"We'll shin catch the deevils!"

But I restrained them. "You are both too reckless," I explained, "and we should probably never see you again if you lost your bearings in the bush." I knew that my worthy henchmen would disdain to use any stratagem, and in consequence would surely be speared by the vengeful savages.

"You can trust me, Mac," said Phil grimly. "I'll fetch you a specimen or two to play with," and Mac, noting his unusual fierceness of expression, felt comforted.

Leaving our over-eager companions in charge of the camels, I took a hurried bearing of our position, and dashed off with Phil in the direction taken by the fleeing band. I could still hear the branches crackling before their wild rush, and I hoped that the sound might guide us in our quest. For several minutes we kept up a rapid pace, but we quickly realised that our running powers were not equal to those of the blacks. The blistering sand showered in our faces, and the brittle twigs of the mallee cut us severely. The sun had now reached his meridian, and shot his rays so fiercely upon us that we were soon compelled to reduce our speed. We dared not allow ourselves to perspire, and so lose the little moisture our bodies contained. Meanwhile the vague crackling of the brushwood in the far distance became fainter and fainter, intimating to us very plainly that our intended prisoners were far from our reach.

We were weary and hopeless, yet we mechanically continued on. Our thoughts, as may be guessed, were the reverse of pleasant, and we did not care to give them expression. Few would have recognised in Phil, the fresh-faced, merry-spirited young man who had led the Five-Mile rush.

His face was now deeply bronzed, and bore the stamp of the hardships encountered, and his firm-set mouth showed a vastly increased force of will.

"The beggars seem to have vanished completely," he said, when we had travelled at least half a mile in silence. "What a tidy row of skeletons we'll make," he added lightly. "'A rale dacent coleckshun,' as Mac would say."

"We'll hear Mac's remarks later," I answered, "and we're not by any means dead yet."

We had now reached a slight dip in the land surface, and in the depression a well-padded native track appeared. We followed it eagerly until it broke off into two trails, forming an acute angle.

"You take one, I'll take the other," I said. "If you find anything signal with your revolver, and I'll do the same, though it is more than likely they lead to the same place."

"All right!" he replied, and we separated.

Hurriedly I sped along, now this way, now that, as the trail twisted and twined in the manner peculiar to most bush tracks, and I seemed to have entered a maze. Then I came to a point where it divided and subdivided, and I hesitated, wondering which branch to follow. I went down on my knees and closely examined the sand at the junction, and after a careful scrutiny I was rewarded by distinguishing the imprint of an aboriginal's ungainly foot at the entrance to one of the offshoots, and I hastened along the course indicated, half stooping and sometimes kneeling, in my extreme anxiety to keep on the pad, which could only be traced with the utmost difficulty.

Gaily-plumaged birds now surrounded me, chattering noisily, and their presence imbued me with hope. There, indeed, must be water near, if I could only find it. My guiding path led me several hundred yards over a sand and gravel surface, through which a stray blade of wiry gra.s.s peeped here and there; but gradually the gra.s.ses grew closer, and their trampled appearance showed me that some one had only recently crossed that way. I was brought to a halt abruptly. The track had come to an end, and I stood at the edge of a small circular s.p.a.ce, in the centre of which a tall lime-tree stretched high above the stunted shrubs adjoining.

The significance of the sight was not altogether lost on me. I had usually found lime-trees and water in close proximity, but here no welcome spring gladdened my eyes, the circle was bare and parched-looking, except on the far-away side, where a rank clump of spinifex lined the gaunt stems of the mallee. I was bitterly disappointed.

"Looks like a circus-ring," I said to myself. "Probably used for holding grand corroborees." I turned away in disgust, and sat down in the sand, heedless alike of snakes, scorpions, or other crawling things. I was trying to consider what our immediate future must be, and my deductions were not cheering. Then I wondered where Phil had gone, and whether his quest had been more successful than mine; but I had heard no signal, therefore, I reasoned, he would be in a somewhat similar plight to myself, or perhaps he had already rejoined Mac and Stewart. I continued my musings in a calmly-resigned state of mind, but was suddenly aroused to alertness; the faint sound of rustling branches reached my ears. I got up speedily and looked all round, but nothing could be seen, and I blamed my too eager fancy for the alarm. Glancing at the sun, and taking a rough compa.s.s bearing, I prepared to return to my companions by a direct route through the bush. But again the peculiar sound attracted my attention. My fancy had not deceived me this time, and I surveyed the open s.p.a.ce closely, but nothing met my anxious gaze. Then, just as I was leaving the scene, the secret of the rustling branches was revealed, and I smiled grimly at my lack of perception. On the extreme edge of the clearing, half hidden by the spidery tendrils of the spa.r.s.e fringing bush, two natives lay sprawling on the sand, carefully piling a heap of twigs and spinifex gra.s.s, as if in preparation for a large fire. They lay with their backs towards me, pursuing their work with diligence, and as the colour of their bodies was almost similar to that of their surroundings, they were not easily observable, as I had already proved.

I noticed with satisfaction that their weapons were strewn in the gra.s.s some few yards out of their reach. These comprised two evil-looking waddies and a number of double-barbed spears--a formidable collection, truly. I examined my small S. and W. revolver with purposeful intent, and was on the point of rushing forward when a loud crackle came from another part of the ring. It seemed to me as if a stout branch had given way before some other, and more impetuous, watcher than myself. More natives might be near. I drew back into the shadow. The dusky pair were evidently wildly alarmed; they leapt to their feet and looked about with a startled expression, and then I recognised them as two of those who had so stubbornly contested our advance less than an hour back. They glared at each other terror-stricken, and pointed to the sun and the four corners of the earth in turn, accompanying their odd gesticulations by a stream of monosyllabic utterances. Apparently they were invoking various G.o.ds to their aid. In the midst of this pantomime a well-known figure burst into the enclosure from the still swaying scrub, and before the natives could escape he clutched them both in a tight embrace, and bore them back by almost superhuman effort.

"Phil!" I cried in amazement, jumping forward, and relieving him of one of his prisoners.

"We've got them!" he shouted with fierce emotion. "Keep still, you imp of darkness!"

His prisoner was still struggling violently, but soon realised the hopelessness of his efforts, and became quiescent as mine, who was rolling his eyes at me beseechingly.

Then we looked at each other, half in amus.e.m.e.nt half in surprise, and I noticed that his sole upper garment, his sand-stained shirt, was torn half across the shoulders.

"It caught in a branch," he explained, examining the rent ruefully, "and the noise I made in breaking loose nearly frightened the blacks away."

"But how did you get here?" I asked, for the tracks we had followed seemed to lead very widely apart.

"The trails intersect, but all find their way here," he answered.

"Anyhow, I've been watching these beggars building a monument, or something like it, for the last five minutes or so."

"I have had my eye on them also," I said, "but I didn't dream of your being so close. Hold my prisoner a moment," I added; "we'll see what they have been doing."

He promptly sat on my savage's neck, while I got up and kicked away the pile of branches. And lo! beneath them lay disclosed a gurgling spring of clearest water.

I could not describe the joy that was ours at that moment. Phil simply gasped with relief, and was not satisfied that his eyes did not deceive him until I lifted some of the sparkling liquid in the palm of my hand and let it trickle slowly through my fingers. The blacks remained pa.s.sive enough now, only groaning dismally at intervals. It was not difficult to understand why they had attempted to hide the spring. As Stewart had first surmised, they did not want our good company, and who could blame them? There was no need to rejoin our comrades now, so we discharged our revolvers as a signal to them to approach, and soon their familiar voices were heard far back raised in high debate. Mac was apparently holding forth on some pet doctrine with which Stewart doggedly refused to coincide. They had forced their thoughts far away from unpleasant topics; they knew how necessary it was to keep up a semblance of cheerfulness in trying times, and for the rest they trusted to my greater experience and Phil's superior knowledge.

The dwarfed trees broke before the advancing train. Poor old "Slavery"

was evidently leading the trail at a harder pace than usual.

"Come alang, 'Slavery'! Wad ye hae me pu' ye?" I heard Mac's voice raised in pathetic entreaty, as the swaying brush about a hundred yards back betokened their near approach. A few minutes more and "Slavery" and "Misery" staggered into the clearing, with Mac and Stewart pulling strenuously at their nose-ropes. The poor beasts' eyes were gleaming strangely, and their breath came in long wheezing groans.

"We can hang oot anither day yet," Mac shouted encouragingly immediately he saw us, trying bravely to look cheerful. Then when he noticed the natives on whom we were comfortably seated his astonishment was great.

"Guid heavens!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Stewart, we've got them efter a'."

But Stewart had caught sight of the glistening water, and with a fervent exclamation he buried his face in it and drank deeply. The camels now, feeling the tension relieved at their nose-ropes, sank upon their knees dead beat, and their heads drooped in the sand. Phil and I watched the scene in silence: it was as the last act of a drama, with the proverbial happy ending. Mac's rugged features fairly glowed when he saw the saving spring. He strode forward, and jerked his comrade's dripping face from the water. "Dinna mak' a beast o' yersel'," he said shortly. "Ower muckle's bad for ye, an' it's ma turn onywey." But they found room for two heads, and Phil said they reduced the level of the water by several inches.

The camels' wants now received attention. We allowed them to drink sparingly only, as they would quickly have drained the well, which refilled very slowly; but before the day was out they had absorbed their full supply, and were on a fair way towards the recovery of their wonted vigour. We camped by the spring, which we named "Warriors' Well," for two days, during which time we were engaged filling the great water-bags, and patching our tattered clothing so as to make a respectable appearance when we arrived at the nearest settlement, now less than a hundred miles distant. We fed our prisoners lavishly on tinned dog and flour while they remained in our charge, and they seemed to appreciate the diet hugely; yet, do what we might, they retained their sullen demeanour, and always howled plaintively when we approached near them. They made their escape on the morning of our departure, much to Mac's disgust. That worthy had conceived the idea of training them to act in the capacity of body-servants to Stewart and himself.

"They would hae been bonnie orniments tae tak' hame tae auld Scotland,"

he said regretfully.

"We'll be bonnie-like orniments oorsels, Mac," responded Stewart, surveying his dark-brown skin. "We'll be n.i.g.g.e.r enough like, I'm thinkin'."

We resumed our march with lighter hearts than we had had for many a day.

Our journey was practically completed, for our water supply would now last until we reached comparatively sure country. It is true we had not benefited by the expedition as I had hoped when starting, but we had gained a hard knowledge of the country, and of our own powers of endurance under extremely adverse circ.u.mstances, which would prove invaluable to us in the further journeyings I was at this stage planning. Phil had become indissolubly connected with my little party.

His worth had been demonstrated over and over again, and it was with pleasure I heard his decision, as we drew near settled lat.i.tudes, to throw in his lot with mine in my future travels.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE ONLY CREATURES THAT CAN EXIST IN THE N.W. INTERIOR.]

"Ye're a man o' pairts, Phil," was Mac's unhesitating verdict, and Stewart added, as a fitting tribute, "I'm o' the same opeenion."

Twelve days after leaving the providentially-found spring we arrived on the north-west coast of Australia, and there disposed of our faithful old camels to ready purchasers. Mac's eyes were moist when he said good-bye to the gentle "Slavery," and Stewart was loath to part with his old charge, "Misery." As they were led away I bestowed a benediction on the trusty servants of our dreary journey, and elicited a promise from their new possessor that he would treat them kindly as they deserved.

About a week later we sailed for Sydney.

PART III

PROMISCUOUS WANDERINGS

IN THE AUSTRALIAN BACK-BLOCKS

Australia has attracted much attention from all quarters during the last few years, but to most people the vast interior is still a _terra incognita_; and even on the streets of Sydney or Melbourne the appearance of a copper-skinned back-blocker excites as much comment as might a being from another planet. The man from "out west" cares little for the opinion of the townsman, however; and if his carriage be not so graceful as that of those whom he so unceremoniously jostles on the pavements of Bourke Street or the "Block," he gets over the ground more quickly; and if his speech be ungrammatical, it is at least expressive, and only used when absolutely necessary.

The back-blocks, generally, are the western division of Queensland and New South Wales; and although in some parts of the former State the hardy squatter has established himself well out into the great desert, the country inside the "run" of his domain is probably unprospected, and outside entirely unexplored. In this almost boundless tract of country, where the bush merges into the silent desert, the back-blocker has his home, and, indifferent to the flight of time and the struggle and worries attending existence in the outside world, he leads a life of untrammelled independence.

Only occasionally does a stranger come among these sons of freedom; and if he once sees "where the pelican builds its nest," or experiences the strange fascination of the desert camp-fire circle, he will not soon leave them. The new-comer may be fresh from the old home-land, an outcast from continental Europe, or a wanderer from the crowded cities on the Australian coast-line; but in all cases he is welcomed, and soon he speaks in the same quaint dialect, forgets his past, and becomes a child of fortune.

"But how do you manage to exist? This place would not support a rabbit,"

I said to an a.s.sembly of those men one evening in Queensland. I had struck their camp while endeavouring with a companion to cycle from Spencer Gulf to the Gulf of Carpentaria; and our surprise may be imagined when, hundreds of miles from the nearest settlement, as we thought, their camp-fire suddenly appeared in front of us. There were about twelve men in the party, and, as it was just sundown, we naturally camped beside them, and, prompted by the somewhat elaborate preparations being made for supper, I had put my question.