The Search for the Lost.--The Fig-tree.--Signals.--The Wanderers
found.--The Wounded Boy.--The Sufferings of the Thirsty.--The Rescue and
Return.--The Kangaroo Conflict.--A strange Meeting.--The
Bush-rangers.--The miraculous Escape.
Sleep fled from all the sorrowful family, and they gladly saw the
morning light which would enable them to set out to track the unlucky
boys. The three men chose the high pinnacle from whence Arthur had fired
the preceding evening for a rendezvous, and fixed a white cross of
peeled rods against the dark foliage of a gum-tree, that stood tall and
conspicuous on the summit, as a land-mark. From thence Arthur proceeded
directly north amidst the intricacies of the mountains, while Jack went
off at the right-hand, and Wilkins at the left. It was agreed that they
should meet at the same spot in the evening, if the search was not
successful before then. Arthur carried one of the guns; the other being
left with Mr. Mayburn, that he might fire it as a signal, in case of
alarm; while Arthur proposed, if he succeeded in discovering the
fugitives, to recall the other two men by firing his gun.
Arthur's share of the work was certainly the most toilsome. At one
moment he was climbing over some lofty rock; the next, he was searching
for a pass amidst inaccessible heights; then winding through tortuous
gorges, till his head became so bewildered that it was only when he
observed the course of the sun, or caught sight of the happy signal of
the white cross, that he was able to determine his position. Several
times, from some elevation, he shouted loudly the names of the absent
boys, but none answered. The day wore away, and he gladly rested for a
short time beneath a fig-tree, still bearing a quantity of ripe fruit,
while the ground was strewn with the decayed figs, on which flocks of
bronze pigeons, yellow cockatoos, and rose-colored parrots, were busily
feeding. These birds seemed to confide in Arthur's forbearance, for they
continued to enjoy their feast without evincing any alarm, except by a
vehement greeting, in their several notes, as if they inquired his
business at their board.
The arched roots of the fig-tree afforded him an easy mode of access to
the upper branches, where he filled his straw hat with the fruit, and
then continued his walk, enjoying the refreshment; for the figs, though
not luscious, were ripe and juicy.
"I will give one more shout," thought he; and his voice, cleared and
strengthened by his refreshment, rang through the echoing mountains. He
waited for five minutes; still there was no reply; but his eye caught a
light smoke among the mountains. It might be the fires of the natives he
thought; but even were it so, the boys might have fallen into their
hands, and no time must be lost in rescuing them. He made ready his gun,
and, still bearing his load of figs, he directed his course briskly
towards the suspected spot. But it was most difficult to attain the
place from whence the smoke seemed to proceed, and he wandered for an
hour amidst intricate windings, making many unsuccessful attempts to
penetrate to the spot, till at length he came to a small hollow,
surrounded by dungeon-like walls, where a fire of dry wood was
smouldering, but no one was near it.
"Hugh! Gerald!" he shouted; and at the sound of his voice his brother
appeared, crawling feebly from a hole in the rocks.
"Hugh, my boy, are you hurt?" asked Arthur, in a hurried tone: "and
where is Gerald?"
Hugh pointed to the hole from whence he had issued, and in a hoarse,
weak voice, said, "Water! water!" Scarcely conscious what he did, Arthur
pressed the juice of a fig into the parched mouth of the boy, who
murmured, "Thank God! But, oh, Arty! can you get any water for poor
Gerald?"
Putting more figs into his hand, Arthur stooped down to the low
entrance, and passed into a small dark hollow, where Gerald was
stretched out, almost insensible, and near him lay dead a huge kangaroo.
Arthur gave the poor boy the only refreshment he had to offer, the juice
of the figs; but he seemed in a much more feeble state than Hugh, and
when his kind friend with difficulty got him out into the open air, he
saw with consternation that his leg was bound up with a handkerchief,
through which the blood was oozing.
"How did this happen, Hugh?" asked Arthur, before he ventured to examine
the wound.
"It was the kangaroo," answered he; "and then, when we had killed it, we
were far too ill to eat it, though we have had no food since we left
home."
"I cannot tell what I must do," said Arthur. "It will be impossible to
get you home to-night, feeble as you are; and papa will now be in alarm
at my absence."
"But you will not leave us again, Arty," said Hugh, sobbing. "I fear
dear Gerald will die. I dare not remain alone any longer."
"I must leave you for a short time," answered Arthur. "I think I shall
be able to summon Wilkins and Jack to us; then they can search for
water, and carry Gerald home."
Hugh burst into tears, and said, "But the bush-rangers--I cannot tell
you all, Arthur, my head is so bad. There are bush-rangers; we have seen
them; they will meet you, and they will come and kill us. At least,
carry Gerald back to the cave."
In increased alarm, Arthur conveyed Gerald into the dismal cave, and
leaving them all the remainder of the figs, he waited to hear no more,
but hurried off with all speed towards the rendezvous, looking round as
he went on, for some spring or pool from which he could procure water
for the suffering boys. When he reached a high rock, not far from the
rendezvous, he ventured to fire his gun, and was immediately answered by
the shouts of the men, who, following the sound and flash of the gun,
soon came up to him.
"Where are they? Oh, Mr. Arthur, have you not found them?" said Jack.
Arthur, in a few words, told the distressing story; and night being now
at hand, it was agreed that Jack should return to appease the uneasiness
of the family, while Wilkins should accompany Arthur back to the two
anxious boys, with whom they would remain till daylight, and then bring
them home. Wilkins undertook to procure water for them from a pool at a
little distance, where Jack and he rested, and where they had cleaned
out two large gourds they had found, and converted them into
water-bottles.
These gourds were a great treasure; they carried them to the pool,
filled them with fresh-water, and, after drinking themselves, hastened
forward with all the vigor that remained to them after the day's
fatigue, towards the spot where the boys were lying, but did not reach
it till night had made it most difficult to discover it. The joy of the
poor wanderers was excessive when they saw their friends arrive,
bringing the refreshment they so much desired. Gerald was already
somewhat revived by the figs; and after he and Hugh had drunk some
water, they began to desire more substantial food; and it was not long
before Wilkins had cut off, and broiled, some steaks of kangaroo
venison, of which all the hungry party partook with great enjoyment.
Still the boys were too much weakened and exhausted to enter into any
details of their adventure that night; and when Arthur and Wilkins had
collected heath for beds and covering--for the nights were now
chill,--they all crept into the cave, and slept soundly till awakened by
the rude, early greeting of the laughing jackass.
Then, after more kangaroo steaks, Arthur made an examination of Gerald's
lacerated and bruised leg, which Hugh had previously bandaged to the
best of his skill. They could now spare water to wash the wound, and the
bandages were replaced by some made from Arthur's handkerchief; and
Wilkins having cut down the spreading bough of a fig-tree, Gerald and
the kangaroo were placed side by side upon it, and borne by Arthur and
Wilkins. The procession moved slowly and silently, Hugh looking round
anxiously as he preceded the litter, in dread of the terrible
bush-rangers.
The rugged mountain-road tired the bearers greatly, but long before they
reached the rendezvous, they saw a figure standing before the dark
gum-tree, and a loud "Halloo!" brought Jack to meet and assist them. He
had considerately brought with him a bucket of water; and they rested
and refreshed themselves, before they completed their toilsome journey.
But fatigue was forgotten when they all met again in the quiet valley;
Mr. Mayburn and Margaret wept for joy, and though nurse did not fail to
chide them as "bad boys," she fondled and nursed the wanderers, and
produced for their comfort cockatoo-stew, flavored with wild herbs that
resembled parsley and marjoram, and mixed with the beans they had got on
the banks of the river.
"Keep a sentinel at the pass, Arthur," said Hugh. "We shall be watched
and tracked; there will be scouts all around us. It is a miracle that we
have arrived here safely."
"Oh! Master Hugh, honey, is it that good-to-nought Black Peter?" asked
Jenny.
"Worse than that, I am sorry to say, nurse," answered he; "for there are
dozens of Black Peters ready to snap us up. But don't look so sorrowful,
Meggie, and I'll just tell you how it all happened. That big old
fellow," pointing to the kangaroo, "kept us trotting after him for hours
and hours, and always when we got him within reach of a spear or an
arrow, he bounded off like a race-horse, and you could not say whether
he hopped, or galloped, or flew. It was a beautiful sight, but very
vexatious. At last we got desperate; we were tired and hungry, and we
determined to have him; so we parted, that we might attack him on both
sides, and force him to stand at bay. It was a capital plan, and turned
out very well. We chased him into that queer little dungeon-like hollow
where you found us. He flew round and round, but we guarded the
entrance, and he could not escape, and at last we drove him into a
corner, pierced mortally with our spears. I wanted Gerald to wait till
the beast was weakened with loss of blood; but he was in a hurry to
finish, so he rushed on with his drawn knife, and I followed to help
him. But when the brave old fellow found he had not a chance, he faced
round, and with his fore-feet--his arms, I should say--he seized me, and
gave me a heavy fall. Gerald was then behind, and plunged his knife into
him, on which the desperate creature struck out with his powerful hind
claw, and tore and bruised poor Gerald, as you see.
"I was soon on my feet again, and then I speedily despatched the beast;
but I should never like to kill another in that way; it was just like
murdering one's grandfather. Then I turned to poor Gerald. Oh, Margaret!
if you had seen how he bled! and how frightened I was till I got his
wounds tied up! He was very thirsty, and begged me to get him some
water, or he thought he must die. So off I set, keeping a sharp eye on
our den, that I might find it again. I mounted a crag, and looked about
me till I saw flocks of birds, all hovering over one place, a good
stretch from me. 'That's my aim,' thought I, and on I dashed, over rocks
and valleys, straight forward, till I saw before me a grand
silver-looking lake, covered with ducks and swans; while regiments of
birds, like cranes and pelicans, with other unknown species, were drawn
up round it.
"I could look at nothing else but the birds for some time, I was so
charmed, and I planned directly to bring papa to the place the very
next day; but remembering poor Gerald's condition, I went forward, and
looking round to scan the grassy plains between the mountains and the
lake, I was astonished to see a number of large animals grazing, which
were certainly not kangaroos, but real, downright quadrupeds, walking on
their four legs. 'Here's a grand new field of natural history,' thought
I. 'Yes, we must certainly take up our quarters here.' But, halloo! what
did I see that moment, hobbling ungracefully up to me, but our old
friend Charlie Grey!"
"Charlie Grey! Edward Deverell's favorite horse!" exclaimed Margaret.
"You have been dreaming, Hugh; it could not be!"
"It could be, Meggie, for it really was he," answered Hugh. "Do you
remember how we used to feed the handsome fellow with bits of bread on
the voyage? It came into my mind just then, and I plucked a handful of
oats, and held them out, calling 'Charlie! Charlie!' Poor, dear old
fellow! he could not trot up to me as his heart wished, but he limped
forward as well as his hobbles would allow him."
"Hobbles!" exclaimed Wilkins; "then he'd been nabbed by them
bush-rangers."
"Sure enough he had, Wilkins," continued Hugh; "and there were five or
six strong black draught-horses, besides a herd of bullocks and cows;
every beast, I'll venture to say, stolen from our friend Edward
Deverell. Well, I had forgot all about poor Gerald and the water, and
was feeding and stroking Charlie, when I saw he had a halter on his
neck; and I thought I might as well just cut the hobbles, mount him,
ride off to take Gerald behind me, and away we would gallop home. But
the water!--I had forgotten that we had no vessel to contain water; but,
fortunately, at the edge of the lake, near a place where a fire had been
kindled, I saw piles of large mussel-shells. I filled two, placed them
in my hat, and slung it round my neck. Then I pulled out my knife, and
stooped down to cut Charlie's bonds; but just then such yells fell on my
ears that I started up, and saw on one of the heights a line of fierce
looking men, attired in the conspicuous yellow dress of the convicts.
Their guns were directed towards me, and there was no longer time to
release and mount Charlie; in fact, I had not presence of mind to decide
on doing it, but ran off as fast as my legs would carry me, just in time
to escape a volley of shots from the wretches. Thankful that I had
escaped unhit, I fled desperately, never looking behind me till I
reached poor Gerald, whom I found very ill and restless, parched with
thirst; and there was scarcely a teaspoonful of water left in the
shells, from my rapid flight. I was telling him my story, when we heard
a tremendous report of fire-arms, and we trembled to think the villains
were pursuing me; but now I conclude it must have been your signal-shot,
an idea which never occurred to me in my distracted state. I then got
Gerald into that little hole, and dragged the great kangaroo after him,
that nothing suspicious might be in sight if they followed me; though I
hardly dared to hope that our den should escape their observation. Dear
Gerald groaned and tossed about all night. How much I did grieve that I
had not succeeded in bringing him the water! Nor was our condition
improved next morning, for I was afraid to venture out beyond the
hollow, round which I sought in vain for any fruit or juicy herb to cool
our parched mouths. Gerald, in all his agony, was twice as brave as I
was; and if he had been the sound one, I know he would have risked any
danger to obtain help for me."
"Botheration! Hugh, my boy," said Gerald, "didn't I know all the time
that it was my moans and groans that made you turn soft and sob like a
girl? I couldn't help grunting out like a pig shut out of a cabin on a
rainy night; and then you grunted and cried too, for company. We were a
pair of pleasant, jolly fellows all day, Meggie, as you may easily
suppose. Day, indeed, do I say! why, we thought it must be a week, at
least! As night came on, it grew very cold, and Hugh scrambled out to
gather a few sticks together to make a fire before our cave. Before he
came back, I heard the crack! crack! of a gun running from rock to rock;
and when I saw Hugh, I tried to speak to him; and then I know no more
till I felt the cold fig-juice on my dry tongue. Won't I like figs as
long as I live; and won't I have an alley of fig-trees in my garden when
I locate--squat, I mean, and build a mansion, and marry."
"Mrs. O'Brien may possibly object to the _Ficus_ in her garden, Gerald,"
said Arthur;--"it is not a comely tree in its proportions; but the
question may safely rest awhile. Now, Hugh, after you heard the gun?"
"Then I threw more wood upon the fire," answered he, "that the smoke
might be seen, and crept back into the cave; for I could not get over
the fear that the shot might have come from the bush-rangers; and I had
thus given them a signal to our hiding-place. Think of my joy when I
heard the voices which I never expected to hear again!"
Jenny had wept abundantly at the tale of suffering, and she now
endeavored to show her sympathy by placing before the fatigued and
hungry boys another collation, consisting of bean-coffee sweetened with
honey, and sweet oat-cakes; and certainly, if Mr. Mayburn had not
interfered with grave sanitary admonitions, the boys were in danger of
eating themselves into a fever.
"I have thought much on this unfortunate adventure," said Mr. Mayburn,
when they met together the next morning. "It is a fearful reflection to
know that we are in the midst of a horde of banditti, ready to intercept
our least movement. What shall we do? We appear to be in safety here;
but this lovely spot would become a prison to you all, if you were
forbidden to move from it. Arthur, what do you say? Wilkins, my good
man, do you think we are quite safe?"
"Not ower and above, I say, master," answered Wilkins; "they're just
ranging hereabouts, to pick up recruits among them fools of black
fellows, and to keep out of t' way of them as they've pillaged; and
they're ripe for any thieving or ill-doing as falls in their way. But
they'll not sattle long; they'll range off down south to turn their
beasts into brandy, and we'se be better at their heels nor afore 'em."
"I think, papa, Wilkins is right," said Arthur. "We may rest a good time
here without any sacrifice of comfort. We have grain and water at hand;
pigeons and cockatoos in our own preserve, asking us to roast them; an
excellent store of honey, coffee, and tea, as we are pleased to name the
Australian representatives of these luxuries; spacious and dry lodgings,
and fresh air. Certainly, with occasional forays, conducted with due
prudence, we shall have abundant and excellent provision for any length
of time. This monstrous kangaroo ought to supply us with meat for many
days; and I think we might dry part of it in the sun, to resemble the
South-American _charqui_."
"It is an admirable idea, Arthur," said Mr. Mayburn; "we shall thus
avoid the sin of wasting the good gifts of Providence. I have read a
description of the process; I know the meat must be cut in slices, and I
should like to assist you in carrying out the plan, though, practically,
I am inexperienced. The first difficulty appears to be, how to avoid the
destruction of the skin in slicing it."
"Why, papa, we skinned him this morning," replied Hugh. "The skin is
already cleaned and spread to dry; we shall rub it with a little fat, to
render it pliable, and then we shall have a blanket or a cloak of
inestimable value."
"True, my son; I had forgotten that preliminary operation," said Mr.
Mayburn. "But still I cannot understand how we shall obtain the large
slices;--the bones, the form of the animal, present great obstacles."
"Leave it to the experienced, papa," said Margaret. "Wilkins knows how
to slice up a kangaroo."
It was capital employment and amusement for the active to cut up the
huge animal into thin slices, which were spread out on the bush, and the
ardent sun of the climate, even at this late season, soon dried the meat
perfectly; and Margaret wove grass bags to pack it in; and thus several
days passed without alarm or annoyance; and with due care and attention
the wound of Gerald was perfectly healed.