Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.“We shall run against them.”What did it mean?Lost in the great uninhabited plains, where by aid of their compass they might go on day after day travelling in the direction they believed to be homeward, but it would only be as the result of a guess. Certainly, they knew that the sea lay somewhere due east, but even if they could reach the sea, where would they be—north or south of a settlement?Norman felt that their case was hopeless; and in obedience to the mute prayer he read in brother and cousin’s eyes, he went and sat by the black.“Can’t mine find the track, Shanter?”“Baal find um,” he replied coolly. “Plenty all gone way.”“But come and try again.”The black shook his head.“Baal go no more,” he said; “mine sore. Plenty hurt all over. Go sleep, piggi jump up.”The black turned away, and Norman returned disconsolately to the others.“What does he say?” whispered Tim, as if afraid that his voice would be heard out there in the great wild.“Says we are to go to sleep till the sun rises to-morrow.”There was a dead silence.“Shall we go and try ourselves?” said Rifle, at last.“If he can’t find it, we can’t,” said Norman, despondently.“Never mind, boys,” cried Tim. “Never say die. When the provision’s done, we’ll eat one of the horses, if we can’t shoot anything. Surely we shall come across settlers some time during the next ten years; and if we don’t, I say that if black fellows can live, we who know so much better can, till we reach a settlement once more.”“But we don’t know so much better,” said Norman, sadly. “Shanter can beat us hollow at tracking. I wouldn’t care, boys, only I seem to have poor mother’s face always before me; and it will kill her if we don’t get back.”Another deep silence followed, for neither could trust himself to speak, till all at once from where he lay, sounding incongruous at so solemn a time, there came from the black a succession of heavy snores; and so near is laughter to tears, mirth to sadness, that the boys burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and Rifle exclaimed: “There, what’s the good of our being in the dumps. It can’t be so very bad when old Tam o’ Shanter can go to sleep like that.”“No,” said Tim, taking his pitch from his cousin.“Let’s have a good long rest, and then see what to-morrow brings; eh! Man?”Norman smiled and nodded, joining in the preparations for their evening meal, and that night they all lay down as if to sleep, nothing being heard but Shanter’s deep breathing in the great solitude beneath the glittering stars, till a deep sigh escaped from Norman’s breast; and rising from his blanket couch, he stole softly out to go and kneel down beneath the great, violet, gold-spangled arch of heaven to pray for help, and that there might not come that terrible sorrow in his home—the tale to be told to future generations of how three happy, contented lads went forth into the great wilderness and left their bones there beneath some tree, or by some water-hole, bleaching in the sun.He was picturing it all in that solemn silence; the very scene rose before him, but it was swept away directly, and he was gazing in the agony-drawn face of his mother, when he heard a faint sob, and turned as Rifle dropped upon his knees by his side, laid his clasped hands upon his brother’s shoulder, and bent down his head.But poor orphan Tim, who looked upon his cousins more as brothers than aught else, had been as wakeful as they. It had been a mutual deception; each had pretended that he was asleep, so as not to let the others know how he suffered, and many seconds had not elapsed before he too was kneeling by Norman’s side.And there they knelt for a long space, before Norman began repeating aloud the old, old prayer, followed by the others, till he came to the words, “And deliver us from—”There he broke down, and the prayer was finished in a husky voice by Tim alone.A few minutes after they were lying once more in the shelter of the sheet of canvas, and the next thing that happened was their starting up into wakefulness with the sky one glow of gold and orange, and the black face of Tam o’ Shanter peering in at them with a grin upon his countenance, as he cried:“Now, Marmi boys, piggi go jump up. Mine baal sore now. Go along fine way back.”For a marvellous change seemed to have come over the black. He had been sleeping heavily for sixteen hours, and the breakfast he ate was something like that to which they had been accustomed, in spite of the fact that the flour was getting excessively low.But it was as if a black cloud had rolled away from them during the night, and the bright sun of hope was shining warmly into their hearts.All at once, to their great astonishment, Tam leaped up, flourished his nulla-nulla, and shouted:“Mine want big boomer here. Makum sore along plenty like Tam o’ Shanter.”“But he has gone bong,” cried Rifle.“Yohi. Gone bong. Marmi Tim mumkull big boomer. Now, come along, mine fine back big white Mary.”“Yes: let’s start,” cried Norman; but with a pang at his heart as he wondered whether they would ever reach home again, home which seemed now the most lovely place on earth.Tam refused to mount when they started.“Mine want see close along,” he said; and after a few casts here and there, to the astonishment of all, they saw him suddenly point down, and they all ran to his side.“Why, there’s nothing there,” cried Tim.“Yohi. Horse fellow tick um toe along.”“Yes; there is a faint mark of a hoof,” said Norman in delight; and with rising spirits they went on again, to sight the Wallaby Range and strike Dingo Station just at dusk on the following night, after missing the track again and again on the previous day; while on this, the last of their return journey, Shanter marked down hills and mountains which were familiar, so that they made extra speed, and it was necessary, for they reached home nearly starved.It is needless to tell of the joy at the wanderers’ return, save that Mrs Bedford’s face showed the agony she must have suffered, while Aunt Georgie had a severe scolding in store.But all that was soon over. Shanter had gone off to a favourite nook of his to digest damper, and the boys had about wearied themselves out telling of their adventures, and of how wonderfully Shanter had recovered during the last few days.“Yes, it is wonderful,” said the captain. “I suppose the way in which they get over dangerous wounds is more wonderful still. Poor fellow! he must have had a horrible squeeze, and the drowning, no doubt, acted like a shock. I wish, though, you had thought to bring home the old man’s skin.”“Yes, we ought to have done that,” said Norman, “for Tim’s sake.”“But we had enough to do to bring home Shanter.”“Ay, that they had,” cried Uncle Jack. “I don’t know what Sam German would have done without him.”“Why, he always grumbles at him for a lazy nigger,” said the captain.“Yes, but he likes him all the same.”“So we all do,” chorused the boys.“He can’t help being black,” said Tim.“No,” said the captain; “but you have said nothing about the camps of black fellows you struck.”“Because we did not find any, father,” cried Rifle.“Humph!” said the captain. “Strange! There must be very few in these parts, but I always feel that we shall run against them some day.”

What did it mean?

Lost in the great uninhabited plains, where by aid of their compass they might go on day after day travelling in the direction they believed to be homeward, but it would only be as the result of a guess. Certainly, they knew that the sea lay somewhere due east, but even if they could reach the sea, where would they be—north or south of a settlement?

Norman felt that their case was hopeless; and in obedience to the mute prayer he read in brother and cousin’s eyes, he went and sat by the black.

“Can’t mine find the track, Shanter?”

“Baal find um,” he replied coolly. “Plenty all gone way.”

“But come and try again.”

The black shook his head.

“Baal go no more,” he said; “mine sore. Plenty hurt all over. Go sleep, piggi jump up.”

The black turned away, and Norman returned disconsolately to the others.

“What does he say?” whispered Tim, as if afraid that his voice would be heard out there in the great wild.

“Says we are to go to sleep till the sun rises to-morrow.”

There was a dead silence.

“Shall we go and try ourselves?” said Rifle, at last.

“If he can’t find it, we can’t,” said Norman, despondently.

“Never mind, boys,” cried Tim. “Never say die. When the provision’s done, we’ll eat one of the horses, if we can’t shoot anything. Surely we shall come across settlers some time during the next ten years; and if we don’t, I say that if black fellows can live, we who know so much better can, till we reach a settlement once more.”

“But we don’t know so much better,” said Norman, sadly. “Shanter can beat us hollow at tracking. I wouldn’t care, boys, only I seem to have poor mother’s face always before me; and it will kill her if we don’t get back.”

Another deep silence followed, for neither could trust himself to speak, till all at once from where he lay, sounding incongruous at so solemn a time, there came from the black a succession of heavy snores; and so near is laughter to tears, mirth to sadness, that the boys burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and Rifle exclaimed: “There, what’s the good of our being in the dumps. It can’t be so very bad when old Tam o’ Shanter can go to sleep like that.”

“No,” said Tim, taking his pitch from his cousin.

“Let’s have a good long rest, and then see what to-morrow brings; eh! Man?”

Norman smiled and nodded, joining in the preparations for their evening meal, and that night they all lay down as if to sleep, nothing being heard but Shanter’s deep breathing in the great solitude beneath the glittering stars, till a deep sigh escaped from Norman’s breast; and rising from his blanket couch, he stole softly out to go and kneel down beneath the great, violet, gold-spangled arch of heaven to pray for help, and that there might not come that terrible sorrow in his home—the tale to be told to future generations of how three happy, contented lads went forth into the great wilderness and left their bones there beneath some tree, or by some water-hole, bleaching in the sun.

He was picturing it all in that solemn silence; the very scene rose before him, but it was swept away directly, and he was gazing in the agony-drawn face of his mother, when he heard a faint sob, and turned as Rifle dropped upon his knees by his side, laid his clasped hands upon his brother’s shoulder, and bent down his head.

But poor orphan Tim, who looked upon his cousins more as brothers than aught else, had been as wakeful as they. It had been a mutual deception; each had pretended that he was asleep, so as not to let the others know how he suffered, and many seconds had not elapsed before he too was kneeling by Norman’s side.

And there they knelt for a long space, before Norman began repeating aloud the old, old prayer, followed by the others, till he came to the words, “And deliver us from—”

There he broke down, and the prayer was finished in a husky voice by Tim alone.

A few minutes after they were lying once more in the shelter of the sheet of canvas, and the next thing that happened was their starting up into wakefulness with the sky one glow of gold and orange, and the black face of Tam o’ Shanter peering in at them with a grin upon his countenance, as he cried:

“Now, Marmi boys, piggi go jump up. Mine baal sore now. Go along fine way back.”

For a marvellous change seemed to have come over the black. He had been sleeping heavily for sixteen hours, and the breakfast he ate was something like that to which they had been accustomed, in spite of the fact that the flour was getting excessively low.

But it was as if a black cloud had rolled away from them during the night, and the bright sun of hope was shining warmly into their hearts.

All at once, to their great astonishment, Tam leaped up, flourished his nulla-nulla, and shouted:

“Mine want big boomer here. Makum sore along plenty like Tam o’ Shanter.”

“But he has gone bong,” cried Rifle.

“Yohi. Gone bong. Marmi Tim mumkull big boomer. Now, come along, mine fine back big white Mary.”

“Yes: let’s start,” cried Norman; but with a pang at his heart as he wondered whether they would ever reach home again, home which seemed now the most lovely place on earth.

Tam refused to mount when they started.

“Mine want see close along,” he said; and after a few casts here and there, to the astonishment of all, they saw him suddenly point down, and they all ran to his side.

“Why, there’s nothing there,” cried Tim.

“Yohi. Horse fellow tick um toe along.”

“Yes; there is a faint mark of a hoof,” said Norman in delight; and with rising spirits they went on again, to sight the Wallaby Range and strike Dingo Station just at dusk on the following night, after missing the track again and again on the previous day; while on this, the last of their return journey, Shanter marked down hills and mountains which were familiar, so that they made extra speed, and it was necessary, for they reached home nearly starved.

It is needless to tell of the joy at the wanderers’ return, save that Mrs Bedford’s face showed the agony she must have suffered, while Aunt Georgie had a severe scolding in store.

But all that was soon over. Shanter had gone off to a favourite nook of his to digest damper, and the boys had about wearied themselves out telling of their adventures, and of how wonderfully Shanter had recovered during the last few days.

“Yes, it is wonderful,” said the captain. “I suppose the way in which they get over dangerous wounds is more wonderful still. Poor fellow! he must have had a horrible squeeze, and the drowning, no doubt, acted like a shock. I wish, though, you had thought to bring home the old man’s skin.”

“Yes, we ought to have done that,” said Norman, “for Tim’s sake.”

“But we had enough to do to bring home Shanter.”

“Ay, that they had,” cried Uncle Jack. “I don’t know what Sam German would have done without him.”

“Why, he always grumbles at him for a lazy nigger,” said the captain.

“Yes, but he likes him all the same.”

“So we all do,” chorused the boys.

“He can’t help being black,” said Tim.

“No,” said the captain; “but you have said nothing about the camps of black fellows you struck.”

“Because we did not find any, father,” cried Rifle.

“Humph!” said the captain. “Strange! There must be very few in these parts, but I always feel that we shall run against them some day.”

Chapter Sixteen.“We’ll find ’em.”The troubles of the expedition had died out to such an extent that there was some talk of another, the captain saying that for exploring reasons he should head this himself.Just then Uncle Jack kicked his foot under the table, and the captain looked up to see such a look of agony in his wife’s face that the subject dropped.All was going on admirably, oxen and sheep were increasing, the garden was flourishing, and Dingo Station was daily growing more and more the home of peace and plenty.“Ah, Jack,” said the captain to his brother, as they sat one evening smoking tobacco of their own growing, “if it were not for the thoughts of the black fellows, what a paradise this would be!”“Perhaps the blacks say something of the kind respecting the whites.”“Why, we don’t interfere with them.”“No; but I’m afraid others do.”But just at this time Aunt Georgie was a good deal exercised in her mind, and she confided her trouble and suspicions to the two girls, but bade them say not a word to Mrs Bedford.“It would only worry her, and she has plenty of troubles over those wild, harum-scarum, neck-breaking, horse-riding boys.”But the next morning at breakfast she let the cat out of the bag.“Flour? Stolen?” cried Mrs Bedford, excitedly.“Oh, auntie!” cried the girls, reproachfully.“Well, I didn’t mean to say anything, but I’m quite sure that a quantity has been taken out of the tub three times lately,” said Aunt Georgie, emphatically.“Nonsense, aunt!” protested Hetty; “it’s your fancy, or else Ida must have taken some without speaking.”“No,” said Ida, quietly, “I have not touched it. If I had wanted some for cooking, I should have asked aunt for it.”“Of course you would, my dear, and I should not have spilled and wasted some on the floor.”“Had we not better tell Edward?” said Mrs Bedford. “No; don’t worry him,” said Aunt Georgie; “he has quite enough on his mind.”“The boys must have been at it for something,” said Ida, quietly.“Boys have been at what?” said Norman, who was with the others in the veranda as these words were said.“Been taking the flour,” said Hetty.“What should we take the flour for?” cried Rifle, indignantly.“No, my dears, I do not suspect you, and I am sorry to make the charge, for I have always thought Shanter lazy, but honest.”“Why, you don’t mean to say you believe poor old Shanter would steal flour, do you, aunt?” said Rifle, indignantly.“I regret it very much, my dear, but the flour has been stolen, some spilled on the floor, and there were the prints of wide-toed feet in the patch.”“Here, hi! Shanter, Tam o’!” cried Rifle. “Coo-ee!”The black came running up with glistening face.“Plenty mine come fast,” he said.“Here,” cried Norman; “what for you come along steal flour?”“Mine baal teal flour,” cried the black, indignantly.“Aunt says you have, two or three times.”“Baal teal flour,” cried the black again.“There, aunt,” said Norman; “I told you he wouldn’t.”“But I’m sure he did, my dear, for there were the marks of his black feet.”“Baal teal flour,” cried Shanter again; and drawing himself up he was turning away, but Norman caught his arm.“Look here, Shanter,” he said. “You brother. Baal go in storehouse.”“Yohi,” said the black, nodding. “Big white Mary pialla. Shanter carry tub.”“Then you have been in the storehouse sometimes.”“Yohi. Baal teal flour.”He wrenched himself free and walked away.“I don’t believe he took it, aunt,” said Norman.“Nor I,” said the others eagerly.“Well, I wish I was sure, my dears, as you are, for I don’t like to suspect the poor fellow.”“But if he had taken it, aunt,” cried Rifle, “he is such a big stupid boy of a fellow he couldn’t have kept it secret. He’d have made a lot of damper at a fire in the scrub, and asked us to come and help to eat the nasty stuff all full of ashes.”“Well,” said Aunt Georgie, drawing her lips tight, “we shall see. Nobody else could have stolen it but the black or German.”“What, old Sourkrout?” cried Tim, laughing. “Oh, aunt!”“And it’s oh, Artemus!” said the old lady. “For I do wish you boys would not be so fond of nicknames.”“All right, aunt.”The incident passed off and so did Shanter, for he disappeared altogether for a couple of days, and was a good deal missed.“Never mind,” said Norman, “he’ll come back loaded with grubs, or bring honey or ’possums.”“I believe he is too much offended to come back,” said Tim. “No fellow, whatever his colour may be, likes to be called a thief.”“No,” said Rifle; “and I believe aunt used her flour in her sleep.”“Here, boys,” cried the captain just then; “take the horses and go round and fetch up that lot of bullocks from the plain. I fancy they have gone right away some distance, or the dingoes have scared them; it will be a good ride for you.”“And no Shanter here,” said Norman, as they went off to catch and saddle their horses.“I wonder father hasn’t made a bother about it. He doesn’t seem to have missed him.”“Too busy over getting down that big gum over yonder,” observed Rifle. “My word, what a time it seems to take!”“Nice bit of amusement for Uncle Jack and old Sam. He is getting too fat.”The others laughed, and then after they had caught, saddled, and bridled their horses, they walked them up to where the captain was examining the edge of a felling-axe, Uncle Jack and German being similarly armed.“Off you go, boys,” said the captain.“And let’s see whether you’ll be back before we get down the great gum-tree,” said their uncle, smiling.“We shall be back,” said Rifle. “You will not get down the big gum for a week.”German chuckled, and the boys sprang into their saddles.“You’ll have a long ride, boys,” said the captain. “I was up on the big rock yesterday,” he continued, nodding toward the top of the precipice whence Norman had seen the black fellows, “and I could not see them with the glass.”“We’ll find ’em, father,” said Norman, confidently.“Off then,” said the captain; and away they went, riding now with wonderful ease and skill; while, bent on getting down the great gum-tree by the creek because it impeded part of the view from the house, and in addition its trunk being wanted for boards and its branches for fuel, the captain led his little force of axemen to the assault.

The troubles of the expedition had died out to such an extent that there was some talk of another, the captain saying that for exploring reasons he should head this himself.

Just then Uncle Jack kicked his foot under the table, and the captain looked up to see such a look of agony in his wife’s face that the subject dropped.

All was going on admirably, oxen and sheep were increasing, the garden was flourishing, and Dingo Station was daily growing more and more the home of peace and plenty.

“Ah, Jack,” said the captain to his brother, as they sat one evening smoking tobacco of their own growing, “if it were not for the thoughts of the black fellows, what a paradise this would be!”

“Perhaps the blacks say something of the kind respecting the whites.”

“Why, we don’t interfere with them.”

“No; but I’m afraid others do.”

But just at this time Aunt Georgie was a good deal exercised in her mind, and she confided her trouble and suspicions to the two girls, but bade them say not a word to Mrs Bedford.

“It would only worry her, and she has plenty of troubles over those wild, harum-scarum, neck-breaking, horse-riding boys.”

But the next morning at breakfast she let the cat out of the bag.

“Flour? Stolen?” cried Mrs Bedford, excitedly.

“Oh, auntie!” cried the girls, reproachfully.

“Well, I didn’t mean to say anything, but I’m quite sure that a quantity has been taken out of the tub three times lately,” said Aunt Georgie, emphatically.

“Nonsense, aunt!” protested Hetty; “it’s your fancy, or else Ida must have taken some without speaking.”

“No,” said Ida, quietly, “I have not touched it. If I had wanted some for cooking, I should have asked aunt for it.”

“Of course you would, my dear, and I should not have spilled and wasted some on the floor.”

“Had we not better tell Edward?” said Mrs Bedford. “No; don’t worry him,” said Aunt Georgie; “he has quite enough on his mind.”

“The boys must have been at it for something,” said Ida, quietly.

“Boys have been at what?” said Norman, who was with the others in the veranda as these words were said.

“Been taking the flour,” said Hetty.

“What should we take the flour for?” cried Rifle, indignantly.

“No, my dears, I do not suspect you, and I am sorry to make the charge, for I have always thought Shanter lazy, but honest.”

“Why, you don’t mean to say you believe poor old Shanter would steal flour, do you, aunt?” said Rifle, indignantly.

“I regret it very much, my dear, but the flour has been stolen, some spilled on the floor, and there were the prints of wide-toed feet in the patch.”

“Here, hi! Shanter, Tam o’!” cried Rifle. “Coo-ee!”

The black came running up with glistening face.

“Plenty mine come fast,” he said.

“Here,” cried Norman; “what for you come along steal flour?”

“Mine baal teal flour,” cried the black, indignantly.

“Aunt says you have, two or three times.”

“Baal teal flour,” cried the black again.

“There, aunt,” said Norman; “I told you he wouldn’t.”

“But I’m sure he did, my dear, for there were the marks of his black feet.”

“Baal teal flour,” cried Shanter again; and drawing himself up he was turning away, but Norman caught his arm.

“Look here, Shanter,” he said. “You brother. Baal go in storehouse.”

“Yohi,” said the black, nodding. “Big white Mary pialla. Shanter carry tub.”

“Then you have been in the storehouse sometimes.”

“Yohi. Baal teal flour.”

He wrenched himself free and walked away.

“I don’t believe he took it, aunt,” said Norman.

“Nor I,” said the others eagerly.

“Well, I wish I was sure, my dears, as you are, for I don’t like to suspect the poor fellow.”

“But if he had taken it, aunt,” cried Rifle, “he is such a big stupid boy of a fellow he couldn’t have kept it secret. He’d have made a lot of damper at a fire in the scrub, and asked us to come and help to eat the nasty stuff all full of ashes.”

“Well,” said Aunt Georgie, drawing her lips tight, “we shall see. Nobody else could have stolen it but the black or German.”

“What, old Sourkrout?” cried Tim, laughing. “Oh, aunt!”

“And it’s oh, Artemus!” said the old lady. “For I do wish you boys would not be so fond of nicknames.”

“All right, aunt.”

The incident passed off and so did Shanter, for he disappeared altogether for a couple of days, and was a good deal missed.

“Never mind,” said Norman, “he’ll come back loaded with grubs, or bring honey or ’possums.”

“I believe he is too much offended to come back,” said Tim. “No fellow, whatever his colour may be, likes to be called a thief.”

“No,” said Rifle; “and I believe aunt used her flour in her sleep.”

“Here, boys,” cried the captain just then; “take the horses and go round and fetch up that lot of bullocks from the plain. I fancy they have gone right away some distance, or the dingoes have scared them; it will be a good ride for you.”

“And no Shanter here,” said Norman, as they went off to catch and saddle their horses.

“I wonder father hasn’t made a bother about it. He doesn’t seem to have missed him.”

“Too busy over getting down that big gum over yonder,” observed Rifle. “My word, what a time it seems to take!”

“Nice bit of amusement for Uncle Jack and old Sam. He is getting too fat.”

The others laughed, and then after they had caught, saddled, and bridled their horses, they walked them up to where the captain was examining the edge of a felling-axe, Uncle Jack and German being similarly armed.

“Off you go, boys,” said the captain.

“And let’s see whether you’ll be back before we get down the great gum-tree,” said their uncle, smiling.

“We shall be back,” said Rifle. “You will not get down the big gum for a week.”

German chuckled, and the boys sprang into their saddles.

“You’ll have a long ride, boys,” said the captain. “I was up on the big rock yesterday,” he continued, nodding toward the top of the precipice whence Norman had seen the black fellows, “and I could not see them with the glass.”

“We’ll find ’em, father,” said Norman, confidently.

“Off then,” said the captain; and away they went, riding now with wonderful ease and skill; while, bent on getting down the great gum-tree by the creek because it impeded part of the view from the house, and in addition its trunk being wanted for boards and its branches for fuel, the captain led his little force of axemen to the assault.

Chapter Seventeen.“Bunyip! Bunyip!”That same afternoon, soon after dinner, the captain and his fellow-wielders of the axe again went down to carry on their wood-cutting. The boys were not back, nor expected, and in the course of the afternoon the girls proposed that Mrs Bedford and Aunt George should go with them for a walk, and to take some refreshment to the wood-cutters.They refused, of course, and then gave way, and soon after the little party left the house, and strolled slowly away toward the creek, all enjoying the delightfully fresh breeze which came across the plains and sent the blood dancing in the young girls’ veins.Hardly had they walked a couple of hundred yards away, when one of the cows in the fenced-in paddock raised her head from grazing, and uttered a deep-toned bellow. She ceased munching the rich grass, and whisked her tail about, as if trying to tie it in knots, for she saw a black approaching the paddock, and that black was one she did not know.The black came cautiously on, crawling from tree to bush, and from bush to tree, and always getting nearer to the house. Finally, he reached the fence, and along by this he crept like a great black slug, till he was at the end, and within a dozen yards of the store.Fifty yards away a couple of dozen of his fellows, all spear and club armed, lay hidden among the shrubs and trees which the captain and Uncle Jack were unwilling to cut down, and these men watched intently every movement of their companion, and in perfect silence, till they saw him raise himself very slightly, and then almost run on all fours across the space which divided him from the storehouse, the movement being upon his hands and toes.Then a low murmur of satisfaction ran through them, and they turned to look in the other direction, where the ladies were all making their way, basket-laden, toward where the captain and Uncle Jack were continuing their attack upon the great tree.No fear of interruption in that direction; no fear of any one coming in the other, for the boys had been seen to ride right off over the hills, as if on a long expedition.The black fellow disappeared from his companions’ sight; and as soon as he was well inside, he rose up, detached a bark bag from his ’possum-skin waistband, and grinned with satisfaction as he ran his eyes round among the casks, packages, and tins upon the rough shelves.Then he stopped short, and stared at the cask before him, for there was something suspicious about it. That was not the cask from which he had filled his meal-bag last time, and carried off such a glorious haul. It looked wider and bigger, and he hesitated, and passing his right hand behind him, carefully drew out his club, ready for that tub if it should be dangerous.But the tub stood there perfectly innocent-looking, and the head had evidently lately been moved by floury fingers, which had left their marks. In addition, there was a dusting of flour on the top, and a tiny sprinkle of the same on the rough boards in front.All this reassured him, and tucking his nulla-nulla back in his band, he gave the bag a shake, took a cautious look round, and then advanced to the tub, and with one quick movement, thrust the head off, so that it fell behind upon the floor.Then, bag in one hand, his other resting on the edge of the barrel, he stood perfectly still, as if turned to stone. His eyes were starting, his mouth open, and his lips drawn back in a ghastly grin, as he stood gazing at a hideous-looking face rising slowly out of the flour, red, as if covered with blood, and dashed with patches of white meal. Nearer and nearer this object approached him, till, with a yell of horror, he dragged himself away, and dashed out of the storehouse, shouting “Bunyip! bunyip!” as he ran to where his companions were waiting for his spoil.Then a low whispering followed, and the result was that six of the party crawled in the same manner as that in which the first black had approached.An observer would have said that they were evidently doubtful of the truth of their companion’s statement, and had agreed to go together and test it.Their advance was exactly in every respect like that of the first man; and they reached the shelter of the fence, and paused till the last man was close up, when all went through the same manoeuvre together, running on their hands and feet, with their bodies close to the ground.At the door they paused again listening, and no doubt the slightest sound would have started them off in full retreat. But all was perfectly still, and taking courage, they gathered themselves up, and club in hand leaped into the storehouse, to stand gazing wildly round.Nothing was there to startle them—no sign of danger. The bag their companion had dropped lay upon the floor, but the flour-barrel was covered; and after a couple of them had exchanged a whisper, all stood with their nulla-nullas ready to strike, but no one attempted to move the cask head.At last two who appeared to be the leaders extended a hand each, gazed in each other’s eyes, and at a signal gave the lid a thrust, and it fell off behind with a loud clatter, which made all bound out of the storehouse. But the last man looked back as his comrades were taking to flight, and uttered a few words loudly.They were sufficient to arrest the flight and all stood in a stooping position, gazing wildly at the tub, which stood looking harmless enough, and after a little jabbering, they advanced once more, as if they all formed units of a large machine, so exactly were their steps taken together, till they reached and once more entered the open door of the store.Then, as if strung up, ready to meet anything, they bounded into the place, when, as if worked by a spring, the horrible figure in the tub started upright like a monstrous jack-in-the-box.The black fellows literally tumbled over one another in their hurry to escape from the terrible-looking object which, in their eyes—imbued as they were with superstitious notions—was a fearful demon of the most unsparing nature, and a minute later, they were back in the clump of trees and bushes, spreading news which made the whole mob of blacks take flight.“Baal come teal flour. Mine make black fellow frightenum,” said the jack-in-the-box, leaping lightly out, and then rolling the empty cask aside, he replaced it by the flour-tub.Then, going round to the back, application was made to a bucket of water, from which a cooliman or native bark bowl was filled, and in a few moments Shanter’s good-humoured, clean, black countenance was drying in the sun. For his scheme to defeat the flour-thieves had been very successful, and that evening he related it proudly to the boys.“You did that?” said Norman.“Yohi. All yan. Baal black fellow now.”“What?” cried the captain, when Norman called him aside, and told him. “I don’t like that, my boy.”“But they must be a poor, cowardly lot, father,” said Norman, “or they would not be so easily frightened by a bogey.”“A lesson to us,” said the captain, thoughtfully. “There must be a camp of the black fellows somewhere near, and while they are about, we had better keep about the place.”“But they will not come again after such a fright, will they?” said Norman.“I don’t know, my boy. It is impossible to say. Perhaps, as soon as the scare is over, they may be taking each other to task for being such cowards. We are all alone here, and far from help, so it is as well to be upon our guard. Don’t let them know indoors.”The order came too late, for, as soon as they entered the house, Mrs Bedford began anxiously: “Edward, is it a fact that there have been myall blacks trying to rob the place?”“Pooh! What have you heard?”“Rifle has been telling us of the black’s trick to frighten them.”“Oh yes, a few wandering rascals tried to steal the flour.”“And I’m very, very glad to find that I misjudged that poor fellow, Shanter,” said Aunt Georgie. “I certainly thought it was he.”“Yes; and to clear himself of the suspicion,” said Uncle Jack, cheerily, “he hid and frightened them away. Come, people, don’t look so anxious.—Why, Hetty—Ida—surely you are not going to be scared at a little adventure like this.”“Of course they are not,” said the captain, quickly. “There is nothing to be alarmed about.”“Father says there’s nothing to be alarmed about,” whispered Rifle that night, when the boys retired to the part of the house they called the barracks.“Yes, I heard him,” said Norman, softly. “Talk low, Tim’s asleep.”“No, I’m not,” said that individual. “I’m awake as you are. You’re going to talk about uncles’ whispering together, and then going and loading the guns and pistols.”Norman was silent for a few moments.“Yes,” he said at last. “It means that they are very uneasy about the black fellows.”“And a fight,” said Rifle.“I hope not, boys. One doesn’t want to kill.”“But one doesn’t want the myall blacks to kill us,” said Rifle. “Well, they will not come to-night, will they?”“If they do,” replied Norman, “father will soon wake us up, if it’s only to load the guns for them. They’re sure to sit up and watch in turns with Sourkrout. Shall we dress again, and go and offer to help?”“No,” said Tim. “Uncle would not like us to interfere without being asked, but I shall lie and listen all night. I couldn’t go to sleep fancying that black fellows were crawling up to attack us.”“No,” said Rifle, softly; “one feels all of a fidget, and ready to fancy all sorts of things.”“Nonsense!” said Norman. “It’s because it’s so hot to-night. That’s all.”“Man don’t mean it,” said Tim, quietly. “He’s as fidgety as we are.”“Yes, of course I am, but it’s only the heat.”“Call it what you like,” said Rifle; “but you don’t feel as if you could sleep to-night.”“Well, I don’t feel sleepy yet,” said Norman, carelessly.But a long day on horseback and the quiet of their quarters, joined to the knowledge that their elders would be on guard, sufficed to nullify all their declarations, and half an hour had not elapsed before the regular, steady breathing of three healthy lads told that they were passing the night in the most satisfactory way.

That same afternoon, soon after dinner, the captain and his fellow-wielders of the axe again went down to carry on their wood-cutting. The boys were not back, nor expected, and in the course of the afternoon the girls proposed that Mrs Bedford and Aunt George should go with them for a walk, and to take some refreshment to the wood-cutters.

They refused, of course, and then gave way, and soon after the little party left the house, and strolled slowly away toward the creek, all enjoying the delightfully fresh breeze which came across the plains and sent the blood dancing in the young girls’ veins.

Hardly had they walked a couple of hundred yards away, when one of the cows in the fenced-in paddock raised her head from grazing, and uttered a deep-toned bellow. She ceased munching the rich grass, and whisked her tail about, as if trying to tie it in knots, for she saw a black approaching the paddock, and that black was one she did not know.

The black came cautiously on, crawling from tree to bush, and from bush to tree, and always getting nearer to the house. Finally, he reached the fence, and along by this he crept like a great black slug, till he was at the end, and within a dozen yards of the store.

Fifty yards away a couple of dozen of his fellows, all spear and club armed, lay hidden among the shrubs and trees which the captain and Uncle Jack were unwilling to cut down, and these men watched intently every movement of their companion, and in perfect silence, till they saw him raise himself very slightly, and then almost run on all fours across the space which divided him from the storehouse, the movement being upon his hands and toes.

Then a low murmur of satisfaction ran through them, and they turned to look in the other direction, where the ladies were all making their way, basket-laden, toward where the captain and Uncle Jack were continuing their attack upon the great tree.

No fear of interruption in that direction; no fear of any one coming in the other, for the boys had been seen to ride right off over the hills, as if on a long expedition.

The black fellow disappeared from his companions’ sight; and as soon as he was well inside, he rose up, detached a bark bag from his ’possum-skin waistband, and grinned with satisfaction as he ran his eyes round among the casks, packages, and tins upon the rough shelves.

Then he stopped short, and stared at the cask before him, for there was something suspicious about it. That was not the cask from which he had filled his meal-bag last time, and carried off such a glorious haul. It looked wider and bigger, and he hesitated, and passing his right hand behind him, carefully drew out his club, ready for that tub if it should be dangerous.

But the tub stood there perfectly innocent-looking, and the head had evidently lately been moved by floury fingers, which had left their marks. In addition, there was a dusting of flour on the top, and a tiny sprinkle of the same on the rough boards in front.

All this reassured him, and tucking his nulla-nulla back in his band, he gave the bag a shake, took a cautious look round, and then advanced to the tub, and with one quick movement, thrust the head off, so that it fell behind upon the floor.

Then, bag in one hand, his other resting on the edge of the barrel, he stood perfectly still, as if turned to stone. His eyes were starting, his mouth open, and his lips drawn back in a ghastly grin, as he stood gazing at a hideous-looking face rising slowly out of the flour, red, as if covered with blood, and dashed with patches of white meal. Nearer and nearer this object approached him, till, with a yell of horror, he dragged himself away, and dashed out of the storehouse, shouting “Bunyip! bunyip!” as he ran to where his companions were waiting for his spoil.

Then a low whispering followed, and the result was that six of the party crawled in the same manner as that in which the first black had approached.

An observer would have said that they were evidently doubtful of the truth of their companion’s statement, and had agreed to go together and test it.

Their advance was exactly in every respect like that of the first man; and they reached the shelter of the fence, and paused till the last man was close up, when all went through the same manoeuvre together, running on their hands and feet, with their bodies close to the ground.

At the door they paused again listening, and no doubt the slightest sound would have started them off in full retreat. But all was perfectly still, and taking courage, they gathered themselves up, and club in hand leaped into the storehouse, to stand gazing wildly round.

Nothing was there to startle them—no sign of danger. The bag their companion had dropped lay upon the floor, but the flour-barrel was covered; and after a couple of them had exchanged a whisper, all stood with their nulla-nullas ready to strike, but no one attempted to move the cask head.

At last two who appeared to be the leaders extended a hand each, gazed in each other’s eyes, and at a signal gave the lid a thrust, and it fell off behind with a loud clatter, which made all bound out of the storehouse. But the last man looked back as his comrades were taking to flight, and uttered a few words loudly.

They were sufficient to arrest the flight and all stood in a stooping position, gazing wildly at the tub, which stood looking harmless enough, and after a little jabbering, they advanced once more, as if they all formed units of a large machine, so exactly were their steps taken together, till they reached and once more entered the open door of the store.

Then, as if strung up, ready to meet anything, they bounded into the place, when, as if worked by a spring, the horrible figure in the tub started upright like a monstrous jack-in-the-box.

The black fellows literally tumbled over one another in their hurry to escape from the terrible-looking object which, in their eyes—imbued as they were with superstitious notions—was a fearful demon of the most unsparing nature, and a minute later, they were back in the clump of trees and bushes, spreading news which made the whole mob of blacks take flight.

“Baal come teal flour. Mine make black fellow frightenum,” said the jack-in-the-box, leaping lightly out, and then rolling the empty cask aside, he replaced it by the flour-tub.

Then, going round to the back, application was made to a bucket of water, from which a cooliman or native bark bowl was filled, and in a few moments Shanter’s good-humoured, clean, black countenance was drying in the sun. For his scheme to defeat the flour-thieves had been very successful, and that evening he related it proudly to the boys.

“You did that?” said Norman.

“Yohi. All yan. Baal black fellow now.”

“What?” cried the captain, when Norman called him aside, and told him. “I don’t like that, my boy.”

“But they must be a poor, cowardly lot, father,” said Norman, “or they would not be so easily frightened by a bogey.”

“A lesson to us,” said the captain, thoughtfully. “There must be a camp of the black fellows somewhere near, and while they are about, we had better keep about the place.”

“But they will not come again after such a fright, will they?” said Norman.

“I don’t know, my boy. It is impossible to say. Perhaps, as soon as the scare is over, they may be taking each other to task for being such cowards. We are all alone here, and far from help, so it is as well to be upon our guard. Don’t let them know indoors.”

The order came too late, for, as soon as they entered the house, Mrs Bedford began anxiously: “Edward, is it a fact that there have been myall blacks trying to rob the place?”

“Pooh! What have you heard?”

“Rifle has been telling us of the black’s trick to frighten them.”

“Oh yes, a few wandering rascals tried to steal the flour.”

“And I’m very, very glad to find that I misjudged that poor fellow, Shanter,” said Aunt Georgie. “I certainly thought it was he.”

“Yes; and to clear himself of the suspicion,” said Uncle Jack, cheerily, “he hid and frightened them away. Come, people, don’t look so anxious.—Why, Hetty—Ida—surely you are not going to be scared at a little adventure like this.”

“Of course they are not,” said the captain, quickly. “There is nothing to be alarmed about.”

“Father says there’s nothing to be alarmed about,” whispered Rifle that night, when the boys retired to the part of the house they called the barracks.

“Yes, I heard him,” said Norman, softly. “Talk low, Tim’s asleep.”

“No, I’m not,” said that individual. “I’m awake as you are. You’re going to talk about uncles’ whispering together, and then going and loading the guns and pistols.”

Norman was silent for a few moments.

“Yes,” he said at last. “It means that they are very uneasy about the black fellows.”

“And a fight,” said Rifle.

“I hope not, boys. One doesn’t want to kill.”

“But one doesn’t want the myall blacks to kill us,” said Rifle. “Well, they will not come to-night, will they?”

“If they do,” replied Norman, “father will soon wake us up, if it’s only to load the guns for them. They’re sure to sit up and watch in turns with Sourkrout. Shall we dress again, and go and offer to help?”

“No,” said Tim. “Uncle would not like us to interfere without being asked, but I shall lie and listen all night. I couldn’t go to sleep fancying that black fellows were crawling up to attack us.”

“No,” said Rifle, softly; “one feels all of a fidget, and ready to fancy all sorts of things.”

“Nonsense!” said Norman. “It’s because it’s so hot to-night. That’s all.”

“Man don’t mean it,” said Tim, quietly. “He’s as fidgety as we are.”

“Yes, of course I am, but it’s only the heat.”

“Call it what you like,” said Rifle; “but you don’t feel as if you could sleep to-night.”

“Well, I don’t feel sleepy yet,” said Norman, carelessly.

But a long day on horseback and the quiet of their quarters, joined to the knowledge that their elders would be on guard, sufficed to nullify all their declarations, and half an hour had not elapsed before the regular, steady breathing of three healthy lads told that they were passing the night in the most satisfactory way.

Chapter Eighteen.“That isn’t thunder.”“Hi! Rouse up! Black fellows!” shouted Rifle, and his brother and cousin started up in bed, ready for the moment to believe him, for there was a black face peering in at their window.“Get out!” cried Tim, hurling a boot at his cousin, who dodged it, while as soon as Norman had grasped the fact that the face belonged to Shanter he made a rush at his brother, who laughingly avoided it, and then hurrying on their clothes, they went out to find the captain and Uncle Jack, each with a double gun in the hollow of his arm.“Seen anything, father?” cried Norman.“No, my boy, all peaceable, and Shanter says there are no black fellows near.”“Baal black fellow,” said that gentleman. “See plenty mine bunyip, baal come again.”Here he burst into a roar of laughter, and began imitating the action of a myall black creeping up to the storehouse, going close up to the flour-tub, and looking in before uttering a wild yell, darting back, tumbling, getting up, falling again, rolling over and over, and then jumping up to run away as hard as he could.He came back panting and grinning in a minute or two, looking from one to the other as if for applause.“I hope he is right,” said Uncle Jack; “but we shall have to be more careful.”“Yes,” said the captain; “we have been too confident, boys, and I must now declare the station in a state of siege.”“Won’t it be time enough when the black fellows come, father?”“Will it be time enough to lock the stable door when the steed is stolen, sir?” replied the captain, sternly.Rifle rubbed his right ear, as if his father’s words had buzzed in it, and said no more.“Talk about steeds,” said the captain; “let’s go and have a look at the horses. There’ll be plenty of time before breakfast.”For the captain had of late given a good deal of attention to one of his young horses which promised to prove of great value. The boys were already well mounted and provided most satisfactorily. There were the quiet mares, too, which the two girls rode, and Uncle Jack had a good sturdy mount; but this graceful colt had thoroughly taken the captain’s attention, and he was looking forward to the day when some wealthy settler would come up the country, see it, and purchase it, or make some valuable exchange in the shape of articles as useful to them as money.They reached the paddock, which was always increasing in size, when they could find time to enclose more land with posts and rails, and the horses came trotting up for the titbits they were accustomed to receive from their owner’s hand; and as the pet of the little drove thrust its head over the rail, it was patted and caressed, a halter attached and passed round its lower jaw, Shanter watching eagerly the while.“Now, Norman, up with you. I want to get him used to being backed.”Norman hesitated for a moment naturally enough, for it was mounting a bare-backed unbroken colt; but the next minute he had accepted a leg up, and was in his place, with the result that the beautiful creature reared right up, pawing the air, and threatened to fall over backwards.“Grip him well, boy,” shouted the captain.The command was needless, for Norman was already gripping the horse’s soft sides with all his might; and he kept his seat as it now came down on all fours, and darted off at a rate which startled all the rest of the occupants of the paddock into a gallop. They followed their companion round till Norman seemed able to control his mount, and brought it back to where the rest had been watching him with some anxiety.“Well done, my boy!” said the captain, as he caressed the colt. “Down with you. Now, Raphael, you give him a turn.”Rifle sprang into the place lately occupied by his brother, had a gallop round the great enclosure; and Tim followed and cantered up.“That will do for this morning,” said the captain. “I like his action more and more, Jack. He’ll want very little breaking in.”“Yes,” said Uncle Jack; “a martingale will soon check that habit of throwing up his head.”“Hullo!” cried the captain; “what’s that?”“Oh nothing, father,” cried Rifle, laughing. “Only Shanter. He wants to have a ride round on the colt.”“What and scare the poor animal with his black face? Besides, he can’t ride.”“Yohi!” shouted the black, excitedly. “Plenty mine ride. Plenty mine ride bull-cow horse fellow. Plenty mine ride.”He strode toward the colt to mount but the captain laid his hand upon his shoulder.Shanter started round angrily.“Mine go ride plenty mine,” he cried.“No. Don’t touch the horse,” said the captain, sternly.White man and black stood gazing in each other’s eyes for some moments, and then Shanter took his spear from where it leaned against the rails, and marched off toward the nearest patch of scrub, displaying such airs of offended dignity that the boys all laughed, with the result that Shanter turned upon them furiously—like a ridiculed child—threw himself into an attitude, and threatened to throw his spear. But, as the boys laughed all the more heartily, he turned and went off.“You have offended his majesty, father,” cried Norman.“Oh, he’ll forget it all in a few hours,” said Rifle and they went back in to breakfast.Soon after the captain had a ride round, ostensibly to see the more distant cattle; but, as he owned to Rifle, who accompanied him, really to see if there were any traces of blacks; but there were none.“I’ll send Shanter out scouting,” said the captain, as they rode back; but there was no Shanter to send. He had evidently not forgotten, and not come back.The next morning a visit was again paid to where the horses were enclosed every night, the captain meaning to have the colt ridden daily now, so as to break it in by degrees, when, to his annoyance, he found it looking rough and out of order, but that evening it seemed to be much better, and was grazing heartily as usual.The next morning it was the same, and so on for several more mornings.“I don’t understand it,” said the captain.“Looks as if it had been galloped, father,” said Norman.“Yes; but the others are all right, and it would not go off and gallop alone. Flies have worried the poor beast, I suppose.”Meanwhile there had been no sign of Shanter. He had gone off in dudgeon and stayed away, his absence being severely felt in the house, for his task of fetching wood and water had to be placed in Sam German’s hands; and as this was not what he called his regular work, he did it in a grumbling, unpleasant manner, which very much raised Aunt Georgie’s ire.“Shanter will come back soon, aunt,” Tim kept on saying.“But he does not come back, boy,” cried Aunt Georgie; “and you boys will have to do his work, for I am not going to have that grumbling gardener to bring my wood and water. I must say, though, that it does make a good deal of difference in the consumption of bread.”And still Shanter did not come back, neither was anything seen of him by the boys in their long stock-herding rides; while to make things more annoying the colt grew worse, and the captain complained bitterly.“But I don’t think father ought to grumble,” said Rifle, one night when they were going to bed. “Everything else has got on so well. Why, we shall soon be having a big farm.”“Yes,” said Norman; “but the colt was a pet, and he had given so much attention to it.”They went to bed and all was quiet, but somehow Rifle could not sleep. It was a sultry, thunderous night, and at last he rose, opened the window, and stood to gaze out at the flashing lightning as it played about a ridge of clouds in the east.“Can’t you sleep?” said Norman, in a whisper.“No; come here. It’s so jolly and cool.”There was a faint rustling sound in the darkness, and the next minute Norman was by his brother’s side, enjoying the soft, comparatively cool, night air.“Lovely,” he said; and then they both stood gazing at the lightning, which made the clouds look like a chain of mountains, about whose summits the electricity played.All at once there was a dull, low, muttering sound, apparently at a distance.“Thunder,” said Norman. “We’re going to have a storm.”“Good job,” replied Rifle, in the same low tone as that adopted by his brother. “Things were getting precious dry.”There was a long pause, and the lightning grew nearer and the flashes more vivid. Then, all of a sudden as the same peculiar sound was heard, Rifle whispered:“I say, Man; that isn’t thunder.”“No,” was the reply. “I was just thinking so. Sounds to me like a horse galloping.”“Of course it does. I say, it isn’t the colt, is it?”“What do you mean?”“Our colt gone mad, and galloping about all night so as to make himself look bad to-morrow morning.”“Rubbish!”“But it does come from the paddock.”“Yes; it does come from the paddock,” said Norman, after a pause.“And no mistake about it. Only one horse too.”“It’s very strange,” said Norman; “let’s go and see.”“What, in the middle of the night, like this? Father would hear us and take us for black fellows.”“We could drop quietly out of the window. Why, Rifle, you’re right; there is a horse galloping in the paddock. Let’s dress and go.”“Shall we call father and tell him first?”“No; because we might be wrong. Let’s go and see first. A ’possum must have got on the horse’s back and be scaring him into this gallop. Look sharp.”The boys soon had on their flannel shirts and trousers, generally their every-day costume, and after satisfying themselves that Tim was fast asleep, they squeezed themselves out of the window and dropped one after the other, and then hurried along in the thick darkness, across the garden, past the storehouse, and then along under the shelter of the fences till, perfectly satisfied now, they neared the corner of the paddock, just as a horse galloped by at full speed.“No wonder he looks so bad of a morning,” whispered Norman. “Here, go on a little farther and then we can look through and see.”They went down now on hands and knees, and crept along till they could look through into the great paddock, just as a flash of lightning revealed to them a group of horses in the centre of the field all pretty close together, and quietly cropping the grass.“Strange, isn’t it?” whispered Norman. “Listen! here he comes round again.”For the beat of hoofs approached from their left, and the next minute a horse thundered by at full speed.“Why, it was!” whispered Rifle, “I saw one of those ’possums perched on its back.”“No,” said Norman, excitedly. “I saw something distinctly; but it was too big to be a ’possum. I think it was one of those big things that Shanter killed. Father said it was the koala or native bear.”“Let’s wait till it comes round again.”The time seemed long, but the horse came thundering past once more, evidently steadily coursing all round the paddock close to the rails, while its fellows clustered in the middle out of the way.“It is one of those things,” said Norman, triumphantly.“It wasn’t,” said Rifle. “I saw it quite plain, and it was one of those kangaroos as big as a man. I say, whoever would have thought of their doing that?”“What shall we do? Hadn’t we better go and rouse up father?”“No,” said Rifle; “let’s stop and see the end of it; and to-morrow night we can all come and catch or shoot the beast. If we went now and fetched him, it might be gone before we got back, and he would think we had been dreaming.”“Here it comes again; hish!” whispered Norman; and once more there was the rapid beat of the horse’s feet on the dry ground, and it tore by just as there was a brighter flash of lightning; then the flying object had darted by, and Norman uttered a loud ejaculation.“Did you see?” whispered Rifle.“Yes; it was a myall black. I saw him quite plainly.”“Not quite plainly,” said Rifle. “But I saw him. It was a black on the poor horse, but it was old Shanter.”“What?”“It was! I saw his face as plain as possible. Don’t you see? He wanted to mount the horse and father wouldn’t let him, so he determined to have a ride, and he must have come and had one every night, and then gone off again into the scrub.”“But—”“Don’t say ‘but.’ You know how fond he has been of horses, always wanting to ride when he went out with us.”“Yes, I know; but still I can’t think he would like to do that.”“But heisdoing it. Here he comes again.”This time, as the horse galloped by, they both had a perfectly plain view of the black’s excited face and position as, evidently in a high state of glee, he tore by on the well-bred horse.“Now,” said Rifle; “was I right?”“Oh yes,” said Norman, with a sigh. “You were quite right. But be ready to shout and stop him as he comes round again.”They waited for the sound of the warning thunder of hoofs, but though they heard them grow more faint, and then sound softer as they paced along on the far side of the paddock, the sound did not increase, and while they were listening there came a distinct snort, followed by a loud neighing nearer to them; another snort, and then a flash of vivid lightning illumining the paddock long enough for them to see the drove of horses in the middle all gazing in one direction toward another horse walking in their direction. Then there was black darkness, another snort, an answering neigh, and silence, broken by the faintly-heard sound of grass being torn off from its roots.“He’s gone,” said Norman, in a whisper. “Let’s run and wake father.”“What’s the good now? Let’s go back to bed, and tell him in the morning. No: I don’t like to. Why, he’d be ready to half kill poor old Shanter.”Norman was silent, and they tramped back to the house when, just as Norman was reaching up to get hold of the window-sill, a hand was stretched out.“Hallo! you two. Where have you been?”“Never mind,” said Norman. “Wait till we get in again.”They both climbed in silently, and Tim began again.“I say, it was shabby to go without me;” and when they explained why they had hurried off, he was no better satisfied. “I wouldn’t have served you so,” he grumbled. “But I say, won’t uncle be in a way?”“Yes, if Norman tells him,” said Rifle. “Don’t you think we had better hold our tongues?”A long discussion followed, with the result that Rifle found himself in the minority, and went to sleep feeling rather unhappy about the black.

“Hi! Rouse up! Black fellows!” shouted Rifle, and his brother and cousin started up in bed, ready for the moment to believe him, for there was a black face peering in at their window.

“Get out!” cried Tim, hurling a boot at his cousin, who dodged it, while as soon as Norman had grasped the fact that the face belonged to Shanter he made a rush at his brother, who laughingly avoided it, and then hurrying on their clothes, they went out to find the captain and Uncle Jack, each with a double gun in the hollow of his arm.

“Seen anything, father?” cried Norman.

“No, my boy, all peaceable, and Shanter says there are no black fellows near.”

“Baal black fellow,” said that gentleman. “See plenty mine bunyip, baal come again.”

Here he burst into a roar of laughter, and began imitating the action of a myall black creeping up to the storehouse, going close up to the flour-tub, and looking in before uttering a wild yell, darting back, tumbling, getting up, falling again, rolling over and over, and then jumping up to run away as hard as he could.

He came back panting and grinning in a minute or two, looking from one to the other as if for applause.

“I hope he is right,” said Uncle Jack; “but we shall have to be more careful.”

“Yes,” said the captain; “we have been too confident, boys, and I must now declare the station in a state of siege.”

“Won’t it be time enough when the black fellows come, father?”

“Will it be time enough to lock the stable door when the steed is stolen, sir?” replied the captain, sternly.

Rifle rubbed his right ear, as if his father’s words had buzzed in it, and said no more.

“Talk about steeds,” said the captain; “let’s go and have a look at the horses. There’ll be plenty of time before breakfast.”

For the captain had of late given a good deal of attention to one of his young horses which promised to prove of great value. The boys were already well mounted and provided most satisfactorily. There were the quiet mares, too, which the two girls rode, and Uncle Jack had a good sturdy mount; but this graceful colt had thoroughly taken the captain’s attention, and he was looking forward to the day when some wealthy settler would come up the country, see it, and purchase it, or make some valuable exchange in the shape of articles as useful to them as money.

They reached the paddock, which was always increasing in size, when they could find time to enclose more land with posts and rails, and the horses came trotting up for the titbits they were accustomed to receive from their owner’s hand; and as the pet of the little drove thrust its head over the rail, it was patted and caressed, a halter attached and passed round its lower jaw, Shanter watching eagerly the while.

“Now, Norman, up with you. I want to get him used to being backed.”

Norman hesitated for a moment naturally enough, for it was mounting a bare-backed unbroken colt; but the next minute he had accepted a leg up, and was in his place, with the result that the beautiful creature reared right up, pawing the air, and threatened to fall over backwards.

“Grip him well, boy,” shouted the captain.

The command was needless, for Norman was already gripping the horse’s soft sides with all his might; and he kept his seat as it now came down on all fours, and darted off at a rate which startled all the rest of the occupants of the paddock into a gallop. They followed their companion round till Norman seemed able to control his mount, and brought it back to where the rest had been watching him with some anxiety.

“Well done, my boy!” said the captain, as he caressed the colt. “Down with you. Now, Raphael, you give him a turn.”

Rifle sprang into the place lately occupied by his brother, had a gallop round the great enclosure; and Tim followed and cantered up.

“That will do for this morning,” said the captain. “I like his action more and more, Jack. He’ll want very little breaking in.”

“Yes,” said Uncle Jack; “a martingale will soon check that habit of throwing up his head.”

“Hullo!” cried the captain; “what’s that?”

“Oh nothing, father,” cried Rifle, laughing. “Only Shanter. He wants to have a ride round on the colt.”

“What and scare the poor animal with his black face? Besides, he can’t ride.”

“Yohi!” shouted the black, excitedly. “Plenty mine ride. Plenty mine ride bull-cow horse fellow. Plenty mine ride.”

He strode toward the colt to mount but the captain laid his hand upon his shoulder.

Shanter started round angrily.

“Mine go ride plenty mine,” he cried.

“No. Don’t touch the horse,” said the captain, sternly.

White man and black stood gazing in each other’s eyes for some moments, and then Shanter took his spear from where it leaned against the rails, and marched off toward the nearest patch of scrub, displaying such airs of offended dignity that the boys all laughed, with the result that Shanter turned upon them furiously—like a ridiculed child—threw himself into an attitude, and threatened to throw his spear. But, as the boys laughed all the more heartily, he turned and went off.

“You have offended his majesty, father,” cried Norman.

“Oh, he’ll forget it all in a few hours,” said Rifle and they went back in to breakfast.

Soon after the captain had a ride round, ostensibly to see the more distant cattle; but, as he owned to Rifle, who accompanied him, really to see if there were any traces of blacks; but there were none.

“I’ll send Shanter out scouting,” said the captain, as they rode back; but there was no Shanter to send. He had evidently not forgotten, and not come back.

The next morning a visit was again paid to where the horses were enclosed every night, the captain meaning to have the colt ridden daily now, so as to break it in by degrees, when, to his annoyance, he found it looking rough and out of order, but that evening it seemed to be much better, and was grazing heartily as usual.

The next morning it was the same, and so on for several more mornings.

“I don’t understand it,” said the captain.

“Looks as if it had been galloped, father,” said Norman.

“Yes; but the others are all right, and it would not go off and gallop alone. Flies have worried the poor beast, I suppose.”

Meanwhile there had been no sign of Shanter. He had gone off in dudgeon and stayed away, his absence being severely felt in the house, for his task of fetching wood and water had to be placed in Sam German’s hands; and as this was not what he called his regular work, he did it in a grumbling, unpleasant manner, which very much raised Aunt Georgie’s ire.

“Shanter will come back soon, aunt,” Tim kept on saying.

“But he does not come back, boy,” cried Aunt Georgie; “and you boys will have to do his work, for I am not going to have that grumbling gardener to bring my wood and water. I must say, though, that it does make a good deal of difference in the consumption of bread.”

And still Shanter did not come back, neither was anything seen of him by the boys in their long stock-herding rides; while to make things more annoying the colt grew worse, and the captain complained bitterly.

“But I don’t think father ought to grumble,” said Rifle, one night when they were going to bed. “Everything else has got on so well. Why, we shall soon be having a big farm.”

“Yes,” said Norman; “but the colt was a pet, and he had given so much attention to it.”

They went to bed and all was quiet, but somehow Rifle could not sleep. It was a sultry, thunderous night, and at last he rose, opened the window, and stood to gaze out at the flashing lightning as it played about a ridge of clouds in the east.

“Can’t you sleep?” said Norman, in a whisper.

“No; come here. It’s so jolly and cool.”

There was a faint rustling sound in the darkness, and the next minute Norman was by his brother’s side, enjoying the soft, comparatively cool, night air.

“Lovely,” he said; and then they both stood gazing at the lightning, which made the clouds look like a chain of mountains, about whose summits the electricity played.

All at once there was a dull, low, muttering sound, apparently at a distance.

“Thunder,” said Norman. “We’re going to have a storm.”

“Good job,” replied Rifle, in the same low tone as that adopted by his brother. “Things were getting precious dry.”

There was a long pause, and the lightning grew nearer and the flashes more vivid. Then, all of a sudden as the same peculiar sound was heard, Rifle whispered:

“I say, Man; that isn’t thunder.”

“No,” was the reply. “I was just thinking so. Sounds to me like a horse galloping.”

“Of course it does. I say, it isn’t the colt, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Our colt gone mad, and galloping about all night so as to make himself look bad to-morrow morning.”

“Rubbish!”

“But it does come from the paddock.”

“Yes; it does come from the paddock,” said Norman, after a pause.

“And no mistake about it. Only one horse too.”

“It’s very strange,” said Norman; “let’s go and see.”

“What, in the middle of the night, like this? Father would hear us and take us for black fellows.”

“We could drop quietly out of the window. Why, Rifle, you’re right; there is a horse galloping in the paddock. Let’s dress and go.”

“Shall we call father and tell him first?”

“No; because we might be wrong. Let’s go and see first. A ’possum must have got on the horse’s back and be scaring him into this gallop. Look sharp.”

The boys soon had on their flannel shirts and trousers, generally their every-day costume, and after satisfying themselves that Tim was fast asleep, they squeezed themselves out of the window and dropped one after the other, and then hurried along in the thick darkness, across the garden, past the storehouse, and then along under the shelter of the fences till, perfectly satisfied now, they neared the corner of the paddock, just as a horse galloped by at full speed.

“No wonder he looks so bad of a morning,” whispered Norman. “Here, go on a little farther and then we can look through and see.”

They went down now on hands and knees, and crept along till they could look through into the great paddock, just as a flash of lightning revealed to them a group of horses in the centre of the field all pretty close together, and quietly cropping the grass.

“Strange, isn’t it?” whispered Norman. “Listen! here he comes round again.”

For the beat of hoofs approached from their left, and the next minute a horse thundered by at full speed.

“Why, it was!” whispered Rifle, “I saw one of those ’possums perched on its back.”

“No,” said Norman, excitedly. “I saw something distinctly; but it was too big to be a ’possum. I think it was one of those big things that Shanter killed. Father said it was the koala or native bear.”

“Let’s wait till it comes round again.”

The time seemed long, but the horse came thundering past once more, evidently steadily coursing all round the paddock close to the rails, while its fellows clustered in the middle out of the way.

“It is one of those things,” said Norman, triumphantly.

“It wasn’t,” said Rifle. “I saw it quite plain, and it was one of those kangaroos as big as a man. I say, whoever would have thought of their doing that?”

“What shall we do? Hadn’t we better go and rouse up father?”

“No,” said Rifle; “let’s stop and see the end of it; and to-morrow night we can all come and catch or shoot the beast. If we went now and fetched him, it might be gone before we got back, and he would think we had been dreaming.”

“Here it comes again; hish!” whispered Norman; and once more there was the rapid beat of the horse’s feet on the dry ground, and it tore by just as there was a brighter flash of lightning; then the flying object had darted by, and Norman uttered a loud ejaculation.

“Did you see?” whispered Rifle.

“Yes; it was a myall black. I saw him quite plainly.”

“Not quite plainly,” said Rifle. “But I saw him. It was a black on the poor horse, but it was old Shanter.”

“What?”

“It was! I saw his face as plain as possible. Don’t you see? He wanted to mount the horse and father wouldn’t let him, so he determined to have a ride, and he must have come and had one every night, and then gone off again into the scrub.”

“But—”

“Don’t say ‘but.’ You know how fond he has been of horses, always wanting to ride when he went out with us.”

“Yes, I know; but still I can’t think he would like to do that.”

“But heisdoing it. Here he comes again.”

This time, as the horse galloped by, they both had a perfectly plain view of the black’s excited face and position as, evidently in a high state of glee, he tore by on the well-bred horse.

“Now,” said Rifle; “was I right?”

“Oh yes,” said Norman, with a sigh. “You were quite right. But be ready to shout and stop him as he comes round again.”

They waited for the sound of the warning thunder of hoofs, but though they heard them grow more faint, and then sound softer as they paced along on the far side of the paddock, the sound did not increase, and while they were listening there came a distinct snort, followed by a loud neighing nearer to them; another snort, and then a flash of vivid lightning illumining the paddock long enough for them to see the drove of horses in the middle all gazing in one direction toward another horse walking in their direction. Then there was black darkness, another snort, an answering neigh, and silence, broken by the faintly-heard sound of grass being torn off from its roots.

“He’s gone,” said Norman, in a whisper. “Let’s run and wake father.”

“What’s the good now? Let’s go back to bed, and tell him in the morning. No: I don’t like to. Why, he’d be ready to half kill poor old Shanter.”

Norman was silent, and they tramped back to the house when, just as Norman was reaching up to get hold of the window-sill, a hand was stretched out.

“Hallo! you two. Where have you been?”

“Never mind,” said Norman. “Wait till we get in again.”

They both climbed in silently, and Tim began again.

“I say, it was shabby to go without me;” and when they explained why they had hurried off, he was no better satisfied. “I wouldn’t have served you so,” he grumbled. “But I say, won’t uncle be in a way?”

“Yes, if Norman tells him,” said Rifle. “Don’t you think we had better hold our tongues?”

A long discussion followed, with the result that Rifle found himself in the minority, and went to sleep feeling rather unhappy about the black.

Chapter Nineteen.“Good taste for a savage.”Rifle felt obliged in the morning to join cousin and brother in the announcement to the captain, who looked as if he could hardly believe it at first, but ended by walking straight to the paddock, to find the colt looking more distressed than ever; and on a closer inspection there plainly enough, though it had remained unnoticed before, on account of the dry time, were the marks of the nightly gallops on the hard sun-baked soil.“That explains it all, eh, Jack?” he said to his brother.“Yes; the black scoundrel! I had noticed for some time past how fond he was of horses.”“Yes,” said Norman; “nothing pleased him better than petting them and giving them bits of his damper.”“Very good taste for a savage to appreciate how noble a beast is the horse, but I’m not going to introduce the said noble animal for the delectation of black savages.”“But you will not be very hard upon him, father?”“No,” said the captain, tightening his lips, “not very.”“What shall you do?” said Uncle Jack.“Lay wait for his black lordship to-night, and give him a sound horse-whipping.”Rifle’s face twitched a little, and the three boys exchanged glances.“Better be careful, Ned,” said Uncle Jack. “These fellows can be very revengeful.”“I am not afraid. He must have a severe lesson, and as I am his master—Marmi, as he calls me—I shall give it at once.”“But you will not sit up for him alone?” said Uncle Jack.“Oh no. I shall want you all to help me; and so as to make sure of him, there is to be no riding out to-day. He is, of course, hiding in the scrub somewhere, and I don’t want him disturbed.”Rifle looked very hard at Norman, who turned to his father.“Well, Norman?”“We all like Shanter, father,” he said. “He is not much better than a child in some things.”“Exactly; I know that.”“We want you to let him off, father—forgive him.”The captain looked more stern, and tightened his lips.“I appreciate your generosity, my boys, but it must not be looked over. I must punish him. Words will be of no use. I am afraid it must be blows. But look here; I will be as mild as I can. Will that satisfy you?”“I suppose it must, father,” said Rifle, dolefully.“Yes, my boy, it must; and now look here: not a word to them indoors. It would only startle mamma and the girls. Your uncle and I will be going to keep watch to-night, and you can slip out of your window as you did last night.”Hence it was that about ten o’clock that night the little party were all crouching by the palings watching, as well as the darkness would allow, and listening for the faintest sound, not a word being uttered for fear the black’s abnormally sharp ears should detect their presence, and make him keep away.Time glided by, till an hour must have passed, and then they heard a sharp neigh, followed by the trampling of feet, as if the horses had been startled. Then came the low murmur of a voice, followed by a few light pats as of some one caressing a horse; and, a minute later, in spite of the darkness, Norman made out that his father had passed through the rails into the paddock.Then, just as he was in agony for fear the captain should be ridden over, or some other accident should befall him, he heard the approaching pace of a horse, but only at a walk.Like the others, he was crouching down, and it seemed to him that his father was doing the same, when, all at once, the faintly-seen figures of man and horse towered up close by them, and what followed was the work of moments.There was the loudwhiskof a hunting-whip, the darting forward of a figure, followed by the plunge of a horse, as it galloped away, drowning the noise of a heavy thud, though the struggle which followed was quite plain.“Hold still, you dog!” roared the captain. “I have you tight.—Here, Jack, come and help to hold him.”“Baal baal mumkull mine,” cried the black, piteously. “Give in then, you scoundrel. Take hold of his hair, Jack. I have him by his loin-cloth.”It was no question of giving in, for the black made no further struggle, but stood up writhing and twisting up his right shoulder, and rubbing it with the back of his left hand passed behind him.“Don’t hit him again, father,” cried Norman, quickly.“Silence, sir!—Now you—you black fellow!”“Baal black fellow,” shouted Shanter, indignantly; “baal black fellow.”“How dare you come stealing here in the dark and meddling with my horses?” roared the captain.“Baal steal a horse fellow, Marmi,” cried the black, indignantly. “Horse fellow all along all lot.”“Sneaking there in the darkness, to ride my poor horses to death.”“Marmi no let Shanter ride when piggi jump up.”“Not let you ride in the day, sir? Of course not. Do you suppose I keep horses for you?”“Baal plenty mine know.”“You don’t understand?”“Mine want ride horse fellow like white fellow.”“Then you are not going to learn to ride on mine. Now then, I’ve done with you, sir. Be off and don’t show your face here again. Go!”“Mine want damper, Marmi. Gib big soff damper.”“I’ll give you the whip, sir, if you don’t go.”Shanter flinched, and gave himself another rub, looking about in the darkness from one to the other.“Let me fetch him a bit of damper, father,” whispered Rifle.“No,” said the captain, sternly. “The scoundrel has nearly ruined a fine young horse, and he must be taught a lesson.—Now, sir, be off!”“Baal gib mine big damper?” cried the black.“No; only the whip,” said the captain, giving the thong a sharp crack, and then another and another in all directions near the black’s naked shoulders, with the result that at every crack Shanter winced and leaped about.“Marmi Man gib mine damper.”“I can’t,” said Norman.“Marmi Rifle, Marmi Tim, gib mine damper.”“No—no—no,” shouted the captain. “Now go and never come here again.”The black gave another writhe, as if smarting from the pain of the blow he had received, and ended by snatching boomerang and club from his waistband, uttering a fiercely defiant yell as he clattered them together, leaped the fence and darted off straight across the paddock, shouting as he rushed on toward the horses, and sending them in panic to the end of the enclosure.“The scoundrel!” shouted the captain; “those horse will cripple themselves on the posts and rails. No; they’re coming back again,” he cried, as he heard the little herd come galloping round. “Steady there—woho—boys! Steady, woho there—woho!” he continued; and the horses gradually ceased their headlong flight, and turned and trotted gently toward the familiar voice.The captain was joined by the boys, who all went toward the horses, patting and caressing them for a few minutes before leaving the paddock and going back toward the house.“Now,” said the captain; “who is to say that this black fellow will not come to-morrow night, or perhaps to-night, take out a rail or two, and drive off all our horses?”“I can,” said Norman.“So can we,” cried Rifle. “I don’t believe old Shanter ever could steal.”“Well done, boys, for your belief in savage nature,” cried Uncle Jack.—“No, Ned, you are wrong. I believe that the poor fellow is honest as the day.”“Thank you, uncle,” whispered Tim.“Well,” said the captain, “we shall see. But I think I have let the poor fellow off very easily. I came out to-night meaning to give him a tremendous horse-whipping, but out of weakness and consideration for you boys’ feelings, I’ve let him off with one cut.”“Enough too,” said Uncle Jack, “for it was big enough for a dozen.”“Well, it was a tidy one,” said the captain, laughing. “There, come back to the house. But no more black pets, boys. If you want to make companions, try the horses.”“And perhaps they’d run away with one.”“Or throw us.”“Or kick us.”So cried the boys one after another, and the captain uttered a grunt.“Look here,” he said; “I’m not going to sit up and watch to-night, but if those horses are driven off by that black scoundrel, I’ll hunt him down with a gun.”“Not you, Ned,” said Uncle Jack, with a chuckle.“Don’t you believe him, boys.”“We don’t, uncle,” they chorused.“Ah, well,” said the captain, laughing; “we shall see.”

Rifle felt obliged in the morning to join cousin and brother in the announcement to the captain, who looked as if he could hardly believe it at first, but ended by walking straight to the paddock, to find the colt looking more distressed than ever; and on a closer inspection there plainly enough, though it had remained unnoticed before, on account of the dry time, were the marks of the nightly gallops on the hard sun-baked soil.

“That explains it all, eh, Jack?” he said to his brother.

“Yes; the black scoundrel! I had noticed for some time past how fond he was of horses.”

“Yes,” said Norman; “nothing pleased him better than petting them and giving them bits of his damper.”

“Very good taste for a savage to appreciate how noble a beast is the horse, but I’m not going to introduce the said noble animal for the delectation of black savages.”

“But you will not be very hard upon him, father?”

“No,” said the captain, tightening his lips, “not very.”

“What shall you do?” said Uncle Jack.

“Lay wait for his black lordship to-night, and give him a sound horse-whipping.”

Rifle’s face twitched a little, and the three boys exchanged glances.

“Better be careful, Ned,” said Uncle Jack. “These fellows can be very revengeful.”

“I am not afraid. He must have a severe lesson, and as I am his master—Marmi, as he calls me—I shall give it at once.”

“But you will not sit up for him alone?” said Uncle Jack.

“Oh no. I shall want you all to help me; and so as to make sure of him, there is to be no riding out to-day. He is, of course, hiding in the scrub somewhere, and I don’t want him disturbed.”

Rifle looked very hard at Norman, who turned to his father.

“Well, Norman?”

“We all like Shanter, father,” he said. “He is not much better than a child in some things.”

“Exactly; I know that.”

“We want you to let him off, father—forgive him.”

The captain looked more stern, and tightened his lips.

“I appreciate your generosity, my boys, but it must not be looked over. I must punish him. Words will be of no use. I am afraid it must be blows. But look here; I will be as mild as I can. Will that satisfy you?”

“I suppose it must, father,” said Rifle, dolefully.

“Yes, my boy, it must; and now look here: not a word to them indoors. It would only startle mamma and the girls. Your uncle and I will be going to keep watch to-night, and you can slip out of your window as you did last night.”

Hence it was that about ten o’clock that night the little party were all crouching by the palings watching, as well as the darkness would allow, and listening for the faintest sound, not a word being uttered for fear the black’s abnormally sharp ears should detect their presence, and make him keep away.

Time glided by, till an hour must have passed, and then they heard a sharp neigh, followed by the trampling of feet, as if the horses had been startled. Then came the low murmur of a voice, followed by a few light pats as of some one caressing a horse; and, a minute later, in spite of the darkness, Norman made out that his father had passed through the rails into the paddock.

Then, just as he was in agony for fear the captain should be ridden over, or some other accident should befall him, he heard the approaching pace of a horse, but only at a walk.

Like the others, he was crouching down, and it seemed to him that his father was doing the same, when, all at once, the faintly-seen figures of man and horse towered up close by them, and what followed was the work of moments.

There was the loudwhiskof a hunting-whip, the darting forward of a figure, followed by the plunge of a horse, as it galloped away, drowning the noise of a heavy thud, though the struggle which followed was quite plain.

“Hold still, you dog!” roared the captain. “I have you tight.—Here, Jack, come and help to hold him.”

“Baal baal mumkull mine,” cried the black, piteously. “Give in then, you scoundrel. Take hold of his hair, Jack. I have him by his loin-cloth.”

It was no question of giving in, for the black made no further struggle, but stood up writhing and twisting up his right shoulder, and rubbing it with the back of his left hand passed behind him.

“Don’t hit him again, father,” cried Norman, quickly.

“Silence, sir!—Now you—you black fellow!”

“Baal black fellow,” shouted Shanter, indignantly; “baal black fellow.”

“How dare you come stealing here in the dark and meddling with my horses?” roared the captain.

“Baal steal a horse fellow, Marmi,” cried the black, indignantly. “Horse fellow all along all lot.”

“Sneaking there in the darkness, to ride my poor horses to death.”

“Marmi no let Shanter ride when piggi jump up.”

“Not let you ride in the day, sir? Of course not. Do you suppose I keep horses for you?”

“Baal plenty mine know.”

“You don’t understand?”

“Mine want ride horse fellow like white fellow.”

“Then you are not going to learn to ride on mine. Now then, I’ve done with you, sir. Be off and don’t show your face here again. Go!”

“Mine want damper, Marmi. Gib big soff damper.”

“I’ll give you the whip, sir, if you don’t go.”

Shanter flinched, and gave himself another rub, looking about in the darkness from one to the other.

“Let me fetch him a bit of damper, father,” whispered Rifle.

“No,” said the captain, sternly. “The scoundrel has nearly ruined a fine young horse, and he must be taught a lesson.—Now, sir, be off!”

“Baal gib mine big damper?” cried the black.

“No; only the whip,” said the captain, giving the thong a sharp crack, and then another and another in all directions near the black’s naked shoulders, with the result that at every crack Shanter winced and leaped about.

“Marmi Man gib mine damper.”

“I can’t,” said Norman.

“Marmi Rifle, Marmi Tim, gib mine damper.”

“No—no—no,” shouted the captain. “Now go and never come here again.”

The black gave another writhe, as if smarting from the pain of the blow he had received, and ended by snatching boomerang and club from his waistband, uttering a fiercely defiant yell as he clattered them together, leaped the fence and darted off straight across the paddock, shouting as he rushed on toward the horses, and sending them in panic to the end of the enclosure.

“The scoundrel!” shouted the captain; “those horse will cripple themselves on the posts and rails. No; they’re coming back again,” he cried, as he heard the little herd come galloping round. “Steady there—woho—boys! Steady, woho there—woho!” he continued; and the horses gradually ceased their headlong flight, and turned and trotted gently toward the familiar voice.

The captain was joined by the boys, who all went toward the horses, patting and caressing them for a few minutes before leaving the paddock and going back toward the house.

“Now,” said the captain; “who is to say that this black fellow will not come to-morrow night, or perhaps to-night, take out a rail or two, and drive off all our horses?”

“I can,” said Norman.

“So can we,” cried Rifle. “I don’t believe old Shanter ever could steal.”

“Well done, boys, for your belief in savage nature,” cried Uncle Jack.—“No, Ned, you are wrong. I believe that the poor fellow is honest as the day.”

“Thank you, uncle,” whispered Tim.

“Well,” said the captain, “we shall see. But I think I have let the poor fellow off very easily. I came out to-night meaning to give him a tremendous horse-whipping, but out of weakness and consideration for you boys’ feelings, I’ve let him off with one cut.”

“Enough too,” said Uncle Jack, “for it was big enough for a dozen.”

“Well, it was a tidy one,” said the captain, laughing. “There, come back to the house. But no more black pets, boys. If you want to make companions, try the horses.”

“And perhaps they’d run away with one.”

“Or throw us.”

“Or kick us.”

So cried the boys one after another, and the captain uttered a grunt.

“Look here,” he said; “I’m not going to sit up and watch to-night, but if those horses are driven off by that black scoundrel, I’ll hunt him down with a gun.”

“Not you, Ned,” said Uncle Jack, with a chuckle.

“Don’t you believe him, boys.”

“We don’t, uncle,” they chorused.

“Ah, well,” said the captain, laughing; “we shall see.”

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