At noon we entered a belt of scrub, and soon were crashing through a miniature forest of stunted mallee; but this state of affairs was not destined to last, for we could see in the distance, at a slightly higher altitude, the open plain extending back into the horizon. At this point Phil considered the indications very favourable for water, and we decided to make a temporary camp, and search the district thoroughly before proceeding. We were preparing to unload the camels, when Stewart, who had gone a little way ahead, came rushing back in great excitement. "Niggers!" he hoarsely whispered. Looking up I saw quite an assembly of stalwart bucks directly in our course, and scarcely two hundred yards in front. Some bushes partially hid them from our view, and they had evidently not yet observed us. They were well equipped with spears and waddies; probably they were out on a hunting expedition, and, if so, it boded well for the resources of the district.
While we hesitated, debating on our best plan of action, they saw us, and gave vent to a series of shrill yells, yet were apparently undecided whether to resent our presence or escape while they might. Then a shower of spears whizzed through the air, but fell short, and buried their heads in the sand at our feet. We were just out of range of these missiles, luckily enough. My companions were not disposed to tolerate such tactics, and Mac discharged his gun, loaded with small shot, at the hostile band. They waited no longer, but made a wild rush into the densest part of the scrub, and were quickly lost to sight. Then we proceeded onwards warily, whilst far in the distance the branches crackled and broke before the fleeing horde. The scene of their stand was littered with fragments of brushwood, and the dying embers of a fire smouldered in the centre of a small clearing close by. All around, shields, spears, and boomerangs lay scattered as they had been thrown when their owners took to flight. The sight was curiously strange and impressive.
My usually loquacious companions had been wonderfully silent during the last day or so, owing, perhaps, to the uninspiring nature of our environment, but now Mac succeeded in launching into a lengthy diatribe, in which he consigned the blacks generally to a very warm climate indeed.
"At the same time," said he, "we shidna forget that such inceedents serve a vera usefu' purpose."
"They seemed rale dacent black buddies," reflectively murmured Stewart.
"And they entertained the laudable desire of puncturing us with 'rale dacent' spears," Phil added shortly.
The camels stood patiently within the clearing, with their long necks outstretched, and their heads moving up and down with the regularity of automatons; the horses straggled behind, gasping feebly.
"We'd better make a halt right here, boys," I said; "the horses seem played out completely." So while Mac and Stewart were engaged in the work of unloading them, Phil and I made a minute survey of our surroundings. A huge breakwind guarded the circular space, and behind it a well-padded track led backwards into a richly-foliaged dell. Creeping plants and luxurious ferns grew in profession around the base of a single lime-tree which found root in the hollow, and a long wiry kind of grass flourished abundantly under its genial shade.
"I'll investigate the cause of such unusual vegetation," Phil said, stepping forward.
"Look out for snakes," I warned; then turned to assist Mac in raising poor "Sorrow," who had rolled over on the ground, pack-saddle and all.