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The Secret of the Australian Desert
by
Ernest Favenc
PGA cover based on a detail from a public-domain wallpaper
Published by Blackie and Sons, London, 1895
This e-book edition: Project Gutenberg Australia
"The Secret of the Australian Desert
Blackie and Sons, London, 1895
"The Secret of the Australian Desert
Blackie and Sons, London, 1895
ABOUT THIS BOOK.
Initially written for The Queenslander as
"The Burning Mountain of the Interior," this Australian tale of
adventure sees a party of explorers travel into the desert in
search of gold, some alleged hot springs, and a volcano. The
group also hopes to discover the fate of the Ludwig Leichhardt
expedition. After some travail, they discover an unknown race
located in a fine-looking country commanding vast gold reserves.
The members of this race are distinct from the Aborigines around
them, and constitute the degraded remnants of an ancient
civilisation once occupying the Australian interior. By the end
of the novel, this unknown race is destroyed by the erupting
volcano, and the explorers are left to inherit their wealth of
gold.
— Melissa Belanta,
"Fabulating the Australian Desert: Australia's Lost Race Romances, 1890-1908",
Philament, an Online Journal of the Arts and Culture, Sep 2015
PREFACE.
ALTHOUGH the interior of the continent of Australia is
singularly deficient in the more picturesque elements of romance,
it was, for nearly two-thirds of a century, a most attractive
lure to men of adventurous character.
Oxley, Sturt, Mitchell, Kennedy, and Stuart have left
deathless names on the roll of Australian explorers, but the
unknown fate of Ludwig Leichhardt has always centred most of the
romance of story about his memory.
In April, 1848, he left Macpherson's Station, Cogoon River,
situated in the southern portion of what is now the colony of
Queensland, with the intention of endeavouring to reach Perth, on
the west coast, the capital of Western Australia, by traversing,
if possible, the then unknown heart of the continent.
From that day to this, no clue to the disappearance of the
whole party has ever been discovered. Several expeditions have
been fruitlessly despatched in search of the missing men; and
many false reports as to the finding of relics of the party have
been brought in at various times. Even the rapid advance of
settlement, and the comparatively full knowledge now possessed of
the interior, have thrown no light on the subject. This, the
great mystery of Australian exploration, I have taken for the
groundwork of my story.
The view I have adopted of the probable course pursued by
Leichhardt and his party, is the one that commends itself to the
majority of experienced bush-men. Turned back by the dry country
west of the Diamantina River, the explorer probably followed that
river up, and crossed the main watershed on to the head of some
river running north into the Gulf of Carpentaria; in fact, the
same track afterwards followed by the ill-fated Burke and Wills.
Leichhardt could then easily reach the route he pursued on his
first expedition to Port Essington, the only successful one he
made, and on which his reputation is based. This course would
then lead him around the foot of the Gulf to the Roper River,
where he would leave his old route, follow the Roper, or a
tributary, to its head, and strike south-west, into the
scantily-watered waste of the interior. This view is borne out by
the fact that trees, marked with what appears to be a letter L,
have been found on or near this supposititious line of travel;
and A. C. Gregory, the leader of one of the search expeditions,
discovered the framework of a small hut, seemingly built by white
men, on a creek he called the Elsie, a tributary of the Roper
River.
Another unexplained riddle I have introduced points to the
possible early occupation of Australia by an ancient and partly
civilized race. In 1838, Lieutenant, now Sir George Grey, when on
an expedition in north-west Australia, discovered some remarkable
paintings in a cave on the Glenelg River, evidently not the work
of the present inhabitants. He describes the principal one
as—"The figure of a man, ten feet six inches in height,
clothed from the chin downwards in a red garment which reached to
the wrists and ankles." The head of this figure was encircled by
a halo or turban, and on it strange characters were inscribed,
like a written name. Grey says—"I was certainly surprised
at the moment I first saw this gigantic head and upper part of a
body bending over and staring grimly down on me ". Although the
dress and accessories so plainly prove that these paintings were
not the work of the Australian aborigines, the locality, strange
to say, has not been again investigated. I have taken the liberty
of transplanting these cave paintings from the north-west coast
to the interior, and also of changing the names of some of the
members of Leichhardt's party. The descriptions of the physical
features of the country are faithful records from personal
experience.
Ernest Favenc, Sydney, N.S.W., September, 1894.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
●I. Sand and Scrub
●II. A Strange Road
●III. A Mysterious Procession
●IV. The Devil's Tracks
●V. A Lifeless Swamp
●VI. The Burning Mountain at Last
●VII. Cannibals
●VIII. The Fight in the Cave
●IX. An Exciting Discovery
●X. The Missing Expedition
●XI. Stuart's Journal
●XII. Charlie's Adventure
●XIII. The Trip South
●XIV. In the Spinifex Desert
●XV. The Fate of Columbus
●XVI. The Slaughter Chamber
●XVII. A Hopeless Situation
●XVIII. The Ancient Australians
●XIX. Charlie Falls Sick
●XX. A Further Discovery
●XXI. The Final Departure
●XXII. The Gold Reef Discovered
●XXIII. A Solitary Camp
●XIV. More Dry Creeks
●XXV. The Last of the Cannibals
●XXVI. A False Alarm
●XXVII. Home Again
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
●Illustration 1.
Frontispiece. The Last of the Bloodthirsty Warlattas.
●Illustration 2.
Route Map.
●Illustration 3.
They find the Devil's track on the rock-plain.
●Illustration 4.
The Death of Dr. Leichhardt in the Desert.
●Illustration 5.
Morton and his party examine the slaughter-chamber.
Frontispiece. The Last of the Bloodthirsty Warlattas.
CHAPTER I.
The Start for the Burning Mountain—Sand and Scrub.
Route Map.
IT is the beginning of November—November in the Southern
hemisphere, not the raw, foggy month of the North—November
in Central Australia, where rises hot and red in a breathless
morn, and sinks at night in a heated haze, hovering around the
level horizon.
It has been a day to doze in the shade if possible, and dream
of icebergs. The short twilight is rapidly fading into the
darkness of a moonless night. Scarcely darkness, however, for the
brilliant constellations of the south and the radiant evening
star in the west lend their rays to light up the scene. Under the
verandah of a rough hut—mud walls with galvanized iron
roof,—three men are sitting indolently smoking the evening
pipe that usually follows the last meal of the day. It is far up
in the north of South Australia, in fact almost on the boundary
line that divides that colony from its dependency, known as the
Northern Territory. The hut is the principal building on a
cattle-station, where, as on most other outside stations, the
improvements are of a very primitive kind. The three occupants of
the verandah are—the owner of the station; a young relation
staying with him to gain that much-talked-of commodity,﹃colonial
experience;﹄and a friend, a squatter from a neighbouring
run.
"Well," says Morton, the owner, a sun-tanned, wiry little
fellow, addressing his neighbour, "what do you say, Brown, to
having a look for the burning mountain?"
"Umph!" grunts Brown, who differs considerably in size, owning
as he does some six feet two inches of humanity; "isn't this
weather hot enough for you without looking for burning
mountains?"
"We've nothing much to do for two or three months, and I've
made up my mind to see if there's any truth in this yarn the
niggers have."
"I never could make head or tail of it," said Brown.
"Nor I," returned Morton; "but although everybody puts it down
as a burning mountain, I am not of that opinion. I have
questioned them very patiently, and can only find out that there
is a big fire always burning in the same place, but when I ask
about a mountain, they say no. None of them have ever been there;
they have only heard of it from others, and they seem almost
frightened to speak of it."
"They use much the same word for rocks, stones, and
mountains."
"Yes; and I think it is rocks that they mean."
"What has your boy, Billy Button, to say about it?"
"Billy comes from a tribe nearly a hundred miles from here. He
has heard the yarn, but has never seen any blacks who have been
there."
"Let's see. It is supposed to lie rather north of west from
here. How far have you been in that direction, Morton?"
"Some fifty miles. It's all scrub and sand. The niggers,
however, get across in some seasons of the year, and I think this
is the time; there have been plenty of thunder-storms that way
lately."
"Well, I'll make one; a little scorching more or less does not
matter much up here. You ought to have kept some of the camels
back the last time the team was up here."
"Didn't think of it. But I fancy horses will be handier, we
have a thunder-storm nearly every day."
"And shall have until we start," replied Brown, "then you see
they will knock off at once. How many of us will there be?"
"The pair of us, and—what do you say, Charlie? Are you
anxious to distinguish yourself?"
"I certainly hope you won't leave me behind," returned his
young cousin, in an injured tone.
"All right. Billy Button will make four, and that will be
enough. To-morrow we'll have all the horses in and get ready for
a start the next day."
"How long shall we be away?" asked Charlie, who bore upon his
shoulders the onerous duties of storekeeper.
"Can't say. What do you think, Brown? Six weeks? Two
months?"
"We surely ought to find something in that time, if it's only
the remains of Leichhardt."
"Make up three months' rations for four, Charlie; I hate to
run short. Lucky we killed the other day, the beef will be just
right for carrying."
On an outside cattle-station, where so much camping-out has to
be constantly done, the preparations for such a trip do not take
long, and the morning of the second day found everything in
readiness. Brown had sent over to his place for his own horses,
and they started with fourteen in all. Two apiece for riding,
four packed with rations, and two with canvas water-hags and the
necessary blankets, tent, etc. At the last moment the blacks
about the station tried to dissuade Billy from going by telling
him horrible tales of the fate surely awaiting him at the dreaded
burning mountain, but Billy stoutly refused to be frightened, and
scorned to remain, although given the option by Morton.
The first thirty miles of the journey was over familiar
country, and they camped that night at a small water-hole lately
filled by a thunderstorm. Beyond them now stretched a waste of
sand ridges and mulga scrub, into which Morton had once
penetrated for some twenty miles. With full water-bags, and a
determination not to be beaten back without a struggle, our
adventurers commenced the second day's journey with light
hearts.
During the whole of the day the sombre scrub and heavy sand
continued, without break or change in their depressing monotony.
Scarcely the note of a bird or insect broke the silence, as they
toiled on without much heart for conversation. Towards evening a
piece of good fortune befell them. On a small flat between two
sand ridges they crossed a patch of short green grass, the result
of a recent thunder-storm. No water could be found, the hot
summer sun having evaporated all that had been caught in the
shallow clay pans. The green grass was, however, a boon to the
horses, who did not feel the want of water so much on the soft
young feed.
Next morning they were saddled and packed up, ready to start
by sunrise. About ten o'clock they ascended a sand ridge somewhat
higher than those they had formerly crossed, and from its crest
they were able to look around on the sea of scrub that surrounded
them. Not far off, in the direction in which they were going,
Morton drew the attention of his companions to a thin column of
smoke.
"Burning mountain already?" queried Brown.
"Niggers travelling and hunting," replied Morton. "The scrub
looks thinner there. They won't be far from camp at this time in
the morning; but I expect the water is only a soak-hole, of no
use to us."
In less than an hour they were riding over patches of
still-burning grass, thinly scattered through a forest of blood
wood-trees; but neither the sharp eyes of Morton or Billy could
detect a sign of the hunters. After searching for some time the
boy found the tracks of a blackfellow, two gins[*], and some
pickaninnies[*] coming from the westward, and these they followed
back for about a mile to a freshly-abandoned camp. It was
situated on a fairly open piece of country, partly covered with
coarse drift sand. Not far from the camp was a ragged old shell
of a gum-tree, covered with tomahawk marks. Billy, who had at
once gone to this tree, gave a low whistle, and the others came
up. He pointed to a small hole near the butt, and dismounting put
his arm down and then peered into it.
[* Women. * Children].
"Water long way down," he said. "Gone bung, mine think it." By
which they understood that the supply had dried up. After some
searching about, a long sapling was procured and thrust down. The
hole was about ten feet deep, and the end of the sapling brought
up some wet mud.
"How did the blacks get down for the water, Billy?" asked
Brown.
"Pickaninny go down," replied the boy, pointing to a tiny
foothold in the side of the hole.
"Well, boys," said Morton, who had been poking the sapling
down vigorously and examining the point, "I don't see much to be
got out of this. Evidently there's been one little family living
on this hole, and now they've been dried out. It would take us
two hours to open up this hole, and then we should probably get
nothing for our pains."
"Water gone bung," repeated Billy.
"What do you say to following this flat? It's going partly in
our direction, and may lead to something."
No one having anything better to suggest they resumed their
journey once more, until a mid-day halt was made.
"Well, respected leader," remarked Brown, after the meal was
finished and pipes were lit, "I'm afraid our horses will look
mighty dicky to-morrow morning unless we get them a drink
to-night."
Morton glanced lazily at them, where they stood grouped under
whatever scanty shade they could obtain.
"They are beginning to look tucked up," he replied, "but we'll
pull up something before dark."
"I sincerely hope so," said Brown as he stood up. "Go ahead
once more, Captain Cook."
About four o'clock the open flat which they had followed grew
narrower, until at last the scrub closed in entirely and they
found themselves confronted by a thicker growth than any they had
yet met with. The mulga having given place to a species of
mallee.
Morton, who was leading, stopped.
"We must push through," he said. "It may be only a belt, and
if we start to follow it round we shall be all night in it."
"Bight," replied Brown. "I'll take a turn ahead if you like. I
prefer being first in a scrub."
Morton laughed and dropped behind, and for about an hour very
slow progress was made, the scrub getting worse and worse. The
sun was sinking low, and the cheerful prospect of a night in the
scrub was before them, when, to the relief of all, Brown suddenly
called out: "Hurrah! we're out of it!"
CHAPTER II.
A Native Cemetery—Billy's
Explanation—Stopped Once More by Dense
Scrub—Discovery of a Strange Road.
AS the party emerged, one after another, from the scrub, their
eyes were delighted by a prospect of open-downs country before
them, dotted here and there with clumps of gidea-trees. But,
better than all, there was plainly to be seen, scarcely a short
mile away, a line of gum-trees, creek timber, whilst the presence
of water was plainly attested by flights of white corellas
hovering about.
It was not long before the whole party were comfortably
encamped beside a good-sized water-hole, and the horses
luxuriating on succulent Mitchell and blue grass.
Brown, with his pipe as usual under full blast, was enjoying
the scene, when Billy, who had been wandering around the camp,
came up and remarked:
"No sleep here."
"What's the matter?" asked Brown.
Billy pointed to a patch of scrub a short distance off, and
beckoned to him to follow.
Brown noticed that the tops of the trees looked particularly
thick and dense, but it was not until he was quite close that he
saw the reason. Nearly every tree of any size bore a rude
scaffolding, and on the top of every scaffold lay either a
bleached skeleton or a dried mummy-like corpse. The ground, too,
was covered with bones and skulls that had fallen through. Brown
called the others, and they gazed with awe at this strange
sepulchre.
"I've often seen the bodies put in trees, but never in such
numbers as this. Why, there must be hundreds here!" said
Morton.
"I never saw more than two together at the outside," returned
Brown. "Strange," he went on, after a closer inspection; "all the
bodies who have any dried skin remaining on their foreheads have
a red smudge there!"
"No sleep here; by and by that fellow get up, walk about,"
insisted Billy.
This remark helped to dispel the gloom caused by the sight of
so many dead bodies, and Billy had to undergo a good deal of
chaff. It was evident, however, that his fright was genuine,
although, like most natives, the reason of it could not be drawn
from him.
No ghostly visitants came near the camp that night, and all
slept the sleep of tired men.
Charlie, waking up before daylight and finding Billy in the
sound stupor common to the aborigines at that hour, conceived a
wicked idea. Brown dabbled a little in sketching, and Charlie,
after hunting up the colour-box in one of the pack-bags,
proceeded to paint Billy's forehead red, after the manner of the
mummies in the tree-tops.
"Hallo, Billy!" said Morton, when they were all about and the
quart-pots for breakfast merrily boiling. "What's up with your
head?"
Billy grinned, not understanding what was meant.
"Look here," said Brown, taking a hand-glass out of the pack
and holding it in front of his face. Billy looked, and turned as
white as it was possible for a blackfellow to do.
"Him bin come up!" he yelled, starting up and pointing to the
scrub where the bodies were. Then looked apprehensively around,
as though he expected to see some belated corpse still walking
about.
"Tell him you did it, Charlie," said Morton. "I'm afraid
you've funked him, and if so he'll bolt. Never play tricks on a
blackfellow."
Charlie at once complied, and after Billy had been induced to
wash the paint off and had inspected the colour-box, he was
somewhat comforted; but he evidently still thought that the
subject was not a fit one to joke about.
Struck by Billy's evident panic, Morton again attempted to
extract the reason from him, and after some trouble learned that
he had heard of the men with a red smear on the forehead, who
were supposed to be in some way connected with the burning
mountain. That, during the daytime, they pretended to be dead,
but at night got up and walked about.
"This looks as though we were on the right track," said Morton
to Brown.
"Hum! Nice sort of company you are introducing us to.
However—Death or glory! Let's saddle up and make a
start."
In a short time the friendly water-hole and the ghastly scrub
beside it were left behind, but the patch of open country
unfortunately proved to be of very limited extent in the
direction they were going, and in a short time they found
themselves again entangled in the dense scrub, which was now
becoming such a formidable obstacle to their progress. Towards
the middle of the day, the sanguine Morton began to despair of
pushing on, even at the slow rate at which they were going, and
to meditate a return to their last night's camp and a fresh start
in a new direction. At noon they were compelled to halt; the
desert hedge-wood had now made its appearance, and the barrier
presented by it was almost impenetrable.
They stopped for a hasty meal, and when it was finished,
Morton said to Brown:
"What do you say, old man? Will you go north for a bit, and I
will go south, and we'll see if there is anything like a gap in
this confounded scrub?"
"My dear old boy I am entirely at your disposal. But allow me
to suggest that we shall get along infinitely better on
foot."
"I think so too. Charlie, you and Billy stop here with the
horses until we come back."
It was a good two hours before the cracking of branches and
muttered bad language, coming from the south, announced to
Charlie and Billy the return of Morton.
"How did you get on?" was the query.
"Get on!" returned Morton savagely; "I did not get on at all.
I don't believe I got half a mile from here. It's the worst
old-man scrub I was ever in in my life; I've barked my hands
nicely. If old Brown did not get on any better than I did, we
shall have to go and chop him out with an axe."
Almost as he spoke, Billy held up his hand and said:
"Mitter Brown come up."
In a few minutes his tall form emerged from the thicket.
"I beg to report, sir," he said to Morton with mock solemnity,
"that the main road to somewhere is about three-quarters of a
mile to the northward."
"What on earth do you mean, old man?"
"Just what I say. After fighting my way through some of the
most awful scrub I ever met with, I came to a fine clear
road—gas-lamps, milestones, and probably bridges and
public-houses."
"Well, we'd better go there at once. I wonder you came back
without patronizing one of the pubs."
"I did not exactly see all that I have stated, but I have no
doubt whatever of their existence," returned Brown. "Joking
apart, there really is a cleared track out there, but we'll have
to cut a road to get the horses there."
"This bangs everything into a dust-heap. But it's getting late
and we had better shape. Charlie, you and Billy go ahead with the
tomahawks, and we will dodge the horses along after you."
It took time, labour, and patience to make the distance
indicated by Brown; but about an hour before sundown, to the
astonishment of three of them, they stood upon what was evidently
a cleared track, about the width of an ordinary bridle-track.
Morton examined the stumps, and pointed out that the work had
been done by stone tomahawks. Billy looked for tracks, but none
had been made since the rain from the last thunder-storm had
fallen.
"It's running westward. I suppose it's all right to
follow it, but this sort of thing beats my experience.
What say you, Brown?" asked Morton.
"Forward, gentlemen, while the light lasts," was the reply of
that individual.
Their progress was now easy, for the track had been most
carefully cleared, and the horses, all old stagers, marched along
in single file without any trouble. Darkness, however, fell, and
the scrub was still on either hand of them unchanged.
"Morton," said Brown, breaking the silence, "I've got an
idea."
"Stick to it hard, old man; it's the first I ever knew you to
possess."
"Don't try to be too funny. Well, I shouldn't be in the least
surprised to meet a first-class funeral coming along at any
moment."
"You're worse than Billy."
"Billy was partly right. Those old mummies, skeletons, etc.,
we saw back there, have all been carted along this road
from—wherever we're going to. That is the reason it is so
carefully cleared."
"Jove! your right. And we might have come along this road all
the way if we had kept our eyes open, instead of tearing
ourselves to pieces in the scrub, travelling parallel with
it."
"That view of the question did not occur to me, but it's a
perfectly feasible one."
"Rather a surprise for the mourners if we blunder on to them
in the dark to-night."
"Just what we want to avoid. There's something ahead no white
man has yet heard of, and if we can sneak along without our
presence being suspected, so much the better."
"What do you propose? We can't budge a step off the track just
now, and if unluckily there happens to be a funeral ceremony on
tonight, there's bound to be a collision."
"We must go on until we come to a piece of open country, and
then pull off and wait for daylight."
"All serene. But our tracks will tell tales."
"We can't help that, unfortunately."
The conversation had been carried on without halting, and the
march now continued in silence, until a low whistle from Morton
gave the signal to pull up.
CHAPTER III.
A Midnight Halt—A Mysterious Procession—Sudden
Dispersion and Flight—Open Country Once More and Another
Mystery Ahead.
AS well as could be made out in the gloom cast by the scrub,
they had reached a small break in it, and Morton wheeling off,
the others followed, and the party dismounted, as the leader
judged, some two hundred yards from the track. Morton gave his
orders in low tones, for the atmosphere of awe and mystery
affected everybody. There was no grass, so the horses were simply
relieved of their packs and tied to trees; then the men stretched
themselves on their blankets without making a fire, and, save for
the occasional stamp and snort of a horse, the scrub was as
silent as before the white men roused the echoes. Not for
long.
It seemed to Brown that he had scarcely closed his eyes when
the camp was aroused by a distant melancholy cry. No one spoke;
all were too intently engaged in listening. The cry sounded
again, louder, nearer, and in a chorus of many voices.
"What bad luck," whispered Morton to his friend. "One day
sooner or later and we would have been right."
Nearer and nearer came the plaintive wailing, and the gleam of
firesticks was visible. It was a most uncomfortable sensation
that our adventurers experienced, lying prone and motionless in
the gloomy scrub listening to this weird procession passing
through the desert land. They were well armed, and confident
against any number of aborigines, but the sights they had
encountered were so much out of the ordinary bush routine as to
make even such old hands as Brown and Morton feel slightly
nervous. Charlie was naturally much excited, while Billy was
"larding the lean earth" with the perspiration of abject,
superstitious fear.
The party of natives were now opposite to them, and not very
far away, and by the number of firesticks they judged that there
must be a good many in the company. Every now and then the wild
wail or chant kept breaking out, and the shuffling noise of their
bare feet was distinctly audible during the silent intervals.
They had almost passed the hidden watchers, when the
procession was interrupted by a sudden and discordant shout from
the leaders. A babble of voices followed, the firesticks gathered
together for a moment, and were then dashed on the ground and
extinguished. Next came the noise of feet flying back along the
track; these died rapidly away in the distance, and the scrub was
as silent as before.
"Saw our tracks!" said Brown with a disgusted sigh, breaking
the spell that held them all quiet.
"How could they see our tracks in the dark?" asked
Charlie.
"They could both feel and smell them," returned Morton.﹃The
ground is caked hard from the last thunder-storm, and our horses
walking one after the other have cut it up soft. Of course, with
their bare feet they could tell the difference at once. The
scent, too, would be as plain as possible at this time in the
morning, even to one of us. What's the time, Brown?﹄Brown struck
a match.
"Three. It will be breaking day soon after five. Let's wait
till then."
"Why?" demanded Morton. "We might as well get along while it's
cool. There's the remains of a moon just rising."
"Why? Because you think with me that it was a funeral party.
Now, I should like to know what they did with the body; they
never carried it away with them at that pace."
"Never thought of that," returned Morton. "Yes, we might pick
up some information by waiting until daylight and seeing what
they threw away. Make a fire, and we'll have breakfast."
The time soon passed in discussing the strange scene just
witnessed and the probable result of their trip. Morton reminded
Brown of the freemasons McDowall Stuart asserted he met with
amongst the aborigines in the interior, and Charlie, who had not
heard the former conversation, was enlightened as to the probable
meaning of what had just passed.
As soon as daylight was strong enough the investigation
commenced. Right on the track where it had been hastily dropped
lay the dead body of a man. A tall old man, fastened on to a rude
litter of saplings. The forehead was smeared with red pigment,
and on the dusky breast was a triangle inscribed in white.
Brown gave a low whistle.
"That's a thing I never saw blacks draw before," he said to
Morton.
"Nor I. He's a fine-looking old boy. What a long white beard
he has got for a nigger!"
The corpse was fastened to the litter with strips of curragong
bark; and they were turning away after noticing these details,
when Brown suggested that they had better move it off the
track.
"You know," he explained, "we might come bustling back here in
a bigger hurry than those fellows were, and tumble over the old
gentleman in the dark."
The litter and its burden were shifted a few paces in the
scrub, and, full of expectation, the party resumed their
interrupted journey.
The break where they had halted was the beginning of the
outskirts of the scrub; the country soon became more open, and as
it did so the track they were following grew less marked. It was
still, however, quite plain enough for any bushman to follow
easily. At noon, to the great relief of the horses, they came to
a small pool of rain-water, and some fairly good grass. Here they
turned out for a long spell.
"Question is," said Brown, when the usual discussion
commenced, "Where did those nigs camp? No sign of them here. By
the way, Billy, did you notice any gins' tracks amongst
them?"
"No," returned the boy. "Altogether black-fellow."
"Must be more water ahead; and I hope so, for this won't last
another week, and we want something permanent to fall back on.
Now, I'm going aloft on the look-out," said Morton.
Charlie watched him curiously as he slung the field-glass over
his shoulder, and taking a tomahawk proceeded to an exceptionally
tall blood-wood-tree near the camp. At the foot he took off his
boots, and cutting niches in the trunk, as a blackfellow does
when climbing, he was soon up amongst the topmost branches.
Ensconcing himself firmly, he took a comprehensive sweep around
with the glasses, and then directed his attention to the
westward.
"Below there!" he shouted, after a lengthened scrutiny.
"Hi, hi, sir!" returned Charlie.
"Brown! Will your long legs bring you up here safely?"
"Well, I'll try." And in a short time Brown was up alongside
his friend, and a very earnest discussion followed, extremely
tantalizing to Charlie down below. After taking a compass-bearing
to some distant object they descended; and Charlie, who was
already barefooted, immediately attempted the ascent,
slipping ignominiously down after getting up two or
three steps, to the intense delight of Billy. With the black
boy's assistance, however, and much sarcastic advice from his
cousin and Brown, he managed to reach the first branches, and
thence easily gained the perch Morton had occupied on the
top.
What did he see when he got there?
To the westward the forest soon came to an abrupt stop, and
beyond stretched a great gray plain, bounded by something that
Charlie could not make out, and which had evidently puzzled Brown
and Morton. It was not water, although it looked something like
it; it was a broad sheet of pale blue, glistening in places under
the sun's rays, and beyond, above a quivering haze, was a dark
object like a distant ridge.
"What name, Billy?" said Charlie to the black boy, who had
climbed up after him. "Water?"
"Bal," said Billy decidedly.﹃Water sit down here,
close up,﹄he added, pointing to the edge of the forest.
"What name, then?" repeated Charlie.
"Mine think it mud, where water bin go bung," was the
blackfellow's opinion, and with this they both descended.
"Well, Charlie, what do you make of it?" asked Morton,
"Billy thinks it's mud where the water has dried up," returned
Charlie, as he had no opinion of his own to offer.
"And Billy's right, I believe. It must be the bed of a dry
salt lake; but we'll get along to the edge of the timber and
camp."
On the margin of the plain they came to some fine lagoons,
with good grass for the horses, but nothing could be seen of the
mysterious object ahead, excepting from the top of a tree.
On the banks of the lagoons they found abundant traces of the
natives, and it was evidently a main camping-place on their way
to and from their burial-place. Many of the trees were marked
with triangles, a sign which considerably puzzled the elder
travellers. The open country, the ample supply of water, and the
relief from the gloomy surroundings of the scrub had restored the
cheerful tone of the party, and imparted a sense of security to
them.
But neither Brown nor Morton were men to neglect due
precautions, now that their presence was known to the probably
hostile inhabitants. So a watch was kept all night by the three
whites in turn, Billy escaping the vigil, as blacks are not to be
trusted to keep awake.
CHAPTER IV.
The Limestone Plain—The Devil's Tracks—A Strange
Mark.
THE morning found them early on the move, the night having
passed without any alarm, false or real. They still followed the
faint track leading straight toward the dark ridge they had seen
beyond the blue expanse. This supposed dry lake had been visible
from the camp before sunrise, but as the sun rose it disappeared,
nor did they again sight it until nearly eight o'clock. At ten
they were close to it, and all doubt as to its character was set
at rest. They pulled up, not at the edge of a dry salt lake, but
of an unbroken sheet of limestone rock. Nothing was visible ahead
but this stony sea of bluish-gray, over which a heated haze was
undulating. The dark line beyond, resembling a ridge, had
vanished, and the wind that blew in their faces across the
surface of this strange plain, was as hot as though it came from
the open door of a furnace.
Morton turned and rode along the edge of the rock to where the
pad came in, for they had left the track for the last hundred
yards. He whistled, and the others joined him. The track still
continued right on across the rock, but its course was now
indicated by other means. On the surface of the limestone had
been scratched and chipped with infinite care, an imitation of
human footsteps, or rather more than human footsteps, for the
gigantic tracks were more than twice the size of a man's, and a
stride to correspond was indicated. Side by side, about six feet
apart, these two awful footsteps disappeared into the quivering
mirage.
"I've seen that mark before on the granite mounds in Western
Australia," said Brown. "You notice that there are six toes to
it. It's supposed to be the footprint of the devil."
They find the Devil's track on the rock-plain.
"By Jove, what tedious work it must have been cutting those
marks!" returned Morton. "They're not lazy beggars ahead of us
whatever else they may be. But what shall we do now?"
"Go back to the lagoons. It's a rattling good camp, and we
have heaps of time before us. We'll hold a council of war this
afternoon and decide upon some course of action."
"Right," answered Morton. "We shall have to go slowly and
cannily or we shall be getting into a tight place."
They returned to their former camp, and, as evening drew on,
entered into a discussion as to their immediate movements.
"Brown, you're the longest, speak first," said Morton.
"Those beggars are located beyond that limestone rock. Is not
that so?"
"Yes."
"They may be the most mild and peaceful people going, and they
may be the most truculent ruffians. I incline to the latter
opinion."
"So do I, but I cannot say why exactly. They took to their
heels quick enough the other night."
"Oh, any niggers will do that on a sudden start. However, it's
safest to act as though they were our enemies."
"Decidedly."
"To-morrow we'll go right and left along the edge of the rock
for a few miles on each side of the track, and see if there's any
other track they use. If there's only the one, why, we know where
to expect them from."
To this Morton agreed, but suggested that two should follow
the track across the rock.
"No, old man, you're too eager," said Brown. "We're too small
a party to afford to split up. When we go across that rock we
must all go, and take pot luck."
"You're right," agreed Morton, "To-morrow you and I will go
along the edge of the rock. Charlie, you and Billy will stop and
mind camp and examine all the trees about for marks, in fact have
a good fossick round."
"When we cross the rock we shall have to go on foot, we
can't take the horses across," said Brown.
"Certainly not, and I doubt if we can cross on foot in the
daytime. We should be baked to death with the rock underneath and
the sun overhead. We should get no shade to rest under the whole
way across."
"The horses will be safe enough here while we are away. If the
niggers use only the one track, why, we are bound to meet
them."
Another quiet night was passed, although a watch was kept. In
the cool morning Brown and Morton started across the plain,
leaving Charlie to scour about the camp. Billy, arrayed in a
light and airy costume consisting of a saddle-strap and a
tomahawk, had evidently laid himself out for a day's pleasurable
sport.
"This plain seems fairly well grassed," said Morton as they
rode across. "Wonder how far it extends?"
"We'll find out before we get back. But country is not of much
value out here just now, no matter how good it is."
"No, worse luck; you and I know that to our cost."
When they reached the rock they separated, Brown going north
and Morton south. Following the edge along, without going into
all the dips and bends, Morton went on until he reckoned he had
covered some six miles. The limestone rock pursued much the same
course to the southward, but the forest and the continuation of
the chain of lagoons at its edge bore in towards the rock, and it
was evident that the two would meet in time.
Morton rode over to the edge of the timber and found that the
water-course there was still well supplied with occasional pools
of water. He could see no tracks of blacks there, nor were there
any marks on the rock: all was lifeless and lonely, save for the
tireless kites. As he rode back, however, he caught sight of a
bird high up in the air steadily flying to the west. He
recognized it as an eagle-hawk, and was astonished to see others
following, all flying in the same direction. Then the discordant
note of a crow came to him, and a flock of the black creatures
flew past, conversing in the peculiar guttural croak common to
crows when on the wing. They, too, were going across the rock to
the westward.
"Hang me, if there isn't a rendezvous over there somewhere of
all the carrion birds in the district," said Morton.
He rode on and found Brown at the meeting-place, he having got
back sooner. His experience had been somewhat similar for the
first few miles; then the country changed, a low stunted forest
obtruded from the east, and the ground became hard, stony, and
barren, save for patches of spinifex [*]. The limestone rock,
too, became more uneven and broken, and it was evident that he
had approached the verge of the formation they were then
traversing; probably, he thought, the change would result in a
large expanse of desert, spinifex country.
[* A wiry, prickly grass, useless as fodder].
"We could get round that way," he remarked, "without having to
cross this rock."
"Better stick to the track; then we know we are going straight
to wherever these triangle men came from," replied Morton.
"Did you see any niggers' tracks?"
"Not a sign of any. I don't think I saw or heard a living
thing of any kind since leaving."
Morton told him about the flight of hawks and crows he had
noticed, and as they rode back to camp they decided to make an
excursion to the south before tackling the great rock and the
mystery beyond. It was as well to know all about the country
before making their final start; and, moreover, if the natives
came back and saw their tracks going away south it might throw
them off their guard.
Charlie and Billy had found nothing about the camp beyond a
peculiar mark cut on a tree, which somewhat differed from the
others they had seen. They had caught some fish in the largest of
the lagoons, and Billy had a fine big carpet snake roasting in
the ashes; for no matter how well fed a blackfellow is, he always
likes to revert to his aboriginal delicacies occasionally.
Charlie took them to inspect the new mark, which was on a
large flooded box-tree. It had been chopped out with a stone
tomahawk in the rugged bark, and must have taken much time and
labour. Both men looked at it from all points of view without
arriving at any conclusion; then, just as they were turning away,
Morton exclaimed:
"If I saw that tattooed on a sailor's arm I should say that it
was meant for an anchor."
The two others instantly recognized the resemblance, and they
all came to the conclusion that it was a rude attempt to depict
that emblem.
"Mystery thickens," said Brown. "Are we going to reach the
much-talked-of inland sea and find a race of sailor-men in
possession?"
"Devilish queer," replied Morton; "it seems to me the sort of
mark an illiterate white man who had been a sailor would make on
a tree. It's chopped out very neatly, much as a sailor would do
anything of the sort."
"I suppose we shall find out all about it before we get to the
end of this trip," returned Brown.
"Yes, and a good deal more than we now dream of, I
anticipate."
"Did you have a good look to the south and north when you were
up that tree?" asked Brown.
"No, I didn't. My attention was at once taken up by the
strange-looking rock ahead of us."
"So was mine. I think we might go up another at sundown; we
might see something."
When the sun nearly touched the horizon they ascended the
tallest tree in the neighbourhood, but nothing was discernible
southward. To the north, however, a low range was visible a long
distance away.
A quiet undisturbed night succeeded, and an early start was
made the next morning.
CHAPTER V.
Hot Springs—A Lifeless Swamp—More Marks of the
Natives.
THE first six miles being over the country traversed by Morton
was naturally uninteresting. Then the plain grew narrower and
narrower. The chain of lagoons where they had camped developed
into a large water-course, and the flat limestone rock began to
alter its character and soon merged into a basaltic ridge coming
from the westward. At mid-day the plain was a thing of the past,
and they wore now travelling along a broad water-course, with
open forest on one side and a rude line of basalt boulders, piled
like a wall, on the other.
At a fair-sized lagoon, thick with water-lilies, they turned
out for their meal.
"Funny," remarked Brown, "how these inland rivers disappear.
This water-course looks big enough now, but I bet it runs out to
nothing before night."
"Yes; the wet seasons, I suppose, are very rare, and when one
comes the flood-water is absorbed by soakage and evaporation
before it can cut a continuous channel. You know that no rivers
enter the sea to the south of us."
"I know; it's all a wall of cliffs around the head of the
Great Bight. Was there not some yarn once about fresh water being
obtained there some distance at sea?"
"I've heard something about it; it was put down to the
discharge of a subterranean river, but I don't think the fact was
ever proved."
"Well, if we find a river of that sort we'll make a canoe and
send Charlie and Billy down it to explore. What do you say,
Charlie?"
"There might be some Jinkarras living down there," replied
Charlie.
"Ever see any Jinkarras, Billy?" asked Morton.
"No. Plenty bin hear 'em," replied Billy.
"I wonder how this yarn of an underground race, the Jinkarras,
originated."
"I can't make out. The noise they hear at night that they say
is made by the Jinkarras is made by a bird—a kind of
quail."
"Well, we must be off; pack up boys," said Brown.
About four o'clock a dense mass of foliage was visible ahead,
which, as they drew nearer, proved to be huge paper-bark-trees,
with long trailing branches, like gigantic weeping willows. The
ground around these ancient giants was soft and spongy, and the
bed of the creek was soon lost. The ground being too soft to
allow of the horses progressing any further, a camp was made and
they were hobbled out.
Leaving Billy to light a fire and mind camp, the three whites
went on foot through this great white forest. The ground grew
swampier as they proceeded, until at last, when within sight of a
belt of tall reeds, they could proceed no farther. Moreover, the
water was getting uncomfortably warm.
"Hot soda springs," said Brown;﹃this accounts for the growth
of these trees. There's an easy one to climb,﹄pointing to a
bending one. "Let's go aloft and look ahead."
The tree was easy of ascent, and the three were soon high up
amongst the branches. Beyond the reeds lay a lakelet of clear
water, but, save for the deep fringe of rushes, not a plant of
any sort was visible. No ducks or other aquatic birds could be
seen.
"I guess that water's too warm for anything to live in it,"
said Morton.
It was a strange scene; the sun was sinking low, and anywhere
else the place at that time would have been busy with feathered
life, but here all was lifeless. The lakelet, surrounded by its
border of tall reeds, in which there was apparently no break, lay
there calm and unruffled.
"Let's get back to camp," said Brown. "Looks as though we'd
got into a dead corner of the world."
Next morning it was determined to follow the swamp round to
the westward to ascertain its extent. In a mile or two they came
to where the basalt wall apparently ran out in the swamp,
disappearing in a few scattered boulders. Just beyond this they
came to a well-beaten track, which came round the swamp from the
direction in which they were going and turned off amongst the
basalt. Following this track along, in about a mile they came on
two skeletons lying beside it. Some dry bits of skin still
adhered here and there on the fleshless bones.
"A nice part of Australia this," remarked Brown, as they
halted and gazed at the poor remains. "If we're not falling foul
of a cemetery or a funeral, we run against skeletons lying
promiscuously about. Wonder what brought them here."
"Not want of water at any rate," replied Morton. "Been a fight,
perhaps. They don't seem to belong to those triangle gentry, at
any rate."
"They must have been lying here months," answered Brown;
"they're past our help anyway. May as well get on."
Gradually the swamps rounded off to the southward, and it was
evident that there was no continuation that way. The creek they
had followed from the lagoons had disappeared, as Brown had
predicted. To the south was nothing but a stony, desert forest of
stunted trees, the ground covered with spinifex. Strange to say,
however, the track that had partly circled the hot swamp had
branched off and headed due south. There had been some discussion
as to whether they should follow it or not, but, as it was
evident that this track and the one marked by the devil's
footsteps were trending to the same centre, it was decided to
postpone it until they had solved that mystery first. The swamp
was of such a circumference that it was nearly sundown when they
got back to the site of their last night's camp, having crossed
no outflow from the swamp anywhere.
In the morning it was thought better to go back to the old
camp at the lagoons and follow the devil's footsteps, than try to
follow the track amongst the boulders coming from the south.
They arrived there early, and immediately made preparations
for burying their spare rations, ammunition, etc. The next few
hours were busy ones. Saddles, rations, spare ammunition, etc.,
were all carefully buried, and the whereabouts masked by a fire
being lit on the top to hide the disturbance of the earth. They
started as soon as this work was finished, each man carrying
rifle, revolver, ammunition, three days' rations, quart-pot, and
water-bag—a fair load for men always accustomed to riding
only. Most devoutly they all prayed that they would be off the
rock soon after daylight the next morning.
CHAPTER VI.
The Night March Across the Great Rock—Meeting with the
Natives—
The Secret of the Burning Mountain.
WITH all the despatch they made they did not reach the edge of
the rock before twelve; but it mattered little, as the surface
was only then getting cool, and would have been unbearable any
earlier.
Billy was sent first with bare feet, he being trusted to
follow the track by feeling when they strayed off it, as he would
then cross the rough surface made by the sculptured footprints,
the remainder of the limestone being almost as smooth as
marble.
It was a weird and weary tramp across this rock by the light
of the stars, with vague darkness all around them. None of them
felt inclined to speak, and an intense silence reigned
everywhere. A sickly moon rose just before daylight, and its
faint beams cast the long shadows of the travellers across the
gleaming surface of the limestone. The thought in the minds of
the three white men was the same—what would daylight show
them? Billy plodded along mechanically; most of the time he was
half asleep.
Daylight came at last, and the black line that they had seen
from the tree-top gradually came into view, apparently not far
ahead; and each felt grateful that he had not to encounter the
force of the sun on the face of the naked rock.
When it was broad daylight the dark line resolved itself under
the glasses into a row of basaltic boulders, with some bushes
growing in their clefts and a bottle-tree here and there on their
summits.
"We shall be there before it is hot," said Morton thankfully,
as he closed the glasses; "let's push on."
They did so, and before the sun had attained much power found
themselves amongst the boulders. The track led straight into a
gap, and on one side a huge block of stone, supported by two
others, made a rude cave, under which the weary men gladly took
shelter after their toilsome tramp. Evidently it was a
halting-place for the blacks, for the remains of fires were
about, and a supply of firewood, which came in very handy for the
tired men to cook their breakfast with.
A satisfactory meal and a smoke being finished, the situation
was reviewed. Behind them lay the bare expanse of rock just
crossed, and before them the unknown. Now, too, they would have
to keep a keen look-out for lurking foes, because in amongst
these boulders every step was fraught with danger, especially as
the blacks knew of their approach; and it was evident that they
were trespassing on tabooed ground. The future movements of the
party were now, as might be supposed, a matter of serious
consideration, and Brown and Morton were in earnest discussion
when a loud report like a clap of thunder suddenly startled the
little company to their feet. A low rumbling followed that seemed
to shako the very rocks. Hurrying outside, nothing was seen that
could possibly have caused the strange noise; the sky was
cloudless, the air still and sultry.
Suddenly Billy pointed to the westward. "Fire jump up," he
said.
A puff of white smoke, or vapour, was rising, seemingly only a
short distance from them. Silently they watched it ascend and
disperse.
"Blacks here have artillery apparently," said Brown, "Salute
in honour of our arrival."
Nothing more following, they returned to the cave, leaving
Charlie at the entrance on the lookout.
"If these fellows know nothing about the effect of firearms,"
said Morton, "we may be able to establish a funk; they may have
heard of them only from the other tribes."
"I don't think they have much communication with the other
tribes by the look of it, but, if they live amongst these rocks,
what on earth do they exist on?—for there's no game
here."
"Well, all we can do is to keep a sharp lookout and our powder
dry—What's up?"
"Here's the corpse!" cried Charlie, falling back from the
entrance in amazement.
Billy gave an awful yell; the others started to their feet as
a tall native coolly walked into the cave, and squatted down on
the ground. It certainly was enough to give them all a fright,
for the visitor, in outward appearance, greatly resembled the
dead man left in the scrub. A second glance, however, showed
points of difference, which proved him to be a denizen of the
earth; he was marked with the white triangle on the breast, and
the red smear on the forehead, but was naked and unarmed, whilst
his manner showed no trace of fear. Recovering themselves
somewhat, Morton lugged Billy forward to see if he could converse
with the new-comer. This proceeding, however, did not suit their
visitor, for he addressed a furious tirade at Mr. Billy Button in
some unknown tongue, winding up by violently spitting at him.
Billy slunk back scared, and the native, rising, took Brown by
the arm and led him to the entrance; pointing alternately forward
and backwards he made signs for them to turn back, and not go on.
Brown returned answer by signs that they must go on. The
blackfellow shook his head vigorously, and then held up his hand
motioning them to listen. Again the loud report was heard, and a
puff of vapour ascended as before.
To the apparent surprise of the native, the whites showed no
alarm, and Brown taking his carbine stepped back, and fired it
into the air. The black gave a decided start, and trembled a
little, but stood his ground; then his mind seemed to change,
and, making a sign to Brown to stay, he strode off and
disappeared behind the surrounding rocks.
"Is he coming back, do you think?" said Brown.
"I think so," replied Morton. "He's a fine fellow, with plenty
of pluck."
"Then we'll give him twenty minutes' grace—but here he
comes, and all his sisters and his cousins and his aunts."
Sure enough their former visitor appeared, accompanied by some
half-dozen others, similarly painted and all unarmed. He spoke a
few words to them, and pointed towards Brown, upon whom they
gazed curiously.
"Now then, Brown," said Morton, "you're the star; evidently
they want an exhibition."
Brown, who had reloaded his carbine, fired it in the air
again. The fresh arrivals showed more alarm than the first man
had, some of them squatted hastily down and all started with
fear.
"It appears to me, Brown, that they consider you 'brother
belonging' to this noise ahead," remarked Morton.
"It looks like it, and we must keep up the pleasing fiction,
for these fellows 'have us on toast' in amongst these rocks. I
wonder how many more there are round about."
"Let's see if we can go on now," said Morton.
On Brown indicating their wish to proceed, the most ready
acquiescence was displayed, and at a few words from the native
who had first arrived the others showed by signs their intention
to carry the strangers' packs.
Before starting, however, names were interchanged, that being
generally found the easiest steps towards intimacy. Brown,
Morton, and Charlie (or Sarley) were soon picked up, and the
chief, as he appeared to be, introduced himself as Columberi,
which, of course, was at once turned into Columbus by Brown, and
the oldest black-fellow amongst the others was named Yarlow.
With Columbus appropriately in the lead, the march commenced,
the tracks winding in and out among the rocks in a very intricate
fashion. For nearly five miles they kept on, although in a
straight line they would not probably have traversed more than
two, and at last arrived at an open space surrounded by
bottle-trees, and from the number of humpies [*], built of mud
and grass, apparently the head-quarters of the tribe. Here they
halted. About twenty more blacks were sitting about, who at first
made a show of taking to their heels, but a call from Columbus
brought them back.
[* A native hut built of bark or sticks plastered with mud:
called also a "gunyah" or a "whirlie"].
Selecting a shady tree, Brown indicated that their swags
should be brought up, and this being done he remarked:
"What do you say to a feed, and then getting Christopher here
to show us the ropes?"
"Just as well," returned Brown; "we must take everything as a
matter of course, and show no surprise."
Billy made a fire, and the quarts were put on to boil, a
proceeding which interested the spectators greatly. Brown by
signs then invited Columbus to sit down, and presented him with a
piece of damper thickly coated with sugar, at the same time
eating a piece himself to inspire confidence.
The native started to eat in a slow and doubtful manner, but
after a bite or two finished it off with great gusto and
indicated a wish for more.
The quarts now bubbled up, and the blacks with one accord
emitted a united "ha!" [*] and pointed to the westward; evidently
the boiling water bore some resemblance to something in that
direction.
[* Wild Australian blacks know nothing of boiling water. They
make water hot by putting hot stones in it].
Columbus now described a mark in the dust like a half-circle,
and pointed in the direction they had come.﹃He means the
horse-tracks they saw,﹄said Morton, after a pause. He nodded
vigorously to the old man, who continued his pantomime by lying
on his back as though dead. Morton nodded again and patted the
ground, pointing backwards to indicate that the corpse was still
there.
Columbus then called the other blacks aside, and after a long
talk half a dozen of them drew off and disappeared amongst the
surrounding boulders.
"We must follow up this burning mountain business," said
Brown, as soon as he had eaten his dinner; "now old Columbus has
disposed of his private affairs perhaps he will take us
there."
"Call him back and let's make inquiries; see if he'll eat
beef."
The chieftain approaching, Brown offered him a piece of salt
beef. He examined it curiously, and then without any demur ate it
in the most appreciative manner. He then pointed to Charlie, and
made signs as though cutting with a knife, which for a time were
quite unintelligible.
"Blessed if he doesn't mean to ask if you're good to eat,"
said Brown at last.
He shook his head, and the native appeared both surprised and
disappointed. On their indicating their wish to proceed in the
direction of the strange reports, he rose and led the way. The
whites only took their carbines, as they felt assured that as yet
their coming was too novel for the blacks to interfere with their
belongings.
They had but a short distance to go. Rounding a rugged wall of
basalt they saw stretched before them a singular and striking
scene. At their feet was a large circular shallow depression,
about a mile in circumference, filled with pools of clear water
divided one from another by narrow ridges of rock. In the centre
of this depression was a hill of small elevation with a flat top;
not a vestige of green weed was to be seen about the water,
nothing but bare rock. Without stopping, their guide led the way
along one of the narrow strips of basalt intersecting the
water.
"Keep your feet," said Morton, as they followed him, "for it
strikes me that water's scalding hot."
Warned by this, the whites carefully continued their course to
the central hill. Columbus mounted it, and then pointed down.
They were on the edge of a crater. At no great distance below was
a mass of seething boiling mud. The crater had lip-like fractures
in various parts, and to one of these their guide now directed
their attention, at the same time motioning to them to stand back
from the edge. The water in the pool at the back of the lip was
curiously ruffled; presently it assumed the appearance of
boiling, and, rising suddenly, poured over the edge of the crater
into the molten mud beneath. A deafening report followed, and the
rocks on which the party crouched trembled again. Then came a
rush of steam, and all was still once more. By a great effort the
strangers had preserved their coolness, and looked on the display
unmoved; then, in response to Brown, they discharged their
carbines simultaneously, an act which nearly made Columbus topple
into the crater.
CHAPTER VII.
Columbus takes a Fancy to Charlie—The Secret of the
Limestone Cliff—A Feast of Cannibals—A White Man with
the Blacks—Initiation of Recruits—Charlie Makes a
Proposition.
BY the language of signs they were given to understand that
the rocks through which they had found their way extended in
every direction. Another low elevation a short distance away
resembling a limestone cliff was noticed, but about this their
guide, who had now recovered his composure, could, or apparently
would, not afford them any information. After a more lengthened
examination of the strange surroundings they returned to their
camp in the open space, which they found deserted by the natives.
Columbus, however, showed no signs of leaving them, and the
whites, with due regard to strategic purposes, pitched their tent
and made themselves as comfortable as circumstances allowed.
"The thing that puzzles me," said Brown, after all
arrangements had been completed, "is—What do these natives
live on? Columbus, whom we have feasted on strange dainties,
shows no desire of leaving us; but the others are all away,
evidently in search of grub. There are no gins visible; perhaps
they are away hunting, but I doubt it, for within a hundred of
miles of here there isn't a feed for a bandicoot."
"I don't understand it either," returned Morton, "but we'll
stop and see it out, anyway. Charlie, our friend Columbus has
taken quite a fancy to you; he can't keep his eyes off you."
Charlie looked very uncomfortable at the chaff, and muttered
something about a "nigger's cheek;" but it was quite evident
that the native had transferred all his admiration from Brown to
Charlie.
Whilst still talking and discussing the situation a sound like
a distant uproar of voices became apparent, and Columbus
commenced to evince signs of uneasiness. The sound came from the
direction of the limestone cliffs, and grew louder and more
distinct as they listened. All the party naturally rose to their
feet, although the native made energetic signs to them to keep
quiet. After a short time the shouting became stationary, and it
was evidently not intended as an attack upon them, or such loud
warning would not have been given.
"Shall we go and see what's up?" said Morton.
"We'll fix the direction, anyway," returned Brown, and they
proceeded to clamber up one of the high boulders by which they
were surrounded, although Columbus evidently protested against
the proceeding.
From the top of the boulder they could make out the summit of
the limestone cliffs, and ascertained that the uproar certainly
came from there, and, moreover, that the shrill cries of gins
mingled with the many voices. It was well on towards sundown, and
after a short conference Brown and Morton determined to defer
further explorations until the next day, so they returned to
their camp.
Columbus, who seemed much relieved by the proceeding, now made
signs for Charlie to accompany him in the direction they had been
just looking. At the same time he made it plainly apparent that
Charlie was to come alone.
"I'll go, Frank," he said to Morton. "Let me go and have all
the honour and glory."
Morton and Brown both replied in the negative, and Brown
intimated to Columbus that to-morrow Charlie should go, but now
it was nearly night and he wanted a sleep. This seemed to satisfy
the blackfellow, who evidently wanted to get away himself, and
presently, as soon as he thought the attention of the party was
not directed towards him, he disappeared as mysteriously as he
had arrived.
"I have not got to the bottom of this little affair yet," said
Morton; "but I think we shall to-night. What do you say to paying
a visit to these cliffs as soon as it is pitch dark—I have
the bearing?"
"The very thing I was going to suggest. Charlie, it strikes me
that our new friend wants to make long pig of you."
"What's that?" asked Charlie.
"Well, a favourite dish amongst some natives who have an
acquired taste for human flesh."
"Do you think he's a cannibal?" said the boy, rather
aghast.
"I should be sorry to slander a stranger, but it certainly
looks something like it."
As soon as it was quite dark the party set out on their way to
the cliffs, which they judged to be about a mile distant; it was
a difficult matter shaping a course by the stars amongst the
gloom cast by the surrounding boulders, but an occasional murmur
of sound helped them on, and after scrambling and twisting about
they found themselves near the low cliffs. Here Billy was told to
strip and reconnoitre, and his black figure was lost amongst the
rocks almost before he seemed to have made a step. He was absent
nearly half an hour; then a subdued whistle announced his return,
and in a low voice he communicated to Morton the result of his
investigations.
About four or five hundred yards from where they were waiting
there was a cave in the cliff, and the blacks it appears were in
there. Billy had gone close to the entrance, but could see only a
light in the distance, for, according to him, "hole bin go long
way."
Under Billy's guidance they soon reached the cave entrance,
and found it to be a kind of tunnel evidently leading to a large
cave, for a red glare of firelight came round an angle, and the
sound of many chattering voices was audible.
"Shall we go on?" said Morton in a whisper.
"No, wait a minute," replied Brown; "it strikes me there's
another entrance to this place; they must have a lot of fire
going, but yet the place is not full of smoke. I can smell the
fire, but that's all. I think there must be an opening in the
top; let's send Billy up to see."
The face of the cliff was easily climbed, being mostly
detached rocks that had fallen down, and very soon Billy came
back and reported that "fire come up alonga top."
One after the other the adventurers ascended, and found
themselves on a rocky plateau full of fissures and holes, through
some of which a bright light was streaming. Approaching this
portion carefully on their hands and knees, they soon found a
fissure through which they could gaze with safety on one of the
strangest scenes ever witnessed in Australia.
The cavern below them was seemingly of some size, and was well
lighted by a number of fires, the smoke from which somewhat
annoyed the unseen spectators. A far larger number of blacks were
assembled than had been visible before, and many of them were
armed and painted, being also marked with the red smear and white
triangle. One large group was composed of some twenty or thirty
young men and women; they were huddled together, apparently much
frightened, and had no marks whatever upon their bodies.
Columbus was soon recognized squatting at one of the fires
with some of the other old men, and, like all but the group of
boys and girls, busily engaged in eating. Morton felt his arm
clutched suddenly and tightly, and Brown hoarsely whispered in
his ear:
"It is meat they are eating; but what meat?"
Morton was struck with horror as he listened, and the truth
flashed across his mind. It was a feast of cannibals they were
overlooking. The armed natives had just returned from a foray,
and the trembling group in the corner were prisoners destined to
death.
An awful feeling of horror came over the whole party as they
realized their situation and possible fate. In a wilderness of
savage rocks, surrounded by an expanse of desert, almost in the
hands of some fifty or sixty fierce cannibals—no wonder the
first impulse of each was to slip quietly back the way he had
come under cover of the night, and leave the natives to their
former obscurity.
Their natural audacity, however, soon returned. At present
they were masters of the situation; with their breech-loaders
they could shoot down a score of the natives, helpless in the
cavern below, if so inclined. But, with all their horror of the
scene, affairs did not seem to justify armed intervention just
then.
Contenting themselves with being spectators only, they watched
the doings in the cave, at times having to stifle a cough brought
on by a puff of smoke from the burning wood fires.
For a time the repast below went on with the usual
accompaniments of a blacks' camp, but as it came to an end it was
evident that some extraordinary occurrence was going to take
place. Gradually the old men mustered together around Columbus,
and the other blacks proceeded to combine all the fires into one
large one near the wall of the cavern. The added blaze gave to
view a huge figure on the rock; it was the semblance of a human
form, but the head, instead of being represented round, was
grotesquely shaped liked a triangle. At the foot of the painting
was a rock, and while the rank and file of the natives grouped
themselves in a circle around the fire, Columbus and some others
retired into the darkness out of sight of the watchers. The chant
of a corroboree now commenced, and the blacks slowly
circled round the fire for a short time, suddenly ceasing and
breaking into a half ring, with the open part towards the grim
figure painted on the wall. Then Columbus and the others
appeared, supporting between them a striking and venerable
figure—an old, old man, with snow-white hair and beard,
bent so double that, as he hobbled along supporting himself on
two short sticks, he appeared like some strange animal walking on
four legs. This decrepit being was carefully helped and guided to
the stone beneath the figure, and seated thereon; then the others
squatted on the ground, the blacks in the half-ring remaining
quietly standing.
The old man seated on the block was now full in view of the
whites above, and the brilliant rays of the fire fell directly on
him. Brown and Morton turned to each other with the same
smothered exclamations on their lips:
"By Jove, it's a white man!"
Almost as dark as the savages around, painted like them with a
hideous red smear on the forehead and a white triangle on the
breast, the experienced whites yet felt sure that before them
they saw one of their own race. Apparently the venerable being
was either blind or nearly so, and he kept turning his face
restlessly from side to side. From the half circle of blacks then
arose a shout or chant that sounded like the repetition of "Mur!
Fee! Mur! Fee!"
"Hullo! We're amongst countrymen," whispered Brown; "that
sounds awfully like Murphy."
A terrible noise now commenced like a hundred mad gongs let
loose. Four blacks came forward, beating furiously with clubs on
what appeared to be sheets of metal. At the sound the old man on
the rock smiled and leant forward, and, stretching forth his
trembling hands, appeared to say something.
At this Columbus arose, and, followed by the gong-beaters,
went over to the throng of trembling captives. After a short
inspection he selected a young gin and pulled her along by the
hand towards the old man, followed still by the gong-beaters. The
poor wretch seemed stupefied with fear, and when in front of the
stone she sank down, trembling visibly. Columbus drew back, and
the gong-beaters, dancing madly round, made a still more
deafening din. Suddenly one of them, instead of striking his
gong, dealt the unfortunate creature a terrible blow on the head,
the other gong-beaters followed his example, and in an instant
the wretched gin lay dead on the ground.
The effect of this scene on the whites above was maddening.
Charlie had his gun to his shoulder, but Morton stopped him in
time. The gin was killed before interference was possible.
"Come away," said Brown; "let's have a confab. I'm sick of
watching those brutes."
They scrambled away a short distance, and after a pause Brown
spoke.
"We've got our work cut out, there's no doubt about that. We
must find out all about that white man if possible, and we must
release those poor devils and give these cannibals a lesson."
"In justice to our friend Columbus," said Morton, "let me
remark that 'these cannibals' are only following up what they
have been taught; they have no horror of the thing like we have.
At the same time, the man who lifts his hand—or nulla nulla
[*]—against a woman is unworthy the name of a British
sailor, fee. etc."
[* A native club of hard wood].
"Are you convinced that that is a white man?" said
Charlie.
"Yes," replied Brown; "but who he is is another question. He
appears to be blind, deaf, and imbecile. I suppose we must fall
back upon Leichhardt."
"He's been a big man when younger, and erect," said Morton;
"far bigger than Leichhardt was. However, we'll suppose it to be
one of his party—he looks old enough."
Brown gave vent to a low whistle.
"By jingo, supposing that was 'Murphy' they were shouting. I
believe there was a man of that name in the lost party."
"We shall find out, I hope, soon. Meantime, what next?"
"I know," said Charlie; "let's go back to camp. You promised
Columbus I should go with him to morrow. Well, I'll go and find
out all about it."
Morton put his hand on Charlie's shoulder.
"It's a real plucky bid, my boy, after what we've just seen;
but do you think I could let you go? Why, you'd be cooked and
eaten in no time."
"Hold on!" said Brown; "I'm full of ideas just now; let me
think this one out; there's something in what Charlie says."
"Now, oracle, as soon as you're ready," returned Morton.
"Well, I may be right or wrong, but my notion is that Columbus
does not want to eat Charlie. Why, they've got enough rations for
a month. I think that they keep this old man as a sort of fetish,
and that Columbus and a few of the knowing old fellows see that
he must soon die. Now they want Charlie to take his place."
Brown paused triumphantly.
"I verily believe you've hit it," said Morton. "You ought
always to live here, considering the amount of intellect you are
developing."
At this moment a renewed din once more pealed up from the
cave, and the party crawled back to find out the cause. The
gong-beaters, Columbus, and his privy councillors were parading
the captives, and the spectators shuddered as they looked down
upon hideous remains of the late feast scattered about the sandy
floor of the cavern. This time a fine-looking young man was
selected and marched up to the venerable figure on the stone. The
gong-beaters fell back, and Columbus and his companions proceeded
to smear the youth's forehead with red pigment, and marked the
cabalistic white triangle on his breast. He was then led away to
a dark corner out of sight of the watchers.
Brown muttered a deep oath.
"That's what has been puzzling me," he growled to Morton, "how
they kept their numbers up; of course they recruit from the
best-looking prisoners."
"See! they are going to select another," whispered his friend.
"Bet you two figs of tobacco they choose that tall fellow with
his hair tied in a knot."
"Done! I'll back the nuggety fellow alongside him."
Brown lost, the tall fellow being marched out to receive the
marks of the cannibalistic brotherhood.
Columbus and the others now assisted the old man to hobble
away, and the blacks squatted down by the fire and relit fresh
ones about the ground.
"Get back to camp," said Morton; "the circus is over for
to-night."
Scrambling down the cliff, and using every precaution, the
party soon regained their camp, which they found as deserted as
they left it.
CHAPTER VIII.
Charlie as Decoy—Death of the Old White Man—
The Fight in the Cave—The Catastrophe.
TIRED out with their exertions and the continued night work
the party slept soundly, and awoke at dawn to find the camp as
calm and silent as if no such tragedies as they had witnessed
were ever enacted in the neighbourhood.
"Terribly sultry, is it not?" said Morton; "I suppose it is
because these rocks retain the heat so."
"It seems in the air. Look what a haze there is. I don't think
I ever felt it so hot at this time of day. What do you say to a
walk to the crater after breakfast?"
Charlie called out just then that the meal was ready, and
during its progress the plan of action for the day was discussed
and agreed upon.
On arriving at the crater they found it in a great state of
activity, most of the pools were in violent commotion, and
constantly overflowing into the crater, causing a succession of
reports.
Returning to the camp they found that Columbus and two or
three of the old men had arrived, all looking as mild and gentle
as if they habitually lived upon milk and water.
"Look at the old scoundrel," said Morton; "his mouth is
watering to see us roasting on the coals."
"I think he only wants to get rid of us and to induce us to
leave Charlie behind. Now let's try him," returned Brown.
Preparations were then apparently made for departure, Charlie
intimating to Columbus that he intended to go with him. The
native appeared hugely delighted, and when the time for departure
arrived neither he nor the others could restrain their
expressions of joy. With their swags on their shoulders Morton,
Brown, and Billy strode off along the track by which they had
come, ostentatiously waving their hands to Charlie.
No sooner, however, were they hidden from the camp than Morton
and Billy slipped aside amongst the rocks, whilst Brown plodded
steadily on, making as much noise as possible. For nearly a
quarter of a mile he kept his course, and then stepped on one
side and stood quietly behind a boulder. After five minutes'
waiting the sound of footsteps was heard, and a native came
along, evidently following the track to make sure that the white
men left the place, for he was unarmed and alone. He was close up
before he saw Brown, and then with a frightened cry sprang away;
but he was too late. Brown had hold of him, and exerting all his
uncommon strength threw him heavily down amongst the rocks, where
he lay stunned and quiet. Brown waited patiently for some time,
but nothing could be heard; evidently one native only had been
sent to watch them away.
Leaving his swag in a secure hiding-place, Brown then
cautiously directed his course towards the limestone cliff, using
every precaution to escape being seen. He arrived in sight of the
mouth of the cave after a toilsome journey, and after cautiously
reconnoitering gave a low whistle. There was no answer, but
voices could be heard approaching, and peering carefully out
Brown saw Columbus, Charlie, and three other old men emerge from
among the rocks and enter the cave. At the same moment a low
whistle sounded near him, to which he instantly replied, and in a
few minutes Morton and Billy came creeping silently along and
joined him.
"It's splendid," said Morton. "Columbus took Charlie on one
side amongst the rocks, then he gave a signal and all the blacks
came along the track and squatted down in the open space where we
were camped. Columbus and three old men then went away with
Charlie, whom they carefully kept hidden, and I think those are
all we have to deal with; so come along, for I can't bear to let
that boy stop alone with them long, although I think he's safe
enough."
"We'll just rush the four of them, and then take our time
examining the place and the white man—is that it?" said
Brown; "but how we're to get away afterwards I can't make
out."
"We must trust to chance and our rifles; I think we can
manage. But come quick."
Noiselessly they stole along the narrow entrance that led into
the inner cave, and cautiously peered in to be sure of their
ground before making their attack; the prisoners were there and
the three old men, but Columbus and Charlie were absent. "Quick!"
whispered Brown, and sprang forward on to one, while Morton
felled the other with a nulla nulla he had picked up. The third
made a bolt for the entrance, uttering a shrill yell as he did
so, but Billy, whether through sudden fright or not, fired his
carbine at him and the black dropped dead.
Startled by the yell and report, Columbus came rushing from a
dark corner of the cave; his eyes were flashing, and all the
cannibal in his nature seemed aroused.
"Hit this fellow on the head!" roared Brown, releasing his
struggling prisoner and grappling with the new foe.
Morton dealt the native a stunning blow with the waddy, and
then turned to assist his comrade. Strong as Brown was, it would
have been hard work for him to subdue the infuriated Columbus
without assistance. Between them they got him down and bound him
with straps.
"Now for Charlie!" cried Morton, turning in the direction of
the dark corner. "Something must have happened to him."
"I'm all right, old man; come with me." And Charlie showed
himself at the entrance of another and inner cave.
First stopping to tell Billy to wait and watch the prisoners,
and shoot them if they attempted to escape, the two friends
followed their young companion, leaving a strange scene behind
them—Billy Button on guard at the entrance of the passage,
the savages prostrate on the ground, and the captives for the
cannibal feast, who had preserved a frightened apathy throughout,
still huddled together.
In a smaller cave than the one they had just quitted, lighted
like it through fissures from above, the three whites found the
old man seated on the sandy floor, gazing with his half sightless
eyes at the unaccustomed figures, for thus much could he
apparently discern. In a hasty whisper Charlie confided to them
that he had been speaking to him, and thought he could make him
hear.
"Try again," said Morton eagerly.
Charlie stooped down and shouted in the old man's ear,
"Englishman! White man!"
A faint gleam of intelligence seemed to illuminate the poor
creature's face, and he pointed eagerly forward with trembling
hands. The friends followed the direction of his hands, and saw a
heap of objects piled in a dusky corner of the cavern, and Brown
strode forward to examine them. The attention of the other two
was confined to the ancient white man, who seemed strangely
moved. He tried to rise and speak, but could only struggle
ineffectually. It was awful to watch his convulsed features, and
think what secrets he carried hidden in his breast, secrets that
time had forbidden him to reveal. At last with panting effort he
half rose up, and with a quavering hoarse voice cried
distinctly:
"Yes! Englishman! White man!" and with a choking gasp fell
back dead.
Awe-struck and startled the whites looked at the body of the
unfortunate man who had dragged out such a long term of existence
amongst savages. Not a doubt was in their minds but that they
were gazing on one of the survivors of Leichhardt's lost party,
whose fate had long been such a mystery. Now the very shock of
their coming seemed to have shaken the last sands of life out,
and he had died before their eyes with the story of the past
untold.
"Look!" said Charlie, stooping gently over the body and
indicating the swarthy breast.
There, almost undecipherable by reason of the darkened colour
of the skin, was the tattooed mark of a rude anchor.
Suddenly their meditations were interrupted by a series of
frantic yells from the outside cave, and the report of a rifle.
Rushing out, the cause was instantly explained. Billy's attention
had wandered to one of the lady captives, and Columbus had,
unobserved by him, freed himself from the hastily-tied straps.
The first thing Billy knew about it was a blow from a club, and
the back view of a figure flying up the entrance-passage, at whom
he hastily and vainly fired, as was pretty evident by the fierce
shouts of Columbus outside, calling his comrades to him.
"Get you're cartridges ready; we must fight for all we're
worth," cried Brown.
Almost as he spoke there was a rush of flying feet and a roar
of voices at the entrance.
"Fire like blazes'" ordered Morton, setting an example, which
was followed by the others, until the white smoke nearly filled
the cavern. Madly and fanatically the natives dashed up the
narrow passage; but with four breech-loaders playing on them, the
terrible, unknown lightning and deafening thunder smiting their
foremost down, two and three at a time, the attempt was hopeless;
they fell back, and for a moment or two there was silence.
"Top! Top! Look out!" suddenly screamed Billy, and none too
soon.
Clambering up the cliff the blacks were on the plateau forming
the roof of the cave, and were forcing their way down through the
many cracks and fissures. Hastily abandoning their position, the
whites had scant time to escape into the open air over the bodies
of those they had shot down. Here, to their astonishment, they
found themselves unopposed by the cannibals, who had all made for
the top of the cliff to gain entrance into the cave.
"What's up, Brown?" cried Morton; "you look like a ghost! Are
you hit?"
"No, I don't think so, but I feel queer, and you look sick.
For Heaven's sake come over to the rocks, quick!"
An awful feeling of nausea and giddiness suddenly and
strangely attacked them all. Reeling to the rocks in front of the
cavern they threw themselves down in what shade they could find,
utterly regardless of their enemies.
The air was pulsating with fiery heat, the reports from the
crater followed each other with scarce any interval, and the
earth seemed rocking beneath them. From the mouth of the cavern
issued a melancholy wail, the death-chant over the dead white
man.
By a great effort Morton rallied himself, for it suddenly
flashed across him what was going to happen.
"Come on!" he shouted, staggering to his feet and making to
where an overhanging boulder afforded some slight shelter. With
difficulty the others followed him. As they crouched down,
completely unmanned, they felt the ground tremble violently;
then came a terrific report, as if the very rocks were rent
asunder, and the air was filled with blinding steam and scalding
mud.
Dead silence reigned for nearly ten minutes, then Brown gave a
deep sigh and raised his head.
"All aboard!" he cried out. "Anybody hurt?"
One by one they answered, stood up, and looked around.
"Pretty warm while it lasted," said Morton; "that's an
experience one does not get every day. Those fellows in the
cavern were best off."
"Were they?" cried Brown excitedly. "Great Scott! Look
there!"
He pointed to the brow of the cliff, and they all saw what had
happened. The mouth of the cavern had disappeared, and the shape
of the cliff was changed. The earth-tremor they had just
experienced had brought down the roof of the cave, and their late
enemies and their wretched captives lay buried beneath countless
tons of rock.
The death-wail they had heard had been the death-wail of a
whole tribe. The cannibals and their victims were in one common
tomb.
"And the secret of that white man lies buried there too," said
Morton, after a long pause.
"No, I hope not," replied Brown.﹃I brought something away
from that heap the old man pointed to;﹄and from the bosom of his
shirt he drew out an old-fashioned leather pocket-book.
No one was anxious to examine the contents just then; they
were all in a hurry to get back to camp and quench their thirst,
and away from the scene of their late adventure. No apparent
change had taken place in the surroundings of their camp, and
they made a fire and sat down to rest and eat.
"Poor old Columbus!" said Morton. "I cannot help feeling sorry
for the old ruffian. He was a real plucky fellow. Do you remember
how coolly he walked in to us the morning we got here?"
"Yes, and after all we had no business—according to
their ideas—to interfere with their little rites and
ceremonies. They treated us in a friendly fashion."
"After all, however, things turned up trumps for us. We would
not have had the ghost of a show in a fight amongst these
boulders. No, we must thank that earth-tremor for being alive
now."
After their meal was over and the four somewhat rested, Morton
proposed a stroll to the crater to see how it had fared, for not
a single report had been heard since the one accompanying the
eruption of mud.
A wondrous change had taken place, they found. The crater, or
what they had taken for one, had subsided, and over its site now
flowed an unbroken sheet of water. The mud on the boulders and
the turbid condition of the water were the only signs of the late
convulsion of nature.
"And so," said Brown, "the burning mountain, such as it was,
is gone for good, and we are the only white men living who have
seen it, who will now ever see it."
"That's so," commenced Morton, when he was interrupted by a
footstep from behind. They all turned hastily.
Scarred, bleeding, and burnt, a most miserable object, there
stood Columbus, the only survivor of his tribe. He looked
abjectly and imploringly at the whites—apparently it was to
their power he attributed the disaster that had
happened,—and came forward with a crushed and broken air,
gazing woefully at the space where the crater had been.
Brown beckoned, and the blackfellow came up to them.
Just then Charlie and Billy called out loudly that the water
was sinking. It was true: the muddy water was rapidly falling,
and a whirlpool was forming in the middle, as though some cavity
in the earth had been opened by the late convulsion. Silently
they all watched the water as it swirled round quicker and
quicker, and a harsh scream went up from it. In less than half an
hour the hole was empty, save for a misty vapour that arose. This
cleared away, and the bottom of the hole lay bare—a chaotic
jumble of boulders coated with mud, and in the centre a dark
rift, as though the crater formation had sunk down bodily.
"Anyone feel inclined to go down there?" said Morton.
"Not just at present," replied Brown; "we'll let it cool off a
bit first."
The disappearance of the water seemed to put the final blow on
the shattered Columbus. He followed them readily to the
camping-ground, where they gave him some food, which he ate
ravenously, although it made the whites shudder to see him, when
they remembered what his last meal had been.
In spite of what they had gone through, they were all too
anxious to get out of the gloomy desert of barren rocks to defer
their departure, and at sundown they started back for the
lagoons. The ex-chief accompanied them, as they thought they
could make him useful in furthering their future discoveries.
They arrived at their camp early the next day tired out, but
right glad to get back to more cheerful surroundings. Their
horses were feeding quietly about the place, having enjoyed a
better time of it than their masters, and everything else was
just as they had left it. They endeavoured to extract from
Columbus the story of his escape, and after much misunderstanding
managed to worry out, that when he found the white man dead he
thought that the other white men had killed him, and rushed out
after them. As soon as he got outside he was struck down and knew
no more, excepting that all the others must have been buried
under the fall of rock.
"How about those fellows who were sent back after the corpse?"
suddenly said Morton.
Further questioning elicited from Columbus that six men had
gone back, and by the signs he used it was evident that they had
not yet returned.
"By Jove, I never thought of them!" said Brown. "Lucky they
did not come along and spear our horses while we were away."
CHAPTER IX.
Deciphering the Contents of the Pocket-book—An Exciting
Discovery—Another Survivor of Leichhardt's Party, Perhaps
Still Living with a Tribe to the Westward—Charlie Makes
Another Proposal.
AS their camp was in every way a good one, and they wanted
leisure to decide on their future movements, they determined to
remain where they were for a few days.
Brown and Morton set themselves to sort out the contents of
the old pocket-book, and Charlie and Billy went fishing and
shooting, diversifying their sport with attempts at teaching
Columbus to ride.
The pocket-book was found to contain many pages of faded
writing, which would evidently take some time to decipher. Some
parts were still legible enough, others had suffered mutilation
and damage from water and smoke. Fortunately the handwriting
appeared to be that of an educated man, so that once they got
accustomed to it they would be able to piece it together with a
fair amount of ease.
It took them nearly all day to sort the leaves out into the
proper sequence of dates, and in doing so they gained a rough
idea of the contents. They found that the journal was written by
one of three survivors of Dr. Leichhardt's party, named Stuart.
He and two others (Kelly and Murphy) had been living for some
time with a tribe of friendly blacks to the westward. Kelly had
been killed during a fight with the cannibal tribe whose
annihilation they had witnessed. The journal recorded up to the
death of Kelly and a few weeks beyond, but gave no clue to the
subsequent life or fate of the survivors. One of them, Brown and
Morton agreed, was the old white man who had died in the cave,
but they did not believe that he was the writer of the journal.
It was more likely to have been written by Stuart, and the fate
of this man greatly excited their curiosity and sympathy. Was he
still living with the friendly tribe to the westward?
This question, they felt with sorrow, must be answered in the
negative. The presence of his companion, the old white man,
evidently a prisoner amongst the cannibals for years, and the
strangely preserved unfinished journal, pointed conclusively to
another fight, the probable death of Stuart, and the capture of
Murphy.
"But," suggested Morton hopefully, "those captives they
brought in possibly came from this friendly tribe, which proves
that they are still in existence. Why should not Stuart be yet
amongst them?"
"I hope so, but cannot think it likely," said Brown. "What
sort of a man should you think him to be by the rough idea we
have of his journal?"
"A good, self-reliant man."
"Exactly. And I think that if he was still alive he would have
trained his tribe up to fight these cannibals, and probably have
wiped them out before now and rescued his comrade."
"I must confess that your reasoning sounds conclusive enough,
but I won't give up the hope of finding him alive."
"Nor I, although it is hoping against hope."
"We must try and find out from Columbus whether this last
batch of victims came from Stuart's tribe; he might know whether
he is dead or alive."
That evening Columbus, who had had several spills during his
riding-lessons, much to Billy's delight, was interrogated about
the tribe to the westward. It came out that there were two tribes
which the cannibals harassed, one to the south and one to the
west. To the north Columbus intimated that there were no natives.
The last raid had been made on the tribe to the westward, who
lived by a lake. Further examination elicited the fact that
Murphy had been brought from there a long, long time ago; also,
that another white man was there who had killed a lot of
cannibals and frightened them; but that was also long ago, and
now they had been there two or three times and not seen him. They
learnt also that he went about everywhere, for he was with the
tribe to the south one time when they went there, and had killed
some of them there. The southern tribe lived near a mountain.
This was the extent of the information which, after much
puzzling on both sides, was gleaned from the cannibal chief.
It rather complicated matters. Was Stuart to the west or
south? Which way would they go first? On going into the subject
again it appeared that the way to the south was the easier; to
the west, as was evident by Stuart's journal, a long stage of dry
desert country had to be crossed.
"At any rate," said Morton, "we have a couple of days to think
it over. We must make a legible transcription of that journal,
and I propose that we make two copies; I will keep one, Charlie
another, and you, Brown, stick to the original. This will ensure
us somewhat against accident."
"Can I go and explore that hole where the crater disappeared
while you're busy at that?" said Charlie.
"Go by yourself?" asked Morton.
"No. I'll take Billy and Columbus."
"And supposing these missing men, the six sent to take the
corpse to the cemetery, turn up while you are in amongst the
rocks? What chance would you and Billy have, especially if
Columbus went over to their side?"
"I'd take care Columbus didn't turn traitor," said Charlie
viciously.
"What do you say, Brown?" inquired Morton. "Shall we let
Charlie go?"
"How do you propose getting down the hole?" asked Brown.
"We can climb down," returned Charlie.
"I don't think you'll find either Billy or Columbus go far
with you," said Morton. "If we had any sort of a rope I should
not mind, but there's nothing but the tent-line, and that's not
strong enough."
"I'll take great care," pleaded Charlie.
"No doubt you will, but if you make a slip and flop down some
thirty or forty feet, no amount of care will get you back again
with sound bones."
Charlie looked unconvinced.
"We could keep a look-out for the absent natives," said Brown.
"They are bound to come along this track, I suppose."
"Could not Columbus make some sort of a mark to stop
them?"
"I'm afraid not. Blacks can communicate in some way—you
have seen their 'yabber-sticks', I suppose,—but I don't
think we could make Columbus understand what we wanted, nor do I
suppose he would do it if we could."
"Strange how they can communicate, though. The time Faithful's
party were murdered in Victoria, the blacks in the settled
districts knew of it long before the whites did."
"Well, can I go or not?" demanded Charlie.
"I'll sleep on it," replied Morton. "I think you can take care
of yourself, and I can trust Billy as far as one can trust a
blackfellow. But remember, I am responsible for you, and if
anything happened to you I should be to blame."
With this Charlie had to content himself until the next
morning.
Morton and Brown stopped up late, smoking by the fire.
"Shall you let the boy go?" asked Brown.
"I think so, but I'm doubtful of those fellows behind; they
might slip past us in the dark and fall foul of Charlie when he
was not expecting them. If they had fair play Charlie and Billy
could hold their own, but they might take them at a disadvantage
in amongst those boulders."
At this moment a wailing cry in the distance made them both
start. The cry exactly resembled the mourning lamentations they
had heard in the scrub.
"That settles one part of the question," said Brown. "Those
fellows are on their way back. Kick old Columbus up and get him
to answer them."
Morton promptly roused the slumbering chieftain, and when he
heard the approaching cry he at once answered it. Then he went
out to meet them. Apparently he soon told them all about the
catastrophe that had taken place, for presently a great cry went
up. Columbus soon after appeared, leading them into the
firelight. Six truculent-looking ruffians they were, but it was
evident that Columbus had impressed them with a due respect for
the power of the whites, to whose anger he attributed the
misfortune that had befallen their tribe, for they all wore a
very humble and downcast air.
Charlie, who had come out of the tent on hearing the noise,
gave them some food, and they made a fire apart and squatted
beside it, Columbus being cautioned against allowing them to
sneak off during the night. As the blacks were unarmed, and they
now had all the survivors under their direct observation, no
watch was kept, and the late enemies soon slept soundly without
any misgivings.
CHAPTER X.
Stuart's Journal—News of the Missing Expedition—Charlie Departs.
NEXT morning Morton told Charlie that, as the natives had
turned up, he could go and explore the site of the crater, but he
must be back within three days. Columbus was made to understand
that the six blacks were to remain in the camp, otherwise they
would share the fate of their countrymen. As there was a good
supply of game, fish, ducks, and pigeons, they could easily live
without trespassing on the rations of the whites. As Charlie was
not to leave before an hour or so before sundown, he had ample
time to make his preparations. Moan-time the others went
seriously to work transcribing the journal, which took them the
greater part of the day.
The result of their labours was as follows:—
STUART'S JOURNAL.
"September, 1848.—We have been fortunate in striking a
well-watered river, but—" (Here there was a portion
mutilated.)
"September 12.—Still these aimless journeys to the
westward, across plains, barren and waterless, and which are so
loose and cracked that every time we make an attempt we lose some
of our animals. Fortunately, we have this fine river running
north and south to fall back on. The men are very discontented,
and the prospect ahead is anything but bright.
"September 16.—Two more horses knocked up by this
obstinate pushing into an impassable desert. Klausen and I must
remonstrate seriously to-night.
"September 18.—Thank Heaven, we managed to make the
Doctor see his folly, and we are now on the move north to get on
to his old track and work round that way. Everything going on
much smoother.
"September 20.—Country still well watered, and
travelling easy; expect soon to—" (Here the journal was
undecipherable to the end of the page, and the succeeding one was
dated more than a month ahead.)
"November 2.—We are still on the Doctor's first track
round the foot of the Gulf; but although there is ample feed and
water our horses are falling away, and do not look as well as
they did in the dry country.
"November 3.—Had some trouble with the natives yesterday
when crossing a small river. We had to fire twice at them before
they ran away. Klausen was speared in the arm with a barbed
spear, which had to be cut out."
(Here there was another gap where the journal had been
mutilated.)
"December 15.—We are still camped on the river, which
the Doctor called 'The Roper' on his first trip. Klausen's arm
prevents our moving. Inflammation has set in and I am afraid he
will die. Blacks very troublesome.
"December 16.—Klausen died last night; we buried him
this morning. We now leave the Doctor's old Port-Essington track
and follow this river up, south and west.
"December 20.—Getting into dry country again, and the
scrub is becoming very bad. We are scarcely able to force a way
through on foot—"
(Here, for many pages, the journal was so mutilated and
discoloured by water that only an occasional line was
intelligible. These seemed to point to the party being constantly
baffled by scrub and dry country; and also that some of them were
attacked by scurvy.)
"You've been in Queensland, Brown?" said Morton when they
arrived at this stage in their transcription. "How do you follow
out this journal?"
"As plain as print. Stuart's journal—at least the part
we have—commences on what is now known as the Diamantina
River, I think. The great dry plains he speaks of are to the
westward of that river, and in a dry season would be impassable
to anyone not knowing the country. By following the river up they
would easily cross the watershed on to the Gulf of Carpentaria
waters, and so get on to Leichhardt's old track."
Brown got a map out of the pack and illustrated thereon what
he had just said.
The next coherent portion of the journal would seem to have
been written after a disaster.
"April 24th, 1849.—There are now only five of us left;
two—Hentig and the Doctor—are both sick. The other
two must have died on the dry stage, as they have not come in
here and the blacks would not let them go back. I have not been
able to write my journal for some days, and as the Doctor cannot
write now, no record at all has been kept. We were just packing
up to leave the rocky water-hole in the scrub where we had been
camped for some days, when the blacks attacked us on all sides.
There were so many of them, and they had such good cover in the
scrub, that we fairly had to get away as best we could without
water, or all of our packs. While we were trying to keep them off
a gun burst and nearly shattered the Doctor's hand. This forced
us to hasten our retreat to get him safely away, leaving some of
our horses and mules behind.
"Immediately on getting out of the
scrub we found ourselves in open stunted forest, covered with
prickly grass. We kept to the south-west until evening and then
camped for a while, for the Doctor and Hentig could go no
further. We had travelled very slowly, and when we camped Kelly
asked me how far I thought we had come. I told him about ten
miles. He then proposed that we should take the freshest horses
and go back and try and get some water, as even if the blacks
were camped at the hole they would be asleep at the time we got
there. I agreed with him, for it seemed hopeless to go on through
this dry forest without water. I suggested, however, that we
should take all the animals and Murphy, and if possible give the
blacks a fright.
"Leaving the two others to look after the sick
men and keep a fire going, we started, and were singularly
fortunate. We got back soon after midnight and found the blacks
camped by the water-hole. They were asleep, having been feasting
on the horses we were forced to abandon. Some awoke, however, and
we immediately rushed into the camp, shouting and firing. They
fled indiscriminately, leaving most of their weapons behind, and
these we heaped on the fires. We were lucky enough to find two
big kegs we had abandoned, and filling these and all the canteens
we had brought, we started back as soon as possible before the
natives recovered from their scare.
"We reached camp soon after
sunrise, and but for the success of our raid none of us would be
alive now, for that dry forest continued without change or break,
day after day. We hoarded up some of the water for the sick men
and managed to keep them on their horses, but I remember nothing
of the last day, nor how the other two parted from us. Murphy
says they went after what they insisted was a smoke, but he says
it was only a whirlwind passing over burnt country. Kelly found
this water-hole through seeing two white parrots coming from this
direction early in the morning. It is on the edge of the forest,
and to the west lies a great plain, still covered with the same
prickly grass. There is a little coarse grass for the few beasts
we have now left, but the water in the hole is thick and muddy
and fast drying up.
"April 25th.—We have been back to try and find the other
two men, but without success; we must stay here—"
(Another break in the narrative here came in, the paper
seemingly having been scorched by fire.)
As it was now getting on for the hour when Charlie's departure
on his trip was to take place, the two men knocked off their work
and assisted him to get away. Fortunately, having Columbus with
them, they were enabled to lighten the packs considerably, as
they made him carry his share. Morton parted with his young
relation with some misgiving—still he liked his pluck, and
did not care to baulk him. By the time the sun disappeared the
three of them were mere specks in the distance of the great
plain.
The six natives seemed quite contented to stay where they
were, but both Morton and Brown determined to keep a sharp eye on
them. If they discovered them trying to make for the rock-plain
they could easily overtake them on horseback before they could
cross. However, they were there in the morning, and Brown and
Morton settled down to the continuation of the journal.
CHAPTER XI.
Continuation of Stuart's Journal.
THE narrative now assumed a more connected form, telling of
the death of Dr. Leichhardt and the rescue of the three survivors
by the friendly natives; also of the discovery by Stuart
of some curious cave paintings, which bore evidence of being
the work of a race superior to the present inhabitants of the
interior.
CONTINUATION OF STUART'S JOURNAL
"Ever since the Doctor injured his hand through the musket
bursting he has been subject to attacks of feverishness and
temporary madness, and this has greatly added to the hopelessness
of our position. I have often asked him for some definite
statement of his intentions, but he seems quite unable to go into
any details, and I am afraid we are fearfully out in our
reckoning. Hentig still terribly bad with scurvy.
"May 1, 1849.—Since my last entry we have buried Hentig,
and the Doctor must soon follow. If we could only get across this
dry country ahead of us we might be able to move on, but since we
are almost without rations and most of our horses dead it seems
as though we must leave our bones here, for there is no turning
back. Doctor much worse. Kelly says that there is only two days'
more water left in the hole. No sign of rain. Weather getting
cooler.
"May 2.—This morning, before the sun got up, I climbed
the tall tree on the edge of the plain, and distinctly saw a
faint smoke to the westward, in the same direction that Kelly
thought he noticed it when we first came here. Tomorrow we will
start towards it; it is all we can do. How we shall get the
Doctor on I cannot tell; he is almost helpless, and his mind is
quite gone. We have four horses and two mules. Besides the
Doctor, whom I look upon as a dead man, there are Kelly, Murphy,
and myself (Stuart). Hentig is buried under the tree with the
cross cut on it. Klausen died on the river Roper five months ago.
I will bury a copy of this in a powder-flask in Hentig's grave,
as well as the Doctor's papers."
(Here there was an evident gap in the narration.)
"I have been too ill to write for many days, how long I don't
know, for we have all of us lost count. I am only just beginning
to remember our journey across that horrible desert. We started
in the direction I had seen smoke, after using up every drop of
water for the animals at the camp where Hentig is buried. We took
it in turns to hold the Doctor on his horse, but he got very bad
a few hours after we started, and when the sun grew hot he begged
us to lift him off the horse for a little while. We had all the
canteens full, and Kelly had made a bag of calico and rubbed it
outside with goat's fat, and it held water tolerably well. So we
gave the Doctor plenty to drink, but he got no better, and about
noon he died. He talked a good deal to himself in German, but had
lost all knowledge of us or where he was, and a good thing too.
The Death of Dr. Leichhardt in the Desert.
"We could not stop to bury him, for we had to push on, so we
left him there on the big plain, where I think no living thing
ever comes or ever will come since we were there. It was the
second day out when we got on to that prickly grass plain with
deep red sand, and then our horses began to give up, and we had
to walk and try and drive all the beasts; but they were so
thirsty they would not keep together, so we stopped and talked
about what was best to be done. Kelly and I agreed that it was
best to unpack all the animals, and, taking all the water and as
much food as we could carry, to march on, and perhaps if we soon
came to water we could come back for the beasts. Murphy did not
think so; he thought we could drive them on on foot when it got
dark, but we persuaded him that we were right, and started. We
walked on long after it got dark, and then we lay down and slept
on the sandy plain amongst the prickly grass, for since leaving
the camp we have never passed a tree.
In the night Kelly called
me and pointed to a light in the west, which was evidently the
reflection of a large fire. Next morning we met it, for a wind
had sprung up in the morning. It was well for us that it was
almost barren country where we met the flames, otherwise we would
have been burnt. As it was we were nearly stifled with heat and
smoke. Afterwards, all that day and night, we watched the glare
of it behind us blazing amongst the dry prickly grass we had
passed through, carried on by the strong wind that now blew, and
we knew that our animals, saddles, and the Doctor's body would be
burnt up, and no one would ever see more of them; so it was with
sorrowful hearts we walked on. That day I saw some trees on
ahead, and we turned—"
(Here the journal had been effaced, apparently by water, but
nothing of importance appeared lost.)
"Murphy was the weakest, but we stood by him, although the
burnt country was very distressing. Kelly got a little
light-headed towards morning, and I began to feel the same. I
don't remember much more; it all seems a dream of stumbling along
and helping each other, sometimes talking to the phantoms we all
fancied we saw walking with us; and then I came partly to my
senses under a rough shade of boughs, and before me was this
great lake, and I knew by the smell of the place and almost
without looking around that I was in a camp of the natives. Kelly
and Murphy were alive, and better than I was. They remembered
something about the natives helping us to the water, for we had
passed it, and were going right away—"
(Another gap.)
"June.—I have put down June, for I think it must be that
time of the year, as near as I can make it. Neither Kelly nor
Murphy can read or write, so while I was ill they did not keep
the dates. The natives are quite friendly, and Kelly, who was
born in the bush of the southern portion of the colony, has
attained great influence over them, as he is very active, and can
use nearly all their weapons. I have been round the lake; it is
nearly sixty miles round, but very shallow, except at the end
where our camp is. The natives tell me it dries up some seasons,
with the exception of the deep hole here. They have canoes made
out of shells of trees, and can manage them very well, standing
upright and poling or sculling with a spear. They know nothing of
any other blacks, excepting a tribe to the eastward, of whom they
seem greatly frightened. They are a very simple people, and live
well, as there is plenty of fish in the lake and wild fowl. Kelly
and Murphy have quite settled down to the life, but how different
it is for me! When I think of my own people, and how I am doomed
to live and die amongst savages, I nearly go mad; for unless
other white men find their way here I must die here; and who
would cross that horrible sand plain? If the Doctor had but lived
we might have found some way of escape, but he and our horses and
saddles are all burnt up. What is the good of keeping this
record? No one will ever read it. I will become a savage like
those around me, and forget what I was.
"July.—I must write or I shall forget my language, and
that I must keep while life lasts. A strange thing happened
to-day. The old man Powlbarri came to me and made me understand
that he wanted me to go with him, he had something to show me. I
followed him to the ridge where the great sandstone rocks are,
and he led through a gap between two of them so narrow that we
could scarcely squeeze along. In a short time we stood in a
spacious cave that penetrated seemingly into the depths of the
ridge. There was a bar of limestone in the side and a few
stalactites, but not many, and light was admitted dimly through
cracks and crevices overhead. But when my eyes were more
accustomed to the light I started with affright, for partly
overhead and partly confronting me was a strange gigantic shape
with outstretched hand. I recoiled for an instant, and then saw
how I had been deceived; it was a rock painting on the sloping
roof of the cave. It bore no resemblance to the ordinary crude
tracings of the natives. I looked at it narrowly, and tried to
get out of the old man who did it. He gave me to understand that
it had been always there—as well as I could comprehend
him,—longer than the blacks knew of. The figure was of
heroic size, with straight symmetrical features, the head
surrounded by a halo or turban, and the body attired in a rough
semblance of a robe. The whole figure was of grave aspect, and
much reminded me of the drawings I had seen of Egyptian gods. The
old man beckoned to me to withdraw, and I was not sorry to do so,
for I wanted time to think, and intended to come back with Kelly
and Murphy and explore the place thoroughly. We passed out of the
cave, and had just squeezed through the gap when our ears were
greeted with a shrill discordant yell of terror from the camp.
With an answering shout my companion with extraordinary agility
bounded from my side, and I ran after him. There was little doubt
what had happened; the dreaded tribe from the east had surprised
and attacked the camp. When I arrived on the scene the fight was
just assuming extensive proportions. At first the boys, gins, and
old men had been easily overpowered, some killed and some
captured; but a hunting-party came up, amongst whom were my two
companions, who now went naked, and were nearly as dark as the
natives. Kelly, who would have made a brave and dashing soldier
if fate had so willed, plunged at once into the thick of the
fray, followed by Murphy, who was slower in his movements. There
appearance disconcerted the enemy, who were horribly
distinguished by a red smear on the forehead and a white triangle
on the breast. They rallied, however, but Kelly's onset, so
different from the ordinary method of native warfare, had
evidently staggered them. I was about to join our side when I
remembered that nearly the only part of our equipment saved was
my double-barrelled pistol and ammunition bag.
"This I had never used, reserving it for our own protection,
and I ran to my whirlie and came back with it loaded. A tall
blackfellow was engaged with Kelly, and rushing up I fired at and
shot him. There was an instantaneous lull of surprise, and at the
discharge of the other barrel the attackers straightway fled, and
even our own side seemed inclined to follow their example. Alas,
our victory was dearly bought! Kelly was speared through the
chest, mortally I saw at once; and so it turned out, for the poor
boy died with his head on my knee in a few minutes. We buried him
that evening, and never did I feel more sorry than for my bright
young companion, who, although uneducated, had many noble
qualities, and—"
(Here there was a large portion of the journal quite
undecipherable; the few words distinguishable seem to point to a
visit to the cave with Murphy.)
"The strange mystery of the cave paintings still puzzles me.
The additional smaller drawings we discovered are most singular,
and certainly point to other authorship than that of the natives.
In many places there are signs like a written language, and the
peculiar portrayal of dress indicates an Asiatic origin."
(Another gap.)
"I miss Kelly still. Murphy is dull and intractable; he has
sunk to the level of his savage companions. O God, have pity on
me, for I shall never, never see my countrymen again! Surrounded
by deserts, impassable to me on foot, I must drag out my life
here, hoping for the succour that will come too late to save
me."
(Here the narrative broke off, although several more blank
leaves in the pocket-book were available.)
CHAPTER XII.
Charlie's Adventure.
"WELL," said Brown, "which is it to be? South or west?"
"According to Columbus, Stuart was down with the southern tribe
the last time they saw him, which is apparently many years
ago."
"And he says that the road to the southern tribe is the easier
to travel. I think we ought to go there first."
"Then tackle the western lot. We must thoroughly examine those
caves he speaks of."
"Yes, the horses are in fine hard condition now; we will make
a start as soon as Charlie comes back."
"We ought to go round by Hentig's grave and recover those
papers."
"We have got our work cut out. Lucky we brought a good supply
of rations."
The six niggers appeared to have settled down contentedly to
await the return of Columbus. They were not at all intelligent,
and both men failed in getting any further information from
them.
"What's to become of these beggars when we leave?" said Brown.
"We must take Columbus with us to show us the best road."
"There's plenty of game here, and up and down the water-course
they will be able to earn an honest living," returned Morton.
"There's not enough of them to resort to their cannibal practices
again."
"I shan't be sorry when Charlie comes back; I am tired of
doing nothing."
The time appointed for Charlie's return drew near without any
sign of the three men. Morton watched the plain all day, finding
it impossible to conceal his anxiety, and blaming himself for
having allowed the boy to go.
At last, not long before sundown, a solitary figure was seen
approaching. Morton eagerly snatched up the glasses.
"Columbus. And alone," said he, putting the glasses down with
a sigh.
The two friends waited anxiously for the approach of the
native. Instinctively they felt that some disaster must have
happened.
As soon as Columbus was within hearing he commenced howling
dismally, and the six others answered him, lamenting in a loud
voice. This was kept up at intervals until Columbus reached the
camp. Without waiting to be questioned, he held up two fingers
and pointed down to the ground. Charlie and Billy were evidently
in trouble somewhere underground. Brown indicated that they would
go out there, which was evidently what Columbus wanted.
"We must take all the surcingles," said Brown; "they will bear
Charlie's weight, I think, and will make a good long rope buckled
together."
"Columbus has been evidently sent back to bring assistance;
and the old beggar has travelled too, by the look of him. What do
you say to taking two of the others with us?"
"I suppose they will not sack the camp while we are away?"
returned Brown.
"No, they are not civilized enough for that. Now let us make
all the haste we can."
Columbus was instructed to tell two of the blacks to accompany
them, and to explain to these men what had happened. This he did
in several rapid sentences, and in a few minutes they were ready
for the road. Their equipment was but light, as they only took
their revolvers, candles, the surcingles, and a little food and
some brandy, a small supply of which they had with them; this
with their water-bags would be all they required, they reckoned.
They pushed on with scarcely a rest all night, and found the
advantage of having the natives with them, for they could not
have found their way amongst the boulders in the dark.
About an hour before daylight they stood once more on the edge
of the hole in which the crater had sunk. There was a decided bad
odour arising from it, distinctly noticeable at that time.
Morton leaned over the edge and shouted "Below there!" as loud
as he could. There was silence for a second or two, and then
"Below there!" came thundering back.
"Echo," said Brown.
Morton tried again with the same result.
Brown fired his pistol, but the thunder of the echoes was the
only answer.
"They must be poisoned with foul air," said Morton, in tones
of the deepest sorrow.
"Must we wait until daylight?" asked Brown.
"I am afraid so. We might come to grief ourselves, and then it
would be all up indeed. However, I think I can get down to the
edge of the fissure without much danger, if you and the two
blacks can hang on to the surcingles."
The preparations were soon completed, and Morton carefully
made his way down the sloping sides of the hole and amongst the
mud-encrusted boulders, by the help of the surcingles, which
Brown and the two natives held above. It was slow work, for the
candle he had gave out only a feeble light, but at last he found
himself at the edge of the rift at the bottom. He stood there
listening for some time; presently, with an up-blast of cold air
that nearly extinguished his candle, came a strange wail as
though some giant was sighing, far underground.
"Hear anything up there, Brown?" he shouted.
"Not a sound. Are you on level ground, can we slack off?"
"Yes, slack off. But do you think you could trust the two
blacks to hold it while you come down? I will come back and show
you a light."
"I'll chance it at any rate," returned Brown, and presently he
stood beside his friend.
Morton told him of the strange sound he had heard, and both
stood by the edge of the hole and listened. Once more the blast
of cold air came and with it the melancholy and mysterious
noise.
"That's no human or animal noise," said Brown; "it seems more
like water or air escaping."
"The atmosphere does not seem so bad now," said Morton. "I
suppose it was the contrast with the pure air above."
"It was getting light to the eastward when I came down just
now," returned Brown; "we had better wait for full
daylights—half an hour cannot make much difference."
"It might make all the difference," replied Morton; "however,
I suppose there is no help for it."
At that moment there was a sudden cry from above.
"Wonder what's up?" said Morton, scrambling back.﹃Hang it
all!﹄he exclaimed as he laid hold of the surcingles and they
came tumbling down, showing that the blacks above had let go of
them.
Presently they were heard jabbering at the edge of the hole,
and Morton shouted to them and threw a coil of the surcingles up.
Apparently they understood what was wanted, for the line tautened
once more and Morton scrambled up, and then assisted Brown. The
dawn was rapidly breaking, and the blacks, pointing to the candle
Morton still held in his hand and then towards the memorable
cliffs, chattered volubly.
"They must mean that they saw a light in that direction," said
Brown. "It's too light for us to see now."
"Shall we go over there or investigate this hole?"
"They must have seen something by the start they got; perhaps
we had better go there first."
Accompanied by the two natives, who led the way by a path
known to them, they made for the shattered cliff which they had
hoped never to see again. As they approached it an awful odour,
evidently stealing through the cracks from the bodies rotting
beneath the collapsed roof, made itself disagreeably evident. The
blacks kept on talking to one another, as though discussing what
they now saw for the first time. Arrived at the place, the white
men mounted on the piled-up debris, and both together shouted
with the full strength of their lungs. To their delight a
distinct answer was heard from beneath their feet, evidently no
echo.
"It's Charlie's voice!" cried Morton delightedly.﹃Where are
you?﹄he yelled.
"Here!" came the voice, right under their feet.
"In the old cave?" asked Morton.
"No, but close to it; there's a vile smell here."
"How did you get there?"
"Came underground. Do you think you can get us out here, or
must we go back again to the crater?"
"The blacks saw your light, so there must be a big gap
somewhere. Have a good look round, it's sunrise now."
There was a silence for a while, then Charlie's voice sounded
a little further off.
"There's a big crack here, but too narrow for us to get
through."
The men above went in the direction of the sound, and soon
found the fissure.
"It would take dynamite to shift this one," said Brown,
putting his hand on the huge boulder that formed one side of the
rift.
Morton knelt down on the flat rock that formed the opposite
side and put his hand into the crevice.
"Hurrah!" he shouted, "this is only a slab; the four of us can
shift this, I think."
So it proved. The four, with one unanimous pull, managed to
partly upraise the limestone slab, and Morton adroitly kicked a
big stone underneath which kept it in position. Charlie was now
able to crawl out, followed by Billy.
"Here, take a swig of this before you say anything," said
Morton, mixing some brandy and water in his pannikin.
Charlie took some and handed the remainder to Billy, who
looked particularly scared.
"How long have you been cruising about in the bowels of the
earth?" asked Brown.
"Since the night before last, or early yesterday morning. I
did not go down the deep hole when I first came here, because I
had promised to be careful. I went down the first one, and then
got some dead leaves from the old bottle-tree camp, lit them, and
threw them down. By the light we could see that there were no
sides to the hole—it seemed as though it had been punched
in the roof of a tunnel. However, we found a place at last where
some boulders were piled up, and I thought that, with Billy's
help, I could get down on to them. I did so, and found that I
could get from there on to the floor of the place without any
trouble. I came back for Billy, and he was being helped down by
Columbus, when suddenly there came a most awful sound, half a
shriek and half a sigh, which so frightened Billy that he must
have let go, for he came tumbling on top of me, and the two of us
dislodged the boulder, which was not very firm to start with.
Fortunately we were neither of us hurt, but Columbus must
have thought we were killed, for he cleared out—"
"And came straight back to us, luckily," interrupted
Morton.
"When I found that he was gone," went on Charlie, "I thought
we could get back again by piling rocks up to stand upon; but
there were no small ones, they were all too big for us to shift.
We waited there, and shouted, and called, and every now and again
we heard that sigh—'"
"We heard it as well," said Morton.
"Billy shook with fright every time, and nearly made me as bad
as himself. At last I made up my mind to explore the passage we
were in; but I had a great job with Billy, for the passage led in
the direction the sound came from, and Billy conjured up all
manner of horrors. Luckily I had the packet of candles with me
when I came down, so we had plenty of light."
"Was the air bad?" asked Morton.
"There was a funny damp smell, but the candles burnt well, and
we felt no bad effects. The passage was smooth enough underfoot
but not very high, so that we had to stoop; but we came to
occasional places where we could straighten our backs. The noise
kept getting louder, until at last Billy with his terror got to
be such a nuisance, that when we got to where there was enough
space I put my candle down and gave him a good punching."
Here Brown and Morton burst out laughing. The idea of Charlie,
down in the blackness of a subterranean passage, thumping Billy
to keep his own courage up, was too original.
"Presently we came to where the passage branched, and along
one came the noise, now a regular bellow. Nothing could induce
Billy to go along that one; he threw himself on the ground and
let me kick him, but he wouldn't budge."
"Were you very anxious to go yourself, Charlie?" asked
Brown.
"I had to keep up appearances," returned Charlie modestly. "We
started along the other passage, and presently it began to
ascend, and was littered and partly blocked with boulders;
finally, after much trouble and squeezing, we got up to where you
found us. It was dark when we got there, but I knew by the fresh
air coming in that there were some cracks somewhere leading to
the upper world, and I guessed by the smell that we must be in
the neighbourhood of the old cave. We went back a bit and lay
down to sleep, and when I woke up we came here again so as to be
ready to try and get out at the first dawn."
"Thank goodness it's all over," said Morton; "for I've had a
rare fright, and Brown and I have been travelling all night.
However, we won't go back without investigating the mystery of
the noise."
There was still some water lying about in the rock holes
around the crater, so when they returned they set to work and got
breakfast ready.
Charlie thought with them that the strange noise was made by
an escape of water or air, both from the regularity of the sound
and its peculiar nature.
CHAPTER XIII.
Investigation of the Mysterious Noise—The Trip
South—
Natives Exterminated—Stuart's Initials Found.
AS soon as the meal was finished, Morton, Brown, and Charlie
descended the hole, but Billy declined the invitation extended to
him. By the aid of the surcingles they climbed down into the
passage already traversed by Charlie and Billy, and which
appeared to have been an underground water-course at the time
when the boiling springs were at work.
At last they arrived at the branch passage from whence came
the mysterious noise, and along this they proceeded cautiously.
Suddenly across their path extended a black chasm, bringing them
to a stand-still. Testing the ground carefully, they crawled to
the edge and looked over. The darkness was intense, but on
holding the candle out, a tiny spark was reflected down below, as
though from the surface of a sheet of water. Suddenly this
disappeared, and the loud sigh, or, as Charlie had called it,﹃a
regular bellow,﹄came up from the pit. This died down, and they
heard a repeated swishing noise, like water splashing against
rocks. Morton inverted his candle so as to get the wick well
alight, and then dropped it down the hole. They watched it
falling for some time ere it struck the water with a distinctly
audible hiss.
"By Jove! it's a long way down there. I don't think we need
stop here any longer unless Charlie wants to go down."
"No, thanks," said Charlie, "my curiosity is quite
satisfied."
They retreated as cautiously as they had advanced, followed by
the melancholy roar from below.
"It's the water that makes that noise," said Brown. "The water
down there is evidently still in a disturbed state, and is
regularly set in motion, and rushes up some sort of a
blow-hole."
"Do you think it has any connection with that hot swamp and
lake down south?"
"Without any doubt; perhaps we shall find that lake all burst
up when we go down there."
They retraced their steps, and, by the aid of the surcingles
held by the blacks above, emerged once more into the open air.
They rested most of the day, and started back to what they now
considered their main camp as soon as the evening grew cool.
Columbus and the other four blacks were there, and everything
as they had left it. "That was a smart trick," said Brown. "What
was?"
"In our hurry to start after Charlie, we left the journal and
the copies we had made lying loose in the tent. If the grass had
taken fire, or the niggers looted the camp, we should have lost
all our work."
Morton whistled.
They rested one day, and then made an early start for the
south. They had rigged up a makeshift saddle for Columbus, and,
as they travelled slowly, he was able to get along fairly well.
They reached the swamp about the same time as before, and at
first noticed no change in it. On penetrating it, however, they
found that it was not so boggy as formerly, and on mounting the
tree they had already climbed, they saw that the water in the
lake had fallen considerably, and the fringe of reeds was
drooping.
"Do you think all these fine trees will die if the water dries
up?" said Charlie.
"They may. But as their roots go down to a great depth, I
should think they would hold on a good many years yet."
Next morning Columbus indicated the track they had come upon
before, and they soon had left the swamp behind them. The country
was exceedingly monotonous, there being no break in the forest
until about four in the afternoon; then they suddenly came to a
creek, and the country began to improve, and better grass was
apparent. At the first water they came to they camped for the
night. Columbus intimated to them that the creek they were on and
the one where they had been camped were the same, and as the
characteristics were similar, they concluded that he was right,
and that the creek had re-formed again. Columbus also informed
them that they would now follow the creek, and that there was
plenty of water all the way. On inquiry, he said that they would
reach the mountain in two days.
On the evening of the second day they got into broken country,
although it was still well grassed, and the creek had largely
increased in size. From the crest of one ridge they passed over,
Columbus pointed to the mountain now visible in the distance.
Next day the country was much rougher, and the creek ran
through a succession of gorges. The mountain was the highest
point of the broken country, and the creek swept round the base
of it.
Morton called Brown's attention to the fact that all the
native camps they passed were of old date, and that no fresh
tracks were visible. At last they reached an extent of open
country lying at the foot of the mountain, which rose aloft in a
peak. On the bank of the creek were some ruined humpies, built of
mud and sticks, after the manner of the Cooper's Creek natives.
In the creek was a long water-hole, apparently of great depth.
Human bones and skeletons were strewn about the camp. Evidently a
wholesale massacre had taken place some years back.
"Those cannibals must have wiped the whole tribe out the last
time they were here," said Brown.
"If they have served the tribe to the westward the same way,
they would have had to live on one another shortly."
After unpacking and hobbling the horses, they made a thorough
investigation of the place to see if any trace of Stuart still
existed, but they saw nothing to lead them to suppose that a
white man had ever been there.
Columbus, on being appealed to, pointed to the hill, which was
scarcely a quarter of a mile away. On going over to it they found
what appeared to be a crude kind of barricade built of stones, a
work that none of the party had ever before seen done by natives.
This was the only indication they found that evening. The next
morning early they ascended the hill, and from the top had an
extended view all around. They were evidently on the highest
point in that part of the continent. To the south and east it
appeared to be one vast ocean of scrub, without a break to the
horizon. They could trace the course of the creek for some short
distance, then it apparently died out and was once more lost.
Westward the scrub was broken into belts and patches, until it
merged into a wide gray plain, to which they could see no end but
the sky-line. Northward was the broken country they had passed
over. The mountain was of granite formation, and on a smooth
boulder they found some initials plainly chipped on the surface:
"C.N.S. 1861".
"Stuart was here, then, right enough. I wonder whether he went
on from here."
"He never got into the settled districts at any rate, or we
should have heard of it."
Columbus, who had accompanied them, shook his head when asked
about the country to the south and east. He made a gesture like a
man falling down dead, by which they understood that it was
impassable, so that the probability was that Stuart had perished
in his attempt to make into civilization.
Brown struck a match and lit his pipe.
"We have come to the end of our tether in this direction," he
said.
"I wonder how the lake bears from here," replied Morton. "I
suppose the cannibals have a track from the great rock out to it,
but if Stuart got down here on foot we ought to be able to find
our way across on horseback."
Columbus, on being questioned as to the direction of the lake,
pointed north, the way they had come.
"That's a way the niggers have," said Brown. "They always
point to the last place they started from; they have no idea of
direction. When we got back to the old camp he would point some
other way."
Columbus professed entire ignorance as to any means of
reaching the lake, except by going back the way they came and
starting on the road he knew. Morton and Brown, however, decided
on trying to go straight across from where they were.
They devoted one day to a trip down the creek, which they
found was entirely lost in sandy, scrubby country. No further
sign of Stuart's presence was found anywhere, nor could anything
be discovered to lead one to suppose that any of the natives had
survived the massacre, although Columbus had evidently expected
to find some still living.
Calculating the supposed situation of the lake as due west
from the rock, they reckoned it would be north-west from where
they then were. If that course did not bring them to the lake
they would probably come across some indication which would lead
them to it.
The first part of their journey was through the belts of scrub
they had seen from the hilltop. It was principally hedgewood, and
greatly delayed their progress, and it was late when they at last
emerged upon the edge of the plain. The grass was fairly good,
but there was no water for the horses, and from what they had
seen there did not seem much prospect of getting any early the
next day. In fact, it was past noon before they had crossed the
plain and gained the timber on the other side of it. This was
open forest, and in a clear space, some mile or two on, they came
to a dry lagoon. In the shallow bed was an old native well, and
on clearing this out and deepening it, a very fair supply of
water came in. Watering their now thirsty horses took some time,
as all the water had to be drawn from the well, a billyful at a
time, and poured into a trough extemporized from a waterproof
sheet. The supply, however, came in strongly, showing there was a
good permanent soakage. There was fine feed about the lagoon, and
everybody felt satisfied with the prospect ahead.
Columbus seemingly knew nothing of the country they were then
on, so that the cannibals had evidently stuck to one particular
track when on their periodical man-hunting expeditions.
CHAPTER XIV.
In the Spinifex Desert—Arrival at the Lake—The
Remnant of a Tribe.
THE next morning when they started the forest country still
continued for many miles, until they at length came to another
broad plain, and a couple of hours before sundown sighted some
timber nearly on their course. This proved to be a double line of
gutta-percha-trees, with a broad flat between them. The trees
grew on low banks of sand, on which were countless quantities of
tiny shells; the whole had the appearance of a shallow
water-course, but the bed was covered with blue-bush. The two
lines of trees stretched on like a limitless avenue, and as it
followed much the same course as that they were travelling, they
proceeded along it. They passed one or two empty holes, with a
ring of polygonum bushes, dry and withered, around the top of the
bank. It grew late, and as everything still bore a parched
appearance Morton pulled up for a consultation.
While discussing the best thing to do, a flight of galar and
corrella parrots passed overhead, flying in the direction they
were going, and evidently making for their nightly drink. This
put new life into everybody, and they pushed on once more. At
dusk they were rewarded by coming to a somewhat deeper hole than
those they had passed. There was, however, only sufficient water
for their wants in the bottom, and it was fast drying up, and
could not be depended on for their return journey.
Next morning they still kept on along the avenue of
gutta-percha trees, and Morton began to hope that it would turn
out to be one of the water-courses supplying the lake. In this,
however, he was disappointed, for the trees grew fewer in number
and further apart, until they passed the last one, and before
them stretched once more a boundless plain.
The country now suddenly changed for the worse; the ground was
sandy and covered with the detestable spinifex, and both Morton
and Brown felt rather doubtful as to going on, for there was no
knowing how far this desert might extend.
However, they made up their minds to proceed, as there was
really nothing else to do. Then commenced one of the weariest
rides they had yet experienced during the trip. It was even worse
than the scrub. The prickly needles of the spinifex irritated the
shins of the horses, so that it was with great trouble the
pack-horses were urged along. Hour after hour went on, and still
there was no change in the unbroken horizon that bounded
them.
"I should fancy those old cannibals found it mighty rough on
their shins if they had to cross a belt of desert like this,"
said Brown.
"I expect they kept it burnt down on the track they used to
patronize," replied his friend.
"Fancy what the feelings of poor hopeless Stuart and his
companions must have been when toiling through this waste."
"Yes. If we find it bad, what must starving men on foot have
found it?"
That night fell on them still in the desert. They had an ample
supply of water for themselves in the canvas bags, but their
horses had to go both hungry and thirsty.
"Things begin to look rather queer," said Morton, as they
prepared to start.
"Yes, it's a case if we don't get out of this by
to-night."
They had hardly mounted, when Billy and Columbus gave a mutual
exclamation, and pointed to the westward of their track. A
curious looking dark mass was travelling swiftly along just above
the horizon. Suddenly it dipped down and disappeared.
"Hurrah!" shouted Brown. "Flock pigeons going in for their
morning drink. That must be the lake."
Much elated, they pressed eagerly on in the new direction, the
horses seeming to understand what was ahead as well as their
masters. The spinifex now began to grow scantier, and patches of
grass appeared in its place; the earth changed from red sand to
good chocolate soil, and before them stretched a very large
expanse of downs, well grassed with Mitchell grass and other
good grasses.
Suddenly and unexpectedly they crossed the crest of an
imperceptible rise, and before them lay the goal of their hopes.
Unanimously they halted and gazed at the locality where the man,
whose journal they had read, had passed many weary years of
exile.
No fairer scene could have been found anywhere in the interior
of Australia. A blue expanse of water, apparently some miles in
length, lay outstretched before them. The low sloping banks were
verdant with grass, kept green by the soakage from the lake.
Great gnarled coolibah-trees of immense girth grew round the
water's edge, and the gently rising downs on either side were
studded with clumps of the beautiful weeping myall and shady
bauhinia trees. At the end of the lake nearest to them was a
small hill crowned with great gray boulders of granite.
"After all, there must be something in the influence of
surroundings," said Morton. "The natives living here, are, or
were, according to Stuart, a gentle and friendly tribe, whilst
those living amongst the barren rocks alongside of that boiling
spring were about the biggest devils I ever met."
"How about Columbus?" asked Charlie. "If there are any natives
left, won't they try and kill him?"
"No doubt they will make it pretty sultry for him, but he
seems quite cheerful over it. He has put the onus of the whole
thing on our shoulders. He must take his chance."
They rode on in suppressed excitement, hoping against hope
that Stuart might still be there.
"What's that ahead?" suddenly cried Morton.
The object when approached turned out to be the bald, dried,
half-decomposed body of a black-fellow.
"This is some of your men's doings, my friend," said Brown,
glancing at Columbus, who grinned complacently.
The sides of the lake were firm and hard, and the thirsty
horses ran eagerly in and commenced drinking greedily. Overhead
the white correllas and pink and gray galars chattered noisily
amongst the boughs, on the opposite side a group of objects like
native gunyahs were visible. When the horses finished drinking,
they rode round the edge of the lake to them.
Not a sound was heard, and nothing was seen to move as they
approached the spot, nor was any smoke visible. Gorged carrion
crows and hawks arose as they drew near, and flapped unwillingly
away; the crows protesting loudly at being disturbed, after the
manner of their kind. Two or three eagle-hawks gazed fiercely
down from the branches of neighbouring trees.
A pestilential smell hung heavy in the air, an odour soon
accounted for, for around the ravished camp lay at least a score
of corpses, all in the same stage of decay as the one they had
first passed on the plain. These appeared to be mostly old men
and women, although here and there the smaller bodies of children
could be seen amongst their slaughtered parents. Brown and the
others drew a long breath as they gazed on this scene of
murder.
"What a blessing it is," he said, "to know that all those
wretches who did this are crushed into jelly underneath tons of
rock."
"Yes," replied Morton in a low voice; "and for two pins I
could find it in my heart to send that hoary old sinner there to
keep them company."
This sentiment was a common one, and Columbus received some
very savage glances, even Billy looking at him, and handling his
carbine as though anxious to use it on the blackfellow. The old
cannibal, however, was quite unconscious of the feeling he had
aroused, and smiled sweetly as though he was showing them a
highly interesting little exhibition.
"They must have killed and captured the whole tribe," said
Morton at last. "No hope of finding Stuart now."
"I am afraid not. We had better look out a camp as far to
windward of these poor wretches as possible," returned Brown.
Just then Billy whistled, and when his master looked towards
him, he indicated by a motion of his head the direction of the
hill with the granite boulders on it.
A thin column of smoke was stealing up from the back of
it.
Morton whispered hastily to Charlie to take Billy and ride
round the foot of the hill to the back of it, leaving the loose
horses feeding about on the green grass at the edge of the
water.
He and Brown rode straight over the crest of the hill, and
underneath them saw the mockery of a camp. A wretched remnant,
who had escaped massacre, they found huddled together near some
rocks. Two old men, about half a dozen gins and children, and one
young fellow, badly wounded. Too startled and frightened to
attempt flight, they gathered timorously together. Their fear
seemed augmented when Charlie and the black boy came up.
Brown dismounted and walked up to them. At once a cry of
surprise and pleasure broke from the old men. They commenced
jumping about, shouting and laughing uproariously. Instantly it
flashed across the minds of the whites that they were mistaken
for a reincarnation or resurrection of their countrymen who had
formerly lived here. Morton and Charlie left their horses and
joined Brown, when the conference was abruptly interrupted by the
appearance of a riderless horse. A difference of opinion had
arisen between Columbus and his steed when the others left
him alone, which resulted in the discomfiture of the native,
who now followed limping after his horse.
The old men recognized their enemy at once. They stamped,
raved, and spat at him; and one, picking up a spear, drove at him
with such vigour, that only a nimble jump saved Columbus from
being transfixed. For his part he returned their vituperation
with interest, and the gins joining in, a perfect tempest of
words ensued. Seeing that nothing could be done until they were
alone, Morton told Charlie to go and round up the pack and spare
horses, and, with Billy and Columbus, to take them some distance
up the lake and camp on the bank, where he and Brown would join
them.
Once their enemy was out of sight the blacks quietened down,
and one of them commenced a voluble speech to Brown, addressing
him as "Tuartee," from which it was evident that their first
surmise was correct. After some trouble they made the natives
understand that they were not going away, but were going to make
a camp at the lake. They promised to return shortly, and rode
away to join Charlie and Billy.
Everybody enjoyed a good swim in the lagoon, and ate a hearty
meal afterwards. Brown and Morton then strolled back to interview
the blacks.
CHAPTER XV.
The Fate of Columbus—Investigation of the Cave—
Stuart's Grave and Recovery of the Conclusion of his Journal.
THEIR approach to the camp was greeted with cries of
"Tuartee," and they endeavoured to make the old men comprehend
that they wanted to be shown the cave. Apparently, however, the
blacks, if they did understand, thought that their guidance was
quite unnecessary to a returned spirit, who ought to know all
about it. They imitated the gestures made by the whites, and
pointed with infinite politeness the same way that they did, but
that was all that could be got out of them.
As they were both tired after their long and dreary ride, they
determined to start on an independent search the next morning,
and after giving the blacks some trifling presents they returned
to camp. That evening they enjoyed a meal of fine fish caught in
the lake. It was plain that some days must be spent in the
neighbourhood, in order to thoroughly investigate the caves, and
find out if possible the fate of Stuart.
"Well, we are here," said Brown, as he made his bed down that
night, "but I'm hanged if I know exactly how we are going to get
hack again."
"No, we shall have to make a mighty long dry stage, for that
last hole we were at will be dry by to-morrow."
"I think Stuart must have got across some other way."
They were soon all sound asleep; as no danger was to be
apprehended from the poor wretches at the camp at the hill, no
watch was kept. Towards morning Morton felt himself gently shaken
by the shoulder; looking up he saw Charlie bending over him.
"I'm sure there's somebody prowling around the camp," he
whispered. "I felt that funny feeling one feels, you know, of the
presence of something not right about the place. I was woke up by
a sound like a blow, or a stick breaking."
Morton sat up, looked around, and listened. All appeared
peaceful and quite enough. The fires had burned down, and the
light of the stars alone illumined the scene. The sheet of water
alongside was unruffled, and reflected like a mirror the
thickly-studded sky overhead. Not a sound could be heard, not
even the cry of a night-bird or water-fowl. For some moments they
both remained silent, listening, then Morton said in an
undertone:
"Must have been fancy, Charlie. There can be nobody here but
those poor wretches over the hill."
"No, it was not fancy," answered Charlie. "I am sure there was
somebody moving about. You know I would not have roused you had I
not been certain. Listen!"
Loud cries suddenly arose in chorus from the camp of the
natives.
Brown started up.
"The devil!" he said, after listening. "That old Columbus at
his cannibal tricks again. See if he is there, Charlie."
Billy and Columbus had made a separate fire, round which they
were sleeping, coiled after the manner of blackfellows. Billy,
aroused by the outcries which rung out clearly and distinctly in
the still night air, now struggled to his feet, half asleep.
"Here's Columbus," said Charlie, giving the prostrate
chieftain a good kick. "Wake up, old man!" he cried.
Columbus never stirred.
"There's something up," said Charlie, drawing back with a
shudder.
Morton struck a match, as did Brown.
There was indeed something up. One glimpse was sufficient.
Columbus lay dead, his skull shattered with a two-handed club
which had been left beside his body. The shouts of the blacks
were tokens of rejoicing at the return of his executioners with
their work accomplished.
The whites gazed at the dead man in silence, and each felt
slightly cold at the thought of the ease with which the whole
camp might have been disposed of.
"Retribution!" said Morton at last. "He deserved his fate, but
I can't help feeling sorry for the old villain. Billy, my boy,
supposing that fellow had made a trifling mistake and tapped you
on the skull in the dark."
Billy shook his head as though to make sure it was quite
sound.
"No good this one country," he replied; "mine think it go back
alonga station."
"Billy, your remarks, as usual, are to the point, and
chock-full of sound sense," remarked Brown. "But we shall all
feel better when the sun jumps up. Let's make the fire burn and
have breakfast. It's not far off daybreak."
By the time the meal was finished the first rays of the sun
were just visible. Charlie and Billy were sent after the horses,
with instructions to remove the camp to one of the clumps of
timber some short distance back from the lake, and then to take
Columbus' body to where the victims of his tribe were
lying—there they could moulder in company. Morton and Brown
started in their search for the cave, taking the camp of the
natives on their way. The killing of Columbus was only a just act
of tribal vengeance. They did not intend, therefore, to let it
interfere with their friendly intercourse with these natives,
from whom so much valuable information might be obtained.
The blacks evinced no fear when they came to the camp, and
greeted them in the most friendly manner. Not wasting any time in
fruitless attempts at intercourse, the two men set out on their
search. They were fortunate at the outset. They selected the two
most imposing boulders, which seemed to answer best to the
description in the journal, and on nearer approach a well-worn
pad proved that they were on the right track. Squeezing through
the narrow aperture described by Stuart, they found themselves in
the cavern confronting the gigantic figure painted on the roof
and side. Prepared as they were for the startling appearance of
this form, they could not repress a certain feeling of awe as
they gazed at it, and recognized at once that it was not the work
of any Australian aborigines then existing on the continent.
A movement behind made Morton hastily turn round. One of the
old men had silently followed them, and was standing a few paces
away. Seeing Brown look curiously around after the first survey
of the figure he advanced, and beckoning to him, led him to the
side of the cavern where the light from a crevice above fell
strong on a certain place. There, on the rock, had been carved
with care this inscription:—
"CHARLES NEIL STUART.
CAME HERE, 1849.
DIED....."
Then followed a date, scratched with a feeble hand, which they
made out to be "1870."
With uncovered heads the two friends gazed sorrowfully and
reverently at the resting-place of their unfortunate countryman.
Although they had never really anticipated finding him alive, a
feeling of sincere regret was uppermost at discovering their
worst forebodings realized. They would have given much to have
been in time to bring succour to the poor lonely man by the side
of whose grave they knew they were standing.
The native again advanced, and putting his hand into a crevice
in the rock drew forth a package, done up in the dried skins of
some small marsupials, and furthermore protected by a casing of
bark. This he gravely handed to Brown, who took it from him, but
refrained from opening it at once. After a short scrutiny around,
resulting in no further discoveries, they left the cave. Resting
on the first convenient rock, they proceeded to inspect the
precious parcel. The contents consisted of an old-fashioned
double-barrelled pistol, a powder flask, a bullet-mould much
dented and battered, and a roll of loose leaves of paper covered
with faded writing. Together they pored over these leaves, which
contained the conclusion of the castaway's life. They were in
much better order than the contents of the pocket-book originally
discovered, not having been subjected to such rough usage, and
the narrative ran on without a break. The contents explained the
presence of Murphy amongst the cannibals, the loss of the
pocket-book, etc., and recorded Stuart's futile attempt to escape
to the south, his meeting with the now exterminated tribe who
lived at the foot of the mountain, and his return after repeated
failures to penetrate the scrub and sand which cut him off from
the settled districts. A gold discovery was also recorded.
They went back to their new camp, meaning to spend the rest of
the day in copying out the journal, so as to insure its safety as
much as possible. Morton dictated the narrative to Brown and
Charlie, who made separate copies. Thus ran the story.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Continuation of Stuart's Journal—The Slaughter-Chamber.
"I AM now alone, and I know not whether my comrade is living
or dead. It was a year after Kelly's death—by my reckoning,
which I have kept by notches on a rock in the cave—that I
went with three natives to a scrub about ten miles from here to
get a peculiar kind of wood I was looking for to make bows of.
For now that I had made up my mind I would never be rescued, I
thought I would try to teach the natives the use of the bow and
arrow, and we would lead them against this tribe whom they
dreaded so and who killed Kelly, and perhaps obtain peace. There
was no wood suitable near the camp, but from the description
given by the blacks I thought I could obtain what I wanted in the
scrub indicated by them. There was water there, and we stopped
two days, cutting and dressing the saplings so as to make them
lighter to carry in, for as we only had stone tomahawks it took a
long time. On the evening of the second day we heard a gin
wailing and crying in the distance, coming towards us. The blacks
stopped their work and ran to meet her, crying out in the same
tone. I knew something was wrong and followed them. It was sad
news, awful news! The Warlattas, as the hostile tribe was called,
had attacked the camp at night, had killed and wounded many, and
carried off a number of prisoners—amongst them Murphy, who
was a heavy sleeper and had no chance to defend himself. I knew
that these Warlattas were cannibals, and that the prisoners they
took away were probably eaten.
"We got back to camp in the middle of the night, and the next
morning I tried to get the men who were left to follow me after
the cannibals, but they were all so cowed they wouldn't, although
I showed them the pistol and fired it off. I tried to track the
enemy by myself, and if I could I would have followed them, but I
lost the tracks and nearly died of thirst. The Warlattas had
taken nearly all the few things we had saved, including my
pocket-book; these few sheets I am writing on were picked up
about the camp.
"1853.—That is my reckoning. All this time I have
written nothing, as I wanted to husband my paper, and I had
little heart after Murphy was taken away. I made the blacks build
a place with stones—a sort of barricade to sleep in at
night,—and it was lucky I did, for the Warlattas came
again; but, thanks to the barricade and my pistol, we beat them
off without losing a man, and now the natives have great
confidence, and I think will beat them again.
"I often tried to get them to follow me to where these people
lived, as I thought Murphy might be alive and I could rescue him,
but they seemed to be horribly frightened at the thought and
refused always. On examining the bodies of those that had fallen,
I found them all marked the same way with some sort of pigment, a
red smear on the forehead and a white triangle on the breast.
This, and something in their appearance, led me to consider if
there was not some connection between the figures in the cave and
this strange people. Thinking long over this, I explored the cave
thoroughly, both it and any in the neighbourhood, and finally it
led me to the strange discovery that has caused me to write my
journal once more, in the faint hope that some day it will be
found and read by civilized man.
"Searching around the cave containing the painted figure, I
found an aperture which apparently ran for some distance. It was
on the ground, the rock coming to within about two feet of the
sandy floor, and on stooping down it seemed to me that I could
feel a current of fresh air passing through. On inquiry I found
that none of the blacks had been into the opening, as they had a
superstitious dislike—scarcely, however, amounting to
dread—of the cave. The aperture was too low to easily admit
me, so I got a slim young fellow to explore it. He soon crawled
back, saying there was another big cave beyond, but too dark to
see anything. I got some more boys up and set them to scoop the
sand away until the opening was big enough for me to pass in. We
took fire and bark and wood with us, and when we emerged in the
gloomy cavern beyond we immediately kindled a fire. As the blaze
arose and illuminated the recesses of the cave a shriek of terror
burst from my juvenile companions, a wild cry of 'Warlatta!
Warlatta!' and in an instant they disappeared like a bevy of
black rats underneath the rock where we had entered. I looked
around in surprise, but soon divined the cause; on the opposite
side appeared, drawn in white on the wall, a large triangle, the
sign ever associated in their minds with murder and rapine.
"Heaping more wood on the fire, I advanced and examined the
surroundings. Underneath the triangle was a huge block of
yellowish-white sandstone, but its purity was marred by a
horrible reddish stain which marked one of its sloping sides. Its
purpose flashed on me at once—in some old time it had been
used as a sacrificial stone. The fire now blazed up merrily, and
I had ample light for my researches. The smoke disappeared
through crevices in the roof, and the ventilation seemed
excellent. Marks of old fires were visible all over the floor,
which was of white sandstone with the same reddish stains visible
in places. Searching more minutely I found in one corner a knife
or dagger, made of steel (since then I have found it to be
tempered so skilfully that the edge can scarcely be turned by the
hardest rock). The handle, if it ever had one, had disappeared
through age. In addition, there was a broken ring of the same
metal, seemingly part of a chain, and on the walls were
characters in red, but of no written language that I could
remember. This was all that I saw on my first visit.
"Voices at the opening told me that the natives had recovered
from their fright, and were in search of me. I called to them,
and emboldened by my voice and the firelight some of them crept
in and joined me. I found out that they had no knowledge of this
chamber, and in hopes of finding another I set them hunting round
for any more openings that might exist, but none could be
discovered. Whilst so engaged one of them brushed against the
stone altar, and immediately it commenced rocking, whilst a
squeaking, piercing scream, like a human being in intense agony,
thrilled us all with horror. The blacks threw themselves on the
ground, and it was a few moments before I could summon up courage
to approach the stone and examine it. The rocking was gradually
ceasing, and the shrieks grew fainter as the motion ceased. The
stone I found to be most beautifully poised, so that the
slightest touch started the oscillation. As to the machinery that
produced the screaming noise, that I could not investigate
without capsizing the stone, which evidently weighed some tons.
For a moment I shut my eyes, and seemed to see once more the
hideous drama that must have been many times enacted in this
chamber of death—the savage priests, the manacled victim,
the streaming blood, the trembling captives, and the harsh
shrieking of the rocking stone adding its awful voice to the
groans of the dying man and fading away into silence with his
last cries. What horrible ingenuity had devised such added
terrors to the scene? By degrees I got the blacks out of their
fright, but it was amusing to see the celerity with which they
disappeared as soon as I gave the signal.
"1862.—I have made a great effort to escape, but am
forced to come back here to die. The blacks had told me on two
occasions that rather to the west of south there was water within
reach of a long day's journey; but as this was only leading me
further into this uninhabited wilderness, I had never had the
curiosity to go there. It now struck me that from there I could
possibly get round the end of the great sandy desert, and perhaps
find an easy road back to the settlement, which must have pushed
out towards me since I have been buried here. I had succeeded in
teaching the blacks the use of the bow and arrow, and to build
tolerably safe huts to sleep in. The Warlattas had attacked us
twice since the first time we defeated them, and on both
occasions had suffered great loss, whilst we had not a man
wounded. For years now they have not dared to come, and I think
the bows and arrows have frightened them. Moreover, my natives
have no longer the terror of them they had formerly, and feel
confident in repulsing them. Under these circumstances I felt
that I could venture to leave them, for I did not like the idea
of their becoming once more a prey to this horrible Warlatta
tribe. One of the old men who had been to the water before, and a
fine young fellow named Onkimyong, accompanied me. I fully
explained to the blacks what to do if the Warlattas turned up
again, and promised them soon to return; for if I succeeded in
getting away, I meant to come back with a party to thoroughly
examine the caves and root out the Warlattas for good. Strange,
the blacks have no repugnance to going anywhere west or due
south, but to the eastward they will not go.
"Our journey during the first day was over treeless country
well grassed, although at times we came across patches of the
prickly grass, proving that we were not very far from the edge of
the sandy desert. We did not reach the water that night, but as
we had brought a couple of coolamen-full[*], we did not trouble
to press on. Next morning we arrived there early in the morning
and found it a long narrow lagoon, the water being of a milky
colour. Around this lagoon were many camping-places of the
natives. I asked the old man if he knew this tribe, and I found
that he had met some members of it once; they were friendly, not
like the Warlattas."
[*] Vessels chopped out of the soft wood of the coral-tree by
the natives; and used for carrying water in the dry country.
CHAPTER XVII.
Continuation of Stuart's Journal—A Hopeless
Situation.
"WE stayed at the lagoon all day, and in the evening,
fortunately, a party of the natives came in. They were timid at
first, but the old man and Onkimyong could make themselves
understood, and they gradually gained confidence. They had never
seen a white man before, although I am now pretty well burnt
black by the sun. My two natives showed off their bow-and-arrow
shooting with great pride. They told the others how the
Warlattas, who seemed to have turned their attention to the
new-comers also, had been beaten off and killed.
"These natives explained that they lived on a creek to the
south-east, and when I heard that I made sure that I should at
last escape. When the old man found out where they came from and
that I intended to accompany them, he would not go any further,
and nothing could induce him to alter his intention of going
back. Onkimyong, however, who was very fond of me, and being
young had not so much superstition, said that he would stay with
me and go wherever I went.
"The blacks were on a hunting expedition, and had come to the
lagoon on purpose to fish; so we remained there a few days and
the old man returned to the lake.
"When we started we went to the south-east, and the country
rapidly changed its character, becoming scrubby and barren. That
night we camped at a salt lake, obtaining some water, slightly
brackish for drinking, from a native well dug some distance back.
Next day our course was through wretchedly poor and barren
country. When we rested for a time I noticed an outcrop of
quartz; my position in the party had ostensibly been that of
geologist, and I went over to examine it, for before we left
there had been some vague rumours that gold had been discovered
in the southern part of the colony. I broke up some of the stone
with a large one, and found that it was auriferous. This
discovery did not elate me in any way. If I had found a mountain
of gold, of what value would it be to me?
"Continuing, our journey we reached water again that night,
apparently a small soakage spring. The blacks told Onkimyong that
we should camp at a small creek the following night with some
brackish water in it, and that the next night there was water in
a clay pan, and the following night we should reach their main
camp. This proved to be the case, and we found their home to be
on the bank of a fine creek, running round the foot of a tall
hill. I now looked upon my escape as secure, for surely this
large creek, well defined and supplied with water, must run down
south to settled country, and I could follow it easily. Alas! I
was doomed to disappointment!
"The Warlattas had not been seen for some time, and, unluckily
for them, they selected the second night after our arrival for an
attack.
"It was brilliant moonlight, and the blacks were holding a
corroboree in our honour, when one of the gins shrieked out that
the Warlattas were on them. The fire-sticks were visible coming
on swiftly, and they had evidently reckoned on taking the camp by
surprise. I had been very careful of my ammunition, but I thought
I could spare one charge. I called to Onkimyong, and told him to
tell the blacks not to be frightened; then, as the Warlattas
approached, shouting and yelling, I fired straight at them. The
effect was instantaneous—the onslaught stopped at once. It
must have completely surprised them to find themselves suddenly
confronted by me in this new place. Before they could recover
from their surprise Onkimyong and I were at work with our bows
and arrows. This completed the rout, and they turned and ran;
Onkimyong shouted to the natives and rushed in pursuit, followed
by some who had recovered from their terror. I did not go with
them, but I think they did good execution.
"There was great rejoicing over this defeat of their enemies,
and I felt very glad that the attack should have been made when
it was. Seemingly, since we had beaten them off at the lake they
had devoted all their attention to this poor tribe. The next day
I ascended the mountain, and from the top saw that in the
direction I wanted to go there was nothing but a vast scrub. The
creek, too, seemed to disappear soon after passing the mountain;
and this I soon found out was the case. It ran completely out in
a sandy waste of scrub. The blacks asserted that it never
re-formed, and that there was no water either to the south or
east, and that nothing lived there but snakes. I tried over and
over again but always had to return, half dead with thirst and
fatigue. One old man said that he had heard of a big rock down
south where there was a hole with water in it. But this I imagine
was only a tradition, as from the top of the hill I could
discover no sign of it, and wherever I penetrated I found always
the same arid and barren scrub and sand. Being thus disappointed
in my efforts south and east, I thought that I might follow the
creek up and come to some available strip of country. Judging by
its direction the creek, if it headed far enough away, must be
east of the prickly grass desert.
"As the Warlattas always came down the creek I could not
induce one of the natives to accompany me. Even Onkimyong was
afraid to face it. With little care about my fate I therefore
started alone. I followed the creek for a long distance, finding
it well watered, and that a beaten track ran beside it. This
turned off, and on following the creek further I found that it
ran out; I therefore returned and followed the track. In course
of time this led me to a swamp of great tea-trees which it
skirted. After following this swamp half-way round the track left
it and went amongst some rocks. They were basaltic, and in a
short time they closed in in a perfect wall and I lost all trace
of the track I had been following. Again and again I tried to
find it, but the rough basalt cut my feet to pieces and the track
could not be followed over the rocks. I had to rest for a time to
get my feet well, and fortunately there was plenty of game about
the creek, which apparently re-formed on the northern side of the
swamp. I now determined to follow this creek up again, and did
so, until at last it died out in a desert forest. At one place I
saw a number of trees marked, apparently by the Warlattas. I made
several excursions east of the creek, but I was always confronted
by a dense and impenetrable scrub."
"Poor fellow!" said Brown at this point. "Fancy his being so
near his companion Murphy and yet to miss him."
"I can well understand his inability to get along through
those basalt rocks, but I don't understand how he did not see the
Warlattas' track at the lagoon of the marked trees."
"If you remember," replied Brown, "the track was not very
plain close to the lagoon."
"I had at last to give up in despair," (went on the journal),
"and make my way as best I could back to the mountain. How long I
was away I cannot say, for I lost count. It seemed to me weeks,
but I think it was about a fortnight.
"I was now thoroughly convinced of the hopelessness of my
situation, and determined to return to the lake and finish my
weary life amongst the tribe there, devoting my time to teaching
them what I could.
"Onkimyong was delighted to see me back. I rested for some
time, as I had two or three things to do before leaving. One was
to show the natives how to build a stone barricade, and the other
was to inscribe my initials in some place where it was bound to
be seen by any whites who might hereafter come. I selected a
place at the foot of the hill for the barricade, and set the
blacks to work, under the superintendence of Onkimyong. From its
position and altitude I concluded that any whites coming to the
place would naturally ascend the hill to obtain a good survey of
the surrounding country; I therefore inscribed my initials and
the date of the year on a rock on the summit, doing the work with
the aid of the knife I had found in the cave. I lingered on for
some time longer in the hope that the Warlattas would make
another attempt, and this they did the night before we were going
to leave.
"Fortunately their approach was discovered in ample time, and
I had my men all concealed behind the barricade. The Warlattas
approached very cautiously, not with the confidence of their
first attempt. We allowed them to come pretty close, and then
commenced to play on them with our arrows. As soon as I saw them
waver and halt, I gave a signal agreed upon, and the natives
swarmed out and attacked them with their clubs and spears.
"There seemed to be no hesitation this time, with one accord
the Warlattas fled. The pursuers did much more execution than the
first time, as they had a better start. I hope now the Warlattas
have received another check.
"Onkimyong and I started back the next day, we followed our
tracks back again, as I felt curious about the gold-bearing reef.
When we came to it I examined it thoroughly, and I then found
that it was, what seemed to me, of fabulous richness. I laughed
aloud. Here was I with a fortune at my feet, and it was of no
more value to me than worthless flints. It was the very mockery
of riches!
"In time we arrived at the lake, and met with a great welcome,
as they had given us up as lost. I had been in fear that the
Warlattas, finding I was away, might have attempted another
assault, but they had not put in an appearance.
"I have now quite relinquished any hope I had left of finding
my way back by my own exertions, and can only pray that some
other exploring party with better fortune may come here before I
die."
CHAPTER XVIII.
Conclusion of Stuart's Journal—Examination of the
Slaughter Chamber—The Ancient Australians.
"I HAVE made no other discoveries since my return, and all the
efforts I have spent in trying to decipher the inscriptions have
been in vain. I can only conjecture that these relics are of
great antiquity, and that the belief and some of the rites,
notably cannibalism, survive amongst the Warlattas, who are mixed
and degenerate descendants of the ancient race. I have very
little paper left, and that scrap I must keep for any necessity
that arises. If anybody finds this let him take a copy of the
inscriptions, for there may be some men in the world who can
decipher their meaning.
"1865.—I have devoted myself to bettering the condition
of this tribe, whom I may say I have adopted. I have taught them
to build better huts, and clothe themselves partly in skins. The
Warlattas' inroads have been absolutely stopped. They have learnt
to cultivate yams here, and some of the young men understand
written signs. One thing I could not induce them to do with all
my influence, that is, for a party of them to go east with me and
find out the track by which the Warlattas cross the sandy desert.
Some superstitious feeling I cannot overcome will not allow them
to do this.
"I might have done much more, but latterly I have been nearly
crippled with rheumatism. I have instructed the natives to bury
me in the cave under an inscription I have cut—my name and
the date of my arrival. When I feel myself near my end, unless I
die by accident, I will try and inscribe the last date on the
stone, it will stand for my death year. If my companions had
lived, we might have worked our way back to the settlements, but
alone—it was hopeless to attempt it. I know my end must be
near, nor am I sorry, for I have outlived all hopes of succour. I
thank God that though I have lived so long amongst these savages,
I have not sunk down to be one of them in their habits, but
rather have taught them better things. To the white man that
finds this I leave the greeting and the blessing I would have
given him in life."
* * * * *
"What would I not have given to have got here in time to
rescue him!" said Brown. "He was a man worth saving."
Next morning they took some more presents to the natives at
the hill, and the old men went round with them and showed them
the roofless stone huts, the dismantled barricade, and the
remains of other improvements now all in ruins. The death of
Stuart seemed to have been a signal for a return to their old
habits of life, his stay amongst them not having been long enough
to make a lasting impression.
Even the bows and arrows had disappeared; and it was evident
that the Warlattas had resumed warlike operations with a success
resulting in the almost complete extermination of the tribe.
Morton endeavoured to explain to them that their enemies were
dead, but it was doubtful whether the old men comprehended him.
An immediate incursion into the inner cave was determined on,
and, provided with candles, the party soon found themselves at
the opening. The sand had worked in and somewhat blocked up the
space, but this was soon sufficiently removed to enable them to
wriggle underneath like snakes. Half a dozen candles served to
brilliantly light up the inner chamber, and there, with startling
distinctness, shone out the white triangle over the sacrificial
stone. Brown started the stone rocking, and immediately the
shrill, half-human screams echoed through the cave, much to
Billy's discomfiture. No examination could detect the trick that
caused the sound, nor could the presence of the stone be
accounted for except as a most singular freak of nature.
"I have it," said Morton at last; "the stone was part of the
rock and has been cut away underneath. It must have been an awful
job, but that is how it was done."
"And about the squeaking machinery?"
"That's more than we can find out without shifting the stone,
and that's a job I am not on for unless we stop here a month or
two and chip it in pieces."
"A charge of dynamite would shift it; and next time I go
exploring I'll carry some," replied Brown.
"What do you think the thing was made for?" inquired
Charlie.
"Well, I've just had an inspiration," said Brown. "You know
amongst some nations it is a matter of religious belief almost
that you must make your enemy howl when you have got him down.
Now, perhaps some of the poor devils who were cut up on this
stone declined to sing out, or fainted, or for some reason did
not furnish amusement enough—the stone was set rocking to
fill out the programme. What do you think?"
"I think it most likely, and is an instance of devilish
cruelty on a level with their other proceedings."
"I suppose poor Stuart searched this place so thoroughly that
we need not expect to find anything fresh," said Charlie. "But we
may as well have a look. Billy, you have got sharp eyes, just use
them."
While these two were investigating the walls and floor, Morton
and Brown took a careful copy of the hieroglyphics and a sketch
of the cave, showing the position of the sacrificial stone and
triangle. By the time they had finished they were ready for their
mid-day meal, and returned to camp for it.
Morton and his party examine the slaughter-chamber.
"There's no doubt," remarked Morton, "that what we have just
seen are relics of an ancient people, but what I can't understand
is, why, if they were civilized enough to wear dresses, and to
have a developed religious belief—savage as it was—"
("No worse than the Carthagenians," interjected Brown), "to know
how to obtain iron and temper it, that they did not build
permanent buildings, the ruins of which would remain?"
"Mud, my dear fellow, mud," replied Brown. "Remember the
nations who have disappeared off the face of America, and can
only be traced by their pottery and burial mounds. Why, the
gorgeous cities of ancient Mexico were built of mud bricks, which
go back to their mother earth, once the domiciles they form are
abandoned."
"But their smelting-works for manufacturing iron?"
"There you have me. But we must try and find that knife;
perhaps they buried it with Stuart."
"Billy got something from one of the old men, but I don't know
what it was," said Charlie.
"Billy! What old man bin give it?" asked Morton.
Billy grinned, and produced from the inside of his shirt the
knife mentioned in the journal. It was a curious-looking blade
about a foot long, broad and somewhat curved. Even after the work
Stuart had done with it in carving on the rocks, it was as sharp
as an ordinary knife.
"That's a Malay weapon," said Brown, after examination.
"Whoever our ancient Australians were they came from the north. I
suppose we must wait until we get the writing deciphered, if
there is a man clever enough to do it."
Looking closer, they found that the blade had the mysterious
triangle engraved on it. This constantly recurring symbol led to
much speculation as to whether they were not an offshoot of
Freemasons, who in some remote time had wandered into central
Australia; but as Charlie ingenuously reminded them that these
fellows had not built anything, the theory had to be
discarded.
"What's to be done next?" said Morton. "I'm for going to find
Hentig's grave, if possible, and recovering the papers buried
there."
"Yes, and then go back round by the way Stuart went to the
mountain tribe and track up the gold reef."
"Not a bad idea, anyhow. I think it will be the safest way to
go home."
That afternoon, Billy, with the aid of one of the old men,
found a canoe not far below the surface, and brought it up and
bailed it out. Then it transpired that on the last onslaught of
the Warlattas they had sunk all the canoes. The one recovered was
a large one, fitted up with outriggers, and leaked but very
little. Charlie soon improvised a mast by lashing two spears
together, and with a blanket for a sail announced himself ready
to face the dangers of the deep. Morton agreed to join him in his
voyage of discovery round the lake the next morning, but Brown
preferred to stay and continue the investigation of the cave
drawings.
Next morning there was a gentle breeze blowing, and Morton and
Charlie were soon afloat and off. Brown wandered over the hill,
telling Billy to try and make the blacks understand the
catastrophe of the burning mountain.
Several lesser caves attracted his attention, but only one
seemed to promise any result. To this one he devoted himself, and
after some trouble found some inscriptions resembling the former
one in character, but differing in the arrangement of the
letters. In this case they were placed perpendicularly in two
parallel lines.
After copying the inscription, Brown stood in thought for some
time, mechanically thrusting a yam stick he held in his hand into
the sandy floor of the cave. The soil over the bed rock in this
cave was apparently only a few inches in depth, but suddenly he
was roused from his reverie by the yam stick going down more than
a foot without meeting with any opposition. Sounding hastily, he
soon found that a trench extended at right angles to the rock,
immediately under the inscription. Going outside he shouted
loudly, and Billy and some of the blacks came running up. He set
them to work to clear all the sand away from the trench and its
neighbourhood with their hands, and it was soon visible
artificially cut in the rock. It was about three feet long and a
foot broad, so the work of clearing it out did not promise to
take long.
With so many hands going, the depth of three feet was soon
reached without anything being discovered; then the fingers of
the workers came in contact with something hard, and very soon a
sheet of metal was disclosed, cut exactly to fit the hole. Brown
at once recognized it as resembling the gongs used at the burning
mountain. Greatly excited, in spite of his usual assumption of
calmness, Brown inserted the point of the yam stick under the
metal and prised it up.
CHAPTER XIX.
The Grave of One of the Unknown Race—
Morton's Departure—Charlie Falls Sick.
THE shadow cast by the sides of the hole was too dark for
Brown to see at once what sort of treasure he had unearthed, but
a nearer inspection did not afford him any more satisfaction.
Apparently there was nothing beneath the sheet of metal but a
deposit of damp, mouldy earth, emitting a pungent smell of a most
repulsive nature. Brown drew back somewhat sickened, and told the
natives to clean out the trench while he went out for a breath of
fresh air.
In a few minutes he returned. The heap of mould alongside the
now empty hole told him that the work was finished. The blacks
were on their knees, eagerly examining some objects they had
found amongst the contents of the trench. Billy handed them to
Brown. The first was a chain of small steel links and most
beautiful workmanship, bearing as a pendant a tiny triangle
formed of the same metal. A metal plate nearly a foot square,
covered with hieroglyphics similar to those inscribed on the
walls of the cave, was the next thing he examined, and then came
a dagger resembling the one already discovered. This, however,
had a handle, or what appeared to be one, made of finely-twisted
gold threads wound tightly round the haft. This was all. Brown
puzzled over these relics for some time, and then strolled to the
crest of the ridge to see how the voyagers were getting on.
Apparently they had experienced what is known as a soldier's
wind, for the canoe was coming back with a flowing sail. Brown
and Billy walked down to the shore of the lake to meet them. The
trip had been uninteresting; the lake was exceedingly shallow
everywhere with the exception of the end where they were. There
it was deep and permanent. Brown told them of the discovery he
had made, and they revisited the cave together.
"It's my opinion," said Morton after lengthy examination,
"that it is a grave, and this mould all that there is left of a
body—probably burnt before being put in the grave. The
necklet, plate, and dagger are the ornaments and weapon worn by
the man at the time of his death. He must have been some great
priest."
"The same conclusion that I have been working round to,"
replied Brown. "That plate is a priestly breastplate, like those
we read of in the Old Testament."
The question of visiting Hentig's grave was one that was now
discussed. It was settled at last that Morton and Billy would
make the trip, leaving Brown and Charlie to continue the
investigation of the caves, and also to come out with relief in
case Morton was overdue. By careful computation they thought they
could pretty well guess the course pursued by the three white men
from the last water to the lake. With two horses packed with
water they reckoned they could get out and back without much
trouble, even if there was no water at the marked tree.
Morton and Billy therefore started early the next morning, for
although the night would have been cooler to cross the spinifex
desert, they might have missed some important indications in the
dark. Four days was the utmost limit Morton allowed himself;
Brown was then to start on his tracks, as something would have
probably happened to the horses.
Left at the lake, Brown and Charlie devoted themselves to a
searching examination of the locality. Several trees marked with
an anchor, similar to the one at the lagoon camp, were
discovered, evidently the work of Murphy, who had seemingly
appropriated the symbol. A mark resembling a rude K was seen once
or twice, and they took it to stand for Kelly's handiwork.
They sounded the caves all over but without any more success,
and at last concluded that they had found all there was to be
found.
The sun was high the morning of the third day when Brown
returned from his swim in the lagoon, and, to his surprise, found
Charlie still sleeping, with a hot flush on his face. Brown
aroused him, and the boy sat up and looked vacantly around,
recovered himself after a bit, and proceeded to get up. He
refused to eat anything, but drank a good deal of tea. Brown
watched him anxiously.
"What's the matter, old boy?" he asked.
"I don't feel up to the mark. I had a wretched nightmare last
night; it kept me awake afterwards until nearly daylight, so that
I overslept myself."
"I feel off colour too," replied Brown. "Last night I could
have quarrelled with my own shadow. I hope we didn't release any
evil spirit from that grave."
"Don't say that," replied Charlie, "for that is just what I
dreamt. Strange that you should think the same."
"Tell me about it, sonny," said Brown. "We'll soon fix up any
intrusive old ghost."
Charlie, as he could see, was upset by something, and Brown
felt uneasy, as the thought of sickness overtaking one of their
party became patent to him.
"I dreamt," commenced Charlie, "that I was on the edge of this
lake. I was alone, and very frightened with a quite unnatural
terror. I thought you had both gone away and left me. I tried to
cry out but could not, and turned round, for I felt some fearful
thing was approaching me from behind. True enough, the great
figure from the cave was there, looking at me with terrible eyes.
On its breast was the plate we found in the grave, and—I
could read the characters written on it."
Charlie paused.
"What was the writing?" asked Brown, interested by the boy's
earnestness.
"I can shut my eyes and see it now. It ran— 'The
Spirit of Evil is everywhere. Worship then the Spirit of Evil
only, and do his behests.' As I looked and read the figure
smiled mockingly at me, and I woke up in a cold perspiration, and
could not sleep again."
"Charlie, my hoy," said Brown, "we will discuss your dream by
and by. Meantime, I am going to mix you a dose of quinine and
brandy; you've got a touch of malarial fever coming on. Now I'll
fix up a bough-shade for you; it will be cooler than the tent,
and you must keep quiet all day."
Brown soon had a good shade of boughs erected, and making up
as comfortable a he'd as he could for the sick lad, he stopped
with him all day. Charlie was very feverish, but towards sundown
he fell into an uneasy sleep, and Brown went for a stroll up and
down and smoked his pipe. "This is a lively look-out," he mused.
"I hope those devilish old rites don't mean to claim another
victim. Dreamt we both went away and left him!" Brown's eyes grew
moist as he thought of the possibility of the words coming true
in one sense, and Charlie being left in a solitary grave by the
side of the lake. "If Morton does not turn up to time what a fix
I shall be in, for I can't go and look for him."
Charlie passed a restless night, and towards the middle of the
ensuing day he became delirious. This was the margin of Morton's
return, but the sun set, and Brown strained his eyes in vain
across the plain.
Charlie's delirium was at its height that night. Always he
raved of the great figure in the cave standing over and
threatening him.
The fifth day passed and still no sign of Morton, and Brown
was nearly distracted at the thought that his friend was in some
difficulty, expecting him to come to his relief, and he could not
leave the sick hoy for an hour. He passed the night once more by
Charlie's side, trying to soothe him and listening to his
incoherent mutterings. It was about three o'clock in the morning
when Charlie, who had been quiet for some time, dropped off to
sleep. The silence that ensued was broken by a sound more
grateful to Brown than anything else he could possibly have
heard—the distant sound of a horse-bell. There was no doubt
about it, the horses were coming rapidly across the plain, and
evidently being driven, the bell having been loosened as is
generally done when travelling with pack-horses at night. On they
came at a sharp trot, for they were no doubt thirsty and knew
where they were coming to. Brown listened till they ran down the
opposite bank and commenced drinking, then he knew by the voices
that Morton and Billy were both there, and called across to
them.
"That you, Brown?" came back in reply.
"Yes; I could not go out as I promised."
"Glad you didn't, as it happened. But what's up?"
"I'll tell you as soon as you come round, but come
quietly."
Brown walked a little distance to meet them, and they unpacked
the horses where they met so as not to disturb Charlie, who was
still sleeping.
Brown told Morton in a low voice, and they went into the tent
together. Charlie was muttering in his sleep, and it was still of
the figure on the wall. They went out and sat by the fire, where
they could hear the slightest sound, and Morton told Brown all
that had passed since he left.
CHAPTER XX.
Morton's Trip to Hentig's Grave—A Further Discovery.
"WHEN we left the lake that morning," began Morton, "we
passed, of course, over a few miles of good downs country before
we came to the edge of the desert, then we had nothing to do but
keep straight on the course we had selected until night, when we
had to camp in the spinifex. Next evening we came straight to the
water-hole. It was a splendid fluke, and I never expected such
luck. There was a good supply of water in the hole and fair
grass, so we were not badly off. I found the tree where Hentig
was buried, although the cross that Stuart cut had nearly grown
out. The powder-flask, however, had been only buried a short
distance in the ground, and as the bush rats had dug it up it had
rusted and rotted almost to pieces. We found some of the
contents, but the writing is almost if not quite illegible, as
the paper has been soaked into pulp two or three times. As far as
I can make out, though, it was written by Leichhardt himself, and
as such will he valuable. Now I come to what detained me. Billy,
whom I told to look on all the trees about the water-hole for
marks, found a couple of initials on three of the trees. Of
course the sides of the bark had grown together, and could only
be traced like a crack in the bark. I made these initials out to
be L. F. If you remember, Stuart mentions that the two men who
were lost never reached this water, but one of them must have got
in to it after Stuart left. I say one of them, because the same
initials were repeated. I lay awake for a long time reasoning the
thing out. When Stuart and the others left there was no water in
the hole, they used up the last of it; therefore, this man must
have come back after rain had fallen, probably some months after,
for he could not have stayed about cutting his initials on trees
without water. He must certainly have found other water. Where
was it? If I could find it I might get further information.
"In the morning I sent Billy back along our tracks with a note
in a cleft stick, which he was to stick up right on our tracks.
In the note I told you to come on, as there was plenty of water
in the hole. Billy had instructions to ride till noonday, then
stick the stick in with a handkerchief tied to it, and come back
again. All this he did, meanwhile I went fossicking about. The
hole was on the edge of the plain, the same as the lagoons we
were camped on so long. I went north first, and presently was
able to find a kind of water-course skirting the forest. Once or
twice I came to holes that should hold water for some time, but
they were all dry. At last I was rewarded. I came to a fair-sized
lagoon, with ducks and other waterfowl on its surface. There was
no sign of the place ever having been much frequented by natives,
at least I only saw some very old camps at first. At the end of
the hole opposite to me was an old shell of a gum-tree, one of
these desert gums that grow to a very old age and become quite
hollow. As I looked at this I saw something move, and then,
looking more intently, I could see some blue smoke stealing up.
Naturally I made for the place as soon as possible, wondering if
I was going to find a living white man. When I reached the spot I
found a small fire burning, and in the tree an ancient old gin
was squatting. She was almost blind, and could just make out that
something was moving about, for she snarled and struck out feebly
but viciously with a yam stick. Oh, she was a cheerful old
lady!
"I was puzzling my brains how she lived, for she seemed too
feeble to move and was too blind to see anything distinctly; for
all that there were plenty of feathers around the camp, although
she could never have caught the birds. Presently the old dame,
still growling to herself, crawled out on her hands and knees to
the fire, to which she seemingly guided herself by the sense of
smell. Here she squatted down, and I hung my horse up and went to
look at her lair in the tree. There was an iron tomahawk shipped
on to a black's handle, a single-barrelled percussion shot-gun,
and all sorts of little odds and ends. Evidently this survivor
must have found a lot of things abandoned at the old camp at
Hentig's grave. Just then my horse shook himself, making the
saddle rattle and jingle. On hearing this the old gin set up the
most awful screaming you ever heard. When she quietened down
someone called out to her from a short distance away, and looking
in the direction, I saw a light-coloured nigger limping towards
us. He stopped and had a good look at me before approaching; I
held up both my hands as a sign of amity, and he came on pretty
fearlessly. I then saw that he was a half-caste and a cripple.
One leg had been broken in childhood and he had grown up with it
shorter than the other, and much distorted. That he was a
descendent of the missing white man I had no doubt, but the old
gin appeared too old to be his mother. He came up to me, and when
I spoke to him seemed greatly pleased, and pointing to himself
said 'Lee-lee' two or three times, indicating that that was his
name. I gave him my name in return, which he soon picked up. He
then led me to the tree, and taking the gun out put it to his
shoulder and cried out in imitation of a report, showing that he
had often seen it used. I pointed to the feathers, and he showed
me two or three light boomerangs and a fishing-net. I tried to
find out if he knew anything of the lake, but he seemed quite
ignorant of its existence. I imitated death to find out what had
become of his father, and he led me to a place where he indicated
he was buried, but I could see no sign of a grave. He knew two or
three words of English,—water, gun, tree, and bird; and I
think he must at one time have known much more, but had probably
lost them since his father's death, who, I think, must have been
a man of the same intellectual calibre as Murphy, and quite
uneducated. He explained by signs that his leg had been broken by
a branch breaking when he was climbing a tree as a little fellow.
Suddenly it struck me that there might be more in the family, and
after some trouble he led me to believe that there were, but they
had gone away with the tribe to the north. He limped heavily to
show me that he had been left behind because he could not travel
fast enough, and I concluded that the old gin who had been left
was no relation of his, but had stayed behind from infirmity.
Lee-lee seemed very active and clever, considering the
disadvantage he laboured under, and I made up my mind to bring
him in to the lake. He, however, did not seem anxious to go at
first, but I showed him the empty gun, of which he was very
proud, and made him understand that if he came with me I would
make it alive again, which he seemed to approve of highly.
Fortunately there were some boxes of caps amongst his belongings,
as ours are all breech-loaders. He knew the hole where I was
camped, and intimated that he would come down in the morning. All
this took some time, and it was late at night when I got back to
camp, where I found Billy blubbering under the impression that I
was not coming back again. Lee-lee duly turned up the next
morning, and Billy tried to talk to him, but did not make much of
a fist at it. He said that he thought some of the words were the
same as those used by the lake natives. Lee-lee knew nothing of
the Warlattas; and, if you remember, the defunct Columbus told us
that there were no natives to the north. I gave him sugar, which
he highly appreciated, then we saddled up and went up to his
lagoon, which I reckoned to be nearly fifteen miles away, so that
he must have started pretty early in the night to come to us. I
fixed him up on one of the pack saddles, and he got on very well
considering.
"The forest bears to the westward, and I intended to start
straight to the lake from Lee-lee's lagoon. The difficulty was
about the old gin. If left behind she would starve, and I did not
see how we were to get her across the desert. I explained the
dilemma to Lee-lee, who seemed to understand. Suddenly a bright
idea struck him. He picked up his nulla-nulla and indicated that
the easiest way to settle the question was by knocking her on the
head. He appeared rather surprised at my objecting somewhat
angrily to this simple and easy method, and I am not sure that
Billy did not agree with him.
"I thought that as your ideas have been so brilliant lately,
that we might devise some means of getting the old gin safely
across the desert, and making these fellows and Lee-lee friends,
so that, if we make up our minds to take him back with us, the
old woman would not starve, for there is plenty of food about
here. I gave Lee-lee to understand that I would be back in three
days; but, of course, that is knocked on the head, we must get
Charlie well first. Now, old man, you've had no sleep for two
nights. I will sit by Charlie, and you can have a snooze until
daylight. Watching is far more tiring than riding."
As Brown really felt somewhat tired out, he adopted the
suggestion and retired to his blankets.
Charlie was no better in the morning, and Morton felt quite
cast down at the sad fate now looming, only too plainly, before
his young relative, for whom he entertained a great liking. About
mid-day Brown suddenly arose as though filled with a new idea. He
went off in the direction of the hill where the blacks were
camped, and Morton did not see him for nearly two hours, then he
said he had only been over to see how the niggers were getting
on, and was silent and abstracted until darkness fell, when he
persuaded Morton to go and rest while he kept watch by the
invalid.
Morton, who had been riding and watching all the night before,
slept late. When he awoke he saw Brown standing by the fire
smoking.
"How is he?" he asked, as he took his towel to go for a swim
in the lake.
"Better, I think; he has been sleeping quietly all night
without talking. When he wakes up he will be sensible, I
think."
"That's good news," returned Morton. "I shall be glad to see
the boy up again. What a blessing it was that this thing happened
in a good camp with plenty of game of all sorts! We must feed
Charlie up well now."
Brown puffed on, looking steadily in the fire.
"I suppose you will think me no end of a fool for what I have
done," he went on at last. "But I have not been able to help
associating Charlie's illness with my opening that grave and
taking out that devilish old plate. I have had that same dream
that Charlie had, and could plainly see the plate and the
inscription on it about the Spirit of Evil. I believe if I had
not done what I have done not one of us would have got back
alive."
"What was that?" asked Morton.
"Took it back to the grave yesterday and filled the whole
thing up, and now Charlie is going to get better. What's the
verdict?"
"Well, I was going to call you a thundering old idiot, but in
view of the circumstances I won't. It must have been a tribe of
devil worshippers who originally squatted down here."
"That's a weight off my mind. I thought you would have cut up
rusty, for there's no doubt of the value of that relic. But we
have copies of all the inscriptions."
Charlie awoke conscious, and soon began to mend so quickly,
that in a few days they were talking of going back to bring
Lee-lee in.
CHAPTER XXI.
Lee-lee brought to the Lake—Charlie's Recovery—
Final Departure From the Lake.
THE question of getting the infirm old gin across the desert
was a somewhat puzzling one.
Charlie, who was fast gaining strength, proposed making Billy
and some of the other blacks carry her by turns on a litter of
boughs. Brown reminded him that Stuart had found it impossible to
get the natives to go to the eastward, so he did not imagine that
they would have any better success.
"We must tie her on to a horse, somehow," said Morton at last
And that was all the conclusion they could arrive at.
Charlie was not yet strong enough to stand a long ride, but he
felt sufficiently restored to stay behind with only Billy for a
companion. So Brown and Morton went back, Charlie having promised
to start Billy to meet them with fresh horses on a day
appointed.
Lee-lee was anxiously looking out for them, but seemed greatly
astonished at seeing two white men. Brown's height, too, appeared
to excite his admiration, as it did that of all the blacks they
met.
Morton had brought some powder and shot, procured by opening
some of their cartridges, as he thought that if he made the gun
alive again Lee-lee would come without any difficulty.
"How strange," said Brown, "that these three white men should
have lived so long separated from each other and yet within
reach."
"I don't know that," replied Morton. "It's rather hard for a
man on foot to get about in this country. Remember we have fresh
horses, and know where the water is."
Morton inspected the gun.
"I suppose it won't burst," he remarked.
There was a rude ramrod in it, and with a piece of his
handkerchief torn off he proceeded to wipe it out. Then he loaded
it, Lee-lee watching with great excitement; the old gin,
unconscious of their presence, squatting over the half dead
fire.
A crow flew, cawing, overhead and settled on a neighbouring
tree. Lee-lee pointed eagerly at the bird. Morton raised the gun
and fired.
The crow fell down with an angry caw, and the old gin gave a
wild scream and tumbled forward on to the fire.
Lee-lee limped after the bird, and the two white men hauled
the gin off the fire, which fortunately was nearly out, and
dusted the ashes off her.
"You couldn't possibly have hit her?" said Brown.
"Not unless this old blunderbuss shoots round corners. It's
the sudden fright."
They put the old creature in the shade, and then the two
friends started for a stroll round the lagoon.
When they returned Lee-lee pointed to the old gin as though
highly amused at something. She had solved all the difficulties
of transport across the desert. She was dead!
"That start I gave her firing off the gun did it," said
Morton, sorrowfully; "but she could not have lived much
longer."
They indicated to Lee-lee that they would help him bury the
old gin; then they saddled up and rode to Hentig's camp, as Brown
wanted to see the place, and Morton to recover the pieces of the
old powder-flask, which he had neglected to secure on his first
visit. With a tomahawk they re-cut the cross on the tree where
the remains of Hentig rested.
They got back to Lee-lee's lagoon soon after dark, and devoted
an hour or two to packing up all the curious collection of stuff
that had so long been hoarded up.
Next morning they made a very early start, as, the half-caste
being quite new to riding, they had to go slow. They camped in
the desert that night, and about the middle of the next day met
Billy coming along the tracks with fresh horses for them. He
reported Charlie as being nearly well and everything being safe
at the camp. Late in the afternoon, just after they caught sight
of the lake, they heard an outcry behind. Looking around they saw
Lee-lee limping back, and Billy, who was laughing loudly,
pursuing him. It turned out that Lee-lee got a sudden fright at
seeing the great sheet of water for the first time, and tumbled
off his horse and tried to run back. He seemed reassured after a
while, and went on quietly for the rest of the way. Charlie was
up and looking nearly as well as ever, and had a fine meal of
fish and ducks waiting for them. Lee-lee seemed surprised at the
appearance of still a third white man, but took everything else,
including his supper, as a matter of course.
Next morning they went over to the black's camp accompanied by
Lee-lee. The young fellow who had been wounded was getting
rapidly well, Morton or Brown having attended to him and dressed
his wound every day. It was soon evident that there was little or
no language in common between the two tribes, with the exception
of a few words used nearly everywhere in the interior. They had
lived and died year after year unconscious of each other's
existence.
"We have accounted now for all of Leichhardt's party but one,
and he, I think, must have died when the two were separated from
the main party," said Morton.
"He could scarcely have got back to where they were attacked
by the blacks in the scrub," replied Brown, "and if he had stuck
to his companion they would have found the water together. No, he
must have perished at the time."
"Now, how about Lee-lee?"
"I think we will stop here for a bit and let Charlie get quite
strong and Lee-lee broken into riding a bit, then we will take
him back to the station. What do you think?"
"I think it is a good idea; we go round by the way Stuart went
and try and pick up his gold reef."
"Yes. We must find out whether one of these old men knows
anything about the hole; they ought to."
"Let's go over and make inquiries this afternoon."
This they did, and found out that one of the old men knew of
the hole, and had been there once when a young man. He made no
objection to going with them, corroborating in this respect
Stuart's journal.
They asked after Onkimyong, but, perhaps on account of their
faulty pronunciation, did not at first make themselves
understood. At last one of the old fellows recognized the name,
and pronounced it after his own fashion. The natives immediately
pointed to where the bodies lay in the old camp, and they
understood that Stuart's faithful companion had met his fate at
the hands of the fierce Warlattas, whom he had so often helped to
defeat. Both the men had cherished the hope that he might be one
of the survivors, as they would then have taken him with them to
show them the exact road Stuart travelled in his vain attempt to
get away.
From the old men they tried to obtain a description of
Stuart's personal appearance, but beyond that he was tall like
Brown and had a gray beard, they could not get much
information.
They employed their spare time in rigging up a makeshift
saddle for Lee-lee to ride on; meantime he took his
riding-lessons on one of theirs, and got on famously. He was very
proud of being allowed to fire off his gun two or three times a
day, and once succeeded in hitting a bird. The time now drew near
for their departure. They could do nothing for the natives, but
as their enemies were dead, and they lived in a land of plenty,
there was no reason why the tribe should not grow up again if
they were allowed to remain long enough unmolested.
The natives remained apathetically watching the whites when
they departed. Probably they thought that as they came back once,
according to their belief, they would come back again.
The stage to the first water was not a long stage on
horseback, so the old man kept up with them easily. He knew
nothing beyond the lagoon, however, so he was of no further use
to them, and they felt confident that they could follow up
Stuart's track from his journal. Next morning they gave him a
spare tomahawk they had with them and allowed him to depart.
Brown, whom he still considered as "Tuartee," having to promise
that he would return.
Lee-lee had got on very well with his first day's journey, and
they anticipated having no trouble. He was quick and ready in the
use of his hands, and, moreover, he and Billy were beginning to
understand each other, so they hoped soon to get his history in
full. As they had dry country ahead of them, scantily watered,
they spelled a couple of days at the white lagoon as they
christened it, on account of the milky appearance of the
water.
The first day's journey was through the wearisome desert scrub
described by Stuart. They calculated what a long day's march on
foot would be, but when they had covered that distance there was
no sign of the salt lake.
"These salt lakes have no tributaries running into them," said
Brown; "they are just depressions, with the surrounding country
sloping into the basin. We might be within a quarter of a mile of
it and miss it."
"We must find this one at any rate, if we have to go back and
camp for a week at that lagoon," replied Morton.
"Well, it's still two or three hours off sundown, and we have
plenty of water for to-night. Suppose you go north and I go
south. Charlie and the boys stop here and keep a fire going with
plenty of smoke, so that we can get the straight bearing to the
camp if either of us drops on it."
"Agreed. North is your lucky cardinal point, so I will take
the south."
They started in different directions, while Charlie and Billy
took the packs off the horses, and tied them up to trees with
their saddles still on, for there was no feed.
Morton went on south for nearly an hour without meeting with
any change. He went east and west for short distances as he
returned, but was unsuccessful in coming upon any clue to the
situation of the salt lake.
Brown was equally unfortunate, until, just as he was on the
point of turning back, the unmistakable smell of burning
scrub-wood struck on his nostrils.
"It can't be from the camp," he thought; "what little wind
there is comes from the north."
He pushed on, and in a few minutes came to an open area, and
before him lay the salt lake.
There was a broad belt of mud surrounding a centre of clear
water, on which a varied lot of wild fowl, including black swans
and wild geese, were swimming. On the slope descending to the
edge of the mud there was good short grass growing, and at no
distance away he saw the up-piled earth indicating a native well.
He rode over to it, and dismounting found a fair supply of water
in it. It was slightly brackish, but would do well enough for
their horses, being what is generally known as "good stock
water."
He next looked all round the lake for the fire which he had
smelt, and presently detected the smoke a short way off, stealing
out of the edge of the scrub.
"Perhaps it's those six Warlattas," he thought, "and they
might be saucy seeing me alone."
He unslung his rifle from his saddle, and advanced with the
bridle of his horse on his arm.
CHAPTER XXII.
Another Remnant—An Exodus—
Search for the Gold Reef and its Discovery.
AS he neared the spot he saw two or three dark figures spring
up, as though they then first noticed him. Fearful that they
would run away, he called to them and held up one hand. Presently
an old man came to the edge of the scrub. He peered at Brown from
under his hand, for the afternoon sun was in his eyes; then he
burst into a shout of "Tuartee! Tuartee!" so like the blacks at
the lake that Brown thought some of them must have followed him.
This, of course, he knew to be almost impossible, and as they
were evidently of a friendly disposition, he walked boldly up.
There were only five blacks in all, the old man and four youths.
The young fellows hung back, but the old man laughed and stroked
Brown affectionately, murmuring "Tuartee" all the while. There
was no doubt that this was another wretched remnant of the tribe
formerly camped at the mountain, who had escaped alive from the
murderous attacks of the Warlattas. Stuart would have lived
affectionately in the remembrance of those who were old enough to
remember him as their deliverer on two occasions from their
enemies.
It was getting late, however, and Brown told them he would
come back after the sun went down, and left them, and rode
hastily to camp. It did not take long to replace the packs on the
horses, and by dusk they were all at the lake. The horses drank
the water freely, and were soon enjoying the young grass. The
number of the blacks had been augmented by two gins, who had been
digging roots on the other side of the lake when Brown first
appeared.
"I've another brilliant idea," said Brown, when they had
finished their meal.
"Let's have it," replied Morton.
"These poor beggars have evidently sought refuge in this
howling wilderness from the Warlattas. As things go, I should not
think it was a very choice place of residence—they look
miserable enough."
"I know what you are going to propose," interrupted Morton.
"Get them on to the lake and let them mate up with the
others."
"Exactly. I think it feasible enough; we shall have to make
this our headquarters while we hunt up that reef. We are not
pressed for time nor rations, thanks to the game at the
lake."
"And we sha'n't find that reef in a day, either," returned
Morton. "We'll sleep on the idea."
Next morning Morton proposed an amendment. Before the blacks
left (if they could induce them to do so), they should get the
old man to guide them to the soakage spring where Stuart camped
the night after he found the reef. This would probably be on the
usual route travelled by the blacks, and would considerably
contract the area of their search. While this was going on,
Billy, who had learnt a little of the lake language, would
explain to the natives the advantage of the change.
"We seem to be constituting ourselves a kind of special
providence for this part of the world," said Morton, as he
finished.
"We have plenty of time to go to the spring to-day, if we can
make the old fellow understand what we want."
This they did after some trouble, but it was evident the
native did not enjoy the idea of going in that direction.
However, as the two whites started with him he finally consented.
When about what they considered half-way, Morton and Brown
parted, Brown going on with the blackfellow, and Morton intending
to devote a few hours to searching around and then returning to
the salt lake. He found no indications, however, to reward his
trouble.
Brown turned up early the next day, the old fellow having
travelled sturdily. He had found the spring well supplied with
fresh water, but had vainly tried to get anything out of his
guide of a heap of white stones anywhere in the neighbourhood of
the track they followed. However, Brown thought by the formation
of the country about the spring that they could trace the line
back.
"How have you got on with these fellows with regard to an
exodus. This old fellow knows all about the lake, but I don't
think he has been there."
"Oh, Billy has turned out a splendid orator. He has been
gesticulating to them, and fired their imaginations with his
descriptions of thousands of wild ducks and millions of fish,"
said Charlie.
"Now, who is to go back and introduce them to their future
companions?"
"I'm all right now," returned Charlie; "Billy and I will
shepherd them across."
"It's a good road all the way, I think you will manage it,"
replied Morton. "How about Lee-lee?"
"We must take him with us when we go out reef-hunting. He
might run away if left by himself here," said Brown.
"He is a pretty cute fellow and will help us, if we make him
understand what we are looking for. Our camp and horses will be
safe enough all day; for, one way and another, the district is
getting pretty well depopulated."
The arrangements were so decided on, and the next morning,
under convoy of Charlie and Billy, the survivors of the mountain
tribe departed for the promised land flowing with birds and fish.
After their custom the gins were loaded up with what little camp
furniture they possessed, while the lordly male strode along with
nothing hut a boomerang and a small throwing-stick, without which
no self-respecting black-fellow would be seen.
Charlie, however, equalized matters by putting what he could
on one of the pack-horses, and giving the gins a chance.
Morton, Brown, and Lee-lee set out in the opposite direction.
The first day they exhaustively searched for some distance on
either side of the track taken by Brown and the old man, but
reached half-way to the spring without find-out anything, and
returned to the salt lake. Next day Brown proposed that they
should go straight to the spring and work back. This they did,
taking a pack-horse with rations, and leaving a note for Charlie
in a conspicuous place, lest they should be detained and he
should come back before they did.
The spring was at the foot of a small hillock strewn with
granite boulders. They turned out the horses and started on foot
to try and follow the line of country whereon rock was visible on
the surface. They managed with great care to keep to it until it
was time to return. Next morning they took their horses and rode
out to where they had left off. In the middle of the day they
turned out for a spell, having been encouraged by finding
occasional belts of quartz and slate crossing the granite
formation.
As they were smoking after their meal, Lee-lee, who was
sauntering about, came back, and pointing on ahead, indicated
that a heap of white stones was there. Both men got up, and in a
few steps saw an outblow of quartz about a hundred yards away.
Hastening to it, they were soon busy breaking stones and
investigating.
They soon found that they had struck Stuart's reef, or an
outcrop on the same line. The stone appeared to the finders
fabulously rich, some of it being powdered throughout with
gold.
"Well, I suppose there's a fortune or two there," said Brown
when their inspection was over. "But it's in a deuce of an
outlandish place."
"Wonder how far we are across the border into Western
Australia?"
"A good way, I expect; but we will keep the reckoning very
carefully as we go back."
"We have got all we want now; we will pick out the best of the
specimens and take them with us."
"Yes; and go straight back to the salt lake and wait for
Charlie."
Picking out the richest and smallest specimens, they packed
them on the pack-horse and struck in for the salt lake on a
compass line. This gave them the bearing from the salt pan, and
was all they wanted to find the place again.
Charlie did not return for a couple more days, but as they had
instructed him to take things easy, they did not feel
anxious.
He had taken his convoy safely to the lake, and duly
introduced the survivors of the two tribes. Billy and he waited a
day to make sure that amicable relations were properly
established and had then returned, everything being peaceful and
satisfactory.
Another start was now made for the spring, Brown, Billy, and
Lee-lee going straight there with the pack-horses, and Morton
taking Charlie round by the reef to show him the rich find.
From the top of the hillock at the back of the spring the
country looked scrubby, waste, and desolate; but the outlook was
not extensive, and they could see nothing of the mountain they
were making for. It behoved them, then, to be very careful, for
the country ahead was evidently very dry, and the direction to
the creek with the brackish water in it, of the vaguest.
They had a good many things at stake, the safety of Stuart's
journal containing the solution of the Leichhardt mystery, and
the knowledge of the gold reef. They did not, then, wish to meet
with any disaster on their homeward way.
"This is not an exciting sort of road," said Brown, as they
turned from fruitlessly scanning the ocean of dull gray
tree-tops, "but I think it is a little superior to that
abominable desert."
"Yes, we'll patronize this track if ever we come back here;
and I suppose we shall come some day to sink on that reef, and
see if it goes down."
"If that is the only big show, the gold will be pretty dear
before we get it home; but if there is plenty more about, you
will soon see a road out here and a township too."
"Go on. A railway, and those gas-lamps and bridges you
reported seeing in the scrub."
"Why not? Both you and I have seen those things spring up like
magic in Australia, before now."
"Well, I hope our luck will stick to us to-morrow and see us
on to that creek."
CHAPTER XXIII.
The Dry Creek—Brown Has a Solitary Camp—A
Mysterious Light.
"IT is unfortunate," said Morton the next morning when they
were preparing to start, "that Stuart did not give a description
of the creek, or of the water where they camped the next
night."
"Yes, it's rather a game of blind man's-buff, for they may
have gone north or south of the direct line."
"How far do you make it to the mountain direct?" asked
Brown.
A rough chart, compiled every night by dead reckoning, had
been kept since they started, and Morton had been working it up
the night before.
"Over one hundred miles; and if it is scrub all the way, with
sand underfoot, equal to one hundred and fifty."
"No good, then, our striking straight for the mountain and
trusting to chance for finding water on the way?"
"Too risky altogether. We must find this brackish creek
somehow."
"We can't get back the way we came to the lake, for the last
water we camped at must be bone dry by this time."
"How about going round by Hentig's grave if we are beaten back
utterly?"
"Yes, as a last resource, we might try that. Lee-lee could not
help us, for I don't think he ever stirred far from that lagoon
where you found him."
"Let us trust to our lucky star and get on anyhow," returned
Morton as he swung himself into his saddle, and they were soon
filing slowly through the scrub.
The scrub consisted of mulga and a dense undergrowth of
lancewood, so that the progress made was very slow. Moreover, it
was a difficult thing to keep a straight course amongst so many
obstacles. With the exception that the scrub was sometimes denser
than usual they experienced no change, until about two o'clock,
when they emerged into a small open space, and Charlie exclaimed
that they had come to a graveyard.
The clearing they had entered was a white clay flat, sparsely
grown over with spinifex, and covered with ant-hills about three
feet in height, bearing a startling resemblance to the headstones
of graves.
The party halted, partly to discuss their movements, and
partly to have something to eat. Morton, who finished first,
mounted his horse and rode in a southerly direction, telling the
others he would be back directly.
"The scrub is thinner to the south-east," he said when he came
back, "and beyond I can see another flat like this. I vote we
shift our course for a few miles. This change of country may mean
that the creek is somewhere about here."
Brown agreed to this, and Morton went ahead.
Passing through a belt of scrub they came to another flat like
the one they had left, but somewhat larger. From this they passed
through thinner belts of scrub until the flat became continuous,
still, however, covered with the anthills.
Presently Morton pointed ahead, and a line of creek gums of no
great height was now visible. The creek was bordered by a sandy
flat with some coarse grass on it. The water-course was shallow,
crossed here and there by bars of sandstone rock; but it was as
dry as though water had never been in it for years. It ran
easterly.
"This is a lively look-out," said Morton. "Shall we follow
this creek down, or camp here and one go up and one go down the
creek?"
"If we find nothing wet we must retreat to the spring
to-morrow morning."
"We must; but if we all go on down the creek and find nothing
wet, as you express it, we shall be too far to retreat."
"Does not this creek come from much the same direction we came
from?" asked Charlie.
"If it keeps the same course as it runs here, it does,"
replied Morton.
"We are just as likely to find water up as down," went on
Charlie; "but if we follow it up we shall be getting nearer to
the spring instead of away from it, and if we don't find water
can easily cut across to it."
"And have much better travelling-ground along this flat," said
Brown. "Charlie, my boy, we shall make a first-class bushmen of
you before we get home. A1, copper-fastened at Lloyds."
Charlie's suggestion was unanimously accepted, and the party
turned up the creek, making for the westward again. Morton
elected to follow the bed of the creek, whilst the others kept as
straight a course as they could along the flat.
The creek still continued dry, and no birds of any kind were
visible—a bad sign. Like most creeks running through the
level interior it gave indications every now and then of running
out altogether. At last, however, it grew narrower and deeper,
and Morton saw a group of gum-trees ahead, somewhat taller than
those lining the banks. There was a small bar of rocks across the
channel, and when he rode over this he saw a pool of water before
him fringed with green reeds. The water looked strangely clear as
he rode down to it; his horse put his head down to drink, but
lifted it at once with a dissatisfied snort.
"I guess what's up," thought Morton, dismounting. He stooped
and lifted some water to his lips with his scooped hand.
"Bah!" It was Salter than brine.
Remounting, he rode up the bank and called to the others, who
were visible slightly ahead. They waited when they saw him riding
towards them.
"I think we had better ride straight for the spring," he said;
"there's water down there, but it's salter than the Pacific
Ocean."
"We have good travelling along here," replied Brown. "I think
we ought to keep on here as far as we can and then strike off for
the spring. It doesn't much matter about water now, for the
spring can't be many miles off."
"You follow the creek, then, for a bit; you seem luckier than
I am. It does not much matter about the water, as you say, but I
should like to know whether there was any fresh water in it as
well as salt."
Brown went off to the creek and they once more started, until
Morton calculated that a short three miles through the scrub
which was running parallel to them would bring them to the
spring. He shouted to Brown and fired his revolver, and when
Brown joined them they turned off and reached the spring at
dusk.
"Back for the first time," said Morton, as they unpacked at
their old camp. "I wonder how many times we shall have to return
here."
"Lucky we have such a good camp to stand by us," answered
Brown. "We can always get from here to the lake."
The next thing to consider was their movements for the morrow.
Morton suggested that perhaps the clay formation altered the
conditions of the creek, and below, the water, if not fresh, was
at least only brackish.
"I doubt it," said Brown; "these clay formations generally
carry salt."
"One of us had better take Billy and a couple of horses packed
with water. Let Billy go about twenty miles, then, whoever goes
on, give his horse a couple of bags of water and hang the others
up on the branch of a tree against his return."
"That's the only safe way," replied Brown. "Who is to go, you
or I?"
"You're the lucky one."
"No. You found Lee-lee; let's toss up."
"That's all right, but where's the coin?"
"Rather good," laughed Brown. "Men with a rich reef in their
possession and can't raise a copper to toss with."
"We must shake in the hat," replied Morton.
He tore up a leaf of his note-book, made a mark on one scrap,
doubled them up and shook them together in his hat.
Brown drew the marked paper, and chose to go.
"Don't run away with my share of the reef while I am away," he
said as he got on his horse early the next morning, and, followed
by Billy driving the two horses, was soon lost to sight in the
scrub.
"We may as well go out and amuse ourselves at the reef," said
Morton; "we can do nothing until he comes back."
They saddled up, and spent the best part of the day in
knocking stones out and breaking them, returning in the evening
with a few extra rich specimens to add to those they already
had.
"If we show these specimens when we get home, won't somebody
suspect, and follow our tracks back?" said Charlie.
"If we are fools enough to show them," replied his cousin;
"but we'll take all sorts of good care that we don't, until we
are ready to come out ourselves, and have pretty well located the
place. If Brown does not turn up before morning, we will go out
again to-morrow and see if we can trace the reef any
further."
Billy turned up with the two horses just at dusk. He had
accompanied Brown some miles beyond where they turned back, but
there had been no change in the creek as far as he went.
Brown, meanwhile, kept on down the creek after parting with
the blackboy. It continued enlarging, and contracting again, in
the eccentric manner of an inland water-course, but there was no
sign of water, fresh or salt.
The silence, lifelessness, and the gloomy neighbourhood of the
scrub on one side of him naturally affected his spirits, and when
night fell the sense of loneliness was increased. As it was
useless going on in the dark, he determined to give his horse a
few hours' rest and then go back.
"The moon rises at twelve o'clock," he thought; "if I start
then, I shall get back to the water-bags by daylight."
He short-hobbled his horse, sat down at the foot of a tree
with his saddle at his back, and lit his pipe. The great
stillness of the desert surrounded and oppressed him with the
intensity of its silence. Not a leaf rustled, not a night bird
could be heard; the jingle of his horse's hobble-chain, and his
munching as he cropped the grass, was a welcome sound in that
dreary waste. No one knows what a companion a horse is until he
has passed a few solitary nights in the uninhabited bush of the
interior. Gradually Brown felt sleep stealing over him.
"I can afford to doze," he thought. "I'm pretty-uncomfortable,
so I sha'n't sleep long."
His head fell back on his saddle, and he was soon fast asleep.
He awoke suddenly, feeling stiff and unrefreshed. Springing to
his feet, he listened for the sound of his horse; but everything
was still.
"What a fool I was to go to sleep!" he thought. "I expect my
old prad has made back up the creek, and I shall have to stump it
to the camp. Wonder what the time is."
He took his watch out of his pouch, and, the starlight not
being strong enough, struck a match. Instantly he was agreeably
startled by a loud snort of surprise close to him, and his horse,
who had been lying down asleep, got on his legs and shook
himself. Brown felt so relieved that he went over and patted and
stroked him.
"I thought you had left me in the lurch, old fellow," he said,
as he slipped the bridle over his head, for it was nearly
midnight, and he thought he might as well make a start. As he
stood up after stooping to take the hobbles off, his attention
was attracted by a brightness in the eastern sky. "Moon rising,"
he thought, and led his horse to the tree where his saddle
was.
He saddled his horse and was about to mount, when he noticed
that the sky was no brighter, and the glow was reddish in
colour.
"Moon's rather long-winded," he muttered, and stood there
watching for its appearance; but it obstinately refused to
appear.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Fire to the East—Brown Returns to the Spring—
More Dry Creeks Discovered.
BROWN stood patiently waiting for some minutes, and then the
truth struck him. It was not the moon rising; it was a bush fire,
a long distance away.
"Deuced queer," he thought, as he took out his compass, struck
a match, and took the bearing of the glow. "It's too far for me
to do anything, even if I felt so inclined, which I don't. Hullo!
what's this?"
A bright light suddenly gleamed through the trees a little to
the south of the other. This, however, was the moon in reality,
and Brown turned his willing horse's head towards home,
marvelling much at what he had seen.
"Fires travel any distance in this unoccupied country," he
thought, "and that one may have come a hundred miles or
more."
He reached the water-bags at sunrise, and gave his horse their
contents, then, having strapped them on to his saddle, rode on
and arrived at the camp at the spring about noon.
Morton could only account for the fire in the same way that
Brown did; that it must have travelled a long distance, and that
its presence did not denote the existence of water. On his part
Morton was able to inform him that they had found another outcrop
of the reef that morning, nearly a quarter of a mile to the
south, and it appeared as rich as the one they had discovered
first.
The waste ahead, however, still sternly confronted them.
"I wonder whether there is another creek further south that
this one runs into," said Morton; "or there may be one it joins
to the north."
"Very likely; this creek that has been hum-hugging us does not
look to me like a main one, It nearly lost itself several times
yesterday, and when I camped it looked very sick."
"We can easily settle the question in a day; to-morrow one go
north and one south, as before."
"May I go this time?" said Charlie.
"You go north, and I'll go and crack stones at the new reef,"
returned Brown.
So it was settled, and they spent a lazy afternoon.
In the morning the two started in opposite directions, and
Brown went off to inspect the new find.
Charlie, having been strictly cautioned to trust to his
compass only, went due north, and for ten or twelve miles was
surrounded by scrub. Then he emerged in a strip of open country,
and to his great joy saw creek timber ahead. This watercourse was
quite different to the one they had been on—it was more
like a chain of shallow lagoons, but all were dry and parched.
Charlie followed it for some distance, but there was no sign of
moisture, and, elated at having something to report, he made his
way back to the spring. Strange to say, when Morton came in he
too had found a similar creek to the south, but also waterless.
Brown worked out the courses on a bit of paper.
"It strikes me," he said, "that these two creeks, if they run
on as they were running where you struck them, must junction in
with the creek I was on, not many miles below where I
camped."
"Supposing we split up," said Morton. "Say you and Charlie,
with half the spare horses, follow down the creek he found, and I
and the boys will follow down the one I found, with the rest of
the horses. We shall meet at the junction, if your theory is
correct. The party who gets there first to wait for the
others."
"But supposing there is no water in either of the creeks?"
"We can get back here."
"If your creek junctions in above ours, or vice versa,
how is the party who arrives at the lower junction to know that
the other party is waiting at the upper one?"
"Hum!" said Morton; "that rather capsizes the notion. But I
think we can fix it by running the creek up and down a bit."
"Well, I'm willing," returned Brown. "I don't think we are
such duffers as to miss each other if we get anywhere within a
few miles."
In the morning the plan mooted was carried out, and they left
the spring, as they hoped, for good that journey. The creek Brown
and Charlie followed proved to be very serpentine in its course.
When they stopped for a mid-day spell Brown worked out the dead
reckoning, and came to the conclusion that although they had come
over fifteen miles in distance, they had not made more than ten
in a direct course. Still the creek, on an average, was bearing
in towards the other one, and they reckoned they must strike it
late in the afternoon.
As they went on the flat grew wider and the empty water-holes
further apart, but everything bore the look of a prolonged
drought. At four o'clock they sighted the other creek ahead, but
there were no signs of the others.
"Wonder how your cousin got on?" Brown said to Charlie.
"Hurrah! there he is!" he returned, as a horseman came into sight
riding down the bank of the old creek.
Morton pulled up when he caught sight of them, and waited.
"Any water?" he asked when they came up.
"Not a drop. I don't think there has been any in it since the
time of Noah's flood. How did you get on?"
"There was no water in the creek we followed, but there is a
decent hole where it junctions with this one, about two miles up
from here."
"Salt?"
"No, quite drinkable—a slight sweet taste about it."
"I expect there's more water in it than when Stuart was here:
these holes get Salter as they dry up. Do you think it is the
hole he was at?"
"I think it must be," returned Morton, as they turned and rode
up the creek. "We ought to be able to get through to the mountain
now, even if we don't come across that clay-pan."
"That's good news, at any rate. Did you see anything of that
fire?"
"There appears to be a heavy bank of smoke to the eastward,
but we must try and find a tree this evening to have a look-out
from."
The camp was a fairly good one, although the grass was
somewhat dry. After some searching Brown and Morton found a
gum-tree which they could climb, but it was not of a sufficient
height to afford them a good view of the surrounding country.
They made out, however, that an extensive bush fire was raging to
the eastward, and when it fell dark the glow was plainly visible.
Brown said it was not as bright as when he saw it, as though the
fire was now working away from them.
The following day they started on a straight course for the
mountain on the creek, and rode the whole day through a barren
region of scrub. That night the horses had to be tied up to
trees, for there was neither grass nor water for them. However,
they felt sure of arriving at the creek the next day.
"We ought to be getting to that big plain pretty soon," said
Morton in the morning, as they were making an early start. "That
is, if our reckoning is anyway near the mark."
They had scarcely been travelling an hour, when they suddenly
rode from the scrub on to the plain, and before them in the
distance, with a black haze of smoke as a background, was the
mountain they were making for. The fire was seemingly beyond the
mountain, as the plain, although covered with dry grass which
would have burnt freely enough, had not been burnt.
Once out of the scrub they travelled more rapidly, and in the
afternoon once more camped at the base of the mountain. All the
eastern side of the creek was burnt bare, and when they ascended
the hill they could see that the fire had ravaged most of the
spinifex scrub and burnt up the country to the north. The outlook
was even drearier than before, for the heat and flames had
scorched the leaves of the low trees, and nothing but an expanse
of dead foliage was beneath them.
Fortunately there was good feed for their horses on the bank
of the creek and the islands in its bed, and as the last two days
had been rather severe on them, they decided to rest for a few
days and inspect the surrounding country, although it held out
little inducement. However, they preferred stopping at where they
were to going back to their old camp at the lagoons, where
probably all the grass was burnt The first thing to do was to jot
down the whole of their course since leaving the lagoons and
correct it, which they were now able to do, as they had arrived
back at a known point. They found that the dead reckoning had
been very well kept, and that their work closed in a satisfactory
manner.
An excursion down the creek on the following day convinced
them that it ran out and was hopelessly lost in the sandy scrub
that stretched south and east. Next morning Morton was up early
at break of day, and climbing up the hill to reach the summit
before sunrise, which is the best time to see long distances. To
the east the fire was still burning in the distance, but was
evidently now in a dying state. Morton had his glasses with him,
and commenced to carefully scan the country. At last his
attention became fixed on one particular spot to the south. He
took a compass-bearing and descended the hill. The others were
up, and about to commence breakfast.
"I've spotted that rock hill," said Morton.
"What! The one Stuart says the old black-fellow told him
about?"
"I think so. You can't pick it out with the naked eye, but
with the glasses I can make it out quite distinctly. A brown
naked cone rising out of the scrub."
"How far away is it?"
"Not more than fifteen miles, I should say. I wonder that none
of the niggers were able to take Stuart to it."
"Do you intend going?"
"We may as well. I should like to know all about the place
before we go home."
"Well, I'm with you, old man."
Next morning they started on Morton's compass-bearing. The
distance was about what he judged, and they made a very fair
course.
The rock, surrounded by a small area of open country, rose in
a round-topped peak to an altitude of about one hundred and fifty
feet. The granite sides were smooth and naked, and the two white
men, after hanging their horses to a small cork-tree, climbed to
the summit. Brown, who had been in Western Australia before, had
seen these granite formations peculiar to that colony, but to
Morton they were a new phenomenon. From the top they had a good
clear view all round. Scrub, east and south, still stretched
before them. Presently they both at the same time noticed a clear
space west of south, in which there was a sparkle like a
reflection from the sun. Morton turned the glasses on it.
"Salt lake," he said, after a pause.
Brown took the glasses and looked.
"Yes, another salt lake, there's no doubt. We'll take the
bearings and apparent distance; it's just as well to have all
these things down."
"Not worth while going over to it," said Morton.
They descended the hill and rode round it to see if there were
any of the holes on the base of the mound, such as are often
found. In this case there were two or three, but all small and
dry.
"I don't see any good in going into that scrub to the east,"
said Morton as they rode home; "we'll make a start the day after
to-morrow."
Brown agreed with him, and they reached camp in good time.
CHAPTER XXV.
The Attack by the Surviving Warlattas—
Death of Lee-lee— The Last of the Cannibals.
NEXT morning was a lazy one. About eleven o'clock Morton, who
was talking to Brown under the shade of a tree, proposed that
they should kill a few hours by a ride up the creek, and called
to Billy to bring up a couple of horses. Charlie, who was in the
tent, sung out in reply that he had gone hunting with Lee-lee, as
their clothes were lying on the ground,—for a blackfellow
always likes to strip whenever he gets a chance.
"I will go and get the horses, they are just down the creek,"
said Charlie, when he heard what his cousin wanted.
He picked up two bridles and went off down the creek.
Brown and Morton put their saddles down in readiness.
The horses were not far, and Charlie soon came back leading
two. He had almost reached the camp when a shrill yell of terror
made them all start.
Out from the forest came Billy, racing and shouting, and
behind him limped Lee-lee. There was no need to ask what it
meant; behind them, in close pursuit, came other dark forms with
upraised spears.
"Those Warlattas!" yelled Brown, as he and Morton sprang for
their rifles. Charlie was transfixed with surprise. Two of the
cannibals, with their spears up, were now close to the fugitives,
the others pressing on so eagerly that they did not see the white
men. It all seemed to Charlie to pass like a flash. The spears
flew, and the rifles cracked so closely one after the other that
it sounded almost like one report. Down went Billy and Lee-lee,
and the two Warlattas behind them pitched forward headlong on the
ground. Startled by the firearms the others halted, turned and
fled. But the breech-loaders spoke once more, and one Warlatta
fell with a broken leg, and the other dropped in a heap and lay
quiet, with a conical bullet between his shoulders.
"Quick! not one must get away," said Morton, and he and Brown
snatched the bridles from Charlie's hand, and jumping on
bare-backed, galloped like avenging furies after the two
retreating survivors. "Look after Billy!" yelled Morton to
Charlie, as he urged his excited horse along.
The blacks fled into the forest, but the cover came too late
for them, with two of the best riders in central Australia
thirsting for their blood. Charlie, as he went down to Billy, saw
his cousin race up to one man and they disappeared between the
trees, but the report of a revolver immediately after told its
tale. Next minute came two more pistol-shots from the direction
Brown had gone.
Billy had sat up by the time Charlie reached him; he had been
speared in the leg, but poor Lee-lee was dead. The spear of the
Warlatta had pierced his heart.
Morton's and Brown's voices were now heard coming back. They
pulled up at the wounded savage, and Morton slipped from his
horse. Charlie turned his head away, for he guessed what was
going to happen. No quarter for the cannibals. He heard the
revolver ring out, and knew that Lee-lee was avenged.
His cousin came up, leading his horse and putting his revolver
back in his pouch. Both men were flushed, and their eyes still
blazed with the fierce light of conflict.
"Poor Lee-lee!" said Brown, as they stood beside his body. "We
seem to have been his evil genius."
"We've been the evil genius of the Warlattas, thank goodness,"
said Morton grimly. "They're all wiped out now, however."
The tragedy affected them all strongly. The unfortunate
half-caste meeting his death in such an unexpected manner, when
all seemed safe and at peace, was sad.
Billy, however, demanded their attention. Fortunately the
spear was not a barbed one, and had only gone into the fleshy
part of his thigh. It was soon extracted, the wound bound up, and
he was made as comfortable as possible.
Billy explained that he and Lee-lee were on their way home
when they saw the Warlattas, who had evidently been stalking them
for some time. Had Billy been armed with firearms he might have
frightened them away; but as he had nothing but a tomahawk, he
thought discretion the better part of valour and ran for it,
forgetting in his excitement that Lee-lee was lame and could not
keep up with him.
They buried the last poor relic of Leichhardt's doomed party
at the foot of the mountain, but the bodies of the Warlattas were
left to the crows and hawks.
"Perhaps it is all for the best, sad as it seems," said
Morton. "Those six devils could not keep their lust for murder
under, and but for this row we might not have run across them.
Then they would have gone to the lake again and finished their
villainous work."
"I wonder where they got their weapons from."
"There must have been some left in the bottle tree camp in the
basalt. We did not look about much, if you remember."
"Well, that's the end of it all, I suppose."
"Unless somebody comes across Lee-lee's brothers or sisters
amongst the tribe to the north."
The party perforce had now to remain where they were until
Billy was able to ride again, and a dull time it was. A trip to
the hot swamp showed them that, during their absence at the lake,
the water had subsided and the swamp become so dry that the fire
had ravaged it, burning the ragged, inflammable bark of the
trees, and licking up the reeds surrounding the lakelet, which
was now but a surface of cracked mud.
"There is one question that always worries me," said Brown, as
they came to the spot where the Warlatta track led into the
basalt rocks. "Do you think that Murphy was compelled to join in
their cannibal feasts?"
"I have thought of it too," replied Morton, "and have come to
the conclusion that he was not. At least, while he retained his
reason. When we saw him, you know, he was nearly blind, and his
mental faculties almost gone. My reason for this is the anchor we
found cut on the tree at the lagoons; I daresay there were more,
and there were numberless marks of the others. There was an ample
game supply up and down that creek, and I believe he spent most
of his time there hunting, until he became too infirm to leave
the cave."
"I am glad you think that, as I am of the same belief. I think
any white man, no matter how slow his intellect, would prefer
death."
"Still, cases have been known where men have been maddened by
starvation in an open boat at sea; but in this case he would not
have been desperate with hunger. No, I think, and am glad to
think, that he had no part in their evil doings or rites until he
was irresponsible for his actions."
"They would not have allowed him to go with them on their
raids for fear of his escaping. Evidently they regarded him as a
sort of fetish."
They dismounted and hung their horses to a tree, and went a
short distance amongst the rocks. As they advanced all signs of a
track disappeared, for the place became one jumbled mass of huge
boulders piled on top of one another, rough as a rasp underfoot,
and baking hot from the vertical sun. What with the natural heat
of the day and the radiation from the rocks, they were soon glad
to turn back to where they had left their horses.
"No wonder poor Stuart, barefooted and alone, could not make
his way any distance," remarked Morton.
"I wonder what would have happened had he met the
Warlattas?"
"He had established a good funk amongst them, and so he might
have routed them. But if they had killed him, I swear a good many
would have lost the number of their mess first."
"It always makes me feel sad when I think of such a man being
forced by fate to spend his life amongst savages."
Billy's wound, like the flesh of most black-fellows, was
rapidly healing, but he was not yet able to ride. The shadow cast
on their spirits by the murder of poor Lee-lee, rendered them all
anxious to be on the move and leave the ill-omened camp behind
them. The weather had been continuously fine ever since they
left. That night, however, a black thunder-storm gathered up, and
towards evening the heavens were overcast and the sky was one
constant blaze of lightning, and a continuous mutter of thunder
sounded from all points. Every preparation had been made, and
they watched with interest the mustering of the storm
spirits.
"I believe it's going to be one of those dry dust-storms after
all," said Brown.
To the east every blaze of light now showed a low black cloud
approaching.
"It's the wind coming," said Morton, "bringing all the ashes
from the burnt country; we shall be smothered with dust and
charcoal."
Even as he spoke there came a blinding glare of white light,
accompanied by a crash of thunder that seemed to shake the hill
to its foundation. A rush of cold wind, bearing dust and ashes on
its wings, swept the camp and nearly carried away the tent. Then
the rain fell in one heavy downpour. For nearly an hour the
deluge kept up, the continuous flashes making it as bright as
day, the constant roar and rattle of the thunder never ceasing.
Then the tumult died away in the west, the stars peeped out, and
the tropical storm was over. Next morning the sky was clear and
the air fresh and pleasant.
"I'm hanged if I can stop in camp any longer," said Morton.
"Billy, if you don't get that 'mundoee' of yours well soon, we'll
go away and leave you here."
Billy looked rather askance at the threat, until he realized
that Morton was joking.
Brown, who had been surgeon, said: "I think we can rig up a
sling or cradle for his leg soon, so that he will be able to
travel short stages."
"I'm glad to hear it. That thunder-storm must have put water
into the rock-holes at the granite rock. What do you say to a
ride there and then on to the salt lake we saw at a
distance?"
"Right; it will kill time. But we'll start to-morrow; let the
ground dry up a bit. We'll experimentalize on a cradle for
Billy's leg today."
CHAPTER XXVI.
Visit to the Southern Salt Lake—The Future of the
Interior—
A False Alarm—Departure.
THE cradle promised to be a success; so the next morning,
taking some rations in case they had to camp out, Brown and
Morton left for the rock. The ground was still somewhat soft, but
not enough to impede their travelling, and they reached the
granite rock early. As they had the bearing of the salt lake they
did not climb the rock again, but rode round the base to see if
the holes were full. They were all brim-full, the sloping rock
above acting like the roof of a house in catching and shedding
the rainfall. They then struck out for the salt lake, which they
reached about one o'clock, passing through sandy country all the
way. The lake was much larger than the one they had camped at to
the north, but the surrounding country was barren and grassless.
Few signs of the former presence of the natives were visible, and
no indication of a well having been dug. Evidently the soil was
so impregnated with salt that not even brackish water could be
obtained.
"What a real desert!" said Brown, gazing round on the dreary
scene.
"Yes, it's about as hopeless a looking picture as one could
find anywhere, at present. And yet, if the artesian water is
found to extend throughout the interior, it will change the whole
face of the Australian earth in time. This spinifex would not
grow here, but that the climate is so arid that nothing else will
grow, and this beastly stuff can thrive without any rain at all.
No, burn this scrub off, or clear it somehow, and, with a good
supply of artesian water, there are a hundred and one payable
products one could grow here."
"You're an optimist, and an enthusiast at that."
"I am as regards the future of Australia. I believe the end of
the coming century will see it settled from east to west
throughout."
"If one could fill up all the dry creeks and lagoons we have
passed with your artesian water, we might modify the severity of
the climate."
"Yes. Now, let's have a ride round this inland sea in
miniature."
"It smells like the sea, at any rate; I bet that water in
there is concentrated brine. How about all this saline
country?"
"It has been proved successfully that the date-palm will
thrive on the shores of these salt lakes, so they need not be
quite barren."
Nothing of any interest was to be seen, and they retraced
their steps to the granite rock, where they watered their horses.
As there were still a couple of hours of daylight, they started
back for their camp.
"Fancy if we had left the camp like this, forgetting all about
those six Warlattas hanging about. What a massacre they would
have had!" said Brown, as they rode on.
"Yes, it makes me shudder to think of our carelessness; for we
ought to have remembered there was danger to be expected from
them."
When it fell dark they found themselves still some three miles
from home, and the darkness somewhat retarded them in the scrub.
Suddenly, when nearing the mountain, a rifle-shot was heard
ahead, followed soon after by a different report, like that of a
shot-gun.
"Good God! what can be up?" exclaimed Morton.
Both men fired their revolvers as a signal that they were
near, and pushed on as hastily as they could. As soon as the open
country was reached they galloped straight for the camp.
Everything appeared peaceful enough, and Charlie seemed surprised
at their hasty approach.
"What were you firing at?" asked Morton, rather crossly, for
no man likes to be flurried by a false alarm.
"Well, I don't know exactly," replied Charlie. "I had given
you up for to-night, and was sitting out here with Billy, when he
called out that there was something moving on the rocks over
there. I looked, and could indistinctly make out some dark figure
moving about, so I challenged; getting no answer, I fired my
rifle in the air. Whatever it was they started away, but in a few
minutes came back again, so I fired the shot-gun at them and they
departed. Billy called out they were 'Jinkarras!' and covered his
head with the blanket, and I expect he has it there now."
"What were they like?" asked Brown.
"It was too dark to see, but they were certainly not natives,
unless we have run across a race of dwarfs."
Billy, on being induced to take his head from underneath the
blanket, asserted stoutly that they were Jinkarras they had seen;
that he ought to know, as when he was a child he had been carried
off by one in the night.
"How did you get back, Billy?" asked Morton.
Billy commenced a long rambling yarn about waking up to find
himself being carried along by a short, hairy man with red eyes;
but his tale ended somewhat lamely, for his next remembrance was
of finding himself in the familiar family camp, with his mother
administering severe slaps with the small end of a nulla-nulla.
Still he persisted in his statement that there were Jinkarras,
and that they lived underground.
"I shouldn't wonder," suddenly exclaimed Brown, "if this
legend of the Jinkarras, which is common all over the central
portion of Australia, was not a surviving tradition, much
distorted, of our dear old friends the devil worshippers."
"Not at all unlikely. We will run this particular brand of
Jinkarra to earth in the morning," answered Morton.
Charlie was out before breakfast to inspect the ground where
he had seen the figures in the night; but beyond a few good-sized
boulders, which he was certain he had not fired at, he failed to
discover any marks of a nocturnal visit.
Morton went out after breakfast, and immediately saw what had
caused the alarm. He called Charlie over and pointed the tracks
out to him.
"This is a regular pad for the rock-wallabies," he said. "Only
it has been covered up by the burnt ashes of the grass. They were
coming in last night to feed on the young grass on the bank of
the creek, just springing after the rain. I suppose some of them
hopped on to these boulders."
This explanation failed to satisfy Billy, who was still
convinced that the Jinkarras were about, and was now anxious to
get away.
They devoted themselves to finishing the sling for his leg,
and made him take a short ride two or three times, to get
accustomed to it and find out if it hurt him.
It was with feelings of great thankfulness that they at last
got ready to make a final start and leave the place which had
grown so wearisome to them. For the sake of making it easy for
Billy, they intended to take two days on the journey to the
lagoons, so they camped the first night on the creek above what
had been the hot swamp.
The next night they reached the familiar camp at the lagoons,
and now felt that they were finally on the homeward track. They
had made a rude pair of crutches for the black boy, and he was
now able to limp about on, what he called, his
"waddy-mundoees."
As a matter of satisfaction they spelled a day, for although
the grass had all been burnt by the fire, there was still good
feed on the banks of the lagoons. This day was devoted to
thoroughly examining the trees up and down the creek, and they
were able to partly confirm their conjectures about Murphy, by
finding the anchor marked on several more trees.
The thunder-storm had filled the small hole they stopped at
when they first sighted the plain and the great limestone rock,
so they made a short stage there to give Billy every chance. From
what they remembered of the nature of the country, there was not
likely to be any water retained along the scrub track.
They were all on the look-out during the next morning for the
spot where they first encountered the Warlattas. When they
reached it they found that the corpse was gone, the six men
despatched having seemingly done their duty and taken it on to
the burying-place.
"I suppose," said Brown, "that it was only men of importance
amongst them that they took the trouble to carry all this way.
What did they do with the others?"
"I forgot all about it," exclaimed Charlie.
They both looked at him in surprise.
"When I was down that hole, the first one, not the tunnel
affair, I saw some bones and skulls amongst the boulders. I think
it was that which frightened Billy so. I could only see a few,
but there might have been thousands, for everything was smothered
with mud and our candles did not give much light."
"At that rate, the rank and file were thrown into the boiling
spring when they pegged out," said Morton.
"Seemingly so," answered his friend. "But we must push on, we
have a good step ahead of us."
The horses went merrily along the cleared track, and as Billy
showed no signs of fatigue they made capital progress. As they
anticipated, the cleared track led them straight on to the open
patch of downs country where the cemetery was. A great surprise
awaited them. The fire had swept up from the south, and the whole
country was black. More than that, the fierce flames had attacked
the dry boughs forming the scaffolds whereon the dead bodies had
been bestowed, and now, all that was to be seen were half-charred
bones lying here and there.
"It seems that Fate meant to destroy all traces of the
Warlattas in one act," said Morton, as they sat on their horses
and gazed at all that was left of the cemetery of the
cannibals.
"How was it this never happened before?" remarked Brown.
"I don't understand. They must have kept it burnt down short
every year, and neglected it for some reason. However, I'm not
sorry, for if this country extends any distance south I shall
take it up."
"Well, let's get to camp before it's dark. There will be
enough grass unburnt about the water-hole for our horses
to-night."
This proved to be the case, and the cheery camp-fire was soon
blazing brightly and everybody chatting in good spirits.
"If you think seriously of taking up this bit of country, we
might as well explore it to-morrow now we are here. The horses
will be better for the rest, for remember, as far as we know,
there is not a drop of water between here and the station—a
good hundred miles," said Brown.
"That thunder-storm has been along here by the look of it. It
should have put some water in some of those clay-pans we
passed."
"Thunder-storms are mighty uncertain things to trust to. They
generally fall, as a rule, just where they are no good to any
one. We must travel, when we start, as though it was dry the
whole way, although I think with you that we shall find
water."
"As it now stands," said Morton, drawing his blanket over his
shoulders, "the only real evidence we have to show that the
Warlattas ever existed, is this cleared road in the scrub."
"And the wound in Billy's leg," murmured Charlie,
drowsily.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Home Again.
THE trip next morning was a promising one. The creek kept a
continued and well-watered course for about fifteen miles,
running through well-grassed downs country all the way. The place
was burnt black with the fire, but that did not hide the value of
the country. Gradually the scrub, which they had lost sight of
for some time, closed in on both sides, and it was evident that
the creek would soon run out, once it entered the scrub. They
were back in camp in time to take a short ride up the creek, and
ascertain that there was nothing worth troubling about in that
direction. Brown fossicked out the remains of the brandy when
they had finished their meal.
"Now, then," he said, when they had all put some in their
pannikins, "we must christen the new run. What's it to be? You
speak first, Charlie."
"Warlatta Downs."
"Good!" said Morton; "we can't better that. Here's good luck
to Warlatta Downs."
"Now for the gold reef," said Brown.
There was silence whilst each thought of a suitable name.
"Suppose we call it after Stuart, who was really the first
finder of it."
"The Stuart Reef, then, and here's to his memory."
They drank the toast in silence.
"That reminds me," remarked Brown, "that portion of the diary
relating the finding of the gold reef must be carefully
eliminated from the original journal and our copies."
"We'll set about it now, to make sure. We can restore it at
any time when needful; meantime we don't want anybody to jump our
claim."
They soon had the work finished, and the part taken out was
carefully put away.
"One more night and home," said Charlie delightedly the next
morning as they mounted.
"I never thought so much of the old station before."
The belt of scrub had still to be passed which had proved such
a terror on their outward way. Sorely did they miss the
well-cleared track of the Warlattas. Luckily the thunderstorm had
extended most of the way, and they reached home by easy
stages.
"We have not lost a single horse in spite of all the dry and
desert country we have negotiated," said Morton, as they rode
over the familiar ground some miles away from the station.
"No; that's something to boast of. Those long spells we had at
different places were the salvation of our nags," replied
Brown.
Their return that night caused great excitement on the
station. The men had been getting impatient and anxious, and were
thinking of starting on their tracks to see if they had come to
grief.
Every Australian bushman knows the story of Leichhardt, and
when the men heard that the mystery of his fate and of those who
accompanied him had been at last solved, they felt that a
reflected glory was shed on all connected with the station.
Billy had a great reception from his countrymen camped about
the station. He exhibited his wound, and let it be generally
understood that he had wiped out the Warlatta tribe
single-handed, although they were all giants over seven feet
high. Fortunately he knew nothing of the gold reef, so was not
able to dilate on that; but the story of the lake and the caves
there lost nothing by telling, but he quite forgot to mention his
fright in the underground tunnel.
The news of their successful trip and interesting discoveries
was soon flashed along the overland telegraph-line. It was
enthusiastically received by some and scornfully doubted by
others, as is usual in these cases. Brown regretted that they had
not had a camera, and brought a few pictures back with them; but
as the authenticity of the documents have been since universally
admitted, the scoffers are confounded.
As yet they are awaiting their time before returning to open
up the reef, which they anticipate will be found to be joined by
a line of auriferous country with the rich gold discoveries
lately made in Western Australia.
THE END
Project Gutenberg Australia