Taking Tales Part 23

"Why, Joseph, what is the matter?" exclaimed poor Sarah, running up to her husband.

"Why wife, I've a cross to bear, I fancy," answered Joseph, taking Sarah's hand which she put out; "G.o.d knows what's best. If I am to remain blind, He has some reason for it. But here is this poor black fellow, his foot is terribly hurt, and he is in great pain; look after him, I can wait, or I'll bathe my eyes in warm water, I can do nothing else."

With an aching heart, Sarah placed her husband in a chair, and then helped the black off the horse, and with the aid of Bobby and Mat, who came up, carried him into the hut, and placed him on Sam's bed. She then bathed his foot and bound it up in a wet cloth, and then gave him some food. Troloo was evidently grateful, and took every means to show it. Night came, but Joseph still remained totally blind.

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 3.

When the next morning broke, Joseph found himself as blind as before.

It was a sad trial to him. "So many things to be done, and I not able to work," sighed Joseph.

"The boys and I and Sally will do our best, and may be, in a day or two you will be able to see," answered Sarah. "You've often said, 'G.o.d's will be done;' we must say it now, husband."

"Yes, Sarah, yes, I do say it. And how is the poor black fellow?" asked Joseph.

"His foot seems terribly bad. I wish there was a doctor to look to it, or I am afraid that he will never walk again; I've kept on bathing it, and he bears the pain wonderfully."

Early in the day, Sam returned with the tobacco and other stuff for washes, and he and old Mat set to work to mix them, and to wash the diseased sheep. While they were at work, a horseman was seen drawing near to the station, but not from the direction the master would come.

It proved to be young Mr Harlow. He had heard of the distemper having broken out among his neighbour's sheep, and wished to know what was to be done to prevent its spreading.

On learning of the accident which had happened to Rudge, he went in to see him. "I have studied as a surgeon, and may, I hope, be of use to you," he said. "From what I see, I have great hopes that you will soon recover with the help of remedies I will apply."

Joseph thanked him, and begged that he would look at Troloo's foot.

"This is a more difficult case, but the natives' hurts heal so rapidly, that I have little doubt that he also will soon be well," he observed.

It is not necessary to describe the means he employed. He rode over every day, though his time was of great value, and in the course of a few days, Joseph declared that he could once more see light and people moving about. Troloo's foot was also nearly well. "A white man's would have taken twice the time," Mr Harlow observed.

Troloo, however, showed no desire to go away; "Black fellow lub Jo, work for Jo," he said.

Of course Rudge was very glad to get his a.s.sistance, though he knew that he could not depend long on him, and that any moment he might set off again by himself. He could help with the sheep, but cattle have such a dislike to black men that they will not let one come near them.

When Mr Ramsay arrived, he highly approved of all Rudge had done, and was much concerned to hear of his blindness, though Mr Harlow a.s.sured him that he would soon recover his sight, as he shortly did. Joseph and his wife were very grateful to Mr Harlow.

"Do not thank me, I am but making a right use of the talents G.o.d has given me," he answered.

He brought with him a number of small books and tracts, and told Joseph that he should be glad to have them lent to all the neighbouring shepherds and stockmen. "We will also meet together for prayer and reading G.o.d's word, when next I come over," he said.

This was done; and not only old Mat but several other shepherds and hut-keepers came to Joseph's hut which he had prepared for them. This was the beginning of a Church in the wilderness, for after this, Mr Harlow often came to the station, and the Miss Harlows rode over and brought books and pictures for the children and work for Sally, and stopped to show her how to do it, and also to teach the children to read.

Joseph and Sarah were very grateful. They had long felt that though they were getting good wages and saving money, it was a sad thing not to have their children taught nor be able to go to a place of worship.

"Sam is not so bad a scholar, and Bobby and Sally read pretty well, but Nancy and Bill and Mary will have little chance of getting any learning," said Joseph to Mr Harlow. "If we could have a master sometimes, it would help us; and then when there is less work to be done, the elder children can help the younger; but generally they come home so tired that all they can do is to take their suppers and go to bed."

Mr Harlow promised that he would talk the matter over with Mr Ramsay, and see what could be done for the children on his and the neighbouring runs. In the meantime, he left some small books and tracts, which could be carried in the pocket and read at spare moments.

It was a joyful day to Joseph Rudge and to his wife and children when he was able to say that he could see as well as ever. They did not forget to thank G.o.d who had been thus kind to them.

"It would have been terrible if you had been struck blind all alone in the forest," said Sarah, "I have often thought of that, and what a mercy it was that you found the black."

"Yes indeed, wife," answered Joseph, "I might have been drowned, too, if I had tried to cross the creek by myself. One thing I know, and I often thought of it while I was without sight, that G.o.d orders all things for our good, though we do not always see the why and the wherefore things are done."

It took a long time before the sheep were quite cured of the distemper and the flocks were allowed to mingle as before.

Sam and Bob and old Mat had worked very hard, but they could not have got on alone, if Tom Wells had not been sent to help them. Tom was a first-rate rider, and a fair stockman, so he was sent to look after the cattle. He was lodged in old Mat's house. He had been thus employed only a day or two, when Peach managed to meet him.

"Stock keeping better than bullock driving, lad, eh?" were the first words Peach uttered.

"I should think so, mate," said Tom.

"More profit to be made of it," observed Peach.

"Wages is wages," observed Tom. "If I agree for so much, I take it, and must be content; if I take more than that, it's robbery to my mind, and with that I've no business."

"Oh those are Rudge's notions, he's been putting you up to that sort of stuff," remarked Peach, with a look of contempt; and then he muttered, "But I'll be even with him and you too."

"They are the notions of all decently honest men," said Wells, turning away from the tempter.

Peach was not a man to give up a plan he had once formed. As he could not get the help of Rudge and Wells, he tried other means to get possession of his master's cattle. He had always made friends, as far as he could, with the blacks, a tribe of whom often pitched their tents near his hut. He was a sober man, and did not mind parting with his rum. All sober men are not good men, though drunkenness rarely fails to lead to crime and punishment. He had looked out for the blacks, and had told them that they must help him to get the cattle. They had managed from time to time to drive off a few calves.

As has been said, cattle have a fear of blacks, and, scenting them at a long distance, scamper off as soon as they draw near.

Thus Peach could not get much help from his friends. He now set off again on horseback to pay them a visit; for they were camped some miles away. He took care to go provided with presents, a few coloured handkerchiefs and knives, and a few other things.

On his way, his horse put his foot into a hole, and fell. Peach was thrown over his head. He was not much hurt, so he got up, and catching his horse, mounted again.

"Now I am on you I will pay you off, you brute," he exclaimed, thrashing the poor animal with his heavy whip. The horse dashed on for some way, then stopped short. He was dead lame. In vain Peach tried to make him move. To return would have taken longer than to go on; so dismounting, he led on the animal, hoping to reach the blacks' camp before night-fall. He went on and on, and it grew darker and darker, till he thought that he should have to camp out. He had no fancy to do that by himself. There were no wild beasts in the country to fear, and he would have told any one who asked him, that he did not believe in ghosts and spirits and such-like gentry; still there was something he did not like when he was all alone in the dark woods at night. His conscience was not at ease. There were strange sounds and sights he could not make out. He had no almighty Friend to whom he could offer up a prayer for protection; no wonder that he was a coward. He still went on, though he could hardly find the way; when on a sudden he stopped, and as he leaned forward, staring with wide open eyes and hair on end, he saw a blazing fire in the midst of an open glade, and on the farther side a hideous band of skeleton forms dancing and twisting and turning in all sorts of ways. Now, after leaping about furiously for a moment, they would on a sudden disappear, and not one was to be seen.

For a minute or more all was quiet, and Peach hoped that he had seen the last of them; when like a flash they all came back and jumped about as before. He stood trembling with fear, he would have run away if he could, but where was he to run to?

This fearful show went on for some time, when the most fearful shrieks and yells were heard.

"Why I do believe it's the black fellows dancing a corroborree," he muttered to himself. "What a fool I was! Now they yell! I make out their voices."

Leading his horse, which was more frightened at the shrieks than he had been by the sight of the skeletons, he walked into the middle of a group of blacks. He now saw by the light of the fire, which was made to blaze up brightly, that on the front of each of the men a skeleton was painted with white chalk. These were seen when the light of the fire fell on them, but when they turned round and only their black backs were towards the fire, they seemed to have gone away altogether. He knew that it would not do to show the anger he felt at the fright they had given him.

He stood quiet, therefore, with some of the old men looking on till the dance was over. He was known to most of the natives, who welcomed him in the odd jargon in which the white settlers and blacks talk to each other.

"He would tell them by-and-by what he had come to see them about, and in the meantime he had some presents to make," he said.

The delight of the savages at getting the handkerchiefs and knives was very great. He told them that there were more for them if they would do what he wished. He then called some of the elders round him, and told them what he advised them to do. He told them that he was the black fellows' friend, as they had proof, but that the other white men in those parts were their enemies, and that they should drive them away if they could, or kill them, and that then, they might have all their sheep and cattle for themselves. The poor savages seemed to understand this sort of reasoning, and promised to do as he advised. He sat up till a late hour talking with them. The whole party then lay down in the "gunyio," or camp, with a few boughs or sheets of bark over their heads as their only covering, though most of them had bright fires burning at their feet outside. It was some time before Peach's busy brain would let him go to sleep. At last he went off, and began to snore. Not long after, a black might have been seen pa.s.sing close to him. "Oh you one white villain!" he exclaimed, shaking his head at him, "you call black man savage, you ten times worse; but black fellow teach you that you no more clever than he."

Saying this, the black disappeared among the trees around.

STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 4.

A short time before this, Troloo, who had learned to be very useful with the sheep, had gone off without giving any warning. It was the way of black fellows, so Joseph could not complain, though he was very sorry to lose him, especially when there was so much work to be done.