“And I was cattle-driving,” said one. “And I at the sheep-station,” said another. While the third had been ill in bed; but forgot his pains when the dire news was brought.
Again there was a council of war; and it was decided that nothing better could be done than to wait for daylight and farther reinforcements.
“Don’t you think so, Lawler?” said one of his friends, noticing that the settler looked gloomy and discontented.
“Yes, I think so,” he said. “It’s quite right—quite right; but I could not help thinking of those poor creatures waiting for our help, and wondering, hour after hour, why no aid comes. But we have done our best, neighbours, and I must agree that it would be folly to go on now in the dark, and weak-handed; for I suppose they would still outnumber us, according to Mr Meadows’s account.”
“It’s giving them a few more hours to live,” said one of the last arrivals grimly; “for I’m afraid they will not meet with much mercy.”
“Nor give much,” said another. And then he made a motion to the rest to preserve silence; for Mr Meadows was listening, half shuddering, to the remarks made.
“What do you advise, parson?” said one, who had not yet spoken. “You know most about this sad business. Should we go or stay?”
“Friend Laing,” said Mr Meadows feebly, “I would that you had not asked me that question. With the thoughts of that poor lamb in the clutches of those ravening wolves, my heart says, Go—go at once, and strike to save her. But then reason saith, Would you send these men—fathers of children, dear husbands of loving and anxious wives—to encounter useless peril, and come to ruin and death, for want of a little care? But I think this: the miles are long between this and the Moa’s Nest. Suppose that we proceeded with caution during the dark cool hours, so as to be ready to pursue the task at daybreak? One of your number could stay here, ready to bring on the rest of our friends when they arrive; while, without proceeding to attack, we might draw off the attention of the convicts, as well as succour Edward Murray and the brave savage, who must be faint and weary long ere this—if they still live,” he muttered to himself.
The advice was received with general tokens of satisfaction; but when it came to the question who should stay behind, no man displayed his willingness to undertake that tame part of the duty. One suggested that Mr Meadows would be unable to accompany them; but he did not know the stanch spirit of the old man, who sturdily declared his intention of following.
“This food and rest were all I required,” he said; “and I shall be no hindrance to you. My pony will bear me; and if I should be left behind for a while, I daresay I can overtake you.”