by Mayne Reid
thisreason, visitors with whom they can converse, and who can bring them thelatest news from the world of society, are ever welcome.
Both the climate and customs of Australia make visitors less troublesometo their hosts, than in almost any other part of the world.
The traveller is usually provided with his own blankets, carried in aroll; and these, wrapped around him in the open air, he prefers to thebest bed his host could provide for him.
All that we should require from our comrade's acquaintance would be hiscompany, with plenty of substantial food; and with this last article thesquatters of Australia are abundantly supplied.
Not wishing to make a toil, of an excursion intended for amusement, wehad purchased an old horse, on which we had packed our blankets, with afew articles of food to sustain us, till we should reach the station ofthe squatter.
We might have accomplished the journey in a single day; but walkingtwenty miles within twelve hours, was too much like work; and, on thefirst night, after leaving Melbourne, we had only made about half thedistance!
We had sauntered leisurely along, and spent at least three or four hoursunder the shade of the trees growing by the side of the road.
This style of travelling appeared to suit the old horse, as much as hismasters. It was an animal that had seen its best days; and seemedaverse to any movement that called for a high degree of speed. Likemost of his kind, in the colonies, he was as much at home in one placeas another; and, wherever we stopped for repose, he appeared to thinkthat the halt was made for his especial accommodation.
We did not make much effort to undeceive him. He had seen hard times;and we were, probably, the best masters that had ever owned him.
On the second morning, shortly after resuming our journey, we observedsome hills, thickly covered with timber--at some distance to the rightof our road. We diverged from the direct path--to see whether we couldnot find a kangaroo, or some other harmless creature, possessing a happyexistence, that might be put an end to.
This undertaking was a success--so far as the kangaroos were concerned--since we were not able to do injury to any of these creatures.
We caught a glimpse of two or three of them, at a distance; but, afterroaming about the timbered ranges for several hours, we did not succeedto get within killing distance of any of them.
We returned to the bank of the river--just in time to form our bivouac,before the night fell upon us--having accomplished during the day, aboutfour miles in the direction in which we intended going!
"I am a little disgusted with hunting," said one of my companions, whosename was Vane. "I move that in the morning we keep on to the station;and see what amusement is to be found there."
This proposition was carried, by a majority of three. The horse, beingindifferent on the subject, was permitted to remain neutral.
"What amusement shall we find at your friend's house?" asked Vane of myother companion--who was the one acquainted with the squatter we were onthe way to visit.
"Well, I suppose we can have some hunting there," replied the individualthus interrogated; and who always answered, in a polite manner, to thename of "Cannon."
"No, thank you!" said Vane. "We've had enough of that sort of thingto-day. I don't want any more of it."
"But at the station we shall be provided with horses," suggested Cannon;"and, when we get sight of a kangaroo, we can run the animal down."
"That makes a difference," said Vane; "and I don't mind trying it for aday. But is there no other amusement, to be had at your friend'shouse?"
"Not that I know of--unless you make love to my friend's prettydaughter."
"Ah! that _would_ be amusement," exclaimed Vane, evidently a littlestirred by the communication.
"Is she good-looking?" he asked.
"Yes, extremely good-looking. But, remember, comrades," continuedCannon, "I will allow no serious love-making."
"Give yourself no uneasiness about that," rejoined Vane. "In loveaffairs, I am never serious. Are you?" he asked, turning to me.
"Yes, very serious," I answered, thinking of Lenore.
"Then you will never be successful," said Vane.
I passed half-an-hour in a fruitless endeavour to comprehend thephilosophy of this remark, after which I fell asleep.
Next morning, we resumed our route for the squatters' station; and hadgot about three miles along the road, when we came to a plain, entirelydestitute of timber. Upon this plain was a drove of about a hundredhorses. They remained motionless, with heads erect, and nostrilsspread, until we had approached within fifty yards of them. They thenturned, and galloped off at the top of their speed.
At this moment, a change suddenly showed itself in the demeanour of ourold roadster. We had been driving him before us, for the last mile ortwo, with great difficulty; but, on seeing his congeners take to flight,he suddenly threw up his head; and, either calling out to the drove thathe was coming, or to us that he was going, he started towards them.Before we could get hold of his bridle, he was beyond reach--going at arate that promised soon to place him among the foremost of the herd.
We had supposed that our hack belonged to some "serious family" ofhorses; and that the natural sedateness of his disposition had beenaugmented by years of toil and starvation. We were never moredisappointed, than on seeing him forsake us in the fashion he did. Atwo-year old could not have gone more gaily.
Cannon and Vane started off in pursuit of him; but, as I had a littlemore experience in colonial horses, than either of my companions, I badegood-bye both to our roadster and my roll of blankets; and, stretchingmyself under the shade of a tree, I resolved to await their return.
I did wait. One hour passed, then another, and a third; and still mycompanions did not come back.
"I am a fool for remaining here," reflected I. "The squatters stationcannot be more than five miles distant; and they have probably gonethere? The herd of horses undoubtedly belongs to it; and my companionshave followed them home?"
Influenced by these conjectures, I once more rose to my feet; andcontinued the journey, that had been so unexpectedly interrupted.
Volume Two, Chapter XXV.
JESSIE.
The path led me along the bank of a river. It was the Yarra-Yarra.
As I moved onward, I began to perceive, that I had not been such a fool,after all, in having waited awhile for my companions. My long quietreverie, in the shade of the tree, had refreshed me. I had escaped thehot sunshine; and I should now be able to reach my destination, duringthe cool hours of evening.
I did not wish to arrive at the station before Cannon: as I shouldrequire him to introduce me.
My solitary journey was altogether an agreeable one. The bright watersof the Yarra-Yarra flowed by my side, while the gentle breeze, as itcame softly sighing through the peppermint-trees, fanned my brow.
After advancing, as I supposed, a distance of about four miles--hearingonly the cries of the screaming cockatoo, and the horribly human voiceof the laughing jackass--I was suddenly and agreeably surprised by thebarking of a dog. The animal could not be far off; and it was also inthe direction I was going--up the river.
"The station cannot be distant?" thought I; and eager to catch a glimpseof it, I hastened forward. I had scarce made a step further, when I wasstartled by a piercing scream. It was a human voice--the voice of awoman. She who gave utterance to it must be near the spot--concealed bysome wattle-bushes on the bank of the river?
I rushed forward; and glided through the bushes into the open groundbeyond. I perceived a young woman just on the point of leaping into theriver!
My abrupt appearance seemed to cause a change in her design. Suddenlyturning towards me, she pointed to the water, at the same timeexclaiming, "Save her! O, save her!"
Looking in the direction thus indicated, I saw something like a child--alittle girl--struggling on the surface of the water. Partly supportedby the drapery of her dress, she was drifting down with the current.The next instant I was in the
water, with the child in my arms.
The bank of the river, for some distance below, was too high and steepfor me to climb out again. After making two or three ineffectualattempts, I gave it up; and, supporting myself and the child by aswimming stroke, I permitted the current to carry us down, until I hadreached a place where it was possible to scramble ashore.
The young girl upon the bank had done all she could to assist me, whileI was endeavouring to climb out; but, fearing, from the state ofexcitement in which she appeared to be, that she would herself tumblein, I had commanded her to desist.
On my relinquishing the attempt to ascend the steep bank, she appearedto think that I had done so in despair; and that both the child and Iwere irrecoverably lost.
Her screams recommenced, while her movements betokened something like adetermination to join company with us in the water. This, I believe,she would have done,
