“Why, don’t you see, what puzzled me was how this explorer got hold of a Myall. They are pretty shy of whites. But I guess this Billy, that you’ve just reminded me of, has been camped with some lot of blacks about here, and has joined this party. Won’t Giles and Puttis be mad; they’ve been raising Hades to get him. And he’s been camped close by all the while! Ha!” Mr. Browne laughs out loud, and then informs his friend how he has long suspected that there must be a camp of runaway niggers in the direction where Jim has found the tracks.
“You’d like me to take the ‘boys’ up there then, I suppose, before I go on,” observes the police officer. “The clouds on the hills this evening looked like rain. Nothing like a wet night for stalking a camp, so many noises going on in the scrub.”
“No, old man, my idea’s this,” rejoins the manager, taking Morth’s arm, and walking him back towards the house. “I’ll put Jim up to letting Bogie and another good tracker we’ve got watch for these blacks coming back into cover,—that they won’t go far with the exploring expedition I’m pretty certain. I’ll arrange, in the meantime, for the Bulla Bulla and Murdaro people to be ready to join us, and we’ll clear all this end range; I’ve often intended to do it.”
“Will Giles turn out, d’you think?”
“Turn out?” exclaims Mr. Browne; “he’s the most energetic old cock I ever came across where a nigger’s concerned. Besides, one of these is a runaway of his. Oh, he’ll come fast enough!”
It is finally arranged for a select party of sportsmen to join Morth and his troop upon the return of the three natives to the scrub,—who, as our readers have no doubt already guessed, are Billy and his village friends,—and thus, whilst combining the business of exterminating sundry nests of human vermin with the exciting pastime of a big game shooting party, at the same time assist to carry out that line of Native Policy that obtains to-day under the régime of three out of five of the Australian Governments of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE GRAVE.
“Sleepe after toyle,
Port after stormie seas,