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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28931-8.txt b/28931-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..08d15e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/28931-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6828 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Musgrave Ranges, by Jim Bushman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Musgrave Ranges + +Author: Jim Bushman + +Release Date: May 22, 2009 [EBook #28931] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: THE OUTPOST OF DEATH _Page 253_] + + + + + +IN THE + +MUSGRAVE RANGES + + +BY + +JIM BUSHMAN + + +Author of "The Golden Valley" &c. + + + + + +BLACKIE & SON LIMITED + +LONDON AND GLASGOW + +1922 + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: "Jim Bushman" is a pseudonym of Conrad H. Sayce.] + + + + +Blackie's Imperial Library + + + Ann's Great Adventure. E. E. Cowper. + The Golden Magnet. G. Manville Fenn. + Every Inch a Briton. Meredith Fletcher. + 'Twixt Earth and Sky. C. R. Kenyon. + In the Musgrave Ranges. Jim Bushman. + No Ordinary Girl. Bessie Marchant. + Norah to the Rescue. Bessie Marchant. + What Happened to Kitty. Theodora Wilson Wilson. + + + + +Contents + + + CHAP. + + I. A TORNADO + II. CAMELS + III. A MESSAGE FROM THE UNKNOWN + IV. WILD CATTLE + V. RIDING TESTS + VI. SMOKE SIGNALS + VII. STEALTHY FOES + VIII. FIRST SIGHT OF THE MUSGRAVES + IX. DISASTER + X. A SANDSTORM + XI. THIRST + XII. THE RESCUE + XIII. SIDCOTINGA STATION + XIV. A MAD BULL + XV. A NIGHT ALARM + XVI. MUSTERING + XVII. THE BRANDED WARRAGUL + XVIII. REVENGE + XIX. CHIVALRY IN THE DESERT + XX. THE BULL-ROARER + XXI. HORSESHOE BEND + XXII. FACING DEATH + XXIII. A FRIEND AND A FOE + XXIV. A PRISONER + XXV. THE OUTPOST OF DEATH + XXVI. ARRKROO, THE HATER + XXVII. THE DANCE OF DEATH + XXVIII. CONCLUSION + + + + +IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES + + +CHAPTER I + +A Tornado + +Towards the end of a long hot day, a shabby mixed train stopped at one +of the most wonderful townships in the world, Hergott Springs, the +first of the great cattle-trucking depots of Central Australia. It was +dark, but a hurricane lantern, swung under a veranda, showed that the +men who were waiting for the train were not ordinary men. They were +men of the desert. Most of them were tall, thin, weather-beaten +Australians, in shirt sleeves and strong trousers worn smooth inside +the leg with much riding. A few Afghans were there too, big, +dignified, and silent, with white turbans above their black faces; +while a little distance away was a crowd of aboriginal men and women, +yabbering excitedly and laughing together because the fortnightly train +had at last come in. The same crowd would watch it start out in the +morning on the last stage of its long journey to Oodnadatta, the +railway terminus and the metropolis of Central Australia. + +There were very few passengers on the train, and all of them seemed +known to everybody and were greeted with hearty handshakes and loud +rough words of welcome back to the North. Two passengers, however, did +not get out of the carriage for a time, being unwilling to face that +crowd of absolute strangers. They were Saxon Stobart and Rodger +Vaughan, boys of about fifteen, who were on their way to Oodnadatta. +It was their first sight of the back country. + +Presently a big man with only one eye climbed back into the carriage +where they were sitting. "Here, don't you lads want a feed?" he asked. +"You won't get it here, you know." + +"We don't know where to go," said one of them. "We thought we'd wait a +bit." + +"Don't you do too much waiting in this part of the country," said the +man kindly. "You just hop in and get your cut. See? You'll get left +if you don't. Now, get hold of your things and come along. I'll fix +you up." + +The result of the stranger's kindness was that the two boys shared a +room with him at the only hotel in the place, and had a hearty meal in +a room full of men in shirt sleeves, who shouted to one another and +laughed in the most friendly manner. + +After tea the two friends went out into the sandy street to stretch +their legs after the long day's railway ride, before going to bed. It +was so dark that they couldn't see anything at first, and nearly ran +into a knot of men who were standing and smoking. They recognized the +voice of one of them as that of the man who had taken them over to the +hotel. They knew him only as Peter, a name which his companions called +him. + +"I never saw it look so bad," he was saying. "Just look at the moon, +too." + +"How far away d'you reckon it is?" asked another man. "It's a long way +yet, I reckon. You can't hear any thunder. I wonder if it's coming +this way." + +Vaughan nudged his companion. "What are they talking about, Sax?" he +asked. + +Stobart pointed north into the darkness. Overhead, and nearly to the +horizon, the sky was a mass of stars, but just on the northern horizon +was a patch where no stars were to be seen. As their eyes became +accustomed to the night, they saw that this patch looked as if it was +alive with flashing, coiling, darting red things. It was like a mass +of snakes squirming in agony, and now and again a clear white jet of +light came out of the darkness, as if one of them was spitting venom at +the sky. In reality, the boys were looking at one of those terrible +electric storms which tear across Central Australia after a severe +drought, and the lurid colours were caused by lightning flashing inside +a very thick cloud. + +But no interest was strong enough to overcome the healthy weariness of +the boys, and they went to bed soon afterwards and fell asleep almost +at once. + +Saxon Stobart was the son of a famous drover who took huge mobs of +cattle across the centre of the continent, and who was noted for his +pluck and endurance, and for his skill as a bushman, which enabled him +to travel through parts of the country where very few white men have +ever been. His son had many of the qualities of mind and body which +had made his father such a fine man. He was tall and thin, but was as +active as a cat and stronger than most boys of his size and age. His +friend Vaughan was a different-looking boy altogether. He was short +and thick-set. Although Vaughan was not fat, he was so solidly built +that his nickname "Boof" suited him very well indeed. His father used +to own Langdale Station, a big sheep run in the Western District, but a +series of bad droughts had forced him to sell the place. + +The two boys had been great friends at school, and when Drover Stobart +wrote to his son: "Come on up to Oodnadatta for a bit of a holiday +before settling down, and bring your mate along with you", they both +accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +The boys were suddenly roused from sound sleep about three o'clock next +morning by someone in the room shouting at them; "Hi, there! Hi! Get +up, it's coming. Get up quick." + +The next instant the bedclothes were jerked back and a man was pulling +them roughly to their feet. It was all so sudden and unexpected that +each boy thought that he was dreaming; but as the man shook and punched +them into activity, they became aware of a terrifying noise coming at +them across the desert through the black darkness of the night. The +air vibrated with a tremendous booming which affected their ears like +the deep notes of a huge organ, and the loudest shout was only just +heard. + +"It's me. It's Peter," said a voice at their side. + +"Come for your lives. The tornado's right on top of us." + +He caught each boy firmly by the wrist and dragged them, dressed only +in pyjamas just as they had tumbled out of bed, out of the room, down +the corridor, and out at the back of the hotel. Everything was in +confusion. They bumped into people and upset chairs and things in +their mad rush. Now and again Peter's voice rose above the din, +shouting, "The tank! The tank!" but nobody paid any attention, even if +they heard the voice of a man above that other and more dreadful voice +which was coming nearer and nearer and striking terror into the hearts +even of the brave dwellers in the desert. + +The shock of the night air did more than anything else fully to arouse +the boys. It was like a dash of cold water, and though Peter still +kept a tight grip of them, they ran along level with him of their own +accord. Out into the yard they dashed, round one or two corners, over +a fence at the back of an outhouse, and suddenly the man stopped dead +and began pulling at something on the ground. It was a grating with a +big iron handle. It stuck. The approaching tornado roared with anger +while the man put out all his great strength. The booming sound rose +to a shriek of triumph, as if the storm actually saw that these +escaping human beings were delivered into its power. But Peter's +muscles were like steel and leather. He strained till the veins stood +out on his forehead like rope. At last the thing loosened and came up, +and the bushman sprawled on his back. But he was on his feet again +instantly. Speech would have been no good, so he gripped Vaughan by +the collar of his pyjamas and swung him into the hole in the ground, +and only waited long enough for the boy to find a foothold before he +did the same with Stobart. Then he scrambled down himself. They were +in a big cement rain-water tank built in the ground at the back of the +hotel. There was no water in it. + +Nobody spoke. Nobody _could_ speak. The air was so packed full of +sound that it seemed as if it could not possibly hold one sound more. +It was like the booming of a thousand great guns at the same time; the +shock, the recoil, and the rush of air across the entrance to the tank +was as if artillery practice on an immense scale were going on. There +was a screaming sound as if shells were hurtling through space. Now +the pitch blackness of the night was a solid mass; then it was red and +livid like a recent bruise; and then again, with a crackle like the +discharge of a Maxim, vivid flashes of white fire split the air. +Thunder rolled continuously and lightning played without stopping, in a +way which is seen and heard only on a battle-field or during a tornado +in the desert. It sounded as if the pent-up fury of a thousand years +had suddenly been let loose upon that little collection of houses on +the vast barren plain. + +Down in the tank it was as dark as a tomb. The boys were close to one +another, crouched against the wall, unable to move through sheer +amazement. Peter stood up and looked out through the entrance, +expecting every moment to hear the sound of houses being torn up from +their foundations and flung down again many yards distant, mere heaps +of splintered wood and twisted iron, with perhaps mangled human corpses +in the wreckage. But such a sound did not come. + +The tornado lasted about three minutes--that was all--and then it +passed, and all those tremendous sounds became muffled in the distance +as it retreated. + +Gradually the stunned senses of the boys began to recover, and they +heard Peter speaking. "It missed us," he was saying. "It came pretty +close, though. I thought the hotel was gone for a cert." Then he +struck a match and held it to his pipe. The little light flared up +steadily and showed two boys in pyjamas, the smooth cement walls of the +tank, and the bushman in his shirt and trousers, but without his boots. +It showed also a cat which had died a long time ago, and which had been +dried up by the great heat. The sight of the squashed cat was so +funny, down in the tank, that the boys started to laugh. It was a +relief to do so after the strain of the last few minutes. + +"We'd better get out of this," said Peter, throwing the match at the +cat and starting to climb up an iron ladder. "Were you lads much +scared?" + +It was so evident that they had been very much scared that their +emphatic denial of it made them all laugh again. "I tell you, I was," +confessed the bushman. "I reckoned the whole town was going to glory. +It would have, too, if the wind had struck it. The thing must have +turned off before it got here." + +Such tornadoes as the one described occur in Central Australia just +before the breaking up of long droughts. Sometimes they are mere +harmless willy-willies, which have not enough power to blow a man off +his horse, but now and again a bigger one comes along, which travels at +thirty or forty miles an hour at the centre and sweeps everything +before it. These tornadoes may not be more than a quarter of a mile +across, and look from the distance like huge brown waterspouts coiling +up into the air till they are lost in the clear blue of the sky. +Sometimes the whirling column of sand leaves the ground for a time and +goes on spinning away high over the heads of everything, but it usually +comes down again and goes on tearing across the country. The Central +Australian tornado must not be confused with the tropical typhoon or +cyclone, which is sometimes three or four hundred miles across. + +Peter was right about the tornado turning off before it reached Hergott +Springs. It came across the country from the Musgrave Ranges in the +north-west till it reached the Dingo Creek. Here it turned and +followed the dry depression, wrecked the Dingo Creek railway bridge, +leaving it a mass of twisted iron and hanging sleepers, and then tore +on down the line, doing a great deal of damage and making straight for +the helpless township. + +There is a very deep and wide cutting about a mile north of Hergott +Springs, and the fury of the wind that night completely filled it up +with sand from bank to bank. This undoubtedly saved the town, for, +after this exhibition of its power, the tornado turned slightly to the +east, and missed the houses entirely. The fringe of it, however, +touched the end of the station yard, where the great water-tank stood. +The wind caught this tremendous weight, lifted it from the platform, +and threw it fifty yards, while the steel pillars of the stand were +twisted together as if they had been cotton. A tool-shed which used to +stand near the tank was moved bodily, and no trace of it was ever +found. No doubt it was buried deep in one of the many sandhills which +these terrific winds leave behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Camels + +It was not till next morning that the boys saw that the tornado had +completely upset their plans. During the few terrible minutes of the +storm, and for an hour afterwards, till sleep finally claimed them +again, excitement drove all thoughts of the future clean away. But +when they awoke late next morning, and looked out at the sky, which was +blue and without a cloud, and across the sandy street at the collection +of iron station buildings and the train by which they had arrived and +which still stood waiting, and saw, beyond and around everything, the +tremendous stretches of yellow sand already blazing in the heat, the +affairs of the night seemed only a dream. + +The reality of things was suddenly brought home to them when Peter came +into the room with a cheery, "Good morning! How're you getting on?" + +Both boys were feeling fine and said so, and then their friend told +them: "You'd better hurry on a bit. The train starts back for town in +about an hour." + +Sax was using the towel at the time, and when he heard what Peter said, +he stopped rubbing his face and looked at him in surprise. + +"Back to town!" he exclaimed. "But we don't want to go back to town. +We're going on to Oodnadatta." + +"Going on to Oodnadatta, are you?" asked Peter, with a smile. "And how +are you going to get there?" + +"Why, by train, of course," broke in Vaughan. Then suddenly the events +of the night appeared to him in a new light. "That is--of course--if +it's running," he stammered. + +"It's not running," said Peter. "And you take it from me, it won't run +for a month or two. The tornado smashed the Dingo Creek bridge and +tore up the line this side of it, too. Besides, the Long Cutting's +full of sand. It'll take them a couple of weeks to clean that out." + +The boys were too much amazed to speak. They looked at one another in +blank dismay. They were indeed in a fix. Drover Stobart waiting for +them in Oodnadatta, and here they were in Hergott Springs, and no +chance of getting out of it for a month or two. Whatever were they to +do? + +Their bushman friend did not leave them long in uncertainty. He was a +simple-hearted kindly man, and he could see by the boys' faces what +they were thinking about. So he interrupted their gloomy thoughts by +suggesting: + +"See here. I don't know who you lads are, and you don't know much +about me. But I've got to get to Oodnadatta some way or another. +There's a plant of horses and niggers waiting for me up there. I'll +fix up something. Would you care to come along with me?" + +The boys' faces instantly showed their eager pleasure, and the man did +not need their words of thanks to assure him that he was doing them a +good turn. + +"Thanks _awfully_!" they exclaimed. "Thank you _very_ much, Mr.----" + +"My name's Peter," said the man. "And there's no 'Mister' about me. +What shall I call you two?" + +"This is Vaughan," said Stobart, pointing to his friend. "My name's +Stobart." + +"Stobart! Stobart!" said Peter in surprise. "Anything to do with Boss +Stobart?" + +Sax had never heard his father's nickname, so he answered in a puzzled +tone, "Boss Stobart?" + +"Yes, bless you. Boss Stobart. And a fine man too. The best drover +that ever crossed a horse in this country. Don't I know it too? We +punched cattle together for ten years, did the Boss and me." + +Sax's face beamed with delight. "That's my father," he said proudly. + +Peter's big hand shot out in greeting. "So you're Boss Stobart's son, +are you? Well, well, you seem a fine lad, and you've sure got a fine +father." He also shook hands with Vaughan, and added: "So we're to be +mates, are we? You leave things to me. I'll let you know about it +when I've fixed things up." + +Peter was busy all morning and the boys had time to look around the +township. It seemed very small to them in comparison with the vast +plains which stretched away on all sides of it. They felt sure that if +once they got away out of sight of the scattered houses, they would +never be able to find them again, for Hergott Springs is only a very +tiny spot on the face of the desert. They watched the train go back +the way it had come the day before, and then walked up to the end of +the station yard to see the wrecked water-tank. Flocks of goats +wandered about the township, picking up and eating bits of rubbish, +just like stray dogs. They found that this was why the mutton they had +eaten for tea and breakfast was so tough; for, because sheep cannot +thrive in that part of the country, goats are kept and killed for meat. + +Camels interested them very much. These tall, awkward, smelly, grey +beasts stalked along with such dignity that it was almost impossible to +believe them capable of the hard work they do. Through following a +string of camels, tied together from nose-line to tail, the boys came +to a collection of buildings outside the town proper. This was Afghan +Town, where the black-skinned camel-drivers lived. They watched some +camels kneeling down in the sand and being loaded with bags of flour +and sugar, chests of tea, and cases of jam and tinned meat. These +bulky packages were roped to the saddle till it appeared as if the poor +beast underneath would never be able to get up. But, one after the +other, they stood up when the time came, and stalked away, swaying +gently from side to side as they pad-padded silently across the soft +sand. + +Suddenly the boys were startled by a most terrifying sound a little +distance away. It was a bubbling roar, such as a bullock would make if +he tried to bellow when he was drowning. They looked in the direction +it came: from, and saw a big bull camel, blowing its bladder out of its +mouth and lashing with its tail. They went over and found the animal +standing in a little paddock fenced with strong stakes. The boys had +never seen such a tremendous camel before. Its body and fore legs were +thick and heavy, but its hind legs were trim and shapely, and reminded +them of the hind-quarters of a greyhound. Its neck was broad and flat, +and looked very strong, while its head, with the bloodshot eyes and the +horrid red bladder hanging from the mouth, was not nice to see. It +stood there with its fore feet fastened together by a chain, its hind +ones spread wide apart, twitching its tail about, and roaring with a +rumbling gurgle, either in rage or challenge. It was a sight to strike +terror into anybody's heart. + +Presently two Afghans came up and began to talk in English. "Ah!" said +one, a little man, dressed in the blouse and baggy pantaloons of his +native country, his face looking very cruel. "Ah! That's old Abul, is +it? I've not seen him for ten years. He used to try and play tricks +with me, did Abul, but I taught him his lessons; didn't I, Abul? I +taught him not to play with _me_." He laughed at the remembrance of +the cruelties he had practised on that camel ten years ago. + +"He's a good camel," replied the other man. "He belongs to me. He's a +very good camel. He doesn't want to be beaten. He works well. I can +do anything I like with him." He began to climb over the fence, but +the first speaker stopped him. + +"What are you going to do?" he asked excitedly. "You must not go in +there. He is a bad camel, I tell you. Abul is not safe. I know him. +I was his master ten years ago." + +"I'm only going to take off his hobbles," said the other man. + +"Well, do not go in like that. I used to throw a rope and tie him up +before I went near him. He is a bad camel, I tell you. But _I_ taught +him his lessons." He laughed again, and Sax shuddered as he looked at +the man's cruel face. + +But the present owner was not afraid. He had been kind to Abul. He +went up to the great grey beast and stood beside it, looking very small +indeed. The camel could have killed the man without any difficulty +whatever, but, instead of that, it bent its head and looked at him and +allowed its master to rub it between the ears. + +The Afghan outside the fence was very excited. He muttered to himself, +and now and again shouted to his fellow-countryman: "Look out! Look +out, I tell you! That is only his way. It is all his bluff. Oh, he +is a very bad camel! Look out, I tell you!" + +The man inside the paddock took no notice of these warnings, for they +were quite unnecessary. He stooped down and unfastened the hobbles +from the animal's fore feet, and stood up again with them in his hand, +and walked towards the fence where his companion was standing. The +camel stalked after him. + +Then an absolutely unexpected thing happened. When Abul was about ten +yards from the fence, he made a sudden rush and grabbed his former +owner by the coat. It was all so quick that no one knew what had +occurred till they saw the huge camel walking round his enclosure with +the screaming man dangling from his mouth. The old camel was going to +have his revenge. He remembered his tormentor of ten years ago, and +was going to kill him. + +Suddenly there came a sound of tearing cloth. The coat had torn. The +man sprawled on the ground for a moment, and then scrambled to his +feet. He made a dash for the fence, but the camel was too quick for +him. The terrified Afghan started to run and, as there was no way of +escape, he had to run round and round the paddock with the camel at his +heels. For a moment or two there was silence. The spectators were too +much amazed to speak, and the unfortunate man himself was using all his +breath in his effort to evade his pursuer. Abul could easily have +caught him, but it looked as if the animal wanted to play with the +cruel man, for he kept just behind him, whereas, if he had stretched +out his neck, he could have grabbed him at any time. + +A crowd of Afghans and aboriginals were quickly drawn to the spot, but +they were far too excited to think of doing anything to help. The man +was doomed. The death would be a cruel one, but the man had deserved +it. Sax, however, was a clear-headed boy, and though the whole affair +was more terrifying to him than to the others, because he was not used +to camels, a plan at once suggested itself to him. + +The proper entrance to the paddock was a strong iron gate. Shouting +out for Vaughan to follow him, Sax ran to the gate. The Afghan had now +run three times round the little paddock, and as he came round the +fourth time, nearly exhausted, the boy called out to him. Just as the +running man drew level with the gate Sax swung it open. The man fell +through it and lay gasping on the sand, but the camel shot past it +before it saw that it had lost its prey. The boys slammed the gate +shut again. Abul turned and glared at them. It was about to break +down the fence, which it could easily have done, when other camel-men +arrived on the scene, and drove it back with sticks and savage dogs. + +When they arrived back at the hotel for dinner, they found that Peter +was looking for them. "Where've you been all the morning?" he asked. + +The boys told him about their wanderings around the town, and about the +bull camel which had nearly killed the Afghan. + +"That must be Sultan Khan," said Peter. "I heard last night that he +had come back into the country. The police kicked him out ten years +ago for being cruel to his camels. It's a pity the bull didn't get +him." + +Sax looked crestfallen. It was not nice to hear that the man whom he +had just saved from a most terrible death would have been better left +to die. But Peter reassured him at once. + +"Of course I don't mean that really," he said. "You did fine. It's +what any decent white man would have tried to do. But I suppose you're +dead scared of camels now." + +The man went on to explain that he had arranged to travel north with a +string of camels which was leaving the township the same afternoon. +They would go as far as Dingo Creek and wait there for the train which +was being sent down from Oodnadatta. "That's the best arrangement I +can make," said Peter. "If you'd care to come along, now's your +chance. You won't have much to do with camels, anyway. But don't mind +saying if you'd rather not." + +Both boys protested that they weren't a bit scared of camels and that +they were anxious to go right away; so, after dinner, they got their +belongings together and followed Peter to the outskirts of the town. +Here they found a line of fifty camels kneeling in the sand ready to +start. + +Most of them were heavily loaded with stores for Oodnadatta which had +come up on the same train as the boys had travelled by. More than a +score of men had helped to unload the trucks that morning, and to +arrange the bags and cases and bales ready for being roped to the +camel-saddles. The boys were very much amused by the antics of three +or four calf-camels. They looked like big lambs on stilts, except that +their necks were longer. They frisked about and did not seem at all +afraid; but when Vaughan tried to stroke one of them, it bumped into +him and knocked him over, which made everybody laugh. + +The man in charge of the camels was not an Afghan; he was an Indian +named Becker Singh, a big, handsome, intelligent man, and he wore the +same rough sort of clothes and hat as any Australian in the back +country. He showed Peter the two camels he had chosen for the boys, +and, after testing them himself, the bushman showed his two friends how +to arrange their blankets on the iron framework of the saddle in order +to make a comfortable seat, how to mount, and the easiest way to sit. + +"Don't you try to do anything," he told them. "Just get your feet into +the stirrups and sit loosely." + +This was good advice and saved the boys the usual discomfort which +comes to those who ride a camel for the first time. They had no need +to guide their camels, for all the animals were tied one behind the +other. When everything was ready, Becker walked slowly down the long +line, giving a final inspection to each of his charges, then whistled +in a peculiar way. + +All the camels stood up at once. To the boys, this was the most +uncomfortable part of their experience, for a camel has four distinct +movements in getting up or down, and, unless the rider is used to them, +they are rather startling. But once their mounts were really up, the +rest was plain sailing. They swayed gently forward and back with each +stride of the camel and enjoyed the motion very much, and could see +over the country from their high position much better than they could +from horseback or on foot. + +The three days' journey to the Dingo Creek Bridge was accomplished +without any accident, though the new method of travel and the new +country passed through were full of interest to the two boys. Each +evening the long line of stately animals was coiled round in a big +circle at the camping-place, and the camels were made to kneel down +while their loads were unroped and their saddles taken off. Then the +black boys who were helping Decker Singh hobbled the camels and drove +them off to pick up what food they could find during the night. In the +morning the same boys brought them in and made them kneel in the right +places to be loaded again for the day. + +To have their meals and to sleep near the packs was a novelty which the +boys very much enjoyed. The blazing fire with the billies catching the +flame, the meal of bread and meat, the hour or two afterwards when they +lolled on the sand while Peter smoked and told yarns, and then the cool +quiet night with the myriad stars above them; these things made the +boys forget the little discomforts they were bound to encounter. + +On the second day, towards the middle of the afternoon, a black dot +appeared on the horizon, growing bigger and bigger as they approached +it. The sun beat down on the bare plains and made the whole landscape +quiver with heat, so that things in the distance looked blurred and it +was impossible to tell what they were. In this instance the object +proved to be a group of date-palms growing round a pool made by a +bore-pipe. On all sides of this little oasis stretched the barren +desert, and it was quite easy to believe that no man had been able to +live in that part of the country before this bore had been put down. + +Peter told them that the pipe went straight down into the earth for +several thousand feet. Water was struck suddenly. One day, when the +men were boring as usual, a noise came up the pipe like sea waves in a +blow-hole of rock, a sort of gurgling roar accompanied by a rush of +air. Then a column of water, as thick as a man's leg and as strong as +a bar of iron, shot up straight into the air and turned over at the top +like a gigantic umbrella. The water struck the bore staging with such +tremendous force that it smashed a hole clean through a two-inch board +as if a shell had crashed into it, and it wrenched the other boards +from their supports and flung them for a hundred yards, just a useless +mass of splintered wood. The man who was on the platform at the time +heard the water coming and jumped for his life. He was not a moment +too soon. If he had hesitated, he would have been blown to pieces. +The flow is not so strong nowadays, but it still reaches the top of the +pipe and flows over, and enables men and cattle to live in a country +which used to be a waterless desert. + +A quarter of a mile north of the date-palms was a sand-hill with what +appeared like a few bushes on it. Sax was looking at this hill when he +saw a coil of smoke rising up out of one of the bushes. He was so +surprised that he called his friend's attention to it. + +"I say, Boof," he exclaimed. "'D'you see that smoke over there? There +must be a camp or something." + +Peter heard the remark and laughed. "D'you know what that is?" he +asked. + +"Why, bushes, of course," replied Sax. + +"And what d'you reckon it is?" asked Peter again, turning to Vaughan. + +Young Vaughan looked intently at the sand-hill where the smoke was +coming from. He heard a dog bark, and then thought he saw a little +black human figure crawl out of one of the bushes, followed by another +and bigger figure. It was all so far away that he wasn't sure that he +had seen correctly, so he answered with hesitation; "It looks as if +there were people in those bushes. They don't live there, do they, +Peter?" + +"They're not bushes," explained the man. "They're what we call +'wurlies'. They're sort of little huts the blacks live in. You'll see +quite enough of them before you've been in this country long, I promise +you." + +The boys wanted to go over at once and see, so Peter good-naturedly +went with them. + +The wurlies were made from branches pulled from the ragged trees which +grew around, and stuck in the sand with their tops brought together. +This framework was covered with bits of old bag or blanket. The whole +thing was the shape of a pudding-basin turned upside down, and was not +more than three feet high in the middle or four feet wide at the bottom. + +"Do they really live in there?" asked Sax. + +"Sure thing," said Peter. "They crawl in through that hole and curl +themselves up like dogs." + +As he finished speaking, a shaggy head appeared at one of the holes. +The hair was stuck together in greasy plaits and hung down to the man's +shoulders. He looked up at the visitors, half in and half out of the +wurley, and on his hands and knees just like an animal. His face and +body were black and very dirty, and his head and chest were so thickly +covered with hair that the only features which stood out from the +matted tangle were a pair of very bright eyes and a flat, shining nose. + +Peter said something which the lads did not understand, and the man +came out and stood upright. He was quite naked and very thin. His +legs seemed to be the same thickness all the way up, and his knees +looked like big swollen knuckles. But his whole appearance gave the +impression that he could move very quickly if he wanted to, with the +graceful speed of a greyhound. The woman and child whom Vaughan had +seen from the distance had run away like startled rabbits as the white +men came up, and the camp of six or seven wurlies seemed deserted +except for this one miserable specimen of humanity. Bits of clothing, +tins, pieces of decaying food, and all sorts of dirt were strewn around +the camp and gave out such an unpleasant smell that the boys turned +away in disgust. + +"What's the matter?" asked Peter. + +"How horribly dirty he is," said Vaughan. "Aren't some of them clean?" + +"Oh yes," replied Peter. "Most boys who work on stations are made to +use soap. That's because they work with white men, or with decent +chaps like Becker Singh. His boys aren't bad. But you leave them +alone for a week, and they'll be just as bad as that old buck there. +Don't you ever forget--" he added earnestly, "don't you ever forget +that that's the real nigger you've just seen. And don't you have too +much to do with them." + +"There's not much fear of that," said Sax. + +"Well, don't you forget it, that's all," repeated Peter. "Many a good +lad has gone to the dogs through having too much to do with niggers." + +They reached the Dingo Creek on the morning of the fourth day. The +bridge was a complete wreck. It was almost impossible to believe that +wind could have done so much damage. The whole thing had been lifted +off the stanchions, twisted as easily as if it had been a ribbon of +paper, and then thrown down into the soft sand of the creek bed. The +steel stanchions leaned this way and that; one of them had been torn up +from its concrete foundation, and another had been screwed about till +it looked like a gigantic corkscrew. The bridge must have been caught +by the very centre of the tornado. + +The camels did not stop at the creek. They travelled on for a couple +of miles to where a railway engine and a few trucks were waiting. +These had been sent down from Oodnadatta with a break-down gang of men, +and were returning next day. Peter decided to stay and help Becker +with the camels as far as Oodnadatta, but, at his advice, the two boys +went on by train, and so it came about that they completed their broken +journey in the same way in which it had begun. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A Message from the Unknown + +The sun had set several hours ago when the train finally pulled up at +Oodnadatta station. A hurricane-lantern hung under a veranda, and +showed a crowd of about twenty men, women, and children with eager +faces, ready to welcome anyone who had completed the interrupted +journey. But the two boys were the only passengers. They stood on the +platform of the carriage and looked at the crowd. It was seven years +since Sax had seen his father, but he felt sure he would recognize him +instantly; and, besides, it was such a rare thing for two strange lads +to come up on the Far North train, that if anyone had been there to +meet them, he would have had no trouble in picking them out. + +But no one came forward. In vain did the drover's son compare the +picture of his father which he had in his mind, with one after the +other of the men under the veranda. Men, tall, thin, and bearded there +certainly were, and more than one had that stamp of the desert on his +face, which never wears off. + +"Can't you see him, Sax?" asked his companion anxiously. + +"Not yet. He's somewhere at the back, most likely. We'll wait a tick +and see." + +So they waited, and in those minutes the lads felt more lonely than +they had ever done in their lives before. The thought would insist on +presenting itself: + +"Suppose he doesn't come! What then?" The nearest person they really +knew was five days away. In front of them was a little crowd of people +who knew each other well, but who had never seen the boys before, and +all around was the vast unsympathetic silence of the desert which came +in and oppressed the boys even in the dark. + +Presently a man in badly creased white trousers and very thin shirt, +open all the way down, came past. He stopped and looked up at the +boys. "Waiting for somebody?" he asked pleasantly. + +"Yes, we are," said Sax, who was usually the spokesman of the pair when +strangers were concerned. "Can you tell me, please, if Mr. Stobart is +about?" + +"Stobart? If it's Boss Stobart you're waiting for, I'm afraid you'll +be disappointed." + +"Why?" Both boys uttered the word of dismay at the same time. + +"Well, you see," went on the man, "we expected him the day before +yesterday. He's never late, so I wired up the road. I'm his agent, +you know. They haven't heard of him south of Horseshoe Bend." + +"What! Is he lost, then?" asked Sax in an incredulous voice. His +hero, his father, lost? Impossible! + +"Bless you, no. He's never lost. He must have taken a fresh track at +the Bend, that's all. Feed and water and that sort of thing. By the +way, who are you?" + +"I'm his son," said Sax, simply and proudly, "and this is my friend. +Father said he'd meet this train." + +"His son, are you? Oh, well, you may depend upon it, he's not far away +if he said he'd meet you. But he didn't come in to-day. I know that +for a cert. You'd better come over to the hotel and let me fix you up +for the night. My name's Archer--Joe Archer. I've got a store here +and manage your father's business at this end." + +The kind-hearted storekeeper handed the boys over to the care of the +hotel-keeper's wife, who soon set a meal of boiled goat and potatoes +before them. Their intense disappointment at not meeting Mr. Stobart +had not lessened their appetites, and they assured one another that +they would see him in a few days, probably on the very next morning. + +After their tea they went straight to their room, a little box of a +place with a window looking out over a yard where a horse was standing +perfectly still and breathing heavily, fast asleep. The friends talked +for a time and then blew out the candle. + +Scarcely had they done so, when they heard a tapping on the window. +They took no notice. It came again. Tap--tap--tap. It could not +possibly have been an accident. + +"What's that, Sax?" whispered Vaughan. + +"Blest if I know," answered his companion from the other bed. "Shall I +light the candle again?" + +"Let's wait a bit and see," suggested Boof. + +The taps came again, this time louder, and were followed by a cough. + +Sax struck a match. His hand shook so much that he could hardly light +the candle, but whether it was from fear or from excitement cannot be +told. The light flared up, went down again, and then burned bright and +steady. + +Suddenly a man's head and shoulders appeared at the window. It was a +nigger. For a moment both lads stared at the apparition with startled +eyes. But the man did not do anything. He was just waiting till their +surprise died down. His face was not at all as forbidding as the one +they had seen at Coward Springs. He was wearing an old felt hat and a +dirty shirt, and though he had hair all over his face, there was +something about him which proclaimed him to be a young man. + +After a few moments of absolute stillness and silence, they saw the +hair on his face move, and a row of beautiful white teeth showed in a +most engaging smile. Then came the words: "Which one Stobart?" + +The lads had never heard an aboriginal speak before. The sound was +guttural, but there was no mistaking the words: "Which one Stobart?" + +Sax started forward and the black seemed to scrutinize his features +intently. "You Stobart?" he asked. + +"Yes. My name's Stobart," answered Sax. "What d'you want?" + +The black fellow smiled again, groped in his shirt, and pulled out a +dirty piece of folded paper. He held it in his hand and again looked +at the lad as if to make quite sure he was not being deceived. + +"Boss Stobart, him say, you walk longa Oodnadatta. You find um my son. +You give 'im paper yabber. Him good fella, Boss Stobart, so I go. My +name Yarloo." + +The words came slowly, as if the man were repeating something he had +said over and over in his mind. But the words were quite distinct. + +He handed the "paper yabber" to Sax, and disappeared. The two friends +came close together round the candle and looked at the paper which had +come to them from the unknown by such a strange hand. For a few +moments Sax was too excited to open it. What was the news it +contained? Good or bad? It was not addressed, or, if it ever had +been, the handling to which it had been subjected had worn any writing +completely off the outside. + +At last the lad opened it. It was a sheet torn from a common note-book +ruled with lines and columns for figures, the sort of thing on which a +rough man would keep his rough accounts. It contained writing in +pencil by a hand which Sax at once recognized as his father's; but it +was uneven as if it had been written in the dark. The words were: + + + "In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell + Oodnadatta trooper, but _no one else_." (These last three + words were underlined several times.) "He'll + understand. Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. + Get a job somewhere. "STOBART." + + +The friends read it to themselves, and then Sax read it out loud. + +"'In difficulties'," said Vaughan. "What does that mean?" + +"Blest if I know. With the cattle, I expect. I wonder where the +Musgrave Ranges are." + +"But why does he say 'tell the trooper and no one else'?" asked Vaughan +again. "Yet he wouldn't say 'don't worry' if anything was up, would +he?" + +"Oh, nothing's really up," said Sax with conviction. "He means he's a +bit late, that's all. P'raps the trooper's expecting him or something. +Of course he wouldn't want anybody else to know. You see, he's got a +name here," said the lad proudly. "They call him Boss Stobart. Even +the nigger did that." + +"But he'll be a long time, Sax. He won't be in for a week or so at any +rate, or else he wouldn't tell us to get a job, would he?" + +The boys discussed the news from every possible point of view, and +finally arrived at the conclusion that the famous drover had been +forced out of the route he had intended to travel by difficulties with +feed and water, and that he might be very late arriving at his +destination. That he would finally arrive, they never doubted for a +moment. With this assurance, they once more blew out the light, and it +was not long before they were both fast asleep. + +If they could have known the terrible danger which Drover Stobart was +in at that very time, it is certain that sleep would have been +impossible to them. He was as near death, a hideous death, as any man +can possibly be who lives to tell the tale. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Wild Cattle + +The boys woke late on their first morning in the Far North. Sax's +thoughts immediately turned to his father's letter. He groped under +his pillow and pulled it out and read it again: + + + "In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell Oodnadatta + trooper, but _no one else_. He'll understand. + Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. Get a job somewhere. + + "STOBART." + + +It was a characteristic note, for the drover never wrote long letters, +but the shakiness of the writing, and the mysterious way in which it +had been delivered, gave Sax a feeling of great uneasiness. If, as Joe +Archer the storekeeper had suggested, Stobart had been forced to take a +westerly track from Horseshoe Bend in order to find water and feed for +the cattle, he could easily have sent word to Oodnadatta by the +ordinary camel mail which passed the Bend once a month. + +Sax looked up and saw that his friend was awake. "What d'you reckon we +ought to do, Boofy?" he asked, getting out of bed. + +Vaughan took the letter and read it before replying. "It says 'Tell +Oodnadatta trooper'," he remarked. "I reckon we ought to do that +first, Sax, don't you?" + +When breakfast was over, the boys asked the way to the trooper's house, +and were told that Sergeant Scott had gone away after some blacks who +had been spearing cattle. No one had any idea when he was likely to +return. "You see--" said the man who was telling them about it, "you +see, he may get the niggers easy and bring them in at once. Or they +may clear out and make him chase them for days and days. He'll get +them in the end, though, you bet. Old Scotty's not the one to be +beaten by niggers." + +The boys sat down outside the trooper's house on a little hill and +looked over the desolate landscape. They seemed to be baulked at every +turn. + +Presently, away above the northern rim of the land appeared a little +brown stain. It caught the eye because the horizon had no cloud on it +or anything to break the clear line except that patch of brown. + +Sax was idly watching it, wondering what in the world he could do to +help his father, when the cloud seemed to get bigger and clearer. +"Look, Boof," he said. "D'you see that thing over there? It looks +like a cloud, but it's brown." + +He pointed it out to his friend and they watched it together. It was +certainly getting bigger. "Looks like dust," said Vaughan. + +"But whatever could be kicking up all that dust?" asked Sax. "It's +coming this way. Look, it's covering those trees over there now." + +The cloud of dust got bigger and of a more distinct brown. Objects +such as trees, which at one time stood out in front of it, were hidden +one after another, till it spread out like heavy brown smoke from a +damp fire. The air was very clear and still. All at once Sax gripped +his friend's arm. He had heard a sound--a sound which was like his own +native tongue to the drover's son--the crack of a stock-whip. + +"I'm sure I heard a whip," he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm dead sure I +did. Hark!" + +Both boys sprang to their feet and listened intently. From out that +advancing mass of brown dust sounds could be heard. At first they were +just a confused murmur, a sort of deep grumbling very far away; but now +and again came a sharper sound, half like the crack of a pistol and +half like two flat boards being banged together. + +"Yes. I'm sure of it. I'm sure of it. It's whips. I bet you it's +whips. And that dust is kicked up by cattle. I _know_ it is. Oh, +Boofy, Boofy! P'raps it's my father." + +"Let's go and meet him," suggested Vaughan, and the boy would have +started out right away to meet the cattle if his friend had not +prevented him. Sax had never seen a mob of bush cattle, at least not +that he could remember, though his father had often carried him on the +pommel of his saddle when he was a tiny baby. But he knew +instinctively that it would be dangerous to face wild cattle on foot. + +"Let's wait and see what happens," he said. "They won't be long." + +The noise had now increased to the continuous rumbling bellow of a +great mob of restless cattle. Already the shouts of men could be +heard, and the cracks of whips came very sharp and clear. Dim forms +could be seen for a moment now and again on the outskirts of the cloud +of dust, as mounted men wheeled here and there and everywhere in their +efforts to keep the cattle together. The animals had never seen a town +before, and were frightened at the glitter of iron roofs in the sun. + +Suddenly a figure on a horse shot out in front and cantered ahead. The +boys became tense with excitement. Was it Mr. Stobart? At first they +could not distinguish him except that he rode a grey horse and sat it +with the perfect ease of a Central Australian. The animal did not want +to leave its companions and started to "play up". But nothing it could +do made any difference to the superb rider; he just sat as if he were +part of the horse, as if he were indeed its brain, forcing it to obey +his will. When he came past the little hill where the lads were +standing he was about a hundred yards away from them, and they could +see him clearly. + +"Is it, Sax?" asked Vaughan excitedly. "Is it your pater?" + +The drover's son shook his head. "No chance," he said sadly. "My +father's taller than that man. But can't he just ride, Boof?" + +The rider had by this time reached a set of troughs which spread out on +the ground and were filled by a bore about half a mile behind the town. +He dismounted, had a good look round to see that everything was right, +and then started to ride back again. But instead of going straight +back to the cattle, he rode up to the boys. + +"Good-day," he said, reining in his horse. "Come out to see the +cattle?" + +"Yes," replied Sax. "And we were wondering whether Boss Stobart"--he +said the name proudly--"whether Boss Stobart was with them." + +The man shook his head. "No. Didn't he come in a week ago? He +started ahead of me. These are T.D.3 cattle." + +The lads showed their disappointment on their faces, but of course the +drover did not understand the reason for it. "If it's fun you're after +seeing, you'll get as much with my mob as you would with the Boss's," +he said with a very slight Irish brogue. "They're sure as wild as +bally mosquitoes. But look, you're a bit too close here. Get back a +bit, and when they've had a drink, go over to the troughs. You'll +likely see a bit of fun at the yards." + +The lads did as he told them. They climbed on the roof of an old shed +where they were well out of the way, and could get a good view of the +cattle as they came in to water. They expected the whole mob to file +past at once, but that was not what happened. As soon as the drover +returned, the cattle were rounded up in a hollow between two +sand-hills. For a time the dust increased to such an extent that +nothing could be seen; but by the shouting and whip-cracking it was +evident that the men were having trouble. + +Then a little mob of about a hundred were cut out from the others and +driven towards the water. A white man rode in front and two black boys +rode behind. To Stobart and Vaughan it looked as if the men were +taking far more care than was necessary, for they shepherded the cattle +every inch of the way. The cattle smelt the water from the distance, +and wanted to rush straight to it, but they were turned again and +again, and allowed to advance only at a slow pace. They had been ten +weeks on the road, and were so nervous at approaching the buildings of +the little town, that the least thing would make them rush away in all +directions. Once they started, nothing could stop them, and the result +of all those weeks of constant care might go for nothing. So the +stockmen took no chances. + +The cattle watered quietly, and when they had had enough, they were +taken a little distance away and left in charge of the two black boys. +Then the white man returned and cut off another hundred, and watered +them in the same way, till every one in the huge mob of wild cattle had +had a drink without being disturbed. + +Then came what the drover had called "a bit of fun". The cattle were +slowly moved towards the great trucking-yards. + +"Let's go over to the troughs as he said," suggested Vaughan. "It's +lots nearer than this." So the two friends took up their position +behind the big tank into which the water from the bore poured before it +flowed into the troughs. + +The Oodnadatta trucking-yards are made of iron rails set in concrete +and are capable of holding more than a thousand head of stock. Once +the cattle are in, nothing matters, for the yards are strong enough to +hold elephants. But the job is to get them in. + +Inch by inch the grumbling mass of irritable beasts was urged forward +by the white drover and his boys. It was a ticklish job, and the whips +were kept quiet at first, except to flick up one or another which tried +to poke out of the mob. All went well till the leading cattle came to +the wing of the yard. Those iron rails frightened them. They had only +seen a yard once before in their lives, and the rails of that one were +made of wood. + +"Steady, boys! Steady!" called the drover. "Keep 'em quiet a bit." + +For a minute or two the stockmen sat back on their horses and did not +urge the cattle forward, but let them get used to their new +surroundings. The animals went up to the rails and smelt them, +bellowing with surprise. + +"Now, slowly, boys! Slowly!" + +Very gradually the horsemen moved forward. To a new chum this care +seemed very unnecessary. The gate was straight ahead. Why not force +the animals through, and get the job over? But a thousand cattle +cannot be forced by five men, as the boys were soon to see. + +The leading cattle were now right up to the gate, and the others were +slowly crowding on behind, till they were jammed in the wings. If only +one or two would go through the rest would follow easily. But the +leading bullock struck a tin buried in the sand. Instantly the great +beast's head was raised and he sent out a roaring bellow. Those behind +him crowded on, but he would not pass that tin. It was lying on top of +the sand now. He tried to back away from it, and in doing so struck +his foot against it again. + +Bellow followed bellow. He set his feet firmly in the sand and would +not budge. Down went his head, and he tossed clouds of sand into the +air. + +"Let 'em have it. Let 'em have it," shouted the drover. "Force 'em up +there. Force 'em up." He stood in his stirrups and plied his whip, +cracking it back and front, and shouting at the top of his voice. The +blacks did the same, till it seemed as if they would force the cattle +into the yard by sheer energy. + +But no. The leading bullock stood firm. Something had to give way. +No single animal could withstand the pressure of all the others from +behind. The bullock lifted his head high and shook his mighty horns, +and, with a roar which drowned all sounds of shouting, he turned along +the side of the wing and charged. Nothing could stop him. Others +followed till the cattle were going round and round like water in a +whirlpool. What cattlemen most fear had happened: a ring. Not a +single beast went through the gate. They passed it, at first slowly, +then faster and faster, till they were galloping round and round like +clumsy circus horses. + +The drover tried to break the ring. He cut off a few cattle at the +back of the mob and forced them against the tide. He succeeded for a +moment, and the black stockmen cut off others and brought them in. For +a few seconds it was like two huge waves meeting. The cattle jammed in +the centre, and some were actually lifted from their feet. Then the +wave broke. + +A charging mass of maddened cattle rushed away from the yards, +screaming with terror, heads down and stiffened tails high in the air. +Nothing could stand against them. It was death to attempt to check the +terrible charge. The mounted men galloped for safety to the sides. +One, however, was too slow. He had just gained the edge of the mob +when a young steer dashed into his horse. Both were going so fast that +they came down together. Fortunately the boy was thrown clear and was +not hurt. The steer rolled over and over and then picked itself up and +joined the rush. The riderless horse galloped towards the troughs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Riding Tests + +During the exciting scenes at the yards, Sax and Vaughan had come out +from the shelter of the tank, wholly absorbed in the wild life they +were now witnessing for the first time. With the keen delight which +every healthy-minded boy has in adventure, they followed every twist +and turn, wishing with all their hearts that they were in the thick of +it and not mere lookers-on. + +When the cattle broke, the drover dashed out on their side of the mob +and waved a warning to them. His mouth framed words, and though his +voice was drowned in the tremendous hullabulloo, the boys knew he was +shouting: "Back! Back! Back for your lives!" + +So they raced for the tank and crouched behind it as the storm of +cattle went sweeping past. + +The riderless horse galloped up to the troughs and stooped its head to +drink. The bridle-rein trailed on the ground. Sax looked around the +tank and saw it very near his hand. He gave a quick glance at the +saddle and saw that all the gear was right, and then quietly stretched +out his arm and caught the rein. He gripped it firmly but did not +pull. The noise of stampeding cattle was so great that the horse did +not notice the movement near him till the boy slowly rose from the +ground. + +Then the horse lifted its head and gave a snort of alarm. But in a +moment Sax had jerked the reins over its head, and in another moment +was on its back. Before he was well seated, the frightened animal +reared, squealing and pawing the air with its fore hoofs. But Sax was +lean and very supple. He clung on, drove his feet home in the +stirrups, and when the horse came down and started to buck and twist +and arch and side-spring, he had a seat from which it would have taken +a very good animal to shake him. It was all over in less than a +minute, and then the horse saw its companions flying over the plains in +a cloud of dust, gave a whinny, and started after them at top speed. + +Vaughan was left with feelings which were almost equally divided +between pride in his friend's achievement and envy that the adventure +had not fallen to his lot. + +Sax caught up with the drover and rode neck and neck with him on the +wing of the cattle for some time before the man turned his head. When +he did so, he was very surprised. + +"Hallo, young 'un!" he shouted, almost breathless at the rate they were +going. "Can you ride?" + +"No," bawled Sax exultantly; "but I'm learning." + +"Well, don't try and learn too much first go," came back the warning. +"There's ticklish work ahead. You watch me." And they settled down +again to give all their attention to the work in hand. + +About five miles west of the town is a narrow but close belt of timber, +mostly gnarled mulga and gidgee, with here and there a sprawling +stunted creek gum. The cattle were making for this shelter. But +already the tremendous pace was beginning to tell. The bellowing had +ceased and the mob was stringing out, the stragglers no longer being +able to gallop, but lumbering along at a clumsy trot. + +To Sax's surprise, a black stockman, riding in the rear of the mob, +kept these stragglers at the top of their pace. The drover gradually +forged ahead on the wing and the boy with him, till they were level +with the leaders. Then, little by little, they worked nearer and +nearer to the galloping beasts, using their whips freely and trying by +every possible means to turn the line away from the belt of timber. +They succeeded. From west the cattle turned to south, getting more and +more tired at every stride, then east, then north, and finally they +were brought up by rounding on themselves and turning in and in till +they were thoroughly exhausted and only too willing to pull up. + +Sax's whole body was one big ache. It was his first ride on a bush +horse, which he found very different from the thoroughbreds he had +known. Every movement of the horse, now that the excitement was over, +was agony to him, but he sat in the saddle without flinching. Not for +the world would he have betrayed himself. + +"What do we do now?" he asked the drover. + +The man laughed. He admired the boy's pluck, and his keen eyes noticed +the signs of discomfort which Sax could not possibly hide. "Do?" he +asked. "Why? Haven't you done enough for a bit?" + +"Oh, I'm all right," said Sax. "I like it." + +"Wish I did," growled the other. "I'll just begin to like it when it's +all over, and these beggars are in the yard." + +The mounted men rode slowly to and fro around the cattle for an hour or +two. Some of them got over their fright sufficiently to lie down, +others stood about in groups and nosed one another and murmured +quietly. About noon the drover whistled to his boys, and a move was +made towards the yards. This time they were not rushed forward in a +mob. A few of the quietest were cut off and driven in first. They +went through the gates without any trouble. Then a few more, followed +by others till the thousand cattle were safely behind the great gates. + +"Now we'll have a drink of tea, and then we'll truck them," said the +drover, dismounting from his horse and taking off the saddle. He +turned to the black boys. "Take um your horses little yard belonga Mr. +Archer," he said, pointing towards the town. "Give um plenty tucker, +water. Come back quick-fella! Which way Yarloo sit down?" + +At the name Yarloo, Sax looked up quickly. Surely that was the name +given by the messenger who handed Boss Stobart's note to the boy in the +middle of the night. The blacks laughed at the drover's question, and +one of them pointed towards the troughs. "Him tummel aller same +kangaroo," he said, with a grin, making movements with his body like a +man being flung off a horse. "Him come down cropper, I think," and he +rubbed the back of his head and made grimaces which caused the others +to laugh heartily. A black-fellow is always highly amused at an +accident. + +Two figures were coming over from the troughs. Sax recognized one as +Vaughan. The other was limping slightly. It was Yarloo, the boy who +had been thrown from his horse. He had got a job with the drover the +morning after the delivery of his midnight message to Saxon Stobart, +and, because he was a stranger, his fellow stockmen took a great +delight in limping about and imitating him. + +"So that's how you got your ride," said the drover. "How did you catch +the horse?" + +Sax told him, and the drover remarked: "I'm glad you did. Nothing +stirs things up so much as a saddled horse with nobody on him. You and +your mate had better have a drink of tea with me. By the way, what do +they call you?" + +"That chap's name's Vaughan," answered Sax. "Mine's Stobart." + +"What? Stobart? Same name as Boss Stobart?" + +"Yes. He's my father." + +For a moment the drover looked at the boy with keen eyes from which +nothing could be hidden. They were light-grey eyes, set well apart, +and absolutely fearless. He caught and held Sax's glance and seemed to +be reading the boy's character. He evidently approved of what he saw, +for he held out his hand, which Stobart took at once. + +"So you're Boss Stobart's son," he said. "I'm sure glad to meet you. +My name's Darby. Mick Darby. Me and your father were mates for close +on ten years. You came up to meet him, did you?" + +Sax told him a little about the school, and how he and Vaughan had come +up to Oodnadatta expecting to meet the drover, and how disappointed +they were. He did not mention the mysterious message; but when Mick +Darby asked what the boys intended doing, Sax answered promptly that +they were looking for a job, as Boss Stobart had sent a note advising +them to do this. + +"He's likely changed his plans," said Darby, "and can't come down for a +bit. What sort of a job d'you want?" + +By this time Vaughan had come up, and the three whites were sitting +near an open pack-bag, eating damper and salt meat, and drinking tea +from the drover's quart-pot. To his question as to what sort of job +they wanted, there seemed but one reply. Sax's mouth was full at the +time, so Vaughan answered: + +"This sort, of course." + +Mick smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, and asked: "Can you ride too?" +The word "too" pleased Sax immensely, but it stirred his friend to +answer, somewhat boastfully: + +"I can ride as well as he can--can't I, Sax?" + +"You're better than I am," said Sax generously. "He is indeed, Mr. +Darby." + +"Well, we'll see. I shan't be starting back till the day after +to-morrow. What d'you say to a riding test?" he asked, laughing. + +The boys were willing to agree to anything, especially as the station +to which Mick was returning was out towards the Musgrave Ranges. "It's +sure a rough place," said Mick, when he had agreed to take the boys. +"It's out on the edge of cattle country, the Musgraves west of us, and +niggers--bad niggers, too. You'll wish you'd never come." He looked +at the eager faces of the two lads and his own suffused with thoughts +of the days when he was their age. He remembered all the hard years +between, the trips on which he had only just come through alive, the +terrors of thirst, the slow torment of being out of tucker, the scraps +with blacks, the dreary homeless monotony of the desert, and he said +earnestly: "I'm not urging you to come, mind. I know what you're in +for; you don't. But if you want to be men, now's your chance." + +Vaughan's riding test next day was a severe one. "It's not that I want +to make a fool of you," explained Mick, as they lead the horses out of +Archer's yard. "But there's not a properly quiet horse in my plant. +It's no good your getting your swag ready if you can't ride. What +d'you feel like?" + +Vaughan said he was feeling fine; but if the truth must be told, his +pulses were beating unusually fast as he looked at the bush horses and +realized that he was soon to be on top of one of them. The party +consisted of the drover, the white boys, and one or two black stockmen, +and when they came to a broad expanse of soft sand, Mick said they +needn't go any farther. + +Vaughan rode three horses. The first was a bay mare, of medium height, +short in the back, and with a long rein. "You'll find her a bit tricky +to mount," said Mick. The animal stood as quiet as a mouse while +Vaughan caught her and put the saddle on, but as soon as he tossed the +reins over her head, she backed away and started to prance round +excitedly. The boy found it impossible to get his foot in the stirrup; +as soon as he touched the metal, the mare jumped back. Mick Darby +stood by and said nothing, but he interfered when Sax wanted to go and +help his friend. "Let him do it on his own," he said. "He won't +always have you with him." + +Instead of quietening down, when the mare found she could bluff the lad +she pranced about more than ever, and Vaughan saw that, unless he could +surprise the animal for a moment, he would have no chance of mounting. +So he kept the reins over her head and started to pat the lovely neck +and shoulders. He slowly worked round till he was on the off side--a +side from which, normally, no one ever mounts a horse--and let his hand +run down the shoulder till it touched the stirrup. The mare stood +quite still. + +Still patting the animal, Vaughan shortened the rein, and quietly +lifted his right foot. As soon as it was in the stirrup, he sprang, +and before the surprised horse could recover from its astonishment, he +was in the saddle, having mounted from the wrong side. + +The blacks shouted their praise, but Vaughan listened only for the +drover's voice. Mick laughed heartily. "Good boy! Good boy!" he +said. "You bluffed her all right. Get off, and I'll show you how to +do it on the near side." + +The mare was quite quiet when once the rider was seated, and Vaughan +had no difficulty in riding her round or in dismounting. Mick +shortened the rein for mounting, and just as the mare began to turn +away, as she had done with Vaughan, he took off his hat and put it +under the cheek-strap of the bridle, thus blinding the horse on the +near side. She stood quite still, and the drover got on and off +several times without any difficulty. Then Vaughan tried it in the +same way, and found he could do anything with the mare if only he +blindfolded the near-side eye when he was mounting. + +"She's a good little mare to ride, and as game as a pebble," said Mick, +when the saddle had been taken off her. "I'll let you have her if you +promise to treat her well." + +The next horse was a big raking bay, high in the shoulder, too long and +badly coupled in the back, and of a very awkward appearance. Vaughan +saddled him up and mounted. The horse stood stock still. Vaughan then +shook the reins and it moved on for a few paces, but as soon as the +reins were slacked again, it stopped. The boy became impatient. +Nothing is so annoying to ride as a lazy horse. So he shortened the +rein. As soon as he did so, the big animal started to move forward, +and it got faster and raster as its rider put pressure on the reins. +It had an awkward habit of thrusting its long lean head straight out, +so Vaughan pulled hard. But the harder the boy pulled the faster the +horse moved. And it _could_ move. Vaughan had never had such an +uncomfortable few minutes in his life. Every part of the horse seemed +to be moving by itself, and jerking him in all directions. He couldn't +possibly sit in the saddle. He let the stirrups take all his weight +and just hung on. The horse was bolting. + +Vaughan did not lose his head. After trying to pull up the runaway by +sheer force, he realized that he was only wasting his strength, and +making it go faster. By the time he found this out, he was a mile away +from the others, enveloped in a cloud of dust, and racing as hard as +the horse could set foot to the ground. He slackened the reins a +little. Instantly the pace slackened too. He took off more pressure +still and the horse was soon cantering at a medium speed. Vaughan had +found out the secret. He turned his horse's head towards home, and +made it do just anything he wanted by simply increasing or decreasing +the force with which he held the reins. The horse had a most +delightful canter, like a big rocking-horse, and Vaughan rode up to his +companions feeling very pleased with himself. + +"What d'you think of it?" asked Mick. + +"Fine!" replied the lad. "Fine! But he shook me up before I found it +out." + +"Found what out?" asked the drover. + +Vaughan told him, and the man smiled approval. "Good!" he commented. +"Remember, these horses up here are all different, and you've got to +find them out. Perhaps you've been used to riding properly trained +ones. We don't do any of that up here in the bush. Would you like to +try another?" + +Vaughan was sore and tired, but he answered eagerly that he was ready +for a dozen more. + +"I'll only give you one," said Mick, beckoning to one of the black +boys. "Take him pretty carefully." + +The black stockman caught and saddled a chestnut gelding. Compared +with the thoroughbreds of Langdale Station, the horse was heavily +built, but it had beautifully made shoulders and back. The rump was +coupled to the saddle of the back without the slightest dip, and the +curve rose over a pair of high shoulder-blades and up to a deep and +shapely neck. The legs, however, were thick, and seemed to be out of +proportion with the rest of the body. + +Vaughan mounted, or rather he tried to mount. If he had known more +about horses he would have noticed the nervous head and eyes, and would +have taken precautions accordingly. But he just flung the reins over +its head, put his foot in the stirrup, and--found himself sprawling in +the sand. He did not let go of the reins. The drover noticed this, +and knew, because of it, that the boy had the instincts of a horseman. +Sax ran forward, but Mick stopped him. "He's all right," he said. +"Let him alone." + +Vaughan picked himself up and approached the horse, cautiously, but +without fear. He put the reins quietly over its head, shortened the +near side one and took a good handful of mane, and put his foot in the +stirrup. + +"Don't rush it! Don't rush it!" shouted Mick. "You're dealing with a +nervous horse. Take your time. Don't be afraid. He's got no vice." + +Vaughan gradually pressed his weight in the stirrup and rose slowly +into the saddle. The horse stood quite still and trembled. The boy +realized that something was going to happen and settled himself firmly. +It was well he did so. Without any warning, the horse's back arched +like a bent bow, and all four feet came off the ground. It was an +extraordinary experience for Vaughan--everything sloping away from him. +Then the back straightened suddenly and the hoofs struck the ground +with such impact that, if the boy had not been very firmly in the +stirrups, he would have been tossed in the air like a stone from a +catapult. + +After that, Vaughan had a few of the busiest moments of his life. Up +in the air--in front and behind and all together--pitching this way and +that; rooting, jumping, bucking, doing everything except rolling on the +ground, the screaming horse tried to get rid of its rider. + +Vaughan did not know what he was doing. Sheer pluck, and the supple +strength of his young body, brought him through a test where more +experienced riders would have failed. He did the right things without +knowing why. He leaned forward over the neck of the rearing horse; he +lay back when its heels were lashing the air; he balanced himself, as +he had often done on a horizontal bar at school, when the arched back +of the horse quivered under him high off the ground; and he stood in +his stirrups to save his body from the shock of those four heavy feet +striking the ground at once. He did all these things instinctively, +though he had never been on a bucking horse before. + +He was far too excited to be afraid. His determination saw him +through, and at last the quivering horse and the breathless boy came to +a standstill. Then, with a shrill whinny, the horse did its final +worst. It braced its hind legs well apart and tossed its chest high in +the air. Up and up rose the head and shoulders, while the fore feet +pawed the air; up and up, till horse and rider hung for a moment in the +balance--a horse on two legs, standing erect with a white boy clinging +to its back. They swayed for a moment; for two; for three. Then over +they came. With a violent jerk of its head, the horse fell over +backwards. + +A shout of consternation went up. Vaughan's position was one of +greatest peril. But the boy's dancing blood had given his mind a +lightning grip of the situation, and as the horse fell, he kicked his +feet free from the stirrups, and flung himself clear. He was not a +moment too soon. With a crash which shook the ground, the heavy horse +came down, and would have mangled to a lifeless pulp anyone who had +been under it. But Vaughan was safe. He lay for a minute, gasping, +then stood up and faced the drover. The rein was still in his hand, +though the force of the fall had torn the strong leather strap from the +bridle. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Smoke Signals + +Travelling across country in Central Australia is usually very +monotonous. The same routine is gone through day after day, and there +is not even the relief of meeting new faces, for one's companions are +often the only human beings met with during the whole of a trip of many +weeks. + +For the first few days of journeying towards the Musgraves, young +Stobart and Vaughan found everything new and intensely interesting. At +piccaninny daylight--which is the bush term for the rising of the +morning star--Mick Darby turned over on his swag and sat up, and called +out "Daylight! Daylight!" + +The drover was so punctual with this call that it seemed to the boys as +if he must have been awake for hours, watching for the star to rise +blood-red above the eastern horizon. But years of bush travel, of +watching restless cattle, and of sleeping under the threat of danger +from prowling blacks had made the man respond immediately to any noise +or unusual sight. There was no period of stretching or yawning. Mick +was asleep one instant, and fully awake the next and shouting +"Daylight". The black boys were also light sleepers, trained out of +their native laziness by association with alert whites. There was +Yarloo, who had come in from the west with Boss Stobart's message and +had joined the white man's plant at once; and Ranui, a tall fine man +from North Queensland, who showed both in his build and name a trace of +Malay blood; and Ted and Teedee, two boys who had been with Mick since +they were "little fellas". + +As soon as the morning call sounded, the black stockmen rolled out of +their camp-sheets, picked up their bridles, and went off in the grey +light on the tracks of the hobbled horses. Their skill in tracking was +a constant source of wonder to the boys. The type of country didn't +seem to matter at all; soft sand or hard stony tableland was all the +same to them; they tracked the wandering horses with as much careless +certainty as if they could actually see them, though on some nights +they had strayed, in search of feed, several miles away from camp. + +When the black boys had gone, Sax and Vaughan collected wood for the +morning fire, raked last night's ashes together, and made a blaze. +Then they filled the seven quart-pots with water and set them near the +flame to boil for breakfast. + +The drover was always busy in the early hours. There was probably a +piece of horse-gear to mend, a broken or faulty girth, the stuffing of +a saddle which had become lumpy, or a buckle which had torn away. When +these were all in order, there was the everlasting "damper" to make. +Vaughan volunteered to become assistant cook if Mick would give him +lessons in the great bush art of damper-making. + +"You'd better start on Johnny-cakes," said the drover. "The mixture's +just the same, but if you make a mess you won't spoil a whole damper. +You watch me to-day. You can try your hand to-morrow, if you like." + +It was still an hour or so before sunrise when the white boys had their +first lesson in bush cookery. Mick went over to one of the packs and +pulled out a seventy-pound bag of flour about half full. He untied the +mouth of the bag and took out a tin of baking-powder. Then he spread a +folded sack on the sand, and piled on it about five double handfuls of +flour, mixing a lidful of baking-powder with it. He gave this a good +stir round, dry as it was, and then made a hollow in the middle and +poured in water in which a little salt had been dissolved. The proper +mixing of the dough only came by experience, Mick told them; as dry as +possible and yet damp enough to stick together. The work was done +quickly but thoroughly. + +"If you wanted it for a damper," explained Mick, giving the dough a +final roll, "you'd put the whole lot in together. But I'll show you +Johnny-cakes first; they're easier and don't take so long." + +He divided the dough into little pieces and rolled each out in his +hands till it was the size and shape of an ordinary bun. He arranged +these on the bag and pulled it near the fire. "I always let the things +rise for a couple of minutes," he said. "Some chaps don't, but I +always do." + +Then he prepared the fire for cooking. Every fragment of blazing wood +was put on one side, and a heap of soft glowing ashes left. With a +curved stick, this pile was scooped about till it was like a very big +saucer, all glowing hot and yet not actually burning. On this warm bed +the Johnny-cakes were dropped, leaving a space between each so that +they wouldn't run together. When all the white balls of dough were in +place, Mick flicked some of the ashes from the edge of the hollow on to +them, gradually increasing the amount till the cakes were covered right +over and the whole affair was a mound of grey with no sign of the +cooking cakes. + +"How long before they're done?" asked Vaughan. + +"Depends," answered Mick. "Depends on the size of them and the heat of +the fire. I don't like the fire too hot. We'll have a look at these +in about a quarter of an hour." + +At the end of that time the top of the pile of ashes had begun to crack +here and there with the upward pressure of the rising Johnny-cakes. +Mick scooped one of them out from the edge. It was brown and hard on +the outside, with a most appetizing smell, and a soft ring round it +where the top had pulled away, just like the top on a loaf of bread. +To the boy's surprise, the cakes were quite clean, and a few flicks +with a wisp of leaves left them as free from sand or ashes as if they +had been baked in an oven. Mick tapped the cake with his knuckles. +"Another couple of minutes won't hurt," he said. + +Presently the distant sound of a jangling stock-bell was heard, and a +few minutes later the horses came into camp, lead by an old black mare +who carried a bell, and driven by the four black boys riding bareback. +Everything was bustle for a few minutes. The horses were again hobbled +to prevent them from straying, and then the men all settled down to +breakfast. Vaughan usually took charge of the tea. Directly a +quart-pot came to the boil, he tipped in some sugar and a pinch of tea, +and moved the pot away from the fire. Sax superintended the tucker--a +slab of damper, or a Johnny-cake, and a chunk of salt meat for each +man. These are the bush rations year in and year out: meat, damper, +and tea. Breakfast was eaten quickly, and then the pack-bags were +weighted evenly and fastened up, horses caught and saddled, a final +look given round the camp to see that nothing was left behind, and the +three white men set out in a certain direction with no track and with +no guidance of any kind except that of the sun, followed at once by the +plant of horses driven by the blacks. + +All day they rode, silent for the most part, but occasionally Mick +would answer a question as to a tree, a strange track, or a feature on +the horizon. No other living thing was seen hour after hour, save a +solitary eagle high in the air, a few lizards darting about the clumps +of porcupine grass, and ants and flies. These latter pests are the +curse of the back country. The weather was hot. That day and on +several others one hundred and thirty degrees was reached, and even +that temperature was exceeded now and then over sandhills and plains +which quivered in the heat. But the boys would not have minded the +heat if the flies had only left them alone. Long before dawn, before +even the morning star had risen, flies buzzed around them, making life +well-nigh unbearable. + +A halt was made about noon for dinner, the packs and saddles taken off +the horses for an hour, and then the journey was resumed, each man +riding a fresh horse, for no one rides the same horse all day in +Central Australia, if he can possibly help it. + +Evening camp was usually made near a water-hole or native well, but +sometimes the horses had to go as long as two days without a drink. +They were unsaddled and hobbled out, and allowed to roam about all +night and pick up scanty bits of food. It amazed the white boys to see +what very little herbage of any kind there was for an animal to live +on. No grass; just a dry uninviting bush here and there, growing up +out of loose barren sand, with, at long intervals, a clump of twisted +mulga trees. Yet the horses "did" well, and certainly the thousand +T.D.3 bullocks which had come down from the territory looked none the +worse for their trip over country just as barren as the boys were now +camped on. + +After tea was the time the two white boys enjoyed most, for Mick would +light his pipe then, prop himself up against his swag, and, with a +quart-pot of tea by his side, tell them yarns about the back country. +Many of these narratives included Boss Stobart, for he and Mick had +gone about together a great deal, and had established overland droving +records which are still unbeaten. He told of drought and flood, of +thirst and hunger, of cattle rushes and disease, of mining camps, of +Afghans and their camels, of Chinamen and opium, of grog shanties, of +troopers, of wild blacks and still wilder whites, until his listeners' +minds flamed at the thought that they, even they, were in the country +where such adventures had taken place--and perhaps some day would be +met with by themselves. And at night, when they lay out on their swags +under the cool sky, which looked so much farther away than it did in +cities, and heard the high quavering hunting-call of the dingo, their +thoughts would go, not towards the scenes where they had spent their +boyhood, but onwards into the unknown. + +One day, when the routine of "the road" had gone on for more than a +fortnight, they were crossing a broad expanse of hard stony country, +shut in on the north by dense mulga scrub, when Sax noticed a thin +column of smoke rising from the trees a few miles away. He could +hardly believe his eyes, and when he looked again it was no longer +coming up from the trees, but was rising up and up and fading away +against the flawless blue of the sky. He was about to call Vaughan's +attention to it when his horse stumbled and nearly fell. Next time he +looked to the north the smoke was again rising from the trees, and then +again it was cut off, and floated away and was lost. + +His curiosity was thoroughly roused. "Mick!" he shouted, for by this +time the boys had dropped the "Mr." when speaking to their drover +friend. "Mick! Is that _smoke_ over there in the trees?" + +"Sure it's smoke," he answered. "And so's that ahead there." He +pointed across the plain, where the heat was dancing, to a little hill. +It must have been eight miles away, and from it rose a thin coil of +smoke. At first Sax thought it was merely the effect of the sun +causing everything in the distance to quiver and take on fantastic +shapes, but he trusted the bushman's eyes, and at last convinced +himself that it was indeed smoke. + +"Then somebody must be camped there," said Vaughan. + +"Is it a station, Mick, or just chaps travelling like ourselves?" asked +Sax. + +"It's niggers, lad. They're signalling to one another." + +The columns of smoke were at once invested with a new interest to the +two boys. Natives were near them, unseen, sending messages to other +natives at a distance. The simplicity of this bush telegraphy was +fascinating. + +"What are they saying, Mick, d'you know?" asked Vaughan eagerly. + +"This lot," said the drover, "is telling that other lot over there that +we're coming. So many white men, so many blacks, and so many horses. +We're getting into nigger country now." + +"Will we see them?" asked the boys. + +"No chance in life," replied the drover. "These niggers are wild and +scared to death of white men. They're different from the camp blacks +who hang round stations. They'll likely be station blacks themselves +some day, for the wild nigger's dying out. But just now, they keep +away and live their own lives. We call them warraguls." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Stealthy Foes + +Next morning, when the horses came in, two were missing. "Which way +them two horses sit down?" Mick asked one of the boys. "What for you +no bring um in?" + +"Him dead," was the answer. + +"Dead!" exclaimed the drover. "How dead?" + +"Him speared," explained Yarloo. + +"Which way? You show um me." The drover saddled his horse and went +away with Yarloo, while the two white boys gave the other stockmen +their breakfast, wondering what had taken Mick off in such a hurry. + +Mick Darby found the two dead horses. By their tracks they had +evidently strayed away from the others, and by other tracks it was +clear that blacks had crept upon them in the dim light of dawn and had +speared them, for the bodies were still warm. Mick always carried a +bottle of strychnine about with him, and at every camp he poisoned +little bits of meat and left them behind to kill the dingoes which +abound in cattle country. He looked at the two horses--fine, stanch +animals, both of them--and his heart became hot with anger. He put his +hand to his belt and fingered the poison pouch. It was a great +temptation. If the blacks had speared the horses for food, here was a +chance for revenge. If he poisoned the carcass and killed the blacks, +would it not be a terrible warning to the others? + +But it was only for a second that the ghastly thought attracted him. +He was a true white man and would not stoop to any hidden revenge. It +is a white man's way to face his enemy in the open and under the sun, +not to kill him by putting strychnine in his food. So Mick turned away +and rode back to camp, and did not tell the boys what danger they were +in. + +Next day smoke signals were all around them and very close. It gave +the boys a feeling that keen black eyes were peering at them from every +bit of cover, and that lithe forms were slinking noiselessly from tree +to tree, never turning a stone or breaking a twig to disturb the +silence of the desert. + +That evening they unpacked and unsaddled the horses early, and tied +them up till after tea. Then Mick rode away with them himself, hobbled +them on an open patch of dry bush, and prepared to watch throughout the +night. He knew the native method of attack: a little, then a little +more. If two horses had been killed last night, three or four might be +speared this night. To lose their horses would leave the party at the +mercy, not only of the blacks, but also of a more terrible enemy +still--thirst. So the brave bushman was going to take no risks. + +The spot he had chosen was a little plain covered with dry buck-bush +and surrounded on all sides with mulga scrub. There was plenty of feed +to keep the horses quiet all night, but Mick was obliged to ride round +them again and again and turn them back from the scrub. He was +perfectly sure that wild natives were in ambush behind the trees, and +that the first animal who wandered within range of a spear-cast would +become a victim. The moon was half-full in a cloudless sky, and the +drover had no difficulty in seeing, but, after an hour or two, he had +the greatest difficulty in the world to keep awake. The night was warm +and still and drowsy, and the day had been one of constant tension, and +as the drover sat with cocked rifle and with the horse's bridle looped +over his arm, he must have nodded once or twice through sheer weariness. + +Suddenly he heard a stone move on another stone. He was fully awake +and alert instantly. The horses were still in the middle of the plain, +quietly feeding, but one or two of them were looking at an old tree +stump in the curious meditative way which resting animals have of +looking at things which are of no particular interest. + +All at once Mick Darby sprang to his feet. He had never seen that tree +stump before. For several hours he had looked at that little plain in +the moonlight, and every bush was pictured on his memory. He was +absolutely sure that old tree had not been there when he started to nod +with weariness. Then, how had it come? Trees do not grow from the +ground, become old, and die and lose most of their branches in less +than an hour of a summer's night. + +Mick put his cocked rifle to his shoulder, trained the sights on the +tree stump, and walked slowly towards it. The thing was about a +hundred and fifty yards away when he started. He had covered a third +of the distance when the tree suddenly disappeared. Remarkable as it +may appear, it is a fact. One moment he saw the thick twisted trunk of +a mulga tree with a few broken branches, standing out on an otherwise +treeless plain; the next it had gone completely. But, instead of the +tree, three wriggling black forms glided between the bushes with the +stealth of snakes, making for their lives towards the scrub. They were +three warragul blacks, who had crept out into the plain and had used +this wonderful but quite common method of concealment. + +Mick fired into the air to frighten them and any of their companions +who might be lurking near. When the report had died away, the darkness +under the trees became full of little sounds like the patter of rain on +leaves, or like sheep passing over soft sand; a scarcely perceptible +sound, yet one which told of black savages creeping for safety into the +depths of the scrub. + +The shot woke the two boys. They turned to one another for an +explanation and saw that Mick had not returned. His swag still lay +where it had been tossed off the horse. They got up from their +blankets and began fastening their boots. They saw Yarloo sitting up +on the other side of the fire and called him to them. Yarloo always +camped away from the other black boys, for he was a member of a +different tribe. + +"What was that shot, Yarloo?" asked Sax. + +"Me can't know um," replied the boy. "Boss, him no come back. P'raps +him bin shoot, eh?" + +"Which way did he go?" asked Sax again. "It sounded quite close." + +"Me find um all right." + +"I vote we go too," said Vaughan. + +Yarloo looked at him for a moment in hesitation; then he pointed to the +other blacks and said: "No two fella white man go. No leave um camp +quite 'lone. See?" + +"He's right, Boof," said Sax. "You go with Yarloo. I'll stay," and as +his friend and the black boy disappeared in the darkness, he heaped +wood on the fire and blew it into a blaze. + +Yarloo tracked Mick Darby with absolute certainty and found him within +half a mile of the camp. The drover was surprised to see the white +boy, and at once made use of Yarloo to put the horses together in a +bunch and hold them for a time. He told Vaughan what had happened, for +it was no good trying to keep the secret any longer. "We lost two +horses last night," he said. "I told you they'd cleared out. But it +wasn't that. The niggers had speared them." + +"Then that's what the smoke signals meant?" asked Vaughan. + +"Yes. I wasn't sure at first whether it was hunger or devilment, so I +watched. They tried to get in amongst the horses again to-night." + +"Did you hit anyone?" asked Vaughan. + +"No. I didn't try. I fired into the air to scare them." + +By this time Yarloo had walked round the horses, turning them towards +the middle of the plain, and was squatting down on his haunches, +watching. + +"That's a real good sort of a nigger," said Mick. "He's got more sense +than most of them. Seems to have taken to you boys. I wonder why." + +"He used to work for Sax's father," explained Vaughan. "I thought you +knew." + +"I see. That explains it. Hi! Yarloo!" he called, and when the boy +came up: "You go back longa camp. Watch till piccaninny daylight. No +shut um eye, mind." + +Yarloo grinned his understanding of the order and disappeared. Then +the seasoned bushman and the new-chum white boy kept watch, turn and +turn about till dawn. At least, that was the arrangement, but Vaughan +found that the drover fell so soundly asleep, and seemed to be so very +tired, that he did not wake him till the morning star was well above +the trees and had turned from fierce red to clear pale silver in a sky +which was rapidly becoming lighter. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +First Sight of the Musgraves + +Next day Mick Darby rode with cocked rifle in the lead of the plant. +The white boys were not with him. They rode twenty or thirty yards in +the rear of the mounted blacks, ready to give instant alarm of any +danger. But for nearly a week nothing unusual happened. A few smoke +signals were seen, but were so far away that they seemed to indicate +that the wild blacks had taken warning and were retiring to their bush +fastnesses, having been convinced that it was beyond their power to +trick a watchful white man. + +Night after night the horses were hobbled on the best feed that could +be found, and were watched from sunset till dawn. The white boys took +their turn at this work, at first together, but, as night followed +night, and there was no sign of the blacks, Mick allowed them to take +their watches alone. This experience did more than any other to +impress them with Central Australia: its silence, its absolute +loneliness, its vastness and the puny insignificance of man, who dared +to pit his power against it. + +As hour after hour went by, and Sax or Vaughan rode round the horses or +squatted on the ground with the quietly breathing saddle-horse standing +near, these lads were slowly but surely changed from school-boys to +men. They felt that they were face to face with the power of untamed +nature--the desert and the savage inhabitants of it--and that even they +were units in an army of progress which was conquering that nature and +making it minister to the needs of civilized man. Of course, these +were not their actual thoughts, but that was certainly the general +effect which night-watching had upon them. + +Six days went by in this way and it appeared as if all danger was past. +The party had been making towards a low range of hills on the western +horizon, and on the seventh day the plant passed up a little valley and +halted on the top for midday camp. + +Through the clean sun-filled air of Central Australia the view was so +clear that all sense of distance was lost, and objects many days away +seemed no farther off than a few hours' ride. The character of the +country was the same as that which they had travelled over since +leaving Oodnadatta: masses of scanty mulga scrub standing out dark on a +landscape of vast bare plains or rolling sand-hills. Far away, a +pale-blue silhouette against the bright north-west sky, was a range of +high mountains. + +"Those are the Musgraves," said Mick, in answer to a question. "That's +where those niggers come from who speared my two horses." + +"Are the niggers very wild?" asked Sax, thinking of his father. + +"They're the last that really are wild in this part of the country," +answered the drover. "The rest have either come in and made camps near +stations, or cleared right out into West Australia." + +"Are there many of them?" asked Vaughan. + +"Nobody really knows," replied Mick. "The Musgraves is a big slice of +country, as you can see, and it stretches back for a couple of hundred +miles north. They say there's plenty of water and game in those +mountains. Chaps used to go there after gold, but so few of them came +back that they chucked it and left the place alone. The Musgraves have +got a bad name." + +Mick Darby did not know that everything he said had a very personal +application to one at least of his companions. The words of his +father's note kept ringing in Sax's ears: "In difficulties. Musgrave +Ranges. In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges," and his vivid imagination +filled all sorts of details into the drover's bare statements about the +dangers of the place. He noticed Yarloo looking intently at the +distant peaks, and when he caught the boy's eye, a significant glance +passed between them. They were both thinking of the lonely white man. + +But imaginary dangers soon gave place to present interests. The saddle +of the hills where they were camped was the eastern boundary of +Sidcotinga Station, the run on which Mick was going to take up the +duties of head stockman, and the boys were keen to note every landmark +which he pointed out. + +"How big is it, Mick?" asked Vaughan. + +"Between six and seven thousand square miles." + +"Miles! You mean acres, don't you, Mick?" + +"Acres be blowed! No, miles. This isn't a cocky farmer's cow-paddock." + +The extent of country amazed the boys. They were standing on a pretty +high hill and could see over a vast scope of country, but Mick told +them that a certain landmark near the head station was not even in +sight, and that the run stretched on beyond that again for miles and +miles. + +"But how ever do you know when you've gone off the run?" asked Sax. +"Is it fenced?" + +Mick Darby laughed heartily. "Fenced!" he exclaimed. "Fenced! Oh my +hat! No, lad, there's not a fence between here and glory, except round +a little bit of a paddock where they keep the working horses over +night. Why, d'you know that to fence Sidcotinga Station you'd need +nearly four hundred miles of fencing? There's no timber for the posts +in this part of the country, and as for wire---- No, they don't use +fences in Central Australia." + +This was such a new point of view to the boys, that during the +afternoon's ride they asked innumerable questions of their kind-hearted +friend. They heard that cattle are kept on any particular run because +of the impossibility of their wandering more than a certain distance +away from their water-hole. In fact, a run is made up of permanent +waters and the area of country around them. There may be any amount of +good feed on other parts of the run, but unless it is within reach of +water it is absolutely useless. + +The only chance that cattle have of straying is after rain, which falls +very, very seldom in Central Australia. When it does fall, the stock +wander off to new feeding-grounds, and may become stranded when the +surface waters dry up. The stockmen are very busy at such times, +tracking up cattle and bringing them back to their accustomed haunts. + +All this and much more the boys learnt as they rode along, and although +it seemed so new to them, there was a splendid sense that they were in +it all, and that soon they would know these things from actual +experience. + +An experience of Central Australian life which might have ended fatally +was to come to them sooner than they expected. Seeing that they were +now on Sidcotinga Station country, and that they had not been molested +for six days, Mick decided to let the horses go without being watched +that night, taking the precaution of tying up his own saddle-horse in +case of need. + +Next morning all the boys had run away except Yarloo. He went out with +a bridle at dawn and returned with the news that every one of the +horses had been speared. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Disaster + +Breakfast was being prepared in camp when Yarloo brought in the +terrible news. Mick Darby was greasing a couple of pack-girths, +Vaughan was mixing a damper, and Sax was attending to the seven +quart-pots near the fire and laying out the tucker on a clean bag. +When Yarloo came in with his bridle in his hand, he did not say +anything for a minute or two, but went over to the fire. He did not +always go after the horses in the morning, for he was very useful at +mending harness and doing odd jobs with the gear; therefore no one was +surprised to see him back before the others. Presently Mick brought +the two girths over to be warmed, so that the grease would sink right +into the leather. He looked across the fire at Yarloo and saw an +expression on the boy's face such as he had never seen there before. +The native looked terribly scared. Mick had no idea what had upset the +boy, and thought the fright was probably due to one of the many +superstitions which are always liable to crop up. But he liked Yarloo, +and asked him kindly: "What name, Yarloo? You see um Kadaitcha +(avenging spirit), eh?" + +The boy shook his head and fingered the bridle nervously. + +"Which way Ranui, Ted, Teedee?" asked Mick again, noticing that the +other boys had not come up and that it was getting near sunrise. + +"Gone," said Yarloo. + +It was not what was said so much as the tone of the boy's voice which +made Mick look with sudden earnestness into Yarloo's face, and ask +quickly: "Gone! What name you yabber gone? (What makes you say +they've gone?)" + +"Me think those three fella no come back," explained the boy. "Me +track um up long way. They walk, walk. Oh my word, plenty walk." He +pointed towards the distant mountains, and continued: "Me think they +walk longa Musgraves." + +Yarloo pronounced the word "Musgraves" in a tone of fear. It was a +word to strike terror to the heart; a word which at once called to mind +everything which was bad and treacherous and cruel about natives; a +word which told of the last great stronghold of the blacks which white +men had tried and tried again to take from them but without success. +Sax and Vaughan looked at one another when the dreaded word "Musgraves" +caught their ear. Yarloo saw their glance, and repeated, in a hopeless +voice: "Me think they walk longa Musgraves." + +"What time they go?" asked Mick, thinking that Yarloo must have made a +mistake. "What time they start walk?" + +The boy pointed to the western horizon and then shut his eyes, meaning +that the others had started out directly it was dark after sunset last +night. "Me see um track other black fella," he said. "Ranui, Ted, +Teedee, they join those other black fella. Go 'way Go right 'way. Me +think they no come back." + +Suddenly the meaning of it all flashed into Mick's mind. "And the +horses?" he asked eagerly. "What name the horses?" + +Yarloo did not answer. + +Mick sprang across the fire and seized the startled boy by the arm and +shook him in his eagerness to hear all that had happened during that +fatal night. "You yabber quickfella! quickfella! (You tell me +quickly!)" he shouted. "What name horses?" + +"Them bin speared." + +"Speared!" The word came from Mick's lips with a yell of horror. +"Speared!" + +"Yah. Alabout. (All of them.)" + +Mick sprang towards his own saddle-horse, which had been tied up all +night. He unhitched it and was across its back before the white boys +had had time to realize the meaning of the terrible news. "Show me!" +he shouted, and he and Yarloo disappeared at once on the track of the +horses. + +The boy's report was only too true. The Musgrave blacks, who had not +molested them for six nights, had done the most dastardly thing +possible under the circumstances. They had stolen forward that night +and speared every one of the hobbled horses. They evidently did not +want food, for, as Mick and Yarloo went from one dead body to another, +they saw that not a single piece of meat had been cut off. It was hate +and not hunger which had actuated the deed. The poor faithful workers, +some of whom had been the drover's companions for several years, were +cold and stiff, showing that they must have been killed early the night +before. + +The tracks of bare native feet made it clear that, after completing +their acts of cold-blooded murder--for it was nothing less--the +warragul blacks had crept towards the drover's camp. They had +approached it on the black boys' side of the fire and had thus missed +seeing Mick's saddle-horse, which was tied to a tree near its master. +The rest of the story was easy to read. The wild blacks had enticed +the camp boys away, and Ranui, Ted, and Teedee had left everything +behind them and had fled with the horse-killers through the night in +the direction of the ill-famed Musgrave Ranges. + +Mick's boys had actually taken no part in the killing; that was one +thing in their favour. Another satisfaction, which stood out like a +dull gleam of light in the grim dark tragedy, was that now there were +three fewer men to share their limited supply of water. But the +greatest good of all, in fact the only real ray of hope, was the fact +that one horse was still left, Mick's stanch gelding, Ajax. If the +drover had not fastened him up the evening before, and he had shared +the fate of his companions, the outlook for the four men would have +been black indeed. It was far blacker than they at first thought it to +be, for one important thing was not found out till later, and when it +was it took the bravest of brave hearts to stand up against such dire +disaster. The marauders had taken all the water-canteens except one +which had evidently escaped their notice by being near Mick's head. It +contained a little over three gallons! + +Eighty miles from water, in the heart of the sandy scrub-covered desert +in blazing summer weather, with only a canteen half-full of water to +serve four men! + +It is under such circumstances as these that manhood is put to the +test. All four men rose to the occasion. Sax and Vaughan, though +still lads as regards their age, were in reality men. Nothing but the +unconquerable spirit of man can survive in the battle against grim +nature in the Central Australian desert, and these two, who had but a +short time before been sitting in the classroom of a city school, had +faced difficulties and had won through, by sheer pluck and resolution, +and had therefore earned the right to be called men. + +Yarloo showed his faithfulness on this occasion when it would have been +so much easier for him to run away. Because he always slept some +distance away from the other boys, he had not known of their silent +departure in the night, but once he saw the terrible difficulties in +which the little party had been placed, it would have been the most +natural thing in the world for him to clear out and leave the three +whites to their fate. He could even have stolen the horse in order to +make his escape absolutely sure. He was a native, and could live and +travel through the desert scrub day after day when a white man would +certainly perish. He had been born and brought up to such a life, and +when he threw in his lot with the three stranded white men, he was, in +reality, jeopardizing his own chances of coming through the adventure +alive. He chose to be faithful to his companions rather than make sure +of his own safety. + +Yarloo was a good boy and had therefore always been treated well by +white men. He had not had many masters, and one of them stood out +above all others in his primitive mind. He had been Boss Stobart's boy +for years, and though he might work for other white men now and +again--as in this case he was working for Mick--he remained at heart +faithful to one man, first and last, and that man was Boss Stobart. +Therefore it was probably not only Yarloo's naturally fine spirit which +prompted him to stick to his companions when they were in trouble, but +also the fact that one of them was the son of his real Boss. He felt +that Sax was definitely in his own personal charge, and, though his +simple mind did not know how it could possibly be brought about, he +felt that some day he would be the means of reuniting father and son. + +Mick Darby also proved himself equal to the occasion. In fact the +sheer manhood of him rose supreme above every difficulty and triumphed +over one disaster after another. There are some men whose stories are +far greater than their actual achievements, and at times, when the +drover had been telling yarns to the boys after sunset, they had +wondered whether these things could possibly be true. It was not that +they doubted their friend's veracity, but the country, the men, and +therefore the happenings were so strange to the lads that they seemed +to have an existence only in books and not to be possible in real life. +But now Mick showed the stuff he was made of. When he had found out +all there was to learn, about what the blacks had done, and exactly +what position the party was left in, he stopped thinking about that +part of the question and set his mind to solve the problem of the +immediate future. + +The first necessity was breakfast, and they ate heartily and drank +sparingly, but enough to quench their thirst. Then Mick beckoned to +Yarloo to sit down near him, handed his plug to the boy, and when he +had broken off a pipeful, he jammed his own black brier to the brim and +started to smoke. When he started to speak, he did so equally to all +three men, black and white alike. Yarloo had definitely and of his own +free will chosen to share whatever fate was in store for them, and had +earned the right to be included in everything which they did. The boy +did not presume on this unusual act of the white man; it is only a +weak-spirited man who presumes. + +"I reckon we're eighty miles from Sidcotinga Station. You think it, +Yarloo?" asked Mick, turning to the boy. + +The native faced in the direction of the station and considered, +counting on his fingers. "Yah," he said at length. "Yah. Me think it +two day ride, boss." + +"Two days with a fresh horse, you mean," commented Mick. "Ajax hasn't +had a drink for a whole day, remember.... That last water-hole's dry, +and the one back of that's nearly a hundred miles from here.... So it +must be Sidcotinga.... Let's see. We've got two and a half gallons of +water, haven't we?" + +The boys confirmed this estimate, and he went on: + +"We needn't worry about tucker. We've got mobs of flour and sugar.... +The question is: who's to ride ahead for water and horses. You lads +don't know the way, so it's either Yarloo or me.... Yarloo's lighter +on a horse than I am.... But he couldn't do as much as I could when he +got there, supposing they were all out on the run.... Still, I could +write a note to the cook, couldn't I?" He paused, considering, drawing +in great breaths of smoke and puffing it out again on the still hot air +till his head was surrounded by a cloud. + +Yarloo was drawing blackfellow diagrams in the sand with a little +stick, and looked as though he had made up his mind. So he had, but he +waited for the white man to ask him for his opinion before giving it. + +"What you think, Yarloo?" asked Mick, after a time. "You think it me +or you ride Ajax longa Sidcotinga, bring um back water, horses, eh?" + +Yarloo did not hesitate for a moment. "You ride, boss," he said +decidedly. "You ride. Me stay here." + +The tone surprised Mick, and he looked up quickly. "What name? +(Why?)" he asked. + +"White man drink more water nor black fella," he explained. "S'pose me +stay, me drink little, little drop. Me think you drink big mob." He +hesitated and dug the little stick into the ground with an embarrassed +air. The boy had evidently got another reason, and his listeners +wanted to hear it. He looked at Mick as if he didn't know whether he +ought to say it or not, and then he blurted out: "You good white man +all right, boss. You know um bush more better not big mob white men. +(You know the bush better than most white men.) Yarloo know um bush +much more better nor you, boss. Me bin grow up little piccaninny longa +bush.... S'pose--s'pose you no come back.... S'pose you fall off +horse.... S'pose you die, p'raps me find um water." He paused again, +but it was clear that he had not finished. + +"Good, Yarloo," said Mick encouragingly. "Go ahead." + +"One time me work longa Boss Stobart," said the boy slowly and +hesitatingly. "Him altogether good boss. Him plenty good quite. That +one white boy," he pointed to Sax, "that one white boy, him belonga my +old boss. Him belonga Boss Stobart.... Me stay, Misser Darby? You +let Yarloo stay, eh?" The request was made in a voice of entreaty, as +if the faithful native was asking a very great favour. + +Mick at once complied with hearty good will. "Of course you stay, +Yarloo. You stay all right. You look after white boy real good." +Yarloo's face lit up with satisfaction and his expression assured the +drover that the white boys would be perfectly safe in his hands. + +Soon after coming to this decision, Mick Darby set out on Ajax for +Sidcotinga Station. He knew that he would strike no water before +reaching the homestead well, and that it was not at all certain whether +the already thirsty horse could travel those eighty desert miles +without a drink. He did not tell the boys of his fear, but started +away with a cheery good-bye, carrying only a quart-pot of water for +himself as well as a little damper and dried meat. + +Fortune favoured the brave man. On the very first night, after he had +travelled his tired horse on past sunset as long as he dared, he found +a big patch of parakelia. This extraordinary plant sends up thick +moisture-filled leaves in the middle of the most arid desert. The +juice, which can be easily squeezed from parakelia leaves, tastes +bitter and is not at all pleasant, but it has saved the life of many a +bold adventurer in Central Australia. Stock can live on it for weeks +at a time without a drink of water, and once Ajax got a mouthful of +these cool succulent leaves, he did not move more than a few yards all +night, but satisfied his thirst and hunger and then lay down. + +Mick Darby watched all night. He was taking no more chances. No doubt +he fell asleep from time to time, but at the slightest movement +anywhere near, he was instantly and fully awake. Next day he rode a +thoroughly rested horse and reached Sidcotinga Station the same night, +after having covered sixty-three miles. Such a distance would not be +at all unusual in good country, but in the desert, with the sun blazing +down out of a cloudless sky on mile after mile of soft sand, it was a +ride which none but the best of horses and the hardiest of men could +have accomplished. + +The drover had advised the boys to stay just where they were till he +returned, and not exhaust themselves by walking. Yarloo therefore +built them a rough sun-shelter of mulga boughs and they rested under +this all day, doing nothing which would create thirst. In spite of +every care, however, their mouths were clammy and their throats calling +out for water long before sunset. Once a real thirst is created, it +takes more water to quench it than it does to keep the thirst away, so +they each had a drink at tea-time and felt all the better for it. + +Soon after tea, Yarloo, who had gone away, came in with a bundle of +sticks. "Whatever's that for?" asked Sax. Neither of the boys had got +into the way of addressing the natives in broken English. "You're +surely not going to make a fire, are you?" + +Yarloo had to think for a minute or two before he understood what the +white boy had said, and then he nodded his head. "Yah," he replied. +"Me make um fire. S'pose um bad black-fella come up." + +"But how about us?" objected Vaughan. "We'll be roasted alive." + +The native did not catch the meaning of this remark, but he answered +the question which Vaughan had in his mind. "By'm bye when it cool," +Yarloo pointed to the sky, "we walk little bit." + +"But Mick told us to stay here," said Vaughan again. + +"Me think bad black-fella come up to-night," explained Yarloo, with +great patience. "S'pose him see um fire, him think: 'White man sleep'. +Then him creep up, spear-um, spear-um. S'pose we light fire then walk, +bad black-fella throw um spear, no good, no good at all. White man go +'way." Yarloo grinned both at the thought of the safety of the party +and of the discomfiture of the blacks. + +The lads saw the force of Yarloo's argument. A big fire was lit, as if +in preparation for spending the night, and then the three men took the +precious water, a little tucker, and as few personal belongings as +possible, and set out in the direction of Sidcotinga Station, lead by +the unerring instinct of their black companion. It was well that they +did so. During the hours of moonlight, a small band of Musgrave +niggers crept round the camp and remained in hiding. But directly the +moon set, they advanced towards the dying fire, with spears poised and +boomerangs ready for instant and deadly use. What would have happened +if any hated white man had been asleep in that camp can be better +imagined than described. No one would have been left alive. But, +finding their prey had escaped, the would-be murderers vented their +rage upon the saddles and pack-bags, tore them to shreds and threw them +into the flames, and scattered into the fire as much of the provisions +as was left after they had gorged themselves. They did not attempt to +follow the three white men in the dark, and next day the little +marauding band went after their fellows and joined them on the way to +the Musgrave Ranges. All except one, and we will hear more of him +later. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A Sandstorm + +By Yarloo's faithfulness and forethought the little party had escaped +death at the hands of wild savages, but a more deadly peril was waiting +for them. It is one thing to fight with a human enemy, but quite +another to fight with one which is not human. The lads were soon to +see that the most terrible disasters of the desert are caused, not by +wild and fiendishly cruel natives who follow silently day after day and +then wreak their hatred on the traveller in the most unexpected way, +but by grim Nature herself. Nature was their greatest, their most +merciless, their most unconquerable enemy. They were soon to have an +illustration of her power. + +On the night when their camp was raided, the three men walked till the +moon set and then lay down to sleep. They did not light a fire for +fear of showing the blacks where they were, but just scooped hollows in +the warm sand and stretched themselves out with a camp-sheet as their +only bed-clothes, for they had left everything else behind them. The +white boys were soon asleep, but Yarloo kept himself awake all night to +watch. It was one of the hardest things the boy had ever done, for he +was very tired and the heavy warm night made him drowsy. His simple +mind fixed itself on one thing with all the determination of his +nature; he had one purpose and one purpose only in life just then, and +that was to preserve Boss Stobart's son from death, and he kept himself +awake by sheer will-power. But when the morning star rose above the +eastern horizon, red and throbbing, the tired-out black-fellow knew +that his weary watch was over. He flopped down on the sand and was +instantly asleep. + +The close night was followed by a sultry dawn. Instead of the +sparklingly clear pale sky in the east which usually heralds the rising +of the sun, a dull haze made everything appear heavy and listless. The +air was warm and still, but not light and dry as it generally is in the +desert, and it was so heavy that every breath was an effort, and the +slightest movement caused perspiration to break out all over the body. + +The boys woke up with a most uncomfortable feeling of oppression. They +were hot and thirsty, yet they dared not touch the canteen of water. +Although the sun had not risen, the heat seemed to be greater than they +had ever known it before in the open air, and they lay and fanned their +faces and fought the flies which were swarming around them. + +When the sun rose, it showed a few little white clouds like puffs of +steam, low down in the northern sky, and hiding the distant Musgrave +Ranges from view. The sight of clouds is so unusual in Central +Australia that the boys remarked about it to one another, and were +amazed to see the difference which occurred in less than half an hour. +The clouds had indeed risen and increased greatly during that short +time. Instead of a few separate clouds, a big solid bank was now +spreading all over the horizon, and huge pillars of white were +stretching out from the main mass, far up into the sky. + +Yarloo slept late, but when he woke up, he too stood and watched the +rising clouds. He evidently did not like the look of things, for he +shook his head, and, in reply to a question from Sax, replied: + +"Me no like it. Me think it storm come up." + +To the hot and thirsty white boys the word "storm" had only one +meaning, and they uttered it together: "Rain!" + +Yarloo smiled. "Neh," he replied. "Rain no come up. Me think it +wind. P'raps sand. Me no like it." He set about building a little +fire for breakfast, and though his companions were not in the least bit +hungry, they followed his example and ate some damper and dried meat. +Each man was allowed half a quart-pot of tea. Sax and Vaughan drank +theirs with the meal, but Yarloo took a few sips and then put his +quart-pot away in a safe place. + +There was nothing to do all morning. Yarloo again made a little +sun-shelter, but this became unnecessary after about ten o'clock, +because by that time the rising clouds had covered the face of the sun. +With every succeeding hour the oppressive heat seemed to get more and +more unbearable. There was not a breath of wind. It was as if a lot +of thick blankets were slowly smothering every living creature on the +earth. The clouds were no longer white, except at the front edges and +in places where a few great puffs bulged out. The rest was grey, +getting darker and darker till it was near the horizon, and then it +turned to brown. This brown looked like a huge curtain hung from the +sky and trailing over the earth. Now and again it was lit up by +flashes of lurid red, for all the world as if a furnace were roaring +behind that curtain. + +The air was absolutely still, deathlike still, and a sound which was +exactly like the roaring of a furnace came out of the north, with an +occasional louder boom when the pent-up fury of the storm burst through +the brown cloud. In reality, the sound was made by millions of +particles of sand being hurtled through the air by an electric storm. + +The sound came nearer. The clouds were completely overhead now, from +north to south, from east to west. There was not a patch of blue to be +seen. The panting earth waited in abject fear. A puff of wind came, +hot and stifling, as if an oven door had suddenly been opened. It +passed over the mulgas, making them sigh and moan, and then was gone +again, leaving the same breathless stillness. Another puff, this time +cool and fresh. It also passed away and left the men with dread in +their hearts--the dread of an unknown, unseen foe. + +The storm was very near. Sax was watching it so intently that he +jumped round suddenly when Yarloo touched him on the arm. The +black-fellow was pointing to the canteen. "Drink, little drop," he +said, and pointed to the approaching curtain of brown sand. He +evidently meant that the boys would be better able to stand against the +storm if they had a drink beforehand, so Sax motioned to Vaughan and +poured a little water out into the two pannikins. Neither of them +spoke. They were overawed by the might, the majesty, the mystery of +Nature. + +Vaughan drank his water and lay down under the shelter. Sax did not +screw the top on the canteen for a moment, intending to pour a few +drops back again when he had finished. He held his hand over the hole +in the canteen and started to drink from his pannikin. + +Suddenly the storm burst on them. Sax heard a terrific rushing sound +and looked round quickly. He was at once blinded as completely as if +an actual thick brown curtain had been blown around his head. At the +same time, some tremendous force caught him, nearly lifted him off the +ground, and threw him down sprawling on the sand several yards away. +The pannikin was wrenched from his hand, and the canteen--what of the +canteen? + +Sax lay stunned for a moment, and then his first and only thought was +the canteen. He tried to crawl, but every effort on his part only gave +the enormous pressure of wind opportunity to drive him back, for as +soon as he lifted his head, it was caught and twisted as if some soft +strangling folds of cloth were being pulled around it from behind. + +The light of the sun was blotted out completely, and it was as dark as +a starless midnight. A screaming sound filled the boy's ears: the +yelling of the storm, the laughter of the furies, the shrill shouts of +fiends. He had to shield his mouth in order to breathe, and even then +a fine dust choked his throat, and he would have coughed and vomited up +his very life if he had not turned his back to the storm. Enormous +quantities of sand were crowding the gale. + +Have you ever stood under a waterfall and let a solid column of water +fall on you from a height? You can stand there only for a moment, +because the power of even a liquid is greater than the strength of man. +But here, in the desert, three exhausted men were fighting for their +lives with sand; sand, as solid as it could possibly be without being +actually fixed; sand, as hard as it could possibly be, and yet be +driven by the wind. The electric gale of wind had scooped the surface +off a thousand miles of desert, and was flinging it at three puny human +beings. + +It was impossible to face the onslaught. Sax turned against the storm +and tried to crawl backwards. At all costs he must find the canteen. +He had no thought but this: the canteen! the canteen! Three lives +depended on those drops of precious liquid. Were they safe? He +crawled backwards inch by inch. But he had lost all sense of +direction. The stinging, stifling sand, the shrill-screaming wind, the +pitch-black whirling darkness; how could a man possibly tell where he +was going? + +Stobart's senses were all numb with the buffeting of the storm, but he +suddenly felt that one of his legs was being held. He tried to kick +free but was pulled backwards, and then something flapped and covered +him. There was instant peace. He had found a shelter. Outside this +unknown something which covered him the gale raged past in impotent +fury. He was safe. An arm gripped his body and held him close. + +The sudden reaction from fighting for his life to this secure peace was +too much for the overwrought boy. He did not bother to find out who or +what had saved him; he sank down, down, down into unconsciousness, and +as the peaceful darkness closed over his mind, he muttered the words: +"Canteen, canteen, canteen." + +No one heard. No one could possibly hear in such a storm, not even the +man who was holding him so closely. It was Yarloo. The boy had found +his master's son, and had covered his head with a coat, and was now +holding the unconscious form in his arms, while Sax drew long, +unhindered breaths. + +The storm passed. It had come upon them suddenly, and it went away in +the same manner. There was very little lessening of its fury to tell +of the approaching end, but the air grew lighter all at once, the +sounds got fainter quickly, and there was now no longer any stinging +sand. The brown curtain passed on, trailing its fringe over the +desert, and the back of it could be seen as distinctly as the front had +been a short half-hour before. + +A short half-hour before? Yes. The sandstorm had lasted barely thirty +minutes. It was so local, that Mick, riding along towards Sidcotinga +Station only forty miles away, knew nothing about it. Such tremendous +fury as these electric storms display is possible only when they +concentrate their power on a very small area. This one had probably +swept across a thousand miles of desert, and might go on for a thousand +more before it spent itself. It had come across the great tableland +behind the Musgrave Ranges, had been brought to a narrow point down one +of the gorges in the mountains, and had hurled itself at the three +defenceless men. It was a messenger of death from the Musgrave Ranges, +the mysterious, dreaded, fascinating Musgrave Ranges. + +The air behind the storm was cool and bright and clean. Not a spot of +rain had fallen, but there was the same new-washed freshness about +everything which comes after a sudden summer shower. The blue of the +sky seemed clearer and more flawless than it had ever seemed before, in +contrast with the depressing sultriness of the morning, and even the +sun, shining down without the thinnest veil to lessen its fiery +strength, seemed to look with a less unfriendly eye than usual. + +And what did it see? Vaughan had been under the sun-shelter when the +storm broke. The first gust had blown the flimsy structure down flat, +and the weight of sand, which poured immediately on to it, prevented it +from being blown away. The frightened white boy had been pinned under +the fallen boughs and had been unable to get free while the storm +lasted. It had been a fortunate accident for him, for he was compelled +to lie still, in perfect safety, while the gale surged over him, +instead of trying, as his friend Sax had done, to match his puny +strength against it. + +Poor Sax had been absolutely winded. In his anxiety to find the +canteen, he had exhausted his strength in fighting the storm, and had +no power left to breathe in such a stifling atmosphere. He might +easily have been choked if Yarloo had not found him. + +The native was desert born and bred, and knew how to act in every +contingency that could possibly occur in the bush. He had seen Sax +blown down with the first effort of the storm, and though he himself +could neither see nor hear, because of the sand and wind, he had +gradually forced his way towards his master's son, with a sure instinct +which did not stop to wonder what he was doing or why he was doing it. +He had found him at last, and had held his unconscious body tight, +shielding it with his coat and with his own body till the gale should +pass over. + +A few minutes afterwards, while Vaughan was fighting his way out of the +broken-down sun-shelter, and Yarloo was bending over the still body of +the other white boy, Sax opened his eyes. + +"The canteen," he mumbled. "The canteen." + +His friends thought that he wanted a drink, and Vaughan looked round +for the canteen. It was nowhere to be seen. Sax was not really hurt, +and his anxiety restored him to full consciousness in a minute or two. +He sat up and watched Vaughan hunting round for their most precious +possession, the canteen. At last he staggered to his feet, tottered +about for a step or two because his head was so dizzy, and then began +to help in the search. He did not dare to tell the others what he +feared, but when he finally stumbled against it, half buried in the +sand about twenty yards away from camp, he found that the worst had +happened. + +The canteen was empty. + +Sax had not screwed down the metal cap when the water-carrier had been +caught by the wind and hurled along the ground. For several minutes +its own smoothness had kept it moving, and had prevented it from +lodging against anything and being buried, but each roll and jolt had +spilt some of the water, till finally every drop had been wasted on the +parched sand. Then, when all the harm which was possible had been +done, the useless thing had jammed up against a dead mulga root and had +been slowly covered with sand. + +When the truth fully dawned upon them, the two boys sat down on the +ground and stared hopelessly in front of them. Although they had been +in the North only for a brief period, they knew that they were face to +face with one of the most terrible things which could have happened to +them in the desert. A man can go without food for several days, but +water is an absolute daily necessity. The sandstorm had left the white +boys weak, and as they had already stinted themselves of water for the +last day and a half, they were in no condition to meet this new +calamity. + +Gradually the sun exerted its old sway over the earth, and the boys +were obliged to seek some shade. They helped Yarloo rebuild the old +shelter, and sat down under it, with their only possessions--one +pannikin, one badly torn camp-sheet, and an empty canteen. Everything +else had been blown away or absolutely spoilt. + +Towards the middle of the afternoon, when, nearly sixty miles to the +west of them, Mick was drawing near Sidcotinga Station, Yarloo went out +from the shelter for a few minutes. He had been very thoughtful for +the last hour, and had evidently just made up his mind on some +important matter. When he returned he was carrying his quart-pot, +which was a little more than a quarter full of tea. The boy had jammed +the pannikin lid on tight that morning and had hidden it in the sand, +and the storm had not done it any harm. He showed the tea to his +companions, but did not give the pot into their eager hands till he had +explained what he intended to do. + +"Me go 'way," he said. + +The white boys did not pay any attention to this remark. Here was +something to drink, and they were parched with thirst. + +"Me go 'way," repeated Yarloo. "Me come back by'm bye.... P'raps me +find um water ... p'raps me find um parakelia." + +His companions did not reply. What did it matter? Why this "perhaps, +perhaps" when here was the certainty of at least a mouthful of tea for +each? But Yarloo waited for a moment or two, and then went on +patiently: + +"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time.... White boy stay here ... no +go 'way. No go 'way, mind.... Sax," he said timidly, using the name +for the first time, "Sax, you no go 'way, eh?" + +"No. No. Of course we won't go away, Yarloo," was the impatient +answer. "But how long are you going to keep hold of that quart-pot?" + +"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time," said Yarloo slowly. "S'pose +me give it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise? ... +to-morrow sunrise, eh?" + +His meaning was perfectly clear. He was going to leave them the tea on +condition that they didn't touch it till sunrise next day. The boys +became angry at what they considered a foolish idea. + +"What's the good of that to us?" asked Vaughan hastily. + +"Yes," agreed Sax. "Whatever's the good of such a fool idea? ... +Besides, you've got no right to tell us when we're to have a drink and +when we're not to have a drink. I'm thirsty. I'm going to have my +share now.... Here, Yarloo, give me that quart-pot." + +He held out his hand, but Yarloo stepped back. "Quart-pot belonga me," +he said quietly. + +The boy's statement was undoubtedly true. The tea was his, saved from +his fair breakfast allowance, and, if he was good enough to part with +it for the sake of the white boys, surely he had a right to dictate his +own terms. Sax and Vaughan at once saw their mistake and began to feel +a little foolish because of the attitude they had tried to take up. +Yarloo was evidently in grim earnest, for he repeated his former +question: + +"S'pose me gib it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise, +eh?" + +"All right, Yarloo," agreed Sax. "We'll not drink it till sunrise +to-morrow.... But, look here," he exclaimed suddenly, realizing for +the first time the tremendous sacrifice the black-fellow was making. +"Look here! We mustn't take your tea. It's yours, Yarloo. Yours," he +repeated, in order to make his meaning clear. + +But Yarloo had already begun to scrape a hole in the sand. When it was +deep enough, he put the precious quart-pot into it so that it could not +be spilt. "You belonga Boss Stobart," he said slowly. "Boss Stobart +good fella longa me." + +He stood up when he had finished and looked at the two boys. +"Goo-bye," he said, and was turning to go, when something prompted Sax +to hold out his hand. Yarloo took it instantly and then shook +Vaughan's hand also,[1] and, in another minute, he was almost out of +sight amongst the ragged scrub. + + + +[1] Blacks do not shake hands when they are in their wild state, but +they quickly pick up the habit from the white man. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Thirst + +Sax and Vaughan were very thirsty. For several days they had been +compelled to drink sparingly, and for the last two they had taken only +enough liquid to keep them just alive. They were now entirely without +drink of any kind save for that little drop of tea in a dirty and +battered quart-pot, half buried in the sand. Is it any wonder that +their longing eyes and thoughts were almost constantly fixed on the +pot, which they had promised not to touch till sunrise next day. + +While Yarloo had been with them, the white boys had kept up a good +appearance of courage, and had pretended that they were not so thirsty +as they really were, for no man likes to give in before a member of an +inferior race; but when Yarloo went away it became harder and harder +for them to keep up their pluck. For thirst is the most terrible of +all forms of torture. The pain comes on slowly but surely, and +increases till it seems impossible that the human body can stand any +more. Yet the body is such a marvellous thing that it does stand even +the terrible pain of thirst, till it gets beyond endurance and the man +goes mad. The thirst which kills men in the desert is not the same as +being thirsty. Down-country, it is quite pleasant to be thirsty, for +it makes a drink taste so nice; but desert thirst--or "perishing", as +it is called--is caused by the drying up of the moisture of the body +till the organs inside actually cease to work, and the blood clogs in +the arteries because it is not liquid enough. + +It was such terrible thirst that Sax and Vaughan were experiencing. In +appearance, Sax was of slighter build than his thick-set friend, Boof, +but the drover's son had inherited from his father a natural toughness +and an ability to endure privation and hardship which Vaughan, although +he was quite as plucky, did not possess. It happened, therefore, that +though Sax was just able to keep control of himself throughout the +terrible night which followed Yarloo's departure, Vaughan lost +consciousness and became delirious about half an hour before sunset. + +The first signs which he gave that he was not in his right senses were +when he began to undress. Sax was feeling so desperately ill himself +that he did not pay much attention to what his friend was doing till he +saw him throw his shirt outside, and then start to pull off his +trousers. The poor lad's tongue was swollen in his mouth and was +starting to stick out from between his teeth. He got his trousers off, +and began fumbling at his boots, but was so weak that he couldn't untie +the knots. His eyes had a peculiar look in them, something like those +of a man who walks in his sleep, and when his friend spoke to him he +took absolutely no notice at all. + +Both lads had been lying stretched out on the sand all the afternoon, +too exhausted to do anything, but, seeing his companion behaving in +such a strange way, Sax tried to sit up. But he could not do it at +first. As soon as he lifted himself, sharp pains stabbed him in the +back and stomach, and his head throbbed so violently that he nearly +fainted. He tried again and again, very gradually, till he was able to +sit up at last. Vaughan had managed to drag one boot off by this time, +and was feverishly busy with the other; the rest of his body was naked. +Sax called out again, but the effort at sitting up had so much +exhausted the little strength which remained, that his voice was so +weak he hardly heard it himself. Stobart didn't understand the serious +state his friend was in, but he knew that something must be done at +once, and as there was nobody to do it but himself, he prepared for a +supreme effort. + +After several unsuccessful attempts, he managed to stand up, and when +the dizziness in his head had died down a little, he tottered over +towards Vaughan. He touched him on the arm. Vaughan took no notice, +but wrenched at the second boot, pulling it off at last, and scrambling +to his feet like a drunken man. He seemed to have far more strength +than Sax had, but when he started to stagger out from under the +bough-shelter, his friend suddenly remembered a yarn which Mick had +told them one night, about a perishing man who pulled off all his +clothes and walked away into the scrub to die a most terrible death. +Sax was afraid that his companion was going to do the same thing, and +that he wouldn't have the strength to prevent him. + +Sax had to put his feet down very carefully or he would have fallen +through sheer weakness, but he caught hold of Vaughan and clung to him. +This forced the delirious lad to look at his companion, but there was +no spark of intelligence in his eyes; he did not recognize who it was; +he only felt something holding him back from what he had determined to +do. With extraordinary strength, considering his condition, he shook +himself free, and started to walk away. Sax fell, but as he did so he +stretched out his hands. They touched the other's bare legs. Sax +clutched the legs and hung on with all his power, and Vaughan tripped +and came down with a crash. + +The sun sank below the horizon and left two perishing white boys +panting in the sand in the fading light. + +Sax remembered nothing more for several hours. When he came to himself +again he was alone. His fall had rendered him unconscious for a +moment, and this state had been immediately followed by a deep sleep. +The night was cool, and though his thirst was still raging, it did not +seem so bad as it had done under the blazing sun; his sleep also had +refreshed him. On Central Australian nights it is never too dark to +see the objects around, for the light of the stars comes through the +clear dry air of the desert more brilliantly than it does in any other +part of the world. Consequently it needed only a hurried glance to +tell Sax that Vaughan was not in the camp. His clothes were still +lying where he had thrown them, and the boy soon found the tracks of +bare feet leading away from the camp into the scrub. + +Vaughan had gone away to die. + +Sax listened. The absolute stillness of death was around him on all +sides. Not a leaf moved on any of the scraggy mulgas standing near. +Even the star in the deep, deep blue of the night sky seemed to stare +down at him with unblinking eyes. What did they care for one white boy +dying in delirium in the desert, and another white boy who had to keep +tight hold of his mind to save it from slipping out of his control, and +who would also die of thirst, if not to-day, then surely to-morrow? +There is nothing so unpitying, so absolutely unconcerned, as the desert +is to a perishing man. + +Sax was a boy of unusual courage. He was the son of a pioneer, a +member of that race of men who have opened up the centre of the +Australian continent, and have laid the foundations of the future +Australian nation. Though he had been reared in the comfort of cities, +the cattle-plains, the scrub, and the desert were his true home, and he +now showed the stuff he was made of by determining to follow after his +friend. He did not stop to wonder what he would do when he found him; +he only knew that he could not bear to leave him out there to die +without making an effort to save him. + +Suddenly he remembered the quart-pot and its precious contents. He had +made up his mind to find Vaughan before he remembered the tea, and now +this sudden glad thought seemed to confirm his decision, and filled him +with hope. He would have something to give to the perishing lad when +he found him. Sax could hardly walk. The whole middle part of his +body felt as if it was dried up, and when he moved, such terrible pains +shot through him that he could hardly keep from crying out; but he set +his teeth and went over to the quart-pot and dug it out. + +Only those who have actually been in the same circumstances as Sax was +that night can have any idea of the temptation it was for him to drink +some of that tea. The very sound of it swishing about inside the +smoke-blackened pot nearly drove him mad with thirst. He dared not +open the lid and look in, for, after all, he was so frantically thirsty +that the sight of the liquid might make him forget everything but his +own desire for it. Never again in his life was he to be called upon to +exercise such supreme self-control as he was that night. + +Clutching the precious quart-pot to his breast, he staggered off into +the night, very slowly because of his weakness, and very slowly also +because it was hard for him to read the tracks in the dim light. + +Less than half an hour after Sax left the camp to search for his dying +friend, a black form stole silently through the scrub and paused within +sight of the bough-shelter. If anybody had been lying there awake, he +would not have known how near a fellow human being was to him, for the +native was absolutely motionless, even to the eyelids. The only part +of hint which moved was the chest, which was so thickly covered with +black hair that its slow rising and falling could not possibly have +attracted attention at night. Even if any man who might have been in +the shelter had turned and looked straight at the black-fellow, he +would not have distinguished him from the trees, for, with that +wonderful power of imitation known only to the scrub natives of +Australia, the man was standing in such a way that he looked very much +like an old dead mulga stump. + +But nobody was in the bough-shelter, and when the man had made quite +sure of this, he stepped out from his hiding. He was quite naked, and +carried a couple of long spears with stone heads, a woomera +(spear-thrower), a spiked boomerang, and a wooden shield. His long +hair was plastered up into a bunch at the back, and was kept in place +by rings of rope made of his mother's hair. He stood for a moment and +looked intently at the shelter, then he stooped and examined the marks +in the sand, following them this way and that till he knew as much +about the tragedy as if he had actually watched it happen. He was +particularly interested in Yarloo's tracks, and finally stuck a spear +into the middle of one of them and laid his other weapons beside it. + +Having rid himself of all encumbrances, he set out on the tracks of the +two white boys. But what a difference between his methods and theirs! +Instead of the hesitating scrutiny of each footprint which Sax had been +obliged to make, the native walked quickly with his eyes several yards +ahead and did not pause once, though the star-light was dim and +treacherous. + +He did not have far to go. The burst of strength which delirium had +given to Vaughan had not lasted for more than three-quarters of a mile, +and he had then fallen at the foot of a dead mulga. Sax had come up on +him there, a pitiful object whom the desert was claiming as its own, +his naked body showing up plainly in the dark. He had forced the tea, +all of it, upon the unconscious lad, with no perceptible result, for +most of it had been spilt because Vaughan's tongue was too swollen to +allow any but a few drops to go down his throat. + +It was absolutely certain that, before another sunset, two corpses +would have been lying in the desert scrub if the wild black had not +found the boys when he did. Sax was still conscious, but was too far +gone to take any interest even in such an unusual sight as the sudden +appearance of a strange naked black-fellow. Death was claiming him, +anyhow; it did not matter much to him whether it came by a spear-thrust +or by the more lingering method of thirst. + +The savage stooped down and looked intently into the face of first one +boy and then the other. He happened to look at Vaughan first and +grunted his disapproval, but a close scrutiny of Sax's features seemed +to yield him great satisfaction, for he drew himself up straight, and, +with a broad grin of delight, pronounced a word which caught the boy's +dulling ear: + +"Bor--s Stoo--bar," he said, in long-drawn tones. "Bor--s Stoo--bar." + +A familiar sound will penetrate to an intelligence which has become too +dull to perceive through sight or touch, and Sax heard this word and +looked up, thinking that his imagination must be playing him a trick. +The man was encouraged to try again, this time adding to the name of +the drover the single word "Musgrave ". It was a word he had evidently +used before, for it was pronounced quite clearly. + +"Bor--s Stoo--bar.... Mus--grave." + +The strange coupling of his father's name with that of the mysterious +range of mountains roused sufficient interest in Sax to make him wish +to reply. He tried to speak, but couldn't. His tongue was too swollen +and his throat too dry. The native watched him, and the boy felt that +the man was friendly, for he continued to stretch out his black arm +towards the distant ranges. Finding that he could not make any sound, +Sax waited till the man again said the words, "Bor--s Stoo--bar," and +then he pointed to himself several times and nodded, and then waved his +hand to the Musgraves. The native grinned his understanding and again +looked very closely into the white boy's face. Sax did not know if he +was like his father or not, but felt that a great deal depended on +whether the black stranger decided that he was indeed the son of the +famous Boss Stobart. + +The man was quite satisfied at last. He first of all held his left +hand close to Sax's face; it had been terribly mutilated, and the two +middle fingers were missing. The native evidently wished to impress +that crippled hand on the boy's memory, for he put it on his hairy +chest and then in front of Sax's face again and again. He did not say +anything, for his knowledge of English was apparently limited to the +name of the drover and the name of the mountain range. In spite of his +exhausted condition, Sax could not help remembering that black left +hand, and he had reason to recall it in future days under the most +exciting circumstances. Then the man lifted Vaughan's limp body on his +shoulders and walked away back to the shelter. Stobart was not left +alone for long, before he also was carried back to camp. + +By this time the sun was just showing over the eastern rim of the land, +and the few trees were casting long shadows on the sand. The native +gathered up Vaughan's clothes, but did not know how to put them on the +lad; so he covered him over with them. He had been careful not to +leave the quart-pot behind, and as soon as the boys were safely under +the shelter again, the man took the quart-pot and started off. + +He was evidently going for water. In a few minutes, however, he came +running back to camp at top speed. He was very excited and only stayed +long enough to put the quart-pot down on the ground, before he grabbed +his weapons and disappeared into the scrub in the opposite direction, +running as hard as he could, yet making no more noise than a cat. + +He had not returned the quart-pot exactly as he had found it. When he +took it away, it was empty, but now it contained a sprig of +sharply-pointed leaves. + +Yarloo came on the scene almost as soon as the other black was out of +sight, and was probably the cause of the first man's sudden +disappearance, Yarloo was carrying a small bunch of parakelia leaves. +The first things he noticed were the new tracks, and he stopped dead. +From where he stood, he could not see into the bough-shelter, and so he +waited for a couple of minutes to see if the man who had made the +tracks was anywhere about. There was absolute silence; the only things +which moved were the shadows, which got shorter very very slowly as the +sun rose. With minute care Yarloo examined the marks of the stranger. +At first he was upset to find from the tracks that the man was a wild +Musgrave black, but as soon as he came to the place where the warragul +had set up his spear, he smiled and felt no more anxiety, for it is a +sign of perfect goodwill towards a man to dig a spear in his track. +(To find a spear or a boomerang on your track means that the owner of +them likes you so well that he gives you his weapons, because there is +no need for him to carry them when he meets you.) + +As soon as Yarloo knew that the stranger native was friendly, he went +over to the shelter. The two white boys were lying on their backs in +the sand, one of them unconscious and gasping, with his tongue swollen +so much that it was too big for his mouth; the other gasping also, but +still in possession of his senses. Sax's eyes opened, and a glimmer of +intelligence showed in them, but he couldn't speak, and was too weak to +move. Yarloo looked down at them, but particularly at Sax, the son of +his master. Then his glance wandered to the quart-pot, and suddenly +everything else was forgotten. + +No prospector who has toiled for years without any luck, and then comes +upon a nugget of gold quite unexpectedly, could have been more glad +than Yarloo was at sight of that little sprig of leaves. He took it up +and looked at it with huge satisfaction. The stem was woody and each +leaf was grey, narrow, and not more than half an inch long. The +peculiarity about them was, however, that each little leaf ended in a +spike. The black-fellow felt the spikes and grinned to feel the pricks +of pain, for the leaves had only recently been pulled from the tree. +Then he dropped his handful of parakelia and grabbed the quart-pot and +started to run, tracking the other native to find the tree from which +that sprig of leaves had been picked. + +On the discovery of that tree rested the salvation of the white boys' +lives. It was the famous needle-bush. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The Rescue + +Yarloo followed the Musgrave native's tracks for about half a mile in a +nearly south direction, and then came upon a stony plain with a few +large bushes growing at one end of it. He gave a yell of delight. +They were needle-bushes. The party was saved. Here was water, stored +by nature right in the middle of an arid desert. + +The trees were all about five or six feet high, though some were much +bushier than others. Yarloo chose one which was very wide-spreading, +and began piling dry bark and twigs and anything which would burn +quickly and easily, right in the middle of the tree, all among the +branches. He went on till the needle-bush was carrying as big a load +as it possibly could. + +Then he made fire. He pulled two pieces of wood out of his hair; one +was the size of a man's palm, a flat piece of soft bean-wood with a +little hollow in the middle of it; the other was a stick about as thick +as a pencil but nearly twice as long, of hard mulga wood. He squatted +down and set the soft piece on the ground and held it in place with his +toes, and teased out a few pieces of very dry bark till they were like +tinder, and put it near the hollow. Then he took the long piece of +mulga and twirled it with his two hands in the hollow. He did this +faster than any white man could possibly twirl it, and in a couple of +minutes a coil of smoke came up from the pile of bark. Yarloo blew +this into a flame and made a little fire. When it was burning well, he +threw the blazing sticks into the needle-bush. There was a crackling +sound for a moment or two and then a roar, as the flames licked up the +dry fuel, till in a very short time the needle-bush was a blazing +bonfire. + +The black-fellow waited till the flames had died down, and then started +to dig around the roots a few feet away from the tree. He was so +skilful at this that he soon exposed the main roots. Then he chopped +off one or two of them and set the pieces upright in the quart-pot. A +thin dark liquid began to drain out of the roots and collect in the pot +till it was half-full. Yarloo took a drink and chopped up some more +roots, and when the quart-pot was full he returned to camp. + +It needed great care and patience to minister to the perishing white +boys, and not many natives would have done what Yarloo did for Sax and +Vaughan during that blazing day. He made trip after trip to the stony +plain where the needle-bushes were growing, and, with the water +obtained in this way, he gradually revived his two friends. Sax was +his first care, and after he had softened the boy's tongue so that +drops of liquid could trickle down his throat, the drover's son quickly +revived sufficiently to help Yarloo with the more serious case of +Vaughan. The powers of recovery which a healthy lad possesses are +wonderful, and before nightfall both lads were sitting up under the +shelter, with their thirst quite quenched, and actually feeling hungry. + +Yarloo went away for the last time to get another quart-pot of water +from the needle-bushes. To do this, he had to fire another tree. It +was about half an hour after sunset and nearly dark, and the bonfire +lit up the plain and could be seen for miles. + +Mick Darby saw it as he rode along at the end of a very tiring day. +When he had reached Sidcotinga Station, late the evening before, the +yards had been full of working horses ready to set out on a big +cattle-muster the next morning. He could not have struck a more +favourable time. Before he went to bed that night, he and the manager +drafted off a plant of six good horses, stocked a set of pack-gear with +cooked tucker, and filled two big canteens with water all ready for an +early start the following day. Mick could easily have slept late the +next morning, but when he woke up, as he always did, at the rising of +the morning star, he did not turn over and go to sleep again, but +roused himself, had a drink of tea and a chunk of bread and meat, and +started out back on his tracks, accompanied by a station black-boy whom +the Sidcotinga manager had lent him. The horses were fresh; they had +just come in from a six months' spell and would be turned out again +directly they returned. So Mick did not hesitate to ride hard. He +rode to such good purpose that he did not expect to pull up till he had +reached the camp where he had left the boys, and was riding along, with +seven miles still to go, when he saw the blazing needle-bush. + +He loosened his revolver and rode over at once to investigate. It was +fortunate that he did so, for he would have reached the old camp and +found it, not only deserted, but also wrecked, with torn gear and +evidences of wanton destruction all over the place. He would naturally +have thought that his former companions had either been killed or +carried off, and as the sandstorm had covered up all tracks, he would +not have known which way to follow them. + +Yarloo was squatting down, watching the roots drain the precious liquid +into the quart-pot, when he heard the sound of hobble-rings striking +one another as they hung from the neck of a horse. Then a hoof struck +a stone. Such sounds in the desert meant one thing and one thing only, +white men. Yarloo stood up and gave the call: "Ca--a--a--w--ay!" (not +coo-ee, as is usually supposed). + +It was answered by a white man's voice out of the gathering darkness: +"Hul--lo--uh!" + +In a few minutes Mick Darby rode up. He saw Yarloo, and the +smouldering needle-bush, and knew that something was wrong. + +"What name?" he asked. + +"White boy close up finish," replied Yarloo, still taking care of the +quart-pot of dark water. + +"Close up finish?" echoed Mick in surprise. "What name you no sit down +longa that camp same as me yabber (as I told you)?" + +Yarloo tried to explain, but his vocabulary of white man's words was +too small. He broke off at last and said: "White boy, they yabber +(they'll tell you)." + +"But white boy close up finish," objected the drover. + +"No finish now," grinned Yarloo, pointing to the other burnt +needle-bushes near. "No finish now. Him good fella now, quite." + +This relieved Mick's mind greatly, and he set off at once, guided by +Yarloo, to the bough-shelter where Sax and Vaughan were sitting. It +was a very happy reunion. The boys were still weak, but the thirst, +which would have killed them if the stranger black-fellow had not put +that sprig of needle-bush in the quart-pot, was quite gone. They were +very hungry. A fire was soon lit, and neither of the lads had ever +enjoyed a meal so much as they did that one. The food was plain, +though much better than what they had been having for the past weeks. +The bread had been made with yeast, which makes it far nicer than +baking-powder damper, and the Sidcotinga cook had included a few +currant buns with the tucker. The story of their adventures was told +at length and gone over more than once, for each boy supplied what the +other did not remember, and there had been many hours during which +Vaughan's memory had recorded nothing. + +One thing, however, remained a secret. Only Sax knew about it, and he +obeyed his father's injunction not to tell anybody of his whereabouts. +He did not tell Mick that the strange nigger who had saved their lives +had mentioned the name Boss Stobart. + +Yarloo came in for his share of praise, and richly did he deserve it. +The black-boy sat down with the white men after tea and listened to +what was said without making any remarks, and with a stolid expression. +But when, just before they all turned in for the night, Mick handed him +a new pipe, a box of matches, and--greatest luxury of all--a tin of +cut-up tobacco, he beamed all over his honest black face and grunted +his supreme satisfaction with the gift. He did not think that he had +done anything heroic; he had acted so towards the white boys because a +certain white man had treated him well in the past, but these simple +signs of Mick's approval made him the happiest black-fellow in all +Central Australia. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Sidcotinga Station + +The morning after Mick Darby had returned to them with water and food, +both Sax and Vaughan felt so much better that they wanted to set out +for Sidcotinga Station right away. But the drover would not hear of +such a thing. He knew, better than the boys did, that it would be some +time before even their strong young bodies recovered from the "perish", +and they all stayed where they were for three full days, and made +themselves comfortable by building a more substantial shelter from sun +and wind. They could have stayed longer if they had wanted to do so, +for Dan Collins, the Sidcotinga manager, had told Mick of a well not +more than six miles away to the north, and the black boys drove the +horses there every day and also renewed the supply of water in the +canteens. It was evidently from this well that the fierce Musgrave +niggers who had attacked them had obtained water. + +On the fourth morning the horses were brought in early, and the party +set out west after breakfast, on its interrupted journey, travelling by +easy stages, and taking three days over a distance which Mick had +accomplished in one. + +The cook was the only white man on the station when they reached +Sidcotinga, and he made them welcome with the genuine rough hospitality +for which the back country is famous. The resources of a desert +cattle-station are very limited, but everything which was possible was +done for the two white boys, and they spent a very restful and +enjoyable week and a half, loafing round the homestead. It was not +much of a place to look at, but Sax and his friend thought it was +wonderful. They had travelled across the desert for a month in order +to reach that little collection of buildings, and during that time they +had not seen a fence or a roof of any kind, and the only sign of +civilization had been an artesian bore two days out from Oodnadatta. +Though the iron sheds and strong bough-shelters which comprised the +homestead were very rough, there was a workmanlike air about the place +which seemed to say that white men had taken possession of the +wilderness and meant to stay there. + +There was an iron hut divided into two rooms where the manager and the +white stockman lived. Such a building as this is known throughout the +length and breadth of Australia's cattle-country as "Government House". +A few yards away was the "cook-house", also made of iron, where meals +for the white men were served. Then there was a store, in which enough +personal and station requirements were stocked to last at least a year, +for the string of camels, which came out from the head of the railway +with loading for Sidcotinga Station, only came once in every twelve +months and was sometimes late. The horse-gear room was a fascinating +place to these two lovers of horses, and though it was rather empty +when they reached the station, because every available man was out +mustering on the run, they found enough in it to interest them for many +hours. The blacksmith's shop also came in for its share of attention, +the more so perhaps because neither of the lads knew anything about +blacksmith's work. Dan Collins, the manager, prided himself on his +blacksmith's shop, and rightly so, for there was no metal work--other +than actual castings--which he could not manage to make or repair for +station use. + +Dominating the homestead, by reason of its height, was a large iron +wind-mill mounted on a tall stand, with a huge water-tank raised on a +staging near it. The mill pumped water from a hundred-foot well into +this tank, which supplied, not only the cattle-troughs, but also the +dwellings, for there were taps outside Government House, the +cook-house, and the blacksmith's shop--a very unusual convenience on +such an outlying station. + +It was not the buildings, however, which interested the boys most; it +was the stock-yards. The whole station seemed to centre in these +yards, and indeed they were of chief importance, and were the real +reason for everything else being there. At first the mass of yards, +races, pounds, wings, and gates seemed just like a maze to the +new-chums, but they were soon to learn how perfectly everything about +that rough strong stock-yard was arranged for the quick handling of +cattle. + +One morning, a couple of days after their arrival at Sidcotinga +Station, the white boys were sitting in the sand with their backs +against the wall of the horse-gear room, which threw a narrow patch of +shade over them, when Yarloo came up. They had been so interested in +all the novel sights and sounds around them since coming to the +station, that they had almost forgotten the faithful black-fellow; but +they looked up now with pleasure, and greeted him with a friendly +"Hullo, Yarloo!" + +"Goo-day," he said, with a grin of delight at being noticed; but he at +once became serious, and continued, speaking especially to Sax: "Me go +'way.... Me come back by'm by." + +"Going away?" asked Sax. "Whatever for?" + +"Me walk longa Musgraves.... Me come back by'm by," he repeated. + +"But what'll Mick say?" asked Vaughan. + +"Mick good fella," said the native simply. "Him real good fella, +quite.... Him only little time boss longa me. Boss alday longa me (my +real boss) sit down over dere," he pointed to the Musgrave Range. "Me +yabber Boss Stobart." He said the name with pride. + +"I'll go with you," said Sax, starting up as if he meant to set out +immediately. "I'll go with you to find my father." + +"By'm by," replied Yarloo. "White boy come by'm by. No come now. +S'pose white boy come now, Boss Stobart, rouse like blazes (would be +very angry). White boy sit down little time. Me come back by'm by." + +"Well, at any rate, I'll send Father a note," said Sax, and he ran to +Government House to get a pencil and some paper. He found an old +diary, and tore a sheet out of it and wrote: "We're at Sidcotinga +Station. I wanted to come out to you, but Yarloo would not let me. +Tell him that we may come out. Love from Sax." + +He ran back to the horse-gear room, but Yarloo had gone. The boy had +evidently not understood what Sax meant and had already started out for +the Musgrave Ranges. It was a great disappointment to the boys not to +be allowed to go straight away and find the white drover, yet they had +already experienced enough, both of the hatred of the Musgrave tribes +and of the power of the desert, to convince them that they had better +take the advice of those who knew the conditions so much better than +they did. They talked a lot about the ranges which appeared to be so +near, seen through the clear dry air, and they went over and over again +the message which they had received in Oodnadatta from Boss Stobart, +trying to find an explanation for the mystery. + + +"In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell Oodnadatta trooper, but _no +one else_. He'll understand. Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. Get a +job somewhere. "STOBART." + + +Sax and Vaughan had been at Sidcotinga for eleven days, and were not +only feeling recovered from their "perish", but were also beginning to +wish that they had something to do, when the musterers returned one +afternoon with well over a thousand head of cattle. It was a still +day, and Sax had climbed up the mill tower, and was sitting on the +platform near the big wind-wheel, looking over the barren landscape, +when he saw what looked like a brown stain on the southern sky near the +horizon. He remembered having seen something similar to that at +Oodnadatta, and he knew at once that it was caused by a big moving mob +of stock. Vaughan was near the troughs, vainly trying to entice a +galah (a cockatoo with rose-coloured breast and grey wings and back) to +eat bread out of his hand, when Sax startled both him and the bird by +shouting: "They're coming, Boof! They're coming!" + +Vaughan looked up and saw that his venturesome friend had climbed even +higher than the platform, and was standing right on top of the main +casting, and was waving his arms towards the south. + +"They're coming, Boof!" he shouted again. "It's cattle." To Vaughan's +relief--for Sax had got used to doing things on the mill which Vaughan +was too scared even to attempt--his friend began climbing down, but he +went so fast that his neck and limbs were in danger every moment. When +he reached the ground, he ran off to Government House to find Mick, who +was lying on his back reading a three-months old copy of _Pals_. + +The boys expected their drover friend to be as excited as they were, +but he had seen cattle yarded so many hundreds of times that he took +things very coolly. He first made sure that the troughs were full of +water, and that the valves were working properly, and then fixed the +stock-yard gates ready for receiving the cattle. + +The cloud of dust came nearer, and the lowing of cattle and the +cracking of whips could soon be heard, and the voices of men rose above +the din. From out of the dust a few leading cattle appeared, then +others and others still, till the astonished white boys saw a bigger +mob of cattle than they had ever seen before. Sax was on the platform +of the mill again, and Vaughan was about half-way up, so they both got +a good view of what was going on below them. + +The thirsty animals smelt the water and tried to rush, but well-mounted +black boys wheeled here, there, and everywhere, checking the restless +cattle, and allowing them to come on slowly without any chance of a +break. The big voice of a white man on a black horse in the rear was +heard from time to time giving orders which were at once obeyed. +Presently the four long lines of troughing were hidden from sight by +drinking cattle, and the sucking of their lips, the gushing of water +through the valves, and the grumbling of the tired animals all blended +together, and seemed to be part of the dust which rose from the +trampling feet and settled on everything till men and stock were alike +brown. + +Mick Darby was keeping the trough-valves at full pressure, and the +manager rode over to him. The white boys followed the mounted man with +their eyes. This was to be their boss; that is, if he would take them. +They were evidently the subject of conversation, for Mick pointed up at +the mill, and Dan Collins looked up also. They could not see his face, +and he made no sign, but went off again to keep the waiting cattle +rounded up. + +It takes a long time to water a thousand head of cattle, and by the +time the Sidcotinga troughs were full, with no cattle drinking at them, +the sun had just set. Gradually the animals were worked away from the +water towards the wing of the yard. Probably both Sax and his friend +were hoping that there would be a break, for there is nothing more +exciting to watch--or to be in--than a cattle-rush; but these men were +on their own country, and at their own stock-yards. They eased the big +mob of animals slowly up to the yards, then sat back and let them have +a spell, just holding them within the compass of the wings. The +leading bullocks nosed the stock-yard rails, went up to the gates and +smelt the air, gave one or two inquiring bellows, and then walked +through. Finding space on the other side of the gates, they went right +into the yards. Others followed, till soon the whole mob was filing +through the gates. Then came the shouting of men, the racket of +stock-whips, the prancing of horses, and the protesting roar of cattle, +as they were jammed up tight. At last the gates were swung to and +fastened with a chain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Mad Bull + +The Sidcotinga stock-yards presented a very lively scene next morning. +Sax and Vaughan were there with the rest, heartily glad to have +something to do. Mick Darby had introduced his young friends to the +manager the night before, and to their earnest request that he would +"take them on at the station" he had replied: "We'll talk about that +to-morrow night. There's a long day in the yards between now and then. +We'll see how you shape." Dan Collins looked at them very sternly when +he was speaking. He had been on cattle-stations all his life, and was +used to judging men by what they could do and not by what they could +say. He liked both the appearance of the boys and the report which +Mick had given of how they had "shaped" on the way out, but his +weather-beaten face did not relax at all, and the boys thought he was a +hard man. They were wrong, however. Dan Collins was a strong man, and +through dealing for many years with blacks, he had come to hide his +thoughts behind an unyielding expression of face, though many a man +knew how kind a heart beat in his big rough body. + +So the boys were on their mettle. There were no other white men in the +yard except Mick and the manager; the rest were blacks. + +An hour or two before dawn, as soon as it was light enough to +distinguish one beast from another, all hands went down to the yards +for drafting. Sax and Vaughan were each given a gate to open and shut +when their particular call came, and they found that it needed every +bit of their attention to do even this simple job well. By the time +breakfast was announced by the cook, who summoned all hands to the meal +by beating the back of a frying-pan with a wooden spoon, the thousand +cattle had been divided into three lots: about a hundred and twenty +cleanskins (unbranded cattle), over a hundred three-year-old bullocks +which would soon be ready to send to town, and the rest, which were to +be allowed to go bush again. + +Breakfast and "Smoke-o" were got over quickly, and everybody was again +at the yards as soon as possible. A fire was lit outside the rails, +and a half-dozen T.D.3 brands, and as many number brands, were put in +the blaze to get hot. Green-hide ropes were coiled ready and knives +sharpened. The cleanskins were attended to first. Most of them were +about a year old and could be scruffed, which means that one or another +of the black-fellows would watch his opportunity, catch the calf, and +throw it on the ground with a dexterous twist. As soon as it was down, +he would hook one of its front legs behind its horns and hold it there +till the brand was applied. Sometimes four calves were being scruffed +at the same time, and the work went on very quickly. Blacks always +work well in a yard. Not only is there the personal and sometimes +risky struggle with the animals, which appeals strongly to their savage +minds, but the emulation amongst themselves, each being very anxious to +do better than his fellows. There is usually a good deal of laughter +and joking talk in a stock-yard, and a good deal of hard, strenuous, +skilful work as well. + +The two white boys kept out of the way while scruffing was going on. +They would only have been a hindrance, so they sat together on the +stock-yard fence and looked on, never missing a twist or a turn, and +learning, learning, learning all the time. + +At last all young calves had been branded and had rejoined their +mothers. There still remained about thirty unbranded steers which were +too big to scruff. One or two of them were nearly four years old, wild +creatures which had refused to be mustered year after year until now. +The ropes were brought into use for these cattle. The big cleanskins +were driven out of the branding yard into an adjoining one, and +admitted back again one by one. As soon as a beast rushed through the +gate a green-hide lasso was thrown. The loop fell over its horns or +neck. Four or five strong niggers were holding the end of the lasso +outside the yard, and they pulled the captured animal up to the rails. +Front and back leg ropes were flung on and hitched round posts, and the +beast fell helplessly in the sand. After a couple had been done in +this way, Dan Collins signalled to the white boys to lend a hand. +Their job sounded simple, but it needed all their strength and +watchfulness to do it properly. If they failed at any point, the +prostrate animal would be free, and the work would have to be done all +over again. + +The cleanskin was lassoed and pulled to the rails, the leg ropes were +fixed and hitched, and then the front rope was handed to Sax and the +back one to Vaughan. They had to hang on and keep the ropes tight; +that was all, but only those who have worked in stock-yards, hour after +hour, know how difficult such an apparently simple task really is. + +The work went on. The hard green-hide ropes blistered the unaccustomed +hands of the new-chum white boys, but they set their teeth and held on. +Beast after beast fell with a bellowing roar, the red-hot T.D.3 was +pressed on its near-side shoulder till the mark was seared right into +the skin, so that it could never wear out. Then the ropes were pulled +off and the dazed animal scrambled to its feet and was hustled out of +the yard, while another one was being caught and thrown. + +A big roan-coloured steer was being saved till last. He was a fully +matured animal, very powerful and wild. His bellow had been heard all +night, and he had been more difficult to draft than any other animal in +the yards. Everybody was looking forward to dealing with this fellow; +it would be a good finish to a good run of work. + +He came through the gate with a rush. Mick Darby had the lasso this +time, and flung it faultlessly over the animal's horns. There was a +shout of excitement and the blacks outside the rails pulled for all +they were worth. But no power of man could make such a creature stir +unless it wanted to. It braced its fore legs and stood immovable, then +shook its mighty head till the lasso twanged like a fiddle-string, but +did not give an inch. Finally the steer caught sight of its tormentors +outside the yard, and rushed. At once the rope became slack and the +watchful men pulled it tight again, and soon the great beast was jammed +up against the fence, using all its strength to try and break the +green-hide rope. But the lasso was made out of the hide of a bull and +could have held any steer that was ever calved. Leg ropes were thrown, +hitched, and drawn tight, and the steer fell, roaring and plunging for +a moment, and then lying still, but never relaxing the tremendous +strain for a moment. + +Dan Collins was branding, and called out: "Brand-o!" The red-hot iron +was handed through the rails and pressed on the quivering shoulder. + +Now came the great test. Pain added the final ounce to the steer's +strength. He struggled. The front leg rope broke. Through being +constantly hitched round a rough post it had become a little bit +frayed, and this final strain was too much for it. It snapped and +sprang apart like a collapsed spring. The chest of the steer was now +free, but the head rope still held it down. The knowledge that it had +broken one of its bonds gave the animal heart, and it lifted its +curl-crowned head. The lasso quivered and stretched, quivered and +stretched. There was a crack! Had that bull-hide rope broken? No. +Another crack. One of the steer's horns broke off at the skull. With +an agonized bellow it slipped the stump of a horn through the loop and +rose to its fore feet, free except for the back leg rope which Vaughan +was holding. All the animal's strength, raised to its highest pitch by +the pain of the broken horn, was centred in its captive hind leg. +Vaughan held on manfully, but the rope was gradually pulled through his +hands, tearing the skin till he could not possibly hold it any longer. +With a roar, the steer rose from the ground; but just as it struggled +to its feet, Vaughan seized the rope again and twisted it round his +wrist. + +A yard is no place for a man when an infuriated bull is raging around +it. Everybody leapt for the rails except Sax. Was there not some way +of helping his friend? The steer saw him and charged. Round the yard +once, twice, it rushed, Vaughan dragging along at the back, and +hindering it so that he undoubtedly saved his friend from a very nasty +accident. Round the yard the third time. Sax was too dazed to leap +for the rails, and the animal was too close for him to climb them. + +Everybody had been so intent on the sudden turn which events had taken +that they had not noticed an almost naked black-fellow who had left the +lasso and had climbed quickly along the top of the rails. He was a +stranger, and had come in that morning and had taken a hand at the +yards like any other black would do, hoping for a feed and a stick of +tobacco. But now he seemed to be full of energy and courage. When +everybody else was gasping with astonishment, he lay on the top rail as +flat as a lizard. + +Sax came round the third time, and the shaggy head of the steer was +lowering for a toss, when the native's black arm reached down suddenly +and grabbed the white boy by the belt and swung him clear off his feet. +He was not a second too soon. The steer charged by, and Sax was safe. +The stranger native had put out so much of his strength that he could +not recover himself, and he overbalanced, still keeping hold of the +white boy, and rescuer and rescued toppled over backwards into the +other yard. Sax was winded and the black-fellow was the first to get +up. He scrambled to his feet and walked away, not only from the yards, +but away from the station altogether, as if he did not want to be +recognized. But as he was getting between two rails, he put his left +hand on one of them, and Sax saw that the two middle fingers were +missing. It was the same black who had brought the sprig of +needle-bush. + +Excitement was by no means over in the branding-yard. The infuriated +bull, cheated of one victim, now turned its attention to Vaughan. It +wheeled quickly, and in so doing twisted the rope, which Vaughan was +still holding, round the boy's body. He could not escape. He was at +the mercy of a wild steer. + +The sudden and unexpected rescue of Saxon Stobart had roused the white +men, so that when the bull turned on its helpless victim, they were +ready. But what could they do? What could a mere man possibly do +against a full-grown steer? It would take too long to set the boy +free, for the hard unyielding rope was hitched tight round him. There +was only one thing to do, and Dan Collins did it. + +He waited till the bull had gathered itself for a final rush, and, when +it had actually started to charge, he dropped to the ground like a +flash. In a fraction of a second his powerful right arm went out, and +he gripped the nostrils of the bull, pressing his thumb and forefinger +home as far as he could. Then he twisted, suddenly and unexpectedly. + +It was not a matter of strength, but of knack. The power of the +onrushing bull actually supplied all the strength which was necessary. +Dan Collins twisted. The animal's wrinkled neck turned. It could not +help turning, for the pain at its nostrils was unbearable. The +near-side leg gave under it. Something had to give under the strain. +The fingers still kept their grip, and the great beast crashed down +with such a thud that the ground seemed to shake.[1] + +Every man jumped from the rails and was on the prostrate animal at +once, holding it down till the white boy, who had been in such terrible +danger, was set free. + +That night the manager gave his verdict about the two boys. "You'll +do," he said. "I'll take you on. Mick, you'd better take them out on +the run with you. I want you to go north in a couple of days. And for +goodness sake teach them that there are some things which even _they_ +cannot do." He did not mean this unkindly, for he had taken a fancy to +the boys, but he saw that they would need to be restrained a great deal +before they could become really first-class stock-men. + + + +[1] The author has seen quite a small man throw a full-sized bull in +this way on a Central Australian cattle-station. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A Night Alarm + +It can well be imagined that both lads fell asleep quickly and soundly +that night after their first day in the yards. Sidcotinga Government +House had a veranda on one side of it, and they spread their swags +under it just outside Mick's room, as there was no place for them +inside, especially in summer. + +In the middle of the night a man crept round the corner of the veranda +as silently as a black shadow. He paused near the boys, and stooped +down and looked into their faces. The lads were sound asleep and did +not stir. After a moment's scrutiny the native put his hand on Sax's +shoulder and shook it. The tired boy only gave a restless murmur, so +the man shook him harder. He opened his eyes at last and realized that +somebody was bending over him, but he was so sleepy that he did not +call out. + +As soon as he saw that Sax was awake, the native held up his left hand, +so that the white boy could see it outlined against the pale night sky. +The two middle fingers were missing. It was the man who had already +done him more than one good turn. + +Stobart sat up, prepared for anything which this black-fellow--who knew +the father, and seemed so devoted to the son--might suggest. The man +pointed down across the trampled sand towards the cattle-troughs. He +did it again and again, making little runs in that direction and coming +back at once, like a dog who wants its master to go in a certain +direction. + +"All right, I'll come," whispered Sax at last, forgetting that the man +probably could not understand him. Sax had intended to go alone, but +when he stood up, Vaughan opened his eyes and asked sleepily: "What's +all the row about?" + +"No row at all," whispered his companion. "That is, unless you make +it. There's something wrong somewhere and I'm going to have a look." + +"So am I," responded Vaughan quickly, for the chance of an adventure +drove all sleep away from him. "So am I. You bet your life." + +The silent native led the way, armed with a boomerang and a shield, +creeping from the shelter of one building to that of another, till they +were close to the troughs. The man held up his finger and listened. +There was a sound of running water. Sax recognized it as the +ball-valves of the troughs. There were four of them. Suddenly the +thought struck him: Why were they running? From where the three men +were standing the dark lines of the troughs could be seen even at +night, against the light-coloured sand, and it was clear that no stock +were drinking there. But if the valves were running it showed that the +troughs were empty, and the water must be flowing away somewhere. It +must be wasting. + +The importance of water in the desert had already impressed itself upon +the white boys, and as soon as they realized that precious water was +running away in the sand, they rushed out from behind the shelter +towards the troughs. The armed native went with them. + +There should have been a plug at the end of each trough. Somebody had +pulled these plugs out, and the water was gushing a full stream through +the four ball-valves and was running to waste over the sand. This had +apparently not been going on for more than five or ten minutes, but it +was absolutely necessary to stop the waste; for if once the overhead +tank was drained dry, and if there was no wind to work the mill for a +day or two, Sidcotinga Station would be entirely without water. + +The boys did not stop to wonder who had done this dastardly deed, but +went to jam the plugs back again into their holes. But the plugs could +not be found. Something must be done immediately. It would waste +precious time to run back to the station and hunt round for something +to make plugs out of, so they started to fill the ends of the troughs +with sand and clay, scooping it up with their hands and ramming it +tight till one after another of the leakages was stopped. + +When they were occupied with the fourth, and had nearly made a tight +job of it, Sax looked around for the native who had told them that +something was wrong. The man was standing a couple of yards away with +his shield raised. He looked for all the world as if he was defending +them from some attack. And so he was. Scarcely had Sax begun to work +again, scooping more sand and clay and plastering it smooth and firm, +when he heard the click of wood against wood, and a spear stuck into +the ground just behind him. Another followed and another with hardly +any pause between. The native still maintained his attitude of tense +watchfulness. He had already turned three messengers of death off with +his shield, and was waiting for more. None came. + +He backed slowly towards the boys, still facing in the direction from +which the spears had come. Presently he turned quickly and pointed to +Government House, and then took up the same position of attention. His +meaning was quite clear. He wanted one of the boys to go up to +Government House and give the alarm. + +Vaughan instantly jumped to his feet and ran, leaving Sax to finish the +work at the troughs, guarded by the faithful nigger. In an incredibly +short time Dan Collins and Mick Darby came running down, armed with +rifles and revolvers. When the stranger black-fellow saw them he +disappeared. No one saw him go, and indeed it would have been +dangerous for him if they had; for when two white men with loaded +weapons are looking for a chance to shoot a nigger, they are as likely +to shoot a friend as a foe. The night seemed to swallow him up, and +the white men and Vaughan, who followed hard after them, found Sax +alone. Even the three spears had been taken away. + +Tracks of naked feet all around the troughs showed that a couple of +Musgrave blacks had wilfully pulled the plugs out of the water troughs, +knowing that this was one of the ways in which they could do most harm +to the hated white man. If the native with the mutilated hand had not +given the alarm, Sidcotinga Station would have been right out of water +by the morning. No one knew who this friendly black-fellow was. Sax +told the others that it was the same man who had put the sprig of +needle-bush in the quart-pot, and who had also saved him from the bull +a few hours before, but he did not explain how he knew this. + +"Seems to have taken a fancy to you, whoever he is," remarked Dan +Collins. "I wonder why." + +Sax knew why, but he seemed to feel the influence of his father coming +from the Musgraves, not far away, telling him to keep the matter secret. + +The lads went back to bed, and the two white men kept watch at the +troughs till daylight. But the blacks gave no sign of their presence. +They had evidently been scared away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Mustering + +If the boys expected that the night alarm would be the chief subject of +conversation next day they were quite mistaken, for the matter was +hardly referred to at all. Sidcotinga was as far away from +civilization as could possibly be, and its position under the dreaded +and mysterious Musgrave Ranges made it the object of repeated attacks +by little bands of warragul blacks. Consequently the manager was quite +used to turning out in the middle of the night to guard one portion or +another of the station property, and the mere pulling out of the plugs +from the watering-troughs was forgotten almost as soon as the affair +was over. + +Important business was afoot--the chief business of a +cattle-station--mustering. Station blacks were sent out early in the +morning after working-horses; packs, saddles, canteens, hobbles, and +horse-gear generally were carefully overhauled by Mick, and tucker-bags +were filled with flour, sugar, tea, dried salt meat, and a tin or two +of jam. Before sunset everything was ready for an early start next +day, for about fifty working-horses had been brought in, out of which +number Mick and the manager chose thirty for the mustering plant. + +Dan Collins had sent four station boys to round up the horses: Calcoo, +whose real name went into about ten syllables and was quite impossible +for a white man to pronounce; Uncle, a thoroughly reliable +black-fellow, who was somewhat older than the others; Fiddle-Head, so +called because of his long thin face; and Jack Johnson, a native of +splendid physique from one of the great rivers which flow into the Gulf +of Carpentaria. Another black stockman had stayed behind to help Mick +Darby and the white boys with the packs. His name was Poona, and he +understood station ways better than the others, because Dan Collins had +taken him in hand when he was a piccaninny, and taught him to be very +useful. + +Just before dinner, when Mick was busy mending a pack-bag and Sax and +Vaughan were having their first lesson in making waxed thread for +sewing leather, Poona came up to the drover with another black-fellow. +His companion was naked except for a rope of hair tied round his waist +from which a small apron hung down. Sax looked up and recognized him +immediately; it was the native with the mutilated hand who had been +such a good friend to the white boy. Stobart was about to call out, +when the man put his finger on his thick black lips and pointed to the +Musgraves. He did this three times, and shook his head so earnestly +that Sax knew that, for some reason or another, the black did not want +to be recognized. + +Mick Darby finished a row of stitching and then paid attention to the +two men who were standing so silently in front of him, waiting the +pleasure of the white man. He knew Poona, but the presence of the +other native needed explaining. "What name, Poona?" he asked. + +"You want um 'nother boy go mustering?" asked Poona, pointing to his +companion. + +Mick looked at the naked man for a moment, and then asked: "Is he any +good?" + +"Yah. Him bin good fella," replied Poona eagerly. "Him bin ride like +blazes. Him work one time longa Eridunda," mentioning a famous station +farther north. This was not true. The warragul black had never worked +on a station in his life and knew very little of the ways of white men. +He was a Musgrave nigger who had recently come down from the Ranges. +Mick wanted as many helpers as he could get, for the muster was to be a +big one, and he engaged the newcomer without further inquiries. + +"All right," he said. "What's his name?" + +Poona grinned and pronounced a name which he knew was quite impossible +for a white man's tongue to manage. Everybody laughed, including the +newcomer, who put up his mutilated hand to cover his grinning mouth. +Mick noticed the deformity at once. The man's hand, with its three +fingers set wide apart, from which long hard nails stuck out, resembled +the claw of some bird, so the drover turned to the white boys and said: +"What d'you think of that for a name? They've nearly all got names +like that. We'll shorten this one down a bit and call him 'Eagle'. +Look at his hand." He turned to Poona. "We call that one black-fella +Eagle. See? His hand aller same eagle's hand. Take um round Boss +Collins. P'raps him give it trouser, shirt, tobac." + +In a few minutes the warragul black, duly enrolled as a stockman of +Sidcotinga Station, was strutting about in front of a group of native +women, dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a striped store shirt, +and was puffing at a new clay pipe. The novelty of his occupation and +attire made up for their discomfort, and he would probably have been +willing to force his broad feet into boots if they had been given to +him, although he had never worn clothes in his life before, and must +have found that they hindered his movements at every stride. + +Next morning, although it was summer and the sun rose very early, the +men had breakfast by the light of a hurricane-lantern, and the +mustering plant was all ready to start out before dawn. There were +Mick, the two white boys, six niggers, eight packed horses and the rest +spares, making thirty in all. The white boys were naturally interested +in the horses they were to ride. Sax had a grey mare named Fair Steel +to ride in the mornings, and Ginger, a gelding, for the afternoons. +Vaughan's two were both geldings: Boxer, a brown, and Don Juan, a tall +black. All four horses were well-bred and thoroughly suitable for the +month's hard work which lay ahead of them. + +The plant made straight for the Musgraves. It was a brilliantly clear +day, and when the sun rose the range of mountains ahead of them seemed +to be only a day's ride away. But at the end of the second day, when +the packs were pulled off near a water-hole, the Musgraves did not look +to be any nearer. Mick and the white boys rode in the lead all day, +and the plant, driven by the black-boys, followed behind; this is the +method of travel all over Central and North Australia. + +On the morning of the third day they started to muster. All around the +water-hole were the recent tracks of hundreds of cattle, and the day's +work consisted of riding out on these tracks till the limit was reached +beyond which no cattle had gone from that particular water. Then the +stockmen rode in, gathering cattle as they came. The party split up +into three in order to muster the district thoroughly, and before +sunset a mob of over four hundred cattle was bellowing round the +water-hole. The nearest stock-yard was two days away, so the cattle +had to be watched that night. Sax and Vaughan had done some night +watching on the way from Oodnadatta to Sidcotinga, when wild blacks had +been about, but a few tired, broken-in horses were very easy to watch +in comparison with a mob of nearly half a thousand wild desert cattle. + +The usual precautions were taken. The men made their camp on the slope +of a little clay-pan out of sight of the water-hole, so that their +movements in the night would not startle the cattle. All fires were +put out before dark, and no man was allowed to shake his camp-sheet or +make any sudden noise. Watches were arranged so that two stockmen were +riding round the cattle all night long. + +The moon was full enough to vaguely light the scene, which was very +typical of Central Australia and could not possibly be met with in any +other part of the world. Mick and Vaughan took first watch and Sax and +Poona took the second. When Sax came off watch, and was riding up the +little hill, looking forward to rolling himself up in his blankets, the +sound of singing made him turn and look back. It was a wonderful sight +which met his gaze, and those who have once seen a similar one are +never really satisfied in any other place. The water looked flat like +a mirror, and one or two cattle stood knee-deep in the edges of it. +All around, just a vague black mass from which a warm mist of breath +and hot bodies was rising, were the cattle, mostly lying down and +contentedly chewing the cud, while a few wandered slowly about looking +for one another and quietly murmuring. One of the black-boys, whose +turn at watching had just come, was already riding round with one leg +cocked lazily over the pommel of the saddle, and chanting a coroboree +dirge, both to let the cattle know that he was about and because he was +happy. + +The other boy was waiting for Sax's horse. Sax dismounted and noticed +that the man standing near him was Eagle. The native grinned as he +climbed awkwardly on the horse, for he was not used to riding, and, as +he moved off, he pointed with his mutilated hand in the direction of +the Musgrave Ranges and uttered the words: "Bor--s Stoo--bar." + +Sax sat down for a moment. These words reminded him that indeed this +was his home, the land of his father, the place where perhaps he had +been actually born. The magic of the desert night bewitched him; the +half-moon, the few stars in the pale sky, the sense of limitless space +across the sand, the water-hole and the camped cattle, the quavering +voice of the chanting nigger which was now joined by another voice, +wilder and more exultant--these things and the consciousness that his +father was somewhere near, guarded by these mysterious desert forces +and desert men--thrilled him, and when he stood up again and walked +over to his swag, he knew in a way that he had never known before that +the blood of the North was in his veins, and that he was the descendant +of a race of heroes--the Australian bushmen. + +The cattle were quiet all night. Mick was an old stockman and had +given strict orders to his boys not to hurry the cattle, so that they +arrived at the water-hole almost in the same mood as they would have +done if they had come for a drink of their own accord. They were on +their own country also, and there was not a strange stick or stone or +tree to frighten them. Cattle very seldom rush at night when they are +on their own feeding-grounds, and though Mick took no chances, and +double-watched them all night, he did not expect anything unpleasant to +happen. "It's better to be sure than sorry," he told the boys at +breakfast. + +Immediately the meal was over they started to "handle the cattle". +That was Mick's way of expressing it, and, indeed, at one part of the +proceedings the cattle were actually "handled". But before they +reached that stage many things had to be done. Each man was mounted on +the best horse possible, and the party rode down the hill to the +water-hole, spreading out like a fan, and slowly working the cattle +away from the water till they were on an open plain about a quarter of +a mile away. + +Now came one of the most difficult things that a stockman ever has to +do. It is called "cutting out". Man and horse have to be of the very +best to perform this feat properly or else the whole operation results +in confusion. Mick was mustering the north of Sidcotinga run in order +to brand all cleanskins, and there were probably not more than a +hundred unbranded cattle in that mob of nearly half a thousand. Most +of these were calves which were still running with their mothers, +though there was a sprinkling of larger stock which had been missed the +year before. The first job was to separate the cows and calves and +other cleanskins from the main herd, thus dividing it into two mobs. + +The mounted stockmen put the cattle together tightly and held them. +Mick was riding a bright chestnut gelding with high wither and an +intelligent head, whose name was Hermes and who was reputed to be a +famous camp-horse.[1] Signalling to his boys to be ready, Mick rode +straight into the mob of cattle. Almost at once he saw an unbranded +steer and pointed his whip towards it. The horse did the rest. With +wonderful skill, Hermes worked alongside the steer, shouldered it to +the outside of the mob, and cut it out from the other cattle. +Immediately two other stockmen came in behind it and drove it a few +hundred yards away, where it was kept by three mounted boys who had +been detailed for the purpose. It is far easier to keep a hundred +cattle in one place than it is to do the same to a single beast, but +Mick and Hermes were now cutting out cleanskins one after another +without any pause, thus increasing the second mob very quickly. It is +a splendid sight to see cattle being cut out by a good man on a good +horse. The man needs to have a quick eye and never to hesitate once, +for he is right in the midst of several hundred wild cattle who are +afraid of him, and are ready to wreak their vengeance on him at the +first opportunity. He must be a faultless rider, for a camphorse can +turn right round at full gallop in its own length, and woe to the man +who loses his seat at that time. He is amongst the feet and horns of +desert cattle. Mick never made a mistake. He took the matter as +quietly as it could possibly be done, and gradually worked the +clean-skins out and made up the other mob. + +When a thing is done well it looks easy to a spectator, and the white +boys thought that this work of cutting out, which they had heard so +much talk about, was a very simple matter indeed. Mick saw them edging +nearer and nearer, and knew that they were very keen to try their +hands, so he shouted out: "Have a shot at working on the face of the +camp.[2] Be steady, though," he warned them. "It's not as easy as it +looks." + +They soon found out that the drover was right. Their horses knew far +more about the matter than they did, but the men on their backs were +clumsy, and started to pull them this way and that, till the horses got +worried, and didn't know what to do. Mick brought a young steer out to +the edge of the mob where the boys were standing, and shouted: "Here +you are. Come in behind me." + +Their horses started to do the right thing, which is to come in between +the steer and the mob, but Sax rode straight at the beast, drove it +towards Vaughan, who tried to turn his horse suddenly and only made +matters worse, for the steer galloped back into the mob. Mick swore +and cut it out again, and drove it several yards out from the other +cattle and gave it a parting cut with his stock-whip. Sax and Vaughan +galloped after it. It dodged and tried to get back, but, more by luck +than good management, the boys kept it out in the open. At last they +got it on the run towards the second mob and were feeling very pleased +with their success, when it suddenly turned. + +Sax was in the lead. His horse was an old stock-horse, and as soon as +the beast turned, it turned too, quickly, and in its own length. But +the boy on the horse's back did not turn! Sax had been going for all +he was worth, standing up in the stirrups and leaning forward +excitedly, when, all of a sudden, the horse under him jerked round on +its fore feet. Sax went straight on over the animal's head and came to +the ground all in a heap, while the horse galloped on for a few yards +and then stopped and looked round at its fallen rider. Vaughan did not +fare quite so badly. His horse did not turn at full gallop. It +propped and then turned. When it propped, it flung Vaughan forward. +He clutched the horse's neck to save himself from coming off, and when +the horse turned he hung on still tighter. + +The steer got away easily and was making back to the mob when Uncle and +Fiddle-head came to the rescue. Everybody laughed at the two white +boys, but they took the fun in good part and learnt their first +important lesson in handling cattle: it's never so easy that it doesn't +need care. + + + +[1] A camp-horse is a horse which has been especially trained for +cutting out cattle on a cattle-camp. + +[2] Working on the face of the camp means taking cattle which have been +cut out from the man who is doing this particular job, and driving them +away to the second mob. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The Branded Warragul + +By noon the cattle were in two mobs, clean-skins and branded. Leaving +the clean-skins in charge of three boys, with instructions to keep them +from straying, Mick and the other stockmen drove the branded cattle +right away and let them go, and then rode back to camp for dinner. A +fire was lit, the nine quart-pots put in the blaze, the damper and bag +of meat brought out, and soon everybody was munching the hard tucker +with a relish which can be gained only by a vigorous life in the open +air. As soon as three of the black-boys had finished, they were sent +out to relieve the ones who were watching the cattle, and at the end of +the hour's middle-day "camp", everybody was ready for the branding. + +There were one or two trees on the plain, and a suitable one was chosen +with a strong bough about five feet from the ground. A pile of wood +was collected and a fire lit and the brands made red-hot. Green-hide +ropes were uncoiled to get the kinks out and coiled again ready for +instant use, and every horseman saw to the tightness of his +saddle-girth. Mick stood near the tree waiting to brand and cut, and +with him were Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson for the front and back leg +ropes, and Eagle to keep the brands hot and hand them when required. +Poona and Uncle were each armed with a long pliant bull-hide lasso, and +the two white boys and Calcoo rode round the cattle, keeping them well +bunched up. + +Mick looked round to see that every man was in his place, gave his +knife an extra rub or two on his boot, and then shouted: "Right-o!" + +Poona and Uncle rode forward at once to different ends of the mob. +Each of them singled out a cleanskin, and almost at the same time two +lassoes whirled through the air. The thin bull-hides uncoiled and +uncoiled as they sped over the heads of the cattle, and the loops kept +wide open and fell around the necks of the chosen victims. Both horses +propped immediately, and the lasso-men sat back to take the strain. It +came, but the horses knew their work and lay back, almost sitting on +their tails, till the bucking, bellowing animals on the end of the +ropes ceased their first efforts to escape. Then, bit by bit, as +carefully as an angler plays a game fish, the beasts were drawn out of +the mob, while Sax, Vaughan, and Calcoo kept the others from breaking +away. + +There is always keen rivalry between lasso-men as to who pulls his +beast up to the fire first. Poona won this time, for the young bull on +the end of Uncle's rope lay down and had to be dragged by main force, +just as if it had been a bag of flour. When Poona reached the fire, +Mick jerked the lasso over the outstanding bough in order to keep the +clean-skin from running round. Meanwhile Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson +were on the alert with their ropes, and in a few seconds they had flung +them on and had drawn the loops tight, and pulled the animal down and +held it. Mick at once loosened the lasso and Poona went back to the +mob to rope another. "Brand-o!" was called, Eagle handed up a T.D.3 +and a number brand, the head-stockman pressed these on to the near-side +shoulder of the prostrate beast, and with a shout of "Let her go!" the +leg ropes were taken off, and the dazed animal staggered to its feet +and rejoined its companions. By this time Uncle had pulled his animal +up near the tree, and as soon as it was branded, Poona had caught his +second. And so the work went on without interruption, everybody +working as hard as he could. + +After about an hour Uncle threw his lasso and missed. The beast he was +after was a three-year-old red bull with wide horns which he kept on +tossing angrily. The animal saw the green-hide coming and ducked its +head, and the whirling rope fell and flicked it in the eye. It was not +Uncle's fault that he had missed, but it was a failure all the same, +and nobody likes to come off second best when it is a case of such keen +rivalry. He looked round and saw that his ill-luck had been observed +by all his companions, for there was a lull in the work just at that +time, and all hands were watching. The black-boy was on his mettle to +redeem his reputation, and his blood was up to perform a feat which he +had learnt on a northern cattle-station, but which had never been seen +on Sidcotinga. The lasso had flicked the bull in the eye. With a roar +of pain, it lifted its great horns and shook them and rushed out of the +mob. Sax wheeled to turn it back, but Uncle signed to him to leave it +alone. When the wild red bull was clear of the mob, the black stockman +coiled the lasso on his left arm and made after it. + +Everybody expected him to fling the lasso, but instead of doing that, +he galloped up on the near-side of the animal and kept level with its +rump for a yard or two. It was on the tip of Mick's tongue to shout +out and tell the boy not to "play the fool", when Uncle leaned over +with his hand spread out wide. Suddenly he grabbed the galloping +bull's tail near the root and gave it a dexterous twist. Over went the +animal. It crashed to the ground and threw up a cloud of dust. Uncle +flung himself instantly off his horse and held the fallen beast for a +moment, while he slipped the noose of the lasso over its head. Then he +remounted and lay back to take the strain. It was all done so quickly +that the red bull was on its feet again and was tugging at the rope +before anybody realized what the stockman had done. He could have +easily lassoed the escaping beast in the ordinary way, but his blood +was up and he did this wonderful feat just to show his companions that +though he had missed once with the lasso, he could do things with +cattle which they had never thought of. + +Eagle's first experience of cattle-branding was the recent day in the +Sidcotinga yards when he had saved Sax from the horns of the infuriated +bull, and the present work was so entirely new to him that he was very +clumsy. Mick did not take this into consideration. Cattle were being +dragged up to the tree one after another, and the brands had to be hot +when he called out for them. That was the only thing Mick cared about +just then. It is not at all an easy job to keep six pairs of brands +red-hot in a fire of very fiercely burning wood on a blazing day in the +desert with a north wind blowing. Everybody tries to avoid being made +brand-man, for it is hard hot work with no praise and plenty of blame. + +Poor Eagle made one or two mistakes, was sworn at, and became flustered +and made more and worse mistakes, till Mick began to lose patience. +The boy was really doing his best, and he had even taken off his +much-prized trousers and shirt in order not to be hindered by them. +But somehow he didn't get on at all well; the brands were either not +hot enough, or he hadn't succeeded in keeping the handles cool, or he +was short of wood, or an extra strong gust of wind had blown his fire +nearly all away. + +At last Mick got angry. "You useless smut!" he shouted, when Eagle +handed him a couple of brands which were not hot enough. "You useless +smut! I thought you said you'd worked on Eridunda. What work did you +do there? Kitchen jin?"[1] + +Eagle did not understand what Mick said, but he saw that the white man +was angry, so he hurried back to the fire and took out two other +brands, hoping that these would please the drover. They were +absolutely red-hot. Mick caught hold of them, but dropped them with a +yell. Eagle had forgotten to pile sand over the handles to keep them +cool, and had allowed the heat to run up the whole length of the shaft. + +Mick dropped the brands and vented his rage on the luckless Eagle. The +native was a big powerful man, but Mick took him by surprise. With a +sudden twist the white man sent him sprawling on the ground, and, +before he had a chance to get up again, was holding the black down with +a wrestling grip he had learnt when he was a lad. He grabbed his hat +with his free hand and reached for the red-hot branding-iron. He +pressed the fiery T.D.3 into the flank of the naked black-fellow. The +man yelled and squirmed with pain, but his captor held him tight. It +was a cruel thing to do, but Mick's Irish temper had got the better of +him, and he held the brand on the flesh till it had burnt a mark which +would never come off. + +Then he released his grip and stood up. Instantly the tortured black +sprang to his feet and reached for a stick. But before his hand could +close on it a shot rang out, and Eagle jumped back as if he had been +mortally wounded. The man was unharmed, however, for Mick had only +fired into the air as a warning, but he now covered the native with his +automatic pistol. The warragul knew enough about white men to +understand that sudden death could spit out of that little barrel which +Mick held in his hand, and if there had been any doubt in his mind as +to what he ought to do, it was dispelled by the shouts of warning of +the other blacks. + +Looking at Mick with fierce hatred, he backed slowly step by step till +he was about fifty yards away, when he turned and ran for his life. +Mick fired a parting shot after him, but it was not necessary. The +branded black-fellow did not stop till he was out of sight over the +first sand-hill. + +The work of branding was quietly resumed after this interruption, but +the spirit of laughter and good-natured rivalry had gone. The blacks +were nervous and the white boys were frankly scared at the unexpected +turn of events, and even Mick himself, after a few minutes had passed, +was sorry for what he had done. But he worked every man in the plant +to the full limit of his powers, never once easing the strain, for any +sign of relenting would have been misunderstood by the natives, who +think that a white man's kindness is the same as weakness, for they +respect one thing and one thing only, and that is power. In this they +are not unlike white men. + + + +[1] It is a great insult to a native to suggest that he is a woman or +that he does woman's work. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Revenge + +Just before sunset, after a long and tiring day's work, the last of the +clean-skins was branded, and staggered to its feet and made off to +rejoin the other cattle. Mick wiped his knife on his trousers and then +used it to cut up a fill of tobacco. Sax had taken over the management +of the brands after the adventure with Eagle, and was very glad to pull +the irons out of the fire and let them cool in the sand. In fact, +everybody was pleased to "knock off", both because they were thoroughly +tired, and more especially because Mick's cruelty to the warragul had +caused an unpleasant feeling to take the place of the former spirit of +hearty good fellowship. + +The men let the cattle go and rode dejectedly back to camp, and even +Mick's efforts to start a conversation with his two white companions +was not a great success. A fire was lit, the quart-pots were boiled +and "tea-ed", and the damper and meat served out all round, and soon +afterwards the stockmen unrolled their swags and lay down for the night. + +Sax could not sleep. He turned over on one side and then on another, +but did not seem able to find a comfortable position. During the +excitement of his fall from the horse in the morning he had not noticed +any injuries, but now, when he wanted to forget everything and go to +sleep, he felt a large bruise on his hip and a sore place on each +shoulder. The moon shone in his face and kept him awake, and he lay on +his swag in a very unhappy frame of mind. + +Mick's behaviour to Eagle worried him. His body was too tired and sore +to rest, but his mind was unusually active, and kept on turning over +and over the incidents of the day, and especially the short struggle +between the white man and the warragul native. + +Sax had been on the other side of the mob of cattle when the incident +had occurred, but he had seen enough to make him very angry at the +injustice. Eagle had proved himself to be Sax's friend on three +occasions, and the lad consequently took the present matter to heart. +He quite forgot that Mick did not know who Eagle was, and merely +thought him to be a more than ordinarily useless black-fellow. Sax had +found out to his cost what an exceedingly unpleasant task it is to keep +brands hot on a blazing north-wind summer's day in the Australian +desert. + +The tired lad's indignant thoughts became confused as sleep gradually +claimed him, and at last his aching body was at rest, though his mind +still kept active and started to build dreams. Just after midnight, +when everything was still, and the last of the cattle had ceased to +splash in the water-hole and had gone out on one or another of the long +cattle-pads which stretched away into the silent desert, when the +half-moon looked down on the motionless and soundless world, a dark +face peeped over the top of the sandhill above the sleeping stockmen. +The man's naked body lay flat as a snake on the sand and wriggled +forward with movements like the waving of a shadow on a wall, till the +native could gain a clear view of the place where his unconscious enemy +lay. + +It was Eagle. + +He had come to kill. + +The T.D.3 brand, which still throbbed on his flank, was to him a mark +of shame, and he knew only one way of washing that shame away--with the +life-blood of the man who had put it there. + +Slowly he raised his head and looked, remaining for a minute or two +without any sign of life at all, not even the blinking of an eyelid. +If everybody on the camp had been awake and had chanced to look that +way, they would not have been able to distinguish the black-fellow's +head from the scraggy bushes which grew here and there on the +sand-hill. But all the men were asleep, and after Eagle had noted +carefully where Mick was lying, he ducked down again behind the +sand-hill and worked his way round till he was directly above the +sleeping white man. + +Just to one side of Mick's swag was a row of pack-saddles and bags, and +leaning against one of the saddles was the axe which had been used to +chop wood for the branding fire that afternoon. In fact Eagle had been +the one who had chiefly used it. He was now going to use that axe +again, but for a purpose more dear to his savage heart than cutting +dead branches: he was going to cut the live body of a hated white man, +and cut it again and again till no semblance of humanity remained. + +He crept forward down the slope inch by inch. No snake in the grass is +more silent and no fox is more stealthily alert than a black-fellow +creeping on an enemy. The body is held tense for instant action, and +the limbs move slowly and are put forward just a little bit at a time +with that slinking movement which is known only to beasts of prey and +to savage men. He reached the packs at last and lay down flat, not +moving for fully five minutes. Gradually a black hand stretched out +and a supple arm glided silently over the sand. + +He grasped the axe. He did not drag it. Even that slight noise might +spoil the night's work. He lifted and rose gently on his knees and one +hand, and held the axe close to his body with the other. + +Eagle is six yards from Mick. The critical time has come. No one can +see him move, for he changes his position such a little and such a +little more that he is in a new place without seeming to have left the +old one. His actions are as imperceptible as those of water. Five +yards. Four and a half. Four. Nearer and nearer. Three. Two. +Surely he will strike now! He is on hands and knees. He waits for a +moment or two and then straightens his body, pulls up one knee, and +poises the axe behind him. He is like a spring. In another second the +terrible tension will be relaxed and that supple black body will launch +itself at the sleeping man. The axe will split the skull in two from +forehead to chin, and not a sound will tell that the forces of the +desert have claimed another invader as their victim. + +The silence of the night is shattered by a shot. The poised axe falls +to the ground. The crouching native springs into the air with a yell +and puts a broken finger in his mouth. There is a mighty shout, and +Mick hurls himself at his would-be murderer. A blow under the chin +which would have felled a bull sends the black-fellow spinning to the +ground several yards away. The white man follows like an incarnate +fury and grapples at his enemy's throat. A terrible struggle ensues. +Over and over they roll. Now the black is on top, now the white, but +Mick never relaxes his hold on the man's throat. Gradually the +native's struggles weaken. The white stockman digs deeper with his +thumbs into the neck of the gasping man and waits the inevitable end. +Finally all resistance ceases. The black body grows limp and the head +falls back. + +The green-hide ropes are lying near. Mick reaches for them and binds +his captive more securely than any clean-skin cattle have ever been +bound. Then he looks up and meets the startled gaze of Sax and Vaughan. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Chivalry in the Desert + +Mick had expected to be attacked. He had worked with natives for +thirty years and had had many narrow escapes for his life, and had come +to anticipate danger and thus avoid it. When Eagle's head had poked up +over the opposite sandhill, Mick had been lying in that half-sleep +which cattle-men get used to and from which they are instantly awakened +by the slightest unusual sight or sound. He had seen the native and +had known from experience exactly what the man would do. With nearly +closed eyes he had followed the stealthy movements of the man down to +the packs, had seen him take the axe, and had waited till the very last +moment with pistol-barrel pointing through a fold in the camp-sheet. +Then he had fired at the hand which was grasping the axe. + +At the sound of the shot the two white boys had been startled awake, +but they had been so heavily asleep before, that it took them a moment +or two to realize what was happening. By that time it was all over, +and when they arrived on the scene, Mick was giving the last hitch to +the bull-hide rope. In answer to their eager questions, the stockman +told the lads of his adventure. It seemed terrible to them that Mick +had been so near death, and they wondered at his letting the native get +so near. But the white man treated the matter lightly, and all three +of them stood round the bound native and watched him slowly recover +consciousness. + +The five black-boys were standing in a group on the other side of the +smouldering fire, not knowing whether the white man's anger would vent +itself on them, but they were reassured when he called out to them, +pointing to the bound man: "This one, Eagle. Him try to kill white +man. No good at all. Silly fella quite. You all good fella. You go +back longa swag. You lie down. You all good fella." + +Eagle's eyelids fluttered and then opened, and he looked up into the +face of Sax. The light of the moon was strong enough to show the boy +what intense appeal there was in the captive's eyes. The man evidently +thought that he was going to be killed. He looked beseechingly at Sax +and then rolled his eyes to the north, towards the Musgraves, and +muttered the syllables: "Stoo-bar." + +The sound drew Mick's attention to him. "So yer've recovered, have +yer?" he asked, stooping down to pick up a quart-pot of water. "P'raps +that'll help yer." He dashed the cold water into the man's face. It +certainly brought him round to complete consciousness, and the dark +eyes no longer looked appealingly at Sax, but gazed with hatred at his +tormentor. + +"Yer don't like having a decent brand on yer hide, don't yer?" sneered +Mick. "Like me to take it off, would yer? Well, I'll have a try." + +The white boys had no idea what the drover intended to do, and stood +back when he asked them to do so, He rolled the helpless man over till +his flank was uppermost and showed the recent brand-mark T.D.3. The +brand was outlined with thick burns which stood up from the black +flesh. Mick went over to his swag for his whip. It was long and +supple, made of plaited kangaroo-hide, and ended in a well-rounded +lash. He drew it once or twice through his fingers and then cracked it +in the air. The sound was like the sudden banging together of two flat +wooden boards. Mick stood back from the prostrate native and measured +the distance with his eye. + +"Don't like to be branded, don't yer?" he asked. "Well, I'll take it +off for yer." + +He drew back the whip and swung it forward. There was a yell of pain +from Eagle. The lash had bitten right in the middle of the brand. The +whip fell again and again, each time unerringly. + +Sax sprang forward. He acted on the spur of the moment. With clenched +fists and blazing eyes he stood between the drover and the bound man. +For a moment there was silence except for the moaning of the tortured +man. Mick looked at Sax and said, with a cruel smile: "Well, and who +told you to interfere?" + +"But, Mick," gasped the lad, surprised at his own audacity, but +determined to see the matter through--"but, Mick, you can't do it. +He's tied up." + +"Can't do it, indeed!" shouted Mick. "Can't do it! That nigger wanted +to kill me, he did. Look out. I'm going to chop that brand out of his +side with this whip." + +The thong whistled through the air over the drover's head and came +forward. But Sax stood his ground. The falling whip coiled round his +legs and jerked him off his feet, sending him backwards over the body +of the bound native. Mick laughed and raised the whip again; but +before it came down, the lad was on his feet and had cleared Eagle's +body at a bound. The lash caught Sax's right leg. It slashed through +the thin cloth of the trousers and left a bleeding cut from ankle to +knee. The boy did not cry out. He grabbed at the whip and missed it, +but before it could be raised again, Vaughan rushed forward and caught +it. He twisted the plaited hide round his wrist and hung on. Sax +joined him immediately, but they tried in vain to wrench the handle out +of the infuriated man's hand. The unequal tussle was soon over. Mick +was a big heavy man, and the lads were light and were not used to +matching their strength against the endurance of a man. First one and +then the other was thrown back. They came on again, however, till, +with a sudden jerk, Mick flung the whip away from him, and faced them +with his bare hands. + +Sax and his friend were breathless. They stood panting beside the +native on the ground, and looked at the drover. + +"You young whipper-snappers!" he shouted, advancing with threatening +gestures. "You young whipper-snappers! I'll teach you to mind your +own business. Get out of my way." + +But the exhausted boys stood firm. At all costs they meant to protect +the bound man from the drover's anger. Mick hesitated for a moment. +He looked at the lads who were so new to the back country and who had +played the game so well. They seemed so young and small to him just +then. Because of his man's strength he could easily have killed them +both, but their very weakness made their obstinate resistance and pluck +seem all the greater. His anger began to die slowly, and his clenched +fists fell to his sides and opened. "I can thrash that nigger in the +morning," he said to himself. And then his real manhood, which anger +had hidden for a time, asserted itself, and he felt ashamed. "After +all," he thought again, "a chap shouldn't hit a man when he's down, +nigger or no nigger." + +Finally he spoke aloud. "All right, you boys. I won't touch him +to-night. Leave him where he is till morning. I'm going back to bed." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Bull-roarer + +In half an hour the camp was asleep again. Men like Mick, who live in +the desert and who are constantly facing death in many forms, dismiss +an adventure from their minds as soon as it has happened. The black +stockmen were pretty much like animals, scared out of their wits one +minute and forgetting all about it the next. Sax and Vaughan were sure +that the drover would keep his word, and were so utterly tired out when +they lay down again on their swags, that, in spite of what had just +happened, they fell asleep at once. In fact, Sax did not bother to +wipe the blood off his leg where the whip had cut it. + +All the men were soon asleep except one. Eagle, the bound and tortured +warragul, was wide awake. For the first time in his life he was +helpless. Those supple limbs of his had never been bound before, and +he tugged and tugged to be free till he cut his skin against the hard, +unyielding bull-hide ropes. It was no good. Mick was too old a +cattle-man to leave a rope so that it could be loosened by pulling. +The black tried to twist his body till he could touch the green-hide +with his teeth and gnaw it through, but he was bound too tightly to +allow him to do this. Finally a he lay still with the fear of a +captured animal in his heart, and bitter hatred against the man who had +brought him to this condition. + +Suddenly he heard a dry stick crackle. He was lying with his face +uphill, away from the fire, but at the sound he turned over and looked +toward the few smouldering embers of the camp-fire. Instantly hope +blazed up in his heart. He was saved! In his previous struggles he +had been reckless, not caring how much noise he made, but with the +return of hope came cunning and stealth. For a few minutes after +hearing that welcome crackle of fire, he lay still and gazed at the +thin smoke which coiled lazily up in one or two spirals from a glowing +wood-coal here and there. Then he began to move forward. His limbs +were bound so tightly that they had no power of separate movement, but +he succeeded in twisting his body in such a way that, very slowly and +with an expenditure of great energy, he managed to get nearer and +nearer the fire. It took the bound man two hours to cover a distance +of three yards. Once the mind of a savage is made up to do a thing, +time is of no object at all. An eye-blink, the hours between sunrise +and sunset, a moon, or a season, it doesn't matter. He will persist in +his intention though he die with the thing unfinished. It is +civilization which breeds impatience. + +At last Eagle was up against the fire. His hands were bound behind +him. For a minute or two he looked intently at the grey ashes in which +a few little red-hot embers were glowing, till he decided on one which +was larger and hotter than any of the others. Then he deliberately +rolled over till his bound wrists were right in the ashes. There is no +pain worse than burning. A man will draw his hand away from fire at +all costs. Several parts of the man's body were actually in the fire, +but he endured it all and steeled himself to fight back the greater +agony which throbbed at his wrists. The fire touched the green-hide +and singed the white bull hair, giving off a pungent smell. Eagle +sniffed it greedily. It helped him to bear the terrible pain, for it +was a proof that the fire was doing its work. + +It is impossible to tell how long that wild man endured such fearful +torture for freedom's sake. Agony is not measured by the clock. His +eyelids were shut tight, his teeth were clenched, his breath came in +deep gasps, and every nerve and sinew in his body seemed to be +quivering. He would rather die than call out, yet the effort to keep +back the yells of pain was almost worse than death. In spite of what +it must have cost him, he kept up a constant strain with his arms. The +smell of burning became stronger, but who could say whether it was the +burning of the skin of a bull or of the skin of a man? + +At last he realized, through the torture which was clouding his mind, +that the strain was relaxing. He put forth a mighty effort. His body +could stand it no longer, and gathered all its forces for one last bid +for freedom. A green-hide strand parted. Another loosened itself. A +third uncoiled from his burnt wrist. + +His hands were free! + +Cunning is as natural to a savage as breathing. With the freeing of +his hands it would have been natural for the man to jerk himself out of +the fire, struggle out of his bonds, and make a dash for liberty. But +no. Eagle had a superstitious fear of white men. He must do nothing +to arouse the suspicions of his enemy. Almost as slowly as he had +approached the fire, he now wormed his way from it till he was out of +reach of its heat, and then lay still, his body racked with the pain of +being burnt and bound. Gradually he reached down with his burned hands +and loosened the rope which fettered his legs. It took some time, for +he had almost lost the use of his hands, and the rope was very stiff +and tightly drawn. But patience and perseverance triumphed, and at +last the man was free. + +His next moves were the most risky of all. Eagle was convinced that +Mick was possessed of supernatural powers, for how else could he have +seen the black-fellow and fired at him when he was fast asleep? +Consequently it was with a caution which was the outcome of deadly fear +that he began to crawl. He dared not take too long, for the short +summer night was nearly over, and the white stockman would certainly +awake at the rising of the morning star. But Mick was soundly asleep +this time, and did not notice the black form which went slowly round +the fire and then started up the hill near the white boys. + +When Eagle came opposite to Sax he stopped. This boy was not a devil +like the other white man. He had saved him from the torture of the +whip. He was the son of Boss Stobart and was therefore to be guarded +from all danger. A black remembers cruelty and will avenge it; he also +remembers kindness and will pay it back if he possibly can. But what +could a naked savage, fleeing for his life, do to show his gratitude to +the son of Boss Stobart? + +Eagle put his poor mutilated hand up to his mass of tangled hair and +pulled out a piece of wood with a string attached to it. The object +was about five inches long, thin and flat, and tapered to a point at +each end, something like a thick cigar except that it was not round. +Both sides were marked with straight lines cut across the breadth of +the wood and with circles inside one another, all filled in with a +mixture of grease and red ochre. At one end was a hole through which +passed a string made of native women's hair. The thing was a +luringa--a bull-roarer--a sacred charm, the most precious object which +Eagle could possibly give to his white friend. With this luringa the +white boy could travel unharmed amongst the most savage tribes of the +desert, and could even enter the wildest of the Musgrave fastnesses and +return, a thing which no white man had ever yet done. + +Eagle looked long at the piece of wood and muttered certain words over +it, and then unfastened the hair string and put it round the neck of +the sleeping boy. He had no fear of any evil power which Sax might +possess, and when the lad stirred uneasily, the black-fellow went on +with his work till he had tied the string quite securely. + +A flap of Sax's camp-sheet was spread out on the sand, and when Eagle +had finished with the luringa, he spread out his mutilated hand on the +piece of white canvas and made an imprint. His hand was all covered +with blood and ashes, and the mark of the two fingers and the +projecting thumb was left very plainly on the camp-sheet. + +When Eagle was quite satisfied that Sax would know who had hung that +strange symbol round his neck, he crawled on up the hill, disappeared +on the other side, and fled for his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Horseshoe Bend + +In order fully to understand the position in which Sax and his friend +were soon to be placed, it is necessary to go back several weeks and +find out what had happened to the famous Boss Stobart. + +Joe Archer, the storekeeper at Oodnadatta who had been so kind to the +boys, had told them that the drover had not been heard of since he had +called in at Horseshoe Bend. It is possible to connect up with the +Overland Telegraph Line at Horseshoe Bend, and Stobart had taken +advantage of this opportunity of getting into touch with Oodnadatta. + +Boss Stobart, with a thousand Queensland cattle, reached the Finke +about midday. The Finke is a wide river of soft white sand, bordered +on each side by gnarled and ancient gum trees. Not once in the memory +of white man had the Finke carried water from its source in the +Macdonnel Ranges to its mouth in the great dry salt Lake Eyre, and the +trees which mark its course, and can be seen from many, many miles away +scattered about the landscape, gain their nourishment from a +water-supply fifty or sixty feet below the arid surface. + +The drover saw the cattle safely over the dry creek, put them on camp +in a clay-pen surrounded by sandhills, and then rode up to the little +group of rough buildings which, because the Finke makes an almost +complete turn on itself just there, goes by the name of Horseshoe Bend. +The Horseshoe Bend licensed store is a low iron building ornamented on +two sides by a broad veranda. Clustered at the back are a hut of split +box logs thatched with cane, an iron-roofed cellar, and a few primitive +outbuildings. These, with a large set of yards and troughs for +watering cattle, make what is not only the homestead of a +six-thousand-square-mile cattle station, but also an important depot on +the Great North Stock Route, a postal and telegraph station, and the +residence--when he is not away on the run--of a justice of the peace. +In a cramped and dusty office, where, amid the buzzing of innumerable +flies, while the temperature climbs above 110° F. every day for five +months in the year, the news of Europe and Asia can be heard +tick-tacked in code by inserting a little plug. The reports of a war +in India, of an active volcano in South America, or of a cricket match +in England could be heard at Horseshoe Bend in the centre of the +Australian desert before people in Melbourne knew anything about it. +The only thing necessary is to insert a little metal plug and make the +current run through the recorder. + +But the plug hangs idle on its nail; the recorder is covered with dust; +no one bothers about either Europe or Asia. What chiefly concerns the +few white men who are able to live in Central Australia are the price +of stock, the best place to find a little dried grass or bush, and +water. Always water, water, water--everything else is of secondary +importance--cattle-feed and water. + +The conversation between Stobart and the man behind the bar was all +about the needs and the ways of stock. The drover hitched his horse to +a veranda-post and walked into the dark drinking-room stiffly, for he +had been in the saddle since three o'clock that morning, and had done +some hard riding after restless cattle. + +"Good-day," said Stobart. + +"Good-day," replied Tom Gibbon. "Travelling?" + +"Yes. Cattle. How's the water down the road?" + +The man consulted a paper nailed on a board. It contained the names of +all the water-holes from Alice Springs to Oodnadatta. He began to +read, running his finger below the words and pronouncing them slowly: +"Yellow--dry. Sugar-Loaf--dry. Anvil Soak--dry. One Tree Well--only +enough for a plant; makes very slow. Simpson's Hole--dry. In fact the +whole lot are dry till you get as far as the Stevenson Bore. You're +right after that. How many've you got?" + +"A thousand." + +"Holy sailor! You'll never get through. Bob Hennesy was the last man +down with cattle. He got as far as the Crown and had to leave them on +a well there. They were as poor as wood. No stock passed this way for +three months." + +Boss Stobart had been a drover in Central Australia for thirty years, +and the names of the water-holes which Tom Gibbon had read out were +very familiar to him. Tom, however, was new to the country and did not +know who his visitor was. Stobart did not show any surprise at the +state of the country to the south of him, but merely remarked casually: +"Oh, well, I'll have to go round then. I'm a good month ahead of time." + +The barman did not know what going round meant, but had no wish to +display an ignorance which was really quite evident to the drover, so +he asked: "What'll you drink?" + +"Got any sarsaparilla?" + +Tom Gibbon laughed. It seemed a good joke to him that a bushman should +ask for a teetotal drink. "Yes, any amount of it," he answered. +"'Johnny Walker', 'Watson's No. 10', 'King George'--any brand you like." + +"I said sarsaparilla, not whisky," said Stobart. + +The laugh died out on Tom Gibbon's face. "D'you mean it?" he asked. + +"Why, yes. What d'you think I'd ask for it for if I didn't want it?" + +The sarsaparilla bottle was taken down from the shelf and put on the +counter, together with a glass and a water-bag. "Have one with me?" +invited the drover. + +"No, thanks," replied the other. "I don't care for that stuff. A man +needs something with a nip to it in this country." + +Stobart poured out his drink and watered it. "Does he?" he asked +quietly. "When you've been in this country as long as I have, you'll +know what's good for you." + +When his visitor had gone, Tom Gibbon asked a black-fellow who the man +was that preferred sarsaparilla to whisky. He got rather a shock when +the native told him that the man was not a namby-pamby new-chum as he +had suspected, but was one whose name and deeds were known and talked +about from one end of the country to the other. + +"That one?" exclaimed the black-fellow in surprise. + +"You no bin know um that one, eh? Him Boss Stobart. Big fella drover. +Him bin walk about this country since me little fella. Him big fella +drover all right, altogether, quite." + +The "big fella" drover rode over to the cattle and, instead of starting +them due south along the Great North Stock Route, he gave them a drink +at Horseshoe Bend troughs and then set out west. For several days he +and his black-boys travelled the mob through country which he knew +well, and he managed to find enough dry grass and bush to keep the +animals in fair condition, and enough water to give them a drink every +other day. + +He was making towards the Musgrave Ranges, knowing that the great mass +of high country which loomed on the western horizon day after day was +sure to have water-holes and gullies full of cattle-feed along the base +of it. One day he watered the cattle at a little water-hole surrounded +by box trees, under a low stony rise, and put them on camp in the open +and arranged the watches. It was still an hour before sunset when Boss +Stobart, after giving the cattle a final inspection, was riding back to +camp to make a damper and cook a bucket of meat, when he was startled +by seeing a boot track. They were in totally uninhabited country, and +the sight was just as startling as a naked black-fellow in the middle +of Sydney in the busy part of the day would be. + +He followed it for a yard or two. The footprints turned outwards. A +white man had made those tracks. They were only about a day old. What +was a white man on foot doing in such a place? The drover stopped and +looked back. The line of tracks was crooked and seemed as if a +staggering man had made it, but the general direction was from the +north. Stobart rode on slowly and thoughtfully. The wandering tracks +led to a little clump of mulga trees about a couple of hundred yards +away from the water-hole. + +Suddenly the old stock-horse which the man was riding drew back and +snorted with alarm. Something was moving in those trees. Stobart +urged the horse on. Just at the edge of the clump of scraggy timber +the animal shied again. A man's shirt was lying on the ground. +Trousers and boots were a little distance away, and then an old +battered felt hat was found upturned in the sand. Finally the horse +became so much afraid that Stobart was obliged to dismount and tie it +to a tree while he followed the tracks on foot. He had only a little +farther to go before he too saw what his horse had already seen--a +naked white man staggering round and round in a small clearing among +the trees. + +The man took no notice when Stobart appeared. He was quite +unconscious. The drover shouted, but there was no more response than +if the desert silence had remained unbroken. By the tracks of his +shuffling bare feet he must have been drawing that terrible circle for +several hours, while the pitiless sun beat down on his unprotected +head. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and was dark-coloured and +swollen, his head jerked forward loosely with each stride, and his +tottering legs were bent almost double at the knees. If he sank just a +little lower, his hanging hands would touch the ground, and he would +crawl over the burning sand like any other dying beast, round and +round, round and round, for nothing but utter exhaustion would stop +that parade of death. + +Boss Stobart stood directly in the path of the shambling figure. It +came on unheeding, with glazed eyes and spent senses, and bumped into +the drover as if the hour had been pitch-dark midnight instead of a +summer afternoon. Stobart caught it before it fell, and laid the limp +body down very gently and looked into the man's face. He uttered an +exclamation of amazement. It was Patrick Dorrity, a man whom he had +seen only a few months before, cooking on Tumurti Station. + +Pat Dorrity and Stobart were old friends. Pat had a fondness for a +spree and had consequently never risen above the level of a casual +station cook, wandering about in this capacity over the huge area of +the north, where his friend the drover, who did not have the same +weakness, had gone on earning the confidence and respect of every +stock-owner in the country, till he was now a shareholder in more than +one prosperous station property. + +But bushman friendships are not based on bank balances, and the two had +remained good friends. As a proof of this, the last time they had met, +Pat had told the drover about a gold-mine he knew of in the Musgrave +Ranges. At first Stobart laughed at the old Irishman, for there were +as many reputed gold-mines in the Musgraves as there were men who had +gone after them and not come back. But gradually Pat had won him over, +for in the veins of every bushman runs enough gambler's blood to make +the sporting risk of a gold-mine very alluring. The two men wrote to +Sergeant Scott, of Oodnadatta, who was a great friend of both of them, +and arranged that they would start out for the Musgraves as soon as +Stobart had delivered the cattle. + +Since coming to this decision, the care of a thousand bush cattle had +taken up so much of Boss Stobart's attention that he had none to give +to the proposed trip, and he was, therefore, all the more amazed to +come across one of the partners in the venture in such a pitiable +plight. + +The man was perishing. Water in abundance was only two hundred yards +away, yet here he was dying of thirst. Such is the irony of the desert. + +Pat Dorrity's horse had been abandoned ten miles back, and the +tottering man had walked on, till, when he had managed to stagger to +the top of the last sandhill, and had seen two clumps of timber, one of +box and one of mulga, his senses had played him false and he had gone +to the mulgas. + +Stobart did not stop to wonder how his old friend had come to such a +pass. He needed water. Everything else must wait. The strong man +lifted the weak one and walked away to his horse, leading it to the +camp near the water-hole. At the sight of that little pool of muddy +liquid, the closing eyes of the perishing man opened and his weak body +struggled to be free; his mouth tried to shape sounds but could not do +so, for his tongue was swollen and his throat dry. + +The drover was too old a bushman to allow the perishing man to have all +the water he wished for. Gradually the swelling of the tongue was +reduced, then the parched throat was relieved by driblets of water, and +even then, when Pat Dorrity could have swallowed, he was only allowed +to take a sip at a time, or he would have vomited so badly that some +internal rupture would have resulted. + +Before Boss Stobart went on watch that night, his old friend was +sleeping peacefully, with his thirst quenched, and having had a small +meal of soaked damper also. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Facing Death + +Boss Stobart could not afford to spend more than one day at the +water-hole where he had found his friend Patrick Dorrity, because the +water was practically a thin solution of mud, and the feed was soon +eaten out within a radius of a few miles. There was really no need for +delay, for the old station cook recovered quickly, and "dodging along" +behind cattle, as it is called, is not hard work for a man who has +nothing to do. The recuperative powers of the Australian bushman are +wonderful. It is only men of the toughest fibre and the stoutest heart +who can live in the central deserts, and when one of these is overtaken +by sickness or disaster, he never stops fighting, and wins through in +the shortest possible time. There comes a day, however, when it is not +possible to win through, and the brave man dies fighting, and the sand +gradually covers up the body of yet another pioneer. + +Dorrity was what is called a "hatter". He had lived for long periods +in the north absolutely alone; at other times his only companions had +been blacks. Too much of this sort of life is not good for a man. +Moreover, the deadly monotony of Pat's life was broken at long +intervals by the most violent sprees, when he drank steadily for three +weeks on end, finishing the bout by several days of delirium tremens. +None but the strongest constitution could stand such treatment time +after time, and though the Irishman's tough body had not yet shown any +signs of breaking up under the strain, his mind was liable to fits of +moodiness which amounted almost to madness. Such a man is not rare in +Central Australia, and he goes by the name of "hatter". + +After Boss Stobart's last visit to Tumurti Station, when Pat and he had +arranged for the trip to the Musgraves in search of gold, the old cook +had been attacked by fits of moodiness which he could not shake off. +He could not rid his mind of the thought that his friend the drover was +going to defraud him of his share in the gold-mine. He blamed himself +for telling anybody about it, and at last worked himself up into such a +state that he set out, alone except for an old horse, to go to the +Musgrave Ranges. The men on Tumurti Station were used to Pat's sudden +comings and goings, and took them as a matter of course and did not +inquire what he intended to do. He would not have told them if they +had asked, for his feeble mind was set on reaching the supposed mine +before the men whom he thought were going to rob him of it. + +It was some weeks after he had started out from Tumurti with the old +horse that Boss Stobart had found him perishing in a clump of mulgas. +When he recovered, under the drover's kind and wise treatment the +hatter mood had left him for a time. + +The party travelled on slowly from the Box water-hole for several days, +still keeping the high mass of the Musgrave Ranges in front of them, +till at last they came into country which Boss Stobart did not know. +The mountains sent out spurs far into the plains, and when the drover, +who was riding a mile or two ahead of the cattle, came upon a rocky +water-hole in a valley tolerably covered with low bushes, he decided to +camp there for a day or two and explore the surrounding district to +find the best route to take with the cattle. + +It was early in the afternoon when the lowing mob came up to the water; +so when they had had a drink, Stobart gave directions to his black-boys +and rode off, leaving Pat Dorrity to look after the camp. He took with +him a boy named Yarloo. This boy was a Musgrave black whom Stobart had +picked up on one of his droving trips years before and had kept ever +since. The native was devoted to the white man, and Stobart had +responded to this faithfulness in such a way that Yarloo would have +willingly given his life for his hero. The boy's services at this time +were invaluable, for the party had now reached the country in which he +had been born. Before many days his services were to prove more +valuable still, and his devotion was to be put to a very great test. + +The two men rode up the gully to the top, crossed over the spur, dipped +down into a larger gully, and struck out south-west for a plain +stretching towards Oodnadatta which Yarloo remembered, where there were +one or two good water-holes and plenty of cattle-feed for many days. +Darkness came on before they had completed their investigations, and as +there was no need to get back to camp that night, they hobbled their +horses on a patch of dry grass and lay down, each man pillowing his +head on his upturned saddle. + +Next morning they reached the plain, found it to be all that could be +expected considering the drought-stricken state of the country, and +then turned their horses' heads towards camp. + +They had not gone more than half-way when they saw that something was +wrong, for they came across one or two of the cattle which they had +been driving. The animals had evidently been badly scared, for they +galloped away as soon as they caught sight of the two horsemen. It +took some time to round them up, and by that time others were in sight +and others still. Boss Stobart always selected good black stockmen and +trusted them, and he knew that something quite out of the ordinary had +happened to scatter the cattle in this way, and that it was not due to +any carelessness on the boys' part. At last he came upon a bullock +which was tottering along, hardly able to keep on its feet. It tried +to dash away when it saw the mounted men, but the effort was too much +for it. It fell over, tried to get up but couldn't, and lay in the +sand, panting and moaning with pain. + +The point of a spear was sticking in its side just behind the +shoulder-blade. + +Yarloo pulled it out and looked at it. The shaft, which had broken off +about a foot from the end was made of lance-wood. The head of the +spear was broad and flat, and was made of red mulga, a hard, tough, +poisonous wood. It was bound to the shaft with kangaroo sinews and +spinifex gum in such a way that the black-boy had no hesitation in +pointing to the mountain range to the left of them. "Musgrave +black-fella," he said. "Me know um this one." + +Stobart left the cattle which they had collected in charge of Yarloo +and galloped ahead. He met other cattle, dead or dying, but was not +prepared for what he saw when he topped the rise just above the +water-hole where the camp had been. + +A crowd of about fifty blacks squatted round a fire. Their naked +bodies were smeared with red ochre and clay in fantastic designs, and +many of them had feathers or grass or the claws of large birds in their +bunched-up hair. Great bleeding chunks of meat and entrails were +smoking and sizzling in the fire, and all around them were the +carcasses of dead cattle. It seemed incredible that fifty men armed +only with boomerangs and wooden spears should have been able to commit +such a slaughter. The white man took all this in at a glance, and then +his face hardened and he knew that he was nearer death than he had ever +been before, for a little distance away were the bodies of six clothed +black-boys and a white man, laid out in a row. The sun beat down +pitilessly on that terrible scene, but not one of the seven put his +hand up to drive away the flies or to protect his head from the glare. +They were dead! + +The feasting natives saw him at once and rose to their feet with a +yell. Stobart did not ride away. Such an act of fear would have made +his death sure, and probably more hideous than it would be if he faced +those shouting, dancing, gesticulating fiends. + +He took a fresh grip of the reins and urged his unwilling horse to go +down the hill to meet the blacks. This act of courageous audacity +checked them for a moment. They collected in a bunch and yabbered +excitedly. Stobart understood several aboriginal languages, but this +one was wild and harsh and quiet strange to him. + +Sitting firmly but easily in the saddle, the white man rode quietly up +to the savages. When he was only a horse's length away, he drew rein +and looked at them. Several of the men stepped back, flung their +spear-arms behind their heads, fastened the woomeras, and prepared to +throw. But the long quivering shafts never left their hands. One or +two jumped out from the crowd and swayed back their supple black bodies +to give additional force to a boomerang. But the heavy curved weapon +never started on its death-dealing course. Here and there a man sprang +up in the air and waved his spears wildly over his head, and shouted +words of hatred towards the white man and of encouragement to his +companions. But the result of it all was nothing worse than +threatening and noise. + +Stobart sat and looked at them. He was a famous horse-breaker and a +noted man with cattle, and had found, in dealing both with animals and +with men, the power which his eye possessed. It was the focusing-point +of all the force and personality of a remarkable man. + +But who can quell and keep on quelling the passions of fifty savages +who have tasted blood? One man broke the spell of the drover's steady +glance. He jumped to one side and hurled a boomerang. Stobart dodged. +It passed him and whizzed on, turning and turning for nearly two +hundred yards, so great had been the force behind it. The man had put +so much energy into the throw that his body was jerked forward till he +was standing beside the horseman. + +A great shout went up when the weapon left the hand of the +black-fellow, but it was cut off suddenly to amazed silence when the +boomerang passed on and left the white unharmed. This man must be a +devil. At once every spear was raised, poised in the woomera, and +directed, not at the white man, but at the native who had dared to pit +his strength against a supernatural power. Stobart understood the +situation immediately, and so did the unfortunate black, who hunched +his shoulders ready for death. + +Suddenly one of those reckless impulses came to the drover which come +only to great men, and which are often the turning-points of their +lives. He jabbed spurs into his horse's flanks and wheeled it like a +flash between the cringing native and his would-be murderers. At the +same time he raised his hand and shouted: + +"Stop!" + +Not one of them had ever heard the word before, but they understood +what it meant by the white man's tone and gesture of command. They +instantly obeyed. Before the sound of Stobart's voice had come back in +echo from the mountains, every spear was lowered. + +The white man backed his horse and looked down at the native whose life +he had saved. The man was grovelling in the sand in abject fear and +gratitude. Stobart motioned to him to get up and return to the others. +He did so, and as he slunk away, the drover noticed that the middle two +fingers of his left hand were missing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A Friend and a Foe + +Boss Stobart had had too much experience with blacks to think that he +was safe. He had escaped instant death and seemed to have gained some +sort of control over those savage minds, but he knew that at any time +the long quivering spears, which had just been lowered at his command, +might be hurled at him and bury their poisonous heads in his body. So +he continued to sit on his horse and look steadily at the naked savages. + +When they had got over their surprise, both at the white man having +power to turn aside a boomerang--as they thought--and at his saving the +life of his enemy, they began to yabber and gesticulate. They pointed +to the seven dead men and then at Stobart with fear in their faces; +they looked round at the slaughtered cattle and wondered what revenge +this supernatural man would take; the sound and smell of cooking meat +grew very tantalizing, but they did not dare to continue the feast till +the white man made some sign of anger or pleasure. + +The drover did not turn his head. There were those in the crowd who +had not come under the spell of his authority, and he knew it; +therefore he kept on facing them. He looked steadily at one man in +particular; a tall, well-proportioned native with a commanding head and +features. Through the septum of the man's nose a little bundle of thin +bones had been thrust, and this, together with a particular design +painted on his chest, proclaimed him to be a man of power, the doctor +of the tribe. He regarded Stobart with a scowl of hatred, and went +about amongst his companions telling them that there was no difference +between this white man and other men of his colour, and that he would +be as easy to kill as the poor sick Irishman who was now lying so +quietly in the sand. The natives, however, did not know what to do. +Stobart's life hung by a thread. + +This state of uncertainty was suddenly cut short by a native appearing +on the top of the hill immediately behind Stobart. He had been running +and had hardly breath enough to shout the news to the men below. He +had seen Yarloo and the little mob of cattle. Most of the blacks at +once ran up the hill and looked back in the direction where he was +pointing. The native doctor and the man with the mutilated left hand +were amongst those who stayed near the fire, and Stobart felt sure that +the man whom he had saved was there on purpose to see that his rescuer +came to no harm. + +After a great deal of noise and waving of arms and stamping of feet, +the party on the hill disappeared down the other side, and presently +some cattle came straggling over the top and ran down to the water-hole +for a drink. Yarloo followed, escorted by the blacks who had gone out +to meet him. He had evidently established friendly relations with his +fellow-tribesmen, for they were all laughing and talking excitedly, and +already one or two of them were adorned with articles of Yarloo's +clothing which he had given them. The much-envied recipients of these +gifts were probably relations or members of the same totem, and the +wise boy had made the most of his opportunities for showing goodwill, +for his master's sake. + +Yarloo was evidently very much relieved to find Boss Stobart safe. He +went up to the drover and showed so plainly that the white man was his +honoured friend, that the other natives at once changed their attitude, +and gave every sign of favour to the man whom they had so recently +wanted to kill. + +Stobart was invited to join the feast. His own tucker-packs had not +been interfered with, for the blacks had started to cut up and eat meat +as soon as the slaughter was over; so to the only item on the primitive +menu he added a few tins of jam and treacle, a bottle or two of tomato +sauce, and all the damper which was left. Afterwards, when all had +gorged themselves to their fullest capacity, he handed round small +plugs of tobacco, which the men accepted eagerly and started to chew at +once. The doctor kept aloof from these proceedings and would not touch +the white man's food or tobacco, so Stobart gave the man whom he had +rescued from death a double share, and thereby cemented a friendship +which he thought might be useful in the future. + +Feasting went on into the night and did not stop till the morning star +was rising. Everybody crawled under bushes and stunted trees and went +to sleep. Now was Stobart's chance. He signed to Yarloo. The +faithful boy had not followed his natural desires to eat as fully as +his fellow-tribesmen had done, but had kept himself ready for any +emergency which might occur. + +"We go 'way now, Yarloo, I think," whispered Stobart. "Which way +horses go?" + +The boy pointed in a certain direction. "Me go find um nantu (horses), +boss," he said. "Me tie um up 'nother side sand-hill. By'm-by sun +come up, black-fella sleep, aller same dead; sleep like blazes. You +bring um two fella saddle 'nother side sand-hill. Little bit tucker. +We clear out. Me know um this country." He looked round at the naked +blacks, all smeared with blood and grease and dirt, and snoring in +profound sleep, and laughed quietly. "Silly fella," he remarked. "All +about sleep long time. My word, too much long time." + +Soon afterwards Yarloo went off on the tracks of the horses, which he +had had the forethought to hobble before letting them go the previous +afternoon, and when Stobart was quite sure that everybody was soundly +sleeping, he went over to the packs, stuffed his pockets with tucker, +and carried his own and Yarloo's saddles out of sight over the +sand-hill. He returned for his rifle and water-bag, for he did not +know whether their lives might not depend on one or the other of these. +He did not dare to stay away too long from the sleeping blacks, for +fear that one of them should wake and notice that he had gone, so he +returned and lay down under a tree and waited for Yarloo. + +It was nearly noon when the boy returned, and the expression on his +face clearly indicated disaster. + +"Nantu dead," he announced sorrowfully. + +"Dead?" exclaimed Stobart. "What, all of them?" + +"Yah. All about." + +The drover was too much amazed to ask any more questions for a time. +The blacks had certainly made a thorough work of their first slaughter, +but surely they had not killed the two horses which had been let go +since friendly relations were established. He looked so perplexed that +the boy started to explain. + +"Nantu killed aller same cattle," he said. + +"Yes, but what about Billy and Ginger?" asked the white man. (These +were the horses Stobart and Yarloo had ridden the previous day.) + +"Dead," said Yarloo emphatically. "Me bin see um." + +"How? Speared?" asked Stobart. + +The native looked round stealthily as if afraid of being heard. Then +he lowered his voice and whispered: "Neh. Nantu no bin speared. +Throat bin cut this way." He poked his finger into his neck at the +side of the gullet and made a cutting movement. + +There was only one man in the tribe who would have done the killing in +that way, and Stobart asked: "Doctor-man, eh?" + +Yarloo looked again. The drover had never seen the boy look so +startled. Then he pointed to his nose and indicated the decoration of +the native doctor, and to his chest and drew the distinguishing marks +of his calling, and nodded. He did not dare to speak. The man with +the bunch of bones stuck through his nose, the man who had tried his +best to stir up his companions to kill Stobart and had persistently +repulsed all overtures of friendship, this man had tracked up the two +horses in the night and had cut their throats. The white man was his +enemy; he must not be allowed to escape, for he would sooner or later +be put to death. Stobart knew that he had a powerful foe. + +The drover had succeeded in making a friend of the man with the +mutilated left hand, but had not been able to overcome the hatred of +the most influential man in the tribe. + +The upshot of the adventure was that Boss Stobart was forced to +accompany the tribe of Musgrave warraguls back to their mountain +fastnesses. In the ranges he found fertile valleys watered with +permanent springs, game and birds in abundance, and many indications of +the gold which so many daring prospectors had sought for at the price +of their lives. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A Prisoner + +The famous drover was a prisoner. He was free to come and go when and +where he liked, but he soon found that he was being closely watched, +and that, until he was quite certain of success, any attempt to escape +would be worse than useless. It would result in his death. + +At first Stobart couldn't understand what they wanted to keep him for, +and why they didn't kill him right away, but after a time he found out +that Yarloo had told them so many wonderful things about his "white +boss", that his captors' opinion as to his supernatural powers was +confirmed. In his zeal to save his master's life, the faithful boy had +gone a little too far, for the warragul tribe decided that they must +keep such a marvellous man with them at all costs, and that his +presence would be sure to bring them plenty of the good things of +life--water, tucker, and healthy children. + +As soon as possible without arousing suspicion, Stobart sent Yarloo to +Oodnadatta with a note for Sax, hoping that Sergeant Scott would be +able to send out a rescue party at once. But, as we have seen, the +trooper was away from home and nobody knew when he would be back again. + +The camp where the drover was obliged to live consisted of thirty or +forty wurlies on the side of a little hill above a spring. The +dwellings were temporary and primitive, as blacks' dwellings are: +branches stuck into the ground and drawn together at the top to make a +shape like an inverted bowl. Stobart could have had one of these, but +as the former occupant had not left it as clean as a white man likes +his home to be, he chose a small cave a few yards above the camp. This +gave him the considerable advantage of being away from the dogs and +smell which are inseparable from a blacks' camp. + +A bushmen always makes the best of a bad job, and Stobart did not see +why he should not have as good a time as he possibly could while +waiting for the chance to escape. He never for one moment doubted that +his adventure would end successfully, and his chief sorrow was for the +loss of the cattle. In the thirty years during which he had driven +stock from one end of Central Australia to the other, he had never had +one real disaster. Of course there had been small losses, sometimes +because of drought, once by flood, and once also because of a band of +marauding blacks which he had succeeded in driving off before they had +done much damage; but he had never failed to deliver his charges at +their destination better in condition and in greater numbers than could +be expected under the circumstances. It speaks well for the man's +stern sense of duty that, though he was a captive in a camp of the +wildest savages in Australia, and liable to death at any time, he +worried, not about his own safety, but about the lost cattle. + +He became proficient with both boomerang and spear, and could soon +knock over a rock wallaby or a cockatoo as neatly as any man in the +tribe, and, because of his greater strength, he was more than a match +for the natives at any kind of sport. He had been a good tracker for +many years, but he now found that he had much to learn from these +natives, who for generation after generation had hunted for their food +by tracking it. Sometimes he was away from camp for days together with +a hunting expedition, and in this way he became perfectly familiar with +the lay of the country. By his constant association with the +warraguls, he picked up a good deal of their speech, and was soon able +to carry on conversations with them, supplying anything he did not know +by gestures, which are the same all over the world. + +After several weeks had gone by in this way, and he had made no attempt +to escape, he started to go hunting with only a few natives instead of +with a big party. The man with the mutilated left hand was always one +of these, and Stobart gradually made his companions fewer and fewer, +till it became quite the recognized thing for him to go off with only +this one native. The man's name was a long one, and Stobart shortened +it to Coiloo. At first his companion, though he very much appreciated +the honour of being with his hero, was shy, and did no more than fulfil +the white man's wishes faithfully and well. But Stobart had learnt how +to win the confidence of blacks, and before long the man had ceased to +fear his master--for so he considered the man who had saved him from +death--and was devoted to him with all his heart. + +Soon after this Coiloo told Stobart about the expedition which was +about to set out against Mick's party travelling to Sidcotinga Station. +With the wonderful power which the blacks possess of conveying +information over tremendous distances by means of smoke signals, the +tribes in the Musgrave Ranges knew all about Mick Darby and his +companions, and Stobart was very much concerned when he heard that two +white boys were of the number. He knew at once who they were. Not +twice in a man's lifetime do boys, fresh from a city school, travel up +into Central Australia and leave the few little centres of civilization +which are there, and strike out west into the desert; so the drover was +certain that one of those white boys was his son. + +He spent a whole day describing the boy to Coiloo. He only had an old +photograph to guide him, and even this had been left behind in the +packs near the fatal water-hole; but the father had so often pictured +his son in his own mind, that the description which he gave again and +again to the warragul was so good that the man had no difficulty in +recognizing Sax when he saw him. Then Stobart told Coiloo to join the +marauding-party and to see that the boys came to no harm. The result +of the native's faithfulness is already known. + +When Coiloo had gone, Stobart frequently went out alone. He was such a +successful hunter, and was so willing to add the result of his prowess +to the general food-supply of the camp, that nobody objected to his +solitary expeditions. But Stobart had a more important reason for his +wanderings than bringing home dead game. He was looking forward to the +day when everything would be ready for a successful escape from the +Musgrave Ranges, and he was determined to take away with him something +more than his bare life: he meant to take the secret of the Musgrave +gold. + +At first, when he started to go out alone, he always returned at night, +but gradually he accustomed the camp to his absence for longer periods, +till he was able at last to carry out his investigations unhindered. +He found many traces of gold, but as he had no tools, and did not want +to arouse any suspicions as to the real object of his journeys, he was +not able to tell whether the traces lead to any larger deposits. There +were little gullies which ran water in times of storm, where specks of +the glittering metal could easily be seen in the sand; and quartz +boulders stained with what looked like rust, here and there on a +scrub-covered hill-side; and little cracks in the sheer face of a cliff +where veins of dirty red ran about like the marks in marble. The +Ranges were evidently a very rich "prospect", and it was no wonder that +white men had braved the desert and the men who lived there, for the +lure of gold is the strongest of all, and men die willingly in +answering its call. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +The Outpost of Death + +One day Stobart set out in a new direction. His only articles of dress +were a pair of trousers, so ragged and torn that they did not reach +below his knees, and an old felt hat. His shirt had been torn up into +strips to bandage his bleeding feet before they had become accustomed +to walking without boots. He carried two spears, a woomera, and a +boomerang, while an appliance for making fire hung at his belt. + +He walked till it was nearly dark that day, then made a fire near a +rock-hole, cooked and ate a lizard, and went to sleep. When he awoke +the sun had not yet risen. The surrounding mountains were clearly +outlined against the pale early morning sky, and when the white man had +stooped to drink and had made up the fire, he sat down and looked idly +around him, waiting for it to be light enough for him to hunt for his +breakfast. + +It was a strange position for a white man to be in, and if Stobart had +not had a stout heart he would have given way to despair, and either +"gone bush" entirely, as some white men have done, and become a full +member of the warragul tribe, or he would have committed suicide. But +Boss Stobart did not give up hope. The unaccustomed food was beginning +to tell upon his superb health and strength, and as he sat by the +little flame which seemed to get fainter and fainter as daylight +increased, he knew that he could not afford to put off his bid for +freedom much longer. + +All at once his listless gaze was arrested. He leaned forward eagerly +and stared at one of the rocky peaks. From where he was sitting, its +outline against the light eastern sky looked exactly like the nose of a +man lying down. It was so perfectly clear that Stobart laughed. But +he was not laughing at its striking resemblance to a man's nose; +certain words of the old Irishman who had been murdered by the blacks +came to him. Pat Dorrity had talked in his sleep a great deal the +first night after the drover had saved him from perishing. The man was +feverish, and the sentences had been jumbled up and meaningless at the +time, but Stobart's memory now recalled certain words which he had +scarcely noticed at the time. + +"Man's nose. Man's nose," the old fellow had muttered. "Man's nose +seen looking east. Waterhole on other side. Look out! Look out!" +Then he had become very excited, and such words as blacks and spears +and gold and skulls had been mixed up in hopeless confusion. + +The peak which Stobart was now looking at was certainly exactly like a +man's nose, and he was also looking east. One direction was as good as +another to him that morning, and, as his curiosity was aroused, he +forgot about his breakfast and began to climb the hill-side towards the +rocky top. Before he was half-way up the sun shone over the rim of the +mountains, and he was very hot and thirsty when he finally reached the +mass of rock on the summit. He looked down on the other side for the +expected water-hole, but the valley was covered with dense scrub, and +he saw nothing to give him hope of a drink. However, the ranges were +so well watered that he started at once to go down the hill, hoping to +find a spring or rock-hole somewhere in the valley. + +He was disappointed for some time. The trees thinned as he reached the +bottom of the hill and gave place to a broad stretch of sand. This +surface showed no sign of water whatever, which was strange, for there +had been several storms in the hills since Stobart had been taken +prisoner, and the steep rocky slopes of the valley would certainly run +off most of the rain which fell upon them. The drover had come across +instances of the same thing in the Macdonnel Ranges, away to the north, +and he knew that the rain soaked in at the extreme edges of the valley +and ran away in a stream many feet below the surface, and never +disturbed the sand on top. There is usually a water-hole at the head +of such a valley as this, and Stobart was on his way up to look for it, +when he received such a shock that he dropped his weapons and stood +staring at the sand, his mouth and eyes wide open with amazement. He +did not believe his sight. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked +away, but when his gaze came back again, there was the same sign in the +sand. + +The tracks of a shod horse! + +It was impossible to tell how old the marks were. There were only +three or four of them, and they ran up a little strip of clay which the +wind had blown clear of sand. They had evidently been made when the +clay was soft during rain, and the imprints had been baked hard by the +sun and would remain clear for a very long time. + +Stobart gazed with utter astonishment at those few prints of a shod +horse. They meant one thing, one thing supremely, a white man--a gold +prospector most likely, one of the dauntless pioneers who had crossed +the desert and had not returned. + +The tracks led up the valley. Stobart picked up his weapons and +hurried on. Soon he came to a natural embankment of sand which +stretched across from one rocky slope to another. He climbed it. The +other side was clear of timber. A glint of water caught his eye. The +sun had just penetrated the cool shade of that silent place and was +striking keen light from a water-hole at the foot of a boulder-strewn +knoll right in the middle of the valley. + +The white man's thirst was now so great that he was about to start +running down to the water which lay so invitingly some twenty yards +away, when something white caught his eye. + +It looked like the Southern Cross worked out in perfectly white stones +on the surface of the sand near the water-hole. Stobart did not run. +An uncanny feeling came over him. Those hoof-marks, and now this +design--surely the thing must be the work of man. + +Suddenly he stumbled. His bare feet caught in something and he +tripped. He looked down at his toe. It was cut and bleeding slightly. +He went back to find the thing which had tripped him. + +It was the blade of a shovel! + +One edge was sticking up. With shaking hands Stobart pulled it out of +the sand. It came away easily, for the handle was burnt. He groped +about near it and uncovered, one after another, a gold-washing dish, a +pick-head, a couple of wedges, and a hammer. The sand had drifted over +them and made a mound. Then he laid bare a truly gruesome +sight--charred embers of wood and half-burnt human bones. + +Stobart did not disturb the sand any more. He knew now why the gold +prospectors, who had penetrated into the Musgrave fastnesses in search +of the wealth which was reputed to be there, had never returned. Would +_he_ ever return, he wondered. The place was haunted by the spirits of +the murdered dead, and was guarded by black devils in human form. Even +now one of them might be watching him, waiting an opportunity of adding +his bones to the collection which the sand had covered up. + +He rose to his feet. He was thirsty, and the sight he had just seen +made him want to soak his whole body in the cool clean water of the +pool. He laughed harshly. What were all these fancies which were +coming into his head? He would not give way to them. This life in a +blacks' camp was upsetting his nerves. What were a few dead men after +all? He had seen plenty of them. _He_ was alive and would soon escape +from this outpost of death. He laughed again. The rocky walls sent +back an echo of his laugh. It sounded like an evil spirit mocking him. +He walked a few paces, till he was near those white things which had +been laid out so carefully in the design of the Southern Cross. He +looked at them. He looked again, astonished beyond measure. Yes! No! +Yes, they were! + +They were human skulls--white men's skulls! + +Stobart staggered away. He lay down on the edge of the water. He +needed its cool touch to save him from madness. He drank deep, deep +satisfying draughts. He bathed his head and face and plunged his arms +in it, splashing the life-giving drops over his naked chest. The sense +of horror gradually began to leave him, and he realized that he had +reached the object of his search. He had found the Musgrave gold-mine. +From where he lay he looked up at the boulder-strewn knoll behind the +water-hole. Even at the distance of several yards he could see that +every boulder was more richly studded with the precious metal than any +he had ever seen. It did not surprise him. The events of the last +hour had robbed him of the power to be surprised. He just looked up at +all that wealth and knew it was his--his, if only he could take it away. + +He turned his head and looked at the skulls. Each bleached remains of +what had once been the head of a courageous man was looking at him out +of empty eye-sockets. The jaws had been propped open and seemed to be +laughing with ghastly dead mirth into the face of the living man. +Stobart's imagination began to play tricks with him, for when he turned +his eyes away, the glances of the skulls seemed to turn also. + +He plunged his head once more into water and leaned over till his chest +and arms were covered. His hands groped about in the cool sand, and +when he pulled them out again they were full of wet sand. The sun's +rays caught it and struck a thousand flashes from the grains. They +looked unusually yellow and bright. Stobart turned the sand over and +let it run between his fingers. It was like grains of sunlight. He +thought that his overwrought nerves were deceiving him, and picked up +another handful. It behaved exactly in the same way. It glinted and +flashed yellow in a way that no sand could ever do. All at once it +dawned upon him. This was no trick of sunlight on wet sand. This was +no make-believe of tired nerves. + +The sand of that water-hole was gold! + +The white man stood up. He had no tools with which to work at the +boulders for specimens to take away with him when he escaped. But here +was gold, some of which could easily be hidden on his person to prove, +to anybody who might doubt his story, that he alone of all men had +solved the mystery of the Musgraves and had returned again to the +haunts of men of his own colour. He stooped to gather another handful, +and as he did so something whirled through the air and fell in the +water in front of him. He jumped back quickly. The water was clear, +for the grains of golden sand had settled and left no mud. + +It was an old horseshoe! Surely the place was bewitched. He looked +round, wondering what next would happen. Suddenly another horseshoe +came from a clump of low bushes nearly a hundred yards up the gully. +Stobart saw it coming and dodged it. It fell at his feet and he picked +it up. He was a good tracker and knew it at once. That shoe had made +one of the tracks which he had seen in the clay. There was no doubt +about it. + +The sense of a supernatural foe, which was making a coward of the brave +white man, left him all at once. Evil spirits do not play with old +rusty metal. A human arm must have thrown that horseshoe. He had seen +the second one leave the bushes where the man was in ambush. Now was +the time for action. Grasping a boomerang he ran at full speed up the +valley. He reached the bushes. Nobody was there. But, leading to and +from the hiding-place, were the recent tracks of a man's bare feet. +Stobart recognized them at once. The warragul doctor had thrown those +horseshoes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Arrkroo, the Hater + +The native doctor fled, like the evil black spirit that he was, up the +valley. Although an old man, he was still in the prime of his +strength, and he knew the path to and from the Pool of Skulls so well, +that he had the advantage over Stobart, who had never been there +before. For the first few yards the marks of his naked feet were +clearly seen, and the white man ran swiftly, but the tracks soon became +confused in a mass of loose stones which had fallen from the cliffs, +and were finally lost altogether on the rocky sides of the valley, till +Stobart could not possibly tell which way his enemy had gone. He had +heard no sound and seen no sign of the running man, yet he knew that he +was close upon him when he was forced to give up the chase, and, as if +to confirm this opinion, when Stobart finally stood still and looked at +the great boulders above him, hoping to see a black human form flit +from one to another, a stone came out of the silence, hurled with +deadly force and aim. Years of danger with wild cattle had made the +drover's actions as quick as lightning. The stone was totally +unexpected, but he jerked his head aside just in time. Instead of +striking him in the face, it caught the brim of his hat and sent the +old felt spinning from his head. He jumped back, picked it up, and +crouched behind a rock. + +Absolute silence reigned. The sun was very near its zenith, but in +that deep valley the air was still cool. Across the clear flawless +blue sky sailed an eagle on wide-spread motionless wings, wheeling +round and round in slow circles, wondering when another human victim +would be provided for him down there beside the water-hole. + +After a time Stobart went back to the place of horror, with its charred +bones, its terrible design in skulls, and its golden-sanded pool. He +knew what fear natives have of dead bodies, and that there was only one +man in all the Musgrave tribes who would dare to play such a gruesome +trick with the remains of his enemies, and that man was the native +doctor--Arrkroo, the Hater. Even he, powerful and feared though he +was, dared not actually kill Stobart. The other natives would track +their white hero and would soon know everything that had happened, and +Arrkroo was afraid of what they might do to him. The Hater did not +mind so long as Stobart merely hunted and behaved like a native, but +when he started to wander around alone and search for signs of the +glittering yellow metal, Arrkroo became alarmed, and, though the white +man did not know it, his enemy had followed and watched him closely for +weeks. + +Arrkroo understood that if once the secret of the ranges was known +beyond the desert, many white men would come with weapons which make a +noise like thunder in the hills and which kill a long way off. They +would drive out the natives who owned the mountain fastnesses, for, +thought the doctor, what does a white man care so long as he can put +that heavy yellow sand in little bags and take it away? + +So, for the safety of his people, as well as because he was jealous of +Stobart's power, the Hater was determined that the white man should die. + +Stobart stood by the pool and looked at the golden sand. He was more +than ever determined to escape, and now he wanted to take away with him +just enough of that precious metal to prove to others that his story +was true. He wanted so many men to believe him that there would be +such a rush to the Musgraves that they would escape, by sheer force of +numbers, from the terrible fate of the lonely prospectors. + +But how could he take that golden sand away? His only garment was a +tattered pair of trousers with the pockets torn out, and a belt at +which hung his fire-sticks, and where he still kept his old black pipe, +though it had been cold and empty for many weeks. He could not +possibly tear his trousers to make a bag, for there was not a single +piece of good cloth left; his hat was no good for the purpose. But his +pipe--ah! that was the thing! + +He scraped his pipe clean and then jammed the bowl full of fine gold. +To make sure that the gold was pure, he panned it off in the old rusty +dish which he had unearthed near the half-burnt bones. When he had +filled the pipe nearly to the top, he daubed it over with stiff clay so +that none of the sand could fall out. Then he picked up his weapons +and started back for the camp. + +A surprise was waiting for him. The marauding band, which had gone out +against Mick Darby's party, had returned. They were in high spirits +and reported that they had killed all the horses of the plant, and that +a white man and two white boys had been left to perish. Stobart did +not hear the whole story at once, for, as soon as he walked into camp, +the excitement died down, and nobody cared to tell this white man that +three other white men had just met the most lingering of all deaths in +the desert scrub. But blacks are like children and cannot keep a +secret, and Stobart soon knew all that he wanted to know. + +The light of his life went out. The drover was devoted to his son. He +was one of those splendid men who do things as well as they possibly +can in order to satisfy their own stanch sense of honour; but there can +be no doubt that one of the main springs of Boss Stobart's life was the +thought that he would one day share it with his son. And now Sax was +dead! Just when he had found the object of his search, just when the +time of his escape had almost come and he was only waiting for the +return of the faithful Yarloo, just when hope was highest, these fiends +had killed his son. + +He looked round at their savage black faces. He caught sight of +Arrkroo, the man who hated him. He saw the naked women and children, +he noticed the dogs and the filth on all sides, and his hand tightened +on the huge boomerang which he held. Why shouldn't he rush in amongst +these men and deal out death, right, left, in front, behind. His anger +was rising to madness. He felt that he could overcome the whole tribe +of them. And if he failed, what matter? At least he would have had +his revenge. + +He dropped his spears and got ready. A fire was burning in front of +him. With a few lighted sticks he could set the camp ablaze. He +imagined the wurlies roaring up to heaven, while he, a captive white +man, mad with rage, ran shouting through the crowd, dealing out death +with every blow of his boomerang. + +Not one of the natives suspected what he was going to do. He had +already chosen a suitable blazing stick, and was stooping to pick it +out of the fire, when he heard Coiloo's name mentioned. He waited for +a moment and listened. The men were saying that Coiloo had not come +back. Nobody seemed to know what had become of him, and it struck +Stobart as strange that Yarloo was not referred to as being one of the +party, till he remembered that the boy would be riding a horse and +would therefore leave no tracks which his fellow-tribesmen could +recognize. + +This moment of thought saved the drover from an act of madness which +would certainly have ended in his death. Stobart trusted Yarloo +implicitly, and also felt sure that Coiloo was doing his best to carry +out the white man's wishes. Therefore he knew that it would be foolish +to vent his rage at this particular time, and perhaps spoil what the +two faithful natives were doing for him. So he picked up his weapons +again, took his share of the horse-flesh, and went up to his cave. + +He was very down-hearted. He was a man of action, and here he was, +impelled to wait while others did things for him which he knew nothing +about. He was very tired, but could not sleep because of his restless +thoughts, so he went outside his cave after cooking and eating his +dinner, and started to walk about in the cool evening air. He walked +as silently as a native, and presently heard the sound of a voice +chanting quietly and earnestly in the native tongue. He crept nearer. +A man was crouching down on all four like an animal, swaying his body +and muttering. Stobart was standing up and could not see who it was, +so he stooped down till the man's body and head were silhouetted +against the sky. It was Arrkroo, the Hater. + +Inch by inch Stobart worked his way nearer, till he heard the words and +saw what the native doctor was doing. There was a small pointed bone, +called an irna, about eight inches long, sticking upright in the sand. +At one end was a knob of hardened gum from spinifex grass, and a long +string made of the hair of a lubra was attached to it. The man was +stooping over the irna and muttering: + +"Okinchincha quin appani ilchi ilchi-a." (May your head and throat be +split open.) + +He said this three times, moved the irna to a new place, and then began +a new curse: + +"Purtulinga apina-a intaapa inkirilia quin appani intarpakala-a." (May +your backbone be split open and your ribs torn asunder.) + +This went on for some time and then Arrkroo got up and walked away, +leaving the irna in the ground. Next night he would return for it, and +whoever the man pointed that bone at would most certainly die. Natives +do not think that any man dies from a natural cause; it is always a +case of magic, and if a big strong healthy black-fellow happens to be +"boned" by his enemy in the proper way, he gets weaker and weaker, +either with or without some special disease, till at last he dies. He +always dies. + +Arrkroo was afraid to kill Stobart openly, therefore he had prepared +powerful magic and was going to "bone" him. Stobart guessed this, and +took the chance of showing his power over the native doctor. He caught +hold of the irna by the string, pulled it out of the sand, and walked +back to the camp with it. + +The men were all feasting round the fire. Arrkroo was amongst them, +eating sparingly, as is the habit with the native doctors, and no doubt +thinking what he was going to do to-morrow when he boned the hated +white man. Everybody looked up when Stobart came into the firelight. +One or two of the men saw the irna and called out, and at once the +whole tribe was on its feet in alarm. Arrkroo saw it also and shook +with fear. The white man was indeed a devil, for how else could he +have found a little bone stuck in the sand on a dark night? In an +instant the fire was deserted. The frightened natives crouched behind +wurlies and breakwinds, dreading least the white man should point that +deadly bone at them. But Stobart swung it by its hair string till it +was over the hottest part of the fire and then let it drop. The string +frizzled instantly, the knob of spinifex melted and flared up, and the +bone was soon reduced to white powder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The Dance of Death + +Arrkroo, the Hater, had failed again. Stobart had openly triumphed +over him by burning his deadly irna. The native feared this white man, +but hated him more than he feared him, and was more than ever resolved +to bring about his death. + +Several days later, an old man of the tribe, named Wuntoo, became ill. +Blacks have a great respect for age, and the sickness of Wuntoo caused +great sorrow. A solemn gathering of all the men was called. Arrkroo +was there and so was Stobart, for the white captive did not want to +arouse suspicion or unfriendly feelings by staying away. The sickness +of Wuntoo was, of course, attributed to magic; some enemy of the old +man had boned him. It was, therefore, the duty of the gathering to +find out and to punish the man who had done this, whether he was a +member of their own tribe or whether he lived several hundred miles +away. + +Arrkroo was the only man present who really knew what ailed Wuntoo, for +he himself had put poison in the old man's food--the juice of a +narrow-leafed vine which grew only in the Valley of the Skulls. He had +used this same poison to kill every prospector who had found the +golden-sanded pool. After a lot of talk, which got more and more +excited and incoherent as the meeting went on, Stobart volunteered to +go and see the sick man. He knew that the natives would only sing over +the invalid, or give him sand to eat, or practise a repulsive and +harmful magic upon him, and he thought that perhaps some simple +treatment might make him right again. Stobart had gained influence +over the minds of the tribesmen, and was allowed to go. This was just +what Arrkroo had hoped for. + +Next day Wuntoo was worse, due to another dose of the poison which the +crafty Arrkroo had administered. A second meeting was called. The old +man was dying. Arrkroo arrived with freshly painted body and new +feathers in his hair, and addressed the men with all the powers at his +command. He felt that, if he failed to defeat the white man this time, +his authority in the tribe would be gone for ever. He danced before +his listeners, lifting his striped legs high, and swaying his body this +way and that till the designs in white and red hypnotized the natives +and held them spell-bound. + +Even Stobart felt the evil power of the man. When he had got their +minds under his control, he chanted to them of the great days of the +Alcheringa when they were a powerful fair-skinned race of giants, and +had everything that their hearts could desire. He went on to tell of +one misfortune after another which had befallen them: their bodies had +grown small, their skins black, and droughts had changed the earth from +a garden into a desert. The warraguls listened, swaying their bodies +as Arrkroo swayed his, and breaking out at times in wild shouts of +agreement. Arrkroo was an orator in his primitive way, and he now had +his audience completely at his command. He could do what he liked with +it. + +He began to talk of white men: of the way in which they had invaded the +country and driven the natives back and back till now a mere handful of +them survived in such places as the Musgrave Ranges. But the hated +white men were never satisfied. They wanted the Musgraves too. They +wanted the gold which was there. Everybody present knew the fate of +the white prospectors, and that if once the secret was known, such a +rush would set in that the warraguls would be driven out of this, their +last great stronghold. + +Arrkroo turned towards Stobart. Every man in the gathering looked at +him also. "See," shouted the Hater in the native tongue. "See. White +man. He find gold. His tracks all around Pool of Skulls. He want run +away. He come back soon. Nintha (one), thama (two), urapitcha +(three), therankathera (four)--many, many more. Kill black-fellow. +Kill black-fellow. Kill black-fellow." + +He stopped speaking and stretched out his painted arm towards the +drover. The warraguls leapt to their feet, their eyes blazing, and +their bodies ready to spring upon the white man. Stobart got up from +the ground very slowly and faced his enemies, staring steadily at them. +His hour had come. He would face death without flinching. + +The blacks paused. Arrkroo feared that even now the white man would +escape by the tremendous power of his dauntless eye. So he started to +speak again, very excitedly. + +"He bone Wuntoo. He burn bone, make death sure. You all see him burn +bone. He go in last night, make him worse. You see him go in last +night. Wuntoo die. You all die. You all die. You all die." + +He had succeeded. A roar of fear and hatred went up from the assembly. +Every man goaded his neighbour to be the first to spring upon the +defenceless captive. Arrkroo's heart was glad. He started to dance +again, but this time it was the Dance of Death. Stobart knew that he +was a doomed man, but not a muscle of his face altered. The crowd of +frenzied warraguls, eager to pull him limb from limb, leaned forward, +but he still held them with his fearless eye. How long would it last? + +Arrkroo danced nearer and nearer. When one of those whirling arms of +his touched the victim, the spell would be broken, and Boss Stobart, +the bravest drover of Central Australia, would go down before the +onslaught of a hundred yelling fiends. + +Arrkroo's spinning and swaying body came nearer and nearer. There was +tense stillness. Men held their breath. Stobart faced the future as +he had always faced every difficulty--with clear open-eyed courage. +Arrkroo's hand passed his face so closely that he felt the wind of it. +The next time it would touch him. + +Stobart did not move, but every muscle of his powerful body gathered +itself for the supremest effort of his life. The head of the Hater +swayed towards him, back, and then forward again. Then Stobart acted! +Like a flash his fist shot out. His body was like a spring suddenly +released. The weight of every ounce of him, the force of every nerve +and sinew, and all the gathered knowledge of years went into that +terrific blow. It caught Arrkroo on the point of the chin. There was +a sickening click. The man's head went back like the lid of a box. He +fell to the ground, quivered for a moment, and then lay still. + +It all happened in the time taken to blink twice. + +The crowd surged back. A gasp of astonishment went up. In a couple of +seconds Stobart was alone with his fallen enemy. The man was gasping. +If Stobart had not been weakened by the life and food of the blacks' +camp, that blow would have killed Arrkroo, although the neck of a +native is as strong as the neck of a bull. The drover stood looking +down at the grotesquely painted figure huddled up on the ground at his +feet. It began to twitch. The eyes rolled round and then fixed their +gaze on Stobart. Strength returned quickly to the native and he +staggered to his feet. For a moment he faced the white man, swaying +unsteadily, then he turned and went away to his wurley, leaving the +drover victor on the field where he had so nearly met his death. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Conclusion + +That night Yarloo returned to camp. The sky was so thickly covered +with stars that it looked as if powdered silver had been dusted over a +tremendous and very dark blue dome. Stobart was fast asleep at the +entrance to his cave when Yarloo crept up noiselessly and touched him. +He was awake and alert in a moment. The boy's head showed up dark +against the stars and the white man recognized him at once. + +"Me come back, Misser Stobart," whispered Yarloo. + +"Good boy," replied the drover. "Good boy. Does the camp know you're +here?" + +"Neh. Me come longa you first time. They all about sleep." + +Then Yarloo told all that he had done since he went away. Stobart was +overjoyed to hear that his son was safe, and hope, which had burnt down +very low recently, once more flamed up brightly in his heart. Yarloo +had hurried out from Sidcotinga Station, and was too exhausted to +undertake the return trip immediately or they would have escaped that +very night. They decided to wait for a day or two. + +In this they made a great mistake. If Stobart had disappeared that +night, while every native in the camp was overawed by his victory over +the powerful Arrkroo, he would probably have got clean away, but as it +was, he found himself more of a prisoner than ever next morning. +Yarloo's return aroused suspicion. Every native in the tribe was +afraid of the white man and nobody dared to kill him. Yet they were +all perfectly convinced that he was the cause of Wuntoo's illness. If +Wuntoo died without the others taking full vengeance on the one who had +bewitched him, the old man's spirit would haunt the camp and bring +terrible disaster upon it. Therefore, if Wuntoo died, Stobart must die +too. So the white man was kept a close prisoner, and was even obliged +to keep inside his cave. No one had sufficient courage to harm him, +though all their former admiration for him was turned to fear and +hatred; but, by sheer force of numbers, they made it impossible for him +to escape. + +One night Wuntoo was evidently dying. All the men of the tribe who +were not actually guarding the prisoner were sitting in a circle with +the women, making noisy lamentation. They beat their naked thighs with +their open palms, and mournful chants rose from low weird mutterings to +high shrill screams as they tried to frighten the evil spirits out of +the dying man. A big fire was blazing and sending sparks and smoke +high into the darkness, and lightening up the excited faces of the men +and women all around. + +Suddenly in the middle of the wildest demonstration of grief Coiloo +appeared--Coiloo, whom Stobart had saved from death, and whom Mick had +treated with such cruelty. He was in a shocking state. The +brand-marks had started to fester, and there were burns all over his +body. He had come at a critical time. The wailing warraguls looked at +his wounds and their excitement got more and more intense. They vowed +terrible vengeance against the white man who had done this; against all +white men; against Stobart who was at their mercy. If Coiloo himself +had not prevented them they would have rushed off immediately to the +cave and carried out their designs while the heat of the moment gave +them courage. He craftily pointed out that it was far better to kill +the white man to appease the spirit of the dead Wuntoo than to kill him +before the old man died. The savages listened, hesitated, and then +agreed, and returned to the interrupted ceremony of mourning. And all +this time the emaciated figure of Wuntoo lay out flat on the sand, lit +weirdly by the leaping flames, his chest rising and falling with great +effort, and his eyes rolling round with pain. + +In the middle of all this excitement Yarloo escaped. He realized that +he could do no good for his master by staying in the blacks' camp; so +when he gathered from the excited shouts that three white men and some +horses were camped out on the plains not far away, he slipped out in +the darkness and made the fastest journey of his life. He arrived at +Mick's camp in the early morning of the next day, just as the working +horses were being driven in. He told his tale. Mick and the boys +listened attentively. The drover had trusted Yarloo from the very +first day he had engaged him, and he had never had cause to regret it. +So, after making sure of all the necessary facts of the case, he +responded to the boy's appeal for help immediately and fully. + +He cut two thick slabs of damper, put a chunk of meat between them, and +handed it to Yarloo. "Here, get that inside you, me son," he said +heartily. "Eat all you want. There's lots more where that came from." +The whites had already had their breakfast, and Mick at once set about +packing the gear, muttering: "If I don't let daylight through half a +dozen of those devils, I'll call meself a Chow, I will, straight. Now, +you boys, look alive," he shouted to the blacks who were crowding round +Yarloo. "You can yabber all you want when we've rounded up that tribe +of black cleanskins." + +The native stockmen laughed. Everybody was eager for the task. The +boys were all from a sand-hill tribe who bitterly hated the wild +warraguls from the mountains, and they were overjoyed at the thought of +fighting on the same side as white men. Sax and Vaughan were more +serious but none the less eager, especially Sax, who would have +willingly gone out alone against the whole tribe, if only it would have +been a help to his father. + +They did not take the whole plant with them. Each man of the advance +party had two good saddle-horses; there was one all ready saddled and +bridled for Boss Stobart; and a swift pack-horse, lightly loaded, +carried all the tucker and water they would need. There were Mick and +the two white boys, Yarloo, Poona, Calcoo, and Jack Johnson, all +mounted on the best horses in the plant. They had only two firearms +for all the party: Mick's rifle which he carried, and his revolver, +which he gave to Vaughan. Their chief weapon was "bluff", for a party +of seven could do nothing against nearly a hundred armed natives, +except surprise them long enough to let their prisoner escape. + +They rode hard till about two o'clock, stopped and took a hunk of +damper and meat each and a drink of water, and then put their saddles +on fresh horses and pushed on. The sun was still an hour high when +they came to a thick clump of timber at the entrance to a gully +running, up into the mountains. Yarloo, who was the real leader of the +party, advised that the horses be left here. The camp was not far off, +and the approach to it was quite free from any cover for a mounted man. +So they hitched their horses to separate trees in such a way that they +could be unfastened in the shortest possible time. + +They walked stealthily through the timber to the side of the valley, +where they began to crawl from boulder to boulder. It was slow work. +They dared not wait till dark. Each moment might decide the fate of +the man they had come to rescue. For half a mile they approached the +camp in this way, noiselessly, and completely hidden by the rocks. +They saw no sign of natives. + +All at once a thin, high, quavering sound rose just ahead of them. +Others joined it like a pack of dingoes howling in the night. Then the +note trembled and came down, getting louder as it descended the scale +till it was a deep muttering of great anguish. It started again and +again. Every native of the little party shivered. It was a death-wail. + +Yarloo turned to Mick, and said hoarsely: "Old man bin die. We hurry, +I think." + +The rescuers sprang to their feet and ran, stooping low and keeping out +of sight. They need not have taken these precautions. Every warragul +of the tribe was engaged at the camp, where death-wails rose and fell. + +Suddenly a Musgrave native confronted the rescue party. He lifted his +left hand and signed to them to stop. There were only two fingers and +a thumb on that hand. It was Coiloo. He was armed with spears and +boomerangs and a shield. Mick raised his rifle, but Yarloo leaped in +front of it. A shot at this time would warn the camp and spoil any +chance of success. It was more important to rescue Stobart than to +settle a private quarrel. + +Coiloo cast a look of deadly hatred towards Mick. He longed to hurl +one of these slender spears of his at his enemy, and bury the poisonous +head deep in the white man's heart. But he too had a more important +task to perform just then. He grabbed Sax by the wrist and sprang up +the valley with incredible swiftness. The startled white boy was +carried along and quickly outdistanced the others. Coiloo gave no +explanation of his strange behaviour. He must reach the blacks' camp +as soon as possible. The wailing became louder and louder, and +presently Sax heard a sound which gave such fleetness to his limbs that +his wiry companion could hardly keep up with him. It was a booming +voice which rose above the turmoil of native cries like a strong +swimmer battling with the waves. + +It was a white man's voice. + +Sax recognized it as his father's. + +Suddenly the camp burst into view. The lad would have dashed across +the open space at once, but Coiloo pulled him behind a rock. A +terrible tragedy was about to be enacted in front of that cluster of +sordid wurlies. The dead body of Wuntoo lay out naked on the sand. At +the head of it stood Stobart, bound hand and foot, and clad in nothing +but his tattered trousers. He was about to die. He knew it well, but +held his head proudly and looked round at the yelling fiends with great +scorn. From time to time his strong voice boomed defiance at his +enemies. All around, dancing in almost delirious excitement, were the +warragul men, while an outer ring was formed by the women, who kept +time with their hands to the chanting which was gradually working their +men up to a state of frenzy. Chief figure of all was Arrkroo, once +more restored to authority, and about to have his revenge upon his +rival. He strode up and down in front of the victim, armed with a huge +carved and painted club. + +Sax struggled in Coiloo's detaining grasp. He was but a lad, and the +odds were a hundred savages against one white boy, but he wanted to +leap across the intervening space and stand beside his father. +Coiloo's hand was at Sax's neck. He unfastened the string of the +luringa and stood up, still hidden from sight. Slowly he whirled the +thin slab of wood round his head, hitting it on the ground once or +twice to make it spin. The thing gave out a droning sound. The crowd +of yelling fiends around the corpse became suddenly quiet. The droning +increased to a loud humming. Every eye was turned. + +Coiloo handed the luringa to Sax and disappeared. The boy had seen the +effect of the peculiar note which the whirling luringa made. He +stepped out into the open, swinging the strangely carved fillet of wood +round and round his head. The sound grew louder and louder. It seemed +impossible that such a small thing should make so far-carrying a sound. +The dancing men stood petrified. The women leaped to their feet and +became motionless. Arrkroo stopped with up-lifted club. Stobart stood +amazed. Sax walked forward slowly. + +The tension increased. He was twenty yards from them--fifteen--ten. A +movement of horror ran through the crowd. Before he had gone two paces +more a shout went up in a hundred terror-stricken voices: + +"The voice of Tumana! It is the voice of Tumana!"[1] + +Sax kept on. Suddenly the tension broke. Like dead leaves before a +gale, the natives scattered and fled. Stobart, Sax, Arrkroo, and the +corpse of Wuntoo were left alone. + +Arrkroo feared the bull-roarer, which spoke with the dreaded voice of +Tumana, as much as anyone. Yet he stood his ground with uplifted club. +The helpless white man was within easy reach. Arrkroo would not miss +his vengeance this third time. He would strike his enemy dead even +though it was his last act, for no one can do such a thing when Tumana +is speaking without terrible consequences. The sound of the +bull-roarer went on. Arrkroo swayed back to gain force for a smashing +blow. Then he uttered a wild shout of triumph and jerked his black +painted body forward. The club swung---- + +A shot rang out. The club dropped from the murdering warragul's +nerveless hand. It missed Stobart's head by a fraction of an inch. +Sax picked it up and rushed forward. But death had already come. +Arrkroo's tall figure tottered for a moment, then crumpled up and fell +to the ground. Mick immediately dashed across the open space, followed +by Yarloo and the three other boys. Coiloo was nowhere to be seen. + +Two slashes of a sharp knife cut the hair rope which bound the captive +white man and he was free. There was no time for thanks or +congratulations. Sax had stopped swinging the luringa; the voice of +Tumana had ceased. Already the natives were reassembling, and it was +only a matter of moments before they would swarm down on the rescue +party, outnumbering it by fifteen to one. A flight of spears fell from +the rocks above, doing no harm, but warning the white men of their +terrible danger. + +They dashed down the valley towards the clump of timber where the +saddle-horses had been tied. At one place the track narrowed as it +passed between two great masses of rock. Mick was in the rear with the +rifle. As he passed this spot, a spear came out from behind one of the +boulders. He was not expecting an ambush, and the spear struck his +shoulder, entering the top of the lungs and breaking off. He dropped +the rifle. As it left his hand he must have pulled the trigger, for +there was a report. Sax was running just in front of Mick. He heard +the report, looked round, and saw the stockman stagger. He dashed +back. His act saved Mick's life, for, as the white boy stooped to pick +up the rifle, he saw Coiloo standing behind the rock with another spear +ready to throw. Sax jumped in front of his friend and the native +paused. Mick was badly wounded, but when he too saw the ambushed +nigger, he pulled himself together and dashed ahead after his +companions. Sax was now carrying the rifle and he kept in the rear of +the party, and prevented Coiloo from throwing that second spear. + +Fierce shouting at the camp urged them to their greatest efforts. The +Musgrave blacks had got over their scare. They found Arrkroo's dead +body lying beside the corpse of Wuntoo. They thirsted for revenge and +started in pursuit, not a hundred yards behind the escaping white men. + +Stobart and his friends reached the clump of timber. Sax looked back. +The pursuit had been checked for a few moments. Coiloo was standing in +the narrow gap, holding it against a hundred of his fellow tribesmen. +Spears whizzed around him on all sides, but for a time he dexterously +escaped death. At last one struck him and he fell, but not before his +purpose was accomplished. He had attempted to revenge himself on Mick, +and, failing this, he held up the chase long enough to give Stobart, +the man who had saved his life, a good chance of escaping. + +His gallant death was not in vain. Before the Musgrave blacks reached +the trees the rescue party was galloping across the plains. Mick's +wound was troublesome for several days, but the man's perfect health +stood him in good stead. One night in camp he was bewailing the fact +that they had not been able to make a stand against the blacks, but had +been forced to beat an ignominious retreat. "I'd like to go back and +have a real good scrap," he said. + +Boss Stobart looked at him with a peculiar smile for a moment or two, +and then took an old black pipe from his belt. It was smeared with +clay. Mick and the two white boys looked on with great curiosity. The +drover made a little hole in the clay and poured out a few grains of +golden sand into his palm. + +"Look at this," he said, holding out his hand to Mick. "If you'd care +to go back to the Musgrave Ranges with me for some more of this stuff, +I can promise you as many scraps with the niggers as you want." + +The gold was handed round. "I'm with you," said Mick. "I'm with you, +Boss Stobart, whether its gold or niggers you're after." + +"And so am I if you'll let me," said Vaughan. "I want to buy back my +father's sheep station." + +Sax said nothing. He was content to be with his father, and knew that +he was sure to be included in any expedition which his father +undertook; but no thought of the future could rob him of the supreme +joy of knowing that he had been instrumental in saving his father from +death in the Musgrave Ranges. + + + +[1] Australian blacks believe that the sound made by the _luringa_, or +bull-roarer, is the voice of a strong spirit named Tumana. + + + + + Some Volumes in Messrs. Blackie's List + + + The Library of Famous Books + + + R. M. BALLANTYNE-- + The Wild Man of the West. + The Young Fur Traders. + The Coral Island. + Martin Rattler. + Ungava. + The Dog Crusoe. + The World of Ice. + The Gorilla Hunters. + Deep Down. + The Lighthouse. + Erling the Bold. + The Lifeboat. + Gascoyne, the Sandalwood Trader. + + W. H. G. KINGSTON-- + Mark Seaworth. + Peter the Whaler. + The Three Midshipmen. + The Three Lieutenants. + The Three Commanders. + The Three Admirals. + From Powder-monkey to Admiral. + + J. FENIMORE COOPER-- + The Pathfinder. + Deerslayer. + The Last of the Mohicans. + + CAPTAIN MARRYAT-- + Masterman Ready. + Poor Jack. + The Children of the New Forest. + The Settlers in Canada. + + LOUISA M. ALCOTT-- + A Garland for Girls. + Little Women. + Good Wives. + + HANS ANDERSEN-- + Favourite Fairy Tales. + Popular Fairy Tales. + + CAROLINE AUSTIN-- + Marie's Home. + + S. BARING-GOULD-- + Grettir the Outlaw. + + JOHN BUNYAN-- + The Pilgrim's Progress. + + HARRY COLLINGWOOD-- + A Middy of the Slave Squadron. + + SUSAN COOLIDGE-- + What Katy Did. + What Katy Did at School. + What Katy Did Next. + + ALICE CORKRAN-- + Meg's Friend. + Margery Merton's Girlhood. + + MISS CUMMINS-- + The Lamplighter. + + R. H. DANA-- + Two Years before the Mast. + + G. W. DASENT-- + Tales from the Norse. + + DANIEL DEFOE-- + Robinson Crusoe. + + G. MANVILLE FENN-- + Devon Boys. + + EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN-- + Little Lady Clare. + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH-- + The Vicar of Wakefield. + + THE BROTHERS GRIMM-- + Grimm's Fairy Tales. + + NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE-- + Tanglewood Tales. + + G. A. HENTY-- + A Final Reckoning. + A Chapter of Adventures. + Tales from Henty. + + THOMAS HUGHES-- + Tom Brown's School Days. + + CHARLES KINGSLEY-- + The Heroes. + The Water-Babies. + Hereward the Wake. + + CHARLES and MARY LAMB-- + Tales from Shakspeare. + + EMMA LESLIE-- + Gytha's Message. + + GEORGE MACDONALD-- + The Light Princess. + + NORMAN MACLEOD-- + The Starling. + + MARY RUSSELL MITFORD-- + Our Village. + + ROSA MULHOLLAND-- + Hetty Gray. + Four Little Mischiefs. + + CAPTAIN MAYNE REID-- + The Rifle Rangers. + + CHRISTOPH VON SCHMID-- + The Basket of Flowers. + + SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.-- + From Tales of a Grandfather. + + ANNA SEWELL-- + Black Beauty. + + CATHERINE SINCLAIR-- + Holiday House. + + R. L. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Musgrave Ranges + +Author: Jim Bushman + +Release Date: May 22, 2009 [EBook #28931] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="THE OUTPOST OF DEATH _Page 253_" BORDER="2" WIDTH="366" HEIGHT="576"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 366px"> +THE OUTPOST OF DEATH <I>Page 253</I> +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE +<BR> +MUSGRAVE RANGES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JIM BUSHMAN +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Author of "The Golden Valley" &c. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +BLACKIE & SON LIMITED +<BR> +LONDON AND GLASGOW +<BR> +1922 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="transnote"> +[Transcriber's Note: "Jim Bushman" is a pseudonym of Conrad H. Sayce.] +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3> +Blackie's Imperial Library +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Ann's Great Adventure. E. E. Cowper.<BR> +The Golden Magnet. G. Manville Fenn.<BR> +Every Inch a Briton. Meredith Fletcher.<BR> +'Twixt Earth and Sky. C. R. Kenyon.<BR> +In the Musgrave Ranges. Jim Bushman.<BR> +No Ordinary Girl. Bessie Marchant.<BR> +Norah to the Rescue. Bessie Marchant.<BR> +What Happened to Kitty. Theodora Wilson Wilson.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Contents +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAP.</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">A TORNADO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">CAMELS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">A MESSAGE FROM THE UNKNOWN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">WILD CATTLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">RIDING TESTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">SMOKE SIGNALS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">STEALTHY FOES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">FIRST SIGHT OF THE MUSGRAVES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">DISASTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">A SANDSTORM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THIRST</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE RESCUE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">SIDCOTINGA STATION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">A MAD BULL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">A NIGHT ALARM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">MUSTERING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">THE BRANDED WARRAGUL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">REVENGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">CHIVALRY IN THE DESERT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">THE BULL-ROARER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">HORSESHOE BEND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">FACING DEATH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">A FRIEND AND A FOE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">A PRISONER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">THE OUTPOST OF DEATH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">ARRKROO, THE HATER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">THE DANCE OF DEATH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">CONCLUSION</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Tornado +</H3> + +<P> +Towards the end of a long hot day, a shabby mixed train stopped at one +of the most wonderful townships in the world, Hergott Springs, the +first of the great cattle-trucking depots of Central Australia. It was +dark, but a hurricane lantern, swung under a veranda, showed that the +men who were waiting for the train were not ordinary men. They were +men of the desert. Most of them were tall, thin, weather-beaten +Australians, in shirt sleeves and strong trousers worn smooth inside +the leg with much riding. A few Afghans were there too, big, +dignified, and silent, with white turbans above their black faces; +while a little distance away was a crowd of aboriginal men and women, +yabbering excitedly and laughing together because the fortnightly train +had at last come in. The same crowd would watch it start out in the +morning on the last stage of its long journey to Oodnadatta, the +railway terminus and the metropolis of Central Australia. +</P> + +<P> +There were very few passengers on the train, and all of them seemed +known to everybody and were greeted with hearty handshakes and loud +rough words of welcome back to the North. Two passengers, however, did +not get out of the carriage for a time, being unwilling to face that +crowd of absolute strangers. They were Saxon Stobart and Rodger +Vaughan, boys of about fifteen, who were on their way to Oodnadatta. +It was their first sight of the back country. +</P> + +<P> +Presently a big man with only one eye climbed back into the carriage +where they were sitting. "Here, don't you lads want a feed?" he asked. +"You won't get it here, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"We don't know where to go," said one of them. "We thought we'd wait a +bit." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you do too much waiting in this part of the country," said the +man kindly. "You just hop in and get your cut. See? You'll get left +if you don't. Now, get hold of your things and come along. I'll fix +you up." +</P> + +<P> +The result of the stranger's kindness was that the two boys shared a +room with him at the only hotel in the place, and had a hearty meal in +a room full of men in shirt sleeves, who shouted to one another and +laughed in the most friendly manner. +</P> + +<P> +After tea the two friends went out into the sandy street to stretch +their legs after the long day's railway ride, before going to bed. It +was so dark that they couldn't see anything at first, and nearly ran +into a knot of men who were standing and smoking. They recognized the +voice of one of them as that of the man who had taken them over to the +hotel. They knew him only as Peter, a name which his companions called +him. +</P> + +<P> +"I never saw it look so bad," he was saying. "Just look at the moon, +too." +</P> + +<P> +"How far away d'you reckon it is?" asked another man. "It's a long way +yet, I reckon. You can't hear any thunder. I wonder if it's coming +this way." +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan nudged his companion. "What are they talking about, Sax?" he +asked. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart pointed north into the darkness. Overhead, and nearly to the +horizon, the sky was a mass of stars, but just on the northern horizon +was a patch where no stars were to be seen. As their eyes became +accustomed to the night, they saw that this patch looked as if it was +alive with flashing, coiling, darting red things. It was like a mass +of snakes squirming in agony, and now and again a clear white jet of +light came out of the darkness, as if one of them was spitting venom at +the sky. In reality, the boys were looking at one of those terrible +electric storms which tear across Central Australia after a severe +drought, and the lurid colours were caused by lightning flashing inside +a very thick cloud. +</P> + +<P> +But no interest was strong enough to overcome the healthy weariness of +the boys, and they went to bed soon afterwards and fell asleep almost +at once. +</P> + +<P> +Saxon Stobart was the son of a famous drover who took huge mobs of +cattle across the centre of the continent, and who was noted for his +pluck and endurance, and for his skill as a bushman, which enabled him +to travel through parts of the country where very few white men have +ever been. His son had many of the qualities of mind and body which +had made his father such a fine man. He was tall and thin, but was as +active as a cat and stronger than most boys of his size and age. His +friend Vaughan was a different-looking boy altogether. He was short +and thick-set. Although Vaughan was not fat, he was so solidly built +that his nickname "Boof" suited him very well indeed. His father used +to own Langdale Station, a big sheep run in the Western District, but a +series of bad droughts had forced him to sell the place. +</P> + +<P> +The two boys had been great friends at school, and when Drover Stobart +wrote to his son: "Come on up to Oodnadatta for a bit of a holiday +before settling down, and bring your mate along with you", they both +accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +The boys were suddenly roused from sound sleep about three o'clock next +morning by someone in the room shouting at them; "Hi, there! Hi! Get +up, it's coming. Get up quick." +</P> + +<P> +The next instant the bedclothes were jerked back and a man was pulling +them roughly to their feet. It was all so sudden and unexpected that +each boy thought that he was dreaming; but as the man shook and punched +them into activity, they became aware of a terrifying noise coming at +them across the desert through the black darkness of the night. The +air vibrated with a tremendous booming which affected their ears like +the deep notes of a huge organ, and the loudest shout was only just +heard. +</P> + +<P> +"It's me. It's Peter," said a voice at their side. +</P> + +<P> +"Come for your lives. The tornado's right on top of us." +</P> + +<P> +He caught each boy firmly by the wrist and dragged them, dressed only +in pyjamas just as they had tumbled out of bed, out of the room, down +the corridor, and out at the back of the hotel. Everything was in +confusion. They bumped into people and upset chairs and things in +their mad rush. Now and again Peter's voice rose above the din, +shouting, "The tank! The tank!" but nobody paid any attention, even if +they heard the voice of a man above that other and more dreadful voice +which was coming nearer and nearer and striking terror into the hearts +even of the brave dwellers in the desert. +</P> + +<P> +The shock of the night air did more than anything else fully to arouse +the boys. It was like a dash of cold water, and though Peter still +kept a tight grip of them, they ran along level with him of their own +accord. Out into the yard they dashed, round one or two corners, over +a fence at the back of an outhouse, and suddenly the man stopped dead +and began pulling at something on the ground. It was a grating with a +big iron handle. It stuck. The approaching tornado roared with anger +while the man put out all his great strength. The booming sound rose +to a shriek of triumph, as if the storm actually saw that these +escaping human beings were delivered into its power. But Peter's +muscles were like steel and leather. He strained till the veins stood +out on his forehead like rope. At last the thing loosened and came up, +and the bushman sprawled on his back. But he was on his feet again +instantly. Speech would have been no good, so he gripped Vaughan by +the collar of his pyjamas and swung him into the hole in the ground, +and only waited long enough for the boy to find a foothold before he +did the same with Stobart. Then he scrambled down himself. They were +in a big cement rain-water tank built in the ground at the back of the +hotel. There was no water in it. +</P> + +<P> +Nobody spoke. Nobody <I>could</I> speak. The air was so packed full of +sound that it seemed as if it could not possibly hold one sound more. +It was like the booming of a thousand great guns at the same time; the +shock, the recoil, and the rush of air across the entrance to the tank +was as if artillery practice on an immense scale were going on. There +was a screaming sound as if shells were hurtling through space. Now +the pitch blackness of the night was a solid mass; then it was red and +livid like a recent bruise; and then again, with a crackle like the +discharge of a Maxim, vivid flashes of white fire split the air. +Thunder rolled continuously and lightning played without stopping, in a +way which is seen and heard only on a battle-field or during a tornado +in the desert. It sounded as if the pent-up fury of a thousand years +had suddenly been let loose upon that little collection of houses on +the vast barren plain. +</P> + +<P> +Down in the tank it was as dark as a tomb. The boys were close to one +another, crouched against the wall, unable to move through sheer +amazement. Peter stood up and looked out through the entrance, +expecting every moment to hear the sound of houses being torn up from +their foundations and flung down again many yards distant, mere heaps +of splintered wood and twisted iron, with perhaps mangled human corpses +in the wreckage. But such a sound did not come. +</P> + +<P> +The tornado lasted about three minutes—that was all—and then it +passed, and all those tremendous sounds became muffled in the distance +as it retreated. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually the stunned senses of the boys began to recover, and they +heard Peter speaking. "It missed us," he was saying. "It came pretty +close, though. I thought the hotel was gone for a cert." Then he +struck a match and held it to his pipe. The little light flared up +steadily and showed two boys in pyjamas, the smooth cement walls of the +tank, and the bushman in his shirt and trousers, but without his boots. +It showed also a cat which had died a long time ago, and which had been +dried up by the great heat. The sight of the squashed cat was so +funny, down in the tank, that the boys started to laugh. It was a +relief to do so after the strain of the last few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"We'd better get out of this," said Peter, throwing the match at the +cat and starting to climb up an iron ladder. "Were you lads much +scared?" +</P> + +<P> +It was so evident that they had been very much scared that their +emphatic denial of it made them all laugh again. "I tell you, I was," +confessed the bushman. "I reckoned the whole town was going to glory. +It would have, too, if the wind had struck it. The thing must have +turned off before it got here." +</P> + +<P> +Such tornadoes as the one described occur in Central Australia just +before the breaking up of long droughts. Sometimes they are mere +harmless willy-willies, which have not enough power to blow a man off +his horse, but now and again a bigger one comes along, which travels at +thirty or forty miles an hour at the centre and sweeps everything +before it. These tornadoes may not be more than a quarter of a mile +across, and look from the distance like huge brown waterspouts coiling +up into the air till they are lost in the clear blue of the sky. +Sometimes the whirling column of sand leaves the ground for a time and +goes on spinning away high over the heads of everything, but it usually +comes down again and goes on tearing across the country. The Central +Australian tornado must not be confused with the tropical typhoon or +cyclone, which is sometimes three or four hundred miles across. +</P> + +<P> +Peter was right about the tornado turning off before it reached Hergott +Springs. It came across the country from the Musgrave Ranges in the +north-west till it reached the Dingo Creek. Here it turned and +followed the dry depression, wrecked the Dingo Creek railway bridge, +leaving it a mass of twisted iron and hanging sleepers, and then tore +on down the line, doing a great deal of damage and making straight for +the helpless township. +</P> + +<P> +There is a very deep and wide cutting about a mile north of Hergott +Springs, and the fury of the wind that night completely filled it up +with sand from bank to bank. This undoubtedly saved the town, for, +after this exhibition of its power, the tornado turned slightly to the +east, and missed the houses entirely. The fringe of it, however, +touched the end of the station yard, where the great water-tank stood. +The wind caught this tremendous weight, lifted it from the platform, +and threw it fifty yards, while the steel pillars of the stand were +twisted together as if they had been cotton. A tool-shed which used to +stand near the tank was moved bodily, and no trace of it was ever +found. No doubt it was buried deep in one of the many sandhills which +these terrific winds leave behind them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Camels +</H3> + +<P> +It was not till next morning that the boys saw that the tornado had +completely upset their plans. During the few terrible minutes of the +storm, and for an hour afterwards, till sleep finally claimed them +again, excitement drove all thoughts of the future clean away. But +when they awoke late next morning, and looked out at the sky, which was +blue and without a cloud, and across the sandy street at the collection +of iron station buildings and the train by which they had arrived and +which still stood waiting, and saw, beyond and around everything, the +tremendous stretches of yellow sand already blazing in the heat, the +affairs of the night seemed only a dream. +</P> + +<P> +The reality of things was suddenly brought home to them when Peter came +into the room with a cheery, "Good morning! How're you getting on?" +</P> + +<P> +Both boys were feeling fine and said so, and then their friend told +them: "You'd better hurry on a bit. The train starts back for town in +about an hour." +</P> + +<P> +Sax was using the towel at the time, and when he heard what Peter said, +he stopped rubbing his face and looked at him in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Back to town!" he exclaimed. "But we don't want to go back to town. +We're going on to Oodnadatta." +</P> + +<P> +"Going on to Oodnadatta, are you?" asked Peter, with a smile. "And how +are you going to get there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, by train, of course," broke in Vaughan. Then suddenly the events +of the night appeared to him in a new light. "That is—of course—if +it's running," he stammered. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not running," said Peter. "And you take it from me, it won't run +for a month or two. The tornado smashed the Dingo Creek bridge and +tore up the line this side of it, too. Besides, the Long Cutting's +full of sand. It'll take them a couple of weeks to clean that out." +</P> + +<P> +The boys were too much amazed to speak. They looked at one another in +blank dismay. They were indeed in a fix. Drover Stobart waiting for +them in Oodnadatta, and here they were in Hergott Springs, and no +chance of getting out of it for a month or two. Whatever were they to +do? +</P> + +<P> +Their bushman friend did not leave them long in uncertainty. He was a +simple-hearted kindly man, and he could see by the boys' faces what +they were thinking about. So he interrupted their gloomy thoughts by +suggesting: +</P> + +<P> +"See here. I don't know who you lads are, and you don't know much +about me. But I've got to get to Oodnadatta some way or another. +There's a plant of horses and niggers waiting for me up there. I'll +fix up something. Would you care to come along with me?" +</P> + +<P> +The boys' faces instantly showed their eager pleasure, and the man did +not need their words of thanks to assure him that he was doing them a +good turn. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks <I>awfully</I>!" they exclaimed. "Thank you <I>very</I> much, Mr.——" +</P> + +<P> +"My name's Peter," said the man. "And there's no 'Mister' about me. +What shall I call you two?" +</P> + +<P> +"This is Vaughan," said Stobart, pointing to his friend. "My name's +Stobart." +</P> + +<P> +"Stobart! Stobart!" said Peter in surprise. "Anything to do with Boss +Stobart?" +</P> + +<P> +Sax had never heard his father's nickname, so he answered in a puzzled +tone, "Boss Stobart?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, bless you. Boss Stobart. And a fine man too. The best drover +that ever crossed a horse in this country. Don't I know it too? We +punched cattle together for ten years, did the Boss and me." +</P> + +<P> +Sax's face beamed with delight. "That's my father," he said proudly. +</P> + +<P> +Peter's big hand shot out in greeting. "So you're Boss Stobart's son, +are you? Well, well, you seem a fine lad, and you've sure got a fine +father." He also shook hands with Vaughan, and added: "So we're to be +mates, are we? You leave things to me. I'll let you know about it +when I've fixed things up." +</P> + +<P> +Peter was busy all morning and the boys had time to look around the +township. It seemed very small to them in comparison with the vast +plains which stretched away on all sides of it. They felt sure that if +once they got away out of sight of the scattered houses, they would +never be able to find them again, for Hergott Springs is only a very +tiny spot on the face of the desert. They watched the train go back +the way it had come the day before, and then walked up to the end of +the station yard to see the wrecked water-tank. Flocks of goats +wandered about the township, picking up and eating bits of rubbish, +just like stray dogs. They found that this was why the mutton they had +eaten for tea and breakfast was so tough; for, because sheep cannot +thrive in that part of the country, goats are kept and killed for meat. +</P> + +<P> +Camels interested them very much. These tall, awkward, smelly, grey +beasts stalked along with such dignity that it was almost impossible to +believe them capable of the hard work they do. Through following a +string of camels, tied together from nose-line to tail, the boys came +to a collection of buildings outside the town proper. This was Afghan +Town, where the black-skinned camel-drivers lived. They watched some +camels kneeling down in the sand and being loaded with bags of flour +and sugar, chests of tea, and cases of jam and tinned meat. These +bulky packages were roped to the saddle till it appeared as if the poor +beast underneath would never be able to get up. But, one after the +other, they stood up when the time came, and stalked away, swaying +gently from side to side as they pad-padded silently across the soft +sand. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the boys were startled by a most terrifying sound a little +distance away. It was a bubbling roar, such as a bullock would make if +he tried to bellow when he was drowning. They looked in the direction +it came: from, and saw a big bull camel, blowing its bladder out of its +mouth and lashing with its tail. They went over and found the animal +standing in a little paddock fenced with strong stakes. The boys had +never seen such a tremendous camel before. Its body and fore legs were +thick and heavy, but its hind legs were trim and shapely, and reminded +them of the hind-quarters of a greyhound. Its neck was broad and flat, +and looked very strong, while its head, with the bloodshot eyes and the +horrid red bladder hanging from the mouth, was not nice to see. It +stood there with its fore feet fastened together by a chain, its hind +ones spread wide apart, twitching its tail about, and roaring with a +rumbling gurgle, either in rage or challenge. It was a sight to strike +terror into anybody's heart. +</P> + +<P> +Presently two Afghans came up and began to talk in English. "Ah!" said +one, a little man, dressed in the blouse and baggy pantaloons of his +native country, his face looking very cruel. "Ah! That's old Abul, is +it? I've not seen him for ten years. He used to try and play tricks +with me, did Abul, but I taught him his lessons; didn't I, Abul? I +taught him not to play with <I>me</I>." He laughed at the remembrance of +the cruelties he had practised on that camel ten years ago. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a good camel," replied the other man. "He belongs to me. He's a +very good camel. He doesn't want to be beaten. He works well. I can +do anything I like with him." He began to climb over the fence, but +the first speaker stopped him. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you going to do?" he asked excitedly. "You must not go in +there. He is a bad camel, I tell you. Abul is not safe. I know him. +I was his master ten years ago." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm only going to take off his hobbles," said the other man. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, do not go in like that. I used to throw a rope and tie him up +before I went near him. He is a bad camel, I tell you. But <I>I</I> taught +him his lessons." He laughed again, and Sax shuddered as he looked at +the man's cruel face. +</P> + +<P> +But the present owner was not afraid. He had been kind to Abul. He +went up to the great grey beast and stood beside it, looking very small +indeed. The camel could have killed the man without any difficulty +whatever, but, instead of that, it bent its head and looked at him and +allowed its master to rub it between the ears. +</P> + +<P> +The Afghan outside the fence was very excited. He muttered to himself, +and now and again shouted to his fellow-countryman: "Look out! Look +out, I tell you! That is only his way. It is all his bluff. Oh, he +is a very bad camel! Look out, I tell you!" +</P> + +<P> +The man inside the paddock took no notice of these warnings, for they +were quite unnecessary. He stooped down and unfastened the hobbles +from the animal's fore feet, and stood up again with them in his hand, +and walked towards the fence where his companion was standing. The +camel stalked after him. +</P> + +<P> +Then an absolutely unexpected thing happened. When Abul was about ten +yards from the fence, he made a sudden rush and grabbed his former +owner by the coat. It was all so quick that no one knew what had +occurred till they saw the huge camel walking round his enclosure with +the screaming man dangling from his mouth. The old camel was going to +have his revenge. He remembered his tormentor of ten years ago, and +was going to kill him. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there came a sound of tearing cloth. The coat had torn. The +man sprawled on the ground for a moment, and then scrambled to his +feet. He made a dash for the fence, but the camel was too quick for +him. The terrified Afghan started to run and, as there was no way of +escape, he had to run round and round the paddock with the camel at his +heels. For a moment or two there was silence. The spectators were too +much amazed to speak, and the unfortunate man himself was using all his +breath in his effort to evade his pursuer. Abul could easily have +caught him, but it looked as if the animal wanted to play with the +cruel man, for he kept just behind him, whereas, if he had stretched +out his neck, he could have grabbed him at any time. +</P> + +<P> +A crowd of Afghans and aboriginals were quickly drawn to the spot, but +they were far too excited to think of doing anything to help. The man +was doomed. The death would be a cruel one, but the man had deserved +it. Sax, however, was a clear-headed boy, and though the whole affair +was more terrifying to him than to the others, because he was not used +to camels, a plan at once suggested itself to him. +</P> + +<P> +The proper entrance to the paddock was a strong iron gate. Shouting +out for Vaughan to follow him, Sax ran to the gate. The Afghan had now +run three times round the little paddock, and as he came round the +fourth time, nearly exhausted, the boy called out to him. Just as the +running man drew level with the gate Sax swung it open. The man fell +through it and lay gasping on the sand, but the camel shot past it +before it saw that it had lost its prey. The boys slammed the gate +shut again. Abul turned and glared at them. It was about to break +down the fence, which it could easily have done, when other camel-men +arrived on the scene, and drove it back with sticks and savage dogs. +</P> + +<P> +When they arrived back at the hotel for dinner, they found that Peter +was looking for them. "Where've you been all the morning?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +The boys told him about their wanderings around the town, and about the +bull camel which had nearly killed the Afghan. +</P> + +<P> +"That must be Sultan Khan," said Peter. "I heard last night that he +had come back into the country. The police kicked him out ten years +ago for being cruel to his camels. It's a pity the bull didn't get +him." +</P> + +<P> +Sax looked crestfallen. It was not nice to hear that the man whom he +had just saved from a most terrible death would have been better left +to die. But Peter reassured him at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I don't mean that really," he said. "You did fine. It's +what any decent white man would have tried to do. But I suppose you're +dead scared of camels now." +</P> + +<P> +The man went on to explain that he had arranged to travel north with a +string of camels which was leaving the township the same afternoon. +They would go as far as Dingo Creek and wait there for the train which +was being sent down from Oodnadatta. "That's the best arrangement I +can make," said Peter. "If you'd care to come along, now's your +chance. You won't have much to do with camels, anyway. But don't mind +saying if you'd rather not." +</P> + +<P> +Both boys protested that they weren't a bit scared of camels and that +they were anxious to go right away; so, after dinner, they got their +belongings together and followed Peter to the outskirts of the town. +Here they found a line of fifty camels kneeling in the sand ready to +start. +</P> + +<P> +Most of them were heavily loaded with stores for Oodnadatta which had +come up on the same train as the boys had travelled by. More than a +score of men had helped to unload the trucks that morning, and to +arrange the bags and cases and bales ready for being roped to the +camel-saddles. The boys were very much amused by the antics of three +or four calf-camels. They looked like big lambs on stilts, except that +their necks were longer. They frisked about and did not seem at all +afraid; but when Vaughan tried to stroke one of them, it bumped into +him and knocked him over, which made everybody laugh. +</P> + +<P> +The man in charge of the camels was not an Afghan; he was an Indian +named Becker Singh, a big, handsome, intelligent man, and he wore the +same rough sort of clothes and hat as any Australian in the back +country. He showed Peter the two camels he had chosen for the boys, +and, after testing them himself, the bushman showed his two friends how +to arrange their blankets on the iron framework of the saddle in order +to make a comfortable seat, how to mount, and the easiest way to sit. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you try to do anything," he told them. "Just get your feet into +the stirrups and sit loosely." +</P> + +<P> +This was good advice and saved the boys the usual discomfort which +comes to those who ride a camel for the first time. They had no need +to guide their camels, for all the animals were tied one behind the +other. When everything was ready, Becker walked slowly down the long +line, giving a final inspection to each of his charges, then whistled +in a peculiar way. +</P> + +<P> +All the camels stood up at once. To the boys, this was the most +uncomfortable part of their experience, for a camel has four distinct +movements in getting up or down, and, unless the rider is used to them, +they are rather startling. But once their mounts were really up, the +rest was plain sailing. They swayed gently forward and back with each +stride of the camel and enjoyed the motion very much, and could see +over the country from their high position much better than they could +from horseback or on foot. +</P> + +<P> +The three days' journey to the Dingo Creek Bridge was accomplished +without any accident, though the new method of travel and the new +country passed through were full of interest to the two boys. Each +evening the long line of stately animals was coiled round in a big +circle at the camping-place, and the camels were made to kneel down +while their loads were unroped and their saddles taken off. Then the +black boys who were helping Decker Singh hobbled the camels and drove +them off to pick up what food they could find during the night. In the +morning the same boys brought them in and made them kneel in the right +places to be loaded again for the day. +</P> + +<P> +To have their meals and to sleep near the packs was a novelty which the +boys very much enjoyed. The blazing fire with the billies catching the +flame, the meal of bread and meat, the hour or two afterwards when they +lolled on the sand while Peter smoked and told yarns, and then the cool +quiet night with the myriad stars above them; these things made the +boys forget the little discomforts they were bound to encounter. +</P> + +<P> +On the second day, towards the middle of the afternoon, a black dot +appeared on the horizon, growing bigger and bigger as they approached +it. The sun beat down on the bare plains and made the whole landscape +quiver with heat, so that things in the distance looked blurred and it +was impossible to tell what they were. In this instance the object +proved to be a group of date-palms growing round a pool made by a +bore-pipe. On all sides of this little oasis stretched the barren +desert, and it was quite easy to believe that no man had been able to +live in that part of the country before this bore had been put down. +</P> + +<P> +Peter told them that the pipe went straight down into the earth for +several thousand feet. Water was struck suddenly. One day, when the +men were boring as usual, a noise came up the pipe like sea waves in a +blow-hole of rock, a sort of gurgling roar accompanied by a rush of +air. Then a column of water, as thick as a man's leg and as strong as +a bar of iron, shot up straight into the air and turned over at the top +like a gigantic umbrella. The water struck the bore staging with such +tremendous force that it smashed a hole clean through a two-inch board +as if a shell had crashed into it, and it wrenched the other boards +from their supports and flung them for a hundred yards, just a useless +mass of splintered wood. The man who was on the platform at the time +heard the water coming and jumped for his life. He was not a moment +too soon. If he had hesitated, he would have been blown to pieces. +The flow is not so strong nowadays, but it still reaches the top of the +pipe and flows over, and enables men and cattle to live in a country +which used to be a waterless desert. +</P> + +<P> +A quarter of a mile north of the date-palms was a sand-hill with what +appeared like a few bushes on it. Sax was looking at this hill when he +saw a coil of smoke rising up out of one of the bushes. He was so +surprised that he called his friend's attention to it. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Boof," he exclaimed. "'D'you see that smoke over there? There +must be a camp or something." +</P> + +<P> +Peter heard the remark and laughed. "D'you know what that is?" he +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, bushes, of course," replied Sax. +</P> + +<P> +"And what d'you reckon it is?" asked Peter again, turning to Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +Young Vaughan looked intently at the sand-hill where the smoke was +coming from. He heard a dog bark, and then thought he saw a little +black human figure crawl out of one of the bushes, followed by another +and bigger figure. It was all so far away that he wasn't sure that he +had seen correctly, so he answered with hesitation; "It looks as if +there were people in those bushes. They don't live there, do they, +Peter?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're not bushes," explained the man. "They're what we call +'wurlies'. They're sort of little huts the blacks live in. You'll see +quite enough of them before you've been in this country long, I promise +you." +</P> + +<P> +The boys wanted to go over at once and see, so Peter good-naturedly +went with them. +</P> + +<P> +The wurlies were made from branches pulled from the ragged trees which +grew around, and stuck in the sand with their tops brought together. +This framework was covered with bits of old bag or blanket. The whole +thing was the shape of a pudding-basin turned upside down, and was not +more than three feet high in the middle or four feet wide at the bottom. +</P> + +<P> +"Do they really live in there?" asked Sax. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing," said Peter. "They crawl in through that hole and curl +themselves up like dogs." +</P> + +<P> +As he finished speaking, a shaggy head appeared at one of the holes. +The hair was stuck together in greasy plaits and hung down to the man's +shoulders. He looked up at the visitors, half in and half out of the +wurley, and on his hands and knees just like an animal. His face and +body were black and very dirty, and his head and chest were so thickly +covered with hair that the only features which stood out from the +matted tangle were a pair of very bright eyes and a flat, shining nose. +</P> + +<P> +Peter said something which the lads did not understand, and the man +came out and stood upright. He was quite naked and very thin. His +legs seemed to be the same thickness all the way up, and his knees +looked like big swollen knuckles. But his whole appearance gave the +impression that he could move very quickly if he wanted to, with the +graceful speed of a greyhound. The woman and child whom Vaughan had +seen from the distance had run away like startled rabbits as the white +men came up, and the camp of six or seven wurlies seemed deserted +except for this one miserable specimen of humanity. Bits of clothing, +tins, pieces of decaying food, and all sorts of dirt were strewn around +the camp and gave out such an unpleasant smell that the boys turned +away in disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" asked Peter. +</P> + +<P> +"How horribly dirty he is," said Vaughan. "Aren't some of them clean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes," replied Peter. "Most boys who work on stations are made to +use soap. That's because they work with white men, or with decent +chaps like Becker Singh. His boys aren't bad. But you leave them +alone for a week, and they'll be just as bad as that old buck there. +Don't you ever forget—" he added earnestly, "don't you ever forget +that that's the real nigger you've just seen. And don't you have too +much to do with them." +</P> + +<P> +"There's not much fear of that," said Sax. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't you forget it, that's all," repeated Peter. "Many a good +lad has gone to the dogs through having too much to do with niggers." +</P> + +<P> +They reached the Dingo Creek on the morning of the fourth day. The +bridge was a complete wreck. It was almost impossible to believe that +wind could have done so much damage. The whole thing had been lifted +off the stanchions, twisted as easily as if it had been a ribbon of +paper, and then thrown down into the soft sand of the creek bed. The +steel stanchions leaned this way and that; one of them had been torn up +from its concrete foundation, and another had been screwed about till +it looked like a gigantic corkscrew. The bridge must have been caught +by the very centre of the tornado. +</P> + +<P> +The camels did not stop at the creek. They travelled on for a couple +of miles to where a railway engine and a few trucks were waiting. +These had been sent down from Oodnadatta with a break-down gang of men, +and were returning next day. Peter decided to stay and help Becker +with the camels as far as Oodnadatta, but, at his advice, the two boys +went on by train, and so it came about that they completed their broken +journey in the same way in which it had begun. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Message from the Unknown +</H3> + +<P> +The sun had set several hours ago when the train finally pulled up at +Oodnadatta station. A hurricane-lantern hung under a veranda, and +showed a crowd of about twenty men, women, and children with eager +faces, ready to welcome anyone who had completed the interrupted +journey. But the two boys were the only passengers. They stood on the +platform of the carriage and looked at the crowd. It was seven years +since Sax had seen his father, but he felt sure he would recognize him +instantly; and, besides, it was such a rare thing for two strange lads +to come up on the Far North train, that if anyone had been there to +meet them, he would have had no trouble in picking them out. +</P> + +<P> +But no one came forward. In vain did the drover's son compare the +picture of his father which he had in his mind, with one after the +other of the men under the veranda. Men, tall, thin, and bearded there +certainly were, and more than one had that stamp of the desert on his +face, which never wears off. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you see him, Sax?" asked his companion anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet. He's somewhere at the back, most likely. We'll wait a tick +and see." +</P> + +<P> +So they waited, and in those minutes the lads felt more lonely than +they had ever done in their lives before. The thought would insist on +presenting itself: +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose he doesn't come! What then?" The nearest person they really +knew was five days away. In front of them was a little crowd of people +who knew each other well, but who had never seen the boys before, and +all around was the vast unsympathetic silence of the desert which came +in and oppressed the boys even in the dark. +</P> + +<P> +Presently a man in badly creased white trousers and very thin shirt, +open all the way down, came past. He stopped and looked up at the +boys. "Waiting for somebody?" he asked pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we are," said Sax, who was usually the spokesman of the pair when +strangers were concerned. "Can you tell me, please, if Mr. Stobart is +about?" +</P> + +<P> +"Stobart? If it's Boss Stobart you're waiting for, I'm afraid you'll +be disappointed." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" Both boys uttered the word of dismay at the same time. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see," went on the man, "we expected him the day before +yesterday. He's never late, so I wired up the road. I'm his agent, +you know. They haven't heard of him south of Horseshoe Bend." +</P> + +<P> +"What! Is he lost, then?" asked Sax in an incredulous voice. His +hero, his father, lost? Impossible! +</P> + +<P> +"Bless you, no. He's never lost. He must have taken a fresh track at +the Bend, that's all. Feed and water and that sort of thing. By the +way, who are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm his son," said Sax, simply and proudly, "and this is my friend. +Father said he'd meet this train." +</P> + +<P> +"His son, are you? Oh, well, you may depend upon it, he's not far away +if he said he'd meet you. But he didn't come in to-day. I know that +for a cert. You'd better come over to the hotel and let me fix you up +for the night. My name's Archer—Joe Archer. I've got a store here +and manage your father's business at this end." +</P> + +<P> +The kind-hearted storekeeper handed the boys over to the care of the +hotel-keeper's wife, who soon set a meal of boiled goat and potatoes +before them. Their intense disappointment at not meeting Mr. Stobart +had not lessened their appetites, and they assured one another that +they would see him in a few days, probably on the very next morning. +</P> + +<P> +After their tea they went straight to their room, a little box of a +place with a window looking out over a yard where a horse was standing +perfectly still and breathing heavily, fast asleep. The friends talked +for a time and then blew out the candle. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had they done so, when they heard a tapping on the window. +They took no notice. It came again. Tap—tap—tap. It could not +possibly have been an accident. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that, Sax?" whispered Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Blest if I know," answered his companion from the other bed. "Shall I +light the candle again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's wait a bit and see," suggested Boof. +</P> + +<P> +The taps came again, this time louder, and were followed by a cough. +</P> + +<P> +Sax struck a match. His hand shook so much that he could hardly light +the candle, but whether it was from fear or from excitement cannot be +told. The light flared up, went down again, and then burned bright and +steady. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a man's head and shoulders appeared at the window. It was a +nigger. For a moment both lads stared at the apparition with startled +eyes. But the man did not do anything. He was just waiting till their +surprise died down. His face was not at all as forbidding as the one +they had seen at Coward Springs. He was wearing an old felt hat and a +dirty shirt, and though he had hair all over his face, there was +something about him which proclaimed him to be a young man. +</P> + +<P> +After a few moments of absolute stillness and silence, they saw the +hair on his face move, and a row of beautiful white teeth showed in a +most engaging smile. Then came the words: "Which one Stobart?" +</P> + +<P> +The lads had never heard an aboriginal speak before. The sound was +guttural, but there was no mistaking the words: "Which one Stobart?" +</P> + +<P> +Sax started forward and the black seemed to scrutinize his features +intently. "You Stobart?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. My name's Stobart," answered Sax. "What d'you want?" +</P> + +<P> +The black fellow smiled again, groped in his shirt, and pulled out a +dirty piece of folded paper. He held it in his hand and again looked +at the lad as if to make quite sure he was not being deceived. +</P> + +<P> +"Boss Stobart, him say, you walk longa Oodnadatta. You find um my son. +You give 'im paper yabber. Him good fella, Boss Stobart, so I go. My +name Yarloo." +</P> + +<P> +The words came slowly, as if the man were repeating something he had +said over and over in his mind. But the words were quite distinct. +</P> + +<P> +He handed the "paper yabber" to Sax, and disappeared. The two friends +came close together round the candle and looked at the paper which had +come to them from the unknown by such a strange hand. For a few +moments Sax was too excited to open it. What was the news it +contained? Good or bad? It was not addressed, or, if it ever had +been, the handling to which it had been subjected had worn any writing +completely off the outside. +</P> + +<P> +At last the lad opened it. It was a sheet torn from a common note-book +ruled with lines and columns for figures, the sort of thing on which a +rough man would keep his rough accounts. It contained writing in +pencil by a hand which Sax at once recognized as his father's; but it +was uneven as if it had been written in the dark. The words were: +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +"In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell<BR> +Oodnadatta trooper, but <I>no one else</I>." (These last three<BR> +words were underlined several times.) "He'll<BR> +understand. Boy quite reliable. Don't worry.<BR> +Get a job somewhere. "STOBART."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +The friends read it to themselves, and then Sax read it out loud. +</P> + +<P> +"'In difficulties'," said Vaughan. "What does that mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Blest if I know. With the cattle, I expect. I wonder where the +Musgrave Ranges are." +</P> + +<P> +"But why does he say 'tell the trooper and no one else'?" asked Vaughan +again. "Yet he wouldn't say 'don't worry' if anything was up, would +he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, nothing's really up," said Sax with conviction. "He means he's a +bit late, that's all. P'raps the trooper's expecting him or something. +Of course he wouldn't want anybody else to know. You see, he's got a +name here," said the lad proudly. "They call him Boss Stobart. Even +the nigger did that." +</P> + +<P> +"But he'll be a long time, Sax. He won't be in for a week or so at any +rate, or else he wouldn't tell us to get a job, would he?" +</P> + +<P> +The boys discussed the news from every possible point of view, and +finally arrived at the conclusion that the famous drover had been +forced out of the route he had intended to travel by difficulties with +feed and water, and that he might be very late arriving at his +destination. That he would finally arrive, they never doubted for a +moment. With this assurance, they once more blew out the light, and it +was not long before they were both fast asleep. +</P> + +<P> +If they could have known the terrible danger which Drover Stobart was +in at that very time, it is certain that sleep would have been +impossible to them. He was as near death, a hideous death, as any man +can possibly be who lives to tell the tale. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Wild Cattle +</H3> + +<P> +The boys woke late on their first morning in the Far North. Sax's +thoughts immediately turned to his father's letter. He groped under +his pillow and pulled it out and read it again: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell Oodnadatta +trooper, but <I>no one else</I>. He'll understand. +Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. Get a job somewhere. +<BR><BR> +"STOBART."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was a characteristic note, for the drover never wrote long letters, +but the shakiness of the writing, and the mysterious way in which it +had been delivered, gave Sax a feeling of great uneasiness. If, as Joe +Archer the storekeeper had suggested, Stobart had been forced to take a +westerly track from Horseshoe Bend in order to find water and feed for +the cattle, he could easily have sent word to Oodnadatta by the +ordinary camel mail which passed the Bend once a month. +</P> + +<P> +Sax looked up and saw that his friend was awake. "What d'you reckon we +ought to do, Boofy?" he asked, getting out of bed. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan took the letter and read it before replying. "It says 'Tell +Oodnadatta trooper'," he remarked. "I reckon we ought to do that +first, Sax, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +When breakfast was over, the boys asked the way to the trooper's house, +and were told that Sergeant Scott had gone away after some blacks who +had been spearing cattle. No one had any idea when he was likely to +return. "You see—" said the man who was telling them about it, "you +see, he may get the niggers easy and bring them in at once. Or they +may clear out and make him chase them for days and days. He'll get +them in the end, though, you bet. Old Scotty's not the one to be +beaten by niggers." +</P> + +<P> +The boys sat down outside the trooper's house on a little hill and +looked over the desolate landscape. They seemed to be baulked at every +turn. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, away above the northern rim of the land appeared a little +brown stain. It caught the eye because the horizon had no cloud on it +or anything to break the clear line except that patch of brown. +</P> + +<P> +Sax was idly watching it, wondering what in the world he could do to +help his father, when the cloud seemed to get bigger and clearer. +"Look, Boof," he said. "D'you see that thing over there? It looks +like a cloud, but it's brown." +</P> + +<P> +He pointed it out to his friend and they watched it together. It was +certainly getting bigger. "Looks like dust," said Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"But whatever could be kicking up all that dust?" asked Sax. "It's +coming this way. Look, it's covering those trees over there now." +</P> + +<P> +The cloud of dust got bigger and of a more distinct brown. Objects +such as trees, which at one time stood out in front of it, were hidden +one after another, till it spread out like heavy brown smoke from a +damp fire. The air was very clear and still. All at once Sax gripped +his friend's arm. He had heard a sound—a sound which was like his own +native tongue to the drover's son—the crack of a stock-whip. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure I heard a whip," he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm dead sure I +did. Hark!" +</P> + +<P> +Both boys sprang to their feet and listened intently. From out that +advancing mass of brown dust sounds could be heard. At first they were +just a confused murmur, a sort of deep grumbling very far away; but now +and again came a sharper sound, half like the crack of a pistol and +half like two flat boards being banged together. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I'm sure of it. I'm sure of it. It's whips. I bet you it's +whips. And that dust is kicked up by cattle. I <I>know</I> it is. Oh, +Boofy, Boofy! P'raps it's my father." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go and meet him," suggested Vaughan, and the boy would have +started out right away to meet the cattle if his friend had not +prevented him. Sax had never seen a mob of bush cattle, at least not +that he could remember, though his father had often carried him on the +pommel of his saddle when he was a tiny baby. But he knew +instinctively that it would be dangerous to face wild cattle on foot. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's wait and see what happens," he said. "They won't be long." +</P> + +<P> +The noise had now increased to the continuous rumbling bellow of a +great mob of restless cattle. Already the shouts of men could be +heard, and the cracks of whips came very sharp and clear. Dim forms +could be seen for a moment now and again on the outskirts of the cloud +of dust, as mounted men wheeled here and there and everywhere in their +efforts to keep the cattle together. The animals had never seen a town +before, and were frightened at the glitter of iron roofs in the sun. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a figure on a horse shot out in front and cantered ahead. The +boys became tense with excitement. Was it Mr. Stobart? At first they +could not distinguish him except that he rode a grey horse and sat it +with the perfect ease of a Central Australian. The animal did not want +to leave its companions and started to "play up". But nothing it could +do made any difference to the superb rider; he just sat as if he were +part of the horse, as if he were indeed its brain, forcing it to obey +his will. When he came past the little hill where the lads were +standing he was about a hundred yards away from them, and they could +see him clearly. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it, Sax?" asked Vaughan excitedly. "Is it your pater?" +</P> + +<P> +The drover's son shook his head. "No chance," he said sadly. "My +father's taller than that man. But can't he just ride, Boof?" +</P> + +<P> +The rider had by this time reached a set of troughs which spread out on +the ground and were filled by a bore about half a mile behind the town. +He dismounted, had a good look round to see that everything was right, +and then started to ride back again. But instead of going straight +back to the cattle, he rode up to the boys. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day," he said, reining in his horse. "Come out to see the +cattle?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Sax. "And we were wondering whether Boss Stobart"—he +said the name proudly—"whether Boss Stobart was with them." +</P> + +<P> +The man shook his head. "No. Didn't he come in a week ago? He +started ahead of me. These are T.D.3 cattle." +</P> + +<P> +The lads showed their disappointment on their faces, but of course the +drover did not understand the reason for it. "If it's fun you're after +seeing, you'll get as much with my mob as you would with the Boss's," +he said with a very slight Irish brogue. "They're sure as wild as +bally mosquitoes. But look, you're a bit too close here. Get back a +bit, and when they've had a drink, go over to the troughs. You'll +likely see a bit of fun at the yards." +</P> + +<P> +The lads did as he told them. They climbed on the roof of an old shed +where they were well out of the way, and could get a good view of the +cattle as they came in to water. They expected the whole mob to file +past at once, but that was not what happened. As soon as the drover +returned, the cattle were rounded up in a hollow between two +sand-hills. For a time the dust increased to such an extent that +nothing could be seen; but by the shouting and whip-cracking it was +evident that the men were having trouble. +</P> + +<P> +Then a little mob of about a hundred were cut out from the others and +driven towards the water. A white man rode in front and two black boys +rode behind. To Stobart and Vaughan it looked as if the men were +taking far more care than was necessary, for they shepherded the cattle +every inch of the way. The cattle smelt the water from the distance, +and wanted to rush straight to it, but they were turned again and +again, and allowed to advance only at a slow pace. They had been ten +weeks on the road, and were so nervous at approaching the buildings of +the little town, that the least thing would make them rush away in all +directions. Once they started, nothing could stop them, and the result +of all those weeks of constant care might go for nothing. So the +stockmen took no chances. +</P> + +<P> +The cattle watered quietly, and when they had had enough, they were +taken a little distance away and left in charge of the two black boys. +Then the white man returned and cut off another hundred, and watered +them in the same way, till every one in the huge mob of wild cattle had +had a drink without being disturbed. +</P> + +<P> +Then came what the drover had called "a bit of fun". The cattle were +slowly moved towards the great trucking-yards. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go over to the troughs as he said," suggested Vaughan. "It's +lots nearer than this." So the two friends took up their position +behind the big tank into which the water from the bore poured before it +flowed into the troughs. +</P> + +<P> +The Oodnadatta trucking-yards are made of iron rails set in concrete +and are capable of holding more than a thousand head of stock. Once +the cattle are in, nothing matters, for the yards are strong enough to +hold elephants. But the job is to get them in. +</P> + +<P> +Inch by inch the grumbling mass of irritable beasts was urged forward +by the white drover and his boys. It was a ticklish job, and the whips +were kept quiet at first, except to flick up one or another which tried +to poke out of the mob. All went well till the leading cattle came to +the wing of the yard. Those iron rails frightened them. They had only +seen a yard once before in their lives, and the rails of that one were +made of wood. +</P> + +<P> +"Steady, boys! Steady!" called the drover. "Keep 'em quiet a bit." +</P> + +<P> +For a minute or two the stockmen sat back on their horses and did not +urge the cattle forward, but let them get used to their new +surroundings. The animals went up to the rails and smelt them, +bellowing with surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, slowly, boys! Slowly!" +</P> + +<P> +Very gradually the horsemen moved forward. To a new chum this care +seemed very unnecessary. The gate was straight ahead. Why not force +the animals through, and get the job over? But a thousand cattle +cannot be forced by five men, as the boys were soon to see. +</P> + +<P> +The leading cattle were now right up to the gate, and the others were +slowly crowding on behind, till they were jammed in the wings. If only +one or two would go through the rest would follow easily. But the +leading bullock struck a tin buried in the sand. Instantly the great +beast's head was raised and he sent out a roaring bellow. Those behind +him crowded on, but he would not pass that tin. It was lying on top of +the sand now. He tried to back away from it, and in doing so struck +his foot against it again. +</P> + +<P> +Bellow followed bellow. He set his feet firmly in the sand and would +not budge. Down went his head, and he tossed clouds of sand into the +air. +</P> + +<P> +"Let 'em have it. Let 'em have it," shouted the drover. "Force 'em up +there. Force 'em up." He stood in his stirrups and plied his whip, +cracking it back and front, and shouting at the top of his voice. The +blacks did the same, till it seemed as if they would force the cattle +into the yard by sheer energy. +</P> + +<P> +But no. The leading bullock stood firm. Something had to give way. +No single animal could withstand the pressure of all the others from +behind. The bullock lifted his head high and shook his mighty horns, +and, with a roar which drowned all sounds of shouting, he turned along +the side of the wing and charged. Nothing could stop him. Others +followed till the cattle were going round and round like water in a +whirlpool. What cattlemen most fear had happened: a ring. Not a +single beast went through the gate. They passed it, at first slowly, +then faster and faster, till they were galloping round and round like +clumsy circus horses. +</P> + +<P> +The drover tried to break the ring. He cut off a few cattle at the +back of the mob and forced them against the tide. He succeeded for a +moment, and the black stockmen cut off others and brought them in. For +a few seconds it was like two huge waves meeting. The cattle jammed in +the centre, and some were actually lifted from their feet. Then the +wave broke. +</P> + +<P> +A charging mass of maddened cattle rushed away from the yards, +screaming with terror, heads down and stiffened tails high in the air. +Nothing could stand against them. It was death to attempt to check the +terrible charge. The mounted men galloped for safety to the sides. +One, however, was too slow. He had just gained the edge of the mob +when a young steer dashed into his horse. Both were going so fast that +they came down together. Fortunately the boy was thrown clear and was +not hurt. The steer rolled over and over and then picked itself up and +joined the rush. The riderless horse galloped towards the troughs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Riding Tests +</H3> + +<P> +During the exciting scenes at the yards, Sax and Vaughan had come out +from the shelter of the tank, wholly absorbed in the wild life they +were now witnessing for the first time. With the keen delight which +every healthy-minded boy has in adventure, they followed every twist +and turn, wishing with all their hearts that they were in the thick of +it and not mere lookers-on. +</P> + +<P> +When the cattle broke, the drover dashed out on their side of the mob +and waved a warning to them. His mouth framed words, and though his +voice was drowned in the tremendous hullabulloo, the boys knew he was +shouting: "Back! Back! Back for your lives!" +</P> + +<P> +So they raced for the tank and crouched behind it as the storm of +cattle went sweeping past. +</P> + +<P> +The riderless horse galloped up to the troughs and stooped its head to +drink. The bridle-rein trailed on the ground. Sax looked around the +tank and saw it very near his hand. He gave a quick glance at the +saddle and saw that all the gear was right, and then quietly stretched +out his arm and caught the rein. He gripped it firmly but did not +pull. The noise of stampeding cattle was so great that the horse did +not notice the movement near him till the boy slowly rose from the +ground. +</P> + +<P> +Then the horse lifted its head and gave a snort of alarm. But in a +moment Sax had jerked the reins over its head, and in another moment +was on its back. Before he was well seated, the frightened animal +reared, squealing and pawing the air with its fore hoofs. But Sax was +lean and very supple. He clung on, drove his feet home in the +stirrups, and when the horse came down and started to buck and twist +and arch and side-spring, he had a seat from which it would have taken +a very good animal to shake him. It was all over in less than a +minute, and then the horse saw its companions flying over the plains in +a cloud of dust, gave a whinny, and started after them at top speed. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan was left with feelings which were almost equally divided +between pride in his friend's achievement and envy that the adventure +had not fallen to his lot. +</P> + +<P> +Sax caught up with the drover and rode neck and neck with him on the +wing of the cattle for some time before the man turned his head. When +he did so, he was very surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"Hallo, young 'un!" he shouted, almost breathless at the rate they were +going. "Can you ride?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," bawled Sax exultantly; "but I'm learning." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't try and learn too much first go," came back the warning. +"There's ticklish work ahead. You watch me." And they settled down +again to give all their attention to the work in hand. +</P> + +<P> +About five miles west of the town is a narrow but close belt of timber, +mostly gnarled mulga and gidgee, with here and there a sprawling +stunted creek gum. The cattle were making for this shelter. But +already the tremendous pace was beginning to tell. The bellowing had +ceased and the mob was stringing out, the stragglers no longer being +able to gallop, but lumbering along at a clumsy trot. +</P> + +<P> +To Sax's surprise, a black stockman, riding in the rear of the mob, +kept these stragglers at the top of their pace. The drover gradually +forged ahead on the wing and the boy with him, till they were level +with the leaders. Then, little by little, they worked nearer and +nearer to the galloping beasts, using their whips freely and trying by +every possible means to turn the line away from the belt of timber. +They succeeded. From west the cattle turned to south, getting more and +more tired at every stride, then east, then north, and finally they +were brought up by rounding on themselves and turning in and in till +they were thoroughly exhausted and only too willing to pull up. +</P> + +<P> +Sax's whole body was one big ache. It was his first ride on a bush +horse, which he found very different from the thoroughbreds he had +known. Every movement of the horse, now that the excitement was over, +was agony to him, but he sat in the saddle without flinching. Not for +the world would he have betrayed himself. +</P> + +<P> +"What do we do now?" he asked the drover. +</P> + +<P> +The man laughed. He admired the boy's pluck, and his keen eyes noticed +the signs of discomfort which Sax could not possibly hide. "Do?" he +asked. "Why? Haven't you done enough for a bit?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm all right," said Sax. "I like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Wish I did," growled the other. "I'll just begin to like it when it's +all over, and these beggars are in the yard." +</P> + +<P> +The mounted men rode slowly to and fro around the cattle for an hour or +two. Some of them got over their fright sufficiently to lie down, +others stood about in groups and nosed one another and murmured +quietly. About noon the drover whistled to his boys, and a move was +made towards the yards. This time they were not rushed forward in a +mob. A few of the quietest were cut off and driven in first. They +went through the gates without any trouble. Then a few more, followed +by others till the thousand cattle were safely behind the great gates. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we'll have a drink of tea, and then we'll truck them," said the +drover, dismounting from his horse and taking off the saddle. He +turned to the black boys. "Take um your horses little yard belonga Mr. +Archer," he said, pointing towards the town. "Give um plenty tucker, +water. Come back quick-fella! Which way Yarloo sit down?" +</P> + +<P> +At the name Yarloo, Sax looked up quickly. Surely that was the name +given by the messenger who handed Boss Stobart's note to the boy in the +middle of the night. The blacks laughed at the drover's question, and +one of them pointed towards the troughs. "Him tummel aller same +kangaroo," he said, with a grin, making movements with his body like a +man being flung off a horse. "Him come down cropper, I think," and he +rubbed the back of his head and made grimaces which caused the others +to laugh heartily. A black-fellow is always highly amused at an +accident. +</P> + +<P> +Two figures were coming over from the troughs. Sax recognized one as +Vaughan. The other was limping slightly. It was Yarloo, the boy who +had been thrown from his horse. He had got a job with the drover the +morning after the delivery of his midnight message to Saxon Stobart, +and, because he was a stranger, his fellow stockmen took a great +delight in limping about and imitating him. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's how you got your ride," said the drover. "How did you catch +the horse?" +</P> + +<P> +Sax told him, and the drover remarked: "I'm glad you did. Nothing +stirs things up so much as a saddled horse with nobody on him. You and +your mate had better have a drink of tea with me. By the way, what do +they call you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That chap's name's Vaughan," answered Sax. "Mine's Stobart." +</P> + +<P> +"What? Stobart? Same name as Boss Stobart?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. He's my father." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the drover looked at the boy with keen eyes from which +nothing could be hidden. They were light-grey eyes, set well apart, +and absolutely fearless. He caught and held Sax's glance and seemed to +be reading the boy's character. He evidently approved of what he saw, +for he held out his hand, which Stobart took at once. +</P> + +<P> +"So you're Boss Stobart's son," he said. "I'm sure glad to meet you. +My name's Darby. Mick Darby. Me and your father were mates for close +on ten years. You came up to meet him, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +Sax told him a little about the school, and how he and Vaughan had come +up to Oodnadatta expecting to meet the drover, and how disappointed +they were. He did not mention the mysterious message; but when Mick +Darby asked what the boys intended doing, Sax answered promptly that +they were looking for a job, as Boss Stobart had sent a note advising +them to do this. +</P> + +<P> +"He's likely changed his plans," said Darby, "and can't come down for a +bit. What sort of a job d'you want?" +</P> + +<P> +By this time Vaughan had come up, and the three whites were sitting +near an open pack-bag, eating damper and salt meat, and drinking tea +from the drover's quart-pot. To his question as to what sort of job +they wanted, there seemed but one reply. Sax's mouth was full at the +time, so Vaughan answered: +</P> + +<P> +"This sort, of course." +</P> + +<P> +Mick smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, and asked: "Can you ride too?" +The word "too" pleased Sax immensely, but it stirred his friend to +answer, somewhat boastfully: +</P> + +<P> +"I can ride as well as he can—can't I, Sax?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're better than I am," said Sax generously. "He is indeed, Mr. +Darby." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we'll see. I shan't be starting back till the day after +to-morrow. What d'you say to a riding test?" he asked, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +The boys were willing to agree to anything, especially as the station +to which Mick was returning was out towards the Musgrave Ranges. "It's +sure a rough place," said Mick, when he had agreed to take the boys. +"It's out on the edge of cattle country, the Musgraves west of us, and +niggers—bad niggers, too. You'll wish you'd never come." He looked +at the eager faces of the two lads and his own suffused with thoughts +of the days when he was their age. He remembered all the hard years +between, the trips on which he had only just come through alive, the +terrors of thirst, the slow torment of being out of tucker, the scraps +with blacks, the dreary homeless monotony of the desert, and he said +earnestly: "I'm not urging you to come, mind. I know what you're in +for; you don't. But if you want to be men, now's your chance." +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan's riding test next day was a severe one. "It's not that I want +to make a fool of you," explained Mick, as they lead the horses out of +Archer's yard. "But there's not a properly quiet horse in my plant. +It's no good your getting your swag ready if you can't ride. What +d'you feel like?" +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan said he was feeling fine; but if the truth must be told, his +pulses were beating unusually fast as he looked at the bush horses and +realized that he was soon to be on top of one of them. The party +consisted of the drover, the white boys, and one or two black stockmen, +and when they came to a broad expanse of soft sand, Mick said they +needn't go any farther. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan rode three horses. The first was a bay mare, of medium height, +short in the back, and with a long rein. "You'll find her a bit tricky +to mount," said Mick. The animal stood as quiet as a mouse while +Vaughan caught her and put the saddle on, but as soon as he tossed the +reins over her head, she backed away and started to prance round +excitedly. The boy found it impossible to get his foot in the stirrup; +as soon as he touched the metal, the mare jumped back. Mick Darby +stood by and said nothing, but he interfered when Sax wanted to go and +help his friend. "Let him do it on his own," he said. "He won't +always have you with him." +</P> + +<P> +Instead of quietening down, when the mare found she could bluff the lad +she pranced about more than ever, and Vaughan saw that, unless he could +surprise the animal for a moment, he would have no chance of mounting. +So he kept the reins over her head and started to pat the lovely neck +and shoulders. He slowly worked round till he was on the off side—a +side from which, normally, no one ever mounts a horse—and let his hand +run down the shoulder till it touched the stirrup. The mare stood +quite still. +</P> + +<P> +Still patting the animal, Vaughan shortened the rein, and quietly +lifted his right foot. As soon as it was in the stirrup, he sprang, +and before the surprised horse could recover from its astonishment, he +was in the saddle, having mounted from the wrong side. +</P> + +<P> +The blacks shouted their praise, but Vaughan listened only for the +drover's voice. Mick laughed heartily. "Good boy! Good boy!" he +said. "You bluffed her all right. Get off, and I'll show you how to +do it on the near side." +</P> + +<P> +The mare was quite quiet when once the rider was seated, and Vaughan +had no difficulty in riding her round or in dismounting. Mick +shortened the rein for mounting, and just as the mare began to turn +away, as she had done with Vaughan, he took off his hat and put it +under the cheek-strap of the bridle, thus blinding the horse on the +near side. She stood quite still, and the drover got on and off +several times without any difficulty. Then Vaughan tried it in the +same way, and found he could do anything with the mare if only he +blindfolded the near-side eye when he was mounting. +</P> + +<P> +"She's a good little mare to ride, and as game as a pebble," said Mick, +when the saddle had been taken off her. "I'll let you have her if you +promise to treat her well." +</P> + +<P> +The next horse was a big raking bay, high in the shoulder, too long and +badly coupled in the back, and of a very awkward appearance. Vaughan +saddled him up and mounted. The horse stood stock still. Vaughan then +shook the reins and it moved on for a few paces, but as soon as the +reins were slacked again, it stopped. The boy became impatient. +Nothing is so annoying to ride as a lazy horse. So he shortened the +rein. As soon as he did so, the big animal started to move forward, +and it got faster and raster as its rider put pressure on the reins. +It had an awkward habit of thrusting its long lean head straight out, +so Vaughan pulled hard. But the harder the boy pulled the faster the +horse moved. And it <I>could</I> move. Vaughan had never had such an +uncomfortable few minutes in his life. Every part of the horse seemed +to be moving by itself, and jerking him in all directions. He couldn't +possibly sit in the saddle. He let the stirrups take all his weight +and just hung on. The horse was bolting. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan did not lose his head. After trying to pull up the runaway by +sheer force, he realized that he was only wasting his strength, and +making it go faster. By the time he found this out, he was a mile away +from the others, enveloped in a cloud of dust, and racing as hard as +the horse could set foot to the ground. He slackened the reins a +little. Instantly the pace slackened too. He took off more pressure +still and the horse was soon cantering at a medium speed. Vaughan had +found out the secret. He turned his horse's head towards home, and +made it do just anything he wanted by simply increasing or decreasing +the force with which he held the reins. The horse had a most +delightful canter, like a big rocking-horse, and Vaughan rode up to his +companions feeling very pleased with himself. +</P> + +<P> +"What d'you think of it?" asked Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"Fine!" replied the lad. "Fine! But he shook me up before I found it +out." +</P> + +<P> +"Found what out?" asked the drover. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan told him, and the man smiled approval. "Good!" he commented. +"Remember, these horses up here are all different, and you've got to +find them out. Perhaps you've been used to riding properly trained +ones. We don't do any of that up here in the bush. Would you like to +try another?" +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan was sore and tired, but he answered eagerly that he was ready +for a dozen more. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll only give you one," said Mick, beckoning to one of the black +boys. "Take him pretty carefully." +</P> + +<P> +The black stockman caught and saddled a chestnut gelding. Compared +with the thoroughbreds of Langdale Station, the horse was heavily +built, but it had beautifully made shoulders and back. The rump was +coupled to the saddle of the back without the slightest dip, and the +curve rose over a pair of high shoulder-blades and up to a deep and +shapely neck. The legs, however, were thick, and seemed to be out of +proportion with the rest of the body. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan mounted, or rather he tried to mount. If he had known more +about horses he would have noticed the nervous head and eyes, and would +have taken precautions accordingly. But he just flung the reins over +its head, put his foot in the stirrup, and—found himself sprawling in +the sand. He did not let go of the reins. The drover noticed this, +and knew, because of it, that the boy had the instincts of a horseman. +Sax ran forward, but Mick stopped him. "He's all right," he said. +"Let him alone." +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan picked himself up and approached the horse, cautiously, but +without fear. He put the reins quietly over its head, shortened the +near side one and took a good handful of mane, and put his foot in the +stirrup. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't rush it! Don't rush it!" shouted Mick. "You're dealing with a +nervous horse. Take your time. Don't be afraid. He's got no vice." +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan gradually pressed his weight in the stirrup and rose slowly +into the saddle. The horse stood quite still and trembled. The boy +realized that something was going to happen and settled himself firmly. +It was well he did so. Without any warning, the horse's back arched +like a bent bow, and all four feet came off the ground. It was an +extraordinary experience for Vaughan—everything sloping away from him. +Then the back straightened suddenly and the hoofs struck the ground +with such impact that, if the boy had not been very firmly in the +stirrups, he would have been tossed in the air like a stone from a +catapult. +</P> + +<P> +After that, Vaughan had a few of the busiest moments of his life. Up +in the air—in front and behind and all together—pitching this way and +that; rooting, jumping, bucking, doing everything except rolling on the +ground, the screaming horse tried to get rid of its rider. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan did not know what he was doing. Sheer pluck, and the supple +strength of his young body, brought him through a test where more +experienced riders would have failed. He did the right things without +knowing why. He leaned forward over the neck of the rearing horse; he +lay back when its heels were lashing the air; he balanced himself, as +he had often done on a horizontal bar at school, when the arched back +of the horse quivered under him high off the ground; and he stood in +his stirrups to save his body from the shock of those four heavy feet +striking the ground at once. He did all these things instinctively, +though he had never been on a bucking horse before. +</P> + +<P> +He was far too excited to be afraid. His determination saw him +through, and at last the quivering horse and the breathless boy came to +a standstill. Then, with a shrill whinny, the horse did its final +worst. It braced its hind legs well apart and tossed its chest high in +the air. Up and up rose the head and shoulders, while the fore feet +pawed the air; up and up, till horse and rider hung for a moment in the +balance—a horse on two legs, standing erect with a white boy clinging +to its back. They swayed for a moment; for two; for three. Then over +they came. With a violent jerk of its head, the horse fell over +backwards. +</P> + +<P> +A shout of consternation went up. Vaughan's position was one of +greatest peril. But the boy's dancing blood had given his mind a +lightning grip of the situation, and as the horse fell, he kicked his +feet free from the stirrups, and flung himself clear. He was not a +moment too soon. With a crash which shook the ground, the heavy horse +came down, and would have mangled to a lifeless pulp anyone who had +been under it. But Vaughan was safe. He lay for a minute, gasping, +then stood up and faced the drover. The rein was still in his hand, +though the force of the fall had torn the strong leather strap from the +bridle. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Smoke Signals +</H3> + +<P> +Travelling across country in Central Australia is usually very +monotonous. The same routine is gone through day after day, and there +is not even the relief of meeting new faces, for one's companions are +often the only human beings met with during the whole of a trip of many +weeks. +</P> + +<P> +For the first few days of journeying towards the Musgraves, young +Stobart and Vaughan found everything new and intensely interesting. At +piccaninny daylight—which is the bush term for the rising of the +morning star—Mick Darby turned over on his swag and sat up, and called +out "Daylight! Daylight!" +</P> + +<P> +The drover was so punctual with this call that it seemed to the boys as +if he must have been awake for hours, watching for the star to rise +blood-red above the eastern horizon. But years of bush travel, of +watching restless cattle, and of sleeping under the threat of danger +from prowling blacks had made the man respond immediately to any noise +or unusual sight. There was no period of stretching or yawning. Mick +was asleep one instant, and fully awake the next and shouting +"Daylight". The black boys were also light sleepers, trained out of +their native laziness by association with alert whites. There was +Yarloo, who had come in from the west with Boss Stobart's message and +had joined the white man's plant at once; and Ranui, a tall fine man +from North Queensland, who showed both in his build and name a trace of +Malay blood; and Ted and Teedee, two boys who had been with Mick since +they were "little fellas". +</P> + +<P> +As soon as the morning call sounded, the black stockmen rolled out of +their camp-sheets, picked up their bridles, and went off in the grey +light on the tracks of the hobbled horses. Their skill in tracking was +a constant source of wonder to the boys. The type of country didn't +seem to matter at all; soft sand or hard stony tableland was all the +same to them; they tracked the wandering horses with as much careless +certainty as if they could actually see them, though on some nights +they had strayed, in search of feed, several miles away from camp. +</P> + +<P> +When the black boys had gone, Sax and Vaughan collected wood for the +morning fire, raked last night's ashes together, and made a blaze. +Then they filled the seven quart-pots with water and set them near the +flame to boil for breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +The drover was always busy in the early hours. There was probably a +piece of horse-gear to mend, a broken or faulty girth, the stuffing of +a saddle which had become lumpy, or a buckle which had torn away. When +these were all in order, there was the everlasting "damper" to make. +Vaughan volunteered to become assistant cook if Mick would give him +lessons in the great bush art of damper-making. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better start on Johnny-cakes," said the drover. "The mixture's +just the same, but if you make a mess you won't spoil a whole damper. +You watch me to-day. You can try your hand to-morrow, if you like." +</P> + +<P> +It was still an hour or so before sunrise when the white boys had their +first lesson in bush cookery. Mick went over to one of the packs and +pulled out a seventy-pound bag of flour about half full. He untied the +mouth of the bag and took out a tin of baking-powder. Then he spread a +folded sack on the sand, and piled on it about five double handfuls of +flour, mixing a lidful of baking-powder with it. He gave this a good +stir round, dry as it was, and then made a hollow in the middle and +poured in water in which a little salt had been dissolved. The proper +mixing of the dough only came by experience, Mick told them; as dry as +possible and yet damp enough to stick together. The work was done +quickly but thoroughly. +</P> + +<P> +"If you wanted it for a damper," explained Mick, giving the dough a +final roll, "you'd put the whole lot in together. But I'll show you +Johnny-cakes first; they're easier and don't take so long." +</P> + +<P> +He divided the dough into little pieces and rolled each out in his +hands till it was the size and shape of an ordinary bun. He arranged +these on the bag and pulled it near the fire. "I always let the things +rise for a couple of minutes," he said. "Some chaps don't, but I +always do." +</P> + +<P> +Then he prepared the fire for cooking. Every fragment of blazing wood +was put on one side, and a heap of soft glowing ashes left. With a +curved stick, this pile was scooped about till it was like a very big +saucer, all glowing hot and yet not actually burning. On this warm bed +the Johnny-cakes were dropped, leaving a space between each so that +they wouldn't run together. When all the white balls of dough were in +place, Mick flicked some of the ashes from the edge of the hollow on to +them, gradually increasing the amount till the cakes were covered right +over and the whole affair was a mound of grey with no sign of the +cooking cakes. +</P> + +<P> +"How long before they're done?" asked Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Depends," answered Mick. "Depends on the size of them and the heat of +the fire. I don't like the fire too hot. We'll have a look at these +in about a quarter of an hour." +</P> + +<P> +At the end of that time the top of the pile of ashes had begun to crack +here and there with the upward pressure of the rising Johnny-cakes. +Mick scooped one of them out from the edge. It was brown and hard on +the outside, with a most appetizing smell, and a soft ring round it +where the top had pulled away, just like the top on a loaf of bread. +To the boy's surprise, the cakes were quite clean, and a few flicks +with a wisp of leaves left them as free from sand or ashes as if they +had been baked in an oven. Mick tapped the cake with his knuckles. +"Another couple of minutes won't hurt," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Presently the distant sound of a jangling stock-bell was heard, and a +few minutes later the horses came into camp, lead by an old black mare +who carried a bell, and driven by the four black boys riding bareback. +Everything was bustle for a few minutes. The horses were again hobbled +to prevent them from straying, and then the men all settled down to +breakfast. Vaughan usually took charge of the tea. Directly a +quart-pot came to the boil, he tipped in some sugar and a pinch of tea, +and moved the pot away from the fire. Sax superintended the tucker—a +slab of damper, or a Johnny-cake, and a chunk of salt meat for each +man. These are the bush rations year in and year out: meat, damper, +and tea. Breakfast was eaten quickly, and then the pack-bags were +weighted evenly and fastened up, horses caught and saddled, a final +look given round the camp to see that nothing was left behind, and the +three white men set out in a certain direction with no track and with +no guidance of any kind except that of the sun, followed at once by the +plant of horses driven by the blacks. +</P> + +<P> +All day they rode, silent for the most part, but occasionally Mick +would answer a question as to a tree, a strange track, or a feature on +the horizon. No other living thing was seen hour after hour, save a +solitary eagle high in the air, a few lizards darting about the clumps +of porcupine grass, and ants and flies. These latter pests are the +curse of the back country. The weather was hot. That day and on +several others one hundred and thirty degrees was reached, and even +that temperature was exceeded now and then over sandhills and plains +which quivered in the heat. But the boys would not have minded the +heat if the flies had only left them alone. Long before dawn, before +even the morning star had risen, flies buzzed around them, making life +well-nigh unbearable. +</P> + +<P> +A halt was made about noon for dinner, the packs and saddles taken off +the horses for an hour, and then the journey was resumed, each man +riding a fresh horse, for no one rides the same horse all day in +Central Australia, if he can possibly help it. +</P> + +<P> +Evening camp was usually made near a water-hole or native well, but +sometimes the horses had to go as long as two days without a drink. +They were unsaddled and hobbled out, and allowed to roam about all +night and pick up scanty bits of food. It amazed the white boys to see +what very little herbage of any kind there was for an animal to live +on. No grass; just a dry uninviting bush here and there, growing up +out of loose barren sand, with, at long intervals, a clump of twisted +mulga trees. Yet the horses "did" well, and certainly the thousand +T.D.3 bullocks which had come down from the territory looked none the +worse for their trip over country just as barren as the boys were now +camped on. +</P> + +<P> +After tea was the time the two white boys enjoyed most, for Mick would +light his pipe then, prop himself up against his swag, and, with a +quart-pot of tea by his side, tell them yarns about the back country. +Many of these narratives included Boss Stobart, for he and Mick had +gone about together a great deal, and had established overland droving +records which are still unbeaten. He told of drought and flood, of +thirst and hunger, of cattle rushes and disease, of mining camps, of +Afghans and their camels, of Chinamen and opium, of grog shanties, of +troopers, of wild blacks and still wilder whites, until his listeners' +minds flamed at the thought that they, even they, were in the country +where such adventures had taken place—and perhaps some day would be +met with by themselves. And at night, when they lay out on their swags +under the cool sky, which looked so much farther away than it did in +cities, and heard the high quavering hunting-call of the dingo, their +thoughts would go, not towards the scenes where they had spent their +boyhood, but onwards into the unknown. +</P> + +<P> +One day, when the routine of "the road" had gone on for more than a +fortnight, they were crossing a broad expanse of hard stony country, +shut in on the north by dense mulga scrub, when Sax noticed a thin +column of smoke rising from the trees a few miles away. He could +hardly believe his eyes, and when he looked again it was no longer +coming up from the trees, but was rising up and up and fading away +against the flawless blue of the sky. He was about to call Vaughan's +attention to it when his horse stumbled and nearly fell. Next time he +looked to the north the smoke was again rising from the trees, and then +again it was cut off, and floated away and was lost. +</P> + +<P> +His curiosity was thoroughly roused. "Mick!" he shouted, for by this +time the boys had dropped the "Mr." when speaking to their drover +friend. "Mick! Is that <I>smoke</I> over there in the trees?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it's smoke," he answered. "And so's that ahead there." He +pointed across the plain, where the heat was dancing, to a little hill. +It must have been eight miles away, and from it rose a thin coil of +smoke. At first Sax thought it was merely the effect of the sun +causing everything in the distance to quiver and take on fantastic +shapes, but he trusted the bushman's eyes, and at last convinced +himself that it was indeed smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Then somebody must be camped there," said Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it a station, Mick, or just chaps travelling like ourselves?" asked +Sax. +</P> + +<P> +"It's niggers, lad. They're signalling to one another." +</P> + +<P> +The columns of smoke were at once invested with a new interest to the +two boys. Natives were near them, unseen, sending messages to other +natives at a distance. The simplicity of this bush telegraphy was +fascinating. +</P> + +<P> +"What are they saying, Mick, d'you know?" asked Vaughan eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"This lot," said the drover, "is telling that other lot over there that +we're coming. So many white men, so many blacks, and so many horses. +We're getting into nigger country now." +</P> + +<P> +"Will we see them?" asked the boys. +</P> + +<P> +"No chance in life," replied the drover. "These niggers are wild and +scared to death of white men. They're different from the camp blacks +who hang round stations. They'll likely be station blacks themselves +some day, for the wild nigger's dying out. But just now, they keep +away and live their own lives. We call them warraguls." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Stealthy Foes +</H3> + +<P> +Next morning, when the horses came in, two were missing. "Which way +them two horses sit down?" Mick asked one of the boys. "What for you +no bring um in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Him dead," was the answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Dead!" exclaimed the drover. "How dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"Him speared," explained Yarloo. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way? You show um me." The drover saddled his horse and went +away with Yarloo, while the two white boys gave the other stockmen +their breakfast, wondering what had taken Mick off in such a hurry. +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby found the two dead horses. By their tracks they had +evidently strayed away from the others, and by other tracks it was +clear that blacks had crept upon them in the dim light of dawn and had +speared them, for the bodies were still warm. Mick always carried a +bottle of strychnine about with him, and at every camp he poisoned +little bits of meat and left them behind to kill the dingoes which +abound in cattle country. He looked at the two horses—fine, stanch +animals, both of them—and his heart became hot with anger. He put his +hand to his belt and fingered the poison pouch. It was a great +temptation. If the blacks had speared the horses for food, here was a +chance for revenge. If he poisoned the carcass and killed the blacks, +would it not be a terrible warning to the others? +</P> + +<P> +But it was only for a second that the ghastly thought attracted him. +He was a true white man and would not stoop to any hidden revenge. It +is a white man's way to face his enemy in the open and under the sun, +not to kill him by putting strychnine in his food. So Mick turned away +and rode back to camp, and did not tell the boys what danger they were +in. +</P> + +<P> +Next day smoke signals were all around them and very close. It gave +the boys a feeling that keen black eyes were peering at them from every +bit of cover, and that lithe forms were slinking noiselessly from tree +to tree, never turning a stone or breaking a twig to disturb the +silence of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +That evening they unpacked and unsaddled the horses early, and tied +them up till after tea. Then Mick rode away with them himself, hobbled +them on an open patch of dry bush, and prepared to watch throughout the +night. He knew the native method of attack: a little, then a little +more. If two horses had been killed last night, three or four might be +speared this night. To lose their horses would leave the party at the +mercy, not only of the blacks, but also of a more terrible enemy +still—thirst. So the brave bushman was going to take no risks. +</P> + +<P> +The spot he had chosen was a little plain covered with dry buck-bush +and surrounded on all sides with mulga scrub. There was plenty of feed +to keep the horses quiet all night, but Mick was obliged to ride round +them again and again and turn them back from the scrub. He was +perfectly sure that wild natives were in ambush behind the trees, and +that the first animal who wandered within range of a spear-cast would +become a victim. The moon was half-full in a cloudless sky, and the +drover had no difficulty in seeing, but, after an hour or two, he had +the greatest difficulty in the world to keep awake. The night was warm +and still and drowsy, and the day had been one of constant tension, and +as the drover sat with cocked rifle and with the horse's bridle looped +over his arm, he must have nodded once or twice through sheer weariness. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he heard a stone move on another stone. He was fully awake +and alert instantly. The horses were still in the middle of the plain, +quietly feeding, but one or two of them were looking at an old tree +stump in the curious meditative way which resting animals have of +looking at things which are of no particular interest. +</P> + +<P> +All at once Mick Darby sprang to his feet. He had never seen that tree +stump before. For several hours he had looked at that little plain in +the moonlight, and every bush was pictured on his memory. He was +absolutely sure that old tree had not been there when he started to nod +with weariness. Then, how had it come? Trees do not grow from the +ground, become old, and die and lose most of their branches in less +than an hour of a summer's night. +</P> + +<P> +Mick put his cocked rifle to his shoulder, trained the sights on the +tree stump, and walked slowly towards it. The thing was about a +hundred and fifty yards away when he started. He had covered a third +of the distance when the tree suddenly disappeared. Remarkable as it +may appear, it is a fact. One moment he saw the thick twisted trunk of +a mulga tree with a few broken branches, standing out on an otherwise +treeless plain; the next it had gone completely. But, instead of the +tree, three wriggling black forms glided between the bushes with the +stealth of snakes, making for their lives towards the scrub. They were +three warragul blacks, who had crept out into the plain and had used +this wonderful but quite common method of concealment. +</P> + +<P> +Mick fired into the air to frighten them and any of their companions +who might be lurking near. When the report had died away, the darkness +under the trees became full of little sounds like the patter of rain on +leaves, or like sheep passing over soft sand; a scarcely perceptible +sound, yet one which told of black savages creeping for safety into the +depths of the scrub. +</P> + +<P> +The shot woke the two boys. They turned to one another for an +explanation and saw that Mick had not returned. His swag still lay +where it had been tossed off the horse. They got up from their +blankets and began fastening their boots. They saw Yarloo sitting up +on the other side of the fire and called him to them. Yarloo always +camped away from the other black boys, for he was a member of a +different tribe. +</P> + +<P> +"What was that shot, Yarloo?" asked Sax. +</P> + +<P> +"Me can't know um," replied the boy. "Boss, him no come back. P'raps +him bin shoot, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Which way did he go?" asked Sax again. "It sounded quite close." +</P> + +<P> +"Me find um all right." +</P> + +<P> +"I vote we go too," said Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo looked at him for a moment in hesitation; then he pointed to the +other blacks and said: "No two fella white man go. No leave um camp +quite 'lone. See?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's right, Boof," said Sax. "You go with Yarloo. I'll stay," and as +his friend and the black boy disappeared in the darkness, he heaped +wood on the fire and blew it into a blaze. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo tracked Mick Darby with absolute certainty and found him within +half a mile of the camp. The drover was surprised to see the white +boy, and at once made use of Yarloo to put the horses together in a +bunch and hold them for a time. He told Vaughan what had happened, for +it was no good trying to keep the secret any longer. "We lost two +horses last night," he said. "I told you they'd cleared out. But it +wasn't that. The niggers had speared them." +</P> + +<P> +"Then that's what the smoke signals meant?" asked Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I wasn't sure at first whether it was hunger or devilment, so I +watched. They tried to get in amongst the horses again to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hit anyone?" asked Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I didn't try. I fired into the air to scare them." +</P> + +<P> +By this time Yarloo had walked round the horses, turning them towards +the middle of the plain, and was squatting down on his haunches, +watching. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a real good sort of a nigger," said Mick. "He's got more sense +than most of them. Seems to have taken to you boys. I wonder why." +</P> + +<P> +"He used to work for Sax's father," explained Vaughan. "I thought you +knew." +</P> + +<P> +"I see. That explains it. Hi! Yarloo!" he called, and when the boy +came up: "You go back longa camp. Watch till piccaninny daylight. No +shut um eye, mind." +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo grinned his understanding of the order and disappeared. Then +the seasoned bushman and the new-chum white boy kept watch, turn and +turn about till dawn. At least, that was the arrangement, but Vaughan +found that the drover fell so soundly asleep, and seemed to be so very +tired, that he did not wake him till the morning star was well above +the trees and had turned from fierce red to clear pale silver in a sky +which was rapidly becoming lighter. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +First Sight of the Musgraves +</H3> + +<P> +Next day Mick Darby rode with cocked rifle in the lead of the plant. +The white boys were not with him. They rode twenty or thirty yards in +the rear of the mounted blacks, ready to give instant alarm of any +danger. But for nearly a week nothing unusual happened. A few smoke +signals were seen, but were so far away that they seemed to indicate +that the wild blacks had taken warning and were retiring to their bush +fastnesses, having been convinced that it was beyond their power to +trick a watchful white man. +</P> + +<P> +Night after night the horses were hobbled on the best feed that could +be found, and were watched from sunset till dawn. The white boys took +their turn at this work, at first together, but, as night followed +night, and there was no sign of the blacks, Mick allowed them to take +their watches alone. This experience did more than any other to +impress them with Central Australia: its silence, its absolute +loneliness, its vastness and the puny insignificance of man, who dared +to pit his power against it. +</P> + +<P> +As hour after hour went by, and Sax or Vaughan rode round the horses or +squatted on the ground with the quietly breathing saddle-horse standing +near, these lads were slowly but surely changed from school-boys to +men. They felt that they were face to face with the power of untamed +nature—the desert and the savage inhabitants of it—and that even they +were units in an army of progress which was conquering that nature and +making it minister to the needs of civilized man. Of course, these +were not their actual thoughts, but that was certainly the general +effect which night-watching had upon them. +</P> + +<P> +Six days went by in this way and it appeared as if all danger was past. +The party had been making towards a low range of hills on the western +horizon, and on the seventh day the plant passed up a little valley and +halted on the top for midday camp. +</P> + +<P> +Through the clean sun-filled air of Central Australia the view was so +clear that all sense of distance was lost, and objects many days away +seemed no farther off than a few hours' ride. The character of the +country was the same as that which they had travelled over since +leaving Oodnadatta: masses of scanty mulga scrub standing out dark on a +landscape of vast bare plains or rolling sand-hills. Far away, a +pale-blue silhouette against the bright north-west sky, was a range of +high mountains. +</P> + +<P> +"Those are the Musgraves," said Mick, in answer to a question. "That's +where those niggers come from who speared my two horses." +</P> + +<P> +"Are the niggers very wild?" asked Sax, thinking of his father. +</P> + +<P> +"They're the last that really are wild in this part of the country," +answered the drover. "The rest have either come in and made camps near +stations, or cleared right out into West Australia." +</P> + +<P> +"Are there many of them?" asked Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody really knows," replied Mick. "The Musgraves is a big slice of +country, as you can see, and it stretches back for a couple of hundred +miles north. They say there's plenty of water and game in those +mountains. Chaps used to go there after gold, but so few of them came +back that they chucked it and left the place alone. The Musgraves have +got a bad name." +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby did not know that everything he said had a very personal +application to one at least of his companions. The words of his +father's note kept ringing in Sax's ears: "In difficulties. Musgrave +Ranges. In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges," and his vivid imagination +filled all sorts of details into the drover's bare statements about the +dangers of the place. He noticed Yarloo looking intently at the +distant peaks, and when he caught the boy's eye, a significant glance +passed between them. They were both thinking of the lonely white man. +</P> + +<P> +But imaginary dangers soon gave place to present interests. The saddle +of the hills where they were camped was the eastern boundary of +Sidcotinga Station, the run on which Mick was going to take up the +duties of head stockman, and the boys were keen to note every landmark +which he pointed out. +</P> + +<P> +"How big is it, Mick?" asked Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Between six and seven thousand square miles." +</P> + +<P> +"Miles! You mean acres, don't you, Mick?" +</P> + +<P> +"Acres be blowed! No, miles. This isn't a cocky farmer's cow-paddock." +</P> + +<P> +The extent of country amazed the boys. They were standing on a pretty +high hill and could see over a vast scope of country, but Mick told +them that a certain landmark near the head station was not even in +sight, and that the run stretched on beyond that again for miles and +miles. +</P> + +<P> +"But how ever do you know when you've gone off the run?" asked Sax. +"Is it fenced?" +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby laughed heartily. "Fenced!" he exclaimed. "Fenced! Oh my +hat! No, lad, there's not a fence between here and glory, except round +a little bit of a paddock where they keep the working horses over +night. Why, d'you know that to fence Sidcotinga Station you'd need +nearly four hundred miles of fencing? There's no timber for the posts +in this part of the country, and as for wire—— No, they don't use +fences in Central Australia." +</P> + +<P> +This was such a new point of view to the boys, that during the +afternoon's ride they asked innumerable questions of their kind-hearted +friend. They heard that cattle are kept on any particular run because +of the impossibility of their wandering more than a certain distance +away from their water-hole. In fact, a run is made up of permanent +waters and the area of country around them. There may be any amount of +good feed on other parts of the run, but unless it is within reach of +water it is absolutely useless. +</P> + +<P> +The only chance that cattle have of straying is after rain, which falls +very, very seldom in Central Australia. When it does fall, the stock +wander off to new feeding-grounds, and may become stranded when the +surface waters dry up. The stockmen are very busy at such times, +tracking up cattle and bringing them back to their accustomed haunts. +</P> + +<P> +All this and much more the boys learnt as they rode along, and although +it seemed so new to them, there was a splendid sense that they were in +it all, and that soon they would know these things from actual +experience. +</P> + +<P> +An experience of Central Australian life which might have ended fatally +was to come to them sooner than they expected. Seeing that they were +now on Sidcotinga Station country, and that they had not been molested +for six days, Mick decided to let the horses go without being watched +that night, taking the precaution of tying up his own saddle-horse in +case of need. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning all the boys had run away except Yarloo. He went out with +a bridle at dawn and returned with the news that every one of the +horses had been speared. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Disaster +</H3> + +<P> +Breakfast was being prepared in camp when Yarloo brought in the +terrible news. Mick Darby was greasing a couple of pack-girths, +Vaughan was mixing a damper, and Sax was attending to the seven +quart-pots near the fire and laying out the tucker on a clean bag. +When Yarloo came in with his bridle in his hand, he did not say +anything for a minute or two, but went over to the fire. He did not +always go after the horses in the morning, for he was very useful at +mending harness and doing odd jobs with the gear; therefore no one was +surprised to see him back before the others. Presently Mick brought +the two girths over to be warmed, so that the grease would sink right +into the leather. He looked across the fire at Yarloo and saw an +expression on the boy's face such as he had never seen there before. +The native looked terribly scared. Mick had no idea what had upset the +boy, and thought the fright was probably due to one of the many +superstitions which are always liable to crop up. But he liked Yarloo, +and asked him kindly: "What name, Yarloo? You see um Kadaitcha +(avenging spirit), eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy shook his head and fingered the bridle nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way Ranui, Ted, Teedee?" asked Mick again, noticing that the +other boys had not come up and that it was getting near sunrise. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone," said Yarloo. +</P> + +<P> +It was not what was said so much as the tone of the boy's voice which +made Mick look with sudden earnestness into Yarloo's face, and ask +quickly: "Gone! What name you yabber gone? (What makes you say +they've gone?)" +</P> + +<P> +"Me think those three fella no come back," explained the boy. "Me +track um up long way. They walk, walk. Oh my word, plenty walk." He +pointed towards the distant mountains, and continued: "Me think they +walk longa Musgraves." +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo pronounced the word "Musgraves" in a tone of fear. It was a +word to strike terror to the heart; a word which at once called to mind +everything which was bad and treacherous and cruel about natives; a +word which told of the last great stronghold of the blacks which white +men had tried and tried again to take from them but without success. +Sax and Vaughan looked at one another when the dreaded word "Musgraves" +caught their ear. Yarloo saw their glance, and repeated, in a hopeless +voice: "Me think they walk longa Musgraves." +</P> + +<P> +"What time they go?" asked Mick, thinking that Yarloo must have made a +mistake. "What time they start walk?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy pointed to the western horizon and then shut his eyes, meaning +that the others had started out directly it was dark after sunset last +night. "Me see um track other black fella," he said. "Ranui, Ted, +Teedee, they join those other black fella. Go 'way Go right 'way. Me +think they no come back." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the meaning of it all flashed into Mick's mind. "And the +horses?" he asked eagerly. "What name the horses?" +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +Mick sprang across the fire and seized the startled boy by the arm and +shook him in his eagerness to hear all that had happened during that +fatal night. "You yabber quickfella! quickfella! (You tell me +quickly!)" he shouted. "What name horses?" +</P> + +<P> +"Them bin speared." +</P> + +<P> +"Speared!" The word came from Mick's lips with a yell of horror. +"Speared!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yah. Alabout. (All of them.)" +</P> + +<P> +Mick sprang towards his own saddle-horse, which had been tied up all +night. He unhitched it and was across its back before the white boys +had had time to realize the meaning of the terrible news. "Show me!" +he shouted, and he and Yarloo disappeared at once on the track of the +horses. +</P> + +<P> +The boy's report was only too true. The Musgrave blacks, who had not +molested them for six nights, had done the most dastardly thing +possible under the circumstances. They had stolen forward that night +and speared every one of the hobbled horses. They evidently did not +want food, for, as Mick and Yarloo went from one dead body to another, +they saw that not a single piece of meat had been cut off. It was hate +and not hunger which had actuated the deed. The poor faithful workers, +some of whom had been the drover's companions for several years, were +cold and stiff, showing that they must have been killed early the night +before. +</P> + +<P> +The tracks of bare native feet made it clear that, after completing +their acts of cold-blooded murder—for it was nothing less—the +warragul blacks had crept towards the drover's camp. They had +approached it on the black boys' side of the fire and had thus missed +seeing Mick's saddle-horse, which was tied to a tree near its master. +The rest of the story was easy to read. The wild blacks had enticed +the camp boys away, and Ranui, Ted, and Teedee had left everything +behind them and had fled with the horse-killers through the night in +the direction of the ill-famed Musgrave Ranges. +</P> + +<P> +Mick's boys had actually taken no part in the killing; that was one +thing in their favour. Another satisfaction, which stood out like a +dull gleam of light in the grim dark tragedy, was that now there were +three fewer men to share their limited supply of water. But the +greatest good of all, in fact the only real ray of hope, was the fact +that one horse was still left, Mick's stanch gelding, Ajax. If the +drover had not fastened him up the evening before, and he had shared +the fate of his companions, the outlook for the four men would have +been black indeed. It was far blacker than they at first thought it to +be, for one important thing was not found out till later, and when it +was it took the bravest of brave hearts to stand up against such dire +disaster. The marauders had taken all the water-canteens except one +which had evidently escaped their notice by being near Mick's head. It +contained a little over three gallons! +</P> + +<P> +Eighty miles from water, in the heart of the sandy scrub-covered desert +in blazing summer weather, with only a canteen half-full of water to +serve four men! +</P> + +<P> +It is under such circumstances as these that manhood is put to the +test. All four men rose to the occasion. Sax and Vaughan, though +still lads as regards their age, were in reality men. Nothing but the +unconquerable spirit of man can survive in the battle against grim +nature in the Central Australian desert, and these two, who had but a +short time before been sitting in the classroom of a city school, had +faced difficulties and had won through, by sheer pluck and resolution, +and had therefore earned the right to be called men. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo showed his faithfulness on this occasion when it would have been +so much easier for him to run away. Because he always slept some +distance away from the other boys, he had not known of their silent +departure in the night, but once he saw the terrible difficulties in +which the little party had been placed, it would have been the most +natural thing in the world for him to clear out and leave the three +whites to their fate. He could even have stolen the horse in order to +make his escape absolutely sure. He was a native, and could live and +travel through the desert scrub day after day when a white man would +certainly perish. He had been born and brought up to such a life, and +when he threw in his lot with the three stranded white men, he was, in +reality, jeopardizing his own chances of coming through the adventure +alive. He chose to be faithful to his companions rather than make sure +of his own safety. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo was a good boy and had therefore always been treated well by +white men. He had not had many masters, and one of them stood out +above all others in his primitive mind. He had been Boss Stobart's boy +for years, and though he might work for other white men now and +again—as in this case he was working for Mick—he remained at heart +faithful to one man, first and last, and that man was Boss Stobart. +Therefore it was probably not only Yarloo's naturally fine spirit which +prompted him to stick to his companions when they were in trouble, but +also the fact that one of them was the son of his real Boss. He felt +that Sax was definitely in his own personal charge, and, though his +simple mind did not know how it could possibly be brought about, he +felt that some day he would be the means of reuniting father and son. +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby also proved himself equal to the occasion. In fact the +sheer manhood of him rose supreme above every difficulty and triumphed +over one disaster after another. There are some men whose stories are +far greater than their actual achievements, and at times, when the +drover had been telling yarns to the boys after sunset, they had +wondered whether these things could possibly be true. It was not that +they doubted their friend's veracity, but the country, the men, and +therefore the happenings were so strange to the lads that they seemed +to have an existence only in books and not to be possible in real life. +But now Mick showed the stuff he was made of. When he had found out +all there was to learn, about what the blacks had done, and exactly +what position the party was left in, he stopped thinking about that +part of the question and set his mind to solve the problem of the +immediate future. +</P> + +<P> +The first necessity was breakfast, and they ate heartily and drank +sparingly, but enough to quench their thirst. Then Mick beckoned to +Yarloo to sit down near him, handed his plug to the boy, and when he +had broken off a pipeful, he jammed his own black brier to the brim and +started to smoke. When he started to speak, he did so equally to all +three men, black and white alike. Yarloo had definitely and of his own +free will chosen to share whatever fate was in store for them, and had +earned the right to be included in everything which they did. The boy +did not presume on this unusual act of the white man; it is only a +weak-spirited man who presumes. +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon we're eighty miles from Sidcotinga Station. You think it, +Yarloo?" asked Mick, turning to the boy. +</P> + +<P> +The native faced in the direction of the station and considered, +counting on his fingers. "Yah," he said at length. "Yah. Me think it +two day ride, boss." +</P> + +<P> +"Two days with a fresh horse, you mean," commented Mick. "Ajax hasn't +had a drink for a whole day, remember.... That last water-hole's dry, +and the one back of that's nearly a hundred miles from here.... So it +must be Sidcotinga.... Let's see. We've got two and a half gallons of +water, haven't we?" +</P> + +<P> +The boys confirmed this estimate, and he went on: +</P> + +<P> +"We needn't worry about tucker. We've got mobs of flour and sugar.... +The question is: who's to ride ahead for water and horses. You lads +don't know the way, so it's either Yarloo or me.... Yarloo's lighter +on a horse than I am.... But he couldn't do as much as I could when he +got there, supposing they were all out on the run.... Still, I could +write a note to the cook, couldn't I?" He paused, considering, drawing +in great breaths of smoke and puffing it out again on the still hot air +till his head was surrounded by a cloud. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo was drawing blackfellow diagrams in the sand with a little +stick, and looked as though he had made up his mind. So he had, but he +waited for the white man to ask him for his opinion before giving it. +</P> + +<P> +"What you think, Yarloo?" asked Mick, after a time. "You think it me +or you ride Ajax longa Sidcotinga, bring um back water, horses, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo did not hesitate for a moment. "You ride, boss," he said +decidedly. "You ride. Me stay here." +</P> + +<P> +The tone surprised Mick, and he looked up quickly. "What name? +(Why?)" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"White man drink more water nor black fella," he explained. "S'pose me +stay, me drink little, little drop. Me think you drink big mob." He +hesitated and dug the little stick into the ground with an embarrassed +air. The boy had evidently got another reason, and his listeners +wanted to hear it. He looked at Mick as if he didn't know whether he +ought to say it or not, and then he blurted out: "You good white man +all right, boss. You know um bush more better not big mob white men. +(You know the bush better than most white men.) Yarloo know um bush +much more better nor you, boss. Me bin grow up little piccaninny longa +bush.... S'pose—s'pose you no come back.... S'pose you fall off +horse.... S'pose you die, p'raps me find um water." He paused again, +but it was clear that he had not finished. +</P> + +<P> +"Good, Yarloo," said Mick encouragingly. "Go ahead." +</P> + +<P> +"One time me work longa Boss Stobart," said the boy slowly and +hesitatingly. "Him altogether good boss. Him plenty good quite. That +one white boy," he pointed to Sax, "that one white boy, him belonga my +old boss. Him belonga Boss Stobart.... Me stay, Misser Darby? You +let Yarloo stay, eh?" The request was made in a voice of entreaty, as +if the faithful native was asking a very great favour. +</P> + +<P> +Mick at once complied with hearty good will. "Of course you stay, +Yarloo. You stay all right. You look after white boy real good." +Yarloo's face lit up with satisfaction and his expression assured the +drover that the white boys would be perfectly safe in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after coming to this decision, Mick Darby set out on Ajax for +Sidcotinga Station. He knew that he would strike no water before +reaching the homestead well, and that it was not at all certain whether +the already thirsty horse could travel those eighty desert miles +without a drink. He did not tell the boys of his fear, but started +away with a cheery good-bye, carrying only a quart-pot of water for +himself as well as a little damper and dried meat. +</P> + +<P> +Fortune favoured the brave man. On the very first night, after he had +travelled his tired horse on past sunset as long as he dared, he found +a big patch of parakelia. This extraordinary plant sends up thick +moisture-filled leaves in the middle of the most arid desert. The +juice, which can be easily squeezed from parakelia leaves, tastes +bitter and is not at all pleasant, but it has saved the life of many a +bold adventurer in Central Australia. Stock can live on it for weeks +at a time without a drink of water, and once Ajax got a mouthful of +these cool succulent leaves, he did not move more than a few yards all +night, but satisfied his thirst and hunger and then lay down. +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby watched all night. He was taking no more chances. No doubt +he fell asleep from time to time, but at the slightest movement +anywhere near, he was instantly and fully awake. Next day he rode a +thoroughly rested horse and reached Sidcotinga Station the same night, +after having covered sixty-three miles. Such a distance would not be +at all unusual in good country, but in the desert, with the sun blazing +down out of a cloudless sky on mile after mile of soft sand, it was a +ride which none but the best of horses and the hardiest of men could +have accomplished. +</P> + +<P> +The drover had advised the boys to stay just where they were till he +returned, and not exhaust themselves by walking. Yarloo therefore +built them a rough sun-shelter of mulga boughs and they rested under +this all day, doing nothing which would create thirst. In spite of +every care, however, their mouths were clammy and their throats calling +out for water long before sunset. Once a real thirst is created, it +takes more water to quench it than it does to keep the thirst away, so +they each had a drink at tea-time and felt all the better for it. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after tea, Yarloo, who had gone away, came in with a bundle of +sticks. "Whatever's that for?" asked Sax. Neither of the boys had got +into the way of addressing the natives in broken English. "You're +surely not going to make a fire, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo had to think for a minute or two before he understood what the +white boy had said, and then he nodded his head. "Yah," he replied. +"Me make um fire. S'pose um bad black-fella come up." +</P> + +<P> +"But how about us?" objected Vaughan. "We'll be roasted alive." +</P> + +<P> +The native did not catch the meaning of this remark, but he answered +the question which Vaughan had in his mind. "By'm bye when it cool," +Yarloo pointed to the sky, "we walk little bit." +</P> + +<P> +"But Mick told us to stay here," said Vaughan again. +</P> + +<P> +"Me think bad black-fella come up to-night," explained Yarloo, with +great patience. "S'pose him see um fire, him think: 'White man sleep'. +Then him creep up, spear-um, spear-um. S'pose we light fire then walk, +bad black-fella throw um spear, no good, no good at all. White man go +'way." Yarloo grinned both at the thought of the safety of the party +and of the discomfiture of the blacks. +</P> + +<P> +The lads saw the force of Yarloo's argument. A big fire was lit, as if +in preparation for spending the night, and then the three men took the +precious water, a little tucker, and as few personal belongings as +possible, and set out in the direction of Sidcotinga Station, lead by +the unerring instinct of their black companion. It was well that they +did so. During the hours of moonlight, a small band of Musgrave +niggers crept round the camp and remained in hiding. But directly the +moon set, they advanced towards the dying fire, with spears poised and +boomerangs ready for instant and deadly use. What would have happened +if any hated white man had been asleep in that camp can be better +imagined than described. No one would have been left alive. But, +finding their prey had escaped, the would-be murderers vented their +rage upon the saddles and pack-bags, tore them to shreds and threw them +into the flames, and scattered into the fire as much of the provisions +as was left after they had gorged themselves. They did not attempt to +follow the three white men in the dark, and next day the little +marauding band went after their fellows and joined them on the way to +the Musgrave Ranges. All except one, and we will hear more of him +later. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Sandstorm +</H3> + +<P> +By Yarloo's faithfulness and forethought the little party had escaped +death at the hands of wild savages, but a more deadly peril was waiting +for them. It is one thing to fight with a human enemy, but quite +another to fight with one which is not human. The lads were soon to +see that the most terrible disasters of the desert are caused, not by +wild and fiendishly cruel natives who follow silently day after day and +then wreak their hatred on the traveller in the most unexpected way, +but by grim Nature herself. Nature was their greatest, their most +merciless, their most unconquerable enemy. They were soon to have an +illustration of her power. +</P> + +<P> +On the night when their camp was raided, the three men walked till the +moon set and then lay down to sleep. They did not light a fire for +fear of showing the blacks where they were, but just scooped hollows in +the warm sand and stretched themselves out with a camp-sheet as their +only bed-clothes, for they had left everything else behind them. The +white boys were soon asleep, but Yarloo kept himself awake all night to +watch. It was one of the hardest things the boy had ever done, for he +was very tired and the heavy warm night made him drowsy. His simple +mind fixed itself on one thing with all the determination of his +nature; he had one purpose and one purpose only in life just then, and +that was to preserve Boss Stobart's son from death, and he kept himself +awake by sheer will-power. But when the morning star rose above the +eastern horizon, red and throbbing, the tired-out black-fellow knew +that his weary watch was over. He flopped down on the sand and was +instantly asleep. +</P> + +<P> +The close night was followed by a sultry dawn. Instead of the +sparklingly clear pale sky in the east which usually heralds the rising +of the sun, a dull haze made everything appear heavy and listless. The +air was warm and still, but not light and dry as it generally is in the +desert, and it was so heavy that every breath was an effort, and the +slightest movement caused perspiration to break out all over the body. +</P> + +<P> +The boys woke up with a most uncomfortable feeling of oppression. They +were hot and thirsty, yet they dared not touch the canteen of water. +Although the sun had not risen, the heat seemed to be greater than they +had ever known it before in the open air, and they lay and fanned their +faces and fought the flies which were swarming around them. +</P> + +<P> +When the sun rose, it showed a few little white clouds like puffs of +steam, low down in the northern sky, and hiding the distant Musgrave +Ranges from view. The sight of clouds is so unusual in Central +Australia that the boys remarked about it to one another, and were +amazed to see the difference which occurred in less than half an hour. +The clouds had indeed risen and increased greatly during that short +time. Instead of a few separate clouds, a big solid bank was now +spreading all over the horizon, and huge pillars of white were +stretching out from the main mass, far up into the sky. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo slept late, but when he woke up, he too stood and watched the +rising clouds. He evidently did not like the look of things, for he +shook his head, and, in reply to a question from Sax, replied: +</P> + +<P> +"Me no like it. Me think it storm come up." +</P> + +<P> +To the hot and thirsty white boys the word "storm" had only one +meaning, and they uttered it together: "Rain!" +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo smiled. "Neh," he replied. "Rain no come up. Me think it +wind. P'raps sand. Me no like it." He set about building a little +fire for breakfast, and though his companions were not in the least bit +hungry, they followed his example and ate some damper and dried meat. +Each man was allowed half a quart-pot of tea. Sax and Vaughan drank +theirs with the meal, but Yarloo took a few sips and then put his +quart-pot away in a safe place. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing to do all morning. Yarloo again made a little +sun-shelter, but this became unnecessary after about ten o'clock, +because by that time the rising clouds had covered the face of the sun. +With every succeeding hour the oppressive heat seemed to get more and +more unbearable. There was not a breath of wind. It was as if a lot +of thick blankets were slowly smothering every living creature on the +earth. The clouds were no longer white, except at the front edges and +in places where a few great puffs bulged out. The rest was grey, +getting darker and darker till it was near the horizon, and then it +turned to brown. This brown looked like a huge curtain hung from the +sky and trailing over the earth. Now and again it was lit up by +flashes of lurid red, for all the world as if a furnace were roaring +behind that curtain. +</P> + +<P> +The air was absolutely still, deathlike still, and a sound which was +exactly like the roaring of a furnace came out of the north, with an +occasional louder boom when the pent-up fury of the storm burst through +the brown cloud. In reality, the sound was made by millions of +particles of sand being hurtled through the air by an electric storm. +</P> + +<P> +The sound came nearer. The clouds were completely overhead now, from +north to south, from east to west. There was not a patch of blue to be +seen. The panting earth waited in abject fear. A puff of wind came, +hot and stifling, as if an oven door had suddenly been opened. It +passed over the mulgas, making them sigh and moan, and then was gone +again, leaving the same breathless stillness. Another puff, this time +cool and fresh. It also passed away and left the men with dread in +their hearts—the dread of an unknown, unseen foe. +</P> + +<P> +The storm was very near. Sax was watching it so intently that he +jumped round suddenly when Yarloo touched him on the arm. The +black-fellow was pointing to the canteen. "Drink, little drop," he +said, and pointed to the approaching curtain of brown sand. He +evidently meant that the boys would be better able to stand against the +storm if they had a drink beforehand, so Sax motioned to Vaughan and +poured a little water out into the two pannikins. Neither of them +spoke. They were overawed by the might, the majesty, the mystery of +Nature. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan drank his water and lay down under the shelter. Sax did not +screw the top on the canteen for a moment, intending to pour a few +drops back again when he had finished. He held his hand over the hole +in the canteen and started to drink from his pannikin. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the storm burst on them. Sax heard a terrific rushing sound +and looked round quickly. He was at once blinded as completely as if +an actual thick brown curtain had been blown around his head. At the +same time, some tremendous force caught him, nearly lifted him off the +ground, and threw him down sprawling on the sand several yards away. +The pannikin was wrenched from his hand, and the canteen—what of the +canteen? +</P> + +<P> +Sax lay stunned for a moment, and then his first and only thought was +the canteen. He tried to crawl, but every effort on his part only gave +the enormous pressure of wind opportunity to drive him back, for as +soon as he lifted his head, it was caught and twisted as if some soft +strangling folds of cloth were being pulled around it from behind. +</P> + +<P> +The light of the sun was blotted out completely, and it was as dark as +a starless midnight. A screaming sound filled the boy's ears: the +yelling of the storm, the laughter of the furies, the shrill shouts of +fiends. He had to shield his mouth in order to breathe, and even then +a fine dust choked his throat, and he would have coughed and vomited up +his very life if he had not turned his back to the storm. Enormous +quantities of sand were crowding the gale. +</P> + +<P> +Have you ever stood under a waterfall and let a solid column of water +fall on you from a height? You can stand there only for a moment, +because the power of even a liquid is greater than the strength of man. +But here, in the desert, three exhausted men were fighting for their +lives with sand; sand, as solid as it could possibly be without being +actually fixed; sand, as hard as it could possibly be, and yet be +driven by the wind. The electric gale of wind had scooped the surface +off a thousand miles of desert, and was flinging it at three puny human +beings. +</P> + +<P> +It was impossible to face the onslaught. Sax turned against the storm +and tried to crawl backwards. At all costs he must find the canteen. +He had no thought but this: the canteen! the canteen! Three lives +depended on those drops of precious liquid. Were they safe? He +crawled backwards inch by inch. But he had lost all sense of +direction. The stinging, stifling sand, the shrill-screaming wind, the +pitch-black whirling darkness; how could a man possibly tell where he +was going? +</P> + +<P> +Stobart's senses were all numb with the buffeting of the storm, but he +suddenly felt that one of his legs was being held. He tried to kick +free but was pulled backwards, and then something flapped and covered +him. There was instant peace. He had found a shelter. Outside this +unknown something which covered him the gale raged past in impotent +fury. He was safe. An arm gripped his body and held him close. +</P> + +<P> +The sudden reaction from fighting for his life to this secure peace was +too much for the overwrought boy. He did not bother to find out who or +what had saved him; he sank down, down, down into unconsciousness, and +as the peaceful darkness closed over his mind, he muttered the words: +"Canteen, canteen, canteen." +</P> + +<P> +No one heard. No one could possibly hear in such a storm, not even the +man who was holding him so closely. It was Yarloo. The boy had found +his master's son, and had covered his head with a coat, and was now +holding the unconscious form in his arms, while Sax drew long, +unhindered breaths. +</P> + +<P> +The storm passed. It had come upon them suddenly, and it went away in +the same manner. There was very little lessening of its fury to tell +of the approaching end, but the air grew lighter all at once, the +sounds got fainter quickly, and there was now no longer any stinging +sand. The brown curtain passed on, trailing its fringe over the +desert, and the back of it could be seen as distinctly as the front had +been a short half-hour before. +</P> + +<P> +A short half-hour before? Yes. The sandstorm had lasted barely thirty +minutes. It was so local, that Mick, riding along towards Sidcotinga +Station only forty miles away, knew nothing about it. Such tremendous +fury as these electric storms display is possible only when they +concentrate their power on a very small area. This one had probably +swept across a thousand miles of desert, and might go on for a thousand +more before it spent itself. It had come across the great tableland +behind the Musgrave Ranges, had been brought to a narrow point down one +of the gorges in the mountains, and had hurled itself at the three +defenceless men. It was a messenger of death from the Musgrave Ranges, +the mysterious, dreaded, fascinating Musgrave Ranges. +</P> + +<P> +The air behind the storm was cool and bright and clean. Not a spot of +rain had fallen, but there was the same new-washed freshness about +everything which comes after a sudden summer shower. The blue of the +sky seemed clearer and more flawless than it had ever seemed before, in +contrast with the depressing sultriness of the morning, and even the +sun, shining down without the thinnest veil to lessen its fiery +strength, seemed to look with a less unfriendly eye than usual. +</P> + +<P> +And what did it see? Vaughan had been under the sun-shelter when the +storm broke. The first gust had blown the flimsy structure down flat, +and the weight of sand, which poured immediately on to it, prevented it +from being blown away. The frightened white boy had been pinned under +the fallen boughs and had been unable to get free while the storm +lasted. It had been a fortunate accident for him, for he was compelled +to lie still, in perfect safety, while the gale surged over him, +instead of trying, as his friend Sax had done, to match his puny +strength against it. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Sax had been absolutely winded. In his anxiety to find the +canteen, he had exhausted his strength in fighting the storm, and had +no power left to breathe in such a stifling atmosphere. He might +easily have been choked if Yarloo had not found him. +</P> + +<P> +The native was desert born and bred, and knew how to act in every +contingency that could possibly occur in the bush. He had seen Sax +blown down with the first effort of the storm, and though he himself +could neither see nor hear, because of the sand and wind, he had +gradually forced his way towards his master's son, with a sure instinct +which did not stop to wonder what he was doing or why he was doing it. +He had found him at last, and had held his unconscious body tight, +shielding it with his coat and with his own body till the gale should +pass over. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes afterwards, while Vaughan was fighting his way out of the +broken-down sun-shelter, and Yarloo was bending over the still body of +the other white boy, Sax opened his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"The canteen," he mumbled. "The canteen." +</P> + +<P> +His friends thought that he wanted a drink, and Vaughan looked round +for the canteen. It was nowhere to be seen. Sax was not really hurt, +and his anxiety restored him to full consciousness in a minute or two. +He sat up and watched Vaughan hunting round for their most precious +possession, the canteen. At last he staggered to his feet, tottered +about for a step or two because his head was so dizzy, and then began +to help in the search. He did not dare to tell the others what he +feared, but when he finally stumbled against it, half buried in the +sand about twenty yards away from camp, he found that the worst had +happened. +</P> + +<P> +The canteen was empty. +</P> + +<P> +Sax had not screwed down the metal cap when the water-carrier had been +caught by the wind and hurled along the ground. For several minutes +its own smoothness had kept it moving, and had prevented it from +lodging against anything and being buried, but each roll and jolt had +spilt some of the water, till finally every drop had been wasted on the +parched sand. Then, when all the harm which was possible had been +done, the useless thing had jammed up against a dead mulga root and had +been slowly covered with sand. +</P> + +<P> +When the truth fully dawned upon them, the two boys sat down on the +ground and stared hopelessly in front of them. Although they had been +in the North only for a brief period, they knew that they were face to +face with one of the most terrible things which could have happened to +them in the desert. A man can go without food for several days, but +water is an absolute daily necessity. The sandstorm had left the white +boys weak, and as they had already stinted themselves of water for the +last day and a half, they were in no condition to meet this new +calamity. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually the sun exerted its old sway over the earth, and the boys +were obliged to seek some shade. They helped Yarloo rebuild the old +shelter, and sat down under it, with their only possessions—one +pannikin, one badly torn camp-sheet, and an empty canteen. Everything +else had been blown away or absolutely spoilt. +</P> + +<P> +Towards the middle of the afternoon, when, nearly sixty miles to the +west of them, Mick was drawing near Sidcotinga Station, Yarloo went out +from the shelter for a few minutes. He had been very thoughtful for +the last hour, and had evidently just made up his mind on some +important matter. When he returned he was carrying his quart-pot, +which was a little more than a quarter full of tea. The boy had jammed +the pannikin lid on tight that morning and had hidden it in the sand, +and the storm had not done it any harm. He showed the tea to his +companions, but did not give the pot into their eager hands till he had +explained what he intended to do. +</P> + +<P> +"Me go 'way," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The white boys did not pay any attention to this remark. Here was +something to drink, and they were parched with thirst. +</P> + +<P> +"Me go 'way," repeated Yarloo. "Me come back by'm bye.... P'raps me +find um water ... p'raps me find um parakelia." +</P> + +<P> +His companions did not reply. What did it matter? Why this "perhaps, +perhaps" when here was the certainty of at least a mouthful of tea for +each? But Yarloo waited for a moment or two, and then went on +patiently: +</P> + +<P> +"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time.... White boy stay here ... no +go 'way. No go 'way, mind.... Sax," he said timidly, using the name +for the first time, "Sax, you no go 'way, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. No. Of course we won't go away, Yarloo," was the impatient +answer. "But how long are you going to keep hold of that quart-pot?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time," said Yarloo slowly. "S'pose +me give it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise? ... +to-morrow sunrise, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +His meaning was perfectly clear. He was going to leave them the tea on +condition that they didn't touch it till sunrise next day. The boys +became angry at what they considered a foolish idea. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the good of that to us?" asked Vaughan hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," agreed Sax. "Whatever's the good of such a fool idea? ... +Besides, you've got no right to tell us when we're to have a drink and +when we're not to have a drink. I'm thirsty. I'm going to have my +share now.... Here, Yarloo, give me that quart-pot." +</P> + +<P> +He held out his hand, but Yarloo stepped back. "Quart-pot belonga me," +he said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +The boy's statement was undoubtedly true. The tea was his, saved from +his fair breakfast allowance, and, if he was good enough to part with +it for the sake of the white boys, surely he had a right to dictate his +own terms. Sax and Vaughan at once saw their mistake and began to feel +a little foolish because of the attitude they had tried to take up. +Yarloo was evidently in grim earnest, for he repeated his former +question: +</P> + +<P> +"S'pose me gib it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise, +eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Yarloo," agreed Sax. "We'll not drink it till sunrise +to-morrow.... But, look here," he exclaimed suddenly, realizing for +the first time the tremendous sacrifice the black-fellow was making. +"Look here! We mustn't take your tea. It's yours, Yarloo. Yours," he +repeated, in order to make his meaning clear. +</P> + +<P> +But Yarloo had already begun to scrape a hole in the sand. When it was +deep enough, he put the precious quart-pot into it so that it could not +be spilt. "You belonga Boss Stobart," he said slowly. "Boss Stobart +good fella longa me." +</P> + +<P> +He stood up when he had finished and looked at the two boys. +"Goo-bye," he said, and was turning to go, when something prompted Sax +to hold out his hand. Yarloo took it instantly and then shook +Vaughan's hand also,[<A NAME="ch10fn1text"></A><A HREF="#ch10fn1">1</A>] and, in another minute, he was almost out of +sight amongst the ragged scrub. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="ch10fn1"></A> +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[<A HREF="#ch10fn1text">1</A>] Blacks do not shake hands when they are in their wild state, but +they quickly pick up the habit from the white man. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Thirst +</H3> + +<P> +Sax and Vaughan were very thirsty. For several days they had been +compelled to drink sparingly, and for the last two they had taken only +enough liquid to keep them just alive. They were now entirely without +drink of any kind save for that little drop of tea in a dirty and +battered quart-pot, half buried in the sand. Is it any wonder that +their longing eyes and thoughts were almost constantly fixed on the +pot, which they had promised not to touch till sunrise next day. +</P> + +<P> +While Yarloo had been with them, the white boys had kept up a good +appearance of courage, and had pretended that they were not so thirsty +as they really were, for no man likes to give in before a member of an +inferior race; but when Yarloo went away it became harder and harder +for them to keep up their pluck. For thirst is the most terrible of +all forms of torture. The pain comes on slowly but surely, and +increases till it seems impossible that the human body can stand any +more. Yet the body is such a marvellous thing that it does stand even +the terrible pain of thirst, till it gets beyond endurance and the man +goes mad. The thirst which kills men in the desert is not the same as +being thirsty. Down-country, it is quite pleasant to be thirsty, for +it makes a drink taste so nice; but desert thirst—or "perishing", as +it is called—is caused by the drying up of the moisture of the body +till the organs inside actually cease to work, and the blood clogs in +the arteries because it is not liquid enough. +</P> + +<P> +It was such terrible thirst that Sax and Vaughan were experiencing. In +appearance, Sax was of slighter build than his thick-set friend, Boof, +but the drover's son had inherited from his father a natural toughness +and an ability to endure privation and hardship which Vaughan, although +he was quite as plucky, did not possess. It happened, therefore, that +though Sax was just able to keep control of himself throughout the +terrible night which followed Yarloo's departure, Vaughan lost +consciousness and became delirious about half an hour before sunset. +</P> + +<P> +The first signs which he gave that he was not in his right senses were +when he began to undress. Sax was feeling so desperately ill himself +that he did not pay much attention to what his friend was doing till he +saw him throw his shirt outside, and then start to pull off his +trousers. The poor lad's tongue was swollen in his mouth and was +starting to stick out from between his teeth. He got his trousers off, +and began fumbling at his boots, but was so weak that he couldn't untie +the knots. His eyes had a peculiar look in them, something like those +of a man who walks in his sleep, and when his friend spoke to him he +took absolutely no notice at all. +</P> + +<P> +Both lads had been lying stretched out on the sand all the afternoon, +too exhausted to do anything, but, seeing his companion behaving in +such a strange way, Sax tried to sit up. But he could not do it at +first. As soon as he lifted himself, sharp pains stabbed him in the +back and stomach, and his head throbbed so violently that he nearly +fainted. He tried again and again, very gradually, till he was able to +sit up at last. Vaughan had managed to drag one boot off by this time, +and was feverishly busy with the other; the rest of his body was naked. +Sax called out again, but the effort at sitting up had so much +exhausted the little strength which remained, that his voice was so +weak he hardly heard it himself. Stobart didn't understand the serious +state his friend was in, but he knew that something must be done at +once, and as there was nobody to do it but himself, he prepared for a +supreme effort. +</P> + +<P> +After several unsuccessful attempts, he managed to stand up, and when +the dizziness in his head had died down a little, he tottered over +towards Vaughan. He touched him on the arm. Vaughan took no notice, +but wrenched at the second boot, pulling it off at last, and scrambling +to his feet like a drunken man. He seemed to have far more strength +than Sax had, but when he started to stagger out from under the +bough-shelter, his friend suddenly remembered a yarn which Mick had +told them one night, about a perishing man who pulled off all his +clothes and walked away into the scrub to die a most terrible death. +Sax was afraid that his companion was going to do the same thing, and +that he wouldn't have the strength to prevent him. +</P> + +<P> +Sax had to put his feet down very carefully or he would have fallen +through sheer weakness, but he caught hold of Vaughan and clung to him. +This forced the delirious lad to look at his companion, but there was +no spark of intelligence in his eyes; he did not recognize who it was; +he only felt something holding him back from what he had determined to +do. With extraordinary strength, considering his condition, he shook +himself free, and started to walk away. Sax fell, but as he did so he +stretched out his hands. They touched the other's bare legs. Sax +clutched the legs and hung on with all his power, and Vaughan tripped +and came down with a crash. +</P> + +<P> +The sun sank below the horizon and left two perishing white boys +panting in the sand in the fading light. +</P> + +<P> +Sax remembered nothing more for several hours. When he came to himself +again he was alone. His fall had rendered him unconscious for a +moment, and this state had been immediately followed by a deep sleep. +The night was cool, and though his thirst was still raging, it did not +seem so bad as it had done under the blazing sun; his sleep also had +refreshed him. On Central Australian nights it is never too dark to +see the objects around, for the light of the stars comes through the +clear dry air of the desert more brilliantly than it does in any other +part of the world. Consequently it needed only a hurried glance to +tell Sax that Vaughan was not in the camp. His clothes were still +lying where he had thrown them, and the boy soon found the tracks of +bare feet leading away from the camp into the scrub. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan had gone away to die. +</P> + +<P> +Sax listened. The absolute stillness of death was around him on all +sides. Not a leaf moved on any of the scraggy mulgas standing near. +Even the star in the deep, deep blue of the night sky seemed to stare +down at him with unblinking eyes. What did they care for one white boy +dying in delirium in the desert, and another white boy who had to keep +tight hold of his mind to save it from slipping out of his control, and +who would also die of thirst, if not to-day, then surely to-morrow? +There is nothing so unpitying, so absolutely unconcerned, as the desert +is to a perishing man. +</P> + +<P> +Sax was a boy of unusual courage. He was the son of a pioneer, a +member of that race of men who have opened up the centre of the +Australian continent, and have laid the foundations of the future +Australian nation. Though he had been reared in the comfort of cities, +the cattle-plains, the scrub, and the desert were his true home, and he +now showed the stuff he was made of by determining to follow after his +friend. He did not stop to wonder what he would do when he found him; +he only knew that he could not bear to leave him out there to die +without making an effort to save him. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he remembered the quart-pot and its precious contents. He had +made up his mind to find Vaughan before he remembered the tea, and now +this sudden glad thought seemed to confirm his decision, and filled him +with hope. He would have something to give to the perishing lad when +he found him. Sax could hardly walk. The whole middle part of his +body felt as if it was dried up, and when he moved, such terrible pains +shot through him that he could hardly keep from crying out; but he set +his teeth and went over to the quart-pot and dug it out. +</P> + +<P> +Only those who have actually been in the same circumstances as Sax was +that night can have any idea of the temptation it was for him to drink +some of that tea. The very sound of it swishing about inside the +smoke-blackened pot nearly drove him mad with thirst. He dared not +open the lid and look in, for, after all, he was so frantically thirsty +that the sight of the liquid might make him forget everything but his +own desire for it. Never again in his life was he to be called upon to +exercise such supreme self-control as he was that night. +</P> + +<P> +Clutching the precious quart-pot to his breast, he staggered off into +the night, very slowly because of his weakness, and very slowly also +because it was hard for him to read the tracks in the dim light. +</P> + +<P> +Less than half an hour after Sax left the camp to search for his dying +friend, a black form stole silently through the scrub and paused within +sight of the bough-shelter. If anybody had been lying there awake, he +would not have known how near a fellow human being was to him, for the +native was absolutely motionless, even to the eyelids. The only part +of hint which moved was the chest, which was so thickly covered with +black hair that its slow rising and falling could not possibly have +attracted attention at night. Even if any man who might have been in +the shelter had turned and looked straight at the black-fellow, he +would not have distinguished him from the trees, for, with that +wonderful power of imitation known only to the scrub natives of +Australia, the man was standing in such a way that he looked very much +like an old dead mulga stump. +</P> + +<P> +But nobody was in the bough-shelter, and when the man had made quite +sure of this, he stepped out from his hiding. He was quite naked, and +carried a couple of long spears with stone heads, a woomera +(spear-thrower), a spiked boomerang, and a wooden shield. His long +hair was plastered up into a bunch at the back, and was kept in place +by rings of rope made of his mother's hair. He stood for a moment and +looked intently at the shelter, then he stooped and examined the marks +in the sand, following them this way and that till he knew as much +about the tragedy as if he had actually watched it happen. He was +particularly interested in Yarloo's tracks, and finally stuck a spear +into the middle of one of them and laid his other weapons beside it. +</P> + +<P> +Having rid himself of all encumbrances, he set out on the tracks of the +two white boys. But what a difference between his methods and theirs! +Instead of the hesitating scrutiny of each footprint which Sax had been +obliged to make, the native walked quickly with his eyes several yards +ahead and did not pause once, though the star-light was dim and +treacherous. +</P> + +<P> +He did not have far to go. The burst of strength which delirium had +given to Vaughan had not lasted for more than three-quarters of a mile, +and he had then fallen at the foot of a dead mulga. Sax had come up on +him there, a pitiful object whom the desert was claiming as its own, +his naked body showing up plainly in the dark. He had forced the tea, +all of it, upon the unconscious lad, with no perceptible result, for +most of it had been spilt because Vaughan's tongue was too swollen to +allow any but a few drops to go down his throat. +</P> + +<P> +It was absolutely certain that, before another sunset, two corpses +would have been lying in the desert scrub if the wild black had not +found the boys when he did. Sax was still conscious, but was too far +gone to take any interest even in such an unusual sight as the sudden +appearance of a strange naked black-fellow. Death was claiming him, +anyhow; it did not matter much to him whether it came by a spear-thrust +or by the more lingering method of thirst. +</P> + +<P> +The savage stooped down and looked intently into the face of first one +boy and then the other. He happened to look at Vaughan first and +grunted his disapproval, but a close scrutiny of Sax's features seemed +to yield him great satisfaction, for he drew himself up straight, and, +with a broad grin of delight, pronounced a word which caught the boy's +dulling ear: +</P> + +<P> +"Bor—s Stoo—bar," he said, in long-drawn tones. "Bor—s Stoo—bar." +</P> + +<P> +A familiar sound will penetrate to an intelligence which has become too +dull to perceive through sight or touch, and Sax heard this word and +looked up, thinking that his imagination must be playing him a trick. +The man was encouraged to try again, this time adding to the name of +the drover the single word "Musgrave ". It was a word he had evidently +used before, for it was pronounced quite clearly. +</P> + +<P> +"Bor—s Stoo—bar.... Mus—grave." +</P> + +<P> +The strange coupling of his father's name with that of the mysterious +range of mountains roused sufficient interest in Sax to make him wish +to reply. He tried to speak, but couldn't. His tongue was too swollen +and his throat too dry. The native watched him, and the boy felt that +the man was friendly, for he continued to stretch out his black arm +towards the distant ranges. Finding that he could not make any sound, +Sax waited till the man again said the words, "Bor—s Stoo—bar," and +then he pointed to himself several times and nodded, and then waved his +hand to the Musgraves. The native grinned his understanding and again +looked very closely into the white boy's face. Sax did not know if he +was like his father or not, but felt that a great deal depended on +whether the black stranger decided that he was indeed the son of the +famous Boss Stobart. +</P> + +<P> +The man was quite satisfied at last. He first of all held his left +hand close to Sax's face; it had been terribly mutilated, and the two +middle fingers were missing. The native evidently wished to impress +that crippled hand on the boy's memory, for he put it on his hairy +chest and then in front of Sax's face again and again. He did not say +anything, for his knowledge of English was apparently limited to the +name of the drover and the name of the mountain range. In spite of his +exhausted condition, Sax could not help remembering that black left +hand, and he had reason to recall it in future days under the most +exciting circumstances. Then the man lifted Vaughan's limp body on his +shoulders and walked away back to the shelter. Stobart was not left +alone for long, before he also was carried back to camp. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the sun was just showing over the eastern rim of the land, +and the few trees were casting long shadows on the sand. The native +gathered up Vaughan's clothes, but did not know how to put them on the +lad; so he covered him over with them. He had been careful not to +leave the quart-pot behind, and as soon as the boys were safely under +the shelter again, the man took the quart-pot and started off. +</P> + +<P> +He was evidently going for water. In a few minutes, however, he came +running back to camp at top speed. He was very excited and only stayed +long enough to put the quart-pot down on the ground, before he grabbed +his weapons and disappeared into the scrub in the opposite direction, +running as hard as he could, yet making no more noise than a cat. +</P> + +<P> +He had not returned the quart-pot exactly as he had found it. When he +took it away, it was empty, but now it contained a sprig of +sharply-pointed leaves. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo came on the scene almost as soon as the other black was out of +sight, and was probably the cause of the first man's sudden +disappearance, Yarloo was carrying a small bunch of parakelia leaves. +The first things he noticed were the new tracks, and he stopped dead. +From where he stood, he could not see into the bough-shelter, and so he +waited for a couple of minutes to see if the man who had made the +tracks was anywhere about. There was absolute silence; the only things +which moved were the shadows, which got shorter very very slowly as the +sun rose. With minute care Yarloo examined the marks of the stranger. +At first he was upset to find from the tracks that the man was a wild +Musgrave black, but as soon as he came to the place where the warragul +had set up his spear, he smiled and felt no more anxiety, for it is a +sign of perfect goodwill towards a man to dig a spear in his track. +(To find a spear or a boomerang on your track means that the owner of +them likes you so well that he gives you his weapons, because there is +no need for him to carry them when he meets you.) +</P> + +<P> +As soon as Yarloo knew that the stranger native was friendly, he went +over to the shelter. The two white boys were lying on their backs in +the sand, one of them unconscious and gasping, with his tongue swollen +so much that it was too big for his mouth; the other gasping also, but +still in possession of his senses. Sax's eyes opened, and a glimmer of +intelligence showed in them, but he couldn't speak, and was too weak to +move. Yarloo looked down at them, but particularly at Sax, the son of +his master. Then his glance wandered to the quart-pot, and suddenly +everything else was forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +No prospector who has toiled for years without any luck, and then comes +upon a nugget of gold quite unexpectedly, could have been more glad +than Yarloo was at sight of that little sprig of leaves. He took it up +and looked at it with huge satisfaction. The stem was woody and each +leaf was grey, narrow, and not more than half an inch long. The +peculiarity about them was, however, that each little leaf ended in a +spike. The black-fellow felt the spikes and grinned to feel the pricks +of pain, for the leaves had only recently been pulled from the tree. +Then he dropped his handful of parakelia and grabbed the quart-pot and +started to run, tracking the other native to find the tree from which +that sprig of leaves had been picked. +</P> + +<P> +On the discovery of that tree rested the salvation of the white boys' +lives. It was the famous needle-bush. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Rescue +</H3> + +<P> +Yarloo followed the Musgrave native's tracks for about half a mile in a +nearly south direction, and then came upon a stony plain with a few +large bushes growing at one end of it. He gave a yell of delight. +They were needle-bushes. The party was saved. Here was water, stored +by nature right in the middle of an arid desert. +</P> + +<P> +The trees were all about five or six feet high, though some were much +bushier than others. Yarloo chose one which was very wide-spreading, +and began piling dry bark and twigs and anything which would burn +quickly and easily, right in the middle of the tree, all among the +branches. He went on till the needle-bush was carrying as big a load +as it possibly could. +</P> + +<P> +Then he made fire. He pulled two pieces of wood out of his hair; one +was the size of a man's palm, a flat piece of soft bean-wood with a +little hollow in the middle of it; the other was a stick about as thick +as a pencil but nearly twice as long, of hard mulga wood. He squatted +down and set the soft piece on the ground and held it in place with his +toes, and teased out a few pieces of very dry bark till they were like +tinder, and put it near the hollow. Then he took the long piece of +mulga and twirled it with his two hands in the hollow. He did this +faster than any white man could possibly twirl it, and in a couple of +minutes a coil of smoke came up from the pile of bark. Yarloo blew +this into a flame and made a little fire. When it was burning well, he +threw the blazing sticks into the needle-bush. There was a crackling +sound for a moment or two and then a roar, as the flames licked up the +dry fuel, till in a very short time the needle-bush was a blazing +bonfire. +</P> + +<P> +The black-fellow waited till the flames had died down, and then started +to dig around the roots a few feet away from the tree. He was so +skilful at this that he soon exposed the main roots. Then he chopped +off one or two of them and set the pieces upright in the quart-pot. A +thin dark liquid began to drain out of the roots and collect in the pot +till it was half-full. Yarloo took a drink and chopped up some more +roots, and when the quart-pot was full he returned to camp. +</P> + +<P> +It needed great care and patience to minister to the perishing white +boys, and not many natives would have done what Yarloo did for Sax and +Vaughan during that blazing day. He made trip after trip to the stony +plain where the needle-bushes were growing, and, with the water +obtained in this way, he gradually revived his two friends. Sax was +his first care, and after he had softened the boy's tongue so that +drops of liquid could trickle down his throat, the drover's son quickly +revived sufficiently to help Yarloo with the more serious case of +Vaughan. The powers of recovery which a healthy lad possesses are +wonderful, and before nightfall both lads were sitting up under the +shelter, with their thirst quite quenched, and actually feeling hungry. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo went away for the last time to get another quart-pot of water +from the needle-bushes. To do this, he had to fire another tree. It +was about half an hour after sunset and nearly dark, and the bonfire +lit up the plain and could be seen for miles. +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby saw it as he rode along at the end of a very tiring day. +When he had reached Sidcotinga Station, late the evening before, the +yards had been full of working horses ready to set out on a big +cattle-muster the next morning. He could not have struck a more +favourable time. Before he went to bed that night, he and the manager +drafted off a plant of six good horses, stocked a set of pack-gear with +cooked tucker, and filled two big canteens with water all ready for an +early start the following day. Mick could easily have slept late the +next morning, but when he woke up, as he always did, at the rising of +the morning star, he did not turn over and go to sleep again, but +roused himself, had a drink of tea and a chunk of bread and meat, and +started out back on his tracks, accompanied by a station black-boy whom +the Sidcotinga manager had lent him. The horses were fresh; they had +just come in from a six months' spell and would be turned out again +directly they returned. So Mick did not hesitate to ride hard. He +rode to such good purpose that he did not expect to pull up till he had +reached the camp where he had left the boys, and was riding along, with +seven miles still to go, when he saw the blazing needle-bush. +</P> + +<P> +He loosened his revolver and rode over at once to investigate. It was +fortunate that he did so, for he would have reached the old camp and +found it, not only deserted, but also wrecked, with torn gear and +evidences of wanton destruction all over the place. He would naturally +have thought that his former companions had either been killed or +carried off, and as the sandstorm had covered up all tracks, he would +not have known which way to follow them. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo was squatting down, watching the roots drain the precious liquid +into the quart-pot, when he heard the sound of hobble-rings striking +one another as they hung from the neck of a horse. Then a hoof struck +a stone. Such sounds in the desert meant one thing and one thing only, +white men. Yarloo stood up and gave the call: "Ca—a—a—w—ay!" (not +coo-ee, as is usually supposed). +</P> + +<P> +It was answered by a white man's voice out of the gathering darkness: +"Hul—lo—uh!" +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes Mick Darby rode up. He saw Yarloo, and the +smouldering needle-bush, and knew that something was wrong. +</P> + +<P> +"What name?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"White boy close up finish," replied Yarloo, still taking care of the +quart-pot of dark water. +</P> + +<P> +"Close up finish?" echoed Mick in surprise. "What name you no sit down +longa that camp same as me yabber (as I told you)?" +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo tried to explain, but his vocabulary of white man's words was +too small. He broke off at last and said: "White boy, they yabber +(they'll tell you)." +</P> + +<P> +"But white boy close up finish," objected the drover. +</P> + +<P> +"No finish now," grinned Yarloo, pointing to the other burnt +needle-bushes near. "No finish now. Him good fella now, quite." +</P> + +<P> +This relieved Mick's mind greatly, and he set off at once, guided by +Yarloo, to the bough-shelter where Sax and Vaughan were sitting. It +was a very happy reunion. The boys were still weak, but the thirst, +which would have killed them if the stranger black-fellow had not put +that sprig of needle-bush in the quart-pot, was quite gone. They were +very hungry. A fire was soon lit, and neither of the lads had ever +enjoyed a meal so much as they did that one. The food was plain, +though much better than what they had been having for the past weeks. +The bread had been made with yeast, which makes it far nicer than +baking-powder damper, and the Sidcotinga cook had included a few +currant buns with the tucker. The story of their adventures was told +at length and gone over more than once, for each boy supplied what the +other did not remember, and there had been many hours during which +Vaughan's memory had recorded nothing. +</P> + +<P> +One thing, however, remained a secret. Only Sax knew about it, and he +obeyed his father's injunction not to tell anybody of his whereabouts. +He did not tell Mick that the strange nigger who had saved their lives +had mentioned the name Boss Stobart. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo came in for his share of praise, and richly did he deserve it. +The black-boy sat down with the white men after tea and listened to +what was said without making any remarks, and with a stolid expression. +But when, just before they all turned in for the night, Mick handed him +a new pipe, a box of matches, and—greatest luxury of all—a tin of +cut-up tobacco, he beamed all over his honest black face and grunted +his supreme satisfaction with the gift. He did not think that he had +done anything heroic; he had acted so towards the white boys because a +certain white man had treated him well in the past, but these simple +signs of Mick's approval made him the happiest black-fellow in all +Central Australia. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Sidcotinga Station +</H3> + +<P> +The morning after Mick Darby had returned to them with water and food, +both Sax and Vaughan felt so much better that they wanted to set out +for Sidcotinga Station right away. But the drover would not hear of +such a thing. He knew, better than the boys did, that it would be some +time before even their strong young bodies recovered from the "perish", +and they all stayed where they were for three full days, and made +themselves comfortable by building a more substantial shelter from sun +and wind. They could have stayed longer if they had wanted to do so, +for Dan Collins, the Sidcotinga manager, had told Mick of a well not +more than six miles away to the north, and the black boys drove the +horses there every day and also renewed the supply of water in the +canteens. It was evidently from this well that the fierce Musgrave +niggers who had attacked them had obtained water. +</P> + +<P> +On the fourth morning the horses were brought in early, and the party +set out west after breakfast, on its interrupted journey, travelling by +easy stages, and taking three days over a distance which Mick had +accomplished in one. +</P> + +<P> +The cook was the only white man on the station when they reached +Sidcotinga, and he made them welcome with the genuine rough hospitality +for which the back country is famous. The resources of a desert +cattle-station are very limited, but everything which was possible was +done for the two white boys, and they spent a very restful and +enjoyable week and a half, loafing round the homestead. It was not +much of a place to look at, but Sax and his friend thought it was +wonderful. They had travelled across the desert for a month in order +to reach that little collection of buildings, and during that time they +had not seen a fence or a roof of any kind, and the only sign of +civilization had been an artesian bore two days out from Oodnadatta. +Though the iron sheds and strong bough-shelters which comprised the +homestead were very rough, there was a workmanlike air about the place +which seemed to say that white men had taken possession of the +wilderness and meant to stay there. +</P> + +<P> +There was an iron hut divided into two rooms where the manager and the +white stockman lived. Such a building as this is known throughout the +length and breadth of Australia's cattle-country as "Government House". +A few yards away was the "cook-house", also made of iron, where meals +for the white men were served. Then there was a store, in which enough +personal and station requirements were stocked to last at least a year, +for the string of camels, which came out from the head of the railway +with loading for Sidcotinga Station, only came once in every twelve +months and was sometimes late. The horse-gear room was a fascinating +place to these two lovers of horses, and though it was rather empty +when they reached the station, because every available man was out +mustering on the run, they found enough in it to interest them for many +hours. The blacksmith's shop also came in for its share of attention, +the more so perhaps because neither of the lads knew anything about +blacksmith's work. Dan Collins, the manager, prided himself on his +blacksmith's shop, and rightly so, for there was no metal work—other +than actual castings—which he could not manage to make or repair for +station use. +</P> + +<P> +Dominating the homestead, by reason of its height, was a large iron +wind-mill mounted on a tall stand, with a huge water-tank raised on a +staging near it. The mill pumped water from a hundred-foot well into +this tank, which supplied, not only the cattle-troughs, but also the +dwellings, for there were taps outside Government House, the +cook-house, and the blacksmith's shop—a very unusual convenience on +such an outlying station. +</P> + +<P> +It was not the buildings, however, which interested the boys most; it +was the stock-yards. The whole station seemed to centre in these +yards, and indeed they were of chief importance, and were the real +reason for everything else being there. At first the mass of yards, +races, pounds, wings, and gates seemed just like a maze to the +new-chums, but they were soon to learn how perfectly everything about +that rough strong stock-yard was arranged for the quick handling of +cattle. +</P> + +<P> +One morning, a couple of days after their arrival at Sidcotinga +Station, the white boys were sitting in the sand with their backs +against the wall of the horse-gear room, which threw a narrow patch of +shade over them, when Yarloo came up. They had been so interested in +all the novel sights and sounds around them since coming to the +station, that they had almost forgotten the faithful black-fellow; but +they looked up now with pleasure, and greeted him with a friendly +"Hullo, Yarloo!" +</P> + +<P> +"Goo-day," he said, with a grin of delight at being noticed; but he at +once became serious, and continued, speaking especially to Sax: "Me go +'way.... Me come back by'm by." +</P> + +<P> +"Going away?" asked Sax. "Whatever for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me walk longa Musgraves.... Me come back by'm by," he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"But what'll Mick say?" asked Vaughan. +</P> + +<P> +"Mick good fella," said the native simply. "Him real good fella, +quite.... Him only little time boss longa me. Boss alday longa me (my +real boss) sit down over dere," he pointed to the Musgrave Range. "Me +yabber Boss Stobart." He said the name with pride. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you," said Sax, starting up as if he meant to set out +immediately. "I'll go with you to find my father." +</P> + +<P> +"By'm by," replied Yarloo. "White boy come by'm by. No come now. +S'pose white boy come now, Boss Stobart, rouse like blazes (would be +very angry). White boy sit down little time. Me come back by'm by." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, at any rate, I'll send Father a note," said Sax, and he ran to +Government House to get a pencil and some paper. He found an old +diary, and tore a sheet out of it and wrote: "We're at Sidcotinga +Station. I wanted to come out to you, but Yarloo would not let me. +Tell him that we may come out. Love from Sax." +</P> + +<P> +He ran back to the horse-gear room, but Yarloo had gone. The boy had +evidently not understood what Sax meant and had already started out for +the Musgrave Ranges. It was a great disappointment to the boys not to +be allowed to go straight away and find the white drover, yet they had +already experienced enough, both of the hatred of the Musgrave tribes +and of the power of the desert, to convince them that they had better +take the advice of those who knew the conditions so much better than +they did. They talked a lot about the ranges which appeared to be so +near, seen through the clear dry air, and they went over and over again +the message which they had received in Oodnadatta from Boss Stobart, +trying to find an explanation for the mystery. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell Oodnadatta trooper, but <I>no +one else</I>. He'll understand. Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. Get a +job somewhere. "STOBART." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Sax and Vaughan had been at Sidcotinga for eleven days, and were not +only feeling recovered from their "perish", but were also beginning to +wish that they had something to do, when the musterers returned one +afternoon with well over a thousand head of cattle. It was a still +day, and Sax had climbed up the mill tower, and was sitting on the +platform near the big wind-wheel, looking over the barren landscape, +when he saw what looked like a brown stain on the southern sky near the +horizon. He remembered having seen something similar to that at +Oodnadatta, and he knew at once that it was caused by a big moving mob +of stock. Vaughan was near the troughs, vainly trying to entice a +galah (a cockatoo with rose-coloured breast and grey wings and back) to +eat bread out of his hand, when Sax startled both him and the bird by +shouting: "They're coming, Boof! They're coming!" +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan looked up and saw that his venturesome friend had climbed even +higher than the platform, and was standing right on top of the main +casting, and was waving his arms towards the south. +</P> + +<P> +"They're coming, Boof!" he shouted again. "It's cattle." To Vaughan's +relief—for Sax had got used to doing things on the mill which Vaughan +was too scared even to attempt—his friend began climbing down, but he +went so fast that his neck and limbs were in danger every moment. When +he reached the ground, he ran off to Government House to find Mick, who +was lying on his back reading a three-months old copy of <I>Pals</I>. +</P> + +<P> +The boys expected their drover friend to be as excited as they were, +but he had seen cattle yarded so many hundreds of times that he took +things very coolly. He first made sure that the troughs were full of +water, and that the valves were working properly, and then fixed the +stock-yard gates ready for receiving the cattle. +</P> + +<P> +The cloud of dust came nearer, and the lowing of cattle and the +cracking of whips could soon be heard, and the voices of men rose above +the din. From out of the dust a few leading cattle appeared, then +others and others still, till the astonished white boys saw a bigger +mob of cattle than they had ever seen before. Sax was on the platform +of the mill again, and Vaughan was about half-way up, so they both got +a good view of what was going on below them. +</P> + +<P> +The thirsty animals smelt the water and tried to rush, but well-mounted +black boys wheeled here, there, and everywhere, checking the restless +cattle, and allowing them to come on slowly without any chance of a +break. The big voice of a white man on a black horse in the rear was +heard from time to time giving orders which were at once obeyed. +Presently the four long lines of troughing were hidden from sight by +drinking cattle, and the sucking of their lips, the gushing of water +through the valves, and the grumbling of the tired animals all blended +together, and seemed to be part of the dust which rose from the +trampling feet and settled on everything till men and stock were alike +brown. +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby was keeping the trough-valves at full pressure, and the +manager rode over to him. The white boys followed the mounted man with +their eyes. This was to be their boss; that is, if he would take them. +They were evidently the subject of conversation, for Mick pointed up at +the mill, and Dan Collins looked up also. They could not see his face, +and he made no sign, but went off again to keep the waiting cattle +rounded up. +</P> + +<P> +It takes a long time to water a thousand head of cattle, and by the +time the Sidcotinga troughs were full, with no cattle drinking at them, +the sun had just set. Gradually the animals were worked away from the +water towards the wing of the yard. Probably both Sax and his friend +were hoping that there would be a break, for there is nothing more +exciting to watch—or to be in—than a cattle-rush; but these men were +on their own country, and at their own stock-yards. They eased the big +mob of animals slowly up to the yards, then sat back and let them have +a spell, just holding them within the compass of the wings. The +leading bullocks nosed the stock-yard rails, went up to the gates and +smelt the air, gave one or two inquiring bellows, and then walked +through. Finding space on the other side of the gates, they went right +into the yards. Others followed, till soon the whole mob was filing +through the gates. Then came the shouting of men, the racket of +stock-whips, the prancing of horses, and the protesting roar of cattle, +as they were jammed up tight. At last the gates were swung to and +fastened with a chain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Mad Bull +</H3> + +<P> +The Sidcotinga stock-yards presented a very lively scene next morning. +Sax and Vaughan were there with the rest, heartily glad to have +something to do. Mick Darby had introduced his young friends to the +manager the night before, and to their earnest request that he would +"take them on at the station" he had replied: "We'll talk about that +to-morrow night. There's a long day in the yards between now and then. +We'll see how you shape." Dan Collins looked at them very sternly when +he was speaking. He had been on cattle-stations all his life, and was +used to judging men by what they could do and not by what they could +say. He liked both the appearance of the boys and the report which +Mick had given of how they had "shaped" on the way out, but his +weather-beaten face did not relax at all, and the boys thought he was a +hard man. They were wrong, however. Dan Collins was a strong man, and +through dealing for many years with blacks, he had come to hide his +thoughts behind an unyielding expression of face, though many a man +knew how kind a heart beat in his big rough body. +</P> + +<P> +So the boys were on their mettle. There were no other white men in the +yard except Mick and the manager; the rest were blacks. +</P> + +<P> +An hour or two before dawn, as soon as it was light enough to +distinguish one beast from another, all hands went down to the yards +for drafting. Sax and Vaughan were each given a gate to open and shut +when their particular call came, and they found that it needed every +bit of their attention to do even this simple job well. By the time +breakfast was announced by the cook, who summoned all hands to the meal +by beating the back of a frying-pan with a wooden spoon, the thousand +cattle had been divided into three lots: about a hundred and twenty +cleanskins (unbranded cattle), over a hundred three-year-old bullocks +which would soon be ready to send to town, and the rest, which were to +be allowed to go bush again. +</P> + +<P> +Breakfast and "Smoke-o" were got over quickly, and everybody was again +at the yards as soon as possible. A fire was lit outside the rails, +and a half-dozen T.D.3 brands, and as many number brands, were put in +the blaze to get hot. Green-hide ropes were coiled ready and knives +sharpened. The cleanskins were attended to first. Most of them were +about a year old and could be scruffed, which means that one or another +of the black-fellows would watch his opportunity, catch the calf, and +throw it on the ground with a dexterous twist. As soon as it was down, +he would hook one of its front legs behind its horns and hold it there +till the brand was applied. Sometimes four calves were being scruffed +at the same time, and the work went on very quickly. Blacks always +work well in a yard. Not only is there the personal and sometimes +risky struggle with the animals, which appeals strongly to their savage +minds, but the emulation amongst themselves, each being very anxious to +do better than his fellows. There is usually a good deal of laughter +and joking talk in a stock-yard, and a good deal of hard, strenuous, +skilful work as well. +</P> + +<P> +The two white boys kept out of the way while scruffing was going on. +They would only have been a hindrance, so they sat together on the +stock-yard fence and looked on, never missing a twist or a turn, and +learning, learning, learning all the time. +</P> + +<P> +At last all young calves had been branded and had rejoined their +mothers. There still remained about thirty unbranded steers which were +too big to scruff. One or two of them were nearly four years old, wild +creatures which had refused to be mustered year after year until now. +The ropes were brought into use for these cattle. The big cleanskins +were driven out of the branding yard into an adjoining one, and +admitted back again one by one. As soon as a beast rushed through the +gate a green-hide lasso was thrown. The loop fell over its horns or +neck. Four or five strong niggers were holding the end of the lasso +outside the yard, and they pulled the captured animal up to the rails. +Front and back leg ropes were flung on and hitched round posts, and the +beast fell helplessly in the sand. After a couple had been done in +this way, Dan Collins signalled to the white boys to lend a hand. +Their job sounded simple, but it needed all their strength and +watchfulness to do it properly. If they failed at any point, the +prostrate animal would be free, and the work would have to be done all +over again. +</P> + +<P> +The cleanskin was lassoed and pulled to the rails, the leg ropes were +fixed and hitched, and then the front rope was handed to Sax and the +back one to Vaughan. They had to hang on and keep the ropes tight; +that was all, but only those who have worked in stock-yards, hour after +hour, know how difficult such an apparently simple task really is. +</P> + +<P> +The work went on. The hard green-hide ropes blistered the unaccustomed +hands of the new-chum white boys, but they set their teeth and held on. +Beast after beast fell with a bellowing roar, the red-hot T.D.3 was +pressed on its near-side shoulder till the mark was seared right into +the skin, so that it could never wear out. Then the ropes were pulled +off and the dazed animal scrambled to its feet and was hustled out of +the yard, while another one was being caught and thrown. +</P> + +<P> +A big roan-coloured steer was being saved till last. He was a fully +matured animal, very powerful and wild. His bellow had been heard all +night, and he had been more difficult to draft than any other animal in +the yards. Everybody was looking forward to dealing with this fellow; +it would be a good finish to a good run of work. +</P> + +<P> +He came through the gate with a rush. Mick Darby had the lasso this +time, and flung it faultlessly over the animal's horns. There was a +shout of excitement and the blacks outside the rails pulled for all +they were worth. But no power of man could make such a creature stir +unless it wanted to. It braced its fore legs and stood immovable, then +shook its mighty head till the lasso twanged like a fiddle-string, but +did not give an inch. Finally the steer caught sight of its tormentors +outside the yard, and rushed. At once the rope became slack and the +watchful men pulled it tight again, and soon the great beast was jammed +up against the fence, using all its strength to try and break the +green-hide rope. But the lasso was made out of the hide of a bull and +could have held any steer that was ever calved. Leg ropes were thrown, +hitched, and drawn tight, and the steer fell, roaring and plunging for +a moment, and then lying still, but never relaxing the tremendous +strain for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Collins was branding, and called out: "Brand-o!" The red-hot iron +was handed through the rails and pressed on the quivering shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +Now came the great test. Pain added the final ounce to the steer's +strength. He struggled. The front leg rope broke. Through being +constantly hitched round a rough post it had become a little bit +frayed, and this final strain was too much for it. It snapped and +sprang apart like a collapsed spring. The chest of the steer was now +free, but the head rope still held it down. The knowledge that it had +broken one of its bonds gave the animal heart, and it lifted its +curl-crowned head. The lasso quivered and stretched, quivered and +stretched. There was a crack! Had that bull-hide rope broken? No. +Another crack. One of the steer's horns broke off at the skull. With +an agonized bellow it slipped the stump of a horn through the loop and +rose to its fore feet, free except for the back leg rope which Vaughan +was holding. All the animal's strength, raised to its highest pitch by +the pain of the broken horn, was centred in its captive hind leg. +Vaughan held on manfully, but the rope was gradually pulled through his +hands, tearing the skin till he could not possibly hold it any longer. +With a roar, the steer rose from the ground; but just as it struggled +to its feet, Vaughan seized the rope again and twisted it round his +wrist. +</P> + +<P> +A yard is no place for a man when an infuriated bull is raging around +it. Everybody leapt for the rails except Sax. Was there not some way +of helping his friend? The steer saw him and charged. Round the yard +once, twice, it rushed, Vaughan dragging along at the back, and +hindering it so that he undoubtedly saved his friend from a very nasty +accident. Round the yard the third time. Sax was too dazed to leap +for the rails, and the animal was too close for him to climb them. +</P> + +<P> +Everybody had been so intent on the sudden turn which events had taken +that they had not noticed an almost naked black-fellow who had left the +lasso and had climbed quickly along the top of the rails. He was a +stranger, and had come in that morning and had taken a hand at the +yards like any other black would do, hoping for a feed and a stick of +tobacco. But now he seemed to be full of energy and courage. When +everybody else was gasping with astonishment, he lay on the top rail as +flat as a lizard. +</P> + +<P> +Sax came round the third time, and the shaggy head of the steer was +lowering for a toss, when the native's black arm reached down suddenly +and grabbed the white boy by the belt and swung him clear off his feet. +He was not a second too soon. The steer charged by, and Sax was safe. +The stranger native had put out so much of his strength that he could +not recover himself, and he overbalanced, still keeping hold of the +white boy, and rescuer and rescued toppled over backwards into the +other yard. Sax was winded and the black-fellow was the first to get +up. He scrambled to his feet and walked away, not only from the yards, +but away from the station altogether, as if he did not want to be +recognized. But as he was getting between two rails, he put his left +hand on one of them, and Sax saw that the two middle fingers were +missing. It was the same black who had brought the sprig of +needle-bush. +</P> + +<P> +Excitement was by no means over in the branding-yard. The infuriated +bull, cheated of one victim, now turned its attention to Vaughan. It +wheeled quickly, and in so doing twisted the rope, which Vaughan was +still holding, round the boy's body. He could not escape. He was at +the mercy of a wild steer. +</P> + +<P> +The sudden and unexpected rescue of Saxon Stobart had roused the white +men, so that when the bull turned on its helpless victim, they were +ready. But what could they do? What could a mere man possibly do +against a full-grown steer? It would take too long to set the boy +free, for the hard unyielding rope was hitched tight round him. There +was only one thing to do, and Dan Collins did it. +</P> + +<P> +He waited till the bull had gathered itself for a final rush, and, when +it had actually started to charge, he dropped to the ground like a +flash. In a fraction of a second his powerful right arm went out, and +he gripped the nostrils of the bull, pressing his thumb and forefinger +home as far as he could. Then he twisted, suddenly and unexpectedly. +</P> + +<P> +It was not a matter of strength, but of knack. The power of the +onrushing bull actually supplied all the strength which was necessary. +Dan Collins twisted. The animal's wrinkled neck turned. It could not +help turning, for the pain at its nostrils was unbearable. The +near-side leg gave under it. Something had to give under the strain. +The fingers still kept their grip, and the great beast crashed down +with such a thud that the ground seemed to shake.[<A NAME="ch14fn1text"></A><A HREF="#ch14fn1">1</A>] +</P> + +<P> +Every man jumped from the rails and was on the prostrate animal at +once, holding it down till the white boy, who had been in such terrible +danger, was set free. +</P> + +<P> +That night the manager gave his verdict about the two boys. "You'll +do," he said. "I'll take you on. Mick, you'd better take them out on +the run with you. I want you to go north in a couple of days. And for +goodness sake teach them that there are some things which even <I>they</I> +cannot do." He did not mean this unkindly, for he had taken a fancy to +the boys, but he saw that they would need to be restrained a great deal +before they could become really first-class stock-men. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="ch14fn1"></A> +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[<A HREF="#ch14fn1text">1</A>] The author has seen quite a small man throw a full-sized bull in +this way on a Central Australian cattle-station. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Night Alarm +</H3> + +<P> +It can well be imagined that both lads fell asleep quickly and soundly +that night after their first day in the yards. Sidcotinga Government +House had a veranda on one side of it, and they spread their swags +under it just outside Mick's room, as there was no place for them +inside, especially in summer. +</P> + +<P> +In the middle of the night a man crept round the corner of the veranda +as silently as a black shadow. He paused near the boys, and stooped +down and looked into their faces. The lads were sound asleep and did +not stir. After a moment's scrutiny the native put his hand on Sax's +shoulder and shook it. The tired boy only gave a restless murmur, so +the man shook him harder. He opened his eyes at last and realized that +somebody was bending over him, but he was so sleepy that he did not +call out. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he saw that Sax was awake, the native held up his left hand, +so that the white boy could see it outlined against the pale night sky. +The two middle fingers were missing. It was the man who had already +done him more than one good turn. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart sat up, prepared for anything which this black-fellow—who knew +the father, and seemed so devoted to the son—might suggest. The man +pointed down across the trampled sand towards the cattle-troughs. He +did it again and again, making little runs in that direction and coming +back at once, like a dog who wants its master to go in a certain +direction. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, I'll come," whispered Sax at last, forgetting that the man +probably could not understand him. Sax had intended to go alone, but +when he stood up, Vaughan opened his eyes and asked sleepily: "What's +all the row about?" +</P> + +<P> +"No row at all," whispered his companion. "That is, unless you make +it. There's something wrong somewhere and I'm going to have a look." +</P> + +<P> +"So am I," responded Vaughan quickly, for the chance of an adventure +drove all sleep away from him. "So am I. You bet your life." +</P> + +<P> +The silent native led the way, armed with a boomerang and a shield, +creeping from the shelter of one building to that of another, till they +were close to the troughs. The man held up his finger and listened. +There was a sound of running water. Sax recognized it as the +ball-valves of the troughs. There were four of them. Suddenly the +thought struck him: Why were they running? From where the three men +were standing the dark lines of the troughs could be seen even at +night, against the light-coloured sand, and it was clear that no stock +were drinking there. But if the valves were running it showed that the +troughs were empty, and the water must be flowing away somewhere. It +must be wasting. +</P> + +<P> +The importance of water in the desert had already impressed itself upon +the white boys, and as soon as they realized that precious water was +running away in the sand, they rushed out from behind the shelter +towards the troughs. The armed native went with them. +</P> + +<P> +There should have been a plug at the end of each trough. Somebody had +pulled these plugs out, and the water was gushing a full stream through +the four ball-valves and was running to waste over the sand. This had +apparently not been going on for more than five or ten minutes, but it +was absolutely necessary to stop the waste; for if once the overhead +tank was drained dry, and if there was no wind to work the mill for a +day or two, Sidcotinga Station would be entirely without water. +</P> + +<P> +The boys did not stop to wonder who had done this dastardly deed, but +went to jam the plugs back again into their holes. But the plugs could +not be found. Something must be done immediately. It would waste +precious time to run back to the station and hunt round for something +to make plugs out of, so they started to fill the ends of the troughs +with sand and clay, scooping it up with their hands and ramming it +tight till one after another of the leakages was stopped. +</P> + +<P> +When they were occupied with the fourth, and had nearly made a tight +job of it, Sax looked around for the native who had told them that +something was wrong. The man was standing a couple of yards away with +his shield raised. He looked for all the world as if he was defending +them from some attack. And so he was. Scarcely had Sax begun to work +again, scooping more sand and clay and plastering it smooth and firm, +when he heard the click of wood against wood, and a spear stuck into +the ground just behind him. Another followed and another with hardly +any pause between. The native still maintained his attitude of tense +watchfulness. He had already turned three messengers of death off with +his shield, and was waiting for more. None came. +</P> + +<P> +He backed slowly towards the boys, still facing in the direction from +which the spears had come. Presently he turned quickly and pointed to +Government House, and then took up the same position of attention. His +meaning was quite clear. He wanted one of the boys to go up to +Government House and give the alarm. +</P> + +<P> +Vaughan instantly jumped to his feet and ran, leaving Sax to finish the +work at the troughs, guarded by the faithful nigger. In an incredibly +short time Dan Collins and Mick Darby came running down, armed with +rifles and revolvers. When the stranger black-fellow saw them he +disappeared. No one saw him go, and indeed it would have been +dangerous for him if they had; for when two white men with loaded +weapons are looking for a chance to shoot a nigger, they are as likely +to shoot a friend as a foe. The night seemed to swallow him up, and +the white men and Vaughan, who followed hard after them, found Sax +alone. Even the three spears had been taken away. +</P> + +<P> +Tracks of naked feet all around the troughs showed that a couple of +Musgrave blacks had wilfully pulled the plugs out of the water troughs, +knowing that this was one of the ways in which they could do most harm +to the hated white man. If the native with the mutilated hand had not +given the alarm, Sidcotinga Station would have been right out of water +by the morning. No one knew who this friendly black-fellow was. Sax +told the others that it was the same man who had put the sprig of +needle-bush in the quart-pot, and who had also saved him from the bull +a few hours before, but he did not explain how he knew this. +</P> + +<P> +"Seems to have taken a fancy to you, whoever he is," remarked Dan +Collins. "I wonder why." +</P> + +<P> +Sax knew why, but he seemed to feel the influence of his father coming +from the Musgraves, not far away, telling him to keep the matter secret. +</P> + +<P> +The lads went back to bed, and the two white men kept watch at the +troughs till daylight. But the blacks gave no sign of their presence. +They had evidently been scared away. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Mustering +</H3> + +<P> +If the boys expected that the night alarm would be the chief subject of +conversation next day they were quite mistaken, for the matter was +hardly referred to at all. Sidcotinga was as far away from +civilization as could possibly be, and its position under the dreaded +and mysterious Musgrave Ranges made it the object of repeated attacks +by little bands of warragul blacks. Consequently the manager was quite +used to turning out in the middle of the night to guard one portion or +another of the station property, and the mere pulling out of the plugs +from the watering-troughs was forgotten almost as soon as the affair +was over. +</P> + +<P> +Important business was afoot—the chief business of a +cattle-station—mustering. Station blacks were sent out early in the +morning after working-horses; packs, saddles, canteens, hobbles, and +horse-gear generally were carefully overhauled by Mick, and tucker-bags +were filled with flour, sugar, tea, dried salt meat, and a tin or two +of jam. Before sunset everything was ready for an early start next +day, for about fifty working-horses had been brought in, out of which +number Mick and the manager chose thirty for the mustering plant. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Collins had sent four station boys to round up the horses: Calcoo, +whose real name went into about ten syllables and was quite impossible +for a white man to pronounce; Uncle, a thoroughly reliable +black-fellow, who was somewhat older than the others; Fiddle-Head, so +called because of his long thin face; and Jack Johnson, a native of +splendid physique from one of the great rivers which flow into the Gulf +of Carpentaria. Another black stockman had stayed behind to help Mick +Darby and the white boys with the packs. His name was Poona, and he +understood station ways better than the others, because Dan Collins had +taken him in hand when he was a piccaninny, and taught him to be very +useful. +</P> + +<P> +Just before dinner, when Mick was busy mending a pack-bag and Sax and +Vaughan were having their first lesson in making waxed thread for +sewing leather, Poona came up to the drover with another black-fellow. +His companion was naked except for a rope of hair tied round his waist +from which a small apron hung down. Sax looked up and recognized him +immediately; it was the native with the mutilated hand who had been +such a good friend to the white boy. Stobart was about to call out, +when the man put his finger on his thick black lips and pointed to the +Musgraves. He did this three times, and shook his head so earnestly +that Sax knew that, for some reason or another, the black did not want +to be recognized. +</P> + +<P> +Mick Darby finished a row of stitching and then paid attention to the +two men who were standing so silently in front of him, waiting the +pleasure of the white man. He knew Poona, but the presence of the +other native needed explaining. "What name, Poona?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"You want um 'nother boy go mustering?" asked Poona, pointing to his +companion. +</P> + +<P> +Mick looked at the naked man for a moment, and then asked: "Is he any +good?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yah. Him bin good fella," replied Poona eagerly. "Him bin ride like +blazes. Him work one time longa Eridunda," mentioning a famous station +farther north. This was not true. The warragul black had never worked +on a station in his life and knew very little of the ways of white men. +He was a Musgrave nigger who had recently come down from the Ranges. +Mick wanted as many helpers as he could get, for the muster was to be a +big one, and he engaged the newcomer without further inquiries. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," he said. "What's his name?" +</P> + +<P> +Poona grinned and pronounced a name which he knew was quite impossible +for a white man's tongue to manage. Everybody laughed, including the +newcomer, who put up his mutilated hand to cover his grinning mouth. +Mick noticed the deformity at once. The man's hand, with its three +fingers set wide apart, from which long hard nails stuck out, resembled +the claw of some bird, so the drover turned to the white boys and said: +"What d'you think of that for a name? They've nearly all got names +like that. We'll shorten this one down a bit and call him 'Eagle'. +Look at his hand." He turned to Poona. "We call that one black-fella +Eagle. See? His hand aller same eagle's hand. Take um round Boss +Collins. P'raps him give it trouser, shirt, tobac." +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes the warragul black, duly enrolled as a stockman of +Sidcotinga Station, was strutting about in front of a group of native +women, dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a striped store shirt, +and was puffing at a new clay pipe. The novelty of his occupation and +attire made up for their discomfort, and he would probably have been +willing to force his broad feet into boots if they had been given to +him, although he had never worn clothes in his life before, and must +have found that they hindered his movements at every stride. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning, although it was summer and the sun rose very early, the +men had breakfast by the light of a hurricane-lantern, and the +mustering plant was all ready to start out before dawn. There were +Mick, the two white boys, six niggers, eight packed horses and the rest +spares, making thirty in all. The white boys were naturally interested +in the horses they were to ride. Sax had a grey mare named Fair Steel +to ride in the mornings, and Ginger, a gelding, for the afternoons. +Vaughan's two were both geldings: Boxer, a brown, and Don Juan, a tall +black. All four horses were well-bred and thoroughly suitable for the +month's hard work which lay ahead of them. +</P> + +<P> +The plant made straight for the Musgraves. It was a brilliantly clear +day, and when the sun rose the range of mountains ahead of them seemed +to be only a day's ride away. But at the end of the second day, when +the packs were pulled off near a water-hole, the Musgraves did not look +to be any nearer. Mick and the white boys rode in the lead all day, +and the plant, driven by the black-boys, followed behind; this is the +method of travel all over Central and North Australia. +</P> + +<P> +On the morning of the third day they started to muster. All around the +water-hole were the recent tracks of hundreds of cattle, and the day's +work consisted of riding out on these tracks till the limit was reached +beyond which no cattle had gone from that particular water. Then the +stockmen rode in, gathering cattle as they came. The party split up +into three in order to muster the district thoroughly, and before +sunset a mob of over four hundred cattle was bellowing round the +water-hole. The nearest stock-yard was two days away, so the cattle +had to be watched that night. Sax and Vaughan had done some night +watching on the way from Oodnadatta to Sidcotinga, when wild blacks had +been about, but a few tired, broken-in horses were very easy to watch +in comparison with a mob of nearly half a thousand wild desert cattle. +</P> + +<P> +The usual precautions were taken. The men made their camp on the slope +of a little clay-pan out of sight of the water-hole, so that their +movements in the night would not startle the cattle. All fires were +put out before dark, and no man was allowed to shake his camp-sheet or +make any sudden noise. Watches were arranged so that two stockmen were +riding round the cattle all night long. +</P> + +<P> +The moon was full enough to vaguely light the scene, which was very +typical of Central Australia and could not possibly be met with in any +other part of the world. Mick and Vaughan took first watch and Sax and +Poona took the second. When Sax came off watch, and was riding up the +little hill, looking forward to rolling himself up in his blankets, the +sound of singing made him turn and look back. It was a wonderful sight +which met his gaze, and those who have once seen a similar one are +never really satisfied in any other place. The water looked flat like +a mirror, and one or two cattle stood knee-deep in the edges of it. +All around, just a vague black mass from which a warm mist of breath +and hot bodies was rising, were the cattle, mostly lying down and +contentedly chewing the cud, while a few wandered slowly about looking +for one another and quietly murmuring. One of the black-boys, whose +turn at watching had just come, was already riding round with one leg +cocked lazily over the pommel of the saddle, and chanting a coroboree +dirge, both to let the cattle know that he was about and because he was +happy. +</P> + +<P> +The other boy was waiting for Sax's horse. Sax dismounted and noticed +that the man standing near him was Eagle. The native grinned as he +climbed awkwardly on the horse, for he was not used to riding, and, as +he moved off, he pointed with his mutilated hand in the direction of +the Musgrave Ranges and uttered the words: "Bor—s Stoo—bar." +</P> + +<P> +Sax sat down for a moment. These words reminded him that indeed this +was his home, the land of his father, the place where perhaps he had +been actually born. The magic of the desert night bewitched him; the +half-moon, the few stars in the pale sky, the sense of limitless space +across the sand, the water-hole and the camped cattle, the quavering +voice of the chanting nigger which was now joined by another voice, +wilder and more exultant—these things and the consciousness that his +father was somewhere near, guarded by these mysterious desert forces +and desert men—thrilled him, and when he stood up again and walked +over to his swag, he knew in a way that he had never known before that +the blood of the North was in his veins, and that he was the descendant +of a race of heroes—the Australian bushmen. +</P> + +<P> +The cattle were quiet all night. Mick was an old stockman and had +given strict orders to his boys not to hurry the cattle, so that they +arrived at the water-hole almost in the same mood as they would have +done if they had come for a drink of their own accord. They were on +their own country also, and there was not a strange stick or stone or +tree to frighten them. Cattle very seldom rush at night when they are +on their own feeding-grounds, and though Mick took no chances, and +double-watched them all night, he did not expect anything unpleasant to +happen. "It's better to be sure than sorry," he told the boys at +breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +Immediately the meal was over they started to "handle the cattle". +That was Mick's way of expressing it, and, indeed, at one part of the +proceedings the cattle were actually "handled". But before they +reached that stage many things had to be done. Each man was mounted on +the best horse possible, and the party rode down the hill to the +water-hole, spreading out like a fan, and slowly working the cattle +away from the water till they were on an open plain about a quarter of +a mile away. +</P> + +<P> +Now came one of the most difficult things that a stockman ever has to +do. It is called "cutting out". Man and horse have to be of the very +best to perform this feat properly or else the whole operation results +in confusion. Mick was mustering the north of Sidcotinga run in order +to brand all cleanskins, and there were probably not more than a +hundred unbranded cattle in that mob of nearly half a thousand. Most +of these were calves which were still running with their mothers, +though there was a sprinkling of larger stock which had been missed the +year before. The first job was to separate the cows and calves and +other cleanskins from the main herd, thus dividing it into two mobs. +</P> + +<P> +The mounted stockmen put the cattle together tightly and held them. +Mick was riding a bright chestnut gelding with high wither and an +intelligent head, whose name was Hermes and who was reputed to be a +famous camp-horse.[<A NAME="ch16fn1text"></A><A HREF="#ch16fn1">1</A>] Signalling to his boys to be ready, Mick rode +straight into the mob of cattle. Almost at once he saw an unbranded +steer and pointed his whip towards it. The horse did the rest. With +wonderful skill, Hermes worked alongside the steer, shouldered it to +the outside of the mob, and cut it out from the other cattle. +Immediately two other stockmen came in behind it and drove it a few +hundred yards away, where it was kept by three mounted boys who had +been detailed for the purpose. It is far easier to keep a hundred +cattle in one place than it is to do the same to a single beast, but +Mick and Hermes were now cutting out cleanskins one after another +without any pause, thus increasing the second mob very quickly. It is +a splendid sight to see cattle being cut out by a good man on a good +horse. The man needs to have a quick eye and never to hesitate once, +for he is right in the midst of several hundred wild cattle who are +afraid of him, and are ready to wreak their vengeance on him at the +first opportunity. He must be a faultless rider, for a camphorse can +turn right round at full gallop in its own length, and woe to the man +who loses his seat at that time. He is amongst the feet and horns of +desert cattle. Mick never made a mistake. He took the matter as +quietly as it could possibly be done, and gradually worked the +clean-skins out and made up the other mob. +</P> + +<P> +When a thing is done well it looks easy to a spectator, and the white +boys thought that this work of cutting out, which they had heard so +much talk about, was a very simple matter indeed. Mick saw them edging +nearer and nearer, and knew that they were very keen to try their +hands, so he shouted out: "Have a shot at working on the face of the +camp.[<A NAME="ch16fn2text"></A><A HREF="#ch16fn2">2</A>] Be steady, though," he warned them. "It's not as easy as it +looks." +</P> + +<P> +They soon found out that the drover was right. Their horses knew far +more about the matter than they did, but the men on their backs were +clumsy, and started to pull them this way and that, till the horses got +worried, and didn't know what to do. Mick brought a young steer out to +the edge of the mob where the boys were standing, and shouted: "Here +you are. Come in behind me." +</P> + +<P> +Their horses started to do the right thing, which is to come in between +the steer and the mob, but Sax rode straight at the beast, drove it +towards Vaughan, who tried to turn his horse suddenly and only made +matters worse, for the steer galloped back into the mob. Mick swore +and cut it out again, and drove it several yards out from the other +cattle and gave it a parting cut with his stock-whip. Sax and Vaughan +galloped after it. It dodged and tried to get back, but, more by luck +than good management, the boys kept it out in the open. At last they +got it on the run towards the second mob and were feeling very pleased +with their success, when it suddenly turned. +</P> + +<P> +Sax was in the lead. His horse was an old stock-horse, and as soon as +the beast turned, it turned too, quickly, and in its own length. But +the boy on the horse's back did not turn! Sax had been going for all +he was worth, standing up in the stirrups and leaning forward +excitedly, when, all of a sudden, the horse under him jerked round on +its fore feet. Sax went straight on over the animal's head and came to +the ground all in a heap, while the horse galloped on for a few yards +and then stopped and looked round at its fallen rider. Vaughan did not +fare quite so badly. His horse did not turn at full gallop. It +propped and then turned. When it propped, it flung Vaughan forward. +He clutched the horse's neck to save himself from coming off, and when +the horse turned he hung on still tighter. +</P> + +<P> +The steer got away easily and was making back to the mob when Uncle and +Fiddle-head came to the rescue. Everybody laughed at the two white +boys, but they took the fun in good part and learnt their first +important lesson in handling cattle: it's never so easy that it doesn't +need care. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="ch16fn1"></A> +<A NAME="ch16fn2"></A> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[<A HREF="#ch16fn1text">1</A>] A camp-horse is a horse which has been especially trained for +cutting out cattle on a cattle-camp. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[<A HREF="#ch16fn2text">2</A>] Working on the face of the camp means taking cattle which have been +cut out from the man who is doing this particular job, and driving them +away to the second mob. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Branded Warragul +</H3> + +<P> +By noon the cattle were in two mobs, clean-skins and branded. Leaving +the clean-skins in charge of three boys, with instructions to keep them +from straying, Mick and the other stockmen drove the branded cattle +right away and let them go, and then rode back to camp for dinner. A +fire was lit, the nine quart-pots put in the blaze, the damper and bag +of meat brought out, and soon everybody was munching the hard tucker +with a relish which can be gained only by a vigorous life in the open +air. As soon as three of the black-boys had finished, they were sent +out to relieve the ones who were watching the cattle, and at the end of +the hour's middle-day "camp", everybody was ready for the branding. +</P> + +<P> +There were one or two trees on the plain, and a suitable one was chosen +with a strong bough about five feet from the ground. A pile of wood +was collected and a fire lit and the brands made red-hot. Green-hide +ropes were uncoiled to get the kinks out and coiled again ready for +instant use, and every horseman saw to the tightness of his +saddle-girth. Mick stood near the tree waiting to brand and cut, and +with him were Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson for the front and back leg +ropes, and Eagle to keep the brands hot and hand them when required. +Poona and Uncle were each armed with a long pliant bull-hide lasso, and +the two white boys and Calcoo rode round the cattle, keeping them well +bunched up. +</P> + +<P> +Mick looked round to see that every man was in his place, gave his +knife an extra rub or two on his boot, and then shouted: "Right-o!" +</P> + +<P> +Poona and Uncle rode forward at once to different ends of the mob. +Each of them singled out a cleanskin, and almost at the same time two +lassoes whirled through the air. The thin bull-hides uncoiled and +uncoiled as they sped over the heads of the cattle, and the loops kept +wide open and fell around the necks of the chosen victims. Both horses +propped immediately, and the lasso-men sat back to take the strain. It +came, but the horses knew their work and lay back, almost sitting on +their tails, till the bucking, bellowing animals on the end of the +ropes ceased their first efforts to escape. Then, bit by bit, as +carefully as an angler plays a game fish, the beasts were drawn out of +the mob, while Sax, Vaughan, and Calcoo kept the others from breaking +away. +</P> + +<P> +There is always keen rivalry between lasso-men as to who pulls his +beast up to the fire first. Poona won this time, for the young bull on +the end of Uncle's rope lay down and had to be dragged by main force, +just as if it had been a bag of flour. When Poona reached the fire, +Mick jerked the lasso over the outstanding bough in order to keep the +clean-skin from running round. Meanwhile Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson +were on the alert with their ropes, and in a few seconds they had flung +them on and had drawn the loops tight, and pulled the animal down and +held it. Mick at once loosened the lasso and Poona went back to the +mob to rope another. "Brand-o!" was called, Eagle handed up a T.D.3 +and a number brand, the head-stockman pressed these on to the near-side +shoulder of the prostrate beast, and with a shout of "Let her go!" the +leg ropes were taken off, and the dazed animal staggered to its feet +and rejoined its companions. By this time Uncle had pulled his animal +up near the tree, and as soon as it was branded, Poona had caught his +second. And so the work went on without interruption, everybody +working as hard as he could. +</P> + +<P> +After about an hour Uncle threw his lasso and missed. The beast he was +after was a three-year-old red bull with wide horns which he kept on +tossing angrily. The animal saw the green-hide coming and ducked its +head, and the whirling rope fell and flicked it in the eye. It was not +Uncle's fault that he had missed, but it was a failure all the same, +and nobody likes to come off second best when it is a case of such keen +rivalry. He looked round and saw that his ill-luck had been observed +by all his companions, for there was a lull in the work just at that +time, and all hands were watching. The black-boy was on his mettle to +redeem his reputation, and his blood was up to perform a feat which he +had learnt on a northern cattle-station, but which had never been seen +on Sidcotinga. The lasso had flicked the bull in the eye. With a roar +of pain, it lifted its great horns and shook them and rushed out of the +mob. Sax wheeled to turn it back, but Uncle signed to him to leave it +alone. When the wild red bull was clear of the mob, the black stockman +coiled the lasso on his left arm and made after it. +</P> + +<P> +Everybody expected him to fling the lasso, but instead of doing that, +he galloped up on the near-side of the animal and kept level with its +rump for a yard or two. It was on the tip of Mick's tongue to shout +out and tell the boy not to "play the fool", when Uncle leaned over +with his hand spread out wide. Suddenly he grabbed the galloping +bull's tail near the root and gave it a dexterous twist. Over went the +animal. It crashed to the ground and threw up a cloud of dust. Uncle +flung himself instantly off his horse and held the fallen beast for a +moment, while he slipped the noose of the lasso over its head. Then he +remounted and lay back to take the strain. It was all done so quickly +that the red bull was on its feet again and was tugging at the rope +before anybody realized what the stockman had done. He could have +easily lassoed the escaping beast in the ordinary way, but his blood +was up and he did this wonderful feat just to show his companions that +though he had missed once with the lasso, he could do things with +cattle which they had never thought of. +</P> + +<P> +Eagle's first experience of cattle-branding was the recent day in the +Sidcotinga yards when he had saved Sax from the horns of the infuriated +bull, and the present work was so entirely new to him that he was very +clumsy. Mick did not take this into consideration. Cattle were being +dragged up to the tree one after another, and the brands had to be hot +when he called out for them. That was the only thing Mick cared about +just then. It is not at all an easy job to keep six pairs of brands +red-hot in a fire of very fiercely burning wood on a blazing day in the +desert with a north wind blowing. Everybody tries to avoid being made +brand-man, for it is hard hot work with no praise and plenty of blame. +</P> + +<P> +Poor Eagle made one or two mistakes, was sworn at, and became flustered +and made more and worse mistakes, till Mick began to lose patience. +The boy was really doing his best, and he had even taken off his +much-prized trousers and shirt in order not to be hindered by them. +But somehow he didn't get on at all well; the brands were either not +hot enough, or he hadn't succeeded in keeping the handles cool, or he +was short of wood, or an extra strong gust of wind had blown his fire +nearly all away. +</P> + +<P> +At last Mick got angry. "You useless smut!" he shouted, when Eagle +handed him a couple of brands which were not hot enough. "You useless +smut! I thought you said you'd worked on Eridunda. What work did you +do there? Kitchen jin?"[<A NAME="ch17fn1text"></A><A HREF="#ch17fn1">1</A>] +</P> + +<P> +Eagle did not understand what Mick said, but he saw that the white man +was angry, so he hurried back to the fire and took out two other +brands, hoping that these would please the drover. They were +absolutely red-hot. Mick caught hold of them, but dropped them with a +yell. Eagle had forgotten to pile sand over the handles to keep them +cool, and had allowed the heat to run up the whole length of the shaft. +</P> + +<P> +Mick dropped the brands and vented his rage on the luckless Eagle. The +native was a big powerful man, but Mick took him by surprise. With a +sudden twist the white man sent him sprawling on the ground, and, +before he had a chance to get up again, was holding the black down with +a wrestling grip he had learnt when he was a lad. He grabbed his hat +with his free hand and reached for the red-hot branding-iron. He +pressed the fiery T.D.3 into the flank of the naked black-fellow. The +man yelled and squirmed with pain, but his captor held him tight. It +was a cruel thing to do, but Mick's Irish temper had got the better of +him, and he held the brand on the flesh till it had burnt a mark which +would never come off. +</P> + +<P> +Then he released his grip and stood up. Instantly the tortured black +sprang to his feet and reached for a stick. But before his hand could +close on it a shot rang out, and Eagle jumped back as if he had been +mortally wounded. The man was unharmed, however, for Mick had only +fired into the air as a warning, but he now covered the native with his +automatic pistol. The warragul knew enough about white men to +understand that sudden death could spit out of that little barrel which +Mick held in his hand, and if there had been any doubt in his mind as +to what he ought to do, it was dispelled by the shouts of warning of +the other blacks. +</P> + +<P> +Looking at Mick with fierce hatred, he backed slowly step by step till +he was about fifty yards away, when he turned and ran for his life. +Mick fired a parting shot after him, but it was not necessary. The +branded black-fellow did not stop till he was out of sight over the +first sand-hill. +</P> + +<P> +The work of branding was quietly resumed after this interruption, but +the spirit of laughter and good-natured rivalry had gone. The blacks +were nervous and the white boys were frankly scared at the unexpected +turn of events, and even Mick himself, after a few minutes had passed, +was sorry for what he had done. But he worked every man in the plant +to the full limit of his powers, never once easing the strain, for any +sign of relenting would have been misunderstood by the natives, who +think that a white man's kindness is the same as weakness, for they +respect one thing and one thing only, and that is power. In this they +are not unlike white men. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="ch17fn1"></A> +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[<A HREF="#ch17fn1text">1</A>] It is a great insult to a native to suggest that he is a woman or +that he does woman's work. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Revenge +</H3> + +<P> +Just before sunset, after a long and tiring day's work, the last of the +clean-skins was branded, and staggered to its feet and made off to +rejoin the other cattle. Mick wiped his knife on his trousers and then +used it to cut up a fill of tobacco. Sax had taken over the management +of the brands after the adventure with Eagle, and was very glad to pull +the irons out of the fire and let them cool in the sand. In fact, +everybody was pleased to "knock off", both because they were thoroughly +tired, and more especially because Mick's cruelty to the warragul had +caused an unpleasant feeling to take the place of the former spirit of +hearty good fellowship. +</P> + +<P> +The men let the cattle go and rode dejectedly back to camp, and even +Mick's efforts to start a conversation with his two white companions +was not a great success. A fire was lit, the quart-pots were boiled +and "tea-ed", and the damper and meat served out all round, and soon +afterwards the stockmen unrolled their swags and lay down for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Sax could not sleep. He turned over on one side and then on another, +but did not seem able to find a comfortable position. During the +excitement of his fall from the horse in the morning he had not noticed +any injuries, but now, when he wanted to forget everything and go to +sleep, he felt a large bruise on his hip and a sore place on each +shoulder. The moon shone in his face and kept him awake, and he lay on +his swag in a very unhappy frame of mind. +</P> + +<P> +Mick's behaviour to Eagle worried him. His body was too tired and sore +to rest, but his mind was unusually active, and kept on turning over +and over the incidents of the day, and especially the short struggle +between the white man and the warragul native. +</P> + +<P> +Sax had been on the other side of the mob of cattle when the incident +had occurred, but he had seen enough to make him very angry at the +injustice. Eagle had proved himself to be Sax's friend on three +occasions, and the lad consequently took the present matter to heart. +He quite forgot that Mick did not know who Eagle was, and merely +thought him to be a more than ordinarily useless black-fellow. Sax had +found out to his cost what an exceedingly unpleasant task it is to keep +brands hot on a blazing north-wind summer's day in the Australian +desert. +</P> + +<P> +The tired lad's indignant thoughts became confused as sleep gradually +claimed him, and at last his aching body was at rest, though his mind +still kept active and started to build dreams. Just after midnight, +when everything was still, and the last of the cattle had ceased to +splash in the water-hole and had gone out on one or another of the long +cattle-pads which stretched away into the silent desert, when the +half-moon looked down on the motionless and soundless world, a dark +face peeped over the top of the sandhill above the sleeping stockmen. +The man's naked body lay flat as a snake on the sand and wriggled +forward with movements like the waving of a shadow on a wall, till the +native could gain a clear view of the place where his unconscious enemy +lay. +</P> + +<P> +It was Eagle. +</P> + +<P> +He had come to kill. +</P> + +<P> +The T.D.3 brand, which still throbbed on his flank, was to him a mark +of shame, and he knew only one way of washing that shame away—with the +life-blood of the man who had put it there. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly he raised his head and looked, remaining for a minute or two +without any sign of life at all, not even the blinking of an eyelid. +If everybody on the camp had been awake and had chanced to look that +way, they would not have been able to distinguish the black-fellow's +head from the scraggy bushes which grew here and there on the +sand-hill. But all the men were asleep, and after Eagle had noted +carefully where Mick was lying, he ducked down again behind the +sand-hill and worked his way round till he was directly above the +sleeping white man. +</P> + +<P> +Just to one side of Mick's swag was a row of pack-saddles and bags, and +leaning against one of the saddles was the axe which had been used to +chop wood for the branding fire that afternoon. In fact Eagle had been +the one who had chiefly used it. He was now going to use that axe +again, but for a purpose more dear to his savage heart than cutting +dead branches: he was going to cut the live body of a hated white man, +and cut it again and again till no semblance of humanity remained. +</P> + +<P> +He crept forward down the slope inch by inch. No snake in the grass is +more silent and no fox is more stealthily alert than a black-fellow +creeping on an enemy. The body is held tense for instant action, and +the limbs move slowly and are put forward just a little bit at a time +with that slinking movement which is known only to beasts of prey and +to savage men. He reached the packs at last and lay down flat, not +moving for fully five minutes. Gradually a black hand stretched out +and a supple arm glided silently over the sand. +</P> + +<P> +He grasped the axe. He did not drag it. Even that slight noise might +spoil the night's work. He lifted and rose gently on his knees and one +hand, and held the axe close to his body with the other. +</P> + +<P> +Eagle is six yards from Mick. The critical time has come. No one can +see him move, for he changes his position such a little and such a +little more that he is in a new place without seeming to have left the +old one. His actions are as imperceptible as those of water. Five +yards. Four and a half. Four. Nearer and nearer. Three. Two. +Surely he will strike now! He is on hands and knees. He waits for a +moment or two and then straightens his body, pulls up one knee, and +poises the axe behind him. He is like a spring. In another second the +terrible tension will be relaxed and that supple black body will launch +itself at the sleeping man. The axe will split the skull in two from +forehead to chin, and not a sound will tell that the forces of the +desert have claimed another invader as their victim. +</P> + +<P> +The silence of the night is shattered by a shot. The poised axe falls +to the ground. The crouching native springs into the air with a yell +and puts a broken finger in his mouth. There is a mighty shout, and +Mick hurls himself at his would-be murderer. A blow under the chin +which would have felled a bull sends the black-fellow spinning to the +ground several yards away. The white man follows like an incarnate +fury and grapples at his enemy's throat. A terrible struggle ensues. +Over and over they roll. Now the black is on top, now the white, but +Mick never relaxes his hold on the man's throat. Gradually the +native's struggles weaken. The white stockman digs deeper with his +thumbs into the neck of the gasping man and waits the inevitable end. +Finally all resistance ceases. The black body grows limp and the head +falls back. +</P> + +<P> +The green-hide ropes are lying near. Mick reaches for them and binds +his captive more securely than any clean-skin cattle have ever been +bound. Then he looks up and meets the startled gaze of Sax and Vaughan. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chivalry in the Desert +</H3> + +<P> +Mick had expected to be attacked. He had worked with natives for +thirty years and had had many narrow escapes for his life, and had come +to anticipate danger and thus avoid it. When Eagle's head had poked up +over the opposite sandhill, Mick had been lying in that half-sleep +which cattle-men get used to and from which they are instantly awakened +by the slightest unusual sight or sound. He had seen the native and +had known from experience exactly what the man would do. With nearly +closed eyes he had followed the stealthy movements of the man down to +the packs, had seen him take the axe, and had waited till the very last +moment with pistol-barrel pointing through a fold in the camp-sheet. +Then he had fired at the hand which was grasping the axe. +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of the shot the two white boys had been startled awake, +but they had been so heavily asleep before, that it took them a moment +or two to realize what was happening. By that time it was all over, +and when they arrived on the scene, Mick was giving the last hitch to +the bull-hide rope. In answer to their eager questions, the stockman +told the lads of his adventure. It seemed terrible to them that Mick +had been so near death, and they wondered at his letting the native get +so near. But the white man treated the matter lightly, and all three +of them stood round the bound native and watched him slowly recover +consciousness. +</P> + +<P> +The five black-boys were standing in a group on the other side of the +smouldering fire, not knowing whether the white man's anger would vent +itself on them, but they were reassured when he called out to them, +pointing to the bound man: "This one, Eagle. Him try to kill white +man. No good at all. Silly fella quite. You all good fella. You go +back longa swag. You lie down. You all good fella." +</P> + +<P> +Eagle's eyelids fluttered and then opened, and he looked up into the +face of Sax. The light of the moon was strong enough to show the boy +what intense appeal there was in the captive's eyes. The man evidently +thought that he was going to be killed. He looked beseechingly at Sax +and then rolled his eyes to the north, towards the Musgraves, and +muttered the syllables: "Stoo-bar." +</P> + +<P> +The sound drew Mick's attention to him. "So yer've recovered, have +yer?" he asked, stooping down to pick up a quart-pot of water. "P'raps +that'll help yer." He dashed the cold water into the man's face. It +certainly brought him round to complete consciousness, and the dark +eyes no longer looked appealingly at Sax, but gazed with hatred at his +tormentor. +</P> + +<P> +"Yer don't like having a decent brand on yer hide, don't yer?" sneered +Mick. "Like me to take it off, would yer? Well, I'll have a try." +</P> + +<P> +The white boys had no idea what the drover intended to do, and stood +back when he asked them to do so, He rolled the helpless man over till +his flank was uppermost and showed the recent brand-mark T.D.3. The +brand was outlined with thick burns which stood up from the black +flesh. Mick went over to his swag for his whip. It was long and +supple, made of plaited kangaroo-hide, and ended in a well-rounded +lash. He drew it once or twice through his fingers and then cracked it +in the air. The sound was like the sudden banging together of two flat +wooden boards. Mick stood back from the prostrate native and measured +the distance with his eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't like to be branded, don't yer?" he asked. "Well, I'll take it +off for yer." +</P> + +<P> +He drew back the whip and swung it forward. There was a yell of pain +from Eagle. The lash had bitten right in the middle of the brand. The +whip fell again and again, each time unerringly. +</P> + +<P> +Sax sprang forward. He acted on the spur of the moment. With clenched +fists and blazing eyes he stood between the drover and the bound man. +For a moment there was silence except for the moaning of the tortured +man. Mick looked at Sax and said, with a cruel smile: "Well, and who +told you to interfere?" +</P> + +<P> +"But, Mick," gasped the lad, surprised at his own audacity, but +determined to see the matter through—"but, Mick, you can't do it. +He's tied up." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't do it, indeed!" shouted Mick. "Can't do it! That nigger wanted +to kill me, he did. Look out. I'm going to chop that brand out of his +side with this whip." +</P> + +<P> +The thong whistled through the air over the drover's head and came +forward. But Sax stood his ground. The falling whip coiled round his +legs and jerked him off his feet, sending him backwards over the body +of the bound native. Mick laughed and raised the whip again; but +before it came down, the lad was on his feet and had cleared Eagle's +body at a bound. The lash caught Sax's right leg. It slashed through +the thin cloth of the trousers and left a bleeding cut from ankle to +knee. The boy did not cry out. He grabbed at the whip and missed it, +but before it could be raised again, Vaughan rushed forward and caught +it. He twisted the plaited hide round his wrist and hung on. Sax +joined him immediately, but they tried in vain to wrench the handle out +of the infuriated man's hand. The unequal tussle was soon over. Mick +was a big heavy man, and the lads were light and were not used to +matching their strength against the endurance of a man. First one and +then the other was thrown back. They came on again, however, till, +with a sudden jerk, Mick flung the whip away from him, and faced them +with his bare hands. +</P> + +<P> +Sax and his friend were breathless. They stood panting beside the +native on the ground, and looked at the drover. +</P> + +<P> +"You young whipper-snappers!" he shouted, advancing with threatening +gestures. "You young whipper-snappers! I'll teach you to mind your +own business. Get out of my way." +</P> + +<P> +But the exhausted boys stood firm. At all costs they meant to protect +the bound man from the drover's anger. Mick hesitated for a moment. +He looked at the lads who were so new to the back country and who had +played the game so well. They seemed so young and small to him just +then. Because of his man's strength he could easily have killed them +both, but their very weakness made their obstinate resistance and pluck +seem all the greater. His anger began to die slowly, and his clenched +fists fell to his sides and opened. "I can thrash that nigger in the +morning," he said to himself. And then his real manhood, which anger +had hidden for a time, asserted itself, and he felt ashamed. "After +all," he thought again, "a chap shouldn't hit a man when he's down, +nigger or no nigger." +</P> + +<P> +Finally he spoke aloud. "All right, you boys. I won't touch him +to-night. Leave him where he is till morning. I'm going back to bed." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Bull-roarer +</H3> + +<P> +In half an hour the camp was asleep again. Men like Mick, who live in +the desert and who are constantly facing death in many forms, dismiss +an adventure from their minds as soon as it has happened. The black +stockmen were pretty much like animals, scared out of their wits one +minute and forgetting all about it the next. Sax and Vaughan were sure +that the drover would keep his word, and were so utterly tired out when +they lay down again on their swags, that, in spite of what had just +happened, they fell asleep at once. In fact, Sax did not bother to +wipe the blood off his leg where the whip had cut it. +</P> + +<P> +All the men were soon asleep except one. Eagle, the bound and tortured +warragul, was wide awake. For the first time in his life he was +helpless. Those supple limbs of his had never been bound before, and +he tugged and tugged to be free till he cut his skin against the hard, +unyielding bull-hide ropes. It was no good. Mick was too old a +cattle-man to leave a rope so that it could be loosened by pulling. +The black tried to twist his body till he could touch the green-hide +with his teeth and gnaw it through, but he was bound too tightly to +allow him to do this. Finally a he lay still with the fear of a +captured animal in his heart, and bitter hatred against the man who had +brought him to this condition. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he heard a dry stick crackle. He was lying with his face +uphill, away from the fire, but at the sound he turned over and looked +toward the few smouldering embers of the camp-fire. Instantly hope +blazed up in his heart. He was saved! In his previous struggles he +had been reckless, not caring how much noise he made, but with the +return of hope came cunning and stealth. For a few minutes after +hearing that welcome crackle of fire, he lay still and gazed at the +thin smoke which coiled lazily up in one or two spirals from a glowing +wood-coal here and there. Then he began to move forward. His limbs +were bound so tightly that they had no power of separate movement, but +he succeeded in twisting his body in such a way that, very slowly and +with an expenditure of great energy, he managed to get nearer and +nearer the fire. It took the bound man two hours to cover a distance +of three yards. Once the mind of a savage is made up to do a thing, +time is of no object at all. An eye-blink, the hours between sunrise +and sunset, a moon, or a season, it doesn't matter. He will persist in +his intention though he die with the thing unfinished. It is +civilization which breeds impatience. +</P> + +<P> +At last Eagle was up against the fire. His hands were bound behind +him. For a minute or two he looked intently at the grey ashes in which +a few little red-hot embers were glowing, till he decided on one which +was larger and hotter than any of the others. Then he deliberately +rolled over till his bound wrists were right in the ashes. There is no +pain worse than burning. A man will draw his hand away from fire at +all costs. Several parts of the man's body were actually in the fire, +but he endured it all and steeled himself to fight back the greater +agony which throbbed at his wrists. The fire touched the green-hide +and singed the white bull hair, giving off a pungent smell. Eagle +sniffed it greedily. It helped him to bear the terrible pain, for it +was a proof that the fire was doing its work. +</P> + +<P> +It is impossible to tell how long that wild man endured such fearful +torture for freedom's sake. Agony is not measured by the clock. His +eyelids were shut tight, his teeth were clenched, his breath came in +deep gasps, and every nerve and sinew in his body seemed to be +quivering. He would rather die than call out, yet the effort to keep +back the yells of pain was almost worse than death. In spite of what +it must have cost him, he kept up a constant strain with his arms. The +smell of burning became stronger, but who could say whether it was the +burning of the skin of a bull or of the skin of a man? +</P> + +<P> +At last he realized, through the torture which was clouding his mind, +that the strain was relaxing. He put forth a mighty effort. His body +could stand it no longer, and gathered all its forces for one last bid +for freedom. A green-hide strand parted. Another loosened itself. A +third uncoiled from his burnt wrist. +</P> + +<P> +His hands were free! +</P> + +<P> +Cunning is as natural to a savage as breathing. With the freeing of +his hands it would have been natural for the man to jerk himself out of +the fire, struggle out of his bonds, and make a dash for liberty. But +no. Eagle had a superstitious fear of white men. He must do nothing +to arouse the suspicions of his enemy. Almost as slowly as he had +approached the fire, he now wormed his way from it till he was out of +reach of its heat, and then lay still, his body racked with the pain of +being burnt and bound. Gradually he reached down with his burned hands +and loosened the rope which fettered his legs. It took some time, for +he had almost lost the use of his hands, and the rope was very stiff +and tightly drawn. But patience and perseverance triumphed, and at +last the man was free. +</P> + +<P> +His next moves were the most risky of all. Eagle was convinced that +Mick was possessed of supernatural powers, for how else could he have +seen the black-fellow and fired at him when he was fast asleep? +Consequently it was with a caution which was the outcome of deadly fear +that he began to crawl. He dared not take too long, for the short +summer night was nearly over, and the white stockman would certainly +awake at the rising of the morning star. But Mick was soundly asleep +this time, and did not notice the black form which went slowly round +the fire and then started up the hill near the white boys. +</P> + +<P> +When Eagle came opposite to Sax he stopped. This boy was not a devil +like the other white man. He had saved him from the torture of the +whip. He was the son of Boss Stobart and was therefore to be guarded +from all danger. A black remembers cruelty and will avenge it; he also +remembers kindness and will pay it back if he possibly can. But what +could a naked savage, fleeing for his life, do to show his gratitude to +the son of Boss Stobart? +</P> + +<P> +Eagle put his poor mutilated hand up to his mass of tangled hair and +pulled out a piece of wood with a string attached to it. The object +was about five inches long, thin and flat, and tapered to a point at +each end, something like a thick cigar except that it was not round. +Both sides were marked with straight lines cut across the breadth of +the wood and with circles inside one another, all filled in with a +mixture of grease and red ochre. At one end was a hole through which +passed a string made of native women's hair. The thing was a +luringa—a bull-roarer—a sacred charm, the most precious object which +Eagle could possibly give to his white friend. With this luringa the +white boy could travel unharmed amongst the most savage tribes of the +desert, and could even enter the wildest of the Musgrave fastnesses and +return, a thing which no white man had ever yet done. +</P> + +<P> +Eagle looked long at the piece of wood and muttered certain words over +it, and then unfastened the hair string and put it round the neck of +the sleeping boy. He had no fear of any evil power which Sax might +possess, and when the lad stirred uneasily, the black-fellow went on +with his work till he had tied the string quite securely. +</P> + +<P> +A flap of Sax's camp-sheet was spread out on the sand, and when Eagle +had finished with the luringa, he spread out his mutilated hand on the +piece of white canvas and made an imprint. His hand was all covered +with blood and ashes, and the mark of the two fingers and the +projecting thumb was left very plainly on the camp-sheet. +</P> + +<P> +When Eagle was quite satisfied that Sax would know who had hung that +strange symbol round his neck, he crawled on up the hill, disappeared +on the other side, and fled for his life. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Horseshoe Bend +</H3> + +<P> +In order fully to understand the position in which Sax and his friend +were soon to be placed, it is necessary to go back several weeks and +find out what had happened to the famous Boss Stobart. +</P> + +<P> +Joe Archer, the storekeeper at Oodnadatta who had been so kind to the +boys, had told them that the drover had not been heard of since he had +called in at Horseshoe Bend. It is possible to connect up with the +Overland Telegraph Line at Horseshoe Bend, and Stobart had taken +advantage of this opportunity of getting into touch with Oodnadatta. +</P> + +<P> +Boss Stobart, with a thousand Queensland cattle, reached the Finke +about midday. The Finke is a wide river of soft white sand, bordered +on each side by gnarled and ancient gum trees. Not once in the memory +of white man had the Finke carried water from its source in the +Macdonnel Ranges to its mouth in the great dry salt Lake Eyre, and the +trees which mark its course, and can be seen from many, many miles away +scattered about the landscape, gain their nourishment from a +water-supply fifty or sixty feet below the arid surface. +</P> + +<P> +The drover saw the cattle safely over the dry creek, put them on camp +in a clay-pen surrounded by sandhills, and then rode up to the little +group of rough buildings which, because the Finke makes an almost +complete turn on itself just there, goes by the name of Horseshoe Bend. +The Horseshoe Bend licensed store is a low iron building ornamented on +two sides by a broad veranda. Clustered at the back are a hut of split +box logs thatched with cane, an iron-roofed cellar, and a few primitive +outbuildings. These, with a large set of yards and troughs for +watering cattle, make what is not only the homestead of a +six-thousand-square-mile cattle station, but also an important depot on +the Great North Stock Route, a postal and telegraph station, and the +residence—when he is not away on the run—of a justice of the peace. +In a cramped and dusty office, where, amid the buzzing of innumerable +flies, while the temperature climbs above 110° F. every day for five +months in the year, the news of Europe and Asia can be heard +tick-tacked in code by inserting a little plug. The reports of a war +in India, of an active volcano in South America, or of a cricket match +in England could be heard at Horseshoe Bend in the centre of the +Australian desert before people in Melbourne knew anything about it. +The only thing necessary is to insert a little metal plug and make the +current run through the recorder. +</P> + +<P> +But the plug hangs idle on its nail; the recorder is covered with dust; +no one bothers about either Europe or Asia. What chiefly concerns the +few white men who are able to live in Central Australia are the price +of stock, the best place to find a little dried grass or bush, and +water. Always water, water, water—everything else is of secondary +importance—cattle-feed and water. +</P> + +<P> +The conversation between Stobart and the man behind the bar was all +about the needs and the ways of stock. The drover hitched his horse to +a veranda-post and walked into the dark drinking-room stiffly, for he +had been in the saddle since three o'clock that morning, and had done +some hard riding after restless cattle. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day," said Stobart. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-day," replied Tom Gibbon. "Travelling?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Cattle. How's the water down the road?" +</P> + +<P> +The man consulted a paper nailed on a board. It contained the names of +all the water-holes from Alice Springs to Oodnadatta. He began to +read, running his finger below the words and pronouncing them slowly: +"Yellow—dry. Sugar-Loaf—dry. Anvil Soak—dry. One Tree Well—only +enough for a plant; makes very slow. Simpson's Hole—dry. In fact the +whole lot are dry till you get as far as the Stevenson Bore. You're +right after that. How many've you got?" +</P> + +<P> +"A thousand." +</P> + +<P> +"Holy sailor! You'll never get through. Bob Hennesy was the last man +down with cattle. He got as far as the Crown and had to leave them on +a well there. They were as poor as wood. No stock passed this way for +three months." +</P> + +<P> +Boss Stobart had been a drover in Central Australia for thirty years, +and the names of the water-holes which Tom Gibbon had read out were +very familiar to him. Tom, however, was new to the country and did not +know who his visitor was. Stobart did not show any surprise at the +state of the country to the south of him, but merely remarked casually: +"Oh, well, I'll have to go round then. I'm a good month ahead of time." +</P> + +<P> +The barman did not know what going round meant, but had no wish to +display an ignorance which was really quite evident to the drover, so +he asked: "What'll you drink?" +</P> + +<P> +"Got any sarsaparilla?" +</P> + +<P> +Tom Gibbon laughed. It seemed a good joke to him that a bushman should +ask for a teetotal drink. "Yes, any amount of it," he answered. +"'Johnny Walker', 'Watson's No. 10', 'King George'—any brand you like." +</P> + +<P> +"I said sarsaparilla, not whisky," said Stobart. +</P> + +<P> +The laugh died out on Tom Gibbon's face. "D'you mean it?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes. What d'you think I'd ask for it for if I didn't want it?" +</P> + +<P> +The sarsaparilla bottle was taken down from the shelf and put on the +counter, together with a glass and a water-bag. "Have one with me?" +invited the drover. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thanks," replied the other. "I don't care for that stuff. A man +needs something with a nip to it in this country." +</P> + +<P> +Stobart poured out his drink and watered it. "Does he?" he asked +quietly. "When you've been in this country as long as I have, you'll +know what's good for you." +</P> + +<P> +When his visitor had gone, Tom Gibbon asked a black-fellow who the man +was that preferred sarsaparilla to whisky. He got rather a shock when +the native told him that the man was not a namby-pamby new-chum as he +had suspected, but was one whose name and deeds were known and talked +about from one end of the country to the other. +</P> + +<P> +"That one?" exclaimed the black-fellow in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"You no bin know um that one, eh? Him Boss Stobart. Big fella drover. +Him bin walk about this country since me little fella. Him big fella +drover all right, altogether, quite." +</P> + +<P> +The "big fella" drover rode over to the cattle and, instead of starting +them due south along the Great North Stock Route, he gave them a drink +at Horseshoe Bend troughs and then set out west. For several days he +and his black-boys travelled the mob through country which he knew +well, and he managed to find enough dry grass and bush to keep the +animals in fair condition, and enough water to give them a drink every +other day. +</P> + +<P> +He was making towards the Musgrave Ranges, knowing that the great mass +of high country which loomed on the western horizon day after day was +sure to have water-holes and gullies full of cattle-feed along the base +of it. One day he watered the cattle at a little water-hole surrounded +by box trees, under a low stony rise, and put them on camp in the open +and arranged the watches. It was still an hour before sunset when Boss +Stobart, after giving the cattle a final inspection, was riding back to +camp to make a damper and cook a bucket of meat, when he was startled +by seeing a boot track. They were in totally uninhabited country, and +the sight was just as startling as a naked black-fellow in the middle +of Sydney in the busy part of the day would be. +</P> + +<P> +He followed it for a yard or two. The footprints turned outwards. A +white man had made those tracks. They were only about a day old. What +was a white man on foot doing in such a place? The drover stopped and +looked back. The line of tracks was crooked and seemed as if a +staggering man had made it, but the general direction was from the +north. Stobart rode on slowly and thoughtfully. The wandering tracks +led to a little clump of mulga trees about a couple of hundred yards +away from the water-hole. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the old stock-horse which the man was riding drew back and +snorted with alarm. Something was moving in those trees. Stobart +urged the horse on. Just at the edge of the clump of scraggy timber +the animal shied again. A man's shirt was lying on the ground. +Trousers and boots were a little distance away, and then an old +battered felt hat was found upturned in the sand. Finally the horse +became so much afraid that Stobart was obliged to dismount and tie it +to a tree while he followed the tracks on foot. He had only a little +farther to go before he too saw what his horse had already seen—a +naked white man staggering round and round in a small clearing among +the trees. +</P> + +<P> +The man took no notice when Stobart appeared. He was quite +unconscious. The drover shouted, but there was no more response than +if the desert silence had remained unbroken. By the tracks of his +shuffling bare feet he must have been drawing that terrible circle for +several hours, while the pitiless sun beat down on his unprotected +head. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and was dark-coloured and +swollen, his head jerked forward loosely with each stride, and his +tottering legs were bent almost double at the knees. If he sank just a +little lower, his hanging hands would touch the ground, and he would +crawl over the burning sand like any other dying beast, round and +round, round and round, for nothing but utter exhaustion would stop +that parade of death. +</P> + +<P> +Boss Stobart stood directly in the path of the shambling figure. It +came on unheeding, with glazed eyes and spent senses, and bumped into +the drover as if the hour had been pitch-dark midnight instead of a +summer afternoon. Stobart caught it before it fell, and laid the limp +body down very gently and looked into the man's face. He uttered an +exclamation of amazement. It was Patrick Dorrity, a man whom he had +seen only a few months before, cooking on Tumurti Station. +</P> + +<P> +Pat Dorrity and Stobart were old friends. Pat had a fondness for a +spree and had consequently never risen above the level of a casual +station cook, wandering about in this capacity over the huge area of +the north, where his friend the drover, who did not have the same +weakness, had gone on earning the confidence and respect of every +stock-owner in the country, till he was now a shareholder in more than +one prosperous station property. +</P> + +<P> +But bushman friendships are not based on bank balances, and the two had +remained good friends. As a proof of this, the last time they had met, +Pat had told the drover about a gold-mine he knew of in the Musgrave +Ranges. At first Stobart laughed at the old Irishman, for there were +as many reputed gold-mines in the Musgraves as there were men who had +gone after them and not come back. But gradually Pat had won him over, +for in the veins of every bushman runs enough gambler's blood to make +the sporting risk of a gold-mine very alluring. The two men wrote to +Sergeant Scott, of Oodnadatta, who was a great friend of both of them, +and arranged that they would start out for the Musgraves as soon as +Stobart had delivered the cattle. +</P> + +<P> +Since coming to this decision, the care of a thousand bush cattle had +taken up so much of Boss Stobart's attention that he had none to give +to the proposed trip, and he was, therefore, all the more amazed to +come across one of the partners in the venture in such a pitiable +plight. +</P> + +<P> +The man was perishing. Water in abundance was only two hundred yards +away, yet here he was dying of thirst. Such is the irony of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Pat Dorrity's horse had been abandoned ten miles back, and the +tottering man had walked on, till, when he had managed to stagger to +the top of the last sandhill, and had seen two clumps of timber, one of +box and one of mulga, his senses had played him false and he had gone +to the mulgas. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart did not stop to wonder how his old friend had come to such a +pass. He needed water. Everything else must wait. The strong man +lifted the weak one and walked away to his horse, leading it to the +camp near the water-hole. At the sight of that little pool of muddy +liquid, the closing eyes of the perishing man opened and his weak body +struggled to be free; his mouth tried to shape sounds but could not do +so, for his tongue was swollen and his throat dry. +</P> + +<P> +The drover was too old a bushman to allow the perishing man to have all +the water he wished for. Gradually the swelling of the tongue was +reduced, then the parched throat was relieved by driblets of water, and +even then, when Pat Dorrity could have swallowed, he was only allowed +to take a sip at a time, or he would have vomited so badly that some +internal rupture would have resulted. +</P> + +<P> +Before Boss Stobart went on watch that night, his old friend was +sleeping peacefully, with his thirst quenched, and having had a small +meal of soaked damper also. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Facing Death +</H3> + +<P> +Boss Stobart could not afford to spend more than one day at the +water-hole where he had found his friend Patrick Dorrity, because the +water was practically a thin solution of mud, and the feed was soon +eaten out within a radius of a few miles. There was really no need for +delay, for the old station cook recovered quickly, and "dodging along" +behind cattle, as it is called, is not hard work for a man who has +nothing to do. The recuperative powers of the Australian bushman are +wonderful. It is only men of the toughest fibre and the stoutest heart +who can live in the central deserts, and when one of these is overtaken +by sickness or disaster, he never stops fighting, and wins through in +the shortest possible time. There comes a day, however, when it is not +possible to win through, and the brave man dies fighting, and the sand +gradually covers up the body of yet another pioneer. +</P> + +<P> +Dorrity was what is called a "hatter". He had lived for long periods +in the north absolutely alone; at other times his only companions had +been blacks. Too much of this sort of life is not good for a man. +Moreover, the deadly monotony of Pat's life was broken at long +intervals by the most violent sprees, when he drank steadily for three +weeks on end, finishing the bout by several days of delirium tremens. +None but the strongest constitution could stand such treatment time +after time, and though the Irishman's tough body had not yet shown any +signs of breaking up under the strain, his mind was liable to fits of +moodiness which amounted almost to madness. Such a man is not rare in +Central Australia, and he goes by the name of "hatter". +</P> + +<P> +After Boss Stobart's last visit to Tumurti Station, when Pat and he had +arranged for the trip to the Musgraves in search of gold, the old cook +had been attacked by fits of moodiness which he could not shake off. +He could not rid his mind of the thought that his friend the drover was +going to defraud him of his share in the gold-mine. He blamed himself +for telling anybody about it, and at last worked himself up into such a +state that he set out, alone except for an old horse, to go to the +Musgrave Ranges. The men on Tumurti Station were used to Pat's sudden +comings and goings, and took them as a matter of course and did not +inquire what he intended to do. He would not have told them if they +had asked, for his feeble mind was set on reaching the supposed mine +before the men whom he thought were going to rob him of it. +</P> + +<P> +It was some weeks after he had started out from Tumurti with the old +horse that Boss Stobart had found him perishing in a clump of mulgas. +When he recovered, under the drover's kind and wise treatment the +hatter mood had left him for a time. +</P> + +<P> +The party travelled on slowly from the Box water-hole for several days, +still keeping the high mass of the Musgrave Ranges in front of them, +till at last they came into country which Boss Stobart did not know. +The mountains sent out spurs far into the plains, and when the drover, +who was riding a mile or two ahead of the cattle, came upon a rocky +water-hole in a valley tolerably covered with low bushes, he decided to +camp there for a day or two and explore the surrounding district to +find the best route to take with the cattle. +</P> + +<P> +It was early in the afternoon when the lowing mob came up to the water; +so when they had had a drink, Stobart gave directions to his black-boys +and rode off, leaving Pat Dorrity to look after the camp. He took with +him a boy named Yarloo. This boy was a Musgrave black whom Stobart had +picked up on one of his droving trips years before and had kept ever +since. The native was devoted to the white man, and Stobart had +responded to this faithfulness in such a way that Yarloo would have +willingly given his life for his hero. The boy's services at this time +were invaluable, for the party had now reached the country in which he +had been born. Before many days his services were to prove more +valuable still, and his devotion was to be put to a very great test. +</P> + +<P> +The two men rode up the gully to the top, crossed over the spur, dipped +down into a larger gully, and struck out south-west for a plain +stretching towards Oodnadatta which Yarloo remembered, where there were +one or two good water-holes and plenty of cattle-feed for many days. +Darkness came on before they had completed their investigations, and as +there was no need to get back to camp that night, they hobbled their +horses on a patch of dry grass and lay down, each man pillowing his +head on his upturned saddle. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning they reached the plain, found it to be all that could be +expected considering the drought-stricken state of the country, and +then turned their horses' heads towards camp. +</P> + +<P> +They had not gone more than half-way when they saw that something was +wrong, for they came across one or two of the cattle which they had +been driving. The animals had evidently been badly scared, for they +galloped away as soon as they caught sight of the two horsemen. It +took some time to round them up, and by that time others were in sight +and others still. Boss Stobart always selected good black stockmen and +trusted them, and he knew that something quite out of the ordinary had +happened to scatter the cattle in this way, and that it was not due to +any carelessness on the boys' part. At last he came upon a bullock +which was tottering along, hardly able to keep on its feet. It tried +to dash away when it saw the mounted men, but the effort was too much +for it. It fell over, tried to get up but couldn't, and lay in the +sand, panting and moaning with pain. +</P> + +<P> +The point of a spear was sticking in its side just behind the +shoulder-blade. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo pulled it out and looked at it. The shaft, which had broken off +about a foot from the end was made of lance-wood. The head of the +spear was broad and flat, and was made of red mulga, a hard, tough, +poisonous wood. It was bound to the shaft with kangaroo sinews and +spinifex gum in such a way that the black-boy had no hesitation in +pointing to the mountain range to the left of them. "Musgrave +black-fella," he said. "Me know um this one." +</P> + +<P> +Stobart left the cattle which they had collected in charge of Yarloo +and galloped ahead. He met other cattle, dead or dying, but was not +prepared for what he saw when he topped the rise just above the +water-hole where the camp had been. +</P> + +<P> +A crowd of about fifty blacks squatted round a fire. Their naked +bodies were smeared with red ochre and clay in fantastic designs, and +many of them had feathers or grass or the claws of large birds in their +bunched-up hair. Great bleeding chunks of meat and entrails were +smoking and sizzling in the fire, and all around them were the +carcasses of dead cattle. It seemed incredible that fifty men armed +only with boomerangs and wooden spears should have been able to commit +such a slaughter. The white man took all this in at a glance, and then +his face hardened and he knew that he was nearer death than he had ever +been before, for a little distance away were the bodies of six clothed +black-boys and a white man, laid out in a row. The sun beat down +pitilessly on that terrible scene, but not one of the seven put his +hand up to drive away the flies or to protect his head from the glare. +They were dead! +</P> + +<P> +The feasting natives saw him at once and rose to their feet with a +yell. Stobart did not ride away. Such an act of fear would have made +his death sure, and probably more hideous than it would be if he faced +those shouting, dancing, gesticulating fiends. +</P> + +<P> +He took a fresh grip of the reins and urged his unwilling horse to go +down the hill to meet the blacks. This act of courageous audacity +checked them for a moment. They collected in a bunch and yabbered +excitedly. Stobart understood several aboriginal languages, but this +one was wild and harsh and quiet strange to him. +</P> + +<P> +Sitting firmly but easily in the saddle, the white man rode quietly up +to the savages. When he was only a horse's length away, he drew rein +and looked at them. Several of the men stepped back, flung their +spear-arms behind their heads, fastened the woomeras, and prepared to +throw. But the long quivering shafts never left their hands. One or +two jumped out from the crowd and swayed back their supple black bodies +to give additional force to a boomerang. But the heavy curved weapon +never started on its death-dealing course. Here and there a man sprang +up in the air and waved his spears wildly over his head, and shouted +words of hatred towards the white man and of encouragement to his +companions. But the result of it all was nothing worse than +threatening and noise. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart sat and looked at them. He was a famous horse-breaker and a +noted man with cattle, and had found, in dealing both with animals and +with men, the power which his eye possessed. It was the focusing-point +of all the force and personality of a remarkable man. +</P> + +<P> +But who can quell and keep on quelling the passions of fifty savages +who have tasted blood? One man broke the spell of the drover's steady +glance. He jumped to one side and hurled a boomerang. Stobart dodged. +It passed him and whizzed on, turning and turning for nearly two +hundred yards, so great had been the force behind it. The man had put +so much energy into the throw that his body was jerked forward till he +was standing beside the horseman. +</P> + +<P> +A great shout went up when the weapon left the hand of the +black-fellow, but it was cut off suddenly to amazed silence when the +boomerang passed on and left the white unharmed. This man must be a +devil. At once every spear was raised, poised in the woomera, and +directed, not at the white man, but at the native who had dared to pit +his strength against a supernatural power. Stobart understood the +situation immediately, and so did the unfortunate black, who hunched +his shoulders ready for death. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly one of those reckless impulses came to the drover which come +only to great men, and which are often the turning-points of their +lives. He jabbed spurs into his horse's flanks and wheeled it like a +flash between the cringing native and his would-be murderers. At the +same time he raised his hand and shouted: +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" +</P> + +<P> +Not one of them had ever heard the word before, but they understood +what it meant by the white man's tone and gesture of command. They +instantly obeyed. Before the sound of Stobart's voice had come back in +echo from the mountains, every spear was lowered. +</P> + +<P> +The white man backed his horse and looked down at the native whose life +he had saved. The man was grovelling in the sand in abject fear and +gratitude. Stobart motioned to him to get up and return to the others. +He did so, and as he slunk away, the drover noticed that the middle two +fingers of his left hand were missing. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Friend and a Foe +</H3> + +<P> +Boss Stobart had had too much experience with blacks to think that he +was safe. He had escaped instant death and seemed to have gained some +sort of control over those savage minds, but he knew that at any time +the long quivering spears, which had just been lowered at his command, +might be hurled at him and bury their poisonous heads in his body. So +he continued to sit on his horse and look steadily at the naked savages. +</P> + +<P> +When they had got over their surprise, both at the white man having +power to turn aside a boomerang—as they thought—and at his saving the +life of his enemy, they began to yabber and gesticulate. They pointed +to the seven dead men and then at Stobart with fear in their faces; +they looked round at the slaughtered cattle and wondered what revenge +this supernatural man would take; the sound and smell of cooking meat +grew very tantalizing, but they did not dare to continue the feast till +the white man made some sign of anger or pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +The drover did not turn his head. There were those in the crowd who +had not come under the spell of his authority, and he knew it; +therefore he kept on facing them. He looked steadily at one man in +particular; a tall, well-proportioned native with a commanding head and +features. Through the septum of the man's nose a little bundle of thin +bones had been thrust, and this, together with a particular design +painted on his chest, proclaimed him to be a man of power, the doctor +of the tribe. He regarded Stobart with a scowl of hatred, and went +about amongst his companions telling them that there was no difference +between this white man and other men of his colour, and that he would +be as easy to kill as the poor sick Irishman who was now lying so +quietly in the sand. The natives, however, did not know what to do. +Stobart's life hung by a thread. +</P> + +<P> +This state of uncertainty was suddenly cut short by a native appearing +on the top of the hill immediately behind Stobart. He had been running +and had hardly breath enough to shout the news to the men below. He +had seen Yarloo and the little mob of cattle. Most of the blacks at +once ran up the hill and looked back in the direction where he was +pointing. The native doctor and the man with the mutilated left hand +were amongst those who stayed near the fire, and Stobart felt sure that +the man whom he had saved was there on purpose to see that his rescuer +came to no harm. +</P> + +<P> +After a great deal of noise and waving of arms and stamping of feet, +the party on the hill disappeared down the other side, and presently +some cattle came straggling over the top and ran down to the water-hole +for a drink. Yarloo followed, escorted by the blacks who had gone out +to meet him. He had evidently established friendly relations with his +fellow-tribesmen, for they were all laughing and talking excitedly, and +already one or two of them were adorned with articles of Yarloo's +clothing which he had given them. The much-envied recipients of these +gifts were probably relations or members of the same totem, and the +wise boy had made the most of his opportunities for showing goodwill, +for his master's sake. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo was evidently very much relieved to find Boss Stobart safe. He +went up to the drover and showed so plainly that the white man was his +honoured friend, that the other natives at once changed their attitude, +and gave every sign of favour to the man whom they had so recently +wanted to kill. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart was invited to join the feast. His own tucker-packs had not +been interfered with, for the blacks had started to cut up and eat meat +as soon as the slaughter was over; so to the only item on the primitive +menu he added a few tins of jam and treacle, a bottle or two of tomato +sauce, and all the damper which was left. Afterwards, when all had +gorged themselves to their fullest capacity, he handed round small +plugs of tobacco, which the men accepted eagerly and started to chew at +once. The doctor kept aloof from these proceedings and would not touch +the white man's food or tobacco, so Stobart gave the man whom he had +rescued from death a double share, and thereby cemented a friendship +which he thought might be useful in the future. +</P> + +<P> +Feasting went on into the night and did not stop till the morning star +was rising. Everybody crawled under bushes and stunted trees and went +to sleep. Now was Stobart's chance. He signed to Yarloo. The +faithful boy had not followed his natural desires to eat as fully as +his fellow-tribesmen had done, but had kept himself ready for any +emergency which might occur. +</P> + +<P> +"We go 'way now, Yarloo, I think," whispered Stobart. "Which way +horses go?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy pointed in a certain direction. "Me go find um nantu (horses), +boss," he said. "Me tie um up 'nother side sand-hill. By'm-by sun +come up, black-fella sleep, aller same dead; sleep like blazes. You +bring um two fella saddle 'nother side sand-hill. Little bit tucker. +We clear out. Me know um this country." He looked round at the naked +blacks, all smeared with blood and grease and dirt, and snoring in +profound sleep, and laughed quietly. "Silly fella," he remarked. "All +about sleep long time. My word, too much long time." +</P> + +<P> +Soon afterwards Yarloo went off on the tracks of the horses, which he +had had the forethought to hobble before letting them go the previous +afternoon, and when Stobart was quite sure that everybody was soundly +sleeping, he went over to the packs, stuffed his pockets with tucker, +and carried his own and Yarloo's saddles out of sight over the +sand-hill. He returned for his rifle and water-bag, for he did not +know whether their lives might not depend on one or the other of these. +He did not dare to stay away too long from the sleeping blacks, for +fear that one of them should wake and notice that he had gone, so he +returned and lay down under a tree and waited for Yarloo. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly noon when the boy returned, and the expression on his +face clearly indicated disaster. +</P> + +<P> +"Nantu dead," he announced sorrowfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Dead?" exclaimed Stobart. "What, all of them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yah. All about." +</P> + +<P> +The drover was too much amazed to ask any more questions for a time. +The blacks had certainly made a thorough work of their first slaughter, +but surely they had not killed the two horses which had been let go +since friendly relations were established. He looked so perplexed that +the boy started to explain. +</P> + +<P> +"Nantu killed aller same cattle," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but what about Billy and Ginger?" asked the white man. (These +were the horses Stobart and Yarloo had ridden the previous day.) +</P> + +<P> +"Dead," said Yarloo emphatically. "Me bin see um." +</P> + +<P> +"How? Speared?" asked Stobart. +</P> + +<P> +The native looked round stealthily as if afraid of being heard. Then +he lowered his voice and whispered: "Neh. Nantu no bin speared. +Throat bin cut this way." He poked his finger into his neck at the +side of the gullet and made a cutting movement. +</P> + +<P> +There was only one man in the tribe who would have done the killing in +that way, and Stobart asked: "Doctor-man, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo looked again. The drover had never seen the boy look so +startled. Then he pointed to his nose and indicated the decoration of +the native doctor, and to his chest and drew the distinguishing marks +of his calling, and nodded. He did not dare to speak. The man with +the bunch of bones stuck through his nose, the man who had tried his +best to stir up his companions to kill Stobart and had persistently +repulsed all overtures of friendship, this man had tracked up the two +horses in the night and had cut their throats. The white man was his +enemy; he must not be allowed to escape, for he would sooner or later +be put to death. Stobart knew that he had a powerful foe. +</P> + +<P> +The drover had succeeded in making a friend of the man with the +mutilated left hand, but had not been able to overcome the hatred of +the most influential man in the tribe. +</P> + +<P> +The upshot of the adventure was that Boss Stobart was forced to +accompany the tribe of Musgrave warraguls back to their mountain +fastnesses. In the ranges he found fertile valleys watered with +permanent springs, game and birds in abundance, and many indications of +the gold which so many daring prospectors had sought for at the price +of their lives. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A Prisoner +</H3> + +<P> +The famous drover was a prisoner. He was free to come and go when and +where he liked, but he soon found that he was being closely watched, +and that, until he was quite certain of success, any attempt to escape +would be worse than useless. It would result in his death. +</P> + +<P> +At first Stobart couldn't understand what they wanted to keep him for, +and why they didn't kill him right away, but after a time he found out +that Yarloo had told them so many wonderful things about his "white +boss", that his captors' opinion as to his supernatural powers was +confirmed. In his zeal to save his master's life, the faithful boy had +gone a little too far, for the warragul tribe decided that they must +keep such a marvellous man with them at all costs, and that his +presence would be sure to bring them plenty of the good things of +life—water, tucker, and healthy children. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as possible without arousing suspicion, Stobart sent Yarloo to +Oodnadatta with a note for Sax, hoping that Sergeant Scott would be +able to send out a rescue party at once. But, as we have seen, the +trooper was away from home and nobody knew when he would be back again. +</P> + +<P> +The camp where the drover was obliged to live consisted of thirty or +forty wurlies on the side of a little hill above a spring. The +dwellings were temporary and primitive, as blacks' dwellings are: +branches stuck into the ground and drawn together at the top to make a +shape like an inverted bowl. Stobart could have had one of these, but +as the former occupant had not left it as clean as a white man likes +his home to be, he chose a small cave a few yards above the camp. This +gave him the considerable advantage of being away from the dogs and +smell which are inseparable from a blacks' camp. +</P> + +<P> +A bushmen always makes the best of a bad job, and Stobart did not see +why he should not have as good a time as he possibly could while +waiting for the chance to escape. He never for one moment doubted that +his adventure would end successfully, and his chief sorrow was for the +loss of the cattle. In the thirty years during which he had driven +stock from one end of Central Australia to the other, he had never had +one real disaster. Of course there had been small losses, sometimes +because of drought, once by flood, and once also because of a band of +marauding blacks which he had succeeded in driving off before they had +done much damage; but he had never failed to deliver his charges at +their destination better in condition and in greater numbers than could +be expected under the circumstances. It speaks well for the man's +stern sense of duty that, though he was a captive in a camp of the +wildest savages in Australia, and liable to death at any time, he +worried, not about his own safety, but about the lost cattle. +</P> + +<P> +He became proficient with both boomerang and spear, and could soon +knock over a rock wallaby or a cockatoo as neatly as any man in the +tribe, and, because of his greater strength, he was more than a match +for the natives at any kind of sport. He had been a good tracker for +many years, but he now found that he had much to learn from these +natives, who for generation after generation had hunted for their food +by tracking it. Sometimes he was away from camp for days together with +a hunting expedition, and in this way he became perfectly familiar with +the lay of the country. By his constant association with the +warraguls, he picked up a good deal of their speech, and was soon able +to carry on conversations with them, supplying anything he did not know +by gestures, which are the same all over the world. +</P> + +<P> +After several weeks had gone by in this way, and he had made no attempt +to escape, he started to go hunting with only a few natives instead of +with a big party. The man with the mutilated left hand was always one +of these, and Stobart gradually made his companions fewer and fewer, +till it became quite the recognized thing for him to go off with only +this one native. The man's name was a long one, and Stobart shortened +it to Coiloo. At first his companion, though he very much appreciated +the honour of being with his hero, was shy, and did no more than fulfil +the white man's wishes faithfully and well. But Stobart had learnt how +to win the confidence of blacks, and before long the man had ceased to +fear his master—for so he considered the man who had saved him from +death—and was devoted to him with all his heart. +</P> + +<P> +Soon after this Coiloo told Stobart about the expedition which was +about to set out against Mick's party travelling to Sidcotinga Station. +With the wonderful power which the blacks possess of conveying +information over tremendous distances by means of smoke signals, the +tribes in the Musgrave Ranges knew all about Mick Darby and his +companions, and Stobart was very much concerned when he heard that two +white boys were of the number. He knew at once who they were. Not +twice in a man's lifetime do boys, fresh from a city school, travel up +into Central Australia and leave the few little centres of civilization +which are there, and strike out west into the desert; so the drover was +certain that one of those white boys was his son. +</P> + +<P> +He spent a whole day describing the boy to Coiloo. He only had an old +photograph to guide him, and even this had been left behind in the +packs near the fatal water-hole; but the father had so often pictured +his son in his own mind, that the description which he gave again and +again to the warragul was so good that the man had no difficulty in +recognizing Sax when he saw him. Then Stobart told Coiloo to join the +marauding-party and to see that the boys came to no harm. The result +of the native's faithfulness is already known. +</P> + +<P> +When Coiloo had gone, Stobart frequently went out alone. He was such a +successful hunter, and was so willing to add the result of his prowess +to the general food-supply of the camp, that nobody objected to his +solitary expeditions. But Stobart had a more important reason for his +wanderings than bringing home dead game. He was looking forward to the +day when everything would be ready for a successful escape from the +Musgrave Ranges, and he was determined to take away with him something +more than his bare life: he meant to take the secret of the Musgrave +gold. +</P> + +<P> +At first, when he started to go out alone, he always returned at night, +but gradually he accustomed the camp to his absence for longer periods, +till he was able at last to carry out his investigations unhindered. +He found many traces of gold, but as he had no tools, and did not want +to arouse any suspicions as to the real object of his journeys, he was +not able to tell whether the traces lead to any larger deposits. There +were little gullies which ran water in times of storm, where specks of +the glittering metal could easily be seen in the sand; and quartz +boulders stained with what looked like rust, here and there on a +scrub-covered hill-side; and little cracks in the sheer face of a cliff +where veins of dirty red ran about like the marks in marble. The +Ranges were evidently a very rich "prospect", and it was no wonder that +white men had braved the desert and the men who lived there, for the +lure of gold is the strongest of all, and men die willingly in +answering its call. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Outpost of Death +</H3> + +<P> +One day Stobart set out in a new direction. His only articles of dress +were a pair of trousers, so ragged and torn that they did not reach +below his knees, and an old felt hat. His shirt had been torn up into +strips to bandage his bleeding feet before they had become accustomed +to walking without boots. He carried two spears, a woomera, and a +boomerang, while an appliance for making fire hung at his belt. +</P> + +<P> +He walked till it was nearly dark that day, then made a fire near a +rock-hole, cooked and ate a lizard, and went to sleep. When he awoke +the sun had not yet risen. The surrounding mountains were clearly +outlined against the pale early morning sky, and when the white man had +stooped to drink and had made up the fire, he sat down and looked idly +around him, waiting for it to be light enough for him to hunt for his +breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +It was a strange position for a white man to be in, and if Stobart had +not had a stout heart he would have given way to despair, and either +"gone bush" entirely, as some white men have done, and become a full +member of the warragul tribe, or he would have committed suicide. But +Boss Stobart did not give up hope. The unaccustomed food was beginning +to tell upon his superb health and strength, and as he sat by the +little flame which seemed to get fainter and fainter as daylight +increased, he knew that he could not afford to put off his bid for +freedom much longer. +</P> + +<P> +All at once his listless gaze was arrested. He leaned forward eagerly +and stared at one of the rocky peaks. From where he was sitting, its +outline against the light eastern sky looked exactly like the nose of a +man lying down. It was so perfectly clear that Stobart laughed. But +he was not laughing at its striking resemblance to a man's nose; +certain words of the old Irishman who had been murdered by the blacks +came to him. Pat Dorrity had talked in his sleep a great deal the +first night after the drover had saved him from perishing. The man was +feverish, and the sentences had been jumbled up and meaningless at the +time, but Stobart's memory now recalled certain words which he had +scarcely noticed at the time. +</P> + +<P> +"Man's nose. Man's nose," the old fellow had muttered. "Man's nose +seen looking east. Waterhole on other side. Look out! Look out!" +Then he had become very excited, and such words as blacks and spears +and gold and skulls had been mixed up in hopeless confusion. +</P> + +<P> +The peak which Stobart was now looking at was certainly exactly like a +man's nose, and he was also looking east. One direction was as good as +another to him that morning, and, as his curiosity was aroused, he +forgot about his breakfast and began to climb the hill-side towards the +rocky top. Before he was half-way up the sun shone over the rim of the +mountains, and he was very hot and thirsty when he finally reached the +mass of rock on the summit. He looked down on the other side for the +expected water-hole, but the valley was covered with dense scrub, and +he saw nothing to give him hope of a drink. However, the ranges were +so well watered that he started at once to go down the hill, hoping to +find a spring or rock-hole somewhere in the valley. +</P> + +<P> +He was disappointed for some time. The trees thinned as he reached the +bottom of the hill and gave place to a broad stretch of sand. This +surface showed no sign of water whatever, which was strange, for there +had been several storms in the hills since Stobart had been taken +prisoner, and the steep rocky slopes of the valley would certainly run +off most of the rain which fell upon them. The drover had come across +instances of the same thing in the Macdonnel Ranges, away to the north, +and he knew that the rain soaked in at the extreme edges of the valley +and ran away in a stream many feet below the surface, and never +disturbed the sand on top. There is usually a water-hole at the head +of such a valley as this, and Stobart was on his way up to look for it, +when he received such a shock that he dropped his weapons and stood +staring at the sand, his mouth and eyes wide open with amazement. He +did not believe his sight. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked +away, but when his gaze came back again, there was the same sign in the +sand. +</P> + +<P> +The tracks of a shod horse! +</P> + +<P> +It was impossible to tell how old the marks were. There were only +three or four of them, and they ran up a little strip of clay which the +wind had blown clear of sand. They had evidently been made when the +clay was soft during rain, and the imprints had been baked hard by the +sun and would remain clear for a very long time. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart gazed with utter astonishment at those few prints of a shod +horse. They meant one thing, one thing supremely, a white man—a gold +prospector most likely, one of the dauntless pioneers who had crossed +the desert and had not returned. +</P> + +<P> +The tracks led up the valley. Stobart picked up his weapons and +hurried on. Soon he came to a natural embankment of sand which +stretched across from one rocky slope to another. He climbed it. The +other side was clear of timber. A glint of water caught his eye. The +sun had just penetrated the cool shade of that silent place and was +striking keen light from a water-hole at the foot of a boulder-strewn +knoll right in the middle of the valley. +</P> + +<P> +The white man's thirst was now so great that he was about to start +running down to the water which lay so invitingly some twenty yards +away, when something white caught his eye. +</P> + +<P> +It looked like the Southern Cross worked out in perfectly white stones +on the surface of the sand near the water-hole. Stobart did not run. +An uncanny feeling came over him. Those hoof-marks, and now this +design—surely the thing must be the work of man. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he stumbled. His bare feet caught in something and he +tripped. He looked down at his toe. It was cut and bleeding slightly. +He went back to find the thing which had tripped him. +</P> + +<P> +It was the blade of a shovel! +</P> + +<P> +One edge was sticking up. With shaking hands Stobart pulled it out of +the sand. It came away easily, for the handle was burnt. He groped +about near it and uncovered, one after another, a gold-washing dish, a +pick-head, a couple of wedges, and a hammer. The sand had drifted over +them and made a mound. Then he laid bare a truly gruesome +sight—charred embers of wood and half-burnt human bones. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart did not disturb the sand any more. He knew now why the gold +prospectors, who had penetrated into the Musgrave fastnesses in search +of the wealth which was reputed to be there, had never returned. Would +<I>he</I> ever return, he wondered. The place was haunted by the spirits of +the murdered dead, and was guarded by black devils in human form. Even +now one of them might be watching him, waiting an opportunity of adding +his bones to the collection which the sand had covered up. +</P> + +<P> +He rose to his feet. He was thirsty, and the sight he had just seen +made him want to soak his whole body in the cool clean water of the +pool. He laughed harshly. What were all these fancies which were +coming into his head? He would not give way to them. This life in a +blacks' camp was upsetting his nerves. What were a few dead men after +all? He had seen plenty of them. <I>He</I> was alive and would soon escape +from this outpost of death. He laughed again. The rocky walls sent +back an echo of his laugh. It sounded like an evil spirit mocking him. +He walked a few paces, till he was near those white things which had +been laid out so carefully in the design of the Southern Cross. He +looked at them. He looked again, astonished beyond measure. Yes! No! +Yes, they were! +</P> + +<P> +They were human skulls—white men's skulls! +</P> + +<P> +Stobart staggered away. He lay down on the edge of the water. He +needed its cool touch to save him from madness. He drank deep, deep +satisfying draughts. He bathed his head and face and plunged his arms +in it, splashing the life-giving drops over his naked chest. The sense +of horror gradually began to leave him, and he realized that he had +reached the object of his search. He had found the Musgrave gold-mine. +From where he lay he looked up at the boulder-strewn knoll behind the +water-hole. Even at the distance of several yards he could see that +every boulder was more richly studded with the precious metal than any +he had ever seen. It did not surprise him. The events of the last +hour had robbed him of the power to be surprised. He just looked up at +all that wealth and knew it was his—his, if only he could take it away. +</P> + +<P> +He turned his head and looked at the skulls. Each bleached remains of +what had once been the head of a courageous man was looking at him out +of empty eye-sockets. The jaws had been propped open and seemed to be +laughing with ghastly dead mirth into the face of the living man. +Stobart's imagination began to play tricks with him, for when he turned +his eyes away, the glances of the skulls seemed to turn also. +</P> + +<P> +He plunged his head once more into water and leaned over till his chest +and arms were covered. His hands groped about in the cool sand, and +when he pulled them out again they were full of wet sand. The sun's +rays caught it and struck a thousand flashes from the grains. They +looked unusually yellow and bright. Stobart turned the sand over and +let it run between his fingers. It was like grains of sunlight. He +thought that his overwrought nerves were deceiving him, and picked up +another handful. It behaved exactly in the same way. It glinted and +flashed yellow in a way that no sand could ever do. All at once it +dawned upon him. This was no trick of sunlight on wet sand. This was +no make-believe of tired nerves. +</P> + +<P> +The sand of that water-hole was gold! +</P> + +<P> +The white man stood up. He had no tools with which to work at the +boulders for specimens to take away with him when he escaped. But here +was gold, some of which could easily be hidden on his person to prove, +to anybody who might doubt his story, that he alone of all men had +solved the mystery of the Musgraves and had returned again to the +haunts of men of his own colour. He stooped to gather another handful, +and as he did so something whirled through the air and fell in the +water in front of him. He jumped back quickly. The water was clear, +for the grains of golden sand had settled and left no mud. +</P> + +<P> +It was an old horseshoe! Surely the place was bewitched. He looked +round, wondering what next would happen. Suddenly another horseshoe +came from a clump of low bushes nearly a hundred yards up the gully. +Stobart saw it coming and dodged it. It fell at his feet and he picked +it up. He was a good tracker and knew it at once. That shoe had made +one of the tracks which he had seen in the clay. There was no doubt +about it. +</P> + +<P> +The sense of a supernatural foe, which was making a coward of the brave +white man, left him all at once. Evil spirits do not play with old +rusty metal. A human arm must have thrown that horseshoe. He had seen +the second one leave the bushes where the man was in ambush. Now was +the time for action. Grasping a boomerang he ran at full speed up the +valley. He reached the bushes. Nobody was there. But, leading to and +from the hiding-place, were the recent tracks of a man's bare feet. +Stobart recognized them at once. The warragul doctor had thrown those +horseshoes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Arrkroo, the Hater +</H3> + +<P> +The native doctor fled, like the evil black spirit that he was, up the +valley. Although an old man, he was still in the prime of his +strength, and he knew the path to and from the Pool of Skulls so well, +that he had the advantage over Stobart, who had never been there +before. For the first few yards the marks of his naked feet were +clearly seen, and the white man ran swiftly, but the tracks soon became +confused in a mass of loose stones which had fallen from the cliffs, +and were finally lost altogether on the rocky sides of the valley, till +Stobart could not possibly tell which way his enemy had gone. He had +heard no sound and seen no sign of the running man, yet he knew that he +was close upon him when he was forced to give up the chase, and, as if +to confirm this opinion, when Stobart finally stood still and looked at +the great boulders above him, hoping to see a black human form flit +from one to another, a stone came out of the silence, hurled with +deadly force and aim. Years of danger with wild cattle had made the +drover's actions as quick as lightning. The stone was totally +unexpected, but he jerked his head aside just in time. Instead of +striking him in the face, it caught the brim of his hat and sent the +old felt spinning from his head. He jumped back, picked it up, and +crouched behind a rock. +</P> + +<P> +Absolute silence reigned. The sun was very near its zenith, but in +that deep valley the air was still cool. Across the clear flawless +blue sky sailed an eagle on wide-spread motionless wings, wheeling +round and round in slow circles, wondering when another human victim +would be provided for him down there beside the water-hole. +</P> + +<P> +After a time Stobart went back to the place of horror, with its charred +bones, its terrible design in skulls, and its golden-sanded pool. He +knew what fear natives have of dead bodies, and that there was only one +man in all the Musgrave tribes who would dare to play such a gruesome +trick with the remains of his enemies, and that man was the native +doctor—Arrkroo, the Hater. Even he, powerful and feared though he +was, dared not actually kill Stobart. The other natives would track +their white hero and would soon know everything that had happened, and +Arrkroo was afraid of what they might do to him. The Hater did not +mind so long as Stobart merely hunted and behaved like a native, but +when he started to wander around alone and search for signs of the +glittering yellow metal, Arrkroo became alarmed, and, though the white +man did not know it, his enemy had followed and watched him closely for +weeks. +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo understood that if once the secret of the ranges was known +beyond the desert, many white men would come with weapons which make a +noise like thunder in the hills and which kill a long way off. They +would drive out the natives who owned the mountain fastnesses, for, +thought the doctor, what does a white man care so long as he can put +that heavy yellow sand in little bags and take it away? +</P> + +<P> +So, for the safety of his people, as well as because he was jealous of +Stobart's power, the Hater was determined that the white man should die. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart stood by the pool and looked at the golden sand. He was more +than ever determined to escape, and now he wanted to take away with him +just enough of that precious metal to prove to others that his story +was true. He wanted so many men to believe him that there would be +such a rush to the Musgraves that they would escape, by sheer force of +numbers, from the terrible fate of the lonely prospectors. +</P> + +<P> +But how could he take that golden sand away? His only garment was a +tattered pair of trousers with the pockets torn out, and a belt at +which hung his fire-sticks, and where he still kept his old black pipe, +though it had been cold and empty for many weeks. He could not +possibly tear his trousers to make a bag, for there was not a single +piece of good cloth left; his hat was no good for the purpose. But his +pipe—ah! that was the thing! +</P> + +<P> +He scraped his pipe clean and then jammed the bowl full of fine gold. +To make sure that the gold was pure, he panned it off in the old rusty +dish which he had unearthed near the half-burnt bones. When he had +filled the pipe nearly to the top, he daubed it over with stiff clay so +that none of the sand could fall out. Then he picked up his weapons +and started back for the camp. +</P> + +<P> +A surprise was waiting for him. The marauding band, which had gone out +against Mick Darby's party, had returned. They were in high spirits +and reported that they had killed all the horses of the plant, and that +a white man and two white boys had been left to perish. Stobart did +not hear the whole story at once, for, as soon as he walked into camp, +the excitement died down, and nobody cared to tell this white man that +three other white men had just met the most lingering of all deaths in +the desert scrub. But blacks are like children and cannot keep a +secret, and Stobart soon knew all that he wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +The light of his life went out. The drover was devoted to his son. He +was one of those splendid men who do things as well as they possibly +can in order to satisfy their own stanch sense of honour; but there can +be no doubt that one of the main springs of Boss Stobart's life was the +thought that he would one day share it with his son. And now Sax was +dead! Just when he had found the object of his search, just when the +time of his escape had almost come and he was only waiting for the +return of the faithful Yarloo, just when hope was highest, these fiends +had killed his son. +</P> + +<P> +He looked round at their savage black faces. He caught sight of +Arrkroo, the man who hated him. He saw the naked women and children, +he noticed the dogs and the filth on all sides, and his hand tightened +on the huge boomerang which he held. Why shouldn't he rush in amongst +these men and deal out death, right, left, in front, behind. His anger +was rising to madness. He felt that he could overcome the whole tribe +of them. And if he failed, what matter? At least he would have had +his revenge. +</P> + +<P> +He dropped his spears and got ready. A fire was burning in front of +him. With a few lighted sticks he could set the camp ablaze. He +imagined the wurlies roaring up to heaven, while he, a captive white +man, mad with rage, ran shouting through the crowd, dealing out death +with every blow of his boomerang. +</P> + +<P> +Not one of the natives suspected what he was going to do. He had +already chosen a suitable blazing stick, and was stooping to pick it +out of the fire, when he heard Coiloo's name mentioned. He waited for +a moment and listened. The men were saying that Coiloo had not come +back. Nobody seemed to know what had become of him, and it struck +Stobart as strange that Yarloo was not referred to as being one of the +party, till he remembered that the boy would be riding a horse and +would therefore leave no tracks which his fellow-tribesmen could +recognize. +</P> + +<P> +This moment of thought saved the drover from an act of madness which +would certainly have ended in his death. Stobart trusted Yarloo +implicitly, and also felt sure that Coiloo was doing his best to carry +out the white man's wishes. Therefore he knew that it would be foolish +to vent his rage at this particular time, and perhaps spoil what the +two faithful natives were doing for him. So he picked up his weapons +again, took his share of the horse-flesh, and went up to his cave. +</P> + +<P> +He was very down-hearted. He was a man of action, and here he was, +impelled to wait while others did things for him which he knew nothing +about. He was very tired, but could not sleep because of his restless +thoughts, so he went outside his cave after cooking and eating his +dinner, and started to walk about in the cool evening air. He walked +as silently as a native, and presently heard the sound of a voice +chanting quietly and earnestly in the native tongue. He crept nearer. +A man was crouching down on all four like an animal, swaying his body +and muttering. Stobart was standing up and could not see who it was, +so he stooped down till the man's body and head were silhouetted +against the sky. It was Arrkroo, the Hater. +</P> + +<P> +Inch by inch Stobart worked his way nearer, till he heard the words and +saw what the native doctor was doing. There was a small pointed bone, +called an irna, about eight inches long, sticking upright in the sand. +At one end was a knob of hardened gum from spinifex grass, and a long +string made of the hair of a lubra was attached to it. The man was +stooping over the irna and muttering: +</P> + +<P> +"Okinchincha quin appani ilchi ilchi-a." (May your head and throat be +split open.) +</P> + +<P> +He said this three times, moved the irna to a new place, and then began +a new curse: +</P> + +<P> +"Purtulinga apina-a intaapa inkirilia quin appani intarpakala-a." (May +your backbone be split open and your ribs torn asunder.) +</P> + +<P> +This went on for some time and then Arrkroo got up and walked away, +leaving the irna in the ground. Next night he would return for it, and +whoever the man pointed that bone at would most certainly die. Natives +do not think that any man dies from a natural cause; it is always a +case of magic, and if a big strong healthy black-fellow happens to be +"boned" by his enemy in the proper way, he gets weaker and weaker, +either with or without some special disease, till at last he dies. He +always dies. +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo was afraid to kill Stobart openly, therefore he had prepared +powerful magic and was going to "bone" him. Stobart guessed this, and +took the chance of showing his power over the native doctor. He caught +hold of the irna by the string, pulled it out of the sand, and walked +back to the camp with it. +</P> + +<P> +The men were all feasting round the fire. Arrkroo was amongst them, +eating sparingly, as is the habit with the native doctors, and no doubt +thinking what he was going to do to-morrow when he boned the hated +white man. Everybody looked up when Stobart came into the firelight. +One or two of the men saw the irna and called out, and at once the +whole tribe was on its feet in alarm. Arrkroo saw it also and shook +with fear. The white man was indeed a devil, for how else could he +have found a little bone stuck in the sand on a dark night? In an +instant the fire was deserted. The frightened natives crouched behind +wurlies and breakwinds, dreading least the white man should point that +deadly bone at them. But Stobart swung it by its hair string till it +was over the hottest part of the fire and then let it drop. The string +frizzled instantly, the knob of spinifex melted and flared up, and the +bone was soon reduced to white powder. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Dance of Death +</H3> + +<P> +Arrkroo, the Hater, had failed again. Stobart had openly triumphed +over him by burning his deadly irna. The native feared this white man, +but hated him more than he feared him, and was more than ever resolved +to bring about his death. +</P> + +<P> +Several days later, an old man of the tribe, named Wuntoo, became ill. +Blacks have a great respect for age, and the sickness of Wuntoo caused +great sorrow. A solemn gathering of all the men was called. Arrkroo +was there and so was Stobart, for the white captive did not want to +arouse suspicion or unfriendly feelings by staying away. The sickness +of Wuntoo was, of course, attributed to magic; some enemy of the old +man had boned him. It was, therefore, the duty of the gathering to +find out and to punish the man who had done this, whether he was a +member of their own tribe or whether he lived several hundred miles +away. +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo was the only man present who really knew what ailed Wuntoo, for +he himself had put poison in the old man's food—the juice of a +narrow-leafed vine which grew only in the Valley of the Skulls. He had +used this same poison to kill every prospector who had found the +golden-sanded pool. After a lot of talk, which got more and more +excited and incoherent as the meeting went on, Stobart volunteered to +go and see the sick man. He knew that the natives would only sing over +the invalid, or give him sand to eat, or practise a repulsive and +harmful magic upon him, and he thought that perhaps some simple +treatment might make him right again. Stobart had gained influence +over the minds of the tribesmen, and was allowed to go. This was just +what Arrkroo had hoped for. +</P> + +<P> +Next day Wuntoo was worse, due to another dose of the poison which the +crafty Arrkroo had administered. A second meeting was called. The old +man was dying. Arrkroo arrived with freshly painted body and new +feathers in his hair, and addressed the men with all the powers at his +command. He felt that, if he failed to defeat the white man this time, +his authority in the tribe would be gone for ever. He danced before +his listeners, lifting his striped legs high, and swaying his body this +way and that till the designs in white and red hypnotized the natives +and held them spell-bound. +</P> + +<P> +Even Stobart felt the evil power of the man. When he had got their +minds under his control, he chanted to them of the great days of the +Alcheringa when they were a powerful fair-skinned race of giants, and +had everything that their hearts could desire. He went on to tell of +one misfortune after another which had befallen them: their bodies had +grown small, their skins black, and droughts had changed the earth from +a garden into a desert. The warraguls listened, swaying their bodies +as Arrkroo swayed his, and breaking out at times in wild shouts of +agreement. Arrkroo was an orator in his primitive way, and he now had +his audience completely at his command. He could do what he liked with +it. +</P> + +<P> +He began to talk of white men: of the way in which they had invaded the +country and driven the natives back and back till now a mere handful of +them survived in such places as the Musgrave Ranges. But the hated +white men were never satisfied. They wanted the Musgraves too. They +wanted the gold which was there. Everybody present knew the fate of +the white prospectors, and that if once the secret was known, such a +rush would set in that the warraguls would be driven out of this, their +last great stronghold. +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo turned towards Stobart. Every man in the gathering looked at +him also. "See," shouted the Hater in the native tongue. "See. White +man. He find gold. His tracks all around Pool of Skulls. He want run +away. He come back soon. Nintha (one), thama (two), urapitcha +(three), therankathera (four)—many, many more. Kill black-fellow. +Kill black-fellow. Kill black-fellow." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped speaking and stretched out his painted arm towards the +drover. The warraguls leapt to their feet, their eyes blazing, and +their bodies ready to spring upon the white man. Stobart got up from +the ground very slowly and faced his enemies, staring steadily at them. +His hour had come. He would face death without flinching. +</P> + +<P> +The blacks paused. Arrkroo feared that even now the white man would +escape by the tremendous power of his dauntless eye. So he started to +speak again, very excitedly. +</P> + +<P> +"He bone Wuntoo. He burn bone, make death sure. You all see him burn +bone. He go in last night, make him worse. You see him go in last +night. Wuntoo die. You all die. You all die. You all die." +</P> + +<P> +He had succeeded. A roar of fear and hatred went up from the assembly. +Every man goaded his neighbour to be the first to spring upon the +defenceless captive. Arrkroo's heart was glad. He started to dance +again, but this time it was the Dance of Death. Stobart knew that he +was a doomed man, but not a muscle of his face altered. The crowd of +frenzied warraguls, eager to pull him limb from limb, leaned forward, +but he still held them with his fearless eye. How long would it last? +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo danced nearer and nearer. When one of those whirling arms of +his touched the victim, the spell would be broken, and Boss Stobart, +the bravest drover of Central Australia, would go down before the +onslaught of a hundred yelling fiends. +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo's spinning and swaying body came nearer and nearer. There was +tense stillness. Men held their breath. Stobart faced the future as +he had always faced every difficulty—with clear open-eyed courage. +Arrkroo's hand passed his face so closely that he felt the wind of it. +The next time it would touch him. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart did not move, but every muscle of his powerful body gathered +itself for the supremest effort of his life. The head of the Hater +swayed towards him, back, and then forward again. Then Stobart acted! +Like a flash his fist shot out. His body was like a spring suddenly +released. The weight of every ounce of him, the force of every nerve +and sinew, and all the gathered knowledge of years went into that +terrific blow. It caught Arrkroo on the point of the chin. There was +a sickening click. The man's head went back like the lid of a box. He +fell to the ground, quivered for a moment, and then lay still. +</P> + +<P> +It all happened in the time taken to blink twice. +</P> + +<P> +The crowd surged back. A gasp of astonishment went up. In a couple of +seconds Stobart was alone with his fallen enemy. The man was gasping. +If Stobart had not been weakened by the life and food of the blacks' +camp, that blow would have killed Arrkroo, although the neck of a +native is as strong as the neck of a bull. The drover stood looking +down at the grotesquely painted figure huddled up on the ground at his +feet. It began to twitch. The eyes rolled round and then fixed their +gaze on Stobart. Strength returned quickly to the native and he +staggered to his feet. For a moment he faced the white man, swaying +unsteadily, then he turned and went away to his wurley, leaving the +drover victor on the field where he had so nearly met his death. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Conclusion +</H3> + +<P> +That night Yarloo returned to camp. The sky was so thickly covered +with stars that it looked as if powdered silver had been dusted over a +tremendous and very dark blue dome. Stobart was fast asleep at the +entrance to his cave when Yarloo crept up noiselessly and touched him. +He was awake and alert in a moment. The boy's head showed up dark +against the stars and the white man recognized him at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Me come back, Misser Stobart," whispered Yarloo. +</P> + +<P> +"Good boy," replied the drover. "Good boy. Does the camp know you're +here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neh. Me come longa you first time. They all about sleep." +</P> + +<P> +Then Yarloo told all that he had done since he went away. Stobart was +overjoyed to hear that his son was safe, and hope, which had burnt down +very low recently, once more flamed up brightly in his heart. Yarloo +had hurried out from Sidcotinga Station, and was too exhausted to +undertake the return trip immediately or they would have escaped that +very night. They decided to wait for a day or two. +</P> + +<P> +In this they made a great mistake. If Stobart had disappeared that +night, while every native in the camp was overawed by his victory over +the powerful Arrkroo, he would probably have got clean away, but as it +was, he found himself more of a prisoner than ever next morning. +Yarloo's return aroused suspicion. Every native in the tribe was +afraid of the white man and nobody dared to kill him. Yet they were +all perfectly convinced that he was the cause of Wuntoo's illness. If +Wuntoo died without the others taking full vengeance on the one who had +bewitched him, the old man's spirit would haunt the camp and bring +terrible disaster upon it. Therefore, if Wuntoo died, Stobart must die +too. So the white man was kept a close prisoner, and was even obliged +to keep inside his cave. No one had sufficient courage to harm him, +though all their former admiration for him was turned to fear and +hatred; but, by sheer force of numbers, they made it impossible for him +to escape. +</P> + +<P> +One night Wuntoo was evidently dying. All the men of the tribe who +were not actually guarding the prisoner were sitting in a circle with +the women, making noisy lamentation. They beat their naked thighs with +their open palms, and mournful chants rose from low weird mutterings to +high shrill screams as they tried to frighten the evil spirits out of +the dying man. A big fire was blazing and sending sparks and smoke +high into the darkness, and lightening up the excited faces of the men +and women all around. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly in the middle of the wildest demonstration of grief Coiloo +appeared—Coiloo, whom Stobart had saved from death, and whom Mick had +treated with such cruelty. He was in a shocking state. The +brand-marks had started to fester, and there were burns all over his +body. He had come at a critical time. The wailing warraguls looked at +his wounds and their excitement got more and more intense. They vowed +terrible vengeance against the white man who had done this; against all +white men; against Stobart who was at their mercy. If Coiloo himself +had not prevented them they would have rushed off immediately to the +cave and carried out their designs while the heat of the moment gave +them courage. He craftily pointed out that it was far better to kill +the white man to appease the spirit of the dead Wuntoo than to kill him +before the old man died. The savages listened, hesitated, and then +agreed, and returned to the interrupted ceremony of mourning. And all +this time the emaciated figure of Wuntoo lay out flat on the sand, lit +weirdly by the leaping flames, his chest rising and falling with great +effort, and his eyes rolling round with pain. +</P> + +<P> +In the middle of all this excitement Yarloo escaped. He realized that +he could do no good for his master by staying in the blacks' camp; so +when he gathered from the excited shouts that three white men and some +horses were camped out on the plains not far away, he slipped out in +the darkness and made the fastest journey of his life. He arrived at +Mick's camp in the early morning of the next day, just as the working +horses were being driven in. He told his tale. Mick and the boys +listened attentively. The drover had trusted Yarloo from the very +first day he had engaged him, and he had never had cause to regret it. +So, after making sure of all the necessary facts of the case, he +responded to the boy's appeal for help immediately and fully. +</P> + +<P> +He cut two thick slabs of damper, put a chunk of meat between them, and +handed it to Yarloo. "Here, get that inside you, me son," he said +heartily. "Eat all you want. There's lots more where that came from." +The whites had already had their breakfast, and Mick at once set about +packing the gear, muttering: "If I don't let daylight through half a +dozen of those devils, I'll call meself a Chow, I will, straight. Now, +you boys, look alive," he shouted to the blacks who were crowding round +Yarloo. "You can yabber all you want when we've rounded up that tribe +of black cleanskins." +</P> + +<P> +The native stockmen laughed. Everybody was eager for the task. The +boys were all from a sand-hill tribe who bitterly hated the wild +warraguls from the mountains, and they were overjoyed at the thought of +fighting on the same side as white men. Sax and Vaughan were more +serious but none the less eager, especially Sax, who would have +willingly gone out alone against the whole tribe, if only it would have +been a help to his father. +</P> + +<P> +They did not take the whole plant with them. Each man of the advance +party had two good saddle-horses; there was one all ready saddled and +bridled for Boss Stobart; and a swift pack-horse, lightly loaded, +carried all the tucker and water they would need. There were Mick and +the two white boys, Yarloo, Poona, Calcoo, and Jack Johnson, all +mounted on the best horses in the plant. They had only two firearms +for all the party: Mick's rifle which he carried, and his revolver, +which he gave to Vaughan. Their chief weapon was "bluff", for a party +of seven could do nothing against nearly a hundred armed natives, +except surprise them long enough to let their prisoner escape. +</P> + +<P> +They rode hard till about two o'clock, stopped and took a hunk of +damper and meat each and a drink of water, and then put their saddles +on fresh horses and pushed on. The sun was still an hour high when +they came to a thick clump of timber at the entrance to a gully +running, up into the mountains. Yarloo, who was the real leader of the +party, advised that the horses be left here. The camp was not far off, +and the approach to it was quite free from any cover for a mounted man. +So they hitched their horses to separate trees in such a way that they +could be unfastened in the shortest possible time. +</P> + +<P> +They walked stealthily through the timber to the side of the valley, +where they began to crawl from boulder to boulder. It was slow work. +They dared not wait till dark. Each moment might decide the fate of +the man they had come to rescue. For half a mile they approached the +camp in this way, noiselessly, and completely hidden by the rocks. +They saw no sign of natives. +</P> + +<P> +All at once a thin, high, quavering sound rose just ahead of them. +Others joined it like a pack of dingoes howling in the night. Then the +note trembled and came down, getting louder as it descended the scale +till it was a deep muttering of great anguish. It started again and +again. Every native of the little party shivered. It was a death-wail. +</P> + +<P> +Yarloo turned to Mick, and said hoarsely: "Old man bin die. We hurry, +I think." +</P> + +<P> +The rescuers sprang to their feet and ran, stooping low and keeping out +of sight. They need not have taken these precautions. Every warragul +of the tribe was engaged at the camp, where death-wails rose and fell. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly a Musgrave native confronted the rescue party. He lifted his +left hand and signed to them to stop. There were only two fingers and +a thumb on that hand. It was Coiloo. He was armed with spears and +boomerangs and a shield. Mick raised his rifle, but Yarloo leaped in +front of it. A shot at this time would warn the camp and spoil any +chance of success. It was more important to rescue Stobart than to +settle a private quarrel. +</P> + +<P> +Coiloo cast a look of deadly hatred towards Mick. He longed to hurl +one of these slender spears of his at his enemy, and bury the poisonous +head deep in the white man's heart. But he too had a more important +task to perform just then. He grabbed Sax by the wrist and sprang up +the valley with incredible swiftness. The startled white boy was +carried along and quickly outdistanced the others. Coiloo gave no +explanation of his strange behaviour. He must reach the blacks' camp +as soon as possible. The wailing became louder and louder, and +presently Sax heard a sound which gave such fleetness to his limbs that +his wiry companion could hardly keep up with him. It was a booming +voice which rose above the turmoil of native cries like a strong +swimmer battling with the waves. +</P> + +<P> +It was a white man's voice. +</P> + +<P> +Sax recognized it as his father's. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the camp burst into view. The lad would have dashed across +the open space at once, but Coiloo pulled him behind a rock. A +terrible tragedy was about to be enacted in front of that cluster of +sordid wurlies. The dead body of Wuntoo lay out naked on the sand. At +the head of it stood Stobart, bound hand and foot, and clad in nothing +but his tattered trousers. He was about to die. He knew it well, but +held his head proudly and looked round at the yelling fiends with great +scorn. From time to time his strong voice boomed defiance at his +enemies. All around, dancing in almost delirious excitement, were the +warragul men, while an outer ring was formed by the women, who kept +time with their hands to the chanting which was gradually working their +men up to a state of frenzy. Chief figure of all was Arrkroo, once +more restored to authority, and about to have his revenge upon his +rival. He strode up and down in front of the victim, armed with a huge +carved and painted club. +</P> + +<P> +Sax struggled in Coiloo's detaining grasp. He was but a lad, and the +odds were a hundred savages against one white boy, but he wanted to +leap across the intervening space and stand beside his father. +Coiloo's hand was at Sax's neck. He unfastened the string of the +luringa and stood up, still hidden from sight. Slowly he whirled the +thin slab of wood round his head, hitting it on the ground once or +twice to make it spin. The thing gave out a droning sound. The crowd +of yelling fiends around the corpse became suddenly quiet. The droning +increased to a loud humming. Every eye was turned. +</P> + +<P> +Coiloo handed the luringa to Sax and disappeared. The boy had seen the +effect of the peculiar note which the whirling luringa made. He +stepped out into the open, swinging the strangely carved fillet of wood +round and round his head. The sound grew louder and louder. It seemed +impossible that such a small thing should make so far-carrying a sound. +The dancing men stood petrified. The women leaped to their feet and +became motionless. Arrkroo stopped with up-lifted club. Stobart stood +amazed. Sax walked forward slowly. +</P> + +<P> +The tension increased. He was twenty yards from them—fifteen—ten. A +movement of horror ran through the crowd. Before he had gone two paces +more a shout went up in a hundred terror-stricken voices: +</P> + +<P> +"The voice of Tumana! It is the voice of Tumana!"[<A NAME="ch28fn1text"></A><A HREF="#ch28fn1">1</A>] +</P> + +<P> +Sax kept on. Suddenly the tension broke. Like dead leaves before a +gale, the natives scattered and fled. Stobart, Sax, Arrkroo, and the +corpse of Wuntoo were left alone. +</P> + +<P> +Arrkroo feared the bull-roarer, which spoke with the dreaded voice of +Tumana, as much as anyone. Yet he stood his ground with uplifted club. +The helpless white man was within easy reach. Arrkroo would not miss +his vengeance this third time. He would strike his enemy dead even +though it was his last act, for no one can do such a thing when Tumana +is speaking without terrible consequences. The sound of the +bull-roarer went on. Arrkroo swayed back to gain force for a smashing +blow. Then he uttered a wild shout of triumph and jerked his black +painted body forward. The club swung—— +</P> + +<P> +A shot rang out. The club dropped from the murdering warragul's +nerveless hand. It missed Stobart's head by a fraction of an inch. +Sax picked it up and rushed forward. But death had already come. +Arrkroo's tall figure tottered for a moment, then crumpled up and fell +to the ground. Mick immediately dashed across the open space, followed +by Yarloo and the three other boys. Coiloo was nowhere to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +Two slashes of a sharp knife cut the hair rope which bound the captive +white man and he was free. There was no time for thanks or +congratulations. Sax had stopped swinging the luringa; the voice of +Tumana had ceased. Already the natives were reassembling, and it was +only a matter of moments before they would swarm down on the rescue +party, outnumbering it by fifteen to one. A flight of spears fell from +the rocks above, doing no harm, but warning the white men of their +terrible danger. +</P> + +<P> +They dashed down the valley towards the clump of timber where the +saddle-horses had been tied. At one place the track narrowed as it +passed between two great masses of rock. Mick was in the rear with the +rifle. As he passed this spot, a spear came out from behind one of the +boulders. He was not expecting an ambush, and the spear struck his +shoulder, entering the top of the lungs and breaking off. He dropped +the rifle. As it left his hand he must have pulled the trigger, for +there was a report. Sax was running just in front of Mick. He heard +the report, looked round, and saw the stockman stagger. He dashed +back. His act saved Mick's life, for, as the white boy stooped to pick +up the rifle, he saw Coiloo standing behind the rock with another spear +ready to throw. Sax jumped in front of his friend and the native +paused. Mick was badly wounded, but when he too saw the ambushed +nigger, he pulled himself together and dashed ahead after his +companions. Sax was now carrying the rifle and he kept in the rear of +the party, and prevented Coiloo from throwing that second spear. +</P> + +<P> +Fierce shouting at the camp urged them to their greatest efforts. The +Musgrave blacks had got over their scare. They found Arrkroo's dead +body lying beside the corpse of Wuntoo. They thirsted for revenge and +started in pursuit, not a hundred yards behind the escaping white men. +</P> + +<P> +Stobart and his friends reached the clump of timber. Sax looked back. +The pursuit had been checked for a few moments. Coiloo was standing in +the narrow gap, holding it against a hundred of his fellow tribesmen. +Spears whizzed around him on all sides, but for a time he dexterously +escaped death. At last one struck him and he fell, but not before his +purpose was accomplished. He had attempted to revenge himself on Mick, +and, failing this, he held up the chase long enough to give Stobart, +the man who had saved his life, a good chance of escaping. +</P> + +<P> +His gallant death was not in vain. Before the Musgrave blacks reached +the trees the rescue party was galloping across the plains. Mick's +wound was troublesome for several days, but the man's perfect health +stood him in good stead. One night in camp he was bewailing the fact +that they had not been able to make a stand against the blacks, but had +been forced to beat an ignominious retreat. "I'd like to go back and +have a real good scrap," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Boss Stobart looked at him with a peculiar smile for a moment or two, +and then took an old black pipe from his belt. It was smeared with +clay. Mick and the two white boys looked on with great curiosity. The +drover made a little hole in the clay and poured out a few grains of +golden sand into his palm. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at this," he said, holding out his hand to Mick. "If you'd care +to go back to the Musgrave Ranges with me for some more of this stuff, +I can promise you as many scraps with the niggers as you want." +</P> + +<P> +The gold was handed round. "I'm with you," said Mick. "I'm with you, +Boss Stobart, whether its gold or niggers you're after." +</P> + +<P> +"And so am I if you'll let me," said Vaughan. "I want to buy back my +father's sheep station." +</P> + +<P> +Sax said nothing. He was content to be with his father, and knew that +he was sure to be included in any expedition which his father +undertook; but no thought of the future could rob him of the supreme +joy of knowing that he had been instrumental in saving his father from +death in the Musgrave Ranges. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="ch28fn1"></A> +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[<A HREF="#ch28fn1text">1</A>] Australian blacks believe that the sound made by the <I>luringa</I>, or +bull-roarer, is the voice of a strong spirit named Tumana. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> + Some Volumes in Messrs. Blackie's List +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Library of Famous Books +</H3> + +<BR> + +<PRE> + R. M. 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BARING-GOULD-- + Grettir the Outlaw. + + JOHN BUNYAN-- + The Pilgrim's Progress. + + HARRY COLLINGWOOD-- + A Middy of the Slave Squadron. + + SUSAN COOLIDGE-- + What Katy Did. + What Katy Did at School. + What Katy Did Next. + + ALICE CORKRAN-- + Meg's Friend. + Margery Merton's Girlhood. + + MISS CUMMINS-- + The Lamplighter. + + R. H. DANA-- + Two Years before the Mast. + + G. W. DASENT-- + Tales from the Norse. + + DANIEL DEFOE-- + Robinson Crusoe. + + G. MANVILLE FENN-- + Devon Boys. + + EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN-- + Little Lady Clare. + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH-- + The Vicar of Wakefield. + + THE BROTHERS GRIMM-- + Grimm's Fairy Tales. + + NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE-- + Tanglewood Tales. + + G. A. HENTY-- + A Final Reckoning. + A Chapter of Adventures. + Tales from Henty. + + THOMAS HUGHES-- + Tom Brown's School Days. + + CHARLES KINGSLEY-- + The Heroes. + The Water-Babies. + Hereward the Wake. + + CHARLES and MARY LAMB-- + Tales from Shakspeare. + + EMMA LESLIE-- + Gytha's Message. + + GEORGE MACDONALD-- + The Light Princess. + + NORMAN MACLEOD-- + The Starling. + + MARY RUSSELL MITFORD-- + Our Village. + + ROSA MULHOLLAND-- + Hetty Gray. + Four Little Mischiefs. + + CAPTAIN MAYNE REID-- + The Rifle Rangers. + + CHRISTOPH VON SCHMID-- + The Basket of Flowers. + + SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.-- + From Tales of a Grandfather. + + ANNA SEWELL-- + Black Beauty. + + CATHERINE SINCLAIR-- + Holiday House. + + R. L. STEVENSON-- + Treasure Island. + Kidnapped. + + HARRIET BEECHER STOWE-- + Uncle Tom's Cabin. + + DEAN SWIFT-- + Gulliver's Travels. + + SARAH TYTLER-- + Girl Neighbours. + A Loyal Little Maid. + + JULES VERNE-- + A Journey to the Centre of the Earth. + + LEW WALLACE-- + Ben Hur. + + MRS. WHITNEY-- + Faith Gartney's Girlhood. + + M. WISS-- + The Swiss Family Robinson. + + CHARLOTTE M. YONGE-- + The Lances of Lynwood. + A Book of Golden Deeds. + The Little Duke. + + + Famous Discoveries by Land and Sea. +</PRE> + +<BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> + THE NEW HENTY LIBRARY +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> + <I>Strongly Bound in Cloth. Fully Illustrated</I> +<BR> + <I>New Coloured Wrapper</I> +</H4> + +<PRE> + The Dragon and the Raven. + Wulf the Saxon. + Bonnie Prince Charlie. + By Conduct and Courage. + The Cat of Bubastes. + Maori and Settler. + Both Sides the Border. + The Treasure of the Incas. + With Lee in Virginia. + A Jacobite Exile. + By Right of Conquest. + The Young Carthaginian. + For the Temple. + In Greek Waters. + Through the Sikh War. + By Pike and Dyke. + St. Bartholomew's Eve. + St. George for England. + The Tiger of Mysore. + Bravest of the Brave. + By England's Aid. + Facing Death. + One of the 28th. + By Sheer Pluck. + True to the Old Flag. + With Kitchener in Soudan. + In the Reign of Terror. + For Name and Fame. + Captain Bayley's Heir. + In Freedom's Cause. + Held Fast for England. + A Final Reckoning. + The Dash for Khartoum. + The Lion of the North. + With Moore at Corunna. + When London Burned. + Under Drake's Flag. + A March on London. + At Agincourt. + The Lion of St. Mark. + Orange and Green. + Through Three Campaigns. + With Frederick the Great. + With the British Legion. + A Roving Commission. + Condemned as a Nihilist. + At the Point of the Bayonet. + On the Irrawaddy. + No Surrender! + A Knight of the White Cross. + To Herat and Cabul. + With the Allies to Pekin. +</PRE> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Musgrave Ranges, by Jim Bushman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES *** + +***** This file should be named 28931-h.htm or 28931-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/9/3/28931/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + diff --git a/28931-h/images/img-front.jpg b/28931-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..161628f --- /dev/null +++ b/28931-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/28931.txt b/28931.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..65f3988 --- /dev/null +++ b/28931.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6828 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the Musgrave Ranges, by Jim Bushman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: In the Musgrave Ranges + +Author: Jim Bushman + +Release Date: May 22, 2009 [EBook #28931] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: THE OUTPOST OF DEATH _Page 253_] + + + + + +IN THE + +MUSGRAVE RANGES + + +BY + +JIM BUSHMAN + + +Author of "The Golden Valley" &c. + + + + + +BLACKIE & SON LIMITED + +LONDON AND GLASGOW + +1922 + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: "Jim Bushman" is a pseudonym of Conrad H. Sayce.] + + + + +Blackie's Imperial Library + + + Ann's Great Adventure. E. E. Cowper. + The Golden Magnet. G. Manville Fenn. + Every Inch a Briton. Meredith Fletcher. + 'Twixt Earth and Sky. C. R. Kenyon. + In the Musgrave Ranges. Jim Bushman. + No Ordinary Girl. Bessie Marchant. + Norah to the Rescue. Bessie Marchant. + What Happened to Kitty. Theodora Wilson Wilson. + + + + +Contents + + + CHAP. + + I. A TORNADO + II. CAMELS + III. A MESSAGE FROM THE UNKNOWN + IV. WILD CATTLE + V. RIDING TESTS + VI. SMOKE SIGNALS + VII. STEALTHY FOES + VIII. FIRST SIGHT OF THE MUSGRAVES + IX. DISASTER + X. A SANDSTORM + XI. THIRST + XII. THE RESCUE + XIII. SIDCOTINGA STATION + XIV. A MAD BULL + XV. A NIGHT ALARM + XVI. MUSTERING + XVII. THE BRANDED WARRAGUL + XVIII. REVENGE + XIX. CHIVALRY IN THE DESERT + XX. THE BULL-ROARER + XXI. HORSESHOE BEND + XXII. FACING DEATH + XXIII. A FRIEND AND A FOE + XXIV. A PRISONER + XXV. THE OUTPOST OF DEATH + XXVI. ARRKROO, THE HATER + XXVII. THE DANCE OF DEATH + XXVIII. CONCLUSION + + + + +IN THE MUSGRAVE RANGES + + +CHAPTER I + +A Tornado + +Towards the end of a long hot day, a shabby mixed train stopped at one +of the most wonderful townships in the world, Hergott Springs, the +first of the great cattle-trucking depots of Central Australia. It was +dark, but a hurricane lantern, swung under a veranda, showed that the +men who were waiting for the train were not ordinary men. They were +men of the desert. Most of them were tall, thin, weather-beaten +Australians, in shirt sleeves and strong trousers worn smooth inside +the leg with much riding. A few Afghans were there too, big, +dignified, and silent, with white turbans above their black faces; +while a little distance away was a crowd of aboriginal men and women, +yabbering excitedly and laughing together because the fortnightly train +had at last come in. The same crowd would watch it start out in the +morning on the last stage of its long journey to Oodnadatta, the +railway terminus and the metropolis of Central Australia. + +There were very few passengers on the train, and all of them seemed +known to everybody and were greeted with hearty handshakes and loud +rough words of welcome back to the North. Two passengers, however, did +not get out of the carriage for a time, being unwilling to face that +crowd of absolute strangers. They were Saxon Stobart and Rodger +Vaughan, boys of about fifteen, who were on their way to Oodnadatta. +It was their first sight of the back country. + +Presently a big man with only one eye climbed back into the carriage +where they were sitting. "Here, don't you lads want a feed?" he asked. +"You won't get it here, you know." + +"We don't know where to go," said one of them. "We thought we'd wait a +bit." + +"Don't you do too much waiting in this part of the country," said the +man kindly. "You just hop in and get your cut. See? You'll get left +if you don't. Now, get hold of your things and come along. I'll fix +you up." + +The result of the stranger's kindness was that the two boys shared a +room with him at the only hotel in the place, and had a hearty meal in +a room full of men in shirt sleeves, who shouted to one another and +laughed in the most friendly manner. + +After tea the two friends went out into the sandy street to stretch +their legs after the long day's railway ride, before going to bed. It +was so dark that they couldn't see anything at first, and nearly ran +into a knot of men who were standing and smoking. They recognized the +voice of one of them as that of the man who had taken them over to the +hotel. They knew him only as Peter, a name which his companions called +him. + +"I never saw it look so bad," he was saying. "Just look at the moon, +too." + +"How far away d'you reckon it is?" asked another man. "It's a long way +yet, I reckon. You can't hear any thunder. I wonder if it's coming +this way." + +Vaughan nudged his companion. "What are they talking about, Sax?" he +asked. + +Stobart pointed north into the darkness. Overhead, and nearly to the +horizon, the sky was a mass of stars, but just on the northern horizon +was a patch where no stars were to be seen. As their eyes became +accustomed to the night, they saw that this patch looked as if it was +alive with flashing, coiling, darting red things. It was like a mass +of snakes squirming in agony, and now and again a clear white jet of +light came out of the darkness, as if one of them was spitting venom at +the sky. In reality, the boys were looking at one of those terrible +electric storms which tear across Central Australia after a severe +drought, and the lurid colours were caused by lightning flashing inside +a very thick cloud. + +But no interest was strong enough to overcome the healthy weariness of +the boys, and they went to bed soon afterwards and fell asleep almost +at once. + +Saxon Stobart was the son of a famous drover who took huge mobs of +cattle across the centre of the continent, and who was noted for his +pluck and endurance, and for his skill as a bushman, which enabled him +to travel through parts of the country where very few white men have +ever been. His son had many of the qualities of mind and body which +had made his father such a fine man. He was tall and thin, but was as +active as a cat and stronger than most boys of his size and age. His +friend Vaughan was a different-looking boy altogether. He was short +and thick-set. Although Vaughan was not fat, he was so solidly built +that his nickname "Boof" suited him very well indeed. His father used +to own Langdale Station, a big sheep run in the Western District, but a +series of bad droughts had forced him to sell the place. + +The two boys had been great friends at school, and when Drover Stobart +wrote to his son: "Come on up to Oodnadatta for a bit of a holiday +before settling down, and bring your mate along with you", they both +accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. + + * * * * * + +The boys were suddenly roused from sound sleep about three o'clock next +morning by someone in the room shouting at them; "Hi, there! Hi! Get +up, it's coming. Get up quick." + +The next instant the bedclothes were jerked back and a man was pulling +them roughly to their feet. It was all so sudden and unexpected that +each boy thought that he was dreaming; but as the man shook and punched +them into activity, they became aware of a terrifying noise coming at +them across the desert through the black darkness of the night. The +air vibrated with a tremendous booming which affected their ears like +the deep notes of a huge organ, and the loudest shout was only just +heard. + +"It's me. It's Peter," said a voice at their side. + +"Come for your lives. The tornado's right on top of us." + +He caught each boy firmly by the wrist and dragged them, dressed only +in pyjamas just as they had tumbled out of bed, out of the room, down +the corridor, and out at the back of the hotel. Everything was in +confusion. They bumped into people and upset chairs and things in +their mad rush. Now and again Peter's voice rose above the din, +shouting, "The tank! The tank!" but nobody paid any attention, even if +they heard the voice of a man above that other and more dreadful voice +which was coming nearer and nearer and striking terror into the hearts +even of the brave dwellers in the desert. + +The shock of the night air did more than anything else fully to arouse +the boys. It was like a dash of cold water, and though Peter still +kept a tight grip of them, they ran along level with him of their own +accord. Out into the yard they dashed, round one or two corners, over +a fence at the back of an outhouse, and suddenly the man stopped dead +and began pulling at something on the ground. It was a grating with a +big iron handle. It stuck. The approaching tornado roared with anger +while the man put out all his great strength. The booming sound rose +to a shriek of triumph, as if the storm actually saw that these +escaping human beings were delivered into its power. But Peter's +muscles were like steel and leather. He strained till the veins stood +out on his forehead like rope. At last the thing loosened and came up, +and the bushman sprawled on his back. But he was on his feet again +instantly. Speech would have been no good, so he gripped Vaughan by +the collar of his pyjamas and swung him into the hole in the ground, +and only waited long enough for the boy to find a foothold before he +did the same with Stobart. Then he scrambled down himself. They were +in a big cement rain-water tank built in the ground at the back of the +hotel. There was no water in it. + +Nobody spoke. Nobody _could_ speak. The air was so packed full of +sound that it seemed as if it could not possibly hold one sound more. +It was like the booming of a thousand great guns at the same time; the +shock, the recoil, and the rush of air across the entrance to the tank +was as if artillery practice on an immense scale were going on. There +was a screaming sound as if shells were hurtling through space. Now +the pitch blackness of the night was a solid mass; then it was red and +livid like a recent bruise; and then again, with a crackle like the +discharge of a Maxim, vivid flashes of white fire split the air. +Thunder rolled continuously and lightning played without stopping, in a +way which is seen and heard only on a battle-field or during a tornado +in the desert. It sounded as if the pent-up fury of a thousand years +had suddenly been let loose upon that little collection of houses on +the vast barren plain. + +Down in the tank it was as dark as a tomb. The boys were close to one +another, crouched against the wall, unable to move through sheer +amazement. Peter stood up and looked out through the entrance, +expecting every moment to hear the sound of houses being torn up from +their foundations and flung down again many yards distant, mere heaps +of splintered wood and twisted iron, with perhaps mangled human corpses +in the wreckage. But such a sound did not come. + +The tornado lasted about three minutes--that was all--and then it +passed, and all those tremendous sounds became muffled in the distance +as it retreated. + +Gradually the stunned senses of the boys began to recover, and they +heard Peter speaking. "It missed us," he was saying. "It came pretty +close, though. I thought the hotel was gone for a cert." Then he +struck a match and held it to his pipe. The little light flared up +steadily and showed two boys in pyjamas, the smooth cement walls of the +tank, and the bushman in his shirt and trousers, but without his boots. +It showed also a cat which had died a long time ago, and which had been +dried up by the great heat. The sight of the squashed cat was so +funny, down in the tank, that the boys started to laugh. It was a +relief to do so after the strain of the last few minutes. + +"We'd better get out of this," said Peter, throwing the match at the +cat and starting to climb up an iron ladder. "Were you lads much +scared?" + +It was so evident that they had been very much scared that their +emphatic denial of it made them all laugh again. "I tell you, I was," +confessed the bushman. "I reckoned the whole town was going to glory. +It would have, too, if the wind had struck it. The thing must have +turned off before it got here." + +Such tornadoes as the one described occur in Central Australia just +before the breaking up of long droughts. Sometimes they are mere +harmless willy-willies, which have not enough power to blow a man off +his horse, but now and again a bigger one comes along, which travels at +thirty or forty miles an hour at the centre and sweeps everything +before it. These tornadoes may not be more than a quarter of a mile +across, and look from the distance like huge brown waterspouts coiling +up into the air till they are lost in the clear blue of the sky. +Sometimes the whirling column of sand leaves the ground for a time and +goes on spinning away high over the heads of everything, but it usually +comes down again and goes on tearing across the country. The Central +Australian tornado must not be confused with the tropical typhoon or +cyclone, which is sometimes three or four hundred miles across. + +Peter was right about the tornado turning off before it reached Hergott +Springs. It came across the country from the Musgrave Ranges in the +north-west till it reached the Dingo Creek. Here it turned and +followed the dry depression, wrecked the Dingo Creek railway bridge, +leaving it a mass of twisted iron and hanging sleepers, and then tore +on down the line, doing a great deal of damage and making straight for +the helpless township. + +There is a very deep and wide cutting about a mile north of Hergott +Springs, and the fury of the wind that night completely filled it up +with sand from bank to bank. This undoubtedly saved the town, for, +after this exhibition of its power, the tornado turned slightly to the +east, and missed the houses entirely. The fringe of it, however, +touched the end of the station yard, where the great water-tank stood. +The wind caught this tremendous weight, lifted it from the platform, +and threw it fifty yards, while the steel pillars of the stand were +twisted together as if they had been cotton. A tool-shed which used to +stand near the tank was moved bodily, and no trace of it was ever +found. No doubt it was buried deep in one of the many sandhills which +these terrific winds leave behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Camels + +It was not till next morning that the boys saw that the tornado had +completely upset their plans. During the few terrible minutes of the +storm, and for an hour afterwards, till sleep finally claimed them +again, excitement drove all thoughts of the future clean away. But +when they awoke late next morning, and looked out at the sky, which was +blue and without a cloud, and across the sandy street at the collection +of iron station buildings and the train by which they had arrived and +which still stood waiting, and saw, beyond and around everything, the +tremendous stretches of yellow sand already blazing in the heat, the +affairs of the night seemed only a dream. + +The reality of things was suddenly brought home to them when Peter came +into the room with a cheery, "Good morning! How're you getting on?" + +Both boys were feeling fine and said so, and then their friend told +them: "You'd better hurry on a bit. The train starts back for town in +about an hour." + +Sax was using the towel at the time, and when he heard what Peter said, +he stopped rubbing his face and looked at him in surprise. + +"Back to town!" he exclaimed. "But we don't want to go back to town. +We're going on to Oodnadatta." + +"Going on to Oodnadatta, are you?" asked Peter, with a smile. "And how +are you going to get there?" + +"Why, by train, of course," broke in Vaughan. Then suddenly the events +of the night appeared to him in a new light. "That is--of course--if +it's running," he stammered. + +"It's not running," said Peter. "And you take it from me, it won't run +for a month or two. The tornado smashed the Dingo Creek bridge and +tore up the line this side of it, too. Besides, the Long Cutting's +full of sand. It'll take them a couple of weeks to clean that out." + +The boys were too much amazed to speak. They looked at one another in +blank dismay. They were indeed in a fix. Drover Stobart waiting for +them in Oodnadatta, and here they were in Hergott Springs, and no +chance of getting out of it for a month or two. Whatever were they to +do? + +Their bushman friend did not leave them long in uncertainty. He was a +simple-hearted kindly man, and he could see by the boys' faces what +they were thinking about. So he interrupted their gloomy thoughts by +suggesting: + +"See here. I don't know who you lads are, and you don't know much +about me. But I've got to get to Oodnadatta some way or another. +There's a plant of horses and niggers waiting for me up there. I'll +fix up something. Would you care to come along with me?" + +The boys' faces instantly showed their eager pleasure, and the man did +not need their words of thanks to assure him that he was doing them a +good turn. + +"Thanks _awfully_!" they exclaimed. "Thank you _very_ much, Mr.----" + +"My name's Peter," said the man. "And there's no 'Mister' about me. +What shall I call you two?" + +"This is Vaughan," said Stobart, pointing to his friend. "My name's +Stobart." + +"Stobart! Stobart!" said Peter in surprise. "Anything to do with Boss +Stobart?" + +Sax had never heard his father's nickname, so he answered in a puzzled +tone, "Boss Stobart?" + +"Yes, bless you. Boss Stobart. And a fine man too. The best drover +that ever crossed a horse in this country. Don't I know it too? We +punched cattle together for ten years, did the Boss and me." + +Sax's face beamed with delight. "That's my father," he said proudly. + +Peter's big hand shot out in greeting. "So you're Boss Stobart's son, +are you? Well, well, you seem a fine lad, and you've sure got a fine +father." He also shook hands with Vaughan, and added: "So we're to be +mates, are we? You leave things to me. I'll let you know about it +when I've fixed things up." + +Peter was busy all morning and the boys had time to look around the +township. It seemed very small to them in comparison with the vast +plains which stretched away on all sides of it. They felt sure that if +once they got away out of sight of the scattered houses, they would +never be able to find them again, for Hergott Springs is only a very +tiny spot on the face of the desert. They watched the train go back +the way it had come the day before, and then walked up to the end of +the station yard to see the wrecked water-tank. Flocks of goats +wandered about the township, picking up and eating bits of rubbish, +just like stray dogs. They found that this was why the mutton they had +eaten for tea and breakfast was so tough; for, because sheep cannot +thrive in that part of the country, goats are kept and killed for meat. + +Camels interested them very much. These tall, awkward, smelly, grey +beasts stalked along with such dignity that it was almost impossible to +believe them capable of the hard work they do. Through following a +string of camels, tied together from nose-line to tail, the boys came +to a collection of buildings outside the town proper. This was Afghan +Town, where the black-skinned camel-drivers lived. They watched some +camels kneeling down in the sand and being loaded with bags of flour +and sugar, chests of tea, and cases of jam and tinned meat. These +bulky packages were roped to the saddle till it appeared as if the poor +beast underneath would never be able to get up. But, one after the +other, they stood up when the time came, and stalked away, swaying +gently from side to side as they pad-padded silently across the soft +sand. + +Suddenly the boys were startled by a most terrifying sound a little +distance away. It was a bubbling roar, such as a bullock would make if +he tried to bellow when he was drowning. They looked in the direction +it came: from, and saw a big bull camel, blowing its bladder out of its +mouth and lashing with its tail. They went over and found the animal +standing in a little paddock fenced with strong stakes. The boys had +never seen such a tremendous camel before. Its body and fore legs were +thick and heavy, but its hind legs were trim and shapely, and reminded +them of the hind-quarters of a greyhound. Its neck was broad and flat, +and looked very strong, while its head, with the bloodshot eyes and the +horrid red bladder hanging from the mouth, was not nice to see. It +stood there with its fore feet fastened together by a chain, its hind +ones spread wide apart, twitching its tail about, and roaring with a +rumbling gurgle, either in rage or challenge. It was a sight to strike +terror into anybody's heart. + +Presently two Afghans came up and began to talk in English. "Ah!" said +one, a little man, dressed in the blouse and baggy pantaloons of his +native country, his face looking very cruel. "Ah! That's old Abul, is +it? I've not seen him for ten years. He used to try and play tricks +with me, did Abul, but I taught him his lessons; didn't I, Abul? I +taught him not to play with _me_." He laughed at the remembrance of +the cruelties he had practised on that camel ten years ago. + +"He's a good camel," replied the other man. "He belongs to me. He's a +very good camel. He doesn't want to be beaten. He works well. I can +do anything I like with him." He began to climb over the fence, but +the first speaker stopped him. + +"What are you going to do?" he asked excitedly. "You must not go in +there. He is a bad camel, I tell you. Abul is not safe. I know him. +I was his master ten years ago." + +"I'm only going to take off his hobbles," said the other man. + +"Well, do not go in like that. I used to throw a rope and tie him up +before I went near him. He is a bad camel, I tell you. But _I_ taught +him his lessons." He laughed again, and Sax shuddered as he looked at +the man's cruel face. + +But the present owner was not afraid. He had been kind to Abul. He +went up to the great grey beast and stood beside it, looking very small +indeed. The camel could have killed the man without any difficulty +whatever, but, instead of that, it bent its head and looked at him and +allowed its master to rub it between the ears. + +The Afghan outside the fence was very excited. He muttered to himself, +and now and again shouted to his fellow-countryman: "Look out! Look +out, I tell you! That is only his way. It is all his bluff. Oh, he +is a very bad camel! Look out, I tell you!" + +The man inside the paddock took no notice of these warnings, for they +were quite unnecessary. He stooped down and unfastened the hobbles +from the animal's fore feet, and stood up again with them in his hand, +and walked towards the fence where his companion was standing. The +camel stalked after him. + +Then an absolutely unexpected thing happened. When Abul was about ten +yards from the fence, he made a sudden rush and grabbed his former +owner by the coat. It was all so quick that no one knew what had +occurred till they saw the huge camel walking round his enclosure with +the screaming man dangling from his mouth. The old camel was going to +have his revenge. He remembered his tormentor of ten years ago, and +was going to kill him. + +Suddenly there came a sound of tearing cloth. The coat had torn. The +man sprawled on the ground for a moment, and then scrambled to his +feet. He made a dash for the fence, but the camel was too quick for +him. The terrified Afghan started to run and, as there was no way of +escape, he had to run round and round the paddock with the camel at his +heels. For a moment or two there was silence. The spectators were too +much amazed to speak, and the unfortunate man himself was using all his +breath in his effort to evade his pursuer. Abul could easily have +caught him, but it looked as if the animal wanted to play with the +cruel man, for he kept just behind him, whereas, if he had stretched +out his neck, he could have grabbed him at any time. + +A crowd of Afghans and aboriginals were quickly drawn to the spot, but +they were far too excited to think of doing anything to help. The man +was doomed. The death would be a cruel one, but the man had deserved +it. Sax, however, was a clear-headed boy, and though the whole affair +was more terrifying to him than to the others, because he was not used +to camels, a plan at once suggested itself to him. + +The proper entrance to the paddock was a strong iron gate. Shouting +out for Vaughan to follow him, Sax ran to the gate. The Afghan had now +run three times round the little paddock, and as he came round the +fourth time, nearly exhausted, the boy called out to him. Just as the +running man drew level with the gate Sax swung it open. The man fell +through it and lay gasping on the sand, but the camel shot past it +before it saw that it had lost its prey. The boys slammed the gate +shut again. Abul turned and glared at them. It was about to break +down the fence, which it could easily have done, when other camel-men +arrived on the scene, and drove it back with sticks and savage dogs. + +When they arrived back at the hotel for dinner, they found that Peter +was looking for them. "Where've you been all the morning?" he asked. + +The boys told him about their wanderings around the town, and about the +bull camel which had nearly killed the Afghan. + +"That must be Sultan Khan," said Peter. "I heard last night that he +had come back into the country. The police kicked him out ten years +ago for being cruel to his camels. It's a pity the bull didn't get +him." + +Sax looked crestfallen. It was not nice to hear that the man whom he +had just saved from a most terrible death would have been better left +to die. But Peter reassured him at once. + +"Of course I don't mean that really," he said. "You did fine. It's +what any decent white man would have tried to do. But I suppose you're +dead scared of camels now." + +The man went on to explain that he had arranged to travel north with a +string of camels which was leaving the township the same afternoon. +They would go as far as Dingo Creek and wait there for the train which +was being sent down from Oodnadatta. "That's the best arrangement I +can make," said Peter. "If you'd care to come along, now's your +chance. You won't have much to do with camels, anyway. But don't mind +saying if you'd rather not." + +Both boys protested that they weren't a bit scared of camels and that +they were anxious to go right away; so, after dinner, they got their +belongings together and followed Peter to the outskirts of the town. +Here they found a line of fifty camels kneeling in the sand ready to +start. + +Most of them were heavily loaded with stores for Oodnadatta which had +come up on the same train as the boys had travelled by. More than a +score of men had helped to unload the trucks that morning, and to +arrange the bags and cases and bales ready for being roped to the +camel-saddles. The boys were very much amused by the antics of three +or four calf-camels. They looked like big lambs on stilts, except that +their necks were longer. They frisked about and did not seem at all +afraid; but when Vaughan tried to stroke one of them, it bumped into +him and knocked him over, which made everybody laugh. + +The man in charge of the camels was not an Afghan; he was an Indian +named Becker Singh, a big, handsome, intelligent man, and he wore the +same rough sort of clothes and hat as any Australian in the back +country. He showed Peter the two camels he had chosen for the boys, +and, after testing them himself, the bushman showed his two friends how +to arrange their blankets on the iron framework of the saddle in order +to make a comfortable seat, how to mount, and the easiest way to sit. + +"Don't you try to do anything," he told them. "Just get your feet into +the stirrups and sit loosely." + +This was good advice and saved the boys the usual discomfort which +comes to those who ride a camel for the first time. They had no need +to guide their camels, for all the animals were tied one behind the +other. When everything was ready, Becker walked slowly down the long +line, giving a final inspection to each of his charges, then whistled +in a peculiar way. + +All the camels stood up at once. To the boys, this was the most +uncomfortable part of their experience, for a camel has four distinct +movements in getting up or down, and, unless the rider is used to them, +they are rather startling. But once their mounts were really up, the +rest was plain sailing. They swayed gently forward and back with each +stride of the camel and enjoyed the motion very much, and could see +over the country from their high position much better than they could +from horseback or on foot. + +The three days' journey to the Dingo Creek Bridge was accomplished +without any accident, though the new method of travel and the new +country passed through were full of interest to the two boys. Each +evening the long line of stately animals was coiled round in a big +circle at the camping-place, and the camels were made to kneel down +while their loads were unroped and their saddles taken off. Then the +black boys who were helping Decker Singh hobbled the camels and drove +them off to pick up what food they could find during the night. In the +morning the same boys brought them in and made them kneel in the right +places to be loaded again for the day. + +To have their meals and to sleep near the packs was a novelty which the +boys very much enjoyed. The blazing fire with the billies catching the +flame, the meal of bread and meat, the hour or two afterwards when they +lolled on the sand while Peter smoked and told yarns, and then the cool +quiet night with the myriad stars above them; these things made the +boys forget the little discomforts they were bound to encounter. + +On the second day, towards the middle of the afternoon, a black dot +appeared on the horizon, growing bigger and bigger as they approached +it. The sun beat down on the bare plains and made the whole landscape +quiver with heat, so that things in the distance looked blurred and it +was impossible to tell what they were. In this instance the object +proved to be a group of date-palms growing round a pool made by a +bore-pipe. On all sides of this little oasis stretched the barren +desert, and it was quite easy to believe that no man had been able to +live in that part of the country before this bore had been put down. + +Peter told them that the pipe went straight down into the earth for +several thousand feet. Water was struck suddenly. One day, when the +men were boring as usual, a noise came up the pipe like sea waves in a +blow-hole of rock, a sort of gurgling roar accompanied by a rush of +air. Then a column of water, as thick as a man's leg and as strong as +a bar of iron, shot up straight into the air and turned over at the top +like a gigantic umbrella. The water struck the bore staging with such +tremendous force that it smashed a hole clean through a two-inch board +as if a shell had crashed into it, and it wrenched the other boards +from their supports and flung them for a hundred yards, just a useless +mass of splintered wood. The man who was on the platform at the time +heard the water coming and jumped for his life. He was not a moment +too soon. If he had hesitated, he would have been blown to pieces. +The flow is not so strong nowadays, but it still reaches the top of the +pipe and flows over, and enables men and cattle to live in a country +which used to be a waterless desert. + +A quarter of a mile north of the date-palms was a sand-hill with what +appeared like a few bushes on it. Sax was looking at this hill when he +saw a coil of smoke rising up out of one of the bushes. He was so +surprised that he called his friend's attention to it. + +"I say, Boof," he exclaimed. "'D'you see that smoke over there? There +must be a camp or something." + +Peter heard the remark and laughed. "D'you know what that is?" he +asked. + +"Why, bushes, of course," replied Sax. + +"And what d'you reckon it is?" asked Peter again, turning to Vaughan. + +Young Vaughan looked intently at the sand-hill where the smoke was +coming from. He heard a dog bark, and then thought he saw a little +black human figure crawl out of one of the bushes, followed by another +and bigger figure. It was all so far away that he wasn't sure that he +had seen correctly, so he answered with hesitation; "It looks as if +there were people in those bushes. They don't live there, do they, +Peter?" + +"They're not bushes," explained the man. "They're what we call +'wurlies'. They're sort of little huts the blacks live in. You'll see +quite enough of them before you've been in this country long, I promise +you." + +The boys wanted to go over at once and see, so Peter good-naturedly +went with them. + +The wurlies were made from branches pulled from the ragged trees which +grew around, and stuck in the sand with their tops brought together. +This framework was covered with bits of old bag or blanket. The whole +thing was the shape of a pudding-basin turned upside down, and was not +more than three feet high in the middle or four feet wide at the bottom. + +"Do they really live in there?" asked Sax. + +"Sure thing," said Peter. "They crawl in through that hole and curl +themselves up like dogs." + +As he finished speaking, a shaggy head appeared at one of the holes. +The hair was stuck together in greasy plaits and hung down to the man's +shoulders. He looked up at the visitors, half in and half out of the +wurley, and on his hands and knees just like an animal. His face and +body were black and very dirty, and his head and chest were so thickly +covered with hair that the only features which stood out from the +matted tangle were a pair of very bright eyes and a flat, shining nose. + +Peter said something which the lads did not understand, and the man +came out and stood upright. He was quite naked and very thin. His +legs seemed to be the same thickness all the way up, and his knees +looked like big swollen knuckles. But his whole appearance gave the +impression that he could move very quickly if he wanted to, with the +graceful speed of a greyhound. The woman and child whom Vaughan had +seen from the distance had run away like startled rabbits as the white +men came up, and the camp of six or seven wurlies seemed deserted +except for this one miserable specimen of humanity. Bits of clothing, +tins, pieces of decaying food, and all sorts of dirt were strewn around +the camp and gave out such an unpleasant smell that the boys turned +away in disgust. + +"What's the matter?" asked Peter. + +"How horribly dirty he is," said Vaughan. "Aren't some of them clean?" + +"Oh yes," replied Peter. "Most boys who work on stations are made to +use soap. That's because they work with white men, or with decent +chaps like Becker Singh. His boys aren't bad. But you leave them +alone for a week, and they'll be just as bad as that old buck there. +Don't you ever forget--" he added earnestly, "don't you ever forget +that that's the real nigger you've just seen. And don't you have too +much to do with them." + +"There's not much fear of that," said Sax. + +"Well, don't you forget it, that's all," repeated Peter. "Many a good +lad has gone to the dogs through having too much to do with niggers." + +They reached the Dingo Creek on the morning of the fourth day. The +bridge was a complete wreck. It was almost impossible to believe that +wind could have done so much damage. The whole thing had been lifted +off the stanchions, twisted as easily as if it had been a ribbon of +paper, and then thrown down into the soft sand of the creek bed. The +steel stanchions leaned this way and that; one of them had been torn up +from its concrete foundation, and another had been screwed about till +it looked like a gigantic corkscrew. The bridge must have been caught +by the very centre of the tornado. + +The camels did not stop at the creek. They travelled on for a couple +of miles to where a railway engine and a few trucks were waiting. +These had been sent down from Oodnadatta with a break-down gang of men, +and were returning next day. Peter decided to stay and help Becker +with the camels as far as Oodnadatta, but, at his advice, the two boys +went on by train, and so it came about that they completed their broken +journey in the same way in which it had begun. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A Message from the Unknown + +The sun had set several hours ago when the train finally pulled up at +Oodnadatta station. A hurricane-lantern hung under a veranda, and +showed a crowd of about twenty men, women, and children with eager +faces, ready to welcome anyone who had completed the interrupted +journey. But the two boys were the only passengers. They stood on the +platform of the carriage and looked at the crowd. It was seven years +since Sax had seen his father, but he felt sure he would recognize him +instantly; and, besides, it was such a rare thing for two strange lads +to come up on the Far North train, that if anyone had been there to +meet them, he would have had no trouble in picking them out. + +But no one came forward. In vain did the drover's son compare the +picture of his father which he had in his mind, with one after the +other of the men under the veranda. Men, tall, thin, and bearded there +certainly were, and more than one had that stamp of the desert on his +face, which never wears off. + +"Can't you see him, Sax?" asked his companion anxiously. + +"Not yet. He's somewhere at the back, most likely. We'll wait a tick +and see." + +So they waited, and in those minutes the lads felt more lonely than +they had ever done in their lives before. The thought would insist on +presenting itself: + +"Suppose he doesn't come! What then?" The nearest person they really +knew was five days away. In front of them was a little crowd of people +who knew each other well, but who had never seen the boys before, and +all around was the vast unsympathetic silence of the desert which came +in and oppressed the boys even in the dark. + +Presently a man in badly creased white trousers and very thin shirt, +open all the way down, came past. He stopped and looked up at the +boys. "Waiting for somebody?" he asked pleasantly. + +"Yes, we are," said Sax, who was usually the spokesman of the pair when +strangers were concerned. "Can you tell me, please, if Mr. Stobart is +about?" + +"Stobart? If it's Boss Stobart you're waiting for, I'm afraid you'll +be disappointed." + +"Why?" Both boys uttered the word of dismay at the same time. + +"Well, you see," went on the man, "we expected him the day before +yesterday. He's never late, so I wired up the road. I'm his agent, +you know. They haven't heard of him south of Horseshoe Bend." + +"What! Is he lost, then?" asked Sax in an incredulous voice. His +hero, his father, lost? Impossible! + +"Bless you, no. He's never lost. He must have taken a fresh track at +the Bend, that's all. Feed and water and that sort of thing. By the +way, who are you?" + +"I'm his son," said Sax, simply and proudly, "and this is my friend. +Father said he'd meet this train." + +"His son, are you? Oh, well, you may depend upon it, he's not far away +if he said he'd meet you. But he didn't come in to-day. I know that +for a cert. You'd better come over to the hotel and let me fix you up +for the night. My name's Archer--Joe Archer. I've got a store here +and manage your father's business at this end." + +The kind-hearted storekeeper handed the boys over to the care of the +hotel-keeper's wife, who soon set a meal of boiled goat and potatoes +before them. Their intense disappointment at not meeting Mr. Stobart +had not lessened their appetites, and they assured one another that +they would see him in a few days, probably on the very next morning. + +After their tea they went straight to their room, a little box of a +place with a window looking out over a yard where a horse was standing +perfectly still and breathing heavily, fast asleep. The friends talked +for a time and then blew out the candle. + +Scarcely had they done so, when they heard a tapping on the window. +They took no notice. It came again. Tap--tap--tap. It could not +possibly have been an accident. + +"What's that, Sax?" whispered Vaughan. + +"Blest if I know," answered his companion from the other bed. "Shall I +light the candle again?" + +"Let's wait a bit and see," suggested Boof. + +The taps came again, this time louder, and were followed by a cough. + +Sax struck a match. His hand shook so much that he could hardly light +the candle, but whether it was from fear or from excitement cannot be +told. The light flared up, went down again, and then burned bright and +steady. + +Suddenly a man's head and shoulders appeared at the window. It was a +nigger. For a moment both lads stared at the apparition with startled +eyes. But the man did not do anything. He was just waiting till their +surprise died down. His face was not at all as forbidding as the one +they had seen at Coward Springs. He was wearing an old felt hat and a +dirty shirt, and though he had hair all over his face, there was +something about him which proclaimed him to be a young man. + +After a few moments of absolute stillness and silence, they saw the +hair on his face move, and a row of beautiful white teeth showed in a +most engaging smile. Then came the words: "Which one Stobart?" + +The lads had never heard an aboriginal speak before. The sound was +guttural, but there was no mistaking the words: "Which one Stobart?" + +Sax started forward and the black seemed to scrutinize his features +intently. "You Stobart?" he asked. + +"Yes. My name's Stobart," answered Sax. "What d'you want?" + +The black fellow smiled again, groped in his shirt, and pulled out a +dirty piece of folded paper. He held it in his hand and again looked +at the lad as if to make quite sure he was not being deceived. + +"Boss Stobart, him say, you walk longa Oodnadatta. You find um my son. +You give 'im paper yabber. Him good fella, Boss Stobart, so I go. My +name Yarloo." + +The words came slowly, as if the man were repeating something he had +said over and over in his mind. But the words were quite distinct. + +He handed the "paper yabber" to Sax, and disappeared. The two friends +came close together round the candle and looked at the paper which had +come to them from the unknown by such a strange hand. For a few +moments Sax was too excited to open it. What was the news it +contained? Good or bad? It was not addressed, or, if it ever had +been, the handling to which it had been subjected had worn any writing +completely off the outside. + +At last the lad opened it. It was a sheet torn from a common note-book +ruled with lines and columns for figures, the sort of thing on which a +rough man would keep his rough accounts. It contained writing in +pencil by a hand which Sax at once recognized as his father's; but it +was uneven as if it had been written in the dark. The words were: + + + "In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell + Oodnadatta trooper, but _no one else_." (These last three + words were underlined several times.) "He'll + understand. Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. + Get a job somewhere. "STOBART." + + +The friends read it to themselves, and then Sax read it out loud. + +"'In difficulties'," said Vaughan. "What does that mean?" + +"Blest if I know. With the cattle, I expect. I wonder where the +Musgrave Ranges are." + +"But why does he say 'tell the trooper and no one else'?" asked Vaughan +again. "Yet he wouldn't say 'don't worry' if anything was up, would +he?" + +"Oh, nothing's really up," said Sax with conviction. "He means he's a +bit late, that's all. P'raps the trooper's expecting him or something. +Of course he wouldn't want anybody else to know. You see, he's got a +name here," said the lad proudly. "They call him Boss Stobart. Even +the nigger did that." + +"But he'll be a long time, Sax. He won't be in for a week or so at any +rate, or else he wouldn't tell us to get a job, would he?" + +The boys discussed the news from every possible point of view, and +finally arrived at the conclusion that the famous drover had been +forced out of the route he had intended to travel by difficulties with +feed and water, and that he might be very late arriving at his +destination. That he would finally arrive, they never doubted for a +moment. With this assurance, they once more blew out the light, and it +was not long before they were both fast asleep. + +If they could have known the terrible danger which Drover Stobart was +in at that very time, it is certain that sleep would have been +impossible to them. He was as near death, a hideous death, as any man +can possibly be who lives to tell the tale. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Wild Cattle + +The boys woke late on their first morning in the Far North. Sax's +thoughts immediately turned to his father's letter. He groped under +his pillow and pulled it out and read it again: + + + "In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell Oodnadatta + trooper, but _no one else_. He'll understand. + Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. Get a job somewhere. + + "STOBART." + + +It was a characteristic note, for the drover never wrote long letters, +but the shakiness of the writing, and the mysterious way in which it +had been delivered, gave Sax a feeling of great uneasiness. If, as Joe +Archer the storekeeper had suggested, Stobart had been forced to take a +westerly track from Horseshoe Bend in order to find water and feed for +the cattle, he could easily have sent word to Oodnadatta by the +ordinary camel mail which passed the Bend once a month. + +Sax looked up and saw that his friend was awake. "What d'you reckon we +ought to do, Boofy?" he asked, getting out of bed. + +Vaughan took the letter and read it before replying. "It says 'Tell +Oodnadatta trooper'," he remarked. "I reckon we ought to do that +first, Sax, don't you?" + +When breakfast was over, the boys asked the way to the trooper's house, +and were told that Sergeant Scott had gone away after some blacks who +had been spearing cattle. No one had any idea when he was likely to +return. "You see--" said the man who was telling them about it, "you +see, he may get the niggers easy and bring them in at once. Or they +may clear out and make him chase them for days and days. He'll get +them in the end, though, you bet. Old Scotty's not the one to be +beaten by niggers." + +The boys sat down outside the trooper's house on a little hill and +looked over the desolate landscape. They seemed to be baulked at every +turn. + +Presently, away above the northern rim of the land appeared a little +brown stain. It caught the eye because the horizon had no cloud on it +or anything to break the clear line except that patch of brown. + +Sax was idly watching it, wondering what in the world he could do to +help his father, when the cloud seemed to get bigger and clearer. +"Look, Boof," he said. "D'you see that thing over there? It looks +like a cloud, but it's brown." + +He pointed it out to his friend and they watched it together. It was +certainly getting bigger. "Looks like dust," said Vaughan. + +"But whatever could be kicking up all that dust?" asked Sax. "It's +coming this way. Look, it's covering those trees over there now." + +The cloud of dust got bigger and of a more distinct brown. Objects +such as trees, which at one time stood out in front of it, were hidden +one after another, till it spread out like heavy brown smoke from a +damp fire. The air was very clear and still. All at once Sax gripped +his friend's arm. He had heard a sound--a sound which was like his own +native tongue to the drover's son--the crack of a stock-whip. + +"I'm sure I heard a whip," he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm dead sure I +did. Hark!" + +Both boys sprang to their feet and listened intently. From out that +advancing mass of brown dust sounds could be heard. At first they were +just a confused murmur, a sort of deep grumbling very far away; but now +and again came a sharper sound, half like the crack of a pistol and +half like two flat boards being banged together. + +"Yes. I'm sure of it. I'm sure of it. It's whips. I bet you it's +whips. And that dust is kicked up by cattle. I _know_ it is. Oh, +Boofy, Boofy! P'raps it's my father." + +"Let's go and meet him," suggested Vaughan, and the boy would have +started out right away to meet the cattle if his friend had not +prevented him. Sax had never seen a mob of bush cattle, at least not +that he could remember, though his father had often carried him on the +pommel of his saddle when he was a tiny baby. But he knew +instinctively that it would be dangerous to face wild cattle on foot. + +"Let's wait and see what happens," he said. "They won't be long." + +The noise had now increased to the continuous rumbling bellow of a +great mob of restless cattle. Already the shouts of men could be +heard, and the cracks of whips came very sharp and clear. Dim forms +could be seen for a moment now and again on the outskirts of the cloud +of dust, as mounted men wheeled here and there and everywhere in their +efforts to keep the cattle together. The animals had never seen a town +before, and were frightened at the glitter of iron roofs in the sun. + +Suddenly a figure on a horse shot out in front and cantered ahead. The +boys became tense with excitement. Was it Mr. Stobart? At first they +could not distinguish him except that he rode a grey horse and sat it +with the perfect ease of a Central Australian. The animal did not want +to leave its companions and started to "play up". But nothing it could +do made any difference to the superb rider; he just sat as if he were +part of the horse, as if he were indeed its brain, forcing it to obey +his will. When he came past the little hill where the lads were +standing he was about a hundred yards away from them, and they could +see him clearly. + +"Is it, Sax?" asked Vaughan excitedly. "Is it your pater?" + +The drover's son shook his head. "No chance," he said sadly. "My +father's taller than that man. But can't he just ride, Boof?" + +The rider had by this time reached a set of troughs which spread out on +the ground and were filled by a bore about half a mile behind the town. +He dismounted, had a good look round to see that everything was right, +and then started to ride back again. But instead of going straight +back to the cattle, he rode up to the boys. + +"Good-day," he said, reining in his horse. "Come out to see the +cattle?" + +"Yes," replied Sax. "And we were wondering whether Boss Stobart"--he +said the name proudly--"whether Boss Stobart was with them." + +The man shook his head. "No. Didn't he come in a week ago? He +started ahead of me. These are T.D.3 cattle." + +The lads showed their disappointment on their faces, but of course the +drover did not understand the reason for it. "If it's fun you're after +seeing, you'll get as much with my mob as you would with the Boss's," +he said with a very slight Irish brogue. "They're sure as wild as +bally mosquitoes. But look, you're a bit too close here. Get back a +bit, and when they've had a drink, go over to the troughs. You'll +likely see a bit of fun at the yards." + +The lads did as he told them. They climbed on the roof of an old shed +where they were well out of the way, and could get a good view of the +cattle as they came in to water. They expected the whole mob to file +past at once, but that was not what happened. As soon as the drover +returned, the cattle were rounded up in a hollow between two +sand-hills. For a time the dust increased to such an extent that +nothing could be seen; but by the shouting and whip-cracking it was +evident that the men were having trouble. + +Then a little mob of about a hundred were cut out from the others and +driven towards the water. A white man rode in front and two black boys +rode behind. To Stobart and Vaughan it looked as if the men were +taking far more care than was necessary, for they shepherded the cattle +every inch of the way. The cattle smelt the water from the distance, +and wanted to rush straight to it, but they were turned again and +again, and allowed to advance only at a slow pace. They had been ten +weeks on the road, and were so nervous at approaching the buildings of +the little town, that the least thing would make them rush away in all +directions. Once they started, nothing could stop them, and the result +of all those weeks of constant care might go for nothing. So the +stockmen took no chances. + +The cattle watered quietly, and when they had had enough, they were +taken a little distance away and left in charge of the two black boys. +Then the white man returned and cut off another hundred, and watered +them in the same way, till every one in the huge mob of wild cattle had +had a drink without being disturbed. + +Then came what the drover had called "a bit of fun". The cattle were +slowly moved towards the great trucking-yards. + +"Let's go over to the troughs as he said," suggested Vaughan. "It's +lots nearer than this." So the two friends took up their position +behind the big tank into which the water from the bore poured before it +flowed into the troughs. + +The Oodnadatta trucking-yards are made of iron rails set in concrete +and are capable of holding more than a thousand head of stock. Once +the cattle are in, nothing matters, for the yards are strong enough to +hold elephants. But the job is to get them in. + +Inch by inch the grumbling mass of irritable beasts was urged forward +by the white drover and his boys. It was a ticklish job, and the whips +were kept quiet at first, except to flick up one or another which tried +to poke out of the mob. All went well till the leading cattle came to +the wing of the yard. Those iron rails frightened them. They had only +seen a yard once before in their lives, and the rails of that one were +made of wood. + +"Steady, boys! Steady!" called the drover. "Keep 'em quiet a bit." + +For a minute or two the stockmen sat back on their horses and did not +urge the cattle forward, but let them get used to their new +surroundings. The animals went up to the rails and smelt them, +bellowing with surprise. + +"Now, slowly, boys! Slowly!" + +Very gradually the horsemen moved forward. To a new chum this care +seemed very unnecessary. The gate was straight ahead. Why not force +the animals through, and get the job over? But a thousand cattle +cannot be forced by five men, as the boys were soon to see. + +The leading cattle were now right up to the gate, and the others were +slowly crowding on behind, till they were jammed in the wings. If only +one or two would go through the rest would follow easily. But the +leading bullock struck a tin buried in the sand. Instantly the great +beast's head was raised and he sent out a roaring bellow. Those behind +him crowded on, but he would not pass that tin. It was lying on top of +the sand now. He tried to back away from it, and in doing so struck +his foot against it again. + +Bellow followed bellow. He set his feet firmly in the sand and would +not budge. Down went his head, and he tossed clouds of sand into the +air. + +"Let 'em have it. Let 'em have it," shouted the drover. "Force 'em up +there. Force 'em up." He stood in his stirrups and plied his whip, +cracking it back and front, and shouting at the top of his voice. The +blacks did the same, till it seemed as if they would force the cattle +into the yard by sheer energy. + +But no. The leading bullock stood firm. Something had to give way. +No single animal could withstand the pressure of all the others from +behind. The bullock lifted his head high and shook his mighty horns, +and, with a roar which drowned all sounds of shouting, he turned along +the side of the wing and charged. Nothing could stop him. Others +followed till the cattle were going round and round like water in a +whirlpool. What cattlemen most fear had happened: a ring. Not a +single beast went through the gate. They passed it, at first slowly, +then faster and faster, till they were galloping round and round like +clumsy circus horses. + +The drover tried to break the ring. He cut off a few cattle at the +back of the mob and forced them against the tide. He succeeded for a +moment, and the black stockmen cut off others and brought them in. For +a few seconds it was like two huge waves meeting. The cattle jammed in +the centre, and some were actually lifted from their feet. Then the +wave broke. + +A charging mass of maddened cattle rushed away from the yards, +screaming with terror, heads down and stiffened tails high in the air. +Nothing could stand against them. It was death to attempt to check the +terrible charge. The mounted men galloped for safety to the sides. +One, however, was too slow. He had just gained the edge of the mob +when a young steer dashed into his horse. Both were going so fast that +they came down together. Fortunately the boy was thrown clear and was +not hurt. The steer rolled over and over and then picked itself up and +joined the rush. The riderless horse galloped towards the troughs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Riding Tests + +During the exciting scenes at the yards, Sax and Vaughan had come out +from the shelter of the tank, wholly absorbed in the wild life they +were now witnessing for the first time. With the keen delight which +every healthy-minded boy has in adventure, they followed every twist +and turn, wishing with all their hearts that they were in the thick of +it and not mere lookers-on. + +When the cattle broke, the drover dashed out on their side of the mob +and waved a warning to them. His mouth framed words, and though his +voice was drowned in the tremendous hullabulloo, the boys knew he was +shouting: "Back! Back! Back for your lives!" + +So they raced for the tank and crouched behind it as the storm of +cattle went sweeping past. + +The riderless horse galloped up to the troughs and stooped its head to +drink. The bridle-rein trailed on the ground. Sax looked around the +tank and saw it very near his hand. He gave a quick glance at the +saddle and saw that all the gear was right, and then quietly stretched +out his arm and caught the rein. He gripped it firmly but did not +pull. The noise of stampeding cattle was so great that the horse did +not notice the movement near him till the boy slowly rose from the +ground. + +Then the horse lifted its head and gave a snort of alarm. But in a +moment Sax had jerked the reins over its head, and in another moment +was on its back. Before he was well seated, the frightened animal +reared, squealing and pawing the air with its fore hoofs. But Sax was +lean and very supple. He clung on, drove his feet home in the +stirrups, and when the horse came down and started to buck and twist +and arch and side-spring, he had a seat from which it would have taken +a very good animal to shake him. It was all over in less than a +minute, and then the horse saw its companions flying over the plains in +a cloud of dust, gave a whinny, and started after them at top speed. + +Vaughan was left with feelings which were almost equally divided +between pride in his friend's achievement and envy that the adventure +had not fallen to his lot. + +Sax caught up with the drover and rode neck and neck with him on the +wing of the cattle for some time before the man turned his head. When +he did so, he was very surprised. + +"Hallo, young 'un!" he shouted, almost breathless at the rate they were +going. "Can you ride?" + +"No," bawled Sax exultantly; "but I'm learning." + +"Well, don't try and learn too much first go," came back the warning. +"There's ticklish work ahead. You watch me." And they settled down +again to give all their attention to the work in hand. + +About five miles west of the town is a narrow but close belt of timber, +mostly gnarled mulga and gidgee, with here and there a sprawling +stunted creek gum. The cattle were making for this shelter. But +already the tremendous pace was beginning to tell. The bellowing had +ceased and the mob was stringing out, the stragglers no longer being +able to gallop, but lumbering along at a clumsy trot. + +To Sax's surprise, a black stockman, riding in the rear of the mob, +kept these stragglers at the top of their pace. The drover gradually +forged ahead on the wing and the boy with him, till they were level +with the leaders. Then, little by little, they worked nearer and +nearer to the galloping beasts, using their whips freely and trying by +every possible means to turn the line away from the belt of timber. +They succeeded. From west the cattle turned to south, getting more and +more tired at every stride, then east, then north, and finally they +were brought up by rounding on themselves and turning in and in till +they were thoroughly exhausted and only too willing to pull up. + +Sax's whole body was one big ache. It was his first ride on a bush +horse, which he found very different from the thoroughbreds he had +known. Every movement of the horse, now that the excitement was over, +was agony to him, but he sat in the saddle without flinching. Not for +the world would he have betrayed himself. + +"What do we do now?" he asked the drover. + +The man laughed. He admired the boy's pluck, and his keen eyes noticed +the signs of discomfort which Sax could not possibly hide. "Do?" he +asked. "Why? Haven't you done enough for a bit?" + +"Oh, I'm all right," said Sax. "I like it." + +"Wish I did," growled the other. "I'll just begin to like it when it's +all over, and these beggars are in the yard." + +The mounted men rode slowly to and fro around the cattle for an hour or +two. Some of them got over their fright sufficiently to lie down, +others stood about in groups and nosed one another and murmured +quietly. About noon the drover whistled to his boys, and a move was +made towards the yards. This time they were not rushed forward in a +mob. A few of the quietest were cut off and driven in first. They +went through the gates without any trouble. Then a few more, followed +by others till the thousand cattle were safely behind the great gates. + +"Now we'll have a drink of tea, and then we'll truck them," said the +drover, dismounting from his horse and taking off the saddle. He +turned to the black boys. "Take um your horses little yard belonga Mr. +Archer," he said, pointing towards the town. "Give um plenty tucker, +water. Come back quick-fella! Which way Yarloo sit down?" + +At the name Yarloo, Sax looked up quickly. Surely that was the name +given by the messenger who handed Boss Stobart's note to the boy in the +middle of the night. The blacks laughed at the drover's question, and +one of them pointed towards the troughs. "Him tummel aller same +kangaroo," he said, with a grin, making movements with his body like a +man being flung off a horse. "Him come down cropper, I think," and he +rubbed the back of his head and made grimaces which caused the others +to laugh heartily. A black-fellow is always highly amused at an +accident. + +Two figures were coming over from the troughs. Sax recognized one as +Vaughan. The other was limping slightly. It was Yarloo, the boy who +had been thrown from his horse. He had got a job with the drover the +morning after the delivery of his midnight message to Saxon Stobart, +and, because he was a stranger, his fellow stockmen took a great +delight in limping about and imitating him. + +"So that's how you got your ride," said the drover. "How did you catch +the horse?" + +Sax told him, and the drover remarked: "I'm glad you did. Nothing +stirs things up so much as a saddled horse with nobody on him. You and +your mate had better have a drink of tea with me. By the way, what do +they call you?" + +"That chap's name's Vaughan," answered Sax. "Mine's Stobart." + +"What? Stobart? Same name as Boss Stobart?" + +"Yes. He's my father." + +For a moment the drover looked at the boy with keen eyes from which +nothing could be hidden. They were light-grey eyes, set well apart, +and absolutely fearless. He caught and held Sax's glance and seemed to +be reading the boy's character. He evidently approved of what he saw, +for he held out his hand, which Stobart took at once. + +"So you're Boss Stobart's son," he said. "I'm sure glad to meet you. +My name's Darby. Mick Darby. Me and your father were mates for close +on ten years. You came up to meet him, did you?" + +Sax told him a little about the school, and how he and Vaughan had come +up to Oodnadatta expecting to meet the drover, and how disappointed +they were. He did not mention the mysterious message; but when Mick +Darby asked what the boys intended doing, Sax answered promptly that +they were looking for a job, as Boss Stobart had sent a note advising +them to do this. + +"He's likely changed his plans," said Darby, "and can't come down for a +bit. What sort of a job d'you want?" + +By this time Vaughan had come up, and the three whites were sitting +near an open pack-bag, eating damper and salt meat, and drinking tea +from the drover's quart-pot. To his question as to what sort of job +they wanted, there seemed but one reply. Sax's mouth was full at the +time, so Vaughan answered: + +"This sort, of course." + +Mick smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, and asked: "Can you ride too?" +The word "too" pleased Sax immensely, but it stirred his friend to +answer, somewhat boastfully: + +"I can ride as well as he can--can't I, Sax?" + +"You're better than I am," said Sax generously. "He is indeed, Mr. +Darby." + +"Well, we'll see. I shan't be starting back till the day after +to-morrow. What d'you say to a riding test?" he asked, laughing. + +The boys were willing to agree to anything, especially as the station +to which Mick was returning was out towards the Musgrave Ranges. "It's +sure a rough place," said Mick, when he had agreed to take the boys. +"It's out on the edge of cattle country, the Musgraves west of us, and +niggers--bad niggers, too. You'll wish you'd never come." He looked +at the eager faces of the two lads and his own suffused with thoughts +of the days when he was their age. He remembered all the hard years +between, the trips on which he had only just come through alive, the +terrors of thirst, the slow torment of being out of tucker, the scraps +with blacks, the dreary homeless monotony of the desert, and he said +earnestly: "I'm not urging you to come, mind. I know what you're in +for; you don't. But if you want to be men, now's your chance." + +Vaughan's riding test next day was a severe one. "It's not that I want +to make a fool of you," explained Mick, as they lead the horses out of +Archer's yard. "But there's not a properly quiet horse in my plant. +It's no good your getting your swag ready if you can't ride. What +d'you feel like?" + +Vaughan said he was feeling fine; but if the truth must be told, his +pulses were beating unusually fast as he looked at the bush horses and +realized that he was soon to be on top of one of them. The party +consisted of the drover, the white boys, and one or two black stockmen, +and when they came to a broad expanse of soft sand, Mick said they +needn't go any farther. + +Vaughan rode three horses. The first was a bay mare, of medium height, +short in the back, and with a long rein. "You'll find her a bit tricky +to mount," said Mick. The animal stood as quiet as a mouse while +Vaughan caught her and put the saddle on, but as soon as he tossed the +reins over her head, she backed away and started to prance round +excitedly. The boy found it impossible to get his foot in the stirrup; +as soon as he touched the metal, the mare jumped back. Mick Darby +stood by and said nothing, but he interfered when Sax wanted to go and +help his friend. "Let him do it on his own," he said. "He won't +always have you with him." + +Instead of quietening down, when the mare found she could bluff the lad +she pranced about more than ever, and Vaughan saw that, unless he could +surprise the animal for a moment, he would have no chance of mounting. +So he kept the reins over her head and started to pat the lovely neck +and shoulders. He slowly worked round till he was on the off side--a +side from which, normally, no one ever mounts a horse--and let his hand +run down the shoulder till it touched the stirrup. The mare stood +quite still. + +Still patting the animal, Vaughan shortened the rein, and quietly +lifted his right foot. As soon as it was in the stirrup, he sprang, +and before the surprised horse could recover from its astonishment, he +was in the saddle, having mounted from the wrong side. + +The blacks shouted their praise, but Vaughan listened only for the +drover's voice. Mick laughed heartily. "Good boy! Good boy!" he +said. "You bluffed her all right. Get off, and I'll show you how to +do it on the near side." + +The mare was quite quiet when once the rider was seated, and Vaughan +had no difficulty in riding her round or in dismounting. Mick +shortened the rein for mounting, and just as the mare began to turn +away, as she had done with Vaughan, he took off his hat and put it +under the cheek-strap of the bridle, thus blinding the horse on the +near side. She stood quite still, and the drover got on and off +several times without any difficulty. Then Vaughan tried it in the +same way, and found he could do anything with the mare if only he +blindfolded the near-side eye when he was mounting. + +"She's a good little mare to ride, and as game as a pebble," said Mick, +when the saddle had been taken off her. "I'll let you have her if you +promise to treat her well." + +The next horse was a big raking bay, high in the shoulder, too long and +badly coupled in the back, and of a very awkward appearance. Vaughan +saddled him up and mounted. The horse stood stock still. Vaughan then +shook the reins and it moved on for a few paces, but as soon as the +reins were slacked again, it stopped. The boy became impatient. +Nothing is so annoying to ride as a lazy horse. So he shortened the +rein. As soon as he did so, the big animal started to move forward, +and it got faster and raster as its rider put pressure on the reins. +It had an awkward habit of thrusting its long lean head straight out, +so Vaughan pulled hard. But the harder the boy pulled the faster the +horse moved. And it _could_ move. Vaughan had never had such an +uncomfortable few minutes in his life. Every part of the horse seemed +to be moving by itself, and jerking him in all directions. He couldn't +possibly sit in the saddle. He let the stirrups take all his weight +and just hung on. The horse was bolting. + +Vaughan did not lose his head. After trying to pull up the runaway by +sheer force, he realized that he was only wasting his strength, and +making it go faster. By the time he found this out, he was a mile away +from the others, enveloped in a cloud of dust, and racing as hard as +the horse could set foot to the ground. He slackened the reins a +little. Instantly the pace slackened too. He took off more pressure +still and the horse was soon cantering at a medium speed. Vaughan had +found out the secret. He turned his horse's head towards home, and +made it do just anything he wanted by simply increasing or decreasing +the force with which he held the reins. The horse had a most +delightful canter, like a big rocking-horse, and Vaughan rode up to his +companions feeling very pleased with himself. + +"What d'you think of it?" asked Mick. + +"Fine!" replied the lad. "Fine! But he shook me up before I found it +out." + +"Found what out?" asked the drover. + +Vaughan told him, and the man smiled approval. "Good!" he commented. +"Remember, these horses up here are all different, and you've got to +find them out. Perhaps you've been used to riding properly trained +ones. We don't do any of that up here in the bush. Would you like to +try another?" + +Vaughan was sore and tired, but he answered eagerly that he was ready +for a dozen more. + +"I'll only give you one," said Mick, beckoning to one of the black +boys. "Take him pretty carefully." + +The black stockman caught and saddled a chestnut gelding. Compared +with the thoroughbreds of Langdale Station, the horse was heavily +built, but it had beautifully made shoulders and back. The rump was +coupled to the saddle of the back without the slightest dip, and the +curve rose over a pair of high shoulder-blades and up to a deep and +shapely neck. The legs, however, were thick, and seemed to be out of +proportion with the rest of the body. + +Vaughan mounted, or rather he tried to mount. If he had known more +about horses he would have noticed the nervous head and eyes, and would +have taken precautions accordingly. But he just flung the reins over +its head, put his foot in the stirrup, and--found himself sprawling in +the sand. He did not let go of the reins. The drover noticed this, +and knew, because of it, that the boy had the instincts of a horseman. +Sax ran forward, but Mick stopped him. "He's all right," he said. +"Let him alone." + +Vaughan picked himself up and approached the horse, cautiously, but +without fear. He put the reins quietly over its head, shortened the +near side one and took a good handful of mane, and put his foot in the +stirrup. + +"Don't rush it! Don't rush it!" shouted Mick. "You're dealing with a +nervous horse. Take your time. Don't be afraid. He's got no vice." + +Vaughan gradually pressed his weight in the stirrup and rose slowly +into the saddle. The horse stood quite still and trembled. The boy +realized that something was going to happen and settled himself firmly. +It was well he did so. Without any warning, the horse's back arched +like a bent bow, and all four feet came off the ground. It was an +extraordinary experience for Vaughan--everything sloping away from him. +Then the back straightened suddenly and the hoofs struck the ground +with such impact that, if the boy had not been very firmly in the +stirrups, he would have been tossed in the air like a stone from a +catapult. + +After that, Vaughan had a few of the busiest moments of his life. Up +in the air--in front and behind and all together--pitching this way and +that; rooting, jumping, bucking, doing everything except rolling on the +ground, the screaming horse tried to get rid of its rider. + +Vaughan did not know what he was doing. Sheer pluck, and the supple +strength of his young body, brought him through a test where more +experienced riders would have failed. He did the right things without +knowing why. He leaned forward over the neck of the rearing horse; he +lay back when its heels were lashing the air; he balanced himself, as +he had often done on a horizontal bar at school, when the arched back +of the horse quivered under him high off the ground; and he stood in +his stirrups to save his body from the shock of those four heavy feet +striking the ground at once. He did all these things instinctively, +though he had never been on a bucking horse before. + +He was far too excited to be afraid. His determination saw him +through, and at last the quivering horse and the breathless boy came to +a standstill. Then, with a shrill whinny, the horse did its final +worst. It braced its hind legs well apart and tossed its chest high in +the air. Up and up rose the head and shoulders, while the fore feet +pawed the air; up and up, till horse and rider hung for a moment in the +balance--a horse on two legs, standing erect with a white boy clinging +to its back. They swayed for a moment; for two; for three. Then over +they came. With a violent jerk of its head, the horse fell over +backwards. + +A shout of consternation went up. Vaughan's position was one of +greatest peril. But the boy's dancing blood had given his mind a +lightning grip of the situation, and as the horse fell, he kicked his +feet free from the stirrups, and flung himself clear. He was not a +moment too soon. With a crash which shook the ground, the heavy horse +came down, and would have mangled to a lifeless pulp anyone who had +been under it. But Vaughan was safe. He lay for a minute, gasping, +then stood up and faced the drover. The rein was still in his hand, +though the force of the fall had torn the strong leather strap from the +bridle. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Smoke Signals + +Travelling across country in Central Australia is usually very +monotonous. The same routine is gone through day after day, and there +is not even the relief of meeting new faces, for one's companions are +often the only human beings met with during the whole of a trip of many +weeks. + +For the first few days of journeying towards the Musgraves, young +Stobart and Vaughan found everything new and intensely interesting. At +piccaninny daylight--which is the bush term for the rising of the +morning star--Mick Darby turned over on his swag and sat up, and called +out "Daylight! Daylight!" + +The drover was so punctual with this call that it seemed to the boys as +if he must have been awake for hours, watching for the star to rise +blood-red above the eastern horizon. But years of bush travel, of +watching restless cattle, and of sleeping under the threat of danger +from prowling blacks had made the man respond immediately to any noise +or unusual sight. There was no period of stretching or yawning. Mick +was asleep one instant, and fully awake the next and shouting +"Daylight". The black boys were also light sleepers, trained out of +their native laziness by association with alert whites. There was +Yarloo, who had come in from the west with Boss Stobart's message and +had joined the white man's plant at once; and Ranui, a tall fine man +from North Queensland, who showed both in his build and name a trace of +Malay blood; and Ted and Teedee, two boys who had been with Mick since +they were "little fellas". + +As soon as the morning call sounded, the black stockmen rolled out of +their camp-sheets, picked up their bridles, and went off in the grey +light on the tracks of the hobbled horses. Their skill in tracking was +a constant source of wonder to the boys. The type of country didn't +seem to matter at all; soft sand or hard stony tableland was all the +same to them; they tracked the wandering horses with as much careless +certainty as if they could actually see them, though on some nights +they had strayed, in search of feed, several miles away from camp. + +When the black boys had gone, Sax and Vaughan collected wood for the +morning fire, raked last night's ashes together, and made a blaze. +Then they filled the seven quart-pots with water and set them near the +flame to boil for breakfast. + +The drover was always busy in the early hours. There was probably a +piece of horse-gear to mend, a broken or faulty girth, the stuffing of +a saddle which had become lumpy, or a buckle which had torn away. When +these were all in order, there was the everlasting "damper" to make. +Vaughan volunteered to become assistant cook if Mick would give him +lessons in the great bush art of damper-making. + +"You'd better start on Johnny-cakes," said the drover. "The mixture's +just the same, but if you make a mess you won't spoil a whole damper. +You watch me to-day. You can try your hand to-morrow, if you like." + +It was still an hour or so before sunrise when the white boys had their +first lesson in bush cookery. Mick went over to one of the packs and +pulled out a seventy-pound bag of flour about half full. He untied the +mouth of the bag and took out a tin of baking-powder. Then he spread a +folded sack on the sand, and piled on it about five double handfuls of +flour, mixing a lidful of baking-powder with it. He gave this a good +stir round, dry as it was, and then made a hollow in the middle and +poured in water in which a little salt had been dissolved. The proper +mixing of the dough only came by experience, Mick told them; as dry as +possible and yet damp enough to stick together. The work was done +quickly but thoroughly. + +"If you wanted it for a damper," explained Mick, giving the dough a +final roll, "you'd put the whole lot in together. But I'll show you +Johnny-cakes first; they're easier and don't take so long." + +He divided the dough into little pieces and rolled each out in his +hands till it was the size and shape of an ordinary bun. He arranged +these on the bag and pulled it near the fire. "I always let the things +rise for a couple of minutes," he said. "Some chaps don't, but I +always do." + +Then he prepared the fire for cooking. Every fragment of blazing wood +was put on one side, and a heap of soft glowing ashes left. With a +curved stick, this pile was scooped about till it was like a very big +saucer, all glowing hot and yet not actually burning. On this warm bed +the Johnny-cakes were dropped, leaving a space between each so that +they wouldn't run together. When all the white balls of dough were in +place, Mick flicked some of the ashes from the edge of the hollow on to +them, gradually increasing the amount till the cakes were covered right +over and the whole affair was a mound of grey with no sign of the +cooking cakes. + +"How long before they're done?" asked Vaughan. + +"Depends," answered Mick. "Depends on the size of them and the heat of +the fire. I don't like the fire too hot. We'll have a look at these +in about a quarter of an hour." + +At the end of that time the top of the pile of ashes had begun to crack +here and there with the upward pressure of the rising Johnny-cakes. +Mick scooped one of them out from the edge. It was brown and hard on +the outside, with a most appetizing smell, and a soft ring round it +where the top had pulled away, just like the top on a loaf of bread. +To the boy's surprise, the cakes were quite clean, and a few flicks +with a wisp of leaves left them as free from sand or ashes as if they +had been baked in an oven. Mick tapped the cake with his knuckles. +"Another couple of minutes won't hurt," he said. + +Presently the distant sound of a jangling stock-bell was heard, and a +few minutes later the horses came into camp, lead by an old black mare +who carried a bell, and driven by the four black boys riding bareback. +Everything was bustle for a few minutes. The horses were again hobbled +to prevent them from straying, and then the men all settled down to +breakfast. Vaughan usually took charge of the tea. Directly a +quart-pot came to the boil, he tipped in some sugar and a pinch of tea, +and moved the pot away from the fire. Sax superintended the tucker--a +slab of damper, or a Johnny-cake, and a chunk of salt meat for each +man. These are the bush rations year in and year out: meat, damper, +and tea. Breakfast was eaten quickly, and then the pack-bags were +weighted evenly and fastened up, horses caught and saddled, a final +look given round the camp to see that nothing was left behind, and the +three white men set out in a certain direction with no track and with +no guidance of any kind except that of the sun, followed at once by the +plant of horses driven by the blacks. + +All day they rode, silent for the most part, but occasionally Mick +would answer a question as to a tree, a strange track, or a feature on +the horizon. No other living thing was seen hour after hour, save a +solitary eagle high in the air, a few lizards darting about the clumps +of porcupine grass, and ants and flies. These latter pests are the +curse of the back country. The weather was hot. That day and on +several others one hundred and thirty degrees was reached, and even +that temperature was exceeded now and then over sandhills and plains +which quivered in the heat. But the boys would not have minded the +heat if the flies had only left them alone. Long before dawn, before +even the morning star had risen, flies buzzed around them, making life +well-nigh unbearable. + +A halt was made about noon for dinner, the packs and saddles taken off +the horses for an hour, and then the journey was resumed, each man +riding a fresh horse, for no one rides the same horse all day in +Central Australia, if he can possibly help it. + +Evening camp was usually made near a water-hole or native well, but +sometimes the horses had to go as long as two days without a drink. +They were unsaddled and hobbled out, and allowed to roam about all +night and pick up scanty bits of food. It amazed the white boys to see +what very little herbage of any kind there was for an animal to live +on. No grass; just a dry uninviting bush here and there, growing up +out of loose barren sand, with, at long intervals, a clump of twisted +mulga trees. Yet the horses "did" well, and certainly the thousand +T.D.3 bullocks which had come down from the territory looked none the +worse for their trip over country just as barren as the boys were now +camped on. + +After tea was the time the two white boys enjoyed most, for Mick would +light his pipe then, prop himself up against his swag, and, with a +quart-pot of tea by his side, tell them yarns about the back country. +Many of these narratives included Boss Stobart, for he and Mick had +gone about together a great deal, and had established overland droving +records which are still unbeaten. He told of drought and flood, of +thirst and hunger, of cattle rushes and disease, of mining camps, of +Afghans and their camels, of Chinamen and opium, of grog shanties, of +troopers, of wild blacks and still wilder whites, until his listeners' +minds flamed at the thought that they, even they, were in the country +where such adventures had taken place--and perhaps some day would be +met with by themselves. And at night, when they lay out on their swags +under the cool sky, which looked so much farther away than it did in +cities, and heard the high quavering hunting-call of the dingo, their +thoughts would go, not towards the scenes where they had spent their +boyhood, but onwards into the unknown. + +One day, when the routine of "the road" had gone on for more than a +fortnight, they were crossing a broad expanse of hard stony country, +shut in on the north by dense mulga scrub, when Sax noticed a thin +column of smoke rising from the trees a few miles away. He could +hardly believe his eyes, and when he looked again it was no longer +coming up from the trees, but was rising up and up and fading away +against the flawless blue of the sky. He was about to call Vaughan's +attention to it when his horse stumbled and nearly fell. Next time he +looked to the north the smoke was again rising from the trees, and then +again it was cut off, and floated away and was lost. + +His curiosity was thoroughly roused. "Mick!" he shouted, for by this +time the boys had dropped the "Mr." when speaking to their drover +friend. "Mick! Is that _smoke_ over there in the trees?" + +"Sure it's smoke," he answered. "And so's that ahead there." He +pointed across the plain, where the heat was dancing, to a little hill. +It must have been eight miles away, and from it rose a thin coil of +smoke. At first Sax thought it was merely the effect of the sun +causing everything in the distance to quiver and take on fantastic +shapes, but he trusted the bushman's eyes, and at last convinced +himself that it was indeed smoke. + +"Then somebody must be camped there," said Vaughan. + +"Is it a station, Mick, or just chaps travelling like ourselves?" asked +Sax. + +"It's niggers, lad. They're signalling to one another." + +The columns of smoke were at once invested with a new interest to the +two boys. Natives were near them, unseen, sending messages to other +natives at a distance. The simplicity of this bush telegraphy was +fascinating. + +"What are they saying, Mick, d'you know?" asked Vaughan eagerly. + +"This lot," said the drover, "is telling that other lot over there that +we're coming. So many white men, so many blacks, and so many horses. +We're getting into nigger country now." + +"Will we see them?" asked the boys. + +"No chance in life," replied the drover. "These niggers are wild and +scared to death of white men. They're different from the camp blacks +who hang round stations. They'll likely be station blacks themselves +some day, for the wild nigger's dying out. But just now, they keep +away and live their own lives. We call them warraguls." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Stealthy Foes + +Next morning, when the horses came in, two were missing. "Which way +them two horses sit down?" Mick asked one of the boys. "What for you +no bring um in?" + +"Him dead," was the answer. + +"Dead!" exclaimed the drover. "How dead?" + +"Him speared," explained Yarloo. + +"Which way? You show um me." The drover saddled his horse and went +away with Yarloo, while the two white boys gave the other stockmen +their breakfast, wondering what had taken Mick off in such a hurry. + +Mick Darby found the two dead horses. By their tracks they had +evidently strayed away from the others, and by other tracks it was +clear that blacks had crept upon them in the dim light of dawn and had +speared them, for the bodies were still warm. Mick always carried a +bottle of strychnine about with him, and at every camp he poisoned +little bits of meat and left them behind to kill the dingoes which +abound in cattle country. He looked at the two horses--fine, stanch +animals, both of them--and his heart became hot with anger. He put his +hand to his belt and fingered the poison pouch. It was a great +temptation. If the blacks had speared the horses for food, here was a +chance for revenge. If he poisoned the carcass and killed the blacks, +would it not be a terrible warning to the others? + +But it was only for a second that the ghastly thought attracted him. +He was a true white man and would not stoop to any hidden revenge. It +is a white man's way to face his enemy in the open and under the sun, +not to kill him by putting strychnine in his food. So Mick turned away +and rode back to camp, and did not tell the boys what danger they were +in. + +Next day smoke signals were all around them and very close. It gave +the boys a feeling that keen black eyes were peering at them from every +bit of cover, and that lithe forms were slinking noiselessly from tree +to tree, never turning a stone or breaking a twig to disturb the +silence of the desert. + +That evening they unpacked and unsaddled the horses early, and tied +them up till after tea. Then Mick rode away with them himself, hobbled +them on an open patch of dry bush, and prepared to watch throughout the +night. He knew the native method of attack: a little, then a little +more. If two horses had been killed last night, three or four might be +speared this night. To lose their horses would leave the party at the +mercy, not only of the blacks, but also of a more terrible enemy +still--thirst. So the brave bushman was going to take no risks. + +The spot he had chosen was a little plain covered with dry buck-bush +and surrounded on all sides with mulga scrub. There was plenty of feed +to keep the horses quiet all night, but Mick was obliged to ride round +them again and again and turn them back from the scrub. He was +perfectly sure that wild natives were in ambush behind the trees, and +that the first animal who wandered within range of a spear-cast would +become a victim. The moon was half-full in a cloudless sky, and the +drover had no difficulty in seeing, but, after an hour or two, he had +the greatest difficulty in the world to keep awake. The night was warm +and still and drowsy, and the day had been one of constant tension, and +as the drover sat with cocked rifle and with the horse's bridle looped +over his arm, he must have nodded once or twice through sheer weariness. + +Suddenly he heard a stone move on another stone. He was fully awake +and alert instantly. The horses were still in the middle of the plain, +quietly feeding, but one or two of them were looking at an old tree +stump in the curious meditative way which resting animals have of +looking at things which are of no particular interest. + +All at once Mick Darby sprang to his feet. He had never seen that tree +stump before. For several hours he had looked at that little plain in +the moonlight, and every bush was pictured on his memory. He was +absolutely sure that old tree had not been there when he started to nod +with weariness. Then, how had it come? Trees do not grow from the +ground, become old, and die and lose most of their branches in less +than an hour of a summer's night. + +Mick put his cocked rifle to his shoulder, trained the sights on the +tree stump, and walked slowly towards it. The thing was about a +hundred and fifty yards away when he started. He had covered a third +of the distance when the tree suddenly disappeared. Remarkable as it +may appear, it is a fact. One moment he saw the thick twisted trunk of +a mulga tree with a few broken branches, standing out on an otherwise +treeless plain; the next it had gone completely. But, instead of the +tree, three wriggling black forms glided between the bushes with the +stealth of snakes, making for their lives towards the scrub. They were +three warragul blacks, who had crept out into the plain and had used +this wonderful but quite common method of concealment. + +Mick fired into the air to frighten them and any of their companions +who might be lurking near. When the report had died away, the darkness +under the trees became full of little sounds like the patter of rain on +leaves, or like sheep passing over soft sand; a scarcely perceptible +sound, yet one which told of black savages creeping for safety into the +depths of the scrub. + +The shot woke the two boys. They turned to one another for an +explanation and saw that Mick had not returned. His swag still lay +where it had been tossed off the horse. They got up from their +blankets and began fastening their boots. They saw Yarloo sitting up +on the other side of the fire and called him to them. Yarloo always +camped away from the other black boys, for he was a member of a +different tribe. + +"What was that shot, Yarloo?" asked Sax. + +"Me can't know um," replied the boy. "Boss, him no come back. P'raps +him bin shoot, eh?" + +"Which way did he go?" asked Sax again. "It sounded quite close." + +"Me find um all right." + +"I vote we go too," said Vaughan. + +Yarloo looked at him for a moment in hesitation; then he pointed to the +other blacks and said: "No two fella white man go. No leave um camp +quite 'lone. See?" + +"He's right, Boof," said Sax. "You go with Yarloo. I'll stay," and as +his friend and the black boy disappeared in the darkness, he heaped +wood on the fire and blew it into a blaze. + +Yarloo tracked Mick Darby with absolute certainty and found him within +half a mile of the camp. The drover was surprised to see the white +boy, and at once made use of Yarloo to put the horses together in a +bunch and hold them for a time. He told Vaughan what had happened, for +it was no good trying to keep the secret any longer. "We lost two +horses last night," he said. "I told you they'd cleared out. But it +wasn't that. The niggers had speared them." + +"Then that's what the smoke signals meant?" asked Vaughan. + +"Yes. I wasn't sure at first whether it was hunger or devilment, so I +watched. They tried to get in amongst the horses again to-night." + +"Did you hit anyone?" asked Vaughan. + +"No. I didn't try. I fired into the air to scare them." + +By this time Yarloo had walked round the horses, turning them towards +the middle of the plain, and was squatting down on his haunches, +watching. + +"That's a real good sort of a nigger," said Mick. "He's got more sense +than most of them. Seems to have taken to you boys. I wonder why." + +"He used to work for Sax's father," explained Vaughan. "I thought you +knew." + +"I see. That explains it. Hi! Yarloo!" he called, and when the boy +came up: "You go back longa camp. Watch till piccaninny daylight. No +shut um eye, mind." + +Yarloo grinned his understanding of the order and disappeared. Then +the seasoned bushman and the new-chum white boy kept watch, turn and +turn about till dawn. At least, that was the arrangement, but Vaughan +found that the drover fell so soundly asleep, and seemed to be so very +tired, that he did not wake him till the morning star was well above +the trees and had turned from fierce red to clear pale silver in a sky +which was rapidly becoming lighter. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +First Sight of the Musgraves + +Next day Mick Darby rode with cocked rifle in the lead of the plant. +The white boys were not with him. They rode twenty or thirty yards in +the rear of the mounted blacks, ready to give instant alarm of any +danger. But for nearly a week nothing unusual happened. A few smoke +signals were seen, but were so far away that they seemed to indicate +that the wild blacks had taken warning and were retiring to their bush +fastnesses, having been convinced that it was beyond their power to +trick a watchful white man. + +Night after night the horses were hobbled on the best feed that could +be found, and were watched from sunset till dawn. The white boys took +their turn at this work, at first together, but, as night followed +night, and there was no sign of the blacks, Mick allowed them to take +their watches alone. This experience did more than any other to +impress them with Central Australia: its silence, its absolute +loneliness, its vastness and the puny insignificance of man, who dared +to pit his power against it. + +As hour after hour went by, and Sax or Vaughan rode round the horses or +squatted on the ground with the quietly breathing saddle-horse standing +near, these lads were slowly but surely changed from school-boys to +men. They felt that they were face to face with the power of untamed +nature--the desert and the savage inhabitants of it--and that even they +were units in an army of progress which was conquering that nature and +making it minister to the needs of civilized man. Of course, these +were not their actual thoughts, but that was certainly the general +effect which night-watching had upon them. + +Six days went by in this way and it appeared as if all danger was past. +The party had been making towards a low range of hills on the western +horizon, and on the seventh day the plant passed up a little valley and +halted on the top for midday camp. + +Through the clean sun-filled air of Central Australia the view was so +clear that all sense of distance was lost, and objects many days away +seemed no farther off than a few hours' ride. The character of the +country was the same as that which they had travelled over since +leaving Oodnadatta: masses of scanty mulga scrub standing out dark on a +landscape of vast bare plains or rolling sand-hills. Far away, a +pale-blue silhouette against the bright north-west sky, was a range of +high mountains. + +"Those are the Musgraves," said Mick, in answer to a question. "That's +where those niggers come from who speared my two horses." + +"Are the niggers very wild?" asked Sax, thinking of his father. + +"They're the last that really are wild in this part of the country," +answered the drover. "The rest have either come in and made camps near +stations, or cleared right out into West Australia." + +"Are there many of them?" asked Vaughan. + +"Nobody really knows," replied Mick. "The Musgraves is a big slice of +country, as you can see, and it stretches back for a couple of hundred +miles north. They say there's plenty of water and game in those +mountains. Chaps used to go there after gold, but so few of them came +back that they chucked it and left the place alone. The Musgraves have +got a bad name." + +Mick Darby did not know that everything he said had a very personal +application to one at least of his companions. The words of his +father's note kept ringing in Sax's ears: "In difficulties. Musgrave +Ranges. In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges," and his vivid imagination +filled all sorts of details into the drover's bare statements about the +dangers of the place. He noticed Yarloo looking intently at the +distant peaks, and when he caught the boy's eye, a significant glance +passed between them. They were both thinking of the lonely white man. + +But imaginary dangers soon gave place to present interests. The saddle +of the hills where they were camped was the eastern boundary of +Sidcotinga Station, the run on which Mick was going to take up the +duties of head stockman, and the boys were keen to note every landmark +which he pointed out. + +"How big is it, Mick?" asked Vaughan. + +"Between six and seven thousand square miles." + +"Miles! You mean acres, don't you, Mick?" + +"Acres be blowed! No, miles. This isn't a cocky farmer's cow-paddock." + +The extent of country amazed the boys. They were standing on a pretty +high hill and could see over a vast scope of country, but Mick told +them that a certain landmark near the head station was not even in +sight, and that the run stretched on beyond that again for miles and +miles. + +"But how ever do you know when you've gone off the run?" asked Sax. +"Is it fenced?" + +Mick Darby laughed heartily. "Fenced!" he exclaimed. "Fenced! Oh my +hat! No, lad, there's not a fence between here and glory, except round +a little bit of a paddock where they keep the working horses over +night. Why, d'you know that to fence Sidcotinga Station you'd need +nearly four hundred miles of fencing? There's no timber for the posts +in this part of the country, and as for wire---- No, they don't use +fences in Central Australia." + +This was such a new point of view to the boys, that during the +afternoon's ride they asked innumerable questions of their kind-hearted +friend. They heard that cattle are kept on any particular run because +of the impossibility of their wandering more than a certain distance +away from their water-hole. In fact, a run is made up of permanent +waters and the area of country around them. There may be any amount of +good feed on other parts of the run, but unless it is within reach of +water it is absolutely useless. + +The only chance that cattle have of straying is after rain, which falls +very, very seldom in Central Australia. When it does fall, the stock +wander off to new feeding-grounds, and may become stranded when the +surface waters dry up. The stockmen are very busy at such times, +tracking up cattle and bringing them back to their accustomed haunts. + +All this and much more the boys learnt as they rode along, and although +it seemed so new to them, there was a splendid sense that they were in +it all, and that soon they would know these things from actual +experience. + +An experience of Central Australian life which might have ended fatally +was to come to them sooner than they expected. Seeing that they were +now on Sidcotinga Station country, and that they had not been molested +for six days, Mick decided to let the horses go without being watched +that night, taking the precaution of tying up his own saddle-horse in +case of need. + +Next morning all the boys had run away except Yarloo. He went out with +a bridle at dawn and returned with the news that every one of the +horses had been speared. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +Disaster + +Breakfast was being prepared in camp when Yarloo brought in the +terrible news. Mick Darby was greasing a couple of pack-girths, +Vaughan was mixing a damper, and Sax was attending to the seven +quart-pots near the fire and laying out the tucker on a clean bag. +When Yarloo came in with his bridle in his hand, he did not say +anything for a minute or two, but went over to the fire. He did not +always go after the horses in the morning, for he was very useful at +mending harness and doing odd jobs with the gear; therefore no one was +surprised to see him back before the others. Presently Mick brought +the two girths over to be warmed, so that the grease would sink right +into the leather. He looked across the fire at Yarloo and saw an +expression on the boy's face such as he had never seen there before. +The native looked terribly scared. Mick had no idea what had upset the +boy, and thought the fright was probably due to one of the many +superstitions which are always liable to crop up. But he liked Yarloo, +and asked him kindly: "What name, Yarloo? You see um Kadaitcha +(avenging spirit), eh?" + +The boy shook his head and fingered the bridle nervously. + +"Which way Ranui, Ted, Teedee?" asked Mick again, noticing that the +other boys had not come up and that it was getting near sunrise. + +"Gone," said Yarloo. + +It was not what was said so much as the tone of the boy's voice which +made Mick look with sudden earnestness into Yarloo's face, and ask +quickly: "Gone! What name you yabber gone? (What makes you say +they've gone?)" + +"Me think those three fella no come back," explained the boy. "Me +track um up long way. They walk, walk. Oh my word, plenty walk." He +pointed towards the distant mountains, and continued: "Me think they +walk longa Musgraves." + +Yarloo pronounced the word "Musgraves" in a tone of fear. It was a +word to strike terror to the heart; a word which at once called to mind +everything which was bad and treacherous and cruel about natives; a +word which told of the last great stronghold of the blacks which white +men had tried and tried again to take from them but without success. +Sax and Vaughan looked at one another when the dreaded word "Musgraves" +caught their ear. Yarloo saw their glance, and repeated, in a hopeless +voice: "Me think they walk longa Musgraves." + +"What time they go?" asked Mick, thinking that Yarloo must have made a +mistake. "What time they start walk?" + +The boy pointed to the western horizon and then shut his eyes, meaning +that the others had started out directly it was dark after sunset last +night. "Me see um track other black fella," he said. "Ranui, Ted, +Teedee, they join those other black fella. Go 'way Go right 'way. Me +think they no come back." + +Suddenly the meaning of it all flashed into Mick's mind. "And the +horses?" he asked eagerly. "What name the horses?" + +Yarloo did not answer. + +Mick sprang across the fire and seized the startled boy by the arm and +shook him in his eagerness to hear all that had happened during that +fatal night. "You yabber quickfella! quickfella! (You tell me +quickly!)" he shouted. "What name horses?" + +"Them bin speared." + +"Speared!" The word came from Mick's lips with a yell of horror. +"Speared!" + +"Yah. Alabout. (All of them.)" + +Mick sprang towards his own saddle-horse, which had been tied up all +night. He unhitched it and was across its back before the white boys +had had time to realize the meaning of the terrible news. "Show me!" +he shouted, and he and Yarloo disappeared at once on the track of the +horses. + +The boy's report was only too true. The Musgrave blacks, who had not +molested them for six nights, had done the most dastardly thing +possible under the circumstances. They had stolen forward that night +and speared every one of the hobbled horses. They evidently did not +want food, for, as Mick and Yarloo went from one dead body to another, +they saw that not a single piece of meat had been cut off. It was hate +and not hunger which had actuated the deed. The poor faithful workers, +some of whom had been the drover's companions for several years, were +cold and stiff, showing that they must have been killed early the night +before. + +The tracks of bare native feet made it clear that, after completing +their acts of cold-blooded murder--for it was nothing less--the +warragul blacks had crept towards the drover's camp. They had +approached it on the black boys' side of the fire and had thus missed +seeing Mick's saddle-horse, which was tied to a tree near its master. +The rest of the story was easy to read. The wild blacks had enticed +the camp boys away, and Ranui, Ted, and Teedee had left everything +behind them and had fled with the horse-killers through the night in +the direction of the ill-famed Musgrave Ranges. + +Mick's boys had actually taken no part in the killing; that was one +thing in their favour. Another satisfaction, which stood out like a +dull gleam of light in the grim dark tragedy, was that now there were +three fewer men to share their limited supply of water. But the +greatest good of all, in fact the only real ray of hope, was the fact +that one horse was still left, Mick's stanch gelding, Ajax. If the +drover had not fastened him up the evening before, and he had shared +the fate of his companions, the outlook for the four men would have +been black indeed. It was far blacker than they at first thought it to +be, for one important thing was not found out till later, and when it +was it took the bravest of brave hearts to stand up against such dire +disaster. The marauders had taken all the water-canteens except one +which had evidently escaped their notice by being near Mick's head. It +contained a little over three gallons! + +Eighty miles from water, in the heart of the sandy scrub-covered desert +in blazing summer weather, with only a canteen half-full of water to +serve four men! + +It is under such circumstances as these that manhood is put to the +test. All four men rose to the occasion. Sax and Vaughan, though +still lads as regards their age, were in reality men. Nothing but the +unconquerable spirit of man can survive in the battle against grim +nature in the Central Australian desert, and these two, who had but a +short time before been sitting in the classroom of a city school, had +faced difficulties and had won through, by sheer pluck and resolution, +and had therefore earned the right to be called men. + +Yarloo showed his faithfulness on this occasion when it would have been +so much easier for him to run away. Because he always slept some +distance away from the other boys, he had not known of their silent +departure in the night, but once he saw the terrible difficulties in +which the little party had been placed, it would have been the most +natural thing in the world for him to clear out and leave the three +whites to their fate. He could even have stolen the horse in order to +make his escape absolutely sure. He was a native, and could live and +travel through the desert scrub day after day when a white man would +certainly perish. He had been born and brought up to such a life, and +when he threw in his lot with the three stranded white men, he was, in +reality, jeopardizing his own chances of coming through the adventure +alive. He chose to be faithful to his companions rather than make sure +of his own safety. + +Yarloo was a good boy and had therefore always been treated well by +white men. He had not had many masters, and one of them stood out +above all others in his primitive mind. He had been Boss Stobart's boy +for years, and though he might work for other white men now and +again--as in this case he was working for Mick--he remained at heart +faithful to one man, first and last, and that man was Boss Stobart. +Therefore it was probably not only Yarloo's naturally fine spirit which +prompted him to stick to his companions when they were in trouble, but +also the fact that one of them was the son of his real Boss. He felt +that Sax was definitely in his own personal charge, and, though his +simple mind did not know how it could possibly be brought about, he +felt that some day he would be the means of reuniting father and son. + +Mick Darby also proved himself equal to the occasion. In fact the +sheer manhood of him rose supreme above every difficulty and triumphed +over one disaster after another. There are some men whose stories are +far greater than their actual achievements, and at times, when the +drover had been telling yarns to the boys after sunset, they had +wondered whether these things could possibly be true. It was not that +they doubted their friend's veracity, but the country, the men, and +therefore the happenings were so strange to the lads that they seemed +to have an existence only in books and not to be possible in real life. +But now Mick showed the stuff he was made of. When he had found out +all there was to learn, about what the blacks had done, and exactly +what position the party was left in, he stopped thinking about that +part of the question and set his mind to solve the problem of the +immediate future. + +The first necessity was breakfast, and they ate heartily and drank +sparingly, but enough to quench their thirst. Then Mick beckoned to +Yarloo to sit down near him, handed his plug to the boy, and when he +had broken off a pipeful, he jammed his own black brier to the brim and +started to smoke. When he started to speak, he did so equally to all +three men, black and white alike. Yarloo had definitely and of his own +free will chosen to share whatever fate was in store for them, and had +earned the right to be included in everything which they did. The boy +did not presume on this unusual act of the white man; it is only a +weak-spirited man who presumes. + +"I reckon we're eighty miles from Sidcotinga Station. You think it, +Yarloo?" asked Mick, turning to the boy. + +The native faced in the direction of the station and considered, +counting on his fingers. "Yah," he said at length. "Yah. Me think it +two day ride, boss." + +"Two days with a fresh horse, you mean," commented Mick. "Ajax hasn't +had a drink for a whole day, remember.... That last water-hole's dry, +and the one back of that's nearly a hundred miles from here.... So it +must be Sidcotinga.... Let's see. We've got two and a half gallons of +water, haven't we?" + +The boys confirmed this estimate, and he went on: + +"We needn't worry about tucker. We've got mobs of flour and sugar.... +The question is: who's to ride ahead for water and horses. You lads +don't know the way, so it's either Yarloo or me.... Yarloo's lighter +on a horse than I am.... But he couldn't do as much as I could when he +got there, supposing they were all out on the run.... Still, I could +write a note to the cook, couldn't I?" He paused, considering, drawing +in great breaths of smoke and puffing it out again on the still hot air +till his head was surrounded by a cloud. + +Yarloo was drawing blackfellow diagrams in the sand with a little +stick, and looked as though he had made up his mind. So he had, but he +waited for the white man to ask him for his opinion before giving it. + +"What you think, Yarloo?" asked Mick, after a time. "You think it me +or you ride Ajax longa Sidcotinga, bring um back water, horses, eh?" + +Yarloo did not hesitate for a moment. "You ride, boss," he said +decidedly. "You ride. Me stay here." + +The tone surprised Mick, and he looked up quickly. "What name? +(Why?)" he asked. + +"White man drink more water nor black fella," he explained. "S'pose me +stay, me drink little, little drop. Me think you drink big mob." He +hesitated and dug the little stick into the ground with an embarrassed +air. The boy had evidently got another reason, and his listeners +wanted to hear it. He looked at Mick as if he didn't know whether he +ought to say it or not, and then he blurted out: "You good white man +all right, boss. You know um bush more better not big mob white men. +(You know the bush better than most white men.) Yarloo know um bush +much more better nor you, boss. Me bin grow up little piccaninny longa +bush.... S'pose--s'pose you no come back.... S'pose you fall off +horse.... S'pose you die, p'raps me find um water." He paused again, +but it was clear that he had not finished. + +"Good, Yarloo," said Mick encouragingly. "Go ahead." + +"One time me work longa Boss Stobart," said the boy slowly and +hesitatingly. "Him altogether good boss. Him plenty good quite. That +one white boy," he pointed to Sax, "that one white boy, him belonga my +old boss. Him belonga Boss Stobart.... Me stay, Misser Darby? You +let Yarloo stay, eh?" The request was made in a voice of entreaty, as +if the faithful native was asking a very great favour. + +Mick at once complied with hearty good will. "Of course you stay, +Yarloo. You stay all right. You look after white boy real good." +Yarloo's face lit up with satisfaction and his expression assured the +drover that the white boys would be perfectly safe in his hands. + +Soon after coming to this decision, Mick Darby set out on Ajax for +Sidcotinga Station. He knew that he would strike no water before +reaching the homestead well, and that it was not at all certain whether +the already thirsty horse could travel those eighty desert miles +without a drink. He did not tell the boys of his fear, but started +away with a cheery good-bye, carrying only a quart-pot of water for +himself as well as a little damper and dried meat. + +Fortune favoured the brave man. On the very first night, after he had +travelled his tired horse on past sunset as long as he dared, he found +a big patch of parakelia. This extraordinary plant sends up thick +moisture-filled leaves in the middle of the most arid desert. The +juice, which can be easily squeezed from parakelia leaves, tastes +bitter and is not at all pleasant, but it has saved the life of many a +bold adventurer in Central Australia. Stock can live on it for weeks +at a time without a drink of water, and once Ajax got a mouthful of +these cool succulent leaves, he did not move more than a few yards all +night, but satisfied his thirst and hunger and then lay down. + +Mick Darby watched all night. He was taking no more chances. No doubt +he fell asleep from time to time, but at the slightest movement +anywhere near, he was instantly and fully awake. Next day he rode a +thoroughly rested horse and reached Sidcotinga Station the same night, +after having covered sixty-three miles. Such a distance would not be +at all unusual in good country, but in the desert, with the sun blazing +down out of a cloudless sky on mile after mile of soft sand, it was a +ride which none but the best of horses and the hardiest of men could +have accomplished. + +The drover had advised the boys to stay just where they were till he +returned, and not exhaust themselves by walking. Yarloo therefore +built them a rough sun-shelter of mulga boughs and they rested under +this all day, doing nothing which would create thirst. In spite of +every care, however, their mouths were clammy and their throats calling +out for water long before sunset. Once a real thirst is created, it +takes more water to quench it than it does to keep the thirst away, so +they each had a drink at tea-time and felt all the better for it. + +Soon after tea, Yarloo, who had gone away, came in with a bundle of +sticks. "Whatever's that for?" asked Sax. Neither of the boys had got +into the way of addressing the natives in broken English. "You're +surely not going to make a fire, are you?" + +Yarloo had to think for a minute or two before he understood what the +white boy had said, and then he nodded his head. "Yah," he replied. +"Me make um fire. S'pose um bad black-fella come up." + +"But how about us?" objected Vaughan. "We'll be roasted alive." + +The native did not catch the meaning of this remark, but he answered +the question which Vaughan had in his mind. "By'm bye when it cool," +Yarloo pointed to the sky, "we walk little bit." + +"But Mick told us to stay here," said Vaughan again. + +"Me think bad black-fella come up to-night," explained Yarloo, with +great patience. "S'pose him see um fire, him think: 'White man sleep'. +Then him creep up, spear-um, spear-um. S'pose we light fire then walk, +bad black-fella throw um spear, no good, no good at all. White man go +'way." Yarloo grinned both at the thought of the safety of the party +and of the discomfiture of the blacks. + +The lads saw the force of Yarloo's argument. A big fire was lit, as if +in preparation for spending the night, and then the three men took the +precious water, a little tucker, and as few personal belongings as +possible, and set out in the direction of Sidcotinga Station, lead by +the unerring instinct of their black companion. It was well that they +did so. During the hours of moonlight, a small band of Musgrave +niggers crept round the camp and remained in hiding. But directly the +moon set, they advanced towards the dying fire, with spears poised and +boomerangs ready for instant and deadly use. What would have happened +if any hated white man had been asleep in that camp can be better +imagined than described. No one would have been left alive. But, +finding their prey had escaped, the would-be murderers vented their +rage upon the saddles and pack-bags, tore them to shreds and threw them +into the flames, and scattered into the fire as much of the provisions +as was left after they had gorged themselves. They did not attempt to +follow the three white men in the dark, and next day the little +marauding band went after their fellows and joined them on the way to +the Musgrave Ranges. All except one, and we will hear more of him +later. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A Sandstorm + +By Yarloo's faithfulness and forethought the little party had escaped +death at the hands of wild savages, but a more deadly peril was waiting +for them. It is one thing to fight with a human enemy, but quite +another to fight with one which is not human. The lads were soon to +see that the most terrible disasters of the desert are caused, not by +wild and fiendishly cruel natives who follow silently day after day and +then wreak their hatred on the traveller in the most unexpected way, +but by grim Nature herself. Nature was their greatest, their most +merciless, their most unconquerable enemy. They were soon to have an +illustration of her power. + +On the night when their camp was raided, the three men walked till the +moon set and then lay down to sleep. They did not light a fire for +fear of showing the blacks where they were, but just scooped hollows in +the warm sand and stretched themselves out with a camp-sheet as their +only bed-clothes, for they had left everything else behind them. The +white boys were soon asleep, but Yarloo kept himself awake all night to +watch. It was one of the hardest things the boy had ever done, for he +was very tired and the heavy warm night made him drowsy. His simple +mind fixed itself on one thing with all the determination of his +nature; he had one purpose and one purpose only in life just then, and +that was to preserve Boss Stobart's son from death, and he kept himself +awake by sheer will-power. But when the morning star rose above the +eastern horizon, red and throbbing, the tired-out black-fellow knew +that his weary watch was over. He flopped down on the sand and was +instantly asleep. + +The close night was followed by a sultry dawn. Instead of the +sparklingly clear pale sky in the east which usually heralds the rising +of the sun, a dull haze made everything appear heavy and listless. The +air was warm and still, but not light and dry as it generally is in the +desert, and it was so heavy that every breath was an effort, and the +slightest movement caused perspiration to break out all over the body. + +The boys woke up with a most uncomfortable feeling of oppression. They +were hot and thirsty, yet they dared not touch the canteen of water. +Although the sun had not risen, the heat seemed to be greater than they +had ever known it before in the open air, and they lay and fanned their +faces and fought the flies which were swarming around them. + +When the sun rose, it showed a few little white clouds like puffs of +steam, low down in the northern sky, and hiding the distant Musgrave +Ranges from view. The sight of clouds is so unusual in Central +Australia that the boys remarked about it to one another, and were +amazed to see the difference which occurred in less than half an hour. +The clouds had indeed risen and increased greatly during that short +time. Instead of a few separate clouds, a big solid bank was now +spreading all over the horizon, and huge pillars of white were +stretching out from the main mass, far up into the sky. + +Yarloo slept late, but when he woke up, he too stood and watched the +rising clouds. He evidently did not like the look of things, for he +shook his head, and, in reply to a question from Sax, replied: + +"Me no like it. Me think it storm come up." + +To the hot and thirsty white boys the word "storm" had only one +meaning, and they uttered it together: "Rain!" + +Yarloo smiled. "Neh," he replied. "Rain no come up. Me think it +wind. P'raps sand. Me no like it." He set about building a little +fire for breakfast, and though his companions were not in the least bit +hungry, they followed his example and ate some damper and dried meat. +Each man was allowed half a quart-pot of tea. Sax and Vaughan drank +theirs with the meal, but Yarloo took a few sips and then put his +quart-pot away in a safe place. + +There was nothing to do all morning. Yarloo again made a little +sun-shelter, but this became unnecessary after about ten o'clock, +because by that time the rising clouds had covered the face of the sun. +With every succeeding hour the oppressive heat seemed to get more and +more unbearable. There was not a breath of wind. It was as if a lot +of thick blankets were slowly smothering every living creature on the +earth. The clouds were no longer white, except at the front edges and +in places where a few great puffs bulged out. The rest was grey, +getting darker and darker till it was near the horizon, and then it +turned to brown. This brown looked like a huge curtain hung from the +sky and trailing over the earth. Now and again it was lit up by +flashes of lurid red, for all the world as if a furnace were roaring +behind that curtain. + +The air was absolutely still, deathlike still, and a sound which was +exactly like the roaring of a furnace came out of the north, with an +occasional louder boom when the pent-up fury of the storm burst through +the brown cloud. In reality, the sound was made by millions of +particles of sand being hurtled through the air by an electric storm. + +The sound came nearer. The clouds were completely overhead now, from +north to south, from east to west. There was not a patch of blue to be +seen. The panting earth waited in abject fear. A puff of wind came, +hot and stifling, as if an oven door had suddenly been opened. It +passed over the mulgas, making them sigh and moan, and then was gone +again, leaving the same breathless stillness. Another puff, this time +cool and fresh. It also passed away and left the men with dread in +their hearts--the dread of an unknown, unseen foe. + +The storm was very near. Sax was watching it so intently that he +jumped round suddenly when Yarloo touched him on the arm. The +black-fellow was pointing to the canteen. "Drink, little drop," he +said, and pointed to the approaching curtain of brown sand. He +evidently meant that the boys would be better able to stand against the +storm if they had a drink beforehand, so Sax motioned to Vaughan and +poured a little water out into the two pannikins. Neither of them +spoke. They were overawed by the might, the majesty, the mystery of +Nature. + +Vaughan drank his water and lay down under the shelter. Sax did not +screw the top on the canteen for a moment, intending to pour a few +drops back again when he had finished. He held his hand over the hole +in the canteen and started to drink from his pannikin. + +Suddenly the storm burst on them. Sax heard a terrific rushing sound +and looked round quickly. He was at once blinded as completely as if +an actual thick brown curtain had been blown around his head. At the +same time, some tremendous force caught him, nearly lifted him off the +ground, and threw him down sprawling on the sand several yards away. +The pannikin was wrenched from his hand, and the canteen--what of the +canteen? + +Sax lay stunned for a moment, and then his first and only thought was +the canteen. He tried to crawl, but every effort on his part only gave +the enormous pressure of wind opportunity to drive him back, for as +soon as he lifted his head, it was caught and twisted as if some soft +strangling folds of cloth were being pulled around it from behind. + +The light of the sun was blotted out completely, and it was as dark as +a starless midnight. A screaming sound filled the boy's ears: the +yelling of the storm, the laughter of the furies, the shrill shouts of +fiends. He had to shield his mouth in order to breathe, and even then +a fine dust choked his throat, and he would have coughed and vomited up +his very life if he had not turned his back to the storm. Enormous +quantities of sand were crowding the gale. + +Have you ever stood under a waterfall and let a solid column of water +fall on you from a height? You can stand there only for a moment, +because the power of even a liquid is greater than the strength of man. +But here, in the desert, three exhausted men were fighting for their +lives with sand; sand, as solid as it could possibly be without being +actually fixed; sand, as hard as it could possibly be, and yet be +driven by the wind. The electric gale of wind had scooped the surface +off a thousand miles of desert, and was flinging it at three puny human +beings. + +It was impossible to face the onslaught. Sax turned against the storm +and tried to crawl backwards. At all costs he must find the canteen. +He had no thought but this: the canteen! the canteen! Three lives +depended on those drops of precious liquid. Were they safe? He +crawled backwards inch by inch. But he had lost all sense of +direction. The stinging, stifling sand, the shrill-screaming wind, the +pitch-black whirling darkness; how could a man possibly tell where he +was going? + +Stobart's senses were all numb with the buffeting of the storm, but he +suddenly felt that one of his legs was being held. He tried to kick +free but was pulled backwards, and then something flapped and covered +him. There was instant peace. He had found a shelter. Outside this +unknown something which covered him the gale raged past in impotent +fury. He was safe. An arm gripped his body and held him close. + +The sudden reaction from fighting for his life to this secure peace was +too much for the overwrought boy. He did not bother to find out who or +what had saved him; he sank down, down, down into unconsciousness, and +as the peaceful darkness closed over his mind, he muttered the words: +"Canteen, canteen, canteen." + +No one heard. No one could possibly hear in such a storm, not even the +man who was holding him so closely. It was Yarloo. The boy had found +his master's son, and had covered his head with a coat, and was now +holding the unconscious form in his arms, while Sax drew long, +unhindered breaths. + +The storm passed. It had come upon them suddenly, and it went away in +the same manner. There was very little lessening of its fury to tell +of the approaching end, but the air grew lighter all at once, the +sounds got fainter quickly, and there was now no longer any stinging +sand. The brown curtain passed on, trailing its fringe over the +desert, and the back of it could be seen as distinctly as the front had +been a short half-hour before. + +A short half-hour before? Yes. The sandstorm had lasted barely thirty +minutes. It was so local, that Mick, riding along towards Sidcotinga +Station only forty miles away, knew nothing about it. Such tremendous +fury as these electric storms display is possible only when they +concentrate their power on a very small area. This one had probably +swept across a thousand miles of desert, and might go on for a thousand +more before it spent itself. It had come across the great tableland +behind the Musgrave Ranges, had been brought to a narrow point down one +of the gorges in the mountains, and had hurled itself at the three +defenceless men. It was a messenger of death from the Musgrave Ranges, +the mysterious, dreaded, fascinating Musgrave Ranges. + +The air behind the storm was cool and bright and clean. Not a spot of +rain had fallen, but there was the same new-washed freshness about +everything which comes after a sudden summer shower. The blue of the +sky seemed clearer and more flawless than it had ever seemed before, in +contrast with the depressing sultriness of the morning, and even the +sun, shining down without the thinnest veil to lessen its fiery +strength, seemed to look with a less unfriendly eye than usual. + +And what did it see? Vaughan had been under the sun-shelter when the +storm broke. The first gust had blown the flimsy structure down flat, +and the weight of sand, which poured immediately on to it, prevented it +from being blown away. The frightened white boy had been pinned under +the fallen boughs and had been unable to get free while the storm +lasted. It had been a fortunate accident for him, for he was compelled +to lie still, in perfect safety, while the gale surged over him, +instead of trying, as his friend Sax had done, to match his puny +strength against it. + +Poor Sax had been absolutely winded. In his anxiety to find the +canteen, he had exhausted his strength in fighting the storm, and had +no power left to breathe in such a stifling atmosphere. He might +easily have been choked if Yarloo had not found him. + +The native was desert born and bred, and knew how to act in every +contingency that could possibly occur in the bush. He had seen Sax +blown down with the first effort of the storm, and though he himself +could neither see nor hear, because of the sand and wind, he had +gradually forced his way towards his master's son, with a sure instinct +which did not stop to wonder what he was doing or why he was doing it. +He had found him at last, and had held his unconscious body tight, +shielding it with his coat and with his own body till the gale should +pass over. + +A few minutes afterwards, while Vaughan was fighting his way out of the +broken-down sun-shelter, and Yarloo was bending over the still body of +the other white boy, Sax opened his eyes. + +"The canteen," he mumbled. "The canteen." + +His friends thought that he wanted a drink, and Vaughan looked round +for the canteen. It was nowhere to be seen. Sax was not really hurt, +and his anxiety restored him to full consciousness in a minute or two. +He sat up and watched Vaughan hunting round for their most precious +possession, the canteen. At last he staggered to his feet, tottered +about for a step or two because his head was so dizzy, and then began +to help in the search. He did not dare to tell the others what he +feared, but when he finally stumbled against it, half buried in the +sand about twenty yards away from camp, he found that the worst had +happened. + +The canteen was empty. + +Sax had not screwed down the metal cap when the water-carrier had been +caught by the wind and hurled along the ground. For several minutes +its own smoothness had kept it moving, and had prevented it from +lodging against anything and being buried, but each roll and jolt had +spilt some of the water, till finally every drop had been wasted on the +parched sand. Then, when all the harm which was possible had been +done, the useless thing had jammed up against a dead mulga root and had +been slowly covered with sand. + +When the truth fully dawned upon them, the two boys sat down on the +ground and stared hopelessly in front of them. Although they had been +in the North only for a brief period, they knew that they were face to +face with one of the most terrible things which could have happened to +them in the desert. A man can go without food for several days, but +water is an absolute daily necessity. The sandstorm had left the white +boys weak, and as they had already stinted themselves of water for the +last day and a half, they were in no condition to meet this new +calamity. + +Gradually the sun exerted its old sway over the earth, and the boys +were obliged to seek some shade. They helped Yarloo rebuild the old +shelter, and sat down under it, with their only possessions--one +pannikin, one badly torn camp-sheet, and an empty canteen. Everything +else had been blown away or absolutely spoilt. + +Towards the middle of the afternoon, when, nearly sixty miles to the +west of them, Mick was drawing near Sidcotinga Station, Yarloo went out +from the shelter for a few minutes. He had been very thoughtful for +the last hour, and had evidently just made up his mind on some +important matter. When he returned he was carrying his quart-pot, +which was a little more than a quarter full of tea. The boy had jammed +the pannikin lid on tight that morning and had hidden it in the sand, +and the storm had not done it any harm. He showed the tea to his +companions, but did not give the pot into their eager hands till he had +explained what he intended to do. + +"Me go 'way," he said. + +The white boys did not pay any attention to this remark. Here was +something to drink, and they were parched with thirst. + +"Me go 'way," repeated Yarloo. "Me come back by'm bye.... P'raps me +find um water ... p'raps me find um parakelia." + +His companions did not reply. What did it matter? Why this "perhaps, +perhaps" when here was the certainty of at least a mouthful of tea for +each? But Yarloo waited for a moment or two, and then went on +patiently: + +"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time.... White boy stay here ... no +go 'way. No go 'way, mind.... Sax," he said timidly, using the name +for the first time, "Sax, you no go 'way, eh?" + +"No. No. Of course we won't go away, Yarloo," was the impatient +answer. "But how long are you going to keep hold of that quart-pot?" + +"Me come back to-morrow 'bout same time," said Yarloo slowly. "S'pose +me give it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise? ... +to-morrow sunrise, eh?" + +His meaning was perfectly clear. He was going to leave them the tea on +condition that they didn't touch it till sunrise next day. The boys +became angry at what they considered a foolish idea. + +"What's the good of that to us?" asked Vaughan hastily. + +"Yes," agreed Sax. "Whatever's the good of such a fool idea? ... +Besides, you've got no right to tell us when we're to have a drink and +when we're not to have a drink. I'm thirsty. I'm going to have my +share now.... Here, Yarloo, give me that quart-pot." + +He held out his hand, but Yarloo stepped back. "Quart-pot belonga me," +he said quietly. + +The boy's statement was undoubtedly true. The tea was his, saved from +his fair breakfast allowance, and, if he was good enough to part with +it for the sake of the white boys, surely he had a right to dictate his +own terms. Sax and Vaughan at once saw their mistake and began to feel +a little foolish because of the attitude they had tried to take up. +Yarloo was evidently in grim earnest, for he repeated his former +question: + +"S'pose me gib it quart-pot, you no drink um till to-morrow sunrise, +eh?" + +"All right, Yarloo," agreed Sax. "We'll not drink it till sunrise +to-morrow.... But, look here," he exclaimed suddenly, realizing for +the first time the tremendous sacrifice the black-fellow was making. +"Look here! We mustn't take your tea. It's yours, Yarloo. Yours," he +repeated, in order to make his meaning clear. + +But Yarloo had already begun to scrape a hole in the sand. When it was +deep enough, he put the precious quart-pot into it so that it could not +be spilt. "You belonga Boss Stobart," he said slowly. "Boss Stobart +good fella longa me." + +He stood up when he had finished and looked at the two boys. +"Goo-bye," he said, and was turning to go, when something prompted Sax +to hold out his hand. Yarloo took it instantly and then shook +Vaughan's hand also,[1] and, in another minute, he was almost out of +sight amongst the ragged scrub. + + + +[1] Blacks do not shake hands when they are in their wild state, but +they quickly pick up the habit from the white man. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Thirst + +Sax and Vaughan were very thirsty. For several days they had been +compelled to drink sparingly, and for the last two they had taken only +enough liquid to keep them just alive. They were now entirely without +drink of any kind save for that little drop of tea in a dirty and +battered quart-pot, half buried in the sand. Is it any wonder that +their longing eyes and thoughts were almost constantly fixed on the +pot, which they had promised not to touch till sunrise next day. + +While Yarloo had been with them, the white boys had kept up a good +appearance of courage, and had pretended that they were not so thirsty +as they really were, for no man likes to give in before a member of an +inferior race; but when Yarloo went away it became harder and harder +for them to keep up their pluck. For thirst is the most terrible of +all forms of torture. The pain comes on slowly but surely, and +increases till it seems impossible that the human body can stand any +more. Yet the body is such a marvellous thing that it does stand even +the terrible pain of thirst, till it gets beyond endurance and the man +goes mad. The thirst which kills men in the desert is not the same as +being thirsty. Down-country, it is quite pleasant to be thirsty, for +it makes a drink taste so nice; but desert thirst--or "perishing", as +it is called--is caused by the drying up of the moisture of the body +till the organs inside actually cease to work, and the blood clogs in +the arteries because it is not liquid enough. + +It was such terrible thirst that Sax and Vaughan were experiencing. In +appearance, Sax was of slighter build than his thick-set friend, Boof, +but the drover's son had inherited from his father a natural toughness +and an ability to endure privation and hardship which Vaughan, although +he was quite as plucky, did not possess. It happened, therefore, that +though Sax was just able to keep control of himself throughout the +terrible night which followed Yarloo's departure, Vaughan lost +consciousness and became delirious about half an hour before sunset. + +The first signs which he gave that he was not in his right senses were +when he began to undress. Sax was feeling so desperately ill himself +that he did not pay much attention to what his friend was doing till he +saw him throw his shirt outside, and then start to pull off his +trousers. The poor lad's tongue was swollen in his mouth and was +starting to stick out from between his teeth. He got his trousers off, +and began fumbling at his boots, but was so weak that he couldn't untie +the knots. His eyes had a peculiar look in them, something like those +of a man who walks in his sleep, and when his friend spoke to him he +took absolutely no notice at all. + +Both lads had been lying stretched out on the sand all the afternoon, +too exhausted to do anything, but, seeing his companion behaving in +such a strange way, Sax tried to sit up. But he could not do it at +first. As soon as he lifted himself, sharp pains stabbed him in the +back and stomach, and his head throbbed so violently that he nearly +fainted. He tried again and again, very gradually, till he was able to +sit up at last. Vaughan had managed to drag one boot off by this time, +and was feverishly busy with the other; the rest of his body was naked. +Sax called out again, but the effort at sitting up had so much +exhausted the little strength which remained, that his voice was so +weak he hardly heard it himself. Stobart didn't understand the serious +state his friend was in, but he knew that something must be done at +once, and as there was nobody to do it but himself, he prepared for a +supreme effort. + +After several unsuccessful attempts, he managed to stand up, and when +the dizziness in his head had died down a little, he tottered over +towards Vaughan. He touched him on the arm. Vaughan took no notice, +but wrenched at the second boot, pulling it off at last, and scrambling +to his feet like a drunken man. He seemed to have far more strength +than Sax had, but when he started to stagger out from under the +bough-shelter, his friend suddenly remembered a yarn which Mick had +told them one night, about a perishing man who pulled off all his +clothes and walked away into the scrub to die a most terrible death. +Sax was afraid that his companion was going to do the same thing, and +that he wouldn't have the strength to prevent him. + +Sax had to put his feet down very carefully or he would have fallen +through sheer weakness, but he caught hold of Vaughan and clung to him. +This forced the delirious lad to look at his companion, but there was +no spark of intelligence in his eyes; he did not recognize who it was; +he only felt something holding him back from what he had determined to +do. With extraordinary strength, considering his condition, he shook +himself free, and started to walk away. Sax fell, but as he did so he +stretched out his hands. They touched the other's bare legs. Sax +clutched the legs and hung on with all his power, and Vaughan tripped +and came down with a crash. + +The sun sank below the horizon and left two perishing white boys +panting in the sand in the fading light. + +Sax remembered nothing more for several hours. When he came to himself +again he was alone. His fall had rendered him unconscious for a +moment, and this state had been immediately followed by a deep sleep. +The night was cool, and though his thirst was still raging, it did not +seem so bad as it had done under the blazing sun; his sleep also had +refreshed him. On Central Australian nights it is never too dark to +see the objects around, for the light of the stars comes through the +clear dry air of the desert more brilliantly than it does in any other +part of the world. Consequently it needed only a hurried glance to +tell Sax that Vaughan was not in the camp. His clothes were still +lying where he had thrown them, and the boy soon found the tracks of +bare feet leading away from the camp into the scrub. + +Vaughan had gone away to die. + +Sax listened. The absolute stillness of death was around him on all +sides. Not a leaf moved on any of the scraggy mulgas standing near. +Even the star in the deep, deep blue of the night sky seemed to stare +down at him with unblinking eyes. What did they care for one white boy +dying in delirium in the desert, and another white boy who had to keep +tight hold of his mind to save it from slipping out of his control, and +who would also die of thirst, if not to-day, then surely to-morrow? +There is nothing so unpitying, so absolutely unconcerned, as the desert +is to a perishing man. + +Sax was a boy of unusual courage. He was the son of a pioneer, a +member of that race of men who have opened up the centre of the +Australian continent, and have laid the foundations of the future +Australian nation. Though he had been reared in the comfort of cities, +the cattle-plains, the scrub, and the desert were his true home, and he +now showed the stuff he was made of by determining to follow after his +friend. He did not stop to wonder what he would do when he found him; +he only knew that he could not bear to leave him out there to die +without making an effort to save him. + +Suddenly he remembered the quart-pot and its precious contents. He had +made up his mind to find Vaughan before he remembered the tea, and now +this sudden glad thought seemed to confirm his decision, and filled him +with hope. He would have something to give to the perishing lad when +he found him. Sax could hardly walk. The whole middle part of his +body felt as if it was dried up, and when he moved, such terrible pains +shot through him that he could hardly keep from crying out; but he set +his teeth and went over to the quart-pot and dug it out. + +Only those who have actually been in the same circumstances as Sax was +that night can have any idea of the temptation it was for him to drink +some of that tea. The very sound of it swishing about inside the +smoke-blackened pot nearly drove him mad with thirst. He dared not +open the lid and look in, for, after all, he was so frantically thirsty +that the sight of the liquid might make him forget everything but his +own desire for it. Never again in his life was he to be called upon to +exercise such supreme self-control as he was that night. + +Clutching the precious quart-pot to his breast, he staggered off into +the night, very slowly because of his weakness, and very slowly also +because it was hard for him to read the tracks in the dim light. + +Less than half an hour after Sax left the camp to search for his dying +friend, a black form stole silently through the scrub and paused within +sight of the bough-shelter. If anybody had been lying there awake, he +would not have known how near a fellow human being was to him, for the +native was absolutely motionless, even to the eyelids. The only part +of hint which moved was the chest, which was so thickly covered with +black hair that its slow rising and falling could not possibly have +attracted attention at night. Even if any man who might have been in +the shelter had turned and looked straight at the black-fellow, he +would not have distinguished him from the trees, for, with that +wonderful power of imitation known only to the scrub natives of +Australia, the man was standing in such a way that he looked very much +like an old dead mulga stump. + +But nobody was in the bough-shelter, and when the man had made quite +sure of this, he stepped out from his hiding. He was quite naked, and +carried a couple of long spears with stone heads, a woomera +(spear-thrower), a spiked boomerang, and a wooden shield. His long +hair was plastered up into a bunch at the back, and was kept in place +by rings of rope made of his mother's hair. He stood for a moment and +looked intently at the shelter, then he stooped and examined the marks +in the sand, following them this way and that till he knew as much +about the tragedy as if he had actually watched it happen. He was +particularly interested in Yarloo's tracks, and finally stuck a spear +into the middle of one of them and laid his other weapons beside it. + +Having rid himself of all encumbrances, he set out on the tracks of the +two white boys. But what a difference between his methods and theirs! +Instead of the hesitating scrutiny of each footprint which Sax had been +obliged to make, the native walked quickly with his eyes several yards +ahead and did not pause once, though the star-light was dim and +treacherous. + +He did not have far to go. The burst of strength which delirium had +given to Vaughan had not lasted for more than three-quarters of a mile, +and he had then fallen at the foot of a dead mulga. Sax had come up on +him there, a pitiful object whom the desert was claiming as its own, +his naked body showing up plainly in the dark. He had forced the tea, +all of it, upon the unconscious lad, with no perceptible result, for +most of it had been spilt because Vaughan's tongue was too swollen to +allow any but a few drops to go down his throat. + +It was absolutely certain that, before another sunset, two corpses +would have been lying in the desert scrub if the wild black had not +found the boys when he did. Sax was still conscious, but was too far +gone to take any interest even in such an unusual sight as the sudden +appearance of a strange naked black-fellow. Death was claiming him, +anyhow; it did not matter much to him whether it came by a spear-thrust +or by the more lingering method of thirst. + +The savage stooped down and looked intently into the face of first one +boy and then the other. He happened to look at Vaughan first and +grunted his disapproval, but a close scrutiny of Sax's features seemed +to yield him great satisfaction, for he drew himself up straight, and, +with a broad grin of delight, pronounced a word which caught the boy's +dulling ear: + +"Bor--s Stoo--bar," he said, in long-drawn tones. "Bor--s Stoo--bar." + +A familiar sound will penetrate to an intelligence which has become too +dull to perceive through sight or touch, and Sax heard this word and +looked up, thinking that his imagination must be playing him a trick. +The man was encouraged to try again, this time adding to the name of +the drover the single word "Musgrave ". It was a word he had evidently +used before, for it was pronounced quite clearly. + +"Bor--s Stoo--bar.... Mus--grave." + +The strange coupling of his father's name with that of the mysterious +range of mountains roused sufficient interest in Sax to make him wish +to reply. He tried to speak, but couldn't. His tongue was too swollen +and his throat too dry. The native watched him, and the boy felt that +the man was friendly, for he continued to stretch out his black arm +towards the distant ranges. Finding that he could not make any sound, +Sax waited till the man again said the words, "Bor--s Stoo--bar," and +then he pointed to himself several times and nodded, and then waved his +hand to the Musgraves. The native grinned his understanding and again +looked very closely into the white boy's face. Sax did not know if he +was like his father or not, but felt that a great deal depended on +whether the black stranger decided that he was indeed the son of the +famous Boss Stobart. + +The man was quite satisfied at last. He first of all held his left +hand close to Sax's face; it had been terribly mutilated, and the two +middle fingers were missing. The native evidently wished to impress +that crippled hand on the boy's memory, for he put it on his hairy +chest and then in front of Sax's face again and again. He did not say +anything, for his knowledge of English was apparently limited to the +name of the drover and the name of the mountain range. In spite of his +exhausted condition, Sax could not help remembering that black left +hand, and he had reason to recall it in future days under the most +exciting circumstances. Then the man lifted Vaughan's limp body on his +shoulders and walked away back to the shelter. Stobart was not left +alone for long, before he also was carried back to camp. + +By this time the sun was just showing over the eastern rim of the land, +and the few trees were casting long shadows on the sand. The native +gathered up Vaughan's clothes, but did not know how to put them on the +lad; so he covered him over with them. He had been careful not to +leave the quart-pot behind, and as soon as the boys were safely under +the shelter again, the man took the quart-pot and started off. + +He was evidently going for water. In a few minutes, however, he came +running back to camp at top speed. He was very excited and only stayed +long enough to put the quart-pot down on the ground, before he grabbed +his weapons and disappeared into the scrub in the opposite direction, +running as hard as he could, yet making no more noise than a cat. + +He had not returned the quart-pot exactly as he had found it. When he +took it away, it was empty, but now it contained a sprig of +sharply-pointed leaves. + +Yarloo came on the scene almost as soon as the other black was out of +sight, and was probably the cause of the first man's sudden +disappearance, Yarloo was carrying a small bunch of parakelia leaves. +The first things he noticed were the new tracks, and he stopped dead. +From where he stood, he could not see into the bough-shelter, and so he +waited for a couple of minutes to see if the man who had made the +tracks was anywhere about. There was absolute silence; the only things +which moved were the shadows, which got shorter very very slowly as the +sun rose. With minute care Yarloo examined the marks of the stranger. +At first he was upset to find from the tracks that the man was a wild +Musgrave black, but as soon as he came to the place where the warragul +had set up his spear, he smiled and felt no more anxiety, for it is a +sign of perfect goodwill towards a man to dig a spear in his track. +(To find a spear or a boomerang on your track means that the owner of +them likes you so well that he gives you his weapons, because there is +no need for him to carry them when he meets you.) + +As soon as Yarloo knew that the stranger native was friendly, he went +over to the shelter. The two white boys were lying on their backs in +the sand, one of them unconscious and gasping, with his tongue swollen +so much that it was too big for his mouth; the other gasping also, but +still in possession of his senses. Sax's eyes opened, and a glimmer of +intelligence showed in them, but he couldn't speak, and was too weak to +move. Yarloo looked down at them, but particularly at Sax, the son of +his master. Then his glance wandered to the quart-pot, and suddenly +everything else was forgotten. + +No prospector who has toiled for years without any luck, and then comes +upon a nugget of gold quite unexpectedly, could have been more glad +than Yarloo was at sight of that little sprig of leaves. He took it up +and looked at it with huge satisfaction. The stem was woody and each +leaf was grey, narrow, and not more than half an inch long. The +peculiarity about them was, however, that each little leaf ended in a +spike. The black-fellow felt the spikes and grinned to feel the pricks +of pain, for the leaves had only recently been pulled from the tree. +Then he dropped his handful of parakelia and grabbed the quart-pot and +started to run, tracking the other native to find the tree from which +that sprig of leaves had been picked. + +On the discovery of that tree rested the salvation of the white boys' +lives. It was the famous needle-bush. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +The Rescue + +Yarloo followed the Musgrave native's tracks for about half a mile in a +nearly south direction, and then came upon a stony plain with a few +large bushes growing at one end of it. He gave a yell of delight. +They were needle-bushes. The party was saved. Here was water, stored +by nature right in the middle of an arid desert. + +The trees were all about five or six feet high, though some were much +bushier than others. Yarloo chose one which was very wide-spreading, +and began piling dry bark and twigs and anything which would burn +quickly and easily, right in the middle of the tree, all among the +branches. He went on till the needle-bush was carrying as big a load +as it possibly could. + +Then he made fire. He pulled two pieces of wood out of his hair; one +was the size of a man's palm, a flat piece of soft bean-wood with a +little hollow in the middle of it; the other was a stick about as thick +as a pencil but nearly twice as long, of hard mulga wood. He squatted +down and set the soft piece on the ground and held it in place with his +toes, and teased out a few pieces of very dry bark till they were like +tinder, and put it near the hollow. Then he took the long piece of +mulga and twirled it with his two hands in the hollow. He did this +faster than any white man could possibly twirl it, and in a couple of +minutes a coil of smoke came up from the pile of bark. Yarloo blew +this into a flame and made a little fire. When it was burning well, he +threw the blazing sticks into the needle-bush. There was a crackling +sound for a moment or two and then a roar, as the flames licked up the +dry fuel, till in a very short time the needle-bush was a blazing +bonfire. + +The black-fellow waited till the flames had died down, and then started +to dig around the roots a few feet away from the tree. He was so +skilful at this that he soon exposed the main roots. Then he chopped +off one or two of them and set the pieces upright in the quart-pot. A +thin dark liquid began to drain out of the roots and collect in the pot +till it was half-full. Yarloo took a drink and chopped up some more +roots, and when the quart-pot was full he returned to camp. + +It needed great care and patience to minister to the perishing white +boys, and not many natives would have done what Yarloo did for Sax and +Vaughan during that blazing day. He made trip after trip to the stony +plain where the needle-bushes were growing, and, with the water +obtained in this way, he gradually revived his two friends. Sax was +his first care, and after he had softened the boy's tongue so that +drops of liquid could trickle down his throat, the drover's son quickly +revived sufficiently to help Yarloo with the more serious case of +Vaughan. The powers of recovery which a healthy lad possesses are +wonderful, and before nightfall both lads were sitting up under the +shelter, with their thirst quite quenched, and actually feeling hungry. + +Yarloo went away for the last time to get another quart-pot of water +from the needle-bushes. To do this, he had to fire another tree. It +was about half an hour after sunset and nearly dark, and the bonfire +lit up the plain and could be seen for miles. + +Mick Darby saw it as he rode along at the end of a very tiring day. +When he had reached Sidcotinga Station, late the evening before, the +yards had been full of working horses ready to set out on a big +cattle-muster the next morning. He could not have struck a more +favourable time. Before he went to bed that night, he and the manager +drafted off a plant of six good horses, stocked a set of pack-gear with +cooked tucker, and filled two big canteens with water all ready for an +early start the following day. Mick could easily have slept late the +next morning, but when he woke up, as he always did, at the rising of +the morning star, he did not turn over and go to sleep again, but +roused himself, had a drink of tea and a chunk of bread and meat, and +started out back on his tracks, accompanied by a station black-boy whom +the Sidcotinga manager had lent him. The horses were fresh; they had +just come in from a six months' spell and would be turned out again +directly they returned. So Mick did not hesitate to ride hard. He +rode to such good purpose that he did not expect to pull up till he had +reached the camp where he had left the boys, and was riding along, with +seven miles still to go, when he saw the blazing needle-bush. + +He loosened his revolver and rode over at once to investigate. It was +fortunate that he did so, for he would have reached the old camp and +found it, not only deserted, but also wrecked, with torn gear and +evidences of wanton destruction all over the place. He would naturally +have thought that his former companions had either been killed or +carried off, and as the sandstorm had covered up all tracks, he would +not have known which way to follow them. + +Yarloo was squatting down, watching the roots drain the precious liquid +into the quart-pot, when he heard the sound of hobble-rings striking +one another as they hung from the neck of a horse. Then a hoof struck +a stone. Such sounds in the desert meant one thing and one thing only, +white men. Yarloo stood up and gave the call: "Ca--a--a--w--ay!" (not +coo-ee, as is usually supposed). + +It was answered by a white man's voice out of the gathering darkness: +"Hul--lo--uh!" + +In a few minutes Mick Darby rode up. He saw Yarloo, and the +smouldering needle-bush, and knew that something was wrong. + +"What name?" he asked. + +"White boy close up finish," replied Yarloo, still taking care of the +quart-pot of dark water. + +"Close up finish?" echoed Mick in surprise. "What name you no sit down +longa that camp same as me yabber (as I told you)?" + +Yarloo tried to explain, but his vocabulary of white man's words was +too small. He broke off at last and said: "White boy, they yabber +(they'll tell you)." + +"But white boy close up finish," objected the drover. + +"No finish now," grinned Yarloo, pointing to the other burnt +needle-bushes near. "No finish now. Him good fella now, quite." + +This relieved Mick's mind greatly, and he set off at once, guided by +Yarloo, to the bough-shelter where Sax and Vaughan were sitting. It +was a very happy reunion. The boys were still weak, but the thirst, +which would have killed them if the stranger black-fellow had not put +that sprig of needle-bush in the quart-pot, was quite gone. They were +very hungry. A fire was soon lit, and neither of the lads had ever +enjoyed a meal so much as they did that one. The food was plain, +though much better than what they had been having for the past weeks. +The bread had been made with yeast, which makes it far nicer than +baking-powder damper, and the Sidcotinga cook had included a few +currant buns with the tucker. The story of their adventures was told +at length and gone over more than once, for each boy supplied what the +other did not remember, and there had been many hours during which +Vaughan's memory had recorded nothing. + +One thing, however, remained a secret. Only Sax knew about it, and he +obeyed his father's injunction not to tell anybody of his whereabouts. +He did not tell Mick that the strange nigger who had saved their lives +had mentioned the name Boss Stobart. + +Yarloo came in for his share of praise, and richly did he deserve it. +The black-boy sat down with the white men after tea and listened to +what was said without making any remarks, and with a stolid expression. +But when, just before they all turned in for the night, Mick handed him +a new pipe, a box of matches, and--greatest luxury of all--a tin of +cut-up tobacco, he beamed all over his honest black face and grunted +his supreme satisfaction with the gift. He did not think that he had +done anything heroic; he had acted so towards the white boys because a +certain white man had treated him well in the past, but these simple +signs of Mick's approval made him the happiest black-fellow in all +Central Australia. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Sidcotinga Station + +The morning after Mick Darby had returned to them with water and food, +both Sax and Vaughan felt so much better that they wanted to set out +for Sidcotinga Station right away. But the drover would not hear of +such a thing. He knew, better than the boys did, that it would be some +time before even their strong young bodies recovered from the "perish", +and they all stayed where they were for three full days, and made +themselves comfortable by building a more substantial shelter from sun +and wind. They could have stayed longer if they had wanted to do so, +for Dan Collins, the Sidcotinga manager, had told Mick of a well not +more than six miles away to the north, and the black boys drove the +horses there every day and also renewed the supply of water in the +canteens. It was evidently from this well that the fierce Musgrave +niggers who had attacked them had obtained water. + +On the fourth morning the horses were brought in early, and the party +set out west after breakfast, on its interrupted journey, travelling by +easy stages, and taking three days over a distance which Mick had +accomplished in one. + +The cook was the only white man on the station when they reached +Sidcotinga, and he made them welcome with the genuine rough hospitality +for which the back country is famous. The resources of a desert +cattle-station are very limited, but everything which was possible was +done for the two white boys, and they spent a very restful and +enjoyable week and a half, loafing round the homestead. It was not +much of a place to look at, but Sax and his friend thought it was +wonderful. They had travelled across the desert for a month in order +to reach that little collection of buildings, and during that time they +had not seen a fence or a roof of any kind, and the only sign of +civilization had been an artesian bore two days out from Oodnadatta. +Though the iron sheds and strong bough-shelters which comprised the +homestead were very rough, there was a workmanlike air about the place +which seemed to say that white men had taken possession of the +wilderness and meant to stay there. + +There was an iron hut divided into two rooms where the manager and the +white stockman lived. Such a building as this is known throughout the +length and breadth of Australia's cattle-country as "Government House". +A few yards away was the "cook-house", also made of iron, where meals +for the white men were served. Then there was a store, in which enough +personal and station requirements were stocked to last at least a year, +for the string of camels, which came out from the head of the railway +with loading for Sidcotinga Station, only came once in every twelve +months and was sometimes late. The horse-gear room was a fascinating +place to these two lovers of horses, and though it was rather empty +when they reached the station, because every available man was out +mustering on the run, they found enough in it to interest them for many +hours. The blacksmith's shop also came in for its share of attention, +the more so perhaps because neither of the lads knew anything about +blacksmith's work. Dan Collins, the manager, prided himself on his +blacksmith's shop, and rightly so, for there was no metal work--other +than actual castings--which he could not manage to make or repair for +station use. + +Dominating the homestead, by reason of its height, was a large iron +wind-mill mounted on a tall stand, with a huge water-tank raised on a +staging near it. The mill pumped water from a hundred-foot well into +this tank, which supplied, not only the cattle-troughs, but also the +dwellings, for there were taps outside Government House, the +cook-house, and the blacksmith's shop--a very unusual convenience on +such an outlying station. + +It was not the buildings, however, which interested the boys most; it +was the stock-yards. The whole station seemed to centre in these +yards, and indeed they were of chief importance, and were the real +reason for everything else being there. At first the mass of yards, +races, pounds, wings, and gates seemed just like a maze to the +new-chums, but they were soon to learn how perfectly everything about +that rough strong stock-yard was arranged for the quick handling of +cattle. + +One morning, a couple of days after their arrival at Sidcotinga +Station, the white boys were sitting in the sand with their backs +against the wall of the horse-gear room, which threw a narrow patch of +shade over them, when Yarloo came up. They had been so interested in +all the novel sights and sounds around them since coming to the +station, that they had almost forgotten the faithful black-fellow; but +they looked up now with pleasure, and greeted him with a friendly +"Hullo, Yarloo!" + +"Goo-day," he said, with a grin of delight at being noticed; but he at +once became serious, and continued, speaking especially to Sax: "Me go +'way.... Me come back by'm by." + +"Going away?" asked Sax. "Whatever for?" + +"Me walk longa Musgraves.... Me come back by'm by," he repeated. + +"But what'll Mick say?" asked Vaughan. + +"Mick good fella," said the native simply. "Him real good fella, +quite.... Him only little time boss longa me. Boss alday longa me (my +real boss) sit down over dere," he pointed to the Musgrave Range. "Me +yabber Boss Stobart." He said the name with pride. + +"I'll go with you," said Sax, starting up as if he meant to set out +immediately. "I'll go with you to find my father." + +"By'm by," replied Yarloo. "White boy come by'm by. No come now. +S'pose white boy come now, Boss Stobart, rouse like blazes (would be +very angry). White boy sit down little time. Me come back by'm by." + +"Well, at any rate, I'll send Father a note," said Sax, and he ran to +Government House to get a pencil and some paper. He found an old +diary, and tore a sheet out of it and wrote: "We're at Sidcotinga +Station. I wanted to come out to you, but Yarloo would not let me. +Tell him that we may come out. Love from Sax." + +He ran back to the horse-gear room, but Yarloo had gone. The boy had +evidently not understood what Sax meant and had already started out for +the Musgrave Ranges. It was a great disappointment to the boys not to +be allowed to go straight away and find the white drover, yet they had +already experienced enough, both of the hatred of the Musgrave tribes +and of the power of the desert, to convince them that they had better +take the advice of those who knew the conditions so much better than +they did. They talked a lot about the ranges which appeared to be so +near, seen through the clear dry air, and they went over and over again +the message which they had received in Oodnadatta from Boss Stobart, +trying to find an explanation for the mystery. + + +"In difficulties. Musgrave Ranges. Tell Oodnadatta trooper, but _no +one else_. He'll understand. Boy quite reliable. Don't worry. Get a +job somewhere. "STOBART." + + +Sax and Vaughan had been at Sidcotinga for eleven days, and were not +only feeling recovered from their "perish", but were also beginning to +wish that they had something to do, when the musterers returned one +afternoon with well over a thousand head of cattle. It was a still +day, and Sax had climbed up the mill tower, and was sitting on the +platform near the big wind-wheel, looking over the barren landscape, +when he saw what looked like a brown stain on the southern sky near the +horizon. He remembered having seen something similar to that at +Oodnadatta, and he knew at once that it was caused by a big moving mob +of stock. Vaughan was near the troughs, vainly trying to entice a +galah (a cockatoo with rose-coloured breast and grey wings and back) to +eat bread out of his hand, when Sax startled both him and the bird by +shouting: "They're coming, Boof! They're coming!" + +Vaughan looked up and saw that his venturesome friend had climbed even +higher than the platform, and was standing right on top of the main +casting, and was waving his arms towards the south. + +"They're coming, Boof!" he shouted again. "It's cattle." To Vaughan's +relief--for Sax had got used to doing things on the mill which Vaughan +was too scared even to attempt--his friend began climbing down, but he +went so fast that his neck and limbs were in danger every moment. When +he reached the ground, he ran off to Government House to find Mick, who +was lying on his back reading a three-months old copy of _Pals_. + +The boys expected their drover friend to be as excited as they were, +but he had seen cattle yarded so many hundreds of times that he took +things very coolly. He first made sure that the troughs were full of +water, and that the valves were working properly, and then fixed the +stock-yard gates ready for receiving the cattle. + +The cloud of dust came nearer, and the lowing of cattle and the +cracking of whips could soon be heard, and the voices of men rose above +the din. From out of the dust a few leading cattle appeared, then +others and others still, till the astonished white boys saw a bigger +mob of cattle than they had ever seen before. Sax was on the platform +of the mill again, and Vaughan was about half-way up, so they both got +a good view of what was going on below them. + +The thirsty animals smelt the water and tried to rush, but well-mounted +black boys wheeled here, there, and everywhere, checking the restless +cattle, and allowing them to come on slowly without any chance of a +break. The big voice of a white man on a black horse in the rear was +heard from time to time giving orders which were at once obeyed. +Presently the four long lines of troughing were hidden from sight by +drinking cattle, and the sucking of their lips, the gushing of water +through the valves, and the grumbling of the tired animals all blended +together, and seemed to be part of the dust which rose from the +trampling feet and settled on everything till men and stock were alike +brown. + +Mick Darby was keeping the trough-valves at full pressure, and the +manager rode over to him. The white boys followed the mounted man with +their eyes. This was to be their boss; that is, if he would take them. +They were evidently the subject of conversation, for Mick pointed up at +the mill, and Dan Collins looked up also. They could not see his face, +and he made no sign, but went off again to keep the waiting cattle +rounded up. + +It takes a long time to water a thousand head of cattle, and by the +time the Sidcotinga troughs were full, with no cattle drinking at them, +the sun had just set. Gradually the animals were worked away from the +water towards the wing of the yard. Probably both Sax and his friend +were hoping that there would be a break, for there is nothing more +exciting to watch--or to be in--than a cattle-rush; but these men were +on their own country, and at their own stock-yards. They eased the big +mob of animals slowly up to the yards, then sat back and let them have +a spell, just holding them within the compass of the wings. The +leading bullocks nosed the stock-yard rails, went up to the gates and +smelt the air, gave one or two inquiring bellows, and then walked +through. Finding space on the other side of the gates, they went right +into the yards. Others followed, till soon the whole mob was filing +through the gates. Then came the shouting of men, the racket of +stock-whips, the prancing of horses, and the protesting roar of cattle, +as they were jammed up tight. At last the gates were swung to and +fastened with a chain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A Mad Bull + +The Sidcotinga stock-yards presented a very lively scene next morning. +Sax and Vaughan were there with the rest, heartily glad to have +something to do. Mick Darby had introduced his young friends to the +manager the night before, and to their earnest request that he would +"take them on at the station" he had replied: "We'll talk about that +to-morrow night. There's a long day in the yards between now and then. +We'll see how you shape." Dan Collins looked at them very sternly when +he was speaking. He had been on cattle-stations all his life, and was +used to judging men by what they could do and not by what they could +say. He liked both the appearance of the boys and the report which +Mick had given of how they had "shaped" on the way out, but his +weather-beaten face did not relax at all, and the boys thought he was a +hard man. They were wrong, however. Dan Collins was a strong man, and +through dealing for many years with blacks, he had come to hide his +thoughts behind an unyielding expression of face, though many a man +knew how kind a heart beat in his big rough body. + +So the boys were on their mettle. There were no other white men in the +yard except Mick and the manager; the rest were blacks. + +An hour or two before dawn, as soon as it was light enough to +distinguish one beast from another, all hands went down to the yards +for drafting. Sax and Vaughan were each given a gate to open and shut +when their particular call came, and they found that it needed every +bit of their attention to do even this simple job well. By the time +breakfast was announced by the cook, who summoned all hands to the meal +by beating the back of a frying-pan with a wooden spoon, the thousand +cattle had been divided into three lots: about a hundred and twenty +cleanskins (unbranded cattle), over a hundred three-year-old bullocks +which would soon be ready to send to town, and the rest, which were to +be allowed to go bush again. + +Breakfast and "Smoke-o" were got over quickly, and everybody was again +at the yards as soon as possible. A fire was lit outside the rails, +and a half-dozen T.D.3 brands, and as many number brands, were put in +the blaze to get hot. Green-hide ropes were coiled ready and knives +sharpened. The cleanskins were attended to first. Most of them were +about a year old and could be scruffed, which means that one or another +of the black-fellows would watch his opportunity, catch the calf, and +throw it on the ground with a dexterous twist. As soon as it was down, +he would hook one of its front legs behind its horns and hold it there +till the brand was applied. Sometimes four calves were being scruffed +at the same time, and the work went on very quickly. Blacks always +work well in a yard. Not only is there the personal and sometimes +risky struggle with the animals, which appeals strongly to their savage +minds, but the emulation amongst themselves, each being very anxious to +do better than his fellows. There is usually a good deal of laughter +and joking talk in a stock-yard, and a good deal of hard, strenuous, +skilful work as well. + +The two white boys kept out of the way while scruffing was going on. +They would only have been a hindrance, so they sat together on the +stock-yard fence and looked on, never missing a twist or a turn, and +learning, learning, learning all the time. + +At last all young calves had been branded and had rejoined their +mothers. There still remained about thirty unbranded steers which were +too big to scruff. One or two of them were nearly four years old, wild +creatures which had refused to be mustered year after year until now. +The ropes were brought into use for these cattle. The big cleanskins +were driven out of the branding yard into an adjoining one, and +admitted back again one by one. As soon as a beast rushed through the +gate a green-hide lasso was thrown. The loop fell over its horns or +neck. Four or five strong niggers were holding the end of the lasso +outside the yard, and they pulled the captured animal up to the rails. +Front and back leg ropes were flung on and hitched round posts, and the +beast fell helplessly in the sand. After a couple had been done in +this way, Dan Collins signalled to the white boys to lend a hand. +Their job sounded simple, but it needed all their strength and +watchfulness to do it properly. If they failed at any point, the +prostrate animal would be free, and the work would have to be done all +over again. + +The cleanskin was lassoed and pulled to the rails, the leg ropes were +fixed and hitched, and then the front rope was handed to Sax and the +back one to Vaughan. They had to hang on and keep the ropes tight; +that was all, but only those who have worked in stock-yards, hour after +hour, know how difficult such an apparently simple task really is. + +The work went on. The hard green-hide ropes blistered the unaccustomed +hands of the new-chum white boys, but they set their teeth and held on. +Beast after beast fell with a bellowing roar, the red-hot T.D.3 was +pressed on its near-side shoulder till the mark was seared right into +the skin, so that it could never wear out. Then the ropes were pulled +off and the dazed animal scrambled to its feet and was hustled out of +the yard, while another one was being caught and thrown. + +A big roan-coloured steer was being saved till last. He was a fully +matured animal, very powerful and wild. His bellow had been heard all +night, and he had been more difficult to draft than any other animal in +the yards. Everybody was looking forward to dealing with this fellow; +it would be a good finish to a good run of work. + +He came through the gate with a rush. Mick Darby had the lasso this +time, and flung it faultlessly over the animal's horns. There was a +shout of excitement and the blacks outside the rails pulled for all +they were worth. But no power of man could make such a creature stir +unless it wanted to. It braced its fore legs and stood immovable, then +shook its mighty head till the lasso twanged like a fiddle-string, but +did not give an inch. Finally the steer caught sight of its tormentors +outside the yard, and rushed. At once the rope became slack and the +watchful men pulled it tight again, and soon the great beast was jammed +up against the fence, using all its strength to try and break the +green-hide rope. But the lasso was made out of the hide of a bull and +could have held any steer that was ever calved. Leg ropes were thrown, +hitched, and drawn tight, and the steer fell, roaring and plunging for +a moment, and then lying still, but never relaxing the tremendous +strain for a moment. + +Dan Collins was branding, and called out: "Brand-o!" The red-hot iron +was handed through the rails and pressed on the quivering shoulder. + +Now came the great test. Pain added the final ounce to the steer's +strength. He struggled. The front leg rope broke. Through being +constantly hitched round a rough post it had become a little bit +frayed, and this final strain was too much for it. It snapped and +sprang apart like a collapsed spring. The chest of the steer was now +free, but the head rope still held it down. The knowledge that it had +broken one of its bonds gave the animal heart, and it lifted its +curl-crowned head. The lasso quivered and stretched, quivered and +stretched. There was a crack! Had that bull-hide rope broken? No. +Another crack. One of the steer's horns broke off at the skull. With +an agonized bellow it slipped the stump of a horn through the loop and +rose to its fore feet, free except for the back leg rope which Vaughan +was holding. All the animal's strength, raised to its highest pitch by +the pain of the broken horn, was centred in its captive hind leg. +Vaughan held on manfully, but the rope was gradually pulled through his +hands, tearing the skin till he could not possibly hold it any longer. +With a roar, the steer rose from the ground; but just as it struggled +to its feet, Vaughan seized the rope again and twisted it round his +wrist. + +A yard is no place for a man when an infuriated bull is raging around +it. Everybody leapt for the rails except Sax. Was there not some way +of helping his friend? The steer saw him and charged. Round the yard +once, twice, it rushed, Vaughan dragging along at the back, and +hindering it so that he undoubtedly saved his friend from a very nasty +accident. Round the yard the third time. Sax was too dazed to leap +for the rails, and the animal was too close for him to climb them. + +Everybody had been so intent on the sudden turn which events had taken +that they had not noticed an almost naked black-fellow who had left the +lasso and had climbed quickly along the top of the rails. He was a +stranger, and had come in that morning and had taken a hand at the +yards like any other black would do, hoping for a feed and a stick of +tobacco. But now he seemed to be full of energy and courage. When +everybody else was gasping with astonishment, he lay on the top rail as +flat as a lizard. + +Sax came round the third time, and the shaggy head of the steer was +lowering for a toss, when the native's black arm reached down suddenly +and grabbed the white boy by the belt and swung him clear off his feet. +He was not a second too soon. The steer charged by, and Sax was safe. +The stranger native had put out so much of his strength that he could +not recover himself, and he overbalanced, still keeping hold of the +white boy, and rescuer and rescued toppled over backwards into the +other yard. Sax was winded and the black-fellow was the first to get +up. He scrambled to his feet and walked away, not only from the yards, +but away from the station altogether, as if he did not want to be +recognized. But as he was getting between two rails, he put his left +hand on one of them, and Sax saw that the two middle fingers were +missing. It was the same black who had brought the sprig of +needle-bush. + +Excitement was by no means over in the branding-yard. The infuriated +bull, cheated of one victim, now turned its attention to Vaughan. It +wheeled quickly, and in so doing twisted the rope, which Vaughan was +still holding, round the boy's body. He could not escape. He was at +the mercy of a wild steer. + +The sudden and unexpected rescue of Saxon Stobart had roused the white +men, so that when the bull turned on its helpless victim, they were +ready. But what could they do? What could a mere man possibly do +against a full-grown steer? It would take too long to set the boy +free, for the hard unyielding rope was hitched tight round him. There +was only one thing to do, and Dan Collins did it. + +He waited till the bull had gathered itself for a final rush, and, when +it had actually started to charge, he dropped to the ground like a +flash. In a fraction of a second his powerful right arm went out, and +he gripped the nostrils of the bull, pressing his thumb and forefinger +home as far as he could. Then he twisted, suddenly and unexpectedly. + +It was not a matter of strength, but of knack. The power of the +onrushing bull actually supplied all the strength which was necessary. +Dan Collins twisted. The animal's wrinkled neck turned. It could not +help turning, for the pain at its nostrils was unbearable. The +near-side leg gave under it. Something had to give under the strain. +The fingers still kept their grip, and the great beast crashed down +with such a thud that the ground seemed to shake.[1] + +Every man jumped from the rails and was on the prostrate animal at +once, holding it down till the white boy, who had been in such terrible +danger, was set free. + +That night the manager gave his verdict about the two boys. "You'll +do," he said. "I'll take you on. Mick, you'd better take them out on +the run with you. I want you to go north in a couple of days. And for +goodness sake teach them that there are some things which even _they_ +cannot do." He did not mean this unkindly, for he had taken a fancy to +the boys, but he saw that they would need to be restrained a great deal +before they could become really first-class stock-men. + + + +[1] The author has seen quite a small man throw a full-sized bull in +this way on a Central Australian cattle-station. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A Night Alarm + +It can well be imagined that both lads fell asleep quickly and soundly +that night after their first day in the yards. Sidcotinga Government +House had a veranda on one side of it, and they spread their swags +under it just outside Mick's room, as there was no place for them +inside, especially in summer. + +In the middle of the night a man crept round the corner of the veranda +as silently as a black shadow. He paused near the boys, and stooped +down and looked into their faces. The lads were sound asleep and did +not stir. After a moment's scrutiny the native put his hand on Sax's +shoulder and shook it. The tired boy only gave a restless murmur, so +the man shook him harder. He opened his eyes at last and realized that +somebody was bending over him, but he was so sleepy that he did not +call out. + +As soon as he saw that Sax was awake, the native held up his left hand, +so that the white boy could see it outlined against the pale night sky. +The two middle fingers were missing. It was the man who had already +done him more than one good turn. + +Stobart sat up, prepared for anything which this black-fellow--who knew +the father, and seemed so devoted to the son--might suggest. The man +pointed down across the trampled sand towards the cattle-troughs. He +did it again and again, making little runs in that direction and coming +back at once, like a dog who wants its master to go in a certain +direction. + +"All right, I'll come," whispered Sax at last, forgetting that the man +probably could not understand him. Sax had intended to go alone, but +when he stood up, Vaughan opened his eyes and asked sleepily: "What's +all the row about?" + +"No row at all," whispered his companion. "That is, unless you make +it. There's something wrong somewhere and I'm going to have a look." + +"So am I," responded Vaughan quickly, for the chance of an adventure +drove all sleep away from him. "So am I. You bet your life." + +The silent native led the way, armed with a boomerang and a shield, +creeping from the shelter of one building to that of another, till they +were close to the troughs. The man held up his finger and listened. +There was a sound of running water. Sax recognized it as the +ball-valves of the troughs. There were four of them. Suddenly the +thought struck him: Why were they running? From where the three men +were standing the dark lines of the troughs could be seen even at +night, against the light-coloured sand, and it was clear that no stock +were drinking there. But if the valves were running it showed that the +troughs were empty, and the water must be flowing away somewhere. It +must be wasting. + +The importance of water in the desert had already impressed itself upon +the white boys, and as soon as they realized that precious water was +running away in the sand, they rushed out from behind the shelter +towards the troughs. The armed native went with them. + +There should have been a plug at the end of each trough. Somebody had +pulled these plugs out, and the water was gushing a full stream through +the four ball-valves and was running to waste over the sand. This had +apparently not been going on for more than five or ten minutes, but it +was absolutely necessary to stop the waste; for if once the overhead +tank was drained dry, and if there was no wind to work the mill for a +day or two, Sidcotinga Station would be entirely without water. + +The boys did not stop to wonder who had done this dastardly deed, but +went to jam the plugs back again into their holes. But the plugs could +not be found. Something must be done immediately. It would waste +precious time to run back to the station and hunt round for something +to make plugs out of, so they started to fill the ends of the troughs +with sand and clay, scooping it up with their hands and ramming it +tight till one after another of the leakages was stopped. + +When they were occupied with the fourth, and had nearly made a tight +job of it, Sax looked around for the native who had told them that +something was wrong. The man was standing a couple of yards away with +his shield raised. He looked for all the world as if he was defending +them from some attack. And so he was. Scarcely had Sax begun to work +again, scooping more sand and clay and plastering it smooth and firm, +when he heard the click of wood against wood, and a spear stuck into +the ground just behind him. Another followed and another with hardly +any pause between. The native still maintained his attitude of tense +watchfulness. He had already turned three messengers of death off with +his shield, and was waiting for more. None came. + +He backed slowly towards the boys, still facing in the direction from +which the spears had come. Presently he turned quickly and pointed to +Government House, and then took up the same position of attention. His +meaning was quite clear. He wanted one of the boys to go up to +Government House and give the alarm. + +Vaughan instantly jumped to his feet and ran, leaving Sax to finish the +work at the troughs, guarded by the faithful nigger. In an incredibly +short time Dan Collins and Mick Darby came running down, armed with +rifles and revolvers. When the stranger black-fellow saw them he +disappeared. No one saw him go, and indeed it would have been +dangerous for him if they had; for when two white men with loaded +weapons are looking for a chance to shoot a nigger, they are as likely +to shoot a friend as a foe. The night seemed to swallow him up, and +the white men and Vaughan, who followed hard after them, found Sax +alone. Even the three spears had been taken away. + +Tracks of naked feet all around the troughs showed that a couple of +Musgrave blacks had wilfully pulled the plugs out of the water troughs, +knowing that this was one of the ways in which they could do most harm +to the hated white man. If the native with the mutilated hand had not +given the alarm, Sidcotinga Station would have been right out of water +by the morning. No one knew who this friendly black-fellow was. Sax +told the others that it was the same man who had put the sprig of +needle-bush in the quart-pot, and who had also saved him from the bull +a few hours before, but he did not explain how he knew this. + +"Seems to have taken a fancy to you, whoever he is," remarked Dan +Collins. "I wonder why." + +Sax knew why, but he seemed to feel the influence of his father coming +from the Musgraves, not far away, telling him to keep the matter secret. + +The lads went back to bed, and the two white men kept watch at the +troughs till daylight. But the blacks gave no sign of their presence. +They had evidently been scared away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Mustering + +If the boys expected that the night alarm would be the chief subject of +conversation next day they were quite mistaken, for the matter was +hardly referred to at all. Sidcotinga was as far away from +civilization as could possibly be, and its position under the dreaded +and mysterious Musgrave Ranges made it the object of repeated attacks +by little bands of warragul blacks. Consequently the manager was quite +used to turning out in the middle of the night to guard one portion or +another of the station property, and the mere pulling out of the plugs +from the watering-troughs was forgotten almost as soon as the affair +was over. + +Important business was afoot--the chief business of a +cattle-station--mustering. Station blacks were sent out early in the +morning after working-horses; packs, saddles, canteens, hobbles, and +horse-gear generally were carefully overhauled by Mick, and tucker-bags +were filled with flour, sugar, tea, dried salt meat, and a tin or two +of jam. Before sunset everything was ready for an early start next +day, for about fifty working-horses had been brought in, out of which +number Mick and the manager chose thirty for the mustering plant. + +Dan Collins had sent four station boys to round up the horses: Calcoo, +whose real name went into about ten syllables and was quite impossible +for a white man to pronounce; Uncle, a thoroughly reliable +black-fellow, who was somewhat older than the others; Fiddle-Head, so +called because of his long thin face; and Jack Johnson, a native of +splendid physique from one of the great rivers which flow into the Gulf +of Carpentaria. Another black stockman had stayed behind to help Mick +Darby and the white boys with the packs. His name was Poona, and he +understood station ways better than the others, because Dan Collins had +taken him in hand when he was a piccaninny, and taught him to be very +useful. + +Just before dinner, when Mick was busy mending a pack-bag and Sax and +Vaughan were having their first lesson in making waxed thread for +sewing leather, Poona came up to the drover with another black-fellow. +His companion was naked except for a rope of hair tied round his waist +from which a small apron hung down. Sax looked up and recognized him +immediately; it was the native with the mutilated hand who had been +such a good friend to the white boy. Stobart was about to call out, +when the man put his finger on his thick black lips and pointed to the +Musgraves. He did this three times, and shook his head so earnestly +that Sax knew that, for some reason or another, the black did not want +to be recognized. + +Mick Darby finished a row of stitching and then paid attention to the +two men who were standing so silently in front of him, waiting the +pleasure of the white man. He knew Poona, but the presence of the +other native needed explaining. "What name, Poona?" he asked. + +"You want um 'nother boy go mustering?" asked Poona, pointing to his +companion. + +Mick looked at the naked man for a moment, and then asked: "Is he any +good?" + +"Yah. Him bin good fella," replied Poona eagerly. "Him bin ride like +blazes. Him work one time longa Eridunda," mentioning a famous station +farther north. This was not true. The warragul black had never worked +on a station in his life and knew very little of the ways of white men. +He was a Musgrave nigger who had recently come down from the Ranges. +Mick wanted as many helpers as he could get, for the muster was to be a +big one, and he engaged the newcomer without further inquiries. + +"All right," he said. "What's his name?" + +Poona grinned and pronounced a name which he knew was quite impossible +for a white man's tongue to manage. Everybody laughed, including the +newcomer, who put up his mutilated hand to cover his grinning mouth. +Mick noticed the deformity at once. The man's hand, with its three +fingers set wide apart, from which long hard nails stuck out, resembled +the claw of some bird, so the drover turned to the white boys and said: +"What d'you think of that for a name? They've nearly all got names +like that. We'll shorten this one down a bit and call him 'Eagle'. +Look at his hand." He turned to Poona. "We call that one black-fella +Eagle. See? His hand aller same eagle's hand. Take um round Boss +Collins. P'raps him give it trouser, shirt, tobac." + +In a few minutes the warragul black, duly enrolled as a stockman of +Sidcotinga Station, was strutting about in front of a group of native +women, dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a striped store shirt, +and was puffing at a new clay pipe. The novelty of his occupation and +attire made up for their discomfort, and he would probably have been +willing to force his broad feet into boots if they had been given to +him, although he had never worn clothes in his life before, and must +have found that they hindered his movements at every stride. + +Next morning, although it was summer and the sun rose very early, the +men had breakfast by the light of a hurricane-lantern, and the +mustering plant was all ready to start out before dawn. There were +Mick, the two white boys, six niggers, eight packed horses and the rest +spares, making thirty in all. The white boys were naturally interested +in the horses they were to ride. Sax had a grey mare named Fair Steel +to ride in the mornings, and Ginger, a gelding, for the afternoons. +Vaughan's two were both geldings: Boxer, a brown, and Don Juan, a tall +black. All four horses were well-bred and thoroughly suitable for the +month's hard work which lay ahead of them. + +The plant made straight for the Musgraves. It was a brilliantly clear +day, and when the sun rose the range of mountains ahead of them seemed +to be only a day's ride away. But at the end of the second day, when +the packs were pulled off near a water-hole, the Musgraves did not look +to be any nearer. Mick and the white boys rode in the lead all day, +and the plant, driven by the black-boys, followed behind; this is the +method of travel all over Central and North Australia. + +On the morning of the third day they started to muster. All around the +water-hole were the recent tracks of hundreds of cattle, and the day's +work consisted of riding out on these tracks till the limit was reached +beyond which no cattle had gone from that particular water. Then the +stockmen rode in, gathering cattle as they came. The party split up +into three in order to muster the district thoroughly, and before +sunset a mob of over four hundred cattle was bellowing round the +water-hole. The nearest stock-yard was two days away, so the cattle +had to be watched that night. Sax and Vaughan had done some night +watching on the way from Oodnadatta to Sidcotinga, when wild blacks had +been about, but a few tired, broken-in horses were very easy to watch +in comparison with a mob of nearly half a thousand wild desert cattle. + +The usual precautions were taken. The men made their camp on the slope +of a little clay-pan out of sight of the water-hole, so that their +movements in the night would not startle the cattle. All fires were +put out before dark, and no man was allowed to shake his camp-sheet or +make any sudden noise. Watches were arranged so that two stockmen were +riding round the cattle all night long. + +The moon was full enough to vaguely light the scene, which was very +typical of Central Australia and could not possibly be met with in any +other part of the world. Mick and Vaughan took first watch and Sax and +Poona took the second. When Sax came off watch, and was riding up the +little hill, looking forward to rolling himself up in his blankets, the +sound of singing made him turn and look back. It was a wonderful sight +which met his gaze, and those who have once seen a similar one are +never really satisfied in any other place. The water looked flat like +a mirror, and one or two cattle stood knee-deep in the edges of it. +All around, just a vague black mass from which a warm mist of breath +and hot bodies was rising, were the cattle, mostly lying down and +contentedly chewing the cud, while a few wandered slowly about looking +for one another and quietly murmuring. One of the black-boys, whose +turn at watching had just come, was already riding round with one leg +cocked lazily over the pommel of the saddle, and chanting a coroboree +dirge, both to let the cattle know that he was about and because he was +happy. + +The other boy was waiting for Sax's horse. Sax dismounted and noticed +that the man standing near him was Eagle. The native grinned as he +climbed awkwardly on the horse, for he was not used to riding, and, as +he moved off, he pointed with his mutilated hand in the direction of +the Musgrave Ranges and uttered the words: "Bor--s Stoo--bar." + +Sax sat down for a moment. These words reminded him that indeed this +was his home, the land of his father, the place where perhaps he had +been actually born. The magic of the desert night bewitched him; the +half-moon, the few stars in the pale sky, the sense of limitless space +across the sand, the water-hole and the camped cattle, the quavering +voice of the chanting nigger which was now joined by another voice, +wilder and more exultant--these things and the consciousness that his +father was somewhere near, guarded by these mysterious desert forces +and desert men--thrilled him, and when he stood up again and walked +over to his swag, he knew in a way that he had never known before that +the blood of the North was in his veins, and that he was the descendant +of a race of heroes--the Australian bushmen. + +The cattle were quiet all night. Mick was an old stockman and had +given strict orders to his boys not to hurry the cattle, so that they +arrived at the water-hole almost in the same mood as they would have +done if they had come for a drink of their own accord. They were on +their own country also, and there was not a strange stick or stone or +tree to frighten them. Cattle very seldom rush at night when they are +on their own feeding-grounds, and though Mick took no chances, and +double-watched them all night, he did not expect anything unpleasant to +happen. "It's better to be sure than sorry," he told the boys at +breakfast. + +Immediately the meal was over they started to "handle the cattle". +That was Mick's way of expressing it, and, indeed, at one part of the +proceedings the cattle were actually "handled". But before they +reached that stage many things had to be done. Each man was mounted on +the best horse possible, and the party rode down the hill to the +water-hole, spreading out like a fan, and slowly working the cattle +away from the water till they were on an open plain about a quarter of +a mile away. + +Now came one of the most difficult things that a stockman ever has to +do. It is called "cutting out". Man and horse have to be of the very +best to perform this feat properly or else the whole operation results +in confusion. Mick was mustering the north of Sidcotinga run in order +to brand all cleanskins, and there were probably not more than a +hundred unbranded cattle in that mob of nearly half a thousand. Most +of these were calves which were still running with their mothers, +though there was a sprinkling of larger stock which had been missed the +year before. The first job was to separate the cows and calves and +other cleanskins from the main herd, thus dividing it into two mobs. + +The mounted stockmen put the cattle together tightly and held them. +Mick was riding a bright chestnut gelding with high wither and an +intelligent head, whose name was Hermes and who was reputed to be a +famous camp-horse.[1] Signalling to his boys to be ready, Mick rode +straight into the mob of cattle. Almost at once he saw an unbranded +steer and pointed his whip towards it. The horse did the rest. With +wonderful skill, Hermes worked alongside the steer, shouldered it to +the outside of the mob, and cut it out from the other cattle. +Immediately two other stockmen came in behind it and drove it a few +hundred yards away, where it was kept by three mounted boys who had +been detailed for the purpose. It is far easier to keep a hundred +cattle in one place than it is to do the same to a single beast, but +Mick and Hermes were now cutting out cleanskins one after another +without any pause, thus increasing the second mob very quickly. It is +a splendid sight to see cattle being cut out by a good man on a good +horse. The man needs to have a quick eye and never to hesitate once, +for he is right in the midst of several hundred wild cattle who are +afraid of him, and are ready to wreak their vengeance on him at the +first opportunity. He must be a faultless rider, for a camphorse can +turn right round at full gallop in its own length, and woe to the man +who loses his seat at that time. He is amongst the feet and horns of +desert cattle. Mick never made a mistake. He took the matter as +quietly as it could possibly be done, and gradually worked the +clean-skins out and made up the other mob. + +When a thing is done well it looks easy to a spectator, and the white +boys thought that this work of cutting out, which they had heard so +much talk about, was a very simple matter indeed. Mick saw them edging +nearer and nearer, and knew that they were very keen to try their +hands, so he shouted out: "Have a shot at working on the face of the +camp.[2] Be steady, though," he warned them. "It's not as easy as it +looks." + +They soon found out that the drover was right. Their horses knew far +more about the matter than they did, but the men on their backs were +clumsy, and started to pull them this way and that, till the horses got +worried, and didn't know what to do. Mick brought a young steer out to +the edge of the mob where the boys were standing, and shouted: "Here +you are. Come in behind me." + +Their horses started to do the right thing, which is to come in between +the steer and the mob, but Sax rode straight at the beast, drove it +towards Vaughan, who tried to turn his horse suddenly and only made +matters worse, for the steer galloped back into the mob. Mick swore +and cut it out again, and drove it several yards out from the other +cattle and gave it a parting cut with his stock-whip. Sax and Vaughan +galloped after it. It dodged and tried to get back, but, more by luck +than good management, the boys kept it out in the open. At last they +got it on the run towards the second mob and were feeling very pleased +with their success, when it suddenly turned. + +Sax was in the lead. His horse was an old stock-horse, and as soon as +the beast turned, it turned too, quickly, and in its own length. But +the boy on the horse's back did not turn! Sax had been going for all +he was worth, standing up in the stirrups and leaning forward +excitedly, when, all of a sudden, the horse under him jerked round on +its fore feet. Sax went straight on over the animal's head and came to +the ground all in a heap, while the horse galloped on for a few yards +and then stopped and looked round at its fallen rider. Vaughan did not +fare quite so badly. His horse did not turn at full gallop. It +propped and then turned. When it propped, it flung Vaughan forward. +He clutched the horse's neck to save himself from coming off, and when +the horse turned he hung on still tighter. + +The steer got away easily and was making back to the mob when Uncle and +Fiddle-head came to the rescue. Everybody laughed at the two white +boys, but they took the fun in good part and learnt their first +important lesson in handling cattle: it's never so easy that it doesn't +need care. + + + +[1] A camp-horse is a horse which has been especially trained for +cutting out cattle on a cattle-camp. + +[2] Working on the face of the camp means taking cattle which have been +cut out from the man who is doing this particular job, and driving them +away to the second mob. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The Branded Warragul + +By noon the cattle were in two mobs, clean-skins and branded. Leaving +the clean-skins in charge of three boys, with instructions to keep them +from straying, Mick and the other stockmen drove the branded cattle +right away and let them go, and then rode back to camp for dinner. A +fire was lit, the nine quart-pots put in the blaze, the damper and bag +of meat brought out, and soon everybody was munching the hard tucker +with a relish which can be gained only by a vigorous life in the open +air. As soon as three of the black-boys had finished, they were sent +out to relieve the ones who were watching the cattle, and at the end of +the hour's middle-day "camp", everybody was ready for the branding. + +There were one or two trees on the plain, and a suitable one was chosen +with a strong bough about five feet from the ground. A pile of wood +was collected and a fire lit and the brands made red-hot. Green-hide +ropes were uncoiled to get the kinks out and coiled again ready for +instant use, and every horseman saw to the tightness of his +saddle-girth. Mick stood near the tree waiting to brand and cut, and +with him were Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson for the front and back leg +ropes, and Eagle to keep the brands hot and hand them when required. +Poona and Uncle were each armed with a long pliant bull-hide lasso, and +the two white boys and Calcoo rode round the cattle, keeping them well +bunched up. + +Mick looked round to see that every man was in his place, gave his +knife an extra rub or two on his boot, and then shouted: "Right-o!" + +Poona and Uncle rode forward at once to different ends of the mob. +Each of them singled out a cleanskin, and almost at the same time two +lassoes whirled through the air. The thin bull-hides uncoiled and +uncoiled as they sped over the heads of the cattle, and the loops kept +wide open and fell around the necks of the chosen victims. Both horses +propped immediately, and the lasso-men sat back to take the strain. It +came, but the horses knew their work and lay back, almost sitting on +their tails, till the bucking, bellowing animals on the end of the +ropes ceased their first efforts to escape. Then, bit by bit, as +carefully as an angler plays a game fish, the beasts were drawn out of +the mob, while Sax, Vaughan, and Calcoo kept the others from breaking +away. + +There is always keen rivalry between lasso-men as to who pulls his +beast up to the fire first. Poona won this time, for the young bull on +the end of Uncle's rope lay down and had to be dragged by main force, +just as if it had been a bag of flour. When Poona reached the fire, +Mick jerked the lasso over the outstanding bough in order to keep the +clean-skin from running round. Meanwhile Fiddle-head and Jack Johnson +were on the alert with their ropes, and in a few seconds they had flung +them on and had drawn the loops tight, and pulled the animal down and +held it. Mick at once loosened the lasso and Poona went back to the +mob to rope another. "Brand-o!" was called, Eagle handed up a T.D.3 +and a number brand, the head-stockman pressed these on to the near-side +shoulder of the prostrate beast, and with a shout of "Let her go!" the +leg ropes were taken off, and the dazed animal staggered to its feet +and rejoined its companions. By this time Uncle had pulled his animal +up near the tree, and as soon as it was branded, Poona had caught his +second. And so the work went on without interruption, everybody +working as hard as he could. + +After about an hour Uncle threw his lasso and missed. The beast he was +after was a three-year-old red bull with wide horns which he kept on +tossing angrily. The animal saw the green-hide coming and ducked its +head, and the whirling rope fell and flicked it in the eye. It was not +Uncle's fault that he had missed, but it was a failure all the same, +and nobody likes to come off second best when it is a case of such keen +rivalry. He looked round and saw that his ill-luck had been observed +by all his companions, for there was a lull in the work just at that +time, and all hands were watching. The black-boy was on his mettle to +redeem his reputation, and his blood was up to perform a feat which he +had learnt on a northern cattle-station, but which had never been seen +on Sidcotinga. The lasso had flicked the bull in the eye. With a roar +of pain, it lifted its great horns and shook them and rushed out of the +mob. Sax wheeled to turn it back, but Uncle signed to him to leave it +alone. When the wild red bull was clear of the mob, the black stockman +coiled the lasso on his left arm and made after it. + +Everybody expected him to fling the lasso, but instead of doing that, +he galloped up on the near-side of the animal and kept level with its +rump for a yard or two. It was on the tip of Mick's tongue to shout +out and tell the boy not to "play the fool", when Uncle leaned over +with his hand spread out wide. Suddenly he grabbed the galloping +bull's tail near the root and gave it a dexterous twist. Over went the +animal. It crashed to the ground and threw up a cloud of dust. Uncle +flung himself instantly off his horse and held the fallen beast for a +moment, while he slipped the noose of the lasso over its head. Then he +remounted and lay back to take the strain. It was all done so quickly +that the red bull was on its feet again and was tugging at the rope +before anybody realized what the stockman had done. He could have +easily lassoed the escaping beast in the ordinary way, but his blood +was up and he did this wonderful feat just to show his companions that +though he had missed once with the lasso, he could do things with +cattle which they had never thought of. + +Eagle's first experience of cattle-branding was the recent day in the +Sidcotinga yards when he had saved Sax from the horns of the infuriated +bull, and the present work was so entirely new to him that he was very +clumsy. Mick did not take this into consideration. Cattle were being +dragged up to the tree one after another, and the brands had to be hot +when he called out for them. That was the only thing Mick cared about +just then. It is not at all an easy job to keep six pairs of brands +red-hot in a fire of very fiercely burning wood on a blazing day in the +desert with a north wind blowing. Everybody tries to avoid being made +brand-man, for it is hard hot work with no praise and plenty of blame. + +Poor Eagle made one or two mistakes, was sworn at, and became flustered +and made more and worse mistakes, till Mick began to lose patience. +The boy was really doing his best, and he had even taken off his +much-prized trousers and shirt in order not to be hindered by them. +But somehow he didn't get on at all well; the brands were either not +hot enough, or he hadn't succeeded in keeping the handles cool, or he +was short of wood, or an extra strong gust of wind had blown his fire +nearly all away. + +At last Mick got angry. "You useless smut!" he shouted, when Eagle +handed him a couple of brands which were not hot enough. "You useless +smut! I thought you said you'd worked on Eridunda. What work did you +do there? Kitchen jin?"[1] + +Eagle did not understand what Mick said, but he saw that the white man +was angry, so he hurried back to the fire and took out two other +brands, hoping that these would please the drover. They were +absolutely red-hot. Mick caught hold of them, but dropped them with a +yell. Eagle had forgotten to pile sand over the handles to keep them +cool, and had allowed the heat to run up the whole length of the shaft. + +Mick dropped the brands and vented his rage on the luckless Eagle. The +native was a big powerful man, but Mick took him by surprise. With a +sudden twist the white man sent him sprawling on the ground, and, +before he had a chance to get up again, was holding the black down with +a wrestling grip he had learnt when he was a lad. He grabbed his hat +with his free hand and reached for the red-hot branding-iron. He +pressed the fiery T.D.3 into the flank of the naked black-fellow. The +man yelled and squirmed with pain, but his captor held him tight. It +was a cruel thing to do, but Mick's Irish temper had got the better of +him, and he held the brand on the flesh till it had burnt a mark which +would never come off. + +Then he released his grip and stood up. Instantly the tortured black +sprang to his feet and reached for a stick. But before his hand could +close on it a shot rang out, and Eagle jumped back as if he had been +mortally wounded. The man was unharmed, however, for Mick had only +fired into the air as a warning, but he now covered the native with his +automatic pistol. The warragul knew enough about white men to +understand that sudden death could spit out of that little barrel which +Mick held in his hand, and if there had been any doubt in his mind as +to what he ought to do, it was dispelled by the shouts of warning of +the other blacks. + +Looking at Mick with fierce hatred, he backed slowly step by step till +he was about fifty yards away, when he turned and ran for his life. +Mick fired a parting shot after him, but it was not necessary. The +branded black-fellow did not stop till he was out of sight over the +first sand-hill. + +The work of branding was quietly resumed after this interruption, but +the spirit of laughter and good-natured rivalry had gone. The blacks +were nervous and the white boys were frankly scared at the unexpected +turn of events, and even Mick himself, after a few minutes had passed, +was sorry for what he had done. But he worked every man in the plant +to the full limit of his powers, never once easing the strain, for any +sign of relenting would have been misunderstood by the natives, who +think that a white man's kindness is the same as weakness, for they +respect one thing and one thing only, and that is power. In this they +are not unlike white men. + + + +[1] It is a great insult to a native to suggest that he is a woman or +that he does woman's work. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Revenge + +Just before sunset, after a long and tiring day's work, the last of the +clean-skins was branded, and staggered to its feet and made off to +rejoin the other cattle. Mick wiped his knife on his trousers and then +used it to cut up a fill of tobacco. Sax had taken over the management +of the brands after the adventure with Eagle, and was very glad to pull +the irons out of the fire and let them cool in the sand. In fact, +everybody was pleased to "knock off", both because they were thoroughly +tired, and more especially because Mick's cruelty to the warragul had +caused an unpleasant feeling to take the place of the former spirit of +hearty good fellowship. + +The men let the cattle go and rode dejectedly back to camp, and even +Mick's efforts to start a conversation with his two white companions +was not a great success. A fire was lit, the quart-pots were boiled +and "tea-ed", and the damper and meat served out all round, and soon +afterwards the stockmen unrolled their swags and lay down for the night. + +Sax could not sleep. He turned over on one side and then on another, +but did not seem able to find a comfortable position. During the +excitement of his fall from the horse in the morning he had not noticed +any injuries, but now, when he wanted to forget everything and go to +sleep, he felt a large bruise on his hip and a sore place on each +shoulder. The moon shone in his face and kept him awake, and he lay on +his swag in a very unhappy frame of mind. + +Mick's behaviour to Eagle worried him. His body was too tired and sore +to rest, but his mind was unusually active, and kept on turning over +and over the incidents of the day, and especially the short struggle +between the white man and the warragul native. + +Sax had been on the other side of the mob of cattle when the incident +had occurred, but he had seen enough to make him very angry at the +injustice. Eagle had proved himself to be Sax's friend on three +occasions, and the lad consequently took the present matter to heart. +He quite forgot that Mick did not know who Eagle was, and merely +thought him to be a more than ordinarily useless black-fellow. Sax had +found out to his cost what an exceedingly unpleasant task it is to keep +brands hot on a blazing north-wind summer's day in the Australian +desert. + +The tired lad's indignant thoughts became confused as sleep gradually +claimed him, and at last his aching body was at rest, though his mind +still kept active and started to build dreams. Just after midnight, +when everything was still, and the last of the cattle had ceased to +splash in the water-hole and had gone out on one or another of the long +cattle-pads which stretched away into the silent desert, when the +half-moon looked down on the motionless and soundless world, a dark +face peeped over the top of the sandhill above the sleeping stockmen. +The man's naked body lay flat as a snake on the sand and wriggled +forward with movements like the waving of a shadow on a wall, till the +native could gain a clear view of the place where his unconscious enemy +lay. + +It was Eagle. + +He had come to kill. + +The T.D.3 brand, which still throbbed on his flank, was to him a mark +of shame, and he knew only one way of washing that shame away--with the +life-blood of the man who had put it there. + +Slowly he raised his head and looked, remaining for a minute or two +without any sign of life at all, not even the blinking of an eyelid. +If everybody on the camp had been awake and had chanced to look that +way, they would not have been able to distinguish the black-fellow's +head from the scraggy bushes which grew here and there on the +sand-hill. But all the men were asleep, and after Eagle had noted +carefully where Mick was lying, he ducked down again behind the +sand-hill and worked his way round till he was directly above the +sleeping white man. + +Just to one side of Mick's swag was a row of pack-saddles and bags, and +leaning against one of the saddles was the axe which had been used to +chop wood for the branding fire that afternoon. In fact Eagle had been +the one who had chiefly used it. He was now going to use that axe +again, but for a purpose more dear to his savage heart than cutting +dead branches: he was going to cut the live body of a hated white man, +and cut it again and again till no semblance of humanity remained. + +He crept forward down the slope inch by inch. No snake in the grass is +more silent and no fox is more stealthily alert than a black-fellow +creeping on an enemy. The body is held tense for instant action, and +the limbs move slowly and are put forward just a little bit at a time +with that slinking movement which is known only to beasts of prey and +to savage men. He reached the packs at last and lay down flat, not +moving for fully five minutes. Gradually a black hand stretched out +and a supple arm glided silently over the sand. + +He grasped the axe. He did not drag it. Even that slight noise might +spoil the night's work. He lifted and rose gently on his knees and one +hand, and held the axe close to his body with the other. + +Eagle is six yards from Mick. The critical time has come. No one can +see him move, for he changes his position such a little and such a +little more that he is in a new place without seeming to have left the +old one. His actions are as imperceptible as those of water. Five +yards. Four and a half. Four. Nearer and nearer. Three. Two. +Surely he will strike now! He is on hands and knees. He waits for a +moment or two and then straightens his body, pulls up one knee, and +poises the axe behind him. He is like a spring. In another second the +terrible tension will be relaxed and that supple black body will launch +itself at the sleeping man. The axe will split the skull in two from +forehead to chin, and not a sound will tell that the forces of the +desert have claimed another invader as their victim. + +The silence of the night is shattered by a shot. The poised axe falls +to the ground. The crouching native springs into the air with a yell +and puts a broken finger in his mouth. There is a mighty shout, and +Mick hurls himself at his would-be murderer. A blow under the chin +which would have felled a bull sends the black-fellow spinning to the +ground several yards away. The white man follows like an incarnate +fury and grapples at his enemy's throat. A terrible struggle ensues. +Over and over they roll. Now the black is on top, now the white, but +Mick never relaxes his hold on the man's throat. Gradually the +native's struggles weaken. The white stockman digs deeper with his +thumbs into the neck of the gasping man and waits the inevitable end. +Finally all resistance ceases. The black body grows limp and the head +falls back. + +The green-hide ropes are lying near. Mick reaches for them and binds +his captive more securely than any clean-skin cattle have ever been +bound. Then he looks up and meets the startled gaze of Sax and Vaughan. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Chivalry in the Desert + +Mick had expected to be attacked. He had worked with natives for +thirty years and had had many narrow escapes for his life, and had come +to anticipate danger and thus avoid it. When Eagle's head had poked up +over the opposite sandhill, Mick had been lying in that half-sleep +which cattle-men get used to and from which they are instantly awakened +by the slightest unusual sight or sound. He had seen the native and +had known from experience exactly what the man would do. With nearly +closed eyes he had followed the stealthy movements of the man down to +the packs, had seen him take the axe, and had waited till the very last +moment with pistol-barrel pointing through a fold in the camp-sheet. +Then he had fired at the hand which was grasping the axe. + +At the sound of the shot the two white boys had been startled awake, +but they had been so heavily asleep before, that it took them a moment +or two to realize what was happening. By that time it was all over, +and when they arrived on the scene, Mick was giving the last hitch to +the bull-hide rope. In answer to their eager questions, the stockman +told the lads of his adventure. It seemed terrible to them that Mick +had been so near death, and they wondered at his letting the native get +so near. But the white man treated the matter lightly, and all three +of them stood round the bound native and watched him slowly recover +consciousness. + +The five black-boys were standing in a group on the other side of the +smouldering fire, not knowing whether the white man's anger would vent +itself on them, but they were reassured when he called out to them, +pointing to the bound man: "This one, Eagle. Him try to kill white +man. No good at all. Silly fella quite. You all good fella. You go +back longa swag. You lie down. You all good fella." + +Eagle's eyelids fluttered and then opened, and he looked up into the +face of Sax. The light of the moon was strong enough to show the boy +what intense appeal there was in the captive's eyes. The man evidently +thought that he was going to be killed. He looked beseechingly at Sax +and then rolled his eyes to the north, towards the Musgraves, and +muttered the syllables: "Stoo-bar." + +The sound drew Mick's attention to him. "So yer've recovered, have +yer?" he asked, stooping down to pick up a quart-pot of water. "P'raps +that'll help yer." He dashed the cold water into the man's face. It +certainly brought him round to complete consciousness, and the dark +eyes no longer looked appealingly at Sax, but gazed with hatred at his +tormentor. + +"Yer don't like having a decent brand on yer hide, don't yer?" sneered +Mick. "Like me to take it off, would yer? Well, I'll have a try." + +The white boys had no idea what the drover intended to do, and stood +back when he asked them to do so, He rolled the helpless man over till +his flank was uppermost and showed the recent brand-mark T.D.3. The +brand was outlined with thick burns which stood up from the black +flesh. Mick went over to his swag for his whip. It was long and +supple, made of plaited kangaroo-hide, and ended in a well-rounded +lash. He drew it once or twice through his fingers and then cracked it +in the air. The sound was like the sudden banging together of two flat +wooden boards. Mick stood back from the prostrate native and measured +the distance with his eye. + +"Don't like to be branded, don't yer?" he asked. "Well, I'll take it +off for yer." + +He drew back the whip and swung it forward. There was a yell of pain +from Eagle. The lash had bitten right in the middle of the brand. The +whip fell again and again, each time unerringly. + +Sax sprang forward. He acted on the spur of the moment. With clenched +fists and blazing eyes he stood between the drover and the bound man. +For a moment there was silence except for the moaning of the tortured +man. Mick looked at Sax and said, with a cruel smile: "Well, and who +told you to interfere?" + +"But, Mick," gasped the lad, surprised at his own audacity, but +determined to see the matter through--"but, Mick, you can't do it. +He's tied up." + +"Can't do it, indeed!" shouted Mick. "Can't do it! That nigger wanted +to kill me, he did. Look out. I'm going to chop that brand out of his +side with this whip." + +The thong whistled through the air over the drover's head and came +forward. But Sax stood his ground. The falling whip coiled round his +legs and jerked him off his feet, sending him backwards over the body +of the bound native. Mick laughed and raised the whip again; but +before it came down, the lad was on his feet and had cleared Eagle's +body at a bound. The lash caught Sax's right leg. It slashed through +the thin cloth of the trousers and left a bleeding cut from ankle to +knee. The boy did not cry out. He grabbed at the whip and missed it, +but before it could be raised again, Vaughan rushed forward and caught +it. He twisted the plaited hide round his wrist and hung on. Sax +joined him immediately, but they tried in vain to wrench the handle out +of the infuriated man's hand. The unequal tussle was soon over. Mick +was a big heavy man, and the lads were light and were not used to +matching their strength against the endurance of a man. First one and +then the other was thrown back. They came on again, however, till, +with a sudden jerk, Mick flung the whip away from him, and faced them +with his bare hands. + +Sax and his friend were breathless. They stood panting beside the +native on the ground, and looked at the drover. + +"You young whipper-snappers!" he shouted, advancing with threatening +gestures. "You young whipper-snappers! I'll teach you to mind your +own business. Get out of my way." + +But the exhausted boys stood firm. At all costs they meant to protect +the bound man from the drover's anger. Mick hesitated for a moment. +He looked at the lads who were so new to the back country and who had +played the game so well. They seemed so young and small to him just +then. Because of his man's strength he could easily have killed them +both, but their very weakness made their obstinate resistance and pluck +seem all the greater. His anger began to die slowly, and his clenched +fists fell to his sides and opened. "I can thrash that nigger in the +morning," he said to himself. And then his real manhood, which anger +had hidden for a time, asserted itself, and he felt ashamed. "After +all," he thought again, "a chap shouldn't hit a man when he's down, +nigger or no nigger." + +Finally he spoke aloud. "All right, you boys. I won't touch him +to-night. Leave him where he is till morning. I'm going back to bed." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +The Bull-roarer + +In half an hour the camp was asleep again. Men like Mick, who live in +the desert and who are constantly facing death in many forms, dismiss +an adventure from their minds as soon as it has happened. The black +stockmen were pretty much like animals, scared out of their wits one +minute and forgetting all about it the next. Sax and Vaughan were sure +that the drover would keep his word, and were so utterly tired out when +they lay down again on their swags, that, in spite of what had just +happened, they fell asleep at once. In fact, Sax did not bother to +wipe the blood off his leg where the whip had cut it. + +All the men were soon asleep except one. Eagle, the bound and tortured +warragul, was wide awake. For the first time in his life he was +helpless. Those supple limbs of his had never been bound before, and +he tugged and tugged to be free till he cut his skin against the hard, +unyielding bull-hide ropes. It was no good. Mick was too old a +cattle-man to leave a rope so that it could be loosened by pulling. +The black tried to twist his body till he could touch the green-hide +with his teeth and gnaw it through, but he was bound too tightly to +allow him to do this. Finally a he lay still with the fear of a +captured animal in his heart, and bitter hatred against the man who had +brought him to this condition. + +Suddenly he heard a dry stick crackle. He was lying with his face +uphill, away from the fire, but at the sound he turned over and looked +toward the few smouldering embers of the camp-fire. Instantly hope +blazed up in his heart. He was saved! In his previous struggles he +had been reckless, not caring how much noise he made, but with the +return of hope came cunning and stealth. For a few minutes after +hearing that welcome crackle of fire, he lay still and gazed at the +thin smoke which coiled lazily up in one or two spirals from a glowing +wood-coal here and there. Then he began to move forward. His limbs +were bound so tightly that they had no power of separate movement, but +he succeeded in twisting his body in such a way that, very slowly and +with an expenditure of great energy, he managed to get nearer and +nearer the fire. It took the bound man two hours to cover a distance +of three yards. Once the mind of a savage is made up to do a thing, +time is of no object at all. An eye-blink, the hours between sunrise +and sunset, a moon, or a season, it doesn't matter. He will persist in +his intention though he die with the thing unfinished. It is +civilization which breeds impatience. + +At last Eagle was up against the fire. His hands were bound behind +him. For a minute or two he looked intently at the grey ashes in which +a few little red-hot embers were glowing, till he decided on one which +was larger and hotter than any of the others. Then he deliberately +rolled over till his bound wrists were right in the ashes. There is no +pain worse than burning. A man will draw his hand away from fire at +all costs. Several parts of the man's body were actually in the fire, +but he endured it all and steeled himself to fight back the greater +agony which throbbed at his wrists. The fire touched the green-hide +and singed the white bull hair, giving off a pungent smell. Eagle +sniffed it greedily. It helped him to bear the terrible pain, for it +was a proof that the fire was doing its work. + +It is impossible to tell how long that wild man endured such fearful +torture for freedom's sake. Agony is not measured by the clock. His +eyelids were shut tight, his teeth were clenched, his breath came in +deep gasps, and every nerve and sinew in his body seemed to be +quivering. He would rather die than call out, yet the effort to keep +back the yells of pain was almost worse than death. In spite of what +it must have cost him, he kept up a constant strain with his arms. The +smell of burning became stronger, but who could say whether it was the +burning of the skin of a bull or of the skin of a man? + +At last he realized, through the torture which was clouding his mind, +that the strain was relaxing. He put forth a mighty effort. His body +could stand it no longer, and gathered all its forces for one last bid +for freedom. A green-hide strand parted. Another loosened itself. A +third uncoiled from his burnt wrist. + +His hands were free! + +Cunning is as natural to a savage as breathing. With the freeing of +his hands it would have been natural for the man to jerk himself out of +the fire, struggle out of his bonds, and make a dash for liberty. But +no. Eagle had a superstitious fear of white men. He must do nothing +to arouse the suspicions of his enemy. Almost as slowly as he had +approached the fire, he now wormed his way from it till he was out of +reach of its heat, and then lay still, his body racked with the pain of +being burnt and bound. Gradually he reached down with his burned hands +and loosened the rope which fettered his legs. It took some time, for +he had almost lost the use of his hands, and the rope was very stiff +and tightly drawn. But patience and perseverance triumphed, and at +last the man was free. + +His next moves were the most risky of all. Eagle was convinced that +Mick was possessed of supernatural powers, for how else could he have +seen the black-fellow and fired at him when he was fast asleep? +Consequently it was with a caution which was the outcome of deadly fear +that he began to crawl. He dared not take too long, for the short +summer night was nearly over, and the white stockman would certainly +awake at the rising of the morning star. But Mick was soundly asleep +this time, and did not notice the black form which went slowly round +the fire and then started up the hill near the white boys. + +When Eagle came opposite to Sax he stopped. This boy was not a devil +like the other white man. He had saved him from the torture of the +whip. He was the son of Boss Stobart and was therefore to be guarded +from all danger. A black remembers cruelty and will avenge it; he also +remembers kindness and will pay it back if he possibly can. But what +could a naked savage, fleeing for his life, do to show his gratitude to +the son of Boss Stobart? + +Eagle put his poor mutilated hand up to his mass of tangled hair and +pulled out a piece of wood with a string attached to it. The object +was about five inches long, thin and flat, and tapered to a point at +each end, something like a thick cigar except that it was not round. +Both sides were marked with straight lines cut across the breadth of +the wood and with circles inside one another, all filled in with a +mixture of grease and red ochre. At one end was a hole through which +passed a string made of native women's hair. The thing was a +luringa--a bull-roarer--a sacred charm, the most precious object which +Eagle could possibly give to his white friend. With this luringa the +white boy could travel unharmed amongst the most savage tribes of the +desert, and could even enter the wildest of the Musgrave fastnesses and +return, a thing which no white man had ever yet done. + +Eagle looked long at the piece of wood and muttered certain words over +it, and then unfastened the hair string and put it round the neck of +the sleeping boy. He had no fear of any evil power which Sax might +possess, and when the lad stirred uneasily, the black-fellow went on +with his work till he had tied the string quite securely. + +A flap of Sax's camp-sheet was spread out on the sand, and when Eagle +had finished with the luringa, he spread out his mutilated hand on the +piece of white canvas and made an imprint. His hand was all covered +with blood and ashes, and the mark of the two fingers and the +projecting thumb was left very plainly on the camp-sheet. + +When Eagle was quite satisfied that Sax would know who had hung that +strange symbol round his neck, he crawled on up the hill, disappeared +on the other side, and fled for his life. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Horseshoe Bend + +In order fully to understand the position in which Sax and his friend +were soon to be placed, it is necessary to go back several weeks and +find out what had happened to the famous Boss Stobart. + +Joe Archer, the storekeeper at Oodnadatta who had been so kind to the +boys, had told them that the drover had not been heard of since he had +called in at Horseshoe Bend. It is possible to connect up with the +Overland Telegraph Line at Horseshoe Bend, and Stobart had taken +advantage of this opportunity of getting into touch with Oodnadatta. + +Boss Stobart, with a thousand Queensland cattle, reached the Finke +about midday. The Finke is a wide river of soft white sand, bordered +on each side by gnarled and ancient gum trees. Not once in the memory +of white man had the Finke carried water from its source in the +Macdonnel Ranges to its mouth in the great dry salt Lake Eyre, and the +trees which mark its course, and can be seen from many, many miles away +scattered about the landscape, gain their nourishment from a +water-supply fifty or sixty feet below the arid surface. + +The drover saw the cattle safely over the dry creek, put them on camp +in a clay-pen surrounded by sandhills, and then rode up to the little +group of rough buildings which, because the Finke makes an almost +complete turn on itself just there, goes by the name of Horseshoe Bend. +The Horseshoe Bend licensed store is a low iron building ornamented on +two sides by a broad veranda. Clustered at the back are a hut of split +box logs thatched with cane, an iron-roofed cellar, and a few primitive +outbuildings. These, with a large set of yards and troughs for +watering cattle, make what is not only the homestead of a +six-thousand-square-mile cattle station, but also an important depot on +the Great North Stock Route, a postal and telegraph station, and the +residence--when he is not away on the run--of a justice of the peace. +In a cramped and dusty office, where, amid the buzzing of innumerable +flies, while the temperature climbs above 110 deg. F. every day for five +months in the year, the news of Europe and Asia can be heard +tick-tacked in code by inserting a little plug. The reports of a war +in India, of an active volcano in South America, or of a cricket match +in England could be heard at Horseshoe Bend in the centre of the +Australian desert before people in Melbourne knew anything about it. +The only thing necessary is to insert a little metal plug and make the +current run through the recorder. + +But the plug hangs idle on its nail; the recorder is covered with dust; +no one bothers about either Europe or Asia. What chiefly concerns the +few white men who are able to live in Central Australia are the price +of stock, the best place to find a little dried grass or bush, and +water. Always water, water, water--everything else is of secondary +importance--cattle-feed and water. + +The conversation between Stobart and the man behind the bar was all +about the needs and the ways of stock. The drover hitched his horse to +a veranda-post and walked into the dark drinking-room stiffly, for he +had been in the saddle since three o'clock that morning, and had done +some hard riding after restless cattle. + +"Good-day," said Stobart. + +"Good-day," replied Tom Gibbon. "Travelling?" + +"Yes. Cattle. How's the water down the road?" + +The man consulted a paper nailed on a board. It contained the names of +all the water-holes from Alice Springs to Oodnadatta. He began to +read, running his finger below the words and pronouncing them slowly: +"Yellow--dry. Sugar-Loaf--dry. Anvil Soak--dry. One Tree Well--only +enough for a plant; makes very slow. Simpson's Hole--dry. In fact the +whole lot are dry till you get as far as the Stevenson Bore. You're +right after that. How many've you got?" + +"A thousand." + +"Holy sailor! You'll never get through. Bob Hennesy was the last man +down with cattle. He got as far as the Crown and had to leave them on +a well there. They were as poor as wood. No stock passed this way for +three months." + +Boss Stobart had been a drover in Central Australia for thirty years, +and the names of the water-holes which Tom Gibbon had read out were +very familiar to him. Tom, however, was new to the country and did not +know who his visitor was. Stobart did not show any surprise at the +state of the country to the south of him, but merely remarked casually: +"Oh, well, I'll have to go round then. I'm a good month ahead of time." + +The barman did not know what going round meant, but had no wish to +display an ignorance which was really quite evident to the drover, so +he asked: "What'll you drink?" + +"Got any sarsaparilla?" + +Tom Gibbon laughed. It seemed a good joke to him that a bushman should +ask for a teetotal drink. "Yes, any amount of it," he answered. +"'Johnny Walker', 'Watson's No. 10', 'King George'--any brand you like." + +"I said sarsaparilla, not whisky," said Stobart. + +The laugh died out on Tom Gibbon's face. "D'you mean it?" he asked. + +"Why, yes. What d'you think I'd ask for it for if I didn't want it?" + +The sarsaparilla bottle was taken down from the shelf and put on the +counter, together with a glass and a water-bag. "Have one with me?" +invited the drover. + +"No, thanks," replied the other. "I don't care for that stuff. A man +needs something with a nip to it in this country." + +Stobart poured out his drink and watered it. "Does he?" he asked +quietly. "When you've been in this country as long as I have, you'll +know what's good for you." + +When his visitor had gone, Tom Gibbon asked a black-fellow who the man +was that preferred sarsaparilla to whisky. He got rather a shock when +the native told him that the man was not a namby-pamby new-chum as he +had suspected, but was one whose name and deeds were known and talked +about from one end of the country to the other. + +"That one?" exclaimed the black-fellow in surprise. + +"You no bin know um that one, eh? Him Boss Stobart. Big fella drover. +Him bin walk about this country since me little fella. Him big fella +drover all right, altogether, quite." + +The "big fella" drover rode over to the cattle and, instead of starting +them due south along the Great North Stock Route, he gave them a drink +at Horseshoe Bend troughs and then set out west. For several days he +and his black-boys travelled the mob through country which he knew +well, and he managed to find enough dry grass and bush to keep the +animals in fair condition, and enough water to give them a drink every +other day. + +He was making towards the Musgrave Ranges, knowing that the great mass +of high country which loomed on the western horizon day after day was +sure to have water-holes and gullies full of cattle-feed along the base +of it. One day he watered the cattle at a little water-hole surrounded +by box trees, under a low stony rise, and put them on camp in the open +and arranged the watches. It was still an hour before sunset when Boss +Stobart, after giving the cattle a final inspection, was riding back to +camp to make a damper and cook a bucket of meat, when he was startled +by seeing a boot track. They were in totally uninhabited country, and +the sight was just as startling as a naked black-fellow in the middle +of Sydney in the busy part of the day would be. + +He followed it for a yard or two. The footprints turned outwards. A +white man had made those tracks. They were only about a day old. What +was a white man on foot doing in such a place? The drover stopped and +looked back. The line of tracks was crooked and seemed as if a +staggering man had made it, but the general direction was from the +north. Stobart rode on slowly and thoughtfully. The wandering tracks +led to a little clump of mulga trees about a couple of hundred yards +away from the water-hole. + +Suddenly the old stock-horse which the man was riding drew back and +snorted with alarm. Something was moving in those trees. Stobart +urged the horse on. Just at the edge of the clump of scraggy timber +the animal shied again. A man's shirt was lying on the ground. +Trousers and boots were a little distance away, and then an old +battered felt hat was found upturned in the sand. Finally the horse +became so much afraid that Stobart was obliged to dismount and tie it +to a tree while he followed the tracks on foot. He had only a little +farther to go before he too saw what his horse had already seen--a +naked white man staggering round and round in a small clearing among +the trees. + +The man took no notice when Stobart appeared. He was quite +unconscious. The drover shouted, but there was no more response than +if the desert silence had remained unbroken. By the tracks of his +shuffling bare feet he must have been drawing that terrible circle for +several hours, while the pitiless sun beat down on his unprotected +head. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and was dark-coloured and +swollen, his head jerked forward loosely with each stride, and his +tottering legs were bent almost double at the knees. If he sank just a +little lower, his hanging hands would touch the ground, and he would +crawl over the burning sand like any other dying beast, round and +round, round and round, for nothing but utter exhaustion would stop +that parade of death. + +Boss Stobart stood directly in the path of the shambling figure. It +came on unheeding, with glazed eyes and spent senses, and bumped into +the drover as if the hour had been pitch-dark midnight instead of a +summer afternoon. Stobart caught it before it fell, and laid the limp +body down very gently and looked into the man's face. He uttered an +exclamation of amazement. It was Patrick Dorrity, a man whom he had +seen only a few months before, cooking on Tumurti Station. + +Pat Dorrity and Stobart were old friends. Pat had a fondness for a +spree and had consequently never risen above the level of a casual +station cook, wandering about in this capacity over the huge area of +the north, where his friend the drover, who did not have the same +weakness, had gone on earning the confidence and respect of every +stock-owner in the country, till he was now a shareholder in more than +one prosperous station property. + +But bushman friendships are not based on bank balances, and the two had +remained good friends. As a proof of this, the last time they had met, +Pat had told the drover about a gold-mine he knew of in the Musgrave +Ranges. At first Stobart laughed at the old Irishman, for there were +as many reputed gold-mines in the Musgraves as there were men who had +gone after them and not come back. But gradually Pat had won him over, +for in the veins of every bushman runs enough gambler's blood to make +the sporting risk of a gold-mine very alluring. The two men wrote to +Sergeant Scott, of Oodnadatta, who was a great friend of both of them, +and arranged that they would start out for the Musgraves as soon as +Stobart had delivered the cattle. + +Since coming to this decision, the care of a thousand bush cattle had +taken up so much of Boss Stobart's attention that he had none to give +to the proposed trip, and he was, therefore, all the more amazed to +come across one of the partners in the venture in such a pitiable +plight. + +The man was perishing. Water in abundance was only two hundred yards +away, yet here he was dying of thirst. Such is the irony of the desert. + +Pat Dorrity's horse had been abandoned ten miles back, and the +tottering man had walked on, till, when he had managed to stagger to +the top of the last sandhill, and had seen two clumps of timber, one of +box and one of mulga, his senses had played him false and he had gone +to the mulgas. + +Stobart did not stop to wonder how his old friend had come to such a +pass. He needed water. Everything else must wait. The strong man +lifted the weak one and walked away to his horse, leading it to the +camp near the water-hole. At the sight of that little pool of muddy +liquid, the closing eyes of the perishing man opened and his weak body +struggled to be free; his mouth tried to shape sounds but could not do +so, for his tongue was swollen and his throat dry. + +The drover was too old a bushman to allow the perishing man to have all +the water he wished for. Gradually the swelling of the tongue was +reduced, then the parched throat was relieved by driblets of water, and +even then, when Pat Dorrity could have swallowed, he was only allowed +to take a sip at a time, or he would have vomited so badly that some +internal rupture would have resulted. + +Before Boss Stobart went on watch that night, his old friend was +sleeping peacefully, with his thirst quenched, and having had a small +meal of soaked damper also. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Facing Death + +Boss Stobart could not afford to spend more than one day at the +water-hole where he had found his friend Patrick Dorrity, because the +water was practically a thin solution of mud, and the feed was soon +eaten out within a radius of a few miles. There was really no need for +delay, for the old station cook recovered quickly, and "dodging along" +behind cattle, as it is called, is not hard work for a man who has +nothing to do. The recuperative powers of the Australian bushman are +wonderful. It is only men of the toughest fibre and the stoutest heart +who can live in the central deserts, and when one of these is overtaken +by sickness or disaster, he never stops fighting, and wins through in +the shortest possible time. There comes a day, however, when it is not +possible to win through, and the brave man dies fighting, and the sand +gradually covers up the body of yet another pioneer. + +Dorrity was what is called a "hatter". He had lived for long periods +in the north absolutely alone; at other times his only companions had +been blacks. Too much of this sort of life is not good for a man. +Moreover, the deadly monotony of Pat's life was broken at long +intervals by the most violent sprees, when he drank steadily for three +weeks on end, finishing the bout by several days of delirium tremens. +None but the strongest constitution could stand such treatment time +after time, and though the Irishman's tough body had not yet shown any +signs of breaking up under the strain, his mind was liable to fits of +moodiness which amounted almost to madness. Such a man is not rare in +Central Australia, and he goes by the name of "hatter". + +After Boss Stobart's last visit to Tumurti Station, when Pat and he had +arranged for the trip to the Musgraves in search of gold, the old cook +had been attacked by fits of moodiness which he could not shake off. +He could not rid his mind of the thought that his friend the drover was +going to defraud him of his share in the gold-mine. He blamed himself +for telling anybody about it, and at last worked himself up into such a +state that he set out, alone except for an old horse, to go to the +Musgrave Ranges. The men on Tumurti Station were used to Pat's sudden +comings and goings, and took them as a matter of course and did not +inquire what he intended to do. He would not have told them if they +had asked, for his feeble mind was set on reaching the supposed mine +before the men whom he thought were going to rob him of it. + +It was some weeks after he had started out from Tumurti with the old +horse that Boss Stobart had found him perishing in a clump of mulgas. +When he recovered, under the drover's kind and wise treatment the +hatter mood had left him for a time. + +The party travelled on slowly from the Box water-hole for several days, +still keeping the high mass of the Musgrave Ranges in front of them, +till at last they came into country which Boss Stobart did not know. +The mountains sent out spurs far into the plains, and when the drover, +who was riding a mile or two ahead of the cattle, came upon a rocky +water-hole in a valley tolerably covered with low bushes, he decided to +camp there for a day or two and explore the surrounding district to +find the best route to take with the cattle. + +It was early in the afternoon when the lowing mob came up to the water; +so when they had had a drink, Stobart gave directions to his black-boys +and rode off, leaving Pat Dorrity to look after the camp. He took with +him a boy named Yarloo. This boy was a Musgrave black whom Stobart had +picked up on one of his droving trips years before and had kept ever +since. The native was devoted to the white man, and Stobart had +responded to this faithfulness in such a way that Yarloo would have +willingly given his life for his hero. The boy's services at this time +were invaluable, for the party had now reached the country in which he +had been born. Before many days his services were to prove more +valuable still, and his devotion was to be put to a very great test. + +The two men rode up the gully to the top, crossed over the spur, dipped +down into a larger gully, and struck out south-west for a plain +stretching towards Oodnadatta which Yarloo remembered, where there were +one or two good water-holes and plenty of cattle-feed for many days. +Darkness came on before they had completed their investigations, and as +there was no need to get back to camp that night, they hobbled their +horses on a patch of dry grass and lay down, each man pillowing his +head on his upturned saddle. + +Next morning they reached the plain, found it to be all that could be +expected considering the drought-stricken state of the country, and +then turned their horses' heads towards camp. + +They had not gone more than half-way when they saw that something was +wrong, for they came across one or two of the cattle which they had +been driving. The animals had evidently been badly scared, for they +galloped away as soon as they caught sight of the two horsemen. It +took some time to round them up, and by that time others were in sight +and others still. Boss Stobart always selected good black stockmen and +trusted them, and he knew that something quite out of the ordinary had +happened to scatter the cattle in this way, and that it was not due to +any carelessness on the boys' part. At last he came upon a bullock +which was tottering along, hardly able to keep on its feet. It tried +to dash away when it saw the mounted men, but the effort was too much +for it. It fell over, tried to get up but couldn't, and lay in the +sand, panting and moaning with pain. + +The point of a spear was sticking in its side just behind the +shoulder-blade. + +Yarloo pulled it out and looked at it. The shaft, which had broken off +about a foot from the end was made of lance-wood. The head of the +spear was broad and flat, and was made of red mulga, a hard, tough, +poisonous wood. It was bound to the shaft with kangaroo sinews and +spinifex gum in such a way that the black-boy had no hesitation in +pointing to the mountain range to the left of them. "Musgrave +black-fella," he said. "Me know um this one." + +Stobart left the cattle which they had collected in charge of Yarloo +and galloped ahead. He met other cattle, dead or dying, but was not +prepared for what he saw when he topped the rise just above the +water-hole where the camp had been. + +A crowd of about fifty blacks squatted round a fire. Their naked +bodies were smeared with red ochre and clay in fantastic designs, and +many of them had feathers or grass or the claws of large birds in their +bunched-up hair. Great bleeding chunks of meat and entrails were +smoking and sizzling in the fire, and all around them were the +carcasses of dead cattle. It seemed incredible that fifty men armed +only with boomerangs and wooden spears should have been able to commit +such a slaughter. The white man took all this in at a glance, and then +his face hardened and he knew that he was nearer death than he had ever +been before, for a little distance away were the bodies of six clothed +black-boys and a white man, laid out in a row. The sun beat down +pitilessly on that terrible scene, but not one of the seven put his +hand up to drive away the flies or to protect his head from the glare. +They were dead! + +The feasting natives saw him at once and rose to their feet with a +yell. Stobart did not ride away. Such an act of fear would have made +his death sure, and probably more hideous than it would be if he faced +those shouting, dancing, gesticulating fiends. + +He took a fresh grip of the reins and urged his unwilling horse to go +down the hill to meet the blacks. This act of courageous audacity +checked them for a moment. They collected in a bunch and yabbered +excitedly. Stobart understood several aboriginal languages, but this +one was wild and harsh and quiet strange to him. + +Sitting firmly but easily in the saddle, the white man rode quietly up +to the savages. When he was only a horse's length away, he drew rein +and looked at them. Several of the men stepped back, flung their +spear-arms behind their heads, fastened the woomeras, and prepared to +throw. But the long quivering shafts never left their hands. One or +two jumped out from the crowd and swayed back their supple black bodies +to give additional force to a boomerang. But the heavy curved weapon +never started on its death-dealing course. Here and there a man sprang +up in the air and waved his spears wildly over his head, and shouted +words of hatred towards the white man and of encouragement to his +companions. But the result of it all was nothing worse than +threatening and noise. + +Stobart sat and looked at them. He was a famous horse-breaker and a +noted man with cattle, and had found, in dealing both with animals and +with men, the power which his eye possessed. It was the focusing-point +of all the force and personality of a remarkable man. + +But who can quell and keep on quelling the passions of fifty savages +who have tasted blood? One man broke the spell of the drover's steady +glance. He jumped to one side and hurled a boomerang. Stobart dodged. +It passed him and whizzed on, turning and turning for nearly two +hundred yards, so great had been the force behind it. The man had put +so much energy into the throw that his body was jerked forward till he +was standing beside the horseman. + +A great shout went up when the weapon left the hand of the +black-fellow, but it was cut off suddenly to amazed silence when the +boomerang passed on and left the white unharmed. This man must be a +devil. At once every spear was raised, poised in the woomera, and +directed, not at the white man, but at the native who had dared to pit +his strength against a supernatural power. Stobart understood the +situation immediately, and so did the unfortunate black, who hunched +his shoulders ready for death. + +Suddenly one of those reckless impulses came to the drover which come +only to great men, and which are often the turning-points of their +lives. He jabbed spurs into his horse's flanks and wheeled it like a +flash between the cringing native and his would-be murderers. At the +same time he raised his hand and shouted: + +"Stop!" + +Not one of them had ever heard the word before, but they understood +what it meant by the white man's tone and gesture of command. They +instantly obeyed. Before the sound of Stobart's voice had come back in +echo from the mountains, every spear was lowered. + +The white man backed his horse and looked down at the native whose life +he had saved. The man was grovelling in the sand in abject fear and +gratitude. Stobart motioned to him to get up and return to the others. +He did so, and as he slunk away, the drover noticed that the middle two +fingers of his left hand were missing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A Friend and a Foe + +Boss Stobart had had too much experience with blacks to think that he +was safe. He had escaped instant death and seemed to have gained some +sort of control over those savage minds, but he knew that at any time +the long quivering spears, which had just been lowered at his command, +might be hurled at him and bury their poisonous heads in his body. So +he continued to sit on his horse and look steadily at the naked savages. + +When they had got over their surprise, both at the white man having +power to turn aside a boomerang--as they thought--and at his saving the +life of his enemy, they began to yabber and gesticulate. They pointed +to the seven dead men and then at Stobart with fear in their faces; +they looked round at the slaughtered cattle and wondered what revenge +this supernatural man would take; the sound and smell of cooking meat +grew very tantalizing, but they did not dare to continue the feast till +the white man made some sign of anger or pleasure. + +The drover did not turn his head. There were those in the crowd who +had not come under the spell of his authority, and he knew it; +therefore he kept on facing them. He looked steadily at one man in +particular; a tall, well-proportioned native with a commanding head and +features. Through the septum of the man's nose a little bundle of thin +bones had been thrust, and this, together with a particular design +painted on his chest, proclaimed him to be a man of power, the doctor +of the tribe. He regarded Stobart with a scowl of hatred, and went +about amongst his companions telling them that there was no difference +between this white man and other men of his colour, and that he would +be as easy to kill as the poor sick Irishman who was now lying so +quietly in the sand. The natives, however, did not know what to do. +Stobart's life hung by a thread. + +This state of uncertainty was suddenly cut short by a native appearing +on the top of the hill immediately behind Stobart. He had been running +and had hardly breath enough to shout the news to the men below. He +had seen Yarloo and the little mob of cattle. Most of the blacks at +once ran up the hill and looked back in the direction where he was +pointing. The native doctor and the man with the mutilated left hand +were amongst those who stayed near the fire, and Stobart felt sure that +the man whom he had saved was there on purpose to see that his rescuer +came to no harm. + +After a great deal of noise and waving of arms and stamping of feet, +the party on the hill disappeared down the other side, and presently +some cattle came straggling over the top and ran down to the water-hole +for a drink. Yarloo followed, escorted by the blacks who had gone out +to meet him. He had evidently established friendly relations with his +fellow-tribesmen, for they were all laughing and talking excitedly, and +already one or two of them were adorned with articles of Yarloo's +clothing which he had given them. The much-envied recipients of these +gifts were probably relations or members of the same totem, and the +wise boy had made the most of his opportunities for showing goodwill, +for his master's sake. + +Yarloo was evidently very much relieved to find Boss Stobart safe. He +went up to the drover and showed so plainly that the white man was his +honoured friend, that the other natives at once changed their attitude, +and gave every sign of favour to the man whom they had so recently +wanted to kill. + +Stobart was invited to join the feast. His own tucker-packs had not +been interfered with, for the blacks had started to cut up and eat meat +as soon as the slaughter was over; so to the only item on the primitive +menu he added a few tins of jam and treacle, a bottle or two of tomato +sauce, and all the damper which was left. Afterwards, when all had +gorged themselves to their fullest capacity, he handed round small +plugs of tobacco, which the men accepted eagerly and started to chew at +once. The doctor kept aloof from these proceedings and would not touch +the white man's food or tobacco, so Stobart gave the man whom he had +rescued from death a double share, and thereby cemented a friendship +which he thought might be useful in the future. + +Feasting went on into the night and did not stop till the morning star +was rising. Everybody crawled under bushes and stunted trees and went +to sleep. Now was Stobart's chance. He signed to Yarloo. The +faithful boy had not followed his natural desires to eat as fully as +his fellow-tribesmen had done, but had kept himself ready for any +emergency which might occur. + +"We go 'way now, Yarloo, I think," whispered Stobart. "Which way +horses go?" + +The boy pointed in a certain direction. "Me go find um nantu (horses), +boss," he said. "Me tie um up 'nother side sand-hill. By'm-by sun +come up, black-fella sleep, aller same dead; sleep like blazes. You +bring um two fella saddle 'nother side sand-hill. Little bit tucker. +We clear out. Me know um this country." He looked round at the naked +blacks, all smeared with blood and grease and dirt, and snoring in +profound sleep, and laughed quietly. "Silly fella," he remarked. "All +about sleep long time. My word, too much long time." + +Soon afterwards Yarloo went off on the tracks of the horses, which he +had had the forethought to hobble before letting them go the previous +afternoon, and when Stobart was quite sure that everybody was soundly +sleeping, he went over to the packs, stuffed his pockets with tucker, +and carried his own and Yarloo's saddles out of sight over the +sand-hill. He returned for his rifle and water-bag, for he did not +know whether their lives might not depend on one or the other of these. +He did not dare to stay away too long from the sleeping blacks, for +fear that one of them should wake and notice that he had gone, so he +returned and lay down under a tree and waited for Yarloo. + +It was nearly noon when the boy returned, and the expression on his +face clearly indicated disaster. + +"Nantu dead," he announced sorrowfully. + +"Dead?" exclaimed Stobart. "What, all of them?" + +"Yah. All about." + +The drover was too much amazed to ask any more questions for a time. +The blacks had certainly made a thorough work of their first slaughter, +but surely they had not killed the two horses which had been let go +since friendly relations were established. He looked so perplexed that +the boy started to explain. + +"Nantu killed aller same cattle," he said. + +"Yes, but what about Billy and Ginger?" asked the white man. (These +were the horses Stobart and Yarloo had ridden the previous day.) + +"Dead," said Yarloo emphatically. "Me bin see um." + +"How? Speared?" asked Stobart. + +The native looked round stealthily as if afraid of being heard. Then +he lowered his voice and whispered: "Neh. Nantu no bin speared. +Throat bin cut this way." He poked his finger into his neck at the +side of the gullet and made a cutting movement. + +There was only one man in the tribe who would have done the killing in +that way, and Stobart asked: "Doctor-man, eh?" + +Yarloo looked again. The drover had never seen the boy look so +startled. Then he pointed to his nose and indicated the decoration of +the native doctor, and to his chest and drew the distinguishing marks +of his calling, and nodded. He did not dare to speak. The man with +the bunch of bones stuck through his nose, the man who had tried his +best to stir up his companions to kill Stobart and had persistently +repulsed all overtures of friendship, this man had tracked up the two +horses in the night and had cut their throats. The white man was his +enemy; he must not be allowed to escape, for he would sooner or later +be put to death. Stobart knew that he had a powerful foe. + +The drover had succeeded in making a friend of the man with the +mutilated left hand, but had not been able to overcome the hatred of +the most influential man in the tribe. + +The upshot of the adventure was that Boss Stobart was forced to +accompany the tribe of Musgrave warraguls back to their mountain +fastnesses. In the ranges he found fertile valleys watered with +permanent springs, game and birds in abundance, and many indications of +the gold which so many daring prospectors had sought for at the price +of their lives. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +A Prisoner + +The famous drover was a prisoner. He was free to come and go when and +where he liked, but he soon found that he was being closely watched, +and that, until he was quite certain of success, any attempt to escape +would be worse than useless. It would result in his death. + +At first Stobart couldn't understand what they wanted to keep him for, +and why they didn't kill him right away, but after a time he found out +that Yarloo had told them so many wonderful things about his "white +boss", that his captors' opinion as to his supernatural powers was +confirmed. In his zeal to save his master's life, the faithful boy had +gone a little too far, for the warragul tribe decided that they must +keep such a marvellous man with them at all costs, and that his +presence would be sure to bring them plenty of the good things of +life--water, tucker, and healthy children. + +As soon as possible without arousing suspicion, Stobart sent Yarloo to +Oodnadatta with a note for Sax, hoping that Sergeant Scott would be +able to send out a rescue party at once. But, as we have seen, the +trooper was away from home and nobody knew when he would be back again. + +The camp where the drover was obliged to live consisted of thirty or +forty wurlies on the side of a little hill above a spring. The +dwellings were temporary and primitive, as blacks' dwellings are: +branches stuck into the ground and drawn together at the top to make a +shape like an inverted bowl. Stobart could have had one of these, but +as the former occupant had not left it as clean as a white man likes +his home to be, he chose a small cave a few yards above the camp. This +gave him the considerable advantage of being away from the dogs and +smell which are inseparable from a blacks' camp. + +A bushmen always makes the best of a bad job, and Stobart did not see +why he should not have as good a time as he possibly could while +waiting for the chance to escape. He never for one moment doubted that +his adventure would end successfully, and his chief sorrow was for the +loss of the cattle. In the thirty years during which he had driven +stock from one end of Central Australia to the other, he had never had +one real disaster. Of course there had been small losses, sometimes +because of drought, once by flood, and once also because of a band of +marauding blacks which he had succeeded in driving off before they had +done much damage; but he had never failed to deliver his charges at +their destination better in condition and in greater numbers than could +be expected under the circumstances. It speaks well for the man's +stern sense of duty that, though he was a captive in a camp of the +wildest savages in Australia, and liable to death at any time, he +worried, not about his own safety, but about the lost cattle. + +He became proficient with both boomerang and spear, and could soon +knock over a rock wallaby or a cockatoo as neatly as any man in the +tribe, and, because of his greater strength, he was more than a match +for the natives at any kind of sport. He had been a good tracker for +many years, but he now found that he had much to learn from these +natives, who for generation after generation had hunted for their food +by tracking it. Sometimes he was away from camp for days together with +a hunting expedition, and in this way he became perfectly familiar with +the lay of the country. By his constant association with the +warraguls, he picked up a good deal of their speech, and was soon able +to carry on conversations with them, supplying anything he did not know +by gestures, which are the same all over the world. + +After several weeks had gone by in this way, and he had made no attempt +to escape, he started to go hunting with only a few natives instead of +with a big party. The man with the mutilated left hand was always one +of these, and Stobart gradually made his companions fewer and fewer, +till it became quite the recognized thing for him to go off with only +this one native. The man's name was a long one, and Stobart shortened +it to Coiloo. At first his companion, though he very much appreciated +the honour of being with his hero, was shy, and did no more than fulfil +the white man's wishes faithfully and well. But Stobart had learnt how +to win the confidence of blacks, and before long the man had ceased to +fear his master--for so he considered the man who had saved him from +death--and was devoted to him with all his heart. + +Soon after this Coiloo told Stobart about the expedition which was +about to set out against Mick's party travelling to Sidcotinga Station. +With the wonderful power which the blacks possess of conveying +information over tremendous distances by means of smoke signals, the +tribes in the Musgrave Ranges knew all about Mick Darby and his +companions, and Stobart was very much concerned when he heard that two +white boys were of the number. He knew at once who they were. Not +twice in a man's lifetime do boys, fresh from a city school, travel up +into Central Australia and leave the few little centres of civilization +which are there, and strike out west into the desert; so the drover was +certain that one of those white boys was his son. + +He spent a whole day describing the boy to Coiloo. He only had an old +photograph to guide him, and even this had been left behind in the +packs near the fatal water-hole; but the father had so often pictured +his son in his own mind, that the description which he gave again and +again to the warragul was so good that the man had no difficulty in +recognizing Sax when he saw him. Then Stobart told Coiloo to join the +marauding-party and to see that the boys came to no harm. The result +of the native's faithfulness is already known. + +When Coiloo had gone, Stobart frequently went out alone. He was such a +successful hunter, and was so willing to add the result of his prowess +to the general food-supply of the camp, that nobody objected to his +solitary expeditions. But Stobart had a more important reason for his +wanderings than bringing home dead game. He was looking forward to the +day when everything would be ready for a successful escape from the +Musgrave Ranges, and he was determined to take away with him something +more than his bare life: he meant to take the secret of the Musgrave +gold. + +At first, when he started to go out alone, he always returned at night, +but gradually he accustomed the camp to his absence for longer periods, +till he was able at last to carry out his investigations unhindered. +He found many traces of gold, but as he had no tools, and did not want +to arouse any suspicions as to the real object of his journeys, he was +not able to tell whether the traces lead to any larger deposits. There +were little gullies which ran water in times of storm, where specks of +the glittering metal could easily be seen in the sand; and quartz +boulders stained with what looked like rust, here and there on a +scrub-covered hill-side; and little cracks in the sheer face of a cliff +where veins of dirty red ran about like the marks in marble. The +Ranges were evidently a very rich "prospect", and it was no wonder that +white men had braved the desert and the men who lived there, for the +lure of gold is the strongest of all, and men die willingly in +answering its call. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +The Outpost of Death + +One day Stobart set out in a new direction. His only articles of dress +were a pair of trousers, so ragged and torn that they did not reach +below his knees, and an old felt hat. His shirt had been torn up into +strips to bandage his bleeding feet before they had become accustomed +to walking without boots. He carried two spears, a woomera, and a +boomerang, while an appliance for making fire hung at his belt. + +He walked till it was nearly dark that day, then made a fire near a +rock-hole, cooked and ate a lizard, and went to sleep. When he awoke +the sun had not yet risen. The surrounding mountains were clearly +outlined against the pale early morning sky, and when the white man had +stooped to drink and had made up the fire, he sat down and looked idly +around him, waiting for it to be light enough for him to hunt for his +breakfast. + +It was a strange position for a white man to be in, and if Stobart had +not had a stout heart he would have given way to despair, and either +"gone bush" entirely, as some white men have done, and become a full +member of the warragul tribe, or he would have committed suicide. But +Boss Stobart did not give up hope. The unaccustomed food was beginning +to tell upon his superb health and strength, and as he sat by the +little flame which seemed to get fainter and fainter as daylight +increased, he knew that he could not afford to put off his bid for +freedom much longer. + +All at once his listless gaze was arrested. He leaned forward eagerly +and stared at one of the rocky peaks. From where he was sitting, its +outline against the light eastern sky looked exactly like the nose of a +man lying down. It was so perfectly clear that Stobart laughed. But +he was not laughing at its striking resemblance to a man's nose; +certain words of the old Irishman who had been murdered by the blacks +came to him. Pat Dorrity had talked in his sleep a great deal the +first night after the drover had saved him from perishing. The man was +feverish, and the sentences had been jumbled up and meaningless at the +time, but Stobart's memory now recalled certain words which he had +scarcely noticed at the time. + +"Man's nose. Man's nose," the old fellow had muttered. "Man's nose +seen looking east. Waterhole on other side. Look out! Look out!" +Then he had become very excited, and such words as blacks and spears +and gold and skulls had been mixed up in hopeless confusion. + +The peak which Stobart was now looking at was certainly exactly like a +man's nose, and he was also looking east. One direction was as good as +another to him that morning, and, as his curiosity was aroused, he +forgot about his breakfast and began to climb the hill-side towards the +rocky top. Before he was half-way up the sun shone over the rim of the +mountains, and he was very hot and thirsty when he finally reached the +mass of rock on the summit. He looked down on the other side for the +expected water-hole, but the valley was covered with dense scrub, and +he saw nothing to give him hope of a drink. However, the ranges were +so well watered that he started at once to go down the hill, hoping to +find a spring or rock-hole somewhere in the valley. + +He was disappointed for some time. The trees thinned as he reached the +bottom of the hill and gave place to a broad stretch of sand. This +surface showed no sign of water whatever, which was strange, for there +had been several storms in the hills since Stobart had been taken +prisoner, and the steep rocky slopes of the valley would certainly run +off most of the rain which fell upon them. The drover had come across +instances of the same thing in the Macdonnel Ranges, away to the north, +and he knew that the rain soaked in at the extreme edges of the valley +and ran away in a stream many feet below the surface, and never +disturbed the sand on top. There is usually a water-hole at the head +of such a valley as this, and Stobart was on his way up to look for it, +when he received such a shock that he dropped his weapons and stood +staring at the sand, his mouth and eyes wide open with amazement. He +did not believe his sight. He rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked +away, but when his gaze came back again, there was the same sign in the +sand. + +The tracks of a shod horse! + +It was impossible to tell how old the marks were. There were only +three or four of them, and they ran up a little strip of clay which the +wind had blown clear of sand. They had evidently been made when the +clay was soft during rain, and the imprints had been baked hard by the +sun and would remain clear for a very long time. + +Stobart gazed with utter astonishment at those few prints of a shod +horse. They meant one thing, one thing supremely, a white man--a gold +prospector most likely, one of the dauntless pioneers who had crossed +the desert and had not returned. + +The tracks led up the valley. Stobart picked up his weapons and +hurried on. Soon he came to a natural embankment of sand which +stretched across from one rocky slope to another. He climbed it. The +other side was clear of timber. A glint of water caught his eye. The +sun had just penetrated the cool shade of that silent place and was +striking keen light from a water-hole at the foot of a boulder-strewn +knoll right in the middle of the valley. + +The white man's thirst was now so great that he was about to start +running down to the water which lay so invitingly some twenty yards +away, when something white caught his eye. + +It looked like the Southern Cross worked out in perfectly white stones +on the surface of the sand near the water-hole. Stobart did not run. +An uncanny feeling came over him. Those hoof-marks, and now this +design--surely the thing must be the work of man. + +Suddenly he stumbled. His bare feet caught in something and he +tripped. He looked down at his toe. It was cut and bleeding slightly. +He went back to find the thing which had tripped him. + +It was the blade of a shovel! + +One edge was sticking up. With shaking hands Stobart pulled it out of +the sand. It came away easily, for the handle was burnt. He groped +about near it and uncovered, one after another, a gold-washing dish, a +pick-head, a couple of wedges, and a hammer. The sand had drifted over +them and made a mound. Then he laid bare a truly gruesome +sight--charred embers of wood and half-burnt human bones. + +Stobart did not disturb the sand any more. He knew now why the gold +prospectors, who had penetrated into the Musgrave fastnesses in search +of the wealth which was reputed to be there, had never returned. Would +_he_ ever return, he wondered. The place was haunted by the spirits of +the murdered dead, and was guarded by black devils in human form. Even +now one of them might be watching him, waiting an opportunity of adding +his bones to the collection which the sand had covered up. + +He rose to his feet. He was thirsty, and the sight he had just seen +made him want to soak his whole body in the cool clean water of the +pool. He laughed harshly. What were all these fancies which were +coming into his head? He would not give way to them. This life in a +blacks' camp was upsetting his nerves. What were a few dead men after +all? He had seen plenty of them. _He_ was alive and would soon escape +from this outpost of death. He laughed again. The rocky walls sent +back an echo of his laugh. It sounded like an evil spirit mocking him. +He walked a few paces, till he was near those white things which had +been laid out so carefully in the design of the Southern Cross. He +looked at them. He looked again, astonished beyond measure. Yes! No! +Yes, they were! + +They were human skulls--white men's skulls! + +Stobart staggered away. He lay down on the edge of the water. He +needed its cool touch to save him from madness. He drank deep, deep +satisfying draughts. He bathed his head and face and plunged his arms +in it, splashing the life-giving drops over his naked chest. The sense +of horror gradually began to leave him, and he realized that he had +reached the object of his search. He had found the Musgrave gold-mine. +From where he lay he looked up at the boulder-strewn knoll behind the +water-hole. Even at the distance of several yards he could see that +every boulder was more richly studded with the precious metal than any +he had ever seen. It did not surprise him. The events of the last +hour had robbed him of the power to be surprised. He just looked up at +all that wealth and knew it was his--his, if only he could take it away. + +He turned his head and looked at the skulls. Each bleached remains of +what had once been the head of a courageous man was looking at him out +of empty eye-sockets. The jaws had been propped open and seemed to be +laughing with ghastly dead mirth into the face of the living man. +Stobart's imagination began to play tricks with him, for when he turned +his eyes away, the glances of the skulls seemed to turn also. + +He plunged his head once more into water and leaned over till his chest +and arms were covered. His hands groped about in the cool sand, and +when he pulled them out again they were full of wet sand. The sun's +rays caught it and struck a thousand flashes from the grains. They +looked unusually yellow and bright. Stobart turned the sand over and +let it run between his fingers. It was like grains of sunlight. He +thought that his overwrought nerves were deceiving him, and picked up +another handful. It behaved exactly in the same way. It glinted and +flashed yellow in a way that no sand could ever do. All at once it +dawned upon him. This was no trick of sunlight on wet sand. This was +no make-believe of tired nerves. + +The sand of that water-hole was gold! + +The white man stood up. He had no tools with which to work at the +boulders for specimens to take away with him when he escaped. But here +was gold, some of which could easily be hidden on his person to prove, +to anybody who might doubt his story, that he alone of all men had +solved the mystery of the Musgraves and had returned again to the +haunts of men of his own colour. He stooped to gather another handful, +and as he did so something whirled through the air and fell in the +water in front of him. He jumped back quickly. The water was clear, +for the grains of golden sand had settled and left no mud. + +It was an old horseshoe! Surely the place was bewitched. He looked +round, wondering what next would happen. Suddenly another horseshoe +came from a clump of low bushes nearly a hundred yards up the gully. +Stobart saw it coming and dodged it. It fell at his feet and he picked +it up. He was a good tracker and knew it at once. That shoe had made +one of the tracks which he had seen in the clay. There was no doubt +about it. + +The sense of a supernatural foe, which was making a coward of the brave +white man, left him all at once. Evil spirits do not play with old +rusty metal. A human arm must have thrown that horseshoe. He had seen +the second one leave the bushes where the man was in ambush. Now was +the time for action. Grasping a boomerang he ran at full speed up the +valley. He reached the bushes. Nobody was there. But, leading to and +from the hiding-place, were the recent tracks of a man's bare feet. +Stobart recognized them at once. The warragul doctor had thrown those +horseshoes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Arrkroo, the Hater + +The native doctor fled, like the evil black spirit that he was, up the +valley. Although an old man, he was still in the prime of his +strength, and he knew the path to and from the Pool of Skulls so well, +that he had the advantage over Stobart, who had never been there +before. For the first few yards the marks of his naked feet were +clearly seen, and the white man ran swiftly, but the tracks soon became +confused in a mass of loose stones which had fallen from the cliffs, +and were finally lost altogether on the rocky sides of the valley, till +Stobart could not possibly tell which way his enemy had gone. He had +heard no sound and seen no sign of the running man, yet he knew that he +was close upon him when he was forced to give up the chase, and, as if +to confirm this opinion, when Stobart finally stood still and looked at +the great boulders above him, hoping to see a black human form flit +from one to another, a stone came out of the silence, hurled with +deadly force and aim. Years of danger with wild cattle had made the +drover's actions as quick as lightning. The stone was totally +unexpected, but he jerked his head aside just in time. Instead of +striking him in the face, it caught the brim of his hat and sent the +old felt spinning from his head. He jumped back, picked it up, and +crouched behind a rock. + +Absolute silence reigned. The sun was very near its zenith, but in +that deep valley the air was still cool. Across the clear flawless +blue sky sailed an eagle on wide-spread motionless wings, wheeling +round and round in slow circles, wondering when another human victim +would be provided for him down there beside the water-hole. + +After a time Stobart went back to the place of horror, with its charred +bones, its terrible design in skulls, and its golden-sanded pool. He +knew what fear natives have of dead bodies, and that there was only one +man in all the Musgrave tribes who would dare to play such a gruesome +trick with the remains of his enemies, and that man was the native +doctor--Arrkroo, the Hater. Even he, powerful and feared though he +was, dared not actually kill Stobart. The other natives would track +their white hero and would soon know everything that had happened, and +Arrkroo was afraid of what they might do to him. The Hater did not +mind so long as Stobart merely hunted and behaved like a native, but +when he started to wander around alone and search for signs of the +glittering yellow metal, Arrkroo became alarmed, and, though the white +man did not know it, his enemy had followed and watched him closely for +weeks. + +Arrkroo understood that if once the secret of the ranges was known +beyond the desert, many white men would come with weapons which make a +noise like thunder in the hills and which kill a long way off. They +would drive out the natives who owned the mountain fastnesses, for, +thought the doctor, what does a white man care so long as he can put +that heavy yellow sand in little bags and take it away? + +So, for the safety of his people, as well as because he was jealous of +Stobart's power, the Hater was determined that the white man should die. + +Stobart stood by the pool and looked at the golden sand. He was more +than ever determined to escape, and now he wanted to take away with him +just enough of that precious metal to prove to others that his story +was true. He wanted so many men to believe him that there would be +such a rush to the Musgraves that they would escape, by sheer force of +numbers, from the terrible fate of the lonely prospectors. + +But how could he take that golden sand away? His only garment was a +tattered pair of trousers with the pockets torn out, and a belt at +which hung his fire-sticks, and where he still kept his old black pipe, +though it had been cold and empty for many weeks. He could not +possibly tear his trousers to make a bag, for there was not a single +piece of good cloth left; his hat was no good for the purpose. But his +pipe--ah! that was the thing! + +He scraped his pipe clean and then jammed the bowl full of fine gold. +To make sure that the gold was pure, he panned it off in the old rusty +dish which he had unearthed near the half-burnt bones. When he had +filled the pipe nearly to the top, he daubed it over with stiff clay so +that none of the sand could fall out. Then he picked up his weapons +and started back for the camp. + +A surprise was waiting for him. The marauding band, which had gone out +against Mick Darby's party, had returned. They were in high spirits +and reported that they had killed all the horses of the plant, and that +a white man and two white boys had been left to perish. Stobart did +not hear the whole story at once, for, as soon as he walked into camp, +the excitement died down, and nobody cared to tell this white man that +three other white men had just met the most lingering of all deaths in +the desert scrub. But blacks are like children and cannot keep a +secret, and Stobart soon knew all that he wanted to know. + +The light of his life went out. The drover was devoted to his son. He +was one of those splendid men who do things as well as they possibly +can in order to satisfy their own stanch sense of honour; but there can +be no doubt that one of the main springs of Boss Stobart's life was the +thought that he would one day share it with his son. And now Sax was +dead! Just when he had found the object of his search, just when the +time of his escape had almost come and he was only waiting for the +return of the faithful Yarloo, just when hope was highest, these fiends +had killed his son. + +He looked round at their savage black faces. He caught sight of +Arrkroo, the man who hated him. He saw the naked women and children, +he noticed the dogs and the filth on all sides, and his hand tightened +on the huge boomerang which he held. Why shouldn't he rush in amongst +these men and deal out death, right, left, in front, behind. His anger +was rising to madness. He felt that he could overcome the whole tribe +of them. And if he failed, what matter? At least he would have had +his revenge. + +He dropped his spears and got ready. A fire was burning in front of +him. With a few lighted sticks he could set the camp ablaze. He +imagined the wurlies roaring up to heaven, while he, a captive white +man, mad with rage, ran shouting through the crowd, dealing out death +with every blow of his boomerang. + +Not one of the natives suspected what he was going to do. He had +already chosen a suitable blazing stick, and was stooping to pick it +out of the fire, when he heard Coiloo's name mentioned. He waited for +a moment and listened. The men were saying that Coiloo had not come +back. Nobody seemed to know what had become of him, and it struck +Stobart as strange that Yarloo was not referred to as being one of the +party, till he remembered that the boy would be riding a horse and +would therefore leave no tracks which his fellow-tribesmen could +recognize. + +This moment of thought saved the drover from an act of madness which +would certainly have ended in his death. Stobart trusted Yarloo +implicitly, and also felt sure that Coiloo was doing his best to carry +out the white man's wishes. Therefore he knew that it would be foolish +to vent his rage at this particular time, and perhaps spoil what the +two faithful natives were doing for him. So he picked up his weapons +again, took his share of the horse-flesh, and went up to his cave. + +He was very down-hearted. He was a man of action, and here he was, +impelled to wait while others did things for him which he knew nothing +about. He was very tired, but could not sleep because of his restless +thoughts, so he went outside his cave after cooking and eating his +dinner, and started to walk about in the cool evening air. He walked +as silently as a native, and presently heard the sound of a voice +chanting quietly and earnestly in the native tongue. He crept nearer. +A man was crouching down on all four like an animal, swaying his body +and muttering. Stobart was standing up and could not see who it was, +so he stooped down till the man's body and head were silhouetted +against the sky. It was Arrkroo, the Hater. + +Inch by inch Stobart worked his way nearer, till he heard the words and +saw what the native doctor was doing. There was a small pointed bone, +called an irna, about eight inches long, sticking upright in the sand. +At one end was a knob of hardened gum from spinifex grass, and a long +string made of the hair of a lubra was attached to it. The man was +stooping over the irna and muttering: + +"Okinchincha quin appani ilchi ilchi-a." (May your head and throat be +split open.) + +He said this three times, moved the irna to a new place, and then began +a new curse: + +"Purtulinga apina-a intaapa inkirilia quin appani intarpakala-a." (May +your backbone be split open and your ribs torn asunder.) + +This went on for some time and then Arrkroo got up and walked away, +leaving the irna in the ground. Next night he would return for it, and +whoever the man pointed that bone at would most certainly die. Natives +do not think that any man dies from a natural cause; it is always a +case of magic, and if a big strong healthy black-fellow happens to be +"boned" by his enemy in the proper way, he gets weaker and weaker, +either with or without some special disease, till at last he dies. He +always dies. + +Arrkroo was afraid to kill Stobart openly, therefore he had prepared +powerful magic and was going to "bone" him. Stobart guessed this, and +took the chance of showing his power over the native doctor. He caught +hold of the irna by the string, pulled it out of the sand, and walked +back to the camp with it. + +The men were all feasting round the fire. Arrkroo was amongst them, +eating sparingly, as is the habit with the native doctors, and no doubt +thinking what he was going to do to-morrow when he boned the hated +white man. Everybody looked up when Stobart came into the firelight. +One or two of the men saw the irna and called out, and at once the +whole tribe was on its feet in alarm. Arrkroo saw it also and shook +with fear. The white man was indeed a devil, for how else could he +have found a little bone stuck in the sand on a dark night? In an +instant the fire was deserted. The frightened natives crouched behind +wurlies and breakwinds, dreading least the white man should point that +deadly bone at them. But Stobart swung it by its hair string till it +was over the hottest part of the fire and then let it drop. The string +frizzled instantly, the knob of spinifex melted and flared up, and the +bone was soon reduced to white powder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +The Dance of Death + +Arrkroo, the Hater, had failed again. Stobart had openly triumphed +over him by burning his deadly irna. The native feared this white man, +but hated him more than he feared him, and was more than ever resolved +to bring about his death. + +Several days later, an old man of the tribe, named Wuntoo, became ill. +Blacks have a great respect for age, and the sickness of Wuntoo caused +great sorrow. A solemn gathering of all the men was called. Arrkroo +was there and so was Stobart, for the white captive did not want to +arouse suspicion or unfriendly feelings by staying away. The sickness +of Wuntoo was, of course, attributed to magic; some enemy of the old +man had boned him. It was, therefore, the duty of the gathering to +find out and to punish the man who had done this, whether he was a +member of their own tribe or whether he lived several hundred miles +away. + +Arrkroo was the only man present who really knew what ailed Wuntoo, for +he himself had put poison in the old man's food--the juice of a +narrow-leafed vine which grew only in the Valley of the Skulls. He had +used this same poison to kill every prospector who had found the +golden-sanded pool. After a lot of talk, which got more and more +excited and incoherent as the meeting went on, Stobart volunteered to +go and see the sick man. He knew that the natives would only sing over +the invalid, or give him sand to eat, or practise a repulsive and +harmful magic upon him, and he thought that perhaps some simple +treatment might make him right again. Stobart had gained influence +over the minds of the tribesmen, and was allowed to go. This was just +what Arrkroo had hoped for. + +Next day Wuntoo was worse, due to another dose of the poison which the +crafty Arrkroo had administered. A second meeting was called. The old +man was dying. Arrkroo arrived with freshly painted body and new +feathers in his hair, and addressed the men with all the powers at his +command. He felt that, if he failed to defeat the white man this time, +his authority in the tribe would be gone for ever. He danced before +his listeners, lifting his striped legs high, and swaying his body this +way and that till the designs in white and red hypnotized the natives +and held them spell-bound. + +Even Stobart felt the evil power of the man. When he had got their +minds under his control, he chanted to them of the great days of the +Alcheringa when they were a powerful fair-skinned race of giants, and +had everything that their hearts could desire. He went on to tell of +one misfortune after another which had befallen them: their bodies had +grown small, their skins black, and droughts had changed the earth from +a garden into a desert. The warraguls listened, swaying their bodies +as Arrkroo swayed his, and breaking out at times in wild shouts of +agreement. Arrkroo was an orator in his primitive way, and he now had +his audience completely at his command. He could do what he liked with +it. + +He began to talk of white men: of the way in which they had invaded the +country and driven the natives back and back till now a mere handful of +them survived in such places as the Musgrave Ranges. But the hated +white men were never satisfied. They wanted the Musgraves too. They +wanted the gold which was there. Everybody present knew the fate of +the white prospectors, and that if once the secret was known, such a +rush would set in that the warraguls would be driven out of this, their +last great stronghold. + +Arrkroo turned towards Stobart. Every man in the gathering looked at +him also. "See," shouted the Hater in the native tongue. "See. White +man. He find gold. His tracks all around Pool of Skulls. He want run +away. He come back soon. Nintha (one), thama (two), urapitcha +(three), therankathera (four)--many, many more. Kill black-fellow. +Kill black-fellow. Kill black-fellow." + +He stopped speaking and stretched out his painted arm towards the +drover. The warraguls leapt to their feet, their eyes blazing, and +their bodies ready to spring upon the white man. Stobart got up from +the ground very slowly and faced his enemies, staring steadily at them. +His hour had come. He would face death without flinching. + +The blacks paused. Arrkroo feared that even now the white man would +escape by the tremendous power of his dauntless eye. So he started to +speak again, very excitedly. + +"He bone Wuntoo. He burn bone, make death sure. You all see him burn +bone. He go in last night, make him worse. You see him go in last +night. Wuntoo die. You all die. You all die. You all die." + +He had succeeded. A roar of fear and hatred went up from the assembly. +Every man goaded his neighbour to be the first to spring upon the +defenceless captive. Arrkroo's heart was glad. He started to dance +again, but this time it was the Dance of Death. Stobart knew that he +was a doomed man, but not a muscle of his face altered. The crowd of +frenzied warraguls, eager to pull him limb from limb, leaned forward, +but he still held them with his fearless eye. How long would it last? + +Arrkroo danced nearer and nearer. When one of those whirling arms of +his touched the victim, the spell would be broken, and Boss Stobart, +the bravest drover of Central Australia, would go down before the +onslaught of a hundred yelling fiends. + +Arrkroo's spinning and swaying body came nearer and nearer. There was +tense stillness. Men held their breath. Stobart faced the future as +he had always faced every difficulty--with clear open-eyed courage. +Arrkroo's hand passed his face so closely that he felt the wind of it. +The next time it would touch him. + +Stobart did not move, but every muscle of his powerful body gathered +itself for the supremest effort of his life. The head of the Hater +swayed towards him, back, and then forward again. Then Stobart acted! +Like a flash his fist shot out. His body was like a spring suddenly +released. The weight of every ounce of him, the force of every nerve +and sinew, and all the gathered knowledge of years went into that +terrific blow. It caught Arrkroo on the point of the chin. There was +a sickening click. The man's head went back like the lid of a box. He +fell to the ground, quivered for a moment, and then lay still. + +It all happened in the time taken to blink twice. + +The crowd surged back. A gasp of astonishment went up. In a couple of +seconds Stobart was alone with his fallen enemy. The man was gasping. +If Stobart had not been weakened by the life and food of the blacks' +camp, that blow would have killed Arrkroo, although the neck of a +native is as strong as the neck of a bull. The drover stood looking +down at the grotesquely painted figure huddled up on the ground at his +feet. It began to twitch. The eyes rolled round and then fixed their +gaze on Stobart. Strength returned quickly to the native and he +staggered to his feet. For a moment he faced the white man, swaying +unsteadily, then he turned and went away to his wurley, leaving the +drover victor on the field where he had so nearly met his death. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Conclusion + +That night Yarloo returned to camp. The sky was so thickly covered +with stars that it looked as if powdered silver had been dusted over a +tremendous and very dark blue dome. Stobart was fast asleep at the +entrance to his cave when Yarloo crept up noiselessly and touched him. +He was awake and alert in a moment. The boy's head showed up dark +against the stars and the white man recognized him at once. + +"Me come back, Misser Stobart," whispered Yarloo. + +"Good boy," replied the drover. "Good boy. Does the camp know you're +here?" + +"Neh. Me come longa you first time. They all about sleep." + +Then Yarloo told all that he had done since he went away. Stobart was +overjoyed to hear that his son was safe, and hope, which had burnt down +very low recently, once more flamed up brightly in his heart. Yarloo +had hurried out from Sidcotinga Station, and was too exhausted to +undertake the return trip immediately or they would have escaped that +very night. They decided to wait for a day or two. + +In this they made a great mistake. If Stobart had disappeared that +night, while every native in the camp was overawed by his victory over +the powerful Arrkroo, he would probably have got clean away, but as it +was, he found himself more of a prisoner than ever next morning. +Yarloo's return aroused suspicion. Every native in the tribe was +afraid of the white man and nobody dared to kill him. Yet they were +all perfectly convinced that he was the cause of Wuntoo's illness. If +Wuntoo died without the others taking full vengeance on the one who had +bewitched him, the old man's spirit would haunt the camp and bring +terrible disaster upon it. Therefore, if Wuntoo died, Stobart must die +too. So the white man was kept a close prisoner, and was even obliged +to keep inside his cave. No one had sufficient courage to harm him, +though all their former admiration for him was turned to fear and +hatred; but, by sheer force of numbers, they made it impossible for him +to escape. + +One night Wuntoo was evidently dying. All the men of the tribe who +were not actually guarding the prisoner were sitting in a circle with +the women, making noisy lamentation. They beat their naked thighs with +their open palms, and mournful chants rose from low weird mutterings to +high shrill screams as they tried to frighten the evil spirits out of +the dying man. A big fire was blazing and sending sparks and smoke +high into the darkness, and lightening up the excited faces of the men +and women all around. + +Suddenly in the middle of the wildest demonstration of grief Coiloo +appeared--Coiloo, whom Stobart had saved from death, and whom Mick had +treated with such cruelty. He was in a shocking state. The +brand-marks had started to fester, and there were burns all over his +body. He had come at a critical time. The wailing warraguls looked at +his wounds and their excitement got more and more intense. They vowed +terrible vengeance against the white man who had done this; against all +white men; against Stobart who was at their mercy. If Coiloo himself +had not prevented them they would have rushed off immediately to the +cave and carried out their designs while the heat of the moment gave +them courage. He craftily pointed out that it was far better to kill +the white man to appease the spirit of the dead Wuntoo than to kill him +before the old man died. The savages listened, hesitated, and then +agreed, and returned to the interrupted ceremony of mourning. And all +this time the emaciated figure of Wuntoo lay out flat on the sand, lit +weirdly by the leaping flames, his chest rising and falling with great +effort, and his eyes rolling round with pain. + +In the middle of all this excitement Yarloo escaped. He realized that +he could do no good for his master by staying in the blacks' camp; so +when he gathered from the excited shouts that three white men and some +horses were camped out on the plains not far away, he slipped out in +the darkness and made the fastest journey of his life. He arrived at +Mick's camp in the early morning of the next day, just as the working +horses were being driven in. He told his tale. Mick and the boys +listened attentively. The drover had trusted Yarloo from the very +first day he had engaged him, and he had never had cause to regret it. +So, after making sure of all the necessary facts of the case, he +responded to the boy's appeal for help immediately and fully. + +He cut two thick slabs of damper, put a chunk of meat between them, and +handed it to Yarloo. "Here, get that inside you, me son," he said +heartily. "Eat all you want. There's lots more where that came from." +The whites had already had their breakfast, and Mick at once set about +packing the gear, muttering: "If I don't let daylight through half a +dozen of those devils, I'll call meself a Chow, I will, straight. Now, +you boys, look alive," he shouted to the blacks who were crowding round +Yarloo. "You can yabber all you want when we've rounded up that tribe +of black cleanskins." + +The native stockmen laughed. Everybody was eager for the task. The +boys were all from a sand-hill tribe who bitterly hated the wild +warraguls from the mountains, and they were overjoyed at the thought of +fighting on the same side as white men. Sax and Vaughan were more +serious but none the less eager, especially Sax, who would have +willingly gone out alone against the whole tribe, if only it would have +been a help to his father. + +They did not take the whole plant with them. Each man of the advance +party had two good saddle-horses; there was one all ready saddled and +bridled for Boss Stobart; and a swift pack-horse, lightly loaded, +carried all the tucker and water they would need. There were Mick and +the two white boys, Yarloo, Poona, Calcoo, and Jack Johnson, all +mounted on the best horses in the plant. They had only two firearms +for all the party: Mick's rifle which he carried, and his revolver, +which he gave to Vaughan. Their chief weapon was "bluff", for a party +of seven could do nothing against nearly a hundred armed natives, +except surprise them long enough to let their prisoner escape. + +They rode hard till about two o'clock, stopped and took a hunk of +damper and meat each and a drink of water, and then put their saddles +on fresh horses and pushed on. The sun was still an hour high when +they came to a thick clump of timber at the entrance to a gully +running, up into the mountains. Yarloo, who was the real leader of the +party, advised that the horses be left here. The camp was not far off, +and the approach to it was quite free from any cover for a mounted man. +So they hitched their horses to separate trees in such a way that they +could be unfastened in the shortest possible time. + +They walked stealthily through the timber to the side of the valley, +where they began to crawl from boulder to boulder. It was slow work. +They dared not wait till dark. Each moment might decide the fate of +the man they had come to rescue. For half a mile they approached the +camp in this way, noiselessly, and completely hidden by the rocks. +They saw no sign of natives. + +All at once a thin, high, quavering sound rose just ahead of them. +Others joined it like a pack of dingoes howling in the night. Then the +note trembled and came down, getting louder as it descended the scale +till it was a deep muttering of great anguish. It started again and +again. Every native of the little party shivered. It was a death-wail. + +Yarloo turned to Mick, and said hoarsely: "Old man bin die. We hurry, +I think." + +The rescuers sprang to their feet and ran, stooping low and keeping out +of sight. They need not have taken these precautions. Every warragul +of the tribe was engaged at the camp, where death-wails rose and fell. + +Suddenly a Musgrave native confronted the rescue party. He lifted his +left hand and signed to them to stop. There were only two fingers and +a thumb on that hand. It was Coiloo. He was armed with spears and +boomerangs and a shield. Mick raised his rifle, but Yarloo leaped in +front of it. A shot at this time would warn the camp and spoil any +chance of success. It was more important to rescue Stobart than to +settle a private quarrel. + +Coiloo cast a look of deadly hatred towards Mick. He longed to hurl +one of these slender spears of his at his enemy, and bury the poisonous +head deep in the white man's heart. But he too had a more important +task to perform just then. He grabbed Sax by the wrist and sprang up +the valley with incredible swiftness. The startled white boy was +carried along and quickly outdistanced the others. Coiloo gave no +explanation of his strange behaviour. He must reach the blacks' camp +as soon as possible. The wailing became louder and louder, and +presently Sax heard a sound which gave such fleetness to his limbs that +his wiry companion could hardly keep up with him. It was a booming +voice which rose above the turmoil of native cries like a strong +swimmer battling with the waves. + +It was a white man's voice. + +Sax recognized it as his father's. + +Suddenly the camp burst into view. The lad would have dashed across +the open space at once, but Coiloo pulled him behind a rock. A +terrible tragedy was about to be enacted in front of that cluster of +sordid wurlies. The dead body of Wuntoo lay out naked on the sand. At +the head of it stood Stobart, bound hand and foot, and clad in nothing +but his tattered trousers. He was about to die. He knew it well, but +held his head proudly and looked round at the yelling fiends with great +scorn. From time to time his strong voice boomed defiance at his +enemies. All around, dancing in almost delirious excitement, were the +warragul men, while an outer ring was formed by the women, who kept +time with their hands to the chanting which was gradually working their +men up to a state of frenzy. Chief figure of all was Arrkroo, once +more restored to authority, and about to have his revenge upon his +rival. He strode up and down in front of the victim, armed with a huge +carved and painted club. + +Sax struggled in Coiloo's detaining grasp. He was but a lad, and the +odds were a hundred savages against one white boy, but he wanted to +leap across the intervening space and stand beside his father. +Coiloo's hand was at Sax's neck. He unfastened the string of the +luringa and stood up, still hidden from sight. Slowly he whirled the +thin slab of wood round his head, hitting it on the ground once or +twice to make it spin. The thing gave out a droning sound. The crowd +of yelling fiends around the corpse became suddenly quiet. The droning +increased to a loud humming. Every eye was turned. + +Coiloo handed the luringa to Sax and disappeared. The boy had seen the +effect of the peculiar note which the whirling luringa made. He +stepped out into the open, swinging the strangely carved fillet of wood +round and round his head. The sound grew louder and louder. It seemed +impossible that such a small thing should make so far-carrying a sound. +The dancing men stood petrified. The women leaped to their feet and +became motionless. Arrkroo stopped with up-lifted club. Stobart stood +amazed. Sax walked forward slowly. + +The tension increased. He was twenty yards from them--fifteen--ten. A +movement of horror ran through the crowd. Before he had gone two paces +more a shout went up in a hundred terror-stricken voices: + +"The voice of Tumana! It is the voice of Tumana!"[1] + +Sax kept on. Suddenly the tension broke. Like dead leaves before a +gale, the natives scattered and fled. Stobart, Sax, Arrkroo, and the +corpse of Wuntoo were left alone. + +Arrkroo feared the bull-roarer, which spoke with the dreaded voice of +Tumana, as much as anyone. Yet he stood his ground with uplifted club. +The helpless white man was within easy reach. Arrkroo would not miss +his vengeance this third time. He would strike his enemy dead even +though it was his last act, for no one can do such a thing when Tumana +is speaking without terrible consequences. The sound of the +bull-roarer went on. Arrkroo swayed back to gain force for a smashing +blow. Then he uttered a wild shout of triumph and jerked his black +painted body forward. The club swung---- + +A shot rang out. The club dropped from the murdering warragul's +nerveless hand. It missed Stobart's head by a fraction of an inch. +Sax picked it up and rushed forward. But death had already come. +Arrkroo's tall figure tottered for a moment, then crumpled up and fell +to the ground. Mick immediately dashed across the open space, followed +by Yarloo and the three other boys. Coiloo was nowhere to be seen. + +Two slashes of a sharp knife cut the hair rope which bound the captive +white man and he was free. There was no time for thanks or +congratulations. Sax had stopped swinging the luringa; the voice of +Tumana had ceased. Already the natives were reassembling, and it was +only a matter of moments before they would swarm down on the rescue +party, outnumbering it by fifteen to one. A flight of spears fell from +the rocks above, doing no harm, but warning the white men of their +terrible danger. + +They dashed down the valley towards the clump of timber where the +saddle-horses had been tied. At one place the track narrowed as it +passed between two great masses of rock. Mick was in the rear with the +rifle. As he passed this spot, a spear came out from behind one of the +boulders. He was not expecting an ambush, and the spear struck his +shoulder, entering the top of the lungs and breaking off. He dropped +the rifle. As it left his hand he must have pulled the trigger, for +there was a report. Sax was running just in front of Mick. He heard +the report, looked round, and saw the stockman stagger. He dashed +back. His act saved Mick's life, for, as the white boy stooped to pick +up the rifle, he saw Coiloo standing behind the rock with another spear +ready to throw. Sax jumped in front of his friend and the native +paused. Mick was badly wounded, but when he too saw the ambushed +nigger, he pulled himself together and dashed ahead after his +companions. Sax was now carrying the rifle and he kept in the rear of +the party, and prevented Coiloo from throwing that second spear. + +Fierce shouting at the camp urged them to their greatest efforts. The +Musgrave blacks had got over their scare. They found Arrkroo's dead +body lying beside the corpse of Wuntoo. They thirsted for revenge and +started in pursuit, not a hundred yards behind the escaping white men. + +Stobart and his friends reached the clump of timber. Sax looked back. +The pursuit had been checked for a few moments. Coiloo was standing in +the narrow gap, holding it against a hundred of his fellow tribesmen. +Spears whizzed around him on all sides, but for a time he dexterously +escaped death. At last one struck him and he fell, but not before his +purpose was accomplished. He had attempted to revenge himself on Mick, +and, failing this, he held up the chase long enough to give Stobart, +the man who had saved his life, a good chance of escaping. + +His gallant death was not in vain. Before the Musgrave blacks reached +the trees the rescue party was galloping across the plains. Mick's +wound was troublesome for several days, but the man's perfect health +stood him in good stead. One night in camp he was bewailing the fact +that they had not been able to make a stand against the blacks, but had +been forced to beat an ignominious retreat. "I'd like to go back and +have a real good scrap," he said. + +Boss Stobart looked at him with a peculiar smile for a moment or two, +and then took an old black pipe from his belt. It was smeared with +clay. Mick and the two white boys looked on with great curiosity. The +drover made a little hole in the clay and poured out a few grains of +golden sand into his palm. + +"Look at this," he said, holding out his hand to Mick. "If you'd care +to go back to the Musgrave Ranges with me for some more of this stuff, +I can promise you as many scraps with the niggers as you want." + +The gold was handed round. "I'm with you," said Mick. "I'm with you, +Boss Stobart, whether its gold or niggers you're after." + +"And so am I if you'll let me," said Vaughan. "I want to buy back my +father's sheep station." + +Sax said nothing. He was content to be with his father, and knew that +he was sure to be included in any expedition which his father +undertook; but no thought of the future could rob him of the supreme +joy of knowing that he had been instrumental in saving his father from +death in the Musgrave Ranges. + + + +[1] Australian blacks believe that the sound made by the _luringa_, or +bull-roarer, is the voice of a strong spirit named Tumana. + + + + + Some Volumes in Messrs. Blackie's List + + + The Library of Famous Books + + + R. M. BALLANTYNE-- + The Wild Man of the West. + The Young Fur Traders. + The Coral Island. + Martin Rattler. + Ungava. + The Dog Crusoe. + The World of Ice. + The Gorilla Hunters. + Deep Down. + The Lighthouse. + Erling the Bold. + The Lifeboat. + Gascoyne, the Sandalwood Trader. + + W. H. G. KINGSTON-- + Mark Seaworth. + Peter the Whaler. + The Three Midshipmen. + The Three Lieutenants. + The Three Commanders. + The Three Admirals. + From Powder-monkey to Admiral. + + J. FENIMORE COOPER-- + The Pathfinder. + Deerslayer. + The Last of the Mohicans. + + CAPTAIN MARRYAT-- + Masterman Ready. + Poor Jack. + The Children of the New Forest. + The Settlers in Canada. + + LOUISA M. ALCOTT-- + A Garland for Girls. + Little Women. + Good Wives. + + HANS ANDERSEN-- + Favourite Fairy Tales. + Popular Fairy Tales. + + CAROLINE AUSTIN-- + Marie's Home. + + S. BARING-GOULD-- + Grettir the Outlaw. + + JOHN BUNYAN-- + The Pilgrim's Progress. + + HARRY COLLINGWOOD-- + A Middy of the Slave Squadron. + + SUSAN COOLIDGE-- + What Katy Did. + What Katy Did at School. + What Katy Did Next. + + ALICE CORKRAN-- + Meg's Friend. + Margery Merton's Girlhood. + + MISS CUMMINS-- + The Lamplighter. + + R. H. DANA-- + Two Years before the Mast. + + G. W. DASENT-- + Tales from the Norse. + + DANIEL DEFOE-- + Robinson Crusoe. + + G. MANVILLE FENN-- + Devon Boys. + + EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN-- + Little Lady Clare. + + OLIVER GOLDSMITH-- + The Vicar of Wakefield. + + THE BROTHERS GRIMM-- + Grimm's Fairy Tales. + + NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE-- + Tanglewood Tales. + + G. A. HENTY-- + A Final Reckoning. + A Chapter of Adventures. + Tales from Henty. + + THOMAS HUGHES-- + Tom Brown's School Days. + + CHARLES KINGSLEY-- + The Heroes. + The Water-Babies. + Hereward the Wake. + + CHARLES and MARY LAMB-- + Tales from Shakspeare. + + EMMA LESLIE-- + Gytha's Message. + + GEORGE MACDONALD-- + The Light Princess. + + NORMAN MACLEOD-- + The Starling. + + MARY RUSSELL MITFORD-- + Our Village. + + ROSA MULHOLLAND-- + Hetty Gray. + Four Little Mischiefs. + + CAPTAIN MAYNE REID-- + The Rifle Rangers. + + CHRISTOPH VON SCHMID-- + The Basket of Flowers. + + SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.-- + From Tales of a Grandfather. + + ANNA SEWELL-- + Black Beauty. + + CATHERINE SINCLAIR-- + Holiday House. + + R. L. STEVENSON-- + Treasure Island. + Kidnapped. + + HARRIET BEECHER STOWE-- + Uncle Tom's Cabin. + + DEAN SWIFT-- + Gulliver's Travels. + + SARAH TYTLER-- + Girl Neighbours. + A Loyal Little Maid. + + JULES VERNE-- + A Journey to the Centre of the Earth. + + LEW WALLACE-- + Ben Hur. + + MRS. WHITNEY-- + Faith Gartney's Girlhood. + + M. WISS-- + The Swiss Family Robinson. + + CHARLOTTE M. YONGE-- + The Lances of Lynwood. + A Book of Golden Deeds. + The Little Duke. + + + Famous Discoveries by Land and Sea. + + + + THE NEW HENTY LIBRARY + + + _Strongly Bound in Cloth. 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