Nic found the next day that in their tiny world of the Bluff there were
others sufficiently interested in the convict's fate to have been making
inquiries about the proceedings instituted by Mr Dillon; for on going
round the place in the fresh early morning to see how the live stock was
getting on, the first person he met was old Sam, who saluted him with
one of his ugly smiles, and a chuckle like that of a laughing jackass--
of course the bird.
"They didn't ketch him, Master Nic," he cried.
"Why, you ought to be vexed, Sam," replied the boy.
"Yes, I know that, sir; but I ain't. I don't like Leather 'cause he's a
convict, and it ain't nice for honest men to have them sort for
fellow-servants. But I don't want him ketched and flogged. Not me."
"But will they catch him, do you think, Sam?"
"Ah, that's what nobody can say. Most likely yes, because if the dogs
get on his scent they'll run him down."
"But the rain?"
"Ay, that's in his favour, sir. But, then, there's another thing: the
blacks will be set to work again."
"But they can't scent him out."
"Nay; but they can smell him out with their eyes and run him down.
Bound to say, if I set our three to work, they'd find the poor lad."
"They are very keen and observant."
"Keen, Master Nic? Ay! It's a many years now since I shaved; but if I
took to it again I shouldn't use rayshors, sir, but blackfellows' sight.
Steel's nowhere to it."
"But how do you know they didn't catch him?"
"I sent Damper and Rigar to see the fun, and they came back to me
grinning, and told me."
"But did Mr Dillon set his blacks to work tracking?"
"Ay, that he did; but it strikes me they didn't want to find the poor
chap. It's like this, you see, Master Nic. Yes'day morning, as soon as
our three found out, from Brooky's face looking like a bit o' unbaked
damper, and his tied-up head, that he'd been having it, they asked me
how it was, and I told 'em. Next minute I goes into the cow-shed to see
what the noise was, and them three chaps--for they're just like little
children--there they were, with jyned hands, having a crobbery sort o'
dance."
"Why?"
"Why, sir? Just because they were precious glad that Brooky had found
his master. They didn't say so, but I knew. You don't suppose, because
a chap's face is black, he likes to be hit with sticks, and kicked, and
sneered at. They're little children in big black bodies, master; but
they like the man who shares his damper and mutton with 'em and never
gives 'em a dirty word a deal better than him as treats 'em as if they
was kangaroos."
"Of course, Sam."
"They get their likes same as little children do. The lazy black
rascals!" continued the old man, grinning; "they always want to be at
play, and I give it 'em well sometimes, but they know they deserve it;
and, after all, they'd do anything for me, Master Nic, and so they would
for you."
"Oh, I've done nothing to please them, Sam."
"Oh yes you have, Master Nic, often; and just you look here--they didn't
show their white teeth for nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you, sir. They was along with Dillon's blackfellows yes'day
most o' the arternoon, and Dillon's blackfellows didn't find old
Leather."
"No; you said so before."
"Ay, I did, sir; but don't you see why they didn't hit out Leather's
track?"
"Because the rain had washed it away."
"Nay!" cried Sam, with a long-drawn, peculiar utterance; "because our
fellows wouldn't let 'em. They belongs to the same tribe."
"Ah!" cried Nic.
"That's it, sir. Our boys give 'em a hint, or else they'd ha' found him
fast enough."
"Then he'll escape!" cried Nic eagerly.
"Nay! There's no saying. Government's very purticlar about running a
pris'ner down. 'Bliged to be. Soon as it's reported as Leather's
jumped for the bush, some o' they mounted police'll be over, and they'll
bring blackfellows with 'em as don't know him and don't belong to our
boys' tribe, and they'll find him. 'Sides, there's black tribes in the
bush as'd take a delight in throwing spears at him. And then again,
how's a white man going to live? He ain't a black, as'll get fat on
grubs, and worms, and snakes, and lizzars, and beadles, when he can't
get wallabies and birds. But there, we shall see. I'm sorry he jumped
for the bush; but don't you go and think I want to see him caught and
flogged."
"I don't, Sam."
"Then you're right, Master Nic; on'y raally you mustn't keep me
a-talking here. I say, though," he whispered confidentially, and
chuckling with delight all the time, "Brooky won't enjy his wittles till
Leather is ketched."
"What do you mean?"
"He's going about, sir, in the most dreadfullest stoo. He walked over
in the night to the Wattles, and come back all of a tremble, and he's
got a loaded gun behind the wool-shed door, and another behind the
stable."
"Yes; I saw that, and wondered how it came there."
"He put it there, sir," chuckled the old man. "Just you watch him next
time you see him. He's just like a cocksparrer feeding, what keeps on
turning his head to right and then to left and all round, to see if
Leather's coming to pounce on him and leather him. The pore chap don't
know it, but he's sarving out Mister Brooky fine. There, now I must go,
sir, raally. One word, though: Brooky's doing nothing but grumble, and
look out for squalls, and the master away--not as that matters so much,
for the way in which you're a-steppin' into his shoes, sir, is raally
fine. But I want things to look to-rights when he comes back."