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The Dingo Boys: The Squatters of Wallaby Range, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 27. "Can't You See?" |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. "CAN'T YOU SEE?" For the blacks made no further sign, and when, headed by the captain, the little party boldly took up the trail that morning, it was to find that the enemy had fled in haste, and not until it was felt to be utterly useless to follow farther was the pursuit given up. But that attempt to hunt them down was not without result. Shanter was with the party, riding in high delight with the three boys, and every now and then, in his eager scouting on his "horse fellow"--as he called the rough colt he rode--he was able to show how terribly the myall blacks had been punished, and not to dwell upon horrors brought by the wretched savages upon themselves, the punishment they had received was terrible. To Shanter was due the discovery of the cattle, somewhat diminished in numbers, but safe, where they had been driven into the bush; and so excited was the black all through that he almost forgot the terrible burns he had received on hands, arms, and chest. The only sign of discontent he displayed was when it was decided to turn back, the captain having halted at the end of the second day, the provisions growing scarce. It was after due consultation and the decision that the blacks were certainly not likely to rally for some time to come, and the captain had said that he did not want to slaughter the poor wretches, only keep them away. Then the horses' heads were turned, and Shanter rode up to the boys in a great state of excitement. "Baal go back," he cried; "plenty come along. Mumkull black fellow." "No, no," said Norman. "Black fellow gone along. Come back and take care of white Marys." "Yohi," said Shanter, thoughtfully, and he looked at his burned arms. "Big white Mary gib mine soff rag an' goosum greasum make well. Soff damper. Come along." It was not without some feeling of dread that the party returned toward the station, lest another party of blacks should have visited the place in their absence; and when they reached the open place in the scrub where they had left the cattle grazing, the captain reluctantly said that another expedition must be made to bring them in. But unasked, Shanter in his quality of mounted herdsman, announced that he was going to ''top along' and bring the cattle home, so he was left, and the party rode on, the boys leaving Shanter unwillingly. "Black fellows come again," said Rifle at parting. Shanter grinned. "No come no more. Plenty too much frighten." All was well when the party rode over Wallaby Range and up to Dingo Station, and saving the blackened boards and shingles, and the marks of spears, it was surprising how very little the worse the place looked. For Uncle Jack, Sam German, Mr Henley, and the doctor--both the latter having elected to remain behind--had worked hard to restore damaged portions; and once more the place looked wonderfully beautiful and peaceful in the evening light. Three days later, after being most hospitably entertained, ten of the rescue party took their leave to go back to Port Haven; the other two had hinted that they should like to stay a few days longer, to have a thorough rest; and the captain had warmly begged that they would, while Aunt Georgie laughed to herself and said in her grim way, "I smell a rat." For the two who stayed were Mr Henley the sugar-planter, and Dr Freeston. The captain was in the highest of spirits soon after, for Shanter, looking exceedingly important on his rough colt with his spear across his knees, rode slowly up, driving the whole of the sheep, pigs, and cattle, which made for their old quarters as quietly as if they had never been away, even another speared cow being among them, very little the worse for her wound in spite of the flies. "Hah!" cried the captain, rubbing his hands as the party all sat at the evening meal; "and now, please Heaven, we can begin again and forget the past." A dead silence fell, and as the captain looked round he saw that the eyes of wife, daughter, and niece were fixed upon him sadly, and that Aunt Georgie's countenance was very grim. "Shall I speak, Henley?" said the doctor. "If you please," said that gentleman, with a glance at Ida. "Then I will.--Captain Bedford," said the doctor, "you will forgive me, sir, I know; but I must beg of you for the sake of the ladies to give up this out-of-the-way place, and come close, up to the settlement. We feel that we cannot leave you out here unprotected. Think of what would have happened if we had not arrived in the nick of time." There was a terrible silence, and Sam German, who was having his meal in the kitchen with Shanter, came to the door, every word having been audible. At last the captain spoke in a low hoarse voice. "Gentlemen," he said, "I have thought of it all, till drawn both ways as I am, my brain seems almost on fire. I love my people as an Englishman should, and all my work has been for their sake. I would do anything to save them pain, but I ask you how can I give up this lovely home I have won from the wilderness--a place where Heaven smiles on a man's labour, and I can see, with plenty of hard work, a happy contented life and prosperity for us all. I will not appeal to my dear wife and the girls, because I know they will say, 'Do what you think best,' but I do appeal to you, aunt. It is not fair to expose you to such risks. Shall I give up? Shall I, after putting my hand to the plough, want faith and go back?" "I _do_ wish you wouldn't ask me such things, Ned, my boy," cried Aunt Georgie, taking out her handkerchief to wipe her glasses. "Give up, now we are all so settled and comfortable and happy, all for the sake of a pack of savages? I'll learn how to shoot first. I say, no! boy, no!" "Brother Jack," continued the captain, "I have dragged you from your club fireside, from your London friends, and made you little better than a labourer here, tell me what shall I do?" "Your duty, Ned," said Uncle Jack, warmly. "The nip has been terrible, but I was never better nor happier in my life.--Don't look at me reproachfully, Marian, dear; don't turn away, girls.--Ned, lad, when I took the other handle of the plough, I said I wouldn't look back, and I will not. If you ask me, I say fight it out as an Englishman should, and as Englishmen have for hundreds of years." "Hurrah!" shouted the three boys together. "Three cheers for Uncle Jack!" "Then I need not ask you, boys?" "No, father," said Norman. "You've taught us how to fight, and we shall be better able to meet the niggers if they come again." "Hear, hear!" cried Rifle and Tim, emphatically; and they went behind Mrs Bedford's chair, as if to show how they would defend her. "One more," said the captain. "Sam German, you have shared our sufferings; and it is due to you, our faithful servant of many years, that I should not leave you out. What do you say?" "What do I say, sir?" cried the gardener, fiercely; as he strode forward and brought his fist down heavily on the table. "I say, go and leave that there garden, with all them young trees and plants just a-beginning to laugh at us and say what they're a-going to do? No, sir; no: not for all the black fellows in the world." Sam scowled round at everybody, and went back to the kitchen door. "That settles it, gentlemen," said the captain, quietly. "After a life of disappointment and loss, I seem to have come into the promised land. I am here, and with God's help, and the help of my brother, my servant, and my three brave boys, I'll stay." "And Shanter, father," shouted Rifle. "Yes, and the trusty black whom I so unjustly doubted." "Marmi want Shanter?" said the black, thrusting in his head. "Yes: that settles it, captain," said the doctor. "I don't wonder at it. I wouldn't give up in your place.--Will you speak now, Henley?" "No, no, go on. I can't talk," said the young planter, colouring. "Very well then, I will.--Then the fact is, Captain Bedford, my friend Henley here is not satisfied with his land at Port Haven. He can sell it advantageously to a new settler, and he has seen that tract next to yours, one which, I agree with him, looks as if it was made for sugar. Miss Henley, his sister, is on her way out to keep house for him, so he will get one up as quickly as possible." "Yes," said Henley, "that's right. Now tell 'em about yourself." "Of course," said the doctor, quietly. "My sister is coming out with Miss Henley, and I have elected to take up the tract yonder across the river, adjoining yours." "You?" said the captain. "Where will you get your patients?" "Oh, I am sure to have some. Here's one already," he said, laughingly. "I mean to dress that poor fellow's burns." "Baal--no--baal," shouted Shanter, fiercely. "Big white Mary--soff rag, plenty goosum greasum." "Be quiet, Shanter," said Aunt Georgie, grimly. "But," cried the captain. "Oh, it is absurd. You are throwing away your chances." "Not at all, sir. I don't see why a doctor should not have a farm." "But really--" began the captain. "One moment, sir," cried the doctor, interrupting; "will you come and settle near your fellow-creatures?" "You have heard my arguments, gentlemen. It is my duty to stay." "Yes," said the doctor; "and in reply, Henley here and I say that it is our duty as Englishmen to come and help to protect you and yours." Uncle Jack and the captain rose together, and took the young men's hands, and then the party left the table to stroll out into the garden, upon as lovely an evening as ever shone upon this beautiful earth. Every one looked happy, even Shanter, who was fast asleep; and as Norman, who was alone with his brother and cousin, looked round at the scene of peace and beauty, he could not help thinking that his father had done well. But his thoughts were rudely interrupted by Rifle, who threw himself on the grass, kicked up his heels, burst into a smothered fit of laughter, and then sat up to wipe his eyes. "Oh, what a game!" he cried. "What's a game?" said Tim. "What's the matter, Man? Is there some black on my nose?" "No!" cried Rifle. "Why, you blind old mole, can't you see?" "See what?" "Why Mr Henley and the doctor want to come and live out here. Look." "Well, what at? They're talking to Ida and Hetty. That's all." "That's all!" cried Rifle, scornfully. "But it isn't all. They want to marry 'em, and then we shall all live happily afterwards. That's it. Isn't it, Man?" Norman nodded. "Yes, I think he's right, Tim. I am glad, for I think they are two good fellows as any I ever met." Rifle was right. For in the future all came about as he had said, saving that all was not happiness. Still Dingo Station became one of the most prosperous in our great north-east colony, and as fresh tracts of the rich land were taken up, the troubles with the blacks grew fewer and died away. One word in conclusion. Sam German declared pettishly one day that there never was such a hopeless savage as Shanter. "You couldn't teach him nought, and a lazier beggar never lived." It was unjust: Shanter could learn in his way, and he worked hard for Marmi (the captain), harder still for "Big white Mary," to whom he was a most faithful servant, but only in work that took his fancy. "Oh," said Norman, one day, "I am glad father wouldn't give up." "Give up?" cried Rifle, scornfully. "Why, he would have been mad!" And Tim cried, "Why, we shouldn't have been called 'The Dingo Boys' if he had." "Who calls us 'Dingo Boys?'" cried Rifle, sharply. "The people at Port Haven and all about when they speak of Wallaby Range," replied Tim. "Like their impudence," said Rifle importantly. "Don't be so cocky, Rifle," said Norman quietly. "Let them if they like. What's in a name?"
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