"They would not have allowed him to go with them on their raids for fear of his escaping. Evidently they regarded him as a sort of fetish."
They dismounted and hung their horses to a tree, and went a short distance amongst the rocks. As they advanced all signs of a track disappeared, for the place became one jumbled mass of huge boulders piled on top of one another, rough as a rasp underfoot, and baking hot from the vertical sun. What with the natural heat of the day and the radiation from the rocks, they were soon glad to turn back to where they had left their horses.
"No wonder poor Stuart, barefooted and alone, could not make his way any distance," remarked Morton.
"I wonder what would have happened had he met the Warlattas?"
"He had established a good funk amongst them, and so he might have routed them. But if they had killed him, I swear a good many would have lost the number of their mess first."
"It always makes me feel sad when I think of such a man being forced by fate to spend his life amongst savages."
Billy's wound, like the flesh of most blackfellows, was rapidly healing, but he was not yet able to ride. The shadow cast on their spirits by the murder of poor Lee-lee, rendered them all anxious to be on the move and leave the ill-omened camp behind them. The weather had been continuously fine ever since they left. That night, however, a black thunder-storm gathered up, and towards evening the heavens were overcast and the sky was one constant blaze of lightning, and a continuous mutter of thunder sounded from all points. Every preparation had been made, and they watched with interest the mustering of the storm spirits.
"I believe it's going to be one of those dry dust-storms after all," said Brown.
To the east every blaze of light now showed a low black cloud approaching.
"It's the wind coming," said Morton, "bringing all the ashes from the burnt country; we shall be smothered with dust and charcoal."