CHAPTER VII.
LIFE OR DEATH?
All that long sultry day Alec fluctuated between hope and despair. At one moment he thought George better, and the next that he was worse.
Murri, who in his wild, untaught way was as tender and gentle as possible, found some leaves of a herb which he said would heal the wound. He moistened them with water and pounded them between two stones and applied them to George's head. They seemed cool and refreshing. Alec and Murri had formed a rough sort of couch of tall grasses and leaves, over which they spread one of their blue blankets, and on this they had laid George down. Over him Alec, who was as natty and deft-handed as a sailor, rigged up another blanket as a sort of awning to protect him from the sun. Sitting by the side of him all that anxious day, with a heart full of fears for his brother and eyes that were constantly on the alert for the return of the enemy, Alec swept away, with a green branch, the noxious black flies that constantly tried to settle on George's semi-conscious body.
Murri assured him that, after such a terrible loss as they had sustained that morning, the myalls would not think of returning to the attack, but Alec could not rest certain of it. He heard at a distance their wild lament over their dead, the shrieks of the gins, and the weird moans and cries of the men, but it seemed to him that they were gradually growing fainter and further away.
Murri, like the faithful henchman that he was, undertook all the management of affairs, whilst Alec devoted his time to his brother. He it was who hobbled and unloaded all the horses, and saw that they did not wander far afield, though they were not anxious to go far, even in search of food, in the great heat of the afternoon. He it was who found water, and filled the "billies," and led the horses to drink. He it was who killed the little bandicoot, of which Alec made a sort of barbarous but nutritious soup for George; he it was in short who did everything that day, and proved himself to be a true help to them. All day long Como, who knew that something was amiss, kept wandering aimlessly about, occasionally going as far as the native well that Murri had found, to drink a little, but always coming back to lick the inert hand of his master, which lay weakly and limply by the side of him.
Towards evening, when at sunset a breeze sprang up, and the air grew cooler, George revived a great deal. He was able to eat some of the food that Alec had prepared for him, and soon managed to sit up a little, with Alec as a support to his back, and talk.
"I feel quite well now, Alec, and I mean to talk, so don't try to stop me. Tell me, first of all, if you were hurt in the fight."
"Nothing to speak of; I got one or two nasty thumps from a waddy, and one rather awkward chop on the shoulder from my man's nullah-nullah, but beyond feeling a little stiff I'm all right, I think."
"Think! Do you mean to say you haven't looked at your shoulder yet?"