THE RIVER SINK.
The next twenty-four hours were without incident, as they went
through the intolerable and blatant monotony of Australian river
scenery, in which all change was quiet renewal. The banks of the
stream were still steep, and one bend was so like another that their
progress seemed vain; they were like three ants floating desperately
in a ditch. The sun set and the close heat remained; the heavy
odours of the bush drifted down into their drain, and the mosquitoes
made their lives a burden. And then the sun rose once more, and
climbed into a brazen sky, and burned them into blisters. For no
breeze tempered its fierce rays, not a shadow of a cloud protected
them. They went steadily west, towards the sea, perhaps, but more
certainly still into the unknown.
Though Smith believed that the Brodarro would now leave them, being
terrified by the inexplicable and terrible loss of four of their best
and bravest men, it was by no means certain that they might not at
any moment come across some tribe of black-fellows, as hard to deal
with, and of infinitely more natural ferocity. The Brodarro,
descendants of white men, had some of a white man's qualities, and
they were not naturally the enemies of their own colour in these
later generations. But with the blacks it would be different; at any
rate, it might be. If the Brodarro were ever cannibal, it was only
under exceptional and heavy pressure; but many of the aboriginal
tribes were men-eaters always, and needed no other excitement than
common need. They could, then, only pray that they might meet none.
It was curious, however, that Kitty showed little fear of the
aboriginals. Her people had so harried and destroyed those with whom
they came into hostile conflict, that she could hardly understand how
they would dare to attack two whites together. And now that she was
with two white men of an entirely superior order, who had weapons
which made a most awe-inspiring row, and killed as far as a
well-thrown spear, she entirely despised the black-fellows.
"They are foolish men," she said, "and do not really know how to
fight. They can throw spears at a man who is asleep, that is all.
Only the little devil men of the caves are bad."
She had referred to these before.
"Who are the little devil men, Kitty?" Smith asked.
"A long time ago we fought with them," she said. "They lived in
caves over yonder," she pointed to the north-east; "and when I was
smaller we came there. And every night a man died, and sometimes a
woman, and they had a little arrow in them as long as my hand. But
we never saw those who shot them. We were very much frightened, and
thought they were spirits. But Big Jack found they lived in caves,
red caves, and we made a big, big fire in the mouths of the caves.
And then we saw the smoke come out far off; and some went there and
found a hole big enough for a dingo. And then a little woman came
out; she was white like clay; and Bill speared her. Then some men
came; they were no bigger than a child when it no longer sucks, but
they were very strong. So we speared them until no more would come
out. The rest died in the smoke. We found them after three days.
They had little spears, and little bows and arrows, and the scratch
of an arrow killed a man like the bite of a snake."
"Horrible," said Smith. "On my soul, Baker, Mrs. Mandeville can spin
a yarn. I'm not surprised at her caring nothing about the ordinary
open-air black-fellow after that. But, then, these were white, too."
And he pondered over all the problems this journey presented for
solution. What did we know yet about all the world's secrets? If we
were told anything out of the way, we smiled; and those who exercised
their little faculties in little books sat on the judgment-seat.
But neither Smith nor the Baker had overmuch thought to spare for
quiet speculation. For now their stock of burned kangaroo was almost
done for.
"How are we going to live?" asked Smith.
"We might go up the bank, and lay for a kangaroo," said the Baker.
"Lay! How long?" asked Smith. "Kitty, how are we to get more to
eat?"
"I can get grubs," said Kitty, and when she saw the men shake their
heads, she suggested she might find a 'possum.
"You can try later," said Smith.
And that night she caught a 'possum, which was coiled up most
comfortably in a hole in a rotten stump. She banged it on the
ground, and killed it, and they cooked their dinner.
"I think," said Smith, as they smoked the Baker's pipe in turns,
"that we are coming to a change in this infernal scenery."
The Baker looked up the banks.
"Don't see much bally h'alteration," he answered.
"You have as much observation as a policeman," said Smith. "The
timber is scantier and not so dense, and the banks are not so high.
If I'm not off it, we are going into a brown burnt desert, with no
trees at all."
"The Lord forbid," said the Baker piously. "But there's water
any'ow. That suits me. I don't mind 'unger."
"No, not when ye're full of 'possum," said Smith.
"Who stood it best on the billabong?" asked the Baker.
"Why, you did, old man," said Smith.
"Then that's hall right," cried the Baker cheerfully; "and don't get
snake-headed if I says so. If we gets very hard up for grub, we can
eat Mrs. Mandeville. Eh, Kitty?"
And Kitty grinned, and snuggled up close to her man.
"You can, Baker," she said, "but not Smith."
They camped that night on the bank, but by the earliest dawn they
were afloat again. And long before noon it was obvious that Smith's
prediction as to the change in the scenery was rapidly coming true.
For the trees were scantier and scantier still, and the banks
obviously lower. Finally, the timber disappeared, and they came to a
low range through which the river flowed. The only vegetation was a
small dense scrub, and even that grew in patches among sand.
"If this ain't an un'oly-looking country, I dunno what a
Gawd-forsaken place is," said the Baker. "You can't catch no 'possum
in this 'ere place, missis."
But Mrs. Mandeville laughed. If there were no 'possums there were
sure to be ground iguanas, she explained. So they paddled on through
the red desolation.
The range was no more than five miles across, and at its highest the
river flowed through a cañon-like passage two hundred feet deep.
When they were through, the range dropped away pretty suddenly, and
just before they came to a bend, they could, by standing up, see an
illimitable plain before them.
"By Gosh," said the Baker, "it's good to 'ave a river to take us
through that. It reminds me of the look-out from New Find, Smith."
And they drifted out upon the open plain, which was not quite level,
but rolling like sand dunes.
"And it is sand," said Smith, as he worked the bow paddle. But
gradually anxiety grew into his keen, brown face. "If it's so, God
help us," he said.
The two behind him saw nothing, but chattered together.
"Good old Baker," said Smith, "he's quite happy with this girl just
now. And I'm thinking of another kind of woman. Shall I ever see
her?"
And he shoved his paddle straight down into the water. It touched
the bottom.
"'Ullo, Smith," cried the Baker, "don't go and miss your bloomin'
tip, and tumble h'overboard."
They rounded a bend.
"It wouldn't matter," said Smith gravely; "where's the river, Baker?"
And they grounded on a sand bank.