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First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 35. Nic Has Suspicions |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. NIC HAS SUSPICIONS The next day Nic walked over to the spot where he had hung up the bag of meal, took plenty of precautions to make sure that he was not observed, and carried it from place to place, halting, resting, and taking a look round as if he were stalking birds, and finally reaching the proposed spot, where he dropped the bag into a narrow crevice, covered it with green, and all the time carried his gun ready as if to aim at a bird. The precautions, however, appeared to be perfectly unnecessary, and he was satisfied that he had performed his mission unseen, but it remained to be proved whether the convict had been earlier and gone away disappointed. Making this an opportunity for looking over some sheep, Nic walked about a mile out of his way going back, and had just finished his casual inspection when he came upon Brookes, gun on shoulder, who immediately stood his piece against a bush and began to examine some of the flock, throwing so much energy into the task that Nic felt suspicious, and a chill ran through him as he thought it possible that the man was on the watch. But Nic felt that the only course open to him was to assume a careless air; and walking over to where the man had caught a sheep, thrown it, and was examining its fleece, he exclaimed: "Anything the matter with it, Brookes?" "My word, Mr Nic, how you made me jump! Why, where did you come from?" "Over yonder. I was here ten minutes ago, and didn't notice anything wrong then." "Oh, you've been a-shepherding, sir, have you? That's right: sheep's things you can't be too 'tickler about. No, there's nothing very wrong. I'll come round here with a bucket o' dressing, though, to-morrow." "Shall I go or stay?" thought Nic, as the man turned over layer after layer of the thick wool which opened down the animal's sides as if divided by a series of partings like that leading to the crown of a human being's head. "If I stay I shall make him suspicious. If I go it may disarm him." "Oh," he said aloud, "that doesn't look bad. I shall go on and get Sorrel. I'm going to ride round the bullocks. Not coming yet, I suppose?" "No, sir; I'll just run my eye round that hundred over yonder with Black Damper. Haven't counted 'em 'smorning, I s'pose?" "I haven't been there," said Nic. "Ah, they'd better be counted. One'd think the blacks could count a flock of sheep, but not they. It's _bulla_ and _kimmeroi_ and _metancoly_, and saying that over and over again. They can eat as many as you like, but counting beats 'em." "Yes, they are stupid that way, Brookes," said Nic; and he went straight off for home, looking perfectly unconcerned, but feeling particularly uncomfortable as he turned over in his own mind the possibility of the man finding the convict's hiding-place. For now it seemed such a very simple thing, and he wondered that the men from the Wattles and the government police had not gone straight for and made some efforts to get down to the bottom of the great gorge. By degrees, though, he grew better satisfied, as he recalled that this place bore the reputation of being impossible of access, and even the blacks declared that no man had ever been down. Then came a horrible thought. "Suppose Brookes should encounter the convict and use the gun he always carried now! Leather was unarmed, but--" Nic shuddered as he thought of what a strong, active man would do if driven to bay. The gun would only go off once, but a desperate man would find weapons in sticks and stones. The boy made an effort to cast off the unpleasant sensation, and hurried home, where the calm aspect of everything and the look of content he saw in his mother's and sisters' eyes altered the current of his thoughts; and he hurried himself, saddling Sorrel, and rode off, after promising that he would be back in good time to take tea. He had a long round, found the cattle wanted driving in a bit, and after performing this duty by the help of his two dogs, he cantered towards home, coming round by where Rigar was playing shepherd with another flock. But all was right here, save that the collies helped to bring them half a mile nearer the station to new pastures; after which Nic turned his horse's head homeward, arriving in good time and finding Brookes busily helping old Sam and looking more like himself. A couple of days elapsed, and on the following morning Nic announced that he was going to take a long round, the consequence being that his satchel was well filled with bread, meal, and cake; and he rode off after seeing that all was going on right about the place, and in a matter-of-fact sort of way as if he had been used to it for years. He cantered gently till he was out of sight, and then gave Sorrel his head and skimmed over the ground till he was compelled to draw rein and walk the horse in and out among the trees, besides being careful to avoid the blocks of stone which here and there thrust their grey heads out of the slope. For he was nearing the spot where he had hidden the meal, and he had determined to fetch it and carry it over his saddle-bow as nearly as he could to where he had parted from the convict. To his delight, on reaching the hiding-place he found that the bag was gone, and for the moment he was convinced that Leather had fetched it; but Nic's next thought was startling: "Suppose Brookes had been suspicious--had seen it and taken it away." The thought was horrible, but he dismissed it, telling himself that he was too ready to imagine things; and, determined to try and find the convict again, he mounted and rode along parallel with the edge of the gorge till he was as nearly as he could guess to where the patch of rock had slipped down. Here, in a shut-in tract of grassy land, he dismounted, cast his hobbled horse loose to graze, and shouldering his gun, went in among the trees and tried to find the stone trap in which he had been caught. He looked around him, and then started off in the direction Leather had taken that evening, keeping about fifty yards from the edge so that this distance would serve for his guidance back, and kept looking to right and left for some signs of the convict having passed that way, but finding none. Every step he took for quite an hour led him through fresh beauties. He had no desire to use his gun; so, as if in consequence, birds of brilliant plumage flitted from tree to tree, or rose in flocks to fly shrieking to the coverts. Twice over he saw snakes; lizards seemed to be wonderfully plentiful wherever the stones lay scorching in the sunshine. Every now and then he saw the Blue Mountains, rising up tier after tier, across the gorge, and as he peered through the various openings he could not help noticing how thoroughly they deserved their names. But he only saw one natural object in his mental view, and that was the great deep crack, which he felt sure he would encounter before long, running at right angles across his path, and this he felt equally sure would be the way down into the gorge and to Leather's home. "And if he can go down it," said Nic to himself, "I can, and what's more, I will." But at the end of another hour there was no sign of any rift such as he had pictured, and beginning to grow hot and weary, he turned to find a sheltered spot where he could rest and refresh himself with some of the provisions that he had intended to share with the convict, when, to his astonishment, he found himself face to face with him, for Leather stood with his back against a stone. _ |
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