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The Dingo Boys: The Squatters of Wallaby Range, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. "Can't Find Way Back" |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. "CAN'T FIND WAY BACK" It was long before sunrise when the boys rose to see after Shanter, expecting to find him still lying down, but he was up and over by the water-hole examining the huge kangaroo. "Mine mumkull kangaroo," he said, as the boys came up, and then, "Baal." "Didn't you kill it, Shanter?" said Norman, smiling. "Baal. Who kill boomer? Big hole all along." He pointed to the terrible wound in the animal's head caused by the shots Tim had fired. And as the black spoke he examined the knob at the end of his nulla-nulla, comparing it with the wound, and shook his head. "Baal make plenty sore place like dat. Go all along other side make hole. Baal." He stood shaking his head in a profound state of puzzledom as to how the wound came, while the boys enjoyed his confusion. Then all at once his face lit up. "Bunyip mumkull boomer. All go bong." "You should say all go bong Tam. Why, can't you see? Tim shot him while he was holding your head under water." "Eh? Marmi Tim shoot? What a pity!" "Pity?" cried Rifle, staring at the black's solemn face. "Pity that Tim saved your life." "Mine want mumkull big boomer." "Never mind: he's dead," cried Norman. "Now come along and let's boil the billy, and make some damper and tea." "Mine don't want big damper," said Shanter, rubbing himself gently about the chest and ribs. "What? Not want something to eat?" "Baal, can't eat," replied the black. "Mine got sore all along. Dat boomer fellow squeezum." Norman laid his hand gently on the black's side, wondering whether the poor fellow had a broken rib, when, with the most solemn of faces, Shanter uttered a loud squeak. Norman snatched back his hand, but placed it directly after on the other side, when Shanter squeaked again more loudly; and at every touch, back or front, there was a loud cry, the black looking from one to the other in the most lugubrious way. "Why, Shanter, you seem to be bad all over," said Rifle. "Yohi. Mine bad all along, plenty mine bad. Tam go bong." "Nonsense!" cried Norman. "Come and have a good breakfast. Plenty damper, plenty tea, and you'll be better." "Baal damper--baal big tea," said the black, rubbing himself. "Boomer mumkull Tam o' Shanter. Mine go bong." He laid himself gently down on the grass, rolled a little and groaned, and then stretched himself out, and shut his eyes. "Oh, it's only his games," said Rifle.--"Here, Shanter, old chap, jump up and say thanky, thanky to Marmi Tim for saving your life." "Marmi Tim baal save Tam o' Shanter. All go along bong." "I'm afraid he is bad," said Norman, going down on one knee to pass his hand over the poor fellow's ribs, with the result that he uttered a prolonged moan; "but I don't think there are any bones broken. Let's get some breakfast ready. He'll be better after some hot tea." They threw a pile of wood on the embers, in which a damper was soon baking; and as soon as the billy boiled, a handful of tea was thrown in and the tin lifted from the fire to stand and draw. But though they took Tam a well-sweetened pannikin of the refreshing drink he would not swallow it, neither would he partake of the pleasant smelling, freshly-baked cake. "I say, I'm afraid the poor chap is bad," whispered Tim. "Not he," said Rifle. "His ribs are sore with the hugging the boomer gave him, but he's only shamming. I'll rouse him up." He made a sign to Norman, who looked very anxious, and when the lads were a few yards away, Rifle made them a sign to watch their patient, who lay quite still with his eyes shut, and then suddenly shouted: "Quick, boys, guns--guns! Black fellows coming." Shanter started up into a sitting position and tried to drag out his nulla-nulla, but his eyes closed again, and he fell back heavily. Norman tried to catch him, but he was too late, and a glance showed that there was no deceit in the matter, for the drops of agony were standing on the black's face, and it was quite evident that he had fainted away. He soon came to, however, and lay gazing wonderingly about him. "Black fellow?" he whispered anxiously, as if the effort caused him a great deal of pain. "All gone along," cried Rifle, eagerly; and the black closed his eyes again, while the boys consulted as to what they had better do. "That's soon settled," said Norman. "We can't fetch help to him, and he can't move, so we must stop here till he gets better. Let's cut some sticks and drive them in the ground, tie them together at the tops, and spread a couple of blankets over them." This was done so as to shelter their invalid from the sun, and then they saw to their own tent and prepared for a longer stay. After this Tim and Rifle went off to try to shoot something, and Norman stopped to watch the black. It was a weary hot day, and the boys were so long that Norman began to grow anxious and full of imaginations. Suppose the lads got bushed! He would have to strike their trail and try to find them. Suppose poor Shanter were to die before they came back! How horrible to be alone with the dead out there in that solitary place. The sun rose to its full height, and then began to descend, but the black neither moved nor spoke, and the only companionship Norman had was that of the two horses--his own and the one which carried the pack. These cropped the grass round about the camp, their hobble chains rattling a little, and the peculiar snort a horse gives in blowing insects out of the grass he eats were the principal sounds the boy heard. It was some comfort to walk to where they grazed and pat and talk to them. But he was soon back by Shanter's blanket-gunyah watching the shiny black face, which looked very hard and stern now. He had tried him again and again with tea, water, and bread, but there was no response; and at last he had settled down to letting him rest, hoping that his patient was asleep, and feeling that he could do nothing but leave him to nature. But it was a sad vigil, and not made more pleasant by the sight of the great kangaroo lying just at the edge of the water-hole, and toward which a perfect stream of insects were already hurrying over the dry ground, while flies buzzed incessantly about it in the air. Then, too, again and again some great bird came circling round, but only to be kept at a distance by the sight of the watcher by the tents. "Will they never come back!" cried Norman at last, quite aloud, and he started in alarm, for there was a loud discordant laugh close at hand. He picked up a stone and threw it angrily into the ragged tree from whence the sound had come, and one of the great grotesque-looking kingfishers of the country flew off. At last, after scanning the distant horizon for hours, seeing nothing but a few kangaroos which looked like black fellows in the distance, and a couple of emus stalking slowly across the plain, Norman could bear it no longer. "Shanter," he said; "must go and find Marmi Rifle and Marmi Tim. Do you hear? I'll come back as soon as I can." But there was not so much as a twitch at the corners of the black's lips, and the boy hesitated about leaving him. At last though he rose, caught and saddled his horse, gave one final look round, but could see nothing; and he was about to mount when a sudden thought occurred to him, and taking a couple of halters he knotted them together, hitched one over the kangaroo's neck, and attached the other end to the saddle. The horse jibbed and shied a little, but at last he made a plunge, and the dead animal was dragged into a hollow a couple of hundred yards away, so that there should be no fear of its contaminating the water-hole. Then the halters were cast off, thrown over the tent, and after a glance at Shanter, Norman mounted to take up the trail made by Rifle and Tim, but only leaped down again, and turned his horse out to graze; for there away in the distance were the two boys cantering gently toward the camp, and half an hour later they rode up, well supplied with clucks which they had shot right away upon a creek. That night passed with one of them watching, and the next two days glided by in the same dreary way, Shanter lying as if unconscious, and nothing passed his lips. "Father can't be angry with us for not keeping to our time," said Rifle, sadly. "Poor old Shanter, I wish I could do him some good." That night passed and still there was no change, and about mid-day the boys were dolefully examining their stock of provisions, which was getting very low; and it had been decided that they should watch that night and shoot anything which came to the water-hole to drink, though the animals likely so to do were neither many nor tempting for food to a European. There was no choosing as to whom the duty should fall upon; for all decided to watch, and after seeing that Shanter lay unchanged, night had about waned, and they were gazing at the stars in silence, for fear of startling anything on its way to the pool, when just as they were feeling that the case was hopeless, and that they might as well give up, Norman suddenly touched Tim, who pressed his hand, for he too had heard the sound of some animal drinking. They strained their eyes in the direction, but could see nothing, only the bushes which dotted the edge of the water-hole on its low side, the far end being composed of a wall of rocks going sheer down into the deep water. What could it be? They had had no experience in such matters, and in the darkness there all was so strange and weird that sounds seemed to be different to what they would have been in the broad day. But they wanted food, and there was some animal drinking, and though they supposed the country to be utterly devoid of deer, it still was possible that such creatures might exist, and it would be a new discovery if they shot an antelope or stag. But the moments glided by, and the sound ceased without either of them being able to locate the position of the drinker. Their cocked guns were ready, and if they could have made out the slightest movement they would have fired; but there was the water gleaming with the reflection of a star here and there; there was the black mass where the rocks rose up, and that was all. They could not distinctly make out so much as a bush, and quite in despair at last, Norman was about to whisper a proposal that one of them should fire in the direction they fancied to be the most likely, while the others took their chance of a snap shot, when there was a noise straight before them, just at the edge of the water. Norman levelled his piece, took careful aim, and was about to draw trigger, when he distinctly caught sight of a moving figure a little beyond where he had heard the noise, and a voice grumbled out: "What gone along big boomer?" "Shanter!" shouted Norman, excitedly. "Oh, I nearly fired." "Marmi," said the black as the boys ran up trembling with the thought of the mistake they had nearly made, "Baal find big boomer." "No, no, it's gone; but what are you doing here?" "Mine have big drink. Go back sleep now." "But are you better?" said Rifle. "Mine all sore along. Boomer fellow squeezum." He spoke rather faintly, and walked slowly as they went back to the blanket-gunyah, where the black lay down directly, uttering a deep groan, as he moved himself painfully. "There was plenty of water here, Shanter," said Norman. "Piggi (the sun) gone sleep. Mine can't see." They spoke to him again, but there was no reply, his breathing told, however, that he had dropped off, and Norman elected to keep watch till morning, and the others went to the tent. It was just after daybreak when Norman heard a rustling, and looking round there was Tam creeping out from his shelter. "Make big fire--make damper," he said quietly, and to the lad's delight the black went slowly about the task of blowing the embers, and getting a few leaves and twigs to burn before heaping up the abundant supply of wood close at hand. Breakfast was soon ready, the boys being in the highest of glee, and Shanter sat and ate and smiled broadly at the friendly demonstrations which kept greeting him. "Mine been along big sleep, get well," he said in reply to the congratulations showered upon him, and then proved quite willing to sit still while the packhorse was loaded--lightly now--and the others caught, saddled, and bridled, and a glance round given before they made a start to follow the trail back home. Then followed a little discussion as to the order of starting, but Shanter settled it by tucking his nulla-nulla and boomerang into his waistband, shouldering his spear, and starting off at the head of the packhorse which followed him like a dog. "All right," said Norman. "Yes. What a rum fellow he is!" whispered Rifle. "But I wouldn't go very far to-day." The boys mounted, and gave a cheer as they said farewell to the water-hole. "It almost seems as if all this had been a dream," said Tim, as they rode on behind the black. "You wouldn't think he had been so bad." "Yes, you would," cried Norman, urging his horse forward, as he saw Shanter make a snatch at the packhorse's load, and then reel. But Norman saved him, and the poor fellow looked at him piteously. "Big boomer squeeze mine," he whispered hoarsely. "Legs baal walk along." That was very evident, for he was streaming with perspiration, and gladly drank some water from their tubs. Then the difficulty was solved by Norman making Shanter mount the horse he had himself ridden, and the journey was continued with the black striding the saddle and holding on by the sides of the stirrup-irons with his toes, for he could not be induced to place his foot flat on the bar, which he declared to be plenty "prickenum," and always placing his first and second toes on either side of the outer edge of the upright part of the stirrup. The pleasure had gone out of the trip now. It had been full of hard work before, but it was labour mingled with excitement; now it was full of anxiety as the little party noted Shanter's weakness, and felt how entirely they depended upon him to follow the track they had made, one often so slight that they could not trace a sign on the short grass or hard ground. And as Norman said, if the black broke down again they might never be able to find their way home. But the black kept his seat on one or other of the horses very well for two days, and then they had to halt for a whole day, when it seemed as if they were going to have a repetition of the former anxiety. The morning after, though, he expressed a desire to go on, and as the boys packed up the half-dried canvas and blankets which had formed their cover during a night of heavy rain, they looked anxiously at each other, the same thought being in each breast, though neither of them could find it in his heart to speak. That thought was--suppose all our horses' footprints are washed away? And now began a wonderful display of the black's power of vision. As a rule he sat perfectly upright on horseback, took the lead, and rode on over tracts of land, where to the boys not a vestige of their trail was visible; though, when now and then they saw the black guide lean forward, grasp the horse's neck with his arms, and place his head as low down as was possible, they felt that he too was evidently rather at fault. But no: by his wonderful perception he kept on picking up some tiny trace of a footprint, losing the trail altogether at times, finding it again when all seemed at an end and they had heard him muttering to himself. And so the journey went slowly on, till about noon on the fifth day, as Shanter was intently scanning the ground, he suddenly said: "Baal can't go. Mine no see no more. Stop eat damper." The horses were turned loose to graze, a fire lit, and as usual the water boiled for tea, just a sufficiency having been brought from the last spring in the tub slung to the packhorse's side. But there was very little appetite for the cold kangaroo tail and cakebread, as they saw that the black did not eat, but began to beat the ground in all directions like a spaniel, till too weak to do more, when he came and threw himself down on the grass, and said: "Mine can't find way back no more." _ |
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