallop off with them. we waited until about a couple of hours to dawn, when we crept forward, led by the black. we dared not approach as close as we could have wished, on account of their watch-dog, who would be certain to give the alarm. our plans being arranged, the dominie and i lay down, and, wearied with what we had lately gone through, slept for the greater part of the night. it was still dusk when, having crept up to the robbers' camp, we saw one of them get up and throw some sticks on the fire. he then aroused his companions, and two of them, the big bushranger and one i took to be vinson, went off, as we concluded, to bring in the horses, happily leaving their guns behind them. now was our opportunity. at a signal from hector, we rose to our feet, and holding our guns ready to fire, rushed towards the two men, who were engaged in cooking their breakfast. the bull-dog, with a fierce bark, sprang towards us. as he did so, the black with his spear nearly fixed the brute to the ground, which saved me from having to fire, and thus alarming the other two. one of the men attempted to take up his gun, but it was beyond his reach; he, however, seized from the fire a thick stick, with which he made a blow at my head; but at that instant my brave carlo sprang at his throat with a force which brought him to the ground. hector and guy were in the meantime struggling with the other man, whom they succeeded in securing. having lashed his arms behind him, they were at liberty to come to my assistance, and soon firmly bound the fellow carlo had overthrown, for i had not struck a blow. on examining the countenances of the men we discovered that they were both strangers. the big bushranger and vinson, who were, we had little doubt, the other two we had seen, had gone off probably to catch the horses. having left their arms behind them they were in our power, but it was a great question whether we could manage to capture them. they would probably be back in a few minutes, and we had at once to decide how to act. "i have a bright idea," exclaimed guy; "i tell you what we will do. we'll gag these two fellows to prevent them from crying out, and drag them behind those bushes close to the camp. you, maurice, and the black, being also concealed, must threaten to shoot them if they attempt to make any noise. hector and i will then take their places at the fire, and pretend to be cooking the breakfast. as there will not be much light for some time, the other men when they return will not at first discover us, and we shall be able to point our rifles and order them to give in before they are aware of the trap we have laid. to make things more certain, we'll put on our prisoners' cabbage straw hats and red shirts, so that the chances are that they will get close up before they find out their mistake." hector and i highly approving of guy's suggestion, we immediately set about putting it into execution. the black, who, being a remarkably intelligent fellow, fully understood our object, seemed highly delighted, grinning from ear to ear, as he assisted us. we quickly gagged our prisoners, and then, dragging them behind the bushes, took off their shirts and hats, which, as they were far from clean, i was secretly glad i had not got to wear. guy and hector put them on, and then examining the fire-arms to ascertain if they were properly loaded, drew them close to the fire, before which they sat down. while one turned the spits on which they had put some meat to roast, the other employed himself in chopping up sticks and placing them on the fire. so exactly did they act the parts in which we had found our present prisoners engaged, that i felt sure the other men would not suspect the trap laid for them until they were close up to the camp. it was to be hoped that both would come at the same time, for if not, though we might seize one, the other would probably be warned, and make his escape. there was a risk, of course, that they would come across the dominie and the horses, and if so, would guess that we had discovered their camp, and would at all events be on their guard. guy had, however, especially charged the dominie that should the bushrangers by any accident discover him, he was to keep them at a distance by threatening to fire if they approached. while my brother and hector were bending over the fire as i have described, i kept peering through the bushes, keeping one eye on our two prisoners, though i felt sure that the black would watch them carefully as he squatted down by their side with a sharp knife in his hand. it was a nervous time, but we had not long to wait before we heard the dull sound of galloping feet, and several horses came in sight, followed by the big bushranger mounted on a powerful steed. i could nowhere see vinson, so that he at all events would have a chance of escaping. the horses came rushing on, and as they got near the fire separated, some on one side, some on the other. with an oath the big man shouted out-"why don't you stop them, you fellows?" the two figures bending over the fire did not appear to hear him, until, throwing himself from his horse, he approached them; when, snatching up their rifles, they suddenly turned round and presented the barrels at his head. "hands up, or we fire!" cried guy and hector in the same breath. notwithstanding this warning the bushranger's right hand instantly moved towards the butt of the pistol in his belt, his left still holding the rein; he, however, quickly changed his mind, for he well knew, should he attempt to draw his weapon, before he could present it a couple of balls might be crashing through his brain. another oath escaped his lips. "caught at last," he cried out, as if he was going to yield, but the next instant with a bound he was in his saddle, leaning forward at the same time, so that the horse's neck might protect his head. guy fired. the bullet only grazed the fellow's shoulder. i was taking aim at the fugitive, when another person appeared, driving before him the remainder of the horses. forgetting for a moment that the bushranger's guns lay beside my brother and hector, but recollecting that the big fellow had a brace of pistols in his belt, i was afraid of firing lest i should miss; and that he, coming back, would turn the tables on us. the next instant hector and guy had each picked up a gun. the big bushranger had, however, already got to a considerable distance, and although both fired, he continued his course, apparently uninjured. while they were reloading, the fourth man, whom i took to be vinson, had disappeared. we all three immediately rushed out to stop the horses, and succeeded in catching our own and two others. our own saddles were in the robber's camp, so all we had to do was to put them on ready for a start. we then placed our prisoners on the backs of the other two, securing their legs under the horses' bellies, and fastening long leathern thongs to the bridles. we then, carrying off the ammunition, and two of the guns as trophies, smashed up the others, and threw the saddles and the few articles of baggage we found, on the fire, retaining, however, one or two things which were likely to prove acceptable to our black guide, who was highly delighted with his share of the plunder. hoping to receive a further reward, he undertook to accompany us to bracewell's, and to lead our prisoners' horses. we thought it prudent, however, not to trust him too much, though we accepted his offer, provided he could keep up to us. we were anxious as soon as possible to hand our prisoners over to the police, lest their two comrades, still at large, with others of the gang they might fall in with, should attempt their rescue; but we felt pretty secure, as they would know that, so long as we were on the watch, they were not likely to succeed. should we, however, be kept out another night, they would compel us to be very vigilant, while we should have to guard both ourselves and the horses. although the two bushrangers had escaped, we had succeeded in breaking up the gang, and without guns and ammunition they would have great difficulty in supporting themselves; while the two we had made prisoners would probably, on their trial, be ready to give such information as might assist in the capture of others. leading on our prisoners, we now set out to return to where we had left the dominie. we had, i should have said, hurriedly eaten some of the provisions guy and hector had cooked, and we took the remainder so that no time need be lost in proceeding to bracewell's. on reaching the spot, what was our dismay to see neither the dominie nor the horses. we shouted to him, but no reply came. "what can have become of him?" exclaimed guy. "those fellows must have fallen in with him, and compelled him to accompany them." "i do not think that is possible," i remarked, "for they went off in a different direction. still his disappearance is very mysterious. we must try to learn what the black thinks about the matter." we inquired of our guide, by signs and such words as he understood. he examined the ground on every side and then started off at a run in a southerly direction, and on closer examination we discovered traces of the horses. after waiting some time, as the black did not return, guy proposed that hector should stay by the prisoners and the two animals we had recovered, while he and i went in search of our missing friend. hector undertook to do as proposed. "i'll hobble all four of them," he observed, "and there'll be no risk of their getting away." not wishing to lose more time we started. after going on for some time we got separated, and i found to my right a deep gully, with steep cliff-like banks, mostly covered with trees of a character which showed that there was generally an abundance of water; indeed, i observed several small pools, joined by a trickling rivulet three or four feet only in width. as i went along, i shouted out our friend's name. at last i heard the tramp of horses, and looking about, i caught sight through the trees of our two animals with their saddles on their backs, the black following, driving them before him. i was thankful to find that they had been recovered, though much grieved not to see the dominie, for i naturally feared that some serious accident had happened to him. i now once more returned, intending to rejoin hector, when i heard a faint shout. it came from the direction of the gully. my hopes revived of finding the dominie. after going on some way, i again heard the shout followed by a cooey which i was sure, however, was not uttered by him. it was the voice either of guy or hector. i cooeyed in return. soon afterwards another reached my ears, coming from the same direction. at last i gained the summit of a cliff, when, looking down, i saw guy bending over the prostrate form of a man. i soon joined my brother, and found that the fallen person was the dominie. guy was employed in chafing his hands, and trying to restore him to consciousness. "can he have been attacked by bushrangers, and thrown here?" i asked. "i don't think that," answered guy, pointing up to the cliff. "see, he must have fallen over, and striking his head on the ground, have become insensible. go and get some water from yonder pool in your hat, and i think that if we bathe his head, he will come to." i did as guy desired me, and in a short time we had the satisfaction of seeing our companion revive. "have you got the horses?" were the first words he spoke. "all right!" i answered, "and we have captured two bushrangers into the bargain." the news seemed to have a good effect, and now that he had come to himself, he quickly, with our assistance, was able to get up the cliff, when we helped him along. in a short time we joined hector, who had caught the horses driven up to him by the black. we immediately mounted, and hector taking charge of one prisoner, and guy of the other, i attended to the dominie. we expected that our black guide would have kept up with the horses, but when he found the rate at which we went, he appeared to have had enough of our society, and, suddenly bolting off into the bush, disappeared. "it is the way of those black fellows," observed hector. "he has obtained more than he expected, and has no fancy to be shot by the bushrangers, should we encounter them; probably, also, he wants to join his gins, who, i dare say, are not far off, though they have kept out of our sight." we rode on, when the ground was level breaking into a gallop. the dominie now and then groaned, but when i offered to pull up, he always answered-"go on, go on; perhaps those villains will be watching for us; i don't want to be stuck up again or shot." when i observed that they had only pistols, he answered-"ah, well! pistols will kill as well as rifles, and we don't know at what moment they may pounce out from this thick scrub." as i thought it possible that they might make an attempt to surprise us, i was not sorry to follow the dominie's wishes. we made such good way that i hoped we should reach bracewell's before sundown. late in the day, i began to recognise spots we had passed while staying with him, although so great is the sameness of the country, that i could not feel very certain that such was the case, until i heard guy, who was ahead, sing out-"here we are! i see the top of bracewell's hut." we gave a cooey to let those at the station know of our approach, and in another moment old bob came hurrying out to meet us. "thankful you've come, gentlemen," he exclaimed; "though mr bracewell's round the corner, he'll be glad of your society. he's in terribly low spirits at having only me to look after him. but, whom have you there? picked up a couple of pirates on the road?" we soon explained who our captives were. old bob shook his fist at them. "you rascals! you're caught at last, are you? you'll be having your legs in chains before long i hope, and not be keeping honest folk in fear of their lives." "we must see where we can stow these fellows until we can send for the police," said guy. "we'll stow them safe enough," said old bob, "and, provided we keep their arms lashed behind their backs, and their legs in limbo, they'll not escape from where i'll put them." the captive bushrangers cast angry glances at the speaker, but as their mouths were still gagged, they could not express their feelings by words. before we went in to see bracewell, we had hauled them off their horses, and under bob's directions, dragged them into a hut, which had only one door and one window. he then brought a couple of stout ropes, with which we secured them to the posts which supported the roof, one on either side of the hut, so that they could not reach each other. we next drew the gags from their mouths, expecting that they would make the first use of their tongues by abusing us, but they appeared to be too dull and brutal even to do that. after closing the door and window, we left them to their own devices. "i'll take care that they don't get out during the night. if they try that dodge, i'll send a bullet through their heads," muttered old bob. bracewell, who had been asleep when we arrived, awoke as we entered, delighted to see us, and insisted on getting up to do the honours of his hut. old bob in the meantime was cooking supper, and a very satisfactory one he managed to produce. our coming, as we expected, did our friend a great deal of good, and we hoped that the medicine which the dominie brought would still further restore him. old bob insisted that a guard should be kept on the prisoners, and he offered to stand watch for four hours, provided we three took the remainder of the night between us. to this we could not object, though when he aroused me, i confess that i got up very unwillingly. i was thankful, however, that his advice was followed. while standing before the door, i heard one of the fellows announce to his comrade that he had got one of his arms free, and that in another minute he would set him at liberty. had they succeeded in doing this, they would have had no difficulty in working their way out of the hut. i at once opened the door, and walked up to the fellow with a pistol in my hand. i found that he had really managed to get an arm free, though the moment he saw me he placed it behind him. i shouted to old bob, who quickly came to my assistance, and we soon had the fellow more securely fastened than before. we then examined the other. though he had evidently been trying his best to get out his arms, he had not succeeded. as may be supposed, we did not allow them an opportunity of attempting the same trick again, and when i called up guy, i charged him to keep a watch on the two fellows, a lantern being placed in the middle of the hut to throw its light upon them. at day-break hector rode off to execute the commissions for his father, and at the same time to summon the police. as our prisoners required our constant attention, we were very thankful when a dozen black troopers came clattering up to the station under the command of an english officer, to whom we handed over the bushrangers, and gave a full description of how they had been caught, and of their two companions who had escaped. we had, as we expected, to go and give evidence; but, fortunately, as their trial came on at once, we were not long delayed. by the time we were wanted, bracewell, thanks to the dominie's medical skill, had almost entirely recovered. he was able to identify the two men as among the party who had attacked him, we also having found in their possession some of his property which they had taken. the other two were still at large, but the police entertained no doubt that they should catch them before long. we all returned to bracewell's, and i was glad to find that he had accepted an invitation from mr strong, to pay him a visit, which he was able to do as he had engaged a trustworthy man to assist old bob in taking care of the station. we therefore prepared to set out immediately. chapter seven. we were actually in our saddles and about to set off, when hector received a letter from his father directing him to return to town to make some further purchases, and to transact other business. the dominie, who had been expressing a wish to visit the city and buy some books, begged permission to accompany him. "you go on leisurely, we'll soon catch you up," said hector. "it is a pity that you should be delayed for us." bracewell agreed to this arrangement. as his strength was not completely restored, it was considered advisable that he should make short stages. while we therefore rode on as we intended to the north-west, our friends, borrowing a couple of horses, that their own might be fresh when they returned to the station, galloped off towards the coast. we were approaching a water-hole by the side of which we proposed encamping the first evening, when we caught sight of a native walking leisurely along with an axe in his hand. he came forward with a confidence which showed that he was accustomed to meet white men, and we recognised, as he approached, our former guide. he appeared to be highly pleased at seeing us, and began jabbering away in a language which neither guy nor i could understand. bracewell, who seemed to comprehend him, replied in the same lingo; and then told us that the black had informed him that his tribe was in the neighbourhood and would be happy if we would pay them a visit, that they might show their gratitude for the wealth we had showered upon them. while he was speaking, another black popped his head out from behind the bushes, when the other called to him, and he came forward. as he was approaching he cast his eyes to the top of a tree, a little distance off, when a few words were exchanged between the two. they both ran to it and without more ado, began to ascend, cutting slight notches with their axes, just of sufficient size to enable them to put in their toes and fingers. we watched their proceedings with wonder at the rapidity with which they got up, almost indeed as fast as if they were mounting an ordinary ladder. round and round the tree they climbed, giving a couple of strokes with their little axes sufficient to make a notch of the required size. until i saw the confidence with which they proceeded, i expected every moment that they would drop down again to the ground. though the tree must have been sixty feet high without a branch, they were at the top in less than a minute, when securing themselves they plunged down their hands. while the one drew out an opossum, the other, before the animal could bite him, knocked it on the head and threw it to the ground. they descended with even greater celerity than they had mounted, and then to our surprise brought the animal to us, apparently as an offering. bracewell thanking them, told them to keep it for themselves, which they were evidently well content to do. they accompanied us to the water-hole, where, without being told to do so, they assisted in collecting sticks for a fire. this being done, we having hobbled our horses, they squatted themselves on the ground to skin their opossum which they then brought to be roasted. the confidence they exhibited in us showed that we might trust them, and we allowed them to go about the camp as they liked, though bracewell advised that we should keep an eye on our saddle-bags and valises lest the temptation to appropriate their contents might be too great to be resisted. while we were discussing our supper, they managed to devour the whole of the opossum between them; and then, having stuck some boughs in the ground to form a hut, they lay down side by side beneath them, and were quickly asleep, evidently feeling perfectly secure in our neighbourhood. both guy and i wanted to see more of the natives, and bracewell consented, should our guests again offer to guide us to their camp, to ride round to it, as it would not take us much out of our way. there was, he said, a few miles off, a large shallow lagoon, near which they were assembled for the purpose of fishing and catching the wild fowl which frequented it; and that we should thus have an opportunity of seeing the way in which they engaged in those pursuits. as he knew the country well, he could easily make his way back to the direct route, so that we could run no risk of missing hector and the dominie. that bracewell might enjoy a full night's rest, guy and i agreed to keep watch and watch, but he laughed at our proposal, declaring that it was useless. "but should bushrangers stumble upon us, we might all three be stuck up, and find ourselves minus our horses and rifles," said guy. "no chance of that," answered bracewell, "the fellows were certain to clear out of this part of the country, when they knew the police were on their tracks. there is a greater risk from the blacks, though i feel sure those two fellows there can be trusted." in spite of bracewell's remarks, guy and i determined to keep to our resolution, and as soon as he was asleep, i rose, and having made up the fire, walked about, endeavouring to keep my eyes open. i tried this for some time, when feeling tired, i sat down with my rifle by my side. how it was i could not tell, but before long i found myself stretched on the ground, and when i awoke the fire was almost out. giving a kick to the embers to obtain a flame, i looked at my watch. it was then almost day-break and i thought it useless to rouse my brother. directly afterwards a chorus of cachinnations from a couple of laughing-jackasses, gave me notice that the morning would soon commence. i called guy and bracewell, who shrewdly suspected what had happened, although as no harm had come of it, they spared me any severe remarks. while we were breakfasting, the blacks, who had got on their legs, sauntered up to the camp, and begged for some of the tea and damper on which we were regaling ourselves. to catch our horses, saddle up and mount, did not take us long, and as our new friends repeated their offer, we set off, the blacks running ahead. as they were making their way through scrub some distance ahead, one of them stopped and called to the other, when they each cut a long thin switch and ran towards an object which we just then saw moving in the grass. presently the wicked-looking head of a large snake rose in the air. the blacks ran towards it, one on either side, and bestowing some sharp blows with their wands, down it dropped. on getting up to the spot, we found that it was a snake between nine and ten feet long. the blacks seemed to consider it a great prize, for, chopping off the head, one of them slung the body over his shoulder, and they then again went on shouting with glee. in a short time we arrived at the blacks' camp. it consisted of a number of rude bowers, such as i have before described, tenanted by a few women, children, and old men, all the active men being out hunting in the lagoon which appeared just beyond. riding on we caught sight of a number of black figures, scattered in all directions, engaged in knocking down with their boomerangs some large birds perched on the withered branches of the trees overhanging the water. our friends brought us one of the boomerangs to examine. it was a curved piece of wood about two feet two inches from tip to tip, rather more than two inches wide in the middle, and diminishing towards the tips. we saw bird after bird knocked off the trees with this remarkable weapon. when it first left the hand of the thrower, we could not decide in what direction it was going, but after making numberless circles in the air, it never failed to hit the object intended. most of the birds we saw struck were cormorants, which, as they fell into the water, the blacks seized and wrung their necks. some, however, not being killed outright or stunned, showed fight, and attacked the naked bodies of their assailants with their sharp beaks. we witnessed the sport for some time, till the birds nearest us becoming alarmed, took to flight, but were followed by the persevering hunters, who marked where they again alighted. as we did not wish to delay, we thanked our friends, who with the prospect of an ample feast before them, showed no inclination to accompany us. one of them, however, had a talk with bracewell just before we started. "what was the black fellow saying?" i asked as we rode along. "he told me that a mob of bad black fellows, as he called them, are in the neighbourhood, and that we must take care not to fall in with them, as they will not scruple to spear our horses at night, or, should we be off our guard, murder us." "what had we better do then?" i enquired. "be on our guard and not let them surprise us," he answered, laughing. "i have no fear of the blacks, provided they know that we are prepared to give them a warm reception. we will, however, keep a look-out for the fellows, and as soon as we get back to the regular track, i'll leave a note fixed to a tree for hector, telling him what we have heard, and advising him and the dominie to keep a watch at night on their horses, as i don't think it's worth while waiting for them. "still, notwithstanding what our black friend said, the chances are that we shall not fall in with the mob of bad natives," he added; and as he knew the country much better than guy or i did, we were perfectly ready to be guided by his opinion. we soon again got into the main track. on reaching it, bracewell taking out his pocketbook, wrote a few lines, warning hector that a mob of blacks were said to be in the neighbourhood, and telling him where we proposed camping. cutting some thorns, he pinned it to a tree in a conspicuous place. "hector will not fail to observe it," he said, as he did so. "but if the blacks see it they'll tear it down surely," i remarked. "they'll not do that," he answered, "they'll fancy it is some charm, and will not venture to touch it." this done, we pushed forward, rather faster than we had hitherto been going, in order to arrive at a spot at which bracewell advised that we should camp early in the evening. although there were several stations scattered over the country in various directions, the traffic between them was so limited, that no inns or even liquor stores had been established; and travellers had consequently to camp out in the bush night after night when proceeding towards the interior. we found doing this was no hardship, and infinitely preferred sleeping by our camp-fire with the canopy of heaven above us, to taking up our quarters in a shepherd's hut or grog shop. we were approaching the end of our day's journey, when i caught sight of a black figure flitting among the trees in the distance. presently another, and another appeared. they did not come near us, but were apparently moving in the same direction that we were. i pointed them out to bracewell. "i saw the rascals," he answered. "they are up to mischief very likely, and think it prudent to keep at a distance from us. i'll soon make them vanish." lifting his rifle, he uttered a loud whoop, when in an instant every black disappeared, either having dropped to the ground, or got behind the stems of trees. "i don't suppose they'll come near us again, but it will be as well to be on our guard when passing any thick scrub. we must either give it a wide berth so that their spears cannot reach us, or gallop quickly by." during the day-time, however, there was not much probability that the blacks would venture to attack us; but we agreed that we must be very careful during the night, lest they should spear our horses,--a trick they are apt frequently to play when they think that they can do so and make their escape without the risk of a bullet through their bodies. though we looked out for them on every side, not another black did we see; but bracewell remarked, that we must not consequently fancy that they had taken themselves off. however, as the day wore on, and they did not again reappear, we began to hope that we had distanced them, and that they would not trouble us during the night. at length we reached the water-hole, near which grew several magnificent trees, where there was abundance of grass for the horses, so that they would not be tempted to stray away. choosing a spot with a water-hole on one side, and three or four fine trees of large girth on the other, we unsaddled our horses and made up our fire. we had provisions enough for the evening, but should have to go on short commons the next day, unless we could shoot a paddy-melon or some birds. bracewell offered, as there was still sufficient light, to try to do so; but guy and i advised him to remain in camp while we endeavoured to shoot a few parrots or cockatoos, so many of which were flitting about among the boughs that we felt confident of shooting as many as we required. no sooner, however, did we fire, than having each brought down a parrot, the remainder of the noisy birds flew away. we followed, expecting to get some more shots, but the sound of our guns having alarmed them, as soon as we approached they again took to flight. by some means or other, i, having hurried on, lost sight of guy, though i concluded that he was following me. at last i saw a large cockatoo nodding his head as if not aware of my presence. i fired, and brought him down, when directly afterwards i heard the report of guy's gun, much further off than i had expected. the thought just then occurred to me, that should the blacks be in the neighbourhood, they might discover our whereabouts by the reports; so i felt that it would be wise to be satisfied with the birds we had killed, and return to camp. i was therefore making my way back, when, turning my head, i caught sight of a black figure stealthily approaching with a lance in his hand. suspecting that his intentions were hostile, i quickly reloaded, ramming down a ball. as he approached from behind the trunk of a tree, i levelled my rifle. he vanished in an instant, though when i moved on again, i felt pretty sure that he was following me. i therefore every now and then turned suddenly round and pointed my rifle towards my pursuer. at last, having gone on for some distance, i began to fear that i had lost my way, for i could not see either our camp-fire or the smoke rising from it. to ascertain if i was near it, i gave a loud cooey, expecting that guy and bracewell would hear me and reply. no answer came. i began to feel rather uncomfortable, for although with my rifle in my hand, i was a match for two or three blacks, i should be in an awkward predicament should i be followed by a whole mob. it would not do to stop, so on i pushed. again i cooeyed, and this time i heard my friends cooey in return. still the distance was apparently considerable, and at any moment the blacks might overtake me. i ran on as fast as the nature of the ground would allow, endeavouring to keep a straight course. once more i turned round when to my dismay i beheld a score or more of blacks armed with spears and shields. for a moment i faced them as before, presenting my rifle. i might bring down one of the fellows, i knew; but then, unarmed, i should be at their mercy; i therefore contented myself with threatening them. the instant i raised my weapon, they all vanished as before. directly afterwards i caught sight of the glare of the fire: i dashed forward, when to my surprise i found my brother and bracewell coolly seated on the ground, engaged in preparing a couple of parrots which the former had shot. "up, up!" i exclaimed: "the blacks are upon us--there is not a moment to lose if we intend to save our lives." "oh, nonsense!" cried bracewell. "you've seen a big `boomer,' or the stump of a tree, which you have mistaken for a black fellow." i loudly protested that i was not mistaken, and advised them to load their rifles with ball. while i was speaking, a spear quivered in the tree close to where they were sitting. they jumped to their feet in an instant. "if we don't take care, we shall have the horses wounded," i exclaimed, and i ran to where they were feeding, leaving guy and bracewell to keep watch for the appearance of our enemies. just as i had brought the horses up, and was tethering them behind the clump of trees, the mob of blacks came in sight, shrieking and dancing and brandishing their spears. bracewell, on this, exclaimed, "we'll show them that we're not to be trifled with; or they will become bolder, and make a rush upon us with their waddies. guy, do you pick off that fellow on the right; i'll take the fellow in the centre who is nourishing his weapon--he intends to hurl it at us as soon as he gets near enough. maurice, you must keep them in check while we are reloading, but don't fire unless they advance." as he spoke, he and guy pulled their triggers. as the smoke cleared off i saw two blacks on the ground--my companions were rapidly reloading while i kept my rifle pointed at the advancing mob. i had my eye upon one of them, who appeared to be leader. we were tolerably well sheltered by the roots of the trees, so that we could take aim without exposing ourselves. the determined front we exhibited did not however deter the blacks from advancing, and as they did so, they sent a whole shower of spears, which stuck quivering in the trunk of the tree forming our chief protection. several, however, passed and fell into the ground close to the horses, fortunately none of which were injured. i fired and brought down the man at whom i had aimed; i then sprang behind shelter and reloaded, while my brother and bracewell knocked over two more. it was dreadful work, having thus to kill our fellow-creatures; but at that moment all we thought about was that they intended to kill us, and that it was our business to defend our lives. whether or not we should do so successfully seemed very doubtful; for as far as we could judge, while they flitted in and out among the trees, there were a hundred or more of them yelling and shrieking and hurling their sharp-pointed spears towards us. a hundred opposed to three were fearful odds. probably they were not aware of the smallness of our number, or they might have made a rush at our camp, and knocked us all over with their waddies. every moment we expected that they would do so. should one of us be killed or wounded so as to be unable to fire, the other two must inevitably become their victims. as yet we had happily escaped injury, and the blacks did not appear inclined to venture closer than at first. we had been firing away as rapidly as we could reload, but though we had killed several, we had frequently missed, for as they kept springing in and out behind the trees in the thickening gloom, it was very difficult to hit them. suddenly they vanished, and i was afraid were coming round to get on our flank; the width of the water-hole, and the marshy ground on the further side was, however, too great to allow them to hurl their spears across it. my gun was loaded, but when i put my hand into my bullet-pouch, to my dismay, i found that i had not another shot left. i told my companions. "neither have i, and have just loaded with small shot," said bracewell. "so have i," said guy; "but it will do to pepper them with if they come nearer." "but small shot will not go through their shields," i remarked. "then we must aim at their legs," answered bracewell, calmly. "don't you think it would be prudent to mount the horses and gallop off before they again attack us?" asked guy. "they will probably be on the look-out should we make the attempt, and surround us before we get to any distance," said bracewell. "better try and hold our own here, where we have the shelter of the trees, only don't throw a shot away." this discussion was cut short by a loud yell uttered by our savage enemies, who, the next instant, again came into view, and advanced with their spears poised. we had barely time to spring behind the trees, when a shower of spears flew through the air, some passing close to us, others sticking in the opposite side of the trunks. we immediately replied, but could not see whether our shots took effect. the spears now fell so thickly, that we could scarcely venture to show ourselves even for a moment to fire in return. by the sound of the savages' voices we judged they were getting nearer, and now we all felt that we should have to sell our lives dearly, unless we could manage to mount our horses and gallop away; but it would take some time to saddle them, and the natives were not likely to allow us many moments to do so. bracewell, however, desperate as was our condition, tried to keep up our spirits. as far as we could judge, the savages showed no intention of abandoning their object. just as we expected that they would make their final rush, a loud cooey was heard, and i caught the sound of the trampling of horses' feet. we cooeyed in return again and again. the savages must have heard us, as well as the cooeys in the distance; for after vainly hurling another shower of spears, they turned and scampered off as fast as their legs could carry them, their flight hastened by the peppering we gave their backs with small shot. almost immediately afterwards hector and the dominie, accompanied by half a dozen troopers, came galloping up along the path close to the water-hole. as they appeared, without waiting to exchange words, we threw our saddles on our horses' backs and mounted ready to join them in the pursuit of our foes. chapter eight. the sergeant in command of the troopers told us that they had been sent forward in search of some bushrangers who with unaccountable hardihood, notwithstanding the capture of two of their companions, were still committing their depredations in that part of the country; and that having accompanied hector, who had discovered our note, they had come on to assist us in case we should be attacked by the blacks. we all rode on together in the direction we supposed the savages to have taken. but darkness was coming on: the sergeant soon pulled up declaring that we might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay, as expect to catch one of them. had we had any natives with us we might have tracked them during the night. we should now however only run the risk of losing our way without the slightest chance of capturing a black man. this was very evident, and we accordingly settled to return to the camp and wait until the following morning. hector and the dominie had brought a good supply of provisions in their saddle-bags, and our supper being cooked, we sat round the fire sipping our mugs of scalding tea, and fighting our battle over again. the sergeant told us that the mob which had attacked us was said to be the most daring in that part of the country. they had already, it was supposed, murdered two hut-keepers and a shepherd, and had carried off large numbers of sheep. without natives to track them it would be impossible to come upon their camp so as to capture their leaders. the punishment they had received from us might perhaps, we thought, prevent them from committing further depredations in the neighbourhood; and the sergeant's business for the present was to hunt down the bushrangers, which was more in his way. he, as soon as he had seen us safely on our road, must continue his course in the direction he had been informed they had taken. at length we began to get drowsy, and one after the other we lay down with our horse-cloths for bedding and our saddles for pillows. the sergeant undertook that one of his men should keep watch, though it was very improbable that the blacks would venture to attack us during the night. i was awakened just before dawn by the "settler's clock," as the laughing-jackass is frequently called; and lifting my head, by the light of the still burning embers of our fire saw the dominie rubbing his eyes, but no one else was moving. i suspected from this that the last man on guard had gone to sleep. no sticks had been thrown on for a considerable time, and on counting heads i discovered that the sergeant and his troopers were all snoring loudly, and sound asleep. i bethought me that we would play them a trick; so quickly arousing guy and bracewell, i proposed that we should unite our voices and give a terrific shriek as if a whole mob of black fellows were about to break into the camp. they agreed. we did shriek with a vengeance, the echo resounding through the forest. the effect was electrical. up jumped the sergeant and his men and seizing their arms prepared to receive their expected foes. "whereabouts are they?" exclaimed the sergeant. "reserve your fire, until you see them," he added--a caution i should not have considered necessary. "did any of you gentlemen catch sight of them?" he asked. our loud laugh told him the trick we had played. "which of you lads was keeping guard?" he enquired. "i was," answered one, who had been among the loudest of the snorers, and we found that the speaker had in reality the middle watch, but having dropped off, had not called his relief. we thought it best to say as little as possible about the matter, for according to strict military discipline, the man who goes to sleep on guard in the face of an enemy, becomes liable to the punishment of death. the sergeant also, who was a good-natured fellow, was evidently anxious not to take too much notice of the matter. we soon got the fire made up, and having breakfasted, we mounted and rode in the direction we supposed that the blacks had taken, but except the dead bodies of the men we had shot, no trace of them could we discover. they probably could not tell whether or not we had any natives with us, and therefore took care to leave no trail by which they could be followed up. they might possibly have been hiding all the time in the neighbourhood, or might--contrary to their usual custom--have travelled during the night. after looking for an hour or more we agreed that it would be useless to search further and pursued our course towards mr strong's. the sergeant's way for some distance lay in the same direction, and he and his men therefore accompanied us. we had got about half way, when we saw a white man running towards us. he appeared to be in a desperate hurry, and as he approached made signs entreating us to stop. "what's the matter, my man?" inquired bracewell as he came up. "i am a shepherd on mr robinson's out-station," he answered. "i had driven my flock to the run this morning, when who should i see coming towards me but old bill the hut-keeper who had a spear in his side and another in his back. he had just time to tell me that, soon after i had gone, a whole mob of blacks surrounded the hut, and to the best of his belief were still either in or about it, when, though i did my best to help him by cutting out the spear, he sank back and died. on this i was afraid to stay where i was lest the blacks should find me out, and was trying to reach mr strong's or some other station, when i saw you." this account made us resolve at once to try and surprise the blacks. the shepherd acknowledged that he and his mate had just before got in on the sly some bottles of rum, which it was possible the blacks might have found; and that if so, should we advance cautiously, we might very likely catch them. not a moment however was to be lost, and one of the troopers taking the shepherd up behind him on his horse to act as our guide, we set off in the direction of the hut. it was so situated at the bottom of a hill, with a belt of trees on one side, that led by the shepherd we were able to get close up to it without being discovered. we there dismounted, leaving our horses under the charge of the dominie who volunteered for the service. we crept cautiously down towards the hut, the sounds proceeding from which showed us to our great satisfaction, that it was still in possession of the blacks. we now advanced with greater caution, bracewell and hector, who were the most experienced in bush life, leading, i following, until we could look right down upon the hut. a few blacks were squatting on the ground outside, and the hut itself appeared to be full of them. the sergeant and his men, i should have said, had brought some coils of rope with which to bind any prisoners they might capture. these they formed into lassoes for the purpose of throwing over the heads of the blacks. as we watched the hut, the people collected round it had, as far as we could judge, no intention of moving, probably fancying that they were safe, for the present, from pursuit. bracewell now made a sign to us to rise to our feet, so that we might rush down on the hut and capture all the blacks in it if not those outside. at the signal we were in motion, the troopers with their drawn swords in one hand and their pistols in the other, and we with our rifles. we had got half way down the slope before the blacks discovered us. most of those outside scampered off, but we saw, by the crowd at the door, that the hut was full, and before many could escape, we were at the entrance. some tried to get out of the window on one side of the hut, but guy, hector, and i shot them down as they reached the ground, thus putting a stop to any others escaping in that direction; while the sergeant and his troopers, bursting into the hut, soon had several of the rest secured by their necks. others were knocked down. the greater number either lay helpless on the ground or stared stupidly at their assailants. had our object been slaughter we might have killed the whole mob, but the sergeant had received orders to capture as many as possible alive, and we were thankful not to have to destroy any more of the poor wretches. altogether, thirty were made prisoners, but we could not calculate how many had made their escape. the greater number, however, had left their spears and waddies behind them, so that they were not likely for the present to attempt further mischief. at the request of the sergeant we brought down the horses and assisted him in securing the prisoners and arranging them in the order in which they were to march. it took some time to bind the unfortunate wretches, whom we secured with their arms behind them, and then fastened together by strong ropes six in a line. our next care was to collect all the arms, which, with the exception of a few we desired to possess, were broken and thrown on the fire. there was very little chance of rescue; indeed, had the blacks still at liberty made the attempt, they would to a certainty have hastened the death of their friends. the shepherd entreated us to assist him in bringing in the body of the hut-keeper--a task, from a sense of humanity, we undertook, while he remained to look after his sheep. we accordingly brought the body in on the dominie's horse and placed it in the bunk in which the unfortunate man, a few hours before, had been sleeping, little dreaming of the fate awaiting him. the dominie, guy, and i remained at the hut, while bracewell and hector rode off to the head station to give information of what had occurred and to obtain a companion for the poor man. finding a couple of spades in the hut, guy and i employed our time in burying the blacks who had been shot on the first onslaught. it was a far from pleasant undertaking, but it was better to put them underground before they were discovered by the dingoes or vultures, which would before long find them out. the day was waning and as our companions had not returned we began to fear that we should have to spend the night in the hut. i was glad at length when i saw the shepherd returning with the flock. he thanked us heartily for what we had done. when he entered the hut he seemed dreadfully upset at the sight of his dead mate. "it is a trying life, this shepherding, gentlemen," he observed; "with the chance of being speared or clubbed by the blackfellows, or stuck up by a bushranger, while one has to spend day after day without a human being to speak to, from sunrise to sunset--and then to have one's only chum killed so suddenly! it is well-nigh more than i can bear." it was late at night before bracewell and hector came back, accompanied by mr piatt, the overseer from the head station, and another man to take the place of the murdered hut-keeper. as it was now too late to think of proceeding on our journey that night, we turned our horses into a spare paddock, where they could find grass enough to satisfy their hunger until the morning. having stowed our baggage inside the hut, after supper we lay down, where we could find room on the ground; one of the party, however, keeping watch in case the blacks should return, though it was not at all likely they would do that. before sunrise the shepherd and his new mate got up to dig a grave for the murdered man, in which we saw him placed before we started. we then, having breakfasted, continued our route, mr piatt accompanying us, as, for a couple of miles or so, our roads lay in the same direction. he had come away without his rifle, or arms of any description, excepting his heavy riding-whip, and he declared that they were unnecessary; for the blacks, he said, would never venture to attack a well-mounted man, and as for bushrangers, when there was no booty to be obtained they were not likely to interfere with him. he had ridden about the country in all directions, and except when hunting a kangaroo or emu, he had never had to fire a shot. "but with a mob of savage blacks in the neighbourhood, it would be more prudent to be armed," i observed. "my horse-whip will soon send them to the rightabout, should any of them venture to come near me," he answered laughing. "however we have got half a dozen rifles at the head station, and as soon as i get back i'll arm each man and we'll quickly drive the remainder of the mob from the neighbourhood. depend upon it if any are remaining they'll clear out fast enough when they find we are after them." we soon got over the two miles the overseer was to accompany us. he then, thanking us for the service we had rendered his people, turned off to the right. he was still in sight, when we heard him shout, and i saw that he was galloping along with uplifted whip as if to strike some object on the ground. supposing that he had called us, we rode towards him. just then i saw a tall black man spring up from behind a bush and, with axe in hand, attack the overseer, who, it appeared to me, was in great danger of being killed; but as the savage was about to strike, the lash of the whip caught his arm and wrenched the weapon out of his hand. the black, uttering a cry of disappointed rage, bounded away and a moment after was lost to sight among the scrub. on getting near to piatt we saw two more natives on the ground, the one a youth badly wounded, the other a _gin_, old and wrinkled, apparently the mother of the lad. "i would not have attempted to strike them, had i seen that one was a woman and that the lad was wounded," said the overseer, as he pointed to the wretched beings; "but i fancied they were black fellows hiding away, and trying to escape my notice. the man who attacked me is probably the boy's father, and they have shown more than usual affection for their son." "don't you think that we could do something for the poor lad?" observed bracewell. "mr kimber will see what chance there is of his recovery." "with all the pleasure in the world," said the dominie, dismounting, and he and bracewell examined the lad's hurt. the _gin_ sat watching their proceedings. "he is shot through the body. it is a wonder that he has lived so long, for i make no doubt he is one of the blacks who attacked the hut," observed the dominie. "i don't believe that the best surgeon in the land could do him any good. if we were to attempt to move him, he would die before we had carried him a hundred yards." bracewell expressed the same opinion. we tried to make the old _gin_ understand that there was no hope of her son's recovery; indeed, the next instant, while lifting him up, and after he had given a few gasps, his arms fell helplessly by his side, and we saw that he was dead. "we had better leave him to his mother, and probably his father will return as soon as we have gone," observed bracewell. "he has brought his fate upon himself, and we can do no more." this was very evident, and the overseer, who was in a hurry to get back, galloped on, while we once more rode forward, leaving the poor woman with her dead son. we had had enough of fighting, and were truly glad to reach mr strong's station without any other accident. bracewell was warmly welcomed. although he had not before been a visitor at the house, his high character, his perseverance and industry were all known to mr strong, who might possibly have had no objection to bestow upon him one of his blooming daughters. we spent our time in the usual way, working on the station, varied with an occasional hunt after kangaroos, for as they eat up the grass required for the sheep, it is considered necessary to destroy them when they are numerous near a station. the blacks, after the severe lesson they had received from us, and from other settlers in the neighbourhood, betook themselves to another part of the country, and we had no longer any fear of being troubled by them. we had been some days at mr strong's, and bracewell was talking of returning home, when a hut-keeper from the most distant station arrived in great alarm, stating that he had been beset the previous evening by a party of white men on horseback, who, taking his gun and ammunition, his week's supply of provisions and everything else, they could lay hands on in the hut, had lashed him hand and foot, threatening that if he gave information of their visit, they would return and kill him. fortunately, soon after they had gone a shepherd arrived, but he had been afraid at first to leave the hut lest they should put their threat into execution. waiting till daylight, he had followed their tracks for some distance, when he had hurried back to bring us information of the robbery. his idea was, that having supplied themselves with arms, they intended to pillage some of the larger stations, but how he arrived at this conclusion he did not say. his account was sufficiently clear to make us resolve to follow them up, and to try and put a stop to their career. whether or not they were led by our former acquaintance, the big bushranger, and that unhappy fellow vinson, we could not tell; but from the description the hut-keeper gave of two of the men who had attacked him, we strongly suspected that such was the case. as there was no time to be lost, we at once organised a party to set out in search of the fellows. the only black on whom we could rely to act as a scout was our own attendant toby, who volunteered, without hesitation, to accompany us. the party consisted of the three elder strongs, bracewell, guy, and i, and two men from the station, with toby. all of us were mounted, and we agreed to call on our way at captain mason's to get further reinforcements, thinking it not unlikely that the bushrangers had already paid him a visit, or if not that they were lurking in the neighbourhood. as we rode fast we arrived at the captain's before the evening. he had seen nothing of the bushrangers; but we found the family somewhat in a state of alarm, as a shepherd had come in with the information that a keeper on one of the captain's stations had been killed in his hut the previous night, and that he himself had narrowly escaped with his life. captain mason, therefore, gladly reinforced us with a couple of men; he, however, thinking it prudent to remain to defend his house, lest, during our absence, the daring ruffians might venture to attack it. riding towards the hut, we hoped that we might come upon the track of the outlaws. in this we were not mistaken; and toby assured us that we should be able to follow them up, as they had taken no pains to conceal their movements. as it grew dark he dismounted, and led the way in a manner which showed that he was well accustomed to the work. after going some distance, he begged us to halt, saying that we were not far off from the camp of the bushrangers. having pulled up under the shelter of some tall bushes, we waited to hear the report toby might bring us. he again crept forward. we had not remained long, when the crack of a rifle was heard. as toby had gone unarmed, with the exception of a long knife which he usually carried in his belt, we feared that coming suddenly on the bushrangers he had been shot. at all events, as concealment was no longer necessary, we dashed forward, bracewell and i, with mr strong's overseer leading. we had not gone far, when we caught sight of toby standing with his knife in his hand, and, some twenty paces from him, of a man in the act of levelling his musket to fire. that the latter was one of the bushrangers, there could be no doubt, and the overseer, without waiting to inquire, raising his rifle, discharged it. the bullet took effect, but not until the man had fired; toby at the same moment fell to the ground, and i thought was killed; but the bushranger, before the smoke had cleared away, had darted behind a tree. i had not fired, and my attention was attracted for an instant by toby, who, to my great satisfaction, i saw spring to his feet and make chase after the fugitive. we called him back, thinking, probably, that the man was not alone, and that our black follower would fall a victim to his intrepidity; but, without heeding us, he dashed forward, and as soon as bracewell had reloaded, we followed him. it was no easy matter, however, to make our way between the trees, which here grew unusually thick, while the ground was encumbered by fallen trunks and boughs. the spot had evidently been chosen by the bushrangers as a place likely to afford concealment, and, at the same time, enable them to defend themselves. "that fellow was placed here on watch, to warn his comrades of the approach of an enemy, and, depend upon it, they are not far off," said bracewell. "we shall come upon them presently, and it will be our own fault if we allow any of the gang to escape." we now heard the sound of fire-arms, and as the bushrangers were warned of our approach, we knew that their first impulse would be to mount their horses and gallop off. our great object, therefore, was to prevent them from doing this, and unless they had kept their animals saddled and bridled, we had still a prospect of succeeding. chapter nine. darkness was coming on, but we had still light sufficient to see our way, and should we not come up with the bushrangers at once, they might be off, and we should find it a hard matter to overtake them. we had gone on for some minutes, expecting every instant to discover them, when toby stopped. "dey dare," he said, pointing to a rocky knoll which rose just above the wood through which we were making our way. the reason they had not mounted their horses was now apparent, for we caught sight of the animals scampering away in the distance. the outlaws had probably taken up this position under the idea that they could effectually defend themselves against us, evidently not knowing the numbers composing our party. the instant we emerged from among the trees, several bullets came flying past our heads. by a simultaneous impulse we fired in return. "on, on! before they have time to reload," cried bracewell. we dashed forward with our pistols in our hands. when we reached the knoll, not a man was to be seen on his feet, but three lay dead or dying among the rocks. at that instant a fourth sprang up with a rifle in his hand with which he was taking aim at bracewell, when, before he had time to pull the trigger, the overseer fired and he fell. i had recognised vinson, and as i rode up, i observed the look of agony and despair which overspread the countenance of my former school-fellow. i think he must have known me, but he was unable to speak, and before i could dismount he had ceased to breathe. it was a sad end of a mis-spent life, and yet at one time cyril vinson was one of the most admired and sought after in a fashionable circle. among the bodies we discovered that of the big bushranger, while we found that of the man who first fired a short distance from the knoll, where he had fallen and died before he had been able to reach his companions. one of the gang only escaped, but toby declined to go in search of him until the following morning, as he could not, he said, traverse the forest at night. at daylight we followed him up, but found that he had managed to catch one of the horses, and for the time had made good his escape. we got back to the station the next day. the information we brought of the destruction of the long dreaded gang, caused no small satisfaction to our neighbours. some weeks afterwards the body of the bushranger who had escaped was discovered in a state of emaciation, showing that he must have been starved to death. although there is generally work enough on an australian station to occupy everybody, we made frequent excursions to hunt kangaroo, dingoes, and emus. mr strong, however, objected to the younger members of his family expending the large amount of powder and shot they were apt to fire away. he would allow them, he said, only the use of bows and arrows, promising, however, to give each a rifle when they could bring a parrot down on the wing, an emu running, or a kangaroo bounding over the ground. we therefore employed ourselves during the longer evenings of winter in manufacturing bows and feathering a large supply of arrows, for both of which objects we found suitable material. we were in the meantime daily gaining experience in all farming operations which would prove of the greatest value when we should have charge of a station on our own account. i had long promised to make a hunting trip with hector and his two young brothers, oliver and ralph. as soon as our weapons were finished we set off, accompanied by toby, who, since the courage he had displayed in capturing the bushrangers, had become a person of no small importance. i took the liberty, however, of carrying my rifle, as hector also did his. we agreed to camp out for one or two nights, or as long as the flour and biscuits in our wallets would last. it is usual to hunt the emu on horseback with dogs, when the bird is pursued until the dogs can get up to it, and seizing it by the throat drag it down. we, however, hoped with toby's assistance to stalk it as the natives are in the habit of doing, and for this purpose our bows and arrows were likely to prove as efficient weapons as rifles, the report of which would be certain to drive the birds away from the spot where they were feeding; whereas the silent arrow might bring down one without frightening the others. we tramped over many weary miles till we reached the edge of a large plain known to be frequented by emus, far beyond any of the sheep-runs. on one side it was bounded by an extensive scrub, which being fortunately to leeward, we hoped by creeping along under its cover to get within reach of the birds. we had proceeded some way when we caught sight of several, but they were all feeding too far off to give us any hope of shooting them without showing ourselves. had we been mounted we might have been able to run down two or three, but being on foot, our best chance was to wait in ambush until some unwary bird got within range of our arrows. my idea was that, if we could shoot one, the others, from curiosity, would come to see what was the matter. we accordingly agreed to wait patiently until we were certain of hitting our "quarry." toby set us a good example by taking post behind a bush, where he stood looking like a bronze statue well blackened by london smoke. had two or three emus come near enough, i do not think that hector and i could have resisted the temptation to use our rifles. not a sound was heard, except when an emu uttered its hollow, booming note, as if carrying on a conversation with its mate. at length one of the noble birds came stalking up directly towards where we lay hid. it was fully seven feet in height, with powerful, stout legs, while its wings were so small that they could not be distinguished from its lightish brown and grey plumage. it got up to within twenty yards, when oliver and ralph, unable longer to restrain their eagerness, leapt to their feet, and sent a couple of shafts into its body. the emu, seeing them, turned tail, and off it went at a rapid rate. influenced by a natural impulse, they started off in chase, instead of getting under cover and watching for the chance of another bird coming up to it. toby also sprang out from behind a tree, and hector and i followed, trusting that the arrows had struck deep enough, if not mortally to wound the emu, at all events, to prevent its keeping up the pace at which it was going. our plucky young companions were fixing fresh arrows to their strings as they ran on, while toby, bounding over the ground, promised soon to come up with the wounded bird. what had become of the other emus, i could not see; and i had to look where i was stepping, for fear of toppling down on my nose. i do not think i ever ran faster in my life. the emu kept on, but still it did not gain upon us sufficiently fast to make us abandon the hope of coming up with it. at length its pace became slower, and oliver, who was leading, sent another arrow into its body. it went off again on feeling the pain, faster than ever; but before long, once more slackened its speed, though it still managed to keep ahead. a pretty long chase it led us altogether, still the excitement and prospect of catching it at last induced us to proceed, oliver and ralph shouting and hallooing in high glee, as they dashed over the ground, while toby held his axe ready to give it a finishing blow as soon as he could get up to it. i was but a short distance behind the others, and supposed that hector was following me; but at last the hard-pressed emu showed evident signs of giving in, and oliver was springing towards it, when toby shouted-"take care, him give kick one side!" fortunately oliver followed this advice, when, in spite of its hurts, the bird struck out so furiously behind and on one side, that it would have broken his leg, or have inflicted a dangerous wound, had it struck him. the black now, getting in front of it, threw the axe with so sure an aim, that the bird, its head almost cleft in two, fell dead to the ground. the two boys uttered a shout of triumph, in which i joined. i expected to hear hector's voice, but on looking round he was nowhere to be seen. what had become of him, neither his brothers nor the black could say. we were afraid that he must have hurt his foot, or fallen and been unable to follow. we could scarcely calculate how far we had come. oliver declared that it must have been five miles at least; but i did not think the distance was nearly so much. the question was now, what to do with our emu while we went back in search of hector, as we were unwilling to abandon so valuable a prize to the dingoes, who were very likely to find it out. fortunately there were some bushes near which would afford fuel for a fire, and toby consented to camp on the spot, while we returned to look for our companion. i should have said that guy and bracewell had promised to ride after us the next morning with a spare horse or two, to carry back the spoils of the chase. i knew that they would come, although they had expressed great doubt whether we should have any game to carry home. they had settled to meet us at a spot with which hector was acquainted; but if he were lost we should be unable to find it. after we had taken some rest and food we set off, leaving toby to skin and cut up the emu. we had spent so much time in the chase, that it began to grow dark before we had got a mile on our way; still, as we had a compass with us, we were able to keep in the right direction. "as the moon is about to rise, we shall soon be able to see our way," said oliver; "but what can have happened to hector?" no one was able to answer that question. as we went on we shouted out his name, but no reply came, and i began to feel very uneasy. i thought that i had seen him certainly close to the point we had now reached. i twice fired off my rifle, but listened in vain for the report of his. i now began to regret that we had not brought toby with us, for he would have been far more likely to find him than we were. his brothers were almost in despair. "we had better go back and get toby," exclaimed oliver. "something dreadful must have happened. perhaps he has been bitten by a poisonous snake, or kicked by an emu," said ralph. "unless a mob of blacks have been hiding in the scrub and tracked us," i remarked. "but then i don't see how they could have overtaken him without our seeing them," said oliver. at last it became so dark that we found it impossible to proceed, and it was proposed to halt until the moon should rise, when we should better be able to find our way. we accordingly sat down on the ground to wait until the pale luminary of night could give us her light. she rose even sooner than we had expected. "hurrah!" cried oliver, "it will soon be almost as light as day, and unless hector has fallen asleep, we shall find him." we accordingly went on, shouting out as before. presently my foot slipped into a hole, and i very nearly dislocated my ankle. "what could have made that hole?" i exclaimed. "wombats, i've a notion," answered oliver. "look, there's one of the creatures!" as he spoke we saw an animal like a small bear waddling along over the ground. presently we caught sight of another and another. we had evidently got into a colony of the creatures. "i wonder we did not come across these when we were running after the emu," i observed. "i am afraid that we have got out of our way." "we must have been close on one side or the other, for i'm certain that we were at no great distance from this," answered oliver. "hector, hector!" he shouted. "listen!" cried ralph: "i heard a voice. it came from the right--it's not far off there!" again we shouted, when listening attentively we all three heard a reply and felt sure that we were not mistaken as to the direction from which it came. on making our way towards the spot we caught sight of a dozen or more wombats, and presently of the head and arms of a person rising above the ground. "that must be hector! hector, hector, is it you?" shouted oliver. "yes, yes! make haste or i shall tumble back again," was the answer. we sprang forward and caught him by the arms; when, all three hauling away, we quickly dragged him out of a large hole into which he had fallen. "take care," he said. "i cannot stand--i sprained my ankle when falling into the hole, and the pain was so great that i believe i must have fainted. when i came to myself, i found that it was perfectly dark, and no sooner had i managed to reach the top of the hole than a whole herd of those wombats came sniffing round me, wondering what strange creature had got among them. i shouldn't have minded them, had they not tried to bite my hands and compelled me to let go again." the wombats, on our appearance, had waddled off, so that they did not interfere with us while we were attending to hector. on his trying to use his foot he found that his ankle was not so much injured as he had supposed, and that by supporting himself on our shoulders he could manage to hobble along. he therefore very willingly agreed to try and get back to the camp. "but what has become of your gun?" i asked; "can you remember where you left it?" "i'm sure i don't know," answered hector; "i had it in my hand when i fell, but when i felt about for it i could nowhere find it." we searched for the rifle round the hole and at last came to the conclusion that it must have fallen in. ralph offered to descend. he got down without difficulty and soon cried out that he had found the rifle at the bottom. "stay, i have found something else," he added as he handed up the rifle. "while i was groping about, my hand came in contact with two hairy creatures. here they are!" and stooping down again he hauled out two young wombats. we speedily knocked them on the head, agreeing that they would make a very good roast for supper. we should have been puzzled to know how the big wombat got out of the hole, had not ralph told us that he had found a passage sloping upwards to a smaller entrance some distance off. as the two small wombats might not prove sufficient for all hands i shot a big fellow which measured nearly three feet in length, and was covered with a thick hairy coat. ralph undertook to carry it on his shoulders, while oliver and i supported hector. we now lost no time in making our way back to the camp. our progress was of necessity slow, but we reached it at last, having been guided during the latter part of the distance by the bright flames of toby's fire. we immediately set to work to cook the wombat. toby however had satisfied his hunger on the flesh of the emu, though he managed after a little rest to devour no small portion of the meat we had brought. we then lay down to sleep, pretty well tired by the fatigue we had gone through. to our dismay hector was utterly unable to walk the next morning, but fortunately our friends discovered us on their way to the rendezvous, and he mounting one of the horses we set off for home. we carried with us the emu, which it was calculated would yield between six and seven quarts of fine oil. it is for the sake of this valuable product that the bird is generally hunted. hector very good-naturedly bore the bantering of the rest of the party on the subject of his adventure among the wombats. we had ridden some distance across the open country, when we observed ahead what looked like a dense black mist in the far distance above the scrub. "what can that be?" i asked of bracewell. "i don't like its appearance," he answered. "i fear that the bush is on fire, and if so it is impossible to say where it will stop. it appears to be at no great distance from the station. what do you think, hector?" "i'm sure it's very near," he answered hurriedly; "and during this dry weather the rapidity with which it spreads is extraordinary. push on, all of you; don't mind me, i can be of no use with this lame foot, but you may still be in time to assist in saving our dear ones at home should the fire reach the house. here, maurice, do you mount my horse, and i'll get on the animal carrying the emu; there's not a moment to lose." i willingly acted according to his suggestion; and, leaving him with his two younger brothers and toby, bracewell, guy, and i galloped forward. bracewell appeared more agitated than i had ever seen him before. he had been paying great attention to mary strong, and the thought now occurred to him that she was in danger. while we were dashing on as hard as we could go, it appeared to us that the conflagration was rapidly extending. already dense wreaths of smoke, rising towards the sky, formed a thick canopy overhead; while we could see every now and then the bright flames darting upwards above the intervening bush as some tall tree was wrapped in their embrace. it was very evident that the homestead was in the greatest danger, even if it was not already encircled in flames; and although the inmates might have made their escape, we could not tell in what direction they had fled. they would have endeavoured to save as much of their property as possible from destruction, and bracewell's fears conjured up the dreadful idea that they might have been caught by the rapidly advancing foe before they could reach a place of safety. with whip and spur we urged on our animals. we had as yet seen no one to tell us in what direction our friends had gone. there was a stream to the left, used in the shearing season for washing the sheep, and bracewell hoped that they might have made their way to it. the intervening ground was free of trees, and the grass had been cropped so low that the fire was not likely to make much progress over it. they might, however, still be at the house, and towards it we directed our course. as we galloped up what was our dismay to find it on fire, while the outbuildings were nearly burnt to the ground! we dashed up shouting to our friends, but no one replied. "they must have gone across the stream," cried bracewell; and turning our horses' heads we rode furiously on through the flames which had already caught the bushes on either side of us. after shouting again and again it was with unspeakable thankfulness that we heard our shouts answered, and dashing across the stream, we found the family assembled on a spot where the fire was not likely to reach. mary was on her palfrey, her father standing by her side endeavouring to quiet her alarm, while mrs strong with the children and young people were seated on the ground among such articles as they had been able to save. our arrival greatly relieved their anxiety, for they had fancied that we and the boys might have been passing through a part of the wood in which the fire had been raging. the flames spread to the east and the west, but having nothing to feed on near the stream they fortunately did not cross to the side on which we had taken refuge. the fire continued to rage long after darkness had come on, and grand and terrible was the spectacle it exhibited. we watched it anxiously not knowing how far it might extend. i was much struck with the calm way in which mr strong endured his hard fortune. not a murmur escaped his lips, but over and over again he expressed his gratitude to heaven for having preserved all those dear to him from injury. under his directions we all turned to and put up some huts for the ladies, in which they passed the night. mercifully towards morning a heavy fall of rain came on and extinguished the fire almost as suddenly as it had begun. next morning mr strong set about ascertaining his losses and with wonderful energy took steps to repair them. bracewell invited the family to take up their abode at his hut until their new house was ready to receive them, and they immediately set off in one of the waggons which had escaped. guy and i, with the young strongs, worked with the farm hands from morning till night, in putting up fences and rebuilding the house; and in a wonderfully short time the station, which had become little more than a mass of ruins, began to assume a habitable aspect. though we worked without wages the knowledge we gained was of the greatest value to us in our subsequent career. in a year or two our worthy cousin had completely recovered from the heavy losses he had sustained. bracewell before long became the husband of mary strong. the proprietor of the next station to his wishing to sell out, we, assisted by him, were able to purchase it; and as soon as we had got up a tolerable residence, we sent to the old country for our mother and sisters; and i may honestly say we have had no cause to regret having fixed our home in australia. the end. [illustration: cover art] [frontispiece: "'no small beast did that,' he said. 'you are lucky to be alive, tullum.'" (page 15.)] the stone axe of burkamukk by mary grant bruce illustrated by j. macfarlane ward, lock & co., ltd. london and melbourne 1922 foreword year by year the old black tribes are dying out, and many of their legends and beliefs are dying with them. these legends deal with the world as the blacks knew it; with the bush animals and birds; the powers of storm, flood, fire, thunder, and magic, and the beings who they thought controlled these powers; with the sun, moon and stars; and with the life and death of men and women. many of the old tales are savage enough, but through them runs a thread of feeling for the nobler side of life, so far as these wild people could grasp it. the spirit of self-sacrifice is seen in them, and greed, selfishness and cruelty are often punished as they deserve. we are apt to look on the blacks as utter barbarians, but, as we read their own old stories, we see that they were boys and girls, men and women, not so unlike us in many ways, and that they could admire what we admire in each other, and condemn what we would condemn. the folk-tales of a people are the story of its soul, and it would be a pity if the native races of our country were to vanish altogether before we had collected enough of their legends to let their successors know what manner of people lived in australia for thousands of years before the white man came. some valuable collections have indeed been made, but they are all too few; and there must even to-day be many people, especially in the wilder parts of australia, who are in touch with the aborigines, and could, if they would, get the old men and women to tell them the stories which were handed down to them when they were children. in the hope of persuading all young australians who have the opportunity to collect and preserve what they can of the ancient life and legends of australia, i have put into modern english a few of the tales which may still be had from some old blackfellow or gin. m.g.b. contents i the stone axe of burkamukk ii waung, the crow iii the emu who would dance iv booran, the pelican v the story of the stars vi how light came vii the frog that laughed viii the maiden who found the moon ix mirran and warreen x the daughters of wonkawala xi the burning of the crows xii kur-bo-roo, the bear xiii wurip, the fire-bringer i the stone axe of burkamukk chapter i the camp lay calm and peaceful under the spring sunlight. burkamukk, the chief, had chosen its place well: the wurleys were built in a green glade well shaded with blackwood and boobyalla trees, and with a soft thick carpet of grass, on which the black babies loved to roll. not a hundred yards away flowed a wide creek; a creek so excellent that it fed a swamp a little farther on. the blacks loved to be near a swamp, for it was as good as a storehouse of food: the women used to go there for lily-pads and sedge-roots, and the men would spear eels in its muddy waters, while at times big flocks of duck settled on it, besides other water-fowl. burkamukk was a very wise chief, and all his people were fat, and therefore contented. as blacks count wealth, the people of burkamukk were very well off. they had plenty of skin rugs, so that no one went cold, even in the winter nights; and the women had made them well, sewing them together with the sinews of animals, using for their needles the small bone of a kangaroo's hind-leg, ground to a fine point. it was hard work to sew these well, but the men used to take pains to get good skins, pegging them out with tea-tree spikes and dressing them with wood-ashes and fat, which they rubbed in until the skins were soft and supple; and so the women thought that the least they could do was to sew them in the very best way. being particular about the rugs made the women particular about other things as well, and they had a far better outfit than could be found in most camps. each woman had a good pitchi, a small wooden trough hollowed out of the soft wood of the bean-tree, in which food was kept. when the tribe went travelling the pitchi was as useful as a suit-case is to a white australian girl; the lubras packed them with food, and carried them balanced on their heads, or slung to one hip by a plait of human hair, or a fur band; and sometimes a big pitchi was made by a proud father and beautifully carved with a stone knife, and used as a cradle for a fat black baby. then the women used to weave baskets made of a strong kind of rush, ornamented with coloured patterns and fancy stitches, and each one had, as well, a bag made of the tough inner bark of the acacia tree, or sometimes of a messmate or stringy bark, in which she kept food, sticks and tinder for starting a fire, wattle-gum for cement, shells, tools, and all sorts of charms to keep off evil spirits. they had a queer kind of cooking-pot, in which they used to dissolve gum and manna. these pots were made out of the big rough lumps that grow out of old gum-trees, hollowed out by a chisel made of a kangaroo's thighbone. the women used to put gum and manna in these and place them near the fire, so that the water gradually heated without burning the wood. there was no pottery among the blacks, and so they could never boil food, but they contrived to make pleasant warm drinks in these wooden pots. when it came to baking, however, the women of the tribe were well able to turn out toothsome roasts. their ovens were holes in the ground, plastered with mud, and then filled with fire until the clay was very hot. when the temperature was right the embers were taken out, and the holes lined with wet grass. the food--flesh, fish, or roots--was packed in rough rush baskets and placed in the ovens, and covered with more wet grass, hot stones, gravel, and earth, until the holes were quite air-tight. the women liked to do this in the evening, so that the food cooked slowly all night; and often all the cooking was done in a few big ovens, and next morning each family came to remove its basket of food. and if you had come along breakfastless just as the steaming baskets were taken out, and had been asked to join in eating a plump young bandicoot or wallaby or a fat black fish--well, even though there were no plates or knives or forks, i do not think you would have grumbled at your meal. the men of burkamukk's tribe were well armed. their boomerangs, spears and throwing-sticks were all of the best, and they had, in addition, knives made of splinters of flint or sharpened mussel-shell, lashed into handles. some had skinning knives made of the long front teeth of the bandicoot, with the jaw left on for a handle; and they worked kangaroo bones into all kinds of tools. but burkamukk himself had a wonderful weapon, the only one in all that district--a mighty axe. it was made of green stone, wedge-shaped, and sharply ground at one edge. this was grasped in the bend of a doubled piece of split sapling, and tightly bound round with kangaroo sinews; and the handle thus formed was additionally strengthened by being cemented to the head by a mixture of gum and shell lime. it was not a very easy matter to make that cement. first, mussel shells were burned to make the lime, and pounded in a hollow stone. then wattle-gum was chewed for a long time and placed between sheets of green bark, which were laid in a shallow hole in the ground and covered with hot ashes until the gum was dissolved, when it was kneaded with the lime into a tough paste. the blacks would have been badly off without that cement, but not all of them would go to the trouble of making it as thoroughly as did the men of burkamukk's tribe. all the best workmanship had gone to the manufacture of burkamukk's axe, and the whole tribe was proud of it. sometimes the chief would lend it to the best climbers among his young men, who used it to cut steps in the bark of trees when they wanted to climb in search of monkey-bears or 'possums; or he would let them use it to strip sheets of bark from the trees, to make their wurleys. those to whom the axe was lent always showed their sense of the honour done them by making payment in kind--the fattest of the game caught, or a finely-woven rush mat, would be laid at the chief's door. if this had not been done burkamukk would probably have looked wise next time some one had wished to borrow his axe, and would have remarked that he had work for it himself. even though he occasionally lent the axe, burkamukk never let it go out of his sight. it was far too precious a possession for that. he, too, went hunting when the axe went, or watched it used to prise great strips of thick bark off the trees, and he probably worried the borrower very much by continually directing how it should be handled. not that the young men would have taken any risks with it. it was the chief's axe, but its possession brought dignity upon the whole tribe. other chiefs had axes, more or less excellent, but there was no weapon in all the countryside so famous as the axe of burkamukk. i doubt whether the kings of england have valued their crown jewels so highly as burkamukk valued his stone treasure with the sapling handle. certainly they cannot have found them half so useful. on this spring afternoon burkamukk was coming up from the swamp where he had been spearing eels. he had been very successful: koronn, his wife, walked behind him carrying a dozen fine specimens, and thinking how good a supper she would be able to cook, and how delighted her little boy tumbo would be; for of all things tumbo loved to eat eel. just at the edge of the camp burkamukk stopped, frowning. a hunting-party of young men had evidently just returned; they were the centre of a group in the middle of the camp, and still they were carrying their spears and throwing-sticks. they were talking loudly and gesticulating, and it was clear that those who listened to them were excited and distressed; there were anxious faces and the women were crying "yakai!" (alas!). the chief strode up to the group. "what is the matter?" he asked. the men turned, saluting him respectfully. "we have fallen upon evil times, chief," their leader answered. "little game have we caught, and we have lost kon-garn." "lost him! how?" "there is a great and terrible beast in the country to which we went," answered tullum, the young warrior. "the men of the friendly tribe we passed told us of him, but we thought they were joking with us, for it seemed a foolish tale, only fit to make women afraid. they told us of a great kangaroo they call kuperee, larger than a dozen kangaroos and fiercer than any animal that walks on the earth; and they warned us not to go near his country." "a kangaroo as large as a dozen!" said burkamukk. "ky! but i would like to see such a beast the whole tribe could feed on him." "ay, they might, if one had the luck to be able to kill him," said tullum sorrowfully. "but a kangaroo of that size is no joke to encounter." "what!" said burkamukk. "do you mean me to believe that there is truly such a kangaroo?" "there is indeed," tullum answered. "we also did not believe. we went on, thinking that the other tribe merely wished to keep us away from a good hunting-ground. we took no precautions, and we came upon him suddenly." "and he was a big kangaroo, do you say?" tullum flung out his hands. "there are no words to tell you of his bigness, o, chief!" he said--and his voice shook with terror. "never has such an animal been seen before. black is he, and huge, and fierce; and when he saw us he roared and rushed upon us. there was no time to do battle: he was on us almost before one could fling a spear. kon-garn was nearest, and he went down with one blow of the monster's foot, his head crushed. me he struck at, but luckily for me i was almost out of his reach. still, he touched me--see!" he moved aside his 'possum-skins, and showed long wounds, running from his shoulder to his wrist--wounds that looked as though they had been made by great claws. burkamukk looked at them closely. "no small beast did that," he said. "you are lucky to be alive, tullum." "ay," said tullum briefly. "indeed, i thought for a while that i was as dead as kon-garn. but i managed to dodge behind a tree, and the bush was thick, so that by great good fortune i got away. kuperee gave chase, but we all scattered, and luckily the one he chose to follow was woma, who is the swiftest of us all; and woma gave him the slip without much trouble, for kuperee is so great that he cannot get through the trees quickly. so we came together again after a day and a night, and travelled home swiftly." "and none of you went back to avenge kon-garn?" the chief asked, sternly. tullum looked at him with a curious mixture of shame and defiance. "nay," he said. "none of us have ever been reckoned cowards--and yet we did not go back. an ordinary enemy would not have made us afraid, but there is something about kuperee that turns the very heart to water. we hated ourselves--we hate ourselves still--for not going back. the blood of kon-garn cries out to us for vengeance on his slayer, and in our sleep we see our comrade, with his head crushed by that terrible foot. and yet we could not turn. we have come home to you like frightened children, and shame is on our heads. we know not how to face kon-garn's wife, who sits there and cries 'yakai!' before her wurley." another of the warriors, woma the swift-footed, spoke up, with sullen anger in his voice. "we are shamed," he said, "but there is magic in it. no true animal is kuperee, but an evil spirit. no man could possibly stand before him." to put anything they could not understand down to the score of magic and evil spirits was the usual custom of the blacks; but this time it seemed more than usually likely to be true. the meki-gar, or medicine-men, nodded wisely, and the women all shuddered and wailed afresh, while the men looked anxious and afraid. burkamukk thought for a moment before replying. he was a very wise chief, and while he was just as afraid of magic as any other blackfellow, still he had the safety of his tribe to consider. "that is all very well," he said, at length. "very likely it is true. but it may not be true after all: kuperee may be no more than a very wonderful kangaroo who has managed to grow to an enormous size. if that is so, he will want much food, and gradually he will hunt farther and farther, all over the country, until at last he will come here. then we shall all suffer." "ay," said the men. "that is true. but what can we do?" "i will not sit down quietly until i know for certain that kuperee is magic," said burkamukk, striking the ground with the butt of his eel-spear. "if indeed he be magic, then it will be the part of the meki-gar to deal with him. but first i would have my young men prove whether they cannot avenge kon-garn. it is in my mind that this kuperee is no more than a huge animal; and i want his blood. who will shed it for me?" there was no lack of brave warriors among the men of burkamukk. a shout went up from them, and immediately forty or fifty sprang before him, waking all the bush echoes with their yells of defiance against kuperee or any other giant animal, whether kangaroo or anything else. only tullum and the hunters who had been with him hung back; and they were unnoticed in the general excitement. "ye are too many," burkamukk said, surveying them proudly. "ten such men should be a match for any kangaroo." he ran his eye over them rapidly and counted out half a score by name. then he bade the other volunteers fall back, so that the chosen warriors were left standing alone. "it is well," he said. "namba shall be your leader, and you will obey him in all things. find out from tullum where to look for this kuperee, and see that you go warily, and that your weapons are always ready. go; seek kuperee, and ere seven sleeps have gone, bring me his tail to eat!" he stalked towards his wurley. the young men, shouting yells of battle, rushed for their weapons. in ten minutes they had gone, running swiftly over the plain, and the camp was quiet again, save for the cries of kon-garn's wife as she mourned for her husband. but alas! within a few days the wife of kon-garn was not the only woman to bewail her dead. in less than a week the hunting-party was back, and without three of its bravest warriors. the survivors told the same story as tullum and his men. they had found kuperee, this time roaming through the bush in search of food; and he had uttered a roar and rushed upon them. they had fought, they said, but unavailingly: spears and throwing-sticks seemed to fall back blunted from the monster's hide, and two of the men had been seized and devoured, while the third, namba, who rushed wildly in, frantically endeavouring to save them, had been crushed to earth with one sweeping blow. then terror, overwhelming and unconquerable, had fallen on the seven men who remained, and they had fled, never stopping until they were far away. weaponless and ashamed, they crept back to the camp with their miserable story. burkamukk heard them in silence. other chiefs might have been angry, and inflicted fierce punishments, but he knew that to such men there could be no heavier penalty than to return beaten and afraid. he nodded, when they had finished. "then it would surely seem that kuperee is magic," he said. "therefore no man can deal with him, save only the medicine-men. go to your wurleys and rest." the meki-gar were not at all anxious for the task of ridding the earth of kuperee, but since their art, like that of all medicine-men, consisted in saying as little as possible, they dared not show their disinclination. instead, they accepted burkamukk's instructions in owl-like silence, making themselves look as wise as possible, and nodding as though giant kangaroos came their way--and were swept out of it--every day in the week. then they withdrew to a lonely place outside their camp and began their spells. they lit tiny fires and burned scraps of kangaroo-hide, throwing the ashes in the air and uttering terrible curses against kuperee. also they secretly weaved many magic spells, sitting by their little fires and keeping a sharp look-out lest any of the tribe should see what they were doing--an unnecessary precaution, since the tribe was far too terrified of magic to go anywhere near them. when they had been at work for what they considered a sufficient length of time, they packed up all their charms in skin bags, and returned to the camp, where they told burkamukk that kuperee was probably dead, as a result of their incantations. "but if he is not," said their head man, "then it is because we have nothing belonging to kuperee himself to make spells with. if we had so much of a hair of his tail, or even one of the bones that he has gnawed, then we could make such a spell that nothing in the world could stand against it. as it is, we have done wonderful things, and he is very likely dead. certainly no other meki-gar could have done as much." burkamukk thanked the meki-gar very respectfully. he did not understand their magic at all, and he was badly afraid of all magic; still, he knew that the meki-gar did not always succeed in their undertakings, and he felt that though their spells were, no doubt, strong, there was quite a chance that kuperee was stronger. he would have felt much happier had the meki-gar been able to prove that the enemy was dead. "if i could give them a hair of his tail," thought he, "there would be no need for spells, since kuperee will certainly be dead before he allows anyone to meddle with his tail." it was with some bitterness that he dismissed the wise men, giving them a present of roasted wallaby. it was not long before proof came that the magic of the meki-gar had been at fault. burkamukk's young men, out hunting, met a hunting-party of a friendly tribe, from whom they learned that the great kangaroo was fiercer and more powerful than ever, and had slain many men in the country to the north. as burkamukk had foreseen, he was ranging farther and farther afield, so that no district could feel safe from him. it could be only a question of time before kuperee would wander down to his country. burkamukk held a council of war that night, at which all the warriors and the meki-gar were present. the chief wanted to lead his best men against the monster, but the meki-gar opposed the suggestion vigorously, saying that it was not right for the head of the tribe to run into a danger such as this. an ordinary battle was all very well, but this was magic, and against it chiefs were just as ordinary men: and where would the tribe be without its mighty head? the warriors supported the meki-gar, and they all argued about it until burkamukk was ready to lose his temper. he had no wish to see his best hunters grow fewer and fewer--already two expeditions had ended in disaster and loss. the discussion was becoming an angry one when suddenly the chief's two eldest sons, inda and pilla, rose and spoke. they were young men, but already they were renowned hunters, famous at tracking and killing game: and besides their skill with weapons, it was said that they had learned from the meki-gar much wisdom beyond the knowledge of ordinary men. straight and tall as young rushes, they faced their father. "let us go," inda said--"pilla and i. numbers are useless against kuperee; it is only cunning that will slay him, and for that two men are better than a score. give us a trial, and if we fail, then will be time enough to talk of a great expedition." the chief looked at them with angry unhappiness. "and if you fail?" he said. "then i shall have lost my sons." "what of that?" asked pilla. "you have other sons, and we will have died for the tribe. that is the right of a chief's son. other men's sons have tried, and some of them have died. now it is our turn." a murmur of dissent ran round the circle, for pilla and inda were much loved; and they were very young. but burkamukk looked at them proudly, though his face was very sad. "they say rightly," he said. "they are the chief's sons, and it is their privilege, if need be, to die for the tribe. go, then, my sons, and may pund-jel make your hearts cunning and your aim steady when you meet kuperee." "there is one thing we desire," inda said. "will you lend us your stone axe, my father? it seems to us that kuperee will fall to no ordinary weapon, and a dream has come to us that bids us take the axe. but that is for you to say. it is a great thing to ask; but if we live we will bring it back to you in safety." burkamukk signed to a young man who stood near him, and bade him fetch the axe from his wurley. when it came, he handed it to his sons. "it is a great treasure, but you are my sons, and you are worthy to bear it," he said. "never before has it left my sight in the hands of any warrior, and i would that i were the one to wield it against kuperee. good luck go with it and with you, my sons!" so inda and pilla made themselves ready to go, preparing as if they were to take part in a splendid corroboree. they painted themselves with white stripes, and over and under their eyes and on their cheeks drew streaks of red ochre. round their heads they wore twisted bands of fur, and in these bands they stuck plumes, made of the white quill feathers of a black swan's wing. kangaroo teeth were fastened in their hair, and necklaces of the same teeth hung down upon their breasts. from their shoulders hung the tails of yellow dingos. they wore belts and aprons of wallaby skin, and, fastened behind to these belts, stiff upright tufts of the neck feathers of the emu, like the tail of a cock. they bore many weapons, and each took it in turn to carry the stone axe of burkamukk. the whole tribe came out to watch them go, and while the men were envious, the women wailed sadly, for they were young, and it seemed that they were going forth to die. chapter ii pilla and inda travelled swiftly through the bush for the first two days of their journey. they passed through good hunting country, where they were tempted by the sign of much game, but they would not allow themselves to turn aside, greatly as they longed for fresh meat. they carried a little food with them, and were fortunate in finding much boombul, which the white people afterwards called manna--a sweet white substance rather like small pieces of loaf-sugar, with a very delicate flavour. boombul drops from the leaves and small branches of some kinds of gum-trees, and the blacks loved to eat it, so pilla and inda thought themselves very lucky. they met friendly blacks now and then, as they travelled, and heard many stories of the ferocity of kuperee. some of the reports were very terrifying. it was difficult to find out how huge he was, for he seemed to grow in size according to the terror of the men who had seen him: some of whom said he was as large as any gum-tree. but all were agreed as to his fierceness. he devoured men in a single gulp: he struck them down as one might strike a yurkurn, or lizard: his swiftness in pursuit was terrible to see. the man he chased had no chance whatever, unless he managed to reach thick timber, where kuperee's size prevented his taking the gigantic leaps which so quickly ended a chase on open ground. and about all the tales hung the sense of blind fear which the great beast seemed to inspire. no matter how brave a fighting-man might be, the sight of kuperee seemed to turn his heart to water, making him long only to flee like a frightened child. their voices shook with terror as they spoke of him. "it seems to me," said inda, as they journeyed on, after having talked to some of these hunters, "that our first thought should be for ourselves. all these men have thought themselves very brave, and have gone out to meet kuperee, never doubting that they would not be afraid: and they have become very afraid indeed. now you and i are no cowards in ordinary fighting, and we have had no fear of ourselves. but i think we had better make up our minds that we certainly shall become afraid, and decide what to do. i do not wish to lose my senses and run away like a beaten pickaninny." "that is good sense," said pilla. "perhaps if we managed to keep our heads during our first terror it might pass after a time, so that we should again be as men." "that is my idea," inda answered. "and if kuperee did not happen to see us while we were afraid, so much the better for us. i do not believe that fear will be with us always, but still, we are no better than all these other men. i believe we will get an attack of it, and then it will pass off, like an attack of sickness, if we treat it properly." "yes," said pilla, nodding. "but if we run away we shall be afraid for ever--always supposing we are not dead." "if we run away, the one that kuperee runs after will certainly be dead," inda said. "therefore, let us go very warily, and perhaps we can manage so that he does not see us during our first fear." "it is a queer thing," pilla said, laughing, "for hunters to go out making certain of being afraid." "i think it is a safe thing just now," said inda shortly. "this hunting is not like other hunting." so they went on, keeping a very sharp look-out, and having their weapons always ready. the stone axe of burkamukk was rather troublesome to them, for their hands were encumbered with spears and throwing-sticks, and they were not used to carrying an axe: so, at last, inda twisted strings of bark and slung it across his shoulders, where it felt much more comfortable. soon they came upon traces of the great beast they sought. the forest began to be full of his tracks, and the saplings had been pulled about and gnawed by some creature larger than anything they had ever seen. and then, one evening, they heard running feet, and, leaping to one side, spear in hand, they saw half a dozen men, racing through the bush, blind with terror. one slipped and fell near where they were standing, and rolled almost to their feet. pilla and inda drew him into a thicket. "is kuperee after you?" they asked. the man rolled his eyes upwards. "he has slain two of us, and is now in pursuit of us all," he panted. "let me go!" he scrambled to his feet and dashed away. pilla and inda crouched low in the thicket, seeing nothing. but presently they heard a mighty pounding through the trees fifty yards away: and though nothing was visible, the sound of those great leaps was so terrifying in itself that they found themselves trembling. the pounding died away in the direction in which the blacks had gone. "ky! what a tail he must have, that makes the earth shake as he goes!" inda muttered. "never have i heard anything like it! art afraid, pilla?" "very much, i believe," said pilla. "but it will pass, i feel sure. brother, it seems to me that kuperee's den must be not far off, and it would be safe to try to find it, since he has gone southward for his hunting: and most likely he will return slowly. let us push on, while we can go quickly." "that is good talk," inda answered. "perhaps we can hide ourselves near his den, and watch him without being seen. i should like to get my terror over in a high tree." "i, too," said pilla. "i fancy the attack might pass more quickly. let us hurry." they pushed onward as fast as possible. it was not hard to find the way, for the blacks had fled too madly to trouble about leaving tracks, and the marks of their running made a clear path, to native eyes. soon, too, they came upon kuperee's tracks--great footprints and deep depressions in the earth where his enormous tail had hit the ground at every bound. then the bush became more and more beaten down, as though some great animal roamed through it constantly; and at last they found the body of a hunter, struck down from behind as he ran. "it was no playful tap that killed him," said pilla, with a shudder. "the other, i suppose, was eaten as kuperee loves to eat men, in one gulp. see, inda--is not that where he sleeps?" they were near a cleared space, where the ground was much trampled. bones lay here and there, and in the shadow of a dense lightwood tree in the middle the grass showed clearly where a great body had often lain. no kangaroo has any kind of hole, for they love the bush to sleep in, and kuperee was evidently like other kangaroos in this. probably he changed his home often; but this was a good place, ringed about with bushes that made it quiet and hard to find, so that no enemy was likely to come upon him too suddenly; while, from his lair under the lightwood, he could see anything approach. "men, or animals, or leaves--it does not seem to matter to him what he eats," said inda, looking at the lair. "no wonder he grows huge. pilla, i am very afraid, but i feel i will not always be afraid. let us climb up into the lightwood tree; he will never see us among its thick leaves. then he will come home tired, and perhaps we can spear him as he sleeps." they climbed up into the dense branches, mounting high, and choosing stout limbs to lie on where they could peer down below; and they fixed their spears and other weapons so that they could use them easily. the stone axe of burkamukk was much in inda's way in climbing, and finally he untied it from his shoulders. "i do not see how i can use this in the tree," he said. "see, i will strike it into the trunk, so that we can get at it handily if we need it." he smote it against the trunk, and the wood held it fast. then he and pilla took their places, and watched for the coming of kuperee. they had not long to wait. presently came, far off, the sound of great bounds and breaking saplings; not, as they had heard it last, in the fierceness of pursuit, but slowly, as a man may return home after successful hunting. the brothers felt their hearts thumping as they waited. nearer and nearer came the sound, and soon the bushes parted and a mighty kangaroo hopped into the clearing. so huge was he, so black and fierce, that they caught at each other in terror. never had they dreamed of any kangaroo like this. his fur was thick and long, and of a glossy black; his head carried proudly aloft, his great tail like the limb of a tree. and in his gleaming eyes, and on his fierce face, was an expression of cunning and ferocity that, even more than his size, made him unlike any animal the bush had ever known. something of mystery and terror seemed to surround him; it was indeed clear that he was magic. pilla and inda trembled so that they feared that the lightwood would shake and reveal them to the monster. he sat down, out on the clear space, and rubbed his mouth with his forepaws, sniffing at the air so that they fell into a further terror, thinking he had smelt them out. but one blackfellow smells much like another, and kuperee had recently dealt with three blacks: if he noticed any unusual odour he put it down to his late meal. he felt sleepy and well-fed; he had enjoyed both his run and his meal. now, he only wanted sleep. he hopped towards the lightwood, and at his coming pilla and inda felt themselves gripped by overmastering fear. their teeth chattered; their dry tongues seemed to choke them. they clung to their boughs, dreading lest their trembling hold should loosen, bringing them tumbling at his feet. so, gripping with toes and fingers, with sweating cheeks pressed closely to the limbs, with staring eyes that peered downwards, they watched the dreadful beast come. he came in under the tree and lay down, stretching himself out to sleep; and in a few moments his heavy breathing showed that he had passed quietly into slumber. as they watched, something of their terror left the brothers. asleep, kuperee was not so horrible; he looked, indeed, not so unlike any other kangaroo, with his fierce eyes veiled and the strength of his great body relaxed. "i believe my time of fear is passing," inda whispered. "he is but a kangaroo, after all." "yes, but what a terrible one!" murmured pilla, as well as his chattering teeth would let him. "still, we are mighty hunters, and no fools: unless he is really magic we should be able to subdue him. i am beginning to feel a man again." "we do not know for certain that he is magic. let us believe, then, that he is not, and that will help us," inda whispered. "why should we not spear him as he lies?" "we might easily do it. let us creep to the lower boughs, where we shall have more room to move our arms. art afraid any longer, inda?" "not as i was," inda replied. "at least, not while he sleeps." "then let us try to arrange that he shall never wake," pilla murmured. very softly, with infinite caution, they crept down the tree, until they came to the great lower limbs. here they had space to swing their arms, and they made their weapons ready. below, the huge kangaroo never stirred. his deep breathing, telling of sound slumber, was music in the ears of the brothers. they nodded a signal to each other as they poised their first spears. so swiftly did they throw that before kuperee was aroused from his sleep a shower of throwing-sticks and spears had hurtled through the air. not one missed; the mark was easy, and the brothers were proved hunters. the weapons sped fast and true. but a terrible thing happened. each point, as it struck kuperee's fur, became blunt, and, instead of piercing him in fifty places, the weapons fell back from him, spent and useless. with a groan of fear, the brothers grasped at the branches and swung themselves aloft. below, kuperee's roar of fury drowned all other sounds. he sprang to his feet, his eyes blazing. he had received no injury, but he had been touched--that in itself was an indignity he had never suffered before. with another earth-shaking roar he looked about for his foes. to be attacked from the air was a new experience for kuperee. all his other enemies had come upon him out of the bush, and it never occurred to him, in his rage, to look upward, where the shaking of the branches would certainly have revealed the terrified pilla and inda. instead, seeing nothing, kuperee made sure that the trees concealed the attackers. he roared again, dreadfully, and bounded across the clearing. the bush closed behind him, but the sky rang with the echo of his terrible voice and the thud of the leaps that carried him rapidly away. kuperee sleeping and kuperee awake and angry were two very different beings, and with the first movement of the monster all their fear had come back to pilla and inda. as roar succeeded roar they became more and more weak with terror. their grip on the boughs relaxed with the trembling of their hands, and even as kuperee bounded away they lost their hold and tumbled bodily out of the tree. it was not far to the ground, but pilla happened to fall first, and inda fell on top of him, and they managed to hurt each other a good deal. they were in that excited and over-wrought state when anything seems an injury, and each lost his temper. "you did that on purpose!" pilla said, striking at his brother. "take that!" "would you!" said inda, between his teeth. "i'll teach you to hit me!" he stooped and picked up one of the throwing-sticks and flung it at his brother. it hit pilla violently on the nose, and made him furiously angry. he gathered an armful of the fallen spears, and, running back, threw them at inda so swiftly that there was no time to dodge. they hit him all over his body, and though they had all become blunt, they hurt very badly. the blood was streaming from pilla's nose, and when he had thrown all his spears he stopped to wipe it off with a tuft of grass. the pause gave them time to think, and they stared at each other. suddenly they burst out laughing. "what fools we are!" they said. "yes, we are indeed fools," said inda, rubbing his bruises. "kuperee may be back at any moment, and here we will be found, fighting each other like a couple of stupid boys. i am sorry i hurt you, brother." "you have certainly done that," said pilla, caressing his nose gently. "there will be a dint down my nose for ever--the bone is broken, i think. why don't you hit kuperee as hard as that?" "i will, if i get the chance," inda said. "and you yourself are no child when it comes to throwing spears--a good thing for me that they were blunt. yes, brother, we are the biggest fools in the bush. now what are we to do?" "save yourself!" screamed pilla. "here comes kuperee!" the great kangaroo came bounding back through the bushes, and the brothers, wild with terror, flung themselves at the lightwood tree. up they went, but only just in time. inda's heel was grazed by kuperee's claw as he gained the safety of the lower branches. he climbed up swiftly, and, clinging together, they looked down at their foe. "he cannot climb!" gasped pilla. "no, but he will have the tree down!" cried his brother. kuperee was flinging himself against the tree, until it rocked beneath the blows of his great body. again and again came the dull thud as he drew himself back and came dashing against the trunk. gradually it yielded, beginning to lean sidewards. lower and lower it came, and kuperee, rising high on his hind-legs and tail, clawed upward at inda. as the hunter, with a cry of despair, tried to pull himself higher, pilla, leaning from an upper branch, thrust something into his hand. "it is the stone axe of our father," he gasped. "strike with it, brother!" inda grasped the handle, and smote downward with all his might. the keen edge of the stone caught kuperee in the forehead, and sank into his head. he fell back, wrenching the axe from inda's hand. one more terrific roar rent the air--a cry of pain and anger fearful to hear. then, with a dull groan the monster sank sidewards to the grass. he was dead. it was long before pilla and inda dared to quit the shelter of the leaning tree. they could scarcely believe that their enemy was dead, until they saw the mighty limbs stiffen, and beheld a crow perch, unmolested, on kuperee's head. then the brothers came down from the tree and clasped each other's hands. "that was a good blow of yours," said pilla. "ay, but it would never have been struck had you not put the axe into my hands," said inda. "i had forgotten all about it. our names will live long, brother." "that will be agreeable, but i wish my nose were not so sore," said pilla. "and your bruises--how are they?" "sore enough--but i had almost forgotten them. ky, but i am hungry, pilla!" "i, too," said pilla, looking with interest at the great dead body. "well, at least we have plenty of food--burkamukk said long ago that kuperee should be enough for the whole tribe. let us skin him carefully, for his hide will be a proud trophy to take back to our father--if we can but carry it." "we shall eat him while it is drying," inda said. "then the skin will be lighter, and we shall be exceedingly strong. come, brother--my hunger grows worse." they fell to work on the huge carcass with their sharp skinning-knives, made of the thigh-bones of kangaroos. and then befel the most wonderful thing of all. chapter iii inda and pilla took off the black hide of kuperee, and pegged it out carefully with sharp sticks. then they came back to the body, and their eyes glistened with satisfaction. meat is the best thing in the world to a blackfellow, and never before had either seen so much meat. it was almost staggering to think that it was theirs, and to be eaten. all they had feared and suffered became as nothing in the prospect of that tremendous feast. "yakai!" mourned pilla. "we shall never finish it all before it goes bad, not though we eat day and night without ceasing--as i mean to do." "and i also," agreed inda. "let us make ovens before we begin to cut him up--we shall waste less time that way. some of him will certainly go bad, but we will do our best." they were turning aside to gather sticks when pilla suddenly caught at his brother's arm. he happened to seize a bruised part, and inda was justly annoyed. "take care, blockhead!" he said, shaking him off roughly. "i ache all over--is it not enough for you?" pilla took no notice. he was staring at the skinned body of kuperee, with eyes that were almost starting from his head. "look!" he gasped. "look! he moves!" inda leaped to one side. "moves!" he uttered. "are you mad?" "i saw his side move," pilla repeated. "see--there it is again!" something bulged under the stripped skin of the monster. the brothers leaped backward. "but he is certainly dead," gasped inda. "have we not skinned him? can a skinned animal move--even if he be kuperee?" "let us leave him and go home," muttered pilla. "he is very bad magic." but that was more than inda could bring himself to do. "leave him!" he exclaimed. "leave the most wonderful feast ever heard of in all the bush! no, i will not. magic or no magic, he is dead, and i will see what moves." he sprang forward, knife in hand, and with a quick movement slit open the body. out popped a head--a black head, with fear and pain and bewilderment on its features. inda sprang back, raising his knife to defend himself. "let me out!" begged the head. "it is horrible in here--no air, no light, nothing but dead men! let me out, i say!" "are you magic?" gasped inda. "magic? i?" the wild eyes rolled in astonishment. "i am kanalka, of the crow tribe, but an hour ago kuperee swallowed me at a gulp, when he came upon me in the forest. i do not know why i am not dead--but i live yet, though i was wishing to die when suddenly you let the light in to my prison. make your hole larger, friend, and let me out." "do you say there are dead men there?" demanded pilla. "he is full of them. i only am alive, i suppose because i was the last eaten. be quick! be quick!" half doubting, half afraid, inda opened the great body, and helped kanalka out. he staggered and fell helplessly to the ground. pilla and inda did not trouble about him. one after another, they took from kuperee ten black hunters, laying them in a row upon the grass. last of all they took out kon-garn and three others of their own tribe, and they wailed over them. kanalka, who had somewhat recovered, came and looked curiously at the row of men. "would you not say that they were alive?" he asked. "they do not look as though they were anything but asleep." "i think it is magic," said inda, very much afraid. "two moons have gone by since kon-garn, who lies there, was eaten, and yet he looks as though asleep. kuperee was a strange host, truly, to keep you all in such good condition!" the gaze of kanalka wandered to the stone axe of burkamukk, which lay on the grass near kuperee. instantly he became interested. he had seen many dead men, but no such axe as this had come his way. "is that the mighty axe of which all the tribes have heard?" he asked eagerly. "ky! what a beauty! never have i seen such a one! i should like to handle it." he picked it up and tested its weight, while pilla and inda watched him carefully, for they knew that the axe was a treasure beyond anything in the bush, and that a man would risk almost anything to possess it. they need not, however, have feared kanalka. he was a simple-minded fellow, and was merely lost in admiration. "a beauty, indeed!" he exclaimed. "it will be something to tell my people, that in the one day i escaped from the body of kuperee and handled the stone axe of burkamukk! was it with this that you killed the monster?" "ay," said inda. "it clove his skull--one blow was enough, though our spears had fallen blunted from his hide." "a marvel, indeed!" cried kanalka. "it would be a mighty weapon at close quarters in a fight. one would swing it round--thus--and bring it down upon the enemy's head----" he illustrated his meaning, swinging the axe aloft and bringing it down over the head of the silent form of kon-garn. just before it reached the head he checked it, letting it do no more than touch kon-garn--a touch no heavier than the sweep of a butterfly's wing. kon-garn yawned, sneezed, and sat up. with a yell of terror the three blacks started backwards, tripped over each other, and fell in a heap. kon-garn surveyed the struggling mass calmly. "where am i?" he asked. "and what is all this about? is it you, pilla and inda?" they struggled to their feet and looked at him distrustfully. "you are dead," said pilla firmly. "why do you talk?" "i do not know why, indeed, since it is evident that i am talking to fools," said kon-garn rudely. "what has happened to you, that you and this stranger have suddenly gone mad? ky! how hungry i am! have you food?" the brothers suddenly began to laugh helplessly. "food!" said inda. "there is more food than ever you saw before, kon-garn, and a few minutes ago you were part of it." "that is a riddle i am too tired to guess," said kon-garn crossly. "i only wish that any food were part of me, for i feel as though i had never eaten in my life." "it is certainly two moons at least since last you ate," pilla told him. "i said already that you were mad, and i grow more sure of it every minute," said poor kon-garn. "who are these who lie beside me?" "they are dead men; and a moment ago you too were dead," inda said. kon-garn became afraid, as well as cross. it was clear that everybody was mad, and he had heard that it was wise to humour mad people, or they might do you an injury. so he hid his feelings and looked at the brothers as kindly as his bewilderment and hunger would let him. "dead, was i?" he said. "then how did i come to life?" "this man touched you with the stone axe of burkamukk," inda answered. "dear me, how simple!" said kon-garn. "none of our meki-gar know anything half so easy. but why does he not go on, and bring all these other dead men to life too?" "indeed," said kanalka suddenly, "i do not know." he flung himself upon the stone axe, which he had let fall in his terror, and touched another still form with it. instantly the black hunter came to life. kanalka uttered a wild yell of amazement and triumph. then inda snatched the axe from him and ran along the line, touching one man after another; and when he had come to the end there were ten blackfellows sitting up and rubbing their eyes, and most of them were asking eagerly for food. the brothers drew back a few paces and looked at them. "it is clear," said pilla, "that kuperee was magic, and that when our father's stone axe entered his skull it became magic too. more than ever we must guard it carefully, since it seems to have the power of life and death." he lowered his voice, speaking to inda. "i will lash it to your shoulders, brother--we are among strangers, and it will be safer so." he lashed the axe to inda's shoulders firmly, and the other men looked on. each knew exactly why he was doing it, and respected him for his caution, since each knew that had chance thrown in his way the mighty stone axe he would not have been proof against the temptation of trying to get possession of it. then they all talked together, and were very amazed at what had happened to them; but since they were able to put everything down to magic, nothing worried them much, and they were quite relieved to find themselves alive, and to think of seeing their wives and children again. more than anything, they were overjoyed at the magnificent feast that awaited them. and what a feast it was! never again in all their lives did such a chance come to them. the wild black never asked for any trimmings with his food: he would, indeed, eat anything that came his way, but meat, meat only, and still more meat, was what his soul most desired. and now meat awaited them, in a huge mountain; and they were hungry beyond belief. "we will cut up kuperee," said pilla and inda, "since we alone have knives. the rest of you must make fire, and prepare ovens." the men scattered to their tasks. some gathered sticks; others scooped out holes in the ground for the ovens; others teased dry messmate bark for tinder for the man who was making the fire. this was kon-garn, and he did it very quickly. pilla lent him one of his most useful household necessaries, which he always carried with him--a piece of dry grass-tree cane, having a hole bored through to the pith on its upper side, and a pointed piece of soft wood; and these were just as useful to the blacks as a box of matches would be to you. kon-garn sat down on the ground, holding the bit of grass-tree firmly down with his feet, and pressed the point of the soft wood into the little hole. then he held it upright between his palms and twirled it rapidly. within two minutes smoke began to curl round the twirling point, and another man carefully put some teased bark, soft and dry, round the hole and blew on it. a moment more and a thin tongue of flame licked through the tinder; more and more was fed to it, and then leaves and twigs; and in five minutes there was a blazing fire, while kon-garn restored to pilla his two flame-making sticks, very little the worse for wear. the blacks did not usually light a large fire, after the fashion of white men, who like to make a campfire so big that they roast their faces while their backs remain cold. the way the blacks preferred was to make two little fires, and to sit between them, so that they were kept warm on both sides. but on this occasion they made a very big blaze, so that they should quickly have enough fire to heat the ovens; and then they made the big fire long and narrow, so that they could sit on each side of it and cook. while the ovens were getting hot they took small pieces of the kangaroo meat and speared them on green sticks, holding them before the coals. they were all so desperately hungry that they did not care much whether the meat was properly cooked--as soon as the first pieces were warmed through they stuffed them into their mouths, and then ran to pilla and inda for more. pilla and inda were working hard at cutting up kuperee, and though they did not mind the hungry men beginning without them, they became annoyed when they came again and again for fragments. "do not forget that we are hungry too," pilla growled. "we have travelled far before we killed kuperee and let you all out, and now we are cutting up your meat for you. if you do not bring us some cooked pieces we must go and cook for ourselves." that made the others afraid, for the cutting-up of so huge an animal as kuperee was no light work, and none of them had knives. so they fed the brothers with toothsome morsels as they worked, and the cutting went on unchecked, until the ovens were hot and there was a pile of joints ready to be put in. this was done, wrapping the joints in green leaves. then they carried to the fire the great heap of small pieces of meat left from the cutting-up, and cooked and ate, and ate and cooked, all through the night. even in ordinary life it would have astonished you to see how much meat a black could eat--a well-fed blackfellow, with a wife who kept his wurley well supplied with roots and grubs and all the other pleasant things they loved. but these blacks had had no food, some of them for weeks, and it seemed that they would never stop. the great pile of pieces dwindled until there were none left, and then they hacked more off, and cooked and ate until the ovens were ready and the smoking joints came out. they were so hot that you would not have cared to touch them without a knife and fork; but the blacks seized them and tore them to pieces and gnawed them, until nothing remained but well-picked bones. and then they cooked more. pilla and inda were the first to give in, and they had eaten enough for twenty white men. they waddled off to a thicket and flung themselves under a bush, sleeping back to back, so that the stone axe of burkamukk was safe between them. but the others had no thought for anything but kangaroo, and even the mighty axe could not have tempted them from that tremendous gorge. they ate on, all through the day. towards night some of them gave in; then, one by one, they could eat no more, and most of them went to sleep where they sat before the fire. but dawn on the next day showed the steadfast kon-garn, rotund beyond belief, and eating still. and by that time pilla and inda had slept off their light repast, and were ready to begin all over again. they camped for more than a week by the carcass of kuperee, and ate it until it was no longer pleasant to eat, even for a blackfellow. then they began to think it was time to return to their tribes. so they greased their bodies comfortably all over, and set off through the forest, a peaceful and happy band, far too well-fed to think of quarrelling. when they came near the head-quarters of each tribe they marched to its camp in a proud procession, returning the warriors who had been mourned as dead: and great were the rejoicings throughout the country, and rich rewards of furs and weapons and food were showered upon inda and pilla. the stone axe of burkamukk became more famous than ever, and every one wanted to look at the wonderful weapon that had slain kuperee. songs were made about the two heroes, and for ages afterwards mothers used to tell their children about them, and hope that their boys would be as brave as burkamukk's sons. at last they drew near to their own camp. they halted the night before a few hours' journey away, and by good luck they met a couple of boys out hunting, and sent them in to tell the tribe that they were coming. they had no idea of coming in unheralded, for they knew they had done a great deed, and they meant to return in state. besides, although the rescued men were with them, the load of presents they had received was far too heavy to be carried comfortably. they got up early and painted themselves in stripes and put on their finest feathers and furs. inda carried the stone axe of burkamukk, and pilla had only a spear. long before they were ready to start they were met by some of the men of the tribe who had come out to welcome them. these loaded themselves with the gifts, and with pilla and inda stalking in front, and the rescued men behind, they formed themselves into a procession and marched for home. near the camp another procession came out to meet them: burkamukk, their father, marching at the head of all his tribe. first came the meki-gar, very solemn, and inwardly very disgusted that the honour of slaying kuperee had not fallen to them; then came all the warriors and the old men, then the boys, and lastly the women and children. they were shouting greetings and praises and singing songs of welcome. burkamukk halted as his sons drew near. they came up to him and knelt before him and inda laid the stone axe at his feet. "we bring you back your mighty weapon, my father," he said. "it has slain your enemy." then all the tribe shouted afresh, and the warriors leaped in the air, and the whole country was filled with the sound of their rejoicings. and they bore pilla and inda home in triumph, naming them the most famous heroes of all the tribes of the bush. but the magic of kuperee was not done with them yet. they feasted late that night, and the sun was high overhead before they woke next day. they were in a wurley by themselves, but outside the boys of the tribe were clustered, peeping in to see the mighty warriors. pilla stretched himself, and flung out an arm, which struck inda. "take care!" inda said, angrily, waking up. "you hurt me." "why, i hardly touched you," pilla answered. "you must have been dreaming." "well, it is no dream that i am very sore," said inda. "all my body seems covered with bruises, just as it was after our fight under the tree of kuperee." "that is queer," said pilla, "for my nose also feels terribly sore. that must have been a mighty blow that you dealt it." he felt it tenderly. "it feels queer, too. does it look curious?" "there is a furrow down it, but then there always has been, since our fight," said inda. "you look not much worse than usual. but i--see, is there anything wrong with me?" he flung off his wallaby-skin rug, and sat up. pilla uttered a cry. "ky! you are all over spots! did i really hit you in all those places?" "you must have done so," said inda, crossly. "lucky for me that the spears were blunt!" "i feel most extraordinary," said pilla, suddenly "it is just as though i were shrinking--and indeed, i have no cause to shrink, seeing how much i ate last night. but my skin is getting all loose." "and mine too!" cried inda, faintly. "there is magic at work upon us, my brother!" then a mist drifted over the wurley, and strange cries came out of it. the boys, watching outside, clutched at each other in fear. and presently, when the mist blew away, pilla and inda were not to be seen, nor were they ever seen more. instead, within the wurley crouched two little animals, new to the blacks, which uttered faint squeaks and scurried away through the camp into the bush. there they live now, and through them are the sons of burkamukk remembered. pilla is the plump 'possum, who has always a furrow down his nose; and inda is the native-cat, whose skin is covered all over with spots. for the magic of kuperee lived after him, so that the blunt weapons that had struck him had strange power, just as there was power of life in the stone axe that had killed him. but though they lived no longer as men, the names of pilla and inda were always held in great honour, since through their courage and wisdom the tribes lived in security, free from the wickedness of kuperee. ii waung, the crow chapter i very long ago--so long that the oldest blacks could not remember anything about it themselves--there was a legend of the first coming of fire. fire came with a group of seven strange women, the kar-ak-ar-ook, who brought it from some unknown country. they dwelt with the blacks, and showed them how to use the new and wonderful thing: but they were very selfish, and would give none away. instead, they kept it in the end of their yam-sticks, and when the people begged for it, they only laughed at them. they alone knew how to make it, and they never told the secret to anyone. so the blacks took counsel together. "we might as well have never learned that there was fire at all," said one. "better," said another. "before it came, we were content: but now, every one is sighing for it, and cannot get it." "my wife is a weariness to me," said a third. "always she pesters me to bring fire to her, and makes my mouth water by telling me of the beautiful food she could cook if she had it. it is almost enough to make a man lose his appetite!" "but who that has once tasted cooked food can ever forget it?" another said, licking his lips. "such flavour! such juiciness! twice the kar-ak-ar-ook gave fire to my wife, and let her roast wallaby and snipe--and since those glorious meals it is hard to eat them raw." "ay, that is so," said one. "to my woman also, they gave fire twice, and she cooked me wombat and iguana. ky! how much i ate, and how sick i was afterwards! but it was worth it." "and fish!" said another. "no one who eats raw fish can imagine what a difference fire makes to it. it is indeed a wonderful thing. the first time i saw it, i picked it up, admiring its pretty colour, and it stung me severely. in my wrath i kicked it, but its sting was still there, and it gave me a very sore foot. now i know that it is magic, and must not be touched, save with a stick--and then the stick becomes part of it. it is all very curious." "it is worse than curious that such a thing should be, and be held only by the power of women," said an old man, angrily. "if we had fire, the winter cold would not strike so keenly to old bones. why should we submit to these women, the kar-ak-ar-ook? let us kill them, if necessary, and take it from them for ourselves." but no one moved, and all looked uneasy. "the women are magic," said one, at length. "the magic-men know that." "yes, and the women's magic is stronger than theirs," another answered. "they have weaved spells, but what good have they done?" "now, they say that unless they let some fire drop by accident, we can never get it from them: and if they do let it fall, then they will be just like other women, and have no power at all. i would like to see that!" said a big fellow, eagerly. "it would be very good for them, and they would make useful wives for some of us, for they know all about cooking food. i would not mind marrying one of them myself!" he added, in a patronizing tone, at which everybody laughed. another big man spoke. his name was waung, and he was tall and powerful. "it is all very ridiculous," he said. "no woman lives in the world who can get the better of a man. i have half a mind to get fire from them myself." "you!" said the others, and they all joined in roars of laughter. for waung was a lazy man, and had never done much good for himself. "you! you would go to sleep instead of finding a way to get the better of the kar-ak-ar-ook!" this made waung very angry. "you are all fools!" he said, rudely. "i will certainly take the trouble to get fire, and will make one of the women my wife, and she shall cook in my wurley. but then i will have their magic, and none of you will get any fire from me, of that you may be sure. then you will all be sorry!" but this only made the men laugh more, and the noise of their mirth set the laughing-jackasses shouting in the trees. very seldom had the camp heard so fine a joke. waung was filled with fury. he strode away from them, with his head in the air, shouting fierce threats. no one took the least notice of them, because he was known to be a boaster and a talker; but it was very amusing to see him go, and the blacks were always glad of a chance for laughter. even after waung had gone into his wurley, he could hear the echo of their merriment; and whenever two or three went past, they were still talking about him and laughing. "a pity waung is such a fool!" they said. "but perhaps it is as well, for if there were no fools we would not have such good jokes!" and that did not make waung feel any better. next day he went to the kar-ak-ar-ook's wurley, and met them going out to dig for yams. their dilly-bags were on their shoulders; and they held their yam-sticks, and he could see fire gleaming in the hollow tops. waung looked at the digging ends of the sticks, and saw that they were very blunt. he said: "i will sharpen your yam-sticks for you." the kar-ak-ar-ook thanked him, with a twinkle in their eyes. they knew there was some reason for such politeness from waung. so they held the yam-sticks for him to cut, and though once or twice he tried to make them fall, as if by accident, so long as they had even a finger upon them they did not move. so waung realized that fire was not to be obtained in that way. when he had finished the points, he stood up. "i am sick of the tribe," he said, angrily. "they are silly people, and they turn me into a joke. if you like, i will come out and help you to get food--and, i can tell you, i know where to hunt. will you hunt with me?" now the kar-ak-ar-ook were suspicious of waung, but they were lazy women. it did not amuse them at all to go hunting by themselves every day, for they were not clever at it, and it took them a long time to find enough game to cook. moreover, they were fond of food, and never had enough. they knew that no one could take away their yam-sticks so long as they held them; and so they were not afraid of waung. "perhaps what you say is true," one answered slowly. "at any rate, i do not care. you may come with me if you wish, and sometimes we will give you some cooked food." so the camp got used to the sight of waung and the women going out to hunt together; and after a while they forgot that they used to laugh at them, and they had to find another joke. they envied waung very much if they saw him eating scraps of cooked meat given him by the women: and you may be sure that waung did not give any scraps away. he became quite good friends with the women, though they were always suspicious of him, and gave him no chance of handling their yam-sticks. the fire in the hollow tops never went out. waung could not guess how they managed to keep it alive there, and it puzzled him very much. but he never forgot that he had vowed to take it from them, and he made many plans that came to nothing, because the kar-ak-ar-ook were always watchful. at last waung hit upon an idea. out in the scrub he found a nest of young snakes, and these he managed to tame, for he was a very cunning man. even when they were nearly full-grown they would do his bidding, and he taught them many queer tricks. then he went in search of an ant-hill, and sought until he found a very large one. for the kar-ak-ar-ook had told him that they loved ants' eggs more than any kind of food. one night, waung took his snakes, and buried them in the ant-hill, saying, "stay there until i send to let you out." they looked at him with their fierce, beady eyes, and wriggled round until they made themselves nests in the soft earth, which caused the ants very great inconvenience and alarm. then waung covered them up and went home, taking the kar-ak-ar-ook a little kangaroo-rat that he had killed. the women were hungry, and the sight of waung's offering did not please them. "it is very small," they said, discontentedly. "what is the matter with you? you have brought us scarcely any food for three days." waung laughed, swinging his spear. "hunting has been bad," he said, carelessly. "i have been lazy, perhaps--or the game was scarce. but i have a treat for you to-morrow." "what is that?" they asked, eagerly, looking up from skinning the kangaroo-rat. "what would you say to ants' eggs?" "we like them more than anything else," they cried. "have you found some?" "i have found a very big hill," waung said. "it should be full of eggs." "and you will take us there?" waung did not want to seem too eager. he hesitated. "i do not want the eggs," he said, at length. "a man wants something he can bite--eggs are for women. but will you cook me a wallaby if i take you there?" "where is the wallaby?" asked the kar-ak-ar-ook. "i have not caught it yet. but i have set a snare in a track i know--and while you dig ants' eggs i have no doubt i can get one. that does not matter, however--i can get one some time. will you cook it for me, if i show you the ants' nest?" the kar-ak-ar-ook promised, for the temptation of the ants' eggs was very strong. they ate all the kangaroo-rat, and found it quite too small for their appetites: so they went to sleep hungry, and were still hungrier when they awoke in the morning. they had only a few yams for breakfast, and so they were very eager to start when waung sauntered up to their wurley. they all went a little way into the bush, and then came upon the great ant-hill. at the sight, the kar-ak-ar-ook ran forward, with their sticks ready to dig. waung said: "i will go on to my snare, and come back to you." but he went slowly. the women had not taken any notice of what he said. they plunged their yam-sticks into the hill, and began throwing out the earth quickly. then they uttered a loud scream, for the snakes came tumbling out of the loosened earth and ran this way and that, hissing fiercely--and some ran at them. waung turned back at their cries. "hit them with your sticks!" he shouted. "kill them." the kar-ak-ar-ook hit furiously at the snakes with the pointed end of their yam-sticks. but a stiff, pointed stick is not much use for killing snakes, as waung well knew, and he called to them roughly: "that is no good--use the thick ends!" the women swung their sticks round at his cry, and brought the thick ends down across the snakes' backs. the blows were so strong that many of the snakes were killed at once--but that was not the only thing that happened. fire flew out of the hollow ends of the sticks, and, in great coals, rolled down the side of the ant-hill. the coals met and joined, so that they were all one very large coal. waung had been watching like a cat. he had picked up two flat pieces of green stringy-bark; and now he leaped forward, snapped up fire between them, and fled. behind him came the kar-ak-ar-ook, screaming. but as waung stole the fire, their magic left them, and they were helpless. then bellin-bellin, the musk-crow, who carries the whirlwind in his bag, heard the voice of pund-jel speaking to him out of the clouds, commanding him to let loose his burden. so bellin-bellin, obedient, but greatly afraid, untied the strings of his bag, and the whirlwind leapt out with a wild rush. it caught the kar-ak-ar-ook, and whirled them up into the sky, where you may still see them, clustered together, for they were turned into stars. now they are called the pleiades, or seven sisters. but the blacks know that they are the kar-ak-ar-ook women, and that they live together in the sky, still carrying fire on the ends of their yam-sticks. [illustration: "it caught the kar-ak-ar-ook and whirled them up into the sky."] chapter ii waung went proudly back to the tribe, and when they saw that he had actually stolen fire from the women, they were both glad and astonished, and clustered round him, calling him many pleasant things. waung was quite ready to listen to them; but he had no intention of being generous now that he had brought fire with him. he saw his way to a lazy life, and he was not the man to lose such a good chance. so after they had praised him very loudly and sung loud songs about his bravery and wit, he went off into his wurley, and put fire in a hole in the ground. then he sat in the doorway and carved a boomerang. the people looked at each other, not knowing what to do next. "how is this?" they said. "will he not give fire to us all?" no one could answer this question. they chattered together for a while. then one said, "what is worth having is worth asking for"; and he went up to waung's wurley and greeted him civilly. "good-day, waung," he said. "will you give me some fire to do my cooking?" "i have only enough for myself," said waung, and went on with his carving. "but fire grows, if you will let it," said the man. "will you not make it grow, so that each of us may have some?" "i cannot spare any," was all that waung would answer. so the man went back to his friends, and told them what waung said. then one after another came to waung, and begged him for a little bit of fire. but the reply was always the same, and they went away, very sorry that they had ever laughed at waung. for now he remembered the laughter, and he determined to have his revenge. in the morning, when the tribe was astir they found that waung had made a very large oven in front of his wurley, and had hid fire there. also he had caught a wallaby in his snare, and all the air was full of the fragrant smell of cooking. it made all the people's mouths water, and they hated waung exceedingly. but they feared that with the kar-ak-ar-ook's fire waung had also captured their magic, and so they did not dare to attack him. so they held a council together, and all talked very fast and angrily: but at the end of it, there was nothing accomplished. talking did not mend the matter at all, and against magic, what could anyone do? then a woman came running, and said she had a message, and though women were not supposed to speak in council, she was told to deliver it at once. "waung says he will cook our food!" said she, and stopped for breath. a great shout of joy went up from the men. "but he will not do it for nothing," went on the woman. at this all their faces lengthened suddenly. the blacks stopped in the middle of their joyful shout, and waited with their mouths wide open to hear what was to follow. "he says he will cook for us. but we are to supply him with food, and firewood, and all that he wants, and he will keep for himself all the food he likes best. and if we do not perform all that he tells us to do, he will take fire away altogether." there was silence when the woman had finished speaking, and then a deep groan of anger went up from the people. they all talked very fast again, each trying to speak more loudly than the others, all except the husband of the woman who had brought the news, and he was busy beating her with his waddy because she had brought so insolent a message, and had allowed them to think at first that it was good news. the poor lubra tried to say that they had not given her time to say it all at once, but the husband was too busy to listen. but neither talking nor beating made the matter any better. so waung became the real ruler of the tribe, in everything but name, since food is the most important thing in the world to the blacks, and the greater part of their food became dependent upon him. nothing could be cooked unless waung would do it, and they soon found that unless he were in a good temper he would not do it at all. he took the best parts of all that they brought to him to cook, so that no man knew what he would get back; and when one took a fat young wallaby or a black duck it was quite likely that waung would give him something tough and stringy when he went back for his cooked meal, declaring that it was what he had left in his oven. neither would he take any trouble over the cooking. the people brought their food, and put it in the oven themselves, and waung took it out when it pleased him. sometimes he did not take it out until it was burned black and tasteless, while at others they would find it only half-cooked, and cold. but no amount of talking would make waung alter his ways, and at last he became so proud that if anyone argued with him he would refuse to cook for a week, except for himself. this naturally stopped all argument in the camp, but it did not make the people love waung any better. he grew very fat and lazy, for he ate huge quantities of food, and very seldom went out of his wurley. when he did, he carried fire with him in a little hollow stick, and no one dared go near him, or near his wurley, for fear of his enchantments. as a matter of fact, waung had no enchantments at all, and no magic. but he was very cunning, and he knew how easy it was to make the blacks think he had amazing powers. the magic-men, too, found that none of their spells had any effect upon waung, and so they told the tribe that he certainly had magic help. it was very convenient to be able to say this when they were beaten, for magic was a thing that could not possibly be argued about. the months went by, and the people became very unhappy. waung's evil temper made them all miserable and afraid. there have been many bad kings in history, but only waung ever had the power of depriving all his people of their dinner, if they failed to please him. it is a very terrible punishment when it is inflicted often, especially when dinner is the only meal of the day. now that the people had grown used to cooked food, they did not like raw meat; so they depended on waung's mercy. and waung had very little mercy. it amused him greatly to see the people hungry and to have them come begging to him to cook their food. he would laugh loud and long, reminding them of the time when they had jeered at him about fire. afterwards, he would go into his wurley and sleep, saying, "fire is asleep to-day, and i cannot wake it." at last, pund-jel, maker of men, looked down at the world and saw how unhappy the blacks were under the cruelties of waung. it made him very angry. he was stern and hard himself, but he saw no reason why this fellow, lazy and ill-natured, should make his people hungry and miserable. so he sent a message to the ear of each man in the tribe, telling him what to do. the blacks thought they had dreamed the message. they woke in the morning, confused and angry, they hardly knew why; and each man said to his neighbour, "i have dreamed about waung," and the other would answer, "i, too, have dreamed about him." they gathered into groups, talking about waung and about the dream that had come to them; and then the groups began to drift towards waung's wurley. waung looked out, and saw them coming. at once he became uneasy, for he knew that he had never seen such threatening faces and angry eyes. it made him afraid, and he began to put fire to heat his oven, which had been cold for five days. the blacks came close to the wurley, growling and muttering. they circled round, still half-afraid. then one, suddenly becoming brave, shouted a word of angry abuse at waung; and that was all the others wanted. they joined the first man in loud and threatening shouts and fierce abuse, casting at him every evil name they could think of, and saying that the time had come for him to answer for his bad deeds. then one picked up a stone and flung it at him, hitting him on the shoulder. waung had no weapons outside his wurley. he became terrified, gazing round him with hopeless eyes that saw no way of escape. then he stooped to his oven, and saw that fire lay there in a mass of red coals. "i will give you back fire!" he shouted. he thrust a flat stone into the coals, and with it flung fire far and wide among the blacks. some of it hit the men and burned them, as he hoped, but others picked it up and ran with it to their wurleys, so that they might never again be without it in their homes. to and fro in the air the burning pieces flew as waung hurled them from him. so fast they fell that the people were almost afraid again. it seemed as though waung were making fire, so that he might fight them with it. and then a strange thing happened. all the coals that had fallen in the dry grass nearest the wurley turned and began to burn back towards waung. they met in a circle of flame. gradually it burned until it came to the wurley, and there it wrapped waung, and his oven, and all that belonged to him, in a sheet of flame. out of it came waung's dreadful cries for help; but no man dared go near the fire, nor would anyone have lifted a finger to help waung. the people huddled together, watching, in great fear. soon the cries ceased, and then the smoke and flame died away, so that they saw the body of waung, lying across the stones of his oven. he was quite black, like a cinder. the tribe uttered a long shout of triumph, for they knew that he could trouble them no more. then they heard the voice of pund-jel, speaking to the thing that lay across the stones. "fire has made you black," said the voice. "now you shall be black for ever, and no longer a man. instead, you shall be a crow, to fly about for ever and utter cries, so that when the people see you they will remember how they were foolishly in bondage to you and your cruelties." the people cast themselves down, in terror at the voice. a drifting cloud of smoke floated from the smouldering ashes of the wurley and blotted everything out. when they looked again, it had lifted, and blown away into the skies. the thing that had lain on the stones was no longer there. but from the limb of a boobyalla tree close by came a harsh croak and, looking, they saw a big black crow that flapped its wings, and looked at them with sullen eyes. then it said, "waa-a-a! waa-a-a-a!" and, rising from the tree, it flew lazily across to a great blackbutt, where it perched on the topmost bough, still croaking evilly. and the people, glad, yet afraid, clustered together, muttering, "see! it is waung!" iii the emu who would dance long ago, kari, the emu, was superior to all other birds. she was so superior that she would not live on the earth. instead, she had a home up in the clouds, and from there she used to look down at the earth and the queer antics of all the things that lived there. it gave her much food for thought. at that time there were no human beings at all. all the earth was inhabited by animals, birds, and reptiles, and they lived very happily together, as a rule. there were no wars, and every one had enough to eat. while there were no men, fear did not live on earth either. all the world was a big feeding-ground, where even the smallest and weakest could find a peaceful home. kari, sitting in her great nest up in the clouds, watched the animals below, both night and day. she thought them strange creatures, and wondered very much how they could be so contented with so many other creatures about them. she was so used to living alone that it seemed to her rather unpleasant to have one's solitude broken upon by others, all of whom might be peculiar enough to think their little affairs as interesting as one's own. kari thought that nothing could possibly be so interesting as her great lonely nest in the clouds. in reality, it was a very dull old nest, and she was a big, dull bird. she knew no one, and spoke to no one, and thought only her own queer thoughts. but she did not know she was dull, and so she was quite happy. one day she sat in her nest, watching the cloud-masses drift about between her and the world. they cleared away after a while, and she looked down upon a great forest over which she found herself, for, as her nest was in a cloud, it used to float about, and so she never knew what country she might see when she looked down. sometimes it was a lake, sometimes a mountain, and sometimes the great, rolling sea, which always made her feel rather giddy, because it would not keep still for a moment. but on this day it was a wide forest, green and peaceful. kari's sight was very keen, and she looked through the tree-tops to the ground below and saw all the animals. it was really almost as good as a circus, but then kari knew nothing about such a thing as a circus. she watched them with great interest, leaning her long neck over the edge of the cloud in which her nest was built. suddenly she saw a sight that made her lean forward so far that she very nearly overbalanced and fell out. far below her was an open space near a bright spot that she knew was water in a little swampy place in a hollow. the grass there was green and soft; there were trees all round it, and it was a very secluded place, except for anyone looking from above, like the inquisitive kari. but kari was not looking only at green grass and shining water. she saw a little group of birds that had come out of the swamp, where they had been wading, and had begun to dance. they were native companions--puralkas--but kari did not know that. all she knew was that they were very beautiful creatures, the most beautiful, she thought, that she had ever seen: and they were doing the most interesting things. very gracefully they danced to and fro on the patch of green grass. they were tall, slim birds, looking a kind of dim grey colour when seen so far away. their legs were very long and thin, for they belonged to the tribe of birds called waders, who get their food by walking in swamps and morasses, and they had neat bodies, not fluffy like some of kari's own feathers--with which she immediately felt very dissatisfied. their queer thin heads, with long beaks, were carried on long necks, which twisted about as they danced. they pranced up and down, giving little runs backwards and forwards, marching and stepping in the most curious manner. never had kari seen so charming a sight. it made her suddenly envious. until now, she had regarded all the animals and birds as so much beneath her in every way that it never occurred to her to wish to be like them, or to do anything that they did. but this was the first time that she had seen the native companions dance. kari's cloud drifted away presently, and she could no longer see the queer grey company of long-legged birds prancing on the green spot in the forest. but nothing that now came within her sight interested her at all. she saw the lyre-birds building their mounds in the bush, and making them gay with all sorts of odd things: bright stones, bits of quartz, gay feathers; and they also danced on their mounds, but it did not please kari as much as the dance of the puralkas. the moon showed her the animals that come out at night--wombat, wallaby, wild dogs, and opossums; native bears climbing up the highest trees, and flying-foxes that trailed like clouds between her and the tree-tops. she saw the lizards that live in rocks and on the ground, and the hideous iguanas that run up the trees. great flocks of screaming cockatoos made the air white, as they flew, the sun gleaming on their yellow crests. there were snakes, too, in the bush: great carpet-snakes, evil-looking brown and black fellows, and the wicked tiger-snake, with its yellow-patterned back and its quick cruel movements. once it had amused kari very much to see the jackass, merkein, swoop down upon a snake and carry it, struggling, back into a tree. the jackass was a silent bird then, and never made any fuss over his captures: still, it was exciting to see him catch snakes. but now kari found that none of these things interested or amused her any more. all she wanted to see again was the puralkas come out of their swamp and dance upon the grass. she watched for a long time, hoping always to catch sight of them again; but though her cloud drifted over all kinds of country, she could not find the puralkas until at last, one day, as she leaned out, to her great joy the little green space came below her again; and there were the long-legged birds, dancing backwards and forwards as they had done before. she watched them breathlessly, until her cloud began to float away; and then she decided in her mind that she could not bear to let them go again. indeed, she knew now that unless she could do as they did, she would never feel happy any more. "i have seen all there is in the world," she said, "and nothing is half so beautiful as dancing. i know i could dance far better than the puralkas, if i only knew the way. i will go down and get them to teach me how to dance. then i can fly back to my cloud, and for ever after i shall not need to look at the world, for i shall be too happy dancing on the clouds." so kari spread her great wings and floated down the sky until she came over the little green space among the trees. then she dropped gently, and finally landed in the swamp, which she did not like at all, because she had never before had her feet wet, nor were they made for wading in the soft mud of a swamp. she scrambled out as quickly as she could, folding her wings over her back. the puralkas had run back to the edge of their little dancing-ground when they saw the great brown bird coming down from the sky. at first they were inclined to fly away, but they were inquisitive birds, and they waited to see what she would do, though they were quite prepared for flight if she proved to be alarming. but the emu looked so simple and meek, and she was so comically upset at getting her feet wet, that the puralkas saw at once that there was no cause for fear. as they were not afraid, they became rather angry, for they did not like strangers to see them dancing. so they clustered together and watched her with unfriendly eyes as she struggled out of the mud and wiped her feet upon the grass. "how are you?" she said, rather breathlessly. "i have been watching you all from my home in the clouds, and i think you are nice little birds!" now, this made the puralkas exactly seventeen times more angry than before. they believed that they were quite the most beautiful birds that ever wore feathers, and it made them furious to be addressed in this patronizing manner. who was this awkward brown monster of a bird, to drop out of nowhere and talk to them as if she were a queen? they chattered among themselves in a whisper. "she is as ugly as a jew-lizard," said one. "did ever anyone see such great coarse feet?" another whispered. "and her legs!--he-he! why, they are as thick as the trunk of a tree-fern!" "and what a great silly head!" "she is larger than a big rock, but she is more foolish than a coot," said another. "one look at her will tell you that she has no sense." "and what is that ridiculous thing she said about a home in the clouds?" one asked. "as if we did not know that there is nothing in the clouds except rain!" "why, the big eagle flew up nearly to the sun the other day; and yet he saw nothing of nests in the clouds," said another. "she must think we are very simple, to come to us with such a tale." "no one could possibly think us simple, unless she were mad," said another. "every one knows that we are the wisest birds in all the bush. she means to insult us!" and they all glared at the emu, much as if she were a tiger-snake. poor kari felt very puzzled and unhappy. she felt that she had done a kind and condescending thing in coming down to earth and talking so sweetly to these smaller birds; and she could not make out why they should look at her with such angry eyes. she rubbed her muddy feet on the grass, and began to wish that she had never left her nest in the cloud. "do you not speak my language?" she asked at last. "why do you not answer me?" the puralkas put their heads together again, and whispered. finally an old puralka stepped forward with mincing steps and looked her up and down, so that kari actually blushed. "we know what you say, but we do not know why you say it," said the old puralka. "why should you want to know how we are? and how dare you call us nice little birds? we do not know what you are--you are something like a bird, to be sure, but in most ways you are a kind of freak. at any rate, we have no love for strangers." the unfortunate kari moved her big head from side to side, and looked at the bad-tempered old puralka in amazement. her beak opened slowly, but she was too surprised to speak. nothing like this had ever occurred to her when she lived in the sky. "as for your extraordinary remark about a home in the clouds, we would like to remind you that we were not hatched yesterday," went on the old puralka. "not even the swallows nest in the clouds. you are only wasting your time, and we have none to waste on you. would you mind going away? we want to get on with our dancing." kari did not know what to say. her bewildered eyes glanced from one puralka to another, and, finding no friendly face, came back to the old bird who stood waiting for her to answer or go away. she had never dreamed of anything like this, among her drifting clouds, and her first instinct was to spread her wings and fly back until she found her own peaceful nest. but the puralka's mention of dancing reminded her of what had brought her to earth, and she felt again all the old longing to watch the grey birds dance. so she summoned up her courage, of which she possessed surprisingly little, considering her size. "i'm sure i don't know why you should be so annoyed," she said meekly. "i mean well, and it grieves me that i have offended you. it was because i thought you _were_ nice little birds that i called you so, but of course i do not think so now--that is, i mean, i----" she broke off, for the old puralka had uttered something like a snort, and was regarding her with a fixed expression of wrath, and all the other puralkas had bristled alarmingly. "oh, i don't know what i really _do_ mean!" said poor kari helplessly. "you all look at me so unpleasantly. and it is quite true that i have a nest in the clouds--if you will come up, i will show it to you. i live there always, and i have only come down because i hoped that you would teach me to dance!" there was silence for a moment, and then all the puralkas began to laugh. they laughed so much that they could not stand--they went reeling round the little green patch, and at last they sat down, with their legs sticking out straight in front of them, and laughed more and more. meanwhile, kari stood looking at them stupidly. she felt that it was not pleasant laughter. at last they ceased to laugh, and, putting all their heads together, began to whisper. this went on so long that after a while kari grew tired of standing, and so she sat down and watched them, feeling very unhappy. overhead a jackass perched on a big gum-tree, and looked at the group, with his wise old head on one side. when they had whispered for a long time, the puralkas got up and stood in a row, with their wings tightly folded over their backs. the old puralka came forward. "you must excuse us for laughing," she said. her voice was not rude now, but there was something in it that made kari feel as uncomfortable as she had felt when she had been rude before. "we did not mean to hurt your feelings--but we all thought of something funny we saw last month, and so we had to laugh." if kari had been less simple, she would have known that this was only said out of politeness, but she was very anxious to make friends, so she looked gratefully at the old puralka and said, timidly, that she was glad they were so merry. "quite so," said the puralka. "it is a poor heart that never rejoices. but about dancing--that is a different matter. you see, you have wings." "eh?" said the emu stupidly. "why, of course, i have wings. why not?" "well, that is the difficulty," said the puralka. "dancing like ours is the most beautiful thing in the world, of course. but no one with wings can learn it. you see, we have none ourselves." the emu gave a quick look at the puralkas, standing in a row. they had folded their wings so tightly over their neat bodies that it looked as though they had really none at all; and she looked so hard at their bodies that she did not notice how cunning their eyes were. "why, i never noticed that yours were gone," she said. "dear me! how sad! do you not find it very uncomfortable and awkward?" "no; why should we?" snapped the puralka. "wings are really not much use when you once get accustomed to doing without them. dancing is much better." "but why cannot one have both?" asked kari. "simply _because_," said the old puralka crossly. "we do not know why these things are, and we never ask foolish questions about them. but if you wish to learn our beautiful dancing, you must give up your wings first." "give up my wings! i could never do that," cried kari. "well, dancing is better. but it is for you to say," said the old puralka. as she spoke, she made a sign to the others, and they began to dance, swaying forward until they almost touched kari, and then backwards again. then the line broke up into circles and figures, and they danced round the emu until her head grew dizzy with their movements, and she felt that to dance so well was even better than to have wings. to and fro they went, faster and faster, until she could scarcely distinguish one from another, and their long thin legs she could hardly see at all. then, quite suddenly, they all stopped; and kari blinked at them, and could not speak. "well?" asked the old puralka, watching her closely. "do you not think that wings are only a small price to pay for such dancing?" "could you teach me?" kari asked. "easily, if you give up your wings." kari gave a great sigh. "very well," she said. "i cannot live without knowing how to dance as you do." "then, spread your wings out on this stone," said the puralka. so kari spread her great wings across the stone, and the puralkas cut them off quite close to her body with their sharp beaks. then they said, "stand up." kari stood up, feeling very naked and queer without her wings. then the puralkas began to dance again, faster and faster; and they danced upon her wing-feathers that had been cut off, scattering them with their feet until there were not two left together, and the wind came and took the feathers, so that they floated away over the tops of the trees and mounted out of sight. then the puralkas laughed again, just as they had laughed before, until kari's head rang with the noise of it. "when will you teach me?" she asked timidly. "teach you!" cried the puralkas. "what a joke! what a joke!" they burst out laughing again. then, to kari's amazement, they unfolded their wings and shook them in her face. the whole green patch of grass was full of the fluttering of the long grey wings. "you said you had none!" she cried. "what a joke! what a joke!" screamed the puralkas, flapping her with their wings. they spun round and round her, their long legs dancing madly, and their wings quivering and fluttering. then they suddenly mounted into the air, circled about her once or twice, and flew away through the trees. the sound of their wicked laughter grew fainter and fainter until it died away. kari sat down and put her head down on the ground. after a while she got up and tried to fly, but the little stumps of her wings would not raise her an inch from the earth, and very soon she ceased to try. she sat down again. later on, she stood up and began to try to dance as the puralkas had done. she moved her great feet in the same way, and tried to sway about; but it was useless. she looked so comical, hopping round on her thick legs, that the jackass, which had all the time sat in the gum-tree overhead, broke into a great shout of laughter, and all the bush rang with the sound. "ha-ha-ha-ha!--ho-ho-ho-ho!" screamed the jackass. "kari is trying to dance--look at her! there never was anything half so funny--ha-ha-ha! ho-ho-ho!" then kari knew that she had lost her wings for nothing; that she could never dance like the puralkas, and that--worst of all--she could never go back to her nest in the clouds. she could not bear the harsh laughter of the jackass, and so she ran away, her long legs taking great strides, crashing into the undergrowth of the bush. then the jackass flew away, still chuckling to himself that anyone could be so stupid. soon the little green patch of grass was quite deserted; until the sun set, when the cruel puralkas came flying back to it and danced again. but kari never came to it. so the emu lives on earth, and has forgotten all about the nest she once had in the drifting clouds. she has no friends among the birds, for though she is a bird herself, she has no wings, and cannot fly. she has taught herself to run very fast, and to kick with her big feet, so that it is not wise to make her angry. because she used to live in the clouds and had no proper training, she will eat the most extraordinary things--stones, and nails, and pieces of iron and glass, which the blacks have brought into the bush--but they never seem to disagree with her. she is not a very happy bird, for all the time she keeps hoping that her wings will grow long again and that she will be able to fly back to find her cloud-nest. but they never grow. always since then, merkein, the jackass, has been able to laugh. he is called the laughing jackass, because of this. he has been a merry fellow ever since he sat on the gum-tree and watched kari trying to dance, after the cruel puralkas had robbed her of her wings and left her far away from her nest in the white clouds. iv booran, the pelican chapter i long ago, black people were scattered all over the earth, and the forests and plains were full of them. but a great flood came. for weeks it rained all day and all night, until nearly all the plains were great swamps. then the snow was washed from the hills, and the rivers and creeks overflowed their banks, and swept over the country. there was scarcely anything to be seen except the tops of the tallest trees sticking out of the waters that covered the land. all the camps were washed away, and nearly all the people were drowned. in one tribe, the only people left alive were a man and three women. their camp was near a river; and when the flood came and the river rose and washed away the wurleys, they clung to a great log that lay upon the bank. it was so huge a log that they did not think any flood would ever move it. but they had seen only little floods, and they did not know what the river could do when it rose in its wrath. the water crept higher and higher as they clung to the log, and at length they felt its great length give a little shiver beneath them. presently it shifted a little, and the water slipped below it; and soon it swung right round until one end pointed over the bank. still the flood came rising and rising, and presently a wave flowed right over the log and washed off some of the people who were clinging to it. but the man and the three women dug their fingers into knot-holes and cracks, and held on desperately. then a fresh rush of water took the log, and it bumped heavily three times on the bank and slid off into the water. at first, its weight took it under the surface, and the four blacks, feeling the cold dark water close over their heads, made sure that death had come for them. still they gripped the log, and presently it rose, and the current whirled it round and sent it off downstream. it bumped heavily on a snag, and one of the women fell off, crying for help as she went. the man leaned over quickly and by good chance gripped her by the hair. somehow, half pulled, half climbing, she managed to scramble back, and got another grip upon the sodden wood. then the flood carried them into the darkness. all through the cold blackness of the night they held to their rocking place of refuge. sometimes it went aground, with a jar that shook it through its great length, and hung awhile before a fresh spurt of water washed it off again, to float away into the storm-riven night once more. then there would come bends in the river, when the current would fail to take the log round quickly enough, because it was so long; and it would sail on and ram its nose into the bank, running so far into the soft mud that perhaps an hour would creep past before the washing of the water worked it loose again. then the log would swing right round, shaking in the eddies, until it seemed that numbed fingers could hold no longer. but still the terrified blacks held on, while their raft spun down the stream once more, with the cold waves splashing over their shivering bodies. dawn broke slowly, in the mist of driving rain, and showed them a country covered as far as they could see with water. on either side of the river, the topmost ridge of the high banks still could be seen: but soon these were almost submerged and the log floated in the midst of a great brown sea. about two hours after sunrise a sudden swirl of water took the log and floated it out upon the top of the left-hand bank. it came to rest with a shock, and one of the women loosened her grip and fell off, with a mournful little cry that she could hold on no more. but to her surprise, the water was only up to her knees, and the log lay at rest beside her, its voyage over. the man, whose name was karwin, grunted as he straightened his stiffened limbs, slipping down into the water beside the woman. "that was good luck for you, murla," he said. "if the water had been any deeper you would have gone for ever, for there is no strength left in me to pull you out." "i thought it was the end," said murla, her teeth chattering with cold. "and, as far as i can see, it might as well have been the end, for it is better to die quickly than slowly, and we shall never get out of this dreary place." "that is very likely," said karwin. "but still i am glad to be able to let go of that shaking log and stand upright once more." the other women had scrambled to a sitting position on the log, and were rubbing their stiffened limbs. "i think those who stayed in camp will have died more comfortably than we shall," said one. "how are we to get any food?" "oh, there will be no food," karwin answered. "unless the flood goes down very quickly, we shall certainly starve. i do not even know where we are, and i have no weapons. ky! none of our forefathers ever knew such a flood! it is something to have seen it!" [illustration: "'oh, there will be no food,' karwin answered."] "that will not do us much good when we are lying dead in the mud," said murla shortly. "i would rather have a piece of kangaroo now than see the biggest flood that ever was in the world. i have had enough of floods! do you think the water will come any higher?" "how can i tell?" answered karwin shortly. then, because they were all tired, and frozen, and hungry, they quarrelled about it, and became almost warm in the discussion. after awhile, karwin laughed. "if i had a waddy i would give all three of you something to argue over," he said. "what is the use of becoming angry when there is nothing to be gained by it? it will not take us off this bank, that is certain." "no, but it keeps us from thinking," murla said. "when i was angry just now i quite forgot that i was hungry." "all women are a little mad," said karwin scornfully. "no amount of talking could ever make me forget that i was hungry. it is the most important thing in the world." he looked about him. behind the ridge of the river bank, on which their log lay, the current of the flooded stream swept by, deep and swift. before, the sea of brown water stretched as far as he could see, broken only by clusters of storm-washed leaves, that were the tops of submerged trees. there, no current ran; but the wind fled along the surface of the water and blew it into ripples and little waves. "i wonder how deep that is," said karwin thoughtfully. "i will go and see." he took a few careful steps forward. then his foot slipped, and he slid off the mud of the crest of the bank, and immediately disappeared with a loud splash. the women set up a dreadful screaming, crying "come back!"--which, under the circumstances, was a very stupid thing to say. for a long moment the world seemed empty before them. then karwin's head suddenly popped up out of the water, with his face very wet and angry. he swam to the ridge, but it was not easy to get upon it, for the crest was sharp, and very slippery, as karwin already knew to his cost. several times he clawed at it, only to slide back into the deep water, spluttering and wrathful. "hold on to the log," said murla, quickly, to one of the women. "then give your sister your other hand, and she can hold mine." the three formed a chain and found that, by stretching as far as they could reach, murla could just touch karwin with her hand. he made a great effort and caught it in a firm grip, and then they pulled all together, and so managed to tug him over the edge of the ridge. karwin was very angry, and not at all grateful to them. "you might have thought of that sooner," he growled. "ky! the water is cold, and i sank down into a clump of prickly bushes, so that i am stuck with prickles all over. there is no getting away from this bank, that is certain." "we had suspected that," said murla, laughing. at this karwin became worse-tempered than ever, for a blackfellow does not like to be laughed at by a woman, any more than a white man likes it. he threatened to beat them all, and even struck out at one of the women who was grinning, but murla spoke to him severely. "don't do that!" she said boldly. "we are all in the same fix together, and we will not be beaten by you. if you strike one of us we will all push you off into the deep water--and this time we will not pull you back. therefore, you had better be warned." murla looked so fierce as she spoke that karwin stopped the hand he was lifting to strike the woman, and scratched his head with it instead. it was quite a new experience for a blackfellow to be ordered about by a lubra, and you can fancy that he did not like it. still, the other women were clearly prepared to back up murla; and he did not forget how he had struggled in the water at the edge of the bank before they pulled him in. so, instead of hitting the woman, he growled unpleasantly and waded to one end of the log, where he sat down and gave himself up to very bad temper. this time, however, he kept it inside him, and so it did not hurt anyone. the sisters looked at murla with great respect, but murla only laughed at them. she was a pretty woman, for a lubra. her hair was long and very black and curly, and she was much fairer than most of her tribe, with a fine flat nose and a merry smile. none of her teeth had been knocked out, which happens to many lubras, and so there were no holes in her smile. she was little more than a girl, but she was tall and strong, and very clever. and she was not at all afraid of karwin. for two days the four castaways sat on their log and watched the flood. once it rose higher, when a fresh mass of snow was washed from the distant hill-tops, and came down to swell the river; and they thought their log was again about to be carried down-stream, and gave themselves up for lost, for they knew that now they were too weak to hold on for very long. but the log held firm upon the bank, and the danger passed. it was very cold. they plastered themselves all over with a thick coating of mud, hoping that when it dried it would keep them warmer; and this helped them against the cold wind, though it was not at all comfortable in other ways. but worst of all was hunger. on the second day they began to break pieces off the log and chew them, and that, as you can imagine, did very little good. karwin became more and more bad-tempered, and looked at the women as if it was their fault. also, he was very sore from the prickles, and the two sisters and murla spent quite a long time in picking them out of his back, though he was only a little grateful to them. on the second day, the water began to go down. the river still roared and raced past them, bearing on its breast all kinds of things: trees, logs, bushes, interlaced fragments of ruined wurleys, drowned animals, and even dead blacks; but its water slipped back from the bank where their log lay, until it left them on a little mud island, with the brown sea still rippling about them in every direction. the tops of the trees came farther and farther out of the water, and new tree-tops came into view, with their boughs laden with mud. often they saw little living animals in the brushwood that went drifting by them in the river; and nearly all the floating rubbish was alive with snakes that had taken refuge from the flood. sometimes the brushwood would break up in the current, and they would see the snakes swimming wildly until the river carried them out of sight. two came ashore on their island, and karwin killed them with a stick he had taken out of the river. they ate them, and felt a little better. but they knew that they must soon die if they did not get more food. they watched the river anxiously, hoping that it might bring them something else. towards evening, they were gazing up-stream, when murla cried out suddenly. "what is that?" she said, pointing to a dark spot on the water. "it is a bush," said one of the women, in a dull voice. "no, i am certain it is an animal," murla said. "it is floating towards us. let us try to get it." so they held hands, as they had done when karwin fell in, and karwin slipped into the current, holding murla's hand tightly. he had found a stick with a sharp hook on one end, where a branch had broken off, and when the dark object came bobbing down-stream he thrust at it fiercely, savage with hunger. the hook caught in it, and very carefully they drew it ashore, and managed to get it on their island. it was a harder matter to get karwin back, but they managed that too, and then they all lay on the mud and panted, and, except for murla's fair face, they looked as if they were part of the mud. their find was a plump young wombat, and it probably saved their lives. of course they had no way of cooking it, but at the moment that scarcely troubled them; neither did they at all object to the fact that it had been dead for a good while. they ate it all, and long after the moon had come out to cast her white light into the flood it showed them sitting on the log, happily crunching the bones. chapter ii booran was a very clever bird. he was bigger than most of the water-fowl, and very strong. he was also very proud, partly because of his great wings, which would carry his heavy body skimming over the lakes and swamps, and partly because of his beautiful white plumage. all his feathers were perfectly white, and he was so vain about it that he scorned every bird that had coloured or dark plumage. he used to look at his reflection in deep pools, and murmur, "how beautiful i am!" if by any mischance he got a mud-stain on his feathers he was quite unhappy until he had managed to wash it off. some people might not think a pelican a very lovely bird, but booran was completely satisfied with himself. besides being beautiful and white, booran at that time owned a bark canoe. it made him prouder than ever. it was not a very big canoe, but it was as much as a pelican could comfortably manage. he used to sit in it and paddle it along with his strong wings. there was really no reason why he should have had a canoe at all, for he was quite able to swim about in the water with far less labour than it needed to paddle his boat with his wings. it was only part of his great pride. still, no other bird had ever thought of having a canoe, so it pleased booran to think himself superior to them all. no other bird wanted one at all, but he forgot that. the emu laughed at him openly, and when booran offered him a trip in his canoe he asked rudely what booran thought he could do with his long legs in such a cockle shell? that made booran more indignant than he had ever been since two black swans had risen suddenly under the canoe one day and upset both it and booran in a very muddy part of a lake. he vowed that no other bird should ever enter it. sometimes a meek little bird, such as a honey-eater or a bell-bird, would perch on the edge of the canoe and ask to be ferried about; but booran never would allow it. he used to catch fish, and when he had stored all he could in his pouch he would put the rest in the canoe, so that soon it became all one dreadful smell. not that any people in the country of the blacks were likely to object to that. they were brought up on smells. when the big flood came, booran enjoyed himself thoroughly. the river was too swift for him to attempt in his canoe at first, but he paddled about in the water that covered the plains, and poked into a great many things that did not concern him in the least. sometimes he ran aground, when it was always an easy matter for him to jump overboard and push the canoe off with his great beak. he found all kinds of new things to eat, floating round in the flood-water; and some of them gave him indigestion rather badly. but on the whole it was a very interesting time, and he was very glad that he had a canoe so that he could go about in a stylish manner. it was on the afternoon of the third day after the water had begun to go down, that booran was first able to try the canoe on the river. the current was still swift, but he kept in the quieter water near each bank, and did not find much difficulty in getting about. he saw a number of strange blacks on a rise near the water, busily building wurleys; but they did not see him, for he dodged under cover of the wattle-trees fringing the bank. then he pulled down-stream for a little while, until he came to where the banks were lower, and not many trees were to be seen out of the water. he rounded a bend, and came upon karwin and his companions. booran's first instinct was to get out of sight. he was afraid of all blackfellows, especially when they had spears and throwing-sticks. but before he could go, the woman murla saw him, and uttered a great cry of astonishment. at once they believed that it was magic--so many strange things could be explained that way. they watched the big white bird in his bark canoe, and waited to see what would happen, hoping that he was not an evil spirit who would do them any harm. seeing them so quiet, and realizing that they were unarmed, booran allowed his natural curiosity to get the better of him. he paddled across the river, swept down a little by the current, and stopped his canoe in a quiet pool near the mud island, where the castaways sat miserably on their log. they looked so forlorn and unhappy that even his cold and fishy heart was stirred. "good day," he said. "good day," karwin answered. "this is a big flood," booran remarked. "yes, it is a very big one. all the land has gone away." "yes, but it will come back. fish are scarce, now that the river is high." "that is very likely," said karwin. then, having made all these stupid remarks, as all men do before they come to business, they stopped, and looked at the sky, and booran said, "i wonder if more rain will come!" murla struck in suddenly. "men are very strange," she said. "they are always ready to jabber. how is it that you go about in that little boat?" "because i like it," said booran shortly, for he did not approve of women talking so freely, neither did he like the question about his canoe. murla laughed. "you look very funny when you are cross," she said. "i never saw such a dignified pelican." the other women shuddered, for they thought that booran might be an evil spirit, in which case he would certainly object to such free-and-easy remarks. but booran looked at murla, and saw how pretty she was, and suddenly he did not wish to be angry. instead, he smiled at her; and no one who has not seen it can imagine how peculiar a pelican looks when he smiles. "it is a very useful canoe," he said. "i have been all over the flood-waters in it, and have seen many wonderful things." "have you any food?" asked murla eagerly. "no, for i have eaten it all. but i may come across some at any time. would you like it?" "like it!" said murla. "why, we have only had two snakes and a wombat between us for four days--and the wombat was only a little one. i could eat the quills of a porcupine!" "dear me," said booran, looking at her with his foolish little eyes very wide. "that would be very unpleasant, would it not? i quite regret that i ate an old fish that i found in the stern of my canoe this morning. not that it would have made much of a meal for four people." "it would have given me a breakfast," said karwin rudely. "but as there is no food, there is no use in talking about it. tell me, pelican, have you seen any of our people? we do not know if there are any left alive." "i have seen some blacks, but i do not know if they are your people," booran answered. "they are across the river, where they are building themselves new huts." "can't you go and see if they belong to our tribe?" booran shook his big head decidedly. "not i," he said. "most blacks are very uncivil to pelicans, and these had weapons close at hand. i have no wish to be found with a spear sticking in my heart, or in any other part of me." "did you notice what they were like?" murla asked eagerly. "i saw a fat woman, and a thin man," said booran stupidly. "how should i know what they were like? they are not beautiful like pelicans. oh, and i saw a very tall man, with a red bone through his nose. he was sitting idly on a stump while the others worked." "that was my husband!" said murla with a faint shriek. "alas, i thought he was drowned! and the fat woman may be your wife, goomah," she said to karwin. "very likely," said karwin. "did you notice if they had food?" "i do not know. but it is likely, for they had fire, and there was a pleasant smell." "if my wife goomah has food and fire, while i have nothing, there will be trouble," said karwin wrathfully. "that may be, but we will die here without ever knowing," murla said. "long before the water goes down we will have starved to death, and then nothing will matter." she broke off a bit of wood and flung it into the swirling river. "i wish we had never tried to save ourselves, or seen that hateful log!" now, booran had been watching murla, and he thought she looked very capable, and he thought that she could be very useful to him if he could get her away to some place where she could catch fish for him, so that he might spend all his time admiring himself and paddling about in his canoe. but he did not quite know how to manage it. karwin and the woman went on wrangling. they had not been happy before booran came with his tidings; but now they could only think of their fellow-blacks feasting and making a warm and comfortable camp, and it made them feel very much worse than they had felt before. they shouted long and loudly in the hope of making the others hear; but no answer came, and the river rushed by them without pity, and they hated their little mud island. all the time, booran gazed at murla, and at last he made up his mind that he could not possibly do without her. whatever happened, he must get her away, and sail with her in his bark canoe to an island where the blacks could never find her. the others were talking so fast that he had time to think out a plan, and when they stopped for lack of breath, he spoke. "i think, if you sat very still and got in and out very carefully, that i could take you across the river, one at a time," he said, speaking in a great hurry. "that thing would sink," said karwin sulkily, looking at the little canoe with eyes of scorn. "no, it does not sink easily. you would have to be very careful, but it would be safe." karwin looked at the canoe, and then he looked at the trees that showed round the bend, when the high banks were quite clear of water. it was very tempting to think of getting there--such a little way! he thought hard. then he said: "you can take kari first--she is the lightest, and if the canoe does not sink with her, perhaps i will go." booran did not care which he took first, so long as it was not murla. but the woman kari objected very strongly, and made a great outcry, for she thought she would be drowned. however, the others were all agreed that she should go, so there was no use in objecting, and she had to give in. crying and trembling, she stepped into the canoe, which booran brought close to the bank. the canoe went down a good deal, but it did not sink, and booran paddled gently up the stream, keeping very close to the bank, so that the current did not sweep him down. he disappeared round the bend, and for awhile karwin and the two women who were left watched anxiously, fearing to see the upturned canoe float back empty. but in about ten minutes they saw booran turn the corner and paddle swiftly down, evidently very pleased with himself. when he got near the mud island he called out, "all is well! i landed her easily on the bank, and she has run to the camp." that made the others eager, and murla stepped forward to get into the canoe. but booran stopped her, saying, "not now--next time!"--and before she could argue, karwin twisted her out of his way, and stepped into the canoe so hurriedly that it nearly sank, and booran called out very angrily to him to mind what he was doing. however, the canoe righted itself, and presently booran had paddled it out of sight again. murla began to feel a little uneasy, though she scarcely knew why. there was something wrong about the way that booran looked at her, with his cold eyes that were so like a fish's. she felt she would be glad when she was out of his canoe, and safely on the same side as her people. she did not want to get into the canoe at all; but as it was necessary to do so, she decided to get it over as soon as possible. so she said to the other black woman, "i will go next, meri." "all right," said meri, shivering under her little 'possum rug and her coat of mud. "but tell the pelican to hurry back, or i shall certainly die of cold." murla waited impatiently until booran appeared, and when the canoe came alongside the bank she was ready. but booran looked at her queerly, and said, "not now--next time! "why?" asked murla angrily. "this is my turn." "not now--next time!" was all booran would say; and he beckoned to meri, who was not slow to obey, for she was very tired of waiting. she stepped in, and the canoe moved away from the mud island. suddenly murla was very much afraid, although as a rule she did not know what fear meant. she felt that she must not get into booran's canoe--that there was danger coming very close to her. in a few minutes he would be back for her. a quick resolve came to her mind. whatever happened, booran must not find her there when he came back. she slipped off her 'possum rug and wrapped it round a log that had come ashore on their island. it was just as long as she was, and when the rug was wrapped about it, it looked as if she were lying asleep. then she slipped into the river, and began to swim across. booran and meri were out of sight round the bend, and what she wanted to do was to get to the other side before the canoe came back. but it was not an easy matter. the current was swift, and though she was a very strong swimmer, it took her down-stream; and once she thought that she must be drowned. however, just as she was on the point of giving up, she felt the ground under her feet, and scrambled out upon a bank that was nearly all under water. then she waded along it until she got near the bend. just then she heard the noise of booran's wings brushing in the water. she flung herself down on her face--just in time, for the canoe came round the bend, and passed quite close to her. booran heard the swirl in the water, and glanced round, seeing the ripples; but just then he caught sight of what looked like murla, lying on the mud island, and he said, "oh, it was only a water rat!" and paddled on. murla lay still in the water, holding her breath, until he had floated down the stream. then she got up very quietly and waded, sinking in the soft mud of the bank until it grew higher, and trees and dry land could be seen. she ran then, casting her eyes wildly about until she saw ahead a little drift of smoke; and presently, toiling up a steep rise in the bank, she came upon the blacks, where already karwin and meri and kari were jabbering loudly, telling all their experiences and hearing those of the others at the same time. they cried out with astonishment when they saw murla coming along the bank, and asked her why booran had not brought her in his canoe. when she told them she had been afraid of him, they all laughed at her. but her husband, the tall man with the red bone through his nose, was very angry because she had left her 'possum rug behind, and asked her if she thought rugs like that grew on wild cherry-trees. he went off at once to see if he could get it back, telling her as he went that if he failed, she need not think she was going to have his. of course, murla had known that already. meanwhile, booran had paddled down to the mud island, and, seeing the form in the 'possum rug, lying under the shelter of the great log, he called to it several times, saying, "come on, now. it is your turn." but no movement came, and at last he grew angry, and hopped out of the canoe and went on to the island, still calling. there was no answer, and he lost his temper and kicked the figure very hard--with the result that he hurt his foot very much. then he pulled the rug off roughly, and found only a log underneath. booran became furious. he had been made to look a fool. for awhile he stamped about the island, screaming in his rage, and when the blacks got to the opposite bank that is how they saw him. then booran made up his mind that he would "look out fight," as the blacks do, and kill the husband of the woman. so he took some mud and smeared it on himself in long lines, so that he might be striped as the blacks are when they go fighting: for a blackfellow does not consider himself dressed for battle until he has painted himself in long white streaks with pipeclay. he was so busy painting, and planning how he would slay murla's husband, that he did not see a black shadow in the sky. it was another pelican, and he came nearer, puzzled to know what could be this strange thing, so like a pelican and yet striped like a fighting man. he could not make it out, but he decided it could not be right; and so he drove at booran and struck him in the throat with his great beak, killing him. then he flew away. now the blacks say, there are no black pelicans any more. they are all black and white, just as booran was when his death came to him suddenly out of the sky. the blacks across the river were very much amazed. but when the great black pelican had sailed away, murla's husband swam across and got her 'possum rug, which he brought back, tied on top of his head. he gave it back to murla, and then beat her with his waddy for having been so careless as to leave it behind. so they lived happily ever after. but the river took booran's little canoe and whisked it away. it bobbed upon the brown water like a walnut shell, spinning in the eddies, and sailing proudly where the water was clear and free. at each mile the river grew wider and fuller, and the little canoe sped onwards on its breast. then ahead came a long line of gleaming silver, and the river sang that it had nearly reached the sea. the light canoe rocked over the waters of the bar, but came safely through them; and then it floated away westward, into the sunset. but the tide brought it back to shore, and the breakers took it and flung it on the rocks, pounding it on their sharp edges until it was no longer a canoe, but only a twisted bit of bark. the waves went back and left it lying on the beach; and some blacks who came along, hungry and cold, were very glad to find it and use it to start their fire, when it was dry. so booran's canoe was useful to the blacks until the very end. v the story of the stars pund-jel, who was maker of men, sat in his high place one day and looked at the world. the blacks believed that in the very long ago he had made the first men and women out of clay; and from there they had spread over all the earth. pund-jel had made them to be good and happy, and for a long while he had been satisfied with them. but now it was different, and he was angry. all over the world he could see his black people. they had grown tall and strong, and he thought them beautiful. they were skilled in hunting, and fierce in battle: the women were clever at making rugs of skins, at cooking, at weaving curious mats and baskets of pliant rushes. the forests were full of game for them---birds, beasts and reptiles, all good to eat: there were fish in the lakes and rivers, fat mud-eels in the creeks and swamps, and gum and manna to be found on every hill-side. the world was a good, green world, and there should have been only happiness. but the people themselves had grown wicked. pund-jel bent his brows with anger as he looked down upon them. instead of being peaceful and content, his people had grown fierce and savage. they thought only of fighting and conquest, and were too lazy to work. the laws that he had made for them were as naught in their eyes. they said, "oh, pund-jel is very far away. he will never come down into our world to see what we do. why should we obey him?" so they did just as they pleased, and all the world was evil because of their wickedness. pund-jel thought gravely as he looked down into his world, and all the sky was dark with the blackness of his frown. "my people have grown too many," he said. "when they were few, each helped the other: there was no time for feuds or fighting, for all had to work together in order to live. now all is changed. they are many and powerful, and they over-run the world, and each man hates his brother. it were better if i made them fewer, and scattered them far and wide. i will send my whirlwinds upon the earth." so pund-jel caused storms and fierce winds to arise often, and they swept across the world. in the flat lands there came suddenly whirlwinds of great force, that twisted and eddied through the plains, carrying men aloft in their choking embrace, and letting them fall, broken and dead, miles away from the places where they had lived. on the mountains great hurricanes blew shrieking from peak to peak, tearing up the largest trees by their roots, and tossing them down into the fern-strewn gullies far below. huge boulders were loosened and went crashing down; and often a landslip followed them, when all the soil would be stripped from a hill-side and fall, thundering, carrying with it hundreds of people and leaving the bare rock behind it, like a scar upon the side of the mountain. thunder and lightning came and shook the world with terror: mighty trees were riven and shattered, and fires swept through forest and plain, leaving blackness and desolation behind. then came floods, that covered the low-lying parts of the earth, and made of the rivers roaring torrents, that ran madly to the sea. the world trembled in the terror of the wrath of pund-jel. and yet, men had grown so wise and cunning that not very many died. when the whirlwinds and hurricanes came, they crept into holes in the hill-sides, or sheltered themselves in deep gullies. they strengthened their houses, so that the wind should not blow them away. sometimes they floated down the rivers in bark canoes; and a great number found refuge in caves. those who were killed were the careless ones, who would not take the trouble to protect themselves against the fury of the storms, thinking that they would only be ordinary gales; but though they died, innumerable people were left. just for a little while, they were afraid. they knew they were wicked, and that pund-jel must be angry with them; and the thought that possibly the storms were the message of his wrath made them careful for awhile. but as time passed they forgot the storms and whirlwinds, and the fate of their brothers and sisters who had been killed; and they went back to their wickedness, becoming worse than they had been before. and then there came a day when pund-jel's anger broke anew. one morning a blackness came out of the sky, and in the blackness a flame of gleaming fire. the people clustered together, in terror, and there were cries of "pund-jel! pund-jel is coming!" then the magic-men began to chatter and make magic, hoping to turn the wrath of the maker of men; and the people flung themselves upon the ground, crying aloud, and calling upon the good spirits to save them. the blackness swooped down upon the earth. in the air were strange whisperings and mutterings, as if even the rustling leaves and the boughs of the trees were crying, "pund-jel is coming!" and then, out of the glowing heart of the cloud came pund-jel himself, that he might see these men and women that he had made. he spoke no word. his glance was like lightnings, playing about the stricken eyes of those that gazed. but he trod among the black multitudes, and the noise of the trampling of his feet shook the earth. in his hand he carried his great stone knife, and the sight of it was very terrible. those who looked upon it fell back blindly. but as he walked on he cut his way among the people, with great sweeps of the cruel weapon, sparing none that came in his way, and cutting them into small fragments. and then the blackness of the cloud received him again, and hid him from the people of the world. but the pieces of the slain were not dead. each fragment moved, as tur-ror, the worm, moves; and from them rose a cry. it came from the fragments of those who had been good men and good women, yet who had met death at the knife of pund-jel with the guilty ones. then a great and terrible storm came out of the sky, sweeping over the places where pund-jel had trod; and with it a whirlwind, that gathered up the pieces of those who had been men, women and children, and they became like flakes of snow, white and whirling in the blackness of the air. they were carried away into the clouds. and when they came to where pund-jel sat, once more looking down upon the world, he took the flakes that had been bad men and women, and with his hand scattered them so far over the earth that no man could say where they fell. so they passed for ever from the sight of man, and now they lie in the waste places of the world, where there is neither light nor day. but pund-jel took the snowflakes that had been good men and women, and he made them into stars. right up into the blue sky he flung them; and the sky caught them and held them fast, and the light of the sun fell upon them so that they caught some of his brightness. there they stay for ever, and you would not know that they are in any way different from the other stars that twinkle at you on a frosty night when the sky is all blue and silver. only the magic-men, who know everything, can tell you which among the stars were once good men, women and children, before pund-jel left his high seat to punish the wickedness of the world. vi how light came the blacks believed that the earth was quite flat, with the sky arched above it. they had an idea that if anyone could get beyond the edge of the sky he would come to another country, with rivers and trees, where live the ghosts of all the people who have died. some thought that there was water all round the edge of the earth. they were taught that at first the sky had lain flat on the ground, so that neither sun, moon, nor stars could move, but the magpies came along and propped it up with long sticks, resting some parts on the mountains near the edge. and sometimes word was sent from tribe to tribe, saying that the props were growing rotten, and unless the people sent up tomahawks to cut new props, the sky would fall. in its falling it would burst, and all the people would be drowned. this used to alarm the blacks greatly, and they would make the magic-men weave charms so that the sky should not fall. at first, all the earth was in darkness; and at that time there lived among the blacks a man called dityi. in his tribe was a very beautiful woman whose name was mitjen; and she became dityi's wife. at first dityi and mitjen were very happy. they had plenty to eat, and the camp was warm and comfortable, and they loved each other very much. there were no white men, at that time: the blacks ruled all their country, which they thought was the whole world. the forests were full of game, and the rivers of fish: every one had enough, so there was no fighting. and dityi thought he was the luckiest man in the world, because he had won the love of mitjen. but a stranger came to the camp: a tall dark-eyed man named bunjil. he told stories of far-away forests and wonderful things to be found there. the other blacks used to listen to him, greatly interested; and no one listened more attentively than mitjen, for she had a great longing to see the wonderful places of which bunjil spoke. when she heard him tell stories of these strange lands of the bush, she burned to leave her quiet home and go exploring. dityi could not understand this feeling at all. it interested him to hear bunjil's tales, but he had no wish to do more than hear them. he was very well satisfied with his life, and thought that his own home was better than any other place could possibly be. but bunjil soon noticed the dark-eyed girl who never lost a word of his stories. it amused him to see her face light up and her eyes sparkle at his talk; and so he told more and more stories, and did not always trouble to make them true, so long as he could make mitjen look interested. sometimes he would meet her wandering alone outside the camp, and then he would tell her, as if he were sorry for her, that this quiet camp was no place for her at all. "you are so beautiful," he would say, "that you should be far away in my wonderful country, where you would see many great men and lovely women; but none more lovely than mitjen. in this dull hole you are buried alive." none of this was true, but bunjil spoke exactly as if it were, and after a time mitjen began to be very discontented. the simple happy life in the bush pleased her no longer; she only wanted the exciting things of which bunjil told. at home, everybody was good to her and liked her, but she was only a girl who had to obey other people all the time, and no one but dityi had ever troubled about telling her that she was beautiful. moreover, she could see that bunjil did not think much of dityi. he called him one day to mitjen, "an ignorant black fellow," and though mitjen could not imagine any people who were not black, it sounded very uncomplimentary, and she could not forget it. as soon as he had said it, bunjil apologized, saying that it was only a slip of the tongue--but in her heart mitjen knew this was not true. it made her look down on dityi a little, and wonder if he were really worthy of her. one day she asked him if he would take her to bunjil's country, and his surprise prevented him from speaking for some time. he could only look at her, with his mouth open. "go away from home!" he said at last. "why? what is there to go for?" "to see the world," said mitjen, tossing her head. "i do not want to stay for ever in this weary place." "but it is the world--or most of it," returned dityi. "i do not know where bunjil's country is--but the men there cannot be up to much if they are like him, for he is more useless than anyone i ever saw. he cannot throw a boomerang better than a girl, and with a spear i could beat him with my left hand!" "you are boastful," said mitjen coldly. "throwing weapons is not everything." "well, i don't know how things are managed in bunjil's country, but it is very important in ours that a man should know how to throw," said dityi. "perhaps bunjil's game comes close to him to be killed, but here a man has to hunt it. did bunjil mention if it came ready cooked too? i don't suppose you would want to do any work in that country of his!" this made mitjen very angry, and she quarrelled fiercely with dityi for making fun of her; and then dityi lost his temper and beat her a little, which was quite a usual thing to happen to a woman among the blacks. but mitjen had been told by bunjil that in his country a man never raised his hand against a woman. so it made her furious to be beaten by dityi, though he cared for her too much really to hurt her, and she broke away from him and ran to the camp, sobbing that she hated him and did not want to see him any more. near the camp she met bunjil, who asked her why she was crying; and when she told him, he was kind to her, patting her gently, and pretending to be very angry with dityi. he was safe in doing this, for dityi had gone off whistling into the bush--not sorry that he had beaten mitjen, if it should make her sensible again, but sorry that she was unhappy, and resolved to bring her back a snake or something equally nice for supper. so bunjil ran no risk in abusing him, and he did it heartily. when they had finished talking, mitjen walked away from him into the camp with a very determined face. she went straight to her wurley, and though dityi brought her home a beautiful young snake and a lace-lizard, she would eat nothing and refused to come out of the wurley to speak to him. so dityi went back to the young men's huts, angry and offended, and mitjen lay down, turning her face to the wall. she was just as determined; but only her own heart knew how much she was afraid. when the people of the camp awoke, she was gone. nowhere was there any trace of her. and when the blacks went to look for bunjil, in his wurley, he was gone, too. then they fell into a great rage, and the young men painted themselves in white stripes with pipeclay, and went forth in pursuit, carrying all their arms, and led by dityi. but though they looked for many days, they could never come upon a track; and so at last the other young men gave up the search, and went back to the camp. but dityi did not go back. there was nothing for him at home now that he had lost mitjen; and so he went on, hunting through the dark forests for his lost love. bunjil and mitjen had fled far into the bush. for a long time they walked in the creek, so that they would leave no tracks, and if they came to deep holes, they swam them. they were far away from mitjen's country before they dared to leave the water, and already the girl was tired. but bunjil would not let her stop to rest, for he knew that they would be pursued. he hurried her on, forgetting now to be gentle when he spoke to her. it was not many days before mitjen realized the terrible mistake she had made. they fled deeper and deeper into the bush, but no wonderful country came in sight. she was often cold and hungry, and bunjil made her work harder than she had ever worked before, doing not only the woman's work, but a large share of the man's. she found out that he was almost too lazy to get food, and if she had not hunted for game herself, she would never have had enough to eat. bunjil had told her that he loved her, but very soon she knew that this was not true, and that all he had wanted was a woman to cook for him and help him procure food. at first she used to ask him when they would come to his own country, and he would put her off, saying, "presently--pretty soon." but before long she found that it made him angry to be asked about it; and at last, if she spoke of it, he beat her cruelly. so mitjen did not ask any more. then all the memories of dityi and his love came crowding upon her, and her heart quite broke. she did not want to live any more. she lay down under a big log, and when bunjil spoke to her there was no answer. so he kicked her, and left her. but after he had slept, he went to see why she lay so still; and he found that she was dead. as he looked at her, a great storm came out of the bush and whirled him away. it flung him far up in the sky, where you may see him now, if you look closely: a lonely, wandering star, finding no rest anywhere, and no mate. always he must wander on and on, and never stop, no matter how tired he may be; and the other stars shrink from him, hurrying away if they cross his path. the storm took mitjen also, and carried her gently into the sky; and there she saw dityi, who lit it all up, for he had been turned into the sun, and was giving light to the earth. but always, the blacks say, he is seeking mitjen. like a great fire, he leaps through the sky, mourning for his love and going back and forth in ceaseless quest of her. his wurley is in nganat, just over the edge of the earth; and the bright colour of sunset is caused by the spirits of the dead going in and out of nganat, while dityi looks among them for his lost love. but he never finds her; and so next day he begins to hunt again, and goes tramping across the sky. sometimes he shouts her name--"mitjen! mitjen!"--and it is then that we hear thunder go rolling round the world. but mitjen never answers. she has been made the moon, and always she mourns far away and alone. when she sees the glory of the sun, and hears his trampling feet, she hides herself, for now she is ashamed to let him find her. she only comes from her hiding-place when he sleeps; and then she hurries through the sky, so that she may have the comfort of going in his footsteps, though she knows now that she can never hope to overtake him. sometimes she sighs, and then a soft breeze flutters over the earth; and the big rain is the tears that relieve her grief. vii the frog that laughed before pund-jel, maker of men, peopled the earth with the black tribes, and very long before the first white man came to australia, the animals which inhabited the land fell into a great trouble. and this is how it happened. old conara, the black chief, told it to me while we were fishing for cod in the murray one hot night; and he had it from his father, whose mother had told him about it; while to her the story had come from her grandfather, who said he was a little boy when his grandfather had told him, saying he had had the story from conara, the magpie, after whom he was named. and the magpies learn everything, so you see he ought to know. conara said that once in the long-ago time, all the animals were living very cheerfully together, when suddenly all the water disappeared. they went to sleep with the creeks and swamps full, and the rivers running; and when they woke up, everything was dry. of course, this was the most terrible thing that could happen to the animals, for though they can manage with very little food in australia, at a pinch, they must always have plenty of water. they searched everywhere for it, through the scrub and over the plains; and the birds flew great distances, always seeking with their eyes for a gleam of water. but it had quite gone. so the animals held a council of war, and mirran, the kangaroo, spoke to them. at a council, some one must always speak first, to tell those present what they know already; and mirran did this very thoroughly, so that little kur-bo-roo, the native bear, went to sleep and began to climb up the legs of the emu in his sleep, thinking she was a tree. this led to a disturbance, and it was some time before mirran could go on again with his speech. then he found he had forgotten the rest of what he meant to say, so he contented himself by asking them all what they meant to do about it, and remarking that the matter was now open for discussion. this is a remark often made at meetings. then mirran sat down thankfully, but in his relief at finishing his speech he sat on kowern, the porcupine; and kowern is the most uncomfortable seat in the bush. mirran got up more quickly than he had sat down, and again there was disorder in the meeting, especially as the jackass was unfeeling enough to laugh. when matters were more quiet, kellelek, the cockatoo, made a long speech, but it was hard to understand what he said, because all his brothers would persist in speaking at the same time. every one knew that he wanted water, but as every one was in the same fix, it did not seem to help along matters to have him say so. booran, the pelican, was even more troubled about it than kellelek, for of course he lived on the water, and he wanted fish badly. all the fish had disappeared, and the eels had buried themselves deep in the soft mud of the beds of the rivers and creeks, and none of the water-fowl had any food. the red wallaby, waat, and old warreen, the bad-tempered wombat, made speeches, and so did meri, the black dingo, and tonga, the 'possum, and a great many other animals. but not one could suggest any means of getting water back, or form an idea as to how it had gone away. they were all talking together, getting rather hot and excited, and very thirsty, when they heard a sudden whirr of wings overhead, and a bird came dropping down into their midst. it was tarook, the sea gull, and though at first they were inclined to be angry at his sudden appearance, they soon saw that he had news to communicate, and so they crowded round him and begged him to speak. tarook was a proud bird, and did not often leave his beloved sea; so they knew that something important must have brought him so far inshore. he stood in their midst, dainty and handsome, with his snowy feathers and scarlet legs, and carefully brushed a fragment of grass from his wing before replying. "waga, the fish-hawk, came along this morning--in a shocking temper, too--and told me of your difficulties," he said. "well, we of the sea know what has caused them!" there was an instant hubbub. all the animals and birds cried out at once, saying, "what is it?" tarook looked at them all calmly. "if you make such a clatter, how can i tell you?" he asked crossly. "i have not much time either, because my mate and i have youngsters to look after, and it is nearly time i got back to find their dinner." the animals became silent at once, and looked at him anxiously. "three nights ago," said tarook, "tat-e-lak, the big frog, came out of the sea. every one knows he lives there, but none of us had ever seen him--and he is as large as many wurleys. all the sea was troubled at his coming, and big waves rolled in and beat upon the shore, so that we could scarcely see the rocks for spray. a hollow booming sound came from under the sea, and all our young ones were very much alarmed. then a wave larger than all the rest put together crashed into the beach, and when it began to roll back we saw tat-e-lak waddling up the shore. most frogs hop, but he is so huge that he gets along in a kind of shuffle." "but where did he go?" cried kadin, the inguana-lizard. "he waddled away into the plains beyond, and when i flew in to look for him, for awhile i could not find him. then i heard a strange noise of water sucking, and i flew to where it came from. there was a hollow in the creek bank, and tat-e-lak was sitting there, with his head in the water, sucking it all up; and as he sucked, he swelled. it was not a nice sight, and soon i flew away." "but where is he now? and what did he do?" asked the animals anxiously. "i did not watch him any more. but the west wind knows all about him, and he told me when i was out fishing last night. it seems that tat-e-lak lives under the sea, because of his former sins, and that is why he has grown so huge. but he always wants to come back to land, and sometimes he breaks away from his prison under the sea and gets up to the surface--and a great stir his coming makes: it's very annoying if you're fishing, for it scares all the fish away into the farthest corners of the rocks. but the salt water he has drunk for so long makes him terribly thirsty, and unless he can get fresh water to drink he has to go back to his sea-prison." "then that is why he has drunk all of ours!" cried the animals. tarook nodded very hard. "yes," he said. "it is very seldom that he gets a chance of coming up; and his last three landings have been made in the desert, where he has had no water at all, and has been forced to hurry back meekly to the sea. so he is now more thirsty than he ever was before. the west wind says he did not stop drinking until this morning--and now there is no water anywhere, as you know." "then how shall we ever get any more? are we to die of thirst?" "well, that i do not know. i have told you all that i know," said tarook. "tat-e-lak is somewhere on shore, and so far as i can tell, all the water is inside him. but i do not know where he is, nor if you can do anything. now i must go back to my young ones, for they will certainly be hungry, and my mate will be cross." he bowed to the kangaroo, and flew up into the air. then he went skimming over the forest to the sea. when he had gone, the animals talked again, but there was great grief among them, and they did not know what to do. at last it was agreed that malian, the eaglehawk, should fly to the shore and find out anything he could about tat-e-lak. so huge a frog, they thought, could not hide himself from the eyes of an eaglehawk, which can see even a little shrew-mouse in the grass as he flies. so mirran, the kangaroo, bade malian be as quick as possible, and he flew off, while all the people awaited his return as patiently as they could. but they were too thirsty to be very patient. it was evening when malian returned. the day had seemed very long, and he was tired, for it is not easy to fly for a long while without water. "tat-e-lak is the most terrible frog you could imagine," he said. "he is squatting on a rise not far from the sea, and he has drunk so much that he cannot move. his body is swelled up so that he is bigger than anything that ever existed: bigger than the little hill on which he sits. nothing could possibly be so large as he is. he does not speak at all." "but what is to be done?" cried the other animals. "i asked every one i met, but they could not tell me. so at last i found old blook, the bullfrog, for it struck me that he would know more of the ways of other frogs than anyone else. i found him with great difficulty, and for a long time he was too angry to speak, for he has now no water to remain in, and none to drink. but he knows all about tat-e-lak. he says that now he has inside him all the waters that should cover the waste places of the earth, but that we shall never have water unless he can be made to laugh!" "to laugh!" cried the animals. "who can make a frog laugh?" "blook knows he cannot, so that is why he is angry," answered malian. "but that is the only way. if tat-e-lak laughs, all the water will run out of his mouth, and there will once more be plenty for every one. but unless he laughs he will sit there for ever, unable to move; and soon we shall all die of thirst." the animals talked over this bad news for a long time, and at last they agreed that every one who could be at all funny must go and try to make tat-e-lak laugh. a great many at once said that they could be funny; but when they were tried, their performances were so dull that most of those who looked on were quite annoyed, and refused to let them go near the frog, for fear he should lose his temper instead of laughing. however, every one was too thirsty to wait to try all those willing to undertake to make him merry: and they set off through the bush in a queer company, the animals running, hopping or walking, the snakes and reptiles crawling, and the birds flying overhead. "the water will run back to you before we do!" they cried to the wives and young ones they were leaving behind. but that was just a piece of brave talk, for in reality they did not feel at all sure about it. they hurried through the scrub, getting more and more scattered as they went along, for the swift ones would not wait for those who were slower. in the early morning the leaders came out of the trees, and found themselves on a swampy plain leading to the sea. all the water had dried up, and a creek that had its course through it was also dry. it was a very dreary-looking place. not far from the beach there was a little hill; and, sitting on it, they saw the monster frog. he was a terrible creature in appearance, for he was so immense that the hill was lost under him, just like a hugely fat man sitting on a button mushroom. he was so swelled up that it seemed that if anything pricked him he would burst like a balloon; but when they came near him they saw how thick his skin was, and knew that no prick would go through it. his beady eyes were bulging out, and though they tried to attract his attention, he only gazed out to sea and took no notice of them at all. "well, he has certainly had a great drink, but he does not look as if he had enjoyed it," remarked mirran, hopping round him. "i should think he would find himself more comfortable under the sea than sitting on that poor little hill!" said merkein, the jackass. "he will probably go back to the sea," the native companion answered. "let us hope he will not take all the water with him." "how uncomfortable he must be!--why, he is like a mountain!" hissed mumung, the black snake. "may i not go and bite him?" "certainly not!" said mirran hastily. "it might make him angry; or he might die, and we do not want the water poisoned. unless you can make him laugh, you had better get into your hole!" so mumung subsided, muttering angrily to himself. then the animals began to try to make the frog laugh. it was the first circus that ever was in australia. they danced and capered and pranced before him, and the birds sang him the most ridiculous songs they could think of, and the insects sat on his head and told him the funniest stories they had gathered in flying round the world: but he did not take the smallest notice of any of them. his bulging eyes saw them all, but not a word did he say. it is very hard to be funny when nobody laughs, and the animals soon became rather disheartened. but mirran would not let them stop. he himself did most wonderful jumps before the frog, and once hopped right over the emu, who looked so comical when she saw the great body sailing over her that all the animals burst out laughing; but the frog merely looked as though he would like to go to sleep. then menak, the bandicoot, brought his brothers, and performed all kinds of antics; and the 'possums climbed up a little tree and hung from its boughs, and were very funny in their gymnastics; and the dingo and his tribe held a coursing match round the hill on which the frog sat, going so fast that no one could see where one yellow dog ended and the next began; but none of these things amused the frog at all. he stared straight in front of him, and, if possible, he looked a little more bulgy. but that was all. the animals held another council, and tried to think of other funny things. mirran remembered how the jackass had laughed when he had sat down on kowern, the porcupine, and though that had been a most unpleasant experience for him, he bravely offered to do it again. kowern, however, did not like the idea, and scuttled away into a hole, and they had great difficulty in finding him--and when they did find him, it was quite another matter to make him come out. at last they induced him to appear, and to let mirran sit on him. but it was not a successful experiment. perhaps mirran was nervous, for he knew how it felt to sit on kowern's quills; and so he let himself down gently, and kowern gave a heavy groan, but no one even smiled. as for the frog, he was heard to snore. it was all rather hard on mirran, for the experiment hurt him just as much as if it had been quite successful. so the day went on, and when it was nearly evening, the animals could do no more: and still tat-e-lak sat and stared stupidly before him, and looked more and more huge and bulgy in the gathering darkness; and waat, the red wallaby, declared that the little hill he sat on was beginning to flatten under his weight. they were quite hopeless, at last. all were so tired and thirsty that they could not have attempted more antics, even had they known any, but, indeed, they had done everything they knew. they sat in a half-circle round the great frog and looked at him sadly; and the frog sat on his hill and did not look at anything at all. just about this time, noy-yang, the great eel, woke up. he was lying in a deep crack in the muddy bed of the creek, and when the mud dried and hardened it pinched him, and he squirmed and woke. to his surprise, there was no water anywhere. noy-yang wriggled out of his crack, very astonished and indignant. he found all the creek-bed dry, as you know; so he wriggled across it and up the bank, and came out on a little mud-flat by the sea. there he looked about him. on one side the sea rippled, but noy-yang knew that its water was no good for him. on the other was only dry land--the swampy ground he knew and loved, but now there was no water in it. it was very puzzling to a sleepy eel. he looked a little farther and saw the great frog sitting on his hill. but he looked so huge that noy-yang thought the hill had simply grown bigger while he slept; and though that was surprising, it was not nearly so surprising as finding no water. then he saw all the animals sitting about him, but he took no notice of them. all he cared for was to get away from this hot, dry mud, and find a cool creek running over its soft bed. so he wriggled on, making very good time across the flat. nobody saw him, for all the animals were looking miserably at the frog. kowern, the porcupine, had felt very sore and bruised after mirran had sat on him for the second time. he was a sulky fellow, and he did not want to be sat on any more, even if it were for the good of all the people. "mirran will be making a habit of this soon," he said crossly; "i will get out of the way." so he hurried off, and got into the nearest hole, which happened to be near the edge of the mud-flat. there he went to sleep. noy-yang came wriggling along, hating the hard ground, and only wanting to get to a decent creek. he was in such a hurry that he did not see kowern, and he wiggled right across him--and it seemed to him that each of kowern's spines found a different place in his soft body. noy-yang cried out very loudly and threw himself backwards to get off those dreadful spikes. he was too sore to creep at all: the only part of him that was not hurt was the very point of his tail, and he stood up on that and danced about in his wrath and pain, with his body wriggling in the air, and his mouth wide open. and when the monster frog caught sight of the eel dancing on his tail on the mud-flat, he opened his mouth and let out such a great shout of laughter as had never been heard before in the world or will ever be heard again. then all the waters came rushing out of the frog's mouth, and in a moment the dry swamp was filled with it, and a sheet of water rushed over the mud-flat where noy-yang was dancing, and carried him away--which was exactly what noy-yang liked, and made him forget all his sores. it was not so nice for kowern, the porcupine, for he was swept away, too, and as he could not swim, he was drowned. but he was so bad-tempered that nobody cared very much. tat-e-lak went on laughing, and the water kept pouring out of his open mouth; and as he laughed he shrank and shrank, and his skin became flabby and hung in folds about him. he shrank until he was only as large as a few ordinary frogs put together: and then he gave a loud croak, and dived off into the water. he swam away, and none of the animals ever saw him again. at that moment the animals were much too busy with their own affairs to think much about tat-e-lak. when the water first appeared they rushed at it eagerly, and each drank as much as he could. then they felt better, and looked about them. mirran, the kangaroo, was the first to make a discovery. "ky! it will be a flood!" said he. "a flood--nonsense!" said warreen, the wombat. "why, ten minutes ago it was a drought!" "yes, and now it will be a flood," said mirran, watching keenly. "look!" the water had run all over the plain, filling up the swamp, and already the creek showed like a line of silver where but a few moments ago there had been only dry mud. but it was plain that the water could not get away quickly enough. all the plain was like a sea, and there were big waves washing round the little hills. "save yourselves!" cried mirran, to the people. "soon there will be no dry land at all!" he set off with great bounds, thinking of his mate and the little ones he had left in the forest. behind him came all the people, running, jumping and crawling; and behind them came the water, in one great wave. some reached the high ground of the forest first, and found safety, and others took refuge on hills, while those that could climb fled up trees. but many could not get away quickly, and the waters caught them, and they were drowned. next morning the animals who were saved gathered at the edge of the forest and looked over the flood. it stretched quite across the plain, and between it and the sea was only the yellow line of the sand-hummocks. nearer to the forest were a few little hills, and on these could be seen forlorn figures, huddling together for warmth--for the air had become very cold. "there are some of our people!" cried mirran in a loud voice. "how are we to rescue them?" no one could answer this question. none of the animals could swim, and if they had been able to do so, they had still no way of getting the castaways to dry land. they could only look at them and weep because they were so helpless. after awhile, booran, the pelican, came flying up, in a state of great excitement. "have you seen them?" he cried. "waat is there, and little tonga, the 'possum, and old warreen, and a lot of others; and soon they will die of cold and hunger if they are not saved. so i must save them." "you!" said all the animals. "there's no need to say it in that tone!" said booran angrily. "i can make a canoe and sail over quite easily. it will please me very much to save the poor things." so booran cut a big bark canoe, which he called gre. he was very proud of it, and would not let anyone touch it or help him at all; and when it was finished he got in and paddled over to the little islands where the animals shivered and shook, with soaked fur and heavy hearts. they grew excited when they saw booran coming, and when he arrived, with his canoe, they nearly tipped it over by all trying to get in at once. this was repeated at each island, and at last booran lost his temper altogether and threatened to leave them all where they were. this dreadful idea made them very meek, and they were quite silent as booran paddled them towards the shore. now, booran had not a pleasant nature. it did not suit him to find people meek, for it at once made him conceited and inclined to be a bully. he felt very important, to be taking so many animals back in his boat; and so he began to say rude things to them, and in every way to be unpleasant. the animals bore this quietly for a time, for they were too cold to want to dispute with him, and besides, they were really very grateful for being saved. but after a while, he became so overbearing that waat, the red wallaby, answered him back sharply, and others joined in. before they got to shore, they were all quarrelling violently, and when they had only a few yards to go booran suddenly stopped paddling, and jumped out so quickly that he upset the canoe, and threw all the animals into the water. he swam off, chuckling, and saying, "that will help to cool your bad tempers!" the water was not deep, and the animals escaped with only a ducking. they struggled to the dry land, very wet and miserable. "that was a mean trick to play on us," said little tonga, his teeth chattering. "i would like to fight booran, if only he would come ashore. but he will keep out of our way now." "ky! look at him!" said waat. they looked, and they saw booran coming in rapidly, as though he were floating on the water, and had no power to stop himself. his eyes were fixed and glassy, and his great beak wide open. a wave brought him right up on the shore, and blew over him in a cloud of spray. when the spray had gone, booran had gone, too; and where he had lain on the bank was a big rock, shaped something like a pelican. that was the story old conara told me, as we fished for murray cod together. he said that all his people knew the rock, and called it the pelican rock; and it stood on the plain long after booran and his children's children's children were almost forgotten. to-day the plain is dry, and no water ever lodges there; but when the blacks see the pelican rock they think of the time when it was all in flood, when tat-e-lak, the great frog, nearly caused all the animals to die of thirst, and when noy-yang, the eel, saved them by dancing on his tail on a mud-flat by the sea. viii the maiden who found the moon chapter i very long ago, before the white man came to conquer the land, a tribe of black people lived in a great forest. beyond their country was a range of mountains which separated them from another tribe of fierce and warlike blacks, and on one side they were bounded by the sea. they were a prosperous tribe, for not only was there plenty of game in the forest, to give them food and rugs of skins for clothing, but the sea gave them fish: and fish were useful both to eat and for their bones. the blacks made many things out of fish-bones, and found them very useful for tipping spears and other weapons. being so powerful a tribe, they were not much molested by other blacks. the mountains to the north were their chief protection. no wandering parties of fighting men were likely to cross them and surprise the tribe, for they were steep and rugged and full of ravines and deep gullies that were difficult to cross, unless you knew the right tracks. the nearest tribe had come over more than once, and great battles had taken place; but the sea-tribe was always prepared, for the noise of their coming was too great to be hidden. there had been great fights, but the sea-tribe had always won. now they were too strong to fear any attack. so strong were they, indeed, that they did not trouble about fighting, but only wished to be peaceful. their life was a very simple and happy one, and they did not want anything better. the tribe was called the baringa tribe, and the name of its chief was wadaro. he was a tall, silent man, very proud of his people and their country, and of his six big sons--all strong fighting-men, like himself--but most of all, he was proud of his daughter, miraga. miraga was just of woman's age, and no girl in all the tribe was so beautiful. she was straight and supple as a young sapling, lissom as the tendrils of the clematis, and beautiful as the dawn striking on the face of the waters. her deep eyes were full of light, and she was always merry. the little children loved her, and used to bring her blossoms of the red native fuchsia, to twine in her glossy black hair. most blacks, men and women, look on everything they meet with one thought. they ask, "is it good to eat?" but miraga was different. she had made friends with many of the little animals of the bush, and they were her playmates: bandicoots, shrew-mice, pouch-mice, kangaroo-rats, and other tiny things. they were quite easy to tame, if anyone tried; even snappy little yikaura, the native cat, with its spotted body and fierce sharp head, became quite gentle with miraga, and did not try to touch her other pets. she begged the tribe not to eat the animals she loved, and they consented. of course, in many tribes it would have been necessary to go on using them for food, and any woman who tried to save them would only have been laughed at. but the baringa folk had so much food that they could easily afford to spare these little furry things. besides, it was miraga who asked, and was she not the chief's daughter? however, it was not only because she was the chief's daughter that the people loved miraga and did what she asked them. she was always kind and merry, and went about the camp singing happily, generally with a cluster of children running after her. if anyone were sick she was very good, bringing food and medicines. being the daughter of wadaro, the chief, she might have escaped all work; but instead, she did her share, and used to go out digging for yams and other roots with the other girls of the tribe, the happiest of them all. the tribe beyond the northern hills was called the burrin. they were very fierce and had many fighting-men; but their country was not so good as that of the baringa, and they were very jealous of the happy sea-tribe. one time they came to the conclusion that it was long since they had had a fight--and that it would be a very good thing to try and win the baringa country. they did not want to go over the mountains unprepared. so they sent a picked band of young men, telling them to cross into the land of the baringas and find out if they were very strong, and if there were still much game in the forest. they were not to fight, but only to prowl in the forest and watch the sea-tribe stealthily. then they were to return over the mountains with their report, so that the head-men of the burrin could decide whether it were wise to send all their fighting-men over to try and conquer the baringa. the little band of burrin men set off with great pride. their leader was the chief's son, yurong, who was stronger than any man of his tribe, and of a very fierce and cruel nature. he was not yet married, although that was only due to an accident. once he had been about to take a wife, and had gone to her camp and hit her on the head with a waddy, which was one of the blacks' customs in some tribes, before carrying her to his own wurley. but he hit too hard, and the poor girl died--which caused yurong a great deal of inconvenience, because her parents wanted to kill him too. it was only because he was the chief's son that he escaped with his life. now he was still unmarried, because no girl would look at him. it made yurong more bad-tempered than he was naturally, and that is saying a good deal. he had great hopes from the expedition into the baringa country. if he came back successful, and won a name for himself as a fighter, he thought that all the maidens of his tribe would admire him, and forget that he had been so ready with his stick when he was betrothed first. yurong and his band left the plain where the burrin tribe roamed, and journeyed over the mountains. they did not find any great difficulties, for they had been told where to find the best tracks, and they had scarcely any loads to hamper them. it was summer-time, and the lightest of rugs served them for covering at night, even in the keener air of the hills. there was no difficulty in finding food or water, and the stars were their guides. when they came to the country of the baringas they went very cautiously, for they did not wish to encounter any of wadaro's men. in the daytime they hid themselves in gullies or in bends of the creek, only coming out when their scouts knew that no enemies were near; but at night they travelled fast, and before long they climbed up a great hill that lay across their path, and from its topmost peak they saw the gleaming line of the sea. then, watching, they saw camp-fire smoke drifting over the trees; and they knew they had found wadaro's camp. they became more careful than ever, knowing that now was their greatest danger. sometimes they hid in trees, or in caves in the rocks, all the time watching, and noting in their memories the number of the men they saw and the signs of abundance of game. there was no doubt that this was a far better country than their own, and they thirsted to possess it. at the same time they could see how strong the baringas were. even their womenfolk were tall and straight and strong, and would help to fight for their land and their freedom. the burrin men used to see them when they went out to dig in the bush, a merry, laughing band. always with them was a beautiful girl with red flowers in her hair. yurong would watch her closely from his hiding-place, and he made up his mind that when the fighting was over this girl should be the chief part of his share of the spoils. he was so conceited that he never dreamed that his tribe would not win. but misfortune fell upon yurong and his little band. they were prowling round the outskirts of wadaro's camp one night when a woman, hushing her crying baby to sleep, caught a glimpse of the black forms flitting among the trees. she gave the alarm silently, and silently the fighting-men of the baringas hurled themselves upon the intruders. there was no time to flee: the burrin men fought fiercely, knowing that escape was hopeless. one by one, they were killed. yurong was the last left alive. he turned and ran, when the last of his comrades fell, a dozen baringas at his heels. the first he slew, turning on him and striking him down; then he ran on wildly, hearing behind him the hard breathing of the pursuing warriors. suddenly the ground under his feet gave way. he fell, down, down, into blackness, shouting as he went; then he struck icy water with a great splash. when he came to the surface he could see the moonlight far above him, and hear the voices of the baringa men, loud and excited. then he went under once more. on the river-bank, steep and lofty, the baringas watched the black pool where yurong had disappeared. there was no sign of life there. "he is gone," they said at last. "no man ever came alive out of that place. well, it is a good thing." they watched awhile longer, and then turned back to the camp, where songs of victory were ringing out among the trees. chapter ii but yurong did not die. when he sank for the second time, he did it on purpose. the fall had not hurt him, and his mind worked quickly, for he knew that only cunning could save him. he swam under water for a few moments, letting himself go with the current. but presently a kind of eddy dragged him down, and he found himself against a wall of rock, which blocked the way, so that there seemed to be no escape. but even in his agony he remembered that so long as the current ran there must be some way out; and he dived deeply into the eddy. it took him through a hole in the rock, far under the water, scraping him cruelly against the edges; but still, he was through, and on the other side he rose, gasping. here the river was wider and shallower, and not so swift. yurong let it carry him for awhile; then he scrambled out on one side, and found a hiding-place under a great boulder. he rubbed himself down with rushes, shivering. then, crouching in his hole, he slept. when he awoke, he knew that now he should not lose a moment in getting back to his tribe. he had learned the fighting strength of the baringas, with all else that he had come to find out; but, besides that, he had now the deaths of his comrades to avenge. and yet, three days later, yurong was still in hiding near the enemy's camp. he had made up his wicked mind that when he went away he would take with him the beautiful girl he had so often seen in the forest with her companions. quite unconscious of her danger, miraga went about her daily work. the sight of her, and the beauty of her, burned into yurong's brain; often in the forest he dogged her footsteps, but the other girls were always near her, and he dared not try to carry her away. he knew now she was the chief's daughter, and he smiled to think that through her he could deal the cruellest blow to wadaro, besides gaining for himself the loveliest wife in all the bush. but out in the scrub the girls clustered about miraga, and in the camp the young men were never far from her. there was not one of them who would not have gladly taken her as his bride, but she told her father that she was too young to think of being married, and wadaro was glad enough to keep her by his side. but yurong, fiercely jealous, could see that there was one man on whom miraga's eyes would often turn when he was not looking in her direction--a tall fellow named konawarr--the swan--who loved her so dearly that indeed he scarcely gave her a chance to look at him, since he so rarely took his gaze from her! he was the leader of the young fighting-men, and a great hunter; and yurong thirsted to kill him, as the kangaroos thirst for the creeks in summer, when drought has laid his withering hand upon the waters. so five days went by. in the forest yurong hid, living on very little food--for he dared not often go hunting--and always watching the camp; and miraga, never dreaming of the danger near her, lived her simple, happy life. the children always thronged round her when she moved about the camp, and she would pause to fondle the little naked black babies that tumbled round the wurleys, tossing them in the air until they shouted with laughter. yurong saw with amazement how the little animals came to her and played at her feet, and it impressed him greatly with a sense of the wealth of the baringa tribe. "ky!" he said to himself, "they are able to use food for playthings!" never before had he dreamed of such a thing. one evening the girls went out into the scrub, yam-digging, each carrying her yam-stick and dilly-bag--the netted bag into which the black women put everything, from food to nose-ornaments. miraga's was woven of red and white rushes, with a quaint pattern on one side, and she was very proud of it, for it had been konawarr's gift. she was thinking of his kind eyes as she walked through the trees, brushing aside tendrils of starry clematis and wild convolvulus, and finding a way through musk and hazel thickets. he had looked at her very gently when he gave her the bag, and she knew that she could trust him. she was very happy as she wandered on--so happy that she did not notice for a while that she had strayed some distance from the other girls, and that already the shadows were creeping about the forest to make the darkness. "i am too far from camp," she said aloud. "i must hurry back, or my father will be angry." she turned to retrace her steps, pausing a moment to make sure of her direction. then, from the gloom of a tall clump of dogwood, something sprang upon her and seized her. she struggled, sending a stifled cry into the forest--but it died as a heavy blow from a waddy took away her senses. yurong carried her swiftly away. day came, and found them still fleeing, miraga a helpless burden in her captor's arms. days and nights passed, and still they travelled northwards, across the rivers, the forest, and the mountains. they went slowly, for at length yurong could carry the girl no farther, and at first she was too weak to walk much. even when she grew stronger she still pretended to be weak, doing all in her power to delay their flight--always straining her ears in the wild hope that behind her she might hear the feet of the men coming to save her--led by wadaro and by konawarr. somewhere, she knew, they were searching for her. but as the days went by, and no help came, her heart began to sink hopelessly. yurong was not unkind to her. he treated her gently enough, telling her she was to be his wife, but she hated him more and more deeply each hour. thinking her very weak, he let her travel slowly, and helped her over the rough places, though she shrank from his touch. but he took no risks with her. he kept his weapons carefully out of her reach, and at night, when they slept, he bound her feet and hands with strips of kangaroo-hide, so that she might not try to escape. then they came to the topmost crest of the mountains, and below them yurong could see the country of his people. at that, miraga gave up all hope. they camped on the ridge that night; and for the first time she sobbed herself to sleep. she woke up a while later, with a sound of little whispers in her ears. it was quite dark inside the wurley; but she heard a patter of tiny, scurrying feet, and a few faint squeaks. miraga lay very still, trembling. then a shrill little voice came, very close to her. "mistress--oh, mistress!" "who is it?" she whispered. "we are your little people," came the faint voice. "lie very still, and we will set you free!" on her hand, miraga felt a patter of tiny feet, like snowflakes falling. they ran all over her body; she felt them down at her bare ankles, and near her face. she knew them now, though it was dark--little padi-padi, the pouch-mouse, and punta, the shrew-mouse, and kanungo, the kangaroo-rat, with the bandicoot, talka. they were all her friends--her little people. dozens of them seemed to be there in the dark, nibbling furiously at the strips of hide on her wrists and ankles. how long the time seemed as she lay, trembling, in great fear lest yurong should awaken! the very sound of her own breathing was loud in her ears, and the faint rustlings of the little people seemed a noise that must surely wake the sleeping warrior. but yurong was tired, and he slept soundly: and the little people worked hard. at last the bonds fell apart and she was free. gliding like a snake, she crept out of the wurley, and ran swiftly into the forest that clothed the mountains. but scarcely had she gone when yurong woke and found she was not there. he sprang to his feet with a shout, grasping his weapons, and rushed outside. there was no sign of miraga--but his quick ear caught the sound of a breaking twig in the forest, and he raced in pursuit. again he heard it, this time so close that he knew she could not be more than a few yards away. then he found himself suddenly on the edge of a great wall of rock, and there was no time to stop. he shouted again, in despair, as he fell--down, down. then no more sounds came. but just on the edge of the precipice three bandicoots came out of a heap of dry sticks, laughing. "that was easily done," said one. "it was only necessary to jump up and down among the sticks and break a few, and the silly fellow made sure it was miraga." "well, he will not make any more foolish mistakes," said his brother. "but is it not surprising to find how simple these humans are!" "all but our mistress," the first said. "come--we must make haste to follow her, or else we shall have another long hunt. and nobody knows what mischief she may fall into, if we are not there to look after her!" chapter iii miraga ran swiftly into the heart of the forest, glancing back in terror, lest at any moment she should see yurong. she heard him shout, and the crash of his feet in pursuit as he plunged out of the wurley; and for a moment she gave herself up for lost. he was so swift and so strong: she knew that she could never escape him, once he was on her track. another cry reached her presently, not so close. it gave her her first throb of hope that yurong had taken the wrong turning among the trees. still she was far too terrified to slacken speed. she fled on, not knowing where she was going. a great mountain peak loomed before her, and she fled up it. it was hard climbing, but it seemed to her safer than the dark forest, where at any moment yurong's black face might appear. here, at least, she might be safe; at least, he would not think of looking for her in this wild and rugged place. perhaps, if she hid on the mountain for a few days he would grow tired of looking for her, and go away, back to his own people; and then she could try to find her way home. at the very thought of home, poor miraga sobbed as she ran: it seemed so long since the happy days in the camp by the sea. the way was strange. she climbed up, among great boulders and jagged crags of rock. above her the peaks seemed to pierce the sky. deep ravines were here and there, and she started away from their edges: somewhere, water fell swiftly, racing down some narrow bed among the rocks. so she went on, and the moonlight grew stronger and stronger, until it flooded all the mountain. she fought her way, step by step, up the last great peak. and, suddenly, in the midnight, she came out upon a great and shining tableland: then she knew that in her journeyings she had found the moon! [illustration: "then she knew that in her journeyings she had found the moon!"] she wandered on, in doubt and fear--fear, not of this strange new land, but of the men she dreaded to find there. but for a long time she saw no people. only in the dim hours, when the earth-world glowed like a star, but all the moon-country was dark, there came about her the little people that she knew and loved--padi-padi, and punta, talka and kanungo. and because she was very lonely, and a lonely woman loves the touch of something small and soft, she took some of them up and carried them with her in her dilly-bag. "how did you know i was lost?" she asked them. "how did we know?" they said, laughing at her. "why, all the forest sang of it! the magpie chattered it in the dewy mornings, and moko-moko, the bell-bird, told all about it to the creeks in the gullies. moko-moko would not leave his quiet places to tell the other animals, but he knew the creeks would carry the story. soon there was no animal in all the bush that did not know where you had gone. only we could not tell your own stupid people, for they would not understand." "and are they looking for me?" miraga asked. "they seek for you night and day. your father has led a party of fighting-men to the east, and konawarr has gone north with all his friends. they never rest--all the time they seek you. and the women are wailing in the camp, and the little children crying, because you are gone." that made miraga cry, too. "can you not take me back?" she begged. "i can go if you will show me the way." but the little people shook their heads. "no, we cannot do that," they said. "we can help you, and we can talk to you, but we may not take you back. you must find the way yourself." so miraga wandered on through the moon-country. it was very desolate and bare, strewn with rocks and craggy boulders, and to walk long upon it was hard for naked feet. there were no rivers, and no creeks, but a range of mountains rose in one place, and were so grim and terrible that miraga would not try to climb them. she found stunted trees, bearing berries, which she ate, for she was very hungry. "perhaps they are poisonous, and will kill me," she said. "i do not think that greatly matters, for i begin to feel that i shall never get home." but the berries were not poisonous. indeed, miraga felt better when she had eaten them. her strength came back to her, and her limbs grew less weary. she put some of the berries into her dilly-bag for the little people. then she set off on her wanderings again. she did not know how long she had been in the moon-country, after a while. it seemed that she had never done anything but find her way across its rugged plains, seeking ever for the track back to the green earth-world. so silent and strange was it that she began to think there was no living being upon it but herself and the little people she carried with her. one day, wandering along a rocky edge, she quite suddenly came upon the camp of the man-who-dwells-in-the-moon. she cried out in fear, and fled. but he was awake, and when he saw this beautiful girl, he rose and gave chase. but miraga was fleet of foot; and the man-who-dwells-in-the-moon was a fat man, and heavy: for, as the blacks know, he never goes hunting, as men do, but always sits down in the shadow of his mountains. presently, he saw that the girl was escaping; she drew farther and farther ahead, running like a dingo, and already he was puffing and panting. so he stamped his foot and called to his dogs, and they came out of the holes of the hills--great savage brutes, lean and hungry-looking, of a dark colour. they came, running and growling, and sniffing angrily at the air. their master waved his hand, and they uttered a long howl and followed swiftly after miraga. now, indeed, she thought that her end had come. mists swam before her eyes, and her feet stumbled: she, whose limbs were so lithe and strong, tottered like a weary old woman. behind her, the long howls of the dogs woke terror in her heart. they drew nearer; almost she could feel their hot panting breath. but just as she was about to sink down, exhausted, the little people in the dilly-bag chattered and called to her. "mistress! oh, mistress!" they cried. "let us out, that we may save you!" she heard them, and fumbled with shaking fingers at the fastening of the bag. it slipped from her shoulders, and fell to the ground; and as it fell, the animals burst out and fled in many directions, some here and some there, squeaking and chattering. and when the fierce dogs of the moon saw them, they forgot to pursue miraga, but turned and coursed swiftly after the animals. behind them the man-who-dwells-in-the-moon shouted vainly to them. there are no animals in the moon-country, and so the dogs have no chance of hunting; but the sight of the scampering little people woke their instincts, and they dashed after them wildly. they caught some, and swiftly slew them; others dodged, and leaped, and twisted, escaping into little rockholes, where the dogs could not follow them. the noise of the hunting and the deep baying of the dogs echoed round the moon and made thunder boom among the stars. but miraga ran on, stumbling for weariness. she knew that the dogs were no longer close upon her, but she dreaded to hear them again at any moment, for she did not see how such feeble little people could keep them off for long. so she ran, and as she went, her tears fell for the little friends who had given their lives for her. at last, too tired to see where her stumbling feet had led her, she came to the brink of a great precipice, and fell down and down, until her senses left her. but when she opened her eyes again, it was to meet those of konawarr; and he was holding her in his arms and calling her name over and over, with his voice full of pity and love; and behind him were his friends--all the band who had been seeking her with him. they were all smiling to her, with welcome and joy on each friendly face. for in her fall she had come back to the dear earth-world once more, and her sorrows were at an end. so, when the tribes look up to the sky on moonlit nights and see the great shape that looms across the brightness, they say it is the mighty man-who-dwells-in-the-moon; who, like themselves, is black, but grown heavy and slothful with much idleness and sitting-down. the parents scare idle children with his name, saying that if they do not bestir themselves they, too, will become fat and useless like him. but miraga used to tell her children another story, and when she told it her eyes would brim with tears. it was the story of the little people she loved, who followed her to the moon-country, and there gave up their lives for her, saving her first from yurong, and then from the teeth of the dogs of the moon. and the children would shiver a little, clustering more closely--all save little konawarr, who would grasp his tiny boomerang and declare that he would kill anything that dared to hurt his mother. the great dogs still crouch around the man-who-dwells-in-the-moon, waiting to do his bidding. you can see them, if you look closely--dark spots, near the huge figure in the midst of the brightness. they are the fierce dogs that guard the lonely country in the sky: the dogs that long ago hunted, howling, after miraga the beautiful, across the shining spaces of the moon. ix mirran and warreen mirran, the kangaroo, and warreen, the wombat, were once men. they did not belong to any tribe, but they lived together, and were quite happy. nobody wanted them, and they did not want anybody. so _that_ was quite satisfactory. warreen was the first. all his tribe had been drowned in a flood, leaving him quite alone. so he found a good camping-place, where there were both shelter and water, and he made himself a camp of bark, which he called, in the language of his tribe, a willum. he was not in a hurry when he was making it, so he did it well, and no rain could possibly come through it. one side of it was a big rock, which made it very strong, so that no wind was likely to blow it away. overhead a beautiful clump of yellow rock-lilies drooped gracefully. not that warreen cared for lilies; and this particular clump annoyed him, for the rock was too steep for him to climb up and eat the lily-roots. he had been living there for some time, very lazy and contented, when one day mirran appeared. at first warreen thought he meant to fight, and that also annoyed him, because he hated fighting. but mirran soon showed him that he only wanted to be friends; and then warreen discovered that he was very glad to have some one with whom he could talk. so after the manner of men, they sat down and yarned all day. several times during the day mirran said, "i must be going." but warreen always answered, "oh, don't go yet"; and they went on talking harder than ever. night came, and mirran said, "it is really time i made a move." warreen said, "why not stay the night? i can put you up." they talked it over for a while, and then it was quite too late for mirran to go. so he stayed all night, and in the morning warreen said, "why not spare me a few days, now that you are here?" mirran willingly agreed to this, for he had nothing to do, and he thought it very nice of warreen to put the invitation that way. they became great friends. mirran was tall and thin and sinewy, while warreen was very short and dumpy, and exceedingly fat. also, he was lazy, and he liked having some one to help him get food, at which mirran was very quick and clever. mirran also was the last of his tribe. the others had been killed by warlike blacks, and mirran would have been killed also, but that he managed to swim across a river and get away into the scrub. he was very active and fleet of foot, and delighted in running, which was an exercise that bored warreen very badly. soon they made an arrangement by which mirran did all the hunting, while warreen dug for yams and other roots, and prepared the food, just as a woman does. it suited them both very well. mirran had one peculiarity that warreen at first thought exceedingly foolish. he did not like to sleep indoors. it was summer time when he came, and he would not build himself a willum, but slept upon a soft bed of grass under the stars. if a cold night came, or even a rainy one, he rolled himself in his 'possum rug and slept just as happily. warreen began by thinking he was mad. but as time went on he often slept outside with mirran, himself, especially on those nights when they were talking very hard and did not want to leave off. warreen used to grumble at the hardness of the ground, but he was really very much better for staying outside, in the fresh night-air. his little willum was a very stuffy place. sometimes he would think about the winter, and say to mirran: "when are you going to build your willum?" "oh, there is plenty of time," mirran would say. "the cold weather will be here, and then what will you do?" "oh, i expect i shall have my camp ready in time. it will not take me long to build it, when the time comes." "if you are not very careful, you will find yourself caught by the winter, and you will not like that," said warreen. but mirran only laughed and talked about something else. he hated building, and was anxious to put it off as long as possible. warreen had a very suspicious mind, and it often made him believe very stupid things. he was the kind of man who was best living alone, because so often he got foolish ideas into his head about other people, and imagined he had cause for offence when there was really none at all. so he began to wonder why mirran would not build a camp, and the thought came to him that perhaps he did not intend to build at all, but meant to take possession of his own willum. of course, that was ridiculous, for mirran was only lazy, and kept saying to himself, "to-morrow i will build"; and when to-morrow came, he would say, "oh, it is beautiful weather; i need not worry about building for a few days yet." so he went on putting it off, and warreen went on being suspicious, until sometimes he felt sorry he had ever asked mirran to live with him. but mirran sang and joked, and hunted, and had no idea that warreen was making himself uneasy by such stupid thoughts. one night, clouds came drifting over the sky, after a hot day, and warreen said, "i am not going to sleep outside to-night." "i don't think it will rain," said mirran. "it is much cooler out here." "yes, but one soon forgets that when one is asleep. i hate getting wet," said warreen. "well, just as you like," mirran answered. "for my part, i am too fond of the stars to leave them." so he spread his 'possum rug in a soft place, and lay down. in a few minutes he was fast asleep, and warreen went off to bed feeling rather bad-tempered, though he could not have told why. in the night, heavy rain came, and the air grew rapidly very cold. mirran woke up, grumbled a little at the weather, rolled himself in his 'possum rug and crept into the most sheltered corner he could find by the rock, not liking to disturb warreen by going into the willum. it was too cold to sleep, so he soon uncovered the ashes of their camp fire, and put sticks on it; and there he crouched, shivering, and wishing warreen would wake up and invite him to sleep in the shelter. but the rain came more and more heavily and a keen wind arose; and a sudden squall put out mirran's fire. soon, little channels of water were finding their way in every direction over the hard ground, so that mirran became very wet and half-frozen. then he noticed a red glow inside the willum. "that is good," he said, joyfully, "warreen is awake, and has made himself a fire. now he will ask me to go and lie down in his hut." he crouched close by the rock for a long time, thinking each moment that warreen would ask him in. but no sound came, and after a while he came to the conclusion that warreen could not know he was awake. so he got up and went over to the door of the willum and looked in. the little fire was burning redly, and all looked very cosy and inviting to poor, frozen mirran. warreen lay near the fire, and looked at him suspiciously. "ky! what a night!" said mirran, his teeth chattering. "you were right about the weather, warreen, and i was wrong. i have been very sorry for the last hour that my camp is not built. may i come in and sit in that corner?" there was not much vacant space in warreen's little willum, but it was quite big enough for two at a pinch. in the corner to which mirran pointed there was nothing. but warreen looked at him suspiciously, and grunted under his breath. "i want that corner for my head," he said, at last. and he turned over and laid his head there. mirran looked rather surprised. "never mind; this place will do," he said, pointing to another corner. "i want that place for my feet," warreen said. and he moved over and laid his feet there. still mirran could not understand that his friend meant to be so churlish. "well, this place will suit me famously," he said, pointing to where warreen's feet had been. but that did not please warreen either. "you can't have that place--i may want it later on," he said, with a snarl. and he turned and lay down between the fire and mirran, and shut his eyes. then mirran realized that warreen did not mean him to have any warmth or shelter, and he lost his temper. he rushed outside into the wet darkness, and stumbled over a big stone. that was not a lucky stumble for warreen, for all that mirran wanted at the moment was a weapon. he picked up the stone and ran back into the willum. warreen lay by the fire and he flung the stone at him as hard as he could. it hit warreen on the forehead, and immediately his forehead went quite flat. "that's something for you to remember me by!" said mirran angrily. "you can keep your dark little hole of a willum and live in it always, just as you can keep your flat forehead. i have done with you!" he turned and ran out of the hut, for he was afraid that if he stayed he would kill warreen. behind him, warreen staggered to his feet and caught hold of his spear, which leaned against the wall near the doorway. he did not make any reply, but he drove the spear into the darkness after mirran, and it hit him in the back and hung there. mirran fell down without a word. the light from the fire shone on him as he lay there in the rain, with the spear behind him. warreen laughed a little, holding by his door-post. "i shall have a flat forehead, shall i?" he said. "well, you will have more than that. where that spear sticks, there shall it stick always, and it will be a tail for you. you will never run or jump without it again--and never shall you have a willum." then he had no more strength left, so he crept back and lay beside his fire, while mirran lay in the pouring rain. no one saw warreen and mirran again as men. but from that time two new animals came into the bush, and the magpie and the minah, those two inquisitive birds who know everything, soon found out their story and told it to all the black people. so everybody knows that warreen, the wombat, and mirran, the kangaroo, were once men and lived together. they do not live together now, nor do they like each other. the wombat is fat and surly and lazy, and he lives in a dark, ill-smelling hole in the ground. his forehead is flat, and he does not go far from his hole; and he is no more fond of working for his living than he was when he lived in a willum as a man. the kangaroo lives in the free open places, and races through the bush as swiftly as mirran used to race long ago. but always behind him he carries moo-ee-boo, as the blacks call his tail, and it has grown so that he has to use it in running and jumping, and now he could not get on without it. he is just as quick and gentle as ever, but when he is angry he can fight with his forepaws, just as a man fights with his hands. other animals of the bush have holes and hiding-places, but the kangaroo has none. he does not look for shelter, but sleeps in the open air. it is difficult to see him, for when he is eating young leaves and grass his skin looks just the same colour as the trees, and you are sometimes quite close to him before his bright eyes are seen watching you eagerly. then he turns and hops away, faster than a horse can gallop, in great bounds that carry him yards at every stride, with moo-ee-boo, his long tail, thumping the ground behind him. he has learned to use it--to balance on it and make it help him in those immense leaps that no animal in the bush can equal. so warreen did not do him so bad a turn as he hoped when he threw his spear at him that rainy night long ago. x the daughters of wonkawala the chief wonkawala was a powerful man, who ruled over a big tribe. they were a fierce and warlike people, always ready to go out against other tribes; and by fighting they had gained a great quantity of property, and roamed unmolested through a wide tract of country--which meant that all the tribe was well-fed. wonkawala had not always been a chief. he had been an ordinary warrior, but he was fiercer and stronger than most men, and he had gradually worked his way up to power and leadership. there were many jealous of him, who would have been glad to see his downfall; but wonkawala was wary, as well as brave, and once he had gained his position, he kept it, and made himself stronger and stronger. he had several wives, and in his wurleys were fine furs and splendid weapons and abundance of grass mats. every one feared him, and he had all that the heart of a black chief could desire, except for one thing. he had no son. five daughters had wonkawala, tall and beautiful girls, skilled in all women's work, and full of high courage, as befits the daughters of a chief. yillin was the eldest, and she was also the bravest and wisest, so that her sisters all looked up to her and obeyed her. many young warriors had wished to marry her, but she had refused them all. "time enough," she said to her father. "at present it is enough for me to be the daughter of wonkawala." her father was rather inclined to agree with her. he knew that her position as the eldest daughter of the chief--without brothers--was a fine thing, and that once she married she would live in a wurley much like any other woman's and do much the same hard work, and have much the same hard time. the life of the black women was not a very pleasant one--it was no wonder that they so soon became withered and bent and hideous. hard work, the care of many babies, little food, and many blows: these were the portion of most women, and might well be that even of the daughter of a chief, when once she left her father's wurley for that of a young warrior. so wonkawala, who was unlike many blacks in being very fond of his daughters, did not urge that yillin should get married, and the suitors had to go disconsolately away. but there came a time when wonkawala fell ill, and for many weeks he lay in his wurley, shivering under his fur rugs, and becoming weaker and weaker. the medicine-men tried all kinds of treatment for him, but nothing seemed to do him any good. they painted him in strange designs, and cut him with shell knives to make him bleed: and when he complained of pain in the back they turned him on his face and stood on his back. so wonkawala complained no more; but the back was no better. after the sorcerers had tried these and many other methods of healing, they declared that some one had bewitched wonkawala. this was a favourite device of puzzled sorcerers. they had made the tribes believe that if a man's enemy got possession of anything that had belonged to him--even such things as the bones of an animal he had eaten, broken weapons, scraps of furs he had worn, or, in fact, anything he had touched--it could be employed as a charm against him, especially to produce illness. this made the blacks careful to burn up all rubbish before leaving a camping-place; and they were very keen in finding odd scraps of property that had belonged to an unfriendly tribe. anything of this kind that they found was given to the chief, to be carefully kept as a means of injuring the enemy. a fragment of this description was called a wuulon, and was thought to have great power as a charm for evil. should one of the tribe wish to be revenged upon an enemy, he borrowed his wuulon from the chief, rubbed it with a mixture of red clay and emu fat, and tied it to the end of a spear-thrower, which he stuck upright in the ground before the camp-fire. then all the blacks sat round, watching it, but at some distance away, so that their shadows should not fall upon it, and solemnly chanted imprecations until the spear-thrower fell to the ground. they believed that it would fall in the direction of the enemy to whom the wuulon belonged, and immediately they all threw hot ashes in the same direction, with hissing and curses, and prayers that ill-fortune and disease might fall upon the owner. the sorcerers tried this practice with every wuulon in wonkawala's possession; but whatever effect might have been produced on the owners of the wuulons, wonkawala himself was not helped at all. he grew weaker and weaker, and it became plain that he must die. the knowledge that they were to lose their chief threw all the blacks into mourning and weeping, so that the noise of their cries was heard in the wurley where wonkawala lay. but besides those who mourned, there were others who plotted, even though they seemed to be crying as loudly as the rest. for, since wonkawala had no son, some other man must be chosen to succeed him as chief, and there were at least half a dozen who thought they had every right to the position. so they all gathered their followings together, collecting as many supporters as each could muster, and there seemed every chance of a very pretty fight as soon as wonkawala should breathe his last. the dying chief was well aware of what was going on. he knew that they must fight it out between themselves, and that the strongest would win; but what he was most concerned about was the safety of his daughters. their fate would probably be anything but pleasant. once left without him, they would be no longer the leading girls of the tribe, and much petty spite and jealousy would probably be visited upon them by the other women. or they might be made tools in the fight for the succession to his position, and mixed up in the feuds and disputes which would ensue: indeed, it might easily happen that they would be killed before the fighting settled down. in any case it seemed to wonkawala that hardship and danger were ahead of them. he called them to him one evening, and made them kneel down, so close that they could hear him when he spoke in a whisper. "listen," he said. "i am dying. no, do not begin wailing now--there will be time enough for that afterwards. my day is done, and it has been a good day: i have been a strong man and my name will be remembered as a chief. what can a man want more? but you are women, and my heart is uneasy about you." "nothing will matter to us, if you die!" said yillin. "you may think so now," said the chief, looking at her with affection in his fierce eyes. "but my death may well be the least of the bad things that may happen to you. you will be as slaves where you have been as princesses. even if i am in the sky with pund-jel, maker of men, i shall be unhappy to see that. therefore, it seems to me that you must leave the tribe." "leave the tribe!" breathed yillin, who always spoke for her sisters. "but where should we go?" "i have dreamed that you shall go to the east," said her father. "what is to happen to you i do not know, but you must go. you may fall into the power of another tribe, but i believe they would be kinder to you than your own would be, for there will be much fighting here after i have gone to pund-jel. i think any other tribe would take you in with the honour that is due to a chief's daughters. in any case, it is better to be slaves among strangers than in the place where you have been rulers." "i would rather die than be a slave here!" said yillin proudly. "spoken like a son!" said the old chief, nodding approval. "get weapons and food ready secretly, all that you can carry: and when the men are away burying me, make your escape. they will be so busy in quarrelling that they will not notice soon that you have gone; and then they will be afraid to go after you, lest any should get the upper hand during their absence. go to the east, and pund-jel will decide your fate. now i am weary, and i wish to sleep." so yillin and her sisters obeyed, and during the next few days they hid weapons in a secret place outside the camp, and crammed their dilly-bags with food, fire-sticks, charms, and all the things they could carry. already they could see that there was wisdom in their father's advice. there was much talk that ceased suddenly when they came near, and the women used to whisper together, looking at them, and bursting into rude laughter. yillin and her sisters held their heads high, but there was fierce anger in their hearts, for but a week back no one would have dared to show them any disrespect. at last, one evening, wonkawala died, and the whole tribe mourned for him. for days there was weeping and wailing, and all the time the chief's daughters remained within their wurley, seeing no one but the women who brought them food. as the time went on, the manner of these women became more and more curt, and the food they brought less excellent, until, on the last day of mourning, yillin and her sisters were given worse meals than they had ever eaten before. "our father spoke truth," said yillin. "it is time we fled." "time, indeed," said peeka, the youngest sister. "did you see tar-nar's sneering face as she threw this evil food in to us?" "i would that wonkawala, our father, could have come to life again to see it," said yillin with an angry sob. "he would have withered her with his fury. but our day, like his, is done--in our own tribe. never mind--we shall find luck elsewhere." after noon of that day the men of the tribe bore the body of wonkawala away, to bury it with honour. the women stayed behind, wailing loudly as long as the men were in sight; but as soon as the trees hid them from view they ceased to cry out, and began to laugh and eat and enjoy themselves. they fell silent, presently, as the five daughters of wonkawala came out of their wurley and walked slowly across the camp. they were muffled in their 'possum-rugs, scarcely showing their faces. for a moment there was silence, and then one of the women said something to another at which both burst into a cackle of laughter. then another called to the five sisters, in a familiar and insolent manner. "where do you go, girls?" "we go to mourn for our father in a quiet place," answered yillin haughtily. "oh--then the camp is not good enough for you to mourn in?" cried the woman with a sneer "but do not be away too long--there will be plenty of work to do, for you, now. remember, you are no longer our mistresses." "no--it is your turn to serve us, now," cried another. "bring me back some yams when you come--then perhaps there will not be so many beatings for you!" there was a yell of laughter from all the women, amidst which yillin and her sisters marched out of the camp, with disdainful glances. when they drew near their hiding-place they kept careful watch, in case anyone had followed them. as a matter of fact, all the women were by that time busily engaged in ransacking their wurley, and dividing among them the possessions the sisters had not been able to carry away; so that they were quite safe. they collected their weapons and hurried off into the forest. they had obeyed their father and gone east, and the burial-place was west of the camp, so they met nobody, and their flight was not discovered that night. the men came back to the camp in the evening, hungry and full of eagerness about the fight for the leadership of the tribe, and the women were kept busy in looking after them. the first fight took place that very evening, and though it was not a very big one, it left no time for anyone to wonder what had become of the five sisters. not until next day did the tribe realize that they had run away; and then, as wonkawala had foreseen, no one wanted to run after them. certain young warriors who had thought of marrying them were annoyed, but they could only promise themselves to pursue and capture them when the tribe should again have settled down under new leadership. the five sisters were very sad when they started on their journey, for the bush is a wide and lonely place for women, and there seemed nothing ahead of them but difficulty and danger. they wept as they hurried through the forest, nor did they dare to sleep for a long time. only when they were so weary that they could scarcely drag themselves along, did they fling themselves down in a grassy hollow, where tall ferns made a screen from any prying eyes, and a stream of water gave them refreshment. they slept soundly, and dreamed gentle dreams; and when they awoke in the morning it seemed that a great weight had been lifted from their hearts. "i feel so happy, sisters," said yillin, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "our father came to me in my sleep, and told me to be of good courage and to smile instead of weeping." "he came to me, also," said peeka, "and told me there was good luck ahead." "after all," said another of the girls, "what have we to fret about? it is a fine thing to go out and see the world. i am certain that we are going to enjoy ourselves." "it will be interesting, at any rate," said yillin. "but we must hurry onward, for we are not yet safe from pursuit--though i do not think it will come." they made as much haste as possible for the next few days, until it seemed certain that no one was tracking them down; and with each dawn they felt happier and more free from care. they were lucky in finding game, so that they were well-fed; and on the fifth day they came upon trees loaded with mulga apples, which gave them a great feast. they roasted many of the apples and carried them with them in their food-bowls. sometimes they came to little creeks, fringed with maidenhair fern, where they bathed; sometimes they passed over great, rolling plains, where they could see for miles, and where kangaroos were feeding in little mobs, dotted here and there on the kangaroo-grass they loved. flocks of white cockatoos, sulphur-crested, flew screaming overhead, and sometimes they saw the beautiful pink and grey galahs, wheeling aloft, the sunlight gleaming on their grey backs and rose-pink crests. then they went across a little range of thickly-wooded hills, where the trees were covered with flocks of many-coloured parrots, and the purple-crowned lorikeets flew, screeching--sometimes alighting, like a flock of great butterflies, on a gum-tree, to hang head downwards among the leaves, licking the sweet eucalyptus honey from the flowers with their brush-like tongues. sometimes, when they had lain very quietly through a hot noon-tide hour, they saw the lyre bird, the shyest bird of all the bush, dancing on the great mound--twenty or thirty feet high--which it builds for its dome-shaped nest; mocking, as it danced, the cries of half the birds in the country, and waving its beautiful lyre-shaped tail. the magpie woke them in the dawn with its rich gurgling notes; the beautiful blue-wren hopped near them, proud of his exquisite plumage of black and bright blue, chirping his happy little song. they passed swamps, where cranes and herons fished, stalking in the shallows, or flew lazily away with dangling legs; and sometimes they heard the booming of the bittern, which made them very much afraid. at evening they would hear a harsh, clanging cry, and, looking up, they would see a long line of black swans, flying into the sunset. there were other birds too, more than any white boy or girl will ever know about: for these were the old days of australia, long before the white men had come to settle the country and destroy the bush with their axes. but there were no rabbits, and no thistles, for australia was free from them until the white men came. gradually the daughters of wonkawala lost all fear. they were perfectly happy, and the bush no longer seemed lonely to them; they had enough to eat, they were warm at night, and so strong and active, and so skilled in the use of weapons, had their woodland life made them, that they did not seem to mind whether they met enemies or not. they often danced as they went on their way, and made all the echoes of the forest ring with their songs. at last, one day, they found their way barred by a wide river which flowed from north to south. they could, of course, all swim; but it was not easy to see how to get their furs across. they were talking about it, wondering whether they could make a canoe or a raft, when they heard a friendly hail, and, looking across, they saw five girls standing on the opposite bank. "who are you?" shouted the strangers. "we are the daughters of wonkawala," they cried. "who are you?" "we are girls of the wapiya tribe, out looking for adventures." "why, so are we, and we have found many." they shouted questions and answers backwards and forwards, until they began to feel acquainted. "what do you eat?" "what furs have you?" "what songs do you sing?" that led to singing, and they sang all their favourite songs to each other, beating two boomerangs together as an accompaniment. when they had finished they felt a great desire to travel together. "it is really a great pity that the river flows between us," cried the daughters of wonkawala. "how can we join you?" the wapiya girls laughed. "that is quite easy," they answered. "this is a magic river, and when once your feet have touched it you will be magic too. dance straight across!" "you are making fun of us," cried yillin. "no, indeed, we are not. we cannot cross to you, for on your side there is no magic. but if you will trust us, and dance across, you will find that you will not sink." this was hard to believe, and the sisters looked at each other doubtfully. then yillin took off her rug and handed it to peeka. "it will be easy enough to try, and at the worst i can only get a wetting," she said. "follow me if i do not sink." she went down to the water and danced out upon its surface. it did not yield beneath her; the surface seemed to swing and heave as though it were elastic, but it supported her and she danced across with long, sliding steps. behind her came her sisters; and so delightful was it to dance on the swinging river-top that they burst into singing, and so came, with music and laughter, to the other side. the wapiya girls met them with open arms. "ky! you are brave enough to join us!" they cried. "now we can all go in quest of adventure together, and who knows what wonderful things may befall us!" so they told each other all their histories, and they held a feast; and after they had all eaten, they danced off to the east together, for they were all so happy that their feet refused to walk sedately. presently they came to an open space where were many tiny hillocks. "this is paridi-kadi, the place of ants," said the wapiya girls. "here we have often come before, to gather ants' eggs." "dearly do we love ants' eggs," said little peeka, licking her lips. "and these are very good eggs," said the eldest of the wapiya girls, whose name was nullor. "but the ants defend them well, and those who take them must make up their minds to be bitten." "ants' eggs are worth a few bites." "certainly they are. now let us see if you are really as brave as you say." they attacked the hillocks with their digging-sticks, and unearthed great stores of plump eggs, which they eagerly gathered. but they also unearthed numbers of huge ants of a glossy dark green colour, and these defended their eggs bravely, springing at the girls and biting them whenever they could. "ky!" said yillin, shaking one off her arm. "it is as well that these eggs are so very good, for the bites are certainly very bad. we have no ants like these in our country." "have you had enough?" asked nullor, laughing. "enough bites, yes; but not enough eggs," said yillin, laughing as well. "the eggs are worth the pain." she thrust her digging-stick into a hillock so energetically that she scattered earth and eggs and ants in all directions, and one ant landed on nullor's nose and bit it severely--whereat nullor uttered a startled yell of pain, and the daughters of wonkawala laughed very much. "who is brave now?" cried little peeka. nullor rubbed her nose with a lump of wet earth, which, as she was black, did not have such a curious effect as it would have had on you. "i was taken by surprise," she said, somewhat shamefacedly. "and indeed, my nose is not used to such treatment, for i do not usually poke it into ants' nests!" they ate all the eggs, and rubbed their bites with chewed leaves, which soon took away the stings; and then they danced away together. after a time, yillin saw an eagle flying low, carrying something in its talons. she flung a boomerang at it, and so well did she aim that she broke its neck, and the great bird came fluttering down. it fell into a pool of water and yillin jumped in to rescue its prey, for she could see that it was alive. it turned out to be a half-grown dingo, a fine young dog, which was too bewildered, between flying and drowning, to make any objection to being captured. yillin secured it with a string which she plaited of her own hair and as much of peeka's as peeka was willing to part with, and fed it with bits of wallaby; and the dog soon became friendly and licked her hand. "he is a lovely dog," she said, "and i will always keep him. i will call him dulderana." "i think he will be rather a nuisance," said nullor. "anyway, he will soon leave you and go back into the bush." "i do not think he will," yillin said. "well, you cannot teach him to dance or sing," said nullor, laughing, "so he will have to run behind us." "of course he will; and he will be very useful in hunting," said yillin. "we should not have lost that 'possum yesterday if we had had a dog." dulderana very soon made himself at home, and became great friends with all the girls. it amused him very much when they danced, and though he could not dance himself, he used to caper wildly round them, uttering short, sharp barks of delight. but their singing he did not like at all, and when they began, he used to sit down with his nose pointing skywards, and howl most dismally, until the girls could not sing for laughing. then they would pelt bits of stick at him until he was sorry. by degrees he learned to endure the singing in silence, but he never pretended to enjoy it. one day, as they went along, they saw in the far distance a silvery gleam. "what is that?" asked yillin. "it looks like the duntyi, or silver bush," said the wapiya girls, doubtfully. "that does not grow in our country," said yillin. "let us go and look at it." but when they drew near, they saw that it was not a bush at all. instead, it was a man, a very old man. he had no hair on his head, but his great silver beard hung straggling to his knees, and when the breeze blew it about it was so large that it was no wonder they had mistaken it for a bush. no word did he speak, but he sat and looked at them in silence, and when they greeted him respectfully he only nodded. something about him made them feel afraid. they clustered together, looking at him. at last he spoke. "i have come too soon," he said. "you are not ready for me yet. go on." at that dulderana howled very dismally indeed, and rushed away with his tail between his legs. the girls quite understood how he felt, and they also ran away, never stopping until they were far from the strange old man. "now, who was that?" yillin said. nullor looked uneasy. "i do not know," she said. "this is a strange country, and there is much magic in it. we will hurry on, or he may perhaps come after us." so they hastened on into the forest, forgetting, for a while, to dance; but then their fear left them, and again their songs rang through the bush. they passed a clump of black wattle, the trunks of which were covered with gum, in great shining masses, so that they had a splendid feast; for the gum was both food and drink, and what they could not eat they mixed with water and drank, enjoying its sweet flavour. with their bags filled with gum they went on, and one evening they camped among a grove of banksia trees, near a pool of quiet water. it was not very good water to drink, but the wapiya girls showed the five sisters how to suck it up through banksia cones, which strained out any impurities and gave it a very pleasant taste. they were tired, and lay down early. in the night a great wind sprang up, and with it came a curious booming noise. it woke the daughters of wonkawala, and they sat up in alarm. "ky! that must be a huge bittern," said peeka. "it is not like a bittern," yillin said. "i have never heard any sound like it. perhaps it is the bunyip, of whom our mother used to tell us when we were little--a terrible beast who lives in swamps, and whose voice fills every one with terror." the wapiya girls woke up, and they also listened. then they laughed among themselves, but they did not let the sisters see that they were laughing. they seemed to think little of the noise. "it is only the wind howling," they said. "lie down and sleep, you five inlanders!" "what do you mean by that?" demanded yillin. but the wapiya girls only giggled again, and lay down, declaring that no bunyip was going to spoil their sleep. and as they were so cheerful, the sisters came to the conclusion that they might as well do the same. when they awoke it was day, and the booming was still going on, and the wind felt fresh and wet. the wapiya girls were already up, and they greeted them with laughter. "we have a surprise for you," said they. "shut your eyes, and let us lead you." the sisters did so, and felt themselves led forward. presently the earth became soft and yielding under their feet, and they cried out in alarm, but the others laughed again, and said, "never mind, you are quite safe." in a moment more they said, "now, open your eyes!" the sisters did so, and lo! they stood before a great sheet of water with high, tumbling waves. blue and sparkling was the water, and the big waves came rolling in, gathering themselves up slowly with their tops a mass of foam, which slowly rose and curled over until it plunged down, crashing in a smother of breaking bubbles. the daughters of wonkawala had never seen anything like it before, and they gasped in amazement. "ky! what a river!" they cried. "where is the other side?" the wapiya girls shouted with laughter. "the other side!" they gasped, when they could speak. "why, there is no other side. this is the sea, and it is the end of all things. have you never heard of it?" "is _that_ the sea?" the five sisters stared. "we have heard stories of it from the old men and women, but we never imagined that it was like this. no one could imagine it without seeing it. have you known it before?" "oh, yes. we have often camped here with our tribe. come nearer." they took the sisters down to the edge of the water, and presently a great wave rolled in, broke in a thunderous roar, and came dashing up the sand. the sisters stared at it in amazed admiration at first, and then, as it came nearer, fear fell upon them, and they screamed and turned to fly. they ran as fast as they could in the yielding sand, but the wave came faster and the water caught them, at first round their ankles and then swiftly mounting to their knees. then it went back, and the sisters thought that they were slipping back with it, and screamed louder than ever. the wapiya girls, themselves weak with laughter, caught hold of them. "the sea!" screamed the sisters. "the sea is carrying us away!" the others led them up on higher sand and laughed at them until they began to laugh at themselves. "never before have i seen water that runs backwards and forwards, as though a great giant were shaking it in a bowl," said yillin. "we are sorry to have been afraid, but it is all very peculiar and unexpected. are you sure it is not magic?" "i do not think anyone can be sure of that about the sea," said nullor. "it is strange water, and indeed i often think that it is very great magic indeed. but if it is, it is a good magic, and we are not afraid of it." "and this queer yellow earth, that slips away under the feet--is that magic too?" "oh--the sand. perhaps it is--who knows. but it will not hurt you. come on, let us bathe in the sea, for that is one of the most beautiful things in the world." the daughters of wonkawala hung back at first, for they were very doubtful of trusting themselves to the magic water. but the others laughed and persuaded them, and they ventured in, paddling at first, until they became used to the rushing breakers. but soon they gained confidence, and before long not even the wapiya were bolder than they, and they would dive into a breaker and be carried in on its curling top, laughing and playing like so many mermaids: so that the wapiya girls soon lost any feeling of superiority, and only regained it once, when peeka, feeling thirsty, scooped up some of a passing wave in her cupped hands and took a deep draught. for the next two minutes peeka was coughing and spluttering and spitting, while the other girls yelled with laughter. "that is certainly very bad magic," said peeka angrily, when she could speak. "what has made the water turn bad?" that set the wapiya girls off into fresh peals of mirth, and it was some time before they could explain that the water was always salt. peeka was annoyed, but presently she laughed too. "oh, well, if that is the worst of its magic, there is not much to grumble at," she said. "come on, girls, let us dive into this next one!" and the next moment peeka's merry black face was half hidden in the flying spray as the breaker bore her ashore. they stayed by the sea for some days, for the inland girls were too fascinated to leave it, and when they were not bathing in it, they were wandering along the shore, wildly excited over finding shells and seaweed and all the other treasures of the sands. then one day a great black cloud came up, obscuring all the sky, and instead of being sparkling blue and silver, the water turned to a dull grey and looked dead and oily. the other girls were afraid of it, and would not go into the cold, dark breakers: but yillin, who loved bathing more than any of them, would not be persuaded, and plunged in for a swim. she did not stay long, for the water felt more and more uncomfortable each moment; so she let a big, sullen breaker carry her in, and, wading out, ran up the beach to the other girls. they started back when they saw her, looking at her with amazement and fear. "what have you done to yourself?" cried nullor. "i? nothing. what are you looking at?" nullor pointed a shaking forefinger at her body, and looking down, yillin uttered a bewildered cry. no longer was she smooth-skinned and black. her body and legs were thickly covered with shining scales, so that she gleamed like silver. [illustration: "her body and legs were thickly covered with shining scales, so that she gleamed like silver."] "it is the water!" she stammered. "it must be!" "does it feel pleasant?" inquired nullor. "it looks quite beautiful." "i do not feel anything at all," yillin answered. "but it certainly does look well." she gazed at her shining self with interest, and turned round so that the others might see if her back were similarly ornamented. it was, and the other girls grew a little jealous. "jump in, and see if the magic will come upon you, too," cried yillin. they did not lose a moment. flinging their fur aprons from them, they rushed down the beach and plunged into the dark waves. and lo! when they emerged, they too were covered with silver scales. they stood together on the sand, a shining company. "let us walk along the shore, and see what else will befall us," said yillin. they gathered up their property and set off eastwards again. the shore curved out after a time, forming a rocky cape. they rounded this, and found themselves on the coast of a little bay, round which they hurried, anxious to explore some great rocks at the farther point. but when they reached them, they found their way barred. the rocks were a solid wall: a great black cliff that rose sheer from the water, running far out beyond even the farthest line of the breakers. nowhere was there any way of advancing: the bay was ringed with the dark, smooth cliffs. the little dog dulderana whimpered as if in fear. "let us go back!" said the wapiya girls. "this is not a good place." for a moment the daughters of wonkawala were inclined to agree. then there came to them suddenly the vision of their father, who had said, "go to the east," and they knew they must obey. "we are not afraid," they said. "go you back, if you wish." "we do not wish to leave you," the wapiya said sadly. "nor do we wish to lose you, for we have loved you very much," said the sisters. "but we must go forward. will you not come?" the wapiya girls shook their heads. "no," they said. "something tells us that we must return, and never see you more. but we will always watch for you, and perhaps some day we may hear you coming, singing our old songs, and we will run to meet you." they embraced each other, weeping, and slowly the wapiya girls went back until the rocky promontory hid them from sight. then yillin dashed her tears away. "come, my sisters!" she cried. they took hands and danced together towards the wall of rock that loomed before them, black, unbroken, forbidding. yillin was at the end, and as she reached the rock she raised her wona, or digging-stick, and struck the rock. it split open, and they danced through the cleft. before them was no more the sea, but a green country dotted with trees, and covered with thick grass. a little way from them was a low mound, towards which they danced. as they drew near, they saw that some one was sitting on it--a very old man, whose silver beard swept below his feet. he sat motionless, save that his hands were always busy, pulling the long silver hairs from his beard and twisting them into a cord. "it is the old man we met long ago!" whispered the sisters. somehow, the fear that they had felt when they met him with the wapiya girls was upon them no longer: and the little dog dulderana, who had fled from him howling, now ran up to him gaily, frisking round him. the old man put out his hand and fondled him, and dulderana snuggled against him; then, nestling down with his head on his fore-paws, he looked at yillin as if to say, "this is my master." yillin understood the look in his eyes. "do you like him, master?" she asked. "we bring him to you as a gift." "that is a good gift," said the old man, looking much pleased. "and you are welcome, my children. i think that this time i have not met you too soon. are you weary with all your wanderings?" "no, we are never weary," said yillin. "we have danced, and hunted, and bathed, and sung; and we have forgotten all our sorrows. our father, wonkawala, bade us come east, and we obeyed him." "and so you found friends and happiness," said the old man. "sit down, and tell me of all that you have seen." they sat down in a semi-circle before him, and, speaking one after another, they told him the story of their long journey. he heard them in silence, nodding now and then: and all the time his fingers moved ceaselessly, plaiting the silver hairs into a long cord. it lay in great shining coils at his feet. the little dog nestled beside him, and sometimes, when he paused to adjust a fresh coil, his fingers rested for a moment on its head. he smiled at the sisters when they had finished their story. "it was indeed a great journey; and the sea has clothed you in silver, so that you are more glorious than any chief's daughters have ever been before," he said. "and now comes the greatest adventure of all." he rose, as he spoke, pointing to the sky. the sisters looked up, and cried out in awe. for as they looked, the clouds parted, and they saw behind them arawotya, who lives in the sky: a great and gentle being whose face seemed to have light behind it. he looked down at them kindly, and beckoned. then he began to lower a long cord, made, like that of the old man, of plaited hair. it reached almost to the top of the mound where they stood. "you are to go up," said the old man. "you first, i last of all. but first we will send up the little dog, that you may see how safe it is." he took his silver cord and tied it round the body of dulderana, then joining it to the magic cord from the sky. then arawotya pulled it up, so gently that the little dog never seemed frightened, and he disappeared behind a cloud. presently the cord came back again, and one after another the old man tied the girls with it, and arawotya drew them up to himself. yillin was the last of the sisters to go, but as she was being pulled up she cut her hand with her digging-stick, and her pirha, or food-bowl, fell. it was a very beautiful carved pirha, and, because it had been her father's, yillin felt very sad. even when arawotya had gently received her, and, untying the cord, placed her by her sisters, she peered over the edge of the cloud, trying to see where it had fallen. the old man was being drawn up, and just as he reached the clouds yillin caught sight of her pirha, lying on the mound. "see!" she whispered to peeka. "my pirha--it lies below. i will just slide down the cord and get it, for it belonged to our father, wonkawala. arawotya will forgive me and pull me up again." she slid hurriedly down the cord and joyfully seized the bowl. but when she turned to climb up again she uttered a cry of despair, for the cord was out of her reach. arawotya had drawn it up. as she looked, it disappeared, and then the cloud-masses swept together, blotting out everything above. she was alone. all that day and night yillin lay on the mound, weeping, and begging arawotya to forgive her and take her up to her sisters. but all the clouds had gone, and there was only a clear blue sky, bright with moonlight and dotted with a million stars: and there was no sign of those whom she had lost. she gave herself up to despair. "yakai!" she moaned. "better that i had remained a slave in the camp of wonkawala than have come to this lonely land to die!" towards morning, exhausted, she fell into a troubled sleep. and in her sleep her father came to her, and his face was grave and kind. "alas, my daughter!" he said. "you have lost your chance of happiness for the sake of a worthless pirha. what! did you imagine that you would need a pirha in the sky?" "no--but because it was yours, my father," she sobbed in her sleep. wonkawala's face shone with a great light. "always you were my dear and faithful daughter," he said. "because of that, there is yet happiness for you. go forward, and no matter what shall befall you, be of good courage." then the vision faded, and after that yillin's sleep was no longer troubled. she woke refreshed in the morning, and although she was lonely for her sisters, there was hope in her heart. she took her weapons and went forward. it was a quiet country. there seemed no men and women in it, nor even any animals; and even the birds were strange to her. she passed over a great rocky plain, making for a green line of trees that seemed to mark the windings of a creek, for she was very thirsty. she found it, a clear wide stream, and drank deeply: then she wandered along its banks. and here at length there was a touch of home, for there were many crimson parrots in the trees, and the noise of their harsh crying to each other was as music in her ears. they had their mates, and to see them made her feel less lonely. she found some roots and berries, which she ate, hoping they were good for food: and when night came, she curled into a hollow under a rock and slept deeply, waking refreshed, eager to go on her way. then for many days she wandered, following the course of the creek, for she was afraid to go far from water. she was a strange figure in her silvery scales. whenever she caught sight of herself, mirrored in the water as she bent to drink, it gave her a new throb of amazement. she was wandering along one day when a rustling in the bushes made her glance aside. to her surprise, a dog was looking at her, and she could see that it was a tame one. yillin had always loved dogs, and she whistled to this one, trying to coax it to play with her. but the dog was suspicious, and backed away from her, growling: then it uttered a few short barks and raced off into the scrub. two black hunters, who were ranging through the bush a little way off, stopped, hearing the barking. "my dog has started game of some kind," said one. "he does not bark for nothing." "let us go and look," said the other. they turned aside in the direction of the sound, and presently came upon the dog, who bounded to his master and licked his hand. "what have you been barking for?" demanded his master, patting him. the dog wagged his tail vigorously and ran a few paces into the bushes. "i believe there is something in that direction," the hunter said. "we might as well go and see, chukeroo." they moved noiselessly through the scrub, and presently chukeroo caught his friend's arm. "see, wonga," he whispered. "there is a demon! let us fly!" wonga looked, and saw a strange, glittering figure standing by a tree. he was just as afraid as his friend, but he was also full of curiosity. "it seems to be a woman-demon," he whispered back. "see! it has long hair, and the face is the face of a woman." he pondered, watching the strange apparition. "and it carries weapons--strange, that a demon should go armed, chukeroo. i should like to get hold of those weapons. they would be worth having in a fight." "you may try, if you like, but i have no fancy for fighting demons," said chukeroo. "i do not know that i have, either," said wonga. "perhaps, though, a woman-demon would not be so terrible to fight. look how she glitters when she moves! she would be a startling wife for a man to take home to his wurley, chukeroo." "every one to his fancy," returned his friend. "personally i prefer mine black." "you are used to yours, but i have none yet," said wonga, laughing, for he was a cheerful youth. "come, i am going to get a nearer look at the demon. are you afraid?" "very much, but i suppose i had better come," said chukeroo grumblingly. "you are a mad-headed fellow, wonga, and you will get into trouble if you do not take care. i only hope that this is not the sort of demon that the sorcerers tell us about, who can blast men to cinders with a wave of the hand." he followed his friend, and they crept through the bushes until they found a place where they could see the strange being more closely. in their excitement they had forgotten the dog, and suddenly it gave a loud bark. the shining figure turned sharply and ran towards them. "save yourself!" uttered chukeroo. "it has seen us!" they turned to run, but in crossing a clear space chukeroo caught his foot in a trail of clematis and fell headlong, scattering his weapons. wonga pulled himself up, and raced back to help his friend. before they could gather all the fallen spears the strange being was upon them. yillin was as astonished as the black hunters--and as afraid. but she had learned to defend herself, and so she flung her digging-stick at wonga. it grazed his leg, and made him so angry that he forgot all about being afraid of this demon, and hurled his spears at her. but his fear returned when he saw them glance off her shining scales as though she were covered with glass, and then fall harmlessly to the ground. chukeroo joined in the fight: but though the aim of both hunters was true, nothing seemed to pierce those magic scales. moreover, the strange being, having lost her digging-stick, picked up the fallen spears and flung them at their owners so rapidly that they thought themselves lucky in being able to dodge behind trees with whole skins. "she is indeed a demon!" gasped chukeroo. "she may be, but she is very like a woman," said wonga. "and i am not going home to tell the other warriors that a woman has stolen my spears, even if she does happen to be a demon. besides, you know as well as i do that they will not believe us. even your own wife will laugh at you, and she will not believe." "that is true enough," said chukeroo gloomily. "what are we to do?" "i will make you armour," said wonga. "then we will go back, and when the demon throws the spears at you they will stick in the armour, and i will rush in and secure them." "i do not know that it is much of a plan, but at least i have no better," said chukeroo. "be quick, or the demon may come and find us unarmed." so wonga broke off young saplings, and lashed them round his friend with strips of twisted stringy bark fibre, until nothing of him could be seen, and he had great difficulty in moving. then, slowly and cautiously, they made their way back to the open space where they had fought. yillin was standing wearily by a tree with the spears in her hand. she jumped round as they came, and while she flung spear after spear at chukeroo, wonga ran through the trees and came behind her. his foot struck against her own digging-stick, and he picked it up and rushed at her. the point caught in her shining scales, and ripped them up as though they were paper. they fell in tatters about her. "do not kill me!" she cried. "i am a chief's daughter!" "a chief's daughter, are you?" said wonga. suddenly his angry face grew soft with pity. "why, i thought you a demon," he said--"and lo! you are only a poor, frightened little girl!" * * * * * so the wanderings of yillin came to an end, and though she missed happiness with arawotya in the sky, yet, as wonkawala had said in her vision, she found it elsewhere. for wonga took her home and married her, and his tribe treated her with honour because she was the daughter of a mighty chief; and later on, wonga became the chief of his own tribe, and she helped him to rule it in wisdom. very often she was lonely for her four sisters, especially for little peeka, whom she had loved best of all: but she comforted herself by thinking that they were happy with arawotya in the sky, and that some day she would find them again. then, together, they would go at the last to pund-jel, maker of men, and join their father wonkawala. there were five stars in the southern sky that she liked to watch, for she grew to believe that they were her sisters, and that the tiniest of the five was her little dog dulderana. they are the stars of the southern cross. and it seemed to yillin that they looked down at her and smiled. otherwise, yillin was never lonely, for many children came to her and wonga, and her wurley always seemed full of jolly black babies and wee lasses and lads. yillin did not mind however many there were, especially as she did not have to worry about clothes for them. they grew into strong, merry boys and girls, who loved dancing and songs and laughter just as she had always loved them. she used to tell them the story of her wanderings, and when she came to the part about the silver scales that had once covered her, they would pretend to hunt for them on her black skin, and would laugh very much because they could never find any. and wonga would laugh too, and say, "ah, well, many men find their wives demons after they have married them, so i was lucky in only thinking that of mine beforehand--and then finding i had made a mistake!" xi the burning of the crows no one in the bush ever had a good word to say for the crows. from the very earliest times they were a noisy, mischievous race, always poking their strong beaks into what did not concern them, and never so happy as when they were annoying other people. whatever a mother crow taught her chickens, civility and good manners were not included in the lessons; they were accomplishments for which none of the family had the slightest use. it did not at all trouble the wokala, as the crows were called, that they were unpopular. indeed, they rather gloried in the amount of ill-feeling they were able to excite among the bush folk. they were powerful birds, well able to hold their own in any quarrel with birds of their own size, and so quick and daring that they would even steal from animals, or attack weak ones, secure in the advantage given them by their strong wings. they made so many enemies, however, that they took to going about in flocks, so that no one dared molest them--not even wildoo, the eagle, or kellelek, the cockatoo. especially did wildoo hate the wokala. he was always proud, as the king of the birds has every right to be, and among all birds that fly his word was law. he liked to keep good order, and if any bird displeased him, a few quiet words, possibly accompanied by a discreet peck, or a blow from one of his great wings, was more than enough to bring the offender to his senses. one day he had occasion to punish one of the wokala, who had stolen the meal laboriously provided by the wife of wook-ook, the mopoke, for her husband, who was ill. the wokala, battered and furious, flew away and told his story to the other crows; who, equally furious, flew in a mob to the high crag where wildoo had his nest. there was no one there, for it was too late in the season to find chickens: so the wokala amused themselves by scattering the nest to pieces, and when wildoo and his wife came home from hunting they hid among the bushes and screamed all sorts of insulting things at them. wildoo took no notice, openly. it would have been beneath his dignity to go hunting smaller birds in thick bushes--which the wokala very well knew. he merely folded his wings and, with his wife, perched on the edge of the rocky shelf where his nest had been, and stared out across the tossing green sea of gum-trees that clothed the rolling hills below, his yellow eyes full of silent anger. gradually the wokala grew tired of screaming, and, becoming hungry, flew away. after that the wokala became more insolent than ever. even wildoo was afraid of them, they said; and they kept together in a mob, and lost no chance of being rude to him. more and more they attacked and insulted the other birds, until no one felt safe if there were any chance of the evil wokala coming near. again and again complaints came to wildoo of their wicked doings, and wildoo heard them in silence, nodding his head, with his brain busy behind his yellow eyes. but he said nothing: until at length the other birds began to ask themselves was it really true that wildoo was afraid? wildoo was not at all afraid of a flock of squawking wokala. but he was very much afraid of being made to look ridiculous. he had no intention of making a false step, and he did not quite know what to do. there was no one for him to talk to, for the eagle is a lonely bird--not like chirnip, the magpie-lark, or tautani, the cormorant, with dozens and dozens of friends. he is a king, and therefore he is lonely: and, being naturally silent, he does not talk much, even to his wife. all by himself he had to think out the problem of what to do about the wokala; and, meanwhile, the wokala perched above his nest and insulted him, and dropped bits of stick down upon his rocky shelf, and screamed rude things at his wife, until she said crossly to wildoo, "i cannot think why you do not make an end of those abominable little white birds. they are a disgrace to any decent kingdom, and you have not the spirit of a bandicoot!" this annoyed and hurt wildoo, but he said nothing--only looked at her until she caught a gleam of fire in the depths of his yellow eyes. perhaps you did not know that in the very early times all the wokala were white? they were the whitest of all the birds of the bush, without a single grey or coloured feather in all their bodies: so that there was a saying in the bush, "as white as a wokala." they were very proud of it, too, and thought it quite a disgrace if one of their chickens showed a sign of being even creamy in colour, once he was nearly fledged. they kept themselves very clean, going often to bathe; and when they flew about in a flock their dazzling whiteness almost hurt the eye, while, if they perched in a dead gum-tree, they looked like big snowflakes against the grey branches. even kellelek, the cockatoo, was dingy compared to the gleaming whiteness of the wokala. somehow, it seemed to make their bad behaviour worse, since no one would expect a beautiful bird like polished marble to have the manners of a jungle pig. summer ended early that year, with a great thunder-storm, followed by a month of wild wind and driving rain: and all the birds were rather uncomfortable because the moulting season was scarcely over. most of all, the wokala were annoyed. they liked their white feathers so much, and were so proud of their smart appearance, that they always delayed moulting as long as ever they could; and now the bad weather caught them in a worse state than the other birds. when the rains ended, early frosts came, and found the wokala without any of their new feather cloaks ready. they used to huddle together among the thickest trees, shivering and untidy. in that part of the country there is a great black ironstone hill, treeless and forbidding. few birds go there, for there is nowhere to perch, and but little food except the tiny rock-lizards that sun themselves in the hot mornings. wildoo knew it well, for he often flew over it, and occasionally he was accustomed to stand on a shelf at the mouth of a cave near the top--a black hole in the hillside where no one but an eagle would willingly perch alone. he took refuge in the cave one morning, during a fierce hail-storm; and it was there that an idea came to him. that night as he came flying homewards, he brought in his great talons a bundle of dry sticks, and as he flapped his way over the black ironstone hill, he dropped down on the ledge and made a heap of his sticks on the floor of the cave. the next morning he did the same: and so it went on for many days, until he had a big pile of smooth sticks, something like a great nest. his wife came with him one evening, and was very much amused. "why have you taken to playing with sticks?" she asked, laughing. "i never saw such a funny heap. is it a game?" but wildoo only looked at her sourly, and said, "be quiet, woman!" after the manner of husbands: and since she was more sensible than most wives, she was quiet. it was after his heap of sticks was ready that wildoo went to look for the wokala. they had been far too uncomfortable lately to continue to be rude to him, and, in fact, were keeping out of the way of every one; so that he had some difficulty in finding them, and might have given it up but for corridella, the eagle-hawk, who remembered having seen them near a sheltered gully between two hills. "they are cold," said corridella, laughing, "oh, so cold, and so sorry for themselves. there is no impudence left in them." "cold indeed must be the night that chills the impudence of the wokala," said wildoo. "it is going to be a very cold night," said corridella. "already there is a sharp nip of frost in the air. i think that some of the wokala will be dead before morning, for none of them have their new feather cloaks nearly ready." he chuckled. "well, no one in the bush will mourn for them. perhaps they will realize now that it does not pay to make enemies of every one." "the wokala will never learn a lesson," answered wildoo. "they are always satisfied with themselves: and even though some may die, the others will forget all about it, once they have their shining white cloaks and can flock into the tree-tops again. but possibly they may not be so lucky--who can tell?" he also chuckled, looking as wise as an owl. but when corridella asked him what he meant, he pretended to go to sleep: and corridella, who knew better than to pester an eagle with too many questions, said good evening and sailed homeward across the tree-tops. left to himself, wildoo waited until no bird was in sight, and then flapped heavily away from his rocky shelf, and dived downward to the gully. it did not take him long to find the wokala. they did not gleam with the whiteness of snow, for they were moulting and very shabby, and a few were dressed mainly in pin-feathers; but their voices were just as harsh as ever, and guided wildoo to where they were huddling among some she-oak trees. already a cold wind was whistling down between the hills, sighing and moaning in the she-oak branches. there is no tree in all australia so mournful as the she-oak on a cold night, when each long needle seems to sing a separate little song of woe. already the miserable wokala were sorry that they had chosen to roost there. suddenly, great wings darkened the evening sky above them, and, looking up, they saw wildoo. he perched on a limb of a dead gum-tree far overhead, and looked down at them, laughing. there seemed, to the shivering wokala, something very terrible in the sound of his laughter. "kwah!" they whispered. "wildoo has found us. now he will be revenged." they knew they could not fly swiftly enough to escape him, and they began to creep downwards, hoping to hide among the bracken fern that clothed the gully. but wildoo called to them, and, to their astonishment, his voice sounded friendly. "oh, wokala!" he cried. "are you very cold?" "ay, we are cold," said the wokala, as well as they could, for their beaks were chattering with fear and shivering. "no wonder, seeing how little you have on," said wildoo. "a pity you did not get your new white feather cloaks ready earlier, instead of spending your time in annoying honest folk. well, perhaps you will have more sense next year." "doubtless we shall, if we live," said the oldest wokala. "but it seems likely that not many of us will live, for we are nearly frozen already." "how distressing for you!" said wildoo--"especially as it will be far colder before morning than it is now. these gullies are the chilliest places in the bush on a frosty night." the beaks of the wokala chattered anew. "we came for shelter," said the old wokala miserably. "but you say truth, wildoo: i think the frost-spirit has his home down here. is it any warmer where you are?" "very little," said wildoo--"and the wind is singing through these branches. but i know of a sheltered place, for all that." "kwah!" said the wokala, all together. "a sheltered place! oh, wildoo, you are great and--and--and beautiful. will you not tell us where it is?" "great and beautiful, am i?" said wildoo, with a chuckle. "that is not the sort of thing you have been calling me all these months. however, it is lucky for you that i am also good-natured; i would not willingly see any of my people die of cold, not even the wokala, who deserve little of anyone." "then you will tell us where is the sheltered place?" chattered the wokala. "fly across to the black mountain," said wildoo. "there is an ironstone wurley near the top--i will guide you to it, if you like. it is big enough for you all, and there is a fine heap of sticks on which to perch. the wind will not blow inside it, and the morning sun will shine right into it." "it sounds too wonderful to be true," said the wokala. "is it dry, this ironstone wurley?" "dry as old bones," answered wildoo. "oh, you would be in luck to get there--you would forget all your troubles." "one would think that impossible," shivered the old wokala--he was very sorry for himself. "but if you will really guide us there, then be quick, wildoo, or none of us will be able to fly at all." "very well," wildoo answered. "i will go slowly, as i suppose you are all stiff. follow me, and come down when you see me perch." he spread his great wings and looked down at them for a moment with a little smile; and if they had not been so eager and so cold they might have hesitated at the expression in his yellow eyes. but, as usual, the wokala thought only of themselves, and as they had learned to believe that wildoo was afraid of them, they never suspected that he might be leading them into a trap. they cried "kwah! kwah!" and rose into the air after him as soon as the flapping of the mighty wings told them that he had left the gum-tree. even to fly slowly was difficult, so stiff with cold were they: but they all persevered, except one young hen--a pretty young thing, whose weary wings would not do their duty. she made a brave attempt to rise, but before the flight had cleared the big dead gum-tree she had to drop back--thankful to find a secure perch on a jutting limb. "ky!" she whimpered. "i can never fly all the way to the black mountain. i must die here." she crept along the limb until she came to the trunk, and there luck awaited her. in the fork was an old 'possum-hole which had not been used for many seasons. it was dry and warm--sheltered from the bitter wind, and soft underfoot with rotting leaves, pleasant to the touch. the young wokala hopped in thankfully, and it seemed the last touch to her wonderful good fortune that she immediately met a fine fat grub. she promptly ate it for her supper, tucked her head under her wing, nestled into the farthest corner, and went to sleep, remarking drowsily, "this is better than all wildoo's ironstone wurleys!" the other wokala did not notice that the young hen had dropped back--or if they did they did not worry about her. weary as they were, it took all their strength to keep wildoo in sight, even though he kept his word and flew slowly. they were thankful when at length he sank lower and came to rest on a big boulder by the mouth of the cave near the mountain-top. the wokala followed him in a straggling line, and perched on the shelf outside the cave. "there you are," wildoo said, nodding towards the yawning hole in the hillside. "that is your ironstone wurley, and i will promise you that you will find it dry and free from draughts." "there is nothing living there?" asked the old wokala, looking a little doubtfully at the cave. "nothing at all. all you will find there is a heap of dry sticks; you can perch there and keep each other warm. stay there, if you like it well enough, until your new feather cloaks are ready--you are really scarcely fit for decent society now." wildoo cast a half-contemptuous glance at the shivering, half-fledged birds, as they clustered on the rocky shelf. then he flew off again into the gathering darkness. "whatever is wildoo about?" asked kellelek, the cockatoo, of his hens. "he seems to be leading all the wokala round the sky. a funny nurse he looked, and with a funny lot of chickens!" "no wonder he waited for dusk before he would be seen with them," said one of his wives contemptuously. "i flew by their tree to-day, and really, they were a positive disgrace. and they always think themselves so smart!" "oh, they'll be smart enough again," said kellelek, laughing. "wait until they have their new feathers on, and you will be just as jealous of them as ever you were. there is no doubt that the wokala are smart--that is, for people who prefer plain white. i like a good sulphur crest myself--but then, it's all a matter of opinion." "well, don't let the wokala know that you admire them, or they will be worse than ever," said his wives, ruffling their feathers angrily. meanwhile, the wokala had hesitated just for a moment before entering the cave. then a fresh blast of cold wind swept across the face of the mountain, and they waited no longer, but fluttered in before it, in a hurrying, jostling flock. it was just as wildoo had told them: warm and dry, and with a big heap of dry sticks in the middle--just the thing for them to perch on. they hopped up eagerly, huddling together for warmth, scrambling and fighting for the best places. soon they were all comfortably settled, and at last warmth began to steal back into their shivering bodies. "a good thing we made wildoo afraid of us," said one sleepily. "otherwise we should never have known of this splendid wurley." the others uttered drowsy murmurs of "kwah!" as they drifted into slumber. but far away on his mountain shelf wildoo sat and waited, his yellow eyes wide and wakeful. the dusk deepened into night, and far off, from his perch on a tall stringy bark tree, old wook-ook, the mopoke, sent out his long cry, "mo--poke! mo--poke!" presently came a dim radiance in the east and wildoo stirred a little. "peera comes," he muttered. peera, the moon, came up slowly, until all the bush was flooded with her dim light, falling into shadow now and then, when dark clouds drifted across her face. wildoo waited until she was above the tree-tops, with her beams falling upon the ironstone mountain. then he took a fire-stick in his talons and flew swiftly away, never pausing until he alighted on the shelf before the cave. he laid the fire-stick down and went softly to the dark opening, listening. there came only the sound of the breathing of the wokala, with now and then a muffled caw as one dreamed, perhaps, of cold and hunger. as his eyes grew accustomed to the light, wildoo could see them--a huddled white mass upon the heap of sticks. that was all he wanted, and he went back swiftly for his fire-stick, and with it went into the cave. very softly he slipped it into the dry heart of the heap of sticks below the sleeping wokala. he waited until little smoke-wreaths began to curl up, and a faint glow came from within the heap. "now you will be warm enough, my friends!" he muttered. he hurried out of the cave, and flew slowly to the nearest tree, on the hill opposite the black mountain. there he perched and waited. very soon all the dark mouth of the cave was filled with glowing radiance, and clouds of smoke came billowing out and rolled down the hill. then came loud and terrified cawing, and wildoo thought he could see dark forms fluttering out through the smoke. his yellow eyes gleamed at the sight. and then clouds came suddenly across the face of the moon, and a fierce wind blew, with driving rain that beat into the mouth of the cave. it blotted out the glow, and the wind carried away the cries. when all was quiet wildoo flapped off to his nest. he was back next morning on the boulder outside the cave, and with him all the birds of the bush, whom he had collected as he came, saying to them, "come and see what happens to those who insult wildoo." the black mouth of the ironstone cave looked grim and forbidding, and, peering in, the birds could see the charred ends of the dry sticks, scattered on the floor round a heap of ashes. then, from the inner recesses of the cave came a strange procession, and at the sight the kooka burra burst into a peal of laughter. for it was the wokala. they came slowly--but where were their white feathers, of which they had been so proud? all were gone, singed off close to their bodies; and their bodies were blackened with smoke. queer, naked birds they looked, creeping out into the sunshine, and there was no pride left in them. they looked up and saw wildoo and the laughing birds of all the bush; and with a loud miserable cawing they fled back into the cave. no one saw the wokala again for a time. but after a long while they came out again, this time with all their feathers fully grown. no longer, however, were they white--the whitest of all birds. their new feathers were a glossy black! they looked at each other for a moment with a kind of horror. then they rose into the air with a swift beating of their jet-black wings, and, calling "kwah! kwah!" they fled across the sky. and as they flew another cawing was heard, and a white bird rose and flew to meet them--the wokala hen who had been left behind, and who had taken refuge in the 'possum-hole. she was now the only white wokala left in all the world. they met in mid-air, and at sight of the strange black birds with the familiar voices the white wokala uttered a scream and fled away, never to be seen again. since then, always the crows have been black. they found their old impudence again after a while, and became what they had been when they were white--always the nuisances of the bush, vagabonds and robbers and bullies. but still the terror of the ironstone wurley is upon them, and they never venture into caves, but live in the big trees, where they can see far and wide, and where no creeping enemy can come upon them in the darkness. and wildoo, the king of the birds, never finds them near his nest, nor need he ever speak to them. one glance from him is enough for the wokala: they would fly to the deepest recesses of the bush rather than face the gleam of his yellow eyes. xii kur-bo-roo, the bear chapter i kur-bo-roo was a little black boy baby. his father and mother had no other children, and so they were very proud of him, and he always had enough to eat. it is often very different when there are many hungry pickaninnies to be fed--especially in dry seasons, when roots and yams and berries are hard to find, and a black mother's task of filling her dilly-bag becomes more difficult every day. then it may happen that the children are quite often hungry, and their ribs show plainly through their black skins: and they learn to pick up all kinds of odd food that white children would consider horrible--insects, grubs, and moths, and queer fungi, which may sometimes give them bad pains--although it is not an easy thing to give a black child indigestion. but kur-bo-roo had not known any hard times. he was born a cheerful, round baby, quite light in colour at first; and as he darkened he became rounder and jollier. his hair curled in tight little rings all over his head, and his nose was beautifully flat--so flat that his mother did not need to press it down to make him good-looking, as most of the black mothers do to their babies. he was very strong, too, with a straight little back and well-muscled limbs; and when his teeth came they could crunch up bones quite easily, or even the hard nardoo berries. his mother thought he was the most beautiful pickaninny that was ever born, which is an idea all mothers have about their babies. but kur-bo-roo's mother _knew_ that she was right. he had so many good things to eat that he grew fatter and fatter. his father brought home game--wallaby, wombat, iguana, lace-lizards, porcupines, bandicoots, opossums; and though it was polite to give away a good deal to his wife's father, there was always plenty for little kur-bo-roo. then delicious bits of snake came his way, and long white tree-grubs, as well as all the native fruits and berries that the black women find; and he had plenty of creek water to drink. so long as you give a wild blackfellow good water he will always manage to forage for food. kur-bo-roo did not have to forage. it interested his father and mother tremendously to do all that they could for him, and watch him grow. as soon as he could toddle about, his father made him tiny throwing-sticks and a boomerang, and tried to teach him to throw them; and his mother, squatting in the shade of the wurley, would laugh to see the baby thing struggling with the weapons of a man. and, while she laughed, she was prouder than ever. she used to rub his limbs to make them supple and strong. he did not wear any clothes at all, so that she was never worried about keeping his wardrobe in order. instead, she was able to give all her time to making him into what she thought to be the best possible kind of boy. and, however that may have been, it is quite certain that there never was a happier pickaninny. it was when kur-bo-roo was nearly six years old that the evil spirit of trouble came to him. sickness fell upon the tribe. no one knew how it came, and the medicine-men could not drive it away. first of all, the people had terrible headaches, and the meki-gar, or doctor, used to treat them in the usual manner--he would dig out a round sod of earth and, making the patient lie down with his head in the hole, would put the sod on his head, and stand on it, or sit on it, to squeeze out the pain. if this were not successful, he would tie a cord tightly round the patient's head, and cut him with a sharp shell or flint, beating his head with a little stick to make the blood flow freely. these excellent measures had in the past cured many severe headaches. but they could not cure the sickness now. so the meki-gar had the patient carried out of the camp. the bearers carried him slowly, singing a mournful chant; and behind them came all the sick man's friends, sweeping the ground with boughs, to sweep away the bad power that had caused the disease. this bad power was, the meki-gar said, the work of a terrible being called bori. but, whether it was bori's fault, or whether the tribe had simply brought sickness on themselves by allowing the camp to become very dirty, the meki-gar could not drive away the sickness. it grew worse and worse, and people died every day. kur-bo-roo was only a little lad, but he was unhappy and frightened, although he did not understand at all. the air was always full of the sound of the groaning and crying of those people who were ill, and of lamenting and mourning for the dead. everybody was terribly afraid. the blacks believed that their bad spirits were angry with them, and that nothing could do them any good; and so, many died from sheer fright, thinking that once they were taken ill they were doomed, and that it was no good to make a fight against the mysterious enemy. that was stupid, but they did not know any better. then there came a heavy rain, and after it was over, and the sun had come out to smile upon a fresh, clean world, the sickness began to get better and pass away. but just at the last, it came to the wurley where kur-bo-roo lived with his father and mother. kur-bo-roo could not understand why his parents could not get up and go to find food. they lay in the wurley together, shivering under all the 'possum rugs and talking quickly in queer, high voices that he could not make out at all. they called often for water, and he brought it to them in his little tarnuk, or drinking-vessel, going backwards and forwards to the creek, and up and down its banks, until his little legs were very tired. long after he was tired he kept on going for water. then there came a time when they could not lift the tarnuk, and he tried to hold it to their lips, so that they could drink; but he was not very successful, and much of the water was spilt. you see, he was only a very little, afraid boy. he woke up one morning, cold and hungry. there was no more food in the wurley, and no voices: only a great silence. he crept under the 'possum rug to his father and mother, but they were quite still, and when he called to them, they did not answer. he rubbed their cold faces with a shaking little hand, but no warmth came to them. then he broke into loud, frightened crying, like any other lonely little boy. presently some of the blacks came to the wurley and pointed at the quiet bodies under the 'possum rug, and jabbered very hard, beckoning to others to come. kur-bo-roo heard them say "tumble-down" a great many times, and he knew that it meant "dead"; but he did not know that his father and mother would never speak to him any more. only when an old woman picked him up and carried him away he understood that a terrible thing had happened to him, and he cried more bitterly than ever, calling to his mother. she had always run to him when he called. but now she did not come. chapter ii after that, hard times came upon little kur-bo-roo. there were none of his own family left, for the sickness had taken them all. his father and mother had been the last to die, and that made the blacks think that very probably bori, the evil spirit, had been especially angry with kur-bo-roo's family, because so many of them had died and the last terrible blow of the disease had fallen on their wurley. indeed, for awhile they argued as to whether it would not be better to kill kur-bo-roo too, so that so troublesome a family should be quite stamped out, with no further chance of annoying bori and bringing trouble upon the tribe. they did not spare him out of any idea of pity; but because so many men and boys had died that the tribe had become seriously weakened, and it seemed foolish to kill a strong and healthy fellow like kur-bo-roo. it was very important for a tribe to keep up its fighting strength, for there was always a chance that another band of blacks might come upon them and want to fight: in which case the weaker tribe might be swallowed up. so boy babies were thought a good deal of, and for that reason the blacks did not make an end of little kur-bo-roo. but he had a very bad time, for all that. no one wanted him. he was nobody's boy; and that hurts just the same whether a boy be black or white. never was there so lonely a little fellow. the other children were half afraid of him, because the fear of bori's anger yet hung about him; they would not let him join in their games, and took a savage delight in hunting him away from their wurleys. another black family had taken possession of his father's wurley, and no home was left to him. he used to wander about miserably, often sleeping in the open air, curled up in the shadow of a bush, or in a hollow tree-stump. if it were cold or wet, he would creep noiselessly into a hut when he thought every one would be asleep--and quite often he was kicked out again. he was always hungry now. his father and mother had taken such care of him, and had loved so much to keep him fed, that he had never learned how to find food for himself. he would wander about in the bush, looking for such things as his mother had brought him, but he knew so little that often he ate quite the wrong things, which made him very sick. he learned a good deal about food in that way, but the learning was not pleasant work. it was a bad year for food. dry weather had come, and game was scarce; it was hard for the fighting-men to bring home enough for their own children, without having to provide for a hungry boy of six who belonged to nobody. kur-bo-roo used to hang about the cooking-places in the hope of having scraps of food thrown to him, but not many came his way. when so many were hungry the food was quickly eaten up. sometimes a woman, pitying the shrinking little lad, would hastily toss him a bone or a fragment of meat; and though you would not have cared for the way it was cooked, kur-bo-roo thought that these morsels were the most delicious he had ever tasted. you see, a wild blackfellow has not much to think about except food. he has no schools, no daily papers, no market days, or picture shows, or telephones. the wild bush is his, and all he asks or expects of it is that it shall supply him with food. he knows that it means strength to him, and that strength means happiness, as a rule, when all that he has depends upon his own ability to keep it for himself. he does not reason things that way, for the blackfellow is simple, but he just eats as much as he can whenever he can get it, and that seems to agree with him excellently. that was the principle on which kur-bo-roo had been brought up, and it had made him the round, black, shiny baby that he had been until his parents died. he was not nearly so round and shiny now. his little body was thin and hard, and he did not look so strong as before. it was not altogether lack of food that had weakened him--the want of happiness had a great deal to do with it. he had found out that the tribe did not like him. not only was he nobody's boy, but he was the object of a kind of distrust that he could feel without at all understanding it; and he had learnt to shrink and cringe from blows and bitter words. once he had found a lace-lizard asleep on a rock, and, grasping his tiny waddy, had stolen up to it very carefully, all the instinct of the hunter blazing in his dark, sad eyes. the lizard, when it woke, was quick, but kur-bo-roo was quicker--the stick came down with all the force of his arm, and he carried off his prey in triumph, meaning to ask a woman who had sometimes been kind to him if she would cook it for him. but just outside the camp three big boys had come upon him as he was carrying his prey, and that had been the last that kur-bo-roo had seen of his lizard. he had fought for it like a little tiger--quite hopelessly, of course, but to fight had been a kind of dismal satisfaction to him, even though he was badly beaten in addition to losing his dinner; and that was specially unfortunate, for blacks think lizard a very great delicacy indeed. the boys ran off with it, jeering at the sobbing little figure on the ground; and they called him names that, even in his angry soreness, made him think. they said something to do with an evil spirit--he pondered over it, creeping into a clump of bushes. why should they call him that? blacks always want a reason for any happening. sometimes they are satisfied with very foolish reasons; but they must have something to explain occurrences, especially if they are unpleasant ones. the sickness that had fallen on their tribe they put down to bori, as the medicine-man told them; but when the sickness had gone, it seemed only reasonable to believe that bori was satisfied and would leave them alone for awhile. so they could not understand why misfortune should still pursue them. another tribe had stolen part of their country, and they had been too weakened by the sickness to fight for it; and now had come the drought, making food harder than ever to obtain, and causing some of the babies to fall sick and die. they turned to the magic-men or sorcerers for explanation, and these clever people performed a great many extraordinary tricks to make things better. then, as they were really hard up for some object on which to throw the blame of their failure, it occurred to them to turn suspicion towards little kur-bo-roo. kur-bo-roo went on with his unhappy little life, quite ignorant of the storms gathering round his woolly head. no one was ever kind to him, and he could scarcely distinguish one day from another; although he gathered a vague idea that in some way they were linking his name with the evil spirit, he did not understand what that meant. he kept on hunting round for food and water, and dodging blows and angry faces. if he had guessed that the magic-men were busily persuading the people that his family and he were the cause of the terrible year through which they had passed, he might have been more uneasy; but, in any case, he was only a very little boy, and perhaps he would not have understood. he had enough troubles to think of without looking out for more. chapter iii then the worst part of the drought happened, for the creek began to run dry. day after day it ran a little more slowly, and the deep holes at the bends shrank and dwindled away. the fish disappeared completely, having swum down-stream to where deeper waters awaited them; and so another source of food was lost to the tribe. there only remained the black mud-eels, and soon it was hard to find any of these, try as they might. that was bad, but it was nothing in comparison to the loss of the water supply. without the creek, the tribe could not exist, for the only other drinking-places in their country were swamps and morasses, and these, too, were dried up and useless. so the magic-men and head-men became very anxious, and many were the black glances cast upon the unconscious kur-bo-roo as he slunk round the camp or hunted for food in the scrub. then the head-men issued a command that no one should drink from the creek itself, lest the little water remaining should be stirred up and made muddy, or lest anyone should drink too much. instead of going to the creek to drink, they were permitted to fill their tarnuks, or drinking-vessels, each morning; and then no one was allowed to approach the creek again that day. so in the mornings a long procession of women went down to the bank, where a head-man watched them fill the tarnuks, remaining until the last had hurried away, very much afraid of his fierce eyes. but the new law fell very heavily on kur-bo-roo, for he had now no tarnuk. the little one made for him by his father long ago had disappeared when he lost everything, and since then he had always been accustomed to drink at the creek. now, however, he could not do so, and no one would give him a tarnuk, or let him drink from theirs. he would have stolen it very readily, for he was now not at all a well-brought-up little boy, but the tarnuks were hung far beyond his reach. of course, the magic-men knew how the new law would affect the little fellow. they knew that now it would be impossible for kur-bo-roo to drink, and after a little he would "tumble-down" and be dead; and then, perhaps, the evil spirit would be satisfied, and go away from the tribe. they watched him carefully, and were glad that he became weak and wretched. they had uttered such savage penalties against drinking from the creek that it never occurred to them that he would dare to disobey. but sometimes in the darkness kur-bo-roo used to creep down for a drink, being, indeed, as desperate as a boy can be, and quite sure that unless he went he must die; and he had become so stealthy in his movements that he was never caught. it did not satisfy his thirst, of course, for it was the hottest part of the summer, and all the blacks were accustomed to drinking a great deal: still, it was something. at least, it kept him alive. then, one morning, came news of a number of kangaroo feeding two miles away by the creek, and all the camp fell into a state of tremendous excitement at the very idea of such a chance of food. all the men and big boys dashed off at once, and presently the women made up their minds that they would follow them, as it was not at all unlikely that if the men had good luck in their hunt they might immediately sit down and eat a great portion of the game they had killed--in which case there was only a poor look-out for those left in camp. so they gathered up their dilly-bags and sticks, slung the babies on their backs, and ran off into the bush after the men, leaving the camp deserted. now, it chanced that kur-bo-roo knew nothing of all this. he had not spent the night in camp, because, on the evening before, he had been savagely beaten by two big boys, who had caught him alone in the scrub, and when they had finished with him he was too sick and sore to crawl back to the wurleys. he had crept under a bush, and slept there uneasily, for the pain of his bruises kept waking him up. the sun was quite high in the sky before he made up his mind to go back to the camp, in the faint hope that some one would give him food. so he limped slowly through the bush, wincing when the harsh boughs rubbed against his sore limbs. he stopped at the edge of the camp and rubbed his fists into his eyes, blinking in surprise. no one was in sight; instead of the hum and bustle of the camp, the men sitting about carving their spears and throwing-sticks, the women chattering round the wurleys, the babies rolling on the ground and playing with the dogs, there was only desolation and silence. he approached one hut after another, and poked in a timid head, but he saw no one, and the stillness seemed almost terrible to him. then, in a corner of one wurley he saw a rush-basket, and from it came a smell that would have been disgusting to anyone but a black, but was pure delight to kur-bo-roo. his fear vanished as he seized upon the food and ate it ravenously. he came out presently, his thin little body not nearly so hollow as before, and looked about him. the food had made him feel better, but he was terribly thirsty. and then he saw, with a little glad shout, that all about the camp were drinking-vessels, brimming with water--put down wherever their owners had happened to be when they had rushed away to the hunt. kur-bo-roo did not know anything about that, of course; he only knew that here was water enough to make him forget that he had ever been thirsty. he ran eagerly to the nearest tarnuk and drank and drank until he could drink no more. and with that drink, so the blacks say, a great change came upon little kur-bo-roo. kur-bo-roo put down the tarnuk and stood upright, throwing his head back in sheer bodily happiness at once more having had enough to eat and drink. all his bruises and soreness had suddenly gone; he was no longer tired and lonely and unhappy, but strong and well and glad. how wonderfully strong he felt! a new feeling ran through all his body. "i am stronger than anybody ever was before!" he said aloud. and he believed that it was true. he glanced round the deserted camp. it was quiet now, but he felt sure that soon the blacks would come hurrying back. perhaps they would be there in a moment: kur-bo-roo listened, half dreading to hear the quick pad-pad of bare feet over the hard, baked ground. no sound came. but he knew that they would return: and then, what would await him? his new strength seemed to burn him. he stretched his arms out, wondering at their hard muscles, although he felt that the drink had been magic, and so he need not wonder at anything at all. some good spirit, perhaps sorry for lonely little boys, had evidently come to help him. fear suddenly left him altogether, and with its going came a mighty desire for revenge. he did not know what he was going to do, but the new power that was in him urged him on. a little tree grew in front of him. he began to gather up all the drinking-vessels, and, one by one, to hang them upon the boughs. there were very many, and it took a long time, but at last the task was completed, and not a tarnuk was left in the camp. he looked in the wurleys, and found many empty vessels, and these also he hung up in the tree. then he took the biggest tarnuk of all, and a little tarnuk, and went down to the creek: and with the little tarnuk he filled the big one, dipping up all the water from the creek, until there was none left. there was much water, yet still the big tarnuk held it all, and only the mud of the creek-bed remained where the stream had been rippling past. even as he looked, that grew dry and hard. then kur-bo-roo turned and carried his burden up the bank to his tree, and from the big tarnuk he filled all the empty ones. they held a great deal, and yet the big tarnuk remained quite full. for now there was magic in everything that kur-bo-roo touched. he climbed up into the little tree and seated himself comfortably in a fork, where he could see everything, and yet lean back comfortably. a quiver ran through the tree, as if something far underground had shaken it; and suddenly it began to grow. it grew and grew, spreading wide arms to the sky, until it was as large as very many big trees all put together: and its trunk was tall and straight and very smooth. all the time, kur-bo-roo sat in the fork and smiled. when the tree had finished growing, he heard a sound of voices far below him, and, looking down, he saw the tribe hurrying back through the scrub to their camp. their hunt had been unsuccessful, for all the kangaroo had got away into the country of another tribe, where they dared not follow: so they were returning, hungry and thirsty, and in a very bad temper, for they had not found any water in the places where they had been. they came angrily back to the camp, and from his seat in the fork of the great tree kur-bo-roo looked down at them and smiled. the blacks were far too thirsty to look up at any tree. they hurried to the wurleys. then the first said, "where is my tarnuk?" and another said, "wah! my tarnuk has gone!" and a third, "who has taken all our tarnuks?" they became very angry, and beat their wives because they could find no drinking-vessels and no water: then, becoming desperate because of their thirst, they hurried to the creek. and lo! the creek was dry! they came back from the creek, jabbering and afraid, believing that the evil spirits had done this wonderful thing. presently one saw the big tree, and cried out in astonishment. "ky! what tree is that?" he exclaimed. they gathered round, staring in amazement at the huge tree: and so they saw all their tarnuks hanging in its branches, and little kur-bo-roo sitting smiling in the fork. "wah! is that you?" they called. "have you any water?" "yes, here am i, and i have plenty of water," said kur-bo-roo. "but i will not give you one drop, because you would give me none, although i died of thirst." some threatened him, and some begged of him, and the women and children wailed round the base of the tree. but kur-bo-roo smiled down at them, and took no heed of all their anger and their crying. then a couple of young men took their tomahawks of stone and began to climb the tree, although they were afraid, because it was so big. still, thirst drove them, and so they came up the tree, cutting notches for their fingers and toes in the smooth trunk, and coming wonderfully quickly. but kur-bo-roo laughed, and let fall a little water on them from a tarnuk; and as soon as the water touched them, they fell to the ground and were killed. again and again other men tried to climb the tree, becoming desperate with their own thirst and the crying of the women and children; but always they met the same fate. always kur-bo-roo smiled, and splashed a few drops of water upon them: only a drop on each of them, but as the drops touched them their hold loosened, the grip of their toes relaxed, and they fell from the great height, to meet their death on the ground below. so it went on until nearly all the men of the tribe were gone: and kur-bo-roo sat in the fork of the tree and smiled. and it still went on, all through the moonlit night. but in the dawn two men came back from hunting: ta-jerr and tarrn-nin, the sons of pund-jel, maker of men. they were very cunning, as well as being very brave, and after they had taken counsel together, they began to climb the tree. but they did not climb as the other men had done, straight up the long line of the smooth trunk. instead, they climbed round and round, as the clematis creeps when it throws its tendrils about a branch. kur-bo-rop laughed, just as he had laughed at the others, and waited until they had ascended to a great height. then he took water, and let it fall--but the men were no longer in the same place, but on the other side, climbing round and round, and he missed them. again and again he ran to get more, and poured it down; they were very quick, circling about the trunk, and always managed to escape the falling drops. they came to the place where the trunk forked, and swung themselves into the high boughs. then little kur-bo-roo began to cry in a terrified voice. but they seized him, not heeding, and beat him until all his bones were broken, and then threw him down. the other blacks uttered a great shout of triumph, and ran to kill him. but the magic that had helped him came to the aid of little kur-bo-roo once more, and so he did not die. suddenly, just as the angry blacks were upon him, with uplifted waddies and threatening faces, he changed under their gaze; and where there had been a little black boy there lay for a moment a native bear, his grey fur bristling, and fear filling his soft eyes. then, very swiftly, he gathered himself up and ran up a tree, until he was out of sight among the branches. just then the blacks were too thirsty to pursue him. overhead, ta-jerr and tarrn-nin were cutting at the branches of the great tree that held the tarnuks; and all the water came out and flowed back to the creek, and again the creek became wide and clear, running swiftly in its bed so that there was drink for all. then ta-jerr and tarrn-nin came down to the ground, and the tribe hailed them as heroes. but when they looked for little kur-bo-roo, the native bear, he had fled into another tree, and had disappeared. from that time, the native bears became food for the black people. but it is law that they must not break their bones when they kill them, nor must they take off their skin before they cook them. so they take them carefully, hitting them on the head; and they cook them by roasting them whole in an oven of stones, sunk in the ground. if the law were broken, kur-bo-roo would again become powerful, the magic-men say; and the first thing he would do would be to dry up all the creeks. now, kur-bo-roo lives near the creeks and water holes, so that if the people broke the law he might at once carry away the water. he is not very wise, because he was only quite a little boy before he became a native bear, and so had not much time to gain wisdom: but he is soft, and fat, and gentle, unless you interfere with him when he wants to climb a tree, and then he can scratch very hard with his sharp claws. all he can do is to climb, and he does not see very well in the daytime: therefore, he thinks that whatever he meets is a tree, and at once he tries to climb it. if the blacks throw things at him when he is sitting in the fork of a tree, he blinks down at them, and sometimes you might think he smiles. but if they climb his tree and come near to knock him down, he cries always, very terribly--just as he cried long ago, when he was magic and ta-jerr and tarrn-nin climbed his great tree and threw him to the people far below. xiii wurip, the fire-bringer chapter i once there was a time when the blacks had no fire. they had not learned the way to make it by rubbing two sticks together; or if they had once known the way, they had forgotten it. and they were very miserable, for it was often cold and wintry, and they had no fire to warm them, nor any way of cooking food. fire had been theirs once. but there came two women upon the earth; strange women, speaking in unknown tongues, with great eyes in which there was no fear. they did not love the blacks. they lived in their camps for a time, and built for themselves a wurley, coming and going as they pleased; but always there was hatred in their wild eyes, and the blacks feared them exceedingly. because they feared them, although they hated them, they gave them food, and the women cooked it for themselves, for at that time the fire blossomed at the door of every hut. but one day, the blacks awoke to find the women gone. they had gone in the night, silently, and with them they took all the fire that the blacks had. there was not even a coal left to start the hearth-blaze for the shivering people. the fighting-men made haste to arm themselves, and started in pursuit of the women. they travelled through swamps and morasses, across boggy lands and creeks fringed with reeds and sedges; all the time seeing nothing of the women, but knowing that they were on the right track, by the faint smell of fire that still hung in the air. "they have gone this way, carrying fire!" they said. "soon we shall overtake them." and they pressed on, going faster and faster as the smell of burning wood became stronger and stronger. at last they came out upon a little open space, and, looking across it, they saw a new wurley made of bushes interlaced with reeds. in front of it smoke curled up lazily, and they caught the gleam of red coals, and yellow flame. the two women sat by the fire, motionless. the fighting-men broke into a run, shouting: "now we will make an end of these women!" they cried fiercely to each other, as they ran, gripping their spears and throwing-sticks. the women sat by the fire taking no heed. so little did they seem to notice the running warriors that it seemed that they did not see them; or, if they did see them, they cared no more than for a line of black swans flying westward into the sunset. one stirred the fire gently, and laid across the red embers a dried stick of she-oak. the other weaved a mat of rushes in a curious device of green and white; and as she twisted them in and out, she smiled. even when the long shout of the fighting-men sent its echoes rolling round the sky, they did not look up. the glow of the flames shone reflected deep in their eyes. so the fighting-men came on, grim and relentless, burning with the anger of all their long chase and the hot desire for revenge. they tightened their grip on their waddies, since there was nothing to be gained by risking a throwing-stick or a spear when the enemy to be slain was only two women, weak and unarmed. for such defenceless creatures, a blow with a waddy would be sufficient. but, half a spear's cast from the wurley, something they could not see brought them to a sudden, gasping halt. it was as though a wall were there, soft and invisible, but yet a wall. they could not touch it to climb over it, neither could they force their way through. they struck at it, and it was as if their sticks struck the empty air. there was nothing to see but the wurley, and the fire, and the quiet women, and the air was clear and bright. but no step farther could they advance. they circled about the camp, trying at every step to get nearer to the wurley. it was all to no purpose: always the wall met them, though they could not see it. so they came back to the point whence they had started, breathless, angry, and a little afraid. they were brave men, and used to battle, but it is easier to fight a visible enemy than one that lurks, unseen, in the air. it was magic, and they knew it. still, their anger burned furiously within them, and one lifted a spear tipped with poisoned bone, and flung it at the women. to see him lift his hand was enough for the band. a storm of spears went hurtling through the air. for a few yards the spears flew straight and true. but then they stopped suddenly in mid-flight, as though an unseen wall had met them. for a moment they seemed to hang in the air, then they fell in a jangling heap among the tussocks. and beyond them, while the terrified warriors shrank together, gesticulating and trembling, the women laid more sticks upon the fire, and smiled. the fighting-men were cunning, and they did not give in easily. not only were they smarting with the fury of defeat, but the tale was not one they wished to carry back to the tribe, lest they should become a laughing-stock even to the women and young boys. so they drew off, thinking under cover of night to renew the attack in the hope that when the women slept their magic would also sleep. so, when darkness had fallen, they crept up again, on noiseless feet. but the invisible wall was there, and they could find no gap in its circle; while, all the time, the fire burned redly before the wurley, and the women sat by it, feeding it, and weaving their mats of white and green. at length the warriors became weak for want of food, and weary of the useless struggle; and so they gave up the fight and slowly made their way back, across swamp-land and morass, to the tribe that waited for them, shivering and fireless, in the shadow of the hills. great and bitter were the lamentations at the news of their defeat. they had been eagerly watched for; and when they came slowly back to the camp, trailing their spears, a long cry of angry disappointment rent the air. it was difficult to believe their story. who could imagine a wall, strong enough to stop warriors, yet that could not be seen? so they found themselves coldly looked upon, and their wives said unpleasant things to them in their wurleys that night. quite a number of wives had sore heads next morning--since it was easier to deal with a talkative wife by means of a waddy than by argument. but the wives had the last word, for all that, and the small boys of the tribe used to call jeering words at the disgraced warriors, from the safe concealment of a clump of dogwood, or fern. meanwhile, there was no cooked food. the tribe was very far from being happy. then a band of young men, who were not picked warriors, but were anxious to distinguish themselves, made up their minds that they would go forth to find the fire-women and slay them, and bring back fire to the tribe. they were very young men, and so they were confident that they could succeed where the warriors had failed; and for at least a week before they started they went about the camp telling every one how they meant to do it. when they were not doing this, or singing songs about the great deeds they meant to perform--and very queer songs they were--they were polishing their weapons and making new ones, and talking together, at a great rate, of their secret plans. when they were ready, at last, they painted themselves with as much pipe-clay as they were allowed to use, and gathered together to start. "when we have killed the fire-women," they said to the tribe, "some of us will turn homewards and wait here and there along the way. then the others will run with the fire-stick, and as they grow tired those that have gone ahead will take it and run very swiftly back to you. in three days the tribe will be cooking food with the fire which we shall bring. then we shall get married and have wurleys and fires of our own." all the blacks listened gravely, except the fighting-men who had not brought back anything at all. these men laughed a little, but no one took any notice of their laughter, because they had failed, and it is the way of the world not to think well of failures. the girls thought the band of young warriors wonderfully noble, and smiled upon them a great deal as they marched out of the camp. of course, the boys were much too proud to smile back again--but then, the girls did not expect them to, and were quite content to do all the smiling. so the little band marched off with a great flourish, and the bush swallowed them up. "may they come back soon!" said one girl, as she and her companions dug for yams next day. "ay!" said the others. "we are weary of eating things which are not cooked." "i am weary of being cold," said one. "there is but one 'possum rug in our wurley, and my father takes it always." "there will be great feasting and joy when they bring fire back," said another. "perhaps some of us will be married, too." and they laughed and made fun of each other, after the fashion of girls of any colour. but the three days had not past when the young men returned: and when they came, they sneaked back quietly into the camp and tried to look as if they had not gone at all. they had washed the pipe-clay from their bodies, and were all quite anxious to work very hard and make themselves exceedingly useful to the older men; nor were they at all anxious to talk. they gave severe blows to the young boys who clustered round them, clamouring for news, and told them to go and play. but when they were summoned before the leaders, they hung their heads and told the same story as the warriors. they had seen the fire-women, they said, and they still sat before their wurley and fed the fire; but the young men could not come near them, nor could any of their weapons reach them. and when they were wearied with much throwing, and their arms had grown stiff and sore, a great fear came suddenly upon them, and they turned and fled homeward through the scrub, never stopping until they came upon the huts they knew. now they were very much ashamed, and the girls mocked at them, but the warriors shook their heads understandingly. "to fight is no good," they said. "unless the magic-men can tell us how to beat down the magic wall and conquer the fire-women, the tribe will go for ever without fire. we are wonderfully brave, but we cannot fight witchcraft. let the magic-men undertake the task, for indeed it is a thing beyond the power of simple men. but is it not for such matters that we keep the magic-men?" then all the tribe said, "yes, that is what we have been thinking all along." and they looked expectantly at the magic-men, demanding that they should at once accomplish the business, without any further trouble. every one became quite pleased and hopeful, except the magic-men themselves--and _they_ were in a very bad temper, because they did not like the task. still they held their heads high, and made little of the matter, because to do anything else would have been imprudent: and they looked as wise as possible--a thing they had trained themselves to do, whether they knew anything about a matter or not. all kinds of wise men can do this, and it is a very handy habit, because it makes people think them even wiser than they are. they went away by themselves, with dreadful threats of what might happen if the people came near them--not that there was any need for them to take such precautions, for the blacks were much too terrified by them to venture near when they were working any kind of magic. a great deal of what the blacks called magic would seem very stupid to you if you watched it now; but they all believed in it firmly, and even those who knew that they deceived others still thought that magic was a real thing, and that it could be practised upon them. the magic-men shut themselves up for a time; and then they told the men that they had made themselves into crows, and had flown over to watch what the fire-women were doing. as all the tribe believed that, they could turn themselves into any animal they chose, and be invisible, nobody thought of doubting this. the magic-men then began to weave spells. they chopped the branches from a young she-oak tree, and cleared away grass and sticks in a circle round it. then they sharpened the end of the trunk, and drew on the ground the figure of a woman, with the lopped tree growing out of her chest. afterwards they rubbed themselves all over with charcoal and grease, and danced and sang songs round the tree for some days, expecting the fire-women to feel their magic, so that they would have to rise from their camp and walk, as if in a sleep, to the place of the dance. but the women did not come, and so the magic-men told themselves that they were not yet strong enough. meanwhile, the tribe clustered some distance off, very frightened and respectful, and also very cold. [illustration: "they rubbed themselves all over with charcoal and grease, and danced and sang songs round the tree."] the magic-men tried other plans, although they were much hampered because many of their spells needed the use of fire, and there was none to be had. they tried to kill the women by pointing magic things in the direction of their camp, such as bones, and pieces of quartz-crystal, which were believed to be very deadly; and, going to their old wurley, they put sharp fragments of bone in any footprints they could find, thinking that the women would fall ill and become very lame, and so lose their power. but nothing happened. so they sent one of their number secretly through the bush, and he returned to tell them that the women were well and unharmed, and that the invisible wall about their camp was just as strong as ever. then the magic-men knew that they could do no more. they told the people that the only spells that would conquer the fire-women were spells in which fire formed a part; and until they could bring them fire, they must not expect to be freed from the power of the women. the tribe did not like this, and much lamentation went up; but they were much too afraid of the magic-men to object openly to anything they did. chapter ii at this time there lived in the tribe a man called wurip. he was not a lucky man. once, in a big tribal fight, most of his relations had been killed; and when he was still quite a young man, his wife died of a mysterious sickness, before they had been married very long. then, one night, he tripped and fell into a big fire, burning himself terribly. he got better, but his left arm and hand were quite twisted and withered, and were of very little use to him. had he been a different kind of man, it is not unlikely that he would have been killed by the tribe, for the blacks had no use for maimed or deformed persons. but wurip was strong, apart from his twisted arm; and also he had a way of muttering to himself that rather frightened people. it was only a habit, but the blacks were always afraid of what they could not understand. so they left him alone. he lived in a little wurley by himself, and though he was lonely, and would have liked to take another wife, he knew that no girl would want a man whose arm and hand were not like those of other men. so he did not try to get married, and gradually he became very solitary. he thought the other men disliked him, and he would go away by himself on hunting expeditions, and wander through the scrub alone. although he was half a cripple, he soon learned to know the bush more thoroughly than any man in the tribe, and he trained his shrivelled arm to do a great deal, although at first it had seemed that it must be useless for ever. the other blacks at first gave him nick-names about his arm, but he did not like them, and his eyes were so fierce that they did not let him hear them any more, and to his face only called him by his own name, wurip, which means "a little bird." now, wurip loved his tribe. he had no special friends in it, which was partly his own fault, for he had grown very unsociable, but he was proud of the tribe itself, because it was brave and owned good country, and had been successful in many fights. it made him sore at heart to see it suffering from the want of fire, and also it hurt his pride that it should have been beaten by women. so he made up his mind that he would try to recover fire from the wicked fire-women. he thought about it for a long time, and laid his plans very carefully. one day he left the camp, carrying no weapons, but only a single waddy. the other blacks said to him: "where are you going?" wurip said, "i go to try to get fire back." "you!" they said. "a little man, and crippled! that is very funny." and all the people laughed at him. wurip hesitated, and a gleam came into his eyes, so quick and fierce that those who had laughed shrank back. then he turned on his heel and walked off into the scrub, and the blacks said, "let him go. he is mad, and he will most likely be killed; and it really does not matter. he is not much use." into the wild bush wurip went, taking short noiseless strides. he was a little man, but he had the quick movements of many little men, and at all times he could move rapidly through the bush, scarcely making a sound as he went. he passed through the scrub, and came to boggy lands and morasses; his light feet carried him over swamps and across creeks fringed with reeds and sedges. then he saw a light curl of smoke going lazily skywards, and at the sight his heart gave a leap, for it was long since he had seen fire. until then he had travelled very quickly. but now he slackened his speed and went slowly across the plain towards the fire-women's camp. as he drew near he could see them, sitting in front of the wurley and weaving their rushes. they did not look up as he came, and he advanced so near them that he began to think that the magic wall could be there no longer. just as he was wondering if this were indeed true, one of the fire-women glanced up and saw him; and almost immediately wurip felt some invisible object blocking his way, and knew he could go no farther. he stopped, and burst out laughing, and at the sound of his merriment the other fire-woman glanced up sharply from her weaving, and the first one paused, with a stick of she-oak wood in her hand, and looked at him in blank astonishment. so silent was the place that wurip's shout of laughter echoed like a thunderclap. the fire-women looked at the little black figure standing among the harsh tussocks of swamp-grass, and he waved to them with his withered arm. but they took no further notice, going on scornfully with their work. wurip had expected nothing else, and he was not discouraged. he began collecting sticks and brushwood for a wurley, singing as he went about his work, in full view of the two women. he made no further attempt to get through the invisible wall. there was not much timber about, and to find suitable material for his wurley was a difficult task. he walked slowly, using his crippled arm very little, because he hoped that the women would be less careful about him if they regarded him as a one-armed man. sometimes he felt that they were looking at him, and then he would work with particular awkwardness. always, however, he sang, and went about with a merry countenance, as if he had not a single care in the world. he built his wurley and went off into the swamp to hunt, returning with some lizards and grubs, and a duck that he had caught just as it settled on a sedgy pool. standing a little way back from the wall, he called out and threw the duck towards the fire where the women sat. but it fell before it reached them, meeting the unseen obstacle. "what a pity--it is for you!" called wurip, slowly, so that they could hear easily. "it is a fat duck." and saying this he laughed again, and went into his wurley, where he ate his supper contentedly--although it was not cooked--and went to sleep. in the morning, the women were sitting as before. but the duck had gone, and, looking closely across the little space, wurip saw that there were feathers lying about near their fire. also there was a pleasant smell of cooking in the air. this gladdened his heart, for it showed that the women did not mind making him useful, and that was exactly what he wanted. so the days went by, and wurip lived in his wurley, and the women in theirs. he never saw them away from it. neither did he try any more to go near it. from time to time he made them friendly signals, or called cheerful greetings to them, but that was all. each day he went hunting, and good luck always attended him, because it was the time when waterfowl are plentiful, and as no others hunted there, the birds were not afraid. it was quite easy to fill the bag he had made out of rushes. and each evening he put the best of the game on a big stone some distance from his wurley, and in the morning it was always gone. this went on for fourteen days. when he was not hunting, wurip lay about his camp, always singing contentedly as he carved himself boomerangs or whittled heads for throwing-spears that he never used. once he carved a bowl from a root that he found, and this also he put on the stone, for the fire-women, and they took it. he gathered bundles of the rushes that women of the tribes use in weaving, and left them too. so that he became very useful to them, although he had never heard their voices. then, after fourteen days, wurip pretended that he had fallen sick. he did not go out hunting any more, neither did he place offerings upon the big stone. in his wurley he had hidden sufficient food for himself to last him for several days, but he did not let the fire-women see him eating. instead, he crawled out, dragging himself along the ground, and cried out, sorrowfully, waving his withered arm to them. he crawled back into his wurley and ate and slept; but they did not come, as he had hoped they would. next day he did not go out into the open at all. he kept close within his wurley, and all the exercise he took was to groan very mournfully. he groaned nearly all day, and by the time it was evening he was more tired than if he had hunted for three days. because he was tired he ate nearly all that remained of his food, after which he felt discouraged, for he realized that it would soon be necessary to go out hunting again, and he wanted to seem ill. so he groaned more loudly than ever, and once or twice cried out as if in pain. then he fell asleep. the fire-women were fierce creatures, but still they were women. it troubled them that this crippled little blackfellow should be ill, too ill to bring them gifts or to busy himself, singing and laughing about his camp. to sit over a fire and weave mats of white and green may, in time, become dull; and it cheered the women to see wurip and listen to his songs. when he did not appear they took counsel together, agreeing that so small a fellow, with a withered arm, could not be dangerous. so, in the morning, wurip heard steps, and opening his eyes, he saw one of the women entering his wurley. he almost jumped up; then, remembering, he groaned heavily, and looked at her with a stupid stare. she spoke to him, asking what was the matter, but he only moaned in answer. so she picked him up--it was not difficult, for she was very powerful, and wurip was quite light--and carried him over to where her sister sat. there seemed to be no invisible wall now: the fire-woman walked to the fire, and put wurip down before it. he nearly shouted, it was so long since he had been near a fire: but, luckily, he remembered to turn the shout into a groan. for some days wurip pretended to be very ill, and the fire-women nursed him--not in the harsh fashion of the medicine-men, but in gentler manner, feeding him, and giving him a comfortable bed to lie on. wurip was only too glad to lie still and be fed, and it was not hard for him to pretend to be ill, because, being black, he was not required to look pale. moreover, to taste cooked food once more nearly made him weep with joy. he was very grateful to the fire-women, and told them that he was an outcast from the tribe, because of his crippled arm, and he begged that, when he grew better, they would allow him to serve them. the fire-women were not sorry to have a servant. getting food and firewood was not very entertaining for them, and the gathering of rushes was a long and laborious task, which they hated. there could, they thought, be no risk in taking so harmless a person as wurip to work for them. still, they were stern with him. they told him that when he was well he must live in his own wurley and only come near theirs when it was necessary. also, they assured him that if he were unfaithful to them their magic would strike him dead immediately. this made wurip think very hard, for he did not want to meet such an unpleasant fate, although he was quite determined to take fire back to his tribe. he showed great horror at the idea of being unfaithful, and when he thought it was prudent to get better he recovered his strength--not too quickly, for it was very pleasant to be nursed--and then began his duties. the fire-women found him an excellent servant. he was always at hand when he was wanted, and he did his work well. there was plenty of food at all times, and very long fine rushes that he found when he was hunting far from the camp. wood he brought also, but the fire-women would never allow him to go near the fire. he laid the sticks at a little distance away: and they tended the fire and cooked the food, giving him a share. altogether, they were very happy and comfortable, and if he had been able to forget the shivering tribe, wurip would have been content. although he was only a servant, he was less lonely than he had been in the company of the other blacks. the fire-women were stern with him, but they never made him remember that his arm was crippled--and when he had been with the tribe he could not forget for an instant that he was different to the others. sometimes in the evenings, as he lay in his wurley, the thought came to him that it would be better to forget the tribe and stay with the fire-women. after all, they were good to him in their fierce fashion, and he remembered that he had very little to look forward to, in returning to the big camp. even if he took back the long-lost fire, they might be grateful to him for a little while, but he would never be as the other men were. and then memory would come to him, bringing back pictures of the tribe, half starved and shivering; of the little children who were dying for want of proper food and warmth, and of the cold hearth-stones of his people. however they might treat him, he could not forget that they were his own people. he knew that he must go back to them. chapter iii wurip lay on his back in the shade of a golden wattle and listened idly to the bush voices talking round him. he heard far more than you would ever hear--voices of whispering leaves and boughs, of rustling grass, and softly-moving bodies. not a grasshopper could brush through a tussock but wurip knew that it had passed. overhead, birds were twittering gaily in the branches. he knew them all--had he been hungry he might have wanted to set snares for some of the little chirping things, but just then he was too well-fed and lazy to trouble about such tiny morsels. he bit long grass-stems lazily, and tried to sleep. a pair of jays flew into a tree close by, and began to chatter to each other, and suddenly wurip found that he knew what they were saying. somehow, it did not seem surprising that he should know. afterwards he wondered if he had dreamed it, but at the moment nothing was strange to him. the jays, eager and chattering, did not notice the little black figure in the grass. they were too full of their subject. "the fire-women have nearly finished their weaving," said one. "soon the last mat will be done. they have worked very quickly since wurip brought them rushes." "and then they will go away," said the other. "yes, then they will go quite away, and there will be no more fire for ever. he-he! what would the tribe say!" "and wurip!" "yes, wurip also. what will he do when they have gone?" "he will go back to his people, i suppose. he cannot go with the fire-women. i think, brother," said the smaller jay, "that they mean to sail away on their mats to another country, taking fire with them." "certainly they mean to go, and to take fire with them; did we not hear them talking about it while we perched on their wurley?" said the other. "as for sailing away on their mats, i do not see now that can be. mats are not like wings. you are a foolish young bird." "well, why do they make them so strong and large, and how else will they get away?" asked the other, looking down his beak in an abashed way, out still sticking to his point. "you cannot tell me those things." "i do not care to know," said the big jay; and that was untrue, because jays are very inquisitive. "what does it matter? they are only humans. but wonder what wurip would say, if he knew." "wurip thinks he will take fire back to the tribe. but i do not think he will ever get it. the fire-women watch him too closely--and anyhow, he is only a little cripple." "he would be excited if he knew what we heard them say--that if they lost any of it now, all the rest would go out, and then their power would leave them, so that they could work no more magic." "he-he-he!" chattered the other jay. "but he will never know that. they do not talk when he is near." "no, they are wise. it is a very foolish thing to talk," said his brother solemnly. yet they chattered for a little while longer, and then they flew away. wurip lay motionless under the wattle-tree, and forgot to bite grass-stems any more. he was not sure whether he was awake or dreaming; and he did not greatly care, because he felt that the warning that had come to him was true, whether he had dreamed it or not. it fitted in with little things he had noticed. lately the fire-women had been very busy at their weaving, working night and day, so that he could hardly bring them rushes quickly enough. a great pile of mats lay ready in a corner of their wurley, and now they were working together at the largest of all. they had seemed restless and excited, too, and talked earnestly together, although they were careful not to let him hear anything, and never to let him go near the fire. not that they seemed to fear now that he would try to approach it. wurip had been very careful, never even glancing towards it as he worked about the camp. he was allowed to place his firewood at a certain spot, and took great pains not to go beyond it. in every way in his power he used to try to make them think that he was afraid of fire and dreaded to go too close to it since he had burned his arm. by this means he seemed to have put their suspicions to sleep, and they regarded him as a harmless little fellow, of whom they need have no fear. he made his way back to the camp, slowly, thinking hard. if the fire-women were really going away, he must act, and act quickly. at any time they might finish their work; and then they would disappear for ever, and there would be no more fire to warm the people of the earth. wurip drew up his thin little body as he walked, and clenched his fist. he made up his mind that he would act that very night. he found the camp just as usual, with the fire-women working at their greatest mat of all, weaving it in and out in a curious device of green and white. one held the white strands, and the other the green; and their black hands worked so quickly that wurip could scarcely see to which woman they belonged. he looked at it with great admiration, and ventured a timid word of praise. then he went a little way off and began to skin the native cats and bandicoots that he had brought home. when he had prepared them for cooking, he laid them carefully on crossed sticks and put them in a shady corner. it was growing dusk, and he hurried off to find firewood. all the time, he was turning many plans over and over in his mind, and rejecting one after another as useless. well, he thought, he must trust to luck. he came back to the camp with his bundle of wood, and began to heap it in the accustomed place, keeping a respectful distance from the fire, and bending down his eyes, lest their burning desire should be seen. already the sun had gone away over the edge of the world, and darkness was coming fast. the fire-women had been forced to stop weaving, for the pattern of the great mat was too fine to weave by firelight. generally, when they had finished, one carried the work into the wurley while the other remained outside to watch wurip and begin the cooking. but the great mat was now too heavy for one to lift, and so they rolled it up, and carried it away together. wurip, crouching over his heap of firewood, felt his body suddenly stiffened like a steel spring. under his brows he watched them; and as the wurley hid them, he darted forward, snatched a big fire-stick from the glowing coals, and fled, with great noiseless bounds that carried him in a moment far into the dusk. behind him he heard a sudden loud anguished cry, and knew that the fire-women had found out his theft. for a moment he feared that the magic wall would spring up to bar his way, and he ran as he had never run before. but it did not come; and into his mind swept the words of the jay, that if fire were taken from the women, they would lose their power of magic. he hardly dared to think that could be so--but as he ran on, finding no unseen obstacle in his way, hope surged over him. magic was a thing against which no man could fight. but if he had only ordinary women to deal with, he was not afraid. a few hundred yards from the wurley, he glanced back, and saw that their fire no longer sent its red gleam into the dusk. his heart leapt with joy, for it seemed as if the jays' story must be true; and if so, the fire-women's hearth was cold, and already the only fire in the world was what he carried. the greatness of the thought caught his breath--surely such an honour should be for the bravest warrior of the tribe, and not for a half-crippled, undersized weakling like him. and behind him came a sudden trampling of running feet, and a cry of such terrible anger that the very waterfowl in the swamps hid themselves in fear. the fire-women were on his track. wurip ran forward, leaping from tussock to tussock sometimes slipping into bog-holes, and scratching his bare limbs on great clumps of sword-grass. in his withered hand he clutched the fire-stick; the other held his waddy, and sometimes he was glad to use it to help himself over rough places. luckily, he knew the ground well--there was no part of it that he had not studied on his days out hunting, knowing that at any time he might have to make his dash for home. he hid the glow of the fire-stick as much as he could, holding it so close to him that his skin was scorched by it; but his precautions could not conceal it altogether, and to the fire-women behind him it was like a red star, twinkling low down upon earth. they came after wurip swiftly. at first they had uttered savage cries of wrath, and fierce threats of what they would do to wurip when they caught him; but soon it seemed that they knew that shouts and threats were useless, and after that they hunted him silently, only the quick pad of their feet being heard in the darkness. they were terribly quick feet. wurip had not dreamed that women could run so fast. sometimes, as the moon rose, he could see them in pursuit, grim and revengeful, looking like giants in the darkness. his soul was full of terror at the thought of what they would do if they caught him, for he knew that he would be but a little child in their hands. they crossed the swamps and morasses, and the reed-fringed creeks--and here wurip lost ground, for he had to go very carefully, lest he should slip and so drown the precious fire-stick that he held close to him. only a blackfellow could have kept it alight so long; but wurip knew just how to hold it so that the air fanned it enough to keep the dull coals glowing, without letting it burn too quickly away. he heard the fire-women splash through the creeks, not far behind him. then they came into the scrub-country, all running at their wildest speed, for this was the last part of the journey back to the tribe. then wurip knew that he must be beaten. he was nearly done--his breath came unevenly, and his limbs were like lead, and would no longer do his bidding. fierce and untired, close behind him, came the fire-women. a little ahead, he knew of a bed of green bracken fern in a gully, and he set his teeth in the resolve to get thus far. they were quite near him when the dark line of the gully showed, somewhat to his left. he threw all his remaining strength into a last spurt of energy, and then, turning from the straight line towards the camp of the tribe, he crept through the scrub to the gully, holding both hands over the fire so that it might not guide the fire-women to his place of refuge, and heedless of the cruel burning. he reached the gully safely, and flung himself face downwards among the rank ferns and nettles, panting as if his heart would burst from his body. he heard the women run past, tirelessly swift; there came to him their angry voices, calling softly, lest they should miss each other in the dim scrub. they had not seen him swerve--that was clear; and wurip hugged himself with joy to think that for the moment he was safe. when they had passed, and the sound of their feet had died away, he crept from his gully and fled in a northerly direction. he ran all through the dark hours, with long trotting strides, as a dingo runs, and circling round so that he might miss the fire-women and come upon the camp from the other side. sometimes he paused to rest, listening for the sound of the other hastening feet--but they did not come, and at last he believed that he had escaped pursuit. he was very tired--so tired that at last he lost something of the blackfellow's keenness that guides him through even unknown country in the dark. something seemed to have broken in his chest, from the time of his last mad spurt from the fire-women, and now each breath stabbed him. perhaps it was because he was so tired that at last he became confused altogether, and swerved from the track he had mapped out for himself to get back to the camp; and when dawn broke he was back in the direction where he might expect to meet pursuit. even as this dawned upon him, he looked up and saw the fire-women running silently towards him, their fierce eyes gleaming. wurip knew it was the end. he fled, knowing as he went that he could not run far. behind him came the women, tireless as though they had not spent the night in fruitless chase. he clutched the fire-stick to him, scarcely knowing that it burned his hands and his naked chest. rounding a clump of saplings, a sob burst from his labouring chest. before him he saw the familiar camp, the wurleys clustered together; it seemed to smile at him in home-like fashion. so near home, to fail! he spurred himself to the last effort. then from the camp burst a knot of fighting-men, racing towards him. he caught the glint of the rising sun on their spears and throwing-sticks; and he waved to them, for he could not shout. they came on with great strides: there was music in the sound of their trampling feet. when they came to him, they divided, running past him, and wurip staggered through the lane they formed. he heard fierce cries and blows behind him, but he did not stop. before him the camp lay, and never had it smiled to him a welcome so sweet. there were people running out to meet him; men, women, and little children: he could hear their voices, amazed and rejoicing--"wurip! it is wurip, bringing us fire!" he tried to smile at them, but his lips would not move. so he staggered in to the circle of the huts, and there fell upon his face, still grasping the red fire-stick in his blistered hand. it was all red now, for it had burned down to the last few inches. then, as they clustered round him, lifting him with gentle hands and blessing his name, he smiled at them a little, and died peacefully, happy that he had brought back fire to his own people. but to the people he did not die. ever after they honoured his name, calling him the benefactor of the tribe: so that in death he found that honour that forgot he had ever been little and weak, and a cripple. and when you see the little fire-tailed finch that hops about so fearlessly, with the bright red feathers making a patch of flame on its sober plumage, you are looking at wurip, the fire-bringer, who gave his life to vanquish the wicked fire-women and to lay fire once more upon the hearth-stones of his tribe. _printed in great britain by_ butler & tanner, _frome and london_ * * * * * mary grant bruce's popular stories published by ward, lock & co., ltd. a little bush maid timothy in bushland mates at billabong from billabong to london glen eyre norah of billabong gray's hollow jim and wally 'possum dick captain jim dick lester of kurrajong back to billabong the dingo boys; or, the squatters of wallaby range, by george manville fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ a family from england arrive in australia, where they acquire the carts and other material needed to set forth and find suitable land to squat on. the family consists of several adults, two young daughters of around twenty, and three boys of around sixteen, cousins. there is also an old english gardener who has agreed to come out with them. on the way up-country they acquire somehow an aboriginal hanger-on, who, however, proves a tower of strength in all sorts of vicissitudes in which they find themselves. because he's black they call him ashantee at first, shorten this to shanter, and then refer to tam o' shanter on certain occasions. the adults keep saying they distrust shanter, but time after time he proves them wrong, and gets them out of situations which appear hopeless, in the typical george manville fenn style. an interesting read, but you will have to get used to the speech forms used by shanter, which are in a sort of pidgin cum aboriginal form. nothing too difficult, though, as plenty of guidance is provided in the text. ________________________________________________________________________ the dingo boys; or, the squatters of wallaby range, by george manville fenn. chapter one. "have i done right?" "better stay here, squire. aren't the land good enough for you?" "oh yes; the land's good enough, sir." "stop and take up a run close by. if you go yonder, the piggers'll eat you without salt." here followed a roar of laughter from the party of idlers who were busy doing nothing with all their might, as they lounged about the wharves and warehouses of port haven. emigrants' guide-books said that port haven was a busy rising town well inside the barrier reef on the east coast of northern australia, and offered abundant opportunities for intending settlers. on this particular sunny morning port haven was certainly not "busy," and if "rising," it had not risen enough for much of it to be visible. there were a few wooden buildings of a very rough description; there was a warehouse or two; and an erection sporting a flagstaff and a ragged union jack, whose front edge looked as if the rats had been trying which tasted best, the red, white, or blue; and upon a rough board nailed over the door was painted in white letters, about as badly as possible, "jennings' hotel;" but the painter had given so much space to "jennings'," that "hotel" was rather squeezed, like the accommodation inside; and consequently from a distance, that is to say, from the deck of the ship _ann eliza_ of london, norman bedford could only make out "jennings' hot," and he drew his brother and cousin's attention to the fact--the `el' being almost invisible. "well, who cares?" cried his brother raphael. "so's everybody else," said their cousin, artemus lake. "i'm melting, and feel as if i was standing in a puddle. but i say, man, what a place to call a port!" "oh, it doesn't matter," said norman. "of course we're not going to stop here. are we going to anchor close up to that pier thing?" "pier, master norman?" said a hard-faced man in a glazed straw hat, "that's the wharf." "gammon! why, it's only a few piles and planks.--i say, rifle, look there. that's a native;" and the boy pointed to a very glossy black, who had been squatting on his heels at the edge of the primitive wharf, but who now rose up, planted the sole of his right foot against the calf of his left leg, and kept himself perpendicular by means of what looked like a very thin clothes-prop. "if that's a native," said raphael, "he has come out of his shell, eh, tim?" "yes," said artemus, solemnly. "australian chief magnificently attired in a small piece of dirty cotton." captain bedford, retired officer of the royal engineers, a bluff, slightly grey man of fifty, who was answerable as father and godfather for the rather formidable names of the three bright, sun-burned, manly lads of fifteen to seventeen--names which the boys had shortened into "man", "tim," and "rifle"--overheard the conversation and laughed. "yes, that's a native, boys," he said; "and it is a primitive place, and no mistake, but you're right: we shall only stop here long enough to load up, and then off we go inland, pioneers of the new land." man tossed up his straw hat, and cried "hooray!" his brother joined in, and the sailors forward, who were waiting to warp the great vessel alongside the rough wharf, joined in the cheer, supposing the shout to be given because, after months of bad weather, they were all safe in a sunny port. at the cheer three ladies came out of the companionway, followed by a short, grey, fierce-looking man, who walked eagerly to the group of boys. "here, what's the matter?" he cried. "anything wrong?" "no, uncle," said norman. "i only said `hooray!' because we have got here safe." "did mamma and the girls come out because we cheered?" said rifle. "hallo, here's aunt georgie too!" he ran to the cabin entrance, from which now appeared an elderly lady of fifty-five or sixty, busily tying a white handkerchief over her cap, and this done as the boy reached her, she took out her spectacle-case. "what's the matter, rifle?" she said excitedly. "is the ship going down?" "no, aunt, going up the river. we're all safe in port." "thank goodness," said the lady, fervently. "oh, what a voyage!" she joined the ladies who had previously come on deck--a tall, grave-looking, refined woman of forty, and two handsome girls of about twenty, both very plainly dressed, but whose costume showed the many little touches of refinement peculiar to a lady. "well, marian, i hope edward is happy now." the lady smiled and laid her hand upon aunt georgina's arm. "of course he is, dear, and so are we all. safe in port after all those long weeks." "i don't see much safety," said aunt georgie, as she carefully arranged her spectacles, and looked about her. "bless my heart! what a ramshackle place. surely this isn't port haven." "yes; this is port haven, good folks," said captain bedford, joining them and smiling at the wondering looks of all. "then the man who wrote that book, edward, ought to be hanged." "what's the matter, aunt?" said norman, who hurried up with his cousin. "matter, my dear? why, that man writing his rubbish and deluding your poor father into bringing us to this horrible, forsaken-looking place!" "forsaken?" cried captain bedford, "not at all. we've just come to it. why, what more do you want? bright sunshine, a glittering river, waving trees, a glorious atmosphere, and dear old dame nature smiling a welcome.--what do you say, jack?" the sharp, irritable-looking man had joined them, and his face looked perplexed, the more so as he noted that the girls were watching him, and evidently hanging upon his answer. "eh?" he cried; "yes; a welcome, of course. she's glad to see our bonnie lassies fresh from old england. here, ned, give me a cigar." "thank you, jack, old fellow," whispered the captain, as he took out his case. "for heaven's sake help me to keep up the poor women's spirits. i'm afraid it will be very rough for them at first." "rough? scarifying," said uncle john munday, puffing away at his cigar. "no business to have come." "jack! and you promised to help me and make the best of things." "going to," said uncle jack; "but i didn't say i wouldn't pitch into you for dragging us all away from--" "bloomsbury square, my dears," said aunt georgie just then. "yes, if i had known, you would not have made me move from bloomsbury square." "where you said you should die of asthma, you ungrateful old woman. this climate is glorious." "humph!" said aunt georgie. "well, girls," cried the captain, passing his arms round his daughter and niece's waists, "what do you think of it?" "well, papa, i hardly know," said ida. "this can't be all of it, uncle?" said the other girl. "every bit of it, my pet, at present; but it will grow like a mushroom. why, there's an hotel already. we had better get ashore, jack, and secure rooms." "no," said uncle jack, decisively, as he watched a party of rough-looking idlers loafing out of the place, "we'll arrange with the captain to let us stay on board till we go up-country. rather a shabby lot here, ned." "um! yes," said captain bedford, smiling at the appearance of some of the men as they gathered on the wharf. "better stay here, i say; the women will be more comfortable. as we are going up the country, the sooner we load up and get off the better. german and i and the boys will camp ashore so as to look after the tackle." "yes, and i'll come too." "no," said uncle jack; "your place is with your wife and the girls." "perhaps you are right," said the captain, as he stood watching the sailors busily lowering a boat to help to moor the great, tall-masted ship now sitting like a duck on the smooth waters of the river, after months of a stormy voyage from england, when for days the passengers could hardly leave the deck. and as he watched the men, and his eyes wandered inland toward where he could see faint blue mountains beyond dark green forests, he asked himself whether he had done right in realising the wreck of his property left after he had been nearly ruined by the proceedings of a bankrupt company, and making up his mind at fifty to start afresh in the antipodes, bringing his wife, daughter, and niece out to what must prove to be a very rough life. "have i done right?" he said softly; "have i done right?" "yes," said a voice close to him; and his brother's hand was laid upon his arm. "yes, ned, and we are going to make the best of it." "you think so, jack?" said the captain, eagerly. "yes. i was dead against it at first." "you were." "horribly. it meant giving up my club--our clubs, and at our time of life working like niggers, plunging into all kinds of discomforts and worries; but, please god, ned, it's right. it will be a healthy, natural life for us all, and the making of those three boys in this new land." captain bedford grasped his brother's hand; but he could not speak. the comfort given by those words, though, was delightful and his face lit up directly with a happy smile, as he saw the excitement of the three boys, all eager to begin the new life. he looked a little more serious though, as his eyes lit on the party of ladies fresh from a life of ease; but his countenance brightened again as he thought of how they would lighten the loads of those ill able to bear them. "and it will be a happy, natural life for us all. free from care, and with only the troubles of labour in making the new home." but captain bedford was letting his imagination run. more troubles were ahead than his mind conceived, and directly after he began making plans for their start. chapter two. "we're off now." busy days succeeded during which every one worked hard, except the people of port haven. the captain of the ship hurried on his people as much as was possible, but the sailors obtained little assistance from the shore. they landed, however, the consignments of goods intended for the speculative merchant, who had started in business in what he called sundries; two great chests for the young doctor, who had begun life where he had no patients, and passed his time in fishing; and sundry huge packages intended for a gentleman who had taken up land just outside the town, as it was called, where he meant to start sugar-planting. but the chief task of the crew was the getting up from the hold and landing of captain bedford's goods; and these were so varied and extensive that the inhabitants came down to the wharf every day to look on as if it were an exhibition. certainly they had some excuse, for the captain had gone to work in rather a wholesale way, and the ship promised to be certainly a little lighter when she started on her way to her destination, a port a hundred miles farther along the coast. for, setting aside chests and packing-cases sufficient to make quite a stack which was nightly covered with a great wagon cloth, there were a wagon and two carts of a light peculiar make, bought from a famous english manufacturer. then there were tubs of various sizes, all heavily laden, bundles of tent and wagon cloths, bales of sacking and coarse canvas, and crates of agricultural machinery and tools, on all of which, where they could see them, the little crowd made comments, and at last began to make offers for different things, evidently imbued with the idea that they were brought out on speculation. the refusals, oft repeated, to part with anything, excited at last no little resentment, one particularly shabby, dirty-looking man, who had been pointed out as a squatter--though that term ought certainly to have been applied to the black, who was the most regular and patient of the watchers--going so far as to say angrily that if stores were brought there they ought to be for sale. these heavy goods were the last to be landed, for after making a bargain with the gentleman whose name appeared in such large letters on the front of his great wooden shanty, four horses, as many bullocks, all of colonial breed, bought at sydney where the vessel touched, half a dozen pigs, as many sheep, and a couple of cows brought from england, were landed and driven into an ill-fenced enclosure which mr jennings called his "medder," and regularly fed there, for the landlord's meadow was marked by an almost entire absence of grass. day by day, these various necessaries for a gentleman farmer's home up-country were landed and stacked on the wharf, the boys, uncle john, and samuel german--"sourkrout," norman had christened him--under the advice of the captain seeing to everything, and toiling away in the hot sunshine from morning to night. at last all the captain's belongings were landed, and the next proceeding was to obtain half a dozen more bullocks for draught purposes, and two or three more horses. these were found at last by means of the young doctor, who seemed ready to be very civil and attentive, but met with little encouragement. after the landlord had declared that neither horse nor ox could be obtained there, the doctor took captain bedford about a couple of miles up the river, and introduced him to the young sugar-planter, who eagerly supplied what was required, not for the sake of profit, but, as he said, to do a stranger a kindly turn. "going up the country, then, are you?" he said. "hadn't you better take up land where you can get help if you want it?" "no," said the captain, shortly. "i have made my plans." "well, perhaps you are right, sir," said the sugar-planter, who was, in spite of his rough colonial aspect and his wild-looking home, thoroughly gentlemanly. "you will have the pick of the land, and can select as good a piece as you like. i shall look you up some day." "thank you," said the captain, coldly; "but i daresay i shall be many miles up the river." "oh, we think nothing of fifty or a hundred miles out here, sir," said the young squatter, merrily. "your boys will not either, when you've been up yonder a month. come and see me, lads, when you like. one's glad of a bit of company sometimes." they parted and walked back, driving their new acquisitions, and were getting on very badly, from the disposition on the part of the bullocks to return to their old home, when the black already described suddenly made his appearance from where he had been squatting amongst some low-growing bushes; and as soon as he stepped out into the track with his long stick, which was supposed to be a spear, bullocks and horses moved on at once in the right direction, and perhaps a little too fast. "the cattle don't like the blacks as a rule. they are afraid of the spears," said the doctor. "why?" asked norman. "the blacks spear them--hurl spears at the poor brutes." "black fellow," said the shiny, unclothed native sharply, "spear um bullockum." "why, he can speak english," said rifle, sharply. "oh yes, he has hung about here for a long time now, and picked it up wonderfully.--you can talk english, can't you, ashantee?" the black showed his teeth to the gums. "what's his name?" asked artemus, otherwise tim. "oh, that's only the name i gave him, because he is so black--ashantee." "eh, you want shanter?" cried the black sharply. "no; but mind and drive those bullocks and horses down to jennings', and the gentleman will give you sixpence." "you give shanter tickpence?" he cried eagerly, as he lowered his rough shock-head and peered in the captain's face. "yes, if you drive them carefully." "hoo!" shouted the black, leaping from the ground, and then bursting out with a strange noise something between a rapid repetition of the word wallah and the gobbling of a turkey-cock; and then seeing that the boys laughed he repeated the performance, waved his clumsy spear over his head, and made a dash at the bullocks, prodding them in the ribs, administering a poke or two to the horses, and sending them off at a gallop toward the port. "no, no, no, stop him!" cried the captain; and the three boys rushed off after the black, who stopped for them to overtake him. "what a matter--what a matter?" he said coolly, as they caught and secured him. "mind he don't come off black, tim," cried norman. "black? all black," cried the australian. "white, all white. not white many." "that's not the way to drive cattle," cried the young doctor, as he came up with the captain. "not give tickpence drive bullockum?" "yes, if you are careful. go slowly." "go slowly." "no. bullockum 'top eat grass. never get along." "you'll make them too hot," said rifle. "no, no," shouted the black; "no can get too hot. no clothes." "send the fellow about his business," said the captain; "we'll drive the cattle ourselves. good lesson for you, boys.--here you are, shanter." he took out a bright little silver coin, and held it out to the black, who made a snatch at it, but suddenly altered his mind. "no, not done drive bullockum. wait bit." he started off after the cattle again, but evidently grasped what was meant, and moved steadily along with the three boys beside him, and he kept on turning his shiny, bearded, good-humoured face from one to the other, and displaying a perfect set of the whitest of teeth. "seems ruin, doesn't it?" said tim, after they had gone steadily on for some time in silence--a silence only broken by a bellow from one of the bullocks. "hear um 'peak?" cried the black. "what, the bullock?" said rifle. the black nodded. "say don't want to go along. shanter make um go." "no, no, don't hunt them." "no," cried the black, volubly; "hunt wallaby--hunt ole man kangaroo." he grinned, and holding his hands before him, began to leap along the track in a wonderfully clever imitation of that singular animal last named, with the result that the horses snorted, and the bullocks set up their tails, and increased their pace. "be quiet!" cried norman, whose eyes ran tears with laughter. "yes, you are right, tim. he is a rum one." "i meant it seems rum to be walking along here with a real black fellow, and only the other day at harrow." "black fellow?" cried their companion. "hi! black fellow." he threw himself into an attitude that would have delighted a sculptor, holding back his head, raising his spear till it was horizontal, and then pretending to throw it; after which he handed it quickly to norman, and snatched a short knobbed stick from where it was stuck through the back of the piece of kangaroo skin he wore. with this in his hand he rushed forward, and went through the pantomime of a fierce fight with an enemy, whom he seemed to chase and then caught and killed by repeated blows with the nulla-nulla he held in his hand, finishing off by taking a run and hurling it at another retreating enemy, the club flying through the air with such accuracy that he hit one of the horses by the tail, sending it off at a gallop. "norman! rifle!" cried the captain from far behind; "don't let that fellow frighten those horses." "i--i--can't help it, father," cried the boy, who was roaring with laughter. "tink shanter funny?" cried the black; and he gave vent to the wallah-wallah noise again. "yes, you're a rum beggar," said rifle, who looked upon him as if he were a big black child. "yes; shanter rum beggar," said the black, with a satisfied smile, as if pleased with the new title; but he turned round fiercely directly after, having in his way grasped the meaning of the words but incorrectly. "no, no," he said eagerly; "shanter no rum beggar. no drunkum rum. bah! ugh! bad, bad, bad!" he went through an excited pantomime expressive of horror and disgust, and shook his head furiously. "shanter no rum beggar." "i meant funny," said rifle. "eh? funny? yes, lot o' fun." "you make me laugh," continued rifle. "eh? make um laugh? no make black fellow laugh. break um head dreffle, dreffle. no like black fellow." in due time they were close up to the hotel, where, the boys having taken down the rails, the new purchases made no scruple about allowing themselves to be driven in to join the rest of the live-stock, after which shanter went up to the captain. "get tickpence," he cried, holding out his hand. the coin was given, and thrust into the black's cheek. "just like a monkey at the zoological," said norman, as he watched the black, who now went to the wharf, squatted down, and stared at the stern, sour-looking man--the captain's old servant--who was keeping guard over the stack of chests, crates, and bales. the next thing was the arranging for the loan of a wagon from the landlord, upon the understanding that it was to be sent back as soon as possible. after which the loading up commenced, the new arrivals performing all themselves, the inhabitants of the busy place watching, not the least interested spectator being the black, who seemed to be wondering why white men took so much trouble and made themselves so hot. one wagon was already packed by dusk, and in the course of the next day the other and the carts were piled high, the captain, from his old sapper-and-miner experience, being full of clever expedients for moving and raising weights with rollers, levers, block and fall, very much to the gratification of the dirty-looking man, who smoked and gave it as his opinion that the squire was downright clever. "your father was quite right, boys," said uncle jack, as the sheets were tightened over the last wagon. "we could not stop anywhere near such neighbours as these." then came the time when all was declared ready. seats had been contrived behind the wagons; saddles, ordinary and side, unpacked for the horses; the tent placed in the care which bore the provisions, everything, in short, thought of by the captain, who had had some little experience of expeditions in india when with an army; and at last one morning the horses were put to cart and wagon, one of which was drawn by three yoke of oxen; every one had his or her duty to perform in connection with the long caravan, and after farewells had been said to their late companions on board ship and to the young doctor and the sugar-planter, all stood waiting for the captain to give the word to start. just then the doctor came up with his friend of the plantation. "you will not think me impertinent, captain bedford, if i say that henley here advises that you should keep near to the river valley, just away from the wood, so as to get good level land for your wagons." "certainly not; i am obliged," said the captain quietly. "he thinks, too, that you will find the best land in the river bottom." "of course, of course," said the captain. "good-day, gentlemen; i am much obliged." "if you want any little service performed, pray send," said the doctor; "we will execute any commission with pleasure." "i will ask you if i do," said the captain; and the two young men raised their hats and drew back. "father doesn't like men to be so civil," said man. "no; he doesn't like strangers," whispered back rifle. "of course he doesn't," said tim, in the same low voice. "it wasn't genuine friendliness." "what do you mean?" said man. "why, they wouldn't have been so full of wanting to do things for us if it had not been for the girls. they couldn't keep their eyes off them." "like their impudence," said rifle, indignantly. "of course. never thought of that," cried man. just then the captain, a double-barrelled rifle in his hand, and well mounted, was giving a final look round, when the dirty-looking fellow lounged up with about a dozen more, and addressed him as duly set down at the beginning of the first chapter. but the laughter was drowned by the sound of wheels and the trampling of hoofs; the wagons and carts moved off, each with a boy for driver, and uncle munday came last, mounted like his brother, to act the part of herdsman, an easy enough task, for the cattle and spare horses followed the wagons quietly enough after the fashion of gregarious beasts. the little caravan had gone on like this for about a mile along a track which was growing fainter every hundred yards, when man bedford gave his whip a crack, and turned to look back toward the sea. "we're off now, and no mistake," he said to himself. "what fun to see uncle john driving cattle like that! why, we ought to have had master ashantee--tam o' shanter--to do that job. i wonder whether we shall see any fellows up the country as black as he." his brother and cousin were musing in a similar way, and all ended by thinking that they were off on an adventure that ought to prove exciting, since it was right away west into an almost unknown land. chapter three. "are you afraid?" after the first few miles the tracks formed by cattle belonging to the settlers at port haven disappeared, and the boys, though still full of excited anticipations, gazed with something like awe at the far-spreading park-like land which grew more beautiful at every step. to their left lay the winding trough-like hollow along which the river ran toward the sea; away to their right the land rose and rose till it formed hills, and beyond them mountains, while higher mountains rose far away in front toward which they made their way. for the first hour or two the task of driving was irksome, but once well started the little caravan went on easily enough, for it soon became evident that if one of the laden carts was driven steadily on in front, the horses and bullocks would follow so exactly that they would almost tread in their leader's feet-marks, and keep the wheels of cart and wain pretty well in the ruts made by those before. as to the cattle uncle munday drove, they all followed as a matter of course, till a pleasant glade was reached close by the river, where it was decided to stop for the mid-day halt. here carts and wagons were drawn up in a row, the cattle taken out, and after making their way to a convenient drinking place, they settled down to graze on the rich grass with perfect content. meanwhile, to norman's great disgust, he and artemus were planted at a distance in front and rear to act as sentries. "but there isn't anything to keep watch over," said the elder boy in remonstrance. "how do you know, sir?" cried the captain, sharply. "recollect this-both of you--safety depends upon our keeping a good look-out. i do not think the blacks will molest us, but i have been a soldier, man, and a soldier always behaves in peace as he would in war." "more blacks in london," said tim, as they moved off to take up their positions on a couple of eminences, each about a quarter of a mile away. "yes," replied man, who was somewhat mollified on finding that he was to keep guard with a loaded gun over his shoulder. "i say, though, doesn't it seem queer that nobody lives out here, and that father can come and pick out quite a big estate, and then apply to the government and have it almost for nothing?" "it does," said tim; "but i should have liked to stop in camp to have dinner." "oh, they'll send us something, and--look, look--what are those?" a flock of great white cockatoos flew nearly over their heads, shrieking at them hoarsely, and went on toward the trees beyond the camp. "i say, doesn't it seem rum? they're cockatoos." "wild, and never saw a cage in their lives." "and we never fired and brought them down, and all the time with guns on our shoulders. look!" "father's waving to us to separate. i daresay they'll send us something to eat." the boys separated and went off to their posts, while smoke began to rise in the little camp, the tin kettle was filled and suspended over the wood fire, and aunt georgie brought out of their baggage the canister of tea and bag of sugar set apart for the journey. bread they had brought with them, and a fair amount of butter, but a cask of flour was so packed that it could be got at when wanted for forming into damper, in the making of which the girls had taken lessons of a settler's wife at the port. in making his preparations captain bedford had, as hinted, been governed a good deal by old campaigning experience, and this he brought to bear on the journey. "many things may seem absurd," he said, "and out of place to you women, such for instance as my planting sentries." "well, yes," said aunt georgie, "it's like playing at soldiers. let the boys come and have some lunch." "no," said the captain; "it is not playing: we are invaders of a hostile country, and must be on our guard." "good gracious!" cried aunt georgic, looking nervously round; "you don't mean that we shall meet with enemies?" "i hope not," said the captain; "but we must be prepared in case we do." "yes; nothing like being prepared," said uncle munday. "here, give me something to eat, and i'll go on minding my beasts." "they will not stray," said the captain, "so you may rest in peace." it was, all declared, a delightful _alfresco_ meal under the shade of the great tree they had selected, and ten times preferable to one on board the ship, whose cabin had of late been unbearably hot and pervaded by an unpleasant odour of molten pitch. to the girls it was like the beginning of a delightful picnic, for they had ridden so far on a couple of well-broken horses, their path had been soft grass, and on every side nature looked beautiful in the extreme. their faces shone with the pleasure they felt so far, but mrs bedford's countenance looked sad, for she fully grasped now the step that had been taken in cutting themselves adrift from the settlers at the port. she had heard the bantering words of the man when they started, and they sent a chill through her as she pictured endless dangers, though at the same time she mentally agreed with her husband that solitude would be far preferable to living among such neighbours as the people at the port. she tried to be cheerful under the circumstances, arguing that there were three able and brave men to defend her and her niece and daughter, while the boys were rapidly growing up; but, all the same, her face would show that she felt the risks of the bold step her husband was taking, and his precautions added to her feeling of in security and alarm. in a very short time rifle had finished his meal, and looked at their man german, who was seated a little way apart munching away at bread and cheese like a two-legged ruminant. he caught the boy's eye, grunted, and rose at once. "shall we relieve guard, father?" said rifle. "no, but you may carry a jug of tea to the outposts," was the reply; and after this had been well-sweetened by aunt georgie, the boy went off to his cousin tim, not because he was the elder, but on account of his being a visitor in their family, though one of very old standing. "well," he cried, as he approached tim, who was gazing intently at a patch of low scrubby trees a short distance off; "seen the enemy?" "yes," said the boy, in a low earnest whisper. "i was just going to give warning when i saw you comma." rifle nearly dropped the jug, and his heart beat heavily. "i say, you don't mean it?" he whispered. "yes, i do. first of all i heard something rustle close by me, and i saw the grass move, and there was a snake." "how big?" cried rifle, excitedly; "twenty feet?" "no. not eight, but it looked thick, and i watched it, meaning to shoot if it showed fight, but it went away as hard as ever it could go." "a snake--eight feet long!" cried rifle, breathlessly. "i say, we are abroad now, tim. why didn't you shoot it?" "didn't try to do me any harm," replied tim, "and there was something else to look at." "eh? what?" "don't look at the wood, rifle, or they may rush out and throw spears at us." "who?--savages?" whispered rifle. "yes; there are some of them hiding in that patch of trees." "nonsense! there isn't room." "but i saw something black quite plainly. shall i fire?" "no," said rifle, stoutly. "it would look so stupid if it was a false alarm. i was scared at first, but i believe now that it's all fancy." "it isn't," said tim in a tone full of conviction; "and it would be ever so much more stupid to be posted here as sentry and to let the enemy come on us without giving the alarm." "rubbish! there is no enemy," cried rifle. "then why did my uncle post sentries?" "because he's a soldier," cried the other. "here, have some tea. it isn't too hot now, and old man's signalling for his dose." "i can't drink tea now," said tim, huskily. "i'm sure there's somebody there." "then let's go and see." tim was silent. "what, are you afraid?" said his cousin. "no. are you?" "don't ask impertinent questions," replied rifle shortly. "will you come?" for answer tim cocked his piece, and the two boys advanced over the thick grass toward the patch of dense scrub, their hearts beating heavily as they drew nearer, and each feeling that, if he had been alone, he would have turned and run back as hard as ever he could. but neither could show himself a coward in the other's eyes, and they walked on step by step, more and more slowly, in the full expectation of seeing a dozen or so of hostile blacks spring to their feet from their hiding-place, and charge out spear in hand. the distance was short, but it seemed to them very long, and with eyes roving from bush to bush, they went on till they were close to the first patch of trees, the rest looking more scattered as they drew nearer, when all at once there was a hideous cry, which paralysed them for the moment, and tim stood with his gun half raised to his shoulder, searching among the trees for the savage who had uttered the yell. another followed, with this time a beating of wings, and an ugly-looking black cockatoo flew off, while rifle burst into a roar of laughter. "why didn't you shoot the savage?" he cried. "here, let's go right through the bushes and back. perhaps we shall see some more." tim drew a deep breath full of relief, and walked forward without a word, passing through the patch and back to where the tea-jug had been left. here he drank heartily, and wiped his brow, while rifle filled the mug a second time. "you may laugh," he said, "but it was a horrible sensation to feel that there were enemies." "poll parrots," interrupted rifle. "enemies watching you," said tim with a sigh. "i say, rifle, don't you feel nervous coming right out here where there isn't a soul?" "i don't know--perhaps. it does seem lonely. but not half so lonely as standing on deck looking over the bulwarks on a dark night far out at sea." "yes; that did seem terrible," said tim. "but we got used to it, and we _must_ get used to this. more tea?" "no, thank you." "then i'm off." with the jug partly emptied, rifle was able to run to the open part, where man greeted him with: "i say, what a while you've been. see some game over yonder?" "no; but tim thought there were savages in that bit of wood." "what! and you two went to see?" "yes." "you were stupid. why, they might have speared you." "yes; but being a sentry, tim thought we ought to search the trees and see, and being so brave we went to search the place." he was pouring out some tea in the mug as he said the above, and his brother looked at him curiously. "you're both so what?" cried man, with a mocking laugh. "why, i'll be bound to say--" _glug_, _glug_, _glug_, _glug_--"oh, i was so thirsty. that was good," he sighed holding out the mug for more. "what are you bound to say?" said rifle, refilling the mug. "that you both of you never felt so frightened before in your life. come now, didn't you?" "well, i did feel a bit uneasy," said rifle, importantly; but he avoided his brother's eye. "uneasy, eh?" said man; "well, i call it frightened." "you would have been if it had been you." "of course i should," replied man. "i should have run for camp like a shot." rifle looked at him curiously. "no; you wouldn't," he said. "oh, shouldn't i. catch me stopping to let the blacks make a target of me. i should have run as hard as i could." "that's what i thought," said rifle, after a pause; "but i couldn't turn. i was too much frightened." "what, did your knees feel all shivery-wiggle?" "no; it wasn't that. i was afraid of tim thinking i was a coward, and so i went on with him, and found it was only a black cockatoo that had frightened him, but i was glad when it was all over. you'd have done the same, man." "would i?" said the lad, dubiously. "i don't know. aren't you going to have a drop yourself?" rifle poured the remains of the tea into the mug, and gave it a twist round. "i say," he said, to change the conversation, which was not pleasant to him, "as soon as we get settled down at the farm, i shall vote for our having milk with our tea." "cream," cried man. "i'm tired of ship tea and nothing in it but sugar. hist! look there." his brother swung round and followed the direction of man's pointing finger, to where in the distance they could see some animals feeding among the grass. "rabbits!" cried the boy eagerly. "nonsense!" said man; "they're too big. who ever saw rabbits that size?" "well, hares then," said rifle, excitedly. "i say, why not shoot one?" norman made no answer, but stood watching the animals as, with long ears erect, they loped about among the long grass, taking a bite here and a bite there. just then a shrill whistle came from the camp, and at the sound the animals sat up, and then in a party of about a dozen, went bounding over the tall grass and bushes at a rapid rate, which kept the boys watching them, till they caught sight of tim making for the party beneath the tree, packing up, and preparing to continue the journey. "now, boys, saddle up," cried the captain. "see the kangaroos?" "of course, cried norman; we ought to have known, but the grass hid their legs. i thought their ears were not long enough for rabbits." "rabbits six feet high!" said the captain, smiling. "six what, father?" cried norman. "feet high," said the captain; "some of the males are, when they sit up on their hind-legs, and people say that they are sometimes dangerous when hunted. i daresay we shall know more about them by-and-by.--what made you go forward, tim, when rifle came to you--to look at the kangaroos?" "no, uncle; i thought i saw blacks amongst the bushes." "well, next time, don't advance, but retire. they are clever with their spears, and i don't want you to be hit." he turned quickly, for he heard a sharp drawing of the breath behind him, and there was mrs bedford, with a look of agony on her face, for she had heard every word. "but the blacks will not meddle with us if we do not meddle with them," he continued quickly; though he was conscious that his words had not convinced his wife. he went close up to her. "come," he whispered, "is this being brave and setting the boys a good example?" "i am trying, dear," she whispered back, "so hard you cannot tell." "yes, i can," he replied tenderly; "i know all you suffer, but try and be stout-hearted. some one must act as a pioneer in a new country. i am trying to be one, and i want your help. don't discourage me by being faint-hearted about trifles, and fancying dangers that may never come." mrs bedford pressed her husband's hand, and half an hour later, and all in the same order, the little caravan was once more in motion, slowly but very surely, the country growing still more beautiful, and all feeling, when they halted in a beautiful glade that evening, and in the midst of quite a little scene of excitement the new tent was put up for the first time, that they had entered into possession of a new eden, where all was to be happiness and peace. a fire was soon lit, and mutton steaks being frizzled, water was fetched; the cattle driven to the river, and then to pasture, after the wagons and carts had been disposed in a square about the tent. then a delicious meal was eaten, watch set, and the tired travellers watched the creeping on of the dark shadows, till all the woodland about them was intensely black, and the sky seemed to be one blaze of stars glittering like diamonds, or the sea-path leading up to the moon. it had been decided that all would go to rest in good time, so that they might breakfast at dawn, and get well on in the morning before the sun grew hot; but the night was so balmy, and everything so peaceful and new, that the time went on, and no one stirred. the fire had been made up so that it might smoulder all through the night, and the great kettle had been filled and placed over it ready for the morning; and then they all sat upon box, basket, and rug spread upon the grass, talking in a low voice, listening to the _crop_, _crop_ of the cattle, and watching the stars or the trees lit up now and then by the flickering flames of the wood fire; till all at once, unasked, as if moved by the rippling stream hard by, ida began to sing in a low voice the beautiful old melody of "flow on, thou shining river," and hester took up the second part of the duet till about half through, the music sounding wonderfully sweet and solemn out in those primeval groves, when suddenly hester ceased singing, and sat with lips apart gazing straight before her. "hetty," cried ida, ceasing, "what is it?" then, as if she had caught sight of that which had checked her cousin's singing, she uttered a wild and piercing shriek, and the men and boys sprang to their feet, the captain making a dash for the nearest gun. chapter four. "white mary 'gin to sing." "what is it--what did you see?" was whispered by more than one in the midst of the intense excitement; and just then german, who had been collecting dry fuel ready to use for the smouldering embers in the morning, did what might have proved fatal to the emigrants. he threw half an armful of dry brushwood on the fire, with the result that there was a loud crackling sound, and a burst of brilliant flame which lit up a large circle round, throwing up the figures of the little party clearly against the darkness, ready for the spears of the blacks who might be about to attack them. "ah!" shouted uncle jack, and seizing a blanket which had been spread over the grass, where the girls had been seated, he threw it right over the fire, and in an instant all was darkness. but the light had spread out long enough for the object which had startled hetty to be plainly seen. for there, twenty yards away in front of a great gum-tree, stood a tall black figure with its gleaming eyes fixed upon the group, and beneath those flaming eyes a set of white teeth glistened, as if savagely, in the glow made by the blaze. "why, it's ashantee," cried norman, excitedly; and he made a rush at the spot where he had seen the strange-looking figure, and came upon it where it stood motionless with one foot against the opposite leg, and the tall stick or spear planted firmly upon the ground. _click_, _click_! came from the captain's gun, as he ran forward shouting, "quick, all of you, into the tent!" "what are you doing here?" cried norman, as he grasped the black's arm. "tickpence. got tickpence," was the reply. norman burst into a roar of laughter, and dragged the black forward. "hi! father. i've taken a prisoner," he cried.--"but i say, uncle, that blanket's burning. what a smell!" "no, no, don't take it off," said the captain; "let it burn now." uncle munday stirred the burning blanket about with a stick, and it blazed up furiously, the whole glade being lit up again, and the trembling women tried hard to suppress the hysterical sobs which struggled for utterance in cries. "why, you ugly scoundrel!" cried the captain fiercely, as hanging back in a half-bashful manner the black allowed himself to be dragged right up to the light, "what do you mean? how dare you come here?" "tick pence," said the black. "you gib tickpence." "gib tickpence, you sable-looking unclothed rascal!" cried the captain, whose stern face relaxed. "thank your stars that i didn't give you a charge of heavy shot." "tickpence. look!" "why, it's like a conjuring trick," cried norman, as the native joined them. "look at him." to produce a little silver coin out of one's pockets is an easy feat; but ashantee brought out his sixpence apparently from nowhere, held it out between his black finger and thumb in the light for a minute, so that all could see, and then in an instant it had disappeared again, and he clapped his foot with quite a smack up against his leg again, and showed his teeth as he went on. "white mary 'gin to sing. wee-eak!" he cried, with a perfect imitation of the cry the poor girl had uttered. "pipum crow 'gin to sing morrow mornum." he let his spear fall into the hollow of his arm, and placing both hands to his mouth, produced a peculiarly deep, sweet-toned whistle, which sounded as if somebody were incorrectly running up the notes of a chord. "why, i heard some one whistling like that this morning early," cried tim. "pipum crow," said the black again, and he repeated the notes, but changed directly with another imitation, that of a peculiarly harsh braying laugh, which sounded weird and strange in the still night air. "most accomplished being!" said uncle munday, sarcastically. "laughum jackamarass," said the black; and he uttered the absurd cry again. "why, i heard that this morning!" cried rifle. "it was you that made the row?" "laughum jackamarass," said the black importantly. "sung in um bush. you gib shanter tickpence. you gib damper?" "what does he mean?" said uncle jack. "hang him, he gave us a damper." "hey? damper?" cried the black, and he smacked his lips and began to rub the lower part of his chest in a satisfied way. "he wants a piece of bread," said the captain.--"here, aunt, cut him a lump and let's get rid of him. there is no cause for alarm. i suppose he followed us to beg, but i don't want any of his tribe." "oh, my dear edward, no," cried aunt georgie. "i don't want to see any more of the dreadful black creatures.--here, chimney-sweep, come here." as she spoke, she opened the lid of a basket, and drew from its sheath a broad-bladed kitchen knife hung to a thin leather belt, which bore a clasped bag on the other side. "hi crikey!" shouted the black in alarm, his _repertoire_ of english words being apparently stored with choice selections taught him by the settlers. "big white mary going killancookaneatum." "what does the creature mean?" said aunt georgie, who had not caught the black's last compound word. "no, no," said norman, laughing. "she's going to cut you some damper, shanter." "ho! mind a knife--mind a knife," said the black; and he approached warily. "he thought you were going to kill and cook him, aunt," said the boy, who was in high glee at the lady's disgust. "i thought as much," cried aunt georgie; "then the wretch is a cannibal, or he would never have had such nasty ideas.--ob, edward, what were you thinking about to bring us into such a country!" "bio white mary gib damper?" asked the black insinuatingly. "not a bit," said aunt georgie, making a menacing chop with the knife, which made the black leap back into a picturesque attitude, with his rough spear poised as if he were about to hurl it. "quick, edward!--john!" cried aunt georgie, sheltering her face with her arms. "shoot the wretch; he's going to spear me." "nonsense! cut him some bread and let him go. you threatened him first with the knife." the whole party were roaring with laughter now at the puzzled faces of aunt georgina and the black, who now lowered his spear. "big white mary want to kill shanter?" he said to rifle. "no; what nonsense!" cried aunt georgie indignantly; "but i will not cut him a bit if he dares to call me big white mary. such impudence!" "my dear aunt!" said the captain, wiping his eyes, "you are too absurd." "and you laughing too?" she cried indignantly. "i came out into this heathen land out of pure affection for you all, thinking i might be useful, and help to protect the girls, and you let that wretch insult and threaten me. big white mary, indeed! i believe you'd be happy if you saw him thrust that horrid, great skewer through me, and i lay weltering in my gore." "stuff, auntie!" cried uncle jack. "why, he threatened me." "big white mary got a lot o' hot damper. gib shanter bit." "there he goes again!" cried the old lady. "he doesn't mean any harm. the blacks call all the women who come white marys." "and their wives too?" "oh no; they call them their gins. come, cut him a big piece of bread, and i'll start him off. i want for us to get to rest." "am i to cut it in slices and butter it?" "no, no. cut him one great lump." aunt georgie sighed, opened a white napkin, took out a large loaf, and cut off about a third, which she impaled on the point of the knife, and held out at arm's length, while another roar of laughter rose at the scene which ensued. for the black looked at the bread, then at aunt georgie, then at the bread again suspiciously. there was the gleaming point of that knife hidden within the soft crumb; and as his mental capacity was nearly as dark as his skin, and his faith in the whites, unfortunately--from the class he had encountered and from whom he had received more than one piece of cruel ill-usage--far from perfect, he saw in imagination that sharp point suddenly thrust right through and into his black flesh as soon as he tried to take the piece of loaf. the boys literally shrieked as the black stretched out a hand, made a feint to take it, and snatched it back again. "take it, you stupid!" cried aunt georgie, with a menacing gesture. "hetty--ida--look!" whispered tim, as the black advanced a hand again, but more cautiously. "mind!" shouted rifle; and the black bounded back, turned to look at the boy, and then showed his white teeth. "are you going to take this bread?" cried aunt georgie, authoritatively. "no tick a knifum in shanter?" said the black in reply. "nonsense! no." "shanter all soff in frontum." "take the bread." every one was laughing and watching the little scone with intense enjoyment as, full of doubt and suspicion, the black advanced his hand again very cautiously, and nearly touched the bread, when aunt georgie uttered a contemptuous "pish!" whose effect was to make the man bound back a couple of yards, to the lady's great disgust. "i've a great mind to throw it at his stupid, cowardly head," she cried angrily. "don't do that," said the captain, wiping his eyes. "poor fellow! he has been tricked before. a burned child fears the fire.--hi! ashantee, take the bread," said the captain, and he wiped his eyes again. "make um all cry," said the black, apostrophising aunt georgie; then, turning to the captain, "big white mary won't tick knifum in poor shanter?" "no, no, she will not.--here, auntie, give him the bread with your hand." "i won't," said aunt georgie, emphatically. "i will not encourage his nasty, suspicious thoughts. he must be taught better. as if i, an english lady, would do such a thing as behave like a murderous bravo of venice.--come here, sir, directly, and take that bread off the point of the knife," and she accompanied her words with an unmistakable piece of pantomime, holding the bread out, and pointing with one finger. "don't, pray, don't stop the fun, uncle," whispered tim. "no; let 'em alone," growled uncle jack, whose face was puckered up into a broad laugh. "do you hear me, sir?" "no tick a knifum in?" "no; of course not. no--no." "all right," said the black; and he stretched out his hand again, and with his eyes fixed upon aunt georgie, he slowly approached till he nearly touched the bread. "that's right; take it," said the old lady, giving it a sharp push forward at the same moment, and the black leaped back once more with a look of disgust upon his face which gave way to another grin. "what shame!" he cried in a tone of remonstrance. "'tick knife in, make um bleed. damper no good no more." "well, of all the horrible creatures!" cried aunt georgie, who stood there full in the firelight in happy unconsciousness of the fact that the scene was double, for the shadows of the two performers were thrown grotesquely but distinctly upon the wall of verdure by their side. just then a happy thought struck the black, who advanced again nearly within reach of the bread, planted his spear behind him as a support, holding it with both hands, and then, grinning mightily at his own cunning in keeping his body leaning back out of reach, he lifted one leg, and with his long elastic foot working, stretched it out and tried to take the piece of bread with his toes. a perfect shriek of laughter arose from the boys at this, and the black turned sharply to give them a self-satisfied nod, as if to say, "she can't get at me now," while the mirth increased as aunt georgie snatched the bread back. "that you don't, sir," she cried. "such impudence! you take that bread properly, or not a bit do you have." as she spoke she shook the knife at him, and the black again leaped back, looked serious, and then scratched his head as if for a fresh thought. the idea came as aunt georgie stretched out the bread again. "now, sir," she cried, "come and take it this instant." the black hesitated, then, slowly lowering the spear, he brought the point down to the bread and made a sudden poke at it; but the fire-hardened point glanced off the crust, and two more attempts failed. "no," said aunt georgie; "you don't have it like that, sir. i could turn the crumb round and let you get it, but you shall take it properly in your hand. now then, take it correctly." she made another menacing gesture, which caused the black to shrink; but he was evidently hungry, and returned to get the bread; so this time he advanced with lowered spear, and as he drew near he laid the weapon on the bread, and slowly advanced nearer and nearer, the spear passing over the bread till, as the black's left hand touched the loaf, the point of the spear was within an inch of aunt georgie's breast. but the old lady did not shrink. she stood her ground bravely, her eyes fixed on the black's and her lips going all the time. "oh, you suspicious wretch!" she cried. "how dare you doubt me! yes; you had better! why, if you so much as scratched me with the point of your nasty stick, they would shoot you dead. there, take it." the captain felt startled, for just then she made a sharp gesture when the black was in the act of snatching the bread. but the alarm was needless; the savage's idea was to protect himself, not to resist her, and as the quick movement she made caused the bread to drop from the point of the knife, he bobbed down, secured it almost as it touched the ground, caught it up, and darted back. "shanter got a damper," he cried; and tearing off a piece, he thrust it into his mouth. "hah, nice, good. soff damper. no tick knifum in shanter dis once." "there," said the captain, advancing, "you have your damper, and there's another sixpence for you. now go." the black ceased eating, and looked at the little piece of silver. "what for tickpence?" he said. "for you--for your gin." "hey, shanter no got gin. gin not have tickpence." he shook his head, and went on eating. "very well then; good-night. now go." "go 'long?" "yes. be off!" the black nodded and laughed. "got tickpence--got damper. no couldn't tick a knifum in shanter. go 'long--be off!" he turned sharply, made a terrible grimace at aunt georgie, shook his spear, struck an attitude, as if about to throw his spear at her, raised it again, and then threw the bread high up, caught it as it came down on the point, shouldered his weapon, and marched away into the darkness, which seemed to swallow him up directly. "there, good people," said the captain merrily, "now time for bed." ten minutes later the embers had been raked together, watch set, and for the most part the little party dropped asleep at once, to be awakened by the chiming notes of birds, the peculiar whistle of the piping crows, and the shrieks of a flock of gloriously painted parrots that were busy over the fruit in a neighbouring tree. chapter five. "how many did you see?" it was only dawn, but german had seen that the great kettle was boiling where it hung over the wood fire, and that the cattle were all safe, and enjoying their morning repast of rich, green, dewy grass. the boys were up and off at once, full of the life and vigour given by a night's rest in the pure fresh air, and away down to the river side to have a bath before breakfast. then, just as flecks of orange were beginning to appear, aunt georgie came out of the tent tying on an apron before picking up a basket, and in a businesslike way going to the fire, where she opened the canister, poured some tea into a bit of muslin, and tied it up loosely, as if she were about to make a tea-pudding. "too much water, samuel," she said; "pour half away." sam german lifted down the boiling kettle, and poured half away. "set it down, samuel." "yes, mum," said the man obediently; and as it was placed by the fire, aunt georgie plunged her tea-bag in, and held it beneath the boiling water with a piece of stick. just then the captain and uncle jack appeared from where they had been inspecting the horses. "morning, auntie," said the former, going up and kissing the sturdy-looking old lady. "good-morning, my dear," she replied; "you needn't ask me. i slept deliciously, and only dreamed once about that dreadful black man.-good-morning, john, my dear," she continued, kissing uncle jack. "why, you have not shaved, my dear." "no," he said gruffly, "i'm going to let my beard grow." "john!" exclaimed aunt georgie. "time those girls were up," said the captain. "they'll be here directly, edward," said the old lady; "they are only packing up the blankets." "oh!" said the captain; "that's right. why, where are the boys gone?" "down to the river for a bathe, sir," said german. "what! which way?" roared the captain. "straight down yonder, sir, by the low trees." "quick, jack, your gun!" cried the captain, running to the wagon, getting his, and then turning to run in the direction pointed out; his brother, who was accustomed to the captain's quick military ways, and knowing that he would not give an order like that if there were not dire need, following him directly, armed with a double gun, and getting close up before he asked what was the matter. "matter?" panted the captain. "cock your piece--both barrels--and be ready to fire when i do. the boys are gone down to the river." "what, are there really savages there?" "yes," said the captain, hoarsely; "savages indeed. heaven grant we may be there in time. they have gone to bathe, and the river swarms for a long way up with reptiles." uncle jack drew a deep breath as, with his gun at the trail, he trotted on beside his brother, both increasing their pace as they heard the sound of a splash and shouting. "faster!" roared the captain, and they ran on till they got out from among the trees on to a clearing, beautifully green now, but showing plain by several signs that it was sometimes covered by the glittering river which ran deep down now below its banks. there before them were rifle and tim, just in the act of taking off their last garments, and the former was first and about to take a run and a header off the bank into the deep waters below, when, quick as thought, the captain raised his gun, and without putting it to his shoulder, held it pistol way, and fired in the air. "now you can shoot!" cried the captain; and again, without stopping to ask questions, uncle jack obeyed, the two shots sounding almost deafening in the mist that hung over the ravine. as the captain had anticipated, the sound of the shots stopped rifle at the very edge of the river, and made him make for his clothes, and what was of even greater importance, as he reached the bank where the river curved round in quite a deep eddy beneath them, there was norman twenty yards away swimming rapidly toward a shallow place where he could land. words would not have produced such an effect. "now," said the captain, panting for breath from exertion and excitement, "watch the water. keep your gun to your shoulder, and fire the moment there is even a ripple anywhere near the boy." uncle jack obeyed, while as norman looked up, he saw himself apparently covered by the two guns, and at once dived like a dabchick. "madness! madness!" groaned the captain; "has he gone down to meet his fate. what are you loaded with?" "ball," said uncle jack, laconically. "better lie down and rest your piece on the edge of the bank. you must not miss." as they both knelt and rested the guns, norman's head appeared. "i say, don't," he shouted. "i see you. don't do that." "ashore, quick!" roared the captain, so fiercely that the boy swam harder. "no," roared the captain again; "slowly and steadily." "yes, father, but don't, don't shoot at me. i'm only bathing." "don't talk; swim!" cried the captain in a voice of thunder; and the boy swam on, but he did not make rapid way, for the tide, which reached up to where they were, was running fast, and as he swam obliquely across it, he was carried rapidly down. "what have i done--what does it mean?" he thought, as he swam on, growing so much excited now by the novelty of his position that his limbs grew heavy, and it was not without effort that he neared the bank, still covered by the two guns; and at last touched bottom, waded a few paces, and climbed out to where he was able to mount the slope and stand in safety upon the grass. "ned, old fellow, what is it?" whispered uncle jack, catching his brother's arm, for he saw his face turn of a ghastly hue. "hush! don't take any notice. i shall be better directly. load that empty barrel." uncle john munday bedford obeyed in silence, but kept an eye upon his brother as he poured in powder, rammed down a wad, and then sent a charge of big shot rattling into the gun before thrusting in another wad and ramming it home. as he did all this, and then prised open the pan of the lock to see that it was well filled with the fine powder--for there were no breechloaders in those days, and the captain had decided to take their old flint-lock fowling-pieces for fear that they might be stranded some day up-country for want of percussion caps--the deadly sickness passed off, and captain bedford sighed deeply, and began to reload in turn. meanwhile, norman, after glancing at his father, naturally enough ran to where he had left his clothes, hurried into shirt and trousers, and as soon as he was, like his companions, half-dressed, came toward the two men, rifle and tim following him, after the trio had had a whispered consultation. "i'm very sorry, father," faltered norman, as he saw the stern, frowning face before him, while uncle jack looked almost equally solemn. then, as the captain remained silent, the lad continued: "i know you said that we were to journey up the country quite in military fashion, and obey orders in everything; but i did not think it would be doing anything wrong for us all to go and have a morning swim." "was it your doing?" said the captain, coldly. "yes, father. i know it was wrong now, but i said there would be time for us all to bathe, as the river was so near. i didn't think that--" "no," said the captain, sternly, "you did not think--you did not stop to think, norman. that is one of the differences between a boy and a man. remember it, my lad. a boy does not stop to think: as a rule a man does. now, tell me this, do i ever refuse to grant you boys any reasonable enjoyment?" "no, father." "and i told you before we started that you must be very careful to act according to my rules and regulations, for an infringement might bring peril to us all." "yes, father." "and yet you took upon yourself to go down there to bathe in that swift, strange river, and took your brother and cousin." "yes, father. i see it was wrong now, but it seemed a very innocent thing to do." "innocent? you could not have been guilty of a more wild and mad act. why would not the captain allow bathing when we were in the tropics?" "because of the sharks; but there would not be sharks up here in this river." "are there no other dangerous creatures infesting water, sir?" a horrified look came into norman's eyes, and the colour faded out of his cheeks. "what!" he said at last, in a husky voice, "are there crocodiles in the river?" "i had it on good authority that the place swarmed with them, sir; and you may thank god in your heart that my enterprise has not been darkened at the start by a tragedy." "oh, father!" cried the boy, catching at the captain's hand. "there, it has passed, man," said the captain, pressing the boy's hand and laying the other on his shoulder; "but spare me such another shock. think of what i must have felt when german told me you boys had come down to bathe. i ought to have warned you last night; but i cannot think of everything, try as i may. there, it is our secret, boys. your mother is anxious enough, so not a word about this. quick, get on your clothes, and come on to breakfast.--jack, old fellow," he continued, as he walked slowly back, "it made me feel faint as a woman. but mind about the firing. we did not hit anything. they will very likely ask." as it happened, no questions were asked about the firing, and after a hearty breakfast, which, in the bright morning, was declared to be exactly like a picnic, they started once more on what was a glorious excursion, without a difficulty in their way. there was no road, not so much as a faint track, but they travelled on through scenery like an english park, and the leader had only to turn aside a little from time to time to avoid some huge tree, no other obstacles presenting themselves in their way. german, the captain's old servant, a peculiarly crabbed man in his way, drove the cart containing the tent, provisions, and other immediate necessaries; uncle munday came last on horseback with his gun instead of a riding-whip, driving the cattle and spare horses, which followed the lead willingly enough, only stopping now and then to crop the rich grass. the progress was naturally very slow, but none the less pleasant, and so long as the leader went right, and uncle munday took care that no stragglers were left behind, there was very little need for the other drivers to trouble about their charges; while the girls, both with their faces radiant with enjoyment, cantered about quite at home on their side-saddles, now with the captain, who played the part of scout in advance and escort guard, now behind with uncle jack, whose severe face relaxed whenever they came to keep him company. hence it was that, the incident of the morning almost forgotten, norman left the horses by whose side he trudged, to go forward to rifle, who was also playing carter. "how are you getting on?" he said. "slowly. i want to get there. let's go and talk to tim." norman was ready enough, and they went on to where their cousin was seated on the shaft of one of the carts whistling, and practising fly-fishing with his whip. "caught any?" said rifle. "eh? oh, i see," said the boy, laughing. "no; but i say there are some flies out here, and can't they frighten the horses!" "wouldn't you like to go right forward?" said norman, "and see what the country's like?" "no: you can see from here without any trouble." "can you?" said rifle; and catching his cousin by the shoulder, he gave him a sharp pull, and made him leap to the ground. "what did you do that for?" said tim resentfully. "to make you walk. think the horse hasn't got enough to drag without you? let's go and talk to sourkrout." "if old sam hears you call him that, he'll complain to father," said norman quietly. "not he. wouldn't be such an old sneak. come on." the three boys went forward to where sam german sat up high in front of the cart looking straight before him, and though he seemed to know that the lads were there by him, he did not turn his eyes to right or left. "what can you see, sam?" cried rifle eagerly. "nought," was the gruff reply. "well, what are you looking at?" "yon tree right away there." "what for?" "that's where the master said i was to make for, and if i don't keep my eye on it, how am i to get there." he nodded his head toward a tree which stood up alone miles and miles away, but perfectly distinct in the clear air, and for a few minutes nothing more was said, for there were flies, birds, and flowers on every hand to take the attention of the boys. "how do you like australia, sam?" said norman, at last. "not at all," grumbled the man. "well, you are hard to please. why, the place is lovely." "tchah! i don't see nothing lovely about it. i want to know why the master couldn't take a farm in england instead of coming here. what are we going to do for neighbours when we get there?" "be our own neighbours, sam," said rifle. "tchah! you can't." "but see how beautiful the place is," said tim, enthusiastically. "what's the good of flowers, sir? i want taters." "well, we are going to grow some soon, and everything else too." "oh! are we?" growled sam. "get on, will yer?"--this to the horse. "strikes me as the captain's going to find out something out here." "of course he is--find a beautiful estate, and make a grand farm and garden." "oh! is he?" growled sam. "strikes me no he won't. grow taters, will he? how does he know as they'll grow?" "because it's such beautiful soil, you can grow indian corn, sugar, tobacco, grapes, anything." "injun corn, eh? english corn's good enough for me. why, i grew some injun corn once in the hothouse at home, and pretty stuff it was." "why, it was very handsome, sam," said rifle. "hansum? tchah. what's the good o' being hansum if you ain't useful?" "well, _you're_ not handsome, sam," said norman, laughing. "who said i was, sir? don't want to be. that's good enough for women folk. but i am useful. come now." "so you are, sam," said tim; "the jolliest, usefullest fellow that ever was." "useful, master 'temus, but i don't know about jolly. who's going to be jolly, transported for life out here like a convick? and as for that injun corn, it was a great flop-leaved, striped thing as grew a ear with the stuff in it hard as pebbles on the sea-saw--seashore, i mean." "sam's got his tongue in a knot," said norman. "what are you eating, sam?" "ain't eating--chewing." "what are you chewing, then. india-rubber?" "tchah! think i want to make a schoolboy's pop-patch? inger-rubber? no; bacco." "ugh! nasty," said rifle. "well, father says he shall grow tobacco." "'tain't to be done, master raffle," said sam, cracking his whip; nor grapes nayther. yer can't grow proper grapes without a glass-house. "not in a hot country like this?" "no, sir. they'll all come little teeny rubbidging things big as black currants, and no better." "ah, you'll see," cried norman. "oh yes, i shall see, sir. i ain't been a gardener for five-and-twenty years without knowing which is the blade of a spade and which is the handle." "of course you haven't," said tim. "thankye, master 'temus. you always was a gentleman as understood me, and when we gets there--if ever we does get there, which i don't believe, for i don't think as there is any there, and master as good as owned to it hisself, no later nor yes'day, when he laughed at me, and said as he didn't know yet where he was a-going--i says, if ever we does get there, and you wants to make yourself a garden, why, i'll help yer." "thankye, sam, you shall." "which i will, sir, and the other young gents, too, if they wants 'em and don't scorn 'em, as they used to do." "why, when did we scorn gardens?" said the other two boys in a breath. "allus, sir; allus, if you had to work in 'em. but ye never scorned my best apples and pears, master norman; and as for master raffle, the way he helped hisself to my strorbys, blackbuds, and throstles was nothing to 'em." "and will again, sam, if you grow some," cried rifle. "don't i tell yer it ain't to be done, sir," said sam, giving his whip a vicious whish through the air, and making the horse toss its head, "master grow taters? tchah! not he. you see if they don't all run away to tops and tater apples, and you can't eat they." "don't be so prejudiced." "me, sir--prejudiced?" cried the gardener indignantly. "come, i do like that. can't yer see for yourselves, you young gents, as things won't grow here proper?" "no!" chorused the boys. "look at the flowers everywhere. why, they're lovely," cried norman. "the flowers?" said sam, contemptuously. "weeds i call them. i ain't seen a proper rose nor a love-lies-bleeding, nor a dahlia." "no, but there are plenty of other beautiful flowers growing wild." "well, who wants wild-flowers, sir? besides, i want to see a good wholesome cabbage or dish o' peas." "well, you must plant them first." "plaint 'em? it won't be no good, sir." "well, look at the trees," said rifle. "the trees? ha! ha! ha!" cried sam, with something he meant for a scornful laugh. "i have been looking at 'em. i don't call them trees." "what do you call them, then?" said norman. "i d'know. i suppose they thinks they're trees, if so be as they can think, but look at 'em. who ever saw a tree grow with its leaves like that. leaves ought to be flat, and hanging down. them's all set edgewise like butcher's broom, and pretty stuff that is." "but they don't all grow that way." "oh yes, they do, sir. trees can't grow proper in such syle as this here. look here, master 'temus, you always did care for your garden so long as i did all the weeding for you. you can speak fair. now tell me this, what colour ought green trees to be?" "why, green, of course." "werry well, then; just look at them leaves. ye can't call them green; they're pink and laylock, and dirty, soap-suddy green." "well, there then, look how beautifully the grass grows." "grass? ye-e-es; it's growing pretty thick. got used to it, i suppose." "so will our fruits and vegetables, sam." "nay, master norman, never. the syle won't suit, sir, nor the country, nor the time, nor nothing." "nonsense!" "nay, sir, 'tain't nonsense. the whole place here's topsy-turvy like. why, it's christmas in about a fortnit's time, and are you going to tell me this is christmas weather? why, it's hot as horgus." "well, that's because we're so far south." "that we ain't, sir. we're just as far north as we are south, and you can't get over that." "but it's because we've crossed the line," cried rifle. "don't you remember i told you ever so long ago that we were just crossing the line?" "oh yes, i remember; but i knew you was gammoning me. i never see no line?" "of course not. it's invisible." "what? then you couldn't cross it. if a thing's inwisible, it's because it ain't there, and you can't cross a thing as ain't there." "oh, you stubborn old mule!" cried norman. "if you forgets yourself like that, master norman, and treats me disrespeckful, calling me a mule, i shall tell the captain." "no, don't; i'm not disrespectful, sam," cried norman, anxiously. "look here, about the line: don't you know that there's a north pole and a south pole?" "yes, i've heard so, sir; and as sir john franklin went away from our parts to find it, but he didn't find it, because of course it wasn't there, and he lost hisself instead." "but, look here; right round the middle of the earth there's a line." "don't believe it, sir. no line couldn't ever be made big enough to go round the world; and if it could, there ain't nowheres to fasten it to." "but i mean an imaginary line that divides the world into two equal parts." sam german chuckled. "'maginary line, sir. of course it is." "and this line--oh, i can't explain it, rifle, can you?" "course he can't, sir, nor you nayther. 'tain't to be done. i knowed it were a 'maginary line when you said we war crossing it. but just you look here, sir: 'bout our garden and farm, over which i hope the master weant be disappointed, but i _know_ he will, for i asks you young gents this--serusly, mind, as gents as has had your good eddication and growed up scollards--how can a man make a garden in a country where everything is upside down?" "but it isn't upside down, sam; it's only different," said norman. "that's what i say, sir. here we are in the middle o' december, when, if the weather's open, you may put in your first crop o' broad windsor beans, and you've got your ground all ridged to sweeten in the frost. and now, look at this. why, it's reg'lar harvest time and nothing else. i don't wonder at the natives being black." "look, look!" cried tim suddenly, as he pointed away to where, on an open plain on the right, some birds were running rapidly. "i see them! what are they?" cried rifle, excitedly. "somebody's chickens," said sam, contemptuously. the boys looked at him and laughed. "sam german has got to grow used to the place," said norman. and then, as his father cantered up, he pointed off. "do you see those, father?" "what, those birds?" said the captain, eagerly. "comebacks, sir. guinea fowls. a bit wild," said sam, quietly. "guinea fowls?" replied the captain, sheltering his eyes. "no; birds twenty times as large, you might say. why, boys, those must be emus." "emus?" said rifle. "oh yes, i remember. ostrichy-looking things. are those what they are?" "i do not think there's a doubt about it," replied the captain, after another look at the rapidly-retiring birds, which, after a long stare at the little train of carts and wains, literally made their legs twinkle like the spokes of a carriage wheel as they skimmed over the ground and out of sight. "yes," said the captain again, as the last one disappeared. "emus, the australian ostriches. you boys ought to make notes of all the wild creatures you see." "we shan't forget them, uncle," said tim. "let's see; there was the black, the snake--" "snake? have you seen one?" "oh yes," replied tim. "thirty feet long, wasn't it?" said norman, giving his brother a look. "thirty? more likely three, uncle. i think it was nearer six though." "did you kill it?" "no; it wouldn't stop, but crawled into the bush, and i don't think i should have tried." "well, be on your guard all of you. i suppose they are pretty plentiful, and some are very dangerous, but i believe they will all get out of our way if they can. what birds are those?" a couple of dusky-green birds, with their feathers barred across like those of a hawk or cuckoo, with lines of a darker green, started up from some grass and flew off, their long, pointed tails and rounded heads and beaks showing plainly what they were. "ground parrots," said the captain. "it's curious, in a country to which one kind of bird is peculiar, what a variety one sees." "is one kind of bird peculiar to this country, then?" asked norman. "well, it is not fair to say peculiar, but one kind is abundant--the parrot--and there are several kinds here." "are cockatoos?" said rifle, eagerly. "a cockatoo, you might say, is a parrot. the only difference seems to be that it has a crest.--but how much farther do you make it to the tree, german?" "miles," said that worthy, rather gruffly. "keeps getting farther off 'stead o' nigher, sir." "the air is so wonderfully clear that distance is deceiving. never mind, keep on slowly, so as not to distress the cattle and the horses with their heavier loads." "needn't ha' said that, sir; this horse'll go slow enough," grumbled german. "i get thinking sometimes as he ain't moving at all." the captain laughed, and as he rode a few yards in advance to carefully scan the country in front, a great deal of whispering and gesticulation went on between the gardener and norman, while the other boys looked on full of mischievous glee, and egged the lad on. "no, no, master norman; don't, sir. it'd make him cross." "yes, and he'd discharge you if i told him how you threw cold water on his plans." "i ain't a bit afraid o' that, sir," said german, with a grin. "he can't send me back. but i don't want to rile him. i say, don't tell him, sir." "but you laughed at everything he meant to do." "that i didn't, sir. precious little laughing i've done lately." "well, then, say you're sorry, and that you think father's plans are splendid." "what, tell a couple o' big thumpers like that?" whispered german, with virtuous indignation; "no, that i won't. i wonder at you, master norman; that i do." "oh, very well, then," cried the boy. "here goes. i say, father--" he ran forward, and as he joined the captain, taking hold of the mane of his horse, and walking on beside him, sam's face was so full of pitiable consternation that the other two boys laughed. sam turned upon them fiercely. "ah, it's all very well for you two to grin," he growled. "think o' what it's going to be for me." "serve you right for saying what you did," cried rifle, by way of consolation. "oh, master raffle, don't you turn again me, too.--he's too hard, ain't he, master 'temus?" "not a bit," cried the latter. "you grumble at everything. you're a regular old sourkrout, always grumbling." "well! of all!" gasped the gardener, taking off his hat and wiping his brow. "look here," cried rifle; "father will be back here directly, so you had better go down on your knees and say you're very sorry." "that i won't," said german, sturdily. "and say you believe that the place is beautiful, and that you'll make a better garden than we had in the country, and grow everything." "no; you won't ketch me saying such a word as that, sir, for i don't believe the place is any good at all. i say, see them chaps yonder?" the boys looked in the direction pointed out by sam with his whip, and rifle exclaimed, "blacks!" "yes; i saw one too." "i seed three or four dodging in and out among the trees," said sam. rifle ran on to join his father. "stop a moment, master raffle," cried sam, imploringly. "oh, he's gone! go on too, master 'temus, and say that i didn't mean it. the captain would be so put out if i found fault, after promising to stand by him through thick and thin." "then will the land grow potatoes?" said tim mischievously. "if i don't make it grow some as is twice as big as those at home, i'm a dutchman. oh dear! here he comes." for the captain had turned his horse's head and returned. "did you both see blacks?" he said anxiously. "yes, both of us, uncle, going from tree to tree along there toward the river." "how many did you see, tim?" "i think it was two, uncle; but i'm not sure, for they darted from bush to bush, and were in sight and out again directly." "and you, german?" "oh, i saw 'em first, sir, just as master 'temus says, running and dodging from bush to tree, so as to keep out of sight." "but how many did you see?" can't say for certain, sir; but i don't think there was more'n six. the captain hesitated for a few moments, then, as if decided what to do, he spoke. "keep on, and make for the tree. have you the gun handy?" "yes, sir, close to my elber." "loaded." "that she is, sir. double dose o' big shot." "that's right. but i don't think there is any danger. the blacks will not meddle with us if we leave them alone. look here, boys, we shall go armed for the sake of precaution, but i fervently hope that we shall not be called upon to fire upon the poor wretches. i daresay we shall encounter some of them, and if we do, you must keep them at a distance. let them know that we are their masters, with firmness, but no cruelty." "look, there they go again!" cried norman, pointing to a patch of woodland, a quarter of a mile forward, to their left. "yes, i saw one dart in amongst the scrub," said the captain. "there, keep on as if nothing had happened. it is not worth while to startle your mother and the girls. now, each of you to his duty, and let the people see that we mean business, and not to take any notice of or to molest them." each boy returned to his driving duties, and, on the plea of mrs bedford looking dull, the captain made the two girls ride close to the wagon, where she sat with aunt georgie, after which he went back to where uncle jack was steadily driving his flocks and herds, and warned him of what he had seen. "humph not pleasant," said the captain's brother. "think they're dangerous?" "i think that the farther we get away from civilisation the less likely they are to interfere with us, so long as we do not molest them." "not going to turn back, then?" "what, because we have seen a few blacks? hardly likely, is it?" "no," said the other; and, keeping a sharp look-out, they went on at their slow crawl for nearly three hours before the landmark was reached, all pretty well exhausted, for the heat had been growing intense. but the great tree was one of many standing out of quite a shady grove, and this was cautiously approached by the captain, who scouted forward in front to find it apparently quite free from any appearance of ever having been occupied, and here in a very short time the little caravan was arranged so that they had some protection in case of an attack; a fire was lit by german, while the boys turned the horses loose to graze; and water being near in a creek, the customary kettle was soon on to boil, and aunt georgie was unpacking the store of food, when german shouted, "hi! quick! look out!" and there was a glimpse of a black figure passing rapidly among the trees. chapter six. "coo-ee! coo-ee!" a run was made for the wagons, in whose shelter the ladies were placed, while with quite military precision, the result of the captain's teaching, men and boys stood to their arms, so that an inimical tribe would have had to face six double guns, whose discharge had been so arranged, that two would always be loading, two firing, and the other two ready to pour in their shots in case of a rush. it was just at the edge of the grove at one end, where a glimpse of the black figure had been seen, and every eye was strained on the watch for the next appearance of danger. "i'm glad we were warned in time," said the captain in a low voice. then, after a painful pause, "mind this; not a shot must be wasted. if we are to fire on the poor wretches, i should prefer for them to be at a distance, so that the charges of buck-shot may scatter and wound as many as possible, so as to give them a lesson. a close shot means death. no one fires till i give the word." the moments grew into minutes, and as norman looked back over his shoulder, he could see the anxious faces of the four ladies peering out at him from their shelter, but not a word was spoken. "think they will get round to the back to try and drive off the bullocks?" "i was thinking of going to see, and--look out!" for all at once there was a loud rustling of the bushes in front of them, as if something was making a rush, and the next moment a black figure bounded into the open space where the fire was burning. "why, it's old shanter," cried rifle, bursting into a hearty laugh, in which the black joined, showing his white teeth with childish delight as he came close up, holding out something hung on the end of his spear, and carrying what appeared to be a bag made of bark in his left hand, in company with his boomerang, his war-club being stuck in the skin loin-cloth which was the only garment he wore. "white mary--big white mary," he cried, while every eye scanned the trees behind him, but only for a moment or two, as all felt now that it was another false alarm. "what do you want?" said the captain rather angrily, for he was vexed at the black's arrival. "shanter want big white mary," cried the black; and he shook the objects on his spear, which proved to be a couple of opossum-like animals evidently freshly killed, and then held out his bark basket or bag. "what for?" cried norman. "good eat. good, nice;" and then as, seeing there was no danger, the ladies came forward, the black went to aunt georgie, and held the bag to her. "good, cook, fire," he said. "big white mary. little white marys--" then he stopped short looking at mrs bedford, as if puzzled what to call her. but a gleam of intelligence shot across his face, and he cried, "other white mary." "he's brought these for us to eat," said rifle. "good eat," said the black. "big white mary gib soff damper." he nodded and smiled triumphantly from one to the other. "put away the guns," said the captain angrily. "here, i cannot have this black crow haunting our camp. he'll be bringing his tribe to pester us. what would you do, jack?" "don't know yet," said uncle jack. "what has he brought in his bag?" "some kind of fruit," said rifle, who had joined his aunt in the inspection of the contents of the bag, as she thrust in her hand, and snatched it away again with a cry of disgust. "good eat; good eat. roastum fire," said the black indignantly, and pouncing upon a couple of large, fat, white objects which the lady had dropped, he ran with them to the fire, and placed them close to the embers, afterwards going through a pantomime of watching them, but with gesticulations indicative of delight. "why, they're big fat grubs," cried norman. "of course," said the captain. "i have heard that they eat them. and these other things?" he turned over the two dead animals. "good eat," cried the black; and he rubbed the front of his person, and grinned as broadly as nature would allow him to spread his extensive mouth. then, turning to aunt georgie, "big white mary gib soff damper?" the lady snorted loudly, and looked as if she would never give him another piece; but she drew her knife, and cut off a goodly-sized piece of a loaf, and held it out once more on the point of the knife. shanter took the bread without hesitation. "no tick a knife in um," he cried laughing. "shanter no 'fraid." then taking his bread, he went off to a short distance, and sat down to eat it, while a meal was prepared for the travellers, who then settled down to rest till the heat of the day was past. but after a few minutes the boys were on their feet again, and ready to explore about the outskirts of the patch of woodland chosen for their resting-place; and on reaching the fire they found that the black had come close up, and seeing his grubs neglected, was busy roasting and eating them. he looked up, laughing good-humouredly, drew out three or four of the freshly-roasted delicacies from the embers with a bit of pointed stick, and held them up to the boys. "good," he said. "well, you eat 'em," replied norman. the black needed no further invitation, but devoured the nicely-browned objects with great gusto, and smacked his lips. "i say," cried tim; "they don't smell bad." "ugh!" ejaculated rifle. "seems so nasty," said norman, as he watched the black attentively, while the fellow carefully arranged some more of the delicacies among the embers. "they're great fine caterpillars, that's what they are." "but they smell so good," said tim. "i've often eaten caterpillars in cauliflower." "so have i," said norman; "but then we didn't know it." "and caterpillars lived on cauliflower, so that they couldn't be nasty." "i don't see that these things could be any worse to eat than shrimps. old shanter here seems to like them." "old shanter--o' shanter--old tam o' shanter," said rifle, thoughtfully. "you'd better help him to eat them," said norman, tauntingly. "i'll eat one if you will," cried tim. "they smell delicious." "very well. i will, if rifle does too," said norman. "then you won't," said that young gentleman. "ugh! the nasty-looking things." "so are oysters and mussels and cockles nasty-looking things," cried tim, who kept on watching the black eagerly. "i never saw anything so nasty-looking as an old eel. ugh! i'd as soon eat a snake." "snakum good eat," said shanter, nodding. "you eat one, then," cried norman. "i'll shoot the first i see." "look here," cried tim; "are either of you two going to taste one of these things?" "no," cried both the others; "nor you. you daren't eat one." "oh, daren't i? you'll see," replied tim. "here, shanter, give me that brown one." "good!" cried the black, raking out one looking of a delicate golden-brown, but it was too hot to hold for a time; and tim held it on a pointed stick, looking at the morsel with his brow all puckered up. "go on, tim; take it like a pill," cried norman. "he won't eat it: he's afraid," said rifle. "it's too hot yet," replied tim. "yes, and always will be. look out, rifle; he'll pitch it over his shoulder, and pretend he swallowed it." "no, i shan't," said tim, sniffing at his delicacy, while the black watched him too, and kept on saying it was good. "there, pitch it away," said norman, "and come on and have a walk. i'd as soon eat a worm." by this time tim had sniffed again and again, after which he very cautiously bit a tiny piece off one end, hesitated, with his face looking very peculiar before beginning to chew it, but bravely going on; and directly after his face lit up just as his cousins were about to explode with mirth, and he popped the rest of the larva into his mouth, and held out his hand to the black for another. "oh! look at the nasty savage," cried rifle. "you'll be ill and sick after it." "shall i?" cried tim, as with his black face expanding with delight shanter helped him to some more, and then held out one to norman to taste. "i say," cried the latter, watching his cousin curiously, as he was munching away fast; "they aren't good, are they?" "no," said rifle; "he's pretending, so as to cheat us into tasting the disgusting things." "but, tim, are they good?" "horrid!" cried the boy, beginning on another. "don't you touch 'em.-here, shanter, more." the black turned over those he had roasting, and went on picking out the brownest, as he squatted on his heels before the fire, and holding them out to tim. "well, of all the nasty creatures i ever did see," said norman, "you are the worst, tim." he looked at the grub he held with ineffable disgust, and then sniffed at it. "you'll have to go to the stream with a tooth-brush, and clean your teeth and mouth with sand." he sniffed again, and looked at tim, who just then popped a golden-brown fellow into his mouth. "ugh!" ejaculated rifle, but he took the one the black held out to him on the stick point, smelt it cautiously, looking at norman the while. then both smelt together, looking in each others eyes, tim feasting away steadily all the time. "i say," said norman; "they don't smell so very bad." "no; not so very," replied rifle. "i say: i will if you will." "what, taste this?" "yes." "get out. think i'm going to turn savage because i've come to australia? don't catch me feeding like a bird. you'll want to eat snails next." "well," said norman, "frenchmen eat snails." "so they do frogs. let 'em." "but this thing smells so nice. i say, rifle, bite it and try." "bite it yourself." norman did, in a slow, hesitating way, looked as if he were going to eject the morsel as the corners of his lips turned down, but bit a piece more instead, then popped the remaining half in his mouth, and smiled. "horrid, ain't they?" cried tim, while, grinning with genuine pleasure, the black held out another to norman, who took it directly, held it in first one hand, and then the other, blew upon it to cool it, and then began to eat. "oh, they are horrid," he cried. "give us another, blacky." "look here," cried rifle, watching him curiously, to see if there was any deceit. "i'm not going to be beaten by you two. i say--no games-are they really nice?" "find out," cried norman, stretching out his hand to take another from the pointed stick held out to him. but rifle was too quick; he snatched it himself, and put it in his mouth directly. "oh, murder! isn't it hot," he cried, drawing in his breath rapidly, then beginning to eat cautiously, with his features expanding. "here, give us another, tam o' shanter," and he snatched the next. "oh, come, i say, play fair," cried norman, making sure of the next. "ain't they good?" "'licious," said rifle.--"come on, cookie. more for me." "all agone," cried the black, springing up, slapping his legs, and indulging in a kind of triumphal dance round the fire to express his delight at having converted the three white boys, ending by making a tremendous bound in the air, and coming down on all fours. "eat um all up. you go 'long--come along. shanter find a more." "no, not now, old chap," said norman. "wait a bit." "had 'nuff? good, good!" cried the black, holding his head on one side and peering at all in turn. "good--corbon budgery!" (very good!) "yes, splendid. we'll have a feast next time." the black nodded, and picked up the two little animals which he had tossed aside, and rehung them upon his spear. he was evidently going to roast them, but norman stopped him, and pointed out into the open. "come along with us." the black understood. "yes; shanter, come along. chop sugar-bag." "but, look here," continued norman, pointing in different directions. "black fellow?" "black fellow?" cried shanter, seizing his nulla-nulla--the short club he carried with a round hard knob at the end. "black fellow?" he dropped the dead game off his spear, dodged sharply about among the trees, and ended by hurling his weapon at a tree twenty yards away, in whose soft bark it stuck quivering, while the black rushed up, seized it, dragged it out, and then treating the trunk as an enemy, he attacked it, going through the pantomime of knocking it down, beating it on the head, jumping on the imaginary body, and then dragging it in triumph by the heels to where the boys stood laughing. here he made believe to drop the legs of his dead enemy, and gave him a contemptuous kick. "no budgery. shanter mumkull (kill) that black fellow." "you seem to have found a very cheerful companion, boys," said a voice behind them, and uncle jack came up with a grim smile on his countenance. "is that the way that fellow means to kill us?" "no; that, was to show how he would kill all the black fellows who came near us." "mumkull black fellow," cried shanter, shaking his club threateningly. "no come along." seeing the group, the captain, who had been taking a look round, and been speaking to german, who was seated on the top of one of the loaded wagons keeping watch, came up to them. "that black fellow still here?" he said sternly. "black fellow come along," cried shanter. "where?" he rushed about among the bushes, dodged in and out through the trees, and went through a pantomime again of hunting for enemies, but soon came back. "no black fellow. all agone. shanter kill mumkull." "very well," said the captain; "now then, you go." he pointed away back in the direction they had come, and, looking disappointed, the black went off toward where the river lay, and soon disappeared among the trees. "it will not do to encourage any of those fellows about our camp," said the captain decisively; and they returned to where the ladies were seated in the shade, all looking rested and cheerful, and as if they would soon be used to their new life. a couple of hours later they were on their way again, with the captain and uncle jack in front scouting; and as they went on, the latter kept pointing out suitable-looking pieces of land which might be taken up for their settlement, but the captain always shook his head. "no, jack," he said; "they will not do." "but the land is rich in the extreme." "yes; but all one dead level. floods come sometimes, terrible floods which rise in a few hours, and we must have high ground on which to build our station, and to which our flocks and herds can flee." "right; i had not thought of that," said uncle jack, and they journeyed on till night, making a grove of magnificent trees their resting-place, and then on again for two more days, their progress being of course slow in this roadless land. everything about them was lovely, and the journey was glorious, becoming more and more like a pleasure excursion every day as they grew more used to the life. the girls were in robust health, the boys full of excitement, and not a single black was met. it was toward the close of the third day since shanter had been dismissed, and they were still journeying on over the plain toward a range of mountains far away in the west, for there the captain was under the impression that he would find the tract of land he sought. as before, they had marked down a clump of trees for their resting-place, and this they reached, just as the golden sun was sinking in a bank of glorious clouds. here all was peaceful; water was at hand, and the bread brought from the settlement being exhausted, the flour-tub was brought out of the wagon, and aunt georgie proceeded to make the cake to bake for their meal--the damper of the colonists--a good fire being soon started by the boys, while the men quickly rigged up the tent. this done, sam german came up to the boys and took off his hat and scratched his head, looking from one to the other. "what's the matter, sam?" said norman. "in trouble, sir." "what is it?" "that there little ord'nary heifer as master brought out." "what the red and white alderney?" said rifle. "no, sir; that there one like a tame rat." "what the mouse colour?" "yes, sir." "has she been eating some poisonous weed?" "i dunno, sir." "well; is she ill?" said rifle. "dunno that nayther, sir. she's gone." "gone?" cried tim. "ida's favourite?" "yes, sir. gone she is. i can't mind o' seeing her for a long time." "then you've lost her?" cried norman angrily. "now, don't you be too hard on a man, master norman, because i ain't the only one as druv the cattle. mr munday bedford's had a good many turns, and so has master, and you young gents druv 'em twiced--" "hi! german," shouted the captain just then. "i can't see the mouse-coloured heifer;" and he came toward them with ida, who had been looking for her pet. "where is she?" "that's what i was talking to the young gents about, sir. i can't find her nowhere." "not find her?" cried the captain angrily. "i wouldn't lose that animal for fifty pounds. she is so choice bred. well, saddle a couple of horses. you and one of the boys must go back in search of her. she must have hung back somewhere to-day." "can't call to mind seeing her to-day," said the gardener. "not seen her to-day?" "no, papa," said ida. "i looked for her this morning, but i did not see her, nor yet yesterday, nor the day before. i thought you had tied her up somewhere." "never mind, father; we'll soon find her," said rifle. "she will not have strayed far from the track, will she, sam?" "i can't say, sir, now, as i've seen her for three days." "then you have neglected your duty, sir. you ought to have known every one of those beasts by heart, and missed one directly. it is disgraceful." "yes, sir, i'm afraid it is, but i never missed her, and i feel about sure now that i haven't seen the poor beast since three days ago, when you came to me and said you wanted to drive for a couple of hours, and sent me to mind the leading cart. next day mr munday bedford, sir, was driving all day at the rear. i was very careful. shall i start back at once?" the captain was silent for a few minutes. then turning to ida: "do you think it is three days since you have seen the heifer?" "yes, papa; i am almost sure it is," she replied. "but have you been to try and find her?" "yes, every morning; but i never for a moment imagined that she was gone right away." "i won't come back without her, sir," said german eagerly. "it is of no use," he replied sternly. "we cannot wait here, perhaps six days, for you to go back and return. no: we may find her later on when we are going back to the port. we can't go now." "oh!" said ida, piteously. "i am very sorry, my dear, but it would be madness to stop. we must go on." "but couldn't you get some one else to look for her?" "whom shall i send?" asked the captain drily; and for the first time ida realised how far they were from all society, and that by the same time next night they would be farther away still. "i forgot," she said. "you know best." "let us go, father," said norman. "we boys will find her." the captain waved his hand and turned away, evidently very much put out at the loss, for the mouse-coloured heifer was destined to be the chief ornament of the dairy out at the new farm. "i can't help it, miss ida," said german, deprecatingly. "i took all the care of the poor beasts i could. i get all the blame, because i found out she was gone, but i've been right in front driving the leading carts nearly all the time; haven't i, master 'temus?" "yes, sam; but are you quite sure she has gone?" "now, boys!" shouted the captain; "tea!" they were soon after seated near the fire, partaking of the evening meal. the last rays of the setting sun were dying out, and the sky was fast changing its orange and ruddy gold for a dark violet and warm grey. very few words were spoken for some time, and the silence was almost painful, broken as it was only by the sharp crack of some burning stick. every one glanced at the captain, who sat looking very stern, and mrs bedford made a sign to the boys not to say anything, lest he should be more annoyed. but aunt georgie was accustomed to speak whenever she pleased. to her the captain and uncle jack were only "the boys," and norman, raphael, and artemus "the children." so, after seeing that everybody was well supplied with bread, damper, and cold boiled pork, she suddenly set down the tin mug to which she was trying to accustom herself, after being used to take her tea out of worcester china, and exclaimed: "i'm downright vexed about that little cow, edward. i seemed to know by instinct that she would give very little milk, but that it would be rich as cream, while the butter would be yellow as gold." "and now she's gone, and there's an end of her," said the captain shortly. "such a pity! with her large soft eyes and short curly horns. dear me, i am vexed." "so am i," said the captain; "and now say no more about her. it's a misfortune, but we cannot stop to trouble ourselves about misfortunes." "humph!" ejaculated aunt georgie; and she went on sipping her tea for a time. "this is a very beautiful place, edward," she said suddenly. "i was saying so to marian here. why don't you build a house and stop without going farther?" "for several reasons, aunt dear. but don't be uneasy. i shall select quite as beautiful a place somewhere farther on, one that you and the girls will like better than this." "i don't know so much about that," said the old lady. "i'm rather hard to please.--oh!" "what's the matter?" cried those nearest, for the old lady's ejaculation was startling. "i've got it!" she cried. "oh the artfulness of the thing, edward, that man." "what man?" "that black fellow. depend upon it, he came here on purpose to steal our poor little cow, and he has driven it away somewhere to sell." the captain started and looked excited. "oh no, aunt," cried norman; "i don't think he was a bad sort of chap." "see how honest he was about the `tickpence,'" said rifle. "i don't think he was the sort of fellow to steal," whispered tim to hester. "i believe that you have hit the right nail on the head, aunt," said the captain; and the boys looked across at one another, thought of the grub feast, and felt hurt that the black, whose many childish ways had won a kind of liking for him, should be suspected of theft. "well," said the captain; "it will act as a warning. bought wit is better than taught wit. no more black fellows anywhere near our camp. it is my own fault. i was warned about them. they have none of the instincts of a civilised man, and will kill or steal, or be guilty of any crime. so understand here, boys, don't make friends with any more." "coo-ee!" the cry was far away, but it came clearly enough through the night air. then again, "coo-ee!" "the blacks," cried the captain. "quick! they see the fire, and think it's the camp of friends. away from it every one. guns." there was a quick movement. the ladies were got under shelter, and the men and boys took refuge in the shadow cast by the bushes, all feeling that a white in the full light of the fire would be an easy mark for a spear. the captain gave his orders briefly that there was to be no firing unless the blacks attacked them, and then they waited, rifle suffering all the time as he crouched down in the scrub from an intense desire to answer each "coo-ee" as it came nearer and nearer, and now evidently from the track they had made in their journey that day. "it is not a large party," whispered the captain to artemus, who was close to him. "only one, i think, uncle, for it's the same man who keeps coo-eeing." "impossible to say yet," was whispered back by his uncle. "feel frightened?" "well, i hardly know," said the boy. "i don't feel at all comfortable, and keep on wishing they'd gone." "naturally, my boy. i shall fire a shot or two over their heads when they come close in. that will scare them, i expect." "coo-ee!" came from the darkness before them, but they could see nothing now, for all near the ground and among the trees was almost black, though overhead the stars were coming out fast, and eight or ten feet above the bushes it was comparatively light. "coo-ee!" came again from apparently a couple of hundred yards away, but not another sound. "creeping up very cautiously. suspicious because of the fire, and receiving no answer," whispered the captain. "they thought it was the camp-fire of their tribe, but now feel sure it is a white man's fire." "queer work this," whispered uncle jack to norman, who was with him on the other side of the track, the fire lying between them and the captain. "yes, isn't it, uncle?" was whispered back. "i'm beginning to ask myself why i'm here when i ought to be in london at my club." "i'm glad you are here, uncle," whispered norman. "can you see any of them, tim? your eyes are younger than mine." "no, uncle," came after a pause. "they must be crawling up, so as to hurl their spears from close by." "coo-ee!" came again from very near now. "not suspicious, then?" said the captain, wonderingly. "i can see one now, uncle," whispered tim. "he's high up." "in a tree?" "no: moving; coming nearer; he's on horseback." "nonsense! black fellows don't ride horses out in the scrub." "but he is mounted, uncle. i can see plainly now." "you are right," said the captain, after a short pause. "coo-ee!" this was only from a few yards away, and directly after a familiar voice shouted: "why baal not call along coo-ee? hi, white fellow! hi, boy! hi, big white mary!" "why, it's shanter," cried norman, excitedly. "hi coo-ee!" "coo-ee! coo-ee!" came back, and directly after a black face was seen above the bushes full in the glare of the fire, and then the body came into view, as the black's steed paced very slowly and leisurely forward, and suddenly threw up its head and gave vent to a prolonged "moo," which was answered by first one and then another of the cows and bullocks chewing their cud close to the camp. "hooray!" shouted rifle and tim together. "here's a game. look! he is riding on the little alderney." "hey!" cried the black, drumming the heifer's ribs with his bare legs, and giving her a crack near the tail with his spear to force her right up into the light, where he sat grinning in triumph with his spear now planted on the ground. "yes, that's the ord'nary heifer, sure enough," grumbled german. "shanter fine along this bull-cow fellow all 'lone. yabber moo-moo hard!" he gave so excellent an imitation of the cow's lowing that it was answered again by the others. "what, you found that heifer?" cried the captain. "shanter fine bull-cow fellow all 'lone." "where? when?" the black pointed with his stick. "bulla (two) day. come along bull fellow slow, big white mary gib shanter soff damper; no eat long time. fine sugar-bag--kill poss? no; shanter come along bull-cow fellow." "i can't make out his jargon," said the captain, tetchily. "he says, father, he found the cow two days ago, and couldn't stop to eat because he wanted to bring it along. he's hungry and wants damper." "soff damper," said the black, correctively. "soft bread because he's hungry. isn't that what you mean?" cried norman. "soff damper. big white mary gib damper. marmi gib shanter tickpence bring bull-cow fellow all along." "that i will," cried the captain. "tut, tut! how i am obliged to eat my words. you're a good fellow, shanter," he cried, clapping the black on the shoulder. "go and have some damper.--give him some meat too." however badly shanter expressed himself, he pretty well comprehended all that was said; and at the captain's words he began to rub his front, leaped off the heifer, and followed the boys to the fire, round which the party gathered as soon as they found there was no danger, and where aunt georgie, in her satisfaction, cut the fellow so big a portion of bread and bacon, that his eyes glistened and his teeth gleamed, as he ran away with it amongst the bushes to lie down and eat. half an hour later they found him fast asleep, and the first thing the boys saw the next morning, after a delightful night's rest, was the shining black face of shanter where he was squatting down on his heels, watching them and waiting for them to wake. norman lay for some minutes, still half asleep, gazing at the black face, which seemed to be somehow connected with his dreams and with the soft sweet piping of the magpie crows, which were apparently practising their scales prior to joining in the morning outburst of song, while the great kingfishers--the laughing jackasses of the colonists--sat here and there uttering their discordant sounds, like coarse, harsh laughter, at the efforts of the crows. chapter seven. "i am satisfied." norman sprang up rested and refreshed, and then glanced round uneasily, expecting to see his father come and order the black to be off. but the captain was busy examining the cattle, the horses and their harness, and the loading of the wagons; helping german to tighten a rope here, and rearrange packages where they had broken loose, and seeing generally to the many little matters that have so much to do with the success of an overland journey with a caravan. then breakfast was announced just after the boys had returned from the river, where they had had to content themselves with a wash, while shanter looked on, and then followed them back, apparently supremely proud and happy to be in their company. breakfast over, and the provisions repacked, shanter not having been forgotten by big white mary, as he insisted upon calling aunt georgie, the horses and drawing bullocks were put to, a last glance cast round to see that nothing had been left, and then, prior to giving the word to advance, the captain mounted with his little field-glass to the top of the highest load, where he carefully scanned the country, and made remarks to his brother as to the direction to take that day. "yes," he said at last; "the river evidently makes a vast bend here, and curves round to the north. we will go straight across from here to that hill--mountain i ought to call it.--do you see, german?" "yes, sir, i see," said the gardener, shading his eyes. "there can be no mistake as to your course; the plain is perfectly level and treeless, and we ought easily to get there for our mid-day halt. how far do you think it is--eight miles?" "twenty," said uncle jack, sturdily. "nonsense!" "yes, twenty. the air is so clear that places look closer than they are." "well, we will not argue," said the captain, lowering himself down. "there's your mark, german; make straight for that." "no," shouted a voice; and all turned with a look of wonder to shanter, who had evidently been listening intently, and who was now in a great state of excitement, gesticulating and flourishing his nulla-nulla wildly. "what do you say?" cried the captain, frowning. "no go 'long," cried shanter, pointing across the plain. "no--no. horse fellow--bull-cow fellow, all go puff-puff." and he went down on all fours, with his eyes wide and staring, mouth open, and tongue lolling out, breathing hoarsely and heavily, snuffling about the while at the ground. then he threw up his head, and whinnied like a horse in trouble, snuffled about again, and lowed like an ox, and finally seemed to grow weaker and weaker till he fell over on his side, struggled up again, fell on his side, stretched out his head and legs, and finally gave a wonderful imitation of a horse or ox dying. "all go bong (dead)," he cried. "no go along. no water drink. big fellow horse, can't pull along." he pointed again and again, out over the plain, and shook his head violently. "white fellow come 'long," he continued, as he leaped up, shouldered his spear, and started, pointing before him to the tree-spread track nearer the river. "bull-cow fellow eat." he made believe to snatch a mouthful of grass, and went on munching it as he walked slowly on as if pulling a load. "much water, drinkum, drunkum," he continued, pointing in the direction of the river. "he seems to be right, ned," said uncle jack, as the boys looked on eagerly. "yes; i suppose he is. perhaps it is sandy and waterless all across there." "and if we keep by the river, we shall get grass, shelter, and water." "yes; but i do not like to have my plans overset by a savage." "not when the savage knows better?" said uncle jack, drily. "how do i know that he does?" said the captain. "how can i tell that he is not going to lead us into some ambush, where his tribe will murder us and seize upon our goods and stores?" "humph i hope not," said uncle jack. "i'll shoot him dead if he does, but i think i'd trust him." "i want to get rid of the fellow," said the captain; "and he is always coming back." "he'll soon be tired," said his brother. "these people seem to be very childlike and simple. it is a novelty for him to be with us. one of these days he will be missing. i shouldn't worry about him." "gee-hup, horse fellow!" shouted the black, just then. "all along. shanter know. baal that way." he pointed over the plain and shook his head. then shouldering his spear, he stepped off nearly due west, and the caravan started. day succeeded day, and the two halts were regularly made in pleasant places, but the captain was never satisfied. they were good, but he always found some drawback. the progress was very slow, for it was hot, but the land was dry, and the difficulties they had with the wagons were very few, and their few miles were got over steadily day after day, with no adventure to signify; and to make up for the slow progress, their cattle were fresh and in good condition at each morning's start, while the whole process seemed like a pleasant excursion of the most enjoyable kind. at last one day, the hottest on their journey, the draught cattle had a laborious pull, for the ground had been rising slightly during the past forty-eight hours, and next morning had suddenly grown steep. the river was still close at hand, though it was now more broken and torrent-like, but beautifully wooded in places, and the soil for miles on either side looked wonderfully rich. to their right were plains; but in front, and to their left, hills and mountains hemmed them in; and when utterly exhausted, the cattle slowly drew their loads into the shade cast by some magnificent trees, just behind which a cascade of sparkling water dashed down from the mountains beyond, while the river-glade was glorious with ferns and verdant growth of kinds that they had not seen in the earlier part of their journey, every one seemed to be imbued with the same idea, and no one was the least surprised when the captain looked round with his face lit up with satisfaction. "there," he cried, "was it not worth the long journey to find a place like this. no flood can touch us here. the land is rich; the place beautiful. wife, girls, boys, what do you say to this for home, sweet home?" the answer was a hearty cheer from the boys; and, as if he comprehended everything, shanter burst into a wild triumphal dance round the spear he had stuck into the ground. "hurray!" he shouted. "make gunyah. all corbon budgery. plenty budgery. bull-cow eat. plenty sheep eat. hurray!" there was not a dissentient voice. uncle jack smiled, sam german began to look round for a slope for a kitchen garden, while the captain, mrs bedford, and the girls began to talk about a site for a house; and, tying a handkerchief over her grey hair and pinning up her dress, aunt georgie beckoned severely to shanter, who came to her like a shaggy black dog. "get some wood, sir, and make a fire." "makum fire, makum damper, pot a kettle tea?" he asked. "yes; dampers and roast mutton to-day," she said. "make big fire, roast mutton," shouted shanter, excitedly, and rushing to the side of one of the wagons, he threw down spear, boomerang, and waddy, snatched an axe from where it was stuck in the side, and five minutes later he was chopping wood with all his might. that afternoon and evening were indeed restful, though little rest was taken, for all were in a state of intense excitement, and examining in every direction the site of their new home. it was fancy, of course, but to the boys it seemed that the cattle had all taken to the place, and settled down to a hearty feed of the rich grass. but there was work to be done that evening, though not much. the tent had to be set up, and as the boys drove in the pegs, it was with a heartier will, for they knew that they would not be withdrawn for some time to come. the position for the house was soon decided, for nature herself had planned it; a charming spot, sheltered to the north by a range from the scorching north wind; and in addition there was a grove of magnificent gum-trees, just far enough apart to have allowed them to grow to their greatest perfection, while dotted here and there were other trees with prickly leaves and pyramidal growth, their lower boughs touching the ground, every one a perfect specimen that it would have been a sin to cut down. from this chosen spot the land sloped gradually down to the sparkling river, with its beautiful falls and pools, while away on the other side, beyond the bed of the stream, stretched out a grand expanse of land all on a gentle slope. on the hillier side an equally beautiful expanse, extending for miles, sloped upward toward the mountains, offering pasture that would have satisfied the most exacting. "we are the first settlers here," cried the captain, "and as i have a right, jack, to-morrow we will ride in different directions, and blaze trees for our boundaries. then there will only be the plan and description to send to the crown offices in the city, and we take up a grand estate that will in due time be our own." "our own!" cried norman, excitedly. "but you will have a bit of the river too?" "i shall take up land on both sides--a large estate. there is plenty for all englishmen, but those who are enterprising enough to do as we have done, of course, get the first choice." "i'm very glad you are satisfied, my dear," said mrs bedford, affectionately, as they all lingered in the glorious sunset light over their evening meal, the whole place seeming a perfect paradise. "i am satisfied," said the captain, "for here there is ample reward for those who like to work, and we can see our boys have a grand future before them in the new land." "i'm glad too," said aunt georgie, in her matter-of-fact way. "you may quite rely upon us all setting to work to make the best of things, when you men and boys have built us a house to keep off the rain--for i suppose it does rain here sometimes, though we have not seen any." "rain, aunt? tremendously." "well then, of course you will begin a house soon?" "to-morrow," said the captain. "plenty of work for us, boys." "of course," said aunt georgie. "well then, we shall soon begin to make things comfortable, and we shall all be very happy and content." "thank you," said the captain. "i hope every one will take the advantages for what they are worth, and will excuse the inconveniences." "i know that marian will," said aunt georgie; "and as for the girls, we shall be too busy to think of little things. i should have liked for it not to have been quite so lonely." "we are too many to feel lonely," cried the captain, cheerily. "but i meant about neighbours. how far do you think we are from the nearest neighbours, edward?" "don't ask me," he said, merrily. "so far that we cannot quarrel with them.--there, girls, you will have to help and make the house snug as fast as we get it up. to-morrow we will mark it out, and then set up a shed to act as an additional shelter for our stores, which must be unpacked from the wagons. every one must take his or her department, and as we have that black with us, and he evidently does not mean to go, he will have to work too. by the way, i have not seen him for the last hour or two." "he had such a dinner," said tim. "aunt feeds him so." "that, i'm sure, i do not, my dear," said aunt georgie, shortly. "well, aunt, he always goes and lies down to sleep after you've given him anything," said rifle. "and that's what he has gone to do now," added norman. "he'll come out of the woods somewhere soon. but i say, father, shan't we have time to fish and shoot?" "plenty, and ride too, boys. but there, we've done a good day's work, and now i suppose we shall have to do a little sentry business. the blacks are evidently very, very scarce in the country, not a sign of one in all these many days' journey. but it would be wise to keep to a little vigilance, though i doubt whether they will trouble us much here.--jack," he continued, rising, "we'll take the guns and have a walk round, to look at the cattle before going to roost for the night, while the girls get the place clear.--coming, any of you boys?" they all three sprang up eagerly. "that's right. come along. hallo!" he added, "here comes tam o' shanter." for at that moment the black darted out from among the trees, and ran across the intervening space to where they were, carrying his nulla-nulla and boomerang in one hand, his spear at the trail in the other. he had evidently been running fast, and was out of breath as he came up to cry in a low, hoarse voice: "now then all along--come quick, black fellow metancoly, come along mumkull white." "what!" cried the captain, "a number of black fellows coming to kill us?" "hum. you shoot fast, mumkull black fellow, all go bong." chapter eight. "let me go: i can run fast." the minute before, all peace, rest, and the promise of plenty; now, an alarm so full of horror that every one there felt chilled. a rush was made to the wagons for the guns and ammunition, the ladies were hurried into the little square formed by the vehicles, as the safest place, and the advantage of having an experienced soldier for their leader was shown at once, though all the time the captain was bitterly reproaching himself for not having spent more time in providing for their defence, instead of giving up valuable hours to rest and planning what they should do. "i ought to have known better, norman," he said angrily, as the boy walked by his side to obey his orders, and convey them to one or the other. "take a lesson from it, my boy, and if ever you march in an enemy's country, wherever you halt, do as the old romans did; entrench yourself at once." "but we have entrenched ourselves, father," said the boy, pointing to the boxes, barrels, and cases which had hastily been dragged out of the carts and placed outside to form a protection before the openings beneath the wagons, and also to fire over in case of an attack. "pooh! not half enough. there, we can do no more. now about that black.--here, jack, what do you say? is that fellow in collusion with the people coming on?" "no," said uncle jack, decisively. "if he had been, he is cunning enough to have lulled us into security. he need not have uttered a warning, and the blacks could have surprised us after dark." "yes, there is something in that," said the captain. "and look what he did, father, directly he had warned us." "what?" "set to work with his boomerang covering the fire over with earth to smother out the smoke." "but it might all be cunning to put us off our guard with him, and it would be a hideous danger to have a traitor in our little stronghold." "for him," said uncle jack, grimly. "yes," said his brother. "but there, i'll trust him. i should not display all this horrible suspicion if it were not for the women. they make quite a coward of me. now, can we do any more?" "no," said uncle jack; "there is no time. we can keep a good many at bay." "if you fire steadily," said the captain. "no shot must be fired without good reason. in war, many go to one enemy the less. in this case every shot must tell." "rather horrible," said uncle jack, quietly; "eh, norman, lad? but there, they can avoid it. they have only to leave us alone, and we should never hurt a soul." by this the little party were crouching about their wagon and box fort with their guns ready, and plenty of ammunition at hand; the fire only sent up one tiny curl of smoke, and this was stopped instantly, for shanter crawled from where he had been lying flat close to tim and rifle, and scraping up some more earth with his boomerang, he piled it over the spot where the smoke issued, and returned by rolling himself over and over till he was back beside a large box. their position was in some respects good, being on an elevation, but in other respects bad, as the captain pointed out to norman. "we are not far enough away from the trees in front there. the scoundrels can creep up through the bushes, and use them for a shelter from which to throw spears. listen. the first who sees a black figure give warning by a low hiss." fortunately the cattle had all strayed off grazing in the other direction, and were invisible from where the little party lay waiting the expected onslaught; and just as uncle munday had made allusion to the fact that if the enemy were seen in that direction, the cattle would give warning, the captain said in a low voice, "i wish they'd come." norman stared. "before it is dark, my boy. in less than an hour we shall not be able to see them, and our position will be ten times as bad. there, i have done all i can for our protection. i must go and reconnoitre now." his words were loud enough to be heard from behind, and mrs bedford's voice rose in supplication. "no, no, dear. pray don't run any risks." "hush!" said the captain, sternly, "we must know whether the enemy is near." the danger, as far as they could make out from shanter's broken english, lay across the little river; but instead of being in the visible sloping plain, it was away beyond the trees to their right, and hidden by the broken mountainous range, and after glancing at the priming of his double gun, the captain turned to his right. "here, shanter!" he said in a low whisper. "come with me. come along-show black fellow." there was no response for a moment or two, and then rifle spoke. "he isn't here, father." "not there?" "no; he was lying down here just now, but while i was watching the trees over there, he must have crept away." "crept away? but i want him to go with me to scout. who saw him go?" there was no reply, and feeling staggered by the ease with which these people could elude observation, and applying it to the enemies' advance, the captain looked sharply round for danger, half expecting at any moment to see a dim-looking black form emerge from behind a bush, or others rapidly darting from tree to tree, so as to get within throwing distance with their spears. "well," he said, "i must go alone. keep a sharp look-out, boys." "what are you going to do, father?" said norman. "scout," said the captain, laconically. "no; let me go: i can run fast. i'll be very careful and shelter myself behind trees. you can't leave here." "he's quite right ned," said uncle jack. "i can run faster than norman, uncle," cried tim eagerly. "let me go." "no, me, father," cried rifle, excitedly. "silence in the ranks!" cried the captain sternly. then, after a moment or two's pause, he said firmly, "private norman will go as far as the ridge yonder, scouting. he will go cautiously, and keep out of sight of the enemy, and as soon as he has made out whether they are advancing and the direction they will take, he will return." "yes, father." "silence!--now go.--stop!" the captain caught the boy by the arm, as he was creeping near the box, and as all followed the direction in which the captain was gazing, they saw a black figure darting from tree to tree some eighty or ninety yards away and with his back to them. "that's shanter," whispered norman. "yes: follow him, and try and keep him in sight. if he joins the enemy come back at once. there, you need not creep over the space between us and the trees; there can be no enemy there. quick! how soon the darkness is coming on!" norman stepped on to the great chest, leaped down, and ran off, as a low piteous sigh--almost a sob--was heard from behind; but though it had an echo in the captain's breast, he crouched there firm as a rock, and steeling himself against tender emotions, for the sake of all whom he had brought into peril and whom it was his duty to protect. there before him was his eldest son, carrying his gun at the trail, and running swiftly in the direction of the black, who from running boldly from tree to tree was now seen to be growing very cautious, and suddenly to drop down and disappear. the captain drew a long deep breath. "we may trust him," he said softly; "he is evidently our friend. now for norman's news." yet, though he was at rest on this point, he was uneasy about an attack on their right flank or rear, but that could not come from the rear, he knew, without some panic on the part of the cattle; while he was hopeful about the right flank, for the ground was precipitous in the extreme, and from what they had seen so far, it was hardly possible for any one to approach. but though shanter had dropped quite out of sight of those behind the little barricade, he was still visible to norman, who ran on and was getting near to where the black was creeping from bush to bush on all fours, looking in the dim evening light like a black dog carrying his master's stick, for norman in one glimpse saw that he was drawing his spear as he crawled, his boomerang was stuck behind him in his waistband, and his nulla-nulla was across his mouth tightly held by his teeth. when about some twenty yards away, and approaching in perfect silence as he thought, the black looked sharply round, rose to his knees, and signed to the boy to go down on all fours. norman obeyed, and shanter waited till he had crawled up. then making a gesture that could only mean, "be silent and cautious," he crawled on, with the boy following him, till, after what seemed quite a long painful piece of toil, they reached the foot of a steep rocky slope whose tree-fringed summit was some fifty feet above their heads. shanter pointed to the top, and began to climb, mounting easily for some distance, and then stopping by a small tree, whose gnarled roots were fixed in the crevices of the rock. here he held on, and reached down with his spear, by whose help norman soon climbed to his side, where he paused to sling his gun by its strap, so as to leave his bands at liberty. the rest of the ascent was made with more ease; and when shanter reached the top, he raised his eyes above the level with the greatest caution, and then seemed to norman to crawl over like some huge black slug and disappear. the boy prepared to follow, when shanter's head reappeared over the sharp ridge and his arm was stretched down with the spear, so that the final climb was fairly easy, though it would have been almost impossible without. as soon as norman was lying on the top, he found that the other side was a gentle descent away to what appeared to be a wide valley between mountains, but everything was so rapidly growing dim that the distant objects were nearly obscured by the transparent gloom. but nearer at hand there was something visible which made the boy's heart begin to beat heavily. for as shanter drew him on all fours cautiously among the bushes to where there was an opening, there, far down the slope, but so near that had they spoken their words would have been heard, was a great body rising, which directly after resolved itself into smoke; and before many minutes had been spent in watching, there was a bright flash of flame which had the effect of making all around suddenly seem dark, while between them and the bright blaze a number of black figures could be seen moving to and fro, and evidently heaping brushwood upon the fire they had just lit. norman bedford, as he lay there among the bushes, felt, at the sight of the blacks, as if boyhood had suddenly dropped away with all its joyous sport and fun, to leave him a thoughtful man in a terrible emergency; that he was bound to act, and that perhaps the lives of all who were dear to him depended upon his action and control of the thoughtless savage at his side. "poor father!" he said to himself, as his courage failed and a cold perspiration broke out all over him; "you have done wrong. you ought not to have brought out mamma and the girls till we had come and proved the place. it is too horrible." that was only a momentary weakness, though, and he nerved himself now to act, trying to come to the conclusion which it would be best to do--stop and watch, sending shanter back with a message, or leave the black to watch while he ran with the news. the position was horrible. setting aside his own danger up there on the ridge, where the slightest movement might be heard by the sharp-eared blacks, there they were, evidently encamping for the night with only this ridge dividing them from the spot selected for the new home. what should he do? before he could decide, as he lay there watching, with dilated eyes, the black figures passing and repassing the increasing blaze, shanter placed his lips close to his ear. "you pidney?" (understand), he whispered. "they all black fellow." "yes. go and tell them at the camp," norman whispered back. in an instant the black's hand was over his lips, and his head was pressed down amongst the grass, while he felt the black's chest across his shoulders. he was so taken by surprise that he lay perfectly still, feeling that after all his father was right, and shanter was treacherous; but his thoughts took another direction as quickly as the first had come, for shanter's lips were again at his ear. "black fellow come along fetch wood." in effect quite unnoticed, three or four of the men had been approaching where they lay, and now seemed to start up suddenly from some bushes twenty feet below them. retreat was impossible. the precipice was close behind, and to get away by there meant slow careful lowering of themselves down, and this was impossible without making some noise, which must be heard, so that all that could be done was to lie close and wait with weapons ready, in case they were discovered--a fate which was apparently certain. norman laid his hand upon the lock of his gun, ready to raise it and fire if they were found, and a slight rustle told him that shanter had taken a fresh grip of his club. that was all, and they lay waiting, listening to the rustling noise made by the black fellows as they pushed their way through the scrub, still coming nearer and nearer. they were agonising moments, and again norman felt that his father's doubts might be correct, for the enemy approaching were evidently not gathering wood, but coming up there for some special purpose. was it, after all, to surprise the camp, and was shanter holding him down to be made a prisoner or for death? he was ready to heave himself up and make a brave struggle for life as he shouted out a warning to those in camp, and as the rustling noise grew nearer his heart seemed to beat more heavily. but his common sense told him directly that he must be wrong, and that, too, just as he could hear the mental agony no longer, for when the rustling was quite near, the men began jabbering quite loudly to each other, and directly after one tripped in the darkness and fell forward on the bushes, the others laughing loudly at his mishap. that settled one thing: they could not evidently be going to surprise the camp, or they would have been cautious, and a warm sensation of joy even in the midst of his peril ran through the boy's breast. but why were they there, then? he soon had evidence as to the meaning of their coming, but not until he had suffered fresh agonies. for as he lay thinking that the noise and laughter must have been heard by those in camp, the blacks came nearer and nearer in the darkness, and their next steps seemed as if they must be over or upon them. "and then there will be a horrible struggle," thought the boy, one in which he would have to play his part. he drew in his breath, and the hand which grasped the gun-lock felt so wet that he trembled for fear it should moisten the powder in the pan, while the next instant he felt a great piece of prickly bush pressed down over his head, as if trampled and thrust sidewise by some one pushing his way by. there was loud rustling close by his feet, and then the blacks went a couple more steps or so, there was a sharp ejaculation, and they stopped short. had norman been alone he would have sprung up; but shanter pressed him down, and in another instant he felt that the exclamations had not been at the discovery of hiding enemies, but because one of them had nearly gone down the precipice. then followed more talking and laughing, all in an unknown tongue to norman; till after a few minutes the blacks continued along the ridge for some little distance, stopped again, and ended by going leisurely back toward the fire, with the bushes rustling as they went. norman drew a deep breath of relief, and a low whisper came at his ear: "mine think good job all black dark. myall black fellow no see. nearly plenty numkull." "are they gone?" whispered back norman, as he felt the heavy weight of the black's chest removed from his back. "all agone down fire. come for more fire all about." which means they were reconnoitring, thought norman. then, as he raised himself a little and looked down at the brightly-blazing fire, about which several men were sitting, he saw other figures go up, and there was a loud burst of chattering and laughing. "hear um all yabber yabber," whispered shanter. "all myall black fellow. come 'long, tell marmi, (the captain)." "yes; come quickly," said norman. "ah!" whispered shanter, clapping his hand over the boy's mouth. "myall black fellow big ear." he pointed downward, and norman shivered again, for, softly as his words had been uttered, he saw that they had been heard, for the group about the fire had sprung up and their faces seemed to be turned in their direction. shanter placed both hands to his mouth and uttered a soft, long-drawn, plaintive, whistling sound, then paused for a few moments, and whistled again more softly; and then once again the plaintive piping rose on the air as if it were the call of a night bird now very distant. the ruse had its effect, for the blacks settled down again about the fire, and were soon all talking away loudly, and evidently cooking and eating some kind of food. "no talk big," whispered shanter; and creeping close back to the edge of the precipice, he lowered his spear and felt about for a ledge which promised foothold. as soon as he had satisfied himself about this, he turned to norman. "now, down along," he whispered; "more, come soon." the boy slung his gun again, and taking hold of the spear, lowered himself over the edge of the rugged scarp, and easily reached the ledge, the black, whom nature seemed to have furnished with a second pair of hands instead of feet, joining him directly, and then began searching about once more for a good place to descend. he was longer this time, and as norman clung to the tough stem of some gnarled bush, he looked out anxiously in the direction of their camp; but all now below was of intense blackness, not even a star appearing above to afford light. "mine can't find," whispered the black; and then, "yohi (yes); now down along." norman obeyed, and once more clung to the steep face by the help of a bush; and this process was repeated several times till the black uttered a low laugh. "myall black fellow no see, no hear. mine glad. come tell marmi." the captain was nearer than they thought, for they had not gone many steps before they were challenged, and the voice was his. "back safe, father," panted norman, who was terribly excited. "why have you been so long?" said the captain shortly. "the anxiety has been terrible." "hush! don't talk loud. there is a party of black fellows on the other side of that ridge;" and he rapidly told the narrative of their escape. "so near the camp, and quite ignorant of our being here.--will they come this way in the morning, shanter?" "mine don't know. all go along somewhere--fine sugar-bag--fine grub-fine possum. wait see." "yes; we must wait and see," said the captain, thoughtfully. then to the black, "they will not come to-night?" "baal come now. eat, sleep, all full," replied shanter. "big white mary gib shanter damper?" "hungry again?" said the captain angrily. "but make haste back. they are in sad alarm at the camp." "shall we be able to stay here, father?" said norman, on their way back through the darkness. "stay, boy? yes. only let them give us a few days or weeks' respite, and i do not care. but look here, boy, we have gone too far to retreat. we must hold the place now. it is too good to give up meekly at a scare from a gang of savages. come, norman, you must be a man." "i was not thinking of myself, father, but about mamma and the girls." the captain drew a sharp, hissing breath. "and i was too," he said in a low voice. "but come, let's set them at rest for the night." five minutes later norman felt two soft hands seize his, and hold him in the darkness, as a passionate voice whispered in his ear: "oh, norman, my boy--my boy!" then there was a long silent watch to keep, and there was only one who slept in camp that night--to wit, shanter. and rifle said merrily, that the black slept loud enough for ten. chapter nine. "along o' that there nigger?" but shanter, though he slept so soundly, was ready to start up if any one even whispered, and also ready to lie down and sleep again the moment he found that all was well; and at the first grey dawning of day, when the great trees began to appear in weird fashion from out of the darkness, and the tops of the mountains to show jagged against the sky, he sprang up from where he had slept close to the warm ashes, yawned, gave himself a rub as if he were cold, and then shook out his arms and legs, and picked up his weapons. "mine go along, see myall black fellow. little marmi come." this was to norman, who turned to the captain. "yes; go, and be very careful. recollect it will be broad daylight directly." norman gave a sharp nod, and caught his brother and cousin's eyes fixed upon him enviously. the captain noticed it. "wait," he said; "your turns will come, boys.--now, norman, scout carefully, and put us out of our misery at once. if the blacks are coming this way, hold up your gun as high as you can reach. if they are going in another direction, hold it with both hands horizontally above your head." norman nodded and ran after shanter, who was already on his way, and together they reached the precipice, and climbed the face to creep down at once among the bushes, from which place of vantage they could see right into the blacks' camp, where a party of nineteen were squatted round the fire eating some kind of root which they were roasting on the embers. this went on for some time, while, knowing the anxiety at their own camp, norman crouched there watching them, till shanter whispered softly, "all go along. mine glad." he was right, for suddenly one man sprang up and took his spear, the others followed his example; and they stood talking together just as the rising sun peered over the horizon and turned their glistening black bodies into dark bronze. then followed a good deal of talking and pointing, as if some were for climbing over the ridge, and at first the others seemed disposed to follow them; but another disposition came over the party, and, shouldering their spears, they went off toward the mountains, one portion of which formed a saddle, from which at either end two lines of eminences of nearly equal height went right away as if there was a deep valley between. "baal black fellow now. come all along, shanter want big damper." they waited a few minutes longer, till the party had disappeared in what looked to be the bed of a dry stream, leading up into the mountains; and then, with a feeling of elation in his breast, norman hurried to a prominent part of the edge of the steep escarpment, and stood holding his gun up on high with both hands, horizontally, as agreed upon, till, with a fierce look, shanter ran to him and dragged it down, giving a sharp look toward the place where the blacks had disappeared. "little marmi want myall black fellow come along?" "baal black fellow now," said norman; and shanter's fierce countenance became mirthful. "baal black fellow now!" he cried, with a hoarse chuckle. "baal black fellow now. you pidney?" "yes, i pidney--i understand," cried norman, laughing. "come all along. shanter want big damper. break-fuss," he added with a grin. they soon lowered themselves down the wall of rock, and ran to the camp, where the captain had just arranged that soon after breakfast rifle and tim were to take it in turns to mount to the highest point of the ridge to keep watch, while the rest worked at preparations for their defence and that of the cattle. in the relief they all felt for their escape, a hearty meal was made, the watcher was sent out to perch himself where he could look out unseen, and the day's work began. the cattle were first counted, and found to be none the worse for their journey, and grazing contentedly on the rich feed. just below them was an ample supply of water, and altogether, as they showed no disposition to stray, they could be left. weapons were then placed ready for use at a moment's notice, and all hands set to work to unpack the wagons, the cases being ranged outside, barrels rolled to the corners and built up, and all being arranged under the shadow of a great tree, whose boughs would do something toward keeping off rain. this by degrees began to assume the character of a little wooden fort, and lastly, over the tops of the wagons, a ridge pole was fixed formed of a small tree which fell to uncle jack's axe, and across this three wagon cloths were stretched, forming a fairly waterproof roof to protect goods that would spoil, and also promising to be strong enough to check a spear which might reach it through the branches of the trees. as evening came on, this stronghold was a long way from being finished, but it promised some security if it were found necessary to take to it for shelter, and it was decided that the women should occupy it, and for the present give up the tent to the men. every one was highly satisfied with the day's work, and, as rifle said, they could all now devote themselves so much more easily to other things--this when he had been relieved in his guard by tim, who had stalked off to his post looking, with his shouldered piece, as important as a grenadier, and no doubt feeling his responsibility far more. but matters had not gone on without a hitch, or to be correct, several hitches, consequent upon the behaviour of shanter, who in every way showed that it was his intention to stay. the beginning of it was a complaint made by german, who went up to tim and touched his hat. "beg pardon, master 'temus, sir, but along o' that there nigger." "what about him?" "i asked him as civilly as a man could speak, to come and help me unload the big wagon, and he shouldered his clothes-prop thing and marched off. aren't he expected to do something for his wittles?" "of course, sam. here, i'll go and set him to work." tim walked away to where the black was busy carrying wood to replenish the fire. "here, shanter," he said; "come and help me to carry some boxes." "baal help boxes. plenty mine come along wood." "there's enough wood now." "what metancoly wood," (much, a large number). "baal come along boxes." "but you must come," cried tim. shanter seemed to think that he must not, and he took no more notice, but marched away, fetched another big armful of wood, and then took the big kettle to fill at the spring. "i say, uncle," cried tim, "here's insubordination in the camp." "what's the matter?" said uncle jack, who was chaining up the wheels of one of the wagons to insure its not being dragged away. "the black will not work." "send him to me." tim ran back to shanter. "here," he cried; "uncle jack wants you." "baal come along uncle jack," said the black sharply. "uncle jack come along shanter." "but i say: that won't do," cried tim. "you must mind what's said to you." "shanter going get grub. you come along mine." "no; i'm going to work, and you have to help." shanter got up and walked straight away in the other direction, and tim went and told his uncle. "lazy scoundrel!" cried uncle jack. "well, if he doesn't work he can't be fed." "shall i go and tell the captain?" "no; he has plenty of worries on his mind. let's do without the sable rascal. we never counted upon having his help." so the work went on without the black, and the captain did not miss him; while the ladies, finding a plentiful supply of wood and water, were loud in shanter's praises. just before dark he walked back into camp with a bark bag hanging from his spear, and a pleasant grin upon his face. "baal black fellow," he cried. "there now," said aunt georgie, who was busy preparing the evening meal, helped by mrs bedford; "there it is again. i was doubtful before." "baal black fellow," said shanter once more. "yes, there. you see how it is, marian; these people must be descendants of the old philistines, all degenerate and turned black." "nonsense!" said uncle jack, and he looked very sternly at the black. "but it is not nonsense, john," said the old lady. "surely you don't mean to say that i do not know what i'm talking about. that dreadful man is a descendant of the old philistines. you heard him say as plainly as could be something about baal." norman burst into a roar of laughter. "norman, my dear, how can you be such a rude child?" cried the old lady reprovingly. "why, aunt, baal means none, or not any." "nonsense, my dear!" "but it does, aunt. baal black fellow means that there are none about." "baal black fellow," cried shanter, nodding. "mine not see plenty--all gone." "there, aunt." "oh dear me! what a dreadful jargon. come here, sir, and i'll give you some damper." aunt georgie seated herself, took one of the great cakes she had made, and broke it in half, holding it out to the black. "he doesn't deserve it," said uncle jack, sternly. "big white mary gib damper," cried the black excitedly, taking the cake and sticking it in his waistband, while he slipped his spear out of the handles of his bag. "shanter find white grub. plenty all 'long big white mary." as he spoke, he emptied the contents of his bag suddenly in the old lady's lap, laughed at the shriek she gave, and walked off to devour his cake, while norman and rifle collected the curious white larvae in a tin to set them aside for a private feast of their own, no one caring to venture upon a couple that were roasted over the embers. just then the captain was summoned to the evening meal, and after a glance round, he called to shanter: "here, boy," he said, as the black came up grinning, and with his mouth full; "go up and look black fellow.--that's the best way i can think of telling him to relieve tim," he said. the black nodded, shouldered his spear, and marched off. "he obeys you," said uncle jack, who had looked on curiously. "of course. so he does you." uncle jack shook his head. "no," he said. then the incidents of the day were related, and the captain looked thoughtful. in due time tim came down from his perch, and took his place where the evening meal was discussed in peace, but not without an occasional glance round, and a feeling of dread that at any moment there might be an alarm; for they felt that after all they were interlopers in an enemy's country, and on their voyage out they had heard more than one account of troubles with the blacks, stories of bloodshed and massacre, which they had then been ready to laugh at as travellers' tales, but which now impressed them very differently, and filled them with an undefined sensation of terror, such as made all start at every shadow or sound. chapter ten. "that black is of no use." strict watch was kept, but the night passed peacefully away, and the morning dawned so brightly, everything around was so beautiful, with the birds singing, the sky all orange, gold, and vivid blue, that in the glorious invigorating air it was simply impossible to be in low spirits. the boys had no sooner started to climb the hills and scout for danger, than they met shanter, who came toward them laughing. "black fellow all gone. no see bull-cow and big horse fellow. all gone away. budgery job. shanter mumkull all lot." he gave then a short war-dance, and a display of his skill with his spear, sending it flying with tremendous force and never missing the tree at which he aimed, into whose soft bark it stuck quivering, while he ran up, dragged it out, and belaboured the trunk with his club. it was an expressive piece of pantomime to show how he would kill all the black fellows he met; and when he had ended, he stood grinning at the boys, waiting for their praise. "oh, it's all very fine, old chap," said norman, speaking for the others; "but how do we know that you would not run away, or be mumkulled yourself by the black fellows?" shanter nodded his head, and smiled more widely. "mumkull all a black fellow--all run away. budgery nulla-nulla. plenty mine." he whirled his club round and hurled it at the nearest tree, which it struck full in the centre of the trunk. then as he picked it up-"shall we trust to what he said? if he is right, we needn't go scouting," said norman. "let's go back and tell uncle," suggested tim. "there's no need to go on the look-out," cried rifle. "those people are tam o' shanter's enemies, and he would not go on like this if they had not gone.--i say, i want to see you use this," he continued, as he touched one of the flat pieces of wood, the black having two now stuck in his waistband. "boomerang," cried the black, taking out the heavy pieces of wood, one of which was very much curved, rounded over one side, flat on the other, both having sharpened edges, such as would make them useful in times of emergency as wooden swords. "boomerang," he said again. "oh yes; i know what you call them," said rifle; "but i want to see them thrown." as he spoke he took hold of the straighter weapon and made believe to hurl it. "no budgery," cried the man, taking the weapon. "mumkull black fellow." then, taking the other very much curved piece of wood, he gave it a flourish. "mumkull boomer." "who's boomer?" said norman. "black fellow?" shanter gesticulated and flourished his curved weapon, shook his head, stamped, and cried, "no black fellow. boomer-boomer." "well, who's boomer?" cried rifle. "a black fellow?" "no, no. mumkull plenty boomer." he dropped spear, nulla, and boomerangs, stooped a little, drooped his hands before him, and bent his head down, pretending to nibble at the grass, after which he made a little bound, then another; then a few jumps, raised himself up and looked round over his shoulder, as if in search of danger, and then went off in a series of wonderful leaps, returning directly grinning. "boomer," he cried; "boomer." "he means kangaroo," cried tim, excitedly. "of course he does," said rifle. "boomer-kangaroo." "kangaroo boomer," replied the black eagerly. "boomer." then taking the straighter weapon, he hurled it forcibly, and sent it skimming over the ground with such unerring aim that it struck a tree fifty yards away and fell. "mumkull black fellow," he cried laughing. then picking up the second weapon, he threw it so that it flew skimming along through the air close to the ground for a considerable distance, curved upward, returned over the same ground, but high up, and fell not far from the thrower's feet. "budgery," cried shanter, regaining his weapon, and laughing with childish delight. "here, let's have a try," said norman, seizing the boomerang--literally boomer or kangaroo stick--and imitating the black's actions, he threw it, but with such lamentable want of success, that his brother and cousin roared with laughter, and the black grinned his delight. "here, i'll show you," cried rifle; but he turned round hurriedly, for there was a loud hail from a distance, and in obedience to a signal they all hurried to where the captain stood with uncle jack, both coming now toward them, and as they drew nearer the boys could read the look of anger in the captain's face. "we were just coming back, father," cried norman. "coming back, sir? how am i ever to trust you lads again. i sent you on a mission of what might mean life or death, and i find you playing like schoolboys with that savage." "we were coming back, father," said rifle, apologetically. "we met shanter here, and he said that the black fellows were all gone." "and we thought he would be able to tell better than we could," said norman, humbly. "humph! there was some excuse," said the captain, sternly; "but i expect my orders to be carried out.--here, boy." shanter advanced rather shrinkingly. "black fellows. where are they?" "baal black fellow," said shanter, hastily. "all gone. plenty no." "come back into camp then, lads," said the captain, "and help. there is plenty to do." the captain was right: there was plenty to do. the question was what to begin upon first. they all set to work to contrive a better shelter; and released now from dread of an immediate visit from the blacks, their little fortress was strengthened, and the first steps taken toward making the first room of their house; the captain as architect having planned it so that other rooms could be added one by one. but on the very first day the captain had an experience which nearly resulted in a serious quarrel and the black being driven from the camp. for shanter would not carry boxes or cut wood, or help in any way with the building, all of which seemed to him perfectly unnecessary; but just as the captain was getting in a towering passion, the black uttered a shout and pointed to the cattle which had been grazing and sheltering themselves beneath some trees, but now were rushing out as if seized by a panic. heads were down, tails up, and they were evidently off for the bush, where the trouble of getting them back might be extreme. but shanter was equal to the occasion. he saw at a glance the direction the cattle were taking; and as the sounds of their fierce lowing and the thunder of their hoofs reached his ears he darted off to run up a long slope opposite to the precipice norman had climbed; and before the captain and the boys had reached their horses to saddle them and gallop after the herd, shanter had descended the other side and gone. "that black is of no use," said the captain, angrily. "he might have helped us to find the beasts; now i'm afraid they are gone for ever." "no, no. it may be a long chase," said uncle munday, "but we must overtake them, and bring them back." it took some time to catch and bridle and saddle all the horses, and with the exception of sam german all were about to gallop off along the trail left by the cattle, when the captain drew rein. "no," he said; "we must not leave the camp unprotected. we might have unwelcome visitors, jack. you and i must stay. off with you, boys. i daresay you will find the black hunting the brutes after all." the boys waited for no further orders, but stuck their heels into their horses' sides, and the animals, full of spirit from idleness, went off at a headlong gallop. there was in fact quite a race over the open ground, where the beaten track could now be seen deeply marked. but the run was short. two miles away they caught sight of the drove, and drew rein so as not to scare them, for they were coming steadily along, and there close behind was shanter, spear in hand, running to and fro, prodding, striking, and keeping the drove together; while the boys, now dividing, rode round to join him behind, bringing the frightened cattle back into camp panting, hot, and excited, but the panic was at an end. "that will do," said the captain, pleasantly. "i give in about tam o' shanter;" and from that hour the black was installed as guardian of the "bull-cows and horse fellows," to his very great delight. in his broken english way he explained the cause of the panic. "plenty 'possum fellow up a tree," he said. "one make jump down on bull-cow fellow back. you pidney? kimmeroi (one) run, metancoly run. bull-cow stupid fellow. plenty frighten. no frighten shanter." that little incident had shown the black's real value, and he was henceforth looked upon as a valuable addition to the station, being sent out at times scouting to see if there was any danger in the neighbourhood. his principal duties, though, were that of herdsman and groom, for he soon developed a passionate attachment to the horses, and his greatest satisfaction was displayed when he was allowed to go and fetch them in from grazing for his young masters. he had a great friend, too, in aunt georgie--"big white mary," as he would persist in calling her--and oddly enough, it seemed to give him profound satisfaction to squat down outside after he had fetched wood or water, and be scolded for being long, or for the quality of the wood, or want of coolness in the water. meanwhile, the building had gone on merrily, for there was an intense desire to provide a better shelter for the ladies before the glorious weather changed and they had to do battle with the heavy rains. sam german gave up his first ideas of fencing in a garden, and worked most energetically with his axe. then one or other of the boys helped with the cross-cut saw, and posts were formed and shingles split--wooden slates rifle called them--for the roofing. a rough sawpit was made, too, under uncle munday's superintendence, the tools and implements thoughtfully brought proving invaluable, so that in due time uprights were placed, a framework contrived, and, sooner even than they had themselves anticipated, a well-formed little house was built, was completed with windows and strong shutters, and, at the sides, tiny loopholes for purposes of defence. this one strong room covered in, and the boarded sides nailed on, the building of a kitchen at the side became a comparatively easy task, and was gone on with more slowly, for another job had to be commenced. "i consider it wonderful, boys, that they have escaped," said the captain; "but we have been tempting fate. we must fence in a good space for the cattle, a sort of home close, where we know that they will be safe, before the enemy comes and drives them off some night while we are asleep." this enclosure was then made, the posts and rails on one side coming close up to the space intended for a garden; and a further intention was to board it closely for a defence on that side when time allowed. every day saw something done, and in their busy life and immunity from danger all thought of peril began to die out. they even began to imagine that the weather was always going to be fine, so glorious it remained all through their building work. but they were soon undeceived as to that, a wet season coming on, and the boys getting some few examples of rain which made sam german declare that it came down in bucketfuls; while rifle was ready to assert, one afternoon when he was caught, that he almost swam home through it, after a visit to the lower part of the captain's land, to see that the sheep were all driven on to high ground, up to which they had laboured with their fleeces holding water in a perfect load. and hence it was that, to the astonishment of all, they found that a whole year had passed away, and the captain said, with a perplexed look, that they seemed hardly to have done anything. but all the same, there was the dingo station, as he had dubbed it, on account of the wild dogs which prowled about, with a substantial little farmhouse, some small out-buildings, paddocks enclosed with rails, and their farming stock looking healthy and strong. sam german, too, had contrived to get something going in the way of a garden, and plans innumerable were being made for the future in the way of beautifying the place, though nature had done much for them before they came. as for the elders, they did not look a day older, and all were in robust health. the change was in the boys: norman and rifle had grown brown and sturdy to a wonderful degree, while tim had shot up to such an extent that his cousins laughingly declared that he ought to wear a leaden hat to keep him down. "it almost seems," said uncle jack one day, "that keeping a tame black is sufficient to drive all the others away." "don't seem to me that shanter is very tame, uncle," cried norman, merrily; "why, he is always wanting to go off into the scrub, and coaxes us to go with him." "i say, father," cried rifle, "when are we to go off on an expedition and have some hunting and fishing? i thought when we came out here that we were going to have adventures every day, and we haven't seen a black since that first night." "ah, you'll have adventures enough some day, boys. have patience." "but we want to go farther away, uncle," said tim. "are we always to be looking after the cattle and building?" "i hope not," said the captain, merrily. "there, we shall not be so busy now, and we shall feel more free about several things." just then shanter was seen crossing the front, munching away at a great piece of damper made from the new flour sam german had brought up from port haven, it having been necessary for an expedition with a wagon and horses to be made at intervals of two or three months to replenish stores. they had had visitors, too, upon three occasions: the young doctor, mr freeston, and the sugar-planter, mr henley, having found their way to the station; the latter, as he said, being rather disposed to take up land in that direction, as it seemed far better than where he was, while the doctor casually let drop a few words to the boys at their last visit, that he thought it would be a good part of the country for him to settle in too. "but there won't be any patients for you," said norman. "no," cried rifle. "we never have anything the matter with us." "oh, but there will soon be settlers all about," said the doctor. "this part of the country is sure to be thickly settled one of these days, and it will be so advantageous to be the old-established medical man." "i say," said tim, as he and his cousins rode back after seeing the doctor and mr henley some distance on the way, "doctor freeston had better begin to doctor himself." "why?" said rifle. "because it seems to me that he must be going mad." chapter eleven. "i said it was a snake." "norman, rifle, tim! help! help!" "what's the matter?" cried tim. "here, boys, quick! there's something wrong at the house." the three boys, who had heard the faint cries from a distance, set off at a run. "it must be aunt. the girls and mamma are down by the waterfall," cried rifle. "yes; it's aunt sure enough," said norman, as they saw the old lady hurrying toward them. "it must be the blacks come at last," cried tim; "and oh, boys, we have not got our guns!" "who's going about always tied to a gun?" cried norman, angrily.--"here, aunt, what's the matter?" "oh, my boy, my boy!" cried the old lady, throwing her arms about the lad's neck, as he reached her first, and with so much energy that she would have upset him, and they would have fallen together had not his brother and cousin been close behind ready to give him their support. "but don't cling to me, auntie," cried norman, excitedly. "if you can't stand, lie down. where are they?" "in--in the kitchen, my dear," she panted; and then burst into a hysterical fit of sobbing, which came to an end as the boys hurriedly seated her beneath a tree. "how many are there, aunt?" whispered rifle, excitedly. "only one, my boys." "one?" cried norman. "i say, boys, we aren't afraid of one, are we?" "no," cried the others. "but i wish old tam o' shanter was here with his nulla-nulla." "never mind," said norman, flushing up as he felt that, as eldest, he must take the lead. "there is no chance to get the guns. we'll run round by the wood-house; there are two choppers and an axe there. he won't show fight if he sees we're armed." "i don't know," said rifle, grimly. "he must be a fierce one, or he wouldn't have ventured alone." "perhaps there are a dozen of 'em behind, hiding," said tim. "shall we cooey?" "no," said norman, stoutly. "not till we've seen. he may be only begging after all. come on." "stop! stop! don't leave me here," cried aunt georgie excitedly, as the boys began to move off. "but we can't take you, aunt," said rifle, soothingly, "with a lot of blacks about." "blacks? where?" cried aunt georgie rising. "where you said: in the kitchen." "stuff and nonsense, boy! i never said anything of the kind. i said it was a snake." "snake!" cried the boys in chorus. "you didn't say anything of the kind, aunt," cried norman, indignantly. "don't contradict, sir. i declare i never said a word about blacks. i went into the kitchen and heard a rustling sound between me and the door, and i thought it was one of the fowls come in to beg for a bit of bread, when i looked round, and there on the floor was a monstrous great serpent, twining and twisting about, and if i hadn't dashed out of the place it would have seized me." "a big one, aunt?" "a monster, my dear. but what are you going to do?" norman laughed, and looked at the others. "oh, i think we shall manage to turn him out, aunt," he said. "but be careful, my dears, and don't run into danger." "oh no; we'll get the guns and talk to him through the window." "i am glad it wasn't mamma," said rifle. "or the girls," cried his cousin. "then i'm of no consequence at all," said the old lady, wiping her forehead and looking hurt. "ah, well, i suppose i'm old and not of much importance now. there, go and kill the dreadful thing before it bites anybody." they were not above eighty or ninety yards from the house, and they hurried on, closely followed by aunt georgie, meaning to go in by the principal door, when all at once a black figure, having a very magpieish look from the fact of his being clothed in an exceedingly short pair of white drawers, came from behind the house, and seeing them, came forward. "hi! shanter!" shouted norman, "look out. big snake." the black's hand went behind him instantly, and reappeared armed with his nulla-nulla as he looked sharply round for the reptile. "no, no; in the house," cried norman, leading the way toward the open door so as to get the guns. shanter bounded before him, flourishing his club, all excitement on the instant. "no, no; let me come first," said the boy, in a low husky voice. "i want to get the guns. the snake's in the kitchen." the black stopped short, and stood with his club hanging down, staring at the boy. then a grin overspread his face as norman reappeared with two loaded guns, one of which he handed to tim, rifle having meanwhile armed himself with an axe, from where it hung just inside the door. "now then, come on round to the back. it's a big one." but shanter laughed and shook his head. "ah, plenty game," he said. "baal play game." "no. there is one, really," cried norman, examining the pan of his gun. "it attacked aunt." shanter shook his head. "baal. can't pidney. what say?" "big snake no budgery, bite aunt," said norman. "snake bite big white mary. baal bite: all mumkull." "oh, i do wish the man would speak english," cried aunt georgie. "there, you boys, stand back.--shanter, go and kill the snake." shanter shook his head and tucked his nulla-nulla in his waistband again, laughing silently all the time. "but there is a terribly great one, shanter, and i order you to go and kill it." "baal mumkull snake." "yes; you can kill it, sir. go and kill it directly. throw that thing at it, and knock it down." shanter shook his head again. "here, i'll soon shoot it, aunt," said norman; but aunt georgie held his arm tightly. "no, sir, i shall not let you go.--rifle, tim, i forbid you to stir.-shanter, do as i tell you," she continued, with a stamp of her foot. "go and kill that horrible snake directly, or not one bit of damper do you ever get again from me." "big white mary gib shanter plenty damper." "yes; and will again. you are a big, strong man, and know how to kill snakes. go and kill that one directly." shanter shook his head. "why, you are not afraid, sir?" "no. baal 'fraid snake," said shanter in a puzzled way, as he looked searchingly from one to the other. "then go and do as i say." "he's afraid of it," said norman. "i don't like them, aunt, but i'll go and shoot it." "mine baal 'fraid," cried the black, angrily. "mumkull plenty snake. metancoly." "then why don't you go and kill that one?" said norman as his aunt still restrained him. "baal snake bunyip," cried shanter, angrily, naming the imaginary demon of the blacks' dread. "who said it was a bunyip?" cried rifle. "it's a big snake that tried to bite aunt." shanter laughed and shook his head again. "baal mumkull snake bulla (two) time. mumkull bunyip plenty. come again." "what muddle are you talking?" cried norman, angrily; "the brute will get away. look here, shan, are you afraid?" "mine baal 'fraid." "then go and kill it." "baal mumkull over 'gain. shanter mumkull. make fire, put him in kidgen." "what!" cried aunt georgie. "you put the snake in the kitchen?" the black nodded. "mine put snake in kidgen for big white mary." "to bite me?" "baal--baal--baal bite big white mary. big white mary, marmi (captain), plenty bite snake. good to eat." "here, i see," cried norman, bursting out laughing, the black joining in. "he brought the snake for you to cook, auntie." "what!" cried aunt georgie, who turned red with anger as the boy shook himself loose and ran round to the kitchen door, closely followed by shanter and the others. as norman ran into the kitchen, he stopped short and pointed the gun, for right in the middle of the floor, writhing about in a way that might easily have been mistaken for menace, was a large carpet-snake. just as the boy realised that its head had been injured, shanter made a rush past him, seized the snake by the tail, and ran out again dragging it after him with one hand, then snatching out his club, he dropped the tail, and quick as thought gave the writhing creature a couple of heavy blows on the head. "baal mumkull nuff," he said, as the writhing nearly ceased. then, taking hold of the tail again, he began to drag the reptile back toward the kitchen door, but norman stopped him. "no; don't do that." "plenty budgery. big white mary." "he says it's beautiful, aunt, and he brought it as a present for you. shall he put it in the kitchen?" "what?" cried aunt georgie; "make the horrid fellow take it, and bury it somewhere. i was never so frightened in my life." all this was explained to shanter, who turned sulky, and looked offended, marching off with his prize into the scrub, his whereabouts being soon after detected by a curling film of grey smoke. "here, come on, boys," cried tim. "shanter's having a feed of roast snake." "let's go and see," cried norman, and they ran to the spot where the fire was burning, to find that tim was quite correct. shanter had made a good fire, had skinned his snake, and was roasting it in the embers, from which it sent forth a hissing sound not unlike its natural utterance, but now in company with a pleasantly savoury odour. his back was toward them, and as they approached he looked round sourly, but his black face relaxed, and he grinned good-humouredly again, as he pointed to the cooking going on. "plenty budgery," he cried. "come eat lot 'long shanter." but the boys said "no." the grubs were tempting, but the carpet-snake was not; so shanter had it all to himself, eating till rifle laughed, and said that he must be like india-rubber, else he could never have held so much. chapter twelve. a real expedition. the dingo station never looked more beautiful than it did one glorious january morning as the boys were making their preparations for an expedition into the scrub. the place had been chosen for its attractiveness in the first instance, and two years hard work had made it a home over which uncle munday used to smile as he gazed on his handiwork in the shape of flowering creepers--bougainvillea and rinkasporum--running up the front, and hiding the rough wood, or over the fences; the garden now beginning to be wonderfully attractive, and adding to the general home-like aspect of the place; while the captain rubbed his hands as he gazed at his rapidly-growing prosperity, and asked wife and daughters whether they had not done well in coming out to so glorious a land. they all readily agreed, for they had grown used to their active, busy life, and were quite content, the enjoyment of vigorous health in a fine climate compensating for the many little pleasures of civilised life which they had missed at first. the timidity from which they had suffered had long since passed away; and though in quiet conversations, during the six early months of their sojourn, mother and daughter and niece had often talked of how much pleasanter it would have been if the captain had made up his mind to sell his property and go close up to some settlement, such thoughts were rare now; and, as aunt georgie used to say: "of course, my dears, i did at one time think it very mad to come right out here, but i said to myself, edward is acting for the best, and it is our duty to help him, and i'm very glad we came; for at home i used often to say to myself, `i'm getting quite an old woman now, and at the most i can't live above another ten years.' while now i don't feel a bit old, and i shall be very much disappointed if i don't live another twenty or five-and-twenty years. for you see, my dears, there is so much to do." and now, on this particular morning, the boys were busy loading up a sturdy, useful horse with provisions for an excursion into the scrub. sam german had left his gardening to help to get their horses ready; and full of importance, in a pair of clean white drawers, shanter was marching up and down looking at the preparations being made, in a way that suggested his being lord of the whole place. all ready at last, and mounted. mrs bedford, aunt georgie, and the girls had come out to see them off, and the captain and uncle jack were standing by the fence to which the packhorse was hitched. "got everything, boys?" said the captain. "yes, father; i think so." "flint and steel and tinder?" "oh yes." "stop!" cried the captain. "i'm sure you've forgotten something." "no, father," said rifle. "i went over the things too, and so did tim. powder, shot, bullets, knives, damper iron, hatchets, tent-cloth." "i know," cried aunt georgie. "i thought they would. no extra blankets." "yes, we have, aunt," cried tim, laughing. "then you have no sticking-plaster." "that we have, aunt, and bits of linen rag, and needles and thread. you gave them to me," said rifle. "i think we have everything we ought to carry." "no," said the captain; "there is something else." "they've forgotten the tea," cried hetty, merrily. "no. got more than we want," cried rifle. "sugar, then," said ida. "no; i mean salt." "wrong again, girls," cried norman. "we've got plenty of everything, and only want to start off--how long can you do without us, father?" "oh," said the captain, good-humouredly, "you are an idle lot. i don't want you. say six months." "edward, my dear!" exclaimed mrs bedford, in alarm. "well then, say a fortnight. fourteen days, boys, and if you are not back then, we shall be uneasy, and come in search of you." "come now, father," cried rifle, laughing. "i say, i do wish you would." "nothing i should enjoy better, my boy," said the captain. "this place makes me feel full of desire adventure." "then come," cried norman. "it would be grand. you come too, uncle jack;" but that gentleman shook his head as did his brother. "and pray who is to protect your mother and sisters and aunt, eh?" said the captain. "no; go and have your jaunt, and as soon as you cross the range mark down any good site for stations." "oh, edward dear," cried mrs bedford, "you will not go farther into the wilderness?" "no," he said, smiling; "but it would be pleasant to be able to tell some other adventurer where to go." "i know what they've forgotten," said ida, mischievously, and on purpose--"soap." "wrong again, miss clever," cried norman. "we've got everything but sailing orders. good-bye all." "you will take care, my dears," cried mrs bedford, who looked pale and anxious. "every care possible, mother dear," cried the lad, affectionately; "and if tim and rifle don't behave themselves, i'll give 'em ramrod and kicks till they do.--now, father, tam o' shanter's looking back again. shall we start?" "you've forgotten something important." "no, father, we haven't, indeed." "you talked about sailing orders, and you are going to start off into the wilds where there isn't a track. pray, where is your compass?" "there he is, father," cried rifle, merrily; "yonder in white drawers." "a very valuable one, but you can't go without one that you can put in your pocket. what did we say last night about being lost in the bush?" "forgot!" cried norman, after searching his pockets. "have you got it, tim?" tim put his hand in his pocket, and shook his head. "have you, rifle?" "no." "of course he has not," said the captain; "and it is the most important thing of your outfit. "here it is," he continued, producing a little mariner's compass; "and now be careful. you ought to have had three. good-bye, boys. back within the fortnight, mind." promises, more farewells, cheers, and twenty minutes later the boys turned their horses' heads on the top of wallaby range, as they had named the hills behind the house, at the last point where they could get a view of home, pausing to wave their three hats; and then, as they rode off for the wilds, shanter, who was driving the packhorse, uttered a wild yell, as he leaped from the ground, and set all the horses capering and plunging. "what did you do that for?" said norman, as soon as he could speak for laughing, the effects on all three having been comical in the extreme. "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!" "mine want damper, marmi. gib big soff damper." "i'll give you the whip, sir, if you don't go." shanter flinched, and gave himself another rub, looking about in the darkness from one to the other. "let me fetch him a bit of damper, father," whispered rifle. "no," said the captain, sternly. "the scoundrel has nearly ruined a fine young horse, and he must be taught a lesson.--now, sir, be off!" "baal gib mine big damper?" cried the black. "no; only the whip," said the captain, giving the thong a sharp crack, and then another and another in all directions near the black's naked shoulders, with the result that at every crack shanter winced and leaped about. "marmi man gib mine damper." "i can't," said norman. "marmi rifle, marmi tim, gib mine damper." "no--no--no," shouted the captain. "now go and never come here again." the black gave another writhe, as if smarting from the pain of the blow he had received, and ended by snatching boomerang and club from his waistband, uttering a fiercely defiant yell as he clattered them together, leaped the fence and darted off straight across the paddock, shouting as he rushed on toward the horses, and sending them in panic to the end of the enclosure. "the scoundrel!" shouted the captain; "those horse will cripple themselves on the posts and rails. no; they're coming back again," he cried, as he heard the little herd come galloping round. "steady there--woho--boys! steady, woho there--woho!" he continued; and the horses gradually ceased their headlong flight, and turned and trotted gently toward the familiar voice. the captain was joined by the boys, who all went toward the horses, patting and caressing them for a few minutes before leaving the paddock and going back toward the house. "now," said the captain; "who is to say that this black fellow will not come to-morrow night, or perhaps to-night, take out a rail or two, and drive off all our horses?" "i can," said norman. "so can we," cried rifle. "i don't believe old shanter ever could steal." "well done, boys, for your belief in savage nature," cried uncle jack.--"no, ned, you are wrong. i believe that the poor fellow is honest as the day." "thank you, uncle," whispered tim. "well," said the captain, "we shall see. but i think i have let the poor fellow off very easily. i came out to-night meaning to give him a tremendous horse-whipping, but out of weakness and consideration for you boys' feelings, i've let him off with one cut." "enough too," said uncle jack, "for it was big enough for a dozen." "well, it was a tidy one," said the captain, laughing. "there, come back to the house. but no more black pets, boys. if you want to make companions, try the horses." "and perhaps they'd run away with one." "or throw us." "or kick us." so cried the boys one after another, and the captain uttered a grunt. "look here," he said; "i'm not going to sit up and watch to-night, but if those horses are driven off by that black scoundrel, i'll hunt him down with a gun." "not you, ned," said uncle jack, with a chuckle. "don't you believe him, boys." "we don't, uncle," they chorused. "ah, well," said the captain, laughing; "we shall see." chapter twenty. "we shall have to trust him." "whatever is the matter with that cow?" cried aunt georgie, as they sat at their evening meal the next day. "why is she lowing like that? it's my poor jersey, and--goodness gracious, what is the matter with her tail?" "tail!" shouted the captain, springing up as the cow came clumsily cantering up, followed by all the rest of the cattle, who added their lowing to the jersey's mournful bellow. "tail! here, quick, jack-boys, the guns; the poor creature has been speared." it was plain enough. speared, and badly, for the weapon stood firmly just in front of the poor animal's tail, in spite of the frantic gallop in which she had sought for relief. "i can't leave the poor beast like this, jack," cried the captain. "cover me if you see any one stealing up. no; there is no need. i can see it all plainly enough." the cow did not run away from him as he went close up, and with a sharp tug dragged out the clumsy weapon, tearing his handkerchief afterward to plug the horrible wound. "will she get better, father?" asked norman. "i hope so, boy. i don't think the point can have reached any vital part. but you see, don't you?" "only the wound, father. what do you mean?" "i'm afraid this is your friend shanter's bit of revenge for my blow." "oh no, father," cried rifle, indignantly. "poor old tam o' shanter would not be such a brute." the captain smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "here, let's get all the beasts into the enclosure," he said. "we do not want any more to be speared;" and sending two of the boys forward to open the rails, the cow was gently driven in, the rest of the stock following patiently enough to the very last. "well," said uncle jack, emphatically, "i don't think i'm a vicious man, but i honestly wish that the vile wretch who threw that spear had been well gored by the animal in return." "so do i, uncle," cried rifle, warmly, "for i'm sure it wasn't shanter.--what do you think, tim?" "i don't know," replied the boy. "i hope it wasn't; but as uncle edward says, it does look very black." "bah! you're black," cried rifle, fiercely.--"you don't think it was shanter, do you, man?" "i don't want to think it was," replied his brother, thoughtfully, "but it does look very bad." this was while the captain had walked up to the house to order the ladies to stay within doors, promising in return that he would be very careful, and not run into any danger. "looks very bad!" cried rifle, contemptuously. "i only wish i knew where old shanter was. i'd go and fetch him to make him tell you that you ought all to be ashamed of yourselves." "you need not trouble," said uncle jack, quietly, "for here he comes;" and as the captain's brother spoke he cocked his double gun. "and here comes father," cried norman, excitedly. "don't fire, uncle, pray." "not if i can help it, boy, but look at the fellow; he has been painting himself, and means war." in effect shanter's black body was streaked with white, as if to imitate a skeleton, and as he came running toward them from the scrub below the precipice, he looked as if his spear was held threateningly in one hand, his club in the other. as the black came running from one direction, the captain ran toward them from the other, shouting to uncle jack and the boys to fall back, while just then sam german came out of the garden armed with a pitchfork, the first thing likely to act as a weapon. but shanter was the swiftest of foot, and he was within twenty yards, when uncle jack presented his piece and shouted: "stop! throw down that spear." shanter hesitated for a moment, and then dug the point of his spear into the ground, and ran up shouting: "hi, marmi, black fellow come along! kimmeroi--bulla, bulla--metancoly." (one, four, ever so many.) the captain gazed at him suspiciously. "where?" he said. "black fellow all along," cried shanter, who seemed to have quite forgotten the past night's quarrel and the blow, and he pointed in several directions across the precipitous ridge. "you saw them?" "yohi. run tell marmi. black fellow come all along, spear bull-cow." norman saw his father's brow contract, for the last words sounded very suspicious, and the lad asked himself whether this was a piece of cunning on the part of the black. but just then shanter caught sight of the spear lying upon the ground, where it had been thrown by the captain after he had drawn it from the cow's back. the black made a dash and pounced upon it, his movement to secure the weapon putting both the captain and his brother on their guard, as they watched the fellow's movements. as soon as he had the weapon in his hand, he examined the point, still wet with blood, looked sharply from one to the other, and then excitedly pointed to the spear end. "how this fellow come along?" he cried. "some one threw it, and speared the little cow," cried rifle. "where little bull-cow fellow--go bong?" "no; in the paddock. did you throw that spear, shanter?" "mine throw? baal!" cried the black. "plenty mine spear," and he pointed to where his own spear stuck in the ground. "i can't trust him, rifle, my boy," said the captain, firmly. "i'm afraid it is his work, and this is a cunning way of throwing us off the scent." the black listened eagerly, and partly comprehended. "marmi no pidney. think mine spear bull-cow. baal, baal throw." he shook his head violently, and then running back and recovering the other spear--his own--he stood attentively watching the scrub, his eyes wandering along the ridge and from place to place as if in search of enemies. "what do you say, ned?" whispered uncle jack; "are you going to trust him?" "no, i cannot yet," said the captain. "we must be thoroughly on our guard." "the poor fellow has proved himself a faithful servant, though." "what? that colt?" "a boy's freak. he did not behave dishonestly." "well, i do not trust him yet jack; but i may be wrong. let's reconnoitre." "where all white mary?" said shanter, turning back suddenly. "in the house," said norman. "why?" "black fellow metancoly all plenty. come mumkull." at that moment mrs bedford appeared at the door, and stepped out, but stopped as shanter uttered a fierce yell and gesticulated, imitating the throwing of a spear and battering of some one's head. "baal white mary come along," he cried, running to the captain. "marmi say go along." "run and tell your mother and the rest to keep in the house," said the captain sharply to rifle, and the black nodded in satisfaction; but he grew furious again, and seized the captain's arm as he made a movement toward the patch of scrub and trees which had concealed the blacks, when the raid was made upon the flour. "baal go along," he cried. "hah!" he threw himself into an attitude as if about to hurl a spear, for just then, a couple of hundred yards away, a black figure was seen to dart from behind a solitary patch of bushes to run to the bigger one in front. as he reached the broader shelter another followed him, and another, and another, shanter counting them as they ran. "kimmeroi--bulla-bulla, kimmeroi-bulla, bulla--bulla, bulla, kimmeroi." "five," said norman, excitedly. "yohi," cried the black, nodding. "marmi baal go along?" "no," said the captain, quietly. "we had better retire to the house. i think we can give them a warm reception there." "shoot! bang, bang!" cried shanter, grinning. "ow--ow--ow!" he held his bands to his head after dropping his weapons as he yelled, ran round in a circle, staggered, fell, kicked a little, and lay quite still for a few moments as if dead. then leaping up, he secured his weapons, shook them threateningly at the little grove, and urged all to go up to the house. "we shall have to trust him," said the captain. "come along, jack.-now, boys, i'm afraid this is war in earnest, and the siege has begun." "plenty black fellow," shouted shanter, excitedly, as he pointed in a fresh direction, where three or four heads were seen for a minute before they disappeared among the trees. "and no time to be lost," cried the captain.--"german, while we can, go up and begin filling what tubs you can with water in case the enemy tries to cut off our supply. we will cover you." "right, sir," said the gardener, and he ran up to the house with his fork over his shoulder, while the others followed more leisurely, keeping a sharp look-out. "come along," cried shanter, as they reached the house. "shut fass. black fellow baal come along. big white mary gib mine damper now." five minutes later he was eating some bread with a contented smile on his countenance, while tim and norman kept watch, and the others busied themselves closing the shutters and carrying in blocks and slabs of wood, reserved for such an emergency, and now used as barricades for windows and loop-holed doors. all worked vigorously, provisions were rolled in from the storehouse, though that was so near that its door could be commanded if a fresh supply was required. fence gates were closed and fastened, the water-supply augmented, and at last the captain turned to the pale-faced women who had been helping with all their strength, and said: "there, we need not fear blacks a hundred strong. all we have to do now is to come in, shut and bar the door, roll two or three of the casks against it, and laugh at them." "but i don't feel happy about my kitchen," said aunt georgie. "no: that is our weakest place," said the captain; "but i'll soon set that right.--see anything of them, boys?" he cried to the sentries. "no, not a sign." "metancoly black fellow all along a trees," said shanter, jumping up, for he had finished his damper. "can you see them?" cried the captain. "baal see black fellow. plenty hide." he illustrated his meaning by darting behind a barrel and peering at the captain, so that only one eye was visible. "yes, i see," cried the captain. "get up.--now, good folks, some dinner. i'm hungry. cheer up. we can beat them off if they attack, which i hope they will not." "so do i," said norman in a whisper to rifle; "but if they do come, we must fight." "yes," said rifle; "but they will not come fair. i'm afraid they'll try to take us by surprise." "let 'em," said tim, scornfully. "if they do, we must try and surprise them." chapter twenty one. "think you can hit a black?" a long anxious afternoon of watching, but the blacks made no sign, and upon shanter being referred to, he replied coolly: "plenty come along when piggi jump down, all no see." tim shuddered at the black's coolness. "make shoot bang. black fellow run along holler--ow!" "he doesn't seem to mind a bit," whispered tim. "don't know the danger, i suppose," said norman. "i say, boys, how long could we hold out?" "always," said rifle. "or till we had eaten all the cattle." "if the blacks don't spear them and drive them away." as the afternoon wore on the conversation grew less frequent, and all waited, wondering whether the blacks would attack them or try to drive off the cattle. guns were laid ready; ammunition was to hand, and the captain seemed to have quite thrown aside his suspicions of the black, who, on his side, had apparently forgotten the cut across his shoulder, though a great weal was plainly to be seen. in spite of bad appetites there had been two meals prepared. "men can't fight on nothing, wife," the captain said; and then seeing the frightened looks of mrs bedford and the girls, he added with a merry laugh: "if they have to fight. bah! if the black scoundrels come on, it only means a few charges of swan-shot to scatter them, and give them a lesson they will never forget." soon after this the captain and uncle jack went outside with the glass to sweep the edge of the scrub and the ridge, as well as every patch of trees, leaving the boys alone in the back part of the house to keep watch there. "i say," said rifle, in a low tone, "it's all very well for father to talk like that to them, but he doesn't think a charge of swan-shot will scatter the blacks, or else he wouldn't have the bullets ready." "no," replied norman, quietly. "he looks very serious about it all." "enough to make him," said tim; "after getting all this place so beautiful, to have a pack of savages coming and interfering.--i say, shanter, think the savages are gone?" "mine no pidney," said shanter, starting up from where he had been squatting in one corner. "are the black fellows gone?" "baal black fellow gone along. wait till piggi jump down and can't see." "think so? come along all dark?" said rifle. "yohi. come along, get flour, numkull chicken fellow. make big fight." norman frowned. "mine glad marmi rifle. mine like plenty stop along here." "well, i don't," grumbled rifle. "i don't like it at all. i say, man, don't you wish we were all safe somewhere else?" "yes. no," said norman, shortly; "we mustn't be cowards now." "'tisn't cowardly not to want to fight like this," grumbled rifle. "if i shoot, perhaps i shall kill a black fellow. i don't want to kill a black fellow." shanter nodded admiringly, for he did not quite grasp the speech. "kill a black fellow," he said. "mumkull. go bong." "oh, bother; i wish he wouldn't muddle what a fellow means. i say, tim, feel frightened?" "horribly," replied tim. "i say, i hope they will not come." "perhaps they will not," said norman. "if they do, it may only mean to drive away some of the cattle." "well, father don't want his cattle driven away, does he?" "don't talk so," said norman, who was standing with his face to a small square window, which he reached by standing on a case. "i say, come here, tim." the boy went and stood by him. "look straight along the garden fence, and see if that isn't something moving; there, by those bushes." tim looked intently for a few moments, and shook his head. "no," he said; "it's getting too dim. what's that?" "only father and uncle," said rifle, for just then their elders entered the house, and closed and fastened the door before coming into the back room. "it's getting so dark, boys, that we'll trust to the place now to protect us. close that window all but the narrow slit. are the other windows fast?" "yes, father," said norman; "all but the loopholes in our bedroom and the kitchen. think they'll come?" "can't say, boy; but we think it is not wise to risk a spear from some fellow who has crawled up." "black fellow crawl up," said shanter, as norman secured the window. "they had better stay away," said the captain, gravely. "poor wretches, it is very horrible to have to fire at their unprotected bodies. if they would only keep away." the captain cast an eye over the defences, and at the boys' weapons before going to the girls' bedroom, which stood a little higher than the other rooms of the house, and being considered the safest spot in the stronghold, the ladies were all gathered there. here the boys could hear him talking cheerily as the place grew darker and darker, for the fire in the kitchen had been extinguished, and lights were of course forbidden. from the front room by the door came the low murmur of voices, where uncle munday and sam german sat together, the latter now armed with a gun, though his pitchfork was placed beside him, as if even now he might require it for his defence. at last, wearied out with sitting in one position, rifle rose and went to the door, where his uncle and sam german were keeping watch. "think you can hit a black, sam?" whispered rifle, after a few words with his uncle. "dunno, master rifle; but i have hit sparrers afore now, and brought down a rabbit." "oh!" ejaculated rifle. then after a pause. "i say, sam, which did you put in first, the powder or shot?" "there, it's of no good your trying to be funny, my lad," whispered back the gardener, "because it won't do. you feel as unked as i do, i'm sewer. what i says is, i wish it was to-morrow mornin'." "or else that they would come, german, and let us get it over," said a voice out of the darkness, which made them start. "the suspense is painful, but keep a good heart.--raphael, boy, you ought to be at your post. mind and report every sound you hear." "yes, father," said the boy, who crept back to the room he had left, but not without going to the bedroom door, and whispering sharply, "it's all right, mother. we'll take care of you." he did not wait for a reply, but crept into the backroom, where all was silent, and he went from thence into the long lean-to kitchen, with its big stone fireplace and chimney. "pist! you there, boys?" "yes; mind how you come. your gun's standing up in the corner by the fireplace. we're going to sit here, and take it in turns for one to watch at the window slit." then after making out by touch where the others were placed, and nearly falling over shanter, who was squatting, enjoying the warmth which came from the hearthstone to his bare feet, the boy seated himself on a rough bench by his gun, and all was silent as well as dark. from time to time the captain came round--in each case just after they had changed watches at the window loophole--but neither norman, his cousin, nor brother had anything to report, and he went away again, after telling them the last time that all was well, and that he thought their sister and cousin had gone off to sleep. then there was the same oppressive darkness and silence once more, a heavy breathing by the still warm fireplace, suggesting that shanter, well refreshed with damper, had gone to sleep, and the boys instinctively shrank from disturbing him for fear he should start into wakefulness, and lay about him with his nulla-nulla. it must have been nearly twelve o'clock, when norman was wishing that the dutch clock in the corner had not been stopped on account of its striking, for the silence was growing more and more painful, and he was wondering how it would be possible to keep up for hours longer. he felt no desire for sleep; on the contrary, his nerves were strained to their greatest tension, and he could hear sounds outside as if they had been magnified--the chirp of some grasshopper-like insect, or the impatient stamp of a horse in the enclosure, being quite startling. but there was nothing to report. he could easily find an explanation for every sound, even to the creaking noise which he felt sure was caused by one of the cows rubbing itself against the rough fence. rifle was watching now at the narrow slit, but there was nothing to see, "except darkness," he whispered to his brother, "and you can't see that." and then, as he sat there for another half-hour, norman began once more to envy the black, who seemed to be sleeping easily and well, in spite of the danger which might be lurking so near. but he was misjudging the black: shanter was never more wide awake in his life, and the proof soon came. all at once there was a faint rustling from near the fireplace apparently, and rifle turned sharply, but did not speak, thinking that norman and his cousin had changed places. norman heard the sound too, and gave the credit to tim, who in turn made sure that his cousin had lain down to sleep. so no one spoke, and the rustling was heard again, followed now sharply by a quick movement, a horrible yell, a rushing sound, and then the sickening thud of a heavy blow. before the boys could quite grasp what it meant, there was a sharp rattling, as if a big stick was being rapidly moved in the chimney, then another yell, a fresh rattling as of another great stick against the stone sides of the chimney, with a heavy thumping overhead. norman grasped the position now in those quick moments, and, gun in hand, dashed to the chimney, cannoning against rifle and then against some one else, for he had tripped over a soft body. before he could recover himself there was a deafening roar, and the sour odour of powder began to steal to his nostrils as he listened to a rustling sound as of something rolling over the split wood slabs which roofed the place, followed by a heavy fall close under the window. "what is it, boys?" cried the captain at the door, for all had passed so rapidly that the episode was over before he reached the kitchen. "black fellow come along," said shanter, quietly. "mine mumkull." "through the window?" cried the captain, reproachfully, advancing into the kitchen. "oh, boys! ah!"--he stumbled and nearly fell--"wounded? who is this?" there was no reply. "norman--rifle--tim?" cried the captain in horrified tones. "yes, father! yes, uncle!" cried the boys excitedly. "then it's the black! but i don't understand. how was it?" "mine hear black fellow come down along," said shanter, quickly. "mine make black fellow go up along. you pidney?" "what, down the chimney?" "yohi. make plenty fire, baal come along down." "wait a minute," said the captain quickly, and they heard him go into the other room. then there was the sharp striking of flint and steel, a shower of sparks, and the face of the captain was faintly visible as he blew one spark in the tinder till it glowed, and a blue fluttering light on the end of a brimstone match now shone out. then the splint burst into flame as voices were heard inquiring what it all meant. "back into your room!" thundered the captain. as he spoke, _thud_, _thud_, _thud_, came three heavy knocks at the door in front, which were answered by uncle jack's gun rapidly thrust through the slit left for defence, out of which a long tongue of flame rushed as there was a sharp report, and then silence. "blows of clubs?" cried the captain, sheltering the light with his hand, as he looked toward his brother. "spears," said uncle jack, laconically; and the next moment the sound of his powder-flask was heard upon the muzzle of the gun, followed by the ramming down of a wad. but the boys' eyes were not directed toward their uncle, whose figure could be plainly seen as he loaded again, for they were fixed upon the body of a black lying face downward on the kitchen floor, with shanter, hideously painted, squatting beside it, showing his white teeth, and evidently supremely proud of his deed of arms. chapter twenty two. "they're on the roof." coming quickly into the kitchen with the candle, the captain held it down over the prostrate black, turned him partly over, and let him fall back as he rapidly blew it out. "dead," he said, hoarsely. "yohi. gone bong," said shanter, quietly. "come along mumkull marmi and plenty white marys. when piggi jump up, baal find dat black fellow." there was a few moments' silence, and then the captain said sharply: "norman--tim, lift out the bar. rifle, be ready with your piece, and fire at once if an attack is made. don't lift out the shutter, norman, till i say `now!'" norman made no reply, for much of his training had been tinged with military discipline. he lifted out the bar, and set it down, then he and tim took hold of the shutter, while rifle stood ready with his fowling-piece, listening intently, though, to his father, who was whispering to shanter. "now!" said the captain, sharply. the shutter was lifted out, the boys felt the captain and shanter push by them; there was a strange rustling sound, a yell from many voices close at hand, and the shutter was thrust back in its place, but would not go home. _bang_, _bang_! two sharp reports from rifle's piece, which was then dragged back and the shutter glided into the opening, but was driven right in the boys' faces by what seemed to be half a dozen heavy blows. then it was pushed in its place again, and the bar dropped across. "were those club blows, father?" panted norman. "no, boy, spears thrown at the window. well done, lads; you were very prompt. it was risky to open the shutter, but we could not keep that poor wretch here. hark!" a low muttering and groaning, then a yell or two, came from outside, chilling the boys' blood; and rifle stood there, his face and hands wet with cold perspiration, listening in horror. "gun fellow plenty hurt," said shanter, with a satisfied laugh. "yes," said the captain, with a sigh; "some of those swan-shot of yours, boy, have told. but load, load! and heaven grant that this may be a lesson to them, and you will not need to fire again." "ned!" cried uncle jack, in a low voice. "yes." "they're stealing round here. i can just make them out. shall i fire?" "not unless they are coming on." in an instant uncle jack's gun spoke out, and there was a fierce burst of yelling, followed by the familiar sound of spears striking the door or walls of the house. "mine plenty spear when piggi jump up," said shanter, quietly. "yes," said the captain, after listening for a few moments.--"going away, jack?" he whispered. "yes; i fired while they were far off, so as to hit as many as possible. only duck-shot." "look here, shanter," said the captain. "black fellow go now?" "baal go. come along mumkull everybody." "cheerful, boys," said the captain; "but we shall stop that. now then, the first thing is to close that chimney. how's it to be done?" "i think, sir," began sam german slowly, but he was interrupted by uncle jack: "some one coming up; better look out. hah!" uncle jack shrank away from the loophole in the doorway just in time, for a spear was thrust through, grazing his cheek. then it was withdrawn for a second thrust, but it did not pass through. sam german's gun-barrel did, and he fired as he held it pistol-wise. there was a horrible yell following the report; then a fearful shriek or two, and a fresh shower of spears struck the house, while a burst of low sobbing came from the girls' room. "marian! aunt georgie!" cried the captain, sternly. "silence there, for all our sakes. is that how english ladies should encourage those who are fighting for their lives?" the sobbing ceased on the instant, and a silence fell outside. "gone," whispered norman, after a time. "baal gone," said shanter, coolly. "black fellow plenty come along soon." the black's words went home and sank deeply, a chill of horror running through the boys as they felt how, after this reception, their enemies would be implacable, and that if they gained the upper hand it meant death for them all. it was in ignorance, though, for had the reception been of the kindest, the probability was that they would have run the same chance of massacre. but the feeling of depression passed off quickly enough now, and the excitement of the last hour produced a feeling of elation. it had been horrible, that encounter with the descending enemy, and then the firing and the shrieks and yells as they had shot at these men; and then unconsciously, while he and his brothers were silently and thoughtfully dwelling on the same theme, norman said aloud: "no, they are not men, but wolves, and must be treated the same." then he started, for a hand from out of the darkness gripped his shoulder, and his uncle's voice said: "yes, boy, you are quite right; savage howling wolves, who would have no mercy upon us, i am afraid." "you here, uncle?" "yes, lad; your father has just relieved me, and i'm coming to sit down and eat some bread, and have a pannikin of water. where's shanter?" "mine all along here 'top chimney," said the black. "yes, and that's one thing i am going to do," said uncle jack. "your father, boys, and shanter have talked it over. there is a square case here in the corner that we think will about fill the chimney a little way up." "yes; here it is," cried rifle. "let's try." then, in the darkness, the chest was dragged to the front of the fire, lifted, found to go right up and block the chimney, so that when it was wedged up in its place by placing a barrel upright beneath, that way of entrance was effectually blocked, and uncle jack uttered a sigh of relief. "now for my bread and water," he said.--"have some damper, shanter?" "hey? damper?" cried the black, eagerly. "gib damper. hah! soff damper." this last was on receiving a great piece of aunt georgie's freshly-made bread, which kept him busily occupied for some little time. all were on the _qui vive_, feeling cheered and hopeful, now that their armour had had its first proving, the weak spot found and remedied; for, though others were contemplated for the future, the great kitchen chimney, built exactly on the principle of that in an old english farmhouse, was the only one in the slowly growing home. an hour passed, and another, with several false alarms--now the crack of some dry board in the side of the house, now a noise made by some one moving in the room, or the creaking of one of the fences outside-everything sounding strange and loud in the stillness of the night; and as the time wore on, and no fresh attack came, the boys' hopes rose higher, and they turned to the black as the best authority on the manners and customs of the natives. "they must be gone now, shanter," rifle said at last, after two or three dampings from that black sage. "it's over two hours since we have heard them: all gone along, eh?" shanter grunted. "i shall ask father to let me go out and reconnoitre." "mine no pidney," said the black. "get out of one of the windows and go and look round." "what for go along? plenty damper--plenty water." "to see if the black fellows have gone." "baal go see. marmi come back tickum full spear and go bong." "nonsense! the black fellows are gone." "black fellow all along. come plenty soon." "how do you know?" "mine know," said the black, quietly; and they waited again for quite an hour, fancying every rustle they heard was the creeping up of a stealthy enemy. then, all at once, there was a light, narrow, upright mark, as it seemed, on the kitchen wall. this grew plainer, and soon they were looking on each other's dimly-seen faces; and about ten minutes later norman went to the chimney corner, took hold of the shovel there, and scraped together a quantity of the fine, grey wood ashes which lay on the great hearthstone about the cask which supported the chest in the chimney, to sprinkle them about in the middle of the kitchen. the boys looked on, and tim shuddered, but directly after uttered a sigh of relief, just as a hideous, chuckling laugh came apparently from the ridge of the house. "quick!" cried norman, dropping the fire-shovel with a clatter, and seizing his gun; "they're on the roof." "baal shoot," cried shanter, showing his teeth. "dat laughum jackass," and he imitated the great, grotesque kingfisher's call so faithfully that the bird answered. "say piggi jump up:" his interpretation of the curious bird's cry; and very soon after piggi, otherwise the sun, showed his rim over the trees at the edge of the eastern plain. for it was morning, and rifle shuddered as he went to the window slit to gaze out on the horrors of the night's work. chapter twenty three. "he has gone." but though a curious, morbid fascination attracted the boy to the loophole, there were no horrors to see. silently, and unknown to the defenders of the happy little english home, the blacks had carried away their dead and wounded, and all outside looked so beautiful and peaceful, that the events of the past night seemed like a dream. on all sides of the low, wooden house, eager eyes were scanning the wooded patches, trees, and ridges, but there was no sign of an enemy. the only significant thing visible was that the rails of the great paddock had been taken down in one place, and the horses and cattle were out and about grazing. "i can see no sign of them," said the captain, suddenly closing his glass; the others, after making their own inspection from the several loopholes left for defence, now waiting to hear the captain's announcement after using his telescope. "no, i can see no sign of them.--here, tam." the black came to his side, gave himself a writhe, and said with a grin, "baal mine ride horse fellow lass night, marmi." "no, no," said the captain, smiling; "but look here; black fellow gone along." "all hide um myall scrub," said shanter, quietly. "no, no, gone--gone," said the captain. "plenty run away." "baal plenty run away," cried the black, who understood the mutilated english of the settlers, made for native comprehension, more easily than ordinary talk. "no, baal plenty run away. hide." "how do you know. you pidney?" the black nodded, and a cunning smile overspread his face as he led the captain to the loopholes at the front, side, and back of the house, pointed out at the cattle, and then said with the quiet decision of one who has grasped a fact: "horse fellow--bull-cow--say baal go near scrub, black fellow throw spear." the captain uttered an ejaculation, and the boys laughed. "well done, shanter!" cried rifle. "look, father, they are all keeping together out in the middle." "oh yes there's no doubt about it," said the captain. "i shall end by having quite a respect for tam." "baal whip shanter?" said the black sharply. "no; never again." "marmi gib shanter plenty horse fellow ride?" "yes, you shall ride and herd the cattle." "big white mary gib plenty soff damper?" "yes, plenty." "how coo-ee! big white mary gib shanter plenty soff damper now?" cried the black. "yes, come along, aunt; and marian, you and the girls come and give us some breakfast; there is no danger at present." "shanter make plenty big fire," cried the black. "pull down big box fellow--big tub. black fellow no come long time." the boys sprang to his help, the tub and chest were removed, and a fire lit, its ashes soon removing the traces which had been hidden by the cask. the ladies looked very pale, but their neat aspect in the dim kitchen, along with the sparkling fire, gave everything a cheerful look in spite of the gloom. shanter marched to the front door. "open," he said shortly. "mine go eat damper. plenty see black fellow come and shut um." "yes, we could keep watch, and close it again quickly," said the captain. so bars and barricades were drawn aside, and the door thrown open to admit the fresh, delicious, morning breeze, which blew full in their faces, while the light darted into the interior of the shuttered rooms. "hurrah!" cried the boys in chorus; and they all came out into the front. "what's the matter, shanter?" cried rifle, as the black suddenly threw back his head, dilated his nostrils, and began to sniff. "mine smell," he cried. "what can you smell?" the black was silent for a few moments, standing with his eyes closely shut, and giving three or four long sniffs, twitching his face so comically, that the boys laughed. "muttons," said the black, decisively. "mumkull sheep fellow. big fire where? hah!" he had been staring about him now as he spoke, and suddenly fixed his eyes on the low bushes down by the waterfall, and pointed to a faint blue curl of smoke just rising above the trees, and which might have been taken for mist. "i can smell it now," cried tim. "it's like burning wool." "mumkull sheep fellow. roace plenty mutton." "oh yes, one of our sheep," cried norman, fiercely. "kimmeroi--bulla--metancoly--plenty mutton." "yes," said rifle, "and they'll camp down there and eat all father's sheep. oh, if we could only drive them right away." "shanter catch sheep fellow, eat mutton?" "no, not yet," said the captain, quietly; and very soon after, with shanter and sam german watching, the defenders of the little fort obeyed a call, and went in to enjoy a wonderfully good breakfast considering the position in which they were placed. then began a day of careful watching, during which, at aunt georgie's desire, shanter sought for eggs, drove up the two cows to the door to be milked, and assisted in bringing in more wood and water, displaying a wonderful eagerness in performing any duties connected with the preparation of food. many of the little things done looked risky, but the enemy made no sign, and the sun began to set with the house much strengthened as a fort, and better provisioned for a siege. rifle was sure, two or three times over, that the blacks must be gone, and said so, but shanter shook his head. "black fellow plenty eat. go sleep," he said, on one occasion. on another, he cried cheerfully, "black fellow baal go along. mumkull all a body." while lastly, he said coolly, "black fellow ogle eye all a time." then night--with the place closely barricaded, and the arrangement made that half of their little party should sleep while the other half watched, but the former had their weapons by their sides ready to spring up at the first alarm, the captain having arranged where each sleeper's place was to be. there was some opposition on the part of the ladies, but they yielded upon the captain telling them that the siege might last for days; and that not only would they be safer, but it would give their defenders confidence to know they were out of danger. and then once more the anxious watch began, shanter creeping now softly from loophole guard to loophole guard, for there was no need for him to watch by the chimney, which was stopped again. but their precautions were necessary, for the first alarm they had came from the chimney, to which, spear in hand, the black ran and chuckled as he heard the chest creak, and a crashing sound upon the cask which supported it notify that one of the black fellows was trying to force his way down. after that five different attacks were made, the blacks trying to force in door and window, till a shot was fired through the loophole. this was in each case followed by a desperate effort to spear the defenders through the hole; and being prepared now, shanter waited for and seized the weapon, holding it while a charge of shot was poured through the slit. then would come yells and a savage throwing of spears, which suggested a harvest to the black, which however, as in the last case, was not fulfilled, every one being afterwards collected and carried away. the result of all this was that very little sleep was enjoyed by anybody, and the morning broke to give the defenders an interval of rest and peace, for the blacks did not show themselves by day. somewhat rested, the little party prepared for the third night, hoping that the enemy would now be disgusted at his want of success and retire, and now darkness had come and hopes had grown stronger and stronger, before there was a sudden rush and several men gained the roof and began tearing off the shingles, till a shot or two fired straight upward sent the cowardly savages helter-skelter down once more. they came no more that night, and a peaceful day followed, with the cattle indicating that the black fellows were still hiding about in the scrub; while a fire showed that they were providing themselves with food at the captain's expense. the ladies looked more calm and hopeful, for they were beginning to believe in the strength of their little fortress and the bravery of their defenders; but there was an anxious look in the captain's eyes, and the boys talked over the position together. "i expected that they would have given up before now," norman said. "so did i," cried rifle. "a lot of them must have been wounded and some killed, though we don't see them." "shanter says _metancoly_," cried tim. "i suppose that's what makes them so fierce. do you think they will stay till they've killed us all?" "hope not," replied rifle; "i'm getting tired of it. i wish father hadn't come out so far away from all neighbours. we might have had some help if he hadn't." "hush! the girls," whispered norman, as, pale and anxious looking, the sister and cousin went to the front door where the captain was watching, shanter being on duty at the back. it was soon agreed that it was of no use to wish, and the long irksome day came to an end, with the door once more barricaded, and keen eyes watching for the next approach of the enemy. but the blacks were too cunning to advance while there was the slightest chance of their being observed; and when they did come it was with a sudden rush from somewhere close at hand, when retaliatory shots again and again forced them to retreat. it was just such a night as the others which they had passed, and the coming of day was once more gladly hailed with its peace and opportunities for rest and sleep. that afternoon the captain looked more haggard and wistful than ever. as far as he could make out, a couple of his choicest oxen were missing, and it soon became a conviction that they had been speared by the black fellows for their feast about the fire they had established in a grove a mile away. so far there was no fear of the garrison, as rifle called them, being starved out; but at any time a nearer approach of the enemy would put a stop to the successful little forays made by shanter in search of eggs and chickens; and the task of milking the cows, which marched up slowly morning and evening, might easily have been made too difficult or terminated by the throwing of spears. "don't let's halloa before we are hurt," tim had said to this; and all went on as before, the next day and the next. again the sun rose after a more anxious night, for the attacks had been exceedingly pertinacious and harassing, while the mischief done amongst the attacking party must have been terrible. "they're getting more savage," norman said gloomily in the course of the day, after returning from the room where mrs bedford was lying down; "and it's wearing mamma out." "yes," said tim; "and the girls can't keep their tears back. i say, couldn't we all make an attack upon them in their camp?" "and be speared," cried rifle. "no; there are too many of 'em. they'd drive us back and get into the house, and then--ugh!" the shudder he gave was echoed by his companions. "i was thinking whether it would be possible on horseback," said norman. "no, my boy," said the captain, who had overheard their remarks; "it would be too risky, i dare not. what is the matter with the black?" "i have not seen anything," replied norman. "nor you, boys?" rifle and tim were silent. "speak!" said the captain, sternly. "i thought as rifle does, uncle, that shanter seems to be getting tired of fighting. he always wants to be asleep in the day now, and is sulky and cross if he is woke up." "you have noted that, rifle?" "yes, father." "i had similar thoughts. the man wants to get into the fresh air, and be free once more." the object of their conversation was sitting listlessly upon his heels gazing at the smoke of the fire rising in the scrub, but did not appear to notice that he was being made the object of the conversation, and soon after they saw his head droop down as if he had gone fast asleep. the captain made a movement as if to go and rouse him up, but refrained, and taking the glass, he focussed it, and proceeded to count the horses and cattle still scattered about grazing. for though they seemed to be scared away by the yelling and firing at night, they came slowly back toward the house in the course of the day, so that by night they were for the most part in their old quarters, the horses even going back into their paddock. the day wore on, with turns being taken in the watching, the two girls and aunt georgie insisting upon aiding, their sight being sharp enough they declared, so that the defenders of the little fort were able to get more sleep, and prepare for the night attacks which were sure to come. the sun was nearly ready to dip when the sleepers rose and prepared for the evening meal. the cows had been milked and gone quietly away; and, trying hard to look cheerful, mrs bedford summoned all but german and rifle to the table, where there was no sign of diminution of the supply as yet. this was the one pleasant hour of the day, for experience had taught them that the blacks would run no risk of coming within range of the deadly guns till after dark, and the heat was giving place to the coolness of eve, while soon after the door would have to be closed. as they gathered round, after the captain had said a few words to the sentries, aunt georgie, who had filled a tin with milk, cut a large piece of damper baked that day on the wood ashes, and went to the door. "here, shanter," she said. then they heard her call again, but there was no reply. "where's shanter, rifle?" she cried. "i don't know, aunt. i've not seen him since i had my sleep. he was squatting just here before i went to lie down." german had not seen him since. nobody had seen him since. the last every one had seen of him was when he was seated on his heels with his spear across his knees. "asleep somewhere," said uncle jack. "go on with your suppers, good folks. i'll soon find him." "don't go away from round the house, jack," cried the captain, anxiously. "no. trust me," was the reply; and the meal went on till uncle jack came back to say that shanter was nowhere in sight. the announcement sent a chill through all, and the question was discussed in whispers whether he had crept away to reconnoitre, and been surprised by the enemy and speared. there was no more appetite that evening, and the remains of the meal were cleared away, with the captain and uncle jack standing outside reconnoitring in turns with the glass, sweeping the edge of grove and scrub, and seeing no danger, only that the cattle were quietly grazing a little, and then, after a few mouthfuls, edging farther away. "seen anything of him, father?" said rifle, eagerly. "no," was the sharp reply. norman came out with tim, each a gun in hand, to ask the same question, and look wonderingly at the captain when his reply was abrupt and stern. the sun sank; evening was coming on, with its dark shadows, and those which were human of a far darker dye; and after a final look round at the shutters, indented and pitted with spear holes, the captain said sternly, "in every one: it is time this door was closed." "but shanter, father; he is not here," cried rifle, while his brother and cousin looked at the captain excitedly. "and will not be," said the latter, in a deep stern voice. "now, german, ready with the bars? it's getting dark enough for them to make a rush." "father, you don't think he is killed?" whispered norman, in an awe-stricken voice. "no; but i am sure that he has forsaken us." "what?" cried rifle. "oh no!" "yes, boy; his manner the last two days had taught me what to expect. he has done wonders, but the apparent hopelessness of the struggle was too much for a savage, and he has gone." "not to the enemy, father, i'm sure," cried norman. "well then, to provide for his own safety." "i fancied i saw a black making signs to him yesterday, sir," said german. "then why did you not speak?" cried the captain, angrily. "wasn't sure, sir," replied german, sulkily. "ugh! you stupid old sourkrout!" muttered tim. the door was closed with a sharp bang, bars and barriers put up, chests pushed against it, and with sinking hearts the boys prepared for the night's hard toil, feeling that one of the bravest among them had gone. chapter twenty four. "how many did you bring down?" "i won't believe it," whispered rifle, angrily. "father always doubted him. poor old shanter has been speared." there was a sob in his throat as he uttered those last words, and then a terrible silence fell upon them. "have you boys placed the cask and chest in the fireplace?" said the captain out of the darkness. there was a rush to the chimney, and the dangerous spot was blocked up, each working hard to make up for what seemed to be a dangerous neglect on his part. "but suppose poor old shanter comes back," whispered tim, "and tries to get in that way when he finds the door fastened." "he wouldn't come near in the dark," said norman with a sigh; and then to himself, "even if he was alive." once more silence where the three boys were guarding the back of the premises, and then there was a faint rustling noise, followed by the sharp _click_, _click_ of guns being cocked. "who's that?" whispered rifle. "only i, my boys," said mrs bedford in a low voice, and she kissed each in turn, and clung to the sturdy lads for a few moments. "your father wishes me to go now and leave you. god bless and protect you!" she stole away again, and the two girls came in turn to say good-night, and then go away again to watch or sleep as they could. "i don't care," muttered tim, rebelliously. "i say shanter wouldn't go and sneak away like that." "and so do i, my dear," said aunt georgie. "he was only a savage, but he had grown as faithful as a dog, and so we told your father, but he's as stubborn as--" "aunt," cried the captain, "what are you doing here?" "to your room, please. you are hindering the boys from keeping proper watch." "good-night; god bless you, my dears!" whispered aunt georgie, in a husky whisper. "it's very dreadful, but i'm sure he is killed." "look out!" whispered norman, a short time after. "it isn't quite so dark, and i can see some one moving. shall i fire?" "no. it may be shanter." it was not. a few minutes later norman had a narrow escape from death, for a spear was thrust through the loophole, and a shot being fired in reply, half a dozen spears came rattling at the thick shutter; and this time the boys distinctly heard the black fellows come softly up and drag their weapons out of the wood, just as they were alarmed by a fresh attempt to enter by the chimney, and some one on the roof was trying to tear up the shingles. "fire, boys, fire!" cried the captain; while shots rang out from the front. the boys fired, tim directing his two charges through the ceiling, where he imagined enemies to be lying, the others firing through the loophole. there was the customary rush overhead, the sound of falls, fierce yelling, as a pair of spears struck the house, and norman uttered a sharp cry. "any one hurt?" cried the captain, excitedly. "marian, aunt, go and see. i can't leave here." "no: not hurt," shouted norman. "spear came through the loophole, passed through my shirt and under my arm." "thrust or thrown?" cried uncle jack. "thrown," was the reply, as the hissing of wads driving out confined air, and the thudding of ramrods were heard. "they know shanter isn't here," whispered rifle, as he finished his loading. "they've killed him, and that's what makes them so fierce." he seemed to be right, for the defenders passed a cruel night; but morning dawned, and the enemy had not gained a single advantage more than before. that morning was devoted to nailing planks all over the roof, for fortunately they were plentiful. others were nailed across the doors, back and front, just leaving room for people to creep in and out; and this being done, the captain took the glass once more to scour their surroundings; while sam german and the boys fetched water and wood, fulfilling shanter's duties, till an ejaculation from the captain made them look up. "the wretches! they have speared or driven off all the horses, boys; we must get a sheep killed for provender, or we may not have another chance. there, work and get done. you must all have some rest before night." norman was just going into the house as the captain spoke these words, and the boy turned away from the door to get round to the side, where he could be alone. he had been about to join his mother and the girls, but his father's words brought a despairing feeling upon him, and he dared not meet them for fear they should read his thoughts. "what's the matter, man?" said a voice behind him. "ill?" it was rifle who spoke, and norman turned so ghastly a face to him that the boy was shocked. "here, let me fetch father," he said. "no, no; stop! i shall be better directly." "but what was it?" "the horses--the horses!" "oh, don't make a fuss about them. we've got to think of ourselves. we can get some more horses, i daresay." "yes, but not when we want them," said norman, angrily. "can't you see: they were our last chance." rifle stared. "what--you mean?" he faltered. "of course. father would have stayed here to the last to try to protect the home he has made, but when things came to the worst, we should have had to mount some morning and gallop off." in spite of the peril they were in, rifle laughed. "get out!" he cried. "you would never have got aunt georgie upon a horse." "can't you be serious for a minute," cried norman, angrily. "don't you see that our last chance has gone?" "no," said rifle, sturdily. "not a bit of it. we've only been firing duck and swan shot so far. now, i'm going to ask father if we hadn't better fire ball. come on. don't grump over a few horses. we don't want to ride away and be hunted for days by black fellows." "where are you going?" "to get in that sheep while we can. perhaps to-morrow they'll be driven farther away." norman nodded, and looked hard at his brother, for he could not help admiring his sturdy courage. "we're going now, father," cried rifle. "well, take care. creep along by the fence, keeping it between you and the scrub there. get round the sheep, and drive all before you till they are close in here. then pounce upon two and hold on. we'll come and help you." the task looked risky, for the sheep were a couple of hundred yards away, and it was felt that the blacks were in the scrub. but they had not shown themselves, and might be a sleep, or so far away that the bold dash made by the boys would be unseen. but all the same the captain and uncle jack covered their advance, ready with loaded guns to protect the boys should the blacks make any sign. the arrangement seemed to be unnecessary, for the two lads, carrying their pieces at the trail, reached the fence, under whose cover they went out quite a hundred yards. then halting and carefully scanning the nearest patch of scrub, they rose and walked fast, partly away from the sheep, so as to be well beyond them before they turned to their left, got behind, and drove them gently toward the house. all this had to be done slowly and deliberately so as not to startle the flock, but, as rifle said, it was ticklish work. "yes. i expect to see black heads starting up every moment," whispered norman. "now then, we're far enough. quickly and steadily. come along." the boys bore round to their left so as to be between the sheep and the open country, and the outsiders of the flock began to move before them without taking alarm, stopping to munch a bit of grass now and then, and causing others to move in turn; till, as the boys walked on, they at last had their backs to the scrub and the sheep going steadily toward the house. "wasn't so difficult after all," said rifle, quietly. "couldn't we pen three or four? why is father signalling?" "hi! look out!" shouted norman, for he had seen his father waving one hand excitedly; and casting an eye back there were twenty or thirty spear-armed savages just darting out of the scrub, and running swiftly in pursuit. the sight of the enemy made the boys start forward at once; the sheep began to trot, then increased their pace as the boys ran faster, and, dividing into two little flocks, tore past north and south of the house and enclosures, in front of which stood the captain and uncle jack, with sam german running out to their support. "quick, boys!" shouted the captain. "run on and get under cover." at that moment rifle saw tim at the door of the house waving his hands, and to the boys' horror there was the reason: another crowd of black figures were racing up from the trees and bushes down by the river. but they, like the other party, had a good distance to come, and the issue was never for a moment doubtful. one incident, though, made the captain shout angrily. just in those exciting moments mrs bedford ran out of the house, and would have gone on in her dread and horror toward where her husband and sons seemed to her to be in deadly peril; but tim flung his arms about her, and held her in spite of her struggles. it was a matter of very few moments. as the one part of the sheep ran by the front, and seeing the blacks advancing, galloped off to avoid them, norman and rifle reached the fences, turned, and stood ready to cover the captain and uncle jack, shouting the while to tim to get mrs bedford in. at the cry from norman, sam german too had turned, run back past the house door, and stood facing the blacks advancing from the other direction. "in with you all: run!" roared the captain, as he and his brother now fell back rapidly, guarding the front as mrs bedford was dragged in through the narrow opening; the boys followed, and, thanks to their military training, each as he got through the partly nailed up doorway, took a place at the side with gun levelled to protect the next comer. it was close work. uncle jack was the next in; then sam german; and four guns were protruding over his head as the captain dashed up with the rapid beat of the blacks' feet very close on either side. "back!" he panted as he forced himself through, and shut to the door, which resounded with the impact of spears as the bars were thrust into their places. then a tall black with wide eyes and gleaming teeth moved up to thrust his spear through the loophole, but a flash came from the narrow opening, and he dropped, rose, turned to flee, and dropped again. another ran up, and the captain's second barrel flashed out its contents, with the result that the black turned, ran back a dozen yards or so, and fell upon his face. "load that," said the captain hoarsely, passing back his gun, and seizing that nearest to him--the one sam german held. for he kept to his place at the loophole in the thick door, and thrusting out the barrel, drew trigger twice at a party of six who dashed now to the door. _click_. a pause. _click_. in each case a tiny shower of sparks followed the fall of the hammer, and the captain uttered an angry roar like that of some stricken beast. "back!" he cried; and all fell away from the door, to right and left. it was time, for three spears were thrust through the narrow slit as the gun was withdrawn, and kept on darting about as far in every direction as their holders could reach. "german!" cried the captain, tossing the gun to the man, "and after all i have said!" norman stepped forward to fire, but his father checked him. "give me your piece," he said; and taking it and cocking both locks, he dropped a bullet in each of the barrels, felt with the ramrod that they were well home, and then going down on one knee, took careful aim through the darkened loophole and fired. there was a roar and a crash; the spears were withdrawn, and the captain rose and stepped forward, firing the second barrel from the loophole itself. "another," he said quietly; and taking tim's gun as the sound of loading went on, he suddenly cried, "who's at the back?" for there was a curious noise in the direction of the kitchen, followed by a shot, a yell, the sound of some one struggling, and they dashed into the place to see, as well as the darkness and smoke would allow, the embers from the hearth scattered and burning all about the kitchen, and a black figure writhing on the floor. as he entered, uncle jack was in the act of passing his gun up the wide chimney--once more temporarily opened; there was a report, a yell, and another figure fell right on the burning fragments left on the hearth, rolled over, and lay motionless. "nearly surprised me," said uncle jack, coolly loading just as rifle fired twice from the loophole of the back door, when there was a rush overhead and then silence. "they've drawn back about thirty yards," said rifle, loading as his father trampled out the burning embers, which were filling the place with a stifling smoke. "better pour water on the fire and put it quite out," said the captain to his brother. "no: water may be scarce soon," was the reply. "we'll tread it out." "coming on again!" shouted rifle; and as there was the customary sound of spears sticking into the woodwork, the boy fired twice, his charges of big shot scattering and wounding far more than he ever knew. just then four shots were fired quickly from the front, there was a savage yelling, and as the captain ran forward, sam german could be dimly-seen beginning to recharge his piece. "she were loaded this time, master," he said fiercely, "and some on 'em knowed it.--how many did you bring down, master 'temus?" "don't know," said the boy huskily, as he hurriedly reloaded. "yer needn't be ashamed to say, my lad," cried the old gardener. "we're fighting for ladies, and agen savage wretches as won't let honest folk alone. there, i'm ready for another now." "don't fire till they attack," said the captain. "do you hear, norman: no waste." "i hear, father," said the boy quietly, as he stood with his piece resting in the opening, and his bronzed face on the watch. "hurray!" came from the back, and at the same moment norman shouted: "they're retiring, father;" and then a low sobbing came from the inner room. chapter twenty five. twenty-four hours' peace. victory was won for the time being; and as the two groups drew back toward the shelter of the scrub, they could be seen carrying the wounded and those who had fallen. ten minutes later they were close up to the trees, when a thought struck the captain. "quick, norman, unbar that door. marian, every one there, keep close. no one is to come out." he then called to german, who followed him into the kitchen, and together they bore out the bodies of the two blacks who had obtained an entrance, one of them still showing signs of life. they carried one at a time some distance out into the open, having the satisfaction of seeing that the enemy had halted and were watching them, while by the time the second body was lowered on to the grass, the blacks were returning at a swift run. but long before they were near the besieged were back in shelter, and the enemy, as they came up, contented themselves by yelling and making threatening gestures with their spears before retiring, once more bearing off their two companions. "and now for preparations for the night attack," said the captain, quietly. "why, boys, it was like regular warfare. your advance compelled the enemy to develop his strength and forced on a general engagement.--come girls, all of you, and have a little fresh air before dark." and as the door was opened and the fresh evening breeze floated in to waft away the horrible dank odour of burnt gunpowder, it seemed hardly possible to believe that so deadly an encounter could have occurred lately, and no one on their side been even scratched. "but i should have liked to save some of that mutton," said rifle, thoughtfully. "it is quite time we had a change." the hour came for barricading the door only too soon, and once more the watch commenced, half of the tiny garrison lying down, while aunt georgie and one of the girls pressed for leave to share the watch, urging that they were not weary, and would perhaps be able to detect by eye or ear the approach of danger. the captain, who was nearly exhausted by his efforts, reluctantly consented, and lay down for a few minutes, giving orders that he should be called at the slightest alarm, and a few minutes after--as he believed--he sprang up looking puzzled and confused. for the door was wide open, the morning sun shining in, and there was the sharp crackling of a fire, and the smell of baking bread. "what is the meaning of this?" he said. "only that you've slept all night, father, and never moved," cried rifle, merrily. "but i gave orders to be called at the slightest alarm." "and there never was the slightest alarm," cried the boy, joyfully.--"hi! man--tim--father's awake." norman and his cousin came to the door gun in hand. "see anything?" cried rifle. "no.--morning, father.--i believe they've gone." "impossible! but you have not heard them all night?" "not once." "but you should not have let me sleep." "i ordered them to," said mrs bedford, quietly. "who needed rest more?" at that moment uncle jack and sam came round from the back, where they had been reconnoitring. "ah, ned," said the former, "heard the news? too good, i'm afraid, to be true." "yes, yes; don't let's put any faith in it," said the captain, and he went out, glass in hand, to scan every patch of scrub. "not a sign of them; no fire. but--" he looked round again before finishing his sentence: "no sheep--no cattle." "not a hoof left," said uncle munday, grimly. "but that is the most hopeful sign." "what do you mean?" said his brother. "they seem to have driven everything away, and gone off with them into the bush." the captain did not speak, nor relax the watchfulness kept up, but as the day wore on various little things were done to increase the strength of the place, and one of these was to saw off a portion of a spiked harrow which sam german had made, and force this up into the chimney some six feet above the fire, and secure it there with big nails driven between the stones of the chimney, thus guarding against danger in that direction. cows, sheep, pigs, all were gone; but the fowls and ducks were about the place and not likely to be driven away, so that there was no fear of a failure in the supply of food; in fact, they felt that they could hold out in that way for months. for if a fowl could not be caught from its night perch, it could be shot by day and caught up. the danger was the want of water. so far there was plenty in the tubs, but they dare not use it for washing purposes. it was too valuable, and the captain's brow grew dark as he thought of how they were to fetch more from the river or falls. "we shall have to go away from here, boys," tim said, towards evening. "this place will never seem safe again." "father won't go," said rifle. "he never gives up. i wouldn't, after getting such an estate as this. why, it would be worth thousands upon thousands in england." "and it's worth nothing here if the blacks spear us." "they'd better!" cried rifle, defiantly. "they've had enough of us. you see, they will not trouble us again." "there!" he cried, the next morning, triumphantly, lor they had passed a perfectly peaceful night; "the beggars are all gone." the captain, who was using his glass, heard the boys' words and looked round. "don't be too sure, my lad," he said, sadly. "but thank heaven for this respite." "oh, we'll beat them off again, father, if they do come," said the boy, boastfully; and then he coloured beneath his father's steadfast gaze. "don't act in that spirit for all our sakes, my lad," said the captain. "all of you mind this: the watchfulness must not be relaxed even, for a moment. ah! i'd give something if that fellow shanter had been staunch. he could have relieved our anxiety in a very short time." "let me go and see if i can discover any signs of them, father," said norman. "what would you say if i tell you i am going?" replied the captain, quietly. "no, no," cried the boys in chorus. "you might be speared." "exactly," said the captain. "no, boys, we are no match for the blacks in trying to track them down." "they are adepts at hiding, and we might pass through a patch of scrub without seeing a soul, when perhaps a dozen might be in hiding." "i wish poor old shanter was here," sighed rifle. "yes: he would be invaluable," said uncle jack. that night passed in peace, and the next, giving them all such a feeling of security that even the captain began to think that the lesson read to the enemy had been sufficient to make them drive off their plunder and go; while, when the next day came, plans were made for a feint to prove whether the blacks were still anywhere near; and if it was without result, an attempt was to be made to refill the tubs. the next day some of the vigilance was to be relaxed, and avoiding his wife's eyes as he spoke, the captain said, aloud: "and then we must see if it is not possible to renew our stock, for none of the poor creatures are likely to stray back home. not even a horse.--boys," he said, suddenly, "i'm afraid your friend has to answer for this attack. the love of the horses was too strong for him." another twenty-four hours of peace followed, but at the last minute the captain had shrunk from sending down to the nearest point of the river for water, which could only be dragged up by hand after the water-tub had been filled. then night came on once more. chapter twenty six. "it was poor old shanter." as was their custom now, the boys were outside passing the telescope from one to the other for a final look round, while the ladies clustered by the open door, loth to leave it for the closeness of their room, when the captain came round from the back and gave orders for closing. "i think we will try to run down a tub to the water in the morning, boys," he said. "there surely cannot be any danger now. i have been on the roof trying to make out a fire anywhere in the bush, and there is not a sign." he went in after the ladies, and, as tim put it, the drawbridge was pulled up and the portcullis lowered; but just as the door was half-way to, norman caught hold. "look!" he whispered hoarsely; "what's that?" the others craned their necks over the stout plank which crossed the door, and gazed at something dark away in the lower pasture toward the river. then they drew back, norman closed the door, and began securing it, while tim ran to the inner room. "come and help to fasten this, uncle," he said quietly. "eh? yes, my boy," said the captain, following him, and tim seized his arm. "quick!" he whispered, "they're coming on again in front." the captain seized gun and ammunition; uncle jack and sam german were roused from sleep, which was to last till they came on duty to watch; a few imperative words were uttered to the ladies; and once more everyone was at his post, waiting with beating heart for the attack. but it did not come. an hour had passed, then another, and when the captain whisperingly asked whether the boys were sure, and whether they might not have been deceived, and taken the black shadows of evening or a depression of the ground for an enemy, they began to think that they must have been mistaken. so the captain went to the back to speak to uncle jack and sam german, who were there that night, the latter solacing himself with a pipe of tobacco, which he was smoking while his companion watched. "a false alarm, i think, jack," said the captain. "so much the better." "but i don't mind. it shows how thoroughly the boys are on the alert," he was going to whisper, but he did not speak, for at that moment there was a faint rustling overhead; the brothers pressed each other's hands, and sam german laid his pipe softly in the chimney, took up his gun, and listened. the next minute the soft rustle continued, and a noise as of someone in pain was heard, while the listeners in the darkness knew perfectly that a black had lowered himself and stood barefooted upon the sharp spikes. another attempt was made and another. the blacks, being emboldened by the perfect silence within, tried a fresh plan, which consisted in lowering down a heavy piece of wood, and began to batter the new protection. but a couple of shots fired up the chimney had the customary result, and there was silence once more. this was the most painful part of the attack, for every nerve was on the strain to make out where the next attempt at entrance would be made, and after the respite of the past peaceful days this fresh alarm seemed more depressing than even the first coming of the enemy. for the defenders could only feel how hopeless their case was, and as the captain thought of his wife's look that evening, he was fain to confess that he would have to give up and settle where the help of neighbours was at his command. all at once there were a couple of shots from the front, followed by a tremendous yelling, and then silence again for a full hour, when it was plain that the enemy were preparing for a rush at the back, where at least a dozen shots were fired before they drew back. their tactics had been the same as of old, the blacks savagely rushing up to the doors and making furious thrusts with their spears, which were met now by large pieces of wood used as shutters and held across the loopholes, and as soon as they could be drawn aside, by the delivery of a charge or two of swan-shot. this went on at intervals, hour after hour, till a feeling of despair began to take possession of the defenders. hot, weak, parched with thirst, and worn by the terrible anxiety that came upon them like a black cloud, their efforts were growing more feeble, when, in spite of a stern prohibition on the part of the captain, the girls brought them bread and water just as one of the most desperate attacks had lulled. one minute there had been the sound of spears striking window and door, while a breaking and rending went on as the blacks tried to tear away the wooden sides of the house, and climbed upon the roof; the defenders not daring to fire for fear of making holes through which spears might be thrust, and the next all was silent, and the tears started to the boys' eyes as the voice of mother or sister was heard pressing them to eat or drink. it was the same in every case: they could not eat, but drank with avidity, the cool water seeming to act as a stimulant, and thrill them with new life. "back, quick, girls!" said the captain, suddenly; "they're coming on again;" and then he uttered a groan, for he had seen something which destroyed his last hope, and filled him the next moment with a maddening desire to destroy. if he could only hurl one of the little powder kegs he had brought so carefully right out into the wilderness--hurl it with a fuse amongst the yelling savages who sought their lives; and then he uttered a low laugh. "no need," he said to himself softly. "no need. we shall die avenged." "what's that, father--lightning?" said norman, sharply; but there was no reply. it was rifle who spoke next, but only to utter the ejaculation: "oh!" but what a world of meaning there was in the word, as with a hiss of rage the boy thrust his piece from the loophole and sent two heavy charges of shot right into the midst of a crowd of blacks who were coming up to the house carrying fire-sticks and brushwood, with which they ran round and piled it up against the angle formed by the kitchen where it projected at the back. there was a tremendous yelling as the boy fired, and two men fell, while others ran about shrieking; but the mischief was done, and in a few minutes there was a burst of flame, and a peculiar pungent odour of burning wood began to find its way in and threaten suffocation. "what's to be done, father?" whispered norman, as light began to show through the thin cracks or chinks of the wooden wall. "i'd say go out and die fighting like men, boys," said the captain, with a groan; "but there are women. come, we must not give up," he added, and going to the loophole nearest to him he set the example of firing with unerring aim, whenever he had the chance, at an enemy. uncle jack followed suit, and in obedience to orders, the boys went on steadily reloading. but the side of the house was growing hot; the kitchen had caught, the crackling of the dry wood began to increase to a roar, and that side of the house was rapidly growing light as day, when uncle jack said in a whisper, which the boys heard: "ned, lad, it's very hard for us, but we've had our day. can nothing be done?" a tremendous triumphant yelling drowned any attempt at speaking on the captain's part, but as it lulled for a few moments, he said, "nothing. we have done all we could." "rifle, tim," whispered norman, in horror, "couldn't we get out by the front and take them down to the scrub? the wretches are all on this side." "impossible, boys," said the captain, sternly. "can't you hear? they are piling wood by the other door." rifle uttered a sobbing groan, and just then there was a flash of light in the front, and a furious burst of shouts as a tongue of flame shot up past the loophole, accompanied by a crackling roar. "your hands, boys," said a deep low voice, that was wonderfully soft and musical just then; "destroy no more life. god bless you all, and forgive me!" at that moment there was a burst of sobs; then it seemed as if all emotion was at end, and the little group gathered together, feeling that all was over, for already the smoke was forcing its way in by crack and chink, a feeling of difficulty of breathing was rapidly coming on, and the yelling of the blacks was growing strange and unreal, when rifle sprang up from his knees. "yes, yes," he shouted; and again with all his might, "yes!" for there was a wild shout close at hand. "marmi! marmi!" the yelling ceased, and all now started to their feet, for there was the beating of hoofs, and in rapid succession shot after shot, with good old english shouts of rage, as a party of mounted men galloped by, tearing on in full pursuit of the fleeing enemy. "quick!" roared the captain. "guns, boys, quick!" as he spoke he dashed to the front, tore down bar and board, and banged the door back. a burst of flame rushed in, but the brushwood touching the woodwork was being torn away, and through the flames they saw a fierce black face and two bare arms tossing the burning wood aside. "marmi! marmi! rifle--'temus! coo-ee, coo-ee!" "coo-ee!" yelled rifle; and he tried to cry again, but the word stuck in his throat as he forced his way out over the burning twigs, his father next. "sam! jack!" yelled the captain, "your fork--anything. boys--water." he rushed round to the back, closely followed by the black figure, on which the firelight glistened, and began tearing away the burning brushwood. this was being tossed aside by sam the next moment, and then buckets of water were brought, and none too soon, for the angle of the house was now blazing furiously. but the water made little impression, and the captain shouted: "quicker, boys! more, more!" "there ain't no more," growled sam, sourly. "what!" "stand back, all of you," cried the captain in a stern voice. "jack! the women! get them to a distance. the place must go, and you know--" "look out!" shouted norman, and he ran forward and threw something at the bottom of the blazing wall. there was one sharp flash, a puff of hot flame, a great cloud of smoke, and then darkness, with the side of house and kitchen covered with dull sparks. "hurrah!" rose from the boys; and the captain drew a deep breath, full of thankfulness. "all the powder from the big flask, father," cried norman. "there must have been a pound." at that moment there were shouts, as a dozen mounted men cantered up, cheering with all their might, and the task of extinguishing the still burning wood was soon at an end. amidst the congratulations that followed little was said about the blacks. "come back?" cried a familiar voice, fiercely. "i only wish they would, eh, henley?" "my dear freeston," was the reply, "i never felt such a strong desire to commit murder before." "god bless you all, gentlemen," cried the captain in a broken voice. "you have saved our lives." there was a low murmur here from the rescuers. "but how--how was it?" asked the captain; "how did you know?" "don't you see, father?" cried rifle, indignantly; "it was poor old shanter." "what? you went for help, tam?" "yohi," said the black simply. "baal budgery stop along. all go bong." "my good brave fellow," cried the captain, seizing the black's hand in a true english grip. "wow! wow! yow!" yelled shanter, struggling to get free, and then blowing his fingers. "marmi hurt mine. burn hands, burn all down front, put out fire." "tam, i shall never forgive myself," cried the captain. "forgib mine," cried the black eagerly; "forgib plenty soff damper-forgib mine horse fellow to ride?" "yes, yes, anything," cried the captain, "and never doubt you again." "yohi," cried shanter. "where big white mary? mine want damper." he hurried off to where the ladies were seated, trying to recover their calmness after the terrible shock to which they had been exposed, while the captain turned to the leaders of the rescue party. "and the black came to you for help?" "yes," said dr freeston. "he came galloping up with a drove of horses, i don't know how many days ago, for it has been like an excited dream ever since. i ran to henley, and we got ten stout fellows together, and rode on as fast as we could, but i'm afraid that we have punished your horses terribly as well as our own." "oh, never mind the horses," cried henley, "they'll come round. but we came in time, and that's enough for us." the captain could not speak for a few moments. then he was himself again, and after all were satisfied that there was not the slightest danger of the fire breaking out again, proper precautions were taken to secure the horses, watch was set, and the rescue party had quite a little banquet in the kitchen, one which rifle declared to be a supper at breakfast time, for morning was upon them before some of the most weary had lain down to sleep, and slept in peace. chapter twenty seven. "can't you see?" for the blacks made no further sign, and when, headed by the captain, the little party boldly took up the trail that morning, it was to find that the enemy had fled in haste, and not until it was felt to be utterly useless to follow farther was the pursuit given up. but that attempt to hunt them down was not without result. shanter was with the party, riding in high delight with the three boys, and every now and then, in his eager scouting on his "horse fellow"--as he called the rough colt he rode--he was able to show how terribly the myall blacks had been punished, and not to dwell upon horrors brought by the wretched savages upon themselves, the punishment they had received was terrible. to shanter was due the discovery of the cattle, somewhat diminished in numbers, but safe, where they had been driven into the bush; and so excited was the black all through that he almost forgot the terrible burns he had received on hands, arms, and chest. the only sign of discontent he displayed was when it was decided to turn back, the captain having halted at the end of the second day, the provisions growing scarce. it was after due consultation and the decision that the blacks were certainly not likely to rally for some time to come, and the captain had said that he did not want to slaughter the poor wretches, only keep them away. then the horses' heads were turned, and shanter rode up to the boys in a great state of excitement. "baal go back," he cried; "plenty come along. mumkull black fellow." "no, no," said norman. "black fellow gone along. come back and take care of white marys." "yohi," said shanter, thoughtfully, and he looked at his burned arms. "big white mary gib mine soff rag an' goosum greasum make well. soff damper. come along." it was not without some feeling of dread that the party returned toward the station, lest another party of blacks should have visited the place in their absence; and when they reached the open place in the scrub where they had left the cattle grazing, the captain reluctantly said that another expedition must be made to bring them in. but unasked, shanter in his quality of mounted herdsman, announced that he was going to `'top along' and bring the cattle home, so he was left, and the party rode on, the boys leaving shanter unwillingly. "black fellows come again," said rifle at parting. shanter grinned. "no come no more. plenty too much frighten." all was well when the party rode over wallaby range and up to dingo station, and saving the blackened boards and shingles, and the marks of spears, it was surprising how very little the worse the place looked. for uncle jack, sam german, mr henley, and the doctor--both the latter having elected to remain behind--had worked hard to restore damaged portions; and once more the place looked wonderfully beautiful and peaceful in the evening light. three days later, after being most hospitably entertained, ten of the rescue party took their leave to go back to port haven; the other two had hinted that they should like to stay a few days longer, to have a thorough rest; and the captain had warmly begged that they would, while aunt georgie laughed to herself and said in her grim way, "i smell a rat." for the two who stayed were mr henley the sugar-planter, and dr freeston. the captain was in the highest of spirits soon after, for shanter, looking exceedingly important on his rough colt with his spear across his knees, rode slowly up, driving the whole of the sheep, pigs, and cattle, which made for their old quarters as quietly as if they had never been away, even another speared cow being among them, very little the worse for her wound in spite of the flies. "hah!" cried the captain, rubbing his hands as the party all sat at the evening meal; "and now, please heaven, we can begin again and forget the past." a dead silence fell, and as the captain looked round he saw that the eyes of wife, daughter, and niece were fixed upon him sadly, and that aunt georgie's countenance was very grim. "shall i speak, henley?" said the doctor. "if you please," said that gentleman, with a glance at ida. "then i will.--captain bedford," said the doctor, "you will forgive me, sir, i know; but i must beg of you for the sake of the ladies to give up this out-of-the-way place, and come close, up to the settlement. we feel that we cannot leave you out here unprotected. think of what would have happened if we had not arrived in the nick of time." there was a terrible silence, and sam german, who was having his meal in the kitchen with shanter, came to the door, every word having been audible. at last the captain spoke in a low hoarse voice. "gentlemen," he said, "i have thought of it all, till drawn both ways as i am, my brain seems almost on fire. i love my people as an englishman should, and all my work has been for their sake. i would do anything to save them pain, but i ask you how can i give up this lovely home i have won from the wilderness--a place where heaven smiles on a man's labour, and i can see, with plenty of hard work, a happy contented life and prosperity for us all. i will not appeal to my dear wife and the girls, because i know they will say, `do what you think best,' but i do appeal to you, aunt. it is not fair to expose you to such risks. shall i give up? shall i, after putting my hand to the plough, want faith and go back?" "i _do_ wish you wouldn't ask me such things, ned, my boy," cried aunt georgie, taking out her handkerchief to wipe her glasses. "give up, now we are all so settled and comfortable and happy, all for the sake of a pack of savages? i'll learn how to shoot first. i say, no! boy, no!" "brother jack," continued the captain, "i have dragged you from your club fireside, from your london friends, and made you little better than a labourer here, tell me what shall i do?" "your duty, ned," said uncle jack, warmly. "the nip has been terrible, but i was never better nor happier in my life.--don't look at me reproachfully, marian, dear; don't turn away, girls.--ned, lad, when i took the other handle of the plough, i said i wouldn't look back, and i will not. if you ask me, i say fight it out as an englishman should, and as englishmen have for hundreds of years." "hurrah!" shouted the three boys together. "three cheers for uncle jack!" "then i need not ask you, boys?" "no, father," said norman. "you've taught us how to fight, and we shall be better able to meet the niggers if they come again." "hear, hear!" cried rifle and tim, emphatically; and they went behind mrs bedford's chair, as if to show how they would defend her. "one more," said the captain. "sam german, you have shared our sufferings; and it is due to you, our faithful servant of many years, that i should not leave you out. what do you say?" "what do i say, sir?" cried the gardener, fiercely; as he strode forward and brought his fist down heavily on the table. "i say, go and leave that there garden, with all them young trees and plants just a-beginning to laugh at us and say what they're a-going to do? no, sir; no: not for all the black fellows in the world." sam scowled round at everybody, and went back to the kitchen door. "that settles it, gentlemen," said the captain, quietly. "after a life of disappointment and loss, i seem to have come into the promised land. i am here, and with god's help, and the help of my brother, my servant, and my three brave boys, i'll stay." "and shanter, father," shouted rifle. "yes, and the trusty black whom i so unjustly doubted." "marmi want shanter?" said the black, thrusting in his head. "yes: that settles it, captain," said the doctor. "i don't wonder at it. i wouldn't give up in your place.--will you speak now, henley?" "no, no, go on. i can't talk," said the young planter, colouring. "very well then, i will.--then the fact is, captain bedford, my friend henley here is not satisfied with his land at port haven. he can sell it advantageously to a new settler, and he has seen that tract next to yours, one which, i agree with him, looks as if it was made for sugar. miss henley, his sister, is on her way out to keep house for him, so he will get one up as quickly as possible." "yes," said henley, "that's right. now tell 'em about yourself." "of course," said the doctor, quietly. "my sister is coming out with miss henley, and i have elected to take up the tract yonder across the river, adjoining yours." "you?" said the captain. "where will you get your patients?" "oh, i am sure to have some. here's one already," he said, laughingly. "i mean to dress that poor fellow's burns." "baal--no--baal," shouted shanter, fiercely. "big white mary--soff rag, plenty goosum greasum." "be quiet, shanter," said aunt georgie, grimly. "but," cried the captain. "oh, it is absurd. you are throwing away your chances." "not at all, sir. i don't see why a doctor should not have a farm." "but really--" began the captain. "one moment, sir," cried the doctor, interrupting; "will you come and settle near your fellow-creatures?" "you have heard my arguments, gentlemen. it is my duty to stay." "yes," said the doctor; "and in reply, henley here and i say that it is our duty as englishmen to come and help to protect you and yours." uncle jack and the captain rose together, and took the young men's hands, and then the party left the table to stroll out into the garden, upon as lovely an evening as ever shone upon this beautiful earth. every one looked happy, even shanter, who was fast asleep; and as norman, who was alone with his brother and cousin, looked round at the scene of peace and beauty, he could not help thinking that his father had done well. but his thoughts were rudely interrupted by rifle, who threw himself on the grass, kicked up his heels, burst into a smothered fit of laughter, and then sat up to wipe his eyes. "oh, what a game!" he cried. "what's a game?" said tim. "what's the matter, man? is there some black on my nose?" "no!" cried rifle. "why, you blind old mole, can't you see?" "see what?" "why mr henley and the doctor want to come and live out here. look." "well, what at? they're talking to ida and hetty. that's all." "that's all!" cried rifle, scornfully. "but it isn't all. they want to marry 'em, and then we shall all live happily afterwards. that's it. isn't it, man?" norman nodded. "yes, i think he's right, tim. i am glad, for i think they are two good fellows as any i ever met." rifle was right. for in the future all came about as he had said, saving that all was not happiness. still dingo station became one of the most prosperous in our great north-east colony, and as fresh tracts of the rich land were taken up, the troubles with the blacks grew fewer and died away. one word in conclusion. sam german declared pettishly one day that there never was such a hopeless savage as shanter. "you couldn't teach him nought, and a lazier beggar never lived." it was unjust: shanter could learn in his way, and he worked hard for marmi (the captain), harder still for "big white mary," to whom he was a most faithful servant, but only in work that took his fancy. "oh," said norman, one day, "i am glad father wouldn't give up." "give up?" cried rifle, scornfully. "why, he would have been mad!" and tim cried, "why, we shouldn't have been called `the dingo boys' if he had." "who calls us `dingo boys?'" cried rifle, sharply. "the people at port haven and all about when they speak of wallaby range," replied tim. "like their impudence," said rifle importantly. "don't be so cocky, rifle," said norman quietly. "let them if they like. what's in a name?" the end. 