Half-an-hour after, he was in the saddle and galloping in the direction of Black Rock.
He was no mean horseman, and mile after mile was left behind, till the darkness and the increasing difficulties of the road compelled him to go more slowly—at a rate, indeed, that but ill accorded with the impatience of his spirit, now that he was in some degree rested and refreshed. For, during the early part of his journey from the Moa’s Nest, he had suffered from a strange feeling of oppression, due to his late sufferings; but this was fast wearing off. And now, troubled in mind about the fate of those he sought to save, he once more pushed on, till the broken ground again compelled him to draw rein.
Long residence, and occasional visits from station to station, had made him pretty familiar with the roads; and as the horse picked its way along the stony part they were passing, he began to calculate how many men could be mustered; how long it would be before help could be afforded; and whether that help would be in time.
He pressed his horse forward as these last thoughts came, until he was again progressing at a long swinging gallop. He had been some three or four times to Black Rock, but not by this road, which was not familiar to him; but, keeping to the track, he pressed on till it seemed to end in a stony wilderness, when he once more had to draw rein; for the rugged path required careful riding. Here the track seemed almost lost; but just in front two valleys opened out, and in his directions his host had told him to take the left—no, the right—no, the left. Was it to the left? His head must be weak and confused, he told himself; for the settler had explained exactly and carefully the route he should follow.
He grew excited as he recalled the importance of his making speed, and at last drew up, pained and troubled. He essayed to go a little way along the valley to the right, but in a doubtful fashion; and, drawing rein at the end of a mile, he rode hastily back, feeling assured that he was wrong; and on reaching the headland that separated the valleys, he urged his steed onward, peering eagerly in advance the while, in search of some tokens of civilised man.
He was angry with himself for the mistake he had made—wasting minutes that might prove to have been of inestimable value; but he felt that he must soon reach the settlement now, since it was situated in the bottom of the valley, and could not be missed even by a traveller by night.
On past long park-like sweeps of rich land, varied by portions where the valley closed in till huge nestling crags, crowned with glorious vegetation, made darker the way he traversed, and seemed threatening to topple over upon the traveller; but still no signs of civilisation: no shepherd’s hut, no folding hurdles, no cattle—all solitary and grand. Twice the idea occurred to him that he must, after all, be wrong; but he rejected or crushed down the thought, and hurried his horse along; for it had begun to show signs of fatigue.
Then Mr Meadows allowed the reins to fall upon the poor beast’s neck, while he tried to think out the best course to pursue.
But little reflection sufficed to make him understand his position—he had been mistaken in the route he was to have pursued. He sighed heavily as he acknowledged his failing; for it was but too true. With Katie Lee in the hands of the convicts, and that young man awaiting the succour he was to bring, he had wandered from the right path, and travelled miles upon miles out of his way.