Paul. “On, Harry, on! we must head him before he reaches it.”
“Very well to sing out, ‘On, on!’ My beast is doing his best, and Bolter doesn’t intend to be caught,” cried Harry.
That Bolter would escape seemed very likely. He had got within a few yards of the scrub, when he suddenly wheeled round, almost on his haunches, and galloped back the way he had come. Scarcely had he done so, when a black figure started up from behind some bushes, and hurled a long lance at him, but the weapon merely grazed his side, and stuck in the ground.
“Back, back! the blacks! There may be more of them!” cried Paul.
Harry had seen the native, and pulled up as his brother spoke. They were just in time, for a dozen or more black fellows, showing themselves, sprang forward poising their spears ready to hurl at the young horsemen. Old Bolter, fully comprehending the danger which he and his owners were in, instead of going over the bad ground took that to the left, allowing Paul and Harry to ride up close to him on either flank. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes about him, evidently intending to make off in some other direction if he could. The three horses now tore along over the ground, the nimble-footed blacks, with their spears in hand, following them for some distance. At length, however, Paul, looking back, found that they had got well ahead of the natives. It was important not to be overtaken, for they evidently belonged to some hostile tribe who intended mischief. Bolter, who seemed to be aware that there was no longer any danger from the blacks, made two or three attempts to escape; but Paul and Harry reminding him of his duty with their stock whips, he at length made straight as an arrow for the station, over the very course they would have chosen. Nothing stopped him. Across the country he galloped, with the two riders on either side. As they approached the yard they shouted to Sandy Macdougal, the overseer, who, fortunately, was close at hand, to open the gate, and in rushed Old Bolter.
“We had a hard matter to find him, and he would have got away from us after all if a number of black fellows had not tried to spear him,” observed Paul. “We must be on our guard against them, or they will be doing some mischief.”
“You’ve indeed done vera weel to bring the brute back so soon,” said Sandy, as he carefully closed the gate, not to give Bolter another chance of escaping. “It would be wise to send over to Ogilvie to let the police know that there are strange blacks in the neighbourhood. Better to prevent the mischief than punish their puir bodies after it’s committed, and as they attacked you, there’s sufficient reason for warning them to take their departure.”
The lads having unsaddled their horses, turned them into the paddock, and, accompanied by Sandy, repaired to the house. On the way the overseer inquired more particularly about their meeting with the blacks.
“It’s a mercy they didna spear you. Praise the Lord for His goodness, lads; He always watches over those who trust Him. Dinna fail to do that.”