“Good-bye, Obed,” said each boy, trying not to look as sorrowful as he felt.
Obed Stackpole turned and walked slowly away. His prospects were by no means bright, for he was left without money or provisions in the Australian wilderness, but at that moment he thought only of losing the companionship of the two boys, and was troubled by the thought that they might come to harm among the bushrangers.
“If I only knew where they were goin’ to take ’em,” he said to himself, “I’d foller and see if I couldn’t help ’em to escape.”
To follow at once, however, he felt would be in the highest degree imprudent, and he continued to move away slowly, but without any definite idea of where he intended to go.
“Follow me, men,” said the leader. He turned his horse’s head and rode into the wood.
The eucalyptus trees are very tall, some attaining a height of hundreds of feet. They begin to branch high up, and there being little if any underbrush in the neighbourhood, there was nothing to prevent the passage of mounted horsemen. The ground was dry also, and the absence of bogs and marshy ground was felt to be a great relief.
The boys were on foot, and so were two or three of the bushranger’s party. As already intimated, they were of inferior rank and employed as attendants. In general the party was silent, and the boys overheard a little conversation between the captain and Dick Fletcher, who rode beside him.
“You haven’t distinguished yourself this time, Fletcher,” said the chief in a dissatisfied tone. “You led me to think that this party had money enough to repay us for our trouble.”
“It isn’t my fault,” said Fletcher, in an apologetic tone. “The Yankee completely deceived me. He was always boasting of his money.”
“He doesn’t seem like that kind of a man,” said the captain thoughtfully. “What could have been his object?”