_CHEST TO CHEST WITH SAVAGES--HOW IT ALL ENDED._
No one thought of sleeping again that night. They went back for
their horses, and, as the moon had now risen, commenced the journey
in a bee line, as far as that was possible, towards Burley New Farm.
They travelled on all night, still under the guidance of Jacoby, who
needed no blazed trees to show in which direction to go. But when
morning came rest became imperative, for the men were beginning to
nod in their saddles, and the horses too seemed to be falling asleep
on their feet, for several had stumbled and thrown their
half-senseless riders. So camp was now formed and breakfast
discussed, and almost immediately all save a sentry went off into
sound and dreamless slumber, Diana lying close to Craig, whom she was
very fond of, with her head on his great shoulder and her fingers
firmly entwined in his beard.
It was hard upon the one poor fellow who had to act as sentry. Do
what he might he could scarcely keep awake, and he was far too tired
to continue walking about. He went and leant his body against a
tree, and in this position, what with the heat of the day, and the
drowsy hum of insects, with the monotonous song of the grasshopper,
again and again he felt himself merging into the land of dreams.
Then he would start and shake himself, and take a turn or two in the
sunshine, then go back to the tree and nod as before.
The day wore on, the sun got higher and higher, and about noon, just
when the sentry was thinking or rather dreaming of waking the
sleepers, there was a wild shout from a neighbouring thicket, a spear
flew past him and stuck in the tree. Next moment there was a
terrible _melée_--a hand-to-hand fight with savages that lasted for
long minutes, but finally resulted in victory for the squatters.
But, alas! it was a dearly-bought victory. Three out of the twelve
were dead, and three more, including Gentleman Craig, grievously
wounded.
The rest followed up the blacks for some little way, and more than
one of them bit the dust. Then they returned to help their fellows.
Craig's was a spear wound through the side, none the less dangerous
in that hardly a drop of blood was lost externally.
They drew the killed in under a tree, and having bound up the wounds
of the others, and partly carrying them or helping them along, they
resumed the march.
All that day they dragged themselves along, and it was far into the
early hours of morning ere they reached the boundaries of Burley New
Farm.
The moon was shining, though not very brightly, light fleecy clouds
were driving rapidly across the sky, so they could see the lights in
both the old house and in the lower windows of Archie's own dwelling.
They fired guns and coo-ee-ed, and presently Bob and Winslow rushed
out to bid them welcome.
Diana went bounding away to meet him.
"Oh, daddy, daddy!" she exclaimed, "what a time we've been having!
but mind, daddy, it wasn't all fun."
Bob could not speak for the life of him. He just staggered in with
the child in his arms and handed her over to Sarah; but I leave the
reader to imagine the state of Sarah's feelings now.
Poor Craig was borne in and put to bed in Archie's guest room, and
there he lay for weeks.
Bob himself had gone to Brisbane to import a surgeon, regardless of
expense; but it was probably more owing to the tender nursing of
Elsie than anything else that Craig was able at length to crawl out
and breathe the balmy, flower-scented air in the verandah.
One afternoon, many weeks after this, Craig was lying on a bank,
under the shade of a tree, in a beautiful part of the forest, all in
whitest bloom, and Elsie was seated near him.
There had been silence for some time, and the girl was quietly
reading.
"I wonder," said Craig at last, "if my life is really worth the care
that you and all the good people here have lavished on me?"
"How can you speak thus?" said Elsie, letting her book drop in her
lap, and looking into his face with those clear, blue eyes of hers.
"If you only knew all my sad, sinful story, you would not wonder that
I speak thus."
"Tell me your story: may I not hear it?"
"It is so long and, pardon me, so melancholy."
"Never mind, I will listen attentively."
Then Craig commenced. He told her all the strange history of his
early demon-haunted life, about his recklessness, about his struggles
and his final victory over self. He told her he verily did believe
that his mother's spirit was near him that night in the forest when
he made the vow which Providence in His mercy had enabled him to keep.
Yes, it was a long story. The sun had gone down ere he had finished,
a crescent moon had appeared in the southern sky, and stars had come
out. There was sweetness and beauty everywhere. There was calm in
Craig's soul now. For he had told Elsie something besides. He had
told her that he had loved her from the first moment he had seen her,
and he had asked her in simple language to become his wife--to be his
guardian angel.
That same evening, when Archie came out into the garden, he found
Elsie still sitting by Craig's couch, but her hand was clasped in his.
Then Archie knew all, and a great, big sigh of relief escaped him,
for until this very moment he had been of opinion that Craig loved
Etheldene.
* * * * * *
In course of a few months Squire Broadbent was as good as his word.
He came out to the new land to give the Australians the benefit of
his genius in the farming way; to teach Young Australia a thing or
two it had not known before; so at least he thought.
With him came Mrs. Broadbent, and even Uncle Ramsay, and the day of
their arrival at Brisbane was surely a red-letter day in the annals
of that thriving and prosperous place.
Strange to say, however, none of the squatters from the Bush, none of
the speculating men, nor anybody else apparently, were very much
inclined to be lectured about their own country, and the right and
wrong way of doing things, by a Squire from the old country, who had
never been here before. Some of them were even rude enough to laugh
in his face, but the Squire was not offended a bit. He was on far
too good terms with himself for that, and too sure that he was in the
right in all he said. He told some of these Bush farmers that if
_they_ did not choose to learn a wrinkle or two from him _he_ was not
the loser, with much more to the same purpose, all of which had about
the same effect on his hearers that rain has on a duck's back.
To use a rather hackneyed phrase, Squire Broadbent had the courage of
his convictions.
He settled quietly down at Burley New Farm, and commenced to study
Bush life in all its bearings. It soon began to dawn upon him that
Australia was getting to be a great country, that she had a great
future before her, and that _he_--Squire Broadbent--would be
connected with it. He was in no great hurry to invest, though
eventually he would. It would be better to wait and watch. There
was room enough and to spare for all at Archie's house, and that all
included honest Uncle Ramsay of course. He and Winslow resumed
acquaintance, and in the blunt, straightforward ways of the man even
Squire Broadbent found a deal to admire and even to marvel at.
"He is a clever man," said the Squire to his brother; "a clever man
and a far-seeing. He gets a wonderful grasp of financial matters in
a moment. Depend upon it, brother, he is the right metal, and it is
upon solid stones like him that the future greatness of a nation
should be founded."
Uncle Ramsay said he himself did not know much about it. He knew
more about ships, and was quite content to settle down at Brisbane,
and keep a morsel of a 20-tonner. That was his ambition.
What a delight it was for Archie to have them all round his
breakfast-table in the green-parlour at Burley New Farm, or seated
out in the verandah all so home-like and happy.
His dear old mummy too, with her innocent womanly ways, delighted
with all she saw, yet half afraid of almost everything--half afraid
the monster gum-trees would fall upon her when out in the forest;
half afraid to put her feet firmly to the ground when walking, but
gathering up her skirts gingerly, and thinking every withered branch
was a snake; half afraid the howling dingoes would come down in force
at night, as wild wolves do on Russian wastes, and kill and eat
everybody; half afraid of the most ordinary good-natured-looking
black fellow; half afraid of even the pet kangaroo when he hopped
round and held up his chin to have his old-fashioned neck stroked;
half afraid--but happy, so happy nevertheless, because she had all
she loved around her.
Gentleman Craig was most deferential and attentive to Mrs. Broadbent,
and she could not help admiring him--indeed, no one could--and quite
approved of Elsie's choice; though, mother-like, she thought the girl
far too young to marry yet, as the song says.
However, they were not to be married yet quite. There was a year to
elapse, and a busy one it was. First and foremost, Craig took the
unfortunate Findlayson's farm. But the old steading was allowed to
go to decay, and some one told me the other day that there is now a
genuine ghost, said to be seen on moonlight nights, wandering round
the ruined pile. Anyhow, its associations were of far too terrible a
character for Craig to think of building near it.
He chose the site for his house and outbuildings near the creek and
the spot where they had bivouaced before the murder was discovered.
It was near here too that Craig had made his firm resolve to be a
free man--made it and kept it. The spot was charmingly beautiful
too; and as his district included a large portion of the forest, he
commenced clearing that, but in so scientific and tasteful a manner
that it looked, when finished, like a noble park.
During this year Squire Broadbent also became a squatter. From
Squire to Squatter may sound to some like a come-down in life; but
really Broadbent did not think so.
He managed to buy out a station immediately adjoining Archie's, and
when he had got fairly established thereon he told his brother Ramsay
that fifteen years had tumbled off his shoulders all in a
lump--fifteen years of care and trouble, fifteen years of struggle to
keep his head above water, and live up to his squiredom.
"I'm more contented now by far and away," he told his wife, "than I
was in the busy, boastful days before the fire at Burley Old Farm;
so, you see, it doesn't take much in this world to make a man happy."
Rupert did not turn squatter, but missionary. It was a great treat
for him to have Etheldene to ride with him away out into the bush
whenever he heard a tribe had settled down anywhere for a time.
Etheldene knew all their ways, and between the two of them they no
doubt did much good.
It is owing to such earnest men as Rupert that so great a change has
come over the black population, and that so many of them, even as I
write, sit humbly at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in their right
mind. To quote the words of a recent writer: "The war-paints and
weapons for fights are seen no more, the awful heathen corroborees
have ceased, the females are treated with kindness, and the
lamentable cries, accompanied by bodily injuries, when death
occurred, have given place to Christian sorrow and quiet tears for
their departed friends."
It came to pass one day that Etheldene and Archie, towards the end of
the year, found themselves riding alone, through scrub and over
plain, just as they were that day they were lost. The conversation
turned round to Rupert's mission.
"What a dear, good, young man your brother is, Archie!" said the girl.
"Do you really love him?"
"As a brother, yes."
"Etheldene, have him for a brother, will you?"
The rich blood mounted to her cheeks and brow. She cast one
half-shy, half-joyful look at Archie, and simply murmured, "Yes."
It was all over in a moment then. Etheldene struck her horse lightly
across the crest with the handle of her stock-whip, and next minute
both horses were galloping as if for dear life.
When Archie told Rupert how things had turned out, he only smiled in
his quiet manner.
"It is a queer way of wooing," he said; "but then you were always a
queer fellow, Archie, and Etheldene is a regular Bush baby, as Craig
calls her. Oh, I knew long ago she loved you!"
At the year's end then both Elsie and Etheldene were married, and
married, too, at the same church in Sydney from which Bob led Sarah,
his blushing bride. It might not have been quite so wild and daft a
wedding, but it was a very happy one nevertheless.
No one was more free in blessing the wedded couples than old Kate.
Yes, old as she was, she had determined not to be left alone in
England.
We know how Bob spent his honeymoon. How were the new young folks to
spend theirs? Oh, it was all arranged beforehand! And on the very
morning of the double marriage they embarked--Harry and Bob going
with them for a holiday--on board Captain Vesey's pretty yacht, and
sailed away for England. Etheldene's dream of romance was about to
become a reality; she was not only to visit the land of chivalry, but
with Archie her husband and hero by her side.
The yacht hung off and on the shore all day, as if reluctant to leave
the land; but towards evening a breeze sprang up from the west, the
sails filled, and away she went, dancing and curtseying over the
water like a thing of life.
The sunset was bewitchingly beautiful; the green of the land was
changed to a purple haze, that softened and beautified its every
outline; the cloudless sky was clear and deep; that is, it gave you
the idea you could see so far into and through it. There was a flush
of saffron along the horizon; above it was of an opal tint, with here
and there a tender shade of crimson--only a suspicion of this colour,
no more; and apparently close at hand, in the east, were long-drawn
cloudlets of richest red and gold.
Etheldene looked up in her husband's face.
"Shall we have such a sky as that to greet our arrival on English
shores?" she said.
Archie drew her closer to his side.
"I'm not quite sure about the sky," he replied, shaking his head and
smiling, "but we'll have a hearty English welcome."
And so they had.
FINIS.