One idea uppermost in Nic's mind was that he must go and warn Frank
Mayne that his father was back, that the governor was at the station
with two men, that--as he had since heard--a party of mounted police
were coming up to scour the country for escaped convicts, and of course
they would search for him as well.
But how to warn him and tell him that he was sure Brookes must have been
always watching, and knew pretty nearly if not surely of his
hiding-place?
Nic felt that he could not go to the cavern tunnel, nor even approach
it. Brookes would for certain be on the look-out, and the trouble would
be made worse.
The governor had said that Nic should have a week for consideration, and
three days glided by rapidly without an allusion being made by the
doctor, who took Sir John about with him for long rides, and in every
way expressed his satisfaction at the state of affairs about the
station.
"You've done wonders, Nic," he said; but the boy felt no better. There
was that sensation of being half guilty always to the front, and there
were times when he felt as if he would rather the seven days had come to
an end, the subject been broached again, and the horrible suspense over.
"I can't do anything," he said to himself. "It is like going more and
more against father's orders to warn poor Frank; but what can I do?"
It was the evening of the fourth day, and as Nic was hanging about the
garden outside the fence, listening to Lady O'Hara's cheery voice and
his sister's answers, while the governor and Doctor and Mrs Braydon
were seated in the sunlit verandah, Janet suddenly stood before him.
"Nic," she said in a low voice, and her face was very pale, "you and I
are both sorry for that poor fellow Leather?"
"Yes."
"Lady O'Hara has been telling me that there will be a party of mounted
police here to-morrow on purpose to hunt down escaped convicts."
"So soon?" said Nic excitedly.
"Yes; perhaps sooner. You know where this man is hiding?"
Nic was silent.
"You need not tell me--I feel sure you do. Ought he not to be told, so
that he may escape?"
"Yes," said Nic; "but if I try to warn him I shall be followed, and the
way into his hiding-place found out."
"Janet!"
"Yes."
"Here: Lady O'Hara wants you."
"I must go," whispered Janet hastily. "Pray do something, Nic. It
would be too horrible for that poor fellow to be hunted down."
Janet hurried away.
"Do something, when I cannot stir without feeling that Brookes and these
two men of Sir John's are watching me!"
Then a thought occurred, and the boy lounged leisurely about to where
the dogs were playing, with the blacks looking on; and watching his
opportunity he crept up close to Bungarolo.
"Look here, Bung," he said in a low voice.
The black turned round and stared.
"No, no: look at the dogs," said Nic.
"What for mine look at dogs? White Nic going hit mine in back."
"I'm not going to hit you," said Nic hurriedly.
"Kick mine. This fellow pidney."
"Nonsense! Look here. You know where Leather is."
"No pidney--no pidney."
"I say you do," said Nic sternly. "Now look here. You go to him
to-night and tell him that the white police fellows are coming to hunt
him out. You pidney?"
"Yes, Bungarolo pidney."
"Tell him he is to go right away and hide till the police fellows are
gone."
"Bungarolo pidney. Mine tell Leather fellow jump right away, and police
fellow baal find."
"That's right. Go as soon as it's dark."
"You come along see?"
"No, I won't watch you."
The black nodded, and then laughed at some antics performed by the dogs,
while Nic walked away feeling more comfortable in his own mind than he
had since his father had returned--though that did not mean much.
He was fully on the _qui vive_, and several times went out into the
dark, still night to listen for the tramp of horses, but the police did
not come, and he went to bed to dream of Leather being shot down in the
bush because he would not surrender.
The next morning, as soon as he was up, Nic went to look for his black
messenger, but he was missing, and the other two blacks professed
ignorance of his whereabouts.
"He has gone and not come back," thought Nic; and he felt hopeful that,
knowing his danger, the convict would escape right away along the gorge,
and hide in some far-away fastness where he would be safe. But about
the middle of the morning, to the boy's horror, he saw Bungarolo come
crawling up to the station driving a flock of sheep.
Nic hurried up to him.
"Did you go and tell Leather?" he whispered.
"No go tell Leather fellow. Leather say mine come nigh get mumkull."
"But I told you to go!"
"Leather mumkull Bungarolo. Mine not want mumkull."
Nic uttered a low groan.
"Brooky look at mine. Come along, see where mine go. Doctor tell mine
fetch sheep fellow. Mine go fetch sheep fellow."
"It's of no use--I must go," said Nic to himself; and then, casting
aside all hesitation, he started off at once straight for the fern
gully, crossed the bridge, and then made a sharp turn off to the right
along another path and down by the little river, where, upon reaching
the clump of rough growth which bordered the pool where he had fished
that day, he suddenly crouched down in among the tree ferns and
listened.
There was cause for his suspicion.
He had not been hiding five minutes before he heard a rustling sound,
and directly after he caught sight of the barrel of a gun, which was
followed by the man who bore it.
There was no mistake. It was Brookes following him, to see which way he
went.
Nic's countenance grew dark as he waited, meaning to slip back; when, to
his surprise, Bungarolo suddenly crept into sight, following Brookes's
trail, and he too disappeared.
The boy did not understand this, but he knew enough. Brookes had gone
off on a wrong trail, and now was the time.
Running back, whenever he could do so unseen, Nic passed round the far
side of the house, and started right straight away across country, so as
to strike the side of the great gorge not far from the well-like tunnel
entrance.
It was a long, hot walk, for Nic felt it would be wise to take advantage
of every bit of cover whence he could look back to see if he were
watched. Then, satisfied that the coast was clear, he went on and
reached the dense belt which ran all along by the edge of the precipice,
feeling that a couple of hours' more walking would bring him to the
mouth of the cavern.
He would not be back before dark, he knew, even if he found the convict
directly; but he felt that perhaps he would not be questioned, and he
would have placed the fugitive upon his guard.
Nic went pretty boldly onward, till he came within a mile of the
opening, and then he sat down to rest and think.
He dared not now go straight to the place, as it was still possible that
he might be watched. For Brookes had been so long amongst the blacks
that he had picked up a great many of their habits, and for aught he
knew, the man might be tracking him still--in all probability was.
To meet this difficulty, then, Nic started again; but went away at a
right-angle, struck off again, and zigzagging here and there, he slowly
drew nearer and nearer to the opening.
The sun beat down heavily in the treeless parts, but Nic heeded it not.
He was anxious to reach the convict, give him a word of warning, and get
back as rapidly as possible, unseen; and how to do this exercised all
his thoughts.
Every now and then, as he crept along, stooping amidst the bushes, he
startled some wild creature--bird, reptile, or one of the numerous
kangaroo family--and, the animal darting away, Nic's heart throbbed with
satisfaction.
For it was a good sign: nobody had been there lately.
At last he was within a few hundred yards of the opening, and he took a
fresh curve so as to approach from the farther side, meaning to creep
among the rocks and drop down into the hole almost at a bound.
And now his excitement culminated, for in a few more minutes he would be
in the tunnel, and if fortune favoured him, would soon reach his friend,
warn him, and return in comparative peace.
He was congratulating himself upon having succeeded so well, when he
suddenly stopped short, half stunned by the thought which struck him.
There was that long tunnel with its many forkings to descend, and he had
no light, neither the means of getting one, nor candle, nor wood.
He went on again with his teeth set fast. He would do it, he thought,
even in the dark, for it only meant keeping in the water and wading. He
must go right.
A hundred yards onward through the wilderness of rocks, trees, and
scrub; and he stopped short again, grasping his gun nervously, for he
fancied he had heard the crack as of a trampled-on piece of dead wood.
But there was no sound now save the hum of insects. The birds were
silent in that torrid midday.
"Fancy!" thought Nic, as he crept on again, stooping low and keeping a
watchful eye in every direction, till once more a chill of apprehension
ran through him, for there was a crackling, rustling noise.
He knew what it was: a twig bent back had sprung to its natural
position; but who had bent back that twig? was it he or some one
following his trail?
He listened, with every nerve on the strain, but there was no sound; and
after crouching low, perfectly still for some minutes, he felt convinced
that it was his own act: the twig had caught a leaf, been held by for a
minute or so, and then released.
"I wish I was not such a coward," thought Nic, as he once more started
off, satisfied now that he was close at hand, for he could just see the
piled-up rocks from beneath which the spring bubbled out.
And now, as more cautiously than ever he crept on, so as to get within
springing distance of the hole, he began to think of the long, deep,
cool drink in which he would indulge--for his throat felt dry, and he
was suffering from a parching, burning thirst.
Closer and closer and closer he crawled, now on hands and knees, with
his gun slung over his back--so near that he had but to spring up and
take a few steps to be there, but holding back so as to preserve the
greatest caution to the very last.
In this way he reached to within five yards of the hole,--stretched out
a hand to press aside a frond of fern, and gave one good look round.
He did so, and held on as if paralysed, feeling as if he were dreaming
of being back on board the _Northumbrian_ on his voyage out, and
watching the convicts having their daily airing.
For there, just in front of him, and one on either side of the hole,
half hidden by clumps of fern, crouched, like a couple of terriers
watching a rat-hole, two of the convicts whom he had forgotten, but
whose features and peculiarities were once more filling his brain.
Yes, there they were; he did not remember their numbers, but their
features were clear enough: those of the pitiful, hang-dog,
pleading-looking convict, whom he had set down as a sneak; and the
good-humoured, snub-nosed, common scoundrel who had amused himself by
making grimaces whenever he encountered his eye.
But that which startled Nic the most was the fact that they were
inimical to the tenant of the cavern, for, as they watched so intently
that they had not heard the boy's approach, each man held a native war
club or nulla-nulla--poised ready to strike the poor fellow who raised
his head above the edge of the hole, and a blow from one of those clubs
meant death.
For some moments Nic felt too much stunned to even think, while the
silence and the rigid motionless position of the two men before him
added to the idea that it might be after all imagination.
Then all at once one of the men showed him that it was no fancy, for he
raised his eyes looked across at his companion, and made a mocking
grimace, just as he had been wont to do on shipboard, getting as answer
a deprecating shake of the head.
And what did it mean? Death to Frank Mayne as he came up. For it was
easy to see these were two of the convicts who had escaped. They were
to blame for the missing sheep, and they must have seen and tracked
Mayne to his hiding-place and meant his death.
This last was hard to comprehend, for why should one escaped convict
wish to injure another? But Nic had no time for arguing out problems.
The men intended harm to his friend, and it was his duty to try and save
him. He had his gun, and if he could only hear Frank Mayne coming, a
shout of warning would send him back.
But that gun: he wanted it for his own protection as well; and a shudder
of horror ran through him as at that moment he again recalled the deck
of the ship, with the convicts marching round and round, the soldiers
resting upon their muskets, the stern-looking warders with their
cutlasses, and that other man with the lowered, restless eyes and
savage, wild-beast aspect, who passed him by from time to time looking
ready for any evil deed.
How well Nic remembered now, and the old warder's words! and the cold
shiver ran through him once again.
For suppose that wretch had escaped as well, and was lurking about free
so near the Bluff? The idea was horrible, and but for Frank Mayne's
sake Nic would have gloried in seeing the mounted police at hand.
But that gun! How could he have been so idiotic as to sling it across
his shoulder just where he could not get at it without making some
rustling sound!
Still it must be done, and he very softly drew his fingers toward the
buckle at his breast, meaning to undo the strap instead of drawing it
over his head. He kept his eyes fixed upon the men as they still
watched that hole waiting for their prey. The nulla-nullas were
balanced in their hands, and moment by moment, as his fingers busied
themselves over the tongue of that buckle, which would not yield, Nic
expected to see Frank Mayne's head rise above the surface by the moist
mossy sides. The water bubbled and gurgled, the insects hummed
overhead, and that tongue would not yield till he put more pressure on,
and then, with a sudden rush, it was loose.
The two men sprang up quickly, and Nic was in the act of rising too,
presenting the gun, when there was a quick rustle, and a tremendous load
fell across his back, driving him forward; the gun went off, and the boy
was wrenched round and over upon his back, with a man's hands at his
throat, heavy knees upon his chest, and the horribly savage eyes of the
ruffian of whom he had been thinking a minute before glaring into his.
"Hooroar!" cried the droll-looking convict, pouncing upon the gun and
dragging it from Nic's hand; "just the little tool I wanted! Where's
its bread and cheese, mate? Why, deary me, if it ain't the little chap
as used to look at us aboard the ship! How do 'ee do, mate?"
He made a droll grimace, with his tongue in his cheek; but he turned
serious directly, as the savage convict roared at him:
"Look round, you fool! See if any one's coming."
The other two were startled for a moment, and looked round wildly. Then
there was another grimace.
"There ain't no one to be coming. Our bunny won't show out of his hole
after hearing that row; so you won't have no chance of knocking him on
the head to-day, mate. Here, I say, don't choke all the life out of the
boy."
"What!" growled the ruffian. "Why, I'll cut his very heart out if he
don't speak. Here, how many's along with you?"
Nic made no answer, and the ruffian drew out a knife.
"Did you hear what I said?" he croaked, in a low, guttural tone. "Who's
along with you?"
"Don't kill him," said the other fellow, with his smooth aspect gone.
"It's murder. Take him to the edge yonder, and let him fall over by
accident."
"Yah!" cried the other man, making a grimace: "let him be. Here, young
un, they won't hurt yer. You and me's old friends. But you must oblige
me with them shoes, and that there nice warm jacket and clean shirt.
Tain't had one for weeks. And I'll just trouble you for the powder and
shot. Let him get up, mate. He won't try to run, because he knows I
should have to wipe his head with this little nutcracker. Why don't you
let him get up?--Yah! Quick! Look out!"
As the man spoke he swung round the gun and took aim at a figure which
came rushing up. He drew trigger, but the hammer struck out a few
sparks--that was all, for he had forgotten that it was not loaded.
What followed was very quickly done. Frank Mayne--for it was he--sprang
at the savage ruffian who was holding Nic, and struck at him sidewise
with the stout stick he held in his right hand. It did not seem much of
a blow, but he delivered it in leaping through the air, just as a
mounted soldier would direct a cut from his left.
The effect was wonderful: the man rolled over and over, and Nic sprang
up, free to gaze after Mayne as he sprang at the other man.
The scoundrel struck at him savagely, and Nic heard the blow take
effect. Then he had to fend for himself; for the man with the gun came
on.
"Here," he cried: "out with that powder and shot, or--"
He raised the piece with both hands by the barrel, and swung it back as
if to get force for a blow. But, boy as he was, Nic sprang at him.
"Give me my gun!" he cried, and he was too close in for the blow to have
any effect, as he seized the fellow by the throat and clung to him with
all his might.
But Nic's muscles were not yet hardened, and the man swung him round and
round just as he liked, the boy gradually growing weaker; while, as he
struggled, he saw with despair that Mayne was evidently getting the
worse of it, for the man he had attacked partially disabled him at the
first blow, and had now got his hand free and was striking brutally with
the club.
Mayne evidently felt that he was beaten, but he clung to his adversary
tenaciously, bore him backward with his hands fast at his throat, and,
bending down his head to avoid the savage blows, he leaped forward so
that he and the convict fell, the latter undermost.
"Joe, mate--quick!" roared the latter; and the big ruffian, who had now
risen to his feet, stooped and picked up a piece of stone, raising it
with both hands to bring it down on Mayne's head.
"Leather!" yelled Nic; "look out--look out!"
"Surrender!" roared a stern voice which sounded familiar, and the man
with the stone paused for a moment to glance about like a wild beast.
Then, seeing that he was surrounded by mounted police, who covered those
present with their carbines, he hurled the stone with all force at the
nearest man and made a rush to escape, when there were three puffs of
smoke, three reports, and the convict tripped and fell.
Taking advantage of the smoke and excitement, Frank Mayne's adversary
struck at him once more, and made a leap to escape, dragging the
half-insensible assigned servant with him; but the grasp was too
tenacious, and though he tried hard, Mayne held on to the end; only
sinking back when a pair of handcuffs had secured the prisoner's hands
behind his back.
"Now then, you with the gun there, surrender!" shouted the man who led
the mounted police.
This to the convict who had confined his fighting to his struggle with
Nic.
"'Course I do," said the man, making a grimace. "That young shaver's
got all the powder and shot: where's the good of an empty gun? Here,
ketch 'old. No, I forgot; it's yourn, young un. Well, how are you
all?"
The police laughed as the man held out his hands for the irons.
"We've had a nice little 'scursion out here, only the nights was rather
cold. Well, Mr Government clerk, you won't have a chance to pull your
friend a topper now. How's old Joe? What, more company?"
This was accompanied by another distortion of the face, as two blacks
came running up, followed by the doctor, the governor, Brookes, and Sir
John's two men.
"Got them?" cried the governor.
"Yes, Sir John," said the leader of the police, whom Nic recognised now
as the chief warder whom he had talked with during the voyage out; "but
we had to shoot one of 'em down."
"Here, quick, 'fore he goes!" said Brookes to the warder, huskily.
"Handcuffs," and he pointed to Mayne.
"Eh? What? Him?" said the warder. "Why, he helped to take one of
'em."
"Yes," cried Nic; "he was fighting to save me."
"I surrender," said Mayne faintly; "I'm satisfied now. Dr Braydon, I
never told you I was an ill-used man, but did my work. Still, I told
your son. Dominic, lad, Heaven is just. That handcuffed hound is my
old fellow-clerk, for whose sins I have suffered all these years. There
are miracles in life, for it fell to me to take him when he was
escaping."
"After he had watched to take your life!" cried Nic. "He was waiting,
you know where? There, Sir John--father, will you believe it now?"
The doctor had been kneeling by the fallen convict, roughly bandaging a
bullet wound when, as he turned to rise, Frank Mayne struck him aside,
and flung himself upon the wounded man.
The doctor turned fiercely upon Mayne, but the next moment he grasped
the truth, just as a blow from the butt end of a musket struck the
ruffian back; for as soon as the wound had been bandaged, the man had
waited an opportunity to draw a knife and strike at him who had tried to
assuage his pain.
In a short time the party was on its way back, the wounded convict borne
upon a roughly made stretcher, and Frank Mayne walking with the warder,
to Brookes's great disgust, for the doctor had said that he would answer
for his not attempting to escape.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day the police rode off with their prisoners, taking with them
a light waggon, in which the wounded convict was laid, Dr Braydon
having said that he was in no danger. But Frank Mayne was not of the
party, for Sir John had heard the simple tale.
"And that man was your fellow-clerk in the government office? Yes, I
remember something about his coming out in the same ship as my wife. I
remember the case, because he was the second man charged with
embezzlement at this government office; and I remember, too, saying that
matters must be badly managed there."
"Yes, he was my fellow-clerk, Sir John," said Mayne. "He was found out
at last, but the time has seemed very long."
"And you say you were unjustly sentenced?"
"In Heaven's name, Sir John, I do. I was faithful to my trust."
"I believe you, Mayne," said the governor, looking at him keenly; "and
there shall be a thorough investigation of your case. In the meantime,
what I can do I will. You hear, Nic, for your sake as well as his,
Mayne is free to go anywhere in the colony, and I will see that justice
is done him in every way."
"Thank you, Sir John," said Mayne hoarsely; "it is more than I could
expect on my bare assertion."
"Some bare assertions are better than oaths, eh, Braydon?" said Sir
John. "What do you say?"
"I say that I have much forgiveness to ask of Mr Mayne: I ask it now of
the man who saved my life."
There was silence for a few moments; for the doctor had held out his
hand to Mayne, who stood looking at it with his lips quivering.
"I am only your assigned servant, sir," he said at last.
"Not now," said the doctor. "I was offering my hand to a brave man who
has been misunderstood. I offer it, too, to my son's friend."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nic looked dull the next day, but he brightened up when his father
proposed that they should ride a part of the way with Mayne, who was
going to take some despatches to Government House, where for the present
he was to stay.
"You see, Nic, it will be better," the governor said. "The poor fellow
would be miserable here with his old fellow-servants. So I have
arranged for him to go and wait till I come. His story's true enough,
and I shall see that everything is done for him before he goes back to
England--to take his old position, I hope."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
But Frank Mayne had no such ideas. England was dead to him, and he was
content to stay. And to Nic's delight, his friend received a grant of
land some ten miles away, close to the great gorge, where the boy spent
all the time he could, watching the erection of the house by convict
labour; for in this Mayne was helped largely by Sir john, while the
doctor had become one of his firmest supporters.
Of course Frank Mayne had formed a very warm attachment to the lad, who
had believed in him from the first; but Lady O'Hara used to laugh and
joke, and say _she knew_, though she never said what it was she knew.
Time, however, gave the explanation, about two years later Mayne had
received a free pardon from his Majesty the King, "for suffering a great
deal and nearly being driven mad," as Nic said.
But Frank Mayne said he was very happy and quite content, and we need
not go into the causes of his content, especially since every one, from
Lady O'Hara and Mrs Braydon downwards, was in the same way of thinking.
"Besides, Mr Mayne, it was worth it all, sure," said Lady O'Hara
banteringly at the wedding. "Now don't you think so, Nic?"
"Of course I do?"
"Then that's right," cried the lady. "But tell me, Nic, how long is it
since I brought you out?"
"I don't know," said Nic.
"Too busy; but about three years. Look at that now, and him grown quite
a man."
"Yes," said the doctor, "farmer, cattle raiser, squatter."
"Yes," said Mayne, laying his hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder.
"One of the first in the field, and my true friend."