And so it was. Macguire's villainous associate had disappeared, and with him the battery. He had left his hard-headed partner to bear the brunt of Jack's vengeful blow, probably by a preconceived arrangement, and, as Macguire most likely reasoned, a crack on the head with a rifle was better for him than the bullet which he would assuredly have received had he ventured flight at the same moment. They had trusted to the boy's unwillingness to shoot—after emptying their own firearms with deadly intent. They had pitted their murderous cunning against the lad's humane judgment, and they had succeeded in their nefarious plan.

"I ought to have fired; I ought to have killed them," muttered Jack, despairingly. "I knew their revolvers were empty at the last, only I didn't—like—to—shoot——"

"You did well, my lad," spoke Mackay, encouragingly. "I wouldna have cared for the blood o' even twa such scoundrels to be on your young heid, though had they killed you, I would have chased them up an' choked the breath oot o' them baith afore morning."

Very few of the tent dwellers around appeared to have been disturbed by the heavy firing. Only the Shadow and Emu Bill made their appearance to investigate the cause, and when they learned what had taken place, their language was full and eloquent.

"I'll twist that dandy chemist's neck in the morning," quoth the Shadow, with earnestness.

Mackay laughed mirthlessly. "They'll both probably stay in hiding for a bit," he said, "and the first thing we'll know is another process being stuck up on the Flat. They'll crowd us out, right enough, and we'll get nothing but what's in our own claims to put through."

"But won't the miners stand by us?" suggested Jack, hopefully.

"The miners, my laddie! The miners, especially on a new field such as this is, are like sheep. They'll gang the way o' least resistance, an' we canna afford to run a philanthropic concern for their benefit altogether. It's Bob I'm sorry for—Bob whose brain has done the work——"

"We'll let that go," said Bob, gently. "As you said last night, I'll have at least a vivid experience to remember."

Next morning news of the theft of Bob's secret appliances spread rapidly over the Flat. Mackay considered it advisable to let the affair be known ere some "new" discovery became heralded abroad by the perpetrators of the outrage.

"It will at least ensure the laddie's name as that o' the true inventor o' the process," he reasoned, and so the report became noised about.

At first the miners were indignant, and aggressively disposed towards the two men who had so meanly defrauded a mere boy, yet soon they calmed down.

"If there's more than one plant on the field we'll get the work done cheaper," argued some one, and of course this placed the matter in a new light as far as they were concerned.

There was no doubt as to the personality of the thieves. Early that same morning, Macguire and Wynberg, the chemist, had been seen driving off towards Kalgoorlie, and it had been observed also that the publican's head was swathed in bandages, while his companion's left arm was secured in a sling. Jack had certainly given them more than they bargained for, and the knowledge was a source of much joy to that youth, whose keen regret now was that he had not done them greater hurt.

The days slipped by, and the incident was almost forgotten before a week had passed; but the owners of the Golden Promise mine knew well what to expect. They continued their work in the shaft, digging out the refractory ore which now alone was left to them, and regularly each evening Bob kept pace with results by treating in the vat the entire amount raised in the day, and the exploitation of the mine proceeded; a little more than another week would suffice to exhaust the stratum within their boundary pegs, and then—Bob wondered vaguely whether, after all, the process had baffled the discerning powers of the chemist, and so would allow them to profit by the discovery on a larger scale.

"You need scarcely hope for that, Bob," said Mackay, "as I said before, the danger o' the discovery lay in its simplicity, and Wynberg is a man wha has had a' the qualifications his university in Germany could give him. They're vera smart mineralogists, those Germans, Bob, and nothing much will pass them. A' the same, when I get a grip o' the man I'll alter the state o' his health for a week or so. I'll——"

Mackay's anger overcame him, and he turned away abruptly to hide his annoyance.

Events soon proved how clearly he had foreseen the plans of the conspirators. That very night, Rockson, the battery proprietor, came over to the Golden Promise evidently much perturbed.

"I've got a letter from Macguire, boys," he said hesitatingly. "An' he gives me instructions to fit up a twenty-ton vat close to my stamping-mill. He says Wynberg will be out in a day or so to see it completed. I feel inclined to throw up the sponge, boys, I do; I know it is your discovery he means to work. If the blackguard didn't own so much o' the battery, I'd have nothing more to do with him; but I'm in his power, an' I must either throw everything up or do what he says."

"Don't worry about my feelings, Rockson," replied Bob, with an effort, for indeed the news had hurt him deeply. "I know you have been straight with us from the first, and if I have to lose the process I'd sooner see you work it than any one else on the Flat."

"But say the word, an' I'll fix the thing up for you," Rockson exclaimed eagerly, "there'll be next to nothing for the mill to do after this, and I might as well have it out with Macguire now as afterwards. You know the secret, and there's room for two plants on Golden Flat."

Bob pondered for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I'll share my rights with no man unwillingly," he said firmly. "Macguire can set up my process, but I, the inventor of it, will not compete against him. I'm not commercial enough to beat him in the struggle for popular favour. Besides, he owns a hotel, and I don't. Why, he would get all the trade if only because of that. No, I won't strive with him for what should surely be my own, but I'll make every man on the field his rival. I'll give the secret away so that each individual may work it for himself. Put up the vat, Rockson; it may hurt me, but I'll see that it doesn't help him."

A quiet chuckle broke from the lips of Mackay, who had been listening in silence. He had never seen Bob thoroughly angry before, and the lad's display of temper on this occasion met with his full approval.

"You have spoken well, Bob," he said; "we didna come out to Australia to run a cut-price establishment alongside a gorilla-faced purveyor o' bad whisky an' a thievin' German Jew. The country is wide, Rockson, and there are more Golden Flats than one in it. Anyhow, a golden mountain will serve us just as well, and we may even be contented wi' diamonds an' rubies for a change."

He spoke lightly, but Rockson thought he saw something other than mere banter in his words, and he departed wondering much what new scheme Mackay had in view.

Bob and Jack too were rather surprised at their comrade's strange remark, and noting their look of interrogation, Mackay gave a rather reluctant explanation.

"I was thinking o' the Never Never land," he admitted, with a far-away expression in his eyes. "You know every kind of wealth is supposed to be hidden out there."

"Then why shouldn't we go?" asked Bob, promptly.

"Yes, why not?" Jack supplemented with ill-concealed eagerness.

The big man gazed into the burning logs of the camp-fire, around which they were seated, for several minutes before he made answer.

"I've thought o' it often," said he, at length, "and Bob kens that it is my dearest wish to go back on the old track ... back to the mountain ... and beyond. But there's danger in it, laddies; many a strong man has gone under wi' thirst while crossin' the great desert. Then there's the natives, savage and bloodthirsty, an' filled wi' the awfullest cunning. It's a' vera well for me to go. My interest in life was crushed clean oot o' me when I had to come back alone last year, an' I havena much to lose now——"

"You can't dissuade me by picturing the dangers of the trail," interrupted Bob, quietly. "I know you want to go, you've said as much to me many times; and I tell you frankly I'm going with you. What did you give me the sextant for?"

"I'm to blame, Bob; vera much to blame. I forgot whiles that Jack an' you were young, wi' a' the world before ye, but the reaction when I saw that I was infusing into you only my ain restless spirit was cruel, cruel."

Mackay's emotion overcame him, and he buried his face in his hands. Bob spoke again with forced calmness, "A restless spirit was my birthright, and I am thankful for it. Why," he continued passionately, "without it I might never have known you. I might never have seen this great country where out of your goodness Jack and I have made as much money in a few months as we could hope to make in a lifetime at home. Let dangers come, you will find us at your side ready and eager to meet them. No, we simply won't let you go without us."

"Bob speaks for me every time," added Jack, promptly.

Mackay arose, straightened out his stalwart figure, and eyed the boys with an expression of mingled gravity and happy appreciation.

"So be it," he said, and there was an inflection of finality in his tones. Then his voice became cheerful, almost joyous. "The fact is, my lads," he added, "I have aye unconsciously been considering your vera tender youth, an' feelin' that I was like the bold bad giant in the story-books wha enticed wee bairns awa' to their doom in the desert. No, Jack, I canna exactly say what book it was, my memory is gettin' a bit defective, I'm thinkin'. However, Bob has shown that he is a man every inch o' him, baith in brain and muscle development, while you, Jack, you've got savvy enough for anything, and did ye no' nearly kill twa o' the maist desperate men in the country the other night, single handed? I'll no' say another word against you goin' into the Never Never wi' me. I have wished it from the first, an' though I tried no' to influence ye, there were times when I couldna help mysel', when the spirit o' the lonely desert sent her uncanny cry ringin' through my brain—that cry which I ken so well by this time, 'Mackay come back to your comrades; they wait for you by the mountain....' Ay, they wait for me, their bleaching bones wait for me to hide them from the carrion crows. But Mackay comes—he comes.... Get me the flute, Jack, an' let me play something cheery. I think I'll gie ye a selection from the 'Geisha' for a change."

"And I reckon I'll sing 'The Muskittie's Lament,' or burst," said the Shadow, who just then approached. "I reckon my voice has stretched a bit taller since I tackled it last."

Shortly afterwards the residenters of Golden Flat had cause to marvel at the unwonted music, and succeeding outbursts of hilarity which emanated from the head of the field.

A few days later Rockson's vat was completed, and that evening Wynberg arrived by the mail coach, which now connected with Kalgoorlie twice weekly, to arrange the final fixtures. He was accompanied by three of Macguire's satellites, a most truculent trio indeed they were, whose presence no doubt was for the purpose of safeguarding Wynberg from being roughly handled by the men he had wronged, but the dapper little German seemed nevertheless very ill at ease. He alighted from the conveyance, which stopped just beside Nuggety Dick's claim, and gazed around him anxiously, then suddenly catching a glimpse of Mackay in the near distance, he made a wild break for Rockson's camp, and never stopped until he was safe in the manager's assay office, which was the only wooden structure in the district that boasted a lock and key. His three followers, grinning broadly, proceeded after him at a much more leisurely pace. After that nothing was seen of the chemist for two full days, in which time a heavily logged hut was erected beside the huge vat, presumably for the purpose of containing the secret appliances; assuredly Macguire and Wynberg intended to run no risks of having the stolen process in turn stolen from them.

Then when he observed that the partners of the Golden Promise were paying little attention towards his movements a feeling of extreme bravery swelled in the little German's heart, and he boldly made his appearance in the open, and swaggered about most manfully when he noticed that Mackay was not in sight. His hearty fear of the one man made him forget that there were others who bore him no good will, and this oversight soon brought about the calamity which he had daily dreaded. It happened late in the afternoon when Bob and Jack were busy on the surface preparing the battery and gas generator for their final effort, for the Golden Promise Mine had at last cut out, and only ten tons of ore now remained to be treated. Mackay was on the platform above the vat, shovelling in the clayey mixture with great gusto, and whistling merrily to himself the while. Indeed, from the happy countenances of the three partners, it might have been judged that they had only at this period struck the auriferous wash instead of having exhausted it.

The Shadow, looking somewhat melancholy, stood a little way off, his hands deep in his pockets, and his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. He knew very well that Mackay's plans for journeying across into the Never Never land would soon be put into action, and yet the matter had not been mentioned to him. The Shadow felt forlorn and miserable at the prospect of being left alone. "It's all owing to that wretched German thief," he muttered savagely, "Macguire was too fat-headed to do anything on his own." Unconsciously, he turned his gaze in the direction of the newly erected process, and a gleam of unholy joy lit up his features. Wynberg stood there alone fondly surveying a legend which had just been painted on the huge wooden tank. So large was the lettering that the Shadow could read it without difficulty, "Wynberg's Discovery."

"I don't see any o' his policemen around, I reckon I'll risk it," he murmured, and he strolled carelessly over as if it were his intention to view the inscription at closer range.

The unsuspecting man turned as he approached; at that moment his pride and delight in himself left no room for other emotions. "Ha, ha!" he cried; "so you have come over to pay your respects to the discovery, have you? Well, well, you are quite right. Honour brains, young fellow, honour brains," he tapped his little bald cranium significantly, and struck an attitude as dignified as his rotund carcase would permit. Then he began again, "There ees none other process like mine; that young man—what's his name?—could never do what I, Carl Wynberg, of the Heidelbrughen University, have accomplished. I—— Ah! Ough! Murder! Police! Thieves!"

The Shadow had suddenly gripped him by the back of the neck, and lending impetus to his forward movement by a hearty application of his heavily booted pedal extremities, he impelled him forward at a run in the direction of the Golden Promise Mine. "I reckon you ain't far out when you yell thieves," commented the Shadow, "for you are about the worst thief in the country, you are; you wanted me to pay my respects to the discovery, did you? Well, I reckon you is now on the road to pay your respects to the discoverer."

In vain the German shrieked and expostulated; his captor's grip was as a vice, and an honest indignation lent added strength to his long sinewy arms. The din let loose drew the attention of Rockson, who was in his assay office, and he bounded out.

"Come and pull this savage man away! Come at once, Rockson!" cried Wynberg, twisting his head round appealingly.

"Not much, I don't," came the quick response; "you fight your own quarrels," and he turned calmly and went back to his work. But now Macguire's policemen came speeding up from the bottom of the Flat, and as they came nearer and saw that the Shadow only was to be pitted against them, their warlike threats against that young man's person filled the air, and Wynberg, hearing their coming, struggled and kicked and raved the more. But the Shadow did not once relax his hold; he had by this time got his prisoner halfway towards the camp, and he knew that prompt assistance from that quarter would soon reach him.

Nor was he mistaken. Bob and Jack had been watching the affray with keen amusement, and Mackay, who had observed the whole scene from his elevated position, laughed so heartily that he had difficulty in keeping his footing, but immediately Macguire's followers hove in sight he checked his merriment, and made as if to go to the Shadow's assistance. He thought better of it, however; "I might brak' the mannie's back if I grippit him ower hard," said he. "You go, Bob, and help the Shadow to bring him in."

Bob was off on that mission before the words were spoken, and Jack too; but Mackay called the latter back before he had gone far. "Two's enough, Jack," he said. "I want the beggar brought to me hale, no' in scattered bits, an' Bob has a right to the job."

In a brief space the raging Teuton was dragged alongside the vat, while the three fire-eaters, whose duty it was to protect him from such ungentle treatment, contented themselves by hurling defiance at Mackay and his companions from a conveniently remote distance. But their wordy vapourings fell on deaf ears. The chief object of their wrath seemed wholly unconscious of their presence.

"An' so you've come to see the working arrangements of the process again," he said to his unwilling visitor with a grim smile; but there was a steely glitter in his eyes which alarmed Wynberg amazingly.

"I'll have you put in prison for this!" he yelled. "To prison you shall go!"

His enemy was unimpressed. "Humph!" he snorted. "Hoch der Kaiser! Ease him up an' let me get a nice canny grip o' him somewhere, my lads. Ay, that's near enough. Up she goes!" He swooped down his great paw, seized the unfortunate man by the slack of his wide riding-breeches, and, with scarcely an effort, hoisted him up struggling like a sportive fish on a hook, and yelling loud enough to waken the seven sleepers, over the ore platform, then he calmly dumped him into the vat amid the bubbling slimes.

"You'll be in a position to observe a' the working arrangements now," he bellowed. "Mak' the maist o' yer chance, you yelpin' hyena."

The shrieks of Wynberg had by this time caused a large number of miners to hasten up. "Great centipedes! ye ain't murderin' any one, are ye, Mackay?" cried the foremost of them.

Mackay smiled blandly, and descended from his perch, leaving the dripping specimen of humanity to crawl out from his unpleasant environment as best he could. "I'm merely givin' the discoverer o' Wynberg's Process an inside knowledge o' the work, an' he's howlin' wi' joy an' gratitude, that's a'."

Then a great roar of laughter broke forth as a bedraggled figure scrambled over the edge of the vat, shaking the clinging ooze from his head like a water dog, and sputtering out mouthfuls of saline fluid. Seeing the crowd assembled, and feeling safe from further molestation, he gathered courage, and sitting down on the platform he shrilled forth his denunciation of Mackay in the choicest vituperative phrases of two languages. When sheer lack of breath had pulled him up, Bob began to address the miners in even dispassionate tones—

"Men, you know that I am the discoverer of the original process, and you also know that my batteries and generator were stolen on the night of the public trial by two men. Jack surprised them while they were carrying them away, and they tried their best to murder him. I say this man," and he pointed contemptuously at Wynberg, "was one of the thieves."

"It's a lie! It's a lie!" screamed the German.

"Get the beggar to roll up his sleeves," spoke Jack. "I guess he's got the mark of my rifle bullet somewhere on his left arm."

"Yes, roll them up, Wynberg," came the stern chorus from the crowd.

But this the muddy little man absolutely refused to do. "I'm not on my trial," he sneered insolently.

"I reckon that's just where you is wrong," growled the deep voice of Never Never Dave. "This here is a regular roll up, an' in the absence o' official representatives from the township, we, the miners o' Golden Flat, stand for the law every time. When we says hitch up your sleeves, then by the howlin' wilderness you've got to do it, quick an' lively too!"

Yet still the request of the multitude remained unobeyed. Then Mackay reached forth his hand and grasped the dangling legs of the "Discoverer of Wynberg's Process," and hauled him ingloriously to the earth. In a trice the slime-covered sleeve was pulled back, and there slantwise across the forearm was the long red graze mark of a bullet. The wound, though slight, was unmistakable.

Only a smothered expression of disgust showed the feelings of the mining tribunal; they had never doubted Wynberg's complicity in the theft, and by this time had almost forgotten about the affair which indeed they had partly condoned as being a probable development in their favour.

That matter settled, Bob continued his remarks: "The erecting of Wynberg's Process, which of course is just my process, will certainly serve the purpose intended in one sense. It destroys our chance of making more than just a trace over cost price for treating your ores, though I know well you would not have grudged paying a small tribute extra for the inventor——" A unanimous shout of assent here greeted the speaker. "All the same, I cannot blame you for welcoming another plant on the ground, but I do blame the methods of the men who stole the idea, although I do not feel nearly as bitter towards this man as I do towards the one who prompted the action, and who has schemed against us from the first. And now, after considering the matter over with my companions, I have decided to give up my right to the discovery in your interest; for the welfare of the country generally, and in the cause of justice, I cannot allow Wynberg's Process to remain alone on the field to make wealth for Macguire and Wynberg. No, I will defeat their ends in a way they least expect. I will make the secret public property!"

There was absolute silence for an instant, then came a roaring tumult of applause. The miners could scarce realize for the moment the magnitude of what had been promised; it staggered them, and aroused their better feelings, but as the full meaning of what had been said dawned on them, cheer upon cheer rent the air, in the midst of which clamour Wynberg slunk off unobserved.

"By Jove! young man," cried one burly miner, "you've planted your name on this here Flat for all time, for blow me if there's any other title than Wentworth's Process'll get leave to live here. You may not make wealth o' your discovery, but I reckon you'll have a name in the gold-mining history o' Australia that wealth couldn't buy."

That the speaker represented the feelings of the multitude was evidenced by the rousing appreciation with which the speech was received.

"Let's go and wipe out Wynberg's Process," cried some one, and at once there was a rush in the direction of the flaunting sign.

But Mackay restrained them. "Leave the miserable man's property alone, boys," he said. "You have promised a' that I wished, an' I'll hold you to your promise that the young laddie will aye get the credit o' his own discovery. We're goin' away vera soon on a new trail, an' may never see any o' ye again, but Wentworth's Process will be wi' ye in oor absence to make you remember how much you owe to a laddie's energy an' brains."

Then the crowd broke up amid noisy protestations of everlasting good will, and the original group who held Golden Flat were left alone. It was apparent that Emu Bill, Nuggety Dick, and their boon comrades, Never Never Dave and Dead Broke Dan, were considerably exercised over Mackay's statement about going away in the near future.

"I reckon you hasn't given us too much notice," complained old Dead Broke, reproachfully; "it'll take us a bit o' time to clean up yet."

"But I don't want you to come with me, boys," remonstrated Mackay. "I didna expect——"

"Well, I calc'late you made a mistake if you thought you were to leave me," hastily interjected Emu Bill.

"An' me! an' me!" came the cry. The Shadow alone made no remark. He knew that all present could not go, and he naturally reasoned that he, as the youngest next to Jack, would be left.

Mackay, after a pause, appealed to them in logical language. "You can't all leave your claims for the sake o' comin' wi' me on what may be only a wild-goose chase," he said, "an' besides, six in the party is quite enough. I think Nuggety there, who is the maist capable gold-miner o' the lot o' us; an' Dead Broke, who has the chance o' doin' vera well wi' his mine,—I think they should both wait an' look after things while we are away. It would never do to leave your mines half worked out. They would be jumped before we got out o' sight."

"I believe that is just right," agreed Emu Bill. "Nuggety can hang on to my interest for me; he's my partner, anyway."

"An' Dead Broke can do the same for me," cried Never Never Dave. "The workings are shallow, and one man can easily get along on his own, an' nary galoot can jump them neither, for the wash is pretty well scraped out already, an' one man's pegs would hold what's left."

In vain Nuggety and his approved companion protested against this apportionment of their duties; innumerable reasons were advanced to show how essential it was that they should remain, and ultimately they agreed to the inevitable. Mackay had spoken truly when he said that Nuggety Dick was a most accomplished miner; he had been stricken with the gold fever in his early youth, and had never recovered. It was almost a mania with him to discover new fields; his aptitude for locating the powerful talisman was nothing short of marvellous. But Emu Bill, though he chased up the golden gleam with hopeful persistency, really, like all restless natures, found his pleasure in the seeking rather than in the finding. He was a bushman every inch of him, and no more valuable associate for a risky journey into the heart of Australia could be found, as Mackay well knew. As for Never Never Dave, his name had been earned for him by his wide perambulations over the untrodden tracts; his worth as a bushman was known throughout the land.

"But what about me?" pleaded the Shadow. "I has no one to look after my claim, for I hasn't had no mate, but I reckon the old mine has done pretty well by me, an' I won't kick about leaving it."

"How much o' the stuff do ye think is left in your shaft?" demanded Mackay.

"About thirty tons, I reckon."

"Why, we'll go and help you to dig that out," cried Jack.

"And I'll run it through the vat in a couple of days," added Bob.

"You see, Shadow," said Mackay, quizzically, "we canna vera weel do without you."

"Then I'll be the sixth man?" cried the youth, delighted beyond measure.

"You will that if ye promise never to sing 'The Muskittie's Lament' without givin' due warning. You'd mak' us think the niggers were comin' for us every time ye tackled that high note."

"I reckon I'll get an accordion——" But the Shadow got no further.

Wrathfully came the rebuke, "If ye dare purpose desecratin' oor peaceful evenings wi' such an unceevilized device, I'll mak' a present o' ye to the first hungry cannibal we meet, I will." Then, when peace was restored, Mackay summed up the respective responsibilities of the projected expedition's members. "You, Jack, and the Shadow, have shown that you can handle camels in a circumspect way, therefore you will have charge o' the team. Emu Bill and Never Never Dave will assist when they are no' too busy lookin' for water or fightin' niggers. Bob will be navigator; and as for me—I'll be the pilot o' the craft, and will do my best to guide you to the hidden treasure o' the Never Never, to the land o' rubies, an' diamonds, and gold, which lies beyond the mountain."

CHAPTER IX Into the Unknown

A full week was occupied in settling up affairs and making final preparations for the journey across the wilderness. The question of transport was speedily arranged. Three camels were necessary to carry stores and sundry mining appliances, and a fourth would be advisable to bear the heavy water-bags of the expedition, as it was not wise policy to burden the animals unduly. Mackay's wiry "Misery" was selected at once as the leader of the team, and two other great leathery hided creatures belonging to Emu Bill and Never Never Dave, named respectively "Repentance" and "Remorse," were called into requisition as being well fitted for the stern work before them. A strong young beast was secured by Mackay from an Afghan trader who called around opportunely, to make up the quartet. This last addition to the outfit, which Jack promptly dubbed "Fireworks," was inclined to be rather vicious in temperament, and after seeing him buck two pack saddles off as a preliminary, Mackay mentally resolved to trust the carriage of the precious water-bags to the more patient "Remorse," and allow "Fireworks" to cool down under more solid freight.

The stores of the expedition were not difficult to obtain; by this time agencies of the large mercantile houses in Kalgoorlie had been established on the Flat, and they were well able to provide all necessary supplies. But the commissariat department of the Australian explorer is never famed for his lavishness; in it luxuries find no part, for here the ship of the desert is the mainstay of the traveller, and on its cumbrous back only room can be found for the bare essentials of life. Flour and tea, tinned beef and various "extracts," these are the sum total of the wanderer's requirements in the Australian wilderness, and with these he would usually be more than content if water could be found to quench his thirst. But this is too often denied, the arid wastes of the great Austral land contain few oases. The scanty rains collected in reluctant drops in some deep rock hole, perhaps for years, are his only hope. Yet these grim forbidding tracts allure the roving spirit if only because of their very grimness. Across their scintillating sands what wonderful haven may be hid? Surely it is not all desert, something must lie beyond the far horizon. Nature's compensating law must hold some reward for the weary pioneer who gropes so desperately onward and ever onward into the rising sun. Such is the hope, the belief, of those who venture forth into the Never Never. With Mackay, who had already followed the beckoning phantom far back into an unknown mountain, the belief had become almost reality. The spirit of the bush enthralled him, its spell was ever over him. His young companions too were influenced by the air of mystery surrounding their distant goal. The unknown has ever exercised a powerful fascination over the Anglo-Saxon youth, and the two boys revelled in the thought of penetrating untrodden tracts, and rejoiced in their quest of El Dorado.

When all was ready for a start Mackay called them together for earnest consultation.

"I don't want to shout much about the dangers o' the trail, my lads," said he. "But it is as well to understand that the risks are there a' the same, an' it would only be richt for you both to mak' a sort o' statement, an' leave it wi' the Warden. I—I——"

"I know what you mean," said Bob, smiling; "you want us to make our wills—in case of accident."

Mackay looked relieved. "It would be better," he admitted quietly, "or send your money home. Don't think I want to force my advice on you, but I think—I think that would be the better plan."

"I've done that ever since we started to get returns from the battery," answered Bob. "I only have kept what I thought I would owe you for my share of the expedition."

"Mine has been sent home too," murmured Jack, diffidently; "but I've kept two hundred pounds for the expedition."

"An' mine has gone home too," added Mackay, slowly. "But the expedition is my consideration, and I must bear the expense alone. It's a duty, my dear young lads, it's a duty."

No amount of persuasion would shake his decision in this respect.

"It's a journey that's lain on my conscience for some time," he argued. "I have a mission to fulfil which I hope may be outside the other object o' the expedition altogether, though it's possible we may achieve the one while in pursuit o' the other." He chuckled dryly at the thought, then well pleased that his young friends had disposed of their worldly goods to his liking, he went off to give some instructions to Emu Bill about the loading of the camels.

The process had been left in charge of Nuggety Dick, who had received full information from Bob concerning its proper working. It had been open for public inspection all the week, and already many similar vats were being erected on the field; and Wynberg's discovery lay idle—its owner had vanished back whence he came.

The unfortunately placed Rockson, however, was soon given a position more to his liking than the control of a useless stamping mill. Jackson, whose time was required in Kalgoorlie, at Mackay's request, offered him the management of his mine, which was now turning out large quantities of the refractory ore, and this he gladly accepted under the generous arrangement of a fair salary and a considerable interest in the profits. It was Mackay's strange weakness that he could not allow another man undeservedly to suffer, even indirectly, through any action of his or his partners, and hence the exceptional terms offered by Jackson for his services; he had only been too willing to oblige Mackay in the matter as a slight return for the great favour he had received.

Bob and Jack were amazed when, after the Golden Promise had closed down, they counted up the amount with which the Bank at Kalgoorlie had credited them for their share in the gold sent in. They found that they had each realized over a thousand pounds for their few months' labour; the last two weeks' results had swelled up their profits wonderfully, to Bob's deep satisfaction.

"I'm very glad," he said to Jack, "that Mackay will benefit a little by the process; it means that we have made some slight return for his goodness to us, though money can never pay for all that he has done."

"He doesn't seem to value money as some people do," observed Jack. "I don't understand him yet, I don't."

It was after this that Mackay had ventured to express his views to them on private concerns, and when he went away he left the boys no little moved by his well-meant advice; the solemn note of warning in his tones, even when he touched so lightly on the dangers of the desert, had not escaped them.

"I do hope," said Bob, fervently, "that he may never have to take the sextant from me. I—I get nervous when I think of the responsibility he has given me. I wish too," he continued gravely, "that I had some news from home before we start. I haven't heard a word since we left. Of course they couldn't write until they knew where we were, but I think there is time for an answer to my first letter by now."

Jack calculated it up hurriedly. "It would come in by to-night's mail," he said sadly, "and Mackay said we were to start after lunch. I think we should tell him, and ask him to wait."

But this Bob would not hear of for a moment. "Certainly not," he cried. "He treats us as men, not children, and I am not going to worry him with home affairs. All the same," he reflected calmly, "if I had thought of it before I would have mentioned it to him; but now that everything is in readiness for the start—no, I cannot."

"All aboard, boys; all aboard for the Never Never!"

It was the Shadow's voice, and they rushed out at once, turning to cast one look at the dismantled tent which had been their home during these eventful months. No tent or shelter of any kind was being carried by the expedition. The starry heavens must now be their sole roof at night.

They found the camel team waiting the signal to move ahead, and Jack at once stepped to his position alongside Misery, the Shadow having for the time taken charge of Fireworks, who was promising to give trouble.

Mackay stood a little way off, and surveyed the team critically.

"Tighten up Fireworks' girth, Emu," he cried. "He'll slip his saddle in a minute."

Emu Bill proceeded deftly to obey the instruction, annoyed with himself because of having overlooked the defect.

"I'll swear the cunning brute has shrunk hissel' on purpose," he growled. "I pulled him in as tight as a windlass barrel just a second ago. Woah, Fireworks, woah! ye cantankerous son o' a gun."

But Fireworks was intent on creating a diversion. For some time he had been allowed to roam the desert at his own sweet will, and probably his memory of pack-saddles and such like encumbrances had faded into happy oblivion, but now that he felt the old galling weight on his back his vicious temper was aroused to fury, and he stood waving his weird-looking head about in savage sweeps, and ever and again essayed to roll over, pack-saddle and all. When Emu Bill approached him now, the recalcitrant animal suddenly began a series of frisky antics, pulling wildly at the nose rope which the Shadow clutched firmly, and twisting its huge bulk into all sorts of contortions.

"Woah, hang ye!" shouted Bill, again striving to get near.

In reply Fireworks snorted defiance, then bent himself almost double; a sharp crack sounded out as the girths burst, and in a moment the sand was strewn with his load.

"So that was your little trick, was it? ye measly old quadrooped!" cried Emu Bill, in disgust. "Well, I reckon you kin try it over again."

He gathered up the saddle for another effort, but Mackay intervened.

"It won't do, Bill," he said. "We'll just have the circus repeated. We'd better postpone the start until the morning, an' meanwhile we'll put Fireworks through his paces. I didna think the beastie would be so obstreperous."

And, indeed, to look at the animal now, no one would have thought that such a fiery temper lurked in that cumbrous body. Fireworks, after his unruly performance, stood gazing meekly at the wreckage he had created, the very picture of innocence. Yet it was a wise policy to break him in to a more fitting tolerance with his burden before venturing into the great desert, where mishaps would cause more vexatious delays, and probably occasion damage which could not then be easily rectified.

Thus it was that the whole team was unloaded, and the remainder of the day spent in coaxing the one refractory camel into a more tractable spirit, a result which Emu Bill and his companion bushman seemed to have thoroughly accomplished before sundown, and high hopes were entertained of making an early departure next morning.

The mail arrived somewhat earlier than usual that night, a fact which did not surprise any one when they saw Macguire sitting on the box-seat beside the driver. Mackay sighed wearily when he observed his old enemy.

"I had hoped I had seen the last o' him," he said to Bob; "but I suppose the misguided man is looking for trouble, as usual." To his astonishment, however, Macguire purposely evaded him, and disappeared rapidly down the workings to where some of his old gang were still employed on none too lucrative holdings.

"Perhaps he's got tired of running up against us," said Bob. "I don't think the game has paid him too well, and he may be turning over the proverbial new leaf now."

"Umph!" Mackay's monosyllabic utterance was non-committal, but it was plain that his faith in that new leaf in the present instance was none of the strongest.

The mail brought a letter for each of the boys and one for Mackay, and on glancing at the handwriting on his envelope Bob was satisfied; the expected news from home had reached him, after all. Hurriedly he tore it open, and read the closely written sheets which a fond mother had penned. He smiled brightly at the anxious opening phrases, which inquired so minutely about his health and general welfare. "I have heard," she wrote, "that fever often breaks out in a gold-mining camp—malaria or gold fever, I think—and I am sending you a small bottle of quinine, which I want you to promise to take regularly——" Bob thought that rather good, and read the sentence aloud to Mackay, who had mastered the contents of his epistle at a hasty glance. That gentleman was gravely amused. "She's richt about the gold fever," said he, with, a short laugh, "an' it's a terribly rampagin' disease in its way, though I dinna think quinine would affect it much. Prussic acid or some such deadly poison would be the only cure, for once a man gets the gold fever it remains in his blood a' his life, ready to be stirred up to violent action at the sight o' a nugget. Ay, it's a bad fever, Bob, an' we've a' got it in some degree. However, your guid mother needna fear aboot the other plague—malaria—for neither it nor any other disease o' the kind can live in Western Australia. You must just write a note an' tell her that. The air o' this country is too dry an' clear for any microbe to fancy."

Bob continued his silent perusal of the letter, and as he got towards the end a puzzled expression came into his features; it was clear that the letter from home contained something of more striking import than the warning against pernicious fevers. The intelligence which disturbed him was conveyed on the last two sheets, and this was how it ran:—

"I know you will be grieved to hear that your uncle Dick is dead. Since your father was drowned I have never had a line from him; he was the first to bring the sad news to me, and his own sorrow seemed greater than he could bear. Your father and he had been inseparable companions in their youth, and many times before the Sea King sailed on her last cruise I used to hear them planning out their great schemes for the future, for your uncle had ever been a wanderer, and was filled with strange ideas about the riches of some parts of the world he had visited. He went off to Australia after arranging your poor father's affairs, and nothing was ever heard of him again. All along I fancied that it was his money which provided the little income left to us, for you father's savings could not have been much; sailors are so poorly paid. The solicitors always put me off when I inquired about it, but now I know that it was his great kindly heart which went out to the widow and the fatherless, and caused provision to be made for them out of his own scanty means. On the morning after you left I received a letter from a gentleman who had just returned from Australia, and who had been with him when he died, enclosing a draft for two hundred pounds, and saying that that was the sum realized by the sale of your uncle's effects, and that he had been entrusted to send it to me. No other information was given, and no address was on the letter. When I showed it to my solicitors they told me the truth of what I had guessed from the first. My boy, you were always uncle Dick's favourite, and you have every cause to remember him gratefully. If you can find out where he died, erect a little cross over his resting-place for me. I would so much like to have it done."

Bob read and re-read the strange story which brought back the past so vividly to his mind, and his eyes grew moist in spite of himself.

"No bad news, I hope, lad," spoke Mackay, kindly.

Bob struggled with his emotion for a moment without success, then handed the pages to his interrogator in silence. Mackay read them over carefully, with a face showing keen concern; indeed, he seemed even more moved than Bob when he had finished. "Ay, ay," he said huskily, "he was a good man, an' there's too few o' his sort in the world. But you'll dae what your mother bids you. You will put up that cross afore you leave Australia. I'll—I'll help you to find the place." Then he turned abruptly to Jack, who had read his letter, and was now gazing at the envelope with profound content.

"You've been gloatin' over your billy doo for some time, Jack," he said lightly. "I don't suppose your news has affected your appetite."

Jack flushed, and made haste to secrete his precious missive; but in his hurry the envelope fell to the floor, and it was observed that it bore the same peculiar postmark as Bob's. The boy grabbed it up in confusion, while the big man laughed. Whereupon Jack waxed indignant.

"What about your own billet-doux?" he asked mischievously. "I think I noticed you got a letter too."

"Here it is, young Lochinvar, here it is," and Mackay flung an open sheet at the youth. "Read it, read it; don't mind me. I'm sort o' pleased to mak' it known that somebody thinks o' me."

Obeying his request, Jack cleared his throat and read aloud the following:—

"Dear Mr. Mackay.—

"I have just heard that you are about to start out on a journey into the interior, and I thought I would remind you of a little account I have against you for several items you sent for last week. The amount is £10 17s. 6d. I'll let you off the odd sixpence, but please send your cheque for the remainder before you start. The Never Never is such an uncertain country—to get out of. Best wishes.

"Yours sincerely, 
"J. Rannigan."

"Now, that is what I call a thoughtful letter," commented Jack, when he had finished.

"A vera thoughtful letter indeed," agreed Mackay, dryly.

Then they set about preparing tea, and while they were thus engaged the Shadow made his appearance, evidently in great good humour. He carried something concealed in his hand which he gazed at tenderly as he entered, then consigned it to some secret recess in his scanty wardrobe.

"I reckon," said he, "that I want an invite to your banquet to-night. I hasn't even an inch o' damper left in my tent. I broke up the happy home too soon, I calc'late."

Mackay laughed. "I ken you're a grand cook, Shadow," said he, "an', providin' ye behave, we'll be glad to have your company. Ye'll get flour in that bag at your feet, an' water in the kerosene-tin beside ye. Now ye can take my place an' mak' wi' these ingredients something nice an' tasty. I'll even gie ye a tootle on the flute to inspire ye in yer efforts."

The lad's countenance fell. "I see I has come along too soon," he grumbled. Then he fished about in the folds of his shirt and drew forth the treasure he had secreted. In the quickly fading light it was not easily observable what he held in his hand; but when the wondering trio saw him convey the same to his mouth their worst fears were realized. Before they could protest, the wailing of a mouth-organ filled the tent. The Shadow blew with might and main, an ecstatic joy illuminating his features, his foot keeping time to the music he perpetrated, and sending up clouds of dust from the sandy floor. That he anticipated a sudden closure was very apparent by the fierce energy he displayed, yet, strangely enough, he was allowed to finish the first tune without mishap; it was only when he adroitly essayed to glide off into a fresh outburst that Mackay intervened.

"Ye should play that first spasm mair pianissimo," he ventured mildly, while Jack sprinkled water about to allay the dust. "Now, put that orchestra in your pocket, an' keep it there until we get far oot into the bush. Then ye can kill the crows wi' it if ye like."

"Right O!" responded the Shadow, seemingly delighted to have escaped so easily. "Now, I reckon I'll bake a real bowser brownie for tea, an' we'll have a real ole blow out, we will."

"Let us eat, drink, and be merry," remarked Bob, thoughtfully, "for to-morrow we——"

"Start for the Never Never," prompted Jack.

Shortly after sunrise the camel team was once more loaded up, and now Fireworks' demeanour was beyond reproach; he submitted to his burden with philosophic calm, and only once showed his playful disposition by tearing the sleeve from Emu Bill's shirt while that gentleman was standing too conveniently near his head. By eight o'clock all was ready for the start, the last breakfast in camp had been partaken of, and the various members of the expedition were standing at their posts awaiting the signal for advance. The population of Golden Flat had turned out en masse to witness the departure. It was not every day that an expedition left for the distant Never Never. Nuggety Dick and Dead Broke Dan were there looking anything but happy; one word from Mackay even now would have made them join the party but the leader of the expedition sternly refused to meet their appealing eyes. Once more he glanced over the team critically, as if mentally weighing up the amount of endurance contained in the four powerful animals. His scrutiny seemed to give him much satisfaction, and he smiled grimly as he turned his face to the east.

"All ready, boys?" he cried.

"All ready!" came the unanimous reply.

Then, just as he was about to signal "Right away," the crowd parted, and Macguire struggled to the front.

"Hold on a minute, boys!" he shouted. "I want a word with Mackay."

As for Mackay, he viewed the interrupter with considerable disfavour.

"If you had any differences to settle, you might have come along last night," he said. "What's the trouble wi' you?"

"Why, man, I just want to say that I bear no ill feeling, an' that I hope you'll be successful, that's all. What course are ye making?"

Mackay gazed at the questioner in puzzled wonderment. "I'm glad to have your good wishes, Macguire," he said slowly. "Our course is east by north to a place that's a bit harder to find than Golden Flat. Let her go, boys!"

The long whips cracked, Misery's bell began to chime; the crowd stepped back to give the ponderous team free passage, uniting as they did so in a stentorian Coo-ee, that strange call of the bush which combines in its notes the acme of feeling and good fellowship. Bob and Jack coo-eed lustily in return, Mackay waved a cheery goodbye, Emu Bill and Never Never Dave chaffed their sorrowing acquaintances with tender affection as they passed along the line, and the Shadow, pulling at Fireworks' nose-rope with one hand contrived to unearth his mouth-organ with the other. Strongly he blew, and stepped forth jauntily to the stirring time of "The Girl I left Behind Me," but his charge steadfastly refused to accelerate his gait in such undignified fashion, and the Shadow had perforce to seek around in his répertoire for a more suitable march, which he soon found in "There is a Happy Land," and he kept up his melancholy dirge until he heard Never Never's voice raised in dire threat against his person. Then there was silence, broken only by the tinkling bell of the leading camel, and the vague echoes of Golden Flat's farewells.

Thus they headed out towards the desert, into the land of the Never Never.

CHAPTER X An Awkward Predicament

The first halt was made at noon when little more than eight miles had been traversed. The country encountered from the start had been a soft powdery sand formation, with occasional belts of dwarfed eucalypti, which intervened from the north. Progress was necessarily slow at this early stage of the journey, for it was advisable to allow the camels to harden to their work gradually.

Mackay had so far led the march, steering an approximate course by the sun, but immediately they stopped, he called Bob aside for a conference.

"You see," he said, "when we went out before we started from a more northerly latitude, an' I calculate we should hit our old track in another hundred and eighty miles if we keep angling in a wee bit north o' east. I've got a copy o' the log up to pretty near the—the finish, an' here's where I think we ought to join on to Bentley's route." He unfolded a long track chart which he carried in his hand; it was made up of several sheets of ordinary note-paper, gummed laterally together, and on its much faded surface several inky hieroglyphics stood out bravely. He pointed to a besmeared cross nearly halfway over the chart, and Bob, looking closely, read the printed lettering beside it: "Fortunate Spring, lat. 28° 17´ 5´´, long. 125° 19´ 6´´."