Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

  CHAPTER XII.

  THE SECRET OF THE THICKET.

  The night was close and still with the silence that intensifiessound tenfold. Eustace thought he could not have had worse luck.His temptation was to hurry; common sense bade him hold himself incheck. Panic urged him to risk everything, and make a bolt for it.But Bob's precept was ringing in his mind--there were two sides tothe question; he might bolt, but where to in the dark? It wasuseless to dash headlong into trees and make for nowhere inparticular. The plan was to get as far away as possible in thedark, unheard, so that by daylight he would be out of sight, andable to quicken his pace to some purpose.

  Gliding, halting, scarcely breathing, he pulled himself along, andgreat beads of perspiration started on his forehead and trickleddown into his eyes.

  The darkness was useful in one way, but it had its disadvantages.He had no idea what progress he was making, and it seemed agesbefore his hand came against what he thankfully realized was thebark of a tree. Almost simultaneously there was a blinding flash oflightning, so vivid that for a full moment the sleeping camp layrevealed, and Eustace had time to grasp the fact that he was wellwithin the outskirts of the wood. The crash of thunder almostoverhead brought him to his feet. Now was the time to make somepace, in the dense darkness, under cover of that merciful noise.Eustace was not the least afraid of thunder and lightning; he wasused to tremendous storms, and loved nothing better than to standout on the veranda to watch one raging round among the hills or outat sea. Now it was a positive blessing. Every flash showed himwhere he was, and he took care to have a tree trunk between himselfand the camp. Then during the thunder bursts he made his wayswiftly forward, groping cautiously like a blind man. His spiritsrose with the excitement, and all his courage came back to him.

  By the time the storm had grumbled itself away into the distance heknew he was well out of sight of the camp, and he dared to sit downto wait for dawn. Without the aid of the lightning it was folly toplunge farther into the scrub.

  In spite of a stern resolve not even to let himself doze, the tiredboy must have slept awhile, sitting with his back against a tree.There was just a first glimmer of light penetrating the thickfoliage above when he opened his eyes with a sudden definitefeeling of something having roused him.

  Very much on the alert, instantly he raised his head, and satlistening with held breath. He was beginning to think he must havebeen mistaken, when there came a sound that made his hair stand onend and his blood run cold. He got up swiftly but softly, andstood, still backed by the tree, staring into the gloom. The soundseemed to come from what looked like a dense thicket not very farto the right, but as yet it was not light enough to distinguishobjects from each other.

  "Is it some animal, or a native, or what can it be?" Eustacequestioned, feeling most horribly shaky.

  There was a long pause, and then the silence was once more brokenby a deep, heavy groan--something like a long sobbing sigh.

  The boy was paralyzed with horror. Besides which, to have moved, tohave gone forward, would have been useless in this half light. Hecould have done nothing, seen nothing. There was nothing for it butto wait till daybreak. He could not bring himself to sit downagain; there is always a feeling of being ready for anything whenone is standing.

  There was another long interval, and then this awful sound cameonce more--slow, laboured, intensely painful. There could be nodoubt that something or some one was suffering inexpressibly nottwenty yards away. The voice was like the voice of a man having anightmare, and trying to call some one to help him. The third timethe sound came Eustace almost fancied it contained a word--"Help."

  Five times he heard it, and every time it was exactly the same intone and duration. Each time he became more persuaded that it was amuffled cry for help.

  The light was coming at last. Soon he would be able to ventureforward and find out what horrible secret the thicket held.

  The boy sank down on his knees and prayed with all his might forstrength to face whatever it might be for at the thought of theordeal before him he could have turned and fled. He stood up againas white as a sheet, but resolute, and ashamed of the temptation.

  "Who is there?" he demanded in a hoarse, shaky voice unlike hisown.

  His throat was parched, his lips dry. He had not spoken a word fortwo nights and a day; it was scarcely wonderful speech wasdifficult.

  There was no answer for a full minute, and then came that samegroaning cry again, not as in answer to the question, but at itsown regular interval.

  Following the curve of the thicket a little way, behind a thickgroup of trees Eustace came to a sudden standstill with a cry ofdismay; for there, standing almost upright in the thickest of thescrub, was the figure of a man, his bare head bowed down upon hisbreast so that his face was invisible, his arms hanging down at hissides.

  It struck Eustace at once as strange that he should be standingmaking this terrible sound. It would not have surprised the boynearly so much to have found him lying down--indeed, that he hadexpected. Bracing himself to the task, Eustace went closer.

  "I say," he said in a loud voice, "what's up?"

  The man made neither sign nor movement. Could he be tied there to astake? the boy wondered. Was he deaf and blind?

  "I say," Eustace said, almost shouting now, "can't you see me?"

  Fighting down his own horror of the situation, he pressed a littlecloser, to find the man's shirt torn to shreds, his arms pinioneddown to his sides by something that looked like small cords.

  "It's the 'wait-a-bit' cane!" Eustace exclaimed aloud, shrinkingback sharply with a quick horror of being entrapped by it himself.

  Here was an awful state of affairs. A wretched wayfarer caught andheld like a fly in a spider's web, and not a soul at hand to help.

  To go back to the natives was out of the question. With theirreputation for cruelty and hatred of white men it would be worsethan useless to appeal to them. What was to be done? What would Bobhave done under the circumstances?

  With a gasping cry Eustace crept closer again, and bending low hestrained to catch a glimpse of the man's face without going tooperilously deep into the thicket.

  "Bob," whispered the boy, "Bob, is it you? Oh, speak to me--is ityou?"

  Little fool that he had been not to think of it before. But somehowthese last hours of terror, centred only upon himself and his ownmeans of escape, had blunted his intelligence to everythingelse--even to the remembrance of Bob. He was mad with himself forit now--so mad that all thought of personal danger fell away fromhim. He had room for nothing but the realization that this must beBob indeed standing here helpless and dying of privation.

  Oh the folly of having waited for the light! But Eustace stayed fornothing more now--not even to look at the two sides of thequestion. He dashed against the bushes like a little mad thing,recklessly fighting his way towards the imprisoned man.

  "Bob, Bob!" he said in a voice choked with sobs.

  It was difficult to grasp that this huddled, helpless figure wasBob, 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 notshrink back.

  "It's all right, Bob," he said huskily. "I've come now. I'm goingto 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 hisclasp-knife, and was hacking at the cruel bonds with all his might.

  It needed no explanation to tell Eustace how Bob had got there. Thething was as plain as daylight. He must have been riding fast, andinadvertently struck against some "wait-a-bit," which reboundedlike a bit of twisted elastic, and caught him in such a grip thathe was powerless to free himself. Bolter passed on from beneath,and the more he fought and struggled the tighter he becameentangled. Had his arms been free it would have been different; butthe strength of the cane was marvellous--moreover, it was coveredwith vicious thorns. That Bob had fought desperately for his lifewas
to be seen by the condition of his shirt and his deeply-scoredskin. He was now in a state of more than semi-unconsciousness fromexhaustion and starvation; still, at intervals, he half rousedhimself to call for help, as he must have been doing for days.

  It was no easy matter to saw through the cane, which was woundagain 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 forBob, and madness is said to increase strength extraordinarily.

  More by good luck than good guidance the boy was not caught in themeshes 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 hadmade to reach him, and from there the boy could not move him aninch. Perhaps owing to the change of position Bob had stoppedgroaning at last; but though Eustace called him, and implored himto speak, if only a word, he made no sign.

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

  Something ought to be done for him, and that quickly; this muchEustace knew. At home he would have rushed for water; but herewhere 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 fatheralways did! A sudden brilliant idea struck him--perhaps Bob carrieda flask himself!

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

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

  It took Bob a long time to pull himself sufficiently together tomake a sign to Eustace that he knew him. He was far too weak tospeak 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 fairlysobbed. What fear for his own safety and all the horrors he hadgone through had no power to do, the relaxation of this tension ofanxiety 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 solike fainting again that Eustace gave him more brandy.

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

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

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

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

  But even this assertion did not cheer Eustace.

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

  "Not a bit of it," Bob said. "If I had any legs I could walk youout 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 theneighbourhood," was the answer. "I never got as far as the camp,but my shouts brought a whole lot of them gibbering round me. Itseemed to amuse them to see me there; but they threatened to killme if I went on shouting, so I had to shut up and hope for thebest. They have come each day in little batches and watched meawhile, then slipped away. At last I began to feel so bad that Irather wished they would come and finish me off, to put me out ofmy misery; so I began calling again. But I suppose my voice was tooweak to matter; they knew I couldn't be heard. Anyhow, the beggarsdidn'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 usprisoners, and goodness knows what they'll do to us. We must getaway from here before they come."

  "You must," said Bob, "but I can't. You'll have to take my compass,and keep going due west with it all the time. You'll know where youare 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 justwon't go. Nothing shall make me."

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

  "Good old man," he said, "you can't do me any good by staying. Forboth 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 mylife if you stayed; you could only die too, and what would be thegood of that?"

  "I would rather," said Eustace chokily.

  "Well, I wouldn't," Bob said firmly. "We mustn't think aboutourselves in it at all. You've got to go home and set the dearhome-folks' minds at rest about us. They'll know no peace till theyhear, one way or another. Then, of course, they'll set out to fetchme. 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 thingyou could for me by obeying orders."

  Eustace hid his face in his hands because his lips were tremblingso; 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 shouldstill not see his face.

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

  It was a little bit of chaff to help the boy to pull himselftogether. It worked quite a miracle, for Eustace's face clearedinstantly.

  "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 hadsecreted, and kneeling again, he began feeding the helpless man asif he had been a baby.

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

  "I don't want any," said the boy.

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

  So they made their strange meal together. It was a small one, butquite enough for Bob after his long starvation.

  "I ate every leaf and berry within my reach," he told Eustace, "orI don't think I should be alive to tell the tale. Lucky for me,they were none of them poisonous. When they were done I started onchewing twigs, but they didn't go far."

  At last Eustace had no excuse to linger. Very unwillingly he roseto do Bob's behest. He had never heard of anything so awful asleaving him like this to his fate. It seemed the worst kind ofdesertion--something that he would be ashamed of all the days ofhis life.

  Bob made him take his watch and chain with the compass on it.

  "Keep the compass afterwards if you like," Bob said, "and give mylove to every one."

  Eustace turned sharply away; he could stand no more.

  "Good-bye," he said thickly; "I feel a beast."

  He took two quick strides forward, and walked right into some one.It was the great native chief.