It Is Never Too Late to Mend Part 139

"Yes."

"Tie him to it in his handcuffs. Give him food enough."

"And when shall we loose him?"

"At noon, to-morrow."

"It shall be done! but you must come and show me which of the four it is."

Robinson went with Ede and his men.

"Turn this one loose," said he; it was done on the instant.

"And this."

"And this."

"And" (laying his finger on brutus) "keep this one prisoner in your tent, handcuffed and chained, till noon to-morrow."

At the touch, brutus trembled with hate; at the order, his countenance fell like Cain's.

Full two hours before sunrise the patrol called Robinson by his own order, and the friends made for the bush, with a day's provision and their blankets, their picks, and their revolvers. When they arrived at the edge of the bush, Robinson halted and looked round to see if they were followed. The night was pretty clear; no one was in sight. The men struck rapidly into the bush, which at this part had been cut and cleared in places, lying as it did so near a mine.

"What, are we to run, Tom?"

"Yes! I want to get to the river of quartz as soon as possible," was the dry answer.

"With all my heart."

After running about half a mile, George pulled up, and they walked.

"What do you keep looking behind for, Tom?"

"Oh, nothing."

"You fidget me, Tom!"

"Can't help it. I shall be like that till daylight. They have shaken my nerves among them."

"Don't give way to such nonsense. What are you afraid of?"

"I am not afraid of anything. Come, George, another run."

"Oh, as you like. This beats all."

This run brought them to the end of the broad road, and they found two smaller paths; after some hesitation, Robinson took the left-hand one, and it landed them in such a terribly thick scrub they could hardly move. They forced their way through it, getting some frightful scratches, but after struggling with it for a good half hour, began to fear it was impenetrable and interminable, when the sun rising showed them a clear s.p.a.ce some yards ahead. They burst through the remainder of the scrub, and came out upon an old clearing full a mile long and a quarter of a mile broad. They gave a hurrah at the sight of it, but when they came to walk on it the ground was clay and so sticky with a late shower that they were like flies moving upon varnish, and at last were fain to take off their shoes and stockings and run over it on the tips of their toes. At the end of this opening they came to a place like the "Seven Dials"--no end of little paths into the wood, and none very promising. After a natural hesitation, they took the one that seemed to be most on their line of march, and followed it briskly till it brought them plump upon a brook, and there it ended. Robinson groaned.

"Confound the bush," cried he. "You were wrong not to let me bring Jacky. What is to be done?"

"Go back."

"I hate going back. I would rather go thirty miles ahead than one back.

I've got an idea; off shoes and paddle up the stream; perhaps we shall find a path that comes to it from the other side."

They paddled up the stream a long way, and at last, sure enough, they found a path that came down to the stream from the opposite side. They now took a hasty breakfast, washing it down with water from the brook, then dived into the wood.

The sun, was high in heaven, yet still they had not got out of the bush.

"I can't make it out, George; there is nothing to steer by, and these paths twist and turn so. I don't think we shall do any good till night.

When I see the Southern Cross in the sky I shall be able to steer northeast. That is our line."

"Don't give in," said George; "I think it looks clearer ahead. I believe we are at the end of it."

"No such luck, I am afraid," was the despondent reply.

For all that, in a few yards more they came upon an open place.

They could not help cheering. "At last!" cried they. But this triumph gave way to doubts.

"I am afraid we are not clear yet," said Robinson. "See, there is wood again on the other side. Why, it is that sticky clay again. Why, George, it is the clearing we crossed before breakfast."

"You are talking nonsense, Tom," cried George, angrily.

"No, I am not," said the other, sadly. "Come across. We shall soon know by our footsteps in the clay."

Sure enough, half way across they found a track of footsteps. George was staggered. "It is the place, I really think," said he. "But, Tom, when you talk of the footsteps, look here? You and I never made all these tracks. This is the track of a party."

Robinson examined the ground.

"Tracks of three men; two barefoot, one in nailed boots."

"Well, is that us?"

"Look at the clearing, George, you have got eyes. It is the same."

"So 'tis, but I can't make out the three tracks."

Robinson groaned. "I can. This third track has come since we went by."

"No doubt of that, Tom. Well?"

"Well, don't you see?"

"No. What?"

"You and I are being hunted."

George looked blank a moment. "Can't we be followed without being hunted?"