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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 32. A False Scent |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. A FALSE SCENT Two days, three days glided by, and the convict was not found. Then a week passed, and another, and he was still at large; but a letter was brought up from the post, a couple of the mounted police being the bearers. This letter, from the doctor, told that Sir John O'Hara was dangerously ill, and that his life was despaired of; it was impossible to leave him till a change took place; and the letter ended affectionately, with hopes that Nic was managing the station well, and that all was going on peacefully. The mounted police were going on to Mr Dillon's, and on their return in three days they were to take back Mrs Braydon's answer. The men had just ridden off after a rest and a hearty meal, when, as Nic turned to re-enter the house and hear the letter read over again, he saw old Sam's head over the garden fence, and the handle of his spade held up as a signal. "Want me, Sam?" "Ay, sir; come in here. I don't want Brooky to see me talking to you as if I was telling tales. We has to live together, and we're bad enough friends without that." Nic went round by the gate, and the old man sunk his voice. "He's been at 'em, sir." "Who has been at what?" "I don't mean what you mean, sir. Brooky got at them two police. Know what that means?" "About Leather?" cried Nic. "That's it, sir. There'll be another hunt 'safternoon and to-morrer; and if they don't ketch him then, when they go back they'll take a 'spatch from Mr Dillon, and we shall have a lot of 'em down here." Nic's face contracted from his mental pain. "Don't you look like that, my lad. They ain't got him yet. Do you know, I shouldn't wonder if he's gone right away with Bung's tribe, and they won't get him. But I say, Master Nic, you won't go over to the Wattles, will you?" "No, certainly not." "But you'd like to hear?" "Yes, of course." "Then I tell you what, sir: just you tell our three that, as they've been very good boys, they may have a holiday and go and get a good lot o' bunya nuts." "Get a lot of what?" said Nic, in a tone of disgust. "Bunya nuts, sir: grows on them trees something like firs. They ain't half bad, I can tell you." "But I don't want to send them out nutting," said Nic. "They're better at work." "You don't understand, sir. I saw them staring over the fences at the perlice. You give them leave, and off they'll go and watch everything, just as if they were on'y playing about. Then we shall know everything." In the result, there was very little to know; for when the three blackfellows came back that night, they could only tell that there had been a long hunt for the convict. They got to know, too, that there was to be another next day. Then the police returned, received their letters for the doctor, and as they rode off for their long journey to the port they told Nic in confidence not to make himself uncomfortable, for they would be back soon with a little troop and some trackers, and that then they would soon catch the escaped man. "I don't suppose he'll venture near the station, sir; but if he does, and don't surrender, you're justified in shooting him down." Nic drew his breath hard as he went back to the house very thoughtfully, but he said nothing indoors. That afternoon he mounted, and sent the two collies nearly frantic by whistling to them to come after him; and as they dashed on Nic rode after at an easy canter, to take a long round amongst the grazing, off-lying cattle, and carry out another project he had in mind. It was very pleasant riding there through the far-stretching, park-like place, and that afternoon the number of birds he passed was enormous, but Nic did not shoot at them. A large iguana, a hideous, dragon-like creature, ran to a big tree, making Sorrel start as it crossed his path, and then the great lizard crept up among the branches, puffing itself out, waving its tail, and looking threatening and dangerous. But Nic paid no heed to it, instead of shooting it for the blacks' supper. And twice over large snakes were left unmolested, in spite of the furious barkings of the dogs, and their reproachful looks, which seemed to say, "Why didn't you shoot?" For Nic had been thinking that if he extended his round day by day, he would, sooner or later, come upon Leather, who must be in hiding somewhere near, for he would never dare to go right off into the wilds and seek starvation. There were the dogs too; and in all probability they would scent him out, and he could warn him of the coming of the police. But though Nic extended his rounds more and more, the days glided by, and neither in open glade, deep ravine, ferny gorge, hollow forest monarch, nor dense patch of bush did he come upon the slightest token of the convict ever having been there. Then in despair he tried a new plan. He quietly got the three blacks together and explained to them what he wanted, and rode behind them in high glee as they trotted on, spear in hand. "What a stupid I was not to think of this before!" he said to himself; full of confidence. But that night he rode back low-spirited and dull. The blacks had shown him holes in trees, out of which they chopped opossums; the lairs of kangaroos; the pool where a couple of egg-laying, duck-billed platypi dwelled; and trees bearing a kind of plum, and others with nuts: but no signs of Leather. He tried the next day, and at another time would have been fascinated by the unusual-looking objects the blacks pointed out; but now he wanted to find the convict, and everything else was as nothing; for he felt certain that if the party came over from Port Jackson, the result would be that Leather would be hunted out, refuse to surrender, and be shot down. But the trips with the blacks all proved to be dismal failures. Oh yes, they understood. "Plenty come along find Leather. Corbon budgery. My word, come along." But they found him not; and when bullied, they smiled, looked stupid, or shook their heads. "It's because they won't find him, Master Nic. They know all the time," said old Sam. Acting upon this idea, Nic attacked the three blacks separately, telling them he was sure they knew where Leather was in hiding, and insisting upon being told; but the only result he obtained in each case was a stare of surprise and puzzlement. The man's face puckered up, and at last he mumbled out: "No pidney (understand). Mine no take Leather fellow in myall. Mine no been see it mandowie (tracks)." "Be off!" said Nic; and the others talked in a similar way, and went "off;" looking the quintessence of stupidity. "You're all wrong, Sam," said Nic, the next time he ran against the old man. "What about, sir--them calves?" "No, no--about the blacks. I questioned each of them, and they were all as stupid as could be." "No, I ain't wrong, sir. You get 'em all three together, and promise 'em plenty of damper, some sugar, and a pot each of your ma's jam; then you'll see." "I'll soon do that," said Nic. "They're in the wool-shed." "But Brooky's there, sir." "No, I saw him go off toward the fern gully an hour ago, with a gun upon his shoulder." "Look here, sir. You'd better lock up all the guns, and keep 'em till they're wanted, or maybe we shall be having mischief done." "What do you mean?" "Mean, sir? As Brooky's always going about with a gun, and on the watch. He don't want a gun to go and look round o' they cows. He feels as Leather's close handy somewhere, and afraid he'll take him unawares. If you was to ask him, he'd tell you he was sure the blacks knew where Leather's hiding. There, I'm sorry for him after all." "So am I, poor fellow." "Nay, I don't mean Leather: I mean Brooky. He can't even sleep of a night for fear Leather should come and pay him out. It sarves him right, I know, for he always was a brute to Leather; but there, he's being paid back pretty severe. You go and talk to them there black boys. You'll get it out of them with that jam." Nic strode across toward the wool-shed, and found the blacks jabbering away hard, and evidently quite excited; but they heard his steps, and three rough black heads came softly into sight, one round each doorpost, and the other above a couple of broad boards which ran in grooves, used to keep pigs or other animals from entering to make a warm bed in the wool. But the moment they caught sight of their young master they disappeared, the middle man going off cart-wheel fashion, like a black firework, with arms and legs flying, so as to get behind a stack of wool. "Here, you fellows," cried Nic, looking over the board, "come here!" "Baal go floggee blackfellow," protested Bungarolo. "No mine no flog," cried Nic. "Mas Nic corbon budgery (very good). All come along." This brought out the other two grinning. "Mine come fish?" cried Damper. "No; I want to find Leather fellow. You boys pidney where he is." The faces ceased grinning, and looked as if carved out of some burned wooden stump, all hard, solid, and immovable. "There, I know: so no nonsense. You all take me and show me Leather fellow's mandowie, and I'll give you plenty damper, plenty mutton, plenty sugar and jam." "Mine no find mandowie (tracks)," said Rigar. "You pidney (know), Damper?" "Mine no pidney," said Damper. "Mandowie myall. Bungarolo pidney?" "Bung no pidney," said that gentleman. "Yes, you all pidney--more sugar, more jam, more damper," cried Nic. But the men only stared blankly; and growing impatient at last with the three ebony blacks, Nic left them to go back to Sam, but turned sharply, to see that they were all three watching him with their faces in a broad grin. This exasperated him so that he made a rush back to look into the long dark shed, where he could see wool everywhere, but no traces of the blacks, who seemed to have disappeared. "I'll bring a whip," he shouted, and then went away, laughing at the way the men were scared. "Sam's right," he said: "they are like big black children. Here! Hi! Samson," he shouted, and the old man came to meet him. "They don't know." "Don't know, sir? What makes you say that?" Nic related his experience, and Sam grinned. "And they laughed at you," he said, showing his teeth. "Why was that? On'y because they enjoyed being as they thought too clever for you, Master Nic. They know, sir; but it's no use--they won't tell. They like you and me; but if they'd speak out to us as they do to one another, they'd say, 'No mine tell Leather fellow, Mas Nic, plenty mine jam, damper. Leather fellow mumkull.'" "Mumkull? Afraid Leather would kill them for telling?" "That's it, sir, safe." There was something to stir the pulses of Nic soon after, and he somehow felt glad that he did not know the convict's hiding-place, for a dozen of the colonial mounted police rode up, followed by half a dozen black trackers and a couple of chained and muzzled, fierce-looking dogs, whose aspect sent a shiver through Nic, excited the indignation of the collies, and drove Nibbler into a fit of fury, making him bound to the end of his chain so savagely that he dragged his tub kennel out of its place and drew it behind him, making him look like some peculiar snaily quadruped trying to shed its shell. "Better shut up your dogs, sir," said the policeman who had been once before. "Letter for Mrs Braydon." The dogs were quieted and shut away, so that they could not commit suicide by dashing at the powerful brutes held in leash; and once more, while the police were being refreshed, Mrs Braydon read her letter over to her children, who learned that the governor was no better, that the doctor was bound to stay, and that while he regretted this, and the bad news about the assigned servant, every assistance ought to be given to the police who had come to fetch him back to the chain gang. Nic said nothing, but after a time he saddled Sorrel, and rode with the police leader as they started for their first search. "Now, Mr Braydon," said the man, "your father said that we must take this fellow; so as in all probability you know where he is, perhaps you'll tell us which way to go and capture him." "I don't know," said Nic quickly. The man smiled. "You needn't disbelieve me," said Nic warmly. "I tell you I haven't the least idea." "And if you had, you wouldn't tell us, eh?" "I'm not going to answer questions," said Nic. "But mind this: if you find him, I won't have him shot down." "Then he mustn't shoot at us, sir," said the man, smiling, "so you'd better send him word if you know where he is. Forward!" he cried, and the party trotted toward the Wattles, but turned off a little over half-way there, and to Nic's horror he felt that they had hit upon the place where he and the convict parted that night just as the storm came on. And here, after a few words from the head of the little force, two of the blacks came forward and began to quarter the ground like dogs, their bodies and heads bent forward, and their eyes searching the grass with the keenest eagerness. But it was a long time before either of them showed that he had found signs. Then one stopped short, dropped upon his knees, uttered a cry, and his fellows ran softly up behind him, keeping close to each other, and being careful not to go near the track or whatever it was that he had found. Then began a low excited jabbering, during which the mounted men sat fast, one of them holding the leash which restrained the dogs. At last the quick discussion ended, and the first black rose from his knees and made a sign to the police leader to come forward, Nic without hesitation following and peering over the blacks, who gave way a little, while the first pointed down to something which Nic expected to find was a footstep, but which proved to be a big common knife, rusted by exposure to rain and air. This was picked up now and handed to the leader, while Nic's eyes dilated a little, for he felt sure that he had seen the knife before; and in the convict's hands, when he was eating his cold meat and damper beneath a tree. "Yes," he said to himself with a little shiver, "that is his knife. He must have dropped it here. It had a buckhorn handle, and on the other side three crosses had been filed pretty deeply." He remembered that fact well. Just then the police leader turned round sharply, saw his interested look, and said, in a decisive, imperative tone of voice: "You know that knife, sir?" To gain time the boy held out his hand, drawing his breath hard, and striving to control his voice and make it firm. Then, as he took the knife, he examined it as if in doubt, hesitating about turning it over, and then handing it back, saying firmly, "No." "That's a lie," thought the man, as he retook the knife, "and my lord here is trying to keep the lair hidden. He knows." But the knife had no crosses filed in the handle, and Nic was breathing freely, when he noticed that the black was pointing to something else--a faintly marked footprint, evidently made by a coarsely made sandal or shoe. Beyond this was another, and again beyond another. "That's right--go on!" rang in his ears, and the next moment the party was again in motion, with the blacks bending low, and from walking beginning to trot, while the policeman pressed his horse closer to Nic's. "Easy trail to follow, sir," he said. "Now, then, don't you think you'd better save us further trouble by taking us straight across country to your man's form?" "I told you I did not know where he was hiding," said Nic shortly. "You did, sir, but I thought I'd save trouble. These birds are a bit desperate when run down, and I'm sure you wouldn't like to see him shot when he refuses to surrender. Now, would you?" "No," said Nic, rather faintly. "Out with it then, and we'll take him by surprise--surround him after dusk. Then it will mean a flogging or two, and another year in the gang, and perhaps a fresh chance. Better than being buried, sir, in the bush." Nic remained silent, but with his brow contracted. "Very well, sir, but you see. Why, I can trace that track as I ride. We could find him now without the blacks." Still Nic held his peace, and rode on beside the man, as mile after mile was traced, leading, to the boy's surprise, toward the Bluff, but curving off a mile from home, as if to go round it to reach the other side. And so it proved, the blacks trotting on till they did pass the house half a mile away; and Nic jumped to the conclusion that the poor fellow had made for the fern gully, up which, somewhere probably on the riverside, was his lair. They went right on, without once being at fault, the footprints, with the left sole badly cracked across, showing clearly at times in the soft soil, till the place where the black-fish were caught was passed, and the valley slope mounted for the open ground, where the sheep was kicked into the rift that ran down toward the water. From here the footsteps went right across toward the station, and the leading black ran them easily and triumphantly right up to the men's bothy, at whose door Brookes stood hollow-cheeked and anxious. "Got him?" he cried hoarsely, when, to his surprise, the blacks dashed at him and had him down, while the leader secured and held up one of his boots with the sole toward the head of the police. "Mine find," he cried, pointing to a crack across the sole; and Nic forced the nag away, and trotted off to the stable to hide his laughter, and then stood patting his horse, feeling quite heartsick from the tension now relieved. For he had made sure that so as to be in a place not likely to be searched Leather had come by night to the station, and that he would be found hidden in one of the piles of wool, whereas it was evident that Brookes had been over to the Wattles, and had come that way back, searching along the fern gully, to make sure of Leather not being in hiding there. For two days more the police hunted in every direction, but neither the keen eyes of the blacks nor the senses of the dogs were of any avail, and at last the search was given up. "We shall find him back here some day," said the head policeman, "if he's still alive. But,"--the man looked significantly at Nic--"they don't always have life left in 'em when we do find 'em. Good day, sir. We may look you up again." They rode off, and the station was free of them, for they had made a sort of barrack of the wool-shed, where the fleeces made most satisfactory beds; and as they grew less and less, Nic turned away, to see the light all at once blaze, as it were, into his darkened mind. "How stupid!" he said, half aloud. "Why, I know where he is hiding, after all." He looked up, and there was Brookes watching him with curious eye. _ |
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