‘Yes, I know,’ said Brody; ‘your legs will carry you quite as far as any of our station nags. You’ll accept a gun, eh?’
The black sprang to his feet, and said:
‘A gun for my own! Very good, Master Brody; I like a gun.’
‘Then you shall have one,’ said Ben. ‘I know you can shoot.’
Yacka went through a performance of shooting an imaginary object in such a realistic manner that everybody laughed.
It was a merry night, and all slept soundly. In the morning Edgar and Will made a start from Yanda with Yacka, who was on foot, and the black looked the picture of a trained athlete.
Yacka had discarded his ordinary loin-cloth, and wore instead a peculiar arrangement in which he could stow away a variety of articles. He declined to wear any other clothing, and his body shone in the sunlight, and the muscles stood out on his arms, chest, and lower limbs. His curly hair was sufficient protection to his head from the burning sun, and it was in much better condition than the shaggy locks of the blacks who were looking on. Yacka had evidently told the blacks he was leaving Yanda, and they looked as disconsolate as their expressionless faces would permit.
As for Edgar and Will Brown, they were in high spirits, and, mounted on two very fair horses, thoroughly equipped for a journey, they looked a fine pair of young fellows.
‘You’ll strike a station about sundown, I reckon,’ said Ben Brody. ‘They’ll be glad to see you if you say where you hail from, although it makes very little difference about that round here. Take care of yourselves, my lads, and I hope Yacka will bring you back to Yanda soon.’
After hearty handshakes all round, the trio set off amidst cheers and the loud, peculiar cries of the blacks. Ben Brody watched them for a long time, and waved his hat in response to the salutes of Edgar and Will.