His hut stood on the border of a vast and unknown tract of bushland, away north. Why he had removed from all traces of his fellows to lead such a lonely mode of life we cannot pretend to explain. All we know is that he was a tall, handsome young fellow, and known to a few of the out-station boundary riders as Bob, the Kangaroo Hunter.
One day Bob had chased a fine old man kangaroo that he had wounded farther than usual into the trackless depths of the bush. As he was returning homeward along the margin of a small lagoon he perceived an article of very fine linen lying on the sand. Our hero came to a dead halt, and stared at the article in question, with as much astonishment as if a white elephant had presented itself in his path. He took up the linen, and the more he examined it the more puzzled he became at the discovery. Bob was a capital shot, and could track game like a blackfellow, but the finding of a piece of soft cambric in such a solitary region bothered him completely. After supper he sat and thought over it, but gave it up by-and-by and went to bed.
Somewhere in the dead of night the hunter was awakened by a voice calling him by name. He could not see anything, for it was quite dark, but he felt as if it were some one moving up and down over his bunk, and at the same time a soft, gentle voice repeated, “Bob! Bob! Bob!”
“Here I am,” he answered. “What do you want?”
“Please give me back—my—my—dress,” replied the voice in hesitating tones.
“Eh? what?” cried our hero, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What did you say? Your dress?”
“If you please,” continued the voice pleadingly, “the article you found on the shore of the lake yesterday—it is mine. Pray return it to me.”
“Oh!” said Bob, “why, that was a lady’s——”
“I know it,” rejoined the voice quickly. “Oh dear. It is mine. I am a lady.”
“Pray wait one moment, madam, and I will strike a light.”
“It is useless. You cannot see me, I am invisible,” replied the voice.
“Indeed!” ejaculated Bob, “that is a pity. However, I will return to you what I found upon one condition.”
“What condition?”
“Tell me who you are.”
“Alas! I am the daughter of a mighty chief, whose race and dominions are far beyond the ‘Lubra Mountains,’ but I have fallen into the power of a wicked magician, who has confined me on the highest summit of the Granite Cliff. Every day I am allowed to bathe in the lake accompanied by an old hag called Mother Growl; but I cannot return without my—my—dress. Yesterday I was obliged to stay by the lake, and I’m afraid the cruel witch will kill me if I’m detained here much longer.”
The low, plaintive voice touched the heart of our hero, who replied, “Rest easy, poor child. Here is your garment. Yet ere you depart tell me if I can help you out of the hands of your enemies.”
“Can you climb the Granite Cliff, which is as steep and smooth as a polished rod of steel? You cannot. Farewell!”
“Stop! Where there’s a will there’s a way,” said Bob. “With your permission, I mean to try and do it; but I never heard of the Granite Cliff. Where is it?”
“The path lies beyond the lake towards the plains,” answered the voice. “Yet do not attempt to go, for there are horrid birds and beasts who will devour you. More I dare not tell you.” So saying, the voice died away in the stillness of the night. The warning uttered by the voice, instead of deterring the young hunter from approaching the dreadful cliff, only made him the more determined to make an effort to rescue the lady from her thraldom. At the break of day he arose and loaded his gun, slung his pouch—containing powder and ball—over his shoulder, put some food in his bag, and started off for the lagoon. He traversed the country beyond the lake for some considerable distance without meeting a living thing and, feeling hungry, seated himself beneath the shade of a large tree to eat his dinner. He had not been seated many minutes when a gigantic bird alighted overhead and eyed him with some attention. Bob observed it was as big in the body as an emu, with broad wings, long beak, and talons like an eagle. Our hero had seized his gun for a shot, but he dropped the weapon as the bird called out in a hoarse tone,—
“Hello! Who are you?”
The hunter was dumb with surprise, but at length found voice to reply, “I’m a traveller.”
“Oh, and what are you eating?” said the bird.
“Kangaroo,” answered Bob, smiling.
“I’m very fond of kangaroo. Can I dine with you?”
“ ‘WHAT KIND OF BIRD ARE YOU?’ ”
“Certainly,” replied our hero; “come down and I’ll share with you.”
The strange bird did not wait for the invitation to be repeated. In a very short time he devoured the lion’s share of the lunch, and he and our hero became very friendly.
“What kind of bird are you?”
“I’m a gum-hawk,” cried he, stretching his huge wings. “We are the giants of the feathered tribe hereabouts.”
“You are a monster,” responded Bob in admiration. “I suppose you are quite strong enough to carry a man like me?”
“I’d carry two such as you,” answered the gum-hawk quietly. “Only try me.”
“Perhaps I may,” said Bob. “Do you know a place named the Granite Cliff?”
“Rather; are you going there?”
“Yes,” answered Bob, “if I may depend on you to convey me so far.”
“Of course I will, with pleasure; one good turn deserves another. Get on my back,” and ere our hero knew what he was about the bird rose with him into the blue void high above the tree-tops. Bob held on tightly, but without feeling at all alarmed at his dangerous position. From his elevated post he had a splendid view of the surrounding country. Far ahead in the distance he beheld a colossal peak, standing darkly out above the surrounding hills. Its sides were almost upright, and shone in the sun like polished marble.
“What mountain is that yonder?” he inquired of the gum-hawk.
“Mountain! That is the Granite Cliff.”
“I have a large piece of kangaroo still left in my pouch,” rejoined the hunter after a pause. “The meat shall be yours if you set me down on the summit of the cliff.”
“Don’t go there,” answered the gum-hawk in a warning voice.
“Why?”
“Because it is the home of wicked people, who will kill you.”
“I have no fear on that head. Will you have the meat?”
“Certainly, if you are determined,” and the friendly bird, finding that our hero was resolved, flew to the apex of the rock, and there left him.
The summit appeared quite different to what one would have imagined it to be from the plain. It seemed to the eyes of Bob a small island in itself. There was a wide, clear space whereon stood an old stone house, and before its door a very large water-hole, and behind a dark belt of dense bush, which almost obscured the setting sun.
The young hunter saw neither man nor beast; all was still, save the noise of the wind among the trees, while close above his head the clouds were rolling along.
Bob stepped up to the door of the hut and gave it a hard thump with his gun. Immediately an old woman with red eyes and a brown face opened it She had goggles upon her nose, and looked at him sharply before she asked him how he came there.
“A gum-hawk took me up in his talons and dropped me upon this mountain,” responded Bob readily.
“Well, what do you want here?”
“Entrance, my supper, and a night’s lodgings, dame.”
“That you shall have, but you will have to earn what you get here by difficult work on the morrow.”
“I am prepared,” said Bob.
“Very well. Come in,” she cried, and immediately closed the door.