THE YOUNG COLONISTS INTRODUCED--EXPECTANT RELATIVES--IN SEARCH OF "OLD
BOLTER"--A DINNER IN THE BUSH--BOLTER TRIES TO ESCAPE--ENCOUNTER
BLACKS--BOLTER BROUGHT BACK--SANDY MACDOUGAL.
"I wonder what sort of fellows these English cousins of ours will turn
out?" exclaimed Harry Berrington, as he rode up alongside his elder
brother Paul. "Judging by their photographs, which Uncle Frank sent us
out last year, I have an idea that they are mighty fine young gentlemen,
who will be apt to turn up their noses at us colonial `corn-stalks.'"
"Hector and Reginald are good-looking fellows, I should think, and wear
fine clothes but beyond that--whether they are dark or fair, have blue
eyes and pink cheeks, or whether they can ride, and shoot, swim, and
play cricket, or can only dance and sing, or draw, or suchlike girlish
things--I have not the slightest notion," answered Paul. "We shall,
however, soon know; for, according to the letter father got yesterday
their ship ought to reach Moreton Bay in the course of three or four
weeks; and I hope that I may have the chance of going down to Ipswich to
meet them."
"I don't think you will be so lucky," observed Harry. "I heard father
say that he intended going himself, as he expected poor Aunt Augusta
would require a good deal of attention, as she has been accustomed to
live luxuriously, and has never done anything for herself. From a
remark he made, I suspect that both the boys and girls have been brought
up in the same fashion. Although they may get into our ways at last,
they won't like our style of life at all when they first arrive."
"They must learn to like it, somehow or other," observed Paul. "Poor
Uncle Frank! I really pity him; he has lost nearly all his fortune; and
to be obliged, at his time of life, to begin to work hard! And work
hard he must, like the rest of us."
"Yes, indeed; I have heard mother say that they lived in a large house
in London, with butlers, footmen, housekeeper, nurses, and all sorts of
servants; and had carriages and horses, and saw lots of company," said
Harry.
"They'll not have much of that out here; they will have to be their own
servants, or consider themselves fortunate if they can hire an Irish
girl, or get a black _gin_ to do the rough work. We must try and help
them, however, as much as we can, until they get accustomed to our
ways," observed Paul. "And Mary, and Janet, and Lizzie will, I am sure,
do their best to save them trouble."
"Of course, we all will, in reality; but I don't think I shall be able
to help laughing when I see the exquisite Mr Hector and his brother
Reginald attempting to round up cattle, riding after stray horses, or
milking cows. And there are two other boys--Edgar and Albert. I wonder
what they will be like; they are about the same ages as Bob and Tommy,
and if they are as great pickles they will manage to lead each other
into all manner of scrapes; but we shall have rare fun with the girls if
they have got any life in them."
The two speakers were fine, active-looking lads, sons of Captain Hugh
Berrington, who had settled in the colony of Queensland a short time
before Paul, the eldest, was born. They might have been known as young
gentlemen by the tone of their voices rather than by their costume,
which consisted of a red serge shirt, loose trousers fastened at the
waist with a leathern belt, large boots coming up to their knees, and
broad-brimmed cabbage-tree hats. Each carried in his hand a heavy whip
with a long thick thong. The elder, in addition, had a brace of pistols
in his belt, which weapons were necessary in case of the sudden
appearance of any strange natives. They were mounted on strong, active
little horses, which evidently got but a small amount of grooming.
The lads had just left their home, which was situated on the banks of
the Burnett river. It is worthy of a short description. The
house, though built entirely of wood, and on one floor, was a
substantial-looking building, containing ten rooms, with a broad
verandah running entirely round it. The frame-work was of rough timber,
and the walls were composed of slabs, which are boards split out of the
iron-bark or blue gum-tree. The roof was covered with shingles, or
tiles of wood, split like the slabs and sawn to the required size.
Bound the homestead was a field of Indian corn, an orchard full of
fruit-trees of various descriptions, a kitchen-garden supplying all
sorts of vegetables, and a smaller space devoted to flowers, most of
which would have been highly prized in an English conservatory. There
were several out-buildings beyond the cultivated ground, with yards and
pens for cattle and sheep.
Altogether, Stratton was considered a very flourishing little homestead,
of which the owner was justly proud. The sun had scarcely risen, when,
after a hurried breakfast, the two young Berringtons had set out on an
expedition in search of "Old Bolter," one of their horses, well
so-called, who--no unusual circumstance--was reported missing. They had
a difficult task before them, for Old Bolter was a cunning rogue, and by
this time had probably got far away into the bush; but to find him they
were determined, as he was wanted for work, and could do twice as much
as any other horse when he chose. They were now, as fast as the
numerous trees would allow them, cantering forward through a scrub,
extending for some distance from the banks of the river. Familiar as
was the scenery to them, Paul, who had an eye for the picturesque, could
not help remarking the beauty of the rich tropical vegetation amid which
they were passing. The sun, now rapidly rising behind their backs,
threw a bright glow on the dark-green branches of the huge fig-trees,
the feathery leaves of the cabbage and other palms, and here and there,
tall pines or red cedars, towering above the mass of foliage, with vines
and creepers of many hues hanging to the boughs in wreaths and festoons,
or extending to the ground like loose ropes from the rigging of a ship.
They soon got clear of the scrub, for Old Bolter would certainly not be
hiding within it, for the best of reasons--not a blade of grass grew on
the leaf-covered ground. They now entered the more open country, called
forest land, in contradistinction to the scrub. Here, though gum-trees
of vast size towered to the sky, they generally stood far apart--their
curiously-shaped leaves, with their edges turned upwards, allowing the
sun's rays to penetrate to the grass-covered ground. Paul and Harry now
began to look out eagerly for the runaway. There were one or two places
in which he had before been found, and these they had settled first to
visit. They were gullies, or dry creeks, bordered thickly by trees,
beneath the shade of which he could stand during the heat of the day,
and, while whisking off the flies with his long tail, meditate at his
leisure. Three of these places were visited, but Old Bolter was not
there. The water-holes in their neighbourhood were dry, which would
account for the absence of the knowing old steed.
"He has gone to Myall Creek, depend upon it," observed Paul; "we shall
find him in the scrub thereabouts."
Harry agreed that his brother was very likely correct in his surmise,
and, the ground being open, they again rode forward. Harry especially
delighted in a hard gallop. By getting over the ground at an early
hour, they might rest during the heat of the day under the shade of the
myall trees--from which the creek took its name--and employ themselves
in shaping a few stock whip-handles, which are made from its fragrant
wood; they would then recommence their search for Old Bolter. Once
having found him, there would be no stopping until they had got him safe
back into the paddock. An hour's hard riding brought them up to Myall
Creek, within the dry bed of which they hoped to find Bolter, provided
he had not discovered their approach, when to a certainty he would be
off to some other place of concealment. They had prudently brought
provisions with them, and, having securely hobbled their horses so that
they might feed close to them, they sat down beneath the shade of a tree
on the edge of the scrub and ate their dinners. They then cut some
sticks from the myall trees suited for their purpose, and, while they
sat resting in the shade, employed themselves in shaping the wood into
the required size with their knives.
"Now," cried Paul, jumping up, "we must hunt up Old Bolter."
They quickly caught their steeds, and, unhobbling them, mounted.
"You go round the north side, and I will take the south of the bush,"
said Paul. "If you see Bolter, cooey to me, and take care that he does
not make off westward, or we shan't get back to-night--or to-morrow,
perhaps."
"No fear about that. I'll head him if I catch sight of his ears, and
take good care to turn him towards you."
Harry accordingly rode away to the northward, while Paul directed his
course round the southern end of the bush, and then circling round,
reached the west side of the creek, in the dry bed of which he hoped to
find Bolter. He examined the ground carefully, expecting to find some
track of the missing horse, but not a sign could he see. Half an hour
or more elapsed, when he heard Harry's shrill cooey; but, from the
faintness of the sound, he knew that his brother must be a long way off.
Putting spurs to his horse he galloped forward, expecting every moment
to see Bolter dash out of the creek and make for the west. At last he
caught sight of Harry, and directly afterwards, from some thick bushes,
out sprang Bolter, and, as had been expected, made off towards the west,
just midway between the two lads.
"After him!" cried Paul, and turning their horses' heads they gave them
the rein. The animals seemed to know the object of the chase, and were
eager as their riders to overtake the truant.
The ground was rough and broken, with here and there trees lying across
it, blown down by a whirlwind; but they scarcely stopped Bolter, who
seemed to take an especial pleasure in leaping over them, and leading
his pursuers along the worst ground he could find. The other animals
were, however, quite as eager to come up with Bolter as he was to
escape, and exerted themselves to the utmost. Should he once get out of
sight, as there appeared every probability of his doing, days might pass
before he could again be discovered. They were approaching another
scrub, which was, however, sufficiently open to allow the horses to pass
through.
"If he once gets in there, our game will be up!" cried Paul. "On,
Harry, on! we must head him before he reaches it."
"Very well to sing out, `On, on!' My beast is doing his best, and
Bolter doesn't intend to be caught," cried Harry.
That Bolter would escape seemed very likely. He had got within a few
yards of the scrub, when he suddenly wheeled round, almost on his
haunches, and galloped back the way he had come. Scarcely had he done
so, when a black figure started up from behind some bushes, and hurled a
long lance at him, but the weapon merely grazed his side, and stuck in
the ground.
"Back, back! the blacks! There may be more of them!" cried Paul.
Harry had seen the native, and pulled up as his brother spoke. They
were just in time, for a dozen or more black fellows, showing
themselves, sprang forward poising their spears ready to hurl at the
young horsemen. Old Bolter, fully comprehending the danger which he and
his owners were in, instead of going over the bad ground took that to
the left, allowing Paul and Harry to ride up close to him on either
flank. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes about him, evidently intending to
make off in some other direction if he could. The three horses now tore
along over the ground, the nimble-footed blacks, with their spears in
hand, following them for some distance. At length, however, Paul,
looking back, found that they had got well ahead of the natives. It was
important not to be overtaken, for they evidently belonged to some
hostile tribe who intended mischief. Bolter, who seemed to be aware
that there was no longer any danger from the blacks, made two or three
attempts to escape; but Paul and Harry reminding him of his duty with
their stock whips, he at length made straight as an arrow for the
station, over the very course they would have chosen. Nothing stopped
him. Across the country he galloped, with the two riders on either
side. As they approached the yard they shouted to Sandy Macdougal, the
overseer, who, fortunately, was close at hand, to open the gate, and in
rushed Old Bolter.
"We had a hard matter to find him, and he would have got away from us
after all if a number of black fellows had not tried to spear him,"
observed Paul. "We must be on our guard against them, or they will be
doing some mischief."
"You've indeed done vera weel to bring the brute back so soon," said
Sandy, as he carefully closed the gate, not to give Bolter another
chance of escaping. "It would be wise to send over to Ogilvie to let
the police know that there are strange blacks in the neighbourhood.
Better to prevent the mischief than punish their puir bodies after it's
committed, and as they attacked you, there's sufficient reason for
warning them to take their departure."
The lads having unsaddled their horses, turned them into the paddock,
and, accompanied by Sandy, repaired to the house. On the way the
overseer inquired more particularly about their meeting with the blacks.
"It's a mercy they didna spear you. Praise the Lord for His goodness,
lads; He always watches over those who trust Him. Dinna fail to do
that."
Sandy Macdougal was an old follower of Captain Berrington. He had
accompanied him from ship to ship as his coxswain; and when the captain
retired from the service, and obtained the allotment of land on which he
finally settled in Australia, Sandy, though he might have obtained a
pension by serving a year or two longer at sea, insisted on accompanying
him. While the captain was going through the arduous work of settling,
Sandy was like his right hand. When the old sailor might have set up a
farm of his own he declined doing so, preferring to serve his old
commander in the capacity of overseer; and most faithfully did he
discharge his trust.