The danger, as far as they could make out from Shanter's broken English, lay across the little river; but instead of being in the visible sloping plain, it was away beyond the trees to their right, and hidden by the broken mountainous range, and after glancing at the priming of his double gun, the captain turned to his right.

"Here, Shanter!" he said in a low whisper. "Come with me. Come along-- show black fellow."

There was no response for a moment or two, and then Rifle spoke.

"He isn't here, father."

"Not there?"

"No; he was lying down here just now, but while I was watching the trees over there, he must have crept away."

"Crept away? But I want him to go with me to scout. Who saw him go?"

There was no reply, and feeling staggered by the ease with which these people could elude observation, and applying it to the enemies' advance, the captain looked sharply round for danger, half expecting at any moment to see a dim-looking black form emerge from behind a bush, or others rapidly darting from tree to tree, so as to get within throwing distance with their spears.

"Well," he said, "I must go alone. Keep a sharp look-out, boys."

"What are you going to do, father?" said Norman.

"Scout," said the captain, laconically.

"No; let me go: I can run fast. I'll be very careful and shelter myself behind trees. You can't leave here."

"He's quite right Ned," said Uncle Jack.

"I can run faster than Norman, uncle," cried Tim eagerly. "Let me go."

"No, me, father," cried Rifle, excitedly.

"Silence in the ranks!" cried the captain sternly. Then, after a moment or two's pause, he said firmly, "Private Norman will go as far as the ridge yonder, scouting. He will go cautiously, and keep out of sight of the enemy, and as soon as he has made out whether they are advancing and the direction they will take, he will return."

"Yes, father."

"Silence!--Now go.--Stop!"

The captain caught the boy by the arm, as he was creeping near the box, and as all followed the direction in which the captain was gazing, they saw a black figure darting from tree to tree some eighty or ninety yards away and with his back to them.

"That's Shanter," whispered Norman.

"Yes: follow him, and try and keep him in sight. If he joins the enemy come back at once. There, you need not creep over the s.p.a.ce between us and the trees; there can be no enemy there. Quick! How soon the darkness is coming on!"

Norman stepped on to the great chest, leaped down, and ran off, as a low piteous sigh--almost a sob--was heard from behind; but though it had an echo in the captain's breast, he crouched there firm as a rock, and steeling himself against tender emotions, for the sake of all whom he had brought into peril and whom it was his duty to protect.

There before him was his eldest son, carrying his gun at the trail, and running swiftly in the direction of the black, who from running boldly from tree to tree was now seen to be growing very cautious, and suddenly to drop down and disappear.

The captain drew a long deep breath.

"We may trust him," he said softly; "he is evidently our friend. Now for Norman's news."

Yet, though he was at rest on this point, he was uneasy about an attack on their right flank or rear, but that could not come from the rear, he knew, without some panic on the part of the cattle; while he was hopeful about the right flank, for the ground was precipitous in the extreme, and from what they had seen so far, it was hardly possible for any one to approach.

But though Shanter had dropped quite out of sight of those behind the little barricade, he was still visible to Norman, who ran on and was getting near to where the black was creeping from bush to bush on all fours, looking in the dim evening light like a black dog carrying his master's stick, for Norman in one glimpse saw that he was drawing his spear as he crawled, his boomerang was stuck behind him in his waistband, and his nulla-nulla was across his mouth tightly held by his teeth.

When about some twenty yards away, and approaching in perfect silence as he thought, the black looked sharply round, rose to his knees, and signed to the boy to go down on all fours.

Norman obeyed, and Shanter waited till he had crawled up. Then making a gesture that could only mean, "Be silent and cautious," he crawled on, with the boy following him, till, after what seemed quite a long painful piece of toil, they reached the foot of a steep rocky slope whose tree-fringed summit was some fifty feet above their heads.

Shanter pointed to the top, and began to climb, mounting easily for some distance, and then stopping by a small tree, whose gnarled roots were fixed in the crevices of the rock. Here he held on, and reached down with his spear, by whose help Norman soon climbed to his side, where he paused to sling his gun by its strap, so as to leave his bands at liberty.

The rest of the ascent was made with more ease; and when Shanter reached the top, he raised his eyes above the level with the greatest caution, and then seemed to Norman to crawl over like some huge black slug and disappear.

The boy prepared to follow, when Shanter's head reappeared over the sharp ridge and his arm was stretched down with the spear, so that the final climb was fairly easy, though it would have been almost impossible without.

As soon as Norman was lying on the top, he found that the other side was a gentle descent away to what appeared to be a wide valley between mountains, but everything was so rapidly growing dim that the distant objects were nearly obscured by the transparent gloom. But nearer at hand there was something visible which made the boy's heart begin to beat heavily. For as Shanter drew him on all fours cautiously among the bushes to where there was an opening, there, far down the slope, but so near that had they spoken their words would have been heard, was a great body rising, which directly after resolved itself into smoke; and before many minutes had been spent in watching, there was a bright flash of flame which had the effect of making all around suddenly seem dark, while between them and the bright blaze a number of black figures could be seen moving to and fro, and evidently heaping brushwood upon the fire they had just lit.

Norman Bedford, as he lay there among the bushes, felt, at the sight of the blacks, as if boyhood had suddenly dropped away with all its joyous sport and fun, to leave him a thoughtful man in a terrible emergency; that he was bound to act, and that perhaps the lives of all who were dear to him depended upon his action and control of the thoughtless savage at his side.

"Poor father!" he said to himself, as his courage failed and a cold perspiration broke out all over him; "you have done wrong. You ought not to have brought out mamma and the girls till we had come and proved the place. It is too horrible."

That was only a momentary weakness, though, and he nerved himself now to act, trying to come to the conclusion which it would be best to do--stop and watch, sending Shanter back with a message, or leave the black to watch while he ran with the news.

The position was horrible. Setting aside his own danger up there on the ridge, where the slightest movement might be heard by the sharp-eared blacks, there they were, evidently encamping for the night with only this ridge dividing them from the spot selected for the new home.

What should he do?

Before he could decide, as he lay there watching, with dilated eyes, the black figures pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing the increasing blaze, Shanter placed his lips close to his ear.

"You pidney?" (understand), he whispered. "They all black fellow."

"Yes. Go and tell them at the camp," Norman whispered back.

In an instant the black's hand was over his lips, and his head was pressed down amongst the gra.s.s, while he felt the black's chest across his shoulders. He was so taken by surprise that he lay perfectly still, feeling that after all his father was right, and Shanter was treacherous; but his thoughts took another direction as quickly as the first had come, for Shanter's lips were again at his ear.

"Black fellow come along fetch wood."

In effect quite unnoticed, three or four of the men had been approaching where they lay, and now seemed to start up suddenly from some bushes twenty feet below them.

Retreat was impossible. The precipice was close behind, and to get away by there meant slow careful lowering of themselves down, and this was impossible without making some noise, which must be heard, so that all that could be done was to lie close and wait with weapons ready, in case they were discovered--a fate which was apparently certain.

Norman laid his hand upon the lock of his gun, ready to raise it and fire if they were found, and a slight rustle told him that Shanter had taken a fresh grip of his club.

That was all, and they lay waiting, listening to the rustling noise made by the black fellows as they pushed their way through the scrub, still coming nearer and nearer.

They were agonising moments, and again Norman felt that his father's doubts might be correct, for the enemy approaching were evidently not gathering wood, but coming up there for some special purpose. Was it, after all, to surprise the camp, and was Shanter holding him down to be made a prisoner or for death?

He was ready to heave himself up and make a brave struggle for life as he shouted out a warning to those in camp, and as the rustling noise grew nearer his heart seemed to beat more heavily. But his common sense told him directly that he must be wrong, and that, too, just as he could hear the mental agony no longer, for when the rustling was quite near, the men began jabbering quite loudly to each other, and directly after one tripped in the darkness and fell forward on the bushes, the others laughing loudly at his mishap.

That settled one thing: they could not evidently be going to surprise the camp, or they would have been cautious, and a warm sensation of joy even in the midst of his peril ran through the boy's breast.