Chapter Nine.
Nic’s Experiences.
“Now, Nic,” said the doctor, as they stood ready to make a fresh start, “we shall go on, so as to reach another water-hole and camp for the night.”
As he spoke the doctor rammed down the last wad and examined the priming of the new gun Nic had brought out. Then, finding the pan full of powder, he tried whether the flint was well screwed up in the hammer.
“Put these on,” he said, and he handed the boy his shot-belt and powder-flask.
“Are we going to shoot anybody, father?” asked Nic eagerly.
“I hope not, boy; but it is a custom out here to go armed when you are travelling, and we are getting some distance out now away from the town. Up with your and try and mount a little better. Take hold of your reins and the mane there tightly, up with your left foot into the stirrup, and lay your hand on the cantle of the saddle; don’t pull it, only support yourself by it. Now draw your off rein a little, so that the horse cannot sidle away, spring up lightly, and throw your leg over. Mount.”
Nic obeyed, as he thought, to the letter, and got into the saddle somehow, making his horse fidget and wag its tail uneasily.
“Bad—very bad,” cried the doctor, laughing. “I said throw your leg over. You tried to throw yourself over. Never mind; you’ll soon learn. Look at me. One moment: take your gun.”
Nic took the gun handed to him, and was shown how to carry it across his rein arm, and then he enviously watched his father take hold of a wisp of the horse’s mane, place a foot in the stirrup, and lightly swing himself into the saddle, while his horse hung toward him a little, otherwise remained perfectly still.
“You’ll soon do it, Nic. Legs feel stiff?”
“A bit cramped,” replied the boy.
“Forward, then, at a walk. I shall not hold your rein now. Your nag will not leave his companion.”
“Hadn’t you better, father, till I get more used to it?” asked Nic uneasily.
“No,” said the doctor decisively. “It was quite right this morning over your first lesson. You have learned a little already, and I don’t want you, as it were, to learn to swim with corks. Come along. Steady, lad, steady.”
This was to Nic’s steed, which began to amble, keeping up a nice gentle motion, which would have been very pleasant if the boy had not felt a bit nervous. But as it found its stable companion continued to pace, Sour Sorrel followed its example and dropped into a walk.
The waggon was already a quarter of a mile onward, and the dogs were hanging back watching them, barking furiously till they were overtaken, and having a few encouraging words delivered to them as father and son rode on.
“I should like to set them free,” said the doctor, “but I dare not yet.”
The afternoon ride was almost a repetition of that in the morning, and from time to time they passed water-holes, showing that they were keeping along the course of the river, though it was not until it was pointed out to him that Nic knew he was for some distance travelling along the dry bed and was crossing it, the depression seeming little different from the surrounding country.
Weariness had something to do with it, for to Nic the country did not seem so beautiful as in the morning. He had been many hours in the saddle, and though the pace had only been a walk, the unaccustomed position told upon his muscles, and, in spite of a hint or two from his father, the boy’s attitude was far from upright. He had ceased, too, for some time to keep a keen look-out for birds and kangaroos. Earlier in the afternoon he had seen some reddish, dun-coloured animals in the distance; but these had, upon nearer approach, turned out to be cattle, and a feeling of disappointment began to make itself evident as they rode on and on, till toward sunset, when the waggon was quite half a mile ahead, Nic noticed that the bright greyish white tilt was glowing and turning ruddier against the dark lines of a clump of trees, and a minute later it still seemed to be in the same position.
Nic felt disposed to draw his father’s attention to the fact that the waggon was not moving, but his feeling of disinclination even to speak was growing upon him, and he was riding bent forward in silence, noticing what appeared to be a bed of whitish mist spreading among the trees, when his father startled him out of his thoughtful musings by saying laconically:
“Camp.”
Nic turned and looked at him inquiringly.
“Camp, Nic,” he said. “Don’t you see that they’ve lit a fire?”
“Oh!” cried the boy, raising himself up. “I thought it was mist.”
“No, Nic, smoke. That’s the first thing we do out here when we halt for the night: light a fire and put on the billy.”
Nic gave another inquiring look, and his father smiled.
“You’ll soon learn all our colonial terms, boy,” he said. “A billy is a large cross-handled saucepan to boil water in and make our tea. I’ll show you how that is done—when we get there.”
“I know how to make tea,” said Nic.
“Yes, but not our way.”
Nic looked wonderingly at his father.
“You are on the other side of the world now,” said the doctor. “Now then, what do you say to a trot for the rest of the way?”
The boy winced, but he mastered his shrinking sensation.
“Very well, father,” he said.
“No,” said the doctor. “I’ll let you off till to-morrow. You’ve done enough for one day.”
Ten minutes after they were dismounting in just such a spot as that chosen for their mid-day halt. The cattle were unyoked, and had gone of their own accord to a water-hole about fifty yards away; the fire was burning brightly, and the kettle giving forth a few preliminary snorts, suggestive of rising steam; and the waggon was drawn close up under a huge, wide-spreading tree, among whose branches the soft cooing of pigeons could be heard. The horses were hobbled, unsaddled, and rubbed down, and when they were led off to drink, the travellers went a few yards away for a refreshing wash.
“Now, Nic,” said the doctor after their return and when the provisions had been taken from the waggon, “you shall see our colonial mode of making tea.”
As he spoke he poured a goodly portion into the lid of the canister, waited till the water in the billy was well on the boil, when he tossed in the whole of the tea, gave it a rapid stir round to send all the dry leaf beneath the surface, and then lifted it off the fire, let it stand for a very short time, filled the big tin mugs with which they were provided, then those of the men, after which they sat down to their evening meal.
The cattle and horses were grazing all around, and in the calm silence the crop, crop as they bit off the grass sounded peculiarly loud, while from a distance came the loud wailing cry of the curlew, a strange trumpet-like tone, and a note from close at hand which made Nic turn inquiring eyes upon his father.
“Curlew, crane, and the mopoke,” said the doctor. “More pork the settlers call it.”
“Mopoke?”
“Yes. There goes one;” and he pointed to where a dark, swift-winged bird was hovering about a tree evidently in quest of moths.
“Why it flies like the goat-sucker does at home,” said Nic, pausing to watch the bird.
“To be sure it does. It is a relative, only bigger. You’ll find plenty of birds that bear a resemblance to our own.”
“And animals?”
“No. Birds are most plentiful, and in great variety; quadrupeds are scarce, and very peculiar. This, you know, is the land of the kangaroo, and we have varieties of that curious beast, from tiny ones we call rats, right up to the giants which stand up taller than the biggest man.”
The sun had set, the great stars were shining out through the clear air, and night was coming on fast, with the cries of the birds sounding strange and even awful in that loneliness.
“Tired out, Nic?” said his father; and the boy started and stared.
“Why, you were asleep, Nic. Don’t you understand me?”
“Eh? Yes. What say, father? Was I asleep?”
“Soundly, my boy. Come along; you can creep in under the tilt and go to sleep on the boxes. There are two blankets rolled up ready for you.”
“But what are you going to do?” asked Nic.
“Look round for a bit, and take my turn at watching.”
“But I must too,” said Nic, shaking off his drowsiness.
“When I tell you, my boy. Now go to sleep, and get rested for to-morrow’s work. The dogs will give warning if any one comes near.”
Nic obeyed, and as he went to say “good night” to the dogs—towards which he felt no animosity for the ducking they had given him—he saw that the two men were making their bed under the waggon, while the black was sidling slowly up to the fire. There the Australian curled himself up like a great dog, while the doctor stood about a dozen yards away, searching the dimly seen landscape with a little pocket-glass.
Then Nic climbed in under the tilt, opened one blanket and doubled it, made a pillow of the other, and then—
“Yes, father—directly.”
For the dawn was beginning to break, and a bright light shone up among the branches of the trees, out of which came a series of piercing bird screams.
“Look sharp: kettle nearly boils.”
Nic scrambled from under the tilt, feeling now that he must be called to help keep watch, for he was convinced that he had only just lain down.
Chapter Ten.
A Morning Dip.
“Had a good night’s rest, my boy?”
“Night’s rest?” stammered Nic.
“Yes; you have been asleep eight hours, I should say.”
Nic stared.
“Like a bath? Do you good. Get a towel, and have a plunge into the pool. Don’t be more than a quarter of an hour gone. Can you swim?”
“Yes, father,” said Nic, who felt stiff and shivery; and as he climbed up under the waggon-cover for the towel, he wished bathing had never been invented.
Getting down and making for the water-hole, he came upon Brookes, who was carrying an armful of wood for the fire, and he saluted the boy with:
“Going to have a dip?”
“Yes.”
“Hope you’ll like it. Don’t ketch me at it.”
His face was only dimly seen reflecting the light of the fire; but recalling what he had seen, Nic could not help feeling that the stock man did not use water much for outward application.
Half-way to the hole he met the black, who said something incomprehensible, to which Nic answered with “good morning,” and hurried on to the bank, down in the hollow along which the river ran.
There was a thin, whitish mist just visible over the water, which looked horribly black and cold, making the boy feel as if he would have given anything to evade the morning duty.
“Why not shirk it?” he said to himself. “I might wash my face and hands, and go back.”
Hurrying a dozen yards or so to where the bank was lower and the water not above eight or ten inches beneath, he prepared for a simple wash, and laid his towel on a bush; but his conscience attacked him, and, setting his teeth hard, he tore off jacket and vest in a way that was nothing less than vicious. These he placed on the bush which acted for a chair back, while the morning air struck chill to the bare skin.
“It’s horrid,” he thought,—“horrid. How can one go on like this?”
Ugh! how cold the black water looked in that grey dawn, for there was no sign of the sun, the stars being still faintly visible, and to keep his teeth from chattering Nic set them so hard that they began to ache.
“Pretty cowardly fool I should have looked if father had asked me at breakfast if— Bother it all. Why didn’t I take off my shoes?”
Nic had got one leg half out of his trousers, but not being so clever as the black at that crane or stork-like way of standing he overbalanced, tried to save himself failed, and went down on his side, in which safer position he dragged out first one and then the other leg.
“Yes; pretty cowardly fellow I should have looked if father had asked me at breakfast if I enjoyed my swim.”
He rose and hung up his trousers on the bush, thrust off shoes and stockings, and then stood on the bank white and ghostly-looking, gazing down into the deep, still water overhung by thick bushes, which made it look still more untempting. For it was big enough—there were two or three acres—to hold any number of terrible monsters. There might be water-serpents hidden under those overhanging trees, waiting amongst the roots ready to seize and pull him down; or huge alligators or crocodiles might be lurking in the deepest holes. Nic was not learned enough as to the way in which their teeth fitted between the others or into holes in the opposing jaws to know which was which. It was enough for him to remember that they were shaped like the fierce little efts which seized the worms in ponds at home when he had been out fishing.
The thoughts were horrible, and he stood shivering, and had it been broad daylight his skin would have been seen becoming covered with tiny pimples, like the cuticle of the goose plucked, and assuming a reddish, purply hue.
“Oh,” he thought, “if I could only escape this bitter task!” But he was too determined to attempt that, though he could not help putting off the task as long as he could; for cold water which looks bad enough at dawn in a bath in a comfortable dressing-room seems far worse on the banks of a river; and a hundred times worse when an active brain suggests the possibility of its containing fierce, hungry reptiles in all their amphibious horror, watching and waiting, in a land of blacks, for a tender, well-fed breakfast off a delicate, well-bred white.
“It’s of no use,” thought Nic. “I must summon up courage and do it. He’ll be waiting breakfast for me, and—Ugh! how cold!”
Nic involuntarily turned his head to gaze in the direction of the trees where the fire was blazing, uttered a faint cry of surprise and horror, and turned and dived off the bank into the hole, to feel quite an electric shock run through him, while the water thundered in his ears, and he formed a graceful arch in the depths.
Out popped his head directly, yards away from where he had taken his header, and he began to swim with a calm, vigorous stroke right away for the middle, gazing sideways the while and muttering to himself as he saw that the object which had startled him, shamefaced, into seeking the protection of the water, had walked close to the edge, taken up his favourite, crane-like attitude, and was watching him swim, with his lips drawn from his teeth and displaying them in a broad grin.
It was something after the fashion of a conjuring trick. One moment a white figure had stood there in the dawning day; the next there was a loud splash, the white figure had disappeared, and a black one stood in its place, not in the least ashamed, though almost as nude as Nic. For the black had followed, stood watching, and studied with great enjoyment the appearance of one of his white masters wearing the natural garb which he himself generally affected.
There were neither crocodiles, alligators, nor serpents in the water now, so far as Nic’s fancy was concerned. After the first plunge his whole nature had awakened to a sense of vigorous vitality. The sharp touch of the electric water sent thrill after thrill of energy through him, and he swam half across the river-hole, and turned back feeling as active as an eel.
“Here, who’s to get out and dress with that fellow staring at me?” thought Nic, as he neared the black. “I shall have to stop in till he goes. Hi! you, sir! Be off!”
The black’s grin ceased, and he turned and fled, while Nic sprang out, had a vigorous rub, began to glow, and then dressed, to run back to the waggon as hard as he could go, finishing off his head the while.
Five minutes after his short hair had obeyed the comb, he made for the fire, where a pleasant odour saluted his nostrils, and he felt that he must have made a mistake or been deceived.
But no: it was a fact. Brookes and Leather had been busy. Hot bread was waiting, and crisp, brown slices of bacon were fizzling in the pan.
“Ready?” said the doctor; and then the boy started, for these words followed: “Have a good swim?”
“Yes, father—glorious.”
“Water cold?”
“Yes; but I’m all of a glow now.”
“Take your tea.”
Nic took the big tin mug.
“Damper?”
“Oh no, father; I had a thorough good rub.”
“I said damper.”
“Yes, father, I know. Only my hair—just a little.”
“He dunno what you mean, sir,” said Brookes with a chuckle, as he waited to take the men’s share of the breakfast away.
“Oh, I see,” said the doctor, laughing. “Have some hot bread with your bacon, Nic? We call this cake damper.”
Nic did not mind what they called it, and he took his portion and his rasher of hot bacon, and he repeated the action with the greatest of pleasure, sipping at intervals from the milkless contents of his big tin mug without once regretting the absence of milk or cream.
Memorandum. Ride for many hours over the luxuriant downs on a clear day, when the air is laden with the health-giving odours of the gum trees, lie down tired out, and sleep with your slumber appearing to last one minute, but enduring for eight hours; lastly, have a plunge in a clear water-hole, and after a brief swim a tremendous rub, and you will be ready to perform as satisfactorily over the al fresco breakfast and do it as much justice as Dominic Braydon.
“A little more, Nic?” said his father.
“Yes, please.”
Nic said that twice; and a little while after, as a recollection came suddenly back:
“I say, father, are there any crocodiles or dangerous things in these rivers?”
“If there were, do you think I should have sent you to bathe?” was the reply.
“Oh no, of course.”
“There are plenty, I believe, up north, where the rivers are always open right to the sea; but never here.”
“But fish, father?”
“Oh yes, there are fish, principally what they call here the black-fish. You’ll have to try for them by-and-by.”
“Very big?” asked Nic, who was thinking of his bath.
“Oh no; small fish, but delicious eating. Now then, any more?”
“No, thanks, father.”
“Then go and feed the dogs. We start in a quarter of an hour. One moment. Do you feel very stiff?”
“Stiff?—well, yes, a little, father.”
“Not very bad, then. How do you feel about a trot to-day?”
“I’ll—I’ll try, father. Look—look!”
The boy jumped up in his excitement, for there was a whirring of wings, a burst of screaming, and a flock of birds flew over their heads, with the plumage looking in the morning light as white as snow.
“Cockatoos?” cried Nic wildly.
“Yes,” said his father, smiling at the boy’s enthusiasm over what was one of the commonest sights to him. “I have seen them before. Now then, breakfast for our prisoners. I shall be glad when we can let those dogs run free.”
Chapter Eleven.
How to Ride.
“Poor old chaps!” cried Nic, as the dogs leaped and tore about when he left them, each straining at its collar with starting eyes, and uttering in unison a piteous howl which could only bear one interpretation:
“Oh, I say, it’s too bad! Don’t keep us tied up like this.”
Nic was ready to pity them again a few minutes after, when, in obedience to a shout and the crack of a whip, the sleek oxen, which stood yoked, blinking and chewing their cuds, started for the day’s march, tightening the dogs’ chains. Then the collies sulkily allowed themselves to be dragged along by the neck for a few yards before, feeling that resistance was in vain, they gave up and began to start barking in protest, running forward as far as their chains would allow under the waggon, as if longing to get at the oxen’s heels, and finally, after a loud yelp or two at one another, settling down to their prisoners’ tramp.
The horses were bridled and saddled after Nic had taken his gun from where it had been stood against a tree. The two men were in front of the team, with Brookes talking loudly and unpleasantly to his fellow; and the black was following behind the dogs, with his spear over his shoulder, at times lowering it to stir the dogs up behind whenever they showed an inclination to hang back.
This happened a minute after the start had been made, and Nic burst out laughing.
“I say, father, look at that,” he cried.
“I was looking, my boy,” said the doctor. “That fellow seems to understand the dogs better than we do.”
For, at the first touch of the spear, one of the collies turned round sharply, and barked; then the other received a prod—from the blunt end in both cases—and the bark uttered was exactly like a protesting “Don’t!”
But the black, who was safe from attack as long as he kept beyond the reach of the chain, continued to administer pokes, with the result that the dogs trotted on as far as they could, looking back the while and uttering threatening barks and growls.
But the long spear followed them right under the waggon, and kept up the annoyance, till, as if moved by the same impulse, the dogs charged back together to the extent of their chains, and the black made a bound out of the animals’ reach.
The result was that when, after a final look round to see that nothing had been left, the doctor gave the order to mount, the dogs were right under the waggon, with their tongues out, tugging away at their chains as sharply as if they had been born in Kamtschatka and belonged to Eskimo.
“That’s better,” said the doctor, as Nic landed in his saddle without making a show in imitation of vaulting ambition and seeming about to fall over on the other side. “Down again, and mount.”
Nic obeyed.
“That’s worse,” said the doctor. “Dismount. Now again!”
Nic dismounted, and mounted once more.
“Not so good as the first time, Nic. There, take your gun. Mind: never do that! It’s the worst of high treason to let your gun-muzzle point at anybody.”
“I beg pardon, father.”
“Granted, on condition that you are more careful for the future,” said the doctor, springing into his seat in a way that excited his son’s envy.
“Shall I try again, father?”
“No; it will only fidget your horse. Come along. What a glorious morning! We’ll take a sweep round, and meet the waggon three or four miles on.”
The sun was now up, and sending its brilliant rays horizontally beneath the great trees, making every branch and leaf glow; and, as Nic’s nag paced gently along, the boy felt as if he were riding upon the glorious elastic air. He felt very little of the stiffness, only a bit sore inside the knees, where they were pressed against the saddle.
As they passed in among the trees the waggon was soon lost to sight, and Nic glanced again and again in its direction.
“Afraid we shan’t find our way back to the waggon?” said his father.
“I was thinking something of the kind,” avowed Nic.
“Ah, that is a great danger away in the bush, and you may as well know it; but we could not go very far now without finding a track or some station.”
“A police station?”
“No, no,” said the doctor, smiling. “We have police here—mounted police—to look after the convicts and mind they don’t escape; but we call farmhouses-squatters’ places—stations here. Our home—Blue Mountain Bluff; as we named it—is called a station by my neighbours.”
“Then you have neighbours, father?”
“Oh yes, a few miles away. Mr Dillon, the magistrate, Leather’s late employer, is the nearest—ten miles distant.”
“Then home must be a very lonely place.”
“We have never found it so, Nic,” said his father drily. “Busy people are never lonely. Now then, I think I’ve behaved very well to you and spared your feelings. I promise that I will not laugh at you.”
“What about, father?”
“Your first essay at trotting. It is of no use to keep a horse and ride at a walk. You can progress as fast as that on your own legs.”
Nic drew a deep breath, and wished that he was bestriding a donkey on the common near the Friary, with his schoolmates looking on instead of his father.
“I’m ready, father,” he said.
“Wait a few minutes. I want to accustom you to holding your gun on horseback. You will always have either a gun or a stock-whip, but I don’t want you to begin your career as a squatter—”
“I say, father, what a horrible name that is for a sheep farmer!”
“‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’ Nic. ‘Squatter’ does very well; and I say I don’t want you to begin your career by shooting your father or his horse. So you shall have a shot at something. You will not be afraid to fire your gun?”
“Oh, I say, father!” said Nic reproachfully, “don’t—please don’t think me such a miserable coward.”
“I don’t, my lad—nothing of the kind. I only treat you as a raw lad who has to be trained to our ways.”
“But you expect me to shoot you as soon as I begin to trot.”
“I don’t mean you to, Nic. But such a thing is quite possible when you fall.”
“Then you think I shall fall,” said Nic ruefully.
“Certainly, if you lose your balance and do not hold tight.”
“But you told me not to hold!” cried Nic.
“With your hands. They are to hold your reins and gun. A horseman holds on with his knees; and I suppose yours are a bit sore?”
Nic nodded.
“Then make up your mind not to fall; but we’ll have that gun empty first. You shall have a shot at something.”
Nic drew rein sharply, and his horse stopped and shook its head, and champed the bit impatiently.
“Don’t check your horse like that, boy!”
“I only pulled the reins, father.”
“Yes, as if his mouth were made of wood. You would soon spoil him, and make him hard-mouthed, if you jerked the bit about in that fashion. A horse like this is extremely sensitive. You only need just feel his mouth with the rein, and he will stop at the slightest additional pressure, just sufficiently to make him understand what you want. Well, why are you making a face like that?”
“I shall never learn all this,” cried Nic; “I’m too stupid.”
“And you have ground away at algebra and Euclid! What nonsense! Come, be more ready to take a right view of things. Horses are extremely intelligent animals, and love their masters if properly treated. They are wilful at times, and then have to be punished; but I never strike or spur my horse without good reason. Now look here, Nic: this is not to show off, but to let you see what can be done with the animal, which is one of man’s most valuable friends out in these wilds. Now watch!”
The doctor threw the reins on the horse’s neck.
“I want to go to the left.”
To Nic’s astonishment the horse bore away to the left, and his own followed suit.
“Now I want to go to the right.” The horse turned in that direction.
“Now I want to turn right round.”
The horse turned right about.
“Now straight back.”
The horses began to return upon their tracks, Nic’s eyes following every motion.
“Now round again, and forward.”
Once more the horse, turning right about, went straight forward, Sour Sorrel taking pace for pace.
“Why, it’s wonderful, father!” cried Nic. “Australian horses must understand plain English.”
“Well, they are English bred,” said the doctor, laughing. “Twenty years ago there was not a horse in the country. But now, tell me, why did you check your horse?”
“To get down so as to shoot.”
“Nonsense! Fire from his back when I tell you.”
“But it will frighten him, and he’ll gallop off, and I shall be sure to fall.”
“It will not frighten him, for the horse will stand like a rock, knowing when you are going to fire. You can rest your gun between his ears if you like, only you could not get so steady an aim. It’s quite true. That nag is beautifully broken. I reared him from a foal and trained him expressly for you.”
“Thank you, father; but I think I would rather ride yours.”
“Why?”
“He seems so much better trained.”
“Not so well, boy.”
“But tell me: how did you make him go any way you wished?”
“The simplest way in the world. Let your reins drop on his neck.”
Nic obeyed.
“Now press the side with your right leg. That’s right. Now with the left. Good. Now keep on with the pressure, and the nag will turn right round. Now press both legs together. Very well indeed. Now you see there is no magic in the matter.”
Nic was astounded, for the horse had acted just in the same way as his father’s.
“Let me tell you another thing. If you jump down—no, no, don’t do it—but if you jump down, pass the rein over the nag’s head and throw it on the ground: he will stand perfectly still.”
“Without the rein being fastened to a peg or tree?”
“Yes. Try it when you get down. Now you see you are learning to ride. But I want this trot, so be ready for your shot. Cock your gun.”
Nic made the lock click, and felt a thrill of anticipation run through his nerves.
“Whit shall I shoot at, father?”
“Well, you may as well practise at something running or flying.”
“A bird?”
“Yes, if you see a good specimen. You may as well collect some of our beautiful birds. Wait a bit: I dare say we shall see something before long.”
They paced on for about a quarter of a mile, and then a large animal was startled from out of some bushes, made a flying leap, and then went off in a series of tremendous bounds, and all the faster for the shot Nic fired and which whistled through the air over its head.
“A good miss, Nic,” said his father.
“Didn’t I hit it, father?”
“No, my boy—not with a single shot, even. But you see your horse did not move.”
“I forgot all about that,” said Nic. “I suppose that was a kangaroo, father?”
“No doubt about that, Nic. They can go pretty well, eh?”
“Tremendously. But what an enormous tail!”
“Yes, it seems to act like a balance and a support when they land, for they go almost entirely upon their hind legs. But I meant you to have tried for a shot farther on, where there is a bit of river and some low damp ground. You might perhaps have secured a goose for our supper, or had a shot at one of the snakes, which like the moisture. But come: here’s a good open stretch of land. Let’s have our trot. Keep your heels down, sit fairly well up, and don’t think about falling. If you do come off, it is a very little way to go, and the horse’s pace will take him clear of you. Now then, turn those stirrups over his back.”
“Oh, father! let me keep my stirrups.”
“Certainly not; they would not help you a bit, only prove a danger to a novice; and remember this: once you can ride without stirrups you can ride with. Ready?”
Nic reluctantly turned the stirrup leathers across.
“Yes, father,” he said, rather hesitatingly.
“Then off!”
The horses started at the pressure given by the doctor’s heels, and the next moment Nic was bumping about in the saddle, slipping first a little to one side, then to the other, making attempts to get over on to the horse’s neck, and having hard work to keep his gun well across his knees.
It was hot, breathless work; and moment by moment Nic told himself that he must come off; but he did not, and went on bump, bump, bump, bump, conscious that his father was watching him from the corners of his eyes.
“I do wish he’d stop,” thought Nic, as the nag trotted steadily on; and then the boy thought of the Kentish common and the games they had had with the donkeys—when, almost as soon as a boy was mounted, another came to tickle the donkey’s tail with a piece of furze, with the result that the animal’s head went down, its heels up, and the rider off on to his back, perhaps into a furze or bramble patch.
“But there’s no one behind with a furze or bramble,” thought Nic, who began to find the trot not so very bad, when, to his horror, his father cried out “Canter!” and, with the horses snorting and enjoying the motion, away they went in and out among the trees, the docile animals keeping pace together, and avoiding the dense parts by instinct.
“Now I am off,” said Nic to himself; but to his surprise he kept on, finding the canter a delightfully easy pace, and that it was far less difficult to keep his seat in the saddle, the swing was so pleasant, elastic, and rhythmical.
This went on for a good quarter of a mile, until the trees grew more open and patches of scrubby bushes appeared in their way, when, before he knew it, Nic’s steed, instead of avoiding a clump about three feet high, rose at it, bounded over as lightly as a kangaroo, and came to a dead stop on the other side, for it had lost its rider.
“I didn’t mean that,” said the doctor, pulling up and turning back.
“Here, Nic, where are you?”
“Here, father,” said the boy dolefully, as he rose from where he lay—down among the thick brush.
“Hurt?”
“I—I don’t know yet. No; I don’t think so, father. Here, my gun’s gone.”
“There it is, sticking up among the bushes. I’ll get it,” said the doctor; and pulling his horse sidewise, he reached over and drew out the gun.
“Now then, where are you hurt?”
“Nowhere,” said Nic, forcing his way out to where the nag stood, taking the reins, and after pulling down the near side stirrup, climbing into the saddle.
At that moment there was a clapping of hands, and he turned to find his father applauding him.
“Bravo! Good!” cried the doctor, with his eyes flashing. “I like that pluck, Nic. Why, boy, you did wonderfully well. You are as rough as can be in the saddle. But really, you only want confidence: you can ride.”
“Can I, father?” said Nic dubiously.
“Can you? yes. You must have had some practice.”
“Only playing tricks on the donkeys, father, down in Kent.”
“Of course. That’s it! Why, Nic, I have only got to polish you. Ready?”
“Yes, father.”
“Then let’s canter on.”
Oddly enough—paradoxically as it may seem—that tumble on to the elastic bush took away all Nic’s nervousness, and now he began to enjoy the delightful motion of the easy-paced nag, with the wind fanning his cheeks, the sun seeming to flash by him, and the soreness about the knees forgotten.
Everything about looked bright and glorious; and when, about eleven o’clock, they cantered up to the midday halting-place in a clump of gums, where the oxen had just been unyoked, Brookes and Leather stopped from their tasks to stare, and the black was so surprised that he forgot to stand on one leg, but watched the horsemen with wide-open eyes, standing upon two.
Chapter Twelve.
A Black Peril.
At the end of six days, though a long way from being a horseman, Nic had reached a pitch when he could mount without fear, and enjoy thoroughly a trot, canter, or gallop; and his father used laughingly to say that now he would not be ashamed to show him to his mother and sisters.
“It’s a long, slow, monotonous journey, Nic,” said the doctor, at the end of that sixth day; “but I don’t think we’ve been idle.”
“Idle? oh no, father,” said Nic; “and I’ve enjoyed it thoroughly.”
“In spite of the rough way of living?”
“I haven’t thought of that,” replied Nic. “It has all been so fresh and interesting, and there has been so much to see.”
“Well, you have been well introduced to the country, my boy, and you have mastered riding—a strong part of a settler’s education, for you will have to help me hunt up the sheep and cattle, and save me many a long round. Feel ready to see your mother and sisters?”
“Ready? I’m longing to see them, father. Are we getting near?”
“Yes; all being well, we shall sleep under our own roof to-morrow night, and have the waggon-load of stores and treasures under cover.”
That last night in the waggon was the most uncomfortable Nic had passed. It was hot; there was a chest beneath him which had suddenly developed a hard edge and an awkward corner; the dogs, too, were uneasy, and barked a good deal at the moon. Then some kind of animal in the plural number seemed to be holding a meeting up among the branches of the huge tree under which they encamped, for there were endless squealings and skirmishes about, which woke the boy again and again, to lie and listen, and think about his new home in the great Australian wilderness, of his mother and sisters, whether they were much changed, and ending, just before dozing off again, by wondering what they would think of him.
It was, then, with a feeling of no little satisfaction that he woke again to hear the magpie piping, and hurriedly scrambled out, fully convinced that he was up first that morning, but found, as usual, that the fire was already burning brightly, and that some one had been on the watch, not one of which had he been allowed to keep.
This time it was the man Leather whom Nic joined, towel in hand, on his way for his regular morning swim.
“Morning! You’re first, then?”
The man gave him a nod, and by the light of the fire his face looked surly.
“Has my father been out yet?”
“Sleep in the front of the waggon.”
Nic felt disposed to go on, but he was in such high spirits that he was obliged to say a few words more.
“We shall be at the Bluff to-night.”
“Oh?” said the man indifferently.
“Well, ain’t you glad to get home?”
“No: I’m only a servant.”
“But it’s your home for the present.”
The man threw a few more sticks on the fire, and said nothing.
“I say, Leather, what sort of a place is it?”
“Station’s like other stations.”
“Yes, but is it pretty—beautiful?”
“No.”
“What? My father said it was a grand place with a glorious view.”
“It’s built of wood and thatched with bark, and you can see a long way.”
“But the mountains?”
“There are mountains; so there are for miles.”
“But the river?”
“There is a creek, but this time of the year it is mostly water-holes.”
“But it’s a beautiful place to live in?”
“Is it?” said the man coldly.
“Oh, I say, you want your breakfast!” said Nic laughingly.
“No; I am not hungry.”
“Then what’s the matter with you, Leather?”
“Nothing.”
“Ah, well, I must go and have my dip.”
The man gave him a sour look, and Nic ran on, passing the horses grazing together, which were ready to look up and whinny a welcome.
“There,” cried, the boy, as he gave each a friendly patting and stroked their cold wet noses; “you’re ever so much better companions than old Leather. Now then, finish your breakfast: to-night you will sleep in your warm stable.”
The announcement made, of course, no impression upon the horses, which lowered their heads again directly, and went on cropping the succulent coarse grass, while Nic went on to the side of the pool, and began to undress, when his attention was taken by a sudden splash; and as he stood wondering he could dimly see something swimming about toward the other side.
“Must be a big water rat,” muttered Nic, commencing to undress; and, confident that there was nothing likely to injure him, he plunged in, had his swim, crept out, rubbed, and was going on with his dressing again behind a clump of wattle scrub, when the splash excited his curiosity again, and turning his head cautiously, he peered down at the pool over which the pale grey light was now growing brighter.
For the first few moments he could see nothing; then a sinuous line of disturbed water showed him where something was swimming.
“’Tis a rat,” he said to himself, “and those are ducks just on beyond it. No, it isn’t a rat: it’s one of those things with the duck’s bill that father was talking about. I’ll dress quickly and fetch the gun. I might get two or three ducks for supper.”
The next moment he thought he would run as hard as he could to the waggon, and avoid being speared, but he did not stir, only stood in a stooping position staring wildly at’ a black figure stealing along among the trees on the other side of the pool; and hardly had he realised this fact before another black appeared walking in the track of the first, and then’ another and another.
Nic felt paralysed. They might be dangerous, for they were all carrying spears, and were stealing up to the water in the most cautious way.
The next minute he could see at least a dozen, and lowering his head cautiously he dropped upon his knees well out of sight, and finished dressing before softly turning his head again to watch.
The blacks were gone; and, though relieved, the boy was puzzled, for he could not make out how they could have left, as there was the open country just beyond the water-hole, and hardly a bush that could form a hiding-place.
He could not have been deceived. Those must have been blacks, a strong party of them; and it was evident that they had not been seen up at the camp by Leather, or he would have warned him of their presence.
“Would he?” thought Nic. “He’s a disagreeable, surly fellow, and I don’t wonder, at Brookes bullying him so much. What shall I do? Perhaps after all they’re gone. Oh!”
That last was a low, deep expiration of the breath, for Nic was having his first lesson in the clever cunning of the blackfellows. They were not gone, but clustered together just on the other side of the water-hole, some sixty yards away, right in sight as he peered between the thick branches of the wattle.
Nic felt fascinated for the moment, and was ready to ask himself whether it was real or a trick of his imagination. For there across the water lay about and stuck up in all kinds of gnarled and grotesque shapes what seemed to be a large clump of burned-down and blackened tree stumps; broken branches sent off awkward snag-like pieces, others presented bosses and excrescences; and but for the fact that he had seen the party of blacks creeping up, Nic never could have imagined that they were really there, thrown into these strange imitations of what was likely to be found upon the bank of a water-hole.
But there they were, either acting their part to deceive the wild fowl into coming near enough to be speared or knocked down, or trying to hide themselves from the encamping party.
Yes, dim as the light was, there could be no deception, for Nic at last made out the glint of an eye. It certainly was not a piece of gum gleaming in the dewy morning, but the eye of one of the blacks. Then it was gone.
What should he do? They were so clever that Nic knew it would be the hardest of hard work for a white to beat them with their own weapons; but the boy knew that he must act, and at once.
Dropping silently down, he lay on his breast thinking for a few moments, making his plans.
It was quite three hundred yards to the tree where the fire had been made—a long way for him to go if he were seen, for the naked blacks would be swifter of foot than he. His only course was to crawl from bush to bush; and feeling that for the present he was out of sight, sheltered by the patch of wattle, he began to crawl slowly and as silently as he could toward the waggon.
Nic had never before realised how difficult it was to proceed over wet herbage after the fashion of a caterpillar. But this was the only way for him to get along, and he did his best, moving slowly forward where a savage would have gone on at a little run.
As he crept along it was with a strange quivering of the muscles of his back and loins, a curious kind of shrinking, in expectation moment by moment of the blacks having crept round the end of the water-pool through the dry bed of the river up the side to send a spear flying into him.
But it did not come; and at last, perspiring profusely, he passed a detached bush, curved round so as to place it between him and the blacks, and then paused to glance back.
He could not see them; but, to his horror, he found that the bush was not in a line between him and the water-hole, and he had to creep back.
Worse still, he realised now how the ground sloped upward, so that at any moment he might be in full view, and he paused, hesitating about going any farther, when only a few yards beyond he saw that there was a hollow into which he could roll, and in it creep along to the first big trees.
Nic felt that he was risking being seen by his impetuosity, but excitement urged him on, and the next moment he was in the little depression, most probably a dry rivulet bed, which ran down toward the water-hole. But whatever it was it gave him shelter till he could reach the big trees, in and out of whose trunks he threaded his way, well out of sight now, and ran panting up to the fire as his father was angrily saying to Leather:
“Surely you must have seen the black last night.”
“Not him, sir,” said Brookes; “he won’t see nothing that he don’t want. I left ’em together, and he ought to know where he is.”
“Well, he has gone,” said the doctor sternly; “and hullo, Nic, have you seen a snake?”
“Quick! father, the guns!” panted the boy. “Blacks! the blacks!”
“You mean our blackfellow?”
“No, father, twenty of them, just on the other side of the water-hole, hiding.”
“All of you,” said the doctor, in a low, firm voice, “into the waggon.” Then the boy heard him mutter, as he held him tightly by the arm: “Good heavens! can they have been to the Bluff?”
Chapter Thirteen.
Nic’s Mission.
“Father! do you think they have?” said Nic, breathlessly.
The doctor turned upon his son sharply. “Did I speak aloud?” he said. Nic nodded.
“I don’t know. I cannot tell, my boy. I pray not.”
By this time they were all armed, and the doctor whistled sharply, when there was a whinnying answer, and the two horses came up as fast as their hobbled fore feet would allow.
“Call in the bullocks,” said the doctor to Brookes, who uttered a loud yell somewhat like the yodel of the Swiss peasants to their cattle on the mountain side.
The great sleek beasts responded directly, and came from where they were grazing, bellowing loudly, right up to the waggon, as if expecting to be yoked.
“To keep them from being speared,” said the doctor to Nic. Then to the men: “Yoke up, and drive the waggon right out into the open. They could reach the poor beasts from behind those trees.”
The men set to work leisurely enough, while at a word from his father Nic, whose hands trembled from excitement, bridled and saddled Sour Sorrel.
“Take off the hobbles, boy,” said the doctor; and this was done. A few minutes later the bullocks, which had from long habit taken their places readily, were yoked, and drew out the waggon right into a clear spot away from trees, which would shelter the enemy if they made an attack.
“Hah!” ejaculated the doctor, “now we can breathe freely. Brookes, you are all right with a gun. Have you ever used a piece, Leather?”
“Not much,” said the man sourly; “but I know how to load, and can keep you going.”
“My son will load,” said the doctor sternly. “You must do your best.”
“Yes,” said the man shortly; and Nic thought to himself, “Father does not want me to shoot any one.”
“Now then, keep a sharp look-out,” said the doctor. “If the blacks show, up at once into the front of the waggon, and we will take the back. No firing unless they try to spear the cattle. Then the blacks must accept their fate.”
Incongruous ideas occur to us all, even in times of the greatest peril; and a waft of something in the air drew Nic’s attention to the fire under the big gum tree, where the tea, hot cake, and bacon were ready for breakfast, and for a moment the boy felt hungry.
All was perfectly still. Then a magpie began to pipe his arpeggios, which sounded sweet and clear in the morning air; and this seemed to be the signal to start a chorus of whistling and shrieking up in the thick boughs, where a flock of paroquets were hidden; and a glow in the east made the morning grey look so opalescently beautiful that it was hard to believe there could be any danger.
“Are you sure you saw blacks, Nic?” said the doctor.
“Oh yes, father—certain.”
“We ought to do some scouting, to see if they have moved and mean mischief.”
“I’ll go, father.”
“No, boy: you are not used to the ways of these people; and I don’t like to leave the waggon for fear of a rush. Brookes!”
“Yes,” came from the front.
“You must go and reconnoitre. I’ll cover you as well as I can. Just see if they are coming on.”
“Don’t see why you should send me,” grumbled the man. “My wage ain’t so very, high, and I’ve only got one life. Send Leather: he is not so much consequence as me.”
The doctor uttered an angry ejaculation, and frowned fiercely; but it was no time for angry words.
“Leather, take your gun, and try if you can make out where the blacks are. Don’t fire unless they see and attack you.”
The man came with a heavy scowl upon his brow, shouldered his gun, and walked back in among the trees, while the doctor stood patting the butt of his gun impatiently, as his eyes searched the place in the direction of the water-hole.
“Our black must have known these fellows were in the neighbourhood,” he said; “and he has either joined them or they have scared him away. Joined them, I think, or he would have warned me. They are all alike, these men: they come and work for a time, and then tire of it and go back to the bush.”
“Here comes Leather,” whispered Nic; and the next moment the man came back at a swift run, carrying his gun at the trail.
“Well? seen them?” said the doctor.
“Yes, over a score of them,” said the man, who looked more animated now, in the excitement of the danger. “They’re jabbering together this side of the water.”
“Then they mean to attack. Be ready.”
The man nodded, and moved toward where Brookes stood cutting himself some tobacco to chew. Then he turned back, and there was something approaching a smile upon his face, which, in spite of sun tan and the deep marks on his forehead, looked almost handsome to Nic.
“Yes: what is it?” said the doctor.
“Isn’t it a pity to leave the breakfast for those blacks?”
“Never mind the food, man,” began the doctor; but he checked himself. “Yes: try and get it,” he said; “people must eat.”
“Hold my gun, sir,” said Leather, who was now, full of animation; and, handing the piece to Nic, he dashed back to the fire, while the doctor followed him slowly, scanning the trees in all directions as he kept his cocked piece ready for instant use.
Leather lost no time when he reached the fire, but, catching up the freshly made damper, he dabbed it down into the cross-handled frying-pan on the top of the bacon, placed the tin mugs in the kettle of boiling tea, carried the tea and sugar canisters under his arm, and taking pan-handle in one hand, kettle-handle in the other, he trotted back in safety, the blacks having made no sign.
“Bravo! Well done!” cried the doctor; and Nic noted that the bright, animated look passed away, to give place to a sullen scowl, which came over the man’s face like a cloud.
“Help yourselves, men,” continued the doctor; and Brookes came to them once again.
“Nic,” said the doctor, “I am in agony. It may be all imagination, and if it is I should bitterly regret leaving the waggon. Do you see?”
“No, father; I don’t quite understand. Do you mean you want to ride on to the Bluff, and yet don’t want to because it may only be a scare?”
“Exactly. And if I did decide for us to ride on together, these men would take fright and leave the waggon to be plundered.”
The doctor paused to search the trees again, but all was still.
“Send one of the men, father.”
“I don’t want to weaken my defensive force, boy.”
“I’d go, father, but I don’t know the way,” said Nic.
“Yes: you shall go, my boy. The horse will take you straight to the station as soon as he is well away from his companion; and, look here! the track may prove faint, but do you see that notch in the mountains?”
“Where it looks as if a square piece had been cut out, and a cat’s head with its ears standing up?”
“Yes: that notch is the pass through the mountains, and is just about two miles behind our house, which stands on a slope. You could not miss it.”
“A wooden house: I know,” said the boy; “but are the others at all like it?”
“What others? There is no other station for miles, boy. Well, will you risk it?”
“I don’t see any risk, father.”
“No; but blacks may be there. Well mounted, though, you could easily give them a wide berth.”
“I’m not afraid,” said Nic.
“That’s right. You will ride straight there, then, and—”
The doctor stopped short, with his face drawn and wrinkled.
“Yes, father: and what?”
“If the station is a smoking ruin, ride back to us as hard as you can.”
“Oh, don’t say that.”
“I have said it, boy. There—prove yourself worthy of my mission.”
“Yes, father; but if all is right?”
“Stay there, and tell your mother to keep any black-fellows at a distance till I get home. You can help her defend the place for a few hours. Now: no words. Take a piece of the damper, and put a couple of rashers between, have a good deep drink of the tea—as much as you can, for you will have a thirsty ride—eat your breakfast as you go. Mind, straight as the crow flies for that notch: never mind the track. No words. Shake hands. Mount, and be off.”
Nic saw that it was no time for words, and hurriedly breaking the bread-cake, he placed the bacon between the thin pieces, saw that his shot belt and powder flask were right, took a deep draught of tea, and then, gun in hand, turned to find Leather holding his horse, and looking him fixedly in the eyes.
“Yes; what is it?” said Nic hurriedly.
“Keep in the open: don’t go near any of the scrub.”
“Why not?” said Nic.
“Blacks,” said the man, as the boy settled himself in the saddle.
“Off!” cried the doctor, pointing to the mountain gap. Nic waved his hand, pressed his nag’s sides, and it bounded off; the other horse making a plunge to follow but it was tethered to a waggon wheel. But before the boy had gone fifty yards he turned, for there was a tremendous barking, and he saw that the doctor was at the back of the waggon doing something to the dogs. Then there was a shout, and he saw that they were loosened, and were tearing after him, barking loudly in their wild excitement.
“To come with me,” thought Nic; and directly after, as he cantered steadily on, the two collies were racing round him, unsettling his horse as they leaped up, at its muzzle, at its legs, and then dashing on, mad with delight, but rather interfering with his comfortable seat, for they made the horse partake of their excitement and strain at the rein to join the two freed prisoners in their wild career over the tree-dotted plain.
The dogs soon settled down, though, to a more sober pace, and began to hunt in and out among the bushes and trees; finding nothing, but thoroughly enjoying their freedom.
Every now and then they came bounding back to the horse, to look up at Nic, barking loudly, their eyes flashing and tails whisking from side to side, as if telling him of their delight; and as the boy rode he gave them a word or two of encouragement.
But Nic did not speak much, for he had too much upon his mind; and as soon as he saw that there was not the slightest fear of the dogs straying away from the horse, he kept his eyes fixed upon the notch in the mountains right ahead, and rode steadily on, keeping his horse to a steady canter; and bearing Leather’s laconic warning in mind, he left the track to one side or the other wherever growth seemed to be abundant, his father’s order about going as the crow flies being ample warrant for this.
For the matter of that, the faint track of wheel and hoof-mark went pretty straight, only curving now and then to avoid some eminence or rugged patch of forest, which he watched with keen eyes for enemies, though, after what he had seen that morning in the grey dawn of the blacks’ power of concealment, he felt doubtful about seeing them if they were in hiding to form an ambuscade.
“I wonder whether they could hit me with their spears if I was going at this rate,” he said to himself, as he bore off from one dense patch which might easily have hidden a whole tribe. Then, in a state of intense excitement, he cocked his gun, trembling the while, for that there was danger at hand he felt sure, from the alarm of his horse, which suddenly cocked its ears, while the dogs lowered their heads and dashed together into the thicket.
“They’ll give me warning,” cried Nic aloud, as he bore off more to the right so as to skirt the little wood some fifty yards away; when out from the other side dashed half a dozen large animals, some of a ruddy hue, others of a bluish-brown colour, bounding over the ground like gigantic hares more than anything else, while the dogs gave tongue loudly and tried to head them off.
But at the end of four or five hundred yards, distanced beyond all possibility of overtaking their quarry, the collies stopped short to stand barking, and then trotted back to join the horse coming up, barking angrily, whining, and evidently thoroughly puzzled, as they looked up at Nic.
“Can’t you make them out?” he cried; and the dogs barked and whined again. “Take them for sheep?” cried Nic; and in their way the dogs answered, and kept on running up the hillocks to bark at the little flock of strange beasts, that were growing smaller and smaller in the distance.
Onward again in a bee line, and an hour passed, with the notch in the mountains apparently at exactly the same distance as it was when they started on their journey.
Then came another little scene. On Nic’s right the meandering line of bush and tree suggested where there was the course of a river, and the dogs suddenly, from where they were some distance ahead, scented out an occupier in a clump of rough growth low down in a swampy patch of thick grass.
Nic swung round his gun once more; but this time the dogs did not drive out a herd of kangaroo, for they stopped short, with the thick coat of hair about their necks bristling up while they charged in and retreated again and again.
“Can’t be blacks,” thought Nic, and he checked his nag slightly, but found the horse began to show signs of uneasiness, sidling away as he approached, carefully watching for the point of a spear or some shock head.
“There they are,” he said to himself the next moment, as he made his horse bound away, for some distance farther on he saw both—the rough spears and long-haired heads dotted here and there.
The next moment, though, he was annoyed with himself for his needless alarm, the objects he saw being only the native grass trees with their peculiar growth of tufted heads bearing some resemblance to a rough shock of hair, the long bare flower spike standing up above suggesting at a distance the native spear.
There, too, in an open patch, was the cause of the dogs’ uneasiness, in the shape of a snake richly marked with brown, and apparently six or eight feet long, as it lay in close curves, with head erect, playing about and seeking an opportunity to strike at the first dog which came within reach.
Nic felt plenty of inclination to have a shot at what was probably, from its appearance, the venomous tiger-snake of which he had heard the men speak. But the urgent duty forced him on, and he cantered forward for another hour, to where the track, now on his left, passed close by a pool of water, toward which the dogs set off, barking loudly; and the horse followed straight for the spot.
As usual, it was well wooded all about, but after seeing the dogs reach it first and career through and, through it without so much as a yelp, Nic had no hesitation in riding up, loosening his nag’s girths, and then, while it drank a little, taking out his own breakfast, a part of which he ate with poor appetite, sharing the rest between the dogs as soon as they had had a good drink and swim.
The halt was very short, and while the horse was refreshing itself with a few mouthfuls of the rich grass, its master stood gazing through the clear sunny air at the notch in the mountains, which looked to him just as far off as it did when he rode off that morning—just as near.
He tried to calculate how many hours he had been riding, how many miles he had come, but gave up in despair. All he could feel was that the sun was getting very high, and that the heat would be very great for the rest of the way, and he knew that he must deal gently with his horse, and keep to the pace he had ridden through the morning: to go faster might mean a break-down.
“Now, Sour Sorrel,” he said suddenly; and the horse left off grazing, and stood gazing at him with its great deer-like eyes.
It stood quietly enough while he gave it a good rub with some natural hay where the saddle covered its satin coat, then clapped the saddle back, tightened the girths and mounted, while the dogs careered round him with their ears up and brushes waving, barking with delight, and once more leaping up at the horse’s muzzle.
Then forward once more—out of the shade and into the scorching sun.
Nic started his horse at a walk, and noted that it needed no guiding, but took to the faint track at once, steering straight for the notch, and making for a thick patch of wooded country, till a pressure from the rider’s leg turned it off to a more open part, from which he bore away, so as to pass round to the west of the woodland.
As soon as it was on the springy green grass, the nag broke at once into a canter, and the dogs now settled into a steady pace, keeping one on either side, while Nic found it hard to believe that he was riding over wild land, the ground bearing so strongly the appearance of forming part of some park devoted to grazing; but now he saw no trace of beast or sheep, little of wild creatures, save where there were signs of water, and then only a few birds, generally a kind of plover, or ducks.
The heat was now intense. Nic had only enjoyed a week’s training, and he was in poor condition for so much exertion, so that before long he was soaked with perspiration, and growing weary as he gazed at that terrible notch which seemed to come no nearer, he began to lose heart and wonder whether he would be able to accomplish his task.
The horse, too, was showing signs of exertion, and the dogs, as they trotted on, lolled out their tongues and displayed no disposition to break out of their steady pace to investigate anything to right or left.
“Phew! It is hot!” muttered Nic, as his horse cantered on, with the sun dazzling his eyes like molten silver, and biting his neck, while the whole of the atmosphere was quivering as it rose from the moister parts of the earth. Then, in the regular rhythmic motion of that canter, there were moments when the traveller began to feel drowsy. But he shook off the feeling, nipped the horse’s sides more tightly, and felt how the beast responded by increasing its pace.
On still, and on, over the rich green flower-decked earth; past groves of trees whose names he did not know,—some bearing the thin foliage of grey or sage green, with delicate shades of pink and blue, others like a coarse-leaved spiky-looking fir, whose boughs touched the ground, and densely clustered upward in a pyramid of dark glistening growth that would have hidden a dozen men from a traveller’s gaze.
There were the mountains, too, in a long ridge, stretching away to right and left, and always of a delicious amethystine blue, that looked as transparent as water, but always as far off as ever.
A grand, a lovely ride, but a terrible one in that heat; for this was the time when the doctor always had a midday halt by water and in the shade of trees. But there was no stopping for hours at a time like this. Nic felt that he must get on as fast as he could, and with his eyes fixed upon the notch he rode forward to the regular beat of his horse’s hoofs.
Hotter and hotter grew the day, and as Nic glanced from side to side he saw that he was not the only sufferer, for the dogs were trotting along with their heads down, and they gazed up at him and whined. His horse, too, began to look more distressed, but it did not flag, keeping up that steady canter toward the blue mountains that never seemed to grow any nearer.
For a few moments the idea lingered in Nic’s brain, that he must draw rein in the shade of the next clump of trees, but the thought evoked the face of his father, back there at the waggon, anxious about those dear to him, wondering how all had sped at the Bluff, and he felt that he could not halt even for an hour—that he must go on and on.
Then he began wondering how he would find the place—whether the blacks had been during his father’s absence, and attacked it when it was only defended by women and the servants, who might have escaped for their lives.
This idea of the place having been attacked sent such a thrill through Nic that he felt ready for any amount more exertion, and instead of halting he urged his willing steed on, shouted to the dogs and made them leap forward, while his eyes wandered about in search of enemies, but only to see something moving in the distance which, resembled the ostrich of his old picture-books. There was no sign of man, no house, flock, herd, or water, while his tongue was beginning to feel swollen and dry, and a peculiar thickness as of a mist began to obstruct the distant view.
“How much farther is it?” thought Nic; and he shaded his eyes by holding the hand which bore the gun across his forehead.
But he saw no better, and he winced from the touch, of the gun-lock, for it was hot.
Then on, still trusting to the horse more than to himself, for the air had grown thicker, and the mist hot, strange, and dazzling for a time. There were singing noises, too, in his ears, and as he gave his head a shake in his effort to get rid of them, he suddenly found that the dazzling mist had gone, and he could see right away to the notch—that dent in the mountains which seemed to lead him on and on, but only to recede as he advanced.
That clearness of vision did nut last, for the mist closed in again, lifted, and he saw a bright lake of beautiful silvery water, stretching out as far as he could see, and toward which with throbbing temples he urged on the horse. The next minute it had disappeared, and some one was calling him; the thickening of the air was not from mist, but as of smoke. He must, he felt, with a terrible sense of depression, have neared his devastated home, which was burning, and the light breeze was wafting the dense smoke all over the plain.
“What news to take back to his father!” he thought, in his despair, and this made his senses reel; something struck him heavily, and then he was looking up at the blue sky, as a dark object came between him and it.
For a few moments he must have been quite unconscious, while the next thing he saw was the horse’s muzzle close to his face.
He started up into a sitting position, for a dismal howl rang in his ears, followed by a loud joyous barking, which brought him to his feet, guessing the truth.
For the heat had produced that dimness of sight, tortured him with the sight of that imaginary lake, and finally brought on a bad attack of giddiness, which had made him reel in the saddle and fall heavily to the ground.
The shock had helped to revive him; and feeling better, he picked up his gun from where it lay beneath the horse, managed to climb back into the saddle, and the brave beast started on at once straight for a clump of trees about a mile away, while, before they were two-thirds of the distance, the dogs began to bark, and seemed to recover their strength, for they bounded on, and the horse broke into a gallop, following in their track.
A minute or two later Nic knew why, for there was a flash of light from amongst the trees, and soon after he had thrown himself from his horse’s back, and was upon his chest in the shade, drinking draughts that seemed to quench the fire in his throat, bathing his face, and listening to the gentle, sucking noise made by the horse where it stood knee deep, and to the barking and splashing of the two dogs as they revelled in the refreshing coolness of the great water-hole.
Nearly half an hour passed before Nic resumed his place in the saddle; the horse broke into a canter at once, the dogs ran barking by his side, and, refreshed and clear of vision, it seemed now that the notch in the blue mountains was not quite so far away, while, in spite of the heat, the country on all sides was growing as beautiful as it had seemed at his early start.
On still, but no sign of the station. The ground had ceased to be so level, there was hardly any track, and their course was among clumps of trees, rocks, and rugged hillocks, and there were times when the view was cut off by their descent into some deep gully.
But his father had said that if he kept straight for the notch he would be sure to see the house—the only one; and no house was in view. He must be near it now: was it still in existence? or had some horrible catastrophe befallen it?
The heat was growing insufferable again and the giddiness returning: he could not go much farther. He had been trusting the horse too much: it had evidently brought him astray far down in that suffocating gully,—the growth was different. He was riding amongst ferns—ferns like those he saw at home, and ferns that spread green lacework fronds right overhead. He must be dreaming again and going to fall from his horse, which was ascending the rapid slope the farther side of the gully. They were soon at the top, and the breeze came pure and sweet again; and a wild cry of exultation burst from the boy’s parched throat, for, not a mile away, standing high upon the slope beyond another gully, there was a long, low, white house, with a cluster of wooden buildings near. Beyond it a rising ground was dotted with sheep; there were cattle, too, farther away, and, as in response to his cry, the dogs burst out into a loud barking, Nic pressed his horse’s sides, the spirited animal breaking into a swift gallop and racing on.
For there was no sign of fire or smoke: a glorious picture of a bright oasis in the great wilderness was before him, and his former fears were vain; for, yes—no—yes, out there in the clear air stood a group of watching figures, and the next moment the boy’s eyes grew dim—not so dim, though, that he was unable to see white handkerchiefs waving him a welcome—a welcome to his long-wished-for home.