In due course Will Brown arrived at Yanda, and he was only too glad
to have the opportunity of meeting his chum, Edgar Foster, in the new
country to which he had come. As for Edgar, it was with unbounded
delight he welcomed Will Brown. They had much to talk about, and it was
a source of much joy to Edgar that he could listen to one who had so
recently seen those dear to him in the home he loved so well, on the
banks of the Thames.
When Edgar made known to Ben Brody his intention of leaving Yanda for a
time in search of adventures, the manager evinced no surprise.
‘I didn’t expect you would be here long,’ he said. ‘Young ‘uns like to
roam, and I don’t blame you. I’ve had enough wandering about to last
me a lifetime, and I’m settled for good here, so long as they will have
me. I shall be sorry to lose you, and I wish you had chosen to remain.
You have picked a good guide in Yacka. What that black chap knows is
beyond credit. He’s never said where he came from, but if I’m a judge
it is somewhere in the region of the MacDonnell Ranges. There are some
powerful savage tribes over there, and I’d advise you to steer clear of
them, that is, if you get so far; but you are a precious long way from
there, you bet.’
‘I do not know where we are going,’ said Edgar; ‘but Yacka has made
great promises, and if he fulfils them there will be something to talk
about when we return.’
Yacka, with some show of reluctance, agreed to Will Brown accompanying
them. He yielded when Edgar said he would not go without Will, for the
black was determined Edgar should undertake the journey.
The night before their departure they had a great ‘send off,’ all hands
coming into the homestead for the occasion.
The general opinion seemed to be that Edgar and Will were about to
follow Yacka purely for the sake of adventure, and the good fellows
thought all the better of them for their pluck and spirit.
Ben Brody had given each of them a good horse, and they had the pick of
the best guns on the station. Will Henton gave them a revolver each,
expressing the hope that they would clear the country of a few blacks.
‘I hope we shall not have to use them for any such purpose,’ said
Edgar; ‘but if it comes to a fight we shall be all there.’
‘You are going on a fool’s errand,’ said Harry Noke; ‘much better
remain where you are. I would not trust Yacka, or any other
blackfellow. It’s like enough he’ll lead you into danger out of pure
devilment.’
‘You are wrong,’ said Jim Lee; ‘Yacka’s square.’
‘Jim’s right,’ said Brody. ‘You’re riled, Harry, because you have not
pluck enough to go with them. As it is the last night, we must have
Yacka in and give him a drink.’
Ben Brody went into the veranda and gave a peculiar whistle, which
sounded shrilly on the still night air. In a few minutes Yacka appeared.
‘That’s fetched him,’ said Will Henton; ‘Brody’s a wonder at all sorts
of signals. I believe he’s a different call for every man on the place.’
‘Have a drink, Yacka,’ said Ben Brody. ‘What’s it to be, rum or beer?’
Yacka smacked his lips, and said, ‘Beer.’
‘That’s better,’ said Jim Lee; ‘rum’s a curse.’
Yacka drank the beer with evident relish.
‘Like a square meal?’ said Brody.
The black nodded, and Brody helped him plentifully to the remains of
the feast.
‘Where are you going to take these youngsters?’ said Ben Brody.
‘Long way,’ replied Yacka. ‘Bring them safe back.’
‘I hope so,’ said Brody. ‘Going in search of the lost tribes?’
Yacka grinned, showing his gleaming teeth.
‘All tribes lost since the white men came,’ he replied.
‘Guess you’re about right there,’ said Brody. ‘Black and white cannot
live side by side; one of them’s bound to go, and it’s the black. Now,
if they were all like you, Yacka, we could get on well together. Bless
me if I don’t believe you are half a white man!’
A peculiar look came into Yacka’s eyes.
‘Think so?’ he said. ‘Black skin, white man’s heart.’
‘Bravo!’ shouted Brody. ‘You shall have another glass for that. Fill
up, lads! Here’s to our mates, and a safe journey along with Yacka!’
All hands were becoming hilarious, and began to sing ‘For they are
jolly good fellows.’
When the noise subsided, Brody said:
Do you want a horse, Yacka?’
The black shook his head, and slapped his legs.
‘Yes, I know,’ said Brody; ‘your legs will carry you quite as far as
any of our station nags. You’ll accept a gun, eh?’
The black sprang to his feet, and said:
‘A gun for my own! Very good, Master Brody; I like a gun.’
‘Then you shall have one,’ said Ben. ‘I know you can shoot.’
Yacka went through a performance of shooting an imaginary object in
such a realistic manner that everybody laughed.
It was a merry night, and all slept soundly. In the morning Edgar and
Will made a start from Yanda with Yacka, who was on foot, and the black
looked the picture of a trained athlete.
Yacka had discarded his ordinary loin-cloth, and wore instead a
peculiar arrangement in which he could stow away a variety of articles.
He declined to wear any other clothing, and his body shone in the
sunlight, and the muscles stood out on his arms, chest, and lower
limbs. His curly hair was sufficient protection to his head from the
burning sun, and it was in much better condition than the shaggy
locks of the blacks who were looking on. Yacka had evidently told the
blacks he was leaving Yanda, and they looked as disconsolate as their
expressionless faces would permit.
As for Edgar and Will Brown, they were in high spirits, and, mounted on
two very fair horses, thoroughly equipped for a journey, they looked a
fine pair of young fellows.
‘You’ll strike a station about sundown, I reckon,’ said Ben Brody.
‘They’ll be glad to see you if you say where you hail from, although
it makes very little difference about that round here. Take care of
yourselves, my lads, and I hope Yacka will bring you back to Yanda
soon.’
After hearty handshakes all round, the trio set off amidst cheers and
the loud, peculiar cries of the blacks. Ben Brody watched them for a
long time, and waved his hat in response to the salutes of Edgar and
Will.
‘Lads of mettle, both of ’em,’ said Brody. ‘Such a wild-goose chase
as they are on would just have suited me in my young days. Good luck
go with you, my lads! You’ll always have a warm corner in Ben Brody’s
heart.’
As the homestead they had left behind became fainter and fainter in
the distance, Edgar and Will turned round in their saddles and waved a
parting salute to Ben Brody, whose figure was just discernible on the
veranda.
As the morning wore on, the heat became intense, and in the afternoon
it was so hot they decided to camp under the shade of some trees.
Towards evening they went on again, and that night slept in the open,
with their saddles for pillows and the bare ground for a bed. Had it
not been for the constant singing and stinging of the mosquitoes, they
would have had a pleasant night, as the air was soft and warm, and they
needed no covering.
Yacka stretched himself out near them, and slept like a dog--half awake
and ready to spring to his feet at the slightest sound. At daybreak
they made a slight meal, and then proceeded on their journey. Yacka
went ahead, and at such a pace that the horses often had to break into
a canter to keep up with him. They arrived at Bardo Station that night,
and met with a hospitable reception.
Charles Brunt, the manager, was rather amused at the idea of a couple
of lads going in search of adventure, with a blackfellow as guide and
companion. He knew Yacka, and was of the same opinion as Ben Brody,
that the black had white blood in his veins.
‘This is a hospitable land, anyhow,’ said Edgar, when they had been
away from Yanda for about a fortnight, and had managed, through Yacka’s
guidance, to fall in with comfortable quarters almost every night.
As they went on, however, Edgar saw they were gradually getting into
a wilder country, and farther away from the beaten track. Yacka said,
when questioned, he was taking a short cut, and that he knew the way.
‘Where are you steering for?’ asked Edgar.
‘South Australian border,’ said Yacka. ‘Then we work up to the
MacDonnell Ranges, past Alice Springs. You’ll see wild country then,
when we get through the ranges.’
‘How long will it take us to reach the ranges?’ asked Will.
‘Long time yet,’ said Yacka. ‘Many miles’ tramp a day. Horses will
knock up, but not Yacka, then you have to walk it.’
‘A pleasant prospect,’ said Edgar. ‘We may have to tramp hundreds of
miles. However, we are in for it, and we may as well see all Yacka has
to show us. I shall be sorely cut up if he has deceived us.’
‘Do you think he would do so?’ asked Will.
‘Not intentionally,’ replied Edgar; ‘but what may appear wonderful to
him may be commonplace to us.’
Having got out of the beaten track, they had to rely upon their guns
for food. They had an ample supply of ammunition, preferring to load up
their horses in this way to carrying provisions. Edgar was a good shot,
and seldom missed his mark.
‘We must be careful and not miss,’ he said, ‘for every shot is of
importance.’
One afternoon they had an exciting chase after kangaroos, and Edgar and
Will thought it excellent sport. Yacka followed the hunt, and when he
suddenly vanished, Edgar in a few minutes saw him ahead, waiting for
the kangaroos to pass.
‘By Jove! how Yacka can run!’ said Edgar. ‘Look where he is now. He’ll
get a kangaroo sure enough, without firing a shot.’
They reined in their horses, and watched him. When the kangaroos
found the chase was not so hot, they slackened their speed, and leapt
along at a steadier pace. Yacka was concealed behind a huge tree,
and as a large kangaroo went past he slipped quickly round and dealt
it a terrific blow with a heavy knobstick he carried in his hand.
The kangaroo fell down stunned, and with a whoop Edgar and Will rode
forward, in case any of the herd should make an attack on Yacka. When
they pulled up, they found Yacka had cut the animal’s throat, and was
contemplating it with satisfaction.
Will, having dismounted, picked up the stick Yacka had struck the
kangaroo with. It was smooth, hard wood, with a notched handle, and
gradually swelling larger until, at the end, there was a sharp, smooth
knob, which was so heavy it might have been weighted with iron.
‘A formidable weapon,’ he said, holding it out to Edgar.
‘That is a nulla-nulla,’ said Yacka. ‘Crack a man’s skull easily.’
‘What is it weighted with?’ asked Edgar.
‘Nothing,’ said Yacka. ‘Very hard, heavy wood, all smoothed down with
sharp stone and rubbed with coarse sand. Never break it. Hard as iron.’
‘Are they used in your tribal wars?’ asked Will.
Yacka nodded and said:
‘Terrible blows from them. Split a man’s head right open. See!’ He took
the weapon from Edgar, and with one blow shattered the dead kangaroo’s
skull. It split in two, and Yacka scooped out the brains. He then cut
off the tail, and said, ‘Have good soup to-night. This fellow make
better soup than ox-tail.’
They shook their heads sceptically; the tail did not look very inviting
then.
Yacka selected a spot to camp in near a small spring of water. He
then proceeded to make a fire, collecting sundry dry pieces of wood
and a kind of moss for the purpose. He filled the large ‘billy’ can
he carried during the day slung across his back with sundry other
articles, and, having skinned the kangaroo’s tail, cut it up into small
pieces, and put it in the can.
How he managed to make it so tasty Edgar could not imagine, but it was
delicious, and they voted Yacka was right when he said it was better
than ox-tail.
‘Yacka’s a capital cook,’ said Will, ‘and the beauty of him is that he
wants so little to cook with.’
‘He’d rather surprise some of the modern cooks,’ said Edgar. ‘They
appear to contrive to do away with the genuine flavour of everything
they cook, and Yacka makes a point of retaining that flavour.’
How they did enjoy this wild life! and, so far, their powers of
endurance had not been severely tested.