"There be creek," he said, and by the aid of a flash of lightning we could see his thin black arm pointing to a line of trees on our right.
"And the trail?" suggested our host.
"We reach it by and by. Come now, and don't talk."
We followed the native, with the renewed hope of soon terminating an adventure, and as we gained the edge of the gum trees, which were convincing proof that we were near the water, the Australians bent themselves to the task of finding the trail, or the place where the bushrangers were expected to ford. On their hands and knees they crawled about from place to place, aided occasionally by a flash of lightning, but still they were unsuccessful, though not discouraged. Their natures were too patient for that.
"To the devil with the trail," muttered Mike, hitting one of the prostrate natives with his spear. "Let's find the brook, and then we'll be all right, shan't we? Find the main thing first, and then toiler up the little ones, used to be the advice of me father, God rest his soul, and keep him well supplied wid whiskey in the nixt world! Ah, what man he was to be sure! You knew him, sir?" continued Mike, addressing Mr. Wright, who was awaiting the result of the Australians with exemplary patience, considering that the rain was falling in torrents.
"Be quiet," said our host, "or if you must do something go and see how near we are to the creek, and don't make a noise."
"I'll do that same," muttered Mike, "but it's the opinion of a man who knows more than a dozen nagers, that the creek is a mile from here in the udder direction."
He went on his mission, grumbling at the supposition that the creek was near us, when suddenly we heard a loud splash, and Mike's voice raised in supplication.