The Bushranger's Secret

by Mrs. Henry Clarke

It was quite accidentally that, about half-way down the valley, he noticed a crevice in the rocks, on his left hand, thickly hung with creepers. It was more a crack in the rock than a crevice, so narrow was it, and only by looking some distance up could it be seen at all, for its lower portion was entirely hidden by a curtain of hanging foliage. But it was the only opening of any sort that Gray had discovered, and he determined to examine it more closely, though it seemed absurd to suppose that this could be the entrance he sought.

He rode up to the bottom of the fissure and dragged aside the heavy creepers. A wild thrill went through him as he discovered that the crack widened towards the ground into an opening just large enough for a man and horse to pass through. Gray could not see where the dark passage before him led, for after a few yards it took a sudden turn to the right, but he determined at once to make a thorough investigation.

He got off his horse and cut away with some difficulty enough of the curtaining foliage to allow an easy passage through. Then, with a long fearful look up and down the lonely valley, he entered the cleft. His entrance disturbed a vast number of bats, that flew shrieking out of the damp hollows of the rocks and whirled wildly round him. Their cries had an eerie sound well in keeping with the gloomy spot. But Gray pushed doggedly on, soothing his good horse with voice and hand, and becoming more and more convinced that he was on the right track.

After some distance the passage widened, and he began to see broad daylight ahead of him. A few yards more and he came out into a narrow valley heaped with rocks.

It was a gloomy, dreadful place, shut in by high, bare, precipitous cliffs. The passage by which Gray had just entered seemed to be the only mode of access: no human foot could scale those dark overhanging cliffs. There was but little vegetation. Some coarse grass grew in the hollows and on the ledges of the rocks, and a gray-leaved repulsive-looking bramble spread its gnarled branches thickly along the uneven bottom of the gully.

But Gray looked in vain for the mighty tree he had expected to see, towering up in the midst of the valley. There were no trees of any kind in the place. Yet Gray felt sure that he had reached the right spot, and a discovery he made after a brief survey supported his opinion. This was a ruined hut built under the shelter of a shelving piece of rock. It was a hut built of logs; the roof was partly off and the roughly made door was lying rotting on the ground. This deserted, ruinous hut only added a new touch of desolation to the dreary gully. Gray involuntarily shivered as he stood before it and his horse tugged restlessly at the bridle.

He fastened the horse securely to the door-post and stepped into the hut. The floor was of beaten earth. It was heaped up now with the débris of the fallen roof, but Gray could see where the rude hearth had been and where a half-smouldered log still lay. The walls were intact. They were strongly built of heavy logs fastened securely together. The hut might have been built for a miniature fortress, so strong were its walls.

Who had built the hut? Where had the logs come from that formed its walls? Gray carefully considered these questions. He remembered now that Harding had told him of some big trees that were in the gully when a gang of bushrangers, who had made the place their home, had been broken up. There were trees in the gully then. What had become of them?

Gray stepped hastily out and carefully examined the ground. It did not take him long to find the scarred trunks of a few trees hidden by the brambles. He cut away the brambles, and tried by measuring to decide which had been the largest tree. But he could not decide. The trunks were all about the same size. Either the trunk of the largest tree had been taken away altogether, or it had not been much larger than the trunks of the other trees.

Wearied out by his search, Gray returned to the hut. He sat down on one of the fallen rafters of the roof and considered what it was best to do next. He was beginning to feel hopeless. The direction had seemed so clear on Dearing's map. He had been so certain that he would easily find the treasure if he once could reach the gully. Yet here he was, apparently as far off as ever from the attainment of his hopes.