The Kangaroo Hunters; Or, Adventures in the Bush

"Best take no notish of their antics, Mr. Arthur," said Wilkins; and, all agreeing in the wisdom of the counsel, they rowed forward, the men still uttering defiance against the strange invaders, and apparently amazed that their threats were received with indifference. But Ruth, whom Jenny had been ineffectually endeavoring to calm, at last could no longer control her terror, and poured forth such a succession of shrieks, that the savages seemed encouraged, and immediately directed a volley of spears against the canoes.

The swift motion happily discomfited their attempt, and but one spear took effect, seriously wounding the right arm of Ruth, which she had held up to shield her face.

A few moments carried the boats beyond the reach of the weapons, and they continued their voyage, till they believed themselves safe from the pursuit of the assailants. Mr. Mayburn and Margaret bound up the wound of Ruth, which bled profusely, and was very painful, and she could not be persuaded that she should ever recover. She declared that she was killed, and she earnestly begged that she might be buried in a church-yard, till Jenny, out of patience with her cowardice, said, —

"Be quiet, ye silly wench; where think ye we're to find a church-yard among these heathens?"

"Then they'll eat me, Jenny!" she cried, in great horror.

"Be comforted, Ruth," said Margaret; "you are under the protection of a merciful God; and as long as we are spared, we will take care of you, and even bury you if it be His will that you die before us. But, believe me, Ruth, though your wound must be painful, there is no danger for your life, unless you cry and fret yourself into a fever; so pray be patient."

"I will, Miss Marget," sobbed she. "Indeed I will, if you will feed my hens, and gather corn, whiles, for 'em. Shame on them black savages as burned down all that good corn."

The fretfulness and timidity of Ruth, however, inflamed the wound greatly; and before the next day ended, they thought it prudent to disembark at some quiet spot, where she could have shelter and rest. The banks of the river had now become rocky, gradually sloping upwards to rugged and irregular mountains, amongst which they trusted to find the shelter they desired. A sloping bank offered them a landing-place, and they disembarked, and the men bearing the light canoes on their shoulders, they left the river. Jack carried Ruth, now quite unfit for exertion, in his arms, and they were soon plunged into a maze of mountains, cut apart by narrow ravines, some of which were choked with fallen stones, and through others clear streams of water poured between rocks covered with new and graceful ferns, some of which were of gigantic size.

The further they penetrated into this maze, the more they became perplexed and embarrassed. At length, O'Brien, who had forced his way through a narrow, stone-encumbered crevice, called on them to join him in a lovely little valley, of three or four hundred yards across, encompassed with precipitous, overhanging rocks, and inaccessible, except by the narrow opening through which they had entered. It was overgrown with tall grass, amongst which they saw the useful wild oats; in one corner was a deep clear pool of water, while the surrounding rocks were covered with brushwood, from which were heard the pleasing notes of the beautiful pigeon, which the naturalists judged to be Geophaps Scripta, and which all agreed was the most delicious bird ever placed before gormandizing man.

There were numerous caves in these rocks, and they had only to choose one dry and light for the sick woman, and then, enjoying the luxury of many apartments, the young men selected their own bed-chambers, the boats were safely stowed into one hollow, and the ammunition placed carefully in another rocky cave; and once more the family rejoiced in a temporary resting-place.

One of the caves was chosen for a kitchen, and again the active young men dug, and lined with stones, an oven, in which Jenny baked cakes of the fresh-gathered oats, a dozen pigeons were despatched, tea was made for the invalid, and all was festivity and peace. Still, Ruth's wound, which was torn by a jagged spear, showed no appearance of healing, and it was resolved to spend some days in this beautiful and untrodden solitude, to allow the poor girl to recover, and to recruit the strength of all. But it was not possible to confine the active boys to the narrow valley, and they daily found a pretext for some expedition. One day they set out to search for the Tea shrub, and brought home a large quantity of leaves. Another day they scaled some of the lower rocks, to obtain gum from the numerous trees from which it exuded, and brought out all the family to see a curious tree, the trunk of which, formed like a barrel, was in the thickest part not less than thirty feet in circumference.

"It is one of the Sterculiads," said Mr. Mayburn, "and is, I conclude, that wonder of Australia popularly known as the Bottle Tree, or, more scientifically, this peculiar species is named Delabechea Rupestris. It appears to be full of gum, and is, doubtless, a great blessing to the natives."

Baldabella seemed rejoiced to see the tree, which she declared was "good, very good," chewing the branches with great enjoyment; and they found there was so much mucilage in the wood, that they cut some shavings, and poured boiling water over them, when a clear, sweet jelly was formed, most agreeable to the palate, and highly relished by the whole party.

The next expedition was suggested by Baldabella, who pointed to some bees humming among the trees, and said, "Make very good dinner – very good supper; Baldabella find his nest." Margaret taught the woman the name, honey, which she concluded was the good dinner she alluded to. Then the woman caught a bee, appearing to have no fear in handling it, and catching a piece of white down which had fallen from the breast of some bird, and was floating on the air, she touched it with gum, and stuck it upon the captive bee; she now called on the rest to follow her, and leaving the valley, she stood on an elevated rock, released the bee, and kept her keen eye fixed on the white down as it sailed away, following the flight of the insect, till she saw it settle in a tree. Then she stopped, and pointing to the trunk, ordered Jack to cut it. His axe was soon at work; the bark was stripped, and the hollow laid open: they found the tree quite filled with honey, and cutting away a considerable quantity, they carried it off on pieces of bark. The bees, which were very small, either careless in the midst of plenty, or powerless to injure, did not molest the robbers. The honey was much mingled with wax, and looked and tasted like gingerbread; but, kneaded with the bitter oat-paste, it rendered the biscuits pleasanter and more palatable.

"We really seem to have all we want here, Miss Marget," said Jenny one day. "Isn't it a pity to hurry t' poor master over these weary commons and fells? We'se be sure to have winter at some end; and hadn't we better bide here a bit till it's past?"

"It is really near the beginning of winter now, nurse," said Margaret; "it is more than a year since we left England; for it is now the end of April. I felt the air a little cold during last night, though now it is mild and balmy; and the evergreen shrubs, continual successions of flowers, noisy birds, and humming insects, make it more like an English summer than the end of autumn. This is truly a charming climate."

"It's very nice, Miss Marget," answered Jenny; "but don't you think we should be better of a change of meat? One tires of pigeons always."

"Very right, Jenny," said O'Brien; "though the observation is not new. I'll tell you what we will do: we will stalk a kangaroo for you."

"No easy task, I should think, Gerald," said Arthur, "if the kangaroo be as difficult to tire out as Wilkins tells us."

"He'll lead ye a bonnie chase," said Wilkins, "that will he. Ye'll tire afore him. Ye'd better wait till Baldabella makes an end of that net she's shaping to catch 'em. She's a long time about it."

"And we may wait another week," said Gerald, "to obtain the ignoble means of snaring the poor fellow. No; I say, let us have a regular stalking-day. Arthur, what do you say?"

"I cannot have Arthur leave us for a day," said Mr. Mayburn. "I should not feel it safe for Margaret. I can rely on his judgment and discretion."

A few days after this Jack was engaged in putting the canoes in repair, and Wilkins had gone off to the river with Baldabella, to spear fish, when the two boys entreated that they might be allowed to take spears and bows – guns being prohibited, unless Arthur was of the party, – and set out after a kangaroo; for the woods and grassy hollows among the mountains abounded in game.

On the promise to Mr. Mayburn that they would not ramble far from home, they were allowed to go; while Margaret was employed in teaching little Nakinna to read, by tracing letters and words on the sand, and Mr. Mayburn and Arthur were searching the crevices of the rocks for the rare birds and the brilliant plants which, even at that late season, were to be found in profusion.

In the middle of the day Baldabella and Wilkins returned with baskets filled with large fish, and a bag of pods filled with small beans, which they had plucked in a sandy nook near the river. Each pod contained ten or twelve beans; and Baldabella's exclamations of delight showed they were considered a prize.

"I fear," said Arthur, "that these beans are too dry at this season to be useful as good vegetables, but I fancy we might roast them, and use them as a substitute for coffee, to surprise our sportsmen when they return from their expedition."

With great satisfaction, Jenny heated the oven and roasted the beans, which were not larger than those of coffee, till they became the proper deep-brown color. They were then bruised between two stones, and boiled with a little honey, and the brown liquid wanted but milk to represent indifferent coffee. The partakers of the beverage declared it to be perfect; and Wilkins was sent back to the river to procure an abundant supply, to be roasted for future occasions.

When the evening drew near, and the family, leaving their several occupations, assembled together as usual, great anxiety filled every breast, for the two hunters had not returned. They had taken no provision with them; but this was a minor consideration, for no one could starve in this region of plenty. Nor could the chase itself lead them into danger; but there remained the ever-existing terror of the treacherous and cunning natives, or still worse, of an encounter with the lawless bush-rangers. The fears of Mr. Mayburn soon amounted to deep distress, and at length Arthur and Wilkins set out to a high point of the mountains, where they could command an extensive view, hoping to see the wanderers. But before they reached the pinnacle, sudden darkness veiled the prospect, and Arthur reluctantly adopted the only means he could then use to recall the boys. He fired his rifle, and the echoes, flung from mountain to mountain, thundered like a charge of artillery; and it seemed impossible that this report should not reach the ears of the thoughtless ramblers.

After waiting a few minutes, in the vain hope of hearing some answering shout, Arthur and Wilkins retraced their steps to the caves, depressed with the ill-success of their mission. Yet such was the deep distress of the father, that his children endeavored to conceal their own sorrow, that they might console him. He mourned as lost, not only his own brave boy, but the not less dear son of his lamented friend; and long refused to be comforted. Arthur represented to him that no more could be effected till morning; but that the youths, when they had gone astray would have probably taken refuge in one of the numerous caves in the mountains, where they would be safe during the night; and he promised that at the first gleam of light, he, Wilkins, and Jack, would set out in different directions to search for them.

"And remember, dear papa," said Margaret, "this is, happily, not a country of fierce beasts; they may enter a cave boldly, secure that they shall not disturb a lion or a bear in his den. Nor need they fear the snowstorm or the hurricane. This is a pleasant land! God seems to have created it for the abode of peace. Is it not, then, fearful wickedness that civilized man, the professed Christian should scatter the seeds of evil rather than the seeds of truth among the simple inhabitants?"

"This is, truly, a calm and blessed region," answered Mr. Mayburn. "We seem to have been Heaven-directed towards it; and if my two dear boys were again safely at my side, I confess that I should feel reluctant to leave it. In this vast and lovely solitude, where man has never before planted his destroying foot, where neither storms nor wild beasts appall, and where God himself provides our food, even as He fed the Prophet in the wilderness, we seem to be brought face to face with Him. Here we see and hear Him alone in His glorious works so richly scattered around us. Such may have been Eden, before the sin of man polluted it. In this sublime solitude, consecrated to devotion and peace, would I willingly remain conversing with my God. Here would I, —

'Sustain'd and soothedBy an unfaltering trust, approach my grave,Like one who wraps the drapery of his couchAbout him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.'"

"It is a charming vision," said Margaret. "But look round you, papa; the fresh, the restless, the aspiring spirit of youth must be exercised and disciplined by the duties and trials of life. We may not dare to rest, dear father, till we have done our work."

"You are always rational, Margaret, and I am but a selfish visionary," answered Mr. Mayburn. "Even now my idle dreams have turned away my thoughts from my heavy and real calamity – the loss of my children."

"Depend on't we'se find t' lads all right, master," said Wilkins; "and they'll tell us what a good laugh they had when they heared that grand salute we gave 'em amang these rattling hills."

CHAPTER XXVI

The Search for the Lost. – The Fig-tree. – Signals. – The Wanderers found. – The Wounded Boy. – The Sufferings of the Thirsty. – The Rescue and Return. – The Kangaroo Conflict. – A strange Meeting. – The Bush-rangers. – The miraculous Escape

Sleep fled from all the sorrowful family, and they gladly saw the morning light which would enable them to set out to track the unlucky boys. The three men chose the high pinnacle from whence Arthur had fired the preceding evening for a rendezvous, and fixed a white cross of peeled rods against the dark foliage of a gum-tree, that stood tall and conspicuous on the summit, as a land-mark. From thence Arthur proceeded directly north amidst the intricacies of the mountains, while Jack went off at the right-hand, and Wilkins at the left. It was agreed that they should meet at the same spot in the evening, if the search was not successful before then. Arthur carried one of the guns; the other being left with Mr. Mayburn, that he might fire it as a signal, in case of alarm; while Arthur proposed, if he succeeded in discovering the fugitives, to recall the other two men by firing his gun.

Arthur's share of the work was certainly the most toilsome. At one moment he was climbing over some lofty rock; the next, he was searching for a pass amidst inaccessible heights; then winding through tortuous gorges, till his head became so bewildered that it was only when he observed the course of the sun, or caught sight of the happy signal of the white cross, that he was able to determine his position. Several times, from some elevation, he shouted loudly the names of the absent boys, but none answered. The day wore away, and he gladly rested for a short time beneath a fig-tree, still bearing a quantity of ripe fruit, while the ground was strewn with the decayed figs, on which flocks of bronze pigeons, yellow cockatoos, and rose-colored parrots, were busily feeding. These birds seemed to confide in Arthur's forbearance, for they continued to enjoy their feast without evincing any alarm, except by a vehement greeting, in their several notes, as if they inquired his business at their board.

The arched roots of the fig-tree afforded him an easy mode of access to the upper branches, where he filled his straw hat with the fruit, and then continued his walk, enjoying the refreshment; for the figs, though not luscious, were ripe and juicy.

"I will give one more shout," thought he; and his voice, cleared and strengthened by his refreshment, rang through the echoing mountains. He waited for five minutes; still there was no reply; but his eye caught a light smoke among the mountains. It might be the fires of the natives he thought; but even were it so, the boys might have fallen into their hands, and no time must be lost in rescuing them. He made ready his gun, and, still bearing his load of figs, he directed his course briskly towards the suspected spot. But it was most difficult to attain the place from whence the smoke seemed to proceed, and he wandered for an hour amidst intricate windings, making many unsuccessful attempts to penetrate to the spot, till at length he came to a small hollow, surrounded by dungeon-like walls, where a fire of dry wood was smouldering, but no one was near it.

"Hugh! Gerald!" he shouted; and at the sound of his voice his brother appeared, crawling feebly from a hole in the rocks.

"Hugh, my boy, are you hurt?" asked Arthur, in a hurried tone: "and where is Gerald?"

Hugh pointed to the hole from whence he had issued, and in a hoarse, weak voice, said, "Water! water!" Scarcely conscious what he did, Arthur pressed the juice of a fig into the parched mouth of the boy, who murmured, "Thank God! But, oh, Arty! can you get any water for poor Gerald?"

Putting more figs into his hand, Arthur stooped down to the low entrance, and passed into a small dark hollow, where Gerald was stretched out, almost insensible, and near him lay dead a huge kangaroo. Arthur gave the poor boy the only refreshment he had to offer, the juice of the figs; but he seemed in a much more feeble state than Hugh, and when his kind friend with difficulty got him out into the open air, he saw with consternation that his leg was bound up with a handkerchief, through which the blood was oozing.

"How did this happen, Hugh?" asked Arthur, before he ventured to examine the wound.

"It was the kangaroo," answered he; "and then, when we had killed it, we were far too ill to eat it, though we have had no food since we left home."

"I cannot tell what I must do," said Arthur. "It will be impossible to get you home to-night, feeble as you are; and papa will now be in alarm at my absence."

"But you will not leave us again, Arty," said Hugh, sobbing. "I fear dear Gerald will die. I dare not remain alone any longer."

"I must leave you for a short time," answered Arthur. "I think I shall be able to summon Wilkins and Jack to us; then they can search for water, and carry Gerald home."

Hugh burst into tears, and said, "But the bush-rangers – I cannot tell you all, Arthur, my head is so bad. There are bush-rangers; we have seen them; they will meet you, and they will come and kill us. At least, carry Gerald back to the cave."

In increased alarm, Arthur conveyed Gerald into the dismal cave, and leaving them all the remainder of the figs, he waited to hear no more, but hurried off with all speed towards the rendezvous, looking round as he went on, for some spring or pool from which he could procure water for the suffering boys. When he reached a high rock, not far from the rendezvous, he ventured to fire his gun, and was immediately answered by the shouts of the men, who, following the sound and flash of the gun, soon came up to him.

"Where are they? Oh, Mr. Arthur, have you not found them?" said Jack.

Arthur, in a few words, told the distressing story; and night being now at hand, it was agreed that Jack should return to appease the uneasiness of the family, while Wilkins should accompany Arthur back to the two anxious boys, with whom they would remain till daylight, and then bring them home. Wilkins undertook to procure water for them from a pool at a little distance, where Jack and he rested, and where they had cleaned out two large gourds they had found, and converted them into water-bottles.

These gourds were a great treasure; they carried them to the pool, filled them with fresh-water, and, after drinking themselves, hastened forward with all the vigor that remained to them after the day's fatigue, towards the spot where the boys were lying, but did not reach it till night had made it most difficult to discover it. The joy of the poor wanderers was excessive when they saw their friends arrive, bringing the refreshment they so much desired. Gerald was already somewhat revived by the figs; and after he and Hugh had drunk some water, they began to desire more substantial food; and it was not long before Wilkins had cut off, and broiled, some steaks of kangaroo venison, of which all the hungry party partook with great enjoyment. Still the boys were too much weakened and exhausted to enter into any details of their adventure that night; and when Arthur and Wilkins had collected heath for beds and covering – for the nights were now chill, – they all crept into the cave, and slept soundly till awakened by the rude, early greeting of the laughing jackass.

Then, after more kangaroo steaks, Arthur made an examination of Gerald's lacerated and bruised leg, which Hugh had previously bandaged to the best of his skill. They could now spare water to wash the wound, and the bandages were replaced by some made from Arthur's handkerchief; and Wilkins having cut down the spreading bough of a fig-tree, Gerald and the kangaroo were placed side by side upon it, and borne by Arthur and Wilkins. The procession moved slowly and silently, Hugh looking round anxiously as he preceded the litter, in dread of the terrible bush-rangers.

The rugged mountain-road tired the bearers greatly, but long before they reached the rendezvous, they saw a figure standing before the dark gum-tree, and a loud "Halloo!" brought Jack to meet and assist them. He had considerately brought with him a bucket of water; and they rested and refreshed themselves, before they completed their toilsome journey. But fatigue was forgotten when they all met again in the quiet valley; Mr. Mayburn and Margaret wept for joy, and though nurse did not fail to chide them as "bad boys," she fondled and nursed the wanderers, and produced for their comfort cockatoo-stew, flavored with wild herbs that resembled parsley and marjoram, and mixed with the beans they had got on the banks of the river.

"Keep a sentinel at the pass, Arthur," said Hugh. "We shall be watched and tracked; there will be scouts all around us. It is a miracle that we have arrived here safely."

"Oh! Master Hugh, honey, is it that good-to-nought Black Peter?" asked Jenny.

"Worse than that, I am sorry to say, nurse," answered he; "for there are dozens of Black Peters ready to snap us up. But don't look so sorrowful, Meggie, and I'll just tell you how it all happened. That big old fellow," pointing to the kangaroo, "kept us trotting after him for hours and hours, and always when we got him within reach of a spear or an arrow, he bounded off like a race-horse, and you could not say whether he hopped, or galloped, or flew. It was a beautiful sight, but very vexatious. At last we got desperate; we were tired and hungry, and we determined to have him; so we parted, that we might attack him on both sides, and force him to stand at bay. It was a capital plan, and turned out very well. We chased him into that queer little dungeon-like hollow where you found us. He flew round and round, but we guarded the entrance, and he could not escape, and at last we drove him into a corner, pierced mortally with our spears. I wanted Gerald to wait till the beast was weakened with loss of blood; but he was in a hurry to finish, so he rushed on with his drawn knife, and I followed to help him. But when the brave old fellow found he had not a chance, he faced round, and with his fore-feet – his arms, I should say – he seized me, and gave me a heavy fall. Gerald was then behind, and plunged his knife into him, on which the desperate creature struck out with his powerful hind claw, and tore and bruised poor Gerald, as you see.

"I was soon on my feet again, and then I speedily despatched the beast; but I should never like to kill another in that way; it was just like murdering one's grandfather. Then I turned to poor Gerald. Oh, Margaret! if you had seen how he bled! and how frightened I was till I got his wounds tied up! He was very thirsty, and begged me to get him some water, or he thought he must die. So off I set, keeping a sharp eye on our den, that I might find it again. I mounted a crag, and looked about me till I saw flocks of birds, all hovering over one place, a good stretch from me. 'That's my aim,' thought I, and on I dashed, over rocks and valleys, straight forward, till I saw before me a grand silver-looking lake, covered with ducks and swans; while regiments of birds, like cranes and pelicans, with other unknown species, were drawn up round it.