Читать книгу The Last Lemurian: A Westralian Romance - G. Firth Scott - Страница 4

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When we had disposed of our morning meal we debated our future plans.

I had only one horse with me and my ordinary swag, which contained nothing more than my limited kit, tobacco, and rations for a week or so.

"You'll need a pack horse," the Hatter said. "And I fancy we had better lay in a good store of powder and shot, as well as something to use them with, for we shall have to pass over rough country on our way, and may meet some wild niggers into the bargain. Any way, it will be as well to carry some weapons, in case we find the yarn about the mummy men to be true."

"I would as soon carry a good rig out of prospecting tools and some dynamite," I said.

"Would you?" he replied. "Perhaps you have not had very much travelling in wild black country. I have, and I know the value of a good shooter when it comes to business. Peace and friendship are all very well to talk about when there are no niggers around, but in the back blocks don't go without a revolver, and a rifle too, if you can get one."

"Then we shall want another pack horse to carry them," I said.

"And very useful he'll be when we come to load up the team with gold," he replied laughingly.

"Please yourself," I said. "It's all one to me, so long as we push along and see what there is in the yarn. If there's nothing we can always get back to Coolgardie."

"That's so," he answered. "If you don't mind, I'll do the fitting out of our party—both as regards choice and payment," he added.

"We will start fair—" I began.

"When we get to Wyunga," he interrupted. "Now we'll round up the horses and push on."

So we saddled up our horses and started; but we were not many miles on our way when we had our first streak of luck.

We were riding along at an easy pace, the Hatter leading his pack horse, when suddenly all three animals stopped short in their stride and stood, with ears pricked up, snorting and trembling as if playing a revival of the Balaam's ass episode. I looked round for some cause of the alarm but saw nothing beyond the usual bush surroundings.

"Camels," my companion said laconically.

"What!" I exclaimed.

"Camels," he repeated, leaning forward in his saddle with his head turned on one side and apparently listening intently.

I had heard, in camp-fire yarns, about the terror which seizes on horses when first they see or smell the ship of the desert. Their introduction into Australia for service over the long waterless tracks which exist in some parts of the interior had occurred some years previously, but none had ever come my way, and my knowledge of them and their ways was purely by hearsay, but this was evidently not the case with the Hatter.

"I don't quite make it out," he said, speaking as much to the neighbouring gum trees as to me.

I was about, to inquire what he meant, when he cried out: "Here, catch hold."

He moved his horses over to me and, throwing both reins into my hands, jumped from his saddle and ran quickly to a clump of gums that grew about a hundred yards from us.

From trembling the horses began to get restive, and I had a fairly warm time of it, what with my own mount, the Hatter's, and the pack horse. They kept my attention pretty well engaged, and I could only glance now and again in the direction whence the Hatter had disappeared. Presently I heard him call out to me and warn me to sit tight, and the next moment I realised the value of his advice. The deuce itself might have entered into the beasts, judging by the way they started plunging. I managed to hang on to my own; but the pack horse jerked its reins out of my hand, and the mare the Hatter rode reared so suddenly, that the old weather-worn leather of the bridle snapped and away went both horses as fast as they could gallop. It was a good ten minutes before my own grew sufficiently tired of bucking, in a way I never knew a horse to buck before, to permit me even to look round.

Then I saw the cause of the mischief. Just beyond the clump of stunted gums stood a team of five camels, with the Hatter at the head of the leader, and holding his sides and laughing as though he were witnessing the finest pantomime ever staged.

"Stick to it, my lad; he'll be used to them in an hour or so," he cried.

Before I had time to answer I was in the thick of another bout of bucks and pig jumps, and every other sort of eccentric motion which the mind of a horse can conceive of on the spur of the moment as a means to unseat its rider. I was a fairly good hand at riding, and could tackle an average bucker with a certain degree of safety and satisfaction; but it would be idle to deny that I have no desire whatever for a further experience of how a bush horse greets its first introduction to the camel tribe.

It was a great contest between my capacity for sticking on and the condition of my horse, and if the latter had not given out when it did I should have voyaged into space, and, perhaps, eternity, in a couple more rounds. When it did end my horse was too fatigued even to tremble.

"Here's a throw in," the Hatter exclaimed, when I was able to get near him, and after he had expressed his entire satisfaction at my exhibition of horsemanship. "We needn't waste time over Wyunga; we've got all the stores we want, and more too, for that matter, delivered right into our hands by the gift of Providence, or the luck of the road, as you may please to put it."

The camels, it appeared, he had found browsing peacefully with their loads on their backs, but without any signs of a driver or a keeper. He had looked round as well as he could, but could see nothing of a camp, and to his mind it seemed as if the camels had been where he had found them for at least a week. He was well versed in the manner of driving them, and had linked them up as the Afghans drive them, head to tail, and when I joined him, had them all on their knees calmly chewing the cud of pleasant reverie.

"It looks like a fit out for a big prospecting trip," he said, as we walked from the one to the other curiously examining the packs.

At his suggestion we decided to camp where we were (there was a half-filled water-hole near the clump of gums) and overhaul the load, and then, if the contents were of a kind to suit us and no owner appeared, we could steer right away for that wonderful range in the Westralian Never Never country where the women grew mountains high and gold lay about in boulders.

Our inspection showed us that our first surmise was correct; the team had evidently been fitted out for some prospecting tour, and in the packs we found everything we needed, and far more than we should have purchased, even to weapons and ammunition.

"But where are the owners?" I said, for it seemed strange that so much valuable property should be roaming about at large for any stray individual to pick up and utilise.

"Well, they're not about here, so far as I can see, but if you've any doubts about the question we can track where the team came from and see what's to be seen—though for my part I'm always open to receive what a kindly Providence sends my way without asking questions."

"I'd rather have a look round first," I said.

"Very well; I'll round up my horses, and then, when we've introduced them and our new team, we'll scour the country a bit."

It was a tough hour's work to get his horses back and docile enough to come near the camels, but he did it at last. When we had unloaded the team (the Hatter said they would not wander) and hobbled his packhorse, we mounted the others and set out to follow the track of the team.

It was easy work, and it was not long before we came upon all the evidence we needed as to the owners.

We found them lying where they fell, with the ashes of their fire between them, and a crop of spears sticking out of each. There were three of them, fine bearded chaps they must have been, but a week in the hot sun and with the ants and the crows had made them gruesome objects to look at, even from the distance.

As we rode round the camp we found three more bodies, only these had been blacks and females.

"It's best to leave them as they are," the Hatter remarked coolly, as he turned his horse's head in the direction we had come from. "The old, old bush story! They won't leave the domestic hearth of some stray nomad in peace, and then white civilisation is outraged because the blacks mete out summary jurisdiction upon the offenders."

"But it's strange they didn't plunder the team as well," I said.

"And strange they killed the women, too," he answered. "They don't often do that—unless the camels scared them. By Jove! I never thought of that," he exclaimed, looking round at me with his face aglow. "They were scared, I've heard, of horses when they first saw them, and now they're scared of camels. But what price our chances with the yellow lady's tribe if we ride up on camels?"

"I'd rather trust to the Winchesters if it comes to business," I said.

"Well, I'm satisfied with the camels," he answered.