Wilderness Trek (1988)

by Grey, Zane

  "Yeah?" queried Leslie.

  "Is that so, Mr. Krehl?" added Beryl.

  "Yes, it's so. Take that crack of Leslie's mother, for instance. Les's Ma an' you girls air of one mind, I reckon. The idee is to collar a man, any man temporarily, till you meet up with one you aim to corral for keeps."

  "That is true, Red. Disgustingly true," admitted Beryl, suddenly frank and earnest. "But Les and I are not to blame for being born women."

  "I reckon not, Beryl," returned Red, conciliated by her sincerity.

  "Go on, Red. You were going to say something," went on Beryl.

  "I was," rejoined the cowboy. "It seemed to me kind of farfetched an' silly--thet sentimental yearnin' of yores, if it was thet. Heah we air lost in this Gawd-forsaken land. Aw, I know Eric there swears we ain't lost, but thet doesn't fool me, an' this hole is as spooky an' nasty a place as I ever camped. It's more. It's a darned dangerous one. We jest escaped somethin' tough. An' thet's why I jest wondered at you womenfolks, feelin' thet soft, sweet mushy sentiment in the face of hell."

  "Red Krehl, that's the wonder of it--that we can feel and need such things at such a time," returned Beryl, eloquently. "I left such things behind, to come with my father. I could have gone to live in Sydney. But I came with Dad. And you've seen something of what I've suffered. This hard experience has not wholly destroyed my sensitivities, my former habits. I can see why Sterl thinks we're going bush. I can see that we'll turn into abo's, if we're stuck here forever. But just now, I'm a dual nature. By day I'm courageous, by night I'm cowardly. I can't sleep. I'm afraid of noises. I lie with the cold chills creeping over me. I can't forget what--what has already happened to me. Red Krehl, you said you wonder at me. But I say it's a wonder you cannot see how I'd welcome any kindness, any attention, any affection, to keep me from thinking!"

  It was a long speech, though quickly spoken, one that Sterl took to his heart in shame and self-reproach. He was intensely curious to see how Red would take it, and somehow he had faith in the cowboy's greatness of soul.

  "Come heah, girl," said Red, gently, and held out his hand. Beryl stepped to him and leaned, as if compelled. He drew her to a place beside him on the narrow pack, and he put his arm around her to draw her close. "I'm sorry I made all them hard cracks about this place. Only I'm glad, 'cause I understand you better. But Beryl, I reckon you can't figger me out. When all was goin' fine back on this trek you gave me some pretty bad times. So, even if I wanted to be sweet an' soft about you, which I shore don't after the way you treated me, I couldn't be on account of what this damn trek has done to me. I've saved yore life a coupla times, an' I reckon I'll have to do thet a heap more. If I wasn't a hard-ridin, hard-shootin' cowboy, a killer, grim an' mean, I couldn't do thet much for you. Thet ought to make you see me clear."

  "Oh, Red," Beryl cried, poignantly, "I don't want you any different!"

  The thud of hoofs disrupted this scene, and Larry rode up. Friday came running to throw brush upon the blaze.

  "Larry, you're all bloody!" exclaimed Sterl.

  "No, Just ran--into a snag," panted the drover. "Let me--sit down."

  Dann arrived to bend over Larry. "Bad scalp cut. Girls, fetch water and linen. Larry, are you all right?"

  "Yes, sir--except played out."

  "Where are the other drovers?"

  "Back with what--was left of the mob. That rush got--away, sir."

  "How many?"

  "Benson said one-third of the mob. They rushed into the bush. They were a crazy lot of cattle. They crashed through the bush--some into the river. So we yelled to come together--then rode back. That mob will work out of the bush by morning."

  Meanwhile Dann had unwound the scarf from Larry's head and began to dress the wound. Slyter told the girls to go to bed, and this time they obeyed. Red was sent off to take Larry's place with the drovers and Sterl ordered to stay in camp.

  When toward dawn Red and Rollie came in, relieved by two of Dann's drovers, Sterl lay down beside Red. The sun was up when Friday called them.

  "Where black fella, Friday?"

  "Alonga dere. No good. Hidum about. Watchum white man."

  "Sterl, these abo's up heah 'pear to be a different breed. All same Comanche Injuns," said Red.

  They found the drovers straggling in. Benson reported two-thirds of the mob intact. Their ragged garb, scratched hands, bruised faces gave evidence of their strenuous effort to head that rush.

  "We stopped it, five miles west," reported Bligh, wearily. "They're out in the open, not many on their feet. Dehorned, crippled, snagged--a sorry mess!"

  Friday appeared, carrying a kangaroo that he had speared.

  "Plenty roo," he said. "Ribber full up. Plenty croc."

  "Friday, see any blacks?" asked Sterl. "Black fella imm conga bush. Bimeby."

  "Men, eat and drink all you can hold," said Stanley Dann. "We'll leave those cattle that started the rush last night until the last. If they scatter, we'll abandon them. Our mob has been too large. We'll break camp now. Move all the wagons and horses to the open break in the bush below. Then drove the main mob closer. Two guards on and off for two hours. We'll ford the river with the wagons, divide our party and camp on both sides until the last job, which will be to drove the mob across."

  It was a bold and masterly plan, Sterl conceded. The execution remained to be an inspiration of genius and a heroic job. They mounted and rode away.

  The river! The drovers, even their leader, had only to go within sight of that reed-bordered, mud-sloped yellow swirling tide to be confronted by seeming impossibilities.

  "Friday, where are the crocodiles?" boomed Dann.

  "Alonga dere," replied the black, his spear indicating the river and the margins of reeds. "Slyter, do they hide in the grass?"

  "Yes, indeed. These big crocs live on animals. This water is brackish. Kangaroos, wild, cattle, brumbies would drink it. I've been told how the crocs lie in wait and with one lash of their tails knock a large animal or an aborigine into the water."

  "They may not be plentiful. But all of you use your eyes. Have your guns ready. Slyter, you will drive your wagon in first. Send a drover ahead to test the bottom. Make haste, while the tide is in."

  They all watched Heald wade his sturdy horse into the river. After perhaps a hundred steps, he returned to say: "Mud bottom. Soft. But not quicksand. If you keep your horse moving you can make it."

  "What will a heavy wagon do?" queried Slyter, dubiously.

  "It'll stick, but not sink," declared Dann. "We have heavy ropes and strong horses. We can pull out." In a moment more Slyter, accompanied by Dann and six drovers, had driven his big teams into the river.

  Slyter had not got quite so far out as Heald had waded when the wheels stuck. Two drovers leaped out of their saddles to unhitch the teams. Bligh and Hood dragged the teams out. Rollie, with a bag in front of him and a cracking stockwhip in hand, kept abreast of the teams. Soon they were swimming. Four drovers followed carrying packs. Slyter stood up in his wagon, rifle in hand, watching vigilantly.

  "Crocs over dere all alonga," cried Friday, pointing.

  Sterl saw the reeds shake and part. "Grab your rifle. Red." he shouted.

  Suddenly on the opposite bank there was a loud rush in the reeds, then a zoom, as a huge reptile leaped off the bank and slid upon the narrow strip of mud. But it was not quick enough to escape Red's shot.

  Sterl heard the bullet thud, and then the huge reptile flopped up and flashed into convulsions. Sterl let out a yell as he drew a bead upon it and pulled the trigger. The distance was nothing to a marksman. His bullet, too, found its mark.

  Another! Four shots left that reptile rolling in the mud. Its back seemed broken.

  "Dere, alonga dere!" shrilled Friday, pointing below.

  Slyter was shooting at another one, smaller and nimbler. But there was another rush and zoom as a big one catapulted off the bank to meet a hail of lead. Crippled and slow, he crawled into the river.

  Stanley Dann's horse appeare
d, wading out. The drovers dragged and yelled at the teams, while Rollie cracked his long whip from behind. They got across at last and climbed the bank to deposit the packs and find a place to land the wagon. Then they piled into the river pell-mell, keeping close together, some of them with drawn guns held high.

  Slyter yelled, "Make all the commotion possible."

  They crossed in short order and, loading heavily, turned back in haste, crossed again. Suddenly Friday screeched out something aboriginal. Then Slyter roared unintelligibly, and began to pump lead into the water. A thumping splash followed, then a vicious churning of the surface, yellow and red mixing.

  "I got him!" shouted Slyter, peering down. "Right on top of me--longer than the wagon! Never saw him till he came up!"

  When the drovers arrived at the wagon again, Stanley Dann called out lustily: "Boys, that was splendid work. I heard your big bullets hit. It's not so bad having Yankee gunmen with us!"

  During nine more trips, while the cowboys, with Slyter, Larry and the black kept vigil from several points, nothing untoward happened. Dann, with three of the drovers, then remained on the far side with the teams backed out into the shallow water, while the other three, dragging tackle and ropes, swam their horses back to make fast to the wagon.

  Bligh slid off his horse, and waist-deep groped about with his feet to find the wagon tongue. To watch him thus exposed made the cold sweat ooze out all over Sterl. Bligh found it, and went clear under to lift it up. In a moment more the heavy tackle was fast. He yelled and waved to Dann. The two teams sagged down and dug in; the drovers in front of the wagon laid hold of the thick rope. Slyter lifted his arms on high, swung his rifle, and added his yell to that of the others. A moment of strain and splash--then the empty wagon lurched, moved, half floated. Slyter stood up on the driver's seat, balancing himself, still peering into the water for crocodiles. The two teams and the six single horses did not slow up until the wheels touched bottom. In a very few moments the wagon was safely up on the bank. Despite the crocodiles the achievement augured well for the success of the operation.

  Chapter 25

  All this time the tide was slowly going out. The channel split wide bare stretches of mud. Sterl observed that a big crocodile which he had thought surely killed had disappeared from the bank opposite. The one Slyter had shot lay on its back, clawlike feet above the shallow water.

  Some of Dann's party cut poles and brush to lay lengthwise on the mud over the plowed-up tracks of wheels and horses. Bill set about erecting a canvas shelter to work under; Sterl, Red and Friday hurried at camp tasks the crossing had halted. Presently Slyter and Dann's drovers, all except Roland, who had been left on the far side of the river, arrived muddy and wet, noisy and triumphant, back in camp.

  "Volunteer wanted to drive the small dray," called the leader.

  They all wanted that job. Dann chose Benson, the eldest. Six men cut brushy trees while two riders snaked these down to the river. Dann and Slyter built the corduroy road. Eric Dann lent a hand, like one in a trance. Friday pointed to aborigine smoke signals far back in the bush, and shook his shaggy head.

  Many energetic hands made short work of the road on the camp side of the river. It was significant that Slyter covered his dead crocodile with brush. Then Benson drove the one-team off the bank. The brush road upheld both horses and wheels as long as they moved. But it stuck in the channel and, before it crossed, the drovers had to unload it and carry its contents to the far bank. By this time the afternoon was far spend, and Bill had supper ready. Benson volunteered to pack supper across to Roland and Bligh, left on guard, and remain over there with them.

  The drovers, bedraggled, slimy from the river mud, ate like wolves, but were too tired to talk. Sterl and Red went out on duty with the mob.

  Again the night was silent, except for the bark of dingoes and the silken swish of flying foxes. But the mob appeared to be free from the fears of the night before. Sterl and Red kept together, and after a few hours, one of them watched while the other slept. But Sterl, in his wakeful intervals, could not rid himself of misgivings. His mind conjured up fateful events for which there seemed no reason.

  At last the dawn came, from gray to daylight, and then a ruddiness in the east. He awakened Red from his hard bed on the grass. They rounded up the remuda, and changed their mounts for King and Duke.

  "Red, it's dirty business to risk Leslie's horses in that river," said Sterl, as they rode campward.

  "Wal, I was thinkin' thet same. We won't do it, 'cept to cross them. We'll fork two of these draft hosses. But, Holy Mackeli, they cain't keep one of them crocs away! I swear, pard, I never had my gizzard freeze like it does at thet thought."

  "Nerve and luck, Red!"

  "Them drovers shore had it yestiddy." Breakfast was over at sunrise, Friday approached the fire to get his fare.

  "Crocs alonga eberywhere," he announced.

  That silenced the trekkers like a clap of thunder. Slyter, the cowboys, and the drovers followed the striding Dann out to view the stream. A dead steer floated by in mid-channel, gripped by several crocodiles. Downstream a cow or steer had stranded in the shallow water. Around it ugly snouts and notched tails showed above the muddy water. Upstream on the far side a third cow, stuck in the mud, was surrounded by the reptiles.

  Larry explained, "Night before last a number of cattle rushed into the river. We heard them bawling and plunging."

  Slyter said, "Blood scent in the river will have every croc for miles down upon us."

  "It may not be so bad as it looks," replied the leader with his usual optimism. "Let's cross Bill's dray at once. Tell Bill to keep out food and tea for today and tomorrow. One of you to put tucker on the dray for the boys across there. A kettle of hot tea! Who'll drive Bill's dray?"

  Red Krehl elected himself for that job. But Dann preferred to have the cowboy on shore, rifle in hand, and selected Heald. He drove in until the water came almost to the platform of the wagon. Then the procedure of the day before was carried out with even more celerity. It struck Sterl that in their hurry the drovers were forgetting about the crocodiles, which might have been just as well. The big job done the drovers took time out for a cup of tea. That inevitable rite amused Sterl.

  "Ormiston's wagon next," shouted Stanley Dann. "That duty falls to Eric."

  The drovers hitched two teams to this wagon, while others, at the leader's order, unpacked half of its contents. Flour in special burlap sacks and other food supplies came to light.

  At the take-off the leading team balked, and upon being urged and whipped they plunged, and Eric laid on the stockwhip. No doubt a scent of the dead crocodiles came to them. Stanley Dann boomed orders that Eric did not hear or could not obey. About a hundred steps out was as far as either of the other vehicles had been driven. But Eric drove until the teams balked, with the leaders submerged to their shoulders. This was extremely bad, because it was evident that they were sinking in the mud. Half a dozen drovers urged plunging horses to the rescue.

  At that critical moment Friday let out a wild yell. Sterl saw a dead steer, surrounded by crocodiles, drifting down upon the teams.

  "Back, Heald! Back, Hood!" shouted Sterl, at the top of his lungs. "Crocs!"

  Snorting, lunging, the horses wheeled and sent mountains of water flying. They reached the shore just as the dead steer drifted upon the teams and lodged. Stanley Dann was yelling for his brother to climb back over the wagon and leap for his life. Eric might have heard, but his gaze was glued to the melee under him.

  The dead steer drifted in between the two teams to lodge against the wagon tongue, and the great reptiles attacked the horses. The snap of huge jaws, the crack of teeth, could be heard amid the roar of water and the clamor of the drovers.

  Eric pulled his gun and shot. Not improbably he hit the horses instead of the crocodiles. The left front horse reared high with a crocodile hanging to its nose. Sterl sent a bullet into its head, but it did not let go. It pulled the horse under. The right front horse was
in the clutches of two crocodiles. The rifle cracked. Sterl shot to kill a horse if he missed a crocodile. The second team had been attacked by half a dozen of the leviathans.

  And at that awful moment for Eric Dann, horses and wagon were pulled into deep water. The wagon sank above its bed and floated. Eric leaped to the driver's seat and held on. As he turned to those on shore his visage appeared scarcely human. The wagon drifted down the river.

  "Fellers, fork yore hosses!" yelled Red. Leaping on Duke, his rifle aloft, he raced into the bush downstream. Sterl was quick to follow, and he heard the thud and crash of the drovers at his heels. When he broke out into the clear, a low bank afforded access to the river, which made a bend there. He came out at the edge of the mud. Red had Duke wading out. The wagon had lodged in shallow water. A horrible fight was going on there. Beyond it several other crocodiles were tearing at a horse that had been cut adrift. Eric Dann still clung to the driver's seat.

  Stanley Dann and his followers arrived. For once, the leader's booming voice was silent at a crisis.

  Red threw aside his rifle. He held his revolver in his left hand and his lariat in his right. At that moment, a lean, black-jawed crocodile stuck his snout and shoulders out of the water, and, reaching over the wagonbed, snapped at Eric. He missed by more than two feet.

  The horses had ceased to struggle. What with the tugging and floundering of the crocodiles the wagon appeared about to tilt over. It would all be over with Eric Dann if the reptiles did not tear the horses free.

  Red sent his grand horse plunging into the water. Duke's ears stood up, his piercing snorts made the other horses neigh wildly. Red was taking a chance that the crocodiles would be too busy to see him. When Duke was up to his flanks and the curdled, foamy maelstrom scarcely a lasso's length distant, Red yelled piercingly, "Stand up Eric!"

  The man heard, and tried to obey. But he must have been paralyzed with horror.

  "Stick our yore laig--yore arm!" shrieked Red, in a fury, and he shot the outside crocodile, sliding into view.

  But Eric was beyond helping himself. Again that ugly brute lunged out and up, his corrugated jaws wide, and as they snapped they missed by only a few inches.