They made Findlayson's the first night, though it was late. They found that the honest Scot had been so busy all day he had scarcely sat down to a meal. Archie and Craig were "in clipping-time" therefore, for there was roast duck on the table, and delightful potatoes all steaming hot, and, as usual, the black bottle of mountain dew, a "wee drappie" of which he tried in vain to get either Craig or Archie to swallow.
"Oh, by-the-bye, men," said Findlayson, in the course of the evening—that is, about twelve o'clock—"I hear bad news up the hills way."
"Indeed," said Craig.
"Aye, lad. You better ha'e your gun loaded. The blacks, they say, are out in force. They've been killing sheep and bullocks too, and picking the best."
"Well, I don't blame them either. Mind, we white men began the trouble; but, nevertheless, I'll defend my flock."
Little more was said on the subject. But next morning another and an uglier rumour came. A black fellow or two had been shot, and the tribe had sworn vengeance and held a corroboree.
"There's a cloud rising," said Findlayson. "I hope it winna brak o'er the district."
"I hope not, Findlayson. Anyhow, I know the black fellows well. I'm not sure I won't ride over after I get back and try to get to the bottom of the difference."
The out-station, under the immediate charge of Gentleman Craig, was fully thirty miles more to the north and west than Findlayson's, and on capital sheep-pasture land, being not very far from the hills—a branch ridge that broke off from the main range, and lay almost due east and west.
Many a splendidly-wooded glen and gully was here; but at the time of our story these were still inhabited by blacks innumerable. Savage, fierce, and vindictive they were in all conscience, but surely not so brave as we sometimes hear them spoken of, else could they have swept the country for miles of the intruding white man. In days gone by they had indeed committed some appallingly-shocking massacres; but of late years they had seemed contented to either retire before the whites or to become their servants, and receive at their hands that moral death—temptation to drink—which has worked such woe among savages in every quarter of the inhabitable globe.