The tall black forms of the aborigines before the firelit granite background offer too tempting a pair of targets for certain of the younger members of the attacking party to be able to further restrain their sportsmanlike proclivities.
Out from the blackness two rifles spit forth their ringing, sparkling tongues of flame, and Gordon, leaping upwards without a cry, tumbles forward into the shadow of the rocks below the camp.
Then the crash and blaze of many rifles follow, as other figures, startled and hesitating in which direction to escape, are seen moving past the fire.
Mr. Giles, who is the nearest of Morth’s party, covers one black form rapidly and pulls the trigger. As he does so the cliff echoes with a wild, boyish scream of mingled agony and terror.
There is something so piercing in that note of anguish, something that seems so like some echo from the past, that hardened as the squatter is by a large previous experience of such scenes, he feels a passing pang of remorse tapping at his heart strings.
Morth and the other men are scrambling back down the hill; some making for the horses, others for the creek. For, as though bearing a charmed life, the Myall, having hitherto escaped unhurt from the hail of bullets aimed at him, is now bounding over the plain with the speed of an antelope towards the river’s angry tide.
Giles thus left alone—for he is not the kind of man to hurry after the others—reloads, and then turns to descend the cliff; but something makes him alter his mind, and without knowing exactly why, he clambers up to the ledge whereon his victim is lying.
As the squatter’s head rises on a level with the camp, he starts as if he had been bitten by a snake; for the dull-red glare of the fire shines upon pack-bags, blankets, billies, and other objects, that tell him at once that a terrible mistake has been made, and that this is no wild blacks’ camp, but that of some party of travellers.
Then fearful thoughts begin to paint a vivid prophecy in his mind of what is to follow.
And forgetful of his age and the stiffness of his limbs, he drags himself frantically upwards, till, upon the granite platform, he sinks upon his knees where two little forms lie almost side by side before the glowing embers.