Charteris had told her Lamington's story. He was the only survivor of an entire family who had been massacred by the blacks of Fraser's Island, and had grown up with but one object in life—to kill every wild black he came across. For this purpose alone he had joined the Native Police, and there were dark tales whispered of what he had done. But the authorities considered him “a good man,” and when he and his fierce troopers rode into town and reported that a mob of wild blacks had been “dispersed,” no one ventured to ask him any questions, but every one knew what had occurred.
So with Lamington and his silent, grim Danites, Sheila, Grainger, Scott, and Jacky travelled together for nearly a hundred miles, and then the two companies separated—Lamington heading towards that part of the forbidding-looking mountain range where he hoped to find his prey, and Grainger and his party keeping on to the west.
“It's dangerous country, Grainger,” the police officer said as he bade them goodbye. “There are any amount of niggers all around, so you will need to be careful about your fire at night. Shift your camp a good half mile after you have lit your fire and had supper.”
Grainger smiled. “I've been through the mill, Lamington. But I don't think we shall have any trouble unless you head them off and send Sandy and his friends down on to us.”
“I do mean to head them off, and drive them down from the range into the spinifex country about thirty miles from here, when I can round them up,” said Lamington softly, as if he were speaking of driving game. “Sorry you won't be with me to see the fun. The £500 reward for the production of Messieurs Sandy and Daylight—alive or dead—I already consider as mine. It will give up a trip to Melbourne to see the Cup next year.”
“But you can't claim the money—you're an official.”
“This is an exceptional case, and no distinction is to be made between civilians and policemen—the Government does sensible things sometimes.”
Two hours passed, and Sheila, anxiously awaiting the sound of the horses' bells, or the reappearance of Grainger and Scott, began to feel that something had gone amiss. The storm had ceased, and when she rose and stepped outside she saw that a few stars were shining. Seating herself upon a granite boulder, she listened intently, but the only sound that broke the black silence of the night was the rushing of the waters of the creek.
She placed her hands to her mouth, and was about to give a loud Coo-ee! when her pride stopped her.