Queensland Cousins Part 23

It was difficult to grasp that this huddled, helpless figure was Bob, the big, the strong. But when at last Eustace saw the white, drawn face he knew there was no mistake about it.

There came that awful groan again, but this time Eustace did not shrink back.

"It's all right, Bob," he said huskily. "I've come now. I'm going to help you all I can. You shan't die--you shan't--you shan't."

He spoke the last words through set teeth, for he had taken out his clasp-knife, and was hacking at the cruel bonds with all his might.

It needed no explanation to tell Eustace how Bob had got there. The thing was as plain as daylight. He must have been riding fast, and inadvertently struck against some "wait-a-bit," which rebounded like a bit of twisted elastic, and caught him in such a grip that he was powerless to free himself. Bolter pa.s.sed on from beneath, and the more he fought and struggled the tighter he became entangled. Had his arms been free it would have been different; but the strength of the cane was marvellous--moreover, it was covered with vicious thorns. That Bob had fought desperately for his life was to be seen by the condition of his shirt and his deeply-scored skin. He was now in a state of more than semi-unconsciousness from exhaustion and starvation; still, at intervals, he half roused himself to call for help, as he must have been doing for days.

It was no easy matter to saw through the cane, which was wound again and again round him. But bit by bit Eustace worked at it, with a ferocity that was bound to tell. He was mad with fear for Bob, and madness is said to increase strength extraordinarily.

More by good luck than good guidance the boy was not caught in the meshes himself, for he took no care.

As the last coils were cut, and Bob was bereft of his main support, he fell gradually to the ground, lying in the pathway Eustace had made to reach him, and from there the boy could not move him an inch. Perhaps owing to the change of position Bob had stopped groaning at last; but though Eustace called him, and implored him to speak, if only a word, he made no sign.

"I suppose it is faintness," Eustace thought in deep trouble, for this was something so terribly new in Bob. He did not seem the sort of fellow who could ever be ill.

Something ought to be done for him, and that quickly; this much Eustace knew. At home he would have rushed for water; but here where there was none--where there was nothing--what was he to do?

If only he were a man, and carried a brandy flask, as his father always did! A sudden brilliant idea struck him--perhaps Bob carried a flask himself!

It was the work of but a few seconds to search him, and to the boy's joy he found a little flask full of spirit. It was not very long since Eustace had had a practical demonstration of what to do with some one in a faint. He remembered Mrs. Robertson's treatment of his mother the night of their fright about Becky.

So first he moistened the dry blue lips, then put a few drops between them. Oh, it was a tedious, terrifying business--too long to describe; and nothing scared Eustace more than the choking and gasping with which Bob came to himself at last. But it was the turning-point and saving of his life.

It took Bob a long time to pull himself sufficiently together to make a sign to Eustace that he knew him. He was far too weak to speak at first; but after a long, dazed study of the boy's white, miserable face, Bob's lips parted in a pitiful attempt at a smile.

To his own after-annoyance and shame, whenever he remembered it, Eustace flung himself face downwards on the ground and fairly sobbed. What fear for his own safety and all the horrors he had gone through had no power to do, the relaxation of this tension of anxiety about Bob did.

"Say, old chap," came in a far-away whisper to his ears, "don't!"

It pulled him up short. Bob's eyes were closed, and he looked so like fainting again that Eustace gave him more brandy.

It had a good effect; but later, not even when he had regained his full consciousness, could Bob move hand or foot; he was as stiff as a log. Just as he had been bound rigidly upright, so he remained now lying at full length.

"Guess I'm pretty helpless," he said in a thin, weak voice. "I shall have to be oiled before I can move." Then, after a little while, when he had been lying staring at his companion meditatively some minutes, he said, "Just explain what you are doing here, will you?"

From the very beginning--the return of Bolter--Eustace told the story of the last few days, and Bob listened with growing eagerness in his eyes.

"So you lost yourself finding me," he said at the end. "And there isn't a doubt you've saved my life, old boy."

But even this a.s.sertion did not cheer Eustace.

"I'm afraid I haven't, though," he said miserably, "because you see we are lost."

"Not a bit of it," Bob said. "If I had any legs I could walk you out of the wood in two hours. I know the way perfectly."

"Do you?" Eustace exclaimed. "Then what did you come here for?"

"Merely to see if it was true there were any natives in the neighbourhood," was the answer. "I never got as far as the camp, but my shouts brought a whole lot of them gibbering round me. It seemed to amuse them to see me there; but they threatened to kill me if I went on shouting, so I had to shut up and hope for the best. They have come each day in little batches and watched me awhile, then slipped away. At last I began to feel so bad that I rather wished they would come and finish me off, to put me out of my misery; so I began calling again. But I suppose my voice was too weak to matter; they knew I couldn't be heard. Anyhow, the beggars didn't touch me. I dare say they'll come again to-day."

Eustace looked scared.

"Oh, I say," he exclaimed, "I hope they won't. They'll take us prisoners, and goodness knows what they'll do to us. We must get away from here before they come."

"You must," said Bob, "but I can't. You'll have to take my compa.s.s, and keep going due west with it all the time. You'll know where you are the minute you get out into the open."

Eustace stared at him blankly.

"But I couldn't go and leave you," he exclaimed.

"Why not?" asked Bob with a smile.

"How could I," Eustace said warmly, "and you in danger? I just won't go. Nothing shall make me."

There was a curious light in Bob's eyes as they rested on the slip of a lad kneeling beside him.

"Good old man," he said, "you can't do me any good by staying. For both our sakes you must go, and as fast as you can."

"But suppose while I am away--" began Eustace desperately.

"We've got to chance that," said Bob bravely. "You couldn't save my life if you stayed; you could only die too, and what would be the good of that?"

"I would rather," said Eustace chokily.

"Well, I wouldn't," Bob said firmly. "We mustn't think about ourselves in it at all. You've got to go home and set the dear home-folks' minds at rest about us. They'll know no peace till they hear, one way or another. Then, of course, they'll set out to fetch me. You'll guide them. If I am here, well and good. If I am not, don't you forget I wouldn't let you stay. You did the only thing you could for me by obeying orders."

Eustace hid his face in his hands because his lips were trembling so; he felt sick, and shaky all over.

"O Bob," he said, "must I?"

"For my sake, laddie," said Bob softly.

Eustace stood up, but kept his head turned away that Bob should still not see his face.

"I do wish," said Bob lightly, "that you could give me a nice slice of beef before you go; I'm so hungry."

It was a little bit of chaff to help the boy to pull himself together. It worked quite a miracle, for Eustace's face cleared instantly.

"Why, how stupid of me!" he said. "I can give you something to eat.

It was what I couldn't finish of my own."

Out of his pockets he pulled the unappetizing lumps of food he had secreted, and kneeling again, he began feeding the helpless man as if he had been a baby.

"Upon my word, you are a magician," said Bob, keeping up a cheery tone, although he could little more than whisper. "But eat some yourself; turn and turn about."

"I don't want any," said the boy.

"Obey," said Bob briskly, with his kind smile.