Daily the old man recounted legends of the early days of colonial life, and instructed him in the lore of the sportsmen of the land. So when the cattle were ‘drawing along’ quietly, or feeding under strict guardianship, Tom and he would slip off with the dogs, which generally resulted in a kangaroo tail baked in the ashes for the evening meal, a brush turkey, or a savoury dish of ‘wallaby steamer’ for the morning’s breakfast.
Wilfred’s watch was ended. He was anxious enough to find his couch in the tent, where he could throw himself down and pass instantly into the dreamless sleep which comes so swiftly to the watcher. But he saw their leader move off on his round, with his usual stately stride, as if sleep and rest were superfluous luxuries.
The morn arose, tranquil, balm-breathing, glorious. As the cattle followed the course of a stream through the still, trackless forest, a feeling of relief, amounting to exhilaration, pervaded the whole party. It was generally known that the outskirts of the wilderness would be reached that evening—that ere another day closed they might have a glimpse of the long-sought land of promise.
Every one’s wardrobe was in a dilapidated and unsatisfactory condition. The horses were jaded, the cattle leg-weary, the men tired out, with the dismal monotony of the wilderness.
The stage of this day was unusually short; indeed, not above half of the usual distance. The leader, Hubert, wished the rearguard to close up, in case of accidents. In the event of a surprise, they must have their whole available force within call.
As is customary, there were dissentients. ‘Why lose half a stage?’ ‘Why not send a scout forward? The wild men of the woods might, after all, be peaceably inclined.’ This last suggestion was Argyll’s, who, always impatient, could with difficulty brook the slow, daily advance of the leading drove. The impetuous Highlander, who had not hitherto had experience of hand-to-hand fighting with the wild tribes of the land, was inclined to undervalue the danger of an attack upon a well-armed party.
But Hubert Warleigh, in this juncture, showed that he was not disposed to surrender his rights as a duly appointed leader. ‘I am sorry we don’t agree,’ he said; ‘but I take my own way until we reach the open country. As to the blacks, no man can say I was ever afraid of them (or of anything else, for that matter), only I know their ways. You don’t, of course, and I think it the right thing to be well prepared. Old Tom saw a heavy lot of tracks yesterday—all of fighting men too, not a gin or a picaninny among them. He didn’t like the look of it. We must camp as close as we can to-night, and keep a bright look-out, or Faithfull’s men won’t be all they’ll have to brag about.’
Argyll thought these were groundless fears; that they were losing time by remaining in this hopeless wilderness longer than was necessary. But he was outvoted by the others.
Meanwhile the first drove, after having been fed until sundown, was camped in a bend of the sedgy creek, and the usual watch-fires lighted. This spot was peculiarly suitable, inasmuch as the long line of an outcrop of volcanic trap, which ran transversely to the little watercourse, closed one side of the half-circle. This was not, of course, an actual fence, but being composed of stone slabs and enormous boulders, did not invite clambering on by the footsore cattle.