CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
CASTLES IN THE AIR.
"Don't try to find any more adjectives, boy," said the convict about anhour later. "Be content with beautiful. That's what it is."
They were sitting in front of a loosely made bark gunyah, bare-footed,and with their shoes and well-worn stockings placed upon a scorchingsheet of rock to dry. The wallet was empty, for they had made a heartymeal; after which Nic had been piling up all the words he could think ofto express his admiration for the valley shut in by those tremendouswalls, or his delight with the beauty and novelty of the place.
The troubles of his life seemed to have dropped from the convict, wholaughed and talked as if he were a dozen years younger, and free fromcare. The hard, bitter look had gone from his eyes, and he entered withboyish zest into the proposals his young companion made.
"Oh yes," he cried, "we must have plenty of shooting and fishing. Howmany birds have you collected and skinned?"
"Two," said Nic, making a grimace. "I've been so busy."
"Never mind; you can come here and shoot. I'll skin for you, and youcan get a fine collection."
"Birds ought to be plentiful here."
"They swarm," said the convict. "You can get the beautiful lyre bird,with its wonderful curved tail. I can show you the bower birds' nests,with their decorations. Then there is that beautiful purply black kindof crow--the rifle bird they call it. As to the parrots and cockatoos,they are in flocks."
"The kangaroos are plentiful enough, too, seemingly."
"Herds of them, from the little wallaby rats right up to the red oldmen."
"And snakes?"
"Too many of them; I'm obliged to be careful. We can have some grandhunts, Nic, and I can feast you afterwards on roast cockatoo andmutton."
"And I shall bring you--I say, I'd forgotten: did you bring the flourdown here?"
"No," said the convict, smiling; "you forgot to hide it where you said."
"It was too dark that night to find the place, but I put it there nextday. Didn't you get it?"
"No; some one must have seen you hide it, and taken it away. One of theblacks, I suppose."
"Or Brookes."
"Was he anywhere near, Nic?"
The boy nodded.
"That's bad, my boy," said the convict, with the bright look fading outof his face, to leave it cold and hard. "There, the sun is getting low;we have the tunnel to go through, and then you have a long walk back toyour horse. We have been going too fast, Nic. I'm afraid you must waitsome time before you come again."
Nic looked pained, and sat gazing at his companion sadly.
"Must I go now?" he said.
"Yes."
Nic thrust his stockings into his pocket, tied his shoes together tosling over his arm, and picked up his gun. Then reluctantly he followedhis silent companion to the mouth of the tunnel-like cavern, where abigger piece of touchwood was lit, and they commenced the returnjourney.
It was up hill, but it did not seem half so far; and at last theystopped close to the well-like opening, down whose side the watertrickled musically.
"Frank," said Nic, "I'm going to leave you my gun."
"What for?"
"To protect yourself."
"Don't leave temptation in my way, boy," was the stern reply. "No; Iwill not have it. Brookes and I might meet. There are plenty of treesto cut myself a stout stick for a weapon, or I can defend myself with myhands. Look, there are three notches in the stone where you can placeyour feet. Up with you! You can find your way. Good-bye."
Nic could not say "good-bye," but he grasped the convict's hand beforeclimbing up the narrow shaft-like place and raising his head cautiouslyabove the level.
A kangaroo loped gently by--evident proof that there was no danger--and,drawing himself right out, Nic dived in among the trees and rocks, andbegan to return by the way he came.
He had so much to think of that the way back did not seem to be so verylong; and at last he reached the spot where he had left his nag,mounted, and rode home, wondering whether Brookes had found that flourand suspected anything.
First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales Page 37