THE party, consisting of Jacky, Jem, Robinson and George, had traversed
about one half the bush, when a great heavy crow came wheeling and
cackling over their heads, and then joined a number more who were now
seen circling over a gum-tree some hundred yards distant.
“Let us go and see what that is,” said Jem.
Jacky grinned, and led the way. They had not gone very far when another
great black bird rose so near their feet as to make them jump, and
peering through the bushes they saw a man lying on his back. His arm was
thrown in an easy, natural way round his gun, but at a second glance it
was plain the man was dead. The crows had ripped his clothes to ribbons
with their tremendous beaks, and lacerated the flesh and picked out the
eyes.
They stepped a few paces from this sight. There was no sign of violence
on the body.
“Poor fellow!” said Jem. “How did he come by his end, I wonder?” And he
stretched forward and peered with pity and curiosity mingled.
“Lost in the bush!” said Robinson, very solemnly. And he and George
exchanged a meaning look.
“What is that for?” said George, angrily, to Jacky--“grinning in sight
of a dead body?”
“White fellow stupid fellow,” was all Jacky's reply.
The men now stepped up to the body to examine it; not that they had much
hope of discovering who it was, but still they knew it was their duty
for the sake of his kindred to try and find out.
George, overcoming a natural repugnance, examined the pockets. He found
no papers. He found a knife, but no name was cut in the handle. In the
man's bosom he found a small metal box, but just as he was taking it out
Jem gave a halo!
“I think I know him,” cried Jem. “There is no mistaking that crop of
black hair; it is my old captain, Black Will.”
“You don't say so! What could he be doing here without his party?”
“Anything in the box, George?” asked Robinson.
“Nothing but a little money. Here is a sovereign--look. And here is a
bank-note.”
“A five-pound note?”
“Yes--no; it is more than that a good deal. It is for fifty pounds,
Tom.”
“What?”
“A fifty-pound note, I tell you.”
“Jem!”
“Captain!”
A most expressive look was exchanged between these two, and by one
impulse they both seized the stock of the gun that was in the dead man's
hand. They lifted it, and yes--two fingers were wanting on the right
hand.
“Come away from that fellow,” cried Robinson to George. “Let him lie.”
George looked up in some wonder. Robinson pointed sternly to the dead
hand in silence. George, by the light of the other men's faces, saw it
all, and recoiled with a natural movement of repugnance as from a dead
snake. There was a breathless silence--and every eye bent upon this
terrible enemy lying terrible no longer at their feet.
“How did he die?” asked Robinson, in a whisper.
“In the great snow-storm,” replied George, in a whisper.
“No,” said Jem, in the same tone, “he was alive yesterday. I saw his
footprint after the snow was melted.”
“There was snow again last night, Tom. Perhaps he went to sleep in that
with his belly empty.”
“Starvation and fatigue would do it without the snow, George. We brought
a day's provisions out with us, George. He never thought of that, I will
be bound.”
“Not he,” said Jem. “I'll answer for him he only thought of robbing and
killing--never thought about dying himself.”
“I can't believe he is dead so easy as this,” said Robinson.
The feeling was natural. This man had come into the wood and had
followed them burning to work them ill, and they to work him ill. Both
were utterly baffled. He had never prevailed to hurt them, nor they him.
He was dead, but by no mortal hand. The immediate cause of his death was
unknown, and will never be known for certain while the world lasts.
_L'homme propose, mais Dieu dispose!_