“Oh, Mayster Oliphant, let me go to him. I’m more used to roughing it nor you. I’ll see to poor Mayster Frank. I can’t forget what he’s done for me; and maybe, if God spares him, and that rascal Juniper Graves keeps out of the road, he’ll do well yet.”
This plan commended itself to Mr Oliphant and his nephew, and it was resolved that Jacob should go at once. His master furnished him with what he needed, and bade him send word to him if he should find himself in any trouble or difficulty.
“You’ll find him out easy enough,” said the bullock-driver to Mr Oliphant, “for there’s a party of mounted police setting off this afternoon for the Murray, and the crossing’s only about two miles lower down than the hut. If he as goes joins the police, he’ll be there in half the time it took me to come up.”
So it was arranged that Jacob should start immediately.
“And never mind,” said Mr Oliphant, “about the time of your coming back. If you can be of any service to your poor young master by staying on with him, do so. And keep with him altogether if he wishes to take you again into his service. It may keep him from the drink, now that vagabond’s taken himself off, though I’ll be bound he hasn’t gone empty-handed. Should you wish, however, Jacob, to come back again to me, either now or at any future time, I’ll find you a place, for I can always make an opening for a stanch total abstainer.”
Jacob’s preparations were soon made. He furnished himself with all necessaries, and then joined the party of police on a stout little bush horse, and started that afternoon on his journey. It was drawing towards the evening of the second day after their departure from Adelaide, when they came in sight of the river Murray, where a long shelving bank of reeds, like a small forest, intervened between themselves and the river. The country all round them was wild and wooded, with little to remind of civilised man except the tracks of bullock-drays.
“And here we part,” said the leader of the police. “I’ve no doubt you’ll soon reach the hut you’re seeking if you keep along the bank of the river; but be sure you don’t lose sight of that.”
“Perhaps,” said one of the men, “there may be some one not far-off who could show him his way, so that he’d lose no time. Shall I cooey?”
“Ay, do,” said the captain. So the man uttered a prolonged “Coo–oo–oo–ee!” and all paused. A faint answering “Cooey” was heard in the distance. Then a second “Cooey” was answered by a nearer response, and soon after a stout-looking bushman made his appearance.
“Can you take this young man to a hut about two miles up the river, where there’s a young Englishman lying sick?” asked the captain.