BLACK-FELLOWS.
In the exultation of the thought Eustace plunged into the scrub and
rode on and on unheedingly, lost in dreams of the adventure before
him. Always he found Bob, always he rescued him, sometimes with the
most thrilling hair-breadth escapes.
The wood was not dark but densely shady, with black distances. It
presently began to worry Eustace that it was impossible to keep a
straight line for the direction whence the answering cry had come;
it was often necessary to wind in and out of the close-growing tree
stems to find a passage for himself and Bolter. There was no road,
path, or even track to follow.
"This will get muddling," he thought, when he had been twisting and
turning, doubling back on his route, for about half an hour. "I
guess I ought to have marked the trees with notches as I came
along. I'll go back and start again."
He pulled Bolter up, sat back on his saddle, and looked round for
the gleam of light through the trunks of the trees that would guide
him back to the open; but there was none--nothing but an even
monotony of dense distance, no matter where he turned.
The boy's heart stood still in the unpleasant shock of surprise.
Which way had he come? He had not the slightest notion, for each
way looked so exactly the same as the other. He realized with
sickening intensity that he had lost his bearings.
"But I must find my way out, of course," he said, addressing
Bolter's glossy ears. "I'll try each way in turn till I see the
light. There is nothing to be scared about."
He felt quite angry with himself for his momentary panic; it was
stupid and babyish. Of course fellows had been lost in the Bush,
but they couldn't have been such a short way in as he must be by
now. True, he had heard a story of a chap who had gone round and
round like a squirrel in a cage not a mile from the outskirts of
the scrub. He was "bushed," and found dead.
The boy shuddered, then literally shook himself as he urged Bolter
on again to begin investigations.
"I won't think about it," he said, setting his teeth. "I must get
out, and begin again; I must."
In and out of the trees he wound, trying his utmost to retrace his
steps; but he had noticed nothing on the way in, and he had no
landmarks to guide him. This went on so long that, fight as he
would with the fear at his heart, it began to master him.
"Seems to me I am always coming back to the place I start from," he
thought, with a desperate sense of helplessness; "but there isn't a
bit of difference between these hateful trees. I'll mark one and
try."
He cut a deep gash in the bark of the nearest to him, and went on.
But though he watched most carefully, he never came on that tree
again.
"As I'm not getting out," he reflected, "I must be getting deeper
and deeper into the scrub. Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do?
What a silly fool I have been! I might have remembered father's
warnings. Bob said one ought to learn to think out all sides of a
question. I didn't; and now if father goes back I shan't be there
to tell him I heard the coo-ee. Oh dear, oh dear!"
He gave a gasping sigh, almost a sob. To have been so near saving
Bob, and not to have done it after all--only to die "bushed"! It
was enough to break a man's nerve, let alone a child's.
He went back in thought to the river bank, picturing how it would
have been if he had only patiently waited, giving a coo-ee now and
again to keep in touch with the answerer.
"Why, how silly I am!" he exclaimed. "If I coo-ee now he will
answer me, and I can follow that."
The thought cheered him instantly, and making a hollow mouthpiece
with his hands to increase the sound, he gave the loudest coo-ee he
had ever given in his life.
There was not the faintest response.
Again and again he repeated it, straining his ears to hear if there
came a reply. More and more agonized grew his cries; so intense his
silences between that he even stopped his breathing to listen. But
there was nothing to hear. He got hot and cold by turns; he felt
sick and queer. It was now hours since his departure from the
Highlands, and he had had no food since the very poor supper he
managed to eat the night before. The effort of shouting did not
improve matters, and he was so hoarse at last he could call no
more.
Then he completely lost his head, and began riding with desperate
inconsequence as straight ahead as the trees would allow. Stay
still he could not; the inaction terrified him. He argued that he
must get somewhere by going on long enough--somewhere "through to
the other side," as he expressed it.
"Why doesn't Bob answer?" that was the most troublesome thought.
"Have I got out of earshot?"
Presently Eustace was beyond thinking; he went on dully because he
felt he must keep on the move; but hunger, exhaustion, and the heat
of the now well-advanced day were beginning to tell on him. The
apathy threatened to become so settled that it was a mercy when
Bolter presently stumbled so badly that Eustace had to rouse
himself to hold on. Then it was that he noticed straight before him
at last a wide gleam of light amongst the stems of the trees.
The sight put such life and spirit into him that he whipped up the
now drooping Bolter, who also had just cause to reflect on no
breakfast and general ill-usage, and they covered the ground as
fast as possible, considering how unequal it was, how thick the
undergrowth in parts.
A disappointment and a great surprise awaited the pair when they
emerged into this open space--it was nothing but a clearing in the
wood after all, dotted about with queer-shaped huts scarcely as
tall as a man, and all made of pliable branches of trees
interwoven with grass for walls.
Eustace pulled up short in breathless dismay, for a few paces away
there arose from among these untidy "humpies" some twenty
natives--erect, alert, all with poised boomerangs or spears ready
to fling. It was a sinister reception for one small boy on a spent
horse. Of course the keen-eared black-fellows had heard him coming
from miles away, and were ready.
It was small wonder, considering his condition, that after one
wild, appealing glance at the line of fierce, dark faces Eustace
fell forward on Bolter's neck in a dead faint. He did not see the
weapons lowered, or the gleam of something like grim amusement on
the chief's face as he realized for what it was they had been so
elaborately prepared.
Out of the huts crept stealthy figures of women and children. When
Eustace opened his eyes he found himself lying flat on his back
with these people crowding inquisitively around. He looked up into
their repulsively heavy faces with a horror of realization. For
some moments he was too paralyzed to stir. No more awful fate could
have befallen him than this--it was the sort of thing that might
come to one in a nightmare. But he knew it was no dream. There
stood Bolter a few paces away, grazing thankfully, and in no way
perturbed.
The harsh guttural language these people spoke was unintelligible
to the boy, but he could guess they were intensely curious about
him from the way they pointed and stared. It seemed to him that
some of them could never have seen a white child before, they were
so excited, especially the children, who looked half terrified.
Were they cannibals these people? he wondered, with a sinking
heart.
He forced himself to his feet, and stood shaking a second, then
dropped on his knees. The performance seemed to amuse the gaping
group--the younger men and women laughed, the children clapped
their hands.
Eustace was wondering drearily how long they would stand staring at
him, when the chief strode up to him and said something with many
gesticulations; but not a thing could the boy understand.
The chief was much more decorated than any one else--covered from
head to heels with stripes and devices in white, blue, and red
paint. There were feathers in his crisp dark hair, and slung over
his shoulder a strange shaped club.
Eustace proceeded, by means of much waving, pointing, and the
patter talked on the plantation by the coolies, to try and explain
how he had come there, and how very much he only wanted to get away
and find the way home. But it was useless--the men shook their
heads and looked perplexed.
Seeing that no one seemed inclined to molest him, but that every
one merely watched him as if he were a monkey in a cage at the Zoo,
he resolved on a desperate step. With a supreme effort he stood
again, staggered over to Bolter, and attempted to mount.
But this was not allowed. With two strides the chief was upon him,
flinging him back on the ground as a big boy might fling a kitten
from him. Then the great man plainly intimated that this creature
he considered his; no one should touch it. Eustace was not to dare
to approach it. The chief's attitude was menacing; it was well to
be seen he felt he had acquired a prize.
"But what is going to happen to me?" thought Eustace, quaking with
fear. "What will they do with me?"
No one seemed to have any intention of doing anything with him at
the moment; he was only stared at. The men, for the most part, were
now more interested in Bolter, particularly his saddle and bridle.
Little by little the women dropped off, as if they had work to
attend to, and a smell of cooking arose that made the boy sick with
longing as he sat huddled up and half silly with starvation and
fatigue. The apathy that had been upon him before he was cheered by
the gleam of light crept over him again; fear faded from his mind;
nothing seemed to matter any more.
He sat so still that presently the children crept closer, and began
to finger his clothes, as if they puzzled them. What drew them away
from him he did not realize till something was thrust under his
very nose, and the smell told him it was food.
He had just enough sense left to try and eat; but before he had
swallowed five mouthfuls he rolled over and fell sound asleep.
Nothing could have kept him awake--neither a thunderstorm nor an
earthquake.
When he awoke again to a consciousness of his surroundings the sun
was rising. He had come through the night in safety--that was his
first thought; and it both surprised and encouraged him. Surely, he
argued, if they wanted to kill him he would not have been spared so
long.
The scarcely-touched food was still beside him. Refreshed by the
much-needed sleep, he was able to eat it now, and began to feel
more like himself again, though stiff and still weary. He was
sufficiently rested for his brain to be active once more, and his
whole thoughts were bent upon what was to become of him next.
Bolter was tethered at the other side of the open space, well
guarded, as if the chief thought he might try to inveigle the horse
away by some magic means, then mount and ride off. It was very
evident that if he meant to get away it would have to be on
foot--the chief would not part with Bolter. The question was: Did
they mean to detain Eustace as prisoner? At present, except that
they stared inquisitively at him, every one seemed fairly
indifferent to his presence. However, he decided that it would be
foolish to put the matter to the test in broad daylight; he must
wait till nightfall, and under cover of the intense darkness make
his escape. He set himself to wait as patiently as he could,
pretending to be as drowsy and inert as a well-fed snake; but his
mind was very active. He had never thought so many thoughts in all
his life before. What, he wondered, could Mrs. Cochrane have
thought of his disappearance? Had his father returned to the
Highlands and discovered it? Were they keeping his loss from his
mother as they had kept Bob's from Mrs. Cochrane? Was it possible
Bob had got safe and sound home again? And oh! were they looking
for him?
There came an answer both to this and to the question as to the
black-fellows' intentions respecting him that very morning.
Eustace had been furtively watching the dark figures moving to and
fro. Apparently some of the men went off to hunt. Except when they
were preparing food, the women seemed to do nothing. The children
squabbled and tumbled about, or slept like tired brown kittens in
casual places. There was a great hush over everything, when
suddenly across the silence came a sound that set every pulse in
the boy's body astir, so that the beating of his heart almost
choked him. It was a distant but long, clear coo-ee.
Wild with joy Eustace sprang to his feet, but before he could make
a sound he found himself surrounded by a dozen menacing figures,
clubs in hand, ready to fell him if he dared to reply.
Some of the tribes are very secretive and stealthy in their
movements. It was well to be seen that this one did not wish to
have its camping ground divulged.
With a thrill of horror Eustace understood that he was powerless.
To cry out would mean certain death. It might be their intention to
kill him at any rate, but in the postponement lay a chance of
escape. He must meet stealth by stealth.
Again the coo-ee cut through the air, but Eustace covered his face
with his hands and dropped dejectedly back on the ground.
It was a bitter moment. Could anything have been worse than to know
help was at hand, and to be unable to take it?
That a search-party was now out he felt certain; it was probably
his father's voice, and he dared not answer. He had the sense to
see how useless it would be to give one cry, and die for it. But
oh! it was hard--cruelly hard.
It seemed to him those coo-ees went on for hours, each with a long
listening pause after it, sometimes nearer, gradually fading away
and away till they were no louder than the answer he had received
on the banks of the creek.
In addition to the keenness of the disappointment and the terror
that he was losing his last chance of ever getting home again came
the speculation as to what these wild-faced people meant to do with
him, and there leaped to his mind a new and very terrible question.
Was it possible that Bob had come this way? Had they met him with
spears and boomerangs, and dispatched him before he had time to
whip out his revolver? But no. There was still that answering
coo-ee to be accounted for. Perhaps they had only bound him and
made him prisoner till then, undecided what to do with him. It was
possible that on hearing Eustace's coo-ee he had dared the blacks,
and attempted those three faint answers. If so, they had cost him
his life, and the ultimate silence was explained.
Eustace lay shuddering over the thought. He could only keep his
teeth from chattering by holding his jaw tightly in both hands.
How long he lay lost in those miserable thoughts he did not know.
He was roused from his lethargy by a soft kick, and, starting up,
he found the woman who fed him the day before beside him offering
him food again. She seemed to treat him as if he were a white pig
that had strayed amongst them. He was probably a less intelligible
creature in her eyes, but she knew that he must at least eat to
live.
It was a messy preparation, but he managed to eat some; and all the
driest portions of it he could extract unnoticed he slipped into
his pockets, laying in provision for possible starvation next day.
Then he lay down again and feigned sleep.
He looked through half-closed lids with longing eyes at the
peaceful Bolter. Eustace wondered whether he too had heard those
tantalizing coo-ees and ached to respond. What would be poor
Bolter's fate here? The blacks make the women of the tribes into
their beasts of burden when shifting camp; they do not habitually
use horses. The chief was perhaps only keeping Bolter as a valuable
addition to the larder when provisions ran short.
Every thought that came to the boy was horrid. He wished he did not
have to think, and as dusk fell set his mind to the task of keeping
awake after his captors had settled down for the night. It would be
fatal to sleep as he had done the night before.
The chief had been away all day, and was not yet come back. It was
possible judgment on the prisoner was suspended till his return.
When the great man heard of the coo-ees and Eustace's attempt to
answer, probably the boy's fate would be sealed. Escape must be now
or never.
Eustace made up his mind that he would start off in the direction
whence the coo-ees had come. It was the only guide he had, and a
very poor one, as had already been proved by the first cry he had
so unfortunately tried to follow.
He waited just as long as he could bear, after silence fell on the
camp. There was no question of taking Bolter. He was guarded as on
the night before; besides, he would have made too much noise.
Eustace dared not get up and walk himself, or even crawl. He had
invented a silent, gliding movement as he lay scheming--by means of
strong tufts of grass he meant to gradually pull his body,
snakewise, little by little away from the open into the wood.
As soon as he dared he began his weird progress, quaking at every
sound he made lest it should rouse those keen-eared sleepers so
close around him. The soft "frou-frou" of the dry grass beneath him
sounded to his excited fancy like the sudden rushing of a torrent.
He was almost overwhelmed by the fear of pulling himself
inadvertently up against one of those dark forms, for he did not
know where every one was lying. One false move now, and it would
mean the end of all things for him.