The Bushranger's Secret

by Mrs. Henry Clarke

Gray lost no time in starting forwards. The choice of direction made by him was determined by remembering the cypresses of which they had seen the mirage. He believed that they had been a landmark to Clay, and that his turning in another direction was but a feint.

It was difficult for Gray to decide the exact direction. The sky was heavy with clouds, and no sun could be seen behind them. But he carefully calculated as well as he could whereabouts on the horizon the trees had appeared, and turned towards that point.

He knew enough of Bush stories to know the tendency of wanderers there to travel in a circle; and in this sterile waste, where every mile was like every other mile, Gray felt he might travel round and round and never know it. To prevent this he dug shallow holes with his knife here and there, and stuck boughs of the bramble in them, so that he might recognize the spot if he came to it again.

Towards noon the clouds gradually dispersed and the sun blazed down upon him. This bettered his position in one way, as he could now be sure of walking forward, but it increased the torment of thirst until it became almost unendurable agony. He struggled on till past noonday, but no dark cypresses lifted themselves on the sky-line. The desert stretched round him in its blank, dreadful loneliness. The blazing sun beat down upon him, making sight a torture. He could go no further. He flung himself down on the unsheltered burning sand and hid his eyes from the light.

Towards evening the clouds gathered again, and he rose and struggled on. He walked many miles that night, and towards dawn lay down and slept. The second day passed much as the first had done. The sky cleared again, and the fury of the sun beat down upon him. He struggled on for a time, and again gave up the struggle and lay down and waited for evening.

On the third day his agony of thirst had become unbearable. He knew that in a few more hours death must end his sufferings if he could not reach water. With grim determination he battled on that day through the flaming sunshine and gave himself no rest. Every moment he expected to see the cypresses rise on the horizon; and he was sweeping it with his glance when his eye fell on a white object fluttering on the wind from shrub to shrub. At first he could not discern what it was—his bloodshot weary eyes refused their office—-but on approaching nearer he saw it was a piece of paper. It fluttered across his path. He picked it up with a horrible foreboding. It was Lumley's letter, written on the back of the map he had drawn in the hut.

It was just possible the wind had carried it onwards to cross his path. Gray made an effort to think that this was so. But a few staggering steps further on brought him to the shallow holes in which the brambles stood upright. He had come back to the place from which he had started! All hope died within him as he saw those hollows. He sank down on the sand to wait for death.

He was lying face downwards on the sand, with his arms flung out before him, when a low distant sound suddenly broke the stillness. He started up and looked wildly round. The twilight had fallen, and he could not distinguish objects clearly; but as he strained his gaze from side to side the sound came again to his ears—the sound of a horse galloping at full speed across the desert.

Gray could now distinguish from what direction the sound came, and he hurried forward, hope once more rising up in him. Was it Lumley come back to help him, repentant for his desertion? Or was it some lost traveller like himself, seeking a way out of these dreadful wilds? Or had Lumley sent a party to search for him from the nearest station, while going onwards himself to safety? Gray asked himself these questions as he hurried on through the gathering darkness. He still could hear the galloping hoofs, and for a time they seemed to come nearer and nearer. But suddenly he became aware that they were receding from him—the sound was becoming fainter and fainter, it was dying away in the distance.

Gray stopped. A cry of despair broke from him, and then, summoning all his strength, he raised a loud "Coo-ee!"