"Don't go too far, Nic," said Dr Braydon, a few mornings after the
boy's arrival at the Bluff.
"Oh no, father; only I must see what the place is like all round."
"Of course; I have no time to-day, or I'd take you for a ride round."
"But ought he to go alone?" said Mrs Braydon.
"He must learn to run alone, my dear," said the doctor. "We can't chain
him up like a dog."
"No," said Mrs Braydon, rather piteously; "but there are the
precipices."
"Nic has eyes in his head, and will not go and jump down there. He
can't very well fall by accident."
"The snakes, my dear."
"He must learn at once to keep a sharp look-out for them. I suppose
there were plenty of adders on the common at school?"
"Plenty, father."
"But the blacks, my dear. I have not got over that scare."
"They're gone, my dear. That man came back last night and said that he
saw them, and hid because he was afraid. The party hung about after the
waggon for about an hour, and then went right off across the river."
"But they may come back."
"Oh yes," said the doctor tenderly; "but don't be afraid. Nic will not
go very far--eh, boy?"
"Oh no, father; I'll really take care."
"And you will be very careful, my dear?"
"Of course he will," said the doctor.
"I will really, mother," said Nic. "I'll only go to-day and have a look
round."
"Shall we go with him and take care of him?" said Janet mischievously.
"Yes, I'll come," cried Hilda, exchanging glances with her sister, while
the doctor looked on quite amused, and waited for his son's reply.
"No, that you won't," cried Nic indignantly. "Just as if I were a
little boy! I know: you want to take me for a walk and each hold a
hand. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I begin to feel at home
in the place."
"Of course," said his father. "There, Nic, I'm going to trust to your
discretion. Of course the snakes are dangerous, and you must keep a
sharp look-out. You can take your gun with you."
Mrs Braydon started.
"Don't be alarmed, mamma. Nic can be trusted to carry a gun. It's of
no use to wince, my dear. Nic has come out here to grow into a man, and
he must begin to act like one. You'll be careful with the piece, of
course?"
"Yes, father: very."
"That's right. Now then, I'll tell you the great danger--one, however,
that you are not likely to fall into now, because you will not go far
enough--the danger is, being bushed."
"Being bushed, father? what's that?"
"Wandering into the bush and losing your way."
"But I'm not likely to do that, father."
"Old experienced colonists have been lost, Nic. I have myself."
"You have, my dear!" cried Mrs Braydon. "I never knew."
"No, I did not wish to alarm you," said the doctor quietly. "It was on
that occasion when I was a week away searching for stray cattle. You
remember now?"
"Yes, I remember now," said Mrs Braydon, turning pale. "There, don't
be alarmed now. Nic is not going anything like so far as the bush--not
much out of sight of the house. The danger is this, Nic: once a man
wanders into the scrub the trees and shrubs are all so much alike, the
hills and mountains so much the same, that the mind gets deceived and at
last confused. Then the country is so vast that, once he goes wrong, he
may wander on and on till he frightens his mother out of her wits and
makes his sisters cry," said the doctor merrily. "Now do you
understand?"
"Yes, quite, father. But I've got a pocket compass."
"Good! Learn to use it well."
"And I promise you, mother dear, that I will not go into the bush, or
anywhere to-day far from home."
"That's right, my boy," said the doctor. "Be off, then, and we shall
have a big meal at sundown. You are free till then."
"Thank you, father," cried Nic, whose veins throbbed with eager
anticipation of the pleasures to be enjoyed in what seemed to be the
first real holiday he had ever had. "You'll trust me too, mother, won't
you?"
"Yes, yes, my boy," cried Mrs Braydon.
"Of course she will," said the doctor. "Mamma has grown quite nervous
since she has had a fresh chicken to take care of: she makes more fuss
over you than she does over the girls."
"But they know the place better, my dear," pleaded Mrs Braydon.
"Nic will know it ten times better in a fortnight," said the doctor.
"Eh, Nic?"
"I'll try, father," cried the boy, laughing. "I'm not going to be
beaten by a couple of girls."
"Off with you, then!"
"Shall I take the dogs, father?"
"Yes. No: not to-day. I shall keep them chained up for another week,
to get them more used to the place. They may do what you will not do--
go astray."
Five minutes later Nic was waving his hand to his mother at the window
as he strode off, proud and elate, with his gun over his shoulder and
his shot belt across his breast, the powder flask peeping out of his
breast pocket--for in those days men had not dreamed of even percussion
guns, let alone breech-loaders and cart ridges ready to slip into the
piece.
"Nic!"
The boy turned to see his father mounted on his chestnut, and with a
stock whip in his hand.
"Which way are you going?"
"I want to try and find my way to the edge of the precipice, father, and
look down from the Bluff into the great gully."
"Very well. Straight away for a mile--north-west. Shoot any snakes you
see. They alarm your mother and sisters, and they are dangerous to the
dogs."
The doctor pressed his horse's sides, turned his head, and went off at a
canter, looking as if he had grown to its back, and Nic watched him in
admiration for a few minutes.
"I wish I could ride like that," he said to himself as he strode off
taking great breaths of the elastic air. "Well, father was a boy once,
and could not ride any better than I can. I shall try hard."
"Hah! how beautiful it all is!" he said softly, as he paused at the end
of a few minutes, to gaze right away; for he had reached an eminence in
the park-like land from which he could see, fold upon fold, wave upon
wave, the far stretching range of the Blue Mountains.
"And they are blue," he cried aloud, "and blue and lavender and
amethyst; but I suppose when one got up to them they would look green
and grey and gravelly red. It's the distance, I suppose."
He was quite right: the lovely hues came from seeing the mountains in
the distance through the layers of pure air; and after satiating himself
for the moment, he strode on, keeping a sharp look-out for snakes and
for the animals he was most anxious to see--kangaroos.
But he could only see sheep dotted about in plenty, and farther afield
ruddy-looking oxen grazing on the rich grass, and after a time he began
to feel a little disappointed, for, let alone wild animals, he did not
see so much as a bird.
He kept on, though, with his eyes wandering in all directions, calling
to mind all the different creatures which inhabited the land, and making
up his mind that his next walk should be along the riverside.
"There'll be birds in plenty there, and fish; and I may see the curious
otter rat sort of thing, with its duck-like bill. If I could only find
its nest of eggs!"
He laughed at the absurdity, as it seemed to him, of an animal having so
strange a nature, and then began noting how different the trees were
from those at home, so many being covered with a greyish-green and pinky
foliage, while others seemed to have their leaves stuck on edgewise
instead of lying flat, the consequence being that the shade they gave
was rather thin.
"A mile north-west," he thought: "I must have come as far as that, but I
can see no precipices--only a hill or two yonder. There are some sheep
grazing, though, over there. Father's, of course. What a lot he must
have!"
He went on in the supposed direction for another five minutes, noticing
that the trees were closer together, and that there was more
undergrowth, amongst which the creamy-fleeced sheep were wandering; and
before entering this undergrowth he took a look round and behind to see
that his way home was unmistakable.
"That can't be the bush," he said, with a laugh, as he threaded his way
among the trees, and directly after caught sight of a man walking slowly
along, evidently inspecting the sheep.
"Hi! Ahoy!" cried Nic; and the man turned. "Why, it's Leather!"
He started off at a trot to join the man, who stood stock still awaiting
his approach.
"'Morning, Mr Leather," he cried, as he joined the man, who faced him
with his brows knit, and a bitter, sour look in his countenance, as he
said morosely:
"'Morning, sir. My name's not Leather."
"Oh! I beg your pardon."
The man laughed unpleasantly, and Nic felt an involuntary dislike to
him.
"But I heard them call you Leather."
"Leatherhead generally," said the man roughly: "because I'm such a
fool."
"Then it's a nickname," cried the boy, thinking instantly of his own
annoyance at school. "I say, I'm very sorry: I didn't know. What is
your name?"
"Call me the same as the others do," said the man roughly. "Leather
will do."
"Oh, but I should be sorry to say anything to hurt you."
"I'm used to it, young gentleman. Well, what is it? Does your father
want me?"
"Oh no: I'm having a walk to see the country. I want to find the
Bluff."
"You are on the Bluff," said the man, in his surly tones.
"Oh yes, I know. The whole place is called the Bluff. But I mean where
you can stand on the edge and look down into a great gap thousands of
feet deep."
"Look round."
Nic looked about him, and then back at the bitter-countenanced man.
"What am I to look at?"
"Can't you see the edge of the Bluff?"
The man took a few paces, winding among the low growth, and Nic followed
him, to start back directly in alarm.
"Nothing to mind," said the man; but Nic did not see the freedom from
danger, and he involuntarily caught hold of a handful of twigs at the
top of the nearest bush to steady himself, as he gazed away down into a
mighty valley whose sides looked to be sheer and whose bottom was
thousands of feet below. It was like looking down into an open country
shut in by a perpendicular wall of mountains where a glittering river
ran, and the trees were dwarfed into tiny shrubs, while patches of
forest looked like tufts of grass. The colours were glorious; but for
the moment the boy felt nothing but that breathless, shrinking sensation
which attacks some people upon a height; and he said huskily:
"How horrible!"
"Yes," said the man gloomily. "Right: how horrible!" and he scowled
down at the vast depression.
"No, no," cried Nic excitedly. "How lovely--glorious--grand!"
"No," said the man, without turning his head; "how horrible!"
"Oh no," cried Nic again. "I did not mean it. I was startled. It
looks so deep. How do you get down?"
"Step over the edge and fall," said the man bitterly.
"What?"
"One good step and down you would go, and be out of your misery."
"Oh, nonsense," cried Nic. "It's wonderful. Show me the way to go
down."
"What, go first?"
"Yes."
The man uttered a strange laugh which made Nic shudder; but he mastered
his shrinking and said: "Tell me: which is the proper way down?"
"They say there is no way down."
"What! is it so dangerous?"
"Yes."
"Do you mean to tell me that we could not get down to that beautiful
place below?"
"The regular way is to go as the sheep and cattle do sometimes. They
get grazing too close, and slip and fall. Most of them are killed, but
some fall from shelf to shelf and get over it. Look!"
He caught Nic by the shoulder, roughly pressed him nearer the edge, and
pointed with one hand.
Nic's heart began to beat heavily, but he drew a deep breath and would
not shrink.
"Well?" he said, after a pause. "I'm looking. What at?"
"Can't you see sheep down below, and quite a drove of bullocks?"
"No," said Nic: "my eyes are not used to it--yours are."
"Yes, mine are," said the man. "Those were your father's cattle and
sheep, and some of Dillon's from the next station, and other people's
from farther still; and now they belong to nature. Don't you think your
father is a fool to come and live where he loses his stock down a trap
like that?"
"No, I don't," said Nic haughtily, for the man repelled him. "I think
he was very wise to come and live in the most beautiful place I ever
saw."
"I don't," said the man, laughing curiously, as if it hurt him and gave
him pain. "I think the place hideous. Well, you want to go down," he
continued, tightening his grip and showing his teeth as he thrust Nic
forward. "There, I have only to give you one push and down you go; but
you wouldn't see anything when you got down."
"Because it would kill me," said Nic quietly.
"Yes; and your old man would set us all to hunt for you, and one of the
blacks would make you out at last, lying right at the bottom."
"And fetch me up," said Nic, without flinching, but with the cold
perspiration standing out on his forehead and in the palms of his hands.
"No, even they couldn't get down to you; and your father would come
every day with his glass to watch you till the birds and the ants had
left nothing but your bones to whiten there, as the bones of bullocks
have before now. Well, shall I throw you down? You asked me to show
you the way."
"No, thank you," said Nic quietly.
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because you, a strong man, wouldn't be so murderous. And because I
never did you any harm."
"No," said the man, drawing him back from the brink, and looking him
full in the eyes, with the half-savage glare passing out of his own to
give place to an air of profound melancholy. "No, I wouldn't do you any
harm, sir. You're a brave lad."
"No, I'm not," said Nic, letting himself sink back on the sunny herbage,
for he felt sick and giddy. "It was horrible: it made me turn faint.
Why did you do that?"
He spoke now in indignant anger.
"Because I was a brute," said the man hoarsely. "They've made me a
brute. I thought I would try you and see what was in you. There, go
back home and tell them," he cried, with his voice growing intensely
bitter; "and you can have the pleasure of seeing me flogged."
"What!" cried Nic, forgetting his own feelings in seeing the way the man
was moved. "You--flogged--for playing that foolish trick!"
"Yes; foolish trick, my lad. But there, now you've come home, keep away
from me. You've a deal to learn yet."
"Well, you own it was foolish," said Nic, for want of something better
to say.
"Yes, a piece of madness, my lad. You said you begged my pardon a bit
ago. I beg yours now."
"Of course. There, it's all right," cried Nic. "But don't you think I
should go and tell tales. My father would, of course, be put out,--but
flog you! He doesn't look the sort of man to flog his people, does he?"
The man looked at him curiously. Then, drawing back sharply, his manner
changed, and he began to look sullen, as he said in a morose voice:
"Didn't your father say anything to you about me?"
"No."
"Didn't he tell you what I was, sir?"
"No," said Nic, with's suspicion now dawning on his mind. "You are his
stock man, are you not?"
"Stock man? No: Brookes is his stock man. There--keep away from me, my
lad."
"Why?" said Nic.
"Because I'm only a sort of two-legged animal, a machine to do your
father's work. I thought you knew."
"That you are--"
Nic stopped short.
"Yes, my lad--a convict, sent out of my country for my country's good."
"I know now," cried Nic eagerly. "I've heard--I was told on board. You
are sent up the country for good behaviour. Then you are my father's
assigned servant?"
The man stood looking down at him for a moment or two with his face full
of wrinkles. Then he turned quickly and walked hurriedly away, never
once looking back as Nic watched him till he was out of sight.
Then the boy shuddered.
"How horrible!" he thought. "He might have thrown me down. No, it was
only a mad trick. But what a man to have about the place! I ought to
have bullied him well; but I can't go near him again. I wish I had not
shown the white feather so."
Ten minutes later Nic had forgotten his adventure, as he lay there upon
his chest close to the edge, gazing down from the Bluff into the
tremendous gully, rapt in amazement by its wonders, fascinated by its
beauties. He stayed for hours tracing the river, and as his eyes grew
more accustomed to the depth he made out the animals grazing below and
looking like ants.
"Yes, it is glorious!" he said at last; and he turned his head to look
around and rest his eyes upon the green on the other side, when he felt
as if turned to stone. He had escaped one danger, and another seemed to
have sprung up, for peering out at him from a dense patch of grass was a
black face with glittering eyes and a surrounding of shaggy hair, while
the gun was lying between them, and just beyond his reach.