THE GOLD OUTCROP.
The sensation which the old man had caused subsided as rapidly as it
rose, and most of the tribe resumed their idle occupations at once.
But Big Jack and three others lifted the dead and went rapidly into
the bush. Smith crossed over to the Baker, who was sitting by the
side of Bill.
"What have they done with the old man, Bill?" he asked.
"They will give him to the big ants," said Bill carelessly, "and in
three days his bones will be as white as his hair. It is a good
thing he is dead."
"But why did the bloomin' old prophet want to do us a bad turn?" said
Baker.
"Um?" said Bill, as Smith squatted by him.
"I mean, why did he say as the men of the Brodarro was to 'ave no
truck with h'other white men?"
"He spoke foolishness," said Bill; "but, then, he was an old man. It
don't matter what he said, as long as Big Jack likes you. And I like
you," he added, with a grin.
"Good old chap," said the Baker, "and to-morrow, Bill, will you show
us the gold?"
Bill nodded.
"Show us to-night, Bill," said Smith, "There's a good moon, and I
will give you a smoke. At least, the Baker will, for Big Jack has my
pipe."
Bill rose and fetched his spear.
"Come," he said, and they slipped out of the camp, and getting beyond
the big trees, they were soon in the full blaze of the high moon,
which shone almost like day. The shadows the trees cast were very
solid and opaque; their own shadows were peculiarly black and
clear-cut, and against the sky every branch was like a silhouette.
When they looked behind them, they saw the big blaze of the fire like
a great red eye.
"Why do you make such big fires, Bill?" asked Smith. "Do not the
black-fellows ever attack you?"
Bill laughed contemptuously.
"If they saw two men of the Brodarro they would run like wallabies
and hide."
"But they killed the Slayer, Bill," said the Baker.
"The Slayer was a fool," said Bill, "He always went alone to get
heads, and though he got many they killed him at last. For he had to
sleep after three days. And when a man is asleep, a snake can bite
him. But when two men are together, one can sleep, and the eyes of
the other are open."
And he stalked across the bush.
"There is not a black-fellow now within a day's journey," he said.
"They are frightened of us now."
"And I don't wonder at it," cried the Baker. "I'm scared to death of
you myself."
"Eh?" said Bill.
The Baker went up to him, and felt his arm.
"By Gosh! I say I'm frightened of you myself. I'm such a little 'un
by you, Bill."
"There ain't no need," said Bill shortly; "but look out for my
brother. He thinks the little girl likes you. And he wants her. He
might kill you."
"What did I tell you, Smith?" exclaimed the Baker in alarm. "There
it is. I'm courted by a young wild cat, and there will be 'ell to
pay and no pitch 'ot, as I said before. I say, Bill, when we get
back, you tell that brother of yourn that I'm not on. You say that I
think the young lady--"
"Lady! What's that?" asked Bill.
"I was only just respectful," said the Baker.
But Bill shook his head, and turned to Smith.
"The little man uses strange words, and sometimes I don't understand."
"'E don't savvy respectful," said the Baker. "Well, Bill, I mean
this. I likes the girl, and thinks she's all right, but I want to
get back."
"To your own tribe?"
"That's about it," said the Baker, "and I don't want no wife to
trouble me on the journey."
"If she was a trouble you could kill her," said Bill simply.
"Thank you," replied the Baker, "but I don't care about it. So, you
say to your bloomin' bloke of a brother that 'es welcome to the girl
for me."
"I think she likes you," said Bill.
"Then my goose is cooked," replied the Baker in melancholy
resignation. "I want to sling my 'ook right now. 'Ere, 'urry up,
Smith, let's do our prospectin', and I'm for offin it quick."
And he lagged behind, considering his prospects between the devil,
Bill's brother, and the deep sea of savage and unsophisticated
maidenhood.
After about twenty minutes walking, they came to some broken ground
that rose gently. Here and there Smith saw some quartz glittering in
the moonlight. Every bit he picked up was rich with gold; or it
would have seemed rich to any ordinary miner. He also remarked some
rocks jutting out of the ground. They looked like the outcrop of
reefs. But still Bill went straight ahead, and going through a belt
of thin scrub, they came on a narrow valley about fifty yards across,
and some hundred and fifty yards long. It evidently ended in the
river, for the belt of heavy timber rose blackly at its south end.
But in the middle of this gulley was a huge lump of rock, some yards
square, which gleamed white in the moon.
"That's it," said Bill, and the two miners went on, while he sat on a
little knoll, which commanded a view of the near country.
"Stop a minute," said Smith, when they got within twenty yards.
"Stop a minute, Baker. I can't believe this. Man alive, it's all
gold, with just a quartz casing."
But the Baker went on, and was followed by Smith.
All round the casing of the vein were scattered lumps of quartz
studded with gold. But inside the casing it was pure, though here
and there divided by thin bands of stone, for the grass and earth had
been torn away, and sufficient gold cut out to leave the mass
visible. Smith sat down on a lump of stone.
"Is this my luck after all?" he said. "Oh, if I can only get back!"
And if the Baker had been near enough, he might have heard Smith
speak the same name that he muttered on that night of his delirium.
But the Baker was on the top of the golden hill. He was dazed, but,
as ever, half-humourous.
"I suppose it's the stuff, Smith, but I'm half inclined to doubt it.
There ain't so much in the universe. If it's only just a lump on top
there's millions in it; and if it runs a true reef, why, gold's come
down in England as it 'as 'ere to the makin' of cookin' pots."
And Smith joined him. The sight was one calculated, if ever any
sight was, to make a man crazy who had been hunting for wealth but
never found it. Smith had to hold himself tight, and suddenly he
leapt off the golden throne.
"Come, Baker," he cried, "that's enough. Let's try and get away.
The sooner the better. If we get through we're millionaires. And
waiting won't help. Come."
And the three men went towards the camp.
"It's very useful," said Bill. "For it makes better waddies than
wood. The black fellows never found that out. But they are fools.
What does your tribe do with it, Smith?"
But Smith was not to be drawn into any more explanations of currency
and exchange.
"We make things of it, too," he said. And after avoiding this
opportunity of puzzling poor Bill, he turned the talk in a direction
which might be useful.
"Have you been down the river, Bill?" he asked.
But Bill shook his head.
"We came here from the East the last big rain."
"How many boats have you?"
"Two. We made them with fire," said Bill proudly. "They are better
than a log. For Jack's father, who is dead, and was not so foolish a
little while ago, told us about hollow logs which he called boats."
And he went on chattering, while Smith was thinking how he could get
possession of the boats. He wondered, too, whether it would be wiser
to take them or to make some kind of an exchange. It was possible
that the knife which Big Jack had might be considered an equivalent.
He wished now they had brought their tomahawks, and pondered about
the possibility of returning down the billabong for them. For with
them they might make canoes for themselves.
But Fate solved the problem for them far more suddenly than he
thought possible, and solved it that very night not long after they
returned to the camp.
"Just sneak off if you can," said Smith to the Baker an hour later,
"and try and find out where they keep the canoes. And see if the
paddles are there."
"I don't like leaving you," said Mandeville; "that's a fact, for
there's some that's took up the old un's prophecies. That I can see.
And Bill's brother is talkin' agin us plain."
And when Smith looked, it certainly seemed that the Baker was right,
for the objectionable suitor for the "wild cat's" hand was holding
forth by the fire on a subject which made those with him continually
look at the two from that other tribe of white men.
"Never mind," said Smith. "I'll stick to Bill and Jack, and they're
all right so far."
So presently the little Baker casually sauntered into the darkness,
and went down to the river, with his heart in his mouth.
"I want more 'bacca, Smith," said Big Jack, and Smith reluctantly
parted with what he had left.
"If you will send one of your young men back with me," said Smith, "I
will give you a great deal of tobacco, and many knives."
"Um," said Big Jack ponderously. "How far is your tribe?"
"Ten days' journey," said Smith.
And just then he saw the girl Baker feared so slip out of the camp on
the river side. Apparently her departure was usual, or not noticed.
As far as Smith could see, in spite of Bill's suggestion that a
troublesome wife might be clubbed to death, the women had a great
deal of liberty, and were greatly considered. They were not the
beasts of burden that they become in agricultural communities.
But when Smith looked up again he saw that Bill's brother was gone,
too, and this seriously alarmed him. If the wild cat had gone after
the Baker with any notions of gentle dalliance on the river bank, it
was possible that her savage suitor might catch them. He made an
excuse to go into the bush, and when he was out of the range of the
fire, he ran rapidly to the river. When he reached the bank, he went
slowly, and kept as much as he could in the shadow of the trees.
Once, as he stayed, he fancied he heard voices below him, and then he
made sure he heard a little twig break. He looked round, and saw
Bill's brother peering over the bank into the darkness.
Smith's impulse that moment was to call to the Baker to warn him, but
the next brought him caution. He might have to fight the man
himself, and it was certainly better not to let the savage know he
was observed. He lay still, and waited.
But the next moment Smith had his revolver sights dead on him as he
was lifting his spear. He could see the man's very expression, the
snarl of rage, the deadly intent, as he took aim. But before the
spear could leave the strong hand Smith fired, and without a sound
the would-be assassin leapt in the air, and went tumbling down the
bank.
[Illustration: Without a sound the would-be assassin leapt in the
air, and went tumbling down the bank.]
He heard the Baker cry out, and heard a woman's scream, as the whole
camp behind him rose. He almost fell down the bank, and found his
chum with the girl.
"Where are the canoes?" he said. "He was going to spear you, and I
had to shoot. Quick, quick!"
And the girl ran to the dead man. When she saw who it was she came
back.
"Where are the canoes, girl?" asked Smith again.
And she nodded, and ran as they followed her close. The next moment
they were at the water's edge in a narrow-cut gully. The girl thrust
the canoes out.
"We must take both," said Smith.
And as he got into one, the Baker sprang into the other. The girl
shoved both off into deep water, but as the Baker's left the ground,
she sprang into it, and grasped a paddle. They shot out upon the
slow, dark stream.
But behind them they heard a terrible shouting and clamour. And
above the hubbub rose the cry, "Brodarro."