CHAPTER XVIII.
Our hero visits the old Waigonda country once more—The overlanding—The Golden Gully—The last sight of Dromoora.
Our hero, having seen his twin brother comfortably off, and well provided for by the liberality of the squire, decided to start at once with Dromoora and Terebare to the northern wild country, the land of the Waigonda tribe.
Tom had often expressed a wish to accompany him, whenever he made up his mind to go, and Mat gladly accepted his offer now that he was actually organizing the little expedition. The squire said that he would get an extra hand or two to help him during the absence of “his boys,” and remarked how glad he was that there were at least two white men for such a long “overlanding.”
So they started—a party of six—for two of the station blacks joined the little band; these were partly to aid in looking after two extra pack-horses, which were laden with useful and handsome articles destined for the Waigondas, and chosen by the chief and his wife. There was no occasion to take a buggy this time, for our natives had learnt to ride during their life at Bulinda Creek: besides this, a wheeled vehicle would have been utterly useless in the wilder districts.
On the last evening of their stay at the Creek Mat had bidden farewell to Annie in her little garden, whither they had resorted to water the plants as usual, he had also requested her to take charge of his old book for him, saying that instead of taking that with him on his journey, he had a great favour to ask of her, namely, to give him a little lock of her hair that he might carry it with him.
Before Annie could open her lips to reply to this request, Mrs. Bell came running out of the house which the two were approaching, and, calling sharply to her daughter, said,—
“Come, it’s nigh time for you to be a-bed, you’re always about that garden now.”
Annie laughed and went in, and Mat saw her no more that night.
The next morning when the family were collected on the verandah to see the little party of adventurers off, Annie stole softly up to Mat, placing a tiny paper packet in his hand. Our hero grasped it, and the hand that held it, and whispered,—