Ever alive to the chance of killing a snake, which they were certain it was, father and son rushed up, armed with a whip and some sticks, but when they gained the spot they were startled and horrified to find there the body of a man stretched out to all appearance dead.
The two men went down on their knees to examine more closely the supposed corpse, and to their joy found that the man not only breathed, but moved his head and opened his eyes, as though the sound of their voices had awakened him.
Father and son then gently lifted him into a sitting position, and in doing so remarked blood upon the grass, which had evidently escaped from the man’s mouth, whereupon they forbore moving him again until they could discern the nature of his wound; whilst looking for this the wounded man whispered “water,” upon which the younger man at once ran back to the cart, and returned with a large tin mug, which he had filled with water, adding a few drops of rum.
The suffering man gulped this down eagerly, and seemed at once to be considerably revived, whilst a faint colour returned to his cheeks, which before had been deadly pale.
The hawkers, seeing that he had more appearance of life in him, whilst still supporting him asked him his name.
“Stanley,” was the feeble answer.
It was indeed the youngest of our foresters, the unfortunate Tim.
“Don’t know that name,” remarked the elder traveller shaking his head; “however, that’s no odds. Now, Stanley,” he continued, “you shake your head or make signs according as you want me to do this or that, ’cos I can see your lungs are wrong somehow, so don’t speak. Where are you hurt?”
Tim pointed to his chest, which was enveloped in a thick blue jumper or jersey; for when he had started on his moonlight walk the weather had been very keen. On looking to where Tim pointed the hawkers could see a little round hole in the jersey.
“I know of no doctor about here,” continued the elder man; “shall we take you on to Sydney, we can carry you in a cart pretty easy?”