CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE QUEST.
As Nic had supposed would be the case, hoof-marks were eitherobliterated or looked faint and old from the heavy soaking they hadreceived in the storm, while those made by a man were invisible, unlessto the ultra-keen eyes of some natives.
He noted this when he went out that same morning in pretty good time,for he felt convinced that Mr Dillon would give him the credit ofhelping Leather to escape.
It was a glorious morning, the dust being washed away by the storm, andeverything looking beautifully fresh and green in the sunshine.
When he went out he was soon aware of something else being wrong, forBrookes was rating the three blacks, who had thoroughly enjoyed theirtruant holiday, and would have stayed away for days in the myall scrub,but the bush in wet weather is to a blackfellow not pleasant, from theshowers of drops falling upon his unclothed skin. Consequently thestorm had sent them back, and they were all found clothed and curled upfast asleep in the wool-shed by old Sam, who had roused them up.
His words had brought Brookes on the scene, armed with a stout stick,with which he was thrashing them, while the rascals were hopping aboutin a peculiar shuffling dance, whose steps consisted in every onewanting to be at the back and pushing his fellow to the front.
Bungarolo was the least adept player, and Damper and Rigar managed tokeep him before them as a kind of breastwork or shield, behind whichthey could escape the threatening stick.
"Baal mumkull! baal mumkull! (don't kill)," he kept crying piteously.
"But that's all you're fit for, you lazy rascals. Where did you go?"
"Plenty go find yarraman. Budgery yarraman (good horses). Plenty gofind. Run away."
"I don't believe it. What horses ran away?"
"Kimmeroi, bulla, metancoly (one, two, ever so many)," cried Rigar, fromthe back.
"It's all a lie. Come: out with you!"
"No, leave him alone, Brookes," said Nic sternly. "I'll have no morequarrelling to-day."
The man faced round sharply.
"Look here, young master, are you going to manage this here station, oram I?" he cried.
"I am, as far as I know; and I won't have the black-fellows knockedabout."
The three culprits understood enough English to grasp his meaning, andburst out together in tones of reproach:
"Baal plenty stick. No Nic coolla (angry). Black-fellow nangery(stay), do lot work."
"Work! Yes," cried Nic. "Go away with you, and begin."
The three blacks set up a shout like school-children who had escapedpunishment, and danced and capered off to the work that they had leftthe day before.
"Look here, sir--" began Brookes again.
"Why don't you hold your tongue, Brooky?" cried old Sam. "You ain'tlooked in the glass this morning, or you'd see enough mischief was doneyesterday."
"Who spoke to you?" cried Brookes fiercely.
"Not you, or you'd get on better. Young master's quite right. Youcan't deal with the blacks that way."
"Breakfast!" cried a clear voice; and Nic turned to find his sisterJanet coming to meet him, looking very pale, but quite contented.
"I shall keep it a secret, Nic," she whispered. "I'm so glad, for allthat seemed so dreadful to me."
At that moment Mrs Braydon appeared at the door, she too looking pale,but eager to welcome her son; and no allusion was made during breakfastto the previous day's trouble.
But hardly had they finished when Nibbler burst into a deep-toned volleyof barking, which immediately started the two collies, and they rushedround to the front.
"Some one coming," cried Hilda. "Oh,--they're bringing back poorLeather!"
Nic sprang to the window, to see Mr Dillon, followed by five of hismen, three blacks, and seven or eight dogs, among which were threegaunt, grey, rough-haired, Scottish deer-hounds.
The boy had expected that Mr Dillon would come, but his sister's wordsstaggered him and gave him a sharp pang.
The next moment, though, he saw that she was wrong; and turning from thewindow, he exchanged glances with Janet, as he said quite coolly, "Whatdoes he want so soon?" and made for the door, thinking that he knew wellenough that they were on a man-hunting expedition, but congratulatedhimself on the convict's long start.
"Good morning, Mr Dominic," said the magistrate, riding up, while thetwo collies ran on to investigate the strange dogs, and Nibbler torefuriously at his chain.
"Good morning, sir," said Nic. "Here, Rumble--rumble! Come here, bothof you! Hi, Samson! Shut these two dogs up in one of the sheds."
"Yes," said the visitor, "or there'll be a fight." Then, as Sam camerunning up and relieved Nic of his task of holding the pair by theirblack frills, "Will you be good enough to walk a little way from thehouse, young man? I want a word or two with you."
"He can't know I was there," thought Nic; and he walked beside thevisitor's horse till it was checked, and the rider looked down sharplyat the boy.
"Now, young gentleman," he said, "I don't want to quarrel with yourfather's son, but I am a man who never allows himself to be played with.You played me a pretty trick last night."
"I, sir? How?"
"Do you want telling?"
"Of course, sir."
Nic felt the magistrate's eyes piercing almost into his very thoughts;but, at the same time, he saw those armed men and that pack of dogsready to hunt down the convict, and if he could avoid it he wasdetermined not to say all he knew.
"You came over to my place last night and broke a way out for thatfellow to escape."
"I did not," said Nic firmly.
"Do you mean to tell me that you did not bring over a handcuff key whichyour father has, and climb in at the roof and unlock the bracelets?"
"I do tell you so!" said Nic. "I did not know we had such a thing."
"On your word as a gentleman?"
"On my word as a gentleman," said Nic. Then to himself: "If he asks meif I came over, I must say Yes."
"Then I beg your pardon," said Mr Dillon. "But you have him here?"
"No," said Nic, "he is not here."
"I must ask your men. Will you summon them?"
"The blacks too?" said Nic.
"Yes, all of them, please."
"Hi, Sam!" cried Nic, as the old man banged to and fastened the doorwhere he had shut up the dogs. "Call Brookes and the blacks; then comehere."
"Right, sir," said the old man; and Mr Dillon went on:
"He got away somehow, and the dogs were after him till the storm spoiledthe scent."
"Then you can't flog him," said Nic in triumph.
"Not this morning, of course," said Mr Dillon good humouredly. "Allright, my young friend, you'll come round to my way of thinking."
"Never," said Nic firmly.
"That's a long time, squire. But don't you look so satisfied. Youreally do not imagine that our friend can get away?"
"There's plenty of room," said Nic.
"To starve, my led. But, mark my words, if we don't run him down thismorning, he'll come back before long to ask for his punishment, if themyall blacks have not speared him and knocked him on the head."
Just then the men came forward, and the magistrate's attention was takenup, so that he did not see Nic's shudder.
"Oh, Brookes," said Mr Dillon, "that fellow broke out and ran for thebush last night?"
"What?" cried the man, changing colour.
"Has he made you deaf?" said Mr Dillon. "Your Leather got away lastnight. Have you seen him?"
"No, no," said Brookes, who looked unnerved. "But you'll run him down,sir?"
"Of course. And you, Samson?"
"No, sir, he hasn't been back here. Here, you--Bung, Rig, Damper: haveyou seen Leather 'smorning?"
"Plenty mine see Leather chop rail."
"Yes, yes, that was yesterday. 'Smorning?"
The three blacks made a peculiar sound, and threw up their chins.
"No good, Belton," said Mr Dillon. "B
ack to the bunya clump. I havean idea that he struck off there, so as to keep up by the river. Don'tcare to mount and come and see a convict hunt, squire, I suppose?" saidthe magistrate inquiringly.
Nic gave him a furious look, and Mr Dillon nodded good humouredly androde after his men, the dogs beginning to bark as they started back, tobe answered by Nibbler and the collies, who thrust their noses under thebottom of the door.
"Won't take them big stag-hounds long to hunt him down," said Brookes,trying to hide his nervousness with a grin.
"Think they'll catch him, Sam?" said Nic.
"Well, sir, it's just about like a pair o' well-balanced wool scales,"said the old man rather sadly. "Dogs has wonderful noses of their own.But there, I 'spose we shall hear."
Nic went off to the stables, for he had not the heart to go indoors.And as he stood by his horse the desire came upon him strongly to mountand ride after Mr Dillon's party, so as to know everything thathappened, but he felt that it might appear to the poor fellow that hewas with the party trying to hunt him down, and he stayed and hung aboutthe station all day.
"Bung," he said toward evening, "you like Leather?"
"Plenty mine like damper."
"No, no; I mean did Leather ever knock you about?"
"Baal, no. Budgery (good)."
"Go over to the Wattles, Mr Dillon's, and find--did catch Leather. Youpidney? (understand)."
The man gave him a sly look, laughed, and ran into the cow-shed, to comeout directly after in his dress clothes, and armed. Then with a shouthe ran off at a long, quick trot toward the track.
It was getting toward midnight when he returned, to cooey under theboy's window.
"Well, did you find out?"
"No catch. White fellow plenty run along myall bush."
"Here, catch," cried Nic, and he pitched the man a big piece of damperand the blade-bone of a shoulder of mutton; and then, as he closed thewindow, he fancied he heard whispering outside his door, and anotherdoor closed.
First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales Page 30
