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THE LOST EXPLORERS
[Illustration: "AND ALL THIS TIME THE HAPPY-GO-LUCKY SHADOW WAS PLUGGING
ALONG OVER THE THIRSTY DESERT SANDS"]
THE LOST EXPLORERS
A STORY OF THE TRACKLESS DESERT
BY
ALEXANDER MACDONALD
F.R.G.S., F.R.S.G.S., F.R.C.I.
Author of
"In Search of El Dorado"
"The Trail of the Pioneer"
"Pioneering in Klondike"
ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR H. BUCKLAND
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW DUBLIN BOMBAY
1907
_Copyrighted in the United States, America
by Blackie & Son, Limited_
DEDICATED TO
B. B.
PREFACE
In this work I have endeavoured to portray a phase of life in a far-away
land, a land concerning which we have only too little knowledge at the
present time, though it is one of our Empire's greatest colonies. I am
aware that to make a book composed largely of real
happenings--especially when one writes for the youth of the nation--is a
somewhat unusual thing to do. In _The Lost Explorers_ I have given a
tale of gold-digging and of exploration--a tale, for the most part, of
events that have actually happened. My characters are all drawn--however
crudely--from life; my descriptions are those of one who has seen and
felt in a similar environment. My boys in the story were real boys, and
they dared and suffered and accomplished together. As for Mackay, he is
still a power in the land, ready and willing always, as he said to his
young companions, "to shed the light of his great knowledge abroad for
the benefit of mankind in general".
The last few chapters of the book are based on an explorer's natural
deductions. We all, who have forced a painful path over Central
Australia's arid sands, hope--ay, believe--in the existence of a
wonderful region in the vague mists of the Never Never Land. Perhaps
the very strenuousness of the wish brings about the belief. Who can
say? My descriptions of the strange aborigines beyond the mystic
mountains are not altogether fanciful. In my own wanderings I have
encountered more than one tribe whose mental development was far in
advance of that usually credited to the untutored savage of the great
Island Continent. What I have written, I have written faithfully, and to
the best of my ability. If _The Lost Explorers_ gives pleasure to my
readers, I shall indeed be more than content.
ALEXANDER MACDONALD.
CONTENTS
CHAP. Page
I. A MOMENTOUS DECISION 11
II. OUTWARD BOUND 29
III. GOLDEN FLAT 46
IV. THE TREASURE OF THE MINE 66
V. THE RUSH AT GOLDEN FLAT 93
VI. THE SHADOW'S GREAT EFFORT 112
VII. BOB'S TRIUMPH 131
VIII. MACGUIRE'S THREAT 151
IX. INTO THE UNKNOWN 192
X. AN AWKWARD PREDICAMENT 207
XI. THE FINDING OF FORTUNATE SPRING 227
XII. A NIGHT ATTACK 244
XIII. THE MYSTIC MOUNTAIN 267
XIV. THE STRUGGLE BY THE MOUNTAIN 285
XV. THE SECRET OF THE MOUNTAIN 304
XVI. THE PRISONERS BY THE MOUNT 342
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
"AND ALL THIS TIME THE HAPPY-GO-LUCKY SHADOW WAS
PLUGGING ALONG OVER THE THIRSTY DESERT SANDS"
_Frontispiece_ 116
"LOOK WHAT'S COMING, BOYS" 48
"JACK FELT A BALL GRAZE HIS TEMPLE; THEN HIS OWN
RIFLE SPOKE" 173
"HE UNFOLDED A LONG TRACK CHART WHICH HE CARRIED IN
HIS HAND" 207
"IT LOOKED AS IF NOTHING COULD STAND AGAINST THAT
MADDENED RUSH" 255
"EMU BILL GENTLY PILLOWED HIS DYING COMRADE'S HEAD
UPON HIS KNEE" 292
"MACKAY RUSHED TO MEET THE NEW-COMER" 341
"MACKAY, CLUTCHING FAST TO THE ARMOURY OF THE
EXPEDITION, WAS HAULED TO THE SURFACE" 370
THE LOST EXPLORERS
CHAPTER I
A Momentous Decision
"I'm full up of this ceaseless grind, Jack," suddenly broke out Robert
Wentworth, a tall, slenderly built young man of about eighteen years of
age, throwing down the paper he had been reading with unnecessary
energy.
Jack Armstrong aroused himself from a reverie, and looked up with an
amused gleam in his grey eyes. He was a medium-sized, squarely built
youth about two years the junior of the first speaker.
"I believe I have heard you say that before, Bob," he said; "but all the
same you echo my sentiments exactly. Still, what can we do? Our
munificent salaries do little more than pay for our board in these
digs"--he waved his hand comprehensively around the little room which
they shared together--"and consequently we haven't saved enough to buy
our steam yacht yet!" He laughed with affected cheerfulness.
Wentworth's strong, studious-looking face clouded momentarily.
"That's all very well, Jack," he answered severely; "but you know that
there is little chance of our present positions improving to any
extent. Engineering is good enough for the few; but I can plainly see
that life is too short for us to make a fortune at the game. The fact
is," he added, in a more moderate tone, "this country is too crowded for
us, and too old. Everything is standardized so accurately that we are
little more than machines; and we must exist on our paltry pittances,
seeing nothing but grime and smoke and rain and fogs, until we become
old and brain-sodden, with never a hope beyond the morrow. No, I am
tired of it--absolutely full up of it." He picked up the discarded paper
once more, and directed Armstrong's attention to a paragraph under the
heading of General News, and this was what the younger man read--
"Mr. James Mackay, who was the only survivor of the ill-fated Bentley
Exploring Expedition in Central Australia, arrived in the city last
night, and is staying at the Central Hotel. It will be remembered that
Mr. Bentley's party was massacred by the blacks some months ago, the
only man escaping being Mr. Mackay, chief bushman to the expedition,
who, fortunately, was not with the others when they were attacked. It is
generally supposed that the unknown tracks in Western and Central
Australia hold vast treasure of gold and gems in their keeping, and they
provide the incentive which sends the explorer across these trackless
wastes."
"So that's the country you would like to go to, Bob," he said
quizzically, "where explorers get killed by the natives?"
"Not exactly," replied Wentworth; "but it attracts me all the same. My
only uncle went out to Australia about ten years ago, and we never heard
of him again; I suppose that has given me an interest in the country,
for I remember him well as one of the finest men one could wish to meet.
Anyhow, there can be no gain without risk, Jack, and I have often
thought of trying my luck at the goldfields in Australia, though I don't
suppose there can be much danger from the natives where they are."
"But there is time enough yet," ventured Armstrong. "We are not so very
old----"
"All the more reason," returned his companion, quickly, "that we should
decide on our future while our brains are fresh. If we continue on in
the same groove here, we'll get so accustomed to it that we won't want
to leave it. No, Jack, I am in earnest. I have decided to get out of
it."
"You can't get out of it without me, Bob," said Armstrong, quietly. "You
know I go with you. We haven't been chums these two years for nothing.
And," he added proudly, "I am as strong as most men, and able to take
care of myself in any part of the world."
Wentworth laughed grimly. "We'll face it together, Jack," said he.
"And we'll carve our way in it successfully, too," cried the boy,
enthusiastically, now completely won over. "Hurrah for Australia, the
land of gold!"
They arose and clasped hands, Wentworth's face expressing determined
resolve, Armstrong's shining with the light of eagerness and hope.
Robert Wentworth and Jack Armstrong were chums in the truest sense of
the word. They had been attracted to each other from their first day of
meeting, when Armstrong, whose father had just died leaving him an
orphan, homeless and well-nigh penniless, arrived at the Clyde
Engineering Works, to take up the post secured for him by a thoughtful
friend who understood the boy's independent spirit. Wentworth had by
this time served a year at his profession, but had made few friends,
being too reserved and distant by nature to please the other
apprentices; indeed, these unthinking, though well-meaning, individuals
had grown inclined to misconstrue his quiet demeanour, until they got a
rude awakening. A few of the rowdier spirits had surrounded Armstrong
during the luncheon hour of his first day among them, and were
endeavouring to get as much fun as they could at the new-comer's
expense; and he, poor fellow, fresh from his sad bereavement, was in no
mood to appreciate their witticisms.
"Can't you let the youngster alone?" said Wentworth, approaching the
group.
They turned in amazement at his interruption; and one of them, a
thick-set, pugnacious lad, inquired contemptuously, if irrelevantly--
"Well, and what could you do, anyhow, Mr. Philosopher? I didn't think
you would care to risk a fight."
"Didn't you?" came the cool response, as the young engineer calmly
doffed his coat. "You will think differently in a few minutes."
And when he had polished off his antagonist in a scientific manner that
delighted the hearts of the beholders, even the defeated champion could
not forbear his tribute.
"You are too much for me, Wentworth," he said feelingly, when he had
recovered himself. "But I think it was mighty mean of you deceiving us
so long."
After that Wentworth and Armstrong were always together; a bond of
sympathy had sprung up between them, and before long they were sharing
the same room, and were known as David and Jonathan by their
engineering associates. Wentworth's history was none of the brightest.
His father had been a sea captain, and though ten years had elapsed
since he and his ship had gone to the bottom in the China seas, Bob's
memory easily carried him back to their last parting; and he recalled
how, childlike, he had volunteered to take care of his mother until the
captain came back--and he never came back. The widowed mother, left with
her two children--Bob, and his sister Lucy, two years younger than
himself--knowing how the roaming nature of the father had been repeated
in the son, sought a home as far away from the sea as possible, and did
her utmost on the scanty income left her to give them both the best of
education. But Bob, old beyond his years, knew more of his mother's
struggle than she guessed, and at fourteen he quietly seized an
opportunity that offered, and apprenticed himself to the well-known firm
of engineers already mentioned--and told his mother afterwards. And the
discontent which he felt with his somewhat grimy surroundings, though
hidden from his mother and sister, was often and often poured into the
ears of his companion, whose sympathy was ever ready and sincere, and
found culmination in the expression which opens this chapter.
And now that they had decided on a definite plan of action, they lost no
time in carrying it into effect. So, a few days later, having called on
their employer and explained their reasons for leaving his service, they
directed their steps towards a general shipping office in order to
procure full information concerning the vessels and routes of sailing to
Australia.
When they entered the doorway there were no intending voyagers engaging
the attention of the clerk; but while Wentworth was making inquiries,
some one entered and stood a little way behind the pair, and beguiled
his time while he waited by whistling, most horribly out of tune, that
familiar ballad, "Home, Sweet Home!"
"You can go to Australia by P. and O. or Orient Line, _via_ the Suez
Canal," the clerk reeled off glibly. "Or you may avoid the heat of the
Red Sea by travelling round the Cape in a Shaw Savill, or New Zealand
Shipping Company's boat. To what port do you wish to sail?"
"I think," said Bob, after a hurried consultation with Armstrong, "I
think the port nearest the goldfields."
"That will be Melbourne," said the spruce shipping clerk, after some
consideration. "Melbourne is the port for Ballarat."
"Go awa' and bile your held or study geography," came a gruff voice from
behind. "You're an old fossil, you are, or you would ken that the
laddies mean Western Australia. Ballarat has seen its day, but the West
is still a land o' promise."
The two boys turned abruptly, while the clerk endeavoured to cough down
his discomfiture. They saw beside them a burly middle-aged man with a
deeply bronzed face, over which the shadow of a smile was stealing. Even
at that moment, as they admitted afterwards, they both thought they had
never seen a more kindly countenance, in spite of the grim lines around
the mouth, which were only half concealed by a spiky red moustache. But
immediately the interrupter saw the elder lad's face he started back as
if shot, and a tremor seemed to run through his stalwart frame. "As like
as twa peas," he muttered hoarsely, and only Armstrong, who was close
beside him, heard the words.
"And have ye decided to go out to Australia, my lads?" he inquired
kindly, after a moment's pause. "Now, dinna get your backs up," he
reproved mildly, as Wentworth seemed about to resent his interference,
"I like you the better for your independence, but Australia's a place
that is no very weel kent even at this period o' civilization, and maist
certainly ye'll get nae reliable information from that wooden-heided
mummy--ye'll pardon the gentle inseenuation," he said, with elaborate
politeness, nodding to his victim behind the desk. "Now, I should ken
Australia better than maist men," he continued, "an' it's my weakness
that I should wish to shed my information abroad for the benefit o'
mankind in general, but mair particularly"--here he laid a hand on each
of the young men's shoulders--"would I like to assist young laddies like
yoursel's wha are aboot to venture on so long a journey."
"We are obliged to you, sir," said Wentworth, gravely and distantly. "We
certainly should like to know something of Australia."
"We would, indeed," supplemented Armstrong, impulsively holding out his
hand.
The brawny Scot returned the grip; then, addressing himself more
directly to Wentworth, said--
"I can see, my lad, that your head's screwed on the richt way, and I
admire you for it; but you're a vera bad judge o' character, I'm
thinkin', if ye canna distinguish between the spontaneous flow o' the
milk o' human kindness, and the fause remarks o' an interested
indiveedual. My name is Mackay," he concluded with dignity, "Big Mackay
they call me in Australia." He paused, and gazed searchingly at
Wentworth. "Now," he added, and strangely enough there was no trace of
the Doric in his language, "you may come and lunch with me at the
Central if you wish, and I'll tell you about Australia, and if you
prefer otherwise, why, there's no harm done."
He wheeled quickly and strode to the door, but the boys were by a common
impulse at his side before he was half a dozen yards down the street.
"I am sorry if I appeared to doubt your good intentions, Mr. Mackay,"
said Wentworth, "but we are ignorant of the bigger world which you know
so well, and kindnesses from strangers have not often come our way. But
we have heard of you, sir; why, I believe it was through reading of you
in the _Herald_ some days ago that we decided to go to Australia."
The big man laughed good-naturedly. "You were quite right, my boy," said
he, "but you may ken me better in future. It's no' so long since I was
young mysel'," he concluded with a sigh.
By this time they were entering the hotel, and the boys were much
impressed to observe the many tributes of respect which greeted their
guide. Evidently his strange personality had become well known during
his brief sojourn in the land of his fathers. Soon they were seated in
the dining-room at a table conveniently remote from the others, and
before the meal was finished Mackay was in possession of the lads' brief
histories, and had been informed of their uncontrollable longing to get
away to a new country.
"And your uncle went oot to Australia ten years ago?" he repeated
musingly, when Wentworth told him his story. "Well, well, Australia is
a big country, and it's no likely ye'll meet him there. Why canna ye
content yersel's where ye are?" he demanded brusquely.
"We can never hope for much if we remain here," argued Wentworth. "And
we should like to have a chance----"
"Just so," gravely said Mackay, "just so, my young shavers. Well, I can
tell ye this, some folk can do well in any part o' this wee planet, and
others--and they are in the majority--are never much good. Energy and
enterprise are what is wanted, and nae whining after hame----"
"I thought," interjected Armstrong, slyly, "that I heard you whistling
'Home, Sweet Home!' in the shipping office?"
Mackay beamed. "It's very kind of ye to say so," he replied. "Maist o'
my acquaintances asseverate that my whustle is like a deein' dug's
lament, an' no fit to be translated into any tune whatsoever. But, all
the same, Jack, my man, that's a tune I can only whustle when I am at
hame; it makes me think things are no' as meeserable as they seem. Why,
you young scamps, a man should be at hame anywhere. As for me I'm maist
at hame when I'm awa' from hame, which is what I call a paradoxical
statement o' fact for ye to moralize on. Many years ago," he went on, "I
sailed oot o' the Clyde as chief engineer on one o' the finest boats
that was ever launched, but when I got to Australia and fell in touch
wi' Bentley's exploring expedition, my good resolutions for a quiet
ordinar' existence squelched oot o' me like the wind frae a punctured
bicycle tyre. 'I want ye, Mac,' said Bentley, 'to cross the Never Never
wi' me.' He had another rusty-heided Scotsman in his company, an auld
friend o' mine, an' I said, 'Well, if it's only to keep that
gorilla-faced Pharisee oot o' mischief, I'll come.' An'--an' I went, an'
I've been living like an aboriginal ever since; an' now that I've come
back to look at my ain country, I feel like a pelican in the wilderness.
I came awa' to try and forget aboot things an'--an' it's no' possible."
Mackay ceased; his eyes seemed to gaze into the distance, and his
good-humoured countenance for the moment became drawn and haggard. His
eager listeners too, felt the spell of his sadness, and for some minutes
there was a sympathetic silence; then Armstrong spoke. "Will you tell us
about it, Mr. Mackay," he asked gently, and without a word of
introduction the big man began his story--
"We were three months oot on our exploring journey into Central
Australia, and had come through the usual amount o' hardships--suffering
from want o' water, occasional skirmishes wi' the niggers, and other
similar trifles, and at this time the Chief was considerin' that we had
a good chance o' cuttin' through a maist promisin' lookin' tract o'
country which had never before been reached. As it was, we were further
into the heart o' Australia than any explorer had ever penetrated, and
every one o' us was fu' o' enthusiasm aboot our prospects, and dreamed
o' findin' a new Eldorado in this far back country we were enterin'
upon. But one morning, when we were east o' the 125th longitude, one of
the pack camels grew obstreperous, and broke away into the bush to the
nor'-east. We couldn't afford to lose the cantankerous animal; besides,
he carried a fair amount o' our stores on his back. To make a long story
short, I volunteered to track him up and fetch him back. 'Don't go too
far, Mac,' said Bentley to me as I was starting out, 'I'm none too sure
of this district, there may be natives about.'
"But what did I care about a wheen niggers? 'Ye needna wait for me,' I
shouted back, 'I'll fetch the beastie a' richt, and cut your trail afore
you've travelled a dozen miles.'" Mackay stopped and sighed deeply.
"And what happened?" asked Wentworth and Armstrong almost with one
breath.
"Heaven only knows, my lads. I never saw any of the party again. I
tracked up Misery--that was the camel's name--but he took me a gey long
travel, and it was late at night when I started to go back, but though I
pushed hard to the south'ard until well into the next day, I couldna
pick up a sign o' a track. A camel's pad is no easily missed, and though
the ground was more broken and hilly than usual, I felt sure I couldna
have crossed their route o' march. Back I went again, examining the
ground maist carefully, then a' at once I got a sair shock. I came on a
soft patch o' sand, and every bit o' it was marked wi' natives'
footprints. I could see the marks o' their big, flat feet everywhere
round aboot, and they telt me as plainly as if I had seen the niggers
themselves that they had come in from the east, and had gone back over
their ain tracks within the last half-dozen hours. I needna tell ye what
I feared then. Though I hadna had a drink o' water nor a bite to eat
since I left the camp, a' thought o' hunger or thirst left me, as I
traced the nigger tracks backwards to the west. They took me straight to
our old camp where Misery had broken away, and what do you think I saw
there?"
The boys shook their heads wonderingly.
"Only bones; bones, in the middle o' a lot o' ashes which were still
warm, and the smell o' burnin' was like the stench o' a nigger
corroboree. I turned again on their tracks. I must have been mad, for
one man could do little against a tribe that had wiped out one of the
finest expeditions that ever ventured into the Never Never Land, but I
was desperate, and I tracked the skunks like a bloodhound. My throat was
parched, my tongue was too big for my jaws, but I felt that I would gang
under wi' pleasure if I could only get my rifle sights on the brutes
first. But I couldna get even that satisfaction. Before I had gone far I
was stopped by a mountain that seemed to rise like a wall straight from
the flats. I hadn't seen it before, so I may have followed further than
I thought, or maybe the sand haze had hidden it from our view. No one
has ever believed that a mountain like it exists in that country, and
I'm the only white man that knows it to be there. I was too weak to
climb it, and after three or four tries I sat at the bottom and just
raved.
"How I returned beats me yet to understand. The water-bag on Misery's
back was empty, and our last spring charted was fifty miles to westward,
wi' five hundred miles beyond that again to a mining camp. I'm no
navigator, only a bushman, but somehow I got back, the only survivor of
the party, and I felt like a murderer comin' in alone. I was the Chief's
righthand man for ten years, my lads, and a straighter or better-hearted
leader never lived. Then there was my old comrade Stewart wi' the red
hair, wha I used to misca' so sairly; Pioneer Bill the bushman, and
young Morris the geologist--they're a' gone, and I'm the puir
unfortunate that's left.... I came home here wi' the intention o'
stoppin' if I could; but the bush draws me back and I must go."
"I am very, very sorry," said Wentworth, breaking the pause that
followed; "I can appreciate your feelings most deeply. It must be a vast
country, that Never Never Land."
"It has claimed many a victim, my boy," answered Mackay. "But Western
Australia is not all the same," he hastened to add cheerfully. "Around
Kalgoorlie and north into Pilbarra the richest gold mines in the world
have been found, and it's the thought that there's a treasure-house o'
gold and gems in the far-back land that makes explorers risk their lives
in that awful desert. It's the chance o' striking Eldorado that sends us
wanderers into such out o' way corners o' the world. But I didna ask ye
here to tell ye my experiences. If you have really made up your minds to
go to Australia, an' I honestly believe it's the best country for any
young man, I'll no' only advise you, but I'll accompany you, and I can
say this, that what I dinna know about gold mining is no' worth knowing.
I have never made a fortune at the game, but there's no denyin' that
fortunes have been made. I've taken a fancy to you, my laddies, and I'll
see that you come to no harm. If ye're short o' lucre," he continued,
"I'll advance ye anything ye need."
Even Wentworth's reserve utterly broke down after this speech.
"How can we thank you for your goodness?" he said gratefully. "I for one
shall be glad to go with you----"
"And I feel that I could follow you anywhere, Mr. Mackay," broke in
Armstrong, eagerly.
The elder man smiled grimly. "Maybe ye'll think more seriously o' these
words some day," he replied enigmatically. "Meanwhile, get awa' hame and
make your arrangements without any unnecessary delay, for we must catch
the P. and O. _Mongolia_ at London next Friday. Like enough," he
concluded, with a laugh, "we'll hae mutual cause for congratulation over
our partnership." He shook hands heartily with each of the lads, and
accompanying them downstairs, watched them disappear into the street.
"Poor young fellows," he said musingly, as he turned away, "I was just
the same mysel' at that age, discontented, ambitious.... But the
likeness canna be doubted. Ah, well, I've just done what the Chief
himsel' would have done had he been here."
"Well, Jack, what do you think of him?" asked Wentworth, as he and his
companion walked homewards.
"I think he is the kindest-hearted man I have ever met," was Armstrong's
enthusiastic response.
"I like him, too," admitted Wentworth, "and I expect to like him more
when I know him better. What a strong man he must be; why, his chest
measurement must be nearly fifty!"
"Only a strong man could have endured what he has suffered, Bob," said
Armstrong, "and," with boyish delight, "he must be a real beauty in a
scrimmage. His wrists seemed like bars of steel."
"He just bears out my opinion," spoke Wentworth, thoughtfully, "that
travel broadens the mind more than is generally allowed, and destroys
all trace of parochialism in a man's nature. I don't think, for
instance," he declared, "that that man would care two straws whether we
were Scotch, English, or Irish; it's humanity that counts with him----"
"Please don't wander me with philosophical reasoning just now, Bob,"
pleaded Armstrong. "All I can say is, that I liked the man immediately I
saw him, and I think we were very lucky in meeting him."
Never for a moment did these two think of drawing back from the
projected journey. It was characteristic of them to accept their first
decision as final, and the nearness of the day for sailing, as fixed by
Mackay, in no wise appalled them. Neither of them was given to noisy
exuberance.
"Environment has done it, Jack," said Wentworth, sagely. "You see we
have been so much together, and have had so little time for amusement;
then my temperament was always a bit studious, and, consequently, you
have suffered----"
"Don't, Bob," interjected Armstrong; "you talk like an old man, and you
are not nineteen yet. When we get under the sunny skies of Australia,
we'll view things differently, and, who knows, we may come back with a
fortune in a year or two."
"Who knows, indeed?" repeated Wentworth, absently gripping the boy's
arm, and in this way they proceeded until they arrived at their little
room on the top flat of No. 590, Great Southern Road.
That evening they broke the news of their early departure to their
amiable landlady, Mrs. Campbell, much to that worthy woman's dismay.
"Eh, but, laddies, ye canna mean it!" she exclaimed. "Ye would gang to
that awfu' country whaur the black bodies live----"
"But they are not all black, Mrs. Campbell," said Wentworth, soothingly.
"In fact, the aborigines are becoming an extinct race."
"I dinna care what sort o' race they are becoming," moaned she,
beginning to apply her apron to her eyes. "An' forbye, what dae ye want
to gang oot there for? Ye baith are daein' sae weel in the engineerin'
office, and in time ye micht be managers."
"That's a period too far distant for us to calculate on, Mrs. Campbell,"
said Armstrong, cheerily, though he was much distressed by the good
woman's genuine emotion. "And our ambitions are giving us a shove
along----"
"Ambitions, ambitions," wailed poor Mrs. Campbell. "And what should ye
want wi' ambitions, at your age? They are nae guid to ye; in fact it's
doonricht wrang for ye to hae them; they've never brocht happiness to
ony man yet!" And she rushed from the room much affected.
"She's a real good sort," said Wentworth, "but very unreasonable," with
which mature reflection he reached down a copy of "Raper's Navigation"
from a shelf, and began to read assiduously, while Armstrong, with a
whistle of relief, started to overhaul his wardrobe in preparation for
their ocean trip.
The following day was a very busy one for the boys. After packing their
most necessary belongings, they called on Mr. Mackay to receive his
advice as to the outfit required. That gentleman met them, genial as
ever.
"Ocean travel is no the same as it used to be," said he; "an' a' you'll
need is twa or three light suits for the tropics. It's no' as if you
were to be months at sea," he explained, "an' you may leave your West
Australian wardrobe to take care o' itself--it will no be much o' a
consideration."
But he was not satisfied, nevertheless, until he went round the shops
with them, and saw them fitted out with all that was needful.
"And now, my lad," he said, when they had finished, addressing himself
to Wentworth, "if you'll tak' my advice, you'll gang hame and break the
news as gently as ye can to your mother, for I can see ye havena telt
her o' yer new plans yet. I'm a great believer in young fellows
shouldering their ain responsibilities as early as possible, but ye can
never get a truer friend than yer mother, an' I hope ye'll no forget
that. I'm a rough hand at preaching, being mair used wi' other sort o'
language, and, and----" Here Mackay's usually eloquent verbiage failed
him, and he floundered hopelessly. "Be back in good time to leave wi' me
for London on Thursday morning," he finished, recovering himself
quickly, and they turned to go. But Mackay suddenly seemed to remember
something, and he called them back.
"I was thinkin' o' buyin' you some books to read on the ship," said he,
"and I was wondering how your tastes might lie. I don't mean novels," he
hastened to add, "but books that might serve as a study."
"We'll leave the choice to you, Mr. Mackay," said Wentworth, with a
smile; and again they departed, yet once more they were called back.
Mackay was evidently ill at ease, for he hesitated in his speech, and,
if possible, his bronzed cheeks became a shade deeper in colour.
"I've arranged aboot the tickets," he said at length; "so you'll hae no
need to trouble in that direction."
Without waiting for a reply he wheeled suddenly, and strode down the
street, leaving the boys rooted to the spot wholly overcome by the
generous speech.
"He must have guessed our one great difficulty," said Wentworth,
flushing deeply. "Well, Jack, our obligations to Mr. Mackay will take
some wiping out."
Later on in the evening, when the boys were talking over the events of
the day in their little room, the landlady entered with a heavy parcel
of books.
"A messenger has just brocht these," said she, "wi' Mr. Mackay's
compliments."
"He is a gem," spoke Jack, emphatically, as he cut the string of the
package, whereupon half a dozen handsome volumes were disclosed, three
for Bob, and three for himself. They seized their possessions with
avidity.
"'Leckie's Navigation,' 'Nautical Almanac,' and 'Burns's Poems,'"
announced Wentworth, gleefully, gazing at his treasures. "Now, how could
he have known that I wanted these so much?"
"'Mining Engineer's Handbook,' 'Metallurgy of Gold,' and 'Shakespeare,'"
read out Jack, handling the volumes reverently. "Now, how could he have
guessed our pet studies?"
"It beats me," said Bob. "I won't be surprised at anything Mackay knows
after this. He is a conundrum."
"He is the decentest sort we have ever met," cried Jack, warmly.
"We agree on that," concurred Bob, gravely.