The nugget finders

YES, the boys had escaped. When the excitement produced by the fatal shot was at its height, it had flashed upon Harry like an inspiration that then, if ever, was the time to escape. He knew that it would be at the risk of their lives, and but for one consideration it is doubtful if he would have been willing to incur the peril of the attempt. But he felt that to stay was to run a risk as great—that of being compelled to join the ranks of the bushrangers, and of that he had a great dread.

They never stopped running till they had set half a mile between them and the camp of the bushrangers. Jack was the first to show distress.

“Hold on, Harry,” he said, panting, “I’m all out of breath.”

Harry instantly slackened his speed.

“Look back, Jack,” he said anxiously; “and see if you can discover any one pursuing us.”

“I see no one,” answered Jack, after a prolonged look.

“They have other things to think of,” said Harry. “The murder of their captain has put all thoughts of us out of their heads. When the excitement has subsided a little, I am afraid they will look for us. How terrible it was!” he added with a shudder.

“Yes,” returned Jack. “I saw that man—the captive’s brother—lift his weapon and point it at the captain. Almost before I could speak it was discharged and the captain fell. He must have been killed instantly.”

“I little thought what lay before me when I left home,” said Harry.

“I wish I knew what lies before us now,” said Jack.

“I am afraid our prospects are rather dark. We must take care at any rate not to fall again into the hands of the bushrangers. I am most afraid of that man Fletcher. If he could have his way, he would show us no mercy.”

“Let us go on again,” said Jack. “I only stopped to catch my breath.”

“You are right, Jack. The farther we get away from the bushrangers the better.”

Before them was a densely wooded hill. The way had become difficult with the scrub bushes that filled up the distance between the trees.

“We can’t make our way here, Harry,” said Jack despondently.

“Oh yes, we can. Besides, don’t you see, the rougher and more difficult the way, the less are we likely to be followed. I am willing to go through a good deal to escape capture.”

“So am I,” answered Jack. “You are always right. Push ahead, and I’ll follow.”

For three or four hours the boys kept on their way. They surmounted the hill, and found a clearer country. By this time it was growing dark, and the boys were feeling both fatigued and hungry.

“I think we can rest now, Jack,” said Harry.

With a sigh of relief Jack threw himself on the ground.

“This is worse than any work I did on shipboard,” he said.

Harry smiled.

“I don’t think it is likely to cure you of your love for the sea, Jack,” he said. “Though I haven’t your fondness for sea life, I confess I would rather be on the deck of a good staunch ship than here.”

“Harry,” said Jack anxiously, “when do you think we shall find something to eat? I am terribly hungry.”

“So am I, Jack. It’s the hard walk that has increased our appetite.”

“I have often thought I might be afloat in an open boat without anything to eat, but I never expected to be caught in such a pickle on land.”

“A good many things have happened to us to-day that we didn’t expect,” said Harry. “Do you know, Jack, it seems the longest day I ever spent!”

“I can say the same.”

“This morning we set out with Obed, free from care. We have been captured by bushrangers, taken to their camp, seen the murder of their leader, escaped, and after walking for miles through a rough wilderness here we are, tired out and in danger of starvation.”

“Don’t say any more, Harry,” said Jack faintly. “I can realise it without your description.”

“I wish Obed were with us,” said Harry, after a pause. “Perhaps he could think of some way out of our trouble. He is an experienced man, and is used to roughing it. As for me, I feel helpless.”

“Do you think there is likely to be any house near at hand?”

“It doesn’t look like it,” said Harry, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I should mind much being caught and carried back by the bushrangers, if they would give me a good supper,” said Jack ruefully.

“Poor Jack!” said Harry compassionately; “I do believe you are suffering for food.”

“I told you so, Harry.”

“My appetite no doubt will come later. At present I am not very uncomfortable. Well, Jack, there is only one thing to do. We must explore farther and see if we can find any trace of a human habitation. Suppose you go to yonder knoll, and climb the tree at the top. Then use your eyes for all they are worth.”

Jack followed his advice, and with a sailor’s agility mounted the tree. Then, shading his eyes with his hand, he looked earnestly, first in one direction, then in another.

“Well, Jack?” inquired Harry anxiously.

There was a pause; then Jack called out joyfully: “I see a light: yes, I am sure I see a light.”

“Whereaway?”

“Straight ahead, or a little to the left.”

“Take a good look, Jack, so as to be sure of your bearings. Then we will make our way toward it with the best speed we can muster.”

Jack scrambled down from the tree with his face actually cheerful. The prospect of a meal had put new life into him.

“Follow me!” he said. “I don’t think it can be more than a mile away.”

Not feeling their fatigue so much now that they were buoyed up by the hope of shelter and food, the two boys plodded on. The way was at times difficult, and there was no glimpse of the light which Jack had seen from the tree-top.

“Do you think you are on the right track, Jack?” asked Harry anxiously.

“Yes, I feel sure of it,” answered the young sailor.

Events proved that Jack was right. They came to an open place, from which they could distinctly see the light gleaming from a dwelling.

“There, what did I tell you?” demanded Jack triumphantly.

“You are right, Jack. I am glad enough to admit it. Now the question is, will the people who occupy the house let us in?”

“They can’t be so inhuman as to refuse. Pass on, Harry.”

They were not long in reaching the hut. It was one of those slab huts which are used by shepherds. They are lonely enough, the stations being in some instances twenty miles from the nearest dwelling. This was a single dwelling, the home of one of the outkeepers. The chief stations are usually an aggregation of dwellings. In the yard was a pile of wood for fuel. Close at hand was a paddock surrounded by a rail fence, over which hung a number of sheepskins. All these evidences of habitation cheered the hearts of the lonely boys.

Harry went up to the door and knocked.

His knock appeared to create some commotion inside. A voice was heard, and then there was audible the barking of a dog, but no one came to the door.

“Suppose you knock again, Harry,” said Jack.

“They must have heard my first knock. Perhaps they don’t want to let us in.”

However, Harry knocked again.

Again the dog inside barked, this time with fierce emphasis.

“Is there no one inside but the dog?” thought Harry anxiously. Having no weapon with him, he took a piece of a broken rail, so that in case of necessity he might have a means of defence.

He was about to venture on a third knock when a tremulous voice, which the boys at once recognised as that of a girl, was heard from within.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We are two boys who have lost our way, and are almost starved,” answered Harry. “For heaven’s sake let us in, and give us something to eat.”

There was a pause, the girl being evidently undecided.

“Are there only two of you?” she asked.

“Only two.”

“You are sure there is no one with you?”

“No one.”

“And you are boys?”

“Yes.”

“What brings you here—in this lonely place, at this hour?”

“We are on our way to the goldfields of Bendigo.”

“But this is off the road.”

“I know it. The fact is, we were captured by the bushrangers, and have made our escape. We plunged into the woods, thinking we were less likely to be caught and carried back.”

There was a change in the girl’s tone as she said “Is this really true? Are you not bushrangers yourselves?”

“No, I hope not,” answered Harry, with a boyish laugh.

This laugh, which sounded natural and genuine, evidently inspired the girl with confidence.

“If I let you in, will you promise to do no mischief?” she asked.

“You shall have no cause to regret admitting us, we promise that.”

There was still a little pause of indecision, and then a bolt was drawn, and the door opened. The two boys saw in the doorway a pleasant-faced girl of fourteen, whose eyes fell upon them not without a shade of anxiety. But when she saw that the two visitors were boys not much older than herself, there was a look of relief, and she said, “I will trust you. Come in if you like. Hush, Bruno!”

This was addressed to a large shepherd dog that stood beside her, eyeing them suspiciously.

A weight seemed lifted from the hearts of the two boys as they caught sight of the comfortable interior of the hut. On the one side of the room was a large open fireplace, on which a good fire was burning. The flickering flames helped illumine the apartment, and diffused a home-like air, which was most grateful to the two tired wanderers.

“You are very kind to admit us,” said Harry. “You have no idea how great a favour it is.”

“I would have let you in before, but I thought you might be bushrangers,” said the girl.

“We don’t look much like bushrangers, do we?” said Harry, with a smile.

The girl smiled too. She was evidently pleased with the appearance of her two visitors.

“No; if I had seen you I should have known better than to think you belonged to their band. Come in and sit down by the fire.”

“Thank you.”

Harry and Jack seated themselves on a settle near the fire, and the girl continued to eye them curiously.

“I suppose you are boys,” she said.

“We don’t call ourselves men yet,” answered Harry.

“I never saw a boy before,” was the unexpected remark of their young hostess.

“What!” ejaculated the two boys in concert.

“I scarcely ever saw anybody,” explained the girl. “My father and I live here alone, and have lived here for years. He has a flock of fifteen hundred sheep to watch and tend. Sometimes another shepherd calls here, and we had a visit from the bushrangers last year.”

“It must be very lonely for you,” said Harry, in a sympathetic tone.

“Yes, it is; but I am used to it. Father is away all day, but he leaves Bruno to keep me company.”

“Come here, Bruno!” said Jack, in a coaxing tone.

Bruno eyed Jack dubiously, and finally walked up to him deliberately, and allowed himself to be stroked.

“Bruno doesn’t think we are bushrangers,” said Jack, smiling.

“He did at first though,” the girl replied, with an answering smile. “Have you been walking all day?”

“Yes, the greater part of the day.”

“Then you must be hungry.”

“We are almost starved!” said Harry tragically. “Are we not, Jack?”

“I am quite starved,” said the young sailor.

“Then I must get you some supper,” said the girl, in a hospitable tone.

“Thank you,” said Harry earnestly. “Will you let me know your name?” he asked.

“My name is Lucy.”

“My grandmother’s name was Lucy,” said Jack.

“Then you may look upon me as your grandmother,” said the girl demurely.

Of course all three laughed heartily at this absurdity. Then Lucy moved about with quick steps, and soon a goodly supper of mutton-chops was fizzling in the frying-pan, sending forth savoury odours that made their mouths water. Presently Lucy drew out a table, and placed upon it the chops and some bread.

“I would boil some potatoes,” she said, “but you might not like to wait so long.”

“I think we won’t wait, Lucy.”

“You haven’t told me your name,” said Lucy, as they drew up to the table.

“My name is Harry Vane,” said the possessor of that name.

“And mine is Jack Pendleton.”

“Harry and Jack,” repeated Lucy, nodding.

At this point Bruno raised his head, looked toward the door, and began to bark.

“I think my father must be close by,” said Lucy. “Bruno is always the first to hear him.”

Before Lucy could reach the door it was opened, and a stalwart man of middle age paused on the threshold in evident surprise.

“Whom have you here, Lucy?” he asked, in a tone of displeasure.

“Two boys, papa, who came here in distress, having lost their way.”

“Did I not caution you against admitting strangers?” continued her father, with a slight frown.

“Yes, but these are boys, not men.”

Harry Vane thought it was time to start.

“I hope, sir,” he said, “you won’t blame your daughter for her kindness to us. We stood greatly in need of friendly help, having been robbed of everything by the bushrangers, from whom we managed to escape some hours since.”

The shepherd regarded Harry keenly, and proceeded to cross-examine him.

“You say you were captured by the bushrangers,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“When was this?”

“This morning, just after breakfast.”

“Where did it happen?”

Harry told him.

“Where were you going?”

“To the mines at Bendigo.”

“How large was your party?”

“There were only three of us—a countryman of ours and ourselves.”

“Where is he?”

“The bushrangers robbed him and let him go.”

“Why did they not release you and your friend?”

“Because, as a young member of the band told us, the captain meant to spare us to join the band.”

“You are young to be travelling to the mines. Humph! your story sounds well enough, but how do I know that you are not spies of the bushrangers?”

Harry Vane’s eyes flashed indignantly.

“I hope you won’t think so badly of us,” he said.

The shepherd seemed somewhat impressed by his indignant denial, which certainly seemed genuine enough, but wanted information on one point.

“How did you manage to escape? That doesn’t seem very probable, at any rate.”

“We both took advantage of the excitement occasioned by the murder of Captain Stockton——” he began.

“What!” exclaimed the shepherd, in profound astonishment. “Captain Stockton murdered! When? By whom?”

Of course Harry told the story, but that need not be repeated.

The shepherd listened in evident excitement.

“If this is true,” he said, “nothing better could have happened for this part of Australia. This man—Stockton—is noted everywhere as the most desperate and cruel of the bushrangers. I can’t begin to tell you how many atrocious crimes he has committed. He killed my brother in cold blood three years since”—here the shepherd’s face darkened—“because he defended the property of another, and tried to save it from being stolen. If he is dead I am deeply, profoundly grateful!”

“You need have no doubt on that point, sir,” said Harry. “Jack and myself saw him shot down. There can be no doubt of his death.”

“I believe you speak the truth. You don’t look as if you were deceiving me. So you took the opportunity to give the bushrangers legbail, eh?”

“We didn’t stay to bid them good-bye,” said Harry, smiling. “We ran till we were out of breath, but saw no one on our track. Probably it was some time before we were thought of and our escape noticed. We have been walking ever since, and were ready to drop with hunger and fatigue when we espied your cottage, and ventured to ask for help.”

“You are welcome to all that we can do for you,” said the shepherd, his tone changing. “I was suspicious at first, for the bushrangers are up to all sorts of tricks, but the news you have brought insures you a welcome. At last my poor brother is avenged, and the bloodthirsty villain who killed him has gone to his account. You don’t know who is elected in his place?”

“No, sir, we came away at once.”

“Of course, of course; I should have thought of that.”

“I hope it isn’t Fletcher,” said Jack.

“Ha! what do you know of Dick Fletcher?”

“More than we want to. He it was who passed himself off on us as a returned miner, and betrayed us into the hands of his comrades.”

“I know of him, too. He would be as bad as the captain if he dared, but he is a coward. His turn will come after a while. But, Lucy”—here he addressed his daughter—“you are not treating your guests very well. Where are your potatoes and other vegetables?”

“They were so hungry they preferred not to wait for them, papa.”

“You may put them in the pot now. I want them, and I think our young friends will be able to eat them later.”

“You are very kind, sir, but I am afraid Jack and I will not be able to compensate you. The bushrangers took all we had, and left us penniless.”

“I don’t want your money, boy. You are welcome to all you get in this house. We don’t have visitors very often. When they do come, they have no bills to pay.”

“Unless they are bushrangers, father!” said Lucy, with a smile.

“If they are bushrangers they will meet with a still warmer reception. And now, daughter,” said the shepherd, “hurry up supper, for I have a very fair appetite myself.”

Lucy moved about quietly but actively in obedience to her father’s directions. An hour later, or perhaps less, the table was spread once more, and all got up to it. The boys, though the edge of their appetite was taken away, managed to eat the vegetables with a relish, not having had a chance to eat any for a considerable time.

After supper they sat down beside the fire and talked. Living so much alone, the shepherd and his daughter were anxious to hear all that the boys could tell them of the great world from which they lived aloof. Later in the evening, the shepherd, whose name, by the way, was Andrew Campbell, said, “Now, let us have a little music. Lucy, bring me the bagpipe.”

His daughter went into an adjoining room, and brought out a Highland bagpipe, which Campbell received, and straightway began to play upon it some characteristic Scotch tunes. It was loud and harsh, but the boys enjoyed it for want of better.

“Don’t you sing, Miss Lucy?” asked Harry, when her father laid down the instrument.

“No,” answered the girl, smiling. “I wish I did. Father is very fond of singing.”

“Aye, am I; Lucy’s mother sang, but the gift has not descended to her.”

“Harry is a professional singer,” said Jack. “He sings in public.”

“Please sing something, then,” pleaded Lucy.

“If you really wish it,” answered Harry.

“I shall be glad to hear you, young sir,” said the shepherd.

Harry hesitated no longer, but sang at once, choosing such Scotch melodies as he knew in preference. The shepherd’s eyes glistened, and he was evidently much moved.

“It calls back my early days, when as a lad I trod the heath in Scotland,” he said. “You are a fine singer. I don’t mind when I have enjoyed an evening as much.”

“I am very glad, sir, if I have been able in this way to repay your kindness,” said Harry.

“Don’t speak of it, lad,” said the shepherd, lapsing into his Scotch mode of speech. “We shan’t miss the bit sup we have given you.”

At nine o’clock all retired for the night, for the shepherd must be up early in the morning to look after his flocks. Harry and Jack slept in a small room at the back. They were very tired, and fell asleep as soon as their heads struck the pillow.