Next morning, when the broiled fish was ready for breakfast, Gerald and Hugh were missing. With some uneasiness the rest watched and waited for an hour, when a shout announced the approach of the wanderers, and Arthur and Jack set out to meet them, and were glad to assist them in dragging in a kangaroo.
"It is the same impudent fellow that defied me last night," said Gerald. "I tracked his curious boundings to a wood three miles from here; and then Hugh and I beat the bushes and shouted till we drove him out of cover; but he cost us lots of arrows and spears before we could dispatch him; and a weighty drag he has been for us this winter morning of June, when the sun is as hot as it is in our summer June at home. Now, Wilkins, help to skin him; we mean to have all our boots mended with his hide."
"But, Arthur, we must tell you," said Hugh, "that when we were in the wood we saw a smoke at a considerable distance to the south-west. Do you think it could possibly be from some station? Gerald wished much to go on and ascertain whence it arose, but I persuaded him to wait till we consulted you; besides, I knew you would be all uneasy if we were long absent. Have we got so near the squatters, Wilkins?"
"Not a bit of chance on 't, Master Hugh," replied he. "We're far enough from t' squatters yet. Depend on 't it's just another lot of them good-to-nought black rogues. They'll be thick enough here where there's aught to get, I'se warrant 'em."
"It is most natural and just, Wilkins," said Mr. Mayburn, "that the true proprietors of the soil should participate in its fruits. I fear it is we who are, in fact, the rogues, robbing the wretched aborigines of their game, and grudging them even a settlement in their own land."
"But we have not robbed them, papa," said Hugh. "Kangaroos and pigeons abound here enough for all; and we do not wish to hurt the poor wretches if they would not annoy us. Here is Margaret quite ready to open a school for them, if they would come and be taught."
"Margaret has done more good than any of us," said Mr. Mayburn; "she has labored incessantly to instruct Baldabella and her child, and to open to them the way of salvation. It is thus by scattered seeds that the great work of diffusing the truth is to be accomplished; and I fear, Hugh, we have been too much engrossed with the cares of this life to think seriously."
"Now, boys," said Arthur, "we had better not linger; the kangaroo is skinned, and the meat is cut up into convenient portions for carriage; let us walk on briskly till we are hungry enough to enjoy it."
Onward they moved over the extensive grassy plains, recognizing with pleasure various tall trees of the varieties ofEucalyptus, the Grass-tree with its long weeping branches, the Pandanus with its slender palm-like stem, and the Fig-tree with its spreading roots. Beneath one of these trees they encamped to cook kangaroo steaks, and to enjoy once more what Wilkins called "a decent, nat'ral dinner." There, with strips of skin for thread and a fish-bone for a needle, Wilkins repaired the worn and tattered boots, while Margaret and Baldabella made netted bags of the stringy bark, and Jenny and Ruth bruised the wild oats which the young men had cut down as they came along.
"The rest of the skin I mean to make into a bag," said Jack; "for we must carry with us a good stock of oats; we may, probably, again come to some spot where they are not to be found."
Mr. Mayburn looked with pleasure on the busy hands round him; and though he deeply regretted the irreparable loss of his books, wasted on the plundering savages, his composed mind soon submitted to the trial. His retentive memory supplied the place of books, and, from the rich treasures of his reading he delighted to repeat to his attentive listeners pleasant and instructive lectures. Cheered and invigorated by labor and amusing conversation, the united party forgot all their cares, offered up their devotions with calm and happy hopes, and slept among the sheltering roots of the fig-tree without fear.
Some unaccustomed sounds suddenly roused the sleepers, and they looked round to behold through the dim light of breaking day the grim visages of a numerous band of tall savages, with rough heads and beards, who were armed with spears, and who looked on their surprised captives with a sort of scornful indifference, as they beckoned them to rise and follow them. Hugh and Gerald sprung up to seize their spears and bows, but Arthur, with more prudence, ordered them to forbear making any hostile demonstration. "We are in the power of these strangers," he said; "our only hope must be in conciliation and treaty. I will try to make the best of it."
Then turning to the native who stood nearest to him, he endeavored, in the few words he had learnt from Baldabella, to make him understand their poverty and inoffensive disposition, and their desire to be permitted to proceed on their journey. The man looked round, as if to call on another to reply, and, to the astonishment of Arthur, a voice from the crowd answered in English.
"We are open to a fair reg'lar treatise, young man, Perdoose yer swag, which is the vulgar country word for what we English terminatetin, and then we will sign your disfranchisement."
The voice and the extraordinary phraseology were familiar to the Mayburns, and Hugh cried out, "What, Bill, is that you? How came you here? Is David Simple with you? and where is Mr. Deverell?"
The man, who had now come forward, dressed in the remnants of his formerly seedy foppery, looked annoyed at the recognition. He stared impudently at Hugh, and said, "You have mistaken your man, young master. I have no convalescence of you."
"It is in vain for you to affect ignorance of us, Bill," said Arthur; "we know you to be a ticket-of-leave man, engaged as a servant at Melbourne by Mr. Deverell. I am grieved to find you in such unsuitable company, and would advise you to join us, and guide us to your master's station, where we shall be able to reward you liberally."
"Thank you, sir," said the man, laughing scornfully; "but Mr. Deverell and I did not part good friends, and I have no innovation to visit him again. His ways is percoolar, and a gentleman as has had a deliberate eddication looks higher nor waiting on cattle; so Davy and I came to a dissolution to abrogate the place, and set out on a predestinarian excrescence."
"He means, master," said Davy, with a downcast look, interpreting his brother's difficult language; "he means as how we took to t' bush. I was bad to win round to 't; but Bill, he'd collogued with a lot of black fellows, and had 'em all in a wood hard again our boundaries; and they thranged me round, and threaped as how they'd cut my throat if I stayed after them to peach; and, graceless dog as I were, I joined 'em to drive our best stock, when we knew as how master was off for a week. It were a sore day's work, and little good do I see in living among a set of raggles like them. I warn ye, master, if ye've gotten any cash about ye, just pay 't down, and make no words about it, afore they get aggravated, for they're a bloody set, that are they."
"But, my poor mistaken man," said Mr. Mayburn, "what in the world can these savages do with money in this houseless wilderness?"
"That's our affair," answered Bill. "So open your bank, old fellow, and leave it to intelligible fellows like me to transact your gold into brandy."
"In the first place, Bill," replied Arthur, "I think it is my duty to remind you of the fatal consequences of highway robbery, and to beseech you to return to your duty, and endeavor to retrieve your error. In the next place, you cannot possibly benefit by your extortion, for we are literally and truly without money. We have letters of credit on Calcutta, and we could certainly obtain money at Melbourne, but only by our personal application at that place. We have been already stripped by one of the black tribes, of every article of property we possessed, and we are now wholly destitute. This is the exact truth. Now I suggest to you that your wisest plan would be to leave us to pursue our way unmolested; unless you or your misguided brother will accompany us to the settlement of Mr. Deverell, with whom, I think, we have sufficient influence to induce him to pardon your offence."
"Who would be the fools then?" answered the man. "No, sir, your oratorio makes no depression on me. If you haven't got money, you're worth money. You must march in the arrear of your captivators to our quarters. You shall then write a letter, which I shall dedicate to you. I never travel without my writing impediments; and one of my 'cute black fellows, as is conservant in English, shall be dispersed away to your friend Mr. Deverell, who must confiscate to me cash or stuff for your ransom; and when I see my brandy and cigars, you are disfranchised."
It was useless to attempt opposition to the mandates of the imperious and conceited bush-ranger, and the disconsolate captives reluctantly followed the man, surrounded by such a troop of natives as precluded all hopes of escape, and exposed to the insults and plunder of these savages, who wrested from them their spears and bows. Wilkins had contrived to secret his knife under his vest, and thus saved it. They had not proceeded far before they were joined by a band of women, revolting in appearance and manner, who crowded round them, rudely examined their garments, and freely possessed themselves of such as they could conveniently snatch away. Margaret looked round for Baldabella to assist her in remonstrating with these harpies, and was surprised to see that she had disappeared.
Margaret then remembered that, on the previous night, the woman had selected a thicket considerably apart from the rest, as a sleeping-place for herself and her child, and she concluded that at the first alarm of the invaders, the poor woman had escaped, her dread of her fellow-countrymen overcoming even her allegiance to her friends. After all, Margaret considered it was as well; there were two less to be anxious for, and she had no fears for the native on her own soil: she would certainly find food, and would probably wait and watch for the release of the captives.
The unpleasant march of the prisoners extended to nearly three miles; then, descending a low hill, they arrived at a lovely wooded valley, where, on the banks of a little creek, or streamlet, stood a number of rough bark huts. A herd of cattle were feeding on the grassy plain, and some horses, hobbled, to prevent them straying, were mingled with them. Naked children were rolling on the grass, shouting and laughing; women were busy bruising nuts, or making nets; and some aged men were seated in the sun with their knees raised to their heads, looking stupid and half dead.
It was the first scene of pastoral life that the travellers had beheld in Australia, and would have had a certain charm to them had they been in a position to enjoy it. But the thoughts of their captivity engrossed their minds, and they contemplated with uneasiness the fierce and threatening countenances of the lawless men who surrounded them, and who drove them forward like the cattle they had so villainously obtained, and lodged them in a large bark hut which stood at the extremity of the scattered hamlet. This rude shelter was wholly open in front, and filthily dirty inside; but they were thankful for any shelter that divided them from the coarse and abandoned robbers; and, flinging themselves on the ground, the disconsolate captives reflected silently on their perilous situation, while their captors, assembled before the rude prison, seemed earnestly discussing, as Arthur concluded, the means of making the most profit of their destitute prisoners.
After some minutes had elapsed, they were favored with a visit from the audacious and ignorant convict Bill, who addressed them with his usual pompous air, saying,—
"Gentlemen, we have dissented on dispersing one of your gang along with our embarrasser to Deverell, that he may be incensed into the right of the thing. We set you up as worth a hundred pound, hard cash, for the lot; but if we concentrate to take stuff, we shall exhort two hundred. Things is bad to sell in the bush. We expectorate a chap in a day or two as is intentionable to buy our stock, and then you must keep close quarters, for when my colloquies get their brandy they are always a bit umbrageous."
When Mr. Mayburn comprehended the meaning of this elaborate nonsense, he declared positively that he would not allow one of his children to depart on such an unjust errand, accompanied by an abandoned reprobate.
"I should like nothing better than to start off on such a trip," said Gerald. "What a surprise it would be at Daisy Grange when they saw my brown face; and wouldn't pretty Emma say, with tears in her eyes, 'Oh, Gerald! what has become of Arthur?' And grave Edward Deverell would fall into heaps of confusion, and say, 'Margaret! why is not Margaret with you?'"
Arthur laughed, but shook his head, and refused to abet any plan of subjecting the thoughtless boy to such risk.
"But might not Wilkins go?" asked Hugh.
"Not I, thank ye, Master Hugh," answered the man, hastily; "we'd like enough fall in with some of them hot-headed black pollis when we got nigh to t' station, and they're all so set up wi' their guns, that afore I could get out a word they'd sure to pick me out for a runaway, and shoot me dead; and, more nor that, I'll not say if I were let loose among them care-nought rangers, as I mightn't fall into their ways, and take to t' bush like 'em; and then, ye see, all yer good work would be flung away."
"Wilkins might be useful to you here, Master Arthur," said Jack; "but I don't see why I shouldn't go. I'm no ways feared; and I could put Mr. Deverell up to getting hold of these vagabonds and their own cattle; and then, you know, sir, I should find timber and tools enough, and I could soon knock up a bit of a wagon to bring up for Miss Margaret and the master, and the other poor things. What think you, sir, about it?"
"I must confess, papa," said Arthur, "that I feel satisfied that Jack is the right man. But can we make up our minds to part with our tried and faithful friend? I leave it to you to decide."
"My dear son," answered Mr. Mayburn, much agitated, "I cannot decide such an important question. Only consider; should his savage companion prove treacherous, our dear Jack may be sacrificed, and his blood fall on our heads. I shrink from the responsibility."
"Nevertheless, dear papa," said Margaret, weeping bitterly, "I fear we must consent. Jack will be accompanied by only one man, whose policy it will be to be careful of his life till the transaction be completed. On his return, rely on it, Edward Deverell will take care he has arms and protection. Jack is sagacious, brave, and prudent. I grieve to part with him; but I believe it may be for the benefit of all. We must resign him, and pray for God's blessing on our brave deliverer."
"And I say, Jack, my man," said Wilkins, "if ye should chance to light on a bonnie bit lass, called Susan Raine, down yonder, just ye say as how Wilkins is not altogether that graceless she counts him. He's bad enough, God knows; but he oft thinks on days of lang syne; and he's true, tell her, come what may."
It was then communicated to the vile dictator of the dark band that a messenger was ready to set out to procure the ransom from Mr. Deverell; and the next day, amidst the loud sobs of Ruth and the silent grief of the rest, Jack took leave, and set forward towards the south, accompanied by a tall, crafty-looking savage, who had evidently been accustomed to traffic with the bush-rangers, and had acquired sufficient English to serve his purpose. One of their ablest defenders was thus severed from the unfortunate captives, who hourly became more alarmed about their position. Forbidden to leave the hut, they were merely fed, like the dogs, with the disgusting remains of the untempting food of their savage captors; and but for the secret good offices of Davy, they must have perished of thirst. He brought them every night a bark bucket of water from the creek, which saved their lives.
But Mr. Mayburn and Margaret, who could not touch the decomposed fish and gnawed bones that were thrown to them, gradually sunk into a state of weakness that distracted their helpless friends. Four days elapsed after Jack's departure, and Margaret was reclining, weak and weary, yet unable to sleep, against the back wall of the hut, when about midnight, she was startled by a scratching sound outside the bark. Much alarmed, but too weak to move, she trembled, and feebly called to Jenny, who was sleeping near her. But just at that moment the low, sweet voice of Baldabella greeted her, through an opening made in the bark near the ground.
"Missee, good dear missee!" murmured the woman; "Baldabella see all, look in allgunyoes. Baldabella come, all sleep now; bring bread, bring fish for missee and good master."
Then through the opening Jenny received cakes of pounded oats, such as she herself had taught Baldabella to make, broiled fish, and a bark vessel filled with hot tea, a plentiful and luxurious repast. When she had given up her store, the grateful woman whispered, "Baldabella go make more bread, come again dark night. Pray God bless white friends."
The prayer of Baldabella was gratefully acknowledged and responded to by her much affected friends, who blessed the hour they were so happy as to snatch the poor widow from the death which hung over her body and soul, and to win her affections and sympathy. Invigorated by the wholesome and clean food, Mr. Mayburn and Margaret again began to hope for better days, and to plan their pleasant journey south.
For three nights Baldabella returned with her abundant and seasonable gifts; while the sordid wretch who detained them, plainly cared only for the ransom he hoped to obtain for them. But Davy continued to steal in every night with the welcome supply of fresh water, and remained to listen to their prayers and hymns, with a softened and mournful countenance.
"Ye see, sir," said the poor fellow to Arthur, "our Bill, he's up to all sorts of things; he's had a grand eddication, and knows reet fra' wrong better nor me; and he orders me, like, and I cannot say him nay; he reckons I'se but a simple chap."
"Did you ever learn your Catechism, Davy?" asked Margaret.
"They did get that into me, Miss," answered he, "and little good it's done me. I niver like to think on 't nowadays; it's just awesome, it is."
"Thou shalt not steal!" said Mr. Mayburn, emphatically.
"Please, master, not to talk on't," said the agitated young man; "it's about them beasts as ye're meaning on. But our Bill says, says he, 'It stands to reason as them as has ower mony ought to sarve them as has none.' Now what think ye of that, sir?"
"I think and know, David," said Mr. Mayburn, "that it is God's will that all men should obey His commandments, and do their duty in the station where He has placed them. You had no more right to take Mr. Deverell's cattle than these poor savages have to strip you naked and leave you to die alone in the desert, and in the eyes of God you are more guilty than they would be, for you have been taught His law. You know that God has said that the thief shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. Now, David, death is near to us all, young or old: think what will be your dreadful fate when you wake in another world, forsaken by God. Then turn to Him now, while there is yet time, and pray for repentance and pardon through the blessed Saviour, that your sins may be forgiven, and you may be brought to dwell with him forever."
"Well, master, I can tell ye if 't were to do again," answered the man, "Bill s'ould niver talk me ower to put my hands to t' job. And, after all, a poor set we've made on 't. Ye see, this is how we did it; we darked and kept quiet till t' master was off down t' country, then we marked off our beasts, and picked out our saddle-horses, and a gun a-piece. I ought to have had warning plenty about me'ling wi' a gun. Then off we set at midnight, driving our beasts and a flock of sheep, and were soon up till them black fellows as was watin' us. First we druv' our sheep till a bush public, where a sly auld hand took 'em, and gave us a lot of bad brandy and worse tobacco for 'em, and sin' that we've run and rode about t' country, up and down, hereaway and thereaway, like wild beasts. Then we're feared of t' pollis, and we're feared of all ther' black fellows, as can turn rusty when they like, and it's nought but drinking, cursing, and fighting all day long, brutes as we are. I'se fairly tired, master, and I'd fain be back among Christians; but then, I'd niver be t' fellow to peach; and, ower that, I know there's a rope round my neck, as is sartain to be tightened if I show my face at our station again."
Simple Davy, the whole family believed, would not prove irreclaimable, and they used every persuasion to bring the poor man to a knowledge of his faults, and to a desire to reform them; but his blind submission to his "eddicated" brother proved a formidable obstacle, till his heart became enlightened by the truths of religion. The cunning villain Bill was a great annoyance to the family: he continually visited them, and his absurd speeches no longer afforded them amusement, for he had now signified his intention of becoming a candidate for the hand of Margaret.
"Not that Miss would aggress," said the convict, "to live with these lowignis fatuusmen, that we eddicated men terminate flea-beings, seeing she is not customary to their ways. But you see, Miss, I preponderate setting up a bush tavern, quite illimitable to the beat of the imperious pollis; quite a genteel hottle, where you might prorogue like a lady, and I'd not reject to adapt these lads, and give them a job at waiting; and we might revive an opening for the old governor, if you mattered having him."
Hugh and Gerald would have seized the impudent rascal and flung him out of the hut, but Arthur restrained them, and arresting his father's indignant remonstrance, he said, "Bill, my sister must never again hear such absurd and offensive language; she is too young even to think of such things, and quite unfitted by education and religion for mingling with lawless bush-rangers."
"We'll see about that, young fellow," answered Bill with a diabolical grin. "You might have permeated the young woman to speak for herself; she's old enough to be deciduous. But wait a bit till I touch your ransom, and then we'll considerate about her. She was not secluded in my bargain, and you'll find as how I'm empirical here."
The terror and distress of Margaret were very great, and but for the absence of Jack, who was always ingenious in affairs of difficulty, Arthur would have yielded to her wish, and attempted their escape, which by the aid of Baldabella in the out-works, and of David, who was much ashamed of his brother's audacious proposal, in the citadel, they did not think would be extremely difficult. The bark hut which was their prison, was situated at the extremity of the range of huts, and close to a thick wood, from which Baldabella made her nightly visits without disturbance. David had supplied the young men with some sheets of bark to partition off the back part of the hut for Margaret and her servants, and from this apartment it would be easy to cut open the bark, and escape into the wood, the savages usually sleeping on the ground before the hut.
Still, unless they were driven to extremities, they desired to defer their flight till the return of Jack, as, besides the hope that he might bring them efficient aid from Mr. Deverell, they did not wish to abandon him to the wrath of the disappointed rangers; but they explained their intention to Baldabella, and begged her to be prepared; and they hoped that they were prevailing on David to become their companion and guide.
Several days passed in the same dreary and distressing seclusion. If any of the prisoners ventured to breathe the air outside the hut, they were assailed with rude language, pelted and insulted by the rangers or the blacks. Jenny and Ruth had gone out to cut some grass to spread over the ground on which they slept, and were seized by the women, their clothes torn, their hair pulled, and the contents of their pockets discovered and torn from them.
"Ragged I am, and ragged I may be, now," said Jenny. "I wonder what good my bit housewife will do them ondecent hussies; and neither thread, needle, nor scissors have I left. And Miss Marget, my honey, there was my silver thimble that you bought me in London, and my prayer-book from Master Arthur,—God bless him!—and my spectacles that master gave me; but that's little matter, I don't need them when I've nothing left to read or sew."
Ruth sobbed out incoherently, "My bonnie purse; oh dear! oh dear! and my two shillings, and my lucky crook't sixpence, and my Sunday ribbons and cotton gloves, and my bonnie little Testament! Oh dear! where's I to get mair?"
Mr. Mayburn consoled the women, and showed them his pocket Bible, which he had still preserved, and from which he could daily read to them the words of comfort and hope; and Margaret encouraged Jenny with the prospect of one day reaching Daisy Grange, when she felt assured that the orderly and prudent Mrs. Deverell would have needles and thread to bestow on them.
One evening some very unusual sounds tempted Gerald who was always restless in his confinement, to steal out of the hut. He was absent some time, and Arthur had become very uneasy lest he should have been arrested and punished for this disobedience of orders, when, with a face full of news, he rushed back into the hut, exclaiming, "Jack is brought back! there are three or four more of those ugly convicts; and, oh, Arthur, there is Black Peter amongst them!"
This was really melancholy news, and Mr. Mayburn in deep distress looked appealingly to Arthur.
"Margaret must be taken away," he said; "I cannot have her remain among these reprobates. Then there is Wilkins, poor fellow! That wicked wretch has ever persecuted and hated him; he is not safe with us; we must care for him, and send him away. But ought we not all to depart? I feel that I am unable to judge the matter calmly; decide for us, my son."
"I shall be better able to do that, papa," answered Arthur, "when I learn what extraordinary circumstance has induced Jack to return. It is quite impossible that he can have executed his mission; and I cannot imagine that these robbers have relinquished their desire for the ransom-money. I am very anxious to see him."
The sounds of riot and discord were now heard through the hamlet; the prisoners concluded that more brandy had been brought in, and it was producing its usual delusive and fatal effects among men and women. The intoxication proceeded to madness; horrid oaths and blasphemy were the only words to be distinguished; first uttered by the white man, erroneously named a Christian, and then eagerly imitated by his heathen brother. In the midst of the confusion, Jack stole in unnoticed by the savages to his anxious friends. He was pale with fatigue, disappointment, and alarm; for he saw that the frenzy of the intoxicated wretches might at any moment lead them to murder.
"Mr. Arthur," said he, hurriedly, "I have got hold of a gun and a few charges, and David will follow me here with another, as soon as the fellows drink themselves into stupor; then we must make off without delay, or we are lost. Black Peter has determined to have his own way, and you know what his way is; and depend on it, if he had not been led off with the brandy, he would have been here to bully and threaten before now."
"Alas! alas!" said Mr. Mayburn, "how did it happen, my good lad, that you fell into the hands of that abandoned man?"
"We met him on our way, sir," answered Jack, "mounted on a handsome horse that he'd stolen from somebody's station; he was dressed like a gentleman, and three more fellows, all bush-rangers, I'll be bound, were along with him, well mounted too. They were carrying kegs of liquor and bales of tobacco to barter for the stolen cattle, which they mean to drive down the country to sell. Peter knew me as soon as he set eyes on me, and hailed me to know what had become of my comrades. Then the sulky black fellow that rode with me took on him to tell, in his lingo, what we were after. It would have made your blood run cold, master, to hear how that brute Peter cursed Bill; he said he was nought but a poor, pitiful, long-tongued fool, to swap such a prize for a hundred pounds; and he swore he would have ten times as much for the bargain, and have it for himself too. 'I've got shot of my cowardly troop, ye see,' he said to my guide; 'they didn't suit me; they ran away at the sight of blood. I'll see now if I can't put that set-up fellow, Bill, down a peg, and manage your folks a bit better, blackey.' Then he went back to his white colleagues, and said, 'You might make a penny of these two runaways; there's money on their heads; what say ye to carrying them off?'
"I cannot tell how they settled their treacherous plan; but as they had arms, they forced us to turn back with them; and Bill looked so cowed when he saw Black Peter, that I make no doubt the craftier rogue of the two will be master by to-morrow; and there will be a poor chance for us, if we do not overreach him to-night. Well, Davy, how are they getting on?" he added, as the simple fellow entered cautiously.
"They'll not be lang fit for wark," answered he. "Some's down now, and Bill and Peter had come to fighting; but them new chaps, as corned with you, parted 'em; and I seed 'em wink at Peter, and they said as how it could be settled to-morrow. But it would hardly be safe to stop for that; and if ye're ready and willing, I'se get ye off cannily afther it's dark."
"We are willing and ready, David," said Arthur, "and most thankful to have you for our guide. I will engage that Mr. Deverell will pardon and protect you, if we are fortunate enough to reach Daisy Grange; but how my father and sister are to accomplish the journey, I cannot think."
"It's all pat, sir; see to me for that," answered David. "Not a chap amang 'em was fit to hobble t' horses but me, I had it all my own way, and I brought our two, and their four, all round to t' back of this here wood, and tied 'm up ready saddled. Afore midnight, light on me to be there, and all fettled and ready. I'se get Baldabella to warn ye at t' reet minute, and then ye can make yer way out backwards, and she'll bring ye through t' wood, and we'se get a good start afore day-leet. They've no more horses fit for t' saddle, if they were fit themselves; but it will be a fair bit afore they sleep off their drunken fit."
The yells and screams of the mad drunkards grew louder and more discordant, and the trembling women clung fearfully to each other in the back apartment of the hut, where they had already cut an opening large enough to allow them to escape; but they were anxious to defer the attempt till Davy thought the moment favorable. At length they heard the oaths and curses muttered in fainter tones; and, one after another, the voices died away. Gladly the anxious captives marked the deep silence that succeeded, which was finally broken by David whispering through the opening behind the hut,—
"Come along; be sharp, and tread soft. There's a lot of chaps lying afore t' hut: ye cannot come out that way. Mind ye dinnot waken 'em. Here's Baldabella; she'll trail ye through t' bush, and I'll on afore, and make ready."
Trembling and breathless, one after another they followed Baldabella, forcing their way through the thick underwood, scarcely conscious of bruises, scratches, and rent garments, till, by the faint light of the moon through a gathering mist, they saw David holding the harnessed horses outside the tangled wood.
"Manage as ye like," said he; "there's twelve on us, reckoning t' babby, but some on ye is leet weights."
Baldabella refused to mount, and, giving her child to Wilkins, she walked on; and so light and swift was her pace, that she kept up well with the doubly-laden horses, though they proceeded as speedily as they could over the grassy plains. For six hours they continued to travel due south, silently and uninterruptedly; then the morning light cheered their spirits, they realized the fact of their freedom, and they rejoiced as they rested on a rich plain while the horses fed, and lifted up their voices in praise and thanksgiving that they were once more free in a savage land; and even poor David, with tears of penitence, united humbly with them in prayer.
All the party needed the refreshment they knew not where to seek, when Baldabella produced a netted bag of cakes and nuts, with which they were obliged to content themselves; and hoping that they might meet with water before they were again compelled to rest, they set forward with gratitude and cheerfulness. But they were somewhat disheartened as they proceeded; for though herbage and trees were plentiful, water was rarely to be met with. Hollows in the earth, which contained a muddy remnant of the well-filled pools of the rainy season, were their sole dependence—a scanty and unpleasant supply. They had long ago lost sight of the river, from which they had designedly diverged in order to mislead their pursuers, leaving it on their left hand. Fig-trees were common on the plains, but no longer bearing fruit; still, they continued to be frequented by the cockatoos and pigeons, and having made bows and arrows, they procured as many as they wished for food.
On the fourth day, Baldabella, who was before them, summoned them by the welcome cry, "Yarrai! yarrai!—water! water!" and they saw a narrow full streamlet, rushing to the south-east, probably to swell some large river; a consideration very tempting to the travellers, who could not venture on the direct track which David was acquainted with, lest they should be overtaken. They resolved, therefore, to continue by the water, so necessary to preserve their own strength and that of their horses; and though the approach towards a large river might place them amongst the black tribes again, they would still be on the highway which led to civilization.
They now selected their resting-places close by the refreshing stream, and without adventure, till it happened that one day they had indulged for some hours in a noonday repose under the shelter of some trees. Then the young men set out to beat the wood for birds; but Gerald soon cried out, "To horse! to horse! bold hunters. Emus are in view!" and, on skirting the wood, the whole family had a view of a flock of those huge birds, at some distance on the plain, grazing with all the tranquillity of domestic cattle.
"We are not in want of emus, Gerald," said Mr. Mayburn. "These creatures are as free to live as we are ourselves. Why will men become hunters from mere wantonness?"
"We could do cannily with one, master," said Jenny. "They're fair good eating, and ye see, sir, great strong men gets tired of these bits of birds."
Mr. Mayburn sighed at the necessity of disturbing the peace of the happy creatures, and duly impressed on Arthur his wish that only one bird should be killed. All the young men, roused at the thoughts of the chase, sprang upon their horses, and, armed with spears and bows, galloped off to the field. Crafty and swift as these birds are, they were not entirely able to elude their mounted enemies, who attacked them with spears and arrows, and at last succeeded in separating from the rest and surrounding one large bird, in which several arrows had been previously lodged. Infuriated with pain and fright, the bird ran frantically round the circle, in fruitless endeavors to escape between the horses; and Gerald, piercing it with his long spear to oppose its retreat, it turned suddenly round, and, striking out backwards with its powerful leg, inflicted such a blow on the horse he was riding, that it staggered and fell.
Alarmed at the accident, the hunters all rode up to assist Gerald; and the wounded emu profited by the opportunity, and effected a retreat to its companions, to the great vexation of the sanguine young men. They soon raised the horse and his rider. Gerald had escaped unhurt; but the horse was so bruised by the kick of the powerful creature, that Arthur saw with consternation that their journey must be delayed some time, till it recovered from the blow; if, indeed, it was not rendered entirely incapable of further service.
Mortified and dejected, the discomfited hunters returned to the encampment, where they were received by Mr. Mayburn with a lesson on humanity to animals, by Margaret with friendly raillery, and by Jenny with ill-repressed murmurs; but all were grieved at the sufferings of the poor horse.
"That beast must just lie where he is for one day, however," said Wilkins; "and I question whether that'll sarve to mend a bad job. I say, some of ye slips of lads, run up them trees, and take a look round, to see if t' coast's clear."
It was at once employment and amusement for the active boys, Hugh and Gerald, to climb two tall fig-trees that grew in front of the wood, and scan the wide scene around.
"Now, sentinels," cried Margaret from below, "please to report what you have observed."
"I can see our little rivulet," said Hugh, "winding like a silver thread over the plains to the south-east, even to the very horizon, where a gray line terminates the view. That may be the hem of the large river Arthur has planned."
"I say, Arthur, come up," cried Gerald; "I want you to look at a dark mass far away north. I could almost fancy I saw it moving."
Arthur was soon by his side, and, after examining the object pointed out, he said with a sigh, "You are right, Gerald, it does move; and I fear we are pursued at this unlucky moment, when we cannot, I fear, continue our flight. You, boys, remain to watch, while I descend to hold a council about our perilous situation."
"Hand us up the guns, then, Arthur," answered Gerald, "and see if we will not guard the pass. Not a single rogue shall advance, but we will mark him and bring him down from our watch-tower."
"That plan will not do, Gerald," said Arthur. "Your office is to watch, and, as soon as you can, to ascertain their strength."
Then the distressed youth descended to report his lamentable tidings to the tranquil party below, and great was the dismay felt by the timid.
"We might send off master and Miss Margaret," said Jack. "What think you of that, Mr. Arthur? We could hold out here a good bit, to let them have a good start down south; and then, if God helped us, we might get after them."
"Margaret, what do you say to this plan?" asked Mr. Mayburn. "There is Davy, who seems honest, could we not trust him to conduct us and our two poor women to our friends the Deverells?"
"It must not be so, dear papa," answered Margaret; "we must live or die together. Think how unhappy we should be to leave them exposed to dangers for our sakes. But could we not hide in this thick wood? It might be that the pursuers would not discover us."
"But the trail, Margaret," answered Arthur,—"the trail would betray us. Is there any mode left us to escape, do you think, Wilkins?"
"Ay, ay, Mr. Arthur, ye fancy it's best to set one rogue to cheat another," replied Wilkins. "Keep up your heart, Miss; I'se thinking we can lead 'em on a wrong scent yet."
The wood behind them spread for a considerable way along the side of the rivulet, from which it was about a hundred yards distant. The opposite banks were hemmed up to the water with a broad growth of reeds, beyond which lay a vast entangled scrub.
"We'll see if we cannot manage to send 'em ower yonder," continued Wilkins, pointing to the opposite side; "so bring t' horses here, and come along wi' ye."
By the orders of Wilkins the men mounted the five sound horses, having first led the lame one, with Margaret, Mr. Mayburn, and the women, into the intricacies of the wood, and left them, carefully arranging the bush, so that no trail could be seen. Then the horsemen, making a broad track, by riding abreast, proceeded to the shallow rivulet, crossed it, and breaking down the reeds before them, forced a pass to the scrub. Here it was unnecessary to proceed, as on the brush-covered ground it was easy to suppose the trail might be lost; they therefore returned, carefully retracing their steps to the river, and riding the horses in the water about a hundred yards down the stream, from which, at distant intervals, they brought them up singly to the wood, obliterating the trail with scrupulous care; and, finally, through several convenient openings, they introduced them into the heart of the wood, where a small grassy spot enabled them to leave the animals to graze, after carefully securing them. Here all the party assembled, to wait the event, except the three boys, who, taking guns and bows, returned to the fig-trees from whence they had first perceived the pursuers, re-ascended, and concealed themselves in the thick foliage, to watch the foe, and, if necessary, to defend the fortress.
The pursuers were now plainly visible, and the watchers discovered that the party consisted of the bush-rangers, driving before them a herd of cattle, and accompanied by a band of the natives. The procession certainly formed an imposing body, but the men were on foot, and must necessarily proceed slowly with the cattle; and if all the horses had been fit for the road, Arthur saw they might easily have escaped pursuit, and he bitterly regretted the imprudent and unprofitable chase of the emu. He now considered that the most advisable plan would be, if possible, to allow the men to pass, and then to follow them.
Every moment increased the anxiety of the young sentinels, who were scarcely able to speak for agitation. At last Hugh said,—
"Isn't it a capital chance for us, Arthur, that the great drove of cattle are before the keen-eyed rangers? They will trample down our trail effectually."
This was certainly an advantage to the fugitives, especially as they remarked the cattle followed the exact track they had made. They were now able to distinguish the powerful figure of Black Peter, who was accompanied by the three strange bush-rangers whom Jack had met with him, and followed by about fifty of the natives whom they had seen with Bill the convict. These men were painted white, as if for battle, and were armed with spears and boomerangs; but Bill was not with them,—a circumstance that gave great satisfaction to Arthur, for the sake of poor David.
The whole body drew up beneath the very trees in which the young men were hidden; and whilst the cattle plunged into the river with great enjoyment, Peter was examining the trail which led to the water, and had been purposely made to mislead them. He then pointed out to his companions the broken reeds on the opposite bank, and after pouring out a volley of curses, he said,—
"They've crossed here, and not very long sin', that's clear. We're close at their heels, and we mustn't bide long dawdling here; and, Jem, see ye keep that brandy out of t' way of them black and white bugaboos, or we'se have 'em, when their blood's up, knocking out our brains, and we haven't a gun left to learn 'em manners with. Let me lay hold on my gun again, and t' first job I'll put it to will be to shoot every soul of them sneaking, preaching thieves but t' girl, and I'll set her up as a bush-ranger's jin. She's mine by right, sure enough, now that I've put an end to t' palavering of that sneaking fool Bill."
"But, Peter, man," was the answer of one of the men, "I fancy them black fellows didn't half like yer putting a knife into their leader; and down t' country folks would call it a murder."
"It saved Government a good rope," said Peter, "for that was his due. He was a bigger rogue than me, and that's saying a deal."
The fearful oaths that these abandoned men mingled with their conversation perfectly appalled the listening boys, and they felt great relief when they rose; and each drinking a cup of brandy, Peter said,—
"Now come on, and let's get our work done. Them fools will be forced to slacken their pace soon, for the beasts will never hold out over yon scrub; and when we've got our guns and horses, and made an end of the lot of thieves, we'll push on and see if we can't do a stroke of business among any new squatters."
Then the man made a speech to his black troop, in their own language, which seemed to give them pleasure, for they danced and clashed their spears, and started up to continue their route. Thankfully the watchers saw the wretches cross the river, and fall into the snare of continuing over the scrub; but they did not venture to descend for half an hour, when they had lost sight of the rangers, and concluded they must be separated by a distance which rendered them safe.
"What rascals!" exclaimed Gerald. "It was well I had not one of the guns, Arthur; I don't think I could have helped shooting Black Peter, when he boasted that he had murdered Bill. I think I had a right."
"No you hadn't, Gerald," said Hugh. "It would not have been English justice. The worst criminal has a right to a trial by jury. What do you say, Arthur?"
"We should have some trouble in summoning a jury here, Hugh," answered Arthur; "nevertheless, I should not have liked to take on myself the office of executioner. Besides, you must remember, such an act would have brought destruction on ourselves, and on all who depend on us. God will bring the villain to justice."
The boys made their way through the thick wood till they reached the little glade where their anxious friends were watching for them.
"All right!" cried Gerald; "we need not call over the roll. Now you must all be content to form the rear-guard of the bush-rangers. I suppose, Arthur, there is no need to hurry; we are not particularly desirous to overtake the rogues."
"But, my dear boys!" exclaimed Mr. Mayburn; "Arthur, do you speak. Is it safe to venture from this quiet retreat yet? Consider these lawless men might, at any moment, turn round; and it seems they would not scruple to commit murder."
"Was Bill with 'em, sir?" asked David, looking very much ashamed.
With much kindness and consideration, Arthur gently broke to the poor lad the melancholy fate of his vile brother; and David shed many tears for the unhappy convict.
"I were auld enough to have known better, sir," said he; "he couldn't have gettin' me into bad ways, if I'd thought on my prayers and turned again' him; and if I'd held out, things mightn't have turned out so bad wi' him. Them that lets themselves be 'ticed to do bad deeds, is worse nor them that 'tices 'em. God forgive me for niver speaking out like a man to poor Bill!"
Margaret spoke kindly to the sorrowful man, showing him the fearful warning sent in this sad catastrophe, and beseeching him never to forget it; but to pray continually that he might be kept strictly in the right path.
Wilkins was much shocked at the violent death of the convict; but, nevertheless, he whispered to Jenny, "He's well ta'en out of t' way; for he were a bigger scoundrel nor Peter hisself, for all his grand rigmarole talk."
As the lame horse was unfit for work yet, it was led after the rest; and Arthur, who chose to walk, selected David for his companion, and took the opportunity, while he consoled him under his heavy affliction, to direct his softened heart to good and holy aspirations. They continued their journey along the right bank of the rivulet; the country being more fertile, and the grassy plains more favorable for the horses than among the brushwood.
For three days they proceeded undisturbed, and with revived hopes. Then the scenery became still more beautiful; the ground was covered with lofty trees, on which already the young buds were forming. These trees were tenanted by thousands of lovely birds; and their cheerful notes enlivened the solitude. In the distance before them rose a pile of scattered rocky mountains, which, as they drew nearer, they saw were covered with brushwood, and might have formed a barrier to their path, but they seemed to be pierced by innumerable narrow winding gorges.
"We must proceed with great caution and watchfulness here," said Arthur; "for it is not improbable that we may have fallen unhappily upon the track of our enemies, and we must have gained ground on them, now that we are all mounted again. We must be careful to avoid an encounter among these perplexing mountains."
"We have two guns," said Gerald, "and we should have no difficulty in keeping one of these narrow passes against the whole undisciplined gang; then we could have our bowmen hid in the brushwood above, to shower down destruction on the foe. It is a grand spot for a skirmish!"
"God forbid that we should be called on to make this lovely solitude a field of blood!" said Mr. Mayburn. "How dare proud and disobedient man profane the sanctity of Nature, and desecrate her grand and marvellous works. Does not the contemplation of these mighty mountains, spreading as far as the eye can reach, broken into fantastic forms, and apparently inaccessible and impassable, startle and humiliate the presuming pride of fallen man?"