In the morning, after the bath, Mark examined the night-line, but it was
untouched; nor was there a kangaroo in the wires they had set up in
their runs. Poling the raft out to the trimmers they found a jack of
about two pounds on one, and the bait on another had been carried off,
the third had not been visited. Bevis wanted to explore the Waste, and
especially to look at the great grey boulder, and so they went on and
landed among the sedges.
Making Pan keep close at their heels, they cautiously crept through the
bramble thickets--Pan tried two or three times to break away, for the
scent of game was strong in these thickets--and entered the wild
pasture, across which they could not see. The ground undulated, and
besides the large ant-hills, the scattered hawthorn bushes and the
thickets round the boulders intercepted the view. If any savages
appeared they intended to stoop, and so would be invisible; they could
even creep on hands and knees half across the common without being seen.
Pan was restless--not weary this morning--the scent he crossed was
almost too much for his obedience.
They reached the boulder unseen--indeed there was no one to see them--
pushed through the bushes, and stood by it. The ponderous stone was
smooth, as if it had been ground with emery, and there were little
circular basins or cups drilled in it. With a stick Bevis felt all
round and came to a place where the stick could be pushed in two or
three feet under the stone, between it and the grass.
“It’s hollow here,” he said; “you try.”
“So it is,” said Mark. “This is where the treasure is.”
“And the serpent, and the magic lamp that has been burning ages and
ages.”
“If we could lift the stone up.”
“There’s a spell on it; you couldn’t lift it up, not with levers or
anything.”
Pan sniffed at the narrow crevice between the edge of the boulder and
the ground--concealed by the grass till Bevis found it--but showed no
interest. There was no rabbit there. Such great boulders often have
crevices beneath, whether this was a natural hollow, or whether the
boulder was the capstone of a dolmen was not known. Whirr-rr!
A covey of partridges flew over only just above the stone, and within a
few inches of their heads which were concealed by it. They counted
fourteen--the covey went straight out across the New Sea, eastwards
towards the Nile. From the boulder they wandered on among the ant-hills
and tall thistles, disturbing a hare, which went off at a tremendous
pace, bringing his hind legs right under his body up to his shoulder in
his eagerness to take kangaroo bounds.
Presently they came to the thick hedge which divided the Waste from the
cornfields. Gathering a few blackberries along this, they came to a
gate, which alarmed them, thinking some one might see, but a careful
reconnaissance showed that the reapers had finished and left that field.
The top bar of the gate was pecked, little chips out of the wood, where
the crows had been.
“It’s very nice here,” said Mark. “You can go on without coming to the
Other Side so soon.”
After their life on the island, where they could never walk far without
coming in sight of the water, they appreciated the liberty of the
mainland. Pan had to have several kicks and bangs with the stick, he
was so tempted to rush into the hedge, but they did not want him to
bark, in case any one should hear.
“Lots of kangaroos here,” said Bevis, “and big kangaroos too--hares you
know; I say, I shall come here with the matchlock some night.”
“So we will.”
There was a gap in the corner, and as they came idling along they got up
into the double mound, when Bevis, who was first, suddenly dropped on
his knees and seized Pan’s shaggy neck. Mark crouched instantly behind
him.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“Some one’s been here.”
“How do you know?”
“Sniff.”
Mark sniffed. There was the strong pungent smell of crushed nettles.
He understood in a moment--some one had recently gone through and
trampled on them. They remained in this position for five minutes,
hardly breathing, and afraid to move.
“I can’t hear any one,” whispered Mark.
“No.”
“Must have gone on.”
Bevis crept forward, still holding Pan with one hand; Mark followed, and
they crossed the mound, when the signs of some one having recently been
there became visible in the trampled nettles, and in one spot there was
the imprint of a heel-plate.
“Savages,” said Bevis. “Ah! Look.”
Mark looked through the branches and a long way out in the stubble,
moving among the shocks of wheat, he saw Bevis’s governor. They watched
him silently. The governor walked straight away; they scarcely breathed
till he had disappeared in the next field. Then they drew back into the
Waste, and looked at one another.
“Very nearly done,” said Mark.
“We won’t land again in daylight,” said Bevis.
“No--it’s not safe; he must have been close.”
“He must have got up into the mound and looked through,” said Bevis.
“Perhaps while we were by the gate.”
“Most likely. He came across the stubble, why he was that side while we
were this.”
“Awfully nearly done; why it must have been the governor who startled
the partridges!”
“Stupes we were not to know some one was about.”
“Awful stupes.”
They walked back to the raft, keeping close to the hedge, and crept on
all fours among the ant-hills so as to pass the gateway without the
possibility of being seen, though they knew the governor was now too far
to observe them.
The governor had been to look at the progress made by the reapers, and
then strolled across the stubble, thinking to see what birds were about,
as it was not such a great while till the season opened. Coming to the
mound, he got up and looked through into the Waste, over which (as over
the New Sea) he held manorial rights. At the moment he was looking out
into the pasture they were idly approaching him along the hedge, and had
he stopped there they would have come on him. As it was, he went back
into the stubble, and had gone some fifty yards with his back turned
when they entered the gap.
“We might have been tortured,” said Mark, as they stepped on the raft.
“Tied up and gimlets bored into our heads.”
“The king of this country is an awful tyrant,” said Bevis. “Very likely
he would have fixed us in a hollow tree and smeared us with honey and
let the flies eat us.”
“Unless we could save his daughter, who is ill, and all the magicians
can’t do her any good.”
“Now they are hoping we shall soon come with a wonderful talisman. We
must study magic--we keep on putting it off; I wonder if there really is
a jewel in the toad’s head.”
“You have not inked the wizard’s foot on the gateway,” said Mark.
When they got home Bevis inked it on the boards of the gate; he could
not do it on the rough bark of the gate-post. They then worked at the
shed, and soon put it up in place of the awning, which was taken down
and carried to the raft. Next the mast was erected, and sustained with
stays; it was, however, taken down again, so as to be out of the way
till required, and stowed at the side by the bulwarks.
The jack was cooked for dinner, and though not enough for such hungry
people it was a pleasant change from the perpetual rashers and damper.
After Charley had given the signal, they parted; Mark took his perch
tackle and poled the raft out near Pearl Island, where he thought he
might catch some perch. Bevis loaded the matchlock with ball, and went
into ambush behind the ash-tree by Kangaroo Hill, to try and shoot a
kangaroo.
Mark took Pan and worked the raft along till he was within forty or
fifty yards of Pearl Island, and on the windward side. The wind had
been changeable lately, showing that the weather was not so settled as
it had been; it blew from the eastward that afternoon, just strong
enough to cause a ripple. When he had got the raft into the position he
wished, Mark put the pole down and took his rod.
The raft, as he had designed, floated slowly, and without the least
disturbance of the water (such as his pole or oars would have caused)
before the wind, till it grounded on a shoal ten yards from Pearl
Island. Mark knew of the shoal, having noticed the place before when
they were visiting the islets, and thought it would be a likely spot to
find perch. The ripples breaking over the ridge of the shoal made a
miniature surf there.
On the outer or windward side the perch would be on the watch for
anything that might come along on the wavelets, and inside for whatever
might be washed from the shoal. There were weeds at a short distance,
but none just there, and such places with a clear sandy bottom are the
favourite haunts of perch in waters like these. First he fished outside
to windward, and his blue float went up and down on the ripples till
presently down it went at a single dive, drawn under at once by an eager
fish.
In a minute he had a perch on board about half a pound weight, and
shortly afterwards another, and then a third, for when perch are on the
feed they take the bait directly as fast as it can be put in to them.
Now Mark, though excited with his luck, was cool enough to observe one
little precaution, which was to use a fresh clean worm every time, and
not to drop in one that had been in the least degree mauled. This
required some self-control, for several times the bait was scarcely
damaged, but it was a rule that he and Bevis had found out, and they
always adhered to it.
For fish have likes and antipathies exactly the same as other creatures,
and if one approaches a bait and turns disdainfully away it is quite
probable that three or four more may check their advance, whether from
imitation, or taking the opinion of the first as a guide to themselves.
So Mark always had a fresh, untainted bait for them, and in a very short
time he had six perch on the raft. He put them in the locker.
There was then a pause, he had exhausted that school. Next he tried
fishing out towards the nearest weeds, a small bunch at the utmost limit
of his throw, but as half an hour elapsed and he had no nibble he tried
inside the shoal to leeward. In five minutes he landed a fine one,
quite two pounds and a half, whose leaps went thump, thump on the deck
like Pan’s tail. Ten minutes more and he caught another, this time
small, and that was his last. There were either no more fish, or they
had no more credence.
He sat on the locker and watched his float till the sun grew low, but it
was no use. He knew it was no use long before, but still he lingered.
Gold-diggers linger though they know their claim is exhausted. The mind
is loth to acknowledge that the game is up. Mark knew it was up; still
he waited and let his float uselessly rise and fall, till he heard the
report of the matchlock from the island, and then he poled homewards to
see what Bevis had shot.
In ambush, under the ash-tree, and behind the fringe of fern--one frond
was scorched where Mark had fired through it--Bevis watched with the gun
ready on the rest. He had purposely gone a little too soon, that is,
before the shadow stretched right out across the glade, because if you
do not arrive till the last moment a kangaroo may be already out, and
will be alarmed. Then it is necessary to wait till the others recover
from their fear; for if one runs in, the sound of his hasty passage
through the tunnels in the ground conveys the information to all in the
bury.
Not far from him there was a bunch of beautiful meadow geraniums; some
of their blue cups had already dropped, leaving the elongated
seed-vessel or crane’s bill, something like the pointed caps worn by
mediaeval ladies. The leaves are much divided; perhaps the wind-anemone
leaves (but these had withered long since) are most finely divided, and
if you will hold one so that its shadow may be cast by the sun on a
piece of white paper, you cannot choose but admire it. While he sat
there, now and then changing the position of a limb with the utmost care
and deliberation, not to rustle the grass or to attract attention by
moving quickly (for kangaroos do not heed anything that moves very
slowly), he saw a brown furze-chat come to a tall fern and perch
sideways on the flattened yellow stalk.
Half an hour afterwards there came a sound like “top-top” from an oak on
his left hand--not the ivy-grown one--and when he had by great exertion
turned himself round, it is difficult to turn and still occupy the same
space, he followed up all the branches of the oak cautiously till he
found the bird. If you glance, as it were, broadcast up into a tree
when it is in leaf, you see nothing, though the bird’s note may fall
from just overhead. Bevis first looked quickly up the larger leading
branches, letting his glance run up them; then he caused it to travel
out along the lesser boughs of one great branch, then of another, till
he had exhausted all. Still he could not find it, though he heard the
“top-top.” But as he had now got a map of the tree in his eye, the
moment the bird moved he saw it.
It ran up a partly dead branch, then stopped and struck it with its
beak, and though the bird was no larger than a sparrow the sound of
these vehement blows could have been heard across the glade. He saw
some white and red colour, but the glimpse he had was too short to
notice much. The spotted woodpecker is so hasty that it is not often he
is in sight more than half a minute. Bevis saw him fly with a flight
like a finch across to the ivy-grown oak, and heard his “top-top” from
thence. One of the tits has a trick of tapping branches so much in the
same manner that if he is not seen the sound may be mistaken.
There was now a little rabbit out, but not worth shooting. Restless as
Bevis was, yet the moment he fixed his mind to do a thing his will
magnetized the nerves and sinews. He became as still as a tree and
scarcely heeded the lapse of time. Bees went by, which reminded him of
the honey in the hollow ash, and he heard mice in the fern. The shadows
had now deepened, and there were two thrushes and a blackbird out in the
grass. Another little kangaroo appeared, and a third, and a long way
off, too far to shoot, there was one about three parts grown, which he
hoped would presently feed over within range.
After a while, as this did not happen, he began to think he would try
and shoot two of the smaller ones at once. With shot this could have
been easily done, for they were often close together. As he was
watching the young rabbits, and asking himself whether the ball would
strike both, a sense of something moving made him glance again up into
the oak on his left hand. He did not actually see anything go up into
it, but the corner of his eye--while he was consciously gazing straight
forward--was aware that something had passed.
In a moment he saw it was a jay, which had come without a sound, for
though the jay makes such a screech when he opens his bill, his wings
are almost as noiseless as an owl’s. A wood-pigeon makes a great
clatter, hammering the air and the boughs; a jay slips into the tree
without a sound. The bird’s back was turned, and the white bar across
it showed; in a moment he moved, and the blue wing was visible.
“Frances would like it,” Bevis thought, “to put in her hat.” The ferns
hid him on that side, and careless of the rabbits, he gently moved
himself round; the little kangaroos lifted their heads, the larger one
ran to his bury, for to bring his gun to bear on the oak Bevis was
obliged to expose himself towards the knoll. Now he was round there was
this difficulty, the jay was high in the oak, and the rest was too low.
To aim up into the tree he must have extended himself at full length
with his chest on the ground, that would be awkward, and most likely
while he was doing it he should startle the bird. He gently lifted the
heavy matchlock, sliding the barrel against the bark of the ash till he
had it in position, holding it there by pressing it with his left hand
against the tree. This gave some support while his wrist was fresh, but
in a minute he knew it would feel the weight, and perhaps tremble. It
was necessary to shoot quick for this reason, and because the jay never
stays long in any one tree; yet he wanted to take a steady aim. He had
not shot anything with the matchlock, though he had designed it.
Bevis brought the barrel to bear, covered the jay with the sight, then
moved it the merest trifle to the left, so that he could just see the
bird, and drew the match down into the priming. The bird was struck up
into the air by the blow of the ball and fell dead. The wing towards
him and part of the neck had been carried away by the bullet, which,
coming upwards, had lifted the jay from the bough. On the side away
from him the wing was uninjured; this was for Frances. There was no
chance of getting a rabbit now, so he returned towards the hut, and had
not been there many minutes before Mark came running.
When the jay and the perch had been talked about enough, they made some
tea, and sat down to wait till it was moonlight. Bevis got out his
journal and recorded these spoils, while the little bats flew to and fro
inside the stockade, and even under the open shed and over the table
just above their heads, having little more fear than flies.
Later on, having landed on the mainland, as they were going through the
stubble to meet Loo, they saw something move, and keeping quite still by
the hedge, it came towards them, when they knew it was a fox. He came
down the furrow between the lands, and several times went nosing round
the shocks of wheat, for he looks on a plump mouse as others do on a
kidney for breakfast. He did not seem to scent them, for when they
stepped out he was startled and raced away full speed. At the whistle
Loo brought the flag-basket, heavy with the tinned tongues and potted
meats they had ordered. She was frequently sent into the town on
errands from the house, so that there was no difficulty at the shop.
Bevis inquired how all were at home; all were well, and then wished her
good-night after exacting another promise of secrecy. Loo watched them
out of sight.
That evening they had a splendid supper on New Formosa, and sat up
playing cards.
“How ought we to know that your governor and the Jolly Old Moke are all
right,” said Mark, “as we’re on an island seven thousand miles away? Of
course we do know, but how _ought_ we to find out? There was no
telegraph when we lived.”
“Well, it’s awkward,” said Bevis--“it’s very awkward; perhaps we had a
magic ring and looked through it and saw what the people were doing, or,
I know! there’s the little looking-glass in the cave, don’t you
remember?”
“We brought it and forgot to hang it up.”
“Yes; we saw them in a magic mirror, don’t you see?”
“Of course--like a picture. First it comes as a mist in the mirror, as
if you had breathed on it; then you see the people moving about, and
very likely somebody going to be married that you want, and then you cry
out, and the mist comes again.”
“That’s right: I’ll put it down in the journal. ‘Made magic and saw all
the blokes at home.’”
They fastened Pan up as before at the door-post before going to bed, and
gave him several slices of rolled tongue. They slept the instant they
put their heads on the hard doubled-up great-coats which formed their
pillows.
Volume Three, Chapter IX.