Chapter 3. "Are You Afraid?"

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_ CHAPTER THREE. "ARE YOU AFRAID?"

After the first few miles the tracks formed by cattle belonging to the settlers at Port Haven disappeared, and the boys, though still full of excited anticipations, gazed with something like awe at the far-spreading park-like land which grew more beautiful at every step. To their left lay the winding trough-like hollow along which the river ran toward the sea; away to their right the land rose and rose till it formed hills, and beyond them mountains, while higher mountains rose far away in front toward which they made their way.

For the first hour or two the task of driving was irksome, but once well started the little caravan went on easily enough, for it soon became evident that if one of the laden carts was driven steadily on in front, the horses and bullocks would follow so exactly that they would almost tread in their leader's feet-marks, and keep the wheels of cart and wain pretty well in the ruts made by those before. As to the cattle Uncle Munday drove, they all followed as a matter of course, till a pleasant glade was reached close by the river, where it was decided to stop for the mid-day halt. Here carts and wagons were drawn up in a row, the cattle taken out, and after making their way to a convenient drinking place, they settled down to graze on the rich grass with perfect content.

Meanwhile, to Norman's great disgust, he and Artemus were planted at a distance in front and rear to act as sentries.

"But there isn't anything to keep watch over," said the elder boy in remonstrance.

"How do you know, sir?" cried the captain, sharply. "Recollect this-- both of you--safety depends upon our keeping a good look-out. I do not think the blacks will molest us, but I have been a soldier, Man, and a soldier always behaves in peace as he would in war."

"More blacks in London," said Tim, as they moved off to take up their positions on a couple of eminences, each about a quarter of a mile away.

"Yes," replied Man, who was somewhat mollified on finding that he was to keep guard with a loaded gun over his shoulder. "I say, though, doesn't it seem queer that nobody lives out here, and that father can come and pick out quite a big estate, and then apply to the government and have it almost for nothing?"

"It does," said Tim; "but I should have liked to stop in camp to have dinner."

"Oh, they'll send us something, and--look, look--what are those?"

A flock of great white cockatoos flew nearly over their heads, shrieking at them hoarsely, and went on toward the trees beyond the camp.

"I say, doesn't it seem rum? They're cockatoos."

"Wild, and never saw a cage in their lives."

"And we never fired and brought them down, and all the time with guns on our shoulders. Look!"

"Father's waving to us to separate. I daresay they'll send us something to eat."

The boys separated and went off to their posts, while smoke began to rise in the little camp, the tin kettle was filled and suspended over the wood fire, and Aunt Georgie brought out of their baggage the canister of tea and bag of sugar set apart for the journey.

Bread they had brought with them, and a fair amount of butter, but a cask of flour was so packed that it could be got at when wanted for forming into damper, in the making of which the girls had taken lessons of a settler's wife at the port.

In making his preparations Captain Bedford had, as hinted, been governed a good deal by old campaigning experience, and this he brought to bear on the journey.

"Many things may seem absurd," he said, "and out of place to you women, such for instance as my planting sentries."

"Well, yes," said Aunt Georgie, "it's like playing at soldiers. Let the boys come and have some lunch."

"No," said the captain; "it is not playing: we are invaders of a hostile country, and must be on our guard."

"Good gracious!" cried Aunt Georgic, looking nervously round; "you don't mean that we shall meet with enemies?"

"I hope not," said the captain; "but we must be prepared in case we do."

"Yes; nothing like being prepared," said Uncle Munday. "Here, give me something to eat, and I'll go on minding my beasts."

"They will not stray," said the captain, "so you may rest in peace."

It was, all declared, a delightful _alfresco_ meal under the shade of the great tree they had selected, and ten times preferable to one on board the ship, whose cabin had of late been unbearably hot and pervaded by an unpleasant odour of molten pitch.

To the girls it was like the beginning of a delightful picnic, for they had ridden so far on a couple of well-broken horses, their path had been soft grass, and on every side nature looked beautiful in the extreme.

Their faces shone with the pleasure they felt so far, but Mrs Bedford's countenance looked sad, for she fully grasped now the step that had been taken in cutting themselves adrift from the settlers at the port. She had heard the bantering words of the man when they started, and they sent a chill through her as she pictured endless dangers, though at the same time she mentally agreed with her husband that solitude would be far preferable to living among such neighbours as the people at the port.

She tried to be cheerful under the circumstances, arguing that there were three able and brave men to defend her and her niece and daughter, while the boys were rapidly growing up; but, all the same, her face would show that she felt the risks of the bold step her husband was taking, and his precautions added to her feeling of in security and alarm.

In a very short time Rifle had finished his meal, and looked at their man German, who was seated a little way apart munching away at bread and cheese like a two-legged ruminant. He caught the boy's eye, grunted, and rose at once.

"Shall we relieve guard, father?" said Rifle.

"No, but you may carry a jug of tea to the outposts," was the reply; and after this had been well-sweetened by Aunt Georgie, the boy went off to his cousin Tim, not because he was the elder, but on account of his being a visitor in their family, though one of very old standing.

"Well," he cried, as he approached Tim, who was gazing intently at a patch of low scrubby trees a short distance off; "seen the enemy?"

"Yes," said the boy, in a low earnest whisper. "I was just going to give warning when I saw you comma."

Rifle nearly dropped the jug, and his heart beat heavily.

"I say, you don't mean it?" he whispered.

"Yes, I do. First of all I heard something rustle close by me, and I saw the grass move, and there was a snake."

"How big?" cried Rifle, excitedly; "twenty feet?"

"No. Not eight, but it looked thick, and I watched it, meaning to shoot if it showed fight, but it went away as hard as ever it could go."

"A snake--eight feet long!" cried Rifle, breathlessly. "I say, we are abroad now, Tim. Why didn't you shoot it?"

"Didn't try to do me any harm," replied Tim, "and there was something else to look at."

"Eh? What?"

"Don't look at the wood, Rifle, or they may rush out and throw spears at us."

"Who?--savages?" whispered Rifle.

"Yes; there are some of them hiding in that patch of trees."

"Nonsense! there isn't room."

"But I saw something black quite plainly. Shall I fire?"

"No," said Rifle, stoutly. "It would look so stupid if it was a false alarm. I was scared at first, but I believe now that it's all fancy."

"It isn't," said Tim in a tone full of conviction; "and it would be ever so much more stupid to be posted here as sentry and to let the enemy come on us without giving the alarm."

"Rubbish! There is no enemy," cried Rifle.

"Then why did my uncle post sentries?"

"Because he's a soldier," cried the other. "Here, have some tea. It isn't too hot now, and old Man's signalling for his dose."

"I can't drink tea now," said Tim, huskily. "I'm sure there's somebody there."

"Then let's go and see."

Tim was silent.

"What, are you afraid?" said his cousin.

"No. Are you?"

"Don't ask impertinent questions," replied Rifle shortly. "Will you come?"

For answer Tim cocked his piece, and the two boys advanced over the thick grass toward the patch of dense scrub, their hearts beating heavily as they drew nearer, and each feeling that, if he had been alone, he would have turned and run back as hard as ever he could.

But neither could show himself a coward in the other's eyes, and they walked on step by step, more and more slowly, in the full expectation of seeing a dozen or so of hostile blacks spring to their feet from their hiding-place, and charge out spear in hand.

The distance was short, but it seemed to them very long, and with eyes roving from bush to bush, they went on till they were close to the first patch of trees, the rest looking more scattered as they drew nearer, when all at once there was a hideous cry, which paralysed them for the moment, and Tim stood with his gun half raised to his shoulder, searching among the trees for the savage who had uttered the yell.

Another followed, with this time a beating of wings, and an ugly-looking black cockatoo flew off, while Rifle burst into a roar of laughter.

"Why didn't you shoot the savage?" he cried. "Here, let's go right through the bushes and back. Perhaps we shall see some more."

Tim drew a deep breath full of relief, and walked forward without a word, passing through the patch and back to where the tea-jug had been left.

Here he drank heartily, and wiped his brow, while Rifle filled the mug a second time.

"You may laugh," he said, "but it was a horrible sensation to feel that there were enemies."

"Poll parrots," interrupted Rifle.

"Enemies watching you," said Tim with a sigh. "I say, Rifle, don't you feel nervous coming right out here where there isn't a soul?"

"I don't know--perhaps. It does seem lonely. But not half so lonely as standing on deck looking over the bulwarks on a dark night far out at sea."

"Yes; that did seem terrible," said Tim.

"But we got used to it, and we _must_ get used to this. More tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Then I'm off."

With the jug partly emptied, Rifle was able to run to the open part, where Man greeted him with:

"I say, what a while you've been. See some game over yonder?"

"No; but Tim thought there were savages in that bit of wood."

"What! and you two went to see?"

"Yes."

"You were stupid. Why, they might have speared you."

"Yes; but being a sentry, Tim thought we ought to search the trees and see, and being so brave we went to search the place."

He was pouring out some tea in the mug as he said the above, and his brother looked at him curiously.

"You're both so what?" cried Man, with a mocking laugh. "Why, I'll be bound to say--" _glug_, _glug_, _glug_, _glug_--"Oh, I was so thirsty. That was good," he sighed holding out the mug for more.

"What are you bound to say?" said Rifle, refilling the mug.

"That you both of you never felt so frightened before in your life. Come now, didn't you?"

"Well, I did feel a bit uneasy," said Rifle, importantly; but he avoided his brother's eye.

"Uneasy, eh?" said Man; "well, I call it frightened."

"You would have been if it had been you."

"Of course I should," replied Man. "I should have run for camp like a shot."

Rifle looked at him curiously.

"No; you wouldn't," he said.

"Oh, shouldn't I. Catch me stopping to let the blacks make a target of me. I should have run as hard as I could."

"That's what I thought," said Rifle, after a pause; "but I couldn't turn. I was too much frightened."

"What, did your knees feel all shivery-wiggle?"

"No; it wasn't that. I was afraid of Tim thinking I was a coward, and so I went on with him, and found it was only a black cockatoo that had frightened him, but I was glad when it was all over. You'd have done the same, Man."

"Would I?" said the lad, dubiously. "I don't know. Aren't you going to have a drop yourself?"

Rifle poured the remains of the tea into the mug, and gave it a twist round.

"I say," he said, to change the conversation, which was not pleasant to him, "as soon as we get settled down at the farm, I shall vote for our having milk with our tea."

"Cream," cried Man. "I'm tired of ship tea and nothing in it but sugar. Hist! look there."

His brother swung round and followed the direction of Man's pointing finger, to where in the distance they could see some animals feeding among the grass.

"Rabbits!" cried the boy eagerly.

"Nonsense!" said Man; "they're too big. Who ever saw rabbits that size?"

"Well, hares then," said Rifle, excitedly. "I say, why not shoot one?"

Norman made no answer, but stood watching the animals as, with long ears erect, they loped about among the long grass, taking a bite here and a bite there.

Just then a shrill whistle came from the camp, and at the sound the animals sat up, and then in a party of about a dozen, went bounding over the tall grass and bushes at a rapid rate, which kept the boys watching them, till they caught sight of Tim making for the party beneath the tree, packing up, and preparing to continue the journey.

"Now, boys, saddle up," cried the captain. "See the kangaroos?"

"Of course, cried Norman; we ought to have known, but the grass hid their legs. I thought their ears were not long enough for rabbits."

"Rabbits six feet high!" said the captain, smiling.

"Six what, father?" cried Norman.

"Feet high," said the captain; "some of the males are, when they sit up on their hind-legs, and people say that they are sometimes dangerous when hunted. I daresay we shall know more about them by-and-by.--What made you go forward, Tim, when Rifle came to you--to look at the kangaroos?"

"No, uncle; I thought I saw blacks amongst the bushes."

"Well, next time, don't advance, but retire. They are clever with their spears, and I don't want you to be hit."

He turned quickly, for he heard a sharp drawing of the breath behind him, and there was Mrs Bedford, with a look of agony on her face, for she had heard every word.

"But the blacks will not meddle with us if we do not meddle with them," he continued quickly; though he was conscious that his words had not convinced his wife.

He went close up to her.

"Come," he whispered, "is this being brave and setting the boys a good example?"

"I am trying, dear," she whispered back, "so hard you cannot tell."

"Yes, I can," he replied tenderly; "I know all you suffer, but try and be stout-hearted. Some one must act as a pioneer in a new country. I am trying to be one, and I want your help. Don't discourage me by being faint-hearted about trifles, and fancying dangers that may never come."

Mrs Bedford pressed her husband's hand, and half an hour later, and all in the same order, the little caravan was once more in motion, slowly but very surely, the country growing still more beautiful, and all feeling, when they halted in a beautiful glade that evening, and in the midst of quite a little scene of excitement the new tent was put up for the first time, that they had entered into possession of a new Eden, where all was to be happiness and peace.

A fire was soon lit, and mutton steaks being frizzled, water was fetched; the cattle driven to the river, and then to pasture, after the wagons and carts had been disposed in a square about the tent. Then a delicious meal was eaten, watch set, and the tired travellers watched the creeping on of the dark shadows, till all the woodland about them was intensely black, and the sky seemed to be one blaze of stars glittering like diamonds, or the sea-path leading up to the moon.

It had been decided that all would go to rest in good time, so that they might breakfast at dawn, and get well on in the morning before the sun grew hot; but the night was so balmy, and everything so peaceful and new, that the time went on, and no one stirred.

The fire had been made up so that it might smoulder all through the night, and the great kettle had been filled and placed over it ready for the morning; and then they all sat upon box, basket, and rug spread upon the grass, talking in a low voice, listening to the _crop_, _crop_ of the cattle, and watching the stars or the trees lit up now and then by the flickering flames of the wood fire; till all at once, unasked, as if moved by the rippling stream hard by, Ida began to sing in a low voice the beautiful old melody of "Flow on, thou Shining River," and Hester took up the second part of the duet till about half through, the music sounding wonderfully sweet and solemn out in those primeval groves, when suddenly Hester ceased singing, and sat with lips apart gazing straight before her.

"Hetty," cried Ida, ceasing, "what is it?" Then, as if she had caught sight of that which had checked her Cousin's singing, she uttered a wild and piercing shriek, and the men and boys sprang to their feet, the captain making a dash for the nearest gun. _

Read next: Chapter 4. "White Mary 'Gin To Sing"

Read previous: Chapter 2. "We're Off Now"

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