“That’s all right,” he said, “they’ll be here in a minute or two.”
In about five minutes we heard the sound of horses galloping, and in another few minutes two horsemen dashed up to us.
“What’s up, Frank?” said they, almost before they had pulled up their horses. Then, catching sight of me, “oh, found one of the lost ones—eh, that’s good.”
Matters were explained to them, and they at once mounted again.
“Jerusalem, Frank, we must try and find that poor chap, and save him if it is possible.”
I gave them the direction I had come, as near as I could. The one named Frank then pointed to a cluster of grey gum trees in the distance, and told me to make my way there, and just to the right of them I should find a bullock track; then to follow this track for about two miles and I would come across a solitary house in the bush. I was to call there and say, Frank sent me, and to tell Harry, who was at the house, that they had gone to look after a poor fellow who was lost in the bush. They then put spurs to their horses and galloped off and were quickly out of sight.
I made my way with a light heart and tired feet to the gum trees. Found the bullock track, and following this for quite three miles I came across the blockhouse just by the side of the track. At the door, but with his back towards me, stood a splendid specimen of manhood. He must have been quite six feet in height, a mass of bone and muscle, with not an ounce of spare flesh on him, and as straight as a reed. As I approached the house, I trod on some dry twigs, making a noise. The young man heard it, and, without turning his head sprang into the house and out again in an instant with a gun in his hands. Looking round he saw me, and I found that he was about twenty years of age, with an open kindly face that could be trusted at first sight.
“Sold again,” he remarked. “Hello, young man, where do you come from?”
“Newcastle,” I replied.
“Are you by yourself?” he asked.