SUSPICIOUS OCCURRENCES.
A mighty barrier crossed the road on the southeast. It was the chain
of the Australian Alps, which extend in capricious windings fifteen
hundred miles, and are capped with clouds four thousand feet aloft.
[Sidenote: ASCENDING THE MOUNTAINS.]
The sky was dull and lowering, and the rays of the sun struggled
through dense masses of mist. The temperature was, therefore,
endurable; but the journey was difficult on account of the irregularity
of the surface. The unevenness of the plain constantly increased,
and here and there rose mounds, covered with young green gum-trees.
Farther on, these excrescences formed the first slopes of the great
Alps. The ascent was very laborious, as was shown by the efforts of the
oxen, whose yokes cracked under the tension of the heavy vehicle. The
animals panted heavily, and the muscles of their hams were strained
almost to breaking. The axles threatened to give way under the sudden
jolts that Ayrton, with all his skill, could not prevent. The ladies,
however, lost none of their accustomed cheerfulness.
[Illustration: Of all the sports of the day the most interesting was
unquestionably a kangaroo hunt.]
Captain Mangles and the two sailors rode a few hundred paces in
advance, to choose practicable passes. It was a difficult and often a
perilous task. Several times Wilson was forced to make a way with his
hatchet through the midst of dense thickets. Their course deviated in
many windings, which impassable obstacles, lofty blocks of granite,
deep ravines, and treacherous swamps compelled them to make. At evening
they encamped at the foot of the Alps, on the banks of a small stream
that flowed along the edge of a plain covered with tall shrubbery,
whose bright-red foliage enlivened the banks.
"We shall have difficulty in passing here," said Glenarvan, as he gazed
at the chain of mountains, whose outlines were already growing dim in
the twilight. "Alps! that is a name suggestive of arduous climbing."
"You will change your opinion, my dear Glenarvan," replied Paganel.
"You must not think you are in Switzerland."
"Then these Australian Alps----?" asked Lady Helena.
"Are miniature mountains," continued Paganel. "You will cross them
without noticing it."
The next day, in spite of the assurances of the confident geographer,
the little party found great difficulty in crossing the mountains. They
were forced to advance at a venture, and descend into deep and narrow
gorges that, for aught they knew, might end in a wall of rock. Ayrton
would doubtless have been eventually nonplused had they not, after an
hour's climbing, caught sight of a tavern on one of the paths of the
mountain.
"Well!" said Paganel, as they reached the hostelry, "the proprietor of
this inn cannot make a great fortune in such a place. Of what use can
he be?"
"To give us the information we need for our journey," replied
Glenarvan. "Let us go in."
Glenarvan, followed by Ayrton, entered the tavern. The landlord of
"Bush Inn" was a coarse man, of forbidding appearance, who had to
consider himself as the principal customer for the gin, brandy, and
whisky of his tavern, and scarcely ever saw any one but squatters or
herdsmen.
He replied in an ill-humored way to the questions that were addressed
him; but his answers sufficed to determine Ayrton upon his course.
Glenarvan, however, remunerated the tavern-keeper for the little
trouble they had given him, and was about to leave the inn, when a
placard, affixed to the wall, attracted his attention. It was a notice
of the colonial police, detailing the escape of the convicts from
Perth, and setting a price upon the head of Ben Joyce--a hundred pounds
sterling to any one who should deliver him up.
"Indeed," said Glenarvan, "that is a rascal worth hanging."
"And especially worth taking," replied Ayrton. "A hundred pounds! What
a sum! He is not worth it."
"As for the inn-keeper," added Glenarvan, as he left the room, "I
scarcely put faith in him, despite his placard."
"Nor I either," said Ayrton.
Glenarvan and the quartermaster rejoined the party, and they all
proceeded to where a narrow pass wound across the chain. Here they
began the ascent.
[Sidenote: ANOTHER DEATH.]
But it was an arduous task. More than once the ladies and their
companions had to dismount, and it was often necessary to push the
wheels of the heavy vehicle at some steep ascent, or to hold it
back along the edge of some dangerous precipice. The oxen, as they
could not work to advantage at sudden turns, had frequently to be
unyoked, and the cart blocked to prevent it from sliding back. Ayrton
was repeatedly forced to bring the already exhausted horses to his
assistance.
Whether this exertion was too prolonged, or whether from some other
cause, one of the horses gave out during the ascent. He fell suddenly,
without an instant's warning. It was Mulready's horse; and when the
sailor attempted to help him up, he found that he was dead. Ayrton
examined the animal carefully, but did not seem to understand the cause
of this sudden death.
"The beast must have burst a blood-vessel," said Glenarvan.
"Evidently," replied Ayrton.
"Take my horse, Mulready," added Glenarvan; "I will join Lady Helena in
the cart."
Mulready obeyed, and the little party continued their fatiguing ascent,
abandoning the body to the crows.
The next day they began the descent, which was much more rapid. During
its course a violent hail-storm burst on them, and they were forced to
seek a shelter beneath the rocks. Not hailstones, but pieces of ice as
large as one's hand, were precipitated from the angry clouds. A sling
could not have hurled them with greater force, and several sharp blows
warned Paganel and Robert to be on their guard. The cart was pierced
through in many places: indeed, few roofs could have resisted the fall
of these cutting missiles, some of which froze to the trunks of the
trees. It was necessary to wait for the end of this avalanche, for fear
of being stoned to death, and it was an hour before the party regained
the steep path, still slippery with icy incrustations. At evening the
cart, considerably shattered, but still firm on its wooden wheels,
descended the last slopes of the Alps, between tall solitary pines, and
reached the plains of Gippsland.
[Illustration: Not hailstones, but pieces of ice as large as one's
hand, were precipitated from the angry clouds.]
[Sidenote: DIVIDED COUNSELS.]
All were impatient to gain their destination, the Pacific Ocean,
where the Britannia had been wrecked. There only could traces of the
shipwrecked seamen be found, and not in these desert regions. Ayrton
urged Lord Glenarvan to send an order to the Duncan to repair to the
coast, that he might have at his disposal all the aid possible in his
search. In his opinion they ought to take advantage of the Lucknow
road, which would lead them to Melbourne. Afterwards this might be
difficult, for highways leading directly to the capital would be
absolutely wanting.
This advice of the quartermaster seemed reasonable. Paganel seconded
it. He thought, too, that the yacht would be very useful under the
present circumstances, and added that they could no longer communicate
with Melbourne after passing the Lucknow road.
Glenarvan was undecided, and perhaps would have sent the order that
Ayrton so particularly desired, if the major had not opposed this plan
with great energy. He explained that Ayrton's presence was necessary
to the expedition; that on approaching the coast the country would be
unknown; that, if chance set them on the track of Captain Grant, the
quartermaster would be more capable than any one else of following it;
in short, that he alone could point out the place where the Britannia
was lost.
MacNabb, therefore, advocated their continuing on the journey without
change. Captain Mangles was of the same opinion. The young captain
observed that his lordship's orders could more easily reach the Duncan
if sent from Twofold Bay, than by dispatching a messenger two hundred
miles over a wild country.
The major carried his point, and it was therefore decided that they
should proceed to Twofold Bay. MacNabb noticed that Ayrton seemed quite
disappointed, but he said nothing, and, according to his custom, kept
his thoughts to himself.
Early in the afternoon they passed through a curious forest of ferns.
These arborescent plants, in full bloom, measured thirty feet in
height. Horses and horsemen could easily pass beneath their drooping
branches, and sometimes the rowel of a spur would ring, as it struck
against their solid stalks. The coolness of the grove was very grateful
to the wearied travelers. Paganel, always demonstrative, gave vent to
exclamations of delight that startled flocks of parrots and cockatoos.
All at once his companions saw the geographer reel in the saddle, and
fall to the ground like a log. Was it giddiness, or sunstroke, caused
by the heat?
They hastened to him.
"Paganel! Paganel! what is the matter?" cried Lord Glenarvan.
"The matter is, my dear friend," replied Paganel, extricating himself
from the stirrups, "that I no longer have a horse."
"What! your horse----?"
"Is dead, stricken like Mulready's."
At once Glenarvan, Captain Mangles, and Wilson examined the animal.
Paganel was right. His horse had been suddenly stricken dead.
"This is singular," said the captain.
"Very singular indeed," muttered the major.
Glenarvan could not restrain a feeling of uneasiness at this strange
occurrence. It was impossible for them to retrace their steps in this
desert; while, if an epidemic were to seize all the horses, it would be
very difficult to continue the journey.
Before the end of the day his fears seemed to be justified. A third
horse, Wilson's, fell dead, and, what was worse, one of the oxen was
also stricken. Their means of conveyance now consisted of only three
oxen and four horses.
[Sidenote: A FINE FERNERY.]
The situation had grown serious. The mounted horsemen could, of course,
take turns in traveling on foot. But, if it should be necessary to
leave the cart behind, what would become of the ladies? Could they
accomplish the one hundred and twenty miles that still separated them
from Twofold Bay?
Captain Mangles and Glenarvan anxiously examined the remaining horses:
perhaps preventives might be found against new calamities. No sign
of disease, however, could be detected. The animals were in perfect
health, and bravely endured the hardships of the journey. Glenarvan,
therefore, was inclined to think that this mysterious epidemic would
have no more victims. This was Ayrton's opinion too, who declared that
he could not at all understand the cause of the frightful mortality.
They started again, and the cart served to convey the pedestrians, who
rode in it by turns. At evening, after a journey of only ten miles, the
signal to halt was given, the encampment arranged, and the night was
passed comfortably beneath a large group of arborescent ferns, among
whose branches fluttered enormous bats.
The next day they made an excellent beginning, and accomplished fifteen
miles. Everything led them to hope that they would encamp that evening
on the banks of the Snowy River. Evening came, and a fog, clearly
defined against the horizon, marked the course of the long-looked-for
stream. A forest of tall trees was seen at a bend in the road, behind
a moderate elevation. Ayrton guided his oxen towards the tall trunks
dimly discerned in the shadow, and was just passing the boundary of the
wood, when the cart sank into the earth to the hubs.
"What is the matter?" asked Glenarvan, when he perceived that the cart
had come to a stop.
"We are fast in the mud," replied Ayrton.
He urged his oxen with voice and whip, but they were up to their knees
in the mire, and could not stir.
"Let us encamp here," said Captain Mangles.
"That is the best plan," answered Ayrton. "To-morrow, at daybreak, we
can see to extricate ourselves."
[Illustration: Early in the afternoon they passed through a curious
forest of ferns. These arborescent plants, in full bloom, measured
thirty feet in height.]
[Illustration: Flashes of lightning, the dazzling forerunners of a
coming storm, every now and then illumined the horizon.]
"Very well: be it so," replied Glenarvan.
Night had set in rapidly, after a short twilight, but the heat had not
departed with the sun. The air was heavy with stifling mists. Flashes
of lightning, the dazzling forerunners of a coming storm, every now and
then illumined the horizon.
The beds were prepared, and the sunken cart was made as comfortable as
possible. The sombre arch of the great trees sheltered the tent of the
travelers. Provided no rain fell, they would have no reason to complain.
Ayrton succeeded with difficulty in extricating his three oxen from
the mud, in which they had by this time sunk to their flanks. The
quartermaster picketed them with the four horses, and would allow no
one to give them their fodder. This service he performed himself with
great exactness, and that evening Glenarvan observed that his care was
redoubled, for which he thanked him, as the preservation of the team
was of paramount importance.
Meantime, the travelers partook of a hasty supper. Fatigue and heat had
driven away hunger, and they needed rest more than nourishment. Lady
Helena and Miss Grant, wishing their companions good-night, retired to
their accustomed bedroom. As for the men, some crawled under the tent,
while others stretched themselves on the thick grass at the foot of the
trees.
Gradually each sank into a heavy sleep. The darkness increased beneath
the curtain of dense clouds that covered the sky. Not a breath of
air was felt. The silence of the night was only interrupted by the
occasional howlings of wild animals.
About eleven o'clock, after an uneasy slumber, the major awoke. His
half-closed eyes were attracted by a dim light that flickered beneath
the great trees. One would have thought it was a whitish sheet
glittering like the surface of a lake. MacNabb imagined, at first, that
the flames of a conflagration were spreading over the ground.
[Sidenote: STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS.]
He rose and walked towards the wood. His surprise was great when
he found himself in the presence of a purely natural phenomenon.
Before him extended an immense field of mushrooms, which emitted
phosphorescent flashes.
The major, who was not selfish, was about to waken Paganel, that the
geographer might witness the spectacle with his own eyes, when an
unexpected sight stopped him.
The phosphorescent light illumined the wood for the space of half a
mile, and MacNabb thought he saw shadows rapidly moving along the edge
of the clearing. Did his eyes deceive him? Was he the sport of an
illusion?
He crouched down, and, after a long and attentive observation,
distinctly perceived several men, who seemed by their movements to be
searching the ground for something. What could these men want? He must
know, and, without an instant's hesitation or awakening his companions,
he crawled along on all-fours, carefully concealing himself in the tall
grass.