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First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 23. A Squatter's Life |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A SQUATTER'S LIFE Nic's announcement caused a little panic. The three blacks who came and went about the place were summoned and sent out searching, the house was placed in a state of defence, and Samson, Brookes, and Leather all furnished with guns and ammunition to stand ready for any emergency, taking it in turns though to keep watch, while horses and cattle were driven into the south enclosures by the house, and everything possible done to secure their safety. Knowing his mother's nervousness, Nic could not help staring in wonder at the calm way in which she and her daughters behaved at what might, for aught they could tell, be a dangerous time, for neither showed the slightest trace of fear. In a couple of hours, though, the black known as Bungarolo came back to announce that, "Blackfellow all agone," and he pointed away toward the dense bush, miles from where they were standing. The explanation of the other two blacks when they returned cleared away the rest of the alarm, the doctor concluding that a few of the many wanderers had been near and gone away again, blacks probably belonging to a friendly tribe. Consequently the next day matters went on as usual, save that Nic had to mount with his father, and, accompanied by two of their blacks, made a wide circuit about the station, touching the edge of the great gorge at one point and then riding round for miles. Twice over the men, who trotted along easily enough step for step with the horses, pointed out tracks going and coming; and as the party was made out to be three only it was felt that there was no cause for alarm, and toward evening they rode back to the station with the glad news. "But wouldn't it have been very awkward for them if the blacks had come while we were away, father?" Nic ventured to ask on their way back. "Yes, but they would have shut themselves in at once," said the doctor; "two of the men would have been with them, and the other would have followed us, firing signals as he came. If the danger had been imminent, he would have seized the first horse and galloped over to Mr Dillon's station." "I see," said Nic. "It's mutual help out here, Nic. If one station is in danger, those nearest are always ready to gallop to its help." Then came days and weeks of busy life, with Nic finding little time for amusement, but enjoying the novelty of his new career. There were long rides to drive in cattle; visits to be paid to flocks miles away from the station; messages to be taken to Samson, Brookes, or Leather, who in turn were far away with the roaming sheep or oxen; and the boy was joked at home by mother and sisters for the way he ate, slept, and seemed to expand. During this period he saw little of Leather, and the incident of the injured sheep and Brookes's apparent enmity toward the convict was for the time forgotten, these two rarely being together. Still, at different times Nic could not help noticing what a rooted dislike there was in the regular men against their convict fellow-servant, even old Samson shaking his head and expressing his belief that the station would be far better without "such as he." "I don't want to be hard on anything 'cept blight, Master Nic," said the old man one day; "but it comes nat'ral to a man to feel shy of a gaol bird who may rise agen you at any time and take to the bush." "Oh, but Leather is not that sort of man, Sam," said Nic. "Ah, that's very nice, young gentleman; but you don't know, and I don't know. All I say is if there's a bull about on that side o' the fence it's best to walk on this." "But the bull may not mean to do you harm, Sam." "P'r'aps not, sir; but bulls have mad fits now and then, so does convicts. I've know'd two stations 'tacked and every one killed, and they said it was the blacks; but they very soon found that it warn't, for in each case a lot had escaped from the chain gang, took to the bush, and every 'signed servant as they come across jyned 'em." "That's very horrible," said Nic. "And what became of them?" "Ah, you may well say that, sir: some was shot down by the soldiers, some was killed by the natives, some was lost in the bush and died o' hunger and thirst, while the blacks speared the rest all but one, and he gave himself up. They do a lot o' mischief, these chaps, when they take to the bush, sir; but, fortunately for honest folk, they all come to a bad end." Then came a more leisure time, when old Samson took a holiday, as he called it--that is to say, he worked from daylight to darkness over his rather neglected garden; while Nic had leisure to think again of his natural history specimens, and went out with his gun; but he did not feel at all keen about sitting down in a woody place near the river to fish and offer himself as a mark for any black who meant to practise hurling his spear. It was so much more satisfactory to mount Sour Sorrel and ride off, gun in hand, through the open woodland with the soft breeze sweeping by his cheek, and pick up a beautifully feathered bird from time to time. The injured sheep had grown quite well, and, save that it limped as it grazed, its leg was as strong as ever; "and that lameness does not interfere with its promising to be a good mother," said the doctor, smiling, as he pointed to the pair of white lambs gambolling by the lame sheep's side. "Did you ever satisfy yourself as to how its leg was broken?" said Nic. "No, my boy; and I did not want to. I have my suspicions, but I let them rest. It is the same at most of the stations--the free men dislike the bond. It is natural. And now that things are going on peaceably, we will let them rest." One day, quite by accident, the boy found himself thrown in contact again with Leather, whose brown, deeply lined countenance always brightened when Nic came across him somewhere with his sheep. "I say, Leather," he said, as he sat on his nag watching the man busily carving a stick he had cut: "you remember telling me about how the blacks followed the bees?" "Yes, sir." "Can you show me?" "Yes," said Leather, smiling sadly; and he looked about till he found a tree with some of its seed-vessels full of fine silky cotton, smeared one end of a twig with a bead of gum from another tree, and then walked on, followed by Nic, till they came to a patch of bushes, whose fragrant blossoms had attracted the bees by the dozen. One pollen-laden fellow was soon caught, the gum stick touched its back, the white cotton was brought in contact, and the uninjured insect set free. Up in the air it went at once, regardless of the yellow flowers among which it had been buzzing, and then flew away in a straight line, with its white patch on its back, to be traced some forty or fifty yards, before it disappeared among the trees. "Gone!" said Nic, who was in advance, for he had followed the insect on horseback. "Think there's a tree here?" "No; these are not the kind of trees they nest in. They do not go hollow." "What will you do, then?" "Repeat the process, sir." And this was done four times, till the last bee was traced to a quarter of a mile from where they started, and a tiny hole was made out sixty feet from the ground, about which scores of little dark insects could be seen darting. "Now how to get the honey?" said Nic. "Send or bring Bungarolo here to-morrow with an axe and a bucket, and you shall have plenty." Eager to see the taking of the spoil, Nic was over in good time next morning, the black trotting by his side; and upon reaching the tree the Australian savage took the axe from his waistcloth, while Leather lit a great piece of touchwood by means of a burning glass. This wood began to burn, emitting a dense white smoke, and as the convict waved it about, the black took off his waistcloth, passed it through the handle of the bucket, and tied it again about his middle, so that the bucket hung behind. Then, axe in hand, he began to chop notches in the soft bark, to make steps for his active feet, and climbed steadily up and up, Nic watching him the while. "It looks very dangerous," said the boy. "Think he is likely to fall?" "Not in the least, sir. They begin doing these things when children, and they don't seem to have any nerves." It seemed indeed as if the black did not know fear, for he went on up and up till he was fully sixty feet from the ground, and here he held on with his legs while he undid his waistcloth once more and tied it now to a branch, so that the bucket hung close to the hole where the bees buzzed in and out, as if feeling in no wise incommoded by the black face so near. And now Bungarolo stuck the axe into the soft bark and rapidly descended, grinning hugely at his success. Leather handed him the smoking torch, and he went up again, holding the end of the soft wood in his teeth. On reaching the hole, the smoke which had accompanied him in his ascent became thicker, and being held just below the entrance, scared away the bees coming back, and those coming out into pouring forth faster and faster, till there was quite a cloud darting about above that of the blinding wood smoke. Then a few cleverly directed strokes of the axe made a big opening through the bark, the axe was thrown down, and the black's arm thrust in right up to the shoulder, and his hand drawn out bearing a great cake of honeycomb. This he deposited in the bucket, pausing now and then to give the smoking wood a wave, or to hold it inside the opening, to drive out the bees before bringing out more and more comb, till the bucket was pretty well full. And now the most difficult task seemed to await the black; but he held on again with his legs, untied the waist cloth, rested the bucket on his chest, while he knotted the cloth ends together again, and slipped it over his head. Then, taking the smoking wood from where he had placed it inside the hole, he threw it down and descended safe and triumphant, to begin cleaning his sticky hands after the fashion of a cat, before bearing the bucket back to the station, where Mrs Braydon gave him a lump of damper for a reward. _ |
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