Queensland Cousins Part 21

The boy's heart stood still in the unpleasant shock of surprise.

Which way had he come? He had not the slightest notion, for each way looked so exactly the same as the other. He realized with sickening intensity that he had lost his bearings.

"But I must find my way out, of course," he said, addressing Bolter's glossy ears. "I'll try each way in turn till I see the light. There is nothing to be scared about."

He felt quite angry with himself for his momentary panic; it was stupid and babyish. Of course fellows had been lost in the Bush, but they couldn't have been such a short way in as he must be by now. True, he had heard a story of a chap who had gone round and round like a squirrel in a cage not a mile from the outskirts of the scrub. He was "bushed," and found dead.

The boy shuddered, then literally shook himself as he urged Bolter on again to begin investigations.

"I won't think about it," he said, setting his teeth. "I must get out, and begin again; I must."

In and out of the trees he wound, trying his utmost to retrace his steps; but he had noticed nothing on the way in, and he had no landmarks to guide him. This went on so long that, fight as he would with the fear at his heart, it began to master him.

"Seems to me I am always coming back to the place I start from," he thought, with a desperate sense of helplessness; "but there isn't a bit of difference between these hateful trees. I'll mark one and try."

He cut a deep gash in the bark of the nearest to him, and went on.

But though he watched most carefully, he never came on that tree again.

"As I'm not getting out," he reflected, "I must be getting deeper and deeper into the scrub. Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do?

What a silly fool I have been! I might have remembered father's warnings. Bob said one ought to learn to think out all sides of a question. I didn't; and now if father goes back I shan't be there to tell him I heard the coo-ee. Oh dear, oh dear!"

He gave a gasping sigh, almost a sob. To have been so near saving Bob, and not to have done it after all--only to die "bushed"! It was enough to break a man's nerve, let alone a child's.

He went back in thought to the river bank, picturing how it would have been if he had only patiently waited, giving a coo-ee now and again to keep in touch with the answerer.

"Why, how silly I am!" he exclaimed. "If I coo-ee now he will answer me, and I can follow that."

The thought cheered him instantly, and making a hollow mouthpiece with his hands to increase the sound, he gave the loudest coo-ee he had ever given in his life.

There was not the faintest response.

Again and again he repeated it, straining his ears to hear if there came a reply. More and more agonized grew his cries; so intense his silences between that he even stopped his breathing to listen. But there was nothing to hear. He got hot and cold by turns; he felt sick and queer. It was now hours since his departure from the Highlands, and he had had no food since the very poor supper he managed to eat the night before. The effort of shouting did not improve matters, and he was so hoa.r.s.e at last he could call no more.

Then he completely lost his head, and began riding with desperate inconsequence as straight ahead as the trees would allow. Stay still he could not; the inaction terrified him. He argued that he must get somewhere by going on long enough--somewhere "through to the other side," as he expressed it.

"Why doesn't Bob answer?" that was the most troublesome thought.

"Have I got out of earshot?"

Presently Eustace was beyond thinking; he went on dully because he felt he must keep on the move; but hunger, exhaustion, and the heat of the now well-advanced day were beginning to tell on him. The apathy threatened to become so settled that it was a mercy when Bolter presently stumbled so badly that Eustace had to rouse himself to hold on. Then it was that he noticed straight before him at last a wide gleam of light amongst the stems of the trees.

The sight put such life and spirit into him that he whipped up the now drooping Bolter, who also had just cause to reflect on no breakfast and general ill-usage, and they covered the ground as fast as possible, considering how unequal it was, how thick the undergrowth in parts.

A disappointment and a great surprise awaited the pair when they emerged into this open s.p.a.ce--it was nothing but a clearing in the wood after all, dotted about with queer-shaped huts scarcely as tall as a man, and all made of pliable branches of trees interwoven with gra.s.s for walls.

Eustace pulled up short in breathless dismay, for a few paces away there arose from among these untidy "humpies" some twenty natives--erect, alert, all with poised boomerangs or spears ready to fling. It was a sinister reception for one small boy on a spent horse. Of course the keen-eared black-fellows had heard him coming from miles away, and were ready.

It was small wonder, considering his condition, that after one wild, appealing glance at the line of fierce, dark faces Eustace fell forward on Bolter's neck in a dead faint. He did not see the weapons lowered, or the gleam of something like grim amus.e.m.e.nt on the chief's face as he realized for what it was they had been so elaborately prepared.

Out of the huts crept stealthy figures of women and children. When Eustace opened his eyes he found himself lying flat on his back with these people crowding inquisitively around. He looked up into their repulsively heavy faces with a horror of realization. For some moments he was too paralyzed to stir. No more awful fate could have befallen him than this--it was the sort of thing that might come to one in a nightmare. But he knew it was no dream. There stood Bolter a few paces away, grazing thankfully, and in no way perturbed.

The harsh guttural language these people spoke was unintelligible to the boy, but he could guess they were intensely curious about him from the way they pointed and stared. It seemed to him that some of them could never have seen a white child before, they were so excited, especially the children, who looked half terrified.

Were they cannibals these people? he wondered, with a sinking heart.

He forced himself to his feet, and stood shaking a second, then dropped on his knees. The performance seemed to amuse the gaping group--the younger men and women laughed, the children clapped their hands.

Eustace was wondering drearily how long they would stand staring at him, when the chief strode up to him and said something with many gesticulations; but not a thing could the boy understand.

The chief was much more decorated than any one else--covered from head to heels with stripes and devices in white, blue, and red paint. There were feathers in his crisp dark hair, and slung over his shoulder a strange shaped club.

Eustace proceeded, by means of much waving, pointing, and the patter talked on the plantation by the coolies, to try and explain how he had come there, and how very much he only wanted to get away and find the way home. But it was useless--the men shook their heads and looked perplexed.

Seeing that no one seemed inclined to molest him, but that every one merely watched him as if he were a monkey in a cage at the Zoo, he resolved on a desperate step. With a supreme effort he stood again, staggered over to Bolter, and attempted to mount.

But this was not allowed. With two strides the chief was upon him, flinging him back on the ground as a big boy might fling a kitten from him. Then the great man plainly intimated that this creature he considered his; no one should touch it. Eustace was not to dare to approach it. The chief's att.i.tude was menacing; it was well to be seen he felt he had acquired a prize.

"But what is going to happen to me?" thought Eustace, quaking with fear. "What will they do with me?"

No one seemed to have any intention of doing anything with him at the moment; he was only stared at. The men, for the most part, were now more interested in Bolter, particularly his saddle and bridle.

Little by little the women dropped off, as if they had work to attend to, and a smell of cooking arose that made the boy sick with longing as he sat huddled up and half silly with starvation and fatigue. The apathy that had been upon him before he was cheered by the gleam of light crept over him again; fear faded from his mind; nothing seemed to matter any more.

He sat so still that presently the children crept closer, and began to finger his clothes, as if they puzzled them. What drew them away from him he did not realize till something was thrust under his very nose, and the smell told him it was food.

He had just enough sense left to try and eat; but before he had swallowed five mouthfuls he rolled over and fell sound asleep.

Nothing could have kept him awake--neither a thunderstorm nor an earthquake.

When he awoke again to a consciousness of his surroundings the sun was rising. He had come through the night in safety--that was his first thought; and it both surprised and encouraged him. Surely, he argued, if they wanted to kill him he would not have been spared so long.

The scarcely-touched food was still beside him. Refreshed by the much-needed sleep, he was able to eat it now, and began to feel more like himself again, though stiff and still weary. He was sufficiently rested for his brain to be active once more, and his whole thoughts were bent upon what was to become of him next.

Bolter was tethered at the other side of the open s.p.a.ce, well guarded, as if the chief thought he might try to inveigle the horse away by some magic means, then mount and ride off. It was very evident that if he meant to get away it would have to be on foot--the chief would not part with Bolter. The question was: Did they mean to detain Eustace as prisoner? At present, except that they stared inquisitively at him, every one seemed fairly indifferent to his presence. However, he decided that it would be foolish to put the matter to the test in broad daylight; he must wait till nightfall, and under cover of the intense darkness make his escape. He set himself to wait as patiently as he could, pretending to be as drowsy and inert as a well-fed snake; but his mind was very active. He had never thought so many thoughts in all his life before. What, he wondered, could Mrs. Cochrane have thought of his disappearance? Had his father returned to the Highlands and discovered it? Were they keeping his loss from his mother as they had kept Bob's from Mrs. Cochrane? Was it possible Bob had got safe and sound home again? And oh! were they looking for him?

There came an answer both to this and to the question as to the black-fellows' intentions respecting him that very morning.

Eustace had been furtively watching the dark figures moving to and fro. Apparently some of the men went off to hunt. Except when they were preparing food, the women seemed to do nothing. The children squabbled and tumbled about, or slept like tired brown kittens in casual places. There was a great hush over everything, when suddenly across the silence came a sound that set every pulse in the boy's body astir, so that the beating of his heart almost choked him. It was a distant but long, clear coo-ee.

Wild with joy Eustace sprang to his feet, but before he could make a sound he found himself surrounded by a dozen menacing figures, clubs in hand, ready to fell him if he dared to reply.

Some of the tribes are very secretive and stealthy in their movements. It was well to be seen that this one did not wish to have its camping ground divulged.

With a thrill of horror Eustace understood that he was powerless.

To cry out would mean certain death. It might be their intention to kill him at any rate, but in the postponement lay a chance of escape. He must meet stealth by stealth.

Again the coo-ee cut through the air, but Eustace covered his face with his hands and dropped dejectedly back on the ground.

It was a bitter moment. Could anything have been worse than to know help was at hand, and to be unable to take it?

That a search-party was now out he felt certain; it was probably his father's voice, and he dared not answer. He had the sense to see how useless it would be to give one cry, and die for it. But oh! it was hard--cruelly hard.

It seemed to him those coo-ees went on for hours, each with a long listening pause after it, sometimes nearer, gradually fading away and away till they were no louder than the answer he had received on the banks of the creek.