TARPOT, KING OF BULLAROIBut to-night Merri-dia-o is resplendent in a warrior's full rig. A hole bored through the cartilage of his nose peak displays the bone of an eagle's wing, about four inches long, the insignia of his maturity and dignity—his knighthood's spurs, so to speak.Behold, then, athwart his nose, the polished bone, gleaming like ivory against the ebony background! His grey hair is trussed up, forming a big top-knot, and is adorned with the sulphur-hued crest of the white cockatoo, also with turkey-tail feathers. Wound several times round his somewhat corpulent body is a belt of human hair. This serves to hold the boomerang and other short weapons. A dingo-tail skin, split up the middle to the brush, and bound round the forehead with the brush erect and plume-like, gives grace and height to the stature. But the body and limb painting is the principal part. Each tribe has its devices. Pigments are largely used. The greater the number of colours the more fantastic is the effect.When the boys strode up to the "dressing-room" where the tribe artiste were engaged, they found that most of the men had completed their adornments and were strutting about casting admiring or envious glances at one another. Merri-dia-o, however, was still in the hands of the dressers, and his markings were a triumph. Being a large-framed and portly fellow, he showed the designs to the best advantage. The colour scheme was brilliant, if nothing else. On his massive chest, which was whitewashed for a background, were drawn an emu and a kangaroo. The bird's plumage was bright blue, while the marsupial was as glaring as red ochre could make it. These cartoons covered breast and belly, the limbs being like animated barber's poles in red and white. On his back, upon a white ground, was coiled an enormous carpet snake, with erect head and protruding tongue. When seen in the corrobberie, armed with spears, shield, and boomerangs, this fantastic figure was without peer among the warrior-clowns, the whole effect being an extravaganza at once whimsical and wild.By the time these preparations were ended the great central fire was blazing furiously, fed as it constantly was from a dry tinder stack.The "orchestra," to the number of six, sat in a cluster behind the fire and beat time to the primitive measures. The musicians for the most part were old women, who were well-practised performers. Their instruments were as primitive as the songs they accompanied, consisting generally of a tightly folded opossum rug or a shield. These were operated upon by the palms of the hands or by sticks; a vigorous slapping of the thighs also gave variety to the combination. At any rate, a surprising din was raised.It has been stated that two tribes participated. The Ding-donglas were the guests of the Bullarois, who had provided a grand supper of fat grubs, native yams, and roast kangaroo for the festivities.According to immemorial precedence the visiting tribe "took the flure" first, and gave a most interesting and picturesque display. The subject of the corrobberie was an emu hunt, and was full of startling incident, presenting ludicrous aspects that created roars of laughter. The descriptive song was chanted in perfect time: a sort of runic lay, beginning in a low and monotonous key and gradually waxing louder as the chase progressed, finally ending crescendo in a cry of victory, what time the animal is overcome and slain.The spectators, black and white, applauded most generously, our old friends Jacky and Willy being among the loudest. The station boys were in no ways different from their brothers in get up. For the moment they had abandoned the role of station hands for that of barbaric magnificoes.The whites, especially the girls and Neville, who witnessed the spectacle for the first time, were delighted beyond measure. The silence following the huntsman's song was of short duration. The story-teller of the visiting tribe now advanced within the circle of light, and in sing-song tones recited one of their folklore stories.THE COCKATOO'S NEST.[#][#] Tom Petrie's Reminiscences.Once upon a time there lived happily together on an island three young aborigines, a brother and two sisters. This land was not very far from the mainland, and the three often used to gaze across at the long stretch of land, and think of journeying forth from their island home to see what it was like over there. They felt sure they would find lots of things to eat. So one day by means of a canoe they really did cross over, and began without loss of time to seek for 'possums, native bears, and so forth. In this search round about they at length espied a hollow limb, which looked uncommonly like a place where a nest would be, and so, going into a scrub near by, they cut a vine for climbing up. Up went the youth, while his sisters waited beneath. When he had cut open the limb, he found to his great joy a cockatoo's nest with young birds in it, and these latter he proceeded to throw down one by one to his sisters, the fall to the ground killing the poor things.Now it so chanced that as the young fellow picked up the last little bird from the nest, a feather detached itself from its tail, and floating away on the air, at length settled fair on the chest of an old man asleep in a hut some distance away. This old man was really a ghost who owned the place, and the feather disturbed his rest and woke him up. Divining at once what was happening, he arose, and getting hold of a spear and a tomahawk, sallied forth to the tree, where he arrived before the young fellow had started to climb down. Seeing the birds dead, the old man was very angry, and said, "What business you take my birds? Who told you to come here?" He then commanded the tree to spread out and grow taller and taller, so that the young fellow could not get down, and, taking the dead birds, he put them in a big round dilly, and carried them to his hut.Although the old man did not wait, the tree did his bidding, becoming immediately very wide and tall, and the young fellow tried his best to come down, but could not. So at last he started to sing to the other trees all around to come to him, which they did; and one falling right across where he stood, he was able to get to the ground that way. Somehow, though, in coming down he got hurt, and the gins had to make a fire to get hot ashes in order to cover him up there. He lay covered up so for half an hour, at the end of which time he was all right again.Of course these three felt very indignant at the old man's behaviour, and they thirsted for revenge. So, calling all the birds of the air to them, they sought their assistance. These birds went in front, while the three cut their way through the thick scrub to the old man's hut; and ever as they went, to drown the noise of the cutting, the birds sang loudly, the wonga pigeon making a tremendous row with his waugh! waugh! waugh! When they had got nearly to the hut, the old man, who had been trying to make up for his disturbed sleep, heard the noise of the birds, and called crossly to them, "Here, what do you make such a noise for? I want to sleep!" But even as he spoke he was dozing, and presently went right off, suspecting nothing; and when the three reached the doorway, looking in, they saw him quite soundly sleeping. So the three clutched their weapons tightly,—the man his spear, and the women their yam sticks,—and advancing into the hut, they all viciously jobbed down at the old man, and lo! he was dead. His body was dragged forth and burned, and after the hut was robbed of the young cockatoos and all objects worthy of value it also was burned, and the three found their way back to the canoe, and departed home to their island laden with the spoil.At the conclusion of the "yarn" the Bullarois retired to the trees fringing the clearing on the side directly opposite the audience. After a short harangue from Merri-dia-o, the braves, about twenty in number, fully armed and in their war-paint, issued from the forest, headed by their chief, shouting their battle-cry, gesticulating wildly, and making a great clatter with their weapons. Advancing upon the foe, now in line and now in sections, they battled with the enemy, crouching one moment behind their shields to receive the shower of imaginary spears thrown by their assailants, the next springing erect and casting, as it were, their weapons of offence. Following up this round, they bore upon the visionary foe and engaged in personal encounter. Retreating one moment and advancing the following, uttering war cries and fierce challenge, hurling coarse and stinging epithet, they gradually approached the fire; the gins meanwhile beat time, giving coherence and harmony to the bellicose proceedings.There was such reality in the battle-play, the men were so earnest, their cries so passionate, their taunts so bitter; in short, there was such a ring of sincerity, such a presentation of the actual, that the white spectators were carried away as in the drama when the master mummers live their parts.The boys were in a condition of exultancy. They were inspired by the martial display to a participation of fellow-feeling with the warring company. Neville, too, was fairly captured by this weird yet fierce and savage sham-fight. The thrill of combat held him so strongly that he could not refrain from leaping to his feet and yelling with the rest—urging them, indeed, to greater slaughter.It was different with the girls. Fear laid hold of them at the unwonted sight. At first they joined in the hurrahs, but when the fighters neared them, and it seemed, as was indeed the case, that the very actors were being carried away by frenzy and battle-lust, their tongues ceased and a cold chill of apprehension seized them.The warriors are now right up, fronting the fire. In a few minutes the grand finale will have been enacted, and the curtain rung down. Unfortunately, however, one of the young men has a quarrel with a youth belonging to the visiting tribe. In the culminating point of this sham fight he sees his enemy among the crowd of onlookers, and, urged by his excited feelings, he directs insulting remarks full at this man, who, running out into the clear space in front of the fighters, returns these with interest. This so enrages the Bullaroi youth that, darting from the ranks, he slings his spear full at the enemy, and transfixes him in the breast. Loud cries of consternation come from the women, and a moment's awful stillness from the men. Then, as if by magic, the Dingdonglas have risen in their wrath, arms in hand. The play has vanished, and downright fight and bloody battle ensues. Spears hurtle and boomerangs swish through the air; the crash of nulla-nulla on shields supplants the music of the orchestra, the while the gins flee in sheer terror from the bloody scene to their huts in the forest, rending the air with their shrill screams as they speed.But what of the whites?They stand a few moments horrorstruck at the raging human cyclone. At first the grim reality seemed unreal, just as previously the sham battle-action appeared real. Joe is the first to size up the situation. Not only are the blacks in blood-red earnest, but there is actual peril to the spectators. The combatants are surging to and fro in the strife of conflict, and circling as though in a vortex. At any moment the spectators might be drawn into the battle zone through the movements of the belligerents."Come, Mag, Jess, quickly!" cries that youth, seizing the girls as he speaks and drawing them away. "The brutes are at it in real earnest. Come! we must bolt to the trees. Great Cæsar, look at that!" A spear whistled through the air and impaled itself in a tree near by.Just then, one of the fighters detached himself from the scrum and came bounding up to the little group, spear extended. As he seemed to be on hostile intent, the youths lined up in front of the girls, ready to defend them and grapple with the foe. On nearing, Sandy knew him to be Willy the station boy. Willy, loyal to the family, came to entreat them to leave the field. There was little fear of any direct attack upon them, though it were hard to say what turn the savage mind might take. The apparent danger was from fugitive spears and boomerangs. So Willy paused but to cry out, "Take 'em girls to horses: safe there; no safe here. Go!" and then skipped back to his band, throwing himself heart and soul into the fray. For the hour the boy was as great a savage as any of the young men of the tribe.The girls, now really terrified, need no pressure to leave; so they scurry from the field and reach their horses, some distance beyond spear reach. There they watch the tide of battle as it ebbs and flows until it dies, which it is not long in doing, from its very violence.When the casualties were reckoned it was found that most of the combatants had received bruises or gashes, limbs were broken, but the only fatalities were those of the lads who began the quarrel. Now that the fight is over, both sides settle down to supper in the best of humours. The slate has been cleaned in this primitive fashion, and now friendships are renewed over handfuls of luscious tree-grubs and hunches of roast kangaroo. To-morrow there will be weeping in common over the biers of the departed braves."Well, Denny, what do you think of this dreadful corrobberie?" exclaimed Jessie to the Irish boy as they rode home about midnight."Phwat div Oi think iv it, Miss Jassie? Whoi, it's been a lovely foight, shure. Och, they're the very divils ontoirely! Nivir seen sich a bit of divarsion since Oi left owld Oireland, bedad! Begorrah, it'd ta-ake owld Tipperary itself to bate it.""Do you know what I've been thinking of, Denny?" continued the mischievous girl."Nawthin' but lovely thoughts, Miss Jassie.""You of course are the best judge, Denny, being an Irishman. What I was thinking was this: scratch an aboriginal, and you have an Irishman.""Och, dear-a-dear, Miss Jassie, to maline me poor counthrymen loike that! Troth, then," cried the lad, with a serio-comic air and the suspicion of a wink, "there's one thing indade which Irishmen have in common wid these poor naggurs.""What is that, Denny?""We both suffer at the hands of Saxon landlords."And Jessie had no answer.CHAPTER XXVIN THE BUSHRANGERS' CAVES"In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree,Where Alph the sacred river ranThrough caverns measureless to manDown to a sunless sea."KUBLA KHAN."Joe!"Silence."J-o-o!"No answer."J-o-o-o!"Profound stillness, broken only by a buzzing fly."If you don't answer within five seconds, an' short ones at that, look out for squalls. You're only 'possumin', you rascal!"Presently a hurtling pillow, and not too soft a one either, struck Joe Blain, who lay flat on his back, with open mouth, closed eyes, and deaf ears. The missile hit him fair and square on the face, hermetically sealing his breathing apparatus for a moment.A muffled sound, a quick contortion of the body, and an instinctive clutch of the hands got rid of the obstruction, which in a twinkling described a trajectory that impinged on Tom's left ear."Well, what's in the wind, now?" asked Joe, after this customary exchange of shots, which was an everyday occurrence."I've an idea, Joe.""Howly Moses, you don't mean it! Terrible, terrible! Where did you catch it?""Catch your grandmother's sister's cat! Only, you're such a numskull, I'd try an' put it in your head.""What! my grandmother's sister's——""No, you ass; a simple idea!""Then I'll bet tuppence it's simple enough, you goat!"After this complimentary interchange Tom proceeded: "When we went out to the caves the other day, we said we'd return before the holidays were ended, an' we've come to the larst day, ole man. Ding-bust it! we'll have to make for home to-morrer, an'——""Ugh! don't mention it! Go on about the caves.""Well, then, that day we went out—— Oh Joey! shall we ever forget the sight of 'Fevvers' rollin'——?""Look here, Hawkins, if you can't spit out that idea of yours quick an' lively, you'd better swallow it! If you think to waste my valuable time——""Your time wasted! Pish! Listen, then. I vote we go out to the caves an' have a look round for the place where Ben Bolt kep' his horses. It'd be no end of a lark for us to find, after the police an' others have given it up. What say?""There's not much in your notions, Hawkins, generally speaking; still, you've struck ile this time, sonny. Gewhillikins! it's all right. Let's have a talk with ole Sandy about it.""Oh, he's sure to be nuts on it! He's always talkin' about the mystery.""Up, guards, an' at 'em! as Cromwell sang out at the battle of Marathon," quoth Joe, in slight historical confusion, as he tumbled out of bed.They dressed quickly and then rushed out to find Sandy, who had risen earlier to yard the horses. Sandy was nothing loth. Indeed, he was as eager as the others, if not more so. He had often brooded over the puzzle, and discussed it at times with his mates, but oftener with himself. Like the others, he had theories."I've got to take the harrow to the cultivation paddock after breakfast, an' then I'll be free.""Can't you take it now?" suggested Tom. "Good hour yet to breakfast. You'll have whips of time, an' we'll help you."Sandy was agreeable, and the boys soon hoisted the harrow on to the cart. They returned in good time for breakfast, and got Mr. M'Intyre's consent."Best take us with you, Sandy.""Girls 'd only be in the way, Mag.""Thanks, me brither! Just wait till you ask me to cut your lunches!""Oh, mother'll do that.""Yes; rin to your mither and hold on to her apron-strings. For selfishness and for cheek, commend me to a brother! You're all alike. I expect Tom and Joe are no better at home, for all they put on mighty innocent airs here," prattled the girl, in mock sarcasm."I hope you'll count me in, boys?" said Neville. "I have intimated to Mrs. M'Intyre that I shall be forced to tear myself away from her unbounded hospitality,"—"Fevvers" was still a trifle stilted,—"but she will not hear of my leaving till the end of the week. You know," he went on, "I did not have an opportunity—the last time I—er—we were out there—and——""You lassoed an Englishman with a stock whip," broke in Jessie the tease."And behaved like a brick," interposed Maggie, who noticed the involuntary wince on the part of the Englishman. This was, indeed, a sore spot; but he was growing rapidly in grace.Neville winced under Jess's sally, but took it in good part. "It's all part of the breaking-in process, Miss Jessie. I believe I can dismount now a little more gracefully. I shall be glad of an opportunity to see the famous bandit's caves. It will be something to relate in England."It did not take the boys long to get ready. Half an hour later the party wasen routefor the caves, determined to solve the puzzle."You'll do nothing rash, boys?" said the careful mother at parting, "Have you enough candles?""Plenty; also ropes and tucker. Don't worry about us, mother; we may not be back till near bedtime—depends on what luck we have.""You've got a scheme, Sandy, I s'pose?" remarked Joe, as they jogged along the road."Yes, Joe, I've an idea; but of course only testing it will prove its worth. The caves are situated in a spur running north and south. The opening, we know, is on the east side. Nothing bigger than a wallaby or a dingo, save of course a man, can squeeze through that opening. Either there is another and separate cave adjacent, where the 'rangers stalled their horses, or there is an easier entrance somewhere in the spur that has a connection with the ones we have already visited.""You must remember, though, Sandy, that Inspector Garvie and his men spent days in searching the locality, an' how are we chaps to do in a day what they failed to do after several days, and with black trackers, too?""I'm not likely to forget that.""I vote, then," said Joe, "we go straight to the caves an' explore 'em first.""It'd take us all day to search those ravines and bluffs on the west side," added Tom, "so I'm in favour of Joe's proposal.""I'm not sure that I should have a voice in this matter," spoke Neville. "You fellows will have to settle it between yourselves. Whatever you decide upon will be agreeable to me.""Matter's decided, then," answered Sandy. "Joe and Tom are for the caves direct. Honestly speaking, although I would dearly love a try at the western side, for I'm convinced that the outlet lies there, I think, on the whole, we'd better stick to the caves, giving them first show, anyhow.""Carried unanimously by a large majority, as Denny would say," cried Joe the spokesman.On arrival at the camping grounds, the place of the late serio-comic adventure, the explorers—for such we must call them—unsaddled, and short-hobbled their horses."I vote," said Joe, "that we boil the billy an' have a go at the tuck before we tackle the caves. It'll be better than taking the prog with us, an' 'll save us coming out for lunch.""Agreed!" chorus the rest with a readiness and gusto which in matters of meat is almost an instinct of boyhood. Accordingly the wood is gathered, and ere long, with whetted appetites, they are absorbingly engaged on a substantial meal."There are three things to remember, mates. First of all, the candles. We'll divide them equally, three apiece. Here's a box of matches for each. Father gave me a caution, about lights. We're to carefully watch the candles as we proceed through the passages. He says the poisonous gases collect in places that are not well ventilated, an' that means death in no time if we remain in such spots.""How'd we know, Sandy?""I was just going to tell you. If we get into such places, father says, the candle will burn dimly, an' if it's very bad, will go out altogether. When we happen on such spots, if there are any, we are to retreat immediately; so don't forget, boys, should we be separated.""That," said Neville, "is most important." He related one or two incidents of fatal accidents in connection with English collieries through fire-damp. That danger, though, is seldom encountered in such caves as the boys were intent on exploring."What's the third thing, Sandy?""The third thing, Hawkins, is to make fast to this green-hide. It is twenty-five feet long, an' we'll tie on to it as we go through the passages. Father says there are often holes in the floors and very steep inclines. Best to be on the safe side, though I don't suppose we'll really need it.""I say," queried Neville, "hadn't we better take some stout cudgels with us, for fear of snakes and wild beasts?""Happy thought, Mr. Neville. Not for wild beasts, though an old-man kangaroo can be as dangerous as a bear with his paws when he's bailed up by the dogs.""What about monkeys, then?""Monkeys? We haven't any.""Well, I heard one of the travellers say, while he was having a feed at the men's hut, that he'd been engaged to go for a mob of monkeys.""Ha—ha—ha! Well, you are a——Why, the man was talking about sheep. Monkey is a pet name for them. We'll want some sticks, though, as well as the tomahawk."So saying, Sandy proceeded to hack at a cluster of gum saplings, and cut three waddies about five feet in length, and a fourth one eight feet long, and proportionately thick. Armed with these and carrying the other necessaries, including a billy of water and a snack of food, the exploration party proceeded to the cave entrance.After gaining access to the first cave, the boys allowed Neville a few minutes' pause to get at home with his surroundings, before going on to the second or cathedral chamber. They then pursued their way through the tortuous and difficult passage between the two chambers, till at length they arrived at the opening."Hello!" exclaimed Sandy, who was in the lead, with an involuntary gasp."What's up?" cried Joe, who was immediately behind him."Why, ladder's gone!""Jemima! you don't say so. Why—how——?""It's gone, all right," replied the leader, as he peered by the light of his candle into the gloomy recesses of the cave. "Clean gone! Don't see it on the floor below, so it can't have dropped."Joe, squeezing abreast Sandy, and doubling the light power, added his eyes to those of his mate in the search."No go," said he, after a keen but vain search. "Anyway, I can see how to get down easy enough." So saying, he placed his stick across the mouth of the passage, jamming it on either side into an interstice. "There!" he exclaimed, as he hung his weight upon the transverse beam, which, though bowing, did not crack when bearing his weight. "Let's put the rope round this, an' we'll slip down less'n no time.""Wait a jiffy, Joe," said Sandy, who had been critically eyeing the staff. "We'll make 'assurance doubly sure,' as your father said in his sermon last Sunday,"—poking his stick while he spoke, into the same cavities as the other occupied. "That will stiffen it. It's easy enough getting down: we could jump, for that matter. It's the getting up that's the problem. There, it's as stiff as a fire-bar now. Here's the first to go down."Holding the rope, the boy swung off, and was soon standing on the floor of the lower cave. The others followed rapidly. They could find no trace of the missing ladder. Not only was the ladder spirited away, there were other signs which showed that the caves had been entered since the last visit of the boys, and on proceeding to the third chamber, where the bushrangers slept, there were manifest signs of disturbance."Some un's been here, that's certain."Sandy gave voice to the one opinion. The bark bunks occupied by the outlaws were thrown off their trestles to the ground. There was no gainsaying Sandy's statement. The situation was peculiar. The boys might well be pardoned for being a little fearsome and creepy under the circumstances."I heard Dickson tell your father, Sandy, at the brumby hunt, that a party was comin' out from Tareela to visit the caves. P'r'aps it's them that have moved the ladder.""Don't think it could have been," persisted Joe. "There's no sign of their camp outside.""What about the 'rangers?"The thought was decidedly unpleasant, and when voiced it struck a chill in the hearts of all. As a matter of fact, the thought had lain in Sandy's mind from the time he missed the ladder.Ben Bolt was not a desperado of the Morgan or Kelly type—men who were conscienceless, treacherous, and full of the blood-lust. Many, indeed, of his acts of gallantry and open-hearted generosity, if theatrical, were nevertheless redeeming qualities in the old-time bushranger. A man of great resource and daring, a thorough bushman, a superb rider, mounted always on the finest of horses,—stud stock mostly, which he "lifted" from celebrated breeding stations,—the 'ranger was, in some respects, a picturesque figure, and had a most adventurous career. Often located and even sighted by the police, he was always able to make good his escape, either by bush strategy or by an amazingly daring piece of riding in rough country, at which even his intrepid pursuers, themselves accomplished horsemen, stood aghast.There was a spirit of romanticism about the fellow. His dress and appearance gave colour to that. He was passionately attached to his wife and children, and often incurred desperate risks in visiting them when "home-sickness" seized him. His house was ever under the surveillance of the police, who fondly hoped to catch him by that lure. Yet, though often within an ace of capture, he always escaped. Outwitting the subtlest efforts of the police, he was their despair. Though of a sanguine temperament, there were seasons when he was the victim of a black mood. At such times he was most dangerous and cruel."It could hardly be Ben Bolt," said Sandy at length. "It's quite possible that the town party has been. How could Ben be here an' in Queensland?""Well, what's next, Sandy?""I'd like us to explore the opening in the passage first, Joe. Come, boys, let's shin up."This was speedily accomplished, and the pals proceeded to the spot that was in Sandy's eye, so to speak."Here's the place I meant!" exclaimed he, when they had retraced their steps some distance through the passage. The opening, at first sight, appeared to be a deep recess. Upon close examination, however, it was found that the wall and the roof did not meet. There was a hole some two feet in diameter."I spotted this when I came with father," explained the leader. "Now, if one of you fellows will give me a hoist, I'll get my head and shoulders into that opening above, and find out whether it's a chimney, or takes a turn and forms a passage."Accordingly Joe, stooping a little, received Sandy on his shoulders, by which he was able to rise into the hole."Hurrah—hurrah!" he exclaimed a minute later. "It's a passage all right, boys. There's a sort of landing, anyway, and it looks as though there's a passage beyond. Hold steady, Joe, an' I'll try an' get my hands on the ledge."The boy made several efforts without avail, for he was an inch or so too low."Step on my shoulders, Sandy." It was Neville who had placed himself alongside Joe. His shoulders were at least three inches higher. Thus raised, Sandy had no difficulty in grasping the ledge of the landing. Catching the lad's feet with his hands, Neville pushed the boy higher, and soon he worked his way on to the floor of the ceiling, as it were.This done, he proceeded to light his candle and explore, for it was impenetrably dark. Following the passage inwards, the boy advanced some distance. He found that it widened as he proceeded, and became easier to traverse."I'd better return now for the other chaps," muttered the lad. Accordingly he retraced his steps and explained matters to the anxiously waiting group. By the aid of the green-hide lariat, the others were soon up with the leader on the landing.Here, then, was a new situation. In all probability the foot of man had never trodden this place. There were no traces of any living thing. It was in no light mood, therefore, that the boys made a start. Their position was unique and thrilled them. They might, in a literal way, bring to light the hidden things of darkness. Not for ages, or ever, in all likelihood, had those walls been lighted up and gazed upon. Whither would the pathway lead?Proceeding, they encountered no difficulty for some time, as the passage widened in places, enabling them to walk abreast. Soon, however, it began to contract, and in places it became a squeeze. The roof, too, dipped considerably, so that it could be touched by the extended hand.Sandy, who was still leading, began to experience a tired feeling. There was a peculiar sensation in his ears, and a tightening in the throat. After advancing a few steps farther he stumbled and almost fell. His candle, too, began to burn very dimly. His followers were experiencing similar feelings. In a moment the cause of this untoward feeling came flashing across his mind.Joe, behind him, cried out, "I say, Sand ... I'm gettin' ... short...""Back, everybody! Fire-damp!" cried the leader in a raucous voice, after a violent effort.It was a narrow squeak. Though only a few minutes in the poisoned air, they were all on the verge of unconsciousness. Gasping, trembling, the sweat oozing from every pore, they struggled on until they reached the widened area of the passage, and then sank, exhausted, to the ground. Tom, who was at the tail of the procession was not so bad as the others, not having penetrated so far into the poison zone.The pure air soon revived them. Their respiration, which was very laboured at first, improved as soon as the sweet, dry air entered their lungs, and ousted the putrid gas which had lodged there. A pull at the water-can, which fortunately they had brought with them, helped them a lot, and in a short time they were themselves again."That ends chapter one," said Joe dryly. "Whereaway now, Captain?""We've come to the end of our tether sudden enough, and with a vengeance. It'll be something, Mr. Neville, to tell 'em in England. Let us get back to the old passage. This is nothing but a death-trap."CHAPTER XXVITHE EXPLORERS"'The best hearts, Trim, are ever the bravest,' replied my uncle Toby."—STERNE."That's a valiant flea that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion!"—SHAKESPEARE."How quickly we ran into that poison-trap! No smell or anything to warn us," remarked Neville, when the normal condition of the lads was restored, "save a nauseous feeling which supervened.""Whatcher think made it hang like that, Mr. Neville? Seemed to me like an invisible fog that we suddenly encountered.""That is really what I believe it to be, Tom. I know from what I have read and heard, the gas is colourless and quite heavy. An uncle of mine is a colliery manager in Wales, and this fire-damp, or choke-damp, as it is sometimes called, is often fatal, because it fills the lungs so that no other air can enter, and in this way suffocates its victims. We were just on the fringe of it, I think."As I was saying, this fire-damp, which is always much more dangerous after an explosion in the mines, is generally formed by the decomposition of certain substances in vegetable fibres, or in veins of carbonised mineral. That is why it is called carbonic acid gas. It is much heavier than the air. You remember the passage was contracted, and the air seems to have become impregnated at that particular place.""Well, whatever it is," said Joe, who had just made a few spasmodic heaves, "it's good enough to keep out of. Let's give the acid, or gas, or damp, or whatever it's called, leg bail."The party of defeated but not disgraced explorers now retraced their steps. Eagerly scanning the walls as they retreated for signs of diverging passages, they soon found themselves at the landing, whence they swung down into the blind alley that led to the main passage."Sandy," said Joe, when the party had emerged, "give that passage a name. Leichhardt gave names, you know, to all the creeks, hills, and water-holes he discovered in his travels. I reckon yon's our discovery. Faugh!" ejecting a mouthful of saliva, "it tastes like rotten soda-water. Let's call the beastly place by a name that'll fit it.""Christen away.""Me! Well—er—how'd 'Poison Pot' do?"'"Death Trap' would be better," replied Sandy. So thought the others, and it was accordingly named "Death Trap Passage.""Now, chaps, let's get back to the cathedral. There's a likely spot there—that hole, I mean, where the boulder was jammed.""What's the time, Mr. Neville?" asked Joe, on arrival at the big chamber."Quarter to one.""Why, we've hardly been three hours in! I made sure it was about six.""I vote we have a go at the prog," chipped in Tom. "It'll help to take the nasty taste away.""Good idea!" was the general verdict.The pals had lost a good deal of their natural spirits. Three hours groping in semi-darkness, with a throat full of choke-damp thrown in, was enough to stale the strongest; yet they had no thought of surrender. They were "baffled, to fight better."In a few minutes the outer entrance is gained, and in another five minutes they reach camp.The hot tea was particularly acceptable. Nothing in the wide world could have been more refreshing and stimulating. Billy-tea boiled with gum sticks, just so far sweetened as to countervail the natural roughness without impairing the aromatic flavour, stands at the head of all beverages—whether aerated, brewed, distilled, or concocted."My word, this is bully tea, ain't it?" cried Tom, smacking his lips with satisfaction, after emptying his pannikin for the third time.Neville in particular—to whom the outing and the exploration was a new experience—felt, as he puffed at a cigar, the stirrings of a larger and a nobler nature than that which had hitherto exercised him. Business life seemed flat and stale compared with this al fresco existence."Time to be goin' back again," said the practical Sandy, breaking in on a post-prandial reverie. "Gimme the tommie, Joe."Tomahawk in hand, the boy walked to the sapling clump, and selecting a stout specimen, vigorously attacked it with the weapon. From this he cut two six-foot lengths, sharpening the thicker ends, crowbar fashion."What's that for, Sandy?""To prise the boulder. They'll make capital levers."Armed with these additional implements, the lads returned to the caves, and in due course lowered themselves into the cathedral.The spot which Sandy had mentally marked as a likely one has already been described. It was a cleft in the floor at its junction with the wall, and immediately behind a huge stalagmite. It must have escaped the vigilant eyes of the professional trackers. The corner was a very dark one, and unless one looked closely behind the boulder the cleft would not be observed. Sandy had lit upon it in a promiscuous search, and was impressed by its possibilities as another outlet, or inlet, to other cavities.No sooner had the boys arrived at the spot, and Sandy had cast his eye upon it, than he exclaimed, "Somebody's been here!""How d'yer know?""This stone is not in the same position as when I last saw it.""Who could it 'a' been?""Dunno. I'm crack sure, however, that this stone was not square down the other day. The flat of it was down and the point of it up. Now it's reversed. Besides, here are crowbar marks.""It'll be hard enough to get out—much harder than it would 'a' been if it hadn't been touched.""Must have been a strong chap that turned it!""Strong? No one man could ever have done it! It would be difficult for two. Why, that stone's not a pound less than four hundredweight!""Well, time's goin'," said Joe, "and what's done's done. Let's at it, Sandy. Up-end her, and throw her over on the floor."The lads vainly tried to insert the wooden bar. The cracks between the lid, so to speak, and the edge at the opening were not sufficiently wide to admit this."It won't do," said Sandy after a while; "we're gettin' no forrader.""I suggest," interposed Neville, "that you widen the cracks.""How can we do that?""Will you let me have a try?""My!—rather. Anything to get the blame thing out."Neville picked up the tomahawk that was lying near at hand, and began striking the edges of the hole where Sandy had been prising."That's the stitch!" cried Tom. "Well done, Mr. Neville!"The limestone readily yielded to Neville's strokes, and the crevice was soon wide enough to take in the thick end of the stout gum sapling.Sandy and Neville, taking a pull at the end, levered the stone high enough for Joe, who had the other bar ready to insert between the raised end and the floor stone. With this additional lever power the "stopper" was canted on one side, high enough to put the stone chocks in. Another application of the bars, with two boys hanging on each and pulling simultaneously, brought the "stopper out of the bottle," and toppled it over with a thud that shook the floor; bringing down a stalactite with a crash, fortunately without harm to the exploring party.Before venturing down, Joe, in whose mind an idea had been fermenting while the stone-raising business was being carried on, critically surveyed the stone "stopper.""Look here!" remarked he, "these are the marks of an iron crowbar. Whoever removed this had the proper tools for it. Whatcher make of that? That upsets the town party theory, don't it?""It certainly makes the puzzle harder," said Neville."Think so? Makes it easier to me," quoth Sandy."How's that?""Looks more'n more like Ben Bolt's work.""Think he's in there now?" exclaimed Tom, in an awed whisper."No, I don't think that. But it shows me that he's knocking about here again, an' he's been in the caves quite recently."The boys looked into each other's faces, and felt—well, just as you would feel, brave reader, were you in the cavernous depths of earth, in the very haunts of proclaimed outlaws, not knowing at what moment they might spring upon you. Standing in the cold, damp, dim underground, at the mouth of an unknown passage, which might take you to the innermost den of the outlaws, could you contemplate advance without an attack of the creeps? The crevice, after going down sheer a few feet, turned on a level plane, right across the floor of the cathedral, in a westerly direction. How far could be known only by actual travel."Come on, boys," said Sandy, after a moment's silence; "it's what we've come here for. I believe, for one, we're goin' to solve the mystery."One by one the lads dropped into the bottom of the well. The passage was of unequal width, but always wide enough to allow the party to proceed without squeezing, and had a fairly level floor. The floor, after extending two hundred paces or so in a westerly direction, began to decline somewhat sharply, and presently Sandy gave a warning shout—"Water ahead!"The others crowded round him as well as they could. There, at their very feet, was a pool of water of unknown depth."Here's a go, chaps! Looks as if it might be a swim."The pool covered a fairly wide stretch, and was in a dip of the passage."Don't think it's a swim myself," remarked Joe. "Let's take off our boots an' pants. I fancy we'll find it only a wade. We can move cautiously and test it with a bar as we proceed."The party did as suggested, and found to their satisfaction that the water did not rise above their knees; for none of them relished a swim in the icy water. After re-dressing, the company moved forward, and soon emerged into a spacious cavern that fairly sparkled with lime crystals. Little time, however, was spent in admiration. They moved across it in the same direction, and found two exits. After a short consultation, they decided to take the larger of the two passages, because it seemed to be a continuation of the old track. Just as they started, Tom, who was in the rear, on looking round, saw what appeared to be a bundle on the floor of the cave, some distance to the right."Wait a moment," cried he, as he ran to the object. "Oh, I say, here's a find!"The others, who were in the entrance, backed out, and ran to his side. Tom held the old vine ladder in his hands.There was no longer any doubt. There could be only one conclusion. At the sight of this the boys had a bad attack of the creeps."It's the 'rangers all right. They've slipped the police again." There seemed to be no alternative to this conclusion. "Seems to me," continued Joe, who was the quickest of the lot in reasoning out a thing, "that they've been back here again, and knowing that the bobbies'll be on the watch to trap 'em at this spot, they've locked up the house, in a way of speakin', an' thrown the key inside. I vote that we go on."No one said nay, and so the advance was made. The passage presented no serious obstacle, widening and narrowing at intervals, but never too narrow to proceed. As they were squeezing through a difficult place, Sandy again sounded the alarm."What's up now?" said Joe, who was just behind."'Nother big cave, an' a deep drop into it, same as the other. There's a bar across here where they've slung ropes. Undo the lasso, chaps.""Let's hope we're getting near the end of it."The speaker was Joe. The truth is, the work was most tiring in its nature, and the spirits of the party were yielding to a very uneasy feeling, despite Joe's plausible theories that the end might be the reverse of pleasant. Should Ben Bolt, after all, be in hiding, well—the worst might happen.Fixing the rope, they slipped down to the floor of the new cave. This, though not remarkable for beauty, was commodious enough, and had several outlets, in one of which there were indubitable evidences of the one-time presence of horses."Hello! here's the stable," cried Tom, who was first in this recess.Sure enough in a vault-shaped but very roomy cavern, entered by a wide passage, was the robbers' stable. Several bundles of bush hay were stacked in one corner. A manure heap filled the other. All this pointed to a prolonged occupation. The idea of the robbers' presence had so materialised by these later evidences that the boys felt they might be confronted at any moment by the desperadoes."What'll we do, Joe?" said Tom. "Slip quietly back again?""Slip back again, after getting this far! Don't be frightened, Tom.""I'm not; y'are yourself.""Well," replied Joe, with a smile, "I'll not deny that I've felt like it more'n once. But there's one thing you've not noticed, chaps.""What's that?" chorused the group."There's not been any horses here for weeks.""How d'yer know?""No fresh droppings."That fact was indisputable, conclusive, and enheartening. It lifted a load of apprehension, to call it by no harder name; and now, with buoyant spirits, to which they had been strangers for some time, the boys continued the search. The end, indeed, was close at hand."Look out sharply for tracks," was the command of the leader on leaving the stable, stooping low as he spoke, and eagerly scanning the floor. Hoof-prints were discovered and followed. They led to a corner of the big cave which narrowed at that point, and continued on as an opening. After going a few paces, Sandy called out, "Hurrah—hurrah! Light ahead!"Sure enough, a few yards farther the passage was lighted with natural rays that shot through a small opening some distance ahead. The party was exultant, and needed no telling that this was sunlight. In this subterranean fashion the explorers had traversed, mole-like, the range spur, and proved the theory of the dual entrance.Like as the exultation of Columbus when the first sight of the new world convinced him that he had solved the riddle of ages, or as Leichhardt felt when he and his dauntless band stood upon the shores of the great northern gulf, after having passed through the very heart of Australia'sterra incognita, so did the breasts of these brave youths swell with the spirit of triumph when that ray of light revealed the joyful fact that they, a group of mere youngsters, had succeeded where the experts had failed.The whole company darted through the spacious passage to the opening. It was in the face of a cliff, and fully fifty yards from its sloping base. So steep was the cliff that, viewed from a distance, it appeared perpendicular; forbidding to anything save rock wallabies and—Ben Bolt.Its very roughness, however, made its ascent a possibility. Had it been a smooth face, no horse, however capable, could have climbed it. Ben Bolt was always able to achieve the possible. Many of his wild rides bordered on the miraculous. His personality magnetised his steeds. Wherever he led they would go, and so the steep ravine that rose from the rocky base to this entrance afforded a precarious footing for the outlaw's horses."Now then, boys, before we go down, let's give a cheer," said Sandy. Led by the leader, the group signalled its victory—for such it was, and no mean one—by a rousing cheer that woke the echoes of the precipice and spread wave-like over the landscape beyond.It penetrated the ears of two men who were riding quietly in the bush that lay beyond the rocky plateau which formed the base of the cliffs."What's that?" exclaimed the elder to the youth who rode at his side."Sounds like a cheer," replied the youth. "Who can it be—traps?"Turning their horses' heads, they rode swiftly but silently to the edge of the scrubby timber which they were traversing. Halting just within the bushy barrier, they parted the leaves, and there, perched high up the cliff's side, were four youthful forms—the band of cave explorers."Now, boys, we'll go back an' have another look round before we leave. Might find something belonging to Ben Bolt worth carryin' away. We can easily get out on this side, and cross the spur a little higher up, where the cliff runs out. 'Twon't take long neither! I say—won't we have a yarn to spin to-night!"But the unexpected is yet to happen. The company retraced their steps to the cave, and did a little exploration; finding nothing, however, but a couple of leather mail-bags and some opened letters—the remains of coach-robbery spoils."This is the last one, mates," remarked Sandy, as the group entered the mouth of a passage. After traversing its course a little distance, it opened up into a small cave, twenty feet square. On one side of it were bunks similar to those in the other cave. While in the act of examining it, Joe fancied he heard a footfall. Stopping a moment to listen, he distinctly heard the sounds of stealthy footsteps."'S-s-sh-h-h, boys! Some un's followin'!"At this startling statement the boys halted and turned round, to be confronted by two forms hardly distinguishable in the surrounding gloom. The pals gave a gasp of terror as the call peculiar to highwaymen smote their ears and they faced two weapons, levelled point blank."Hands up!"Candles are dropped in sheer fright in an eye-wink, and hands go up in gross darkness.
TARPOT, KING OF BULLAROI
But to-night Merri-dia-o is resplendent in a warrior's full rig. A hole bored through the cartilage of his nose peak displays the bone of an eagle's wing, about four inches long, the insignia of his maturity and dignity—his knighthood's spurs, so to speak.
Behold, then, athwart his nose, the polished bone, gleaming like ivory against the ebony background! His grey hair is trussed up, forming a big top-knot, and is adorned with the sulphur-hued crest of the white cockatoo, also with turkey-tail feathers. Wound several times round his somewhat corpulent body is a belt of human hair. This serves to hold the boomerang and other short weapons. A dingo-tail skin, split up the middle to the brush, and bound round the forehead with the brush erect and plume-like, gives grace and height to the stature. But the body and limb painting is the principal part. Each tribe has its devices. Pigments are largely used. The greater the number of colours the more fantastic is the effect.
When the boys strode up to the "dressing-room" where the tribe artiste were engaged, they found that most of the men had completed their adornments and were strutting about casting admiring or envious glances at one another. Merri-dia-o, however, was still in the hands of the dressers, and his markings were a triumph. Being a large-framed and portly fellow, he showed the designs to the best advantage. The colour scheme was brilliant, if nothing else. On his massive chest, which was whitewashed for a background, were drawn an emu and a kangaroo. The bird's plumage was bright blue, while the marsupial was as glaring as red ochre could make it. These cartoons covered breast and belly, the limbs being like animated barber's poles in red and white. On his back, upon a white ground, was coiled an enormous carpet snake, with erect head and protruding tongue. When seen in the corrobberie, armed with spears, shield, and boomerangs, this fantastic figure was without peer among the warrior-clowns, the whole effect being an extravaganza at once whimsical and wild.
By the time these preparations were ended the great central fire was blazing furiously, fed as it constantly was from a dry tinder stack.
The "orchestra," to the number of six, sat in a cluster behind the fire and beat time to the primitive measures. The musicians for the most part were old women, who were well-practised performers. Their instruments were as primitive as the songs they accompanied, consisting generally of a tightly folded opossum rug or a shield. These were operated upon by the palms of the hands or by sticks; a vigorous slapping of the thighs also gave variety to the combination. At any rate, a surprising din was raised.
It has been stated that two tribes participated. The Ding-donglas were the guests of the Bullarois, who had provided a grand supper of fat grubs, native yams, and roast kangaroo for the festivities.
According to immemorial precedence the visiting tribe "took the flure" first, and gave a most interesting and picturesque display. The subject of the corrobberie was an emu hunt, and was full of startling incident, presenting ludicrous aspects that created roars of laughter. The descriptive song was chanted in perfect time: a sort of runic lay, beginning in a low and monotonous key and gradually waxing louder as the chase progressed, finally ending crescendo in a cry of victory, what time the animal is overcome and slain.
The spectators, black and white, applauded most generously, our old friends Jacky and Willy being among the loudest. The station boys were in no ways different from their brothers in get up. For the moment they had abandoned the role of station hands for that of barbaric magnificoes.
The whites, especially the girls and Neville, who witnessed the spectacle for the first time, were delighted beyond measure. The silence following the huntsman's song was of short duration. The story-teller of the visiting tribe now advanced within the circle of light, and in sing-song tones recited one of their folklore stories.
THE COCKATOO'S NEST.[#]
[#] Tom Petrie's Reminiscences.
Once upon a time there lived happily together on an island three young aborigines, a brother and two sisters. This land was not very far from the mainland, and the three often used to gaze across at the long stretch of land, and think of journeying forth from their island home to see what it was like over there. They felt sure they would find lots of things to eat. So one day by means of a canoe they really did cross over, and began without loss of time to seek for 'possums, native bears, and so forth. In this search round about they at length espied a hollow limb, which looked uncommonly like a place where a nest would be, and so, going into a scrub near by, they cut a vine for climbing up. Up went the youth, while his sisters waited beneath. When he had cut open the limb, he found to his great joy a cockatoo's nest with young birds in it, and these latter he proceeded to throw down one by one to his sisters, the fall to the ground killing the poor things.
Now it so chanced that as the young fellow picked up the last little bird from the nest, a feather detached itself from its tail, and floating away on the air, at length settled fair on the chest of an old man asleep in a hut some distance away. This old man was really a ghost who owned the place, and the feather disturbed his rest and woke him up. Divining at once what was happening, he arose, and getting hold of a spear and a tomahawk, sallied forth to the tree, where he arrived before the young fellow had started to climb down. Seeing the birds dead, the old man was very angry, and said, "What business you take my birds? Who told you to come here?" He then commanded the tree to spread out and grow taller and taller, so that the young fellow could not get down, and, taking the dead birds, he put them in a big round dilly, and carried them to his hut.
Although the old man did not wait, the tree did his bidding, becoming immediately very wide and tall, and the young fellow tried his best to come down, but could not. So at last he started to sing to the other trees all around to come to him, which they did; and one falling right across where he stood, he was able to get to the ground that way. Somehow, though, in coming down he got hurt, and the gins had to make a fire to get hot ashes in order to cover him up there. He lay covered up so for half an hour, at the end of which time he was all right again.
Of course these three felt very indignant at the old man's behaviour, and they thirsted for revenge. So, calling all the birds of the air to them, they sought their assistance. These birds went in front, while the three cut their way through the thick scrub to the old man's hut; and ever as they went, to drown the noise of the cutting, the birds sang loudly, the wonga pigeon making a tremendous row with his waugh! waugh! waugh! When they had got nearly to the hut, the old man, who had been trying to make up for his disturbed sleep, heard the noise of the birds, and called crossly to them, "Here, what do you make such a noise for? I want to sleep!" But even as he spoke he was dozing, and presently went right off, suspecting nothing; and when the three reached the doorway, looking in, they saw him quite soundly sleeping. So the three clutched their weapons tightly,—the man his spear, and the women their yam sticks,—and advancing into the hut, they all viciously jobbed down at the old man, and lo! he was dead. His body was dragged forth and burned, and after the hut was robbed of the young cockatoos and all objects worthy of value it also was burned, and the three found their way back to the canoe, and departed home to their island laden with the spoil.
At the conclusion of the "yarn" the Bullarois retired to the trees fringing the clearing on the side directly opposite the audience. After a short harangue from Merri-dia-o, the braves, about twenty in number, fully armed and in their war-paint, issued from the forest, headed by their chief, shouting their battle-cry, gesticulating wildly, and making a great clatter with their weapons. Advancing upon the foe, now in line and now in sections, they battled with the enemy, crouching one moment behind their shields to receive the shower of imaginary spears thrown by their assailants, the next springing erect and casting, as it were, their weapons of offence. Following up this round, they bore upon the visionary foe and engaged in personal encounter. Retreating one moment and advancing the following, uttering war cries and fierce challenge, hurling coarse and stinging epithet, they gradually approached the fire; the gins meanwhile beat time, giving coherence and harmony to the bellicose proceedings.
There was such reality in the battle-play, the men were so earnest, their cries so passionate, their taunts so bitter; in short, there was such a ring of sincerity, such a presentation of the actual, that the white spectators were carried away as in the drama when the master mummers live their parts.
The boys were in a condition of exultancy. They were inspired by the martial display to a participation of fellow-feeling with the warring company. Neville, too, was fairly captured by this weird yet fierce and savage sham-fight. The thrill of combat held him so strongly that he could not refrain from leaping to his feet and yelling with the rest—urging them, indeed, to greater slaughter.
It was different with the girls. Fear laid hold of them at the unwonted sight. At first they joined in the hurrahs, but when the fighters neared them, and it seemed, as was indeed the case, that the very actors were being carried away by frenzy and battle-lust, their tongues ceased and a cold chill of apprehension seized them.
The warriors are now right up, fronting the fire. In a few minutes the grand finale will have been enacted, and the curtain rung down. Unfortunately, however, one of the young men has a quarrel with a youth belonging to the visiting tribe. In the culminating point of this sham fight he sees his enemy among the crowd of onlookers, and, urged by his excited feelings, he directs insulting remarks full at this man, who, running out into the clear space in front of the fighters, returns these with interest. This so enrages the Bullaroi youth that, darting from the ranks, he slings his spear full at the enemy, and transfixes him in the breast. Loud cries of consternation come from the women, and a moment's awful stillness from the men. Then, as if by magic, the Dingdonglas have risen in their wrath, arms in hand. The play has vanished, and downright fight and bloody battle ensues. Spears hurtle and boomerangs swish through the air; the crash of nulla-nulla on shields supplants the music of the orchestra, the while the gins flee in sheer terror from the bloody scene to their huts in the forest, rending the air with their shrill screams as they speed.
But what of the whites?
They stand a few moments horrorstruck at the raging human cyclone. At first the grim reality seemed unreal, just as previously the sham battle-action appeared real. Joe is the first to size up the situation. Not only are the blacks in blood-red earnest, but there is actual peril to the spectators. The combatants are surging to and fro in the strife of conflict, and circling as though in a vortex. At any moment the spectators might be drawn into the battle zone through the movements of the belligerents.
"Come, Mag, Jess, quickly!" cries that youth, seizing the girls as he speaks and drawing them away. "The brutes are at it in real earnest. Come! we must bolt to the trees. Great Cæsar, look at that!" A spear whistled through the air and impaled itself in a tree near by.
Just then, one of the fighters detached himself from the scrum and came bounding up to the little group, spear extended. As he seemed to be on hostile intent, the youths lined up in front of the girls, ready to defend them and grapple with the foe. On nearing, Sandy knew him to be Willy the station boy. Willy, loyal to the family, came to entreat them to leave the field. There was little fear of any direct attack upon them, though it were hard to say what turn the savage mind might take. The apparent danger was from fugitive spears and boomerangs. So Willy paused but to cry out, "Take 'em girls to horses: safe there; no safe here. Go!" and then skipped back to his band, throwing himself heart and soul into the fray. For the hour the boy was as great a savage as any of the young men of the tribe.
The girls, now really terrified, need no pressure to leave; so they scurry from the field and reach their horses, some distance beyond spear reach. There they watch the tide of battle as it ebbs and flows until it dies, which it is not long in doing, from its very violence.
When the casualties were reckoned it was found that most of the combatants had received bruises or gashes, limbs were broken, but the only fatalities were those of the lads who began the quarrel. Now that the fight is over, both sides settle down to supper in the best of humours. The slate has been cleaned in this primitive fashion, and now friendships are renewed over handfuls of luscious tree-grubs and hunches of roast kangaroo. To-morrow there will be weeping in common over the biers of the departed braves.
"Well, Denny, what do you think of this dreadful corrobberie?" exclaimed Jessie to the Irish boy as they rode home about midnight.
"Phwat div Oi think iv it, Miss Jassie? Whoi, it's been a lovely foight, shure. Och, they're the very divils ontoirely! Nivir seen sich a bit of divarsion since Oi left owld Oireland, bedad! Begorrah, it'd ta-ake owld Tipperary itself to bate it."
"Do you know what I've been thinking of, Denny?" continued the mischievous girl.
"Nawthin' but lovely thoughts, Miss Jassie."
"You of course are the best judge, Denny, being an Irishman. What I was thinking was this: scratch an aboriginal, and you have an Irishman."
"Och, dear-a-dear, Miss Jassie, to maline me poor counthrymen loike that! Troth, then," cried the lad, with a serio-comic air and the suspicion of a wink, "there's one thing indade which Irishmen have in common wid these poor naggurs."
"What is that, Denny?"
"We both suffer at the hands of Saxon landlords."
And Jessie had no answer.
CHAPTER XXV
IN THE BUSHRANGERS' CAVES
"In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree,Where Alph the sacred river ranThrough caverns measureless to manDown to a sunless sea."KUBLA KHAN.
"In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree,Where Alph the sacred river ranThrough caverns measureless to manDown to a sunless sea."KUBLA KHAN.
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree,
Where Alph the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
KUBLA KHAN.
KUBLA KHAN.
"Joe!"
Silence.
"J-o-o!"
No answer.
"J-o-o-o!"
Profound stillness, broken only by a buzzing fly.
"If you don't answer within five seconds, an' short ones at that, look out for squalls. You're only 'possumin', you rascal!"
Presently a hurtling pillow, and not too soft a one either, struck Joe Blain, who lay flat on his back, with open mouth, closed eyes, and deaf ears. The missile hit him fair and square on the face, hermetically sealing his breathing apparatus for a moment.
A muffled sound, a quick contortion of the body, and an instinctive clutch of the hands got rid of the obstruction, which in a twinkling described a trajectory that impinged on Tom's left ear.
"Well, what's in the wind, now?" asked Joe, after this customary exchange of shots, which was an everyday occurrence.
"I've an idea, Joe."
"Howly Moses, you don't mean it! Terrible, terrible! Where did you catch it?"
"Catch your grandmother's sister's cat! Only, you're such a numskull, I'd try an' put it in your head."
"What! my grandmother's sister's——"
"No, you ass; a simple idea!"
"Then I'll bet tuppence it's simple enough, you goat!"
After this complimentary interchange Tom proceeded: "When we went out to the caves the other day, we said we'd return before the holidays were ended, an' we've come to the larst day, ole man. Ding-bust it! we'll have to make for home to-morrer, an'——"
"Ugh! don't mention it! Go on about the caves."
"Well, then, that day we went out—— Oh Joey! shall we ever forget the sight of 'Fevvers' rollin'——?"
"Look here, Hawkins, if you can't spit out that idea of yours quick an' lively, you'd better swallow it! If you think to waste my valuable time——"
"Your time wasted! Pish! Listen, then. I vote we go out to the caves an' have a look round for the place where Ben Bolt kep' his horses. It'd be no end of a lark for us to find, after the police an' others have given it up. What say?"
"There's not much in your notions, Hawkins, generally speaking; still, you've struck ile this time, sonny. Gewhillikins! it's all right. Let's have a talk with ole Sandy about it."
"Oh, he's sure to be nuts on it! He's always talkin' about the mystery."
"Up, guards, an' at 'em! as Cromwell sang out at the battle of Marathon," quoth Joe, in slight historical confusion, as he tumbled out of bed.
They dressed quickly and then rushed out to find Sandy, who had risen earlier to yard the horses. Sandy was nothing loth. Indeed, he was as eager as the others, if not more so. He had often brooded over the puzzle, and discussed it at times with his mates, but oftener with himself. Like the others, he had theories.
"I've got to take the harrow to the cultivation paddock after breakfast, an' then I'll be free."
"Can't you take it now?" suggested Tom. "Good hour yet to breakfast. You'll have whips of time, an' we'll help you."
Sandy was agreeable, and the boys soon hoisted the harrow on to the cart. They returned in good time for breakfast, and got Mr. M'Intyre's consent.
"Best take us with you, Sandy."
"Girls 'd only be in the way, Mag."
"Thanks, me brither! Just wait till you ask me to cut your lunches!"
"Oh, mother'll do that."
"Yes; rin to your mither and hold on to her apron-strings. For selfishness and for cheek, commend me to a brother! You're all alike. I expect Tom and Joe are no better at home, for all they put on mighty innocent airs here," prattled the girl, in mock sarcasm.
"I hope you'll count me in, boys?" said Neville. "I have intimated to Mrs. M'Intyre that I shall be forced to tear myself away from her unbounded hospitality,"—"Fevvers" was still a trifle stilted,—"but she will not hear of my leaving till the end of the week. You know," he went on, "I did not have an opportunity—the last time I—er—we were out there—and——"
"You lassoed an Englishman with a stock whip," broke in Jessie the tease.
"And behaved like a brick," interposed Maggie, who noticed the involuntary wince on the part of the Englishman. This was, indeed, a sore spot; but he was growing rapidly in grace.
Neville winced under Jess's sally, but took it in good part. "It's all part of the breaking-in process, Miss Jessie. I believe I can dismount now a little more gracefully. I shall be glad of an opportunity to see the famous bandit's caves. It will be something to relate in England."
It did not take the boys long to get ready. Half an hour later the party wasen routefor the caves, determined to solve the puzzle.
"You'll do nothing rash, boys?" said the careful mother at parting, "Have you enough candles?"
"Plenty; also ropes and tucker. Don't worry about us, mother; we may not be back till near bedtime—depends on what luck we have."
"You've got a scheme, Sandy, I s'pose?" remarked Joe, as they jogged along the road.
"Yes, Joe, I've an idea; but of course only testing it will prove its worth. The caves are situated in a spur running north and south. The opening, we know, is on the east side. Nothing bigger than a wallaby or a dingo, save of course a man, can squeeze through that opening. Either there is another and separate cave adjacent, where the 'rangers stalled their horses, or there is an easier entrance somewhere in the spur that has a connection with the ones we have already visited."
"You must remember, though, Sandy, that Inspector Garvie and his men spent days in searching the locality, an' how are we chaps to do in a day what they failed to do after several days, and with black trackers, too?"
"I'm not likely to forget that."
"I vote, then," said Joe, "we go straight to the caves an' explore 'em first."
"It'd take us all day to search those ravines and bluffs on the west side," added Tom, "so I'm in favour of Joe's proposal."
"I'm not sure that I should have a voice in this matter," spoke Neville. "You fellows will have to settle it between yourselves. Whatever you decide upon will be agreeable to me."
"Matter's decided, then," answered Sandy. "Joe and Tom are for the caves direct. Honestly speaking, although I would dearly love a try at the western side, for I'm convinced that the outlet lies there, I think, on the whole, we'd better stick to the caves, giving them first show, anyhow."
"Carried unanimously by a large majority, as Denny would say," cried Joe the spokesman.
On arrival at the camping grounds, the place of the late serio-comic adventure, the explorers—for such we must call them—unsaddled, and short-hobbled their horses.
"I vote," said Joe, "that we boil the billy an' have a go at the tuck before we tackle the caves. It'll be better than taking the prog with us, an' 'll save us coming out for lunch."
"Agreed!" chorus the rest with a readiness and gusto which in matters of meat is almost an instinct of boyhood. Accordingly the wood is gathered, and ere long, with whetted appetites, they are absorbingly engaged on a substantial meal.
"There are three things to remember, mates. First of all, the candles. We'll divide them equally, three apiece. Here's a box of matches for each. Father gave me a caution, about lights. We're to carefully watch the candles as we proceed through the passages. He says the poisonous gases collect in places that are not well ventilated, an' that means death in no time if we remain in such spots."
"How'd we know, Sandy?"
"I was just going to tell you. If we get into such places, father says, the candle will burn dimly, an' if it's very bad, will go out altogether. When we happen on such spots, if there are any, we are to retreat immediately; so don't forget, boys, should we be separated."
"That," said Neville, "is most important." He related one or two incidents of fatal accidents in connection with English collieries through fire-damp. That danger, though, is seldom encountered in such caves as the boys were intent on exploring.
"What's the third thing, Sandy?"
"The third thing, Hawkins, is to make fast to this green-hide. It is twenty-five feet long, an' we'll tie on to it as we go through the passages. Father says there are often holes in the floors and very steep inclines. Best to be on the safe side, though I don't suppose we'll really need it."
"I say," queried Neville, "hadn't we better take some stout cudgels with us, for fear of snakes and wild beasts?"
"Happy thought, Mr. Neville. Not for wild beasts, though an old-man kangaroo can be as dangerous as a bear with his paws when he's bailed up by the dogs."
"What about monkeys, then?"
"Monkeys? We haven't any."
"Well, I heard one of the travellers say, while he was having a feed at the men's hut, that he'd been engaged to go for a mob of monkeys."
"Ha—ha—ha! Well, you are a——Why, the man was talking about sheep. Monkey is a pet name for them. We'll want some sticks, though, as well as the tomahawk."
So saying, Sandy proceeded to hack at a cluster of gum saplings, and cut three waddies about five feet in length, and a fourth one eight feet long, and proportionately thick. Armed with these and carrying the other necessaries, including a billy of water and a snack of food, the exploration party proceeded to the cave entrance.
After gaining access to the first cave, the boys allowed Neville a few minutes' pause to get at home with his surroundings, before going on to the second or cathedral chamber. They then pursued their way through the tortuous and difficult passage between the two chambers, till at length they arrived at the opening.
"Hello!" exclaimed Sandy, who was in the lead, with an involuntary gasp.
"What's up?" cried Joe, who was immediately behind him.
"Why, ladder's gone!"
"Jemima! you don't say so. Why—how——?"
"It's gone, all right," replied the leader, as he peered by the light of his candle into the gloomy recesses of the cave. "Clean gone! Don't see it on the floor below, so it can't have dropped."
Joe, squeezing abreast Sandy, and doubling the light power, added his eyes to those of his mate in the search.
"No go," said he, after a keen but vain search. "Anyway, I can see how to get down easy enough." So saying, he placed his stick across the mouth of the passage, jamming it on either side into an interstice. "There!" he exclaimed, as he hung his weight upon the transverse beam, which, though bowing, did not crack when bearing his weight. "Let's put the rope round this, an' we'll slip down less'n no time."
"Wait a jiffy, Joe," said Sandy, who had been critically eyeing the staff. "We'll make 'assurance doubly sure,' as your father said in his sermon last Sunday,"—poking his stick while he spoke, into the same cavities as the other occupied. "That will stiffen it. It's easy enough getting down: we could jump, for that matter. It's the getting up that's the problem. There, it's as stiff as a fire-bar now. Here's the first to go down."
Holding the rope, the boy swung off, and was soon standing on the floor of the lower cave. The others followed rapidly. They could find no trace of the missing ladder. Not only was the ladder spirited away, there were other signs which showed that the caves had been entered since the last visit of the boys, and on proceeding to the third chamber, where the bushrangers slept, there were manifest signs of disturbance.
"Some un's been here, that's certain."
Sandy gave voice to the one opinion. The bark bunks occupied by the outlaws were thrown off their trestles to the ground. There was no gainsaying Sandy's statement. The situation was peculiar. The boys might well be pardoned for being a little fearsome and creepy under the circumstances.
"I heard Dickson tell your father, Sandy, at the brumby hunt, that a party was comin' out from Tareela to visit the caves. P'r'aps it's them that have moved the ladder."
"Don't think it could have been," persisted Joe. "There's no sign of their camp outside."
"What about the 'rangers?"
The thought was decidedly unpleasant, and when voiced it struck a chill in the hearts of all. As a matter of fact, the thought had lain in Sandy's mind from the time he missed the ladder.
Ben Bolt was not a desperado of the Morgan or Kelly type—men who were conscienceless, treacherous, and full of the blood-lust. Many, indeed, of his acts of gallantry and open-hearted generosity, if theatrical, were nevertheless redeeming qualities in the old-time bushranger. A man of great resource and daring, a thorough bushman, a superb rider, mounted always on the finest of horses,—stud stock mostly, which he "lifted" from celebrated breeding stations,—the 'ranger was, in some respects, a picturesque figure, and had a most adventurous career. Often located and even sighted by the police, he was always able to make good his escape, either by bush strategy or by an amazingly daring piece of riding in rough country, at which even his intrepid pursuers, themselves accomplished horsemen, stood aghast.
There was a spirit of romanticism about the fellow. His dress and appearance gave colour to that. He was passionately attached to his wife and children, and often incurred desperate risks in visiting them when "home-sickness" seized him. His house was ever under the surveillance of the police, who fondly hoped to catch him by that lure. Yet, though often within an ace of capture, he always escaped. Outwitting the subtlest efforts of the police, he was their despair. Though of a sanguine temperament, there were seasons when he was the victim of a black mood. At such times he was most dangerous and cruel.
"It could hardly be Ben Bolt," said Sandy at length. "It's quite possible that the town party has been. How could Ben be here an' in Queensland?"
"Well, what's next, Sandy?"
"I'd like us to explore the opening in the passage first, Joe. Come, boys, let's shin up."
This was speedily accomplished, and the pals proceeded to the spot that was in Sandy's eye, so to speak.
"Here's the place I meant!" exclaimed he, when they had retraced their steps some distance through the passage. The opening, at first sight, appeared to be a deep recess. Upon close examination, however, it was found that the wall and the roof did not meet. There was a hole some two feet in diameter.
"I spotted this when I came with father," explained the leader. "Now, if one of you fellows will give me a hoist, I'll get my head and shoulders into that opening above, and find out whether it's a chimney, or takes a turn and forms a passage."
Accordingly Joe, stooping a little, received Sandy on his shoulders, by which he was able to rise into the hole.
"Hurrah—hurrah!" he exclaimed a minute later. "It's a passage all right, boys. There's a sort of landing, anyway, and it looks as though there's a passage beyond. Hold steady, Joe, an' I'll try an' get my hands on the ledge."
The boy made several efforts without avail, for he was an inch or so too low.
"Step on my shoulders, Sandy." It was Neville who had placed himself alongside Joe. His shoulders were at least three inches higher. Thus raised, Sandy had no difficulty in grasping the ledge of the landing. Catching the lad's feet with his hands, Neville pushed the boy higher, and soon he worked his way on to the floor of the ceiling, as it were.
This done, he proceeded to light his candle and explore, for it was impenetrably dark. Following the passage inwards, the boy advanced some distance. He found that it widened as he proceeded, and became easier to traverse.
"I'd better return now for the other chaps," muttered the lad. Accordingly he retraced his steps and explained matters to the anxiously waiting group. By the aid of the green-hide lariat, the others were soon up with the leader on the landing.
Here, then, was a new situation. In all probability the foot of man had never trodden this place. There were no traces of any living thing. It was in no light mood, therefore, that the boys made a start. Their position was unique and thrilled them. They might, in a literal way, bring to light the hidden things of darkness. Not for ages, or ever, in all likelihood, had those walls been lighted up and gazed upon. Whither would the pathway lead?
Proceeding, they encountered no difficulty for some time, as the passage widened in places, enabling them to walk abreast. Soon, however, it began to contract, and in places it became a squeeze. The roof, too, dipped considerably, so that it could be touched by the extended hand.
Sandy, who was still leading, began to experience a tired feeling. There was a peculiar sensation in his ears, and a tightening in the throat. After advancing a few steps farther he stumbled and almost fell. His candle, too, began to burn very dimly. His followers were experiencing similar feelings. In a moment the cause of this untoward feeling came flashing across his mind.
Joe, behind him, cried out, "I say, Sand ... I'm gettin' ... short..."
"Back, everybody! Fire-damp!" cried the leader in a raucous voice, after a violent effort.
It was a narrow squeak. Though only a few minutes in the poisoned air, they were all on the verge of unconsciousness. Gasping, trembling, the sweat oozing from every pore, they struggled on until they reached the widened area of the passage, and then sank, exhausted, to the ground. Tom, who was at the tail of the procession was not so bad as the others, not having penetrated so far into the poison zone.
The pure air soon revived them. Their respiration, which was very laboured at first, improved as soon as the sweet, dry air entered their lungs, and ousted the putrid gas which had lodged there. A pull at the water-can, which fortunately they had brought with them, helped them a lot, and in a short time they were themselves again.
"That ends chapter one," said Joe dryly. "Whereaway now, Captain?"
"We've come to the end of our tether sudden enough, and with a vengeance. It'll be something, Mr. Neville, to tell 'em in England. Let us get back to the old passage. This is nothing but a death-trap."
CHAPTER XXVI
THE EXPLORERS
"'The best hearts, Trim, are ever the bravest,' replied my uncle Toby."—STERNE.
"That's a valiant flea that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion!"—SHAKESPEARE.
"How quickly we ran into that poison-trap! No smell or anything to warn us," remarked Neville, when the normal condition of the lads was restored, "save a nauseous feeling which supervened."
"Whatcher think made it hang like that, Mr. Neville? Seemed to me like an invisible fog that we suddenly encountered."
"That is really what I believe it to be, Tom. I know from what I have read and heard, the gas is colourless and quite heavy. An uncle of mine is a colliery manager in Wales, and this fire-damp, or choke-damp, as it is sometimes called, is often fatal, because it fills the lungs so that no other air can enter, and in this way suffocates its victims. We were just on the fringe of it, I think.
"As I was saying, this fire-damp, which is always much more dangerous after an explosion in the mines, is generally formed by the decomposition of certain substances in vegetable fibres, or in veins of carbonised mineral. That is why it is called carbonic acid gas. It is much heavier than the air. You remember the passage was contracted, and the air seems to have become impregnated at that particular place."
"Well, whatever it is," said Joe, who had just made a few spasmodic heaves, "it's good enough to keep out of. Let's give the acid, or gas, or damp, or whatever it's called, leg bail."
The party of defeated but not disgraced explorers now retraced their steps. Eagerly scanning the walls as they retreated for signs of diverging passages, they soon found themselves at the landing, whence they swung down into the blind alley that led to the main passage.
"Sandy," said Joe, when the party had emerged, "give that passage a name. Leichhardt gave names, you know, to all the creeks, hills, and water-holes he discovered in his travels. I reckon yon's our discovery. Faugh!" ejecting a mouthful of saliva, "it tastes like rotten soda-water. Let's call the beastly place by a name that'll fit it."
"Christen away."
"Me! Well—er—how'd 'Poison Pot' do?"
'"Death Trap' would be better," replied Sandy. So thought the others, and it was accordingly named "Death Trap Passage."
"Now, chaps, let's get back to the cathedral. There's a likely spot there—that hole, I mean, where the boulder was jammed."
"What's the time, Mr. Neville?" asked Joe, on arrival at the big chamber.
"Quarter to one."
"Why, we've hardly been three hours in! I made sure it was about six."
"I vote we have a go at the prog," chipped in Tom. "It'll help to take the nasty taste away."
"Good idea!" was the general verdict.
The pals had lost a good deal of their natural spirits. Three hours groping in semi-darkness, with a throat full of choke-damp thrown in, was enough to stale the strongest; yet they had no thought of surrender. They were "baffled, to fight better."
In a few minutes the outer entrance is gained, and in another five minutes they reach camp.
The hot tea was particularly acceptable. Nothing in the wide world could have been more refreshing and stimulating. Billy-tea boiled with gum sticks, just so far sweetened as to countervail the natural roughness without impairing the aromatic flavour, stands at the head of all beverages—whether aerated, brewed, distilled, or concocted.
"My word, this is bully tea, ain't it?" cried Tom, smacking his lips with satisfaction, after emptying his pannikin for the third time.
Neville in particular—to whom the outing and the exploration was a new experience—felt, as he puffed at a cigar, the stirrings of a larger and a nobler nature than that which had hitherto exercised him. Business life seemed flat and stale compared with this al fresco existence.
"Time to be goin' back again," said the practical Sandy, breaking in on a post-prandial reverie. "Gimme the tommie, Joe."
Tomahawk in hand, the boy walked to the sapling clump, and selecting a stout specimen, vigorously attacked it with the weapon. From this he cut two six-foot lengths, sharpening the thicker ends, crowbar fashion.
"What's that for, Sandy?"
"To prise the boulder. They'll make capital levers."
Armed with these additional implements, the lads returned to the caves, and in due course lowered themselves into the cathedral.
The spot which Sandy had mentally marked as a likely one has already been described. It was a cleft in the floor at its junction with the wall, and immediately behind a huge stalagmite. It must have escaped the vigilant eyes of the professional trackers. The corner was a very dark one, and unless one looked closely behind the boulder the cleft would not be observed. Sandy had lit upon it in a promiscuous search, and was impressed by its possibilities as another outlet, or inlet, to other cavities.
No sooner had the boys arrived at the spot, and Sandy had cast his eye upon it, than he exclaimed, "Somebody's been here!"
"How d'yer know?"
"This stone is not in the same position as when I last saw it."
"Who could it 'a' been?"
"Dunno. I'm crack sure, however, that this stone was not square down the other day. The flat of it was down and the point of it up. Now it's reversed. Besides, here are crowbar marks."
"It'll be hard enough to get out—much harder than it would 'a' been if it hadn't been touched."
"Must have been a strong chap that turned it!"
"Strong? No one man could ever have done it! It would be difficult for two. Why, that stone's not a pound less than four hundredweight!"
"Well, time's goin'," said Joe, "and what's done's done. Let's at it, Sandy. Up-end her, and throw her over on the floor."
The lads vainly tried to insert the wooden bar. The cracks between the lid, so to speak, and the edge at the opening were not sufficiently wide to admit this.
"It won't do," said Sandy after a while; "we're gettin' no forrader."
"I suggest," interposed Neville, "that you widen the cracks."
"How can we do that?"
"Will you let me have a try?"
"My!—rather. Anything to get the blame thing out."
Neville picked up the tomahawk that was lying near at hand, and began striking the edges of the hole where Sandy had been prising.
"That's the stitch!" cried Tom. "Well done, Mr. Neville!"
The limestone readily yielded to Neville's strokes, and the crevice was soon wide enough to take in the thick end of the stout gum sapling.
Sandy and Neville, taking a pull at the end, levered the stone high enough for Joe, who had the other bar ready to insert between the raised end and the floor stone. With this additional lever power the "stopper" was canted on one side, high enough to put the stone chocks in. Another application of the bars, with two boys hanging on each and pulling simultaneously, brought the "stopper out of the bottle," and toppled it over with a thud that shook the floor; bringing down a stalactite with a crash, fortunately without harm to the exploring party.
Before venturing down, Joe, in whose mind an idea had been fermenting while the stone-raising business was being carried on, critically surveyed the stone "stopper."
"Look here!" remarked he, "these are the marks of an iron crowbar. Whoever removed this had the proper tools for it. Whatcher make of that? That upsets the town party theory, don't it?"
"It certainly makes the puzzle harder," said Neville.
"Think so? Makes it easier to me," quoth Sandy.
"How's that?"
"Looks more'n more like Ben Bolt's work."
"Think he's in there now?" exclaimed Tom, in an awed whisper.
"No, I don't think that. But it shows me that he's knocking about here again, an' he's been in the caves quite recently."
The boys looked into each other's faces, and felt—well, just as you would feel, brave reader, were you in the cavernous depths of earth, in the very haunts of proclaimed outlaws, not knowing at what moment they might spring upon you. Standing in the cold, damp, dim underground, at the mouth of an unknown passage, which might take you to the innermost den of the outlaws, could you contemplate advance without an attack of the creeps? The crevice, after going down sheer a few feet, turned on a level plane, right across the floor of the cathedral, in a westerly direction. How far could be known only by actual travel.
"Come on, boys," said Sandy, after a moment's silence; "it's what we've come here for. I believe, for one, we're goin' to solve the mystery."
One by one the lads dropped into the bottom of the well. The passage was of unequal width, but always wide enough to allow the party to proceed without squeezing, and had a fairly level floor. The floor, after extending two hundred paces or so in a westerly direction, began to decline somewhat sharply, and presently Sandy gave a warning shout—
"Water ahead!"
The others crowded round him as well as they could. There, at their very feet, was a pool of water of unknown depth.
"Here's a go, chaps! Looks as if it might be a swim."
The pool covered a fairly wide stretch, and was in a dip of the passage.
"Don't think it's a swim myself," remarked Joe. "Let's take off our boots an' pants. I fancy we'll find it only a wade. We can move cautiously and test it with a bar as we proceed."
The party did as suggested, and found to their satisfaction that the water did not rise above their knees; for none of them relished a swim in the icy water. After re-dressing, the company moved forward, and soon emerged into a spacious cavern that fairly sparkled with lime crystals. Little time, however, was spent in admiration. They moved across it in the same direction, and found two exits. After a short consultation, they decided to take the larger of the two passages, because it seemed to be a continuation of the old track. Just as they started, Tom, who was in the rear, on looking round, saw what appeared to be a bundle on the floor of the cave, some distance to the right.
"Wait a moment," cried he, as he ran to the object. "Oh, I say, here's a find!"
The others, who were in the entrance, backed out, and ran to his side. Tom held the old vine ladder in his hands.
There was no longer any doubt. There could be only one conclusion. At the sight of this the boys had a bad attack of the creeps.
"It's the 'rangers all right. They've slipped the police again." There seemed to be no alternative to this conclusion. "Seems to me," continued Joe, who was the quickest of the lot in reasoning out a thing, "that they've been back here again, and knowing that the bobbies'll be on the watch to trap 'em at this spot, they've locked up the house, in a way of speakin', an' thrown the key inside. I vote that we go on."
No one said nay, and so the advance was made. The passage presented no serious obstacle, widening and narrowing at intervals, but never too narrow to proceed. As they were squeezing through a difficult place, Sandy again sounded the alarm.
"What's up now?" said Joe, who was just behind.
"'Nother big cave, an' a deep drop into it, same as the other. There's a bar across here where they've slung ropes. Undo the lasso, chaps."
"Let's hope we're getting near the end of it."
The speaker was Joe. The truth is, the work was most tiring in its nature, and the spirits of the party were yielding to a very uneasy feeling, despite Joe's plausible theories that the end might be the reverse of pleasant. Should Ben Bolt, after all, be in hiding, well—the worst might happen.
Fixing the rope, they slipped down to the floor of the new cave. This, though not remarkable for beauty, was commodious enough, and had several outlets, in one of which there were indubitable evidences of the one-time presence of horses.
"Hello! here's the stable," cried Tom, who was first in this recess.
Sure enough in a vault-shaped but very roomy cavern, entered by a wide passage, was the robbers' stable. Several bundles of bush hay were stacked in one corner. A manure heap filled the other. All this pointed to a prolonged occupation. The idea of the robbers' presence had so materialised by these later evidences that the boys felt they might be confronted at any moment by the desperadoes.
"What'll we do, Joe?" said Tom. "Slip quietly back again?"
"Slip back again, after getting this far! Don't be frightened, Tom."
"I'm not; y'are yourself."
"Well," replied Joe, with a smile, "I'll not deny that I've felt like it more'n once. But there's one thing you've not noticed, chaps."
"What's that?" chorused the group.
"There's not been any horses here for weeks."
"How d'yer know?"
"No fresh droppings."
That fact was indisputable, conclusive, and enheartening. It lifted a load of apprehension, to call it by no harder name; and now, with buoyant spirits, to which they had been strangers for some time, the boys continued the search. The end, indeed, was close at hand.
"Look out sharply for tracks," was the command of the leader on leaving the stable, stooping low as he spoke, and eagerly scanning the floor. Hoof-prints were discovered and followed. They led to a corner of the big cave which narrowed at that point, and continued on as an opening. After going a few paces, Sandy called out, "Hurrah—hurrah! Light ahead!"
Sure enough, a few yards farther the passage was lighted with natural rays that shot through a small opening some distance ahead. The party was exultant, and needed no telling that this was sunlight. In this subterranean fashion the explorers had traversed, mole-like, the range spur, and proved the theory of the dual entrance.
Like as the exultation of Columbus when the first sight of the new world convinced him that he had solved the riddle of ages, or as Leichhardt felt when he and his dauntless band stood upon the shores of the great northern gulf, after having passed through the very heart of Australia'sterra incognita, so did the breasts of these brave youths swell with the spirit of triumph when that ray of light revealed the joyful fact that they, a group of mere youngsters, had succeeded where the experts had failed.
The whole company darted through the spacious passage to the opening. It was in the face of a cliff, and fully fifty yards from its sloping base. So steep was the cliff that, viewed from a distance, it appeared perpendicular; forbidding to anything save rock wallabies and—Ben Bolt.
Its very roughness, however, made its ascent a possibility. Had it been a smooth face, no horse, however capable, could have climbed it. Ben Bolt was always able to achieve the possible. Many of his wild rides bordered on the miraculous. His personality magnetised his steeds. Wherever he led they would go, and so the steep ravine that rose from the rocky base to this entrance afforded a precarious footing for the outlaw's horses.
"Now then, boys, before we go down, let's give a cheer," said Sandy. Led by the leader, the group signalled its victory—for such it was, and no mean one—by a rousing cheer that woke the echoes of the precipice and spread wave-like over the landscape beyond.
It penetrated the ears of two men who were riding quietly in the bush that lay beyond the rocky plateau which formed the base of the cliffs.
"What's that?" exclaimed the elder to the youth who rode at his side.
"Sounds like a cheer," replied the youth. "Who can it be—traps?"
Turning their horses' heads, they rode swiftly but silently to the edge of the scrubby timber which they were traversing. Halting just within the bushy barrier, they parted the leaves, and there, perched high up the cliff's side, were four youthful forms—the band of cave explorers.
"Now, boys, we'll go back an' have another look round before we leave. Might find something belonging to Ben Bolt worth carryin' away. We can easily get out on this side, and cross the spur a little higher up, where the cliff runs out. 'Twon't take long neither! I say—won't we have a yarn to spin to-night!"
But the unexpected is yet to happen. The company retraced their steps to the cave, and did a little exploration; finding nothing, however, but a couple of leather mail-bags and some opened letters—the remains of coach-robbery spoils.
"This is the last one, mates," remarked Sandy, as the group entered the mouth of a passage. After traversing its course a little distance, it opened up into a small cave, twenty feet square. On one side of it were bunks similar to those in the other cave. While in the act of examining it, Joe fancied he heard a footfall. Stopping a moment to listen, he distinctly heard the sounds of stealthy footsteps.
"'S-s-sh-h-h, boys! Some un's followin'!"
At this startling statement the boys halted and turned round, to be confronted by two forms hardly distinguishable in the surrounding gloom. The pals gave a gasp of terror as the call peculiar to highwaymen smote their ears and they faced two weapons, levelled point blank.
"Hands up!"
Candles are dropped in sheer fright in an eye-wink, and hands go up in gross darkness.