“I can go through anything now, Annie.”
And when shortly afterwards he turned from the “Apple-tree” ridge, to have a last look at the station, so he informed Tom, he saw a little white handkerchief being waved from her corner of the verandah, and our forester went on his way rejoicing.
Mat had kept to his promise of not speaking to Annie of the one absorbing thought that lay deep in his manly bosom; he had reasoned this matter so far out that he had concluded that it was best to take this overland trip, away from her sweet presence, away from the constant round of station-work. During the long days and nights in the silent bush he could commune with himself.
Besides, Mat was aware that there was always a certain amount of danger amongst the districts whither he was bound; and, again, there was a double feeling of honour, so to speak, in his conduct, he had given his promise to Annie’s parents, and he knew that she would have the opportunities of attending many gay parties during his absence, so that, reasoned Mat, “she will see plenty of other men besides me. At all events, it shall never be said by others that I stood in her way.”
Mrs. Bell had noticed the little farewell tribute which Annie had given Mat, and determined to “have it out” with her daughter, who was still earnestly gazing at the distant cloud of dust made by the receding horsemen.
“Annie, come here,” called Mrs. Bell, but Annie took no notice of this appeal beyond saying,—
“In a moment, when they are out of sight.”
“Yes, but they are out of sight, besides Tom will be back in a few months.”
“Tom!” replied Annie in a tone which implied that he did not enter into the subject of her thoughts; “yes, I suppose they will come back; but how I wish we could write to them, or they to us; it’s a dangerous journey, mother, many have told me so.”
Annie had been correctly informed, for in the enormous stretch of country between Bulinda Creek and the scene of Mat’s shipwreck, many events had taken place, and though around the Waigonda country the natives had not been disturbed, yet south of that many collisions had taken place between the white and the black man; much country had been taken up; the new settlers had had their cattle speared, and even one or two of the camps of these white men had been destroyed, and themselves murdered. It was a very old story, which had been often repeated, as new colonies were taken up, from south to north of the entire continent. The black man looked upon any one, whether black or white in colour, who encroached upon his territory, as an enemy, and dealt with him accordingly, and the white man avenged the murders of his countrymen by shooting the natives.