The party was astir soon after daybreak, nothing having interfered with
the night's repose, and the first thing seen to, was the state of the
horses and baggage animals.
They too were all the better for the rest, but the result of the
examination was a discussion between the doctor and Griggs over the
injuries the animals had received.
Two of the mules had been down, and showed injuries to their knees. One
had evidently met with a bad fall over a piece of rock, and limped
painfully, while two of the ponies wore the aspect of having been
over-ridden.
"I think they ought to have another day's rest, Griggs," said the
doctor.
"And I think they ought to have two," was the reply; "but what about
staying here? The Indians may find and follow our trail."
"We must not think of waiting two days," replied the doctor, "but I
think we might risk one, and we must send out a scout along the road we
have come, to select a suitable spot on high ground and keep a lookout.
If he sees danger on the way he must ride back and warn us. Meanwhile
we'll have everything ready for an immediate start, keeping the animals
close in, and the packs, so that we can load up at once."
Griggs nodded.
"What about the scout?" he said.
The doctor looked at him in silence.
"You mean you would like me to go?"
"Yes, but there is no reason why you should go alone. I could easily
spare one of the boys."
"That's right--Chris," said the American, and in pretty good time that
morning these two, with their wallets well supplied and their
water-bottles filled, rode off along the back track to make a
reconnoissance, with the understanding that they were to rejoin their
friends that night.
It was a glorious ride through a lovely country, slowly and cautiously
taken, till a spot was reached commanding the portion along which danger
seemed sure to come if it was astir, and here, with their ponies hobbled
to graze, Chris and the American watched hour after hour, enjoying the
rest.
"But doesn't it seem queer," said Chris, as the day wore on, "just
because we are bound to be so careful, and dare not fire a shot for fear
of taking the enemy's attention, we have had chance after chance of
getting birds? I should have liked to take three or four brace back
with us."
"Yes," said Griggs shortly. "Been a nice change; but it wouldn't do."
The sun was getting low when Griggs finished a long search of the back
country with the glass he carried, and ended by closing it and thrusting
it into the case.
"No Indians to-day, or we should have seen them. I think we may start
back now."
They were soon in the saddle, and, to Chris's delight, he found that his
pony's stiffness had pretty well passed off, while, to the intense
satisfaction of both, the slight lameness grew better and promised well
for the next day.
They kept to a walk, pausing wherever a good view back could be
obtained, till it began to grow dark, but they kept steadily on.
"Another hour ought to bring us to camp," said Griggs suddenly.
"And they'll be waiting supper for us," said Chris. "I hope they have
done a little shooting. A turkey would be splendid to-night. Don't you
think so?" added the boy, after waiting in vain for an answer.
"I was thinking about something else," said the American slowly.
"What about--the gold city?"
"No, my lad, I was thinking about how awkward it would be if the Indians
had found a better road than we did, and had got to the camp while we've
been away."
"Griggs!" cried Chris in an agonised voice.--"Oh, nonsense! You said
that to scare me."
"No; it's too serious a thing to cut jokes about. This is a big
country, and we are only feeling our way, being strangers. Those Indian
fellows were born in it, and must know it by heart."
"Here, let's ride on as fast as we can," said Chris huskily. "You
think, then, that they may have been surprised?"
"I only felt that it might be possible."
"Then let's get on at full speed," cried Chris. "It's horrible to think
that they may be wanting our help."
"We can't ride at full speed," said Griggs quietly, "only go at a walk;
and I dare say it's all my fancy."
"But we might go faster than this," said Chris excitedly.
"No; the way's so bad that we should only throw our ponies down."
"But if--" began Chris.
"But if anything had happened there we should want our ponies to be
fresh and ready for a gallop. It would be madness to hurry them over
rough ground. There, I'm sorry I spoke, lad, for I honestly believe
that I have alarmed you for nothing."
"I can't help thinking it is not for nothing," said Chris bitterly.
"Why do you say that now? It's only to comfort me."
"Not quite all. I've been thinking. Suppose the camp has been
attacked. It could not have been from this side."
"No, because we should have seen the Indians."
"Then it must have been from the other."
"Of course."
"What would the doctor do then?"
"Defend it to--the last," said Chris, with the final words seeming to
stick before they would come.
"No, he wouldn't; he'd keep up a running fight."
"What, retreating?"
"I should say so; retiring on the detachment he had sent out, as a
soldier would say. To put it differently, he'd begin to think as you
did, for though you said nothing I could see your first thought was
about your father. Wasn't it?"
"Of course," said Chris huskily.
"Yes, of course; and he'd say to himself, `There's my boy over yonder
with that long, thin Yankee chap.' We must join them at once. Now,
don't you see, if anything had happened we should have met them before
now?"
Chris could not speak, but reached over to hold out his hand, which was
warmly grasped by Griggs, who then began to talk cheerily.
"Very stupid of me," he said. "I was feeling tired and mouldy. I've
had precious little sleep, fidgeting about this wild-goose sort of
expedition. I'm precious hungry too, and that makes a poor fellow feel
low-spirited. My word, I mean to make my mark in that roast turkey
to-night! _Sniff, sniff, sniff_! That isn't roasting I can smell,
coming with the wind, is it?"
Chris laughed, and Griggs went on chatting.
"Keep a tight rein over these stony bits. I do like to take care of a
horse," he said. "Poor beggars, they're the best of friends, but I do
wish they wouldn't be such cowards. Getting up a stampede like that and
chipping and straining themselves, all on account of a bear. They've no
pluck."
"Then I suppose I've none either," said Chris, "for the bear frightened
me."
"Ha, ha! Yes, and poor Mr Bourne too. My word, didn't he holloa!"
"And no wonder," said Chris. "Wouldn't you have done the same?"
"I just should. I say, though, I hope they haven't shot any of those
tough old gobblers, years old. They're as stringy as a fiddle. One
just a full year old's the sort of fellow we want. Who'll be cook?
Your comrade Ned, I expect. If he has let the bird burn I'll never
forgive him."
"There'll be no turkey, Griggs," said Chris.
"What! Why?"
"Because father won't have any firing."
"Well, they might trap one, or knock one over with a stick sent flying
like a boomerang."
"Here, I say, don't!" cried Chris. "I'm so hungry too that it makes my
mouth water. Here, I know what we shall have for supper."
"Yes, what?" cried Griggs eagerly.
"One of those big tins of preserved meat warmed up with water in the
kettle like a thick soup, and damper cakes, and tea as well."
"And not a bad supper either, lad, for hungry folks. Glad of it, for
I've no faith in Ned Bourne's cooking. He can make capital tea and
coffee, but when it comes to roasting a turkey, or cutting it up and
frying it in a pan, I'd beat him hollow. How much farther have we to
go?"
"About a mile," said Chris, and he had hardly spoken before from out of
the darkness ahead came the Australian cry--_Coo-ee_!
"There's Ned," said Chris eagerly. "Come to meet us.--_Coo-ee_! Is it
all right?"
"Yes, all right," came back.
"Tain't," said Griggs gruffly. "He's left the fire, and that turkey
will burn."
"Soup," said Chris merrily.
"Well, soup, then," growled Griggs. "Why can't he stick to his work?"
"Anyone with you?" cried Chris.
"No; I came on alone. Where's Griggs?"
"Here I am," replied the American to the voice out of the darkness. "I
say, how came you to leave that turkey?"
"Turkey! What turkey?"
"The one you were cooking for our supper."
"Oh, father's cook to-night; but there's no turkey."
"What, then?" said Griggs.
"Oh, a mess of tinned beef."
"There, I told you so," cried Chris.
"You never said a word about a mess," growled Griggs; "but I might have
known. A nice mess it will be!"
Ned did not hear, for he was questioning and being questioned about the
doings of the day, which had been as uneventful in camp as out of it.
Ten minutes later they were sitting near the fire enjoying the waiting
supper, and in the reflection from the glowing embers Chris could see
Griggs' face beaming with the smiles of satisfaction, as he made liberal
use of a pewter spoon, and took semi-circular bites out of a hot
bread-cake liberally ornamented with grey wood-ashes.
"How's the mess, Griggs?" said Chris merrily.
Griggs had only one word to say, and it fitted itself for usage as a
long-drawn husky drawl.
The word was _Prime_!