JOURNEY AFTER THE BURIED TREASURE.
I have a distinct impression that I was thinking on the subject when
sleep overtook me, and when I was awakened Mr. Brown was already rolling
up his blankets and making his toilet.
"Come," he exclaimed, "let us be stirring before sunrise, and by ten
o'clock we can reach the banks of the Loddon. Get the kettle from the
pack, and we will have a cup of coffee for breakfast."
While I was unpacking the miscellaneous articles which the pack horse
was compelled to carry, Mr. Brown started a fire, and in a short time
the fumes of boiling coffee mingled with the fragrance of the numerous
flowers which grew upon the banks of the stream.
"How did you sleep?" I inquired, while cooling my pot of coffee, and
eating my cake of bread, seasoned with a small piece of salt pork, which
I had broiled on a stick.
"Not very soundly, I must confess, yet I think that I can get through
the day without a _siesta_. By the way, how you do snore!"
"Do?" I asked, "I didn't know that you was sufficiently awake during the
night to discover the fact. But a truce to jesting. What direction do we
travel to reach the Loddon?"
"We have got to ford this stream, and follow the bank for about three
miles, where we cross the country in the direction of Mount Tarrengower,
which we cannot see from this spot; after we have gained the Loddon, we
are to find a sheep path that will lead us to a plain, in the centre of
which is a small barren strip, surrounded on all sides, excepting one,
with quicksands and bogs. Bill told me that the path would lead almost
direct to the spot, and that I could not fail to recognize it, as
thousands of sheep resort there every week for the purpose of licking
the salt that is constantly forming under the action of brackish water
and a burning sun."
"And Mount Tarrengower--how far is that from the place indicated?" I
inquired.
"Not more than a mile, I should judge, for at twelve o'clock at night
the full moon, partly concealed by the mountain, throws a shadow exactly
upon the edge of the spot where we are to dig."
I considered the direction rather blind, but Mr. Brown seemed so
confident that I thought I would not dash his spirits by grave
misgivings. I was in a reflective mood, however, while assisting to pack
up, and saddle our animals, and I thought how Fred would laugh if we
returned empty-handed.
We mounted our animals and rode along the bank of the stream for a few
rods, until we reached what we supposed to be a good fording place, for
we saw the prints of animals' feet in profusion on both sides of the
brook.
"I will cross first," Mr. Brown said, "and then you can drive the pack
horse over, and follow after him."
I made no objections to the suggestion, but I thought I would watch his
course narrowly, and see how deep the dark-looking water really was
before I ventured to cross upon what seemed to me a very uncertain soil.
"Here I go," my friend exclaimed, striking his reluctant animal, who
didn't appear to relish the expedition.
The spirited animal bounded under the blow, and dashed down the bank,
sinking to his knees at every step in the light soil, and straining
badly to carry his master in safety to the opposite side. The water was
only up to the saddle girths, and the stream was not more than twenty
feet wide, yet I feared that both horse and rider would sink before my
eyes in the treacherous quicksands which composed the bed of the brook.
"Use whip and spur," I shouted, "or you will lose your horse."
Mr. Brown understood his danger full as well as myself. He lifted the
animal with his bridle, and then drove his sharp spurs into his panting
sides, but in spite of his most violent exertions the gallant gray
floundered about, and did not make an inch headway, and with prompt
action was alone enabled to draw one foot and then another from the
sands, and prevent being swallowed alive.
The dark water was lashed into foam by the struggle, and yet I could
offer no assistance to my friend or his horse. It seemed to me that each
moment the latter was sinking deeper and deeper, and in a few moments
must disappear from sight.
Mr. Brown appeared to entertain the same opinion, for he disengaged his
feet from the stirrups, and threw himself from the animal, striking the
water flat upon his stomach, and swimming, with quick strokes, towards
the opposite bank, which he gained, and by aid of the branch of a gum
tree, which overhung the brook, succeeded in swinging his light form
upon solid earth.
The horse, relieved of the weight of his rider, seemed encouraged to
renewed exertions, and after prodigious efforts, emerged from the
quicksands, and uttered a neigh, as though rejoicing at his escape.
"You will have to go farther up," shouted Mr. Brown, shaking himself,
and looking at his soiled clothes rather ruefully. "The bed of the brook
is so quidling, that it won't bear the weight of a mosquito; and if you
should commence sinking, the Lord only knows when you would stop, or
where."
Not wishing to test the truth of his assertion, I rode along the bank of
the brook nearly a mile, until I found a place where the water was more
than six inches deep, with a solid bed of gravel. At this spot I crossed
without trouble, and then we continued our journey across the country,
Mount Tarrengower looming up before us like a giant amid pigmies.
"Devilish narrow escape for me and the horse," Mr. Brown said, while
walking our animals over some rough ground; "I thought at one time that
we both would have to go under, and I began to think of a prayer or two.
I knew something would happen to us after talking about poor Buckerly in
the manner that we did."
"Do you really think so?" I asked, hardly knowing whether he was
quizzing me or was serious.
"Upon my word I am not jesting. I have too much superstition in my
composition to think of spirits in any light, excepting that of the
utmost respect; for why should not the dead revenge themselves upon the
living if so disposed?"
"If that is your belief, how do you reconcile the fact of your having
killed so many bushrangers, and yet escape their persecutions?" I
inquired.
"Simply because the bad have not the power to injure the good."
I laughed so heartily at the explanation, that even my friend suffered
his grim visage to relax a little.
"You may smile," he said, "but it's just as I tell you."
I saw that he was in earnest, so let the matter drop--but the
conversation was afterwards renewed and discussed in all its lights and
bearings, but still without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.
It was near twelve o'clock when we reached the river, which was about
three feet deep and forty wide. After hunting for some time we
discovered the ford, and crossed without difficulty. We found ourselves
in an immense grazing district, where ten thousand sheep could have been
pastured without trouble or fear of their suffering for food.
The difficulty which we then experienced was to find the right path that
was to lead us to the salt lick, but even that was overcome at length,
and we galloped along the trail which we supposed that Bill meant, with
bright anticipations of a successful termination of our mission.
Suddenly Mr. Brown reined up, and called to me to stop a moment.
"If I am not mistaken," he said, pointing with his whip towards a
cluster of gum tress and bushes that stood upon a small mound near our
right, "I saw a human being dodge behind one of those trees, after
watching us for a few minutes."
"Let us make an examination," I replied. "We want no spies upon our
actions in this matter, and if we are to be followed, we had better find
out what is wanted." I turned my horse's head as I spoke, and was
riding in the direction indicated, when my friend stopped me.
"Don't be rash in this matter, for we don't know how many men are
concealed in that clump of bushes, watching our movements. Let us ride
on and stop when concealed by those trees in the distance. From that
place we can watch movements in this quarter securely."
I considered Mr. Brown's advice the best, and we adopted it without
further discussion. Once or twice I looked back, but I could see nothing
that would excite suspicion, and I began to think that my friend's fears
were groundless.
When once concealed, however, beneath the shadow of the trees we
dismounted, and watched patiently--and were presently rewarded by seeing
a man, armed with a long gun, steal quietly from the bushes which we had
passed, and make towards Mount Tarrengower as though in a hurry to reach
some location without a moment's delay.
"It is no use to give chase," Mr. Brown said, seeing me make a movement
towards my horse. "Even if we should bring the fellow to close quarters,
one of us would have to bite the dust; for let me tell you a secret that
may be of some value to you hereafter in case you are anxious for a
fight. Every man in this country who carries a long gun is a good shot,
and can hit his object with as much certainty as your famed Kentucky
riflemen. So you can see that we should get no honor or profit by giving
chase to yonder long-legged fellow, who, if I am not much mistaken, is
better acquainted with this section of the country than ourselves. Let
him go. He is probably a shepherd; been on a visit to a neighboring
station, or else out on a tour of observation to look after
bushrangers."
"How near are we to a station?" I asked, still following with my eyes
the tall form of the stranger, who jumped from side to side with scarce
an effort, and who did not appear to regard the heat any more than a
salamander.
"As near as I can judge," my companion said, "we are still on the lands
belonging to the Hawswood station, although I am not certain. Adjoining
those lands is a station owned by a number of Melbourne merchants, and
the stock-house should be off towards the mountain. At least, it was
there three years ago, during the first and only time that I ever
visited these parts."
"Here we are at last," Mr. Brown said, pointing to a small strip of land
containing not more than a quarter of an acre, surrounded by those
treacherous bogs which are familiar to all who ever visited the plains
of Australia.
"That must be the spot indicated," he continued, surveying it with a
keen eye, "yet I can see no means of reaching the island. The bog, which
looks crusted over and hard, would not bear the weight of a lamb, much
less that of a man; yet that is just such a spot as a shrewd bushranger
would select for depositing his plunder, simply because no one would
think of looking there for it."
"Let us dismount and stake out our animals, and then examine the spot at
our leisure. If that is the place, we will find means for reaching it,
even if we have to build a bridge, or buy a pontoon of India rubber."
My companion accepted the advice, and under the shadow of a cluster of
stunted, gnarled trees, we removed the saddles, and then prepared our
dinner, which we stood in some need of, having been without food from
the time that we started in the morning, long before sunrise.
"I wish that a flock of sheep would stray this way," Mr. Brown said,
while scraping some dried grass together for the purpose of making a
fire, while I was occupied in undoing the pack which contained our
provisions, as well as our tools and cooking utensils; "I feel like
having a mutton chop for supper," he continued.
"Behold your wish," I replied, pointing to a flock of about a thousand
sheep, led by a patriarch, whose horns proclaimed many hard-fought
battles, just winding their way towards the salt lick from behind a
small knoll that stood between us and Mount Tarrengower.
Mr. Brown coolly drew his revolver, and apparently calculated the
distance.
"What do you intend to do?" I asked, seating myself on the pack, and
watching his proceedings.
"Have a mutton chop for supper, if those animals come within pistol
shot. Keep quiet, and don't alarm them, and you will see how delicate I
will do the trick."
I was too hungry to make many objections, and therefore followed the
advice of my friend. On came the flock, the old patriarch at their head,
unsuspicious of danger, and thinking probably of the rich treat which he
was about to confer upon his numerous harem, by allowing them to partake
of a bit of salt grass at the close of the day.
We were so well concealed by the trunks of the trees, that the sheep,
generally wild and suspicious of strangers, did not discover us until
the old ram was within about two rods of our hiding place; then he
suddenly stopped, and snuffed the air as though he smelled an enemy, and
the flock, governed by his actions and motions, likewise halted and
looked around, to discover the cause of the commotion.
For a few seconds all was quiet, with the exception of a number of
bleating lambs in the rear, and just as the ram was once more elevating
his head to scent the air, Mr. Brown fired. A fine fat ewe sprang into
the air, and then rolled over and over in the agonies of death.
"A good shot!" cried Mr. Brown, but hardly were the words from his mouth
when there was a rushing sound, and before I could interfere, or raise
my voice in warning, the old patriarch had charged past me. My comrade
saw his danger, but disdained to use his revolver in such a quarrel, or
even to fly. He probably thought that he could seize the ram by his
horns, and arrest his career without a violent effort, but if such were
his intentions he was bitterly disappointed, for the old patriarch
possessed the strength and power of a dozen ordinary sheep, and possibly
had battled with many bushrangers for the preservation of his flock from
decimation.
On rushed the ram with the speed of a race horse. He passed me without
notice, his eyes glowing like coals of fire, and every muscle in his
neck stretched for the encounter. His wives did not offer to fly, but
stood watching the result of the old fellow's charge, evidently quite
confident of the ultimate result.
When the ram was within three feet of my companion, he thought that it
was about time to make good his retreat, seeing that his opponent was
disposed to be in earnest.
Mr. Brown started back suddenly, and then turned to dodge behind a tree
where he could have laughed his enemy to scorn. But unfortunately he was
too late in making up his mind, and just as he turned, the ram struck
him upon that portion of his body which presents the broadest basis, and
in a twinkling over went my friend, as though shot from a mortar.
I could not, for the life of me, help laughing at the sight, and yet I
was not disposed to interfere between them. It was a fair fight, and I
wanted to see it out.
I will give the ram the credit of acting in a fair and manly manner, for
after he had floored his opponent, he stood perfectly still until Mr.
Brown began to scramble up, and after he had gained his knees, the old
fellow evidently labored under the impression that more work was cut for
him. With a fierce stamp the ram retreated a few feet, and then rushed
on like lightning. Mr. Brown was thrown headlong to the ground, and then
he began to look upon the contest as one not to be despised. I heard the
click of his revolver, and I knew that his thoughts were deadly, but I
resolved to save the life of so gallant an opponent.
"Don't fire," I shouted; "it is a pity to kill the old fellow for
defending his wives. How would you like it?"
"Call him off then, or d---- his long horns, I'll blow a hole through
him large enough to take in a pack saddle," cried Mr. Brown, still
maintaining his recumbent attitude, as though no longer desirous of
provoking a battle.
The task was not difficult. Indeed the ram had grown so inflated with
victory that he was ready to pitch into every thing living, and I had
only to show myself and manifest a hostile attitude to accomplish my
purpose. The very first motion that I made with my head attracted his
attention. He turned from a fallen foe with disdain, and braced himself
for a new conflict. I made a second motion with my head suggestive of
butting, and on he came, but I was prepared for him. Springing nimbly
aside, I let him strike the hard pack saddle with all his force, and the
result did not disappoint me. The saddle yielded, and over and over went
the ram, until he picked himself up about two rods from the spot where I
stood awaiting a renewal of the attack with much patience.
I did not have to wait long. With a toss of his shaggy head the old
fellow took deliberate aim, and came towards me. I waited until he got
under full headway, and then stepped behind a tree that my body had
screened. The crash was terrible. The ram rebounded several paces, and
rolled over and over, kicking violently, and when he did struggle to his
feet he winked his eyes rapidly, as though afflicted with a headache of
a violent nature. For a few minutes we stood looking at each other in
silence, and then the old patriarch wagged his tail slowly, and moved
towards his wives, with rather a crestfallen appearance.