CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
A SQUATTER'S LIFE.
Nic's announcement caused a little panic. The three blacks who came andwent about the place were summoned and sent out searching, the house wasplaced in a state of defence, and Samson, Brookes, and Leather allfurnished with guns and ammunition to stand ready for any emergency,taking it in turns though to keep watch, while horses and cattle weredriven into the south enclosures by the house, and everything possibledone to secure their safety.
Knowing his mother's nervousness, Nic could not help staring in wonderat the calm way in which she and her daughters behaved at what might,for aught they could tell, be a dangerous time, for neither showed theslightest trace of fear.
In a couple of hours, though, the black known as Bungarolo came back toannounce that, "Blackfellow all agone," and he pointed away toward thedense bush, miles from where they were standing.
The explanation of the other two blacks when they returned cleared awaythe rest of the alarm, the doctor concluding that a few of the manywanderers had been near and gone away again, blacks probably belongingto a friendly tribe.
Consequently the next day matters went on as usual, save that Nic had tomount with his father, and, accompanied by two of their blacks, made awide circuit about the station, touching the edge of the great gorge atone point and then riding round for miles.
Twice over the men, who trotted along easily enough step for step withthe horses, pointed out tracks going and coming; and as the party wasmade out to be three only it was felt that there was no cause for alarm,and toward evening they rode back to the station with the glad news.
"But wouldn't it have been very awkward for them if the blacks had comewhile we were away, father?" Nic ventured to ask on their way back.
"Yes, but they would have shut themselves in at once," said the doctor;"two of the men would have been with them, and the other would havefollowed us, firing signals as he came. If the danger had beenimminent, he would have seized the first horse and galloped over to MrDillon's station."
"I see," said Nic.
"It's mutual help out here, Nic. If one station is in danger, thosenearest are always ready to gallop to its help."
Then came days and weeks of busy life, with Nic finding little time foramusement, but enjoying the novelty of his new career. There were longrides to drive in cattle; visits to be paid to flocks miles away fromthe station; messages to be taken to Samson, Brookes, or Leather, who inturn were far away with the roaming sheep or oxen; and the boy was jokedat home by mother and sisters for the way he ate, slept, and seemed toexpand.
During this period he saw little of Leather, and the incident of theinjured sheep and Brookes's apparent enmity toward the convict was forthe time forgotten, these two rarely being together.
Still, at different times Nic could not help noticing what a rooteddislike there was in the regular men against their convictfellow-servant, even old Samson shaking his head and expressing hisbelief that the station would be far better without "such as he."
"I don't want to be hard on anything 'cept blight, Master Nic," said theold man one day; "but it comes nat'ral to a man to feel shy of a gaolbird who may rise agen you at any time and take to the bush."
"Oh, but Leather is not that sort of man, Sam," said Nic.
"Ah, that's very nice, young gentleman; but you don't know, and I don'tknow. All I say is if there's a bull about on that side o' the fenceit's best to walk on this."
"But the bull may not mean to do you harm, Sam."
"P'r'aps not, sir; but bulls have mad fits now and then, so doesconvicts. I've know'd two stations 'tacked and every one killed, andthey said it was the blacks; but they very soon found that it warn't,for in each case a lot had escaped from the chain gang, took to thebush, and every 'signed servant as they come across jyned 'em."
"That's very horrible," said Nic. "And what became of them?"
"Ah, you may well say that, sir: some was shot down by the soldiers,some was killed by the natives, some was lost in the bush and died o'hunger and thirst, while the blacks speared the rest all but one, and hegave himself up. They do a lot o' mischief, these chaps, when they taketo the bush, sir; but, fortunately for honest folk, they all come to abad end."
Then came a more leisure time, when old Samson took a holiday, as hecalled it--that is to say, he worked from daylight to darkness over hisrather neglected garden; while Nic had leisure to think again of hisnatural history specimens, and went out with his gun; but he did notfeel at all keen about sitting down in a woody place near the river tofish and offer himself as a mark for any black who meant to practisehurling his spear. It was so much more satisfactory to mount SourSorrel and ride off, gun in hand, through the open woodland with thesoft breeze sweeping by his cheek, and pick up a beautifully featheredbird from time to time.
The injured sheep had grown quite well, and, save that it limped as itgrazed, its leg was as strong as ever; "and that lameness does notinterfere with its promising to be a good mother," said the doctor,smiling, as he pointed to the pair of white lambs gambolling by the lamesheep's side.
"Did you ever satisfy yourself as to how its leg was broken?" said Nic.
"No, my boy; and I did not want to. I have my suspicions, but I letthem rest. It is the same at most of the stations--the free men dislikethe bond. It is natural. And now that things are going on peaceably,we will let them rest."
One day, quite by accident, the boy found himself thrown in contactagain with Leather, whose brown, deeply lined countenance alwaysbrightened when Nic came across him somewhere with his sheep.
"I say, Leather," he said, as he sat on his nag watching the man busilycarving a stick he had cut: "you remember telling me about how theblacks followed the bees?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you show me?"
"Yes," said Leather, smiling sadly; and he looked about till he found atree with some of its seed-vessels full of fine silky cotton, smearedone end of a twig with a bead of gum from another tree, and then walkedon, followed by Nic, till they came to a patch of bushes, whose fragrantblossoms had attracted the bees by the dozen.
One pollen-laden fellow was soon caught, the gum stick touched its back,the white cotton was brought in contact, and the uninjured insect setfree.
Up in the air it went at once, regardless of the yellow flowers amongwhich it had been buzzing, and then flew away in a straight line, withits white patch on its back, to be traced some forty or fifty yards,before it disappeared among the trees.
"Gone!" said Nic, who was in advance, for he had followed the insect onhorseback. "Think there's a tree here?"
"No; these are not the kind of trees they nest in. They do not gohollow."
"What will you do, then?"
"Repeat the process, sir."
And this was done four times, till the last bee was traced to a quarterof a mile from where they started, and a tiny hole was made out sixtyfeet from the ground, about which scores of little dark insects could beseen darting.
"Now how to get the honey?" said Nic.
"Send or bring Bungarolo here to-morrow with an axe and a bucket, andyou shall have plenty."
Eager to see the taking of the spoil, Nic was over in good time nextmorning, the black trotting by his side; and upon reaching the tree theAustralian savage took the axe from his waistcloth, while Leather lit agreat piece of touchwood by means of a burning glass. This wood beganto burn, emitting a dense white smoke, and as the convict waved itabout, the black took off his waistcloth, passed it through the handleof the bucket, and tied it again about his middle, so that the buckethung behind. Then, axe in hand, he began to chop notches in the softbark, to make steps for his active feet, and climbed steadily up and up,Nic watching him the while.
"It looks very dangerous," said the boy. "Think he is likely to fall?"
"Not in the least, sir. They begin doing these things when children,and they don't seem to have any nerves."
It seemed indeed as if the
black did not know fear, for he went on upand up till he was fully sixty feet from the ground, and here he held onwith his legs while he undid his waistcloth once more and tied it now toa branch, so that the bucket hung close to the hole where the beesbuzzed in and out, as if feeling in no wise incommoded by the black faceso near.
And now Bungarolo stuck the axe into the soft bark and rapidlydescended, grinning hugely at his success. Leather handed him thesmoking torch, and he went up again, holding the end of the soft wood inhis teeth.
On reaching the hole, the smoke which had accompanied him in his ascentbecame thicker, and being held just below the entrance, scared away thebees coming back, and those coming out into pouring forth faster andfaster, till there was quite a cloud darting about above that of theblinding wood smoke.
Then a few cleverly directed strokes of the axe made a big openingthrough the bark, the axe was thrown down, and the black's arm thrust inright up to the shoulder, and his hand drawn out bearing a great cake ofhoneycomb.
This he deposited in the bucket, pausing now and then to give thesmoking wood a wave, or to hold it inside the opening, to drive out thebees before bringing out more and more comb, till the bucket was prettywell full.
And now the most difficult task seemed to await the black; but he heldon again with his legs, untied the waist cloth, rested the bucket on hischest, while he knotted the cloth ends together again, and slipped itover his head. Then, taking the smoking wood from where he had placedit inside the hole, he threw it down and descended safe and triumphant,to begin cleaning his sticky hands after the fashion of a cat, beforebearing the bucket back to the station, where Mrs Braydon gave him alump of damper for a reward.
First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales Page 23