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First in the Field: A Story of New South Wales, a novel by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 37. Castles In The Air

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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. CASTLES IN THE AIR

"Don't try to find any more adjectives, boy," said the convict about an hour later. "Be content with beautiful. That's what it is."

They were sitting in front of a loosely made bark gunyah, bare-footed, and with their shoes and well-worn stockings placed upon a scorching sheet of rock to dry. The wallet was empty, for they had made a hearty meal; after which Nic had been piling up all the words he could think of to express his admiration for the valley shut in by those tremendous walls, or his delight with the beauty and novelty of the place.

The troubles of his life seemed to have dropped from the convict, who laughed and talked as if he were a dozen years younger, and free from care. The hard, bitter look had gone from his eyes, and he entered with boyish zest into the proposals his young companion made.

"Oh yes," he cried, "we must have plenty of shooting and fishing. How many birds have you collected and skinned?"

"Two," said Nic, making a grimace. "I've been so busy."

"Never mind; you can come here and shoot. I'll skin for you, and you can get a fine collection."

"Birds ought to be plentiful here."

"They swarm," said the convict. "You can get the beautiful lyre bird, with its wonderful curved tail. I can show you the bower birds' nests, with their decorations. Then there is that beautiful purply black kind of crow--the rifle bird they call it. As to the parrots and cockatoos, they are in flocks."

"The kangaroos are plentiful enough, too, seemingly."

"Herds of them, from the little wallaby rats right up to the red old men."

"And snakes?"

"Too many of them; I'm obliged to be careful. We can have some grand hunts, Nic, and I can feast you afterwards on roast cockatoo and mutton."

"And I shall bring you--I say, I'd forgotten: did you bring the flour down here?"

"No," said the convict, smiling; "you forgot to hide it where you said."

"It was too dark that night to find the place, but I put it there next day. Didn't you get it?"

"No; some one must have seen you hide it, and taken it away. One of the blacks, I suppose."

"Or Brookes."

"Was he anywhere near, Nic?"

The boy nodded.

"That's bad, my boy," said the convict, with the bright look fading out of his face, to leave it cold and hard. "There, the sun is getting low; we have the tunnel to go through, and then you have a long walk back to your horse. We have been going too fast, Nic. I'm afraid you must wait some time before you come again."

Nic looked pained, and sat gazing at his companion sadly.

"Must I go now?" he said.

"Yes."

Nic thrust his stockings into his pocket, tied his shoes together to sling over his arm, and picked up his gun. Then reluctantly he followed his silent companion to the mouth of the tunnel-like cavern, where a bigger piece of touchwood was lit, and they commenced the return journey.

It was up hill, but it did not seem half so far; and at last they stopped close to the well-like opening, down whose side the water trickled musically.

"Frank," said Nic, "I'm going to leave you my gun."

"What for?"

"To protect yourself."

"Don't leave temptation in my way, boy," was the stern reply. "No; I will not have it. Brookes and I might meet. There are plenty of trees to cut myself a stout stick for a weapon, or I can defend myself with my hands. Look, there are three notches in the stone where you can place your feet. Up with you! You can find your way. Good-bye."

Nic could not say "good-bye," but he grasped the convict's hand before climbing up the narrow shaft-like place and raising his head cautiously above the level.

A kangaroo loped gently by--evident proof that there was no danger--and, drawing himself right out, Nic dived in among the trees and rocks, and began to return by the way he came.

He had so much to think of that the way back did not seem to be so very long; and at last he reached the spot where he had left his nag, mounted, and rode home, wondering whether Brookes had found that flour and suspected anything. _

Read next: Chapter 38. Nature At Home

Read previous: Chapter 36. In Sanctuary

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