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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 34. Trust For Trust |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. TRUST FOR TRUST "Some one found my gun and taking aim at me," thought Nic, feeling thoroughly how bad a plan it was for any one to bring out a gun for self-defence and then leave it for an enemy to seize. That watch kept upon the gun muzzle did not last many moments, for a rough, mocking voice said loudly: "Well: come to take me? Here I am." "Leather!--I mean, I mean Frank Mayne," cried Nic joyously, as he sprang to his feet; "found you at last!" "Yes," said the convict bitterly, "you have found me at last. Where are your men?" "What men?" said Nic, staring. "The bloodhounds you've brought to hunt me," said the convict. "Don't talk nonsense!" cried Nic sharply. "You don't think I should bring any one to hunt you?" "Why not?" "Because you know I wouldn't be such a brute. But, I say, I was right then. I've been trying ever since you went away to think out where you could be gone." "And sending the police after me," said the convict bitterly. "You know better than that," cried Nic; "but, I say, I was right then. I felt sure you would be here." "Why should you be?" said the man suspiciously. "Because, don't you remember once, months ago, talking about the gorge?" "True, I did; I had forgotten. But where are the police now?" "Gone back to the port. How did you know they had been?" "From the blacks." "There, I knew it!" cried Nic. "The cunning rascals, and they pretended they had no idea of where you were." "Poor fellows," said the convict, smiling bitterly; "they are faithful enough." "But they might have told me," said Nic. "Even you don't seem to trust me now." "How can a man, who is hunted like a wild beast with dogs and black trackers, trust any one, boy?" cried the convict fiercely. "You know what it would have been if they had found me, and I had run instead of surrendering. They would have shot me down like a savage beast." Nic nodded as he gazed up at the fierce countenance, whose eyes seemed to glare down at him. "There," continued the convict, "you have found me. Of course you know there is a heavy reward. You can earn it for pocket money." "Yes," cried Nic, speaking fiercely now, "and go over to the village tuck shop, and spend it with my school-fellows." "Of course," said the man banteringly. "Only there's one drawback, boy. You are caught in a trap there, and when you are found there will only be your bones." "Oh, I say, Leather, what a savage you have turned! I say, have a bit of damper? I have some left." The man made no reply for a few moments. Then, in an altered tone: "Have you found any way out?" "No. It is a regular trap; but I was thirsty, and I came down to drink. Fell half the way," said Nic, holding up a bleeding hand. "I went down the same way," said the convict quietly. "Then there is a way out?" said Nic sharply. "Yes, over the brink yonder." "Oh yes, I found that out," said Nic, with a laugh; "but I don't want to break my neck. How did you get out?" "Over there," said the convict quietly. "It requires a steady head, but you can creep along a narrow ledge, and get back to the top here, three or four hundred yards farther on. I did not find it out till I was nearly starved to death." "Poor old chap," said Nic quietly. "I say, this sounds more like you." "Does it? Did any one see you coming?" "Bungarolo. But I sent him home before I was halfway here." "He would not tell tales, poor fellow. They have had my life in their hands ever since." "But, I say, Leather, it's awkward talking like this. I'll come up to you;" and he moved toward the edge. "No, no, don't stir," cried the man fiercely. And Nic stamped angrily upon the rock. "Why don't you shoot me?" he cried. "You've got the gun. There, be off; I don't want to see which way you go. Look here, Sorrel's over yonder somewhere. Go and find him, and ride off up the country as far as you like. Only send him back some day by one of the blacks, I'll pay him with blankets and things. I can't give him to you, because, as you know, he was father's gift. There's a pack of meal on his back; I brought it in case I could find you; but you'd better take this lump of damper too." The convict made no reply for some minutes, but lay there at the edge of the rocks gazing sadly down at Nic, who had thrown himself upon his chest, and was looking into the gorge. "Nic," he said at last. "Well," was the reply; but the boy did not turn his head. "Don't misunderstand me, lad; I said don't try to come up, because the risk of going along there made me shudder. I'm coming down to help you--where's your hand?" "Oh, I say, I beg your pardon," cried Nic, springing up. "I didn't mean--I thought--I--I say, Leather, mind how you come." "Yes, I'll mind," said the man. "But the gun. It is not safe to pitch it down to you." "No; leave it up there." "For another enemy to get hold of it. No, my lad, that won't do. There, if I hold it crosswise like this, and drop it down, you can catch it." "Yes, I think so." "Then try." As he spoke the man went down upon his face, held the gun at arm's length as far down over the edge as he could, and then after a warning let it fall. "Right," cried Nic, catching it cleverly. "Now, how are you going to manage? I came down just there." "And I'll try twenty feet to my left here," said the convict; and, selecting a place, he lowered himself down until he hung by his hands, and then began to descend with wonderful activity, reaching the bottom without a slip, solely from the rapidity of his movements. "Why, Leather," cried Nic, grasping his hand, "you are as active as a squirrel." "A man needs to be to lead my life, boy," said the convict quietly. "Hah! that seems to put humanity into one again. The blacks are friendly enough; but it is for the touch of a white hand one yearns." "Have some damper?" said Nic suddenly, so as to hide a peculiar feeling which troubled him. The convict took the bread cake, broke it, and began to eat, seeking refuge in the act for the same reason. "Hah!" he said, smiling, "it tastes good. Nic, boy, you forgive me all I have said?" "Of course I do. But, I say, how have you managed to live?" "The same as a black would. This is the first bread I have eaten since I broke away and became a savage." "Do you think they will manage to catch you?" said Nic, after a pause. "Not alive, my lad. Well, let's have just a few words together, and then you must go." "You will stop about here, I suppose?" The convict shook his head. "Hunted beasts stay where they are safe. Hunt them, and they go farther away." "You have been hunted, but you have not gone farther away." "No, boy, because this is my sanctuary. There, you see I trust you, and I know that I am safe in your hands. Let's sit down." Nic willingly did so, and the convict went on eating the bread cake, talking quietly the while. "There is no place I could find where I should be so safe, Nic," he said; "and this is near human nature, which one likes, even if it is unkind. I had often thought of breaking away and making for the bush, feeling convinced that if I reached the place I could manage to live where so many poor wretches who have escaped found their end. But I was servant to a just man; your mother and sisters treated me when they saw me as if they were sorry for me, and I could not go. Then you dame, boy, and tied me tighter to the place, making all the petty troubles caused by that overbearing brute seem like nothing." "I tied you tighter to the place?" cried Nic. "Yes. Why, the hours I spent with you when you found me out in the run were the only happy ones I had had for years." "Oh, I didn't do much," said Nic hurriedly. "I'm afraid it was because I liked to talk to you about birds and things. But, I say, do you mean to keep to this life?" "Do you think I can give up and submit to that worst punishment of--to be flogged?" "No," cried Nic firmly; "you can't do that. You must wait. And look here, I tell you what: try and find a way down into the gorge, and keep it a secret. Why, you can build yourself a gunyah (bark hut) somewhere below, and live there, and make your garden and keep fowls, and there are sheep and cattle. I'll bring you a live chicken now and then, and seeds and cuttings, and tea and sugar and flour when I come, and then we can go fishing and hunting and collecting together. Why, it will be capital." The convict smiled. "I don't see anything to laugh at," said Nic. "I suppose not, you young enthusiast." "That I'm not," cried the boy. "It's you who take too miserable a view of things." "With cause, boy." "Well, yes, there is plenty of cause," said Nic: "but you really could live down there safely for years without being found out--if you could get down." "I can get down, and I have been down there since I broke away. I have made myself a bark gunyah, and for the present that is my home, Nic." "Capital," cried the boy eagerly. "Take me and show me." The convict shook his head. "No," he said; "you and I must never meet." "Why?" said Nic, in rather an ill-used tone. "Because you would be disgracing yourself by associating with a man of my character, and you would be breaking laws made for the protection of the settlers who employ convict servants." "You are not a man of bad character," said Nic quietly; "and as to law-- well, I suppose it would be breaking that; but then the law doesn't know any better. It does not know you like I do." "There, boy, we will not argue the question. I'm black enough as it is, but I want to do you good, Nic, not harm. Come," he continued, rising, "time is going on, and you are some distance from home. Where is your horse?" "Miles away." "Then you must be moving." "There's no hurry," said Nic. "Yes, there is. You have a dangerous ledge to go along." "I can get along better when I am more rested," said the boy. The convict smiled. "Then let me put it in a more selfish way," he said. "It is close on sundown, and I have a long way to go to my home. A more dangerous way than yours, and I could not attempt it after it begins to grow dusk." "I'm ready," said Nip, springing up; "but tell me this: when will you meet me again?" "Perhaps never," said the convict. "Then I shall come hunting for you every day till I find the way down into the gorge." "And bring the government people on my track?" "No, I won't do that," said Nic; "but I will find you out, and I can now that I know where you are." "I doubt it, boy. The gorge is enormous, and I am the only man who knows the way down." "Pooh! The blacks would know. Bungarolo would show me now he knows I have seen you." "The blacks do not know, Nic. I should not know if I had not discovered it two years ago by accident when trying to save the life of a sheep which had fallen. There, be content. You have seen me. Some day we may meet again. Now then, we must lose no more time." "Very well," said Nic; "only mind this: I will not do anything to risk having you discovered; but I will come to you." "I know you will not do anything to harm me, my lad; but you are deceiving yourself, my boy. You will not come to me. Now, are you ready?" "Yes. Where's this dangerous shelf?" "I will take you along it. Where is your handkerchief?" "It was too hot to have it round my neck," said Nic, smiling, as he took it from where it was tied about his waist. "I am going to bind it round your eyes," said the convict. "What! For fear that I should find the way down into the gorge?" "No; because your head may turn giddy when you see the depth below you. I want you to trust me, Nic, to lead you safely along the shelf. Can you do this?" Nic was silent for a few moments. "I feel as if I want to trust you," he said at last; "but I don't feel as if I can--no, no, I don't mean that. I mean that I want to trust you, but I can't trust myself. No, that isn't it exactly. I suppose I'm afraid. Why can't I walk close behind you?" "Because I doubt your doing it without practice. I expect that you would go along half-way and then lose your nerve, and I don't think I could lift and carry you then. Won't you trust me, Nic?" The boy looked sharply into his eyes for a moment, and then leaned forward for his eyes to be bound, thinking the while of the log bridge over the fern gully and his feelings there. "There," said the convict, as he secured the knot firmly. "Now listen: I shall take hold of your hand to hold it tightly, and I want you to try and make yourself part of me for the next ten minutes, obeying every touch, and taking step for step with me. Don't pause, don't hesitate; only keep on feeling that I am guiding you safely through the darkness. There is no risk if you do this." "I'm ready," said Nic; "only begin quickly, please, and let's get it done." "Then come along." Nic felt his hand seized in a strong, firm grip, and followed as he was led, hesitating once, and showing a disposition to hang back, but it was only for a moment. The next he was walking slowly and steadily behind the convict, who led him between two or three bushes, and then along a narrow shelf which passed round the end of the rock slip; and as soon as it was cleared the buttress at that end grew still more narrow, so that the boy felt his right arm brushing against the perpendicular rock wall, while his left hung free. He could not see, but he knew that his left fingers must be pointing down into the tremendous gulf; and in imagination he saw with wonderful accuracy through the golden transparent air the various plants which grew from the interstices of the titanic wall, the bushes and shrubs, the pendent vines and clinging creepers, the shelves and faults in the strata here and there deeper down, and then lower and lower still the gaps and hollows whence stalwart trees had risen from seeds dropped or hidden by some bird--trees which had grown out almost horizontally, and then curved up into their proper vertical position, to rise up and up as the years rolled on, though now they looked mere shrubs a handbreadth high. And as the boy walked on he saw lower and lower the forest monarchs dwarfed to shrubs, and lower still patches of timber that were indistinct and looking hardly more than grass, while here and there the light of the setting sun gleamed ruddily from the water of the chain of lakes. It was but the picture raised by memory from where it was printed upon Nic's mind, but it was very accurate, and almost exactly what he would have seen had his eyes been free during that long, long walk, as it seemed--a walk of a few brief minutes though, and then his hand was dropped. "Don't do that till you've unbound my eyes," said Nic sharply. "Why not, boy? we are in safety now." Nic's breath was exhaled in a hoarse sigh as he felt the kerchief drawn from his face, and he looked round to see that they were among trees. "Was it very dangerous?" he said. "Very; or I would not have asked you to be bound. Now, my lad, good-bye." "No, no; I have quite a load of meal for you on the horse." "There is no time to fetch it. Leave it for me on the chance of my finding it." "But where? You never will." The convict thought for a moment. "I'll tell you," he said. "Lay it in the crack close to the edge of the precipice where I held you half over that day. Cover it with grass. It will be on your way home, and I shall be able to find it if the coast is clear. Once more: straight away for where your horse is grazing. Can you find it, do you think?" "Oh yes. I can follow my way back," said Nic. "I shall see my tracks here and there." "Then once more: good-bye." He turned sharply and disappeared, while, tired and disappointed, Nic had a hard task to retrace his steps to the horse, whistling for it as he drew near where he felt that it ought to be, and gladdened at last, just as darkness was falling, by a responsive neigh. The long bag of meal was hung up in a tree that Nic felt he could find again, and then he rode home. "Poor Leather will think I have deceived him and be suspicious, but it's impossible to find that place by the precipice to-night." _ |
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