At last shearing came; and with the shearers there was an old native,
whom they had nicknamed Chowbok—though, I believe, his real name was
Kahabuka. He was a sort of chief of the natives, could speak a little
English, and was a great favourite with the missionaries. He did not do
any regular work with the shearers, but pretended to help in the yards,
his real aim being to get the grog, which is always more freely
circulated at shearing-time: he did not get much, for he was apt to be
dangerous when drunk; and very little would make him so: still he did
get it occasionally, and if one wanted to get anything out of him, it
was the best bribe to offer him. I resolved to question him, and get as
much information from him as I could. I did so. As long as I kept to
questions about the nearer ranges, he was easy to get on with—he had
never been there, but there were traditions among his tribe to the
effect that there was no sheep-country, nothing, in fact, but stunted
timber and a few river-bed flats. It was very difficult to reach; still
there were passes: one of them up our own river, though not directly
along the river-bed, the gorge of which was not practicable; he had
never seen any one who had been there: was there not enough on this
side? But when I came to the main range, his manner changed at once. He
became uneasy, and began to prevaricate and shuffle. In a very few
minutes I could see that of this too there existed traditions in his
tribe; but no efforts or coaxing could get a word from him about them.
At last I hinted about grog, and presently he feigned consent: I gave
it him; but as soon as he had drunk it he began shamming intoxication,
and then went to sleep, or pretended to do so, letting me kick him
pretty hard and never budging.
I was angry, for I had to go without my own grog and had got nothing
out of him; so the next day I determined that he should tell me before
I gave him any, or get none at all.
Accordingly, when night came and the shearers had knocked off work and
had their supper, I got my share of rum in a tin pannikin and made a
sign to Chowbok to follow me to the wool-shed, which he willingly did,
slipping out after me, and no one taking any notice of either of us.
When we got down to the wool-shed we lit a tallow candle, and having
stuck it in an old bottle we sat down upon the wool bales and began to
smoke. A wool-shed is a roomy place, built somewhat on the same plan as
a cathedral, with aisles on either side full of pens for the sheep, a
great nave, at the upper end of which the shearers work, and a further
space for wool sorters and packers. It always refreshed me with a
semblance of antiquity (precious in a new country), though I very well
knew that the oldest wool-shed in the settlement was not more than
seven years old, while this was only two. Chowbok pretended to expect
his grog at once, though we both of us knew very well what the other
was after, and that we were each playing against the other, the one for
grog the other for information.
We had a hard fight: for more than two hours he had tried to put me off
with lies but had carried no conviction; during the whole time we had
been morally wrestling with one another and had neither of us
apparently gained the least advantage; at length, however, I had become
sure that he would give in ultimately, and that with a little further
patience I should get his story out of him. As upon a cold day in
winter, when one has churned (as I had often had to do), and churned in
vain, and the butter makes no sign of coming, at last one tells by the
sound that the cream has gone to sleep, and then upon a sudden the
butter comes, so I had churned at Chowbok until I perceived that he had
arrived, as it were, at the sleepy stage, and that with a continuance
of steady quiet pressure the day was mine. On a sudden, without a word
of warning, he rolled two bales of wool (his strength was very great)
into the middle of the floor, and on the top of these he placed another
crosswise; he snatched up an empty wool-pack, threw it like a mantle
over his shoulders, jumped upon the uppermost bale, and sat upon it. In
a moment his whole form was changed. His high shoulders dropped; he set
his feet close together, heel to heel and toe to toe; he laid his arms
and hands close alongside of his body, the palms following his thighs;
he held his head high but quite straight, and his eyes stared right in
front of him; but he frowned horribly, and assumed an expression of
face that was positively fiendish. At the best of times Chowbok was
very ugly, but he now exceeded all conceivable limits of the hideous.
His mouth extended almost from ear to ear, grinning horribly and
showing all his teeth; his eyes glared, though they remained quite
fixed, and his forehead was contracted with a most malevolent scowl.
I am afraid my description will have conveyed only the ridiculous side
of his appearance; but the ridiculous and the sublime are near, and the
grotesque fiendishness of Chowbok’s face approached this last, if it
did not reach it. I tried to be amused, but I felt a sort of creeping
at the roots of my hair and over my whole body, as I looked and
wondered what he could possibly be intending to signify. He continued
thus for about a minute, sitting bolt upright, as stiff as a stone, and
making this fearful face. Then there came from his lips a low moaning
like the wind, rising and falling by infinitely small gradations till
it became almost a shriek, from which it descended and died away; after
that, he jumped down from the bale and held up the extended fingers of
both his hands, as one who should say “Ten,” though I did not then
understand him.
For myself I was open-mouthed with astonishment. Chowbok rolled the
bales rapidly into their place, and stood before me shuddering as in
great fear; horror was written upon his face—this time quite
involuntarily—as though the natural panic of one who had committed an
awful crime against unknown and superhuman agencies. He nodded his head
and gibbered, and pointed repeatedly to the mountains. He would not
touch the grog, but, after a few seconds he made a run through the
wool-shed door into the moonlight; nor did he reappear till next day at
dinner-time, when he turned up, looking very sheepish and abject in his
civility towards myself.
Of his meaning I had no conception. How could I? All I could feel sure
of was, that he had a meaning which was true and awful to himself. It
was enough for me that I believed him to have given me the best he had
and all he had. This kindled my imagination more than if he had told me
intelligible stories by the hour together. I knew not what the great
snowy ranges might conceal, but I could no longer doubt that it would
be something well worth discovering.
I kept aloof from Chowbok for the next few days, and showed no desire
to question him further; when I spoke to him I called him Kahabuka,
which gratified him greatly: he seemed to have become afraid of me, and
acted as one who was in my power. Having therefore made up my mind that
I would begin exploring as soon as shearing was over, I thought it
would be a good thing to take Chowbok with me; so I told him that I
meant going to the nearer ranges for a few days’ prospecting, and that
he was to come too. I made him promises of nightly grog, and held out
the chances of finding gold. I said nothing about the main range, for I
knew it would frighten him. I would get him as far up our own river as
I could, and trace it if possible to its source. I would then either go
on by myself, if I felt my courage equal to the attempt, or return with
Chowbok. So, as soon as ever shearing was over and the wool sent off, I
asked leave of absence, and obtained it. Also, I bought an old
pack-horse and pack-saddle, so that I might take plenty of provisions,
and blankets, and a small tent. I was to ride and find fords over the
river; Chowbok was to follow and lead the pack-horse, which would also
carry him over the fords. My master let me have tea and sugar, ship’s
biscuits, tobacco, and salt mutton, with two or three bottles of good
brandy; for, as the wool was now sent down, abundance of provisions
would come up with the empty drays.
Everything being now ready, all the hands on the station turned out to
see us off, and we started on our journey, not very long after the
summer solstice of 1870.