In Quest of Gold; Or, Under the Whanga Falls

by Alfred St. Johnston

It was nearly sunset by the time that Yesslett had come to the edge of the last belt of bush. He could see the rambling and ill-kept building of the Lingan's station from there, and knew that he had arrived at the end of the first stage of his work. What lay beyond he could not tell; it all depended on chance; he would have to adapt his plans to circumstances. He felt that he was pitting himself against an unknown force, but he believed, as indeed seemed probable, that his very insignificance would be his security. No one would believe that a boy would thus attempt to challenge, single handed, Starlight and all his band. Yesslett himself was quite aware of his own weakness, and that was where his strength lay; he knew that to attempt an appeal to force would be ridiculous, and that his only chance of success in getting Alec away lay in craftiness and cunning.

He did not leave the shelter of the trees and undergrowth of the bush, by which he was quite screened from observation from the house, but directly he saw the buildings he turned to the left and leading his horses into the thicknesses of the bush he fastened them both securely to the trunk of a tree. Both horses had been trained to stand quite still, without pulling at the bridle or endeavouring to get away, when fastened in this manner, and as Yesslett had let them drink only a short time back, and as he had been wise enough to bring a feed of maize—a luxury they rarely got—for each horse, he felt sure that they would remain there quietly enough, at any rate, for an hour or two. He carefully marked the position of the tree to which he had tied the horses, even walking to it several times from the path so that he might make quite sure of finding it at night. At last he was satisfied that he could not mistake the place, and putting on a bold front he left the bush and stepped out into the open ground that lay between it and Lingan's.

Yesslett remembered that Alec had said in his letter that the house he was kept at was close to Lingan's, and as he wanted to reach the former place he began to look about him for Lingan's buildings. He could see no sign of a house except the one before him, and he thought he should have, after all, to go to the door and ask. The place looked deserted; he could see no sign of any one about the house or yard, a mildewed look of sloth and neglect lay upon everything; and instead of being alive with all the usual busy sounds of station life the whole place seemed asleep. Yesslett had approached within a hundred yards of the fence, which enclosed what had once been the garden, when he saw a faint path that seemed to lead along the little valley between the hills at the back of Lingan's. Thinking that this might take him to the place he sought, he turned aside, leaving the buildings on his left, and began to follow this track.

It was not very long before he saw, as he ascended the valley, the house for which he was searching, and without waiting to think what his line of action would be he walked calmly towards it. It must be owned that there was a very quickly beating heart beneath this quiet exterior; but Yesslett had made up his mind to see the inside of that ugly tumbledown dwelling, for he felt convinced that that was where his cousin was kept prisoner, and he was more determined than before, now that he was actually on the spot, to get him out some way or another.

There were several men lounging about outside the house with that appearance of weariness which idleness produces when time hangs heavily upon one's hands. They were leaning against the house on the posts of the old fence, as though the exertion of standing up was more than they could manage. They spoke a word to each other now and then without moving their short pipes from between their teeth. They watched with interest the dusty and rather ragged looking boy as he walked towards them, for visitors to this place were rare; and in their state of tedium and weariness any interruption was welcome. They did not say anything to Yesslett till he approached quite close to them, but they looked at him fixedly; and he found their deliberate scrutiny rather embarrassing, but his appearance must have remained natural enough as nothing about him seemed to strike them as curious. When he had come quite near to them, one of the men, who was sitting on a stump of wood by the side of the door, leaning forward with his elbows on his parted knees, and his hands lightly clasped before him, said to him—

"Well, young Ugly, what d' you want at this shanty?"

"Is this Lingan's?" said Yesslett by way of answer.

"No, this ain't Lingan's. This yere do—main is Star——"

"Now, then, don't be a fool," interrupted another of the men in a surly voice, turning his head fiercely towards the first speaker.

"Fool yerself, Wetch! I ain't said nothing."