In Quest of Gold; Or, Under the Whanga Falls

by Alfred St. Johnston

That night the boys lay down with their loaded rifles by the side of them. They knew that strange blacks were in the neighbourhood, and although they had not caught sight of them, the keen-eyed savages, as Murri warned them, might have espied them and might make a raid upon their little force for the sake of the horses and the provisions they carried.

Alec thought it wisest that they should keep a watch through the night, and this was done. George took the first, Murri the second, Tom the third, and Alec himself was to watch from about half-past two till dawn.

All went well during the first part of the night. Geordie called Murri at the appointed time, and reported everything quiet, and so it continued through Murri's watch. He roused Prince Tom, who rose with an alacrity that surprised him, and lying down he was soon sound asleep.

No sooner had Prince Tom's quick ears told him that Murri slept than he rose from the side of the tree where he was crouching, and slowly, and noiselessly as a shadow, moved to where Alec and George were lying side by side. He made not the least sound as he stepped; each naked foot fell upon the dry soft sand as quietly as a falling leaf upon the grass. He stood behind them, stiff and motionless as a statue, and listened to their breathing to judge whether they slept soundly. He held his cruel waddy (club) in his hand. Would he murder them? Was he about to revenge himself on Alec thus?

It was well for them that the thought of it never entered his childish, savage brain. He would have killed them ruthlessly had the idea but presented itself to him; but that was not his intention. George rolls over and indistinctly mutters something; the savage grasps his murderous weapon that is half raised for the blow. Lie still, Geordie, lie still. But the boy does not wake, he only moves his head upon his saddle-flap and sinks again to deeper slumber.

Having assured himself that all are soundly sleeping, Prince Tom glides silently away; he goes to the little heap that the loads of the two pack-horses make, and with quick hands begins to turn the different sacks and parcels over. Many a backward glance he flings over his shoulder to where the sleeping boys lie. But they do not move. He hastily takes the bags that hold the flour and sugar and rice, and swiftly carries them a little way down the ravine, towards the place where he can hear the cropping of the horses. Once more he comes back and takes another load, of which his saddle and bridle form part, depositing it with the first.

Wake, Alec! Wake, George! Treachery and robbery are going on. Wake up, wake up! But they lie still as death, unconscious of all that goes on so near them.

No sooner has Prince Tom taken as much as he thinks one horse can carry, and rather more, than he steals away to where the horses are feeding. He can only see them very indistinctly, for a pale, blue mist hangs above the damp, sour ground—it is an impassable swamp in the wet season—where they are feeding, but his quick ears guide him, and he hurries rapidly towards them. He thinks he will take Amber, for he knows how Alec values him, and it will be sweet to be revenged. He creeps up quite close to the animal, and is stretching out his hand to seize his forelock, when the horse perceives him and turns sharply round. Amber always hates the black boys, and never has let one touch him, and he thinks it cannot, under the circumstances, be wrong to bestow a gentle kick upon this one. Like a wise animal he acts upon what he thinks right, and lifting up his heels as quick as thought, he catches Tom such a kick upon the shin of one of his legs as would have disabled any one less hardy than a savage. As it is he suffers intensely, but silently, and hobbles off towards the horse he has been riding, which he catches without much difficulty. Saddling the creature, and securing his booty of food, over which he gloats with the gaze of a miser, he quickly mounts and rides slowly away. He walks his horse at first that the sound of hurried footsteps may not arouse the sleeping men, and enters the thin, blue sea of mist slowly, like a dusky vision, but he quickens his pace as he leaves the camp behind, and soon vanishes in the pale clouds of vapour that lie along the bottom of the valley.

The night wears away apace, and at last, when Alec awakes, the dawn is close upon them. He feels chilly and shudders, and looking up he sees that the night has almost gone. He soon remembers that he ought to have been called for his watch, but as he sees George by his side he thinks that nothing more is amiss than that Tom has fallen asleep at his post and has not called him, as he should have done, three hours or so ago. He jumps up and looks round, and directly that his glance falls upon the little tumbled heap of provisions he knows what has happened.

"Geordie, Geordie, wake up!" he cries.