AMONG THE BLACKS.
Our preparation for this madcap expedition was very soon made. We took
our horses, for on foot we could not keep up with Gioro, and it was
better to have the full benefit of his fleetness. We strapped our
blankets to the pommels of our saddles. Jack carried a small
fowling-piece, and I carried a pistol. We both had serviceable knives.
A few small packages of tea and tobacco and what we thought a fair
supply of ammunition completed our _impedimenta_.
We left our spare horse in charge of our man, and entrusted
Mr. Fetherston with a cheque sufficient to pay the man’s wages and to
give him a small gratuity on his return to Adelaide. Meantime he was
to be in Mr. Fetherston’s service until we should rejoin the
expedition, and if we did not rejoin it before its return to Adelaide
then Tim Blundell was to have the horse. Early in the forenoon Gioro
showed me a hill which seemed to be about ten miles away (it proved
to be much further). He told us that at the foot of that hill we
should find a creek which we had crossed at an earlier part of its
course the afternoon before, and that creek we must follow down.
Mr. Fetherston had the same hill marked on his chart, and his
instructions were that when he was abreast of it he was to turn to the
right nearly at right angles. So that when he should make this turn
that must be our signal for parting with him. As we did not get
abreast of the hill until it was rather late in the afternoon, we
camped a little earlier than usual, and Gioro, Jack, and I deferred
our departure until the next day. Shortly after sunrise we bade adieu
to our friends with those noisy demonstrations on both sides which
often serve the Englishman as a decent veil for those deeper feelings
which he nearly always hesitates to show. The landscape here consisted
of grassy slopes and plains, alternating with belts of well-forested
country. We were in the middle of a plain when we parted from our
fellow-travellers, and our courses were not in quite opposite
directions; ours was about north-west, and theirs east-north-east. So
while we remained in the plain we could see our fellow-travellers by
simply looking to the right, and they us by looking to the left. So
for a while there was much waving of hats on both sides. But the
first belt of timber that we entered hid them from our sight. And then
I think for the first time I became fully aware of the meaning of what
we were doing.
“Jack, my boy!” said I, giving my horse a slight cut, so that he
bounded forward, “we’re in for it now.”
“You don’t seem sorry for it, Bob,” said he, urging his horse to join
me.
Truly neither of us was sorry for it. A new spirit of independence and
love of adventure sprang up within us. We were young and well and
strong. The morning air was fresh; the unaccustomed aspect of the
forest, the screams of a flock of savage birds of the cockatoo sort
that seemed as if they were making for the same hill as ourselves, the
aspect of our native guide, who trotted on with his body slightly bent
forward, and with the confident air of one who had “been there
before,” all stirred us to a sense of strangeness and expectance which
was quite a joy. Even the warnings of Mr. Fetherston and Tim Blundell
seemed only to intensify the joy.
“For if a path be dangerous known,
The danger’s self is lure alone.”
All the way from Port Augusta, Gioro had been dressed like the rest of
us; he had worn a pair of moleskin trousers, a flannel shirt, and a
cabbage-tree hat. But now he had discarded all these, and he wore
nothing but a kilt of matting and a head-dress which consisted of a
string bound round his brows adorned with the tails of the small wild
animals of the bush and one large opossum tail hanging down behind. He
ran on steadily towards the hill, which we reached in three or four
hours from the start. It was rather a remarkable hill, as we saw when
we reached it. Sloping gradually from the side on which we approached,
it was on the opposite side steep and even precipitous. The creek ran
on the far side, and the shadow of the hill lay still across it. It
was about half-past ten when we reached it, and we rested until about
an hour after noon. We made a can of tea and drank it. We had neither
milk nor sugar, but we had a few biscuits and some slices of meat.
Jack and I wondered where our next meal was to come from, but Gioro
did not seem at all anxious. We could not, however, get a word out of
him about the matter except “plenty duck.”
We made a start in the direction of west by north, or thereabouts,
Gioro leading the way and we following blindly. He ran more carefully
and rather more slowly, but there was still the same air of confidence
about him. It was now very hot, but as we were well within the
tropics, and the sun at noon was now as nearly as we could reckon
vertical, the only wonder was that it was not much hotter. We must
have been still high up on the watershed, although descending it on
the northern slope. There was plenty of grass everywhere, and a good
deal of timber, not so much, however, as to obstruct our passage or
impede our view. The country was undulating, but there were no steep
hills to be traversed. We passed a considerable herd of kangaroo and
two or three dingoes, and there were many birds, chiefly crows,
parrots, and cockatoos.
It was getting near sundown when we reached the summit of one of those
low hills, and Gioro clapped his hands and shouted. We saw nothing but
another hill, but it was clear that he recognised it, for he clapped
his hands again and again, pointed towards it and said, “Plenty duck.”
He did not shape his course so as to cross the hill, but made for the
point where it merged into the plain. And when we reached that point a
sudden turn revealed a beautiful sheet of water, not very wide, but
several hundred yards long, and consisting of two parts lying nearly
at right angles to each other. This was the same creek which we had
passed in the morning, but here it was much wider and deeper. Gioro
stopped short and signed to us to stop. We did so at once, for we saw
that the farther part of the water was alive with duck, and on the
wider part nearer to us were several black swans. We turned
immediately towards a grove of trees that lay between us and the
water, and we dropped down. Gioro laid his hand on me, looked at Jack,
pointed to the water and said, “Shoot.” Jack stole to the water-side
and shot a swan easily. It was not very near the others and none of
the birds flew away. It was most likely the first time that firearms
had been discharged there. Jack then shot several ducks and rejoined
us. Gioro threw off his kilt and swam out for the birds. The moment
his woolly head was seen over water all the birds flew away. We lit a
fire at once, prepared and cooked our birds, and made a hearty meal.
As we began to eat I remembered for the first time that we had no
salt. I suppose I made a wry face, for Gioro grinned and pointed to a
small bag which was fastened outside his kilt. This was full of salt,
which he had thoughtfully provided for the dainty appetites of his
white friends.
We slept sound and long that night, and in the morning Jack and I had
a delicious bath, and washed our shirts and dried them in the sun.
Going back to our camp we found a pleasant surprise awaiting us. Gioro
had snared some wild creature—I think it was a bandicoot—and had
baked it for breakfast. It was very nice, at least we thought so, and
he was quite delighted when he saw that we enjoyed it. After breakfast
we made an early start.
Two more days passed like this one. Each evening Gioro guided us to
water and food, and all the time our course was in the main west by
north or west-north-west. It was clear that we were following some
river or creek downward, and so there were considerable occasional
variations in the direction that we took, but we never headed south of
west or east of north. On the morning of the third day Gioro speared
a large fish. I think it was a variety of perch; it was very good
eating.
This third morning we left the creek nearly at right angles and struck
across the forest, and our guide was evidently more sharply on the
watch than ever. He travelled very slowly now and he seemed to be
looking everywhere for some local indications. After about two miles
travelling we came again upon a creek, as far as I could judge a
different one. It was very narrow and scarcely running. There was one
very fair pond, however, but Gioro took scarce any notice of it, but
ran on to the dry or nearly dry bed of the creek beyond. Here he set
up a triumphant yell, and signed to us to come and see. I saw plainly
enough what I thought at first to be a cattle track coming from the
north-east and passing right across the bed of the creek. I looked at
Gioro and said, “Sheep?” “No, no,” he shouted, “not sheep; black
fellow, black fellow,” and stooping down he pointed at the track. I
stooped also and examined it, and sure enough I could see plainly the
mark of human feet. “When shall we catch them up, Sir Gioro?” said I.
“To-night,” he shouted; “to-night, Corrobboree! Corrobboree!”
We followed the track without pause, and by-and-by more tracks joined
it, all from the north or east or from some point between these. There
could be no doubt at all that we were approaching some camping-place
of the blacks. Our course was now almost directly westward, with a
very slight trend to the north, and the country still continued much
of the same sort, undulating perhaps a little more, well grassed and
fairly but not very thickly timbered. Wild animals and birds were much
more numerous.
It was after sunset, the moon which was now nearly half way between
new and full was well up in the sky, there was a strange glimmer in
the west that looked like an aurora, and Gioro was in a state of high
excitement when the pathway bending round the foot of a somewhat
steeper hill than we had seen during the day suddenly brought us
within sight of a single fire. It was evidently just freshly kindled,
but there was no one near it now. Gioro stopped, looked at us, and put
his hand to his mouth. Then we made a half turn silently, still
following the track, and all in a moment we came in view of the most
striking sight that I had yet seen in Australia, or for the matter of
that anywhere in the world.
We saw an irregular line of large fires burning before us, and
immediately behind them stretched a sheet of water much wider and
longer than any that we had yet seen in the country. The fires were
vividly reflected in the water, and seemed at the first glance quite
innumerable. After a time one saw that there were at least sixty or
eighty of them. Near each fire was a group of black men, clad like
Gioro, holding in their hands long staves or spears, and dancing
furiously. They kept springing into the air with their feet quivering,
and striking their spears, butt ends downwards, violently upon the
ground. Presently they burst into a wild shout, or series of shouts.
The shouts came in measured cadence, but were frightfully discordant.
Their dance kept time to their music, and the whole effect was wildly
barbarous. There were huts in great numbers built of branches, and
covered with leaves and bark. As far as I could see there was a hut
for each fire, and women and children of all ages were to be seen in
front of the huts, some few of them apparently partaking of the
excitement of the dancers, but far the greater number stolidly looking
on. The dress of the women was nearly the same as that of the men. The
kilt of matting was the same, but the head-dress showed more effort
after ornament. It covered more of the head, and it was adorned with
the feathers of cockatoos and parrots. The children who ran about were
mostly naked. There were several dogs, not at all Australian dingoes,
but miserable half-starved mongrels of European breed. Many of the
women were engaged in cooking food, and some whiffs of smoke which
reached us were by no means of unpleasant flavour.
All the while the song and dance lasted we lay quite still, hidden
by the scrub which grew very thick here, and seemed to be a sort of
stunted eucalyptus, and very like the mallee of Southern Australia.
Our horses were hidden by the turn of a hill, and by a large tree
near, and when the song and dance would pause for a moment, we could
hear them munching the grass. I was at first greatly afraid that they
would be startled by the noise and by the fires, but somehow they
seemed to take no notice. They were accustomed to camp fires and
singing, but not to such singing as that. When the song and the dance
were ended, Gioro touched us, pointed and whispered, “Bomero, boss
black fellow, see!” We looked in the direction of his finger, and
could easily see a very tall and bulkily built black, with a very
massive head, and dressed with some attempt at distinction. His kilt
of matting was larger than any of those worn by the others, and was
rather elaborately ornamented with feathers. His head-dress was very
much larger, and he wore besides a sort of little cloak of skins
thrown over his shoulder, and fastened with some kind of thong. Gioro
whispered again, “Stay! Gioro speak to Bomero, then come back.” With
this he stood erect, spear in hand, and advanced towards the fire
where the tall black stood, dancing all the time rather gently, and
singing rather softly, but exactly the same step and tune which we had
just heard and seen. We followed him closely with our eyes, and we
were in a state of great excitement and suspense.
He was noticed almost immediately, but there was hardly any sign of
surprise, and none at all of hostility. I suppose that his dance and
song secured him for the time from either. Bomero stepped out to meet
him, followed by three or four other blacks. Gioro continued his dance
and song till he came quite up to them, and then he went round them
still dancing and singing. He stopped right in front of Bomero. And
there seemed to follow a sort of obeisance and salutation, and then
a palaver.
As the palaver proceeded the blacks became greatly excited, and more
of them gathered round. No doubt he was telling them about us. I felt
for my pistol, and looked towards the horses. I could still hear them
munching the grass.
Presently Gioro came towards us, looking quite cheerful and confident.
He told us that Bomero wished to see us and bid us welcome. We fetched
our horses, and we led them with us, holding ourselves in readiness to
mount at a moment’s notice.
As we marched up to the camp great excitement prevailed, and we were
presently surrounded by a vast concourse of men, women, and children.
Some half dozen of the blacks around Bomero armed themselves with
boughs of trees, and kept the crowd at a sufficient distance.
Bomero came towards us with spear in hand, and two men on each side of
him also with spears. We made a sort of military salute, which he
seemed to understand, and made an attempt to return. Then he began to
talk. When he ceased, I turned to Gioro and said, “What says Bomero?”
Gioro looked first at Bomero, and then at me, then quite rapidly,
“Bomero, say, know all about white fellow; white fellow ride on horse,
keep cattle, keep sheep, carry fire spear. Bomero say white fellow
hold fire spear in hand, throw away only point, but point kill.
Sometime one point, sometime two, three points, two three. Bomero say,
Good-morrow to white fellow. White fellow all same black fellow. Black
fellow take white fellow to great Corrobboree far away west when the
one[2] white star rise, and red star and little stars go.”
I replied with all the dignity that I could muster, “Right, all right;
say to Bomero, ‘thanks.’ King Bob and king Jack all same king Bomero.
King Bob and king Jack will go with king Bomero to great Corrobboree
when the one[2] white star rises, and the red star and the little
stars go.”
[Footnote 2: The red star is certainly Aldebaran, and the little
stars the Pleiades. I could not for a long time understand “the
one white star.” There is at present no large white star in
opposition to Aldebaran. I first thought that Arcturus might be
meant, and that the feast had perhaps come down from a period when
Arcturus was a white star. But I now think that Spica Virginis is
“the one white star.” I think that by “rises,” or more properly,
“has risen,” Gioro meant “has culminated;” for Gioro usually spoke
of “rising” and “setting” as “coming” and “going;” so if he had
meant to speak of stars in opposition he would have said, “when
the white star comes and the red star goes.” Spica culminates
about the time that Aldebaran sets; also there are no large stars
near Spica, and this may be why it is called “the _one_ white
star.” I think I have read that some people for the same reason
call it “the lonely one.” Gioro probably meant, “When the lone
white star has culminated, and the red star and the little stars
are set.”—R. E.]
Then we were told that our miami must be built and that we must have
meat and sleep, as we should have to start with the sun. They fell to
work, Gioro and two or three others, and built a sort of hut in an
incredibly short time, and then we supped on fish and wild duck and
paste made with water of the seeds of some native grass. I think it
was “nardoo.” We had also a fruit which I have seen nowhere else,
about the size of a loquat, of a pinkish colour and subacid in taste.
After supper we had a palaver, Gioro being the interpreter, and then
we went to bed. Jack and I slept well and rose before sunrise in order
to get a bath before starting. Several of the blacks followed us to
the water’s edge and some of them plunged into the water after us. I
didn’t half like it as they swam round and round us; but they were
more afraid of us than we of them.
Then we breakfasted and made a start. For twelve days we travelled on,
still heading mainly westward, running down a watercourse, then
crossing to another. Bomero was the leader always, and he seemed to
know the way quite well. We always camped at water, and when we
crossed from one creek to another the distance was usually no more
than three or four miles. We passed a good many hills, but none of
them I should say rising more than a thousand feet from the plain, and
few of them so much as that. As far as I could reckon we must have
travelled twenty-five to thirty miles a day, and the greater part of
that was westing. I believe that on the evening of the twelfth day
after we fell in with Bomero’s people we must have been all of three
hundred or three hundred and fifty miles to the west of the telegraph
wire.
During those twelve days we did our best to study the people and the
country so as to prepare ourselves for anything that might happen.
Jack made a rough chart of each day’s march, and we both made an
attempt to keep a sort of dead reckoning. It was very hard, however,
to make any available record of our observations. The curiosity and
perhaps the suspicion of the blacks made it next to impossible to
write or draw by daylight, and at night we had only the light of our
fires and a sort of torch that we managed to make of bark and fat.
We were beginning to know something of the language. There was a
palaver every night, or, to speak more exactly, there were several
palavers, in one of which we always joined, with Gioro for
interpreter. And on several occasions Bomero harangued the tribe.
These harangues were very interesting, even before we could understand
any part of them or before Gioro explained a word of them. The manner
and mode of delivery were very remarkable. Bomero was highly
demonstrative, but he was never carried away by his own eloquence. The
spirit of the prophet was always subject to the prophet. He could pull
himself together in a moment and be as cool as you please. The matter
of his harangues was chiefly the greatness of his tribe, and above all
of the king of the tribe, the king’s ability to guide his people to
food and water, to beat any two or three men of his own tribe, and as
many as you like of any other tribe, the great Corrobboree that they
were going to keep out away west, and the greatness of the tribes who
kept it, of which tribes they were the greatest, and Bomero was the
greatest of them.
These harangues were his method, it seemed, of keeping up his
influence over his people in time of peace. And one could not but
liken him, as Carlyle says, to “certain completed professors of
parliamentary eloquence” nearer home.
The Pleiades were now seen to be setting earlier and earlier every
evening. They were for a few nights obscured by clouds, and the next
time they appeared they were perceptibly nearer the sun. This fact was
observed at once and they hailed it with what at first seemed to be a
series of shouts, but which proved to be a sort of barbaric chant,
each stave of which ended with this refrain:—
“Go, go,
Red star and little stars.”
And this was a chant as Gioro told us (and Bomero confirmed him) which
their fathers and their fathers’ fathers had sung before them from
time immemorial. I wish that some of our savants would investigate
this matter, for I cannot but think that this festival and its obvious
connection with the constellation Taurus would throw some important
light on the origin of these people and their connection with the
other races of mankind.
Jack and I for obvious reasons gave them some illustrations of the use
of our “fire spears.” Mine they said was a “fire spear” of one point,
and Jack’s of two three points, two three; that is to say I used a
bullet and Jack used shot. We were beginning to be favourites, and
even Bomero himself liked us, for although he showed at first some
signs of being jealous, we treated him with such deference that he
soon forgot his jealousy. Jack had a black leather belt for wearing
round the waist, and we made Bomero a formal present of this. We
explained its use to him and put it round his kilt. We could see that
he was nearly overcome with childish delight, and yet the wily fellow
was knowing enough to repress all show of this feeling and to receive
the gift with stolid gravity. He gave us in turn an eagle’s feather
each, which he took off the kilt just where the belt would cover it,
and these we received with becoming gratitude.
A serious misfortune befell us about the eighth day, which was the
occasion of another compliment to Bomero. Jack’s horse fell dead lame,
and we were obliged to let him loose in the bush. We presented the
saddle to our black prince, and made a throne of it for him, and one
evening that we camped earlier than usual we persuaded him to hold a
levee. Jack explained the matter to Gioro, and Gioro to Bomero. This
was how Jack explained it.
_Gioro._ What’s levee?
_Jack._ Boss white fellow stands on daïs. No, sits on throne, throne
all same saddle and stirrups; other white fellows march up, march down
again, come this way, go that way, all same little stars and red star.
Bow to boss white fellow. Boss white fellow bows to them. Boss black
fellow all same boss white fellow.
Bomero took readily to the proposal. We picked out a fallen tree high
enough and wide enough. We fixed up the saddle upon it, the stirrups
touching the ground. Bomero got astride of this with a spear in each
hand. I passed before him bowing, and Jack followed me. All the others
followed him. They took to it as if they had been born courtiers. They
would not be satisfied until every adult man had made his bow, and we
had something to do to keep them from beginning all over again. It was
ludicrous to the last degree. The tall, bulky black fellow sat on the
saddle with the tree under him like a hobby-horse, his head was all
stuck over with feathers and the tails of opossums; his little cloak
of skins and kilt of platted leaves were fastened with Jack’s belt,
and he held his two spears, one in each hand, and he looked as sober
and solemn as a judge, and the other fellows as much in earnest as if
they were freemasons in full regalia, or doctors of divinity in
academic dress. I stole a look at Jack, and the villain replied with
one of those winks which never fail to upset me. He let the lid of
one eye fall completely, the other eye remaining wide open, and not a
wrinkle in his face. A loud laugh would have spoiled the fun, and
might even have been dangerous, but I saved myself with a fit of
coughing. After the levee Bomero told off two men to have charge of
the saddle. And for the next few days Jack and I walked, each of us,
half the march, and rode the other. Once only during these twelve days
did I see anything to give me any special uneasiness. One evening we
camped a little earlier than usual and I noticed that Gioro was
watched and dogged by two very ill-looking fellows whom I had noticed
as being in some sort leaders. They stepped behind a clump of trees as
he was passing, and as he returned they hid themselves again while he
passed. I mentioned this to Gioro and he proved to be aware of their
hostility. They were big men, he said, in the tribe, but Bomero was
the biggest of all the men, and he was Gioro’s friend.
About the morning of the twelfth day there was some trouble. We had
come to a point where it was necessary to leave the course of one
creek and to strike that of another. But a very destructive fire had
passed over the place, followed, as it seemed, by heavy rains, and the
track was quite obliterated. Certain trees also which would have
served as guides had been entirely destroyed. And to increase the
confusion the weather was foggy. Dense clouds rested on and hid some
hills which might have served as landmarks.
Bomero went out to reconnoitre, and he took Gioro and another with
him, and when they returned I could see that his mind was made up as
to the course he would take, but that he was, nevertheless, as much
perplexed as ever. He gave the word and we struck out a little north
of west, and after travelling about three times as far as it had yet
taken us to get from water to water we struck another creek. We
marched along the creek for another day, scarce ever losing sight of
it, and then we camped by the water again. Next morning we left the
women and children in camp, and about half the men, and Bomero with
the ablest and quickest of the men marched away in search of another
creek. Jack and I went with him, and as my horse was in good working
condition we took him with us. We struck water somewhat sooner than
before and camped for the night. I saw that Bomero was still
perplexed, and I gathered from Gioro that his perplexity was caused by
the conviction that he was now considerably out of his course, that he
had gone too far north and had overshot the mark, and that we should
have to go a day’s march south and east before we could resume the
straight course to the place of meeting. The horizon was still
clouded, and there was no sign at present of the clouds lifting soon.
All this, however, was by no means enough to account for Bomero’s
evident perturbation of mind. He was undoubtedly a clever and cool
fellow, and one of much resource; there was abundance of water and
food, we could not be far out of the track, and we had plenty of time,
for as far as I could judge by the astronomical indications, we were a
great many days and even weeks too soon; and the weather, barring the
clouds, was everything that could be wished.
Jack and I talked it over, and Jack reminded me of Gioro’s tale of the
“dibble dibble all same white man” that Bomero had seen in the far
west. “Depend upon it,” said Jack, “he thinks he is coming upon them
again. The place, as Gioro said, was ‘more far’ than the place of
meeting for the great Corrobboree, and he thinks that he is now
getting ‘more far’ than there.”
“And what of the dibble dibble that he saw there?” said I.
“Oh, that’s the point,” said Jack. “No doubt they were white men; some
pioneers from the north coast, perhaps, or maybe the men on some
outlying station of some western squatter’s run, and if so we shall
get back to civilisation sooner than we think.”
“I don’t see much in it, Jack,” said I; “we’re not far enough west for
that; if we were on the head-waters of the western slope we might be
on the look-out for white pioneers, but I am afraid we are near as far
from there as from the telegraph wire. Bomero’s ‘dibble dibble’ was
either a pure invention or the suggestion of a dream, or if he did
come across white men he must have been farther west than he is here.”
On the morning of the fourteenth day Bomero harangued the men who were
with him; he stood upon a veritable stump, a huge tree near the creek
had been undermined by the flood waters and had fallen and lay along
the ground roots and all. Bomero stood upon it and spoke, Jack and I
stood by and listened, Gioro stood between us; he was in a state of
great excitement, and he threw in every now and then a word of
interpretation for our benefit, but indeed, by this time, we were able
to follow the speaker fairly enough ourselves. It very soon became
quite evident that Gioro’s tale of “dibble dibble” was at the bottom
of our trouble; it was quite evident also that the spirit of the
prophet was no longer subject to the prophet. Bomero pointed westward,
where the clouds were now slowly rising from some not very distant
hills, and what he said was to this effect.
There was a hill away west where certain doleful creatures dwelt. He
had once been very near there, and they had tried to take his life.
They had tried to spear him through the air, and he who never feared
men, feared them. He should know in a few minutes if that hill yonder
was their hill; and if it was then he and his people must run and run
till they got well out of sight of that hill. They had missed the way
to the great Corrobboree, but that was no matter; they would easily
find it again, and there was plenty of time yet before the red star
and the little stars would be gone. If they saw when the clouds rose
(and they were now rising) that the hill was not their hill, then they
would stay where they were to-day, and the witch fellows would dance
the witch dance until all was clear, and on the next day they would go
back to where the women were, and then they would strike the track,
and be the first at the meeting-place. But if when the clouds rose,
and they were now rising, they saw three peaks, a tall one in the
middle, a crooked one on one side, and a straight one on the other,
then Bomero and Bomero’s men must run, run, run, and never stop,
except to breathe, while any one of the three peaks was to be seen.
Let the black man knock his brains out with his waddy, or let the
white man spear him with his fire spear, but the devils that rode
through the air on clouds, faster than eagles, were worse than any
black men or white men.
Bomero was evidently no longer master of himself or of his men.
Whatever the cause of it was, there was a dreadful panic imminent, and
no one could tell what was going to happen.
Just then the clouds lifted quite away from the hill, and there, sure
enough, were the three peaks, the tall one in the middle, and the
crooked one and the straight one on either side.
A low murmur burst from the men, and Bomero uttered a frightful howl,
and plunged away madly round a hill that rose gently from the creek,
and right on into the forest. All the men ran after him, most of them
howling and shrieking; and my horse, which hung by the bridle to a
branch close by, started, and snorted, and broke his rein, and rushed
away before them at full gallop.
The catastrophe was so sudden that our breath seemed to be taken away,
and I don’t know how many minutes passed before either spoke. I know
that every man of the blacks had got clean out of sight, and my
horse, too, and there was as dead a silence as before the world was
made, and still there was not a word from either of us. Then Jack said
in a hollow voice:
“Why wasn’t the horse hobbled, Bob?”
“Why, Jack, I had just taken the hobbles off, and made him ready for
the road.”
“Never mind, old fellow, I hardly know what I said; Gioro will come
back.”
“Yes,” I said, “Gioro will come back.”
And then, as if our confidence in Gioro’s fidelity cleared the air, we
sat down and lit our pipes.
I don’t know how much time passed, it seemed to be hours, but it
couldn’t have been near an hour, and Jack and I never exchanged a
word. Then, sure enough, we saw Gioro coming, and he was leading my
horse. I saw him first, and I jumped up and shouted for joy. Then Jack
jumped up, but the shout died on his lips, and he said only, “There is
something the matter.”
And so there was. Both Gioro and the horse were wounded, and the
wounds were deadly, for the spears that inflicted them were poisoned.
The horse died first. I took Gioro’s head on my lap, and gave him a
few drops of water. He told me that he had caught the horse by the
bridle in passing, and that then he stopped and returned. He had not
forgotten us, he said, not for a moment, nor would he have started at
all if the horse had not started. The horse had stopped several times,
and when he had come up with him had gone on again. But at last he had
secured him and was returning. But several spears were flung at him,
and many missed him, but the big men who had watched and dogged him
took better aim, and struck both horse and man. At first he thought
nothing of it, but presently he knew that the spears were poisoned,
and now he must die.
“Take care,” said the poor fellow, almost with his last breath, “keep
away, kill you too, like Gioro; back, back to the big long wire.”
He died quite easily, and I felt as he lay in my arms that it would be
the best thing that could happen us if the poisoned arrows of the
blacks had made an end of us as well as of him. The poor fellow’s
faithfulness would have helped us to face death without flinching.
We found a large hole in the earth where a tree had been uprooted by a
storm, and there, with the help of his boomerang and our own knives,
we managed to give him decent burial. We both fell on our knees for a
few minutes, but no words passed our lips, although I am sure our
hearts were full enough.
Then we stood up, and with one impulse held out a hand each to the
other. The grip that followed was a silent English grip. But it meant
that we knew that our case was desperate, and that we would stand by
one another to the last.