IS IT HE?
Chapter I
In the wild land, still only half explored, which lies north of Queensland, is many a stretch of rich alluvial soil — rolling prairies, fertile as those of the States, covered in the wet season with the rich lush grass that the cattle love, but subject in the summer heats to terrible droughts, which toll sorely on man and beast.
On such an outpost of civilisation, among the pioneer sentinels of progress, lived a young couple named Yates, who, having little money and plenty of the courage of youth, had elected to settle on the new and comparatively cheap land. To them, on one bright spring day, just as the rain had ceased, and the whole country rejoiced in the rich prospect of the coming years — to them, on such a day, came a stranger, who, after enjoying a short hospitality, frankly asked and frankly given, offered to join them at the frontier post.
‘I have no particular predilection, and no special vocation of any kind that I know of,' he said, lightly; ‘but I know a good horse and a good dog when I see them, and l am some judge of cattle. I am just wandering round to see a little of the world, and I prefer the world of nature to the world of towns. I am charmed with your frontier life; I have a few hundreds that I can invest; — and, in short, if it is agreeable to you, I will take a portion of the runoff your hands, and either assist you to look after the land myself, or pay someone else to do so.'
The proposition was joyfully received. White men are scarce in the frontier districts; educated white men still more uncommon; ditto ditto with money, rara aves indeed. Tom Yates was chronically short-handed, and he closed with the offer immediately. The preliminaries were speedily arranged, for the newcomer was by no means grasping, and matters were soon settled to the mutual satisfaction of the partners; but before they had proceeded quite so far, Tom asked the stranger’s name.
The latter hesitated for a moment.
'You may call me Charlie Hall,' he said. 'It is not my real name, but it will serve as well as another.'
And thus, under a new name, and among new and strange surroundings, Cyril Horne commenced his new life. It was not exactly the kind of existence he had pictured to himself when he left Dunedin and Nellie. His dreams had been of something vaguely great and heroic, but in this nineteenth century of ours such dreams are difficult of realisation. There is so little of the heroic element in our busy, matter-of-fact lives — so little of what is great, and rare, and noble — that Cyril perhaps might be pardoned for having speedily resigned the task as hopeless. The free frontier life appealed vividly to his imagination, as being in every way different to all his previous experience; and the elements of possible danger and excitement, conveyed by the near neighbourhood of the blacks, offered an additional attraction, for Tom had told him at once that their position was not without risk.
‘I have done the best I can to conciliate the black boys,' he said, 'and have treated them with uniform kindness and firmness; but there is no disguising the fact that they are savages, with all the vices of savages, and in these remote spots we are very much at their mercy. In the most settled districts, where they have learned by experience the strength of the white man, there is little to be feared from them --- they are petty thieves and inveterate beggars; but here it is different. It is not so long since these "happy hunting grounds" were their own undisputed possessions. They hate us, and they have not yet learned to fear us. Frightful tragedies are by no means rare in these frontier posts. It was only last year that a neighbouring settler (he lived eighty miles away, but that is near in the bush) lost two shepherds and his only son, a promising lad of twelve, who had gone to bring home a mob of sheep from some place near Brisbane. Neither the boy, the men, nor the sheep ever came home; and from the incoherent statement of a tame black, known to be faithful, they had been set upon in a lonely defile of the hills, the men and boy killed, and the sheep carried off. And this was no particular act of vengeance — merely because the blacks were in need of fresh mutton. I can tell you I never leave the house for a few hours without feeling nervous on Mary's account, and it is a great comfort to me to have another white man on the spot on whom I feel that I can depend.'
'I should like to see some of these aborigines in their native haunts,' said Cyril, lightly.
And his wish was fulfilled in a manner that he little dreamed of at the time of its expression.
The season turned out a remarkably dry one. The run was well watered, a creek, almost deserving the name of river, skirting it on the south and west; but all the minor streamlets and waterholes were empty, or only contained a little heap of half-dried mud at the bottom, which tantalised instead of relieving the cattle. The two partners and their men' were employed almost night and day in the effort to alleviate the sufferings of their dumb companions, driving them to and from the water, seeking the best pasturage, and striving by every means in their power to keep them alive and well.
One day Tom returned from this task with an unusually grave face, and, drawing his partner on one side, said:
'The black boys are out on the warpath; I have seen their trail. They have driven off a small mob of our cattle — the Red Bull's mob. The worst of it is that we are not strong enough to punish them, and if they get off with impunity, the example will be most dangerous. Neither our lives nor our property will be safe.'
'We must punish them, and get back the mob in some way.'
‘But how?'
‘I have an idea. Leave it to me. Do you stay at home and look after the homestead with your wife, while I pursue the cattle-stealers.'
‘I can't allow that; you are such a stranger —'
‘All the better; I shall be less likely to arouse their suspicions. But don't be afraid; I am not going to run my neck recklessly into a noose whence I can't withdraw it. Our own black boys will help me; not because they are faithful — I don't believe in the faithfulness of a savage — but because, being of another tribe, they hate the marauders like poison, and would gladly exterminate them. They will help me.'
'On my word, Hall,' said Tom, with admiration, 'I believe you already know more of these rascals than I do, who have lived among them for years.'
'I have not gone among them with my eyes quite shut — that is all. Now let me call them in, and we will talk matters over a bit.'
There were four blacks on the station, who had been brought from a district much further south, and were therefore of another tribe to the aborigines immediately around them, whom indeed they looked upon as deadly enemies — ‘mean blackfellows.' When, therefore, they were told of the loss of the cattle, they expressed the utmost indignation and declared themselves most anxious to punish the ‘tamned tiefs.’
Briefly Horne explained his plan. It was daring, and yet simple. The eyes of the black boys sparkled with delight. He led them to the spot whence the cattle had been 'lifted.' For some distance round the plain was parched and withered, the dead grass allowing no more than a little brown dust and dried sticks. Over such a surface it did not seem easy to track the marauders; but the savages made no difficulty. Kneeling down, they carefully examined the locality; then, pointing northward, confidently asserted that the enemy had 'moved in that direction.
'As I expected,' said Horne. ‘They will make for the bush on yonder ranges, and then they will deem themselves secure. I wonder are they a strong party?'
And then, turning to the natives, he put the question to them.
They again examined the tracks, and then held up the fingers of each hand twice in succession, to indicate that the number was about twenty.
‘So many?’ said Yates. 'My dear fellow, you had better let them alone. The first risk is the least.'
‘But it will not be the last. No, no. They are but four to one, and half of them are cowards, whereas my men are brave as lions.'
The natives laughed and grinned, showed their white teeth, and slapped themselves on the breast, when they heard the encomiums; and Tom Yates, who knew how little they were deserved, winked at Cyril, who, however, made no sign.
‘My boys are brave,' he repeated; ‘not twenty times twenty ignorant blackfellows could make them run. Besides, I do not mean fighting if I can help it. But, look here, Tom, you promised to leave this affair to me. Go home, and look after the missis and the station, and don't expect us till you see us, and then we shan't return empty-handed.'
After a few further remonstrances Tom returned to the homestead, and Cyril and his four companions started on the warpath. They each carried a gun — Cyril's was a trusty breechloader; but he relied not so much on his weapons as on the result of a simple stratagem which he had formed.
All day the blacks traced their brethren, Cyril riding somewhat in the rear. The horses of all were good and fresh, but they could not travel fast, because they did not want to exhaust their beasts, and also lest they should override the track in their eagerness.
Towards nightfall they came to the wooded ranges which formed the northern boundary of the run, and beyond which the partners had never penetrated.
Here the blacks found the remnants of a fire, round which many bones lay scattered. ‘Ugh! D——d tief! Blackfellow! Eat muchie beefie, him; no go far — him tummy too full.'
And Cyril was well aware of the fact that these creatures will gorge themselves like vultures, until, like them, they cannot move, and are obliged to wait for sleep and the slow process of digestion to relieve them from the consequences of their hideous orgies. Judging by the signs, the trackers declared that the meal could not have been many hours disposed of. The robbers must have deemed themselves very secure, to feast thus freely in broad daylight.
They do not expect to be followed; we shall find them quite unprepared.'
At this point the pursuing party dismounted, and, hobbling their horses, hid them as well as they could in a neighbouring gully. It was now necessary to proceed with rather more caution, and as a preliminary the blacks stripped themselves to the skin, retaining only their guns and shot-belts, in which full dress, or undress, they looked so excessively wild and fierce, that Cyril's bold heart for a moment quailed as he realised that he was one white man alone among a herd of savages. What more natural than that the two bands should combine together, secure their prey, and dispatch him? But he quickly dismissed the doubt, and calling his sable followers around him, gave them their orders.
‘Proceed cautiously, look out for spies, and, above all things, do not fire until I give the order.'
They entered the bush. The track was no longer difficult to follow. Twenty men and double the number of cattle make a sufficiently wide trail, but Cyril judged it probable that one or more sentinels would be left behind to watch the path, and give an alarm should any strangers approach; but apparently this ordinary precaution had been neglected, such was the foolish security of the robbers, and the pursuers followed the forest path unchallenged.
The sun had set, but the full moon gave a light almost as bright as day.
The bush was full of sound; a thousand night-birds fluttered in the branches, and myriads of insects buzzed and circled in the soft air. In hot countries' the nights are never still; it is at noon that all nature slumbers in a death-like silliness, and the men who are wise follow her example.
'Hist!’
And the foremost tracker stood still.
Cyril paused also and listened intently, but he could hear nothing save the call of the birds and the humming of the insects. The other blacks, however, had more acute hearing; their eyes sparkled, and they began to talk together in low, rapid whispers. The most civilised of them, on whom the settlers had bestowed the absurd name of 'Mountain Dew,' now approached Cyril, and in his peculiar jargon informed him that the camp of the robbers was not far distant, for he could hear the hum of human voices and the lowing of cattle.
‘I can hear neither,' thought Cyril; and then, as often during the expedition, he marvelled at the wonderful gifts of sight and hearing which these wild men possessed, the ease with which they read the signs of nature, and interpreted the secrets close hidden in the mysterious depths of the forest, or in the wide and seemingly trackless plain -— all of which lay before them like an open book. ‘How marvellous is the law of compensation, which thus gives to the savage a special realm into which the white men, who have stolen all his other possessions, cannot enter.
In a few hurried whispers orders were given, and the party again advanced, though more cautiously.
At the end of half an hour Cyril could hear the sounds described. Soon another halt was called, and the white man, sending on two of his companions as scouts, patiently awaited their return. This was not long delayed, and they came back full of eager excitement, having visited the camp of the enemy and the temporary corral in which the cattle were confined. The latter they described as very simple, merely a natural glade in the forest, strengthened here and there by a few felled trees and bush. The cattle were guarded by only two men, all the remainder of the party being gathered in the camp, feasting to repletion on half-raw beef.
‘That is the second big meal they have had in six hours,' said Cyril, with grim humour; 'if they continue in this style much longer, there will not be many of our mob left to drive home.'
‘Ugly blackfellow! Tamned tief ! Eat massa's beefie — muchie eatie — all red, red,' making signs to show that the juices of the meat were oozing over the lips and cheeks of the savage gourmands. ‘Tamn fellows kill one, two, three, four cows.'
'Good gracious! Is it possible?' cried Cyril, who had still to learn how savages can eat when an unlimited supply is placed before them.
However, their greediness at this crisis was a point in his favour. When gorged to excess they would sleep heavily, like other wild animals, and then would be the time to make a bold stroke for the recovery of the lost property. The moon was already high, and the night somewhat advanced. They had but to wait a few hours, and then most of their enemies would be sunk in the heavy torpor which is not easily broken.
The five trackers prepared themselves to wait, but first they took a hurried meal of biscuit and preserved meat, and the four blacks loudly envied the red beef on which their compatriots were regaling themselves.
By degrees the sounds in the enemy's camp grew less; the feasting, and shouting, and occasional squabbles became indistinct and confused. One by one the doughty warriors fell asleep around the watch-fire; even the sentinels, unable to struggle against the mighty force of digestion which called the blood away from the brain to help in assimilating the heavy meal, succumbed to the dictates of nature, and nodded at their posts. The dogs fought and snarled over the remnants of the feast; otherwise all was still.
Then five shadowy figures rose from their ambush, and glided to the corral where the stolen cattle were detained. A muffled, choking, and scarce audible sound proclaimed the death throes of the two sentinels, over the head of each of whom a thick cloth had been deftly thrown, and the work of strangulation easily accomplished. It was then no difficult task to break down the corral on one side, and drive the cattle back along the forest track.
The dogs grew uneasy, and leaving the half-gnawed bones, began to utter their warning cries. More than one of the sleepers stirred and seemed about to awake.
Mountain Dew, showing Cyril an ordinary table-knife ground to a dagger-like point, requested his permission to glide into the camp and quiet one or two of the most restless of the dreamers. But this was sternly forbidden.
‘No, no — we have had enough blood shed already; we cannot kill unresisting men. If they pursue us we will fight — not unless. To kill a sleeping man is like murder.'
The savage could not understand this reasoning. According to his code, no better opportunity for slaying an enemy could have occurred; but he dared not disobey Cyril's positive command, and he fell into the place, assigned to him.
The howling of the dogs grew louder and more continuous. The cattle became restless and fidgety, and could with difficulty be kept together. Their objection to the blacks is well known, and none of the four men whom Cyril had brought with him had any power to soothe them; but the voice and presence of the young settler seemed to exercise a restraining influence upon them, and he drove them steadily on the homeward track, ordering the natives to follow closely, keep a sharp look-out, and act as a rear-guard. So far
all was well — indeed, he had succeeded in his enterprise far better than he could have expected.
But they were not yet safe. The dogs grew wild in their excitement and the least gorged of their masters began to bestir themselves, and ask what the noise meant. Suddenly an arrow passed within an inch of Cyril's shoulder, and quivered in the flank of a young heifer, brought up the rear of the mob. The creature gave a cry, and plunged wildly forward. Cyril wheeled round quick as lightning, and discharged his rifle at random in the direction whence the arrow had proceeded. A shriek rang through the forest, and a black figure fell, like a lump of clay, across the moon lit path, and lay, a great blot, in the white light. The four southern natives uttered a discordant war-whoop and discharged their pieces recklessly here and there, doing little damage but causing, some consternation among the marauders, who were as yet but little accustomed to the fire-sticks of the white men, and showed a decided inclination to shrink from a close encounter with those unknown weapons.
Cyril noticed their hesitation, and resolved to take advantage of it.
‘Do not waste your fire,' he said to his men. ‘Wait till you see some signs of the enemy; then take careful aim, and let the shot tell.'
They obeyed him, and the result was conveyed in many a sharp cry of agony. The flight of arrows became unsteady in their aim, and finally ceased altogether.
Cyril and his party had succeeded in their daring attempt, and the mob, minus six slaughtered cows, was driven once more into the open.
Tom Yates could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw his partner return triumphant, and Mountain Dew and his three compatriots were looked upon as heroes by the rest of the station hands, and took upon themselves most absurd airs and graces accordingly, telling yarns which speedily attained to quite apocryphal dimensions.
But, in spite of the success of his bold manoeuvres, Cyril himself felt rather uneasy.
He did not think that the blacks would suffer themselves to be balked of their prey without making reprisals; besides which, there were the deaths of three at least of their number to be avenged, and also the wounds of many others.
He urged Tom to keep a sharp lookout.
‘These rascals will pay us another visit before long,' he said; 'we had better be prepared for them,'
‘Of course; but I think you have given them their quietus. The beggars are cowards at heart, and do not like the smell of powder. I shall be surprised if we see any more of them.'
Cyril thought otherwise, but could give no valid reason for his opinion; and as weeks went on, and no new losses were proclaimed, the subject gradually lost interest, and the vigilant watch of the settlers was much relaxed.
It happened just at that time that a friend of Tom's wrote to him from Brisbane, telling him that a chance would speedily offer of securing some specially well-bred cattle such as were very seldom brought into the market, and urging him not to lose the opportunity of purchasing them.
Tom showed the letter to his partner.
‘What shall we do about it? It is a chance that we ought not to miss.'
‘Well, I don't know that. We want come new stock badly enough, but then I don't see how we can either of us leave the station just at this time.'
‘But see what he says? A pure-bred bull, imported; sire bred by the Duke himself. Oh, I must have that fellow. See what he would do for us. In a few years the whole stock on the farm would have received an impetus.'
‘Yes; I suppose you are right, well, what do you propose to do? Will you go down to Brisbane, or shall I?’
'My dear Hall, I never thought of such a thing as your going. You are too good.'
'Not at all. I have never seen Brisbane, and should like the opportunity of so doing. Give me my instructions, and I'll be off in a couple of days; and, mind, keep a sharp look-out on the blacks while I'm gone. I don't want to return and find all your throats cut.'
‘No fear of that; but, oh dear! it is awfully good of you to take so much trouble for mere strangers, as we are.'
‘There are no strangers and acquaintances in the bush — we are all friends or enemies; and I trust I am not included among the latter. Have all my credentials ready to-morrow, and I shall start early on the next day.'
So it was arranged. Cyril went to Brisbane, bought the pedigree bull and two other fine animals, and then, having engaged a man to take charge of them, and to follow him more slowly, he hastened back to the station.
A fear for which he could in no way account, and which had the force of a presentiment, urged him to return home with all speed. At the stations where he spent two nights on the road he heard horrible stories of black outrages, and as he listened to these his vague fears crystallised into a distinct form, and when he approached the homestead his heart beat loudly and seemed to thump against his ribs. Surely the place was strangely quiet. Where were the dogs, which were always so ready to give the alarm or to welcome their friends? Then, as he wondered, his horse's foot struck against a woolly mass, which in a moment proved itself to be his favourite colley Juno, stone dead, the arrow which had pierced her heart still protruding from the wound. He sprang from his steed and touched the dead beast tenderly, and then looked fiercely round as if to ask whose hand had wrought the fatal deed. But no creature was within sight to whom he could put the question. The heavy silence oppressed him more and more.
He led his horse by the bridle into the stockyard, and called to one of the blackboys to take him, but no one answered. He hastily hitched the bridle over a post, and went towards the house. A few paces from the door a figure lay crouched on the long grass, under a giant wattle. He lightly touched it with his foot.
‘Get up, you lazy rascal,' he cried, ‘and don't be sleeping there. Go and unsaddle my horse.'
But the body remained motionless, and a thrill of horror curdled his blood when he saw that it was lifeless, and that the flies were already settling thick upon it. A few paces further on he came upon another dead body, and across the threshold lay a third.
He scarcely, dared to step across this latter and enter the house, dreading the sight which might there be awaiting him. The three bodies were all those of black boys who had accompanied him on his expedition. There were two white men on the station, besides Mr and Mrs Yates — what had become of them, especially of her? After a moment's hesitation he entered the kitchen; it was untenanted. He called. The empty house re-echoed his cry, but did not answer it. His courage rose. He passed from room to room, but saw no other ghastly sight. All the drawers and chests stood open, and had evidently been rifled of their contents, but, compared with his apprehensions, robbery seemed a light crime, and he scarcely took note of possible losses.