_A WILD ADVENTURE--ARCHIE'S PRIDE RECEIVES A FALL._
It happened--I was going to say at the end of the other page--that in
a few weeks' time Mr. Winslow paid his promised visit to Burley New
Farm, as the three friends called it.
Great preparations had been made beforehand because Etheldene was
coming with her father, and was accompanied by a black maid. Both
Etheldene and her maid had been accommodated with a dray, and when
Sarah, with her cheeks like ripe cherries, and her eyes like sloes,
showed the young lady to her bedroom, Etheldene was pleased to
express her delight in no measured terms. She had not expected
anything like this. Real mattresses, with real curtains, a real
sofa, and real lace round the looking-glass.
"It is almost too good for Bush-life," said Etheldene; "but I am so
pleased, Mrs. Cooper; and everything is as clean and tidy as my own
rooms in Sydney. Father, do come and see all this, and thank Mrs.
Cooper prettily."
Somewhat to Archie's astonishment a horse was led round next morning
for Etheldene, and she appeared in a pretty dark habit, and was
helped into the saddle, and gathered up the reins, and looked as calm
and self-possessed as a princess could have done.
It was Gentleman Craig who was the groom, and a gallant one he made.
For the life of him Archie could not help envying the man for his
excessive coolness, and would have given half of his cattle--those
vith the bold "A.B.'s" on them--to have been only half as handsome.
Never mind. Archie is soon mounted, and cantering away by the young
lady's side, and feeling so buoyant and happy all over that he would
not have exchanged places with a king on a throne.
"Oh, yes," said Etheldene, laughing, as she replied to a question of
Archie's, "I know nearly everything about cattle, and sheep too!
But," she added, "I'm sure you are clever among them already."
Archie felt the blood mount to his forehead; but he took off his
broad hat and bowed for the compliment, almost as prettily as
Gentleman Craig could have done himself.
Now, there is such a thing as being too clever, and it was trying to
be clever that led poor Archie to grief that day.
The young man was both proud and pleased to have an opportunity of
showing Etheldene round the settlement, all the more so that there
was to be a muster of the herds that day, and neighbour-squatters had
come on horseback to assist. This was a kind of a love-darg which
was very common in Queensland a few years ago, and probably is to
this day.
Archie pointed laughingly towards the stock-whip Etheldene carried.
He never for a moment imagined it was in the girl's power to use or
manage such an instrument.
"That is a pretty toy, Miss Winslow," he said.
"Toy, do you call it, sir?" said this young Diana, pouting prettily.
"It is only a lady's whip, for the thong is but ten feet long. But
listen."
It flew from her hands as she spoke, and the sound made every animal
within hearing raise head and sniff the air.
"Well," said Archie, "I hope you won't run into any danger."
"Oh," she exclaimed, "danger is fun!" And she laughed right merrily,
and looked as full of life and beauty as a bird in spring-time.
Etheldene was tall and well-developed for her age, for girls in this
strange land very soon grow out of their childhood.
Archie had called her Diana in his own mind, and before the day was
over she certainly had given proof that she well merited the title.
New herds had arrived, and had for one purpose or another to be
headed into the stock yards. This is a task of no little difficulty,
and to-day being warm these cattle appeared unusually fidgety. Twos
and threes frequently stampeded from the mob, and went determinedly
dashing back towards the creek and forest, so there was plenty of
opportunities for anyone to show off his horsemanship. Once during a
chase like this Archie was surprised to see Etheldene riding neck and
neck for a time with a furious bull. He trembled for her safety as
he dashed onwards to her assistance. But crack, crack, crack went
the brave girl's whip; she punished the runaway most unmercifully,
and had succeeded in turning him ere her Northumbrian cavalier rode
up. A moment more and the bull was tearing back towards the herd he
had left, a stockman or two following close behind.
"I was frightened for you," said Archie.
"Pray, don't be so, Mr. Broadbent. I don't want to think myself a
child, and I should not like you to think me one. Mind, I've been in
the Bush all my life."
But there was more and greater occasion to be frightened for
Etheldene ere the day was done. In fact, she ran so madly into
danger, that the wonder is she escaped. She had a gallant,
soft-mouthed horse--that was one thing to her advantage--and the girl
had a gentle hand.
But Archie drew rein himself, and held his breath with fear, to see a
maddened animal, that she was pressing hard, turn wildly round and
charge back on horse and rider with all the fury imaginable. A turn
of the wrist of the bridle hand, one slight jerk of the fingers, and
Etheldene's horse had turned on a pivot, we might almost say, and the
danger was over.
So on the whole, instead of Archie having had a very grand
opportunity for showing off his powers before this young Diana, it
was rather the other way.
The hunt ended satisfactory to both parties; and while Sarah was
getting an extra good dinner ready, Archie proposed a canter "to give
them an appetite."
"Have you got an appetite, Mr. Broadbent? I have."
It was evident Etheldene was not too fine a lady to deny the
possession of good health.
"Yes," said Archie; "to tell you the plain truth, I'm as hungry as a
hunter. But it'll do the nags good to stretch their legs after so
much wheeling and swivelling."
So away they rode again, side by side, taking the blazed path towards
the plains.
"You are sure you can find your way back, I suppose?" said Etheldene.
"I think so."
"It would be good fun to be lost."
"Would you really like to be?"
"Oh, we would not be altogether, you know! We would find our way to
some hut and eat damper, or to some grand hotel, I suppose, in the
Bush, and father and Craig would soon find us."
"Father and you have known Craig long?"
"Yes, many, many years. Poor fellow, it is quite a pity for him.
Father says he was very clever at college, and is a Master of Arts of
Cambridge."
"Well, he has taken his hogs to a nice market."
"But father would do a deal for him if he could trust him. He has
told father over and over again that plenty of people would trust him
if he could only trust himself."
"Poor man! So nice-looking too! They may well call him Gentleman
Craig."
"But is it not time we were returning?"
"Look! look!" she cried, before Archie could answer. "Yonder is a
bull-fight. Whom does the little herd belong to?"
"Not to us. We are far beyond even our pastures. We have cut away
from them. This is a kind of no-man's land, where we go shooting at
times; and I daresay they are trespassers or wild cattle. Pity they
cannot be tamed."
"They are of no use to anyone, I have heard father say, except to
shoot. If they be introduced into a herd of stock cattle, they teach
all the others mischief. But see how they fight! Is it not awful?"
"Yes. Had we not better return? I do not think your father would
like you to witness such sights as that."
The girl laughed lightly.
"Oh," she cried, "you don't half know father yet! He trusts me
everywhere. He is very, very good, though not so refined as some
would have him to be."
The cows of this herd stood quietly by chewing their cuds, under the
shade of a huge gum tree, while two red-eyed giant bulls struggled
for mastery in the open.
It was a curious fight, and a furious fight. At the time Archie and
his companion came in sight of the conflict, they had closed, and
were fencing with their horns with as much skill, apparently, as any
two men armed with foils could have displayed. The main points to be
gained appeared to be to unlock or get out of touch of each other's
horns long enough to stab in neck and shoulder, and during the time
of being in touch to force back and gain ground. Once during this
fight the younger bull backed his opponent right to the top of a
slight hill. It was a supreme effort, and evidently made in the hope
that he would hurl him from a height at the other side. But in this
he was disappointed; for the top was level, and the older one,
regaining strength, hurled his enemy down the hill again far more
quickly than he had come up. Round and round, and from side to side,
the battle raged, till at long last the courage and strength of one
failed completely. He suffered himself to be backed, and it was
evident was only waiting an opportunity to escape uncut and
unscathed. This came at length, and he turned and, with a cry of
rage, dashed madly away to the forest. The battle now became a
chase, and the whole herd, holloaing good luck to the victor, joined
in it.
As there was no more to be seen, Archie and Etheldene turned their
horses' heads homewards.
They had not ridden far, however, before the vanquished bull himself
hove in sight. He was alone now, though still tearing off in a
panic, and moaning low and angrily to himself.
It was at this moment that what Archie considered a happy inspiration
took possession of our impulsive hero. "Let us wait till he passes,"
he said, "and drive him before us to camp."
Easily said. But how was it to be done? They drew back within the
shadow of a tree, and the bull rushed past. Then out pranced knight
Archie, cracking his stock whip.
The monster paused, and wheeling round tore up the ground with his
hoofs in a perfect agony of anger.
"What next?" he seemed to say to himself. "It is bad enough to be
beaten before the herd; but I will have my revenge now."
The brute's roaring now was like the sound of a gong, hollow and
ringing, but dreadful to listen to.
Archie met him boldly enough, intending to cut him in the face as he
dashed past. In his excitement he dug his spurs into Tell, and next
minute he was on the ground. The bull rushed by, but speedily
wheeled, and came tearing back, sure now of blood in which to dip his
ugly hoofs.
Archie had scrambled up, and was near a tree when the infuriated
beast came down on the charge. Even at this moment of supreme danger
Archie--he remembered this afterwards--could not help admiring the
excessively business-like way the animal came at him to break him up.
There was a terrible earnestness and a terrible satisfaction in his
face or eyes; call it what you like, there it was.
Near as Archie was to the tree, to reach and get round it was
impossible. He made a movement to get at his revolver; but it was
too late to draw and fire, so at once he threw himself flat on the
ground. The bull rushed over him, and came into collision with the
tree-trunk. This confused him for a second or two, and Axchie had
time to regain his feet. He looked wildly about for his horse. Tell
was quietly looking on; he seemed to be waiting for his young master.
But Archie never would have reached the horse alive had not brave
Etheldene's whip not been flicked with painful force across the
bull's eyes. That blow saved Archie, though the girl's horse was
wounded on the flank.
[Illustration: "Archie never would have reached the horse alive had
not brave Etheldene's whip been flicked with painful force across the
bull's eyes. That blow saved Archie, though the girl's horse was
wounded on the flank."]
A minute after both were galloping speedily across the plain, all
danger over; for the bull was still rooting around the tree,
apparently thinking that his tormentors had vanished through the
earth.
"How best can I thank you?" Archie was saying.
"By saying nothing about it," was Etheldene's answer.
"But you have saved my life, child."
"A mere bagatelle, as father says," said this saucy Queensland
maiden, with an arch look at her companion. But Archie did not look
arch as he put the next question.
"Which do you mean is the bagatelle, Etheldene, my life, or the
saving of it?"
"Yes, you may call me Etheldene--father's friends do--but don't,
please, call me child again."
"I beg your pardon, Etheldene."
"It is granted, sir."
"But now you haven't answered my question."
"What was it? I'm so stupid!"
"Which did you mean was the bagatelle--my life, or the saving of it?"
"Oh, both!"
"Thank you."
"I wish I could save Gentleman Craig's life," she added, looking
thoughtful and earnest all in a moment.
"Bother Gentleman Craig!" thought Archie; but he was not rude enough
to say so.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because he once saved mine. That was when I was lost in the Bush,
you know. He will tell you some day--I will ask him to. He is very
proud though, and does not Like to talk very much about himself."
Archie was silent for a short time. Why, he was wondering to
himself, did it make him wretched--as it certainly had done--to have
Etheldene look upon his life and the saving of it as a mere
bagatelle. Why should she not? Still the thought was far from
pleasant. Perhaps, if he had been killed outright, she would have
ridden home and reported his death in the freest and easiest manner,
and the accident would not have spoiled her dinner. The girl could
have no feeling; and yet he had destined her, in his own mind, to be
Rupert's wife. She was unworthy of so great an honour. It should
never happen if he could prevent it. Suddenly it occurred to him to
ask her what a bagatelle was.
"A bagatelle?" she replied. "Oh, about a thousand pounds. Father
always speaks of a thousand pounds as a mere bagatelle."
Archie laughed aloud--he could not help it; but Etheldene looked
merrily at him as she remarked quietly, "You wouldn't laugh if you
knew what I know."
"Indeed! What is it?"
"We are both lost!"
"Goodness forbid!"
"You won't have grace to say to-day--there will be no dinner; that's
always the worst of being lost."
Archie looked around him. There was not a blazed tree to be seen,
and he never remembered having been in the country before in which
they now rode.
"We cannot be far out," he said, "and I believe we are riding
straight for the creek."
"So do I, and that is one reason why we are both sure to be wrong.
It's great fun, isn't it?"
"I don't think so. We're in an ugly fix. I really thought I was a
better Bushman than I am."
Poor Archie! His pride had received quite a series of ugly falls
since morning, but this was the worst come last. He felt a very
crestfallen cavalier indeed.
It did not tend to raise his spirits a bit to be told that if
Gentleman Craig were here, he would find the blazed-tree line in a
very short time.
But things took a more cheerful aspect when out from a clump of trees
rode a rough-looking stockman, mounted on a sackful of bones in the
shape of an aged white horse.
He stopped right in front of them.
"Hillo, younkers! Whither away? Can't be sun-downers, sure--ly!"
"No," said Archie; "we are not sundowners. We are riding straight
home to Burley New Farm."
"'Xcuse me for contradicting you flat, my boy. It strikes me ye
ain't boss o' the sitivation. Feel a kind o' bushed, don't ye?"
Archie was fain to confess it.
"Well, I know the tracks, and if ye stump it along o' me, ye won't
have to play at babes o' the wood to-night."
They did "stump it along o' him," and before very long found
themselves in the farm pasture lands.
They met Craig coming, tearing along on his big horse, and glad he
was to see them.
"Oh, Craig," cried Etheldene, "we've been having such fun, and been
bushed, and everything!"
"I found this 'ere young gent a-bolting with this 'ere young lady,"
said their guide, whom Craig knew and addressed by the name of
Hurricane Bill.
"A runaway match, eh? Now, who was in the fault? But I think I
know. Let me give you a bit of advice, sir. Never trust yourself
far in the Bush with Miss Ethie. She doesn't mind a bit being lost,
and I can't be always after her. Well, dinner is getting cold."
"Did you wait for us?" said Etheldene.
"Not quite unanimously, Miss Ethie. It was like this: Mr. Cooper and
Mr. Harry waited for you, and your father waited for Mr. Broadbent.
It comes to the same thing in the end, you know."
"Yes," said Etheldene, "and it's funny."
"What did you come for, Bill? Your horse looks a bit jaded."
"To invite you all to the hunt. Findlayson's compliments, and all
that genteel nonsense; and come as many as can. Why, the kangaroos,
drat 'em, are eating us up. What with them and the dingoes we've
been having fine times, I can tell ye!"
"Well, it seems to me, Bill, your master is always in trouble. Last
year it was the blacks, the year before he was visited by
bushrangers, wasn't he?"
"Ye--es. Fact is we're a bit too far north, and a little too much
out west, and so everything gets at us like."
"And when is the hunt?"
"Soon's we can gather."
"I'm going for one," said Etheldene.
"What you, Miss?" said Hurricane Bill. "You're most too young, ain't
ye?"
The girl did not condescend to answer him.
"Come, sir, we'll ride on," she said to Archie.
And away they flew.
"Depend upon it, Bill, if she says she is going, go she will, and
there's an end of it."
"Humph!" That was Bill's reply. He always admitted he had "no great
fancy for womenfolks."