[#] Tom Petrie's Reminiscences.
Once upon a time there lived happily together on an island three young
aborigines, a brother and two sisters. This land was not very far from
the mainland, and the three often used to gaze across at the long
stretch of land, and think of journeying forth from their island home to
see what it was like over there. They felt sure they would find lots of
things to eat. So one day by means of a canoe they really did cross
over, and began without loss of time to seek for 'possums, native bears,
and so forth. In this search round about they at length espied a hollow
limb, which looked uncommonly like a place where a nest would be, and
so, going into a scrub near by, they cut a vine for climbing up. Up
went the youth, while his sisters waited beneath. When he had cut open
the limb, he found to his great joy a cockatoo's nest with young birds
in it, and these latter he proceeded to throw down one by one to his
sisters, the fall to the ground killing the poor things.
Now it so chanced that as the young fellow picked up the last little
bird from the nest, a feather detached itself from its tail, and
floating away on the air, at length settled fair on the chest of an old
man asleep in a hut some distance away. This old man was really a ghost
who owned the place, and the feather disturbed his rest and woke him up.
Divining at once what was happening, he arose, and getting hold of a
spear and a tomahawk, sallied forth to the tree, where he arrived before
the young fellow had started to climb down. Seeing the birds dead, the
old man was very angry, and said, "What business you take my birds? Who
told you to come here?" He then commanded the tree to spread out and
grow taller and taller, so that the young fellow could not get down,
and, taking the dead birds, he put them in a big round dilly, and
carried them to his hut.
Although the old man did not wait, the tree did his bidding, becoming
immediately very wide and tall, and the young fellow tried his best to
come down, but could not. So at last he started to sing to the other
trees all around to come to him, which they did; and one falling right
across where he stood, he was able to get to the ground that way.
Somehow, though, in coming down he got hurt, and the gins had to make a
fire to get hot ashes in order to cover him up there. He lay covered up
so for half an hour, at the end of which time he was all right again.
Of course these three felt very indignant at the old man's behaviour,
and they thirsted for revenge. So, calling all the birds of the air to
them, they sought their assistance. These birds went in front, while
the three cut their way through the thick scrub to the old man's hut;
and ever as they went, to drown the noise of the cutting, the birds sang
loudly, the wonga pigeon making a tremendous row with his waugh! waugh!
waugh! When they had got nearly to the hut, the old man, who had been
trying to make up for his disturbed sleep, heard the noise of the birds,
and called crossly to them, "Here, what do you make such a noise for? I
want to sleep!" But even as he spoke he was dozing, and presently went
right off, suspecting nothing; and when the three reached the doorway,
looking in, they saw him quite soundly sleeping. So the three clutched
their weapons tightly,--the man his spear, and the women their yam
sticks,--and advancing into the hut, they all viciously jobbed down at
the old man, and lo! he was dead. His body was dragged forth and
burned, and after the hut was robbed of the young cockatoos and all
objects worthy of value it also was burned, and the three found their
way back to the canoe, and departed home to their island laden with the
spoil.
At the conclusion of the "yarn" the Bullarois retired to the trees
fringing the clearing on the side directly opposite the audience. After
a short harangue from Merri-dia-o, the braves, about twenty in number,
fully armed and in their war-paint, issued from the forest, headed by
their chief, shouting their battle-cry, gesticulating wildly, and making
a great clatter with their weapons. Advancing upon the foe, now in line
and now in sections, they battled with the enemy, crouching one moment
behind their shields to receive the shower of imaginary spears thrown by
their assailants, the next springing erect and casting, as it were,
their weapons of offence. Following up this round, they bore upon the
visionary foe and engaged in personal encounter. Retreating one moment
and advancing the following, uttering war cries and fierce challenge,
hurling coarse and stinging epithet, they gradually approached the fire;
the gins meanwhile beat time, giving coherence and harmony to the
bellicose proceedings.
There was such reality in the battle-play, the men were so earnest,
their cries so passionate, their taunts so bitter; in short, there was
such a ring of sincerity, such a presentation of the actual, that the
white spectators were carried away as in the drama when the master
mummers live their parts.
The boys were in a condition of exultancy. They were inspired by the
martial display to a participation of fellow-feeling with the warring
company. Neville, too, was fairly captured by this weird yet fierce and
savage sham-fight. The thrill of combat held him so strongly that he
could not refrain from leaping to his feet and yelling with the
rest--urging them, indeed, to greater slaughter.
It was different with the girls. Fear laid hold of them at the unwonted
sight. At first they joined in the hurrahs, but when the fighters
neared them, and it seemed, as was indeed the case, that the very actors
were being carried away by frenzy and battle-lust, their tongues ceased
and a cold chill of apprehension seized them.
The warriors are now right up, fronting the fire. In a few minutes the
grand finale will have been enacted, and the curtain rung down.
Unfortunately, however, one of the young men has a quarrel with a youth
belonging to the visiting tribe. In the culminating point of this sham
fight he sees his enemy among the crowd of onlookers, and, urged by his
excited feelings, he directs insulting remarks full at this man, who,
running out into the clear space in front of the fighters, returns these
with interest. This so enrages the Bullaroi youth that, darting from
the ranks, he slings his spear full at the enemy, and transfixes him in
the breast. Loud cries of consternation come from the women, and a
moment's awful stillness from the men. Then, as if by magic, the
Dingdonglas have risen in their wrath, arms in hand. The play has
vanished, and downright fight and bloody battle ensues. Spears hurtle
and boomerangs swish through the air; the crash of nulla-nulla on
shields supplants the music of the orchestra, the while the gins flee in
sheer terror from the bloody scene to their huts in the forest, rending
the air with their shrill screams as they speed.
But what of the whites?
They stand a few moments horrorstruck at the raging human cyclone. At
first the grim reality seemed unreal, just as previously the sham
battle-action appeared real. Joe is the first to size up the situation.
Not only are the blacks in blood-red earnest, but there is actual peril
to the spectators. The combatants are surging to and fro in the strife
of conflict, and circling as though in a vortex. At any moment the
spectators might be drawn into the battle zone through the movements of
the belligerents.
"Come, Mag, Jess, quickly!" cries that youth, seizing the girls as he
speaks and drawing them away. "The brutes are at it in real earnest.
Come! we must bolt to the trees. Great Caesar, look at that!" A spear
whistled through the air and impaled itself in a tree near by.
Just then, one of the fighters detached himself from the scrum and came
bounding up to the little group, spear extended. As he seemed to be on
hostile intent, the youths lined up in front of the girls, ready to
defend them and grapple with the foe. On nearing, Sandy knew him to be
Willy the station boy. Willy, loyal to the family, came to entreat them
to leave the field. There was little fear of any direct attack upon
them, though it were hard to say what turn the savage mind might take.
The apparent danger was from fugitive spears and boomerangs. So Willy
paused but to cry out, "Take 'em girls to horses: safe there; no safe
here. Go!" and then skipped back to his band, throwing himself heart
and soul into the fray. For the hour the boy was as great a savage as
any of the young men of the tribe.
The girls, now really terrified, need no pressure to leave; so they
scurry from the field and reach their horses, some distance beyond spear
reach. There they watch the tide of battle as it ebbs and flows until
it dies, which it is not long in doing, from its very violence.
When the casualties were reckoned it was found that most of the
combatants had received bruises or gashes, limbs were broken, but the
only fatalities were those of the lads who began the quarrel. Now that
the fight is over, both sides settle down to supper in the best of
humours. The slate has been cleaned in this primitive fashion, and now
friendships are renewed over handfuls of luscious tree-grubs and hunches
of roast kangaroo. To-morrow there will be weeping in common over the
biers of the departed braves.
"Well, Denny, what do you think of this dreadful corrobberie?" exclaimed
Jessie to the Irish boy as they rode home about midnight.
"Phwat div Oi think iv it, Miss Jassie? Whoi, it's been a lovely
foight, shure. Och, they're the very divils ontoirely! Nivir seen sich
a bit of divarsion since Oi left owld Oireland, bedad! Begorrah, it'd
ta-ake owld Tipperary itself to bate it."
"Do you know what I've been thinking of, Denny?" continued the
mischievous girl.
"Nawthin' but lovely thoughts, Miss Jassie."
"You of course are the best judge, Denny, being an Irishman. What I was
thinking was this: scratch an aboriginal, and you have an Irishman."
"Och, dear-a-dear, Miss Jassie, to maline me poor counthrymen loike
that! Troth, then," cried the lad, with a serio-comic air and the
suspicion of a wink, "there's one thing indade which Irishmen have in
common wid these poor naggurs."
"What is that, Denny?"
"We both suffer at the hands of Saxon landlords."
And Jessie had no answer.
*CHAPTER XXV*
*IN THE BUSHRANGERS' CAVES*
"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree,
Where Alph the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
KUBLA KHAN.
"Joe!"
Silence.
"J-o-o!"
No answer.
"J-o-o-o!"
Profound stillness, broken only by a buzzing fly.
"If you don't answer within five seconds, an' short ones at that, look
out for squalls. You're only 'possumin', you rascal!"
Presently a hurtling pillow, and not too soft a one either, struck Joe
Blain, who lay flat on his back, with open mouth, closed eyes, and deaf
ears. The missile hit him fair and square on the face, hermetically
sealing his breathing apparatus for a moment.
A muffled sound, a quick contortion of the body, and an instinctive
clutch of the hands got rid of the obstruction, which in a twinkling
described a trajectory that impinged on Tom's left ear.
"Well, what's in the wind, now?" asked Joe, after this customary
exchange of shots, which was an everyday occurrence.
"I've an idea, Joe."
"Howly Moses, you don't mean it! Terrible, terrible! Where did you
catch it?"
"Catch your grandmother's sister's cat! Only, you're such a numskull,
I'd try an' put it in your head."
"What! my grandmother's sister's----"
"No, you ass; a simple idea!"
"Then I'll bet tuppence it's simple enough, you goat!"
After this complimentary interchange Tom proceeded: "When we went out to
the caves the other day, we said we'd return before the holidays were
ended, an' we've come to the larst day, ole man. Ding-bust it! we'll
have to make for home to-morrer, an'----"
"Ugh! don't mention it! Go on about the caves."
"Well, then, that day we went out---- Oh Joey! shall we ever forget the
sight of 'Fevvers' rollin'----?"
"Look here, Hawkins, if you can't spit out that idea of yours quick an'
lively, you'd better swallow it! If you think to waste my valuable
time----"
"Your time wasted! Pish! Listen, then. I vote we go out to the caves
an' have a look round for the place where Ben Bolt kep' his horses.
It'd be no end of a lark for us to find, after the police an' others
have given it up. What say?"
"There's not much in your notions, Hawkins, generally speaking; still,
you've struck ile this time, sonny. Gewhillikins! it's all right. Let's
have a talk with ole Sandy about it."
"Oh, he's sure to be nuts on it! He's always talkin' about the
mystery."
"Up, guards, an' at 'em! as Cromwell sang out at the battle of
Marathon," quoth Joe, in slight historical confusion, as he tumbled out
of bed.
They dressed quickly and then rushed out to find Sandy, who had risen
earlier to yard the horses. Sandy was nothing loth. Indeed, he was as
eager as the others, if not more so. He had often brooded over the
puzzle, and discussed it at times with his mates, but oftener with
himself. Like the others, he had theories.
"I've got to take the harrow to the cultivation paddock after breakfast,
an' then I'll be free."
"Can't you take it now?" suggested Tom. "Good hour yet to breakfast.
You'll have whips of time, an' we'll help you."
Sandy was agreeable, and the boys soon hoisted the harrow on to the
cart. They returned in good time for breakfast, and got Mr. M'Intyre's
consent.
"Best take us with you, Sandy."
"Girls 'd only be in the way, Mag."
"Thanks, me brither! Just wait till you ask me to cut your lunches!"
"Oh, mother'll do that."
"Yes; rin to your mither and hold on to her apron-strings. For
selfishness and for cheek, commend me to a brother! You're all alike.
I expect Tom and Joe are no better at home, for all they put on mighty
innocent airs here," prattled the girl, in mock sarcasm.
"I hope you'll count me in, boys?" said Neville. "I have intimated to
Mrs. M'Intyre that I shall be forced to tear myself away from her
unbounded hospitality,"--"Fevvers" was still a trifle stilted,--"but she
will not hear of my leaving till the end of the week. You know," he
went on, "I did not have an opportunity--the last time I--er--we were
out there--and----"
"You lassoed an Englishman with a stock whip," broke in Jessie the
tease.
"And behaved like a brick," interposed Maggie, who noticed the
involuntary wince on the part of the Englishman. This was, indeed, a
sore spot; but he was growing rapidly in grace.
Neville winced under Jess's sally, but took it in good part. "It's all
part of the breaking-in process, Miss Jessie. I believe I can dismount
now a little more gracefully. I shall be glad of an opportunity to see
the famous bandit's caves. It will be something to relate in England."
It did not take the boys long to get ready. Half an hour later the
party was _en route_ for the caves, determined to solve the puzzle.
"You'll do nothing rash, boys?" said the careful mother at parting,
"Have you enough candles?"
"Plenty; also ropes and tucker. Don't worry about us, mother; we may
not be back till near bedtime--depends on what luck we have."
"You've got a scheme, Sandy, I s'pose?" remarked Joe, as they jogged
along the road.
"Yes, Joe, I've an idea; but of course only testing it will prove its
worth. The caves are situated in a spur running north and south. The
opening, we know, is on the east side. Nothing bigger than a wallaby or
a dingo, save of course a man, can squeeze through that opening. Either
there is another and separate cave adjacent, where the 'rangers stalled
their horses, or there is an easier entrance somewhere in the spur that
has a connection with the ones we have already visited."
"You must remember, though, Sandy, that Inspector Garvie and his men
spent days in searching the locality, an' how are we chaps to do in a
day what they failed to do after several days, and with black trackers,
too?"
"I'm not likely to forget that."
"I vote, then," said Joe, "we go straight to the caves an' explore 'em
first."
"It'd take us all day to search those ravines and bluffs on the west
side," added Tom, "so I'm in favour of Joe's proposal."
"I'm not sure that I should have a voice in this matter," spoke Neville.
"You fellows will have to settle it between yourselves. Whatever you
decide upon will be agreeable to me."
"Matter's decided, then," answered Sandy. "Joe and Tom are for the
caves direct. Honestly speaking, although I would dearly love a try at
the western side, for I'm convinced that the outlet lies there, I think,
on the whole, we'd better stick to the caves, giving them first show,
anyhow."
"Carried unanimously by a large majority, as Denny would say," cried Joe
the spokesman.
On arrival at the camping grounds, the place of the late serio-comic
adventure, the explorers--for such we must call them--unsaddled, and
short-hobbled their horses.
"I vote," said Joe, "that we boil the billy an' have a go at the tuck
before we tackle the caves. It'll be better than taking the prog with
us, an' 'll save us coming out for lunch."
"Agreed!" chorus the rest with a readiness and gusto which in matters of
meat is almost an instinct of boyhood. Accordingly the wood is
gathered, and ere long, with whetted appetites, they are absorbingly
engaged on a substantial meal.
"There are three things to remember, mates. First of all, the candles.
We'll divide them equally, three apiece. Here's a box of matches for
each. Father gave me a caution, about lights. We're to carefully watch
the candles as we proceed through the passages. He says the poisonous
gases collect in places that are not well ventilated, an' that means
death in no time if we remain in such spots."
"How'd we know, Sandy?"
"I was just going to tell you. If we get into such places, father says,
the candle will burn dimly, an' if it's very bad, will go out
altogether. When we happen on such spots, if there are any, we are to
retreat immediately; so don't forget, boys, should we be separated."
"That," said Neville, "is most important." He related one or two
incidents of fatal accidents in connection with English collieries
through fire-damp. That danger, though, is seldom encountered in such
caves as the boys were intent on exploring.
"What's the third thing, Sandy?"
"The third thing, Hawkins, is to make fast to this green-hide. It is
twenty-five feet long, an' we'll tie on to it as we go through the
passages. Father says there are often holes in the floors and very
steep inclines. Best to be on the safe side, though I don't suppose
we'll really need it."
"I say," queried Neville, "hadn't we better take some stout cudgels with
us, for fear of snakes and wild beasts?"
"Happy thought, Mr. Neville. Not for wild beasts, though an old-man
kangaroo can be as dangerous as a bear with his paws when he's bailed up
by the dogs."
"What about monkeys, then?"
"Monkeys? We haven't any."
"Well, I heard one of the travellers say, while he was having a feed at
the men's hut, that he'd been engaged to go for a mob of monkeys."
"Ha--ha--ha! Well, you are a----Why, the man was talking about sheep.
Monkey is a pet name for them. We'll want some sticks, though, as well
as the tomahawk."
So saying, Sandy proceeded to hack at a cluster of gum saplings, and cut
three waddies about five feet in length, and a fourth one eight feet
long, and proportionately thick. Armed with these and carrying the
other necessaries, including a billy of water and a snack of food, the
exploration party proceeded to the cave entrance.
After gaining access to the first cave, the boys allowed Neville a few
minutes' pause to get at home with his surroundings, before going on to
the second or cathedral chamber. They then pursued their way through
the tortuous and difficult passage between the two chambers, till at
length they arrived at the opening.
"Hello!" exclaimed Sandy, who was in the lead, with an involuntary gasp.
"What's up?" cried Joe, who was immediately behind him.
"Why, ladder's gone!"
"Jemima! you don't say so. Why--how----?"
"It's gone, all right," replied the leader, as he peered by the light of
his candle into the gloomy recesses of the cave. "Clean gone! Don't
see it on the floor below, so it can't have dropped."
Joe, squeezing abreast Sandy, and doubling the light power, added his
eyes to those of his mate in the search.
"No go," said he, after a keen but vain search. "Anyway, I can see how
to get down easy enough." So saying, he placed his stick across the
mouth of the passage, jamming it on either side into an interstice.
"There!" he exclaimed, as he hung his weight upon the transverse beam,
which, though bowing, did not crack when bearing his weight. "Let's put
the rope round this, an' we'll slip down less'n no time."
"Wait a jiffy, Joe," said Sandy, who had been critically eyeing the
staff. "We'll make 'assurance doubly sure,' as your father said in his
sermon last Sunday,"--poking his stick while he spoke, into the same
cavities as the other occupied. "That will stiffen it. It's easy
enough getting down: we could jump, for that matter. It's the getting
up that's the problem. There, it's as stiff as a fire-bar now. Here's
the first to go down."
Holding the rope, the boy swung off, and was soon standing on the floor
of the lower cave. The others followed rapidly. They could find no
trace of the missing ladder. Not only was the ladder spirited away,
there were other signs which showed that the caves had been entered
since the last visit of the boys, and on proceeding to the third
chamber, where the bushrangers slept, there were manifest signs of
disturbance.
"Some un's been here, that's certain."
Sandy gave voice to the one opinion. The bark bunks occupied by the
outlaws were thrown off their trestles to the ground. There was no
gainsaying Sandy's statement. The situation was peculiar. The boys
might well be pardoned for being a little fearsome and creepy under the
circumstances.
"I heard Dickson tell your father, Sandy, at the brumby hunt, that a
party was comin' out from Tareela to visit the caves. P'r'aps it's them
that have moved the ladder."
"Don't think it could have been," persisted Joe. "There's no sign of
their camp outside."
"What about the 'rangers?"
The thought was decidedly unpleasant, and when voiced it struck a chill
in the hearts of all. As a matter of fact, the thought had lain in
Sandy's mind from the time he missed the ladder.
Ben Bolt was not a desperado of the Morgan or Kelly type--men who were
conscienceless, treacherous, and full of the blood-lust. Many, indeed,
of his acts of gallantry and open-hearted generosity, if theatrical,
were nevertheless redeeming qualities in the old-time bushranger. A man
of great resource and daring, a thorough bushman, a superb rider,
mounted always on the finest of horses,--stud stock mostly, which he
"lifted" from celebrated breeding stations,--the 'ranger was, in some
respects, a picturesque figure, and had a most adventurous career. Often
located and even sighted by the police, he was always able to make good
his escape, either by bush strategy or by an amazingly daring piece of
riding in rough country, at which even his intrepid pursuers, themselves
accomplished horsemen, stood aghast.
There was a spirit of romanticism about the fellow. His dress and
appearance gave colour to that. He was passionately attached to his
wife and children, and often incurred desperate risks in visiting them
when "home-sickness" seized him. His house was ever under the
surveillance of the police, who fondly hoped to catch him by that lure.
Yet, though often within an ace of capture, he always escaped.
Outwitting the subtlest efforts of the police, he was their despair.
Though of a sanguine temperament, there were seasons when he was the
victim of a black mood. At such times he was most dangerous and cruel.
"It could hardly be Ben Bolt," said Sandy at length. "It's quite
possible that the town party has been. How could Ben be here an' in
Queensland?"
"Well, what's next, Sandy?"
"I'd like us to explore the opening in the passage first, Joe. Come,
boys, let's shin up."
This was speedily accomplished, and the pals proceeded to the spot that
was in Sandy's eye, so to speak.
"Here's the place I meant!" exclaimed he, when they had retraced their
steps some distance through the passage. The opening, at first sight,
appeared to be a deep recess. Upon close examination, however, it was
found that the wall and the roof did not meet. There was a hole some
two feet in diameter.
"I spotted this when I came with father," explained the leader. "Now,
if one of you fellows will give me a hoist, I'll get my head and
shoulders into that opening above, and find out whether it's a chimney,
or takes a turn and forms a passage."
Accordingly Joe, stooping a little, received Sandy on his shoulders, by
which he was able to rise into the hole.
"Hurrah--hurrah!" he exclaimed a minute later. "It's a passage all
right, boys. There's a sort of landing, anyway, and it looks as though
there's a passage beyond. Hold steady, Joe, an' I'll try an' get my
hands on the ledge."
The boy made several efforts without avail, for he was an inch or so too
low.
"Step on my shoulders, Sandy." It was Neville who had placed himself
alongside Joe. His shoulders were at least three inches higher. Thus
raised, Sandy had no difficulty in grasping the ledge of the landing.
Catching the lad's feet with his hands, Neville pushed the boy higher,
and soon he worked his way on to the floor of the ceiling, as it were.
This done, he proceeded to light his candle and explore, for it was
impenetrably dark. Following the passage inwards, the boy advanced some
distance. He found that it widened as he proceeded, and became easier
to traverse.
"I'd better return now for the other chaps," muttered the lad.
Accordingly he retraced his steps and explained matters to the anxiously
waiting group. By the aid of the green-hide lariat, the others were
soon up with the leader on the landing.
Here, then, was a new situation. In all probability the foot of man had
never trodden this place. There were no traces of any living thing. It
was in no light mood, therefore, that the boys made a start. Their
position was unique and thrilled them. They might, in a literal way,
bring to light the hidden things of darkness. Not for ages, or ever, in
all likelihood, had those walls been lighted up and gazed upon. Whither
would the pathway lead?
Proceeding, they encountered no difficulty for some time, as the passage
widened in places, enabling them to walk abreast. Soon, however, it
began to contract, and in places it became a squeeze. The roof, too,
dipped considerably, so that it could be touched by the extended hand.
Sandy, who was still leading, began to experience a tired feeling.
There was a peculiar sensation in his ears, and a tightening in the
throat. After advancing a few steps farther he stumbled and almost
fell. His candle, too, began to burn very dimly. His followers were
experiencing similar feelings. In a moment the cause of this untoward
feeling came flashing across his mind.