After a great deal of noise and waving of arms and stamping of feet, the party on the hill disappeared down the other side, and presently some cattle came straggling over the top and ran down to the water-hole for a drink. Yarloo followed, escorted by the blacks who had gone out to meet him. He had evidently established friendly relations with his fellow-tribesmen, for they were all laughing and talking excitedly, and already one or two of them were adorned with articles of Yarloo's clothing which he had given them. The much-envied recipients of these gifts were probably relations or members of the same totem, and the wise boy had made the most of his opportunities for showing goodwill, for his master's sake.
Yarloo was evidently very much relieved to find Boss Stobart safe. He went up to the drover and showed so plainly that the white man was his honoured friend, that the other natives at once changed their attitude, and gave every sign of favour to the man whom they had so recently wanted to kill.
Stobart was invited to join the feast. His own tucker-packs had not been interfered with, for the blacks had started to cut up and eat meat as soon as the slaughter was over; so to the only item on the primitive menu he added a few tins of jam and treacle, a bottle or two of tomato sauce, and all the damper which was left. Afterwards, when all had gorged themselves to their fullest capacity, he handed round small plugs of tobacco, which the men accepted eagerly and started to chew at once. The doctor kept aloof from these proceedings and would not touch the white man's food or tobacco, so Stobart gave the man whom he had rescued from death a double share, and thereby cemented a friendship which he thought might be useful in the future.
Feasting went on into the night and did not stop till the morning star was rising. Everybody crawled under bushes and stunted trees and went to sleep. Now was Stobart's chance. He signed to Yarloo. The faithful boy had not followed his natural desires to eat as fully as his fellow-tribesmen had done, but had kept himself ready for any emergency which might occur.
"We go 'way now, Yarloo, I think," whispered Stobart. "Which way horses go?"
The boy pointed in a certain direction. "Me go find um nantu (horses), boss," he said. "Me tie um up 'nother side sand-hill. By'm-by sun come up, black-fella sleep, aller same dead; sleep like blazes. You bring um two fella saddle 'nother side sand-hill. Little bit tucker. We clear out. Me know um this country." He looked round at the naked blacks, all smeared with blood and grease and dirt, and snoring in profound sleep, and laughed quietly. "Silly fella," he remarked. "All about sleep long time. My word, too much long time."
Soon afterwards Yarloo went off on the tracks of the horses, which he had had the forethought to hobble before letting them go the previous afternoon, and when Stobart was quite sure that everybody was soundly sleeping, he went over to the packs, stuffed his pockets with tucker, and carried his own and Yarloo's saddles out of sight over the sand-hill. He returned for his rifle and water-bag, for he did not know whether their lives might not depend on one or the other of these. He did not dare to stay away too long from the sleeping blacks, for fear that one of them should wake and notice that he had gone, so he returned and lay down under a tree and waited for Yarloo.
It was nearly noon when the boy returned, and the expression on his face clearly indicated disaster.
"Nantu dead," he announced sorrowfully.
"Dead?" exclaimed Stobart. "What, all of them?"