A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia by G. A. Henty (the dot read aloud TXT) 📖

be ready, in five minutes, to smoke that pipe we talked about with him, outside." Chapter 16: Jim's Report.

"Jones, what is it?"

"Your black has just come, sir. I would not let him come in; for the fact is, he ain't a figure to introduce among ladies."

"What's the matter with him, Jones? Not hurt, I hope?"

"He has been knocked about a bit, sir; and he is done up with travelling. The poor fellow can hardly crawl, and was half starved; so I set him to work eating, and came off to fetch you."

By this time they had arrived at the door of the shed. Jim was sitting by a fire, eagerly devouring a hunch of cold meat. The men were standing round, waiting till he had appeased his hunger before they asked any question. He looked up and nodded, when Reuben entered.

"Well, Jim, I am glad to see you back," Reuben said heartily. "I was beginning to be afraid about you. I hope you are not hurt?"—for the black had a handkerchief tied round his head.

Jim gave a grunt, but continued stuffing great lumps of meat into his mouth. Reuben saw that he must wait till the black's hunger was satisfied, and stood quietly looking on until, having devoured some five pounds of meat, he gave a sigh of contentment, and then took a long draught of rum and water, which Constable Jones handed to him.

"Jim better now," he said.

"That's right, Jim; now tell us all about it."

Jim's story was a long one, and it took more than an hour in the telling; for his English was not always distinct, and it often required much questioning, on Reuben's part, before he could quite make out its meaning. The substance was as follows:

On leaving, some ten days before, on the mission of discovering the haunt of the bush rangers, he knew that it was of no use to go among the wild blacks, their allies; as the hostility against their semi-civilized fellows was so great that he would, at once, have been killed. He resolved to go back to the spot where the track had been obliterated, by that of the flock of sheep; to make a wide circuit, and pick it up beyond and, if possible, follow it until he found them. The difficulties were great, for the bush rangers had spared no pains in hiding their trail; keeping always upon hard, high ground, and at one time getting into the bed of a running stream, and following it for two miles before they again struck for their rendezvous.

However, step by step Jim had tracked them; sometimes losing the trail altogether, sometimes guided merely by a fresh-made scratch on the surface of a stone, or by a broken twig or bruised blade of grass. At last, he traced it far out into the bush, many miles beyond the furthest range of settlements, and then he lost it altogether. There had been a halt, for some time, at this spot.

Beyond this, Jim was entirely at fault. He made circle after circle round the spot, but could find no trace whatever of their passage, and returned to the point where he had missed the trail. He relit the embers of the fire which the bush rangers had made, cooked some food, and laid himself down—first to think it over, then to sleep, for it was now just the close of day.

It was clear to him that here, more than anywhere else, the bush rangers had made a great effort to throw anyone who might be pursuing them off the trail. He had no doubt that the bush rangers had muffled their horses' hoofs with cloth, and had proceeded with the greatest care through the bush, so as to avoid breaking a single twig in their passage; and the only reason for such greater caution could be that it was here, and here only, that they wished to throw the pursuers off the trail. It would have seemed, to a white man, that they had done this before, especially when they had kept in the water course; but to black Jim's perception, it appeared that they had been more careless than would be expected; and that, while apparently doing their utmost to conceal their tracks, they had really left sufficient indications to allow a practised tracker to follow them.

Why then, now that they were far beyond the settlements, and fairly in the country of their native allies, should they, for the first time, so hide their trail that he could not discover it?

The result of Jim's thoughts was that, when he awoke at daybreak, he started back towards the settlements. When he came to the river which the party had passed, in pursuit of the natives, he kept along its bank, scrutinizing the ground with the greatest care. After six miles' walking he suddenly stopped, at a point where the soft turf near the margin was cut up by the passage of the party of horsemen. Here was the confirmation of his ideas.

Arguing the matter out with himself, Jim had arrived at the conclusion that, hitherto, the trail had been a false one, the bush rangers' object being to lead their pursuers to believe that they had gone far out into the native country; whereas, in fact, their hiding place was somewhere among the settlements. Should this be so, the only way to find them was to search for their back track. This he had now found and, with a shout of triumph at his own cleverness, Jim forded the river and followed the track of the horses.

This was now clear enough, the horsemen taking no pains whatever to conceal their traces, feeling perfectly confident that any pursuers must now be thrown off the scent. Jim followed it till sundown, when he had made some thirty miles; and then, withdrawing some little distance from the tracks, he made his fire and camped for the night.

He was now inside the line of the outlying stations, and had approached to the edge of a bit of wild and broken country, which offered so few inducements to settlers that it had been passed by for the better land beyond; although occasionally, when herbage was scarce, the settlers in the neighbourhood drove the animals up to feed among its hills. The black had no doubt that the gang, of which he was in pursuit, had their haunt somewhere in the heart of this wild and little-known tract.

In the morning he again started and, after travelling several miles, entered a narrow valley with very steep sides, with trees and brushwood growing wherever they could get a foothold. He now adopted a careless and indifferent carriage and, although he kept a sharp lookout, no one who saw him would have supposed that he had any particular object in view.

Presently he noticed that the tracks turned sharply off from the line he had followed, in the centre of the valley; and entered the trees, which grew thickly here at the foot of the hills. He made no halt, even for an instant, but walked straight on. Half a mile further he sat down and lit his fire, and began to cook some food. He had no doubt that he was watched for, just after he passed the point where the track turned off, he heard a very low whistle among the trees.

As he sat by the fire, he kept his back towards the direction from which he had come; and when he presently heard footsteps, no change in his attitude betrayed that he was conscious of the fact that persons were approaching him, until two men stopped beside him. Then, with a cry as of sudden alarm, he leapt to his feet.

"Lor' a mussy!" he exclaimed, "de white man frighten me bery much. What for dey no say dey come?"

"Who are you, nigger, and where do you come from, and what are you doing here?"

"My name Jim," he said; "me going tro' the country looking for place to tend hosses. Me bery good at hosses. Me look arter de hosses ob Mr. Hudson."

"What did you leave him for?" one of the men asked, sternly.

"Someting lost from de house," Jim said quietly. "Massa Hudson tink me took it. He make bobbery, so Jim ran away and look for nodder place."

"Um," the man said; "I wonder whether you are speaking the truth? If I thought you weren't, I would put a bullet through your head, in double-quick time."

"No, sah," Jim said in great terror; "dat de truth, sure 'nough. Jim try to get work at Sydney. Couldn't get; so start away, and ask at all de stations. No one want black boy for hosses, so keep on and tink dere more chance out furder. Does massa want a boy for hoss?"

"What do you think, Bill?" the man who had spoken asked his companion. "Shall we put a bullet in this fellow's head, at once, or make him useful?"

"I dussay he is a liar," the other replied; "but then all these black fellows are liars, so that does not make much difference. A black fellow would certainly be useful for the horses, and to look after the fire. We can always shoot him when we have done with him. We shall soon see, by the way he handles the horses, whether he has been accustomed to them."

"All right," the other said. "You come along with us then."

"What wages massa pay?" Jim asked.

"Anything you may be worth. Don't you fret about wages."

Jim pretended to hold out for a fixed sum; but the man said, in stern tones:

"Come along, we don't want no more jaw, so you had best hold your tongue."

No other words passed till they got back to the trees, and then turned off where the horses had previously done so. Two minutes' walk brought them to a roughly-made shed, built against the almost perpendicular side of the hill. It was built of logs, and there was nothing to show that it was inhabited. No smoke curled up from the chimney. The door and shutters were closed. Anyone who, passing through the valley, had turned among the trees and accidentally come upon it, would have taken it for some hut erected by a wood cutter.

One of the men knocked three times at the door, and it was at once opened. Jim was pushed inside, the men followed him, and the door was shut.

"Who have you got here?" a man, sitting by the side of a large fire some distance inside the cottage, asked angrily.

"It's a nigger who wants work. He says he is accustomed to horses so, as it was the choice between shooting him and bringing him here, we thought we might as well bring him to you. It would be handy to have a fellow to look after the horses, and cut the wood, and make himself useful. If we find he is of no use, there will be no great trouble in getting rid of him."

"That is true enough," the other said, "and I don't think there's much risk about it.

"Come here, you fellow, and let me look at you."

Jim stepped forward towards the fire. He saw now that the hut was built against the entrance to a cave of considerable size. In the centre was a great fire, the smoke of which probably made its way to the surface through crevices in the rock above. Four other men, besides the one who had addressed him, were lying on sheepskins against the wall. There was an opening at the further end of the cave into an inner chamber; and here Jim knew, by an occasional snort or an impatient pawing, the horses were stabled.

The chief of the party asked a few more questions as to where Jim had come from, and how he chanced to be passing through so unfrequented a country. As the black had already decided upon his story, the questions were answered satisfactory enough.

"I think he's all right," the man said, at last. "At any rate here he is, and he's not likely to go out again. We have been talking of getting a black fellow, for some time; and as here is one ready to hand, we may as well make the best of him.

"Look you here," he went on sternly, to the black; "you come of your own free will, and here you have got to stop. You will have as much to eat as you can stuff, plenty of rum to drink, and 'bacca to smoke; and if there's anything else you fancy, no doubt you can have it. Only look you, if you put your foot outside that door, unless you are ordered to do so, I will put a bullet through your black brain."

"All right," Jim said. "Plenty eat, plenty drink, plenty smoke; dat suit Jim bery well. He no want to go out of de house,