A Little Bush Maid

by Mary Grant Bruce

  CHAPTER XIV. CAMPING OUT

  "About that fishing excursion, Norah?"

  "Yes, Daddy." A small brown paw slid itself into Mr. Linton's hand.

  They were sitting on the verandah in the stillness of an autumn evening,watching the shadows on the lawn become vague and indistinct, andfinally merge into one haze of dusk. Mr. Linton had been silent for along time. Norah always knew when her father wanted to talk. Thisevening she was content to be silent, too, leaning against his knee inher own friendly fashion as she curled up at his feet.

  "Oh, you hadn't forgotten, then?"

  "Well--not much! Only I didn't know if you really wanted to go, Daddy."

  "Why, yes," said her father. "I think it would be rather a good idea, mygirlie. There's not much doing on the place just now. I could easily bespared. And we don't want to leave our trip until the days grow shorter.The moon will be right, too. It will be full in four or five days--Iforget the exact date. So, altogether, Norah, I think we'd betterconsult Brownie about the commissariat department, and make ourarrangements to go immediately."

  "It'll be simply lovely," said his daughter, breathing a long sigh ofdelight. "Such a long time since we had a camping out--just you and me,Daddy."

  "Yes, it's a good while. Well, we've got to make up for lost time bycatching plenty of fish," said Mr. Linton. "I hope you haven'tforgotten the whereabouts of that fine new hole of yours? You'll haveto take me to it if Anglers' Bend doesn't come up to expectations."

  A deep flush came into Norah's face. For a little while she had almostforgotten the Hermit--or, rather, he had ceased to occupy a prominentposition in her mind, since the talk of the Winfield murder had begun todie away. The troopers, unsuccessful in their quest, had gone back toheadquarters, and Norah had breathed more freely, knowing that herfriend had escaped--this time. Still, she never felt comfortable in hermind about him. Never before had she kept any secret from her father,and the fact of this concealment was apt to come home closely to her attimes and cloud the perfect friendship between them.

  "Master Billy will be delighted, I expect," went on Mr. Linton, notnoticing the little girl's silence. "Anything out of the ordinary grooveof civilisation is a joy to that primitive young man. I don't fancy itwould take much to make a cheerful savage of Billy."

  "Can't you fancy him!" said Norah, making an effort to break away fromher own thoughts; "roaming the bush with a boomerang and a waddy, anddressed in strips of white paint."

  "Striped indeed!" said her father, laughing. "I've no doubt he'd enjoyit. I hope his ancient instincts won't revive--he's the best hand withhorses we ever had on the station. Now, Norah, come and talk toBrownie."

  Mrs. Brown, on being consulted, saw no difficulties in the way. A day,she declared, was all she wanted to prepare sufficient food for theparty for a week--let alone for only three days.

  "Not as I'll stint you to three days," remarked the prudent Brownie."Last time it was to be three days--an' 'twas more like six when we sawyou again. Once you two gets away--" and she wagged a stern forefingerat her employer. "And there's that black himp--he eats enough for five!"

  "You forget the fish we're going to live on," laughed Mr. Linton.

  "'M," said Brownie solemnly. "First catch your fish!"

  "Why, of course, we mean to, you horrid old thing!" cried Norah,laughing; "and bring you home loads, too--not that you deserve it fordoubting us!"

  "I have seen many fishing parties go out, Miss Norah, my dear," saidMrs. Brown impassively, "and on the 'ole more came 'ome hempty 'andedthan bringing loads--fish bein' curious things, an' very unreliable onthe bite. Still, we'll 'ope for the best--an' meanwhile to prepare forthe worst. I'll just cook a few extry little things--another tongue,now, an' a nice piece of corned beef, an' per'aps a 'am. An' do youthink you could manage a pie or two, Miss Norah?"

  "Try her!" said Mr. Linton, laughing.

  "Let's tell Billy!"--and off went Norah at a gallop.

  She returned a few minutes later, slightly crestfallen.

  "Billy must be asleep," she said. "I couldn't get an answer. Lazy youngnigger--and it's still twilight!"

  "Billy has no use for the day after the sun goes down, unless he's going'possuming," her father said. "Never mind--the news will keep until themorning."

  "Oh, I know," said Norah, smiling. "But I wanted to tell him to-night."

  "I sympathise with you," said her father, "and, meanwhile, to consoleyourself, suppose you bend your mighty mind to the problem of gettingaway. Do you see any objection to our leaving for parts unknown the dayafter to-morrow?"

  "Depends on Brownie and the tucker," said Norah practically.

  "That part's all right; Brownie guarantees to have everything readyto-morrow night if you help her."

  "Why, of course I will, Daddy."

  "And you have to get your own preparations made."

  "That won't take long," said Norah, with a grin. "Brush, comb,tooth-brush, pyjamas; that's all, Dad!"

  "Such minor things as soap and towels don't appear to enter into yourcalculations," said her father. "Well I can bear it!"

  "Oh, you silly old Dad! Of course I know about those. Only Browniealways packs the ordinary, uninteresting things."

  "I foresee a busy day for you and Brownie tomorrow," Mr. Linton said."I'll have a laborious time myself, fixing up fishing tackle--if Jim andhis merry men left me with any. As for Billy, he will spend the daygrubbing for bait. Wherefore, everything being settled, come and play me'The Last Rose of Summer,' and then say good-night."

  Norah was up early, and the day passed swiftly in a whirl ofpreparations. Everything was ready by evening, including a hamper ofmonumental proportions, the consumption of which, Mr. Linton said, wouldcertainly render the party unfit for active exertion in the way offishing. Billy's delight had made itself manifest in the broad grinwhich he wore all day while he dug for worms, and chased crickets andgrass-hoppers. The horses were brought in and stabled overnight, so thatan early start might be made.

  It was quite an exciting day, and Norah was positive that she could notgo to sleep when her father sent her off to bed at an unusually earlyhour, meeting her remonstrances with the reminder that she had to be upwith, or before, the lark. However, she was really tired, and was soonasleep. It seemed to her that she had only been in this blissfulcondition for three minutes when a hand was laid on her shoulder and shestarted up to find daylight had come. Mr. Linton stood laughing at hersleepy face.

  "D'you mean to say it's morning?" said Norah.

  "I've been led to believe so," her father rejoined. "Shall I pull youout, or would you prefer to rise without assistance?"

  "I'd much prefer to go to sleep again--but I'll tumble out, thank you,"said his daughter, suiting the action to the word. "Had your bath,Daddy?'

  "Just going to it."

  "Then I'll race you!" said Norah, snatching a towel and disappearingdown the hall, a slender, flying figure in blue pyjamas. Mr. Linton gavechase, but Norah's start was too good, and the click of the lock greetedhim as he arrived at the door of the bathroom. The noise of the showerdrowned his laughing threats, while a small voice sang, amid splashes,"You should have been here last week!"

  Breakfast was a merry meal, although, as Norah said, it was unreasonableto expect anybody to have an appetite at that hour. Still, with a viewto the future, and to avoid wounding Mrs. Brown too deeply, they made asfirm an attempt as possible, with surprisingly good results. Then briefgood-byes were said, the pack scientifically adjusted to the saddle onthe old mare, and they rode off in the cool, dewy morning.

  This time there was no "racing and chasing o'er Cannobie Lea" on the wayto Anglers' Bend. Mr. Linton's days of scurrying were over, he said,unless a bullock happened to have a difference of opinion as to the wayhe should go, and, as racing by one's self is a poor thing Norah wascontent to ride along steadily by her father's side, with only anoccasional canter, when Bobs pulled and reefed as if he were as anxiousto gallop as his young mistress could possibly be. It
was time for lunchwhen they at length arrived at the well-remembered bend on the creek.

  The horses were unsaddled and hobbled, and then turned out to wander attheir own sweet will--the shortness of the hobbles a guarantee that theywould not stray very far; and the three wanderers sat on the bank of thecreek, very ready for the luncheon Mrs. Brown had carefully prepared andplaced near the top of the pack. This despatched, preparations were madefor pitching camp.

  Here luck favoured them, for a visit to their former camping placeshowed that tent poles and pegs were still there, and uninjured--whichconsiderably lessened the labour of pitching the tents. In a very shorttime the two tents were standing, and a couple of stretchers rigged upwith bags--Mr. Linton had no opinion of the comfort of sleeping on bedsof leaves. While her father and Billy were at this work, Norah unpackedthe cooking utensils and provisions. Most of the latter were encased incalico bags, which could be hung in the shade, secure from either antsor flies, the remainder, packed in tins, being stowed away easily in thecorner of one of the tents.

  When the stretchers were ready Norah unpacked the bedding and made theirbeds. Finally she hung the tooth-brushes to the ridge poles and saidcontentedly, "Daddy, it's just like home!"

  "Glad you think so!" said Mr. Linton, casting an approving eye over thecomfortable-looking camp, and really there is something wonderfullyhomelike about a well-pitched camp with a few arrangements for comfort."At any rate, I think we'll manage very well for a few days, Norah. Now,while Billy lays in a stock of firewood and fixes up a 'humpy' forhimself to sleep in, suppose you and I go down and try to catch somefish for tea?"

  "Plenty!" laughed Norah.

  It soon became evident that Anglers' Bend was going to maintain its nameas a place for fish. Scarcely was Norah's line in the water before a bigblackfish was on the hook, and after that the fun was fast and furious,until they had caught enough for two or three meals. The day was idealfor fishing--grey and warm, with just enough breeze to ripple the waterfaintly. Mr. Linton and Norah found it very peaceful, sitting togetheron the old log that jutted across the stream, and the time passedquickly. Billy at length appeared, and was given the fish to prepare,and then father and daughter returned to camp. Mr. Linton lit the fire,and cutting two stout forked stakes, which he drove into the ground, oneon each side of the fire, he hung a green ti-tree pole across, inreadiness to hold the billy and frying-pan. Billy presently came up withthe fish, and soon a cheery sound of sizzling smote the evening air. Bythe time that Norah had "the table set," as she phrased it, the fishwere ready, and in Norah's opinion no meal ever tasted half so good.

  After it was over, Billy the indispensable removed the plates and washedup, and Norah and her father sat by the fire and "yarned" in the cooldusk. Not for long, for soon the little girl began to feel sleepy afterthe full day in the open air, and the prospect of the comfortablestretcher in her tent was very tempting. She brushed her hair outside inthe moonlight, because a small tent is not the place in which to wield ahairbrush; then she slipped into bed, and her father came and tucked herup before tying the flap securely enough to keep out possible intrudersin the shape of "bears" and 'possums. Norah lay watching the flickeringfirelight for a little while, thinking there was nothing so glorious asthe open-air feeling, and the night scents of the bush; then she fellasleep.

  "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!!"

  A cheeky jackass on a gum tree bough fairly roared with laughter, andNorah woke up with a violent start. The sunlight was streaming acrossher bed. For a moment she was puzzled, wondering where she was; then thewalls of the tent caught her eye, and she laughed at herself, and thenlay still in the very pleasure of the dewy morning and the wonderfulfreshness of the air. For there is a delight in awaking after a night inthe open that the finest house in the world cannot give.

  Presently the flap of the tent was parted and Mr. Linton peeped in.

  "Hallo!" he said, smiling, "did the old jackass wake you? I found him asgood as an alarum clock myself. How about a swim?"

  "Oh--rather!" said Norah, tumbling out of bed. She slipped on a jacketand shoes, and presently joined her father, and they threaded their waythrough the scrub until they came to a part of the creek where a beach,flat and sandy, and shelving down to a fairly deep hole, offeredglorious bathing. Mr. Linton left Norah here, and himself went a fewyards farther up, round a bend in the creek.

  At the first plunge the water was distinctly cold, but once the firstdip was taken Norah forgot all about chilliness, and only revelled inthe delights of that big pool. She could swim like a fish--her fatherhad seen to that in the big lagoon at home. Not until Mr. Linton'swarning voice sang out that it was time to dress did she leave thewater, and then with reluctance.

  A brisk rub down with a hard towel and she rejoined her father. He castan approving look at her glowing face.

  "Well, you look as if you'd enjoyed your swim," he said.

  "Oh it was lovely, Daddy! Did you have a good bathe?"

  "Yes--I struck a very good place--deep enough to dive in," her fatheranswered. "Not that I counsel diving altogether--you strike such a lotof mud at the bottom--soft, sticky, black mud! I spent most of my bathein getting myself clean after my dive! Still, I had a good swim,notwithstanding. I say, Norah, I'm ready for breakfast."

  "So am I," said his daughter. "I hope Billy's got the fish on!"

  However, there was no sign of the black retainer when they reached thecamp. The fire was blazing and the billy boiling, but of the other Billyno trace existed.

  "He's gone after the horses," Mr. Linton said. "I told him to see tothem--but he ought to be back. I hope they're all right. Well, you getdressed, Norah."

  By the time Norah's toilet was completed the fish, under Mr. Linton'ssupervision, were in the pan, and she hurried to set out the breakfastthings. They were just beginning breakfast when the sound of hoofs washeard and Billy rode into the clearing on his own pony, with evidentsigns of perturbation on his ebony face.

  "What's up, Billy?" Mr. Linton asked sharply.

  "That feller pack-mare," Billy said briefly. "Broken hobbles--clear out.Plenty!" He produced a hobble as he spoke, the broken leather tellingits own tale.

  Mr. Linton uttered an exclamation of anger.

  "That comes of not seeing to the hobbles myself," he said sharply. "Nosign of her?"

  Billy shook his head.

  "Not likely," Mr. Linton said; "that old mare would make for home like ashot. I dare say she's half-way there by now. Well, Billy, there's onlyone thing to do--get your pony saddled and go after her."

  Billy's face expressed unuttered depths of woe.

  "Get your breakfast first," said his master; "there's no particularhurry, for you're bound to have to go all the way home--and bring somegood hobbles back with you, if you do!"

  Billy slid to the ground.

  "Plenty!" he said ruefully.

  Billy, a black vision of despondency, had faded away into the distance,making his chestnut pony pay for the disappointment of his long rideback to the homestead for the missing mare. Norah and her father had"cleaned up house," as Norah put it, and again they were sitting on theold log that spanned the creek.

  Their lines were in water, but the fish were shy. The promise of a hotday had driven them to the shady hollows under the banks. The juiciestworms failed to lure them from their hiding-places. Norah thought itdull and said so.

  Her father laughed.

  "You'll never make a fisherman without cultivating an extra stock ofpatience," he said. "The thought of last night's luck ought to make youhappy."

  "Well, it doesn't," his daughter answered decidedly. "That wasyesterday, and this is to-day; and it is dull, Daddy, anyhow."

  "Well, keep on hoping," said Mr. Linton; "luck may change at any minute.Norah, do you know, I have something to tell you?"

  "What?" Norah's dullness was gone. There was something unusual in herfather's tone.

  "I'm afraid you won't think it the best news," he said, smiling at hereager face. "B
ut it had to come some day, I suppose. I couldn't keep youa baby always. There's a tutor coming to make a learned lady of mylittle bush maid."

  "Daddy!" There were worlds of horror in the tone.

  "Oh, don't!" said her father. "You make me feel a criminal of thedeepest dye. What can I do with you, you ignorant small child? I can'tlet you grow up altogether a bush duffer, dear." His voice was almostapologetic. "I can assure you it might have been worse. Your Aunt Evahas been harrowing my very soul to make me send you to a boardingschool. Think of that now!"

  "Boarding school!" said Norah faintly. "Daddy, you wouldn't?"

  "No--not at present, certainly," said her father. "But I had to agree tosomething--and, really, I knew it was time. You're twelve, you know,Norah. Be reasonable."

  "Oh, all right," said Norah, swallowing her disgust. "If you say it'sgot to be, it has to be, that's all, Daddy. My goodness, how I will hateit! Have I got to learn heaps of things?"

  "Loads," said her father, nodding; "Latin, and French, and drawing, andgeography, and how to talk grammar, and any number of things I neverknew. Then you can teach the tutor things--riding, and cooking, andknitting, and the care of tame wallabies, and any number of things henever dreamed of. He's a town young man, Norah, and horribly ignorant ofall useful arts."

  "I'll turn him over to Billy after school," said Norah laughing. "Is henice, Dad?"

  "Very, I should say," rejoined her father. "He's the son of an oldfriend"--and his face saddened imperceptibly. "Your Aunt Eva said itought to be a governess, and perhaps it would have been one only youngStephenson came in my way. He wanted something to do, and for hisfather's sake I chose him for my daughter's instructor."

  "Who's his father, Daddy?"

  "Well, you wouldn't know if I told you, girlie. A dear old friend ofmine when I was a young man--the best friend I ever had. Jim is namedafter him."

  "Is he dead now?"

  Mr. Linton hesitated.

  "We lost him years ago," he said sadly. "A great trouble came uponhim--he lost some money, and was falsely accused of dishonesty, and hehad to go to prison. When he came out his wife refused to see him; theyhad made her believe him a thief, and she was a hard woman, although sheloved him. She sent him a message that he must never try to see her ortheir boy."

  "She was cruel." Norah's eyes were angry.

  "She was very unhappy, so we mustn't judge her," her father said,sighing. "Poor soul, she paid for her harshness. Later the truth of thewhole bad business came out, and she would have given the world to beable to beg his forgiveness-only it was too late."

  "Was he dead, Daddy?"

  "They found his body in the river," said Mr. Linton. "Poor old chap, hecouldn't stand the loss of his whole world. I've wished ever since thatI could tell him I never believed the lie for a moment. I was in Englandat the time, and I knew nothing about it until he was dead."

  "Poor old Daddy," said Norah softly.

  "Oh, it's an old story, now," Mr. Linton said. "Only I never lose theregret--and wish that I could have done something to help my old friend.I don't quite know why I've told you about it, except that I want you tobe kind to young Dick Stephenson, because his life has been a sad enoughone."

  "Is his mother alive?"

  "She lives in Melbourne," said her father. "I think she only lives forthis boy, and the time when she can go to her husband and beg hisforgiveness. He'll give it, too--poor old Jim. He could never bearmalice in his life, and I'm certain death couldn't change his nature.The lad seems a good chap; he's had a first-rate education. But hismother never gave him any profession; I don't know why. Women aren'tmade for business. So he wants to teach."

  "I'll be good to him, Daddy." Norah slipped her hand into her father's.

  "That's my little girl. I knew I could depend on you," said Mr. Linton.A far-away look came into his eyes, and he pulled hard at his pipe.Norah guessed he was thinking of days of long ago.

  She pulled her bait up, and examination told her it was untouched. Thefish were certainly shy, and another half-hour's tempting did not bringthem to the hook. It was exceedingly dull. Norah wound up her lineslowly. She also had been thinking.

  "I'm going for a walk, Daddy," she said.

  "All right, dear; don't go far," said her father absently.

  Norah walked soberly along the log until she reached the creek bank, andthen jumped ashore. She looked round at her father, but he was absorbedin his fishing and his thoughts, and so the little girl slipped awayinto the bush. She made her way among the trees quickly, keeping to theline of the creek. Presently she sat down on a moss-grown stump andthought deeply.

  The Hermit had been pretty constantly in Norah's mind since the troopershad been scouring the district in their search for the Winfieldmurderer. She had longed intensely to warn him--scenting certainunpleasantness to him, and possible danger, although she was loyallyfirm in the belief that he could not be the man for whom they weresearching. Still, how like the description was! Even though Norah'sfaith was unshaken, she knew that the veriest hint of the Hermit'sexistence would bring the troopers down on him as fast as they couldtravel to his camp. She put aside resolutely the thoughts that flockedto her mind--the strange old man's lonely life, his desire to hidehimself from his fellow-men.

  "I don't understand it a bit," she said aloud. "But I'll have to tellhim. He ought to know."

  With that she sprang up and ran on through the scrub. It was thickenough to puzzle many a traveller, but the little maid of the bush sawno difficulties in the way. It was quite clear to her, remembering howthe Hermit had guided their merry party on the first visit, weeks ago.At the exact spot on the creek she struck off at right angles into theheart of the trees, keeping a sharp lookout for the tall old form thatmight appear at any moment--hoping that her father might not grow tiredof fishing and coo-ee for her to return.

  But there was silence in the bush, and no sign of the Hermit could beseen. The thought came to Norah that he might have struck camp, and gonefarther back into the wild country, away from the men he dreaded. Butshe put the idea from her. Somehow she felt that he was there.

  She came to the clump of dogwood that hid the old log along which laythe last part of the track to the Hermit's camp and, climbing up, ranalong it lightly. There were no recent footprints upon it. Suddenly thesilence of the surroundings fell heavily on her heart.

  Reaching the end of the log that gave access to the clearing, she took ahasty glance round. The ashes of the fire were long dead. No one wasthere.

  Norah's heart thumped heavily. For a moment she fought with the longingto run back--back from this strange, silent place--back to Daddy. Thenshe gulped down something in her throat, and giving herself an impatientshake, she went resolutely across the clearing to the tent and peepedin.

  The interior of the tent was as neat and homelike as when Norah had seenit first. The quaint bits of furniture stood in their places, and theskins lay on the floor. But Norah saw nothing but her friend's face.

  The Hermit was lying on his bunk--a splendid old figure in his dress ofsoft furry skins, but with a certain helplessness about him that broughtNorah's heart into her mouth. As the flap of the tent lifted he turnedhis head with difficulty, and looked at the little girl with weary,burning eyes that held no light of recognition. His face was ghastlywhite beneath the sunburnt skin, which was drawn like parchment over thecheekbones. A low moan came from his dry lips.

  "Water!"

  Norah cast a despairing glance around. An empty billy by the old mantold its own tale, and a hurried search in the camp only revealed emptyvessels.

  "I'll be back in a minute," said Norah, sobbing.

  Afterwards she could not remember how she had got down to the creek. Herblouse was torn, and there were long scratches on her wrists, and shewas panting, as she came back to the sick man, and, struggling to raisehis heavy head, held a cup to his lips. He drank fiercely, desperately,as Norah had seen starving cattle drink when released after a longjourney in the trucks. Again and again
he drank--until Norah grew afraidand begged him to lie down. He obeyed her meekly and smiled a little,but there was no comprehension in the fevered eyes. She put her hand onhis forehead and started at its burning heat.

  "Oh, what'll I do with you!" she said in her perplexity.

  "Do?" said the Hermit with startling suddenness. "But I'm dead!" Heclosed his eyes and lay very still. "Dead--ages ago!" He muttered. Asecond he lay so, and then he turned and looked at her. "Where's thechild?" he asked. "I must go to him; let me go, I tell you!" He tried torise, but fell back weakly. "Water!" he begged.

  She gave him water again, and then bathed his face and hands, using herhandkerchief for a sponge. He grew quieter, and once or twice Norahthought he seemed to know her; but at the end he closed his eyes and laymotionless.

  "I'll be back very soon," she said. "Do please be still, dear Mr.Hermit!" She bent over him and kissed his forehead, and he stirred andmurmured a name she could not catch. Then he relapsed intounconsciousness, and Norah turned and ran wildly into the scrub.

  To bring Daddy--Daddy, who knew everything, who always understood! Therewas no other thought in her mind now. Whatever the Hermit might havedone, he needed help now most sorely--and Daddy was the only one whocould give it. Only the way seemed long as she raced through the trees,seeing always that haggard, pain-wrung face on the rude bunk. If onlythey were in time!

  Mr. Linton, sitting on the log and lazily watching his idle float,started at the voice that called to him from the bank; and at sight ofthe little girl be leaped to his feet and ran towards her.

  "Norah! What is it?"

  She told him, clinging to him and sobbing; tugging at him all the timeto make him come quickly. A strange enough tale it seemed to Mr.Linton--of hermits and hidden camps, and the Winfield murderer, andsomeone who needed help,--but there was that in Norah's face and in herunfamiliar emotion that made him hurry through the scrub beside her,although he did not understand what he was to find, and was onlyconscious of immense relief to know that she herself was safe, after themoment of terror that her first cry had given him. Norah steadiedherself with a great effort, as they came to the silent camp.

  "He's there," she said, pointing.

  Mr. Linton understood something then, and he went forward quickly. TheHermit was still unconscious. His hollow eyes met them blankly as theyentered the tent.

  "Oh, he's ill, Daddy! Will he die?"

  But David Linton did not answer. He was staring at the unconscious facebefore him, and his own was strangely white. As Norah looked at him,struck with a sudden wonder, her father fell on his knees and caught thesick man's hand.

  "Jim!" he said, and a sob choked his voice. "Old chum--Jim!"