Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

  CHAPTER XIII.

  A GREAT SURPRISE.

  Eustace thought he had never seen anything so wicked as thechief's grin when he looked down into his astonished face. Theblack-fellow's teeth gleamed like a wolf's. His whole expressionseemed to say, "Ha, ha! so I've caught you in the very act. Youdon't escape me so easily, you see." He evidently felt an exultantsatisfaction in frustrating his departure, or he was rejoicing overhaving found him again.

  With an overwhelming consciousness of Bob's helplessness, Eustacemoved back quickly to the prostrate figure, as if to shelter it.

  "What's up, old man?" questioned Bob, who from his position couldsee nothing. "You're not shirking, are you?"

  The chief came rapidly within range of the sick man's eyes, andBob's face fell most unmistakably. There was disappointment inevery line of it.

  "Phew!" he whistled, "we've lost our chance this time."

  Exactly how crestfallen the pair was it would be impossible todescribe. Not that Bob had harboured any hope for himself. He knewthe natives would come to him before Eustace could possibly getback with assistance, and finding him no longer an amusingspectacle, would probably dispatch him. But he had been bent onsaving the boy's life and sending his message home.

  The native chief said something in his rapid, unintelligiblelanguage, then turned, made a strange call, and began gesticulatingviolently.

  Eustace dropped on his knees and hid his face on Bob's tatteredshirt.

  "Buck up, old chap," Bob said softly; "one can only die once. Let'sshow these black-fellows how a Christian and an Englishman can doit. You'll get the strength right enough; I'm not a bit afraid ofyour funking."

  There was an advancing tramp, a crashing of branches: the chief'ssummons was being rapidly obeyed. With a long shuddering sighEustace raised himself and knelt upright, gazing down on his hero.

  "That's right," said Bob steadily, with his own genial smilelighting up his whole face, "keep your eyes on mine; hold on to meif you like. I shan't think you a muff, because I know you aren'tone."

  But the boy did not touch him; he kept his hands clasped tightlytogether in a supreme effort to be worthy of Bob's belief in him.He heard the new-comers halt. The native spoke and moved aside.Then--

  "Both of them!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "Thank God for that."

  Eustace sank back in a heap on the ground and stared up.

  "Father!" cried Bob in astonishment.

  It was Mr. Cochrane indeed, and with him Mr. Orban--as haggard apair as could be met with in a long day's march.

  It seemed little short of a miracle that they should appear at sucha juncture, yet the explanation proved simple enough. The nativechief had fetched them straight to the spot. There was no sort ofnobility in the act: the man knew enough of white men's ways toexpect a big reward. Bob he did not know; but when Eustace appearedon the scene he recognized the boy as belonging to the master ofthe neighbouring plantation, whom he had seen many times from adistance as he rode through the Bush. Mr. Orban was out with Mr.Cochrane making a frantic search of the entire neighbourhood whenthe chief arrived, and he would communicate his business to no oneelse. Not that it is likely any one else would have understood himor followed him as Mr. Orban did the moment he arrived home. Thelanguage was unintelligible to both men; but putting two and twotogether in their great anxiety, they made out that the chief couldlead them where they would find something of interest tothemselves. They had not dared to hope he knew the whereabouts ofboth their sons, or to speculate which they should find; they didnot even know whether they were being taken to the living or thedead.

  "I'm afraid you'll have a bit of bother getting me home," said Bob;"I'm as stiff as a board, and can't move hand or foot."

  Then he told his story, and how Eustace had found him, and to allintents and purposes saved his life.

  "And you, Eustace," said Mr. Orban--"how did you come here?"

  When Eustace came to the description of the answering coo-ee on thebanks of the creek, Mr. Orban interrupted him.

  "That was only an echo. I knew there was one there, but I neverthought of telling you."

  "Thank God you didn't," said Mr. Cochrane, "and that he made themistake. We should never have found Bob but for that."

  "Father," Eustace said anxiously, "you won't forget poor oldBolter, will you? This black-fellow has got him in the camp overthere."

  "I had quite forgotten him," Mr. Orban said; "and we shall need himtoo."

  Their own horses were quietly waiting a little distance back. Bymeans of much gesticulation--pointing towards the horses, and thenin the direction of the camp--the chief was made to understand whatwas wanted; and after a little demur he went away to fetch Bolter,but certainly most grudgingly.

  The journey back to the plantation was one that none of the partycould ever forget. The difficulty of conveying the helpless Bob,the suffering he so bravely tried to endure, and the terrible timeit took, were indescribable.

  It had of course been necessary to tell both mothers of the loss oftheir sons. Mrs. Cochrane and Trixy had gone immediately to theOrbans' house as more central for obtaining news.

  Mr. Orban dispatched one coolie from the plantation for the doctor,who lived fifteen miles away. Another man he sent up the hill asfast as he could go with a note preparing his wife for theirarrival, and the whole white-faced party was out waiting for it asthe slow procession--Bob on a stretcher in the midst--wound its wayto the house.

  The joy of the meeting was lost sight of in the anxiety, for Bobwas by this time delirious with pain, Eustace so weak that he wasnearly fainting.

  For the next ten days the house was no better than a hospital--itscentral interest the condition of the two patients within itswalls; but the first day Bob and Eustace were brought out on to theveranda--two white-faced shadows of themselves--Bob laughinglycalled it the convalescent home.

  Up to that point everything was, as Nesta expressed it, horrid; butwhen Bob was about again, even if his voice was weaker, his laugh aghost of itself, matters at once began to improve.

  They were all sitting together enjoying the cool of the evening.

  "What I can't understand," said Nesta meditatively, breaking a longpause, "is why the black-fellows wouldn't let Eustace answerfather's coo-ee."

  "It is quite simple," said Mr. Orban. "The chief had evidentlygiven strict orders he was not to be allowed to go in his absence,and they were afraid we should come and take him away. Then thechief would have got no reward."

  "What I can't understand," said Peter, who never remained long inthe background, "is why the black-fellows didn't cut Bob down. Itwas wicked of them."

  "That's what I think," said Nesta. "If they left him because theythought it funny, I wish they could be tortured."

  "Nesta, Nesta, my darling!" said Mrs. Orban warningly.

  "I suppose," said Miss Chase softly, "the poor things have noknowledge of mercy."

  "None," said Mr. Cochrane, who was over spending the evening; "andthey wouldn't understand it if you showed them any, either."

  "No heathens ever do," said Mrs. Orban, "and how should they? Theyhave no Great Example to follow as we have. It is the people whohave the chance of knowing better, and still are cruel andheartless, that I would have tortured--if any one."

  Mr. Orban gave a soft laugh.

  "If any one, indeed, wife," he said. "You know as well as I do thatyou wouldn't have a spider hurt for torturing a fly."

  Every one laughed with him except Mrs. Orban herself. Her tenderheart was as good as a fable in the household. But she said quitegravely,--

  "You have chosen a bad example for once, Jack. A spider is asignorant as a heathen. It has only its own nature to follow."

  "Got the worst of it there, Mr. Orban," said Bob in an amused tone.

  "Talking of cruelty," remarked Miss Chase, "what do you do to yourunfortunate cows here at night? I never heard such a dismal noiseas they make."

  "Cows!" exclaimed every one in astonishment.

 
"Yes, cows," was the answer. "If you listen you can hear them now."

  There was an instant hush, followed by renewed peals of laughter.

  "Those aren't cows I advise you to go and sympathize with, MissChase," said Bob. "We call them alligators hereabouts, and at thepresent minute they are lying on the banks of the creek wishing anice, tasty supper would come strolling along."

  "There are alligators in the river, and yet Nesta says you boat onit and bathe in it!" exclaimed Miss Chase. "What extraordinarypeople you are!"

  "There are alligators one side of the bar and sharks the other, andone often upsets going over it in rough weather," said Bobcheerfully.

  "How horrible!" said Miss Chase.

  "When Aunt Dorothy saw a tarantula strolling round the tabletowards her the other day she nearly had a fit," said Peter.

  "Don't tell tales out of school, Peter Perky," said Aunt Dorothy."A poor, ignorant Englishwoman isn't expected to be brave when shesees a spider as big as a penny bun, with furry legs in proportion,trying to sit on her knee."

  "Then, so far, Miss Chase," said Bob, with a twinkle in his eyes,"you are not infatuated with our Bush life?"

  "Have you and Eustace given me much chance to be?" she asked. "Youmust confess you did not give me a very good first impression byboth running away and losing yourselves. We don't think that sortof thing necessary for the entertainment of our friends in England.Spiders are spiders there, too, not animated penny buns, and ourcows don't want to eat us."

  "Oh, of course," said Bob, "everything is perfect in England--isn'tit, Nesta?"

  "It has some advantages," said Mrs. Orban. "I think the absence ofthese excitements is amongst them."

  She was looking very worn out after her recent experiences.

  "Well, it's my opinion, my dear," said Mr. Orban, "that with yourlittle family you would have excitements wherever you went. It hasseemed fated to give you one shock after another."

  "Only just lately, Jack," was the gentle response, for Mrs. Orbancaught a contrite expression in Eustace's eyes.

  "It was the coming of the witch that did it," said Bob. "As soon asshe started for Queensland queer things began happening over here.She wanted to make you out of conceit with life here, so that shecould more easily bewitch you over to England. That was her spell."

  "And the queer thing is," said Mr. Orban quite gravely, "that ithas acted. She is going to take them all away from me when shegoes--wife, and sons, and daughters."

  "Father," exclaimed Nesta, "what are you saying?"

  "Is it a story, daddy?" demanded Peter.

  "No, the solemn truth," said Mr. Orban.

  "I don't understand," said Eustace blankly.

  "How should you when so much nonsense is being talked?" said hismother. "But the fact is, father thinks a change of air would do usall a great deal of good; and as grannie wants us, and has sent usour passage money--"

  "Oh! oh! oh!" cried Nesta, "don't go on, mummie. You make it soundjust as if it were real, and it _will_ be so disappointing to haveto _un_-fancy it again."

  But Eustace said breathlessly,--

  "Mother, _is_ it true?"

  "Quite true," was the grave answer. "We sail the end of next month.It is all settled."

  "What did I say?" said Bob in mock despair. "She'll take you away,and you'll never come back any more."

  "Oh, there you are quite wrong, Bob," said Mrs. Orban. "If Dorothyis a witch, Jack is a wizard, and he will magic us all back againin a year and a day at latest."

  "Well, I simply can't believe it," said Nesta.

  "It's the queerest thing I have ever heard," said Eustace.

  But Peter set up such yells of delight he had to be repressed bythe early-to-bed threat--always a useful one when Peter becamerampageous, for he hated going to bed at any time.

  That evening no one could talk of anything but this trip toEngland. No matter what subject was started, everything harked backto this wonderful plan, which Mr. Orban had been thinking out forsome time, only confiding in his wife and Miss Chase as long as thematter was undecided. Bob kept up the appearance of being utterlywoebegone, and Nesta and Peter seemed to have turned into machinesfor asking questions.

  Of the party only Eustace was silent, and presently Nesta noticedthe fact.

  "Aren't you most awfully glad?" she asked.

  "I don't know," said Eustace slowly.

  "Goodness!" said Nesta in a bustling tone, "you've always said youwanted to go."

  "That was when I knew we couldn't," replied Eustace, scarcelythinking what he was saying.

  "What a funny thing to say," said Nesta. "But you _do_ still wantto go, don't you?"

  "I don't know," said Eustace.

  "Well, you are a queer boy," said Nesta in rather a disgusted tone."I call that silly."

  "I think I know just what Eustace means," said Miss Chase quietly."He wants to get there without going--to be there without leavinghome. It is how I felt about coming here."

  "I don't understand a bit," said Nesta, with a shake of her head.

  "I do," said Bob. "One knows what one is leaving, but one doesn'tknow what one is going to. It is a toss-up whether there is to beany happiness in the venture. But I prophesy the witch will see toit you don't want to come back in a hurry. You'll enjoy yourself noend."

  "Why, Bob," exclaimed Nesta in astonishment, "how you have changed!That is all the opposite to what you have always said before."

  "Is it?" said Bob lamely. "Well, I suppose I must be bewitched too.What do you expect when you will import such things into thecountry?"