If Brookes suspected, he made no show, but went about his work watchful
and quiet as could be, Nic noting that he never went to perform the
simplest duty about the station without a gun, and always seeming to be
on the look-out for danger lurking behind bush, tree, or fence.
"He must feel that Leather is somewhere near at hand," thought Nic, "and
he'll betray him if he can."
The convict protested; but, after taking candles and going through the
cavern alone, Nic took him flour, tea, and sugar, and various other
things to make his solitary life more bearable.
"There, I'm very weak," the poor fellow said one day; "but these are the
only happy moments I have had for years, Nic. You have made me like a
boy again, and I feel as if I had begun to live a new life. But it is
too good to last, Nic. There is too much sunshine, and the storm and
flood will come. When does your father return?"
"Don't talk of him as if he were a storm," cried Nic.
"But you will have less liberty then."
"Oh, I don't know; I shall go on taking long rides round after the sheep
and cattle. I say, I never told you: we've lost two sheep during the
past fortnight."
"The blacks."
"That's what we all thought; but Bungarolo and the others are sure that
there have been no blackfellows in the neighbourhood. They went out for
two days afterwards, and came back and declared they had seen none. If
they had, of course I shouldn't be here. I think it's the dingoes,
though we found no skin or bones. Old Sam and I are going to take the
dogs and have a hunt. Let Rumble and Tumble run them to bay, and then
let loose Nibbler at them."
"Try it," said Leather laconically.
That day, in accordance with a promise, the convict took Nic for a long
walk through the open gorge, where the gum trees grew of gigantic size,
and on down the river for some miles, to where it spread out into a wide
lagoon, completely shut in by the forest, and with the borders fringed
by reeds and tall grasses, offering plenty of cover for them to
approach. The ducks were in abundance, and Leather laughingly spoke of
it as his larder where he fished for them, hiding among the reeds, and
sending a small fish sailing among them at the end of a line, with the
result that he often hooked one and drew it ashore for a meal.
But it was not to catch a shoal of ducks that they were come, the
convict cautiously leading the way to a broad extent of marshy ground,
from which the water had retired in consequence of the drought, and
here, upon their crawling up to the screen of reeds, Leather drew aside
for the boy to peer through to see pretty close at hand a flock of over
a hundred grey stork-like birds marching about gravely, and darting
their bills down sharply here and there at some fish or frog in a pool.
Others were standing on one leg, with the other and the long neck
regularly folded up, and the bill tucked neatly away among the feathers.
All seemed grave, calm, and deliberate, every motion being made in the
most solemn fashion, one of them the root of whose beak itched
scratching it with a claw in a gracefully zigzag mode.
They were fine tall birds, fully four feet in height, and of a beautiful
grey; but after kneeling in a damp place for about a quarter of an hour
Nic grew weary, and turned to look at the convict, who smiled, nodded,
and held up a finger, as much as to say, "Be patient."
"Things never do what you want at the right time," thought Nic; but
hardly had he mentally spoken when one of the storks farther off uttered
a peculiar cry like the low note of a cracked clarionet, and in an
instant the long-legged birds from all quarters came trooping up, some
of them helping their movements by extending their wings a little, till
all were collected in a rough kind of circle, one remaining almost
motionless in the middle of the ring.
A few more of the quaint trumpeted-out notes were heard, and these were
uttered by one of the cranes nearest to Nic, who could see the
scissors-like beak open, the bright eye, and the gay scarlet ear-lobes
of the solemn-looking bird, which drew itself up, took a look round in a
stately way, and then seemed to Nic to have gone mad; for it suddenly
began to dance and caper about, bowing and shaking its head to its
companions again and again before leaping in the air and coming down
upon its feet, to go through a series of the wildest gambols imaginable.
It waltzed, advanced, retreated, set to partners, skipped here and
there with wonderful activity, and began again.
Its actions were contagious, for the next minute fully a hundred of the
long-legged bipeds were capering about the marsh in a frantic dance,
snapping their bills, and evidently enjoying this ebullition of
fantastic gambols.
Nic would have roared with laughter had he not been afraid to send the
birds away and so end their game; and this went on for some minutes,
ending in a regular wild country dance peculiar to bird-land, after
which all was still. Some of the cranes rested on one leg, with a heel
projecting from beneath their tails, others stood still with their heads
cowered down between their shoulders, and the rest stalked solemnly
about, peering here and there in search of frogs or small fish, and it
was hard to imagine that these grave and reverent-looking grey signors
could ever have been guilty of such antics.
On some days Nic arrived late, and when the moon rose went opossum
shooting, the skins being prepared by the convict for a bed. One
evening he stayed late to be taken to see the lyre bird come dancing
down a green lane between dense casuarinas, to a favourable spot for
these beautiful creatures. And once he saw the peculiar bird, large as
a pheasant, spread its curious tail, dance, rattle its wings, and
indulge in a series of cries and calls--now it would be whistling, at
another time making a sound like the cracking of a whip, and at another
time justifying its native name of bullan-bullan.
Mayne had always some new natural history object to introduce to Nic,
throwing himself heart and soul into his pursuits, and announcing at
last that he had seen emus about in one particular spot, and saying he
was sure that there must be a nest.
Nic had longed to get specimens of the great dark green eggs, and he
heard the announcement with delight.
"Just what I wanted," he cried; "but I meant for us to explore the
cavern next time I came."
"If we soon find the nest, we shall have time to do some exploring as
well," replied Mayne; "so bring your candles, and I'll get some of the
bunya wood and dry it in the sun. It burns well, and it will help to
light up some of the dark parts. When will you come over?"
"Day after to-morrow."
"If your father has not returned," said the convict sadly.
"Well, if he does, on the next day. I say, don't look so downhearted.
You see that was all fancy about Brookes suspecting anything."
"I don't know," said the convict thoughtfully.
"I think I do," said Nic, laughing. "He has been as nervous as can be
for fear of your coming back to punish him for laying information about
you with Mr Dillon. If he felt that you were anywhere near, he would
soon go over to the Wattles again. Sam says you've gone right away a
hundred miles up in the myall scrub to join the Gunalong tribe, and
married and settled."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, he said we should never see you again. Good-bye."
The convict grasped his hand, and they parted at the mouth of the
cavern.
"Nic, my dear," said Mrs Braydon that night. "You will be obliged to
have some more shoes; those last have quite rotted away at the
stitching. You seem to be always wading and getting your feet wet. Do
be careful, my dear; it is so difficult to get anything new. Is all
well about the station?"
"Everything, mother, excepting the loss of those sheep. We must have a
dingo hunt. It won't do to lose any more before father comes home."
Mrs Braydon sighed.
"It seems so long since we have heard, my dear," she said. "If it were
not that I don't like to spare you, I would get you to ride over and see
how Sir John is getting on."
Nic thought he would like to go; but he, too, felt that it would not be
possible to leave home, and for more reasons than one.