The Gold-Stealers. Edward Dyson
make Ted? I know—I know. He'll be my faithful black boy, what'll rather die than leave me. You fellers bring a cork to-morrow, an' we'll pretty quick make a faithful black boy of Twitter.'
All eyes were turned upon Ted, who did not seem in the least impressed by the magnificent prospect. Indeed, the faithful native was palpably out of sorts; he took no part in the enthusiasm of his mates, his face was pale, and funk was legible in the diffident eye he turned upon the company. Dick noted this and put in an artful touch or two.
'Jacky-Jacky, the faithful black boy,' he said; 'brave as a lion, an' the best shot in the world—better'n me!
The ruse was not successful. Ted failed to respond.
'Twitter don't seem to want to be no black boy,' said Phil.
'I'll be Jacky-Jacky,' volunteered Peterson eagerly.
Peterson was a stolid youth with a face like a wooden doll; absolutely reliable since he was as stubborn under adult rule as a whole team of unbroken bullocks, and quite reckless of consequences for the reason that he never anticipated them. Peterson would have made a most successful Jacky-Jacky, but his suggestion was overlooked in the general concern inspired by Ted's conduct.
Feeling the eyes of the party upon him, Ted grew more uneasy, the corners of his mouth drew down, one finger went up slowly, and Twitter began to snivel.
'I—I—w—wa—want to go home,' he said.
The mates looked at each other in amazement. Ted was little, but his pluck had been tried on many occasions, and this was a great surprise.
'Well, he's on'y a kiddy,' said Phil pityingly, and with the superiority two years may confer.
Dick found the three were looking to him for an explanation.
'Ted's real scared,' he said. 'We made a discovery this afternoon—in there.'
'In the big drive?' asked Jacker. The others looked startled.
Dick nodded, and took up the candle. 'Come an' see,' he said.
Dick led the way along the opposite drive, and his mates followed, not too eagerly, Ted bringing up the rear. The drive was about eighty feet in extent. Having reached the end, Dick held the candle low, and made visible to his wondering mates a black cavity about eighteen inches in diameter in one corner near the floor.
'We were workin' in here a bit for a change this afternoon after Peetree hunted us, an' I broke through.'
'What's in there?' asked Jacker in an awed voice.
'Look,' said Dick.
Jacker backed away; the other three kept a respectful distance and stared silently.
'It's on'y another drive,' Dick explained. 'It must come from the Red
Hand, I think.'
Dick was quite undisturbed, but the others were afraid, and even when they had returned to their own drive cast many doubting glances back into the darkness. In the mine as they had known it before everything was definite, and there was nothing of which a boy of spirit need be afraid. The shaft was choked with dirt a few feet below their landing-planks, and there was no spot in which a mystery might lurk; but it was very different now with that black hole leading Heaven knew into what awesome depths, harbouring goodness knew what horrors. Ted's defection had suddenly become the sentiment of the majority. At that moment Dick could have counted on Peterson alone had need arisen.
'We'll go down there an' explore them workin's,' said Dick, having lit a piece of dry root and composed himself for a smoke.
'In the daytime, Morgan,' said Jacker hastily and with diffidence.
'All right; but it don't make no difference down here, you know.'
Jacker thought it did, for although it was always night in the drives, the consciousness that the earth above was flooded with sunlight was a great heartener.
'Don't you think you'd best give this up for once—this bushranger game?' ventured Jacker.
'Why?' Dick's eyes were round with surprise.
'Oh, well, Twitter's jack of it, an' I don't think it's much fun.' Jacker had assumed a careless air. 'See here, Dick,' he continued smartly, 'the Cow Flat chaps made a raid last night, an' took Butts an' three others—mine among 'em.'
This was an important matter. Butts was Dick's big grey billygoat, the best goat in harness the boys had ever known or ever heard of; and the 'Cow Flat chaps' were the boys of a small centre about two miles and a half further down the creek, between whom and the boys of Waddy there existed an interminable feud that led them to fight on sight, and steal such of each other's possessions as could be easily and expeditiously removed. Dick's excitement soon evaporated; evidently root smoking was conducive to a philosophical frame of mind.
'We'll get them back all right—after,' he said.
'They'll work Butts to a shadder,' Jacker remarked insinuatingly.
'Then we'll go down some night, an' strip Amson's garden.' Amson was a prominent resident of Cow Flat, and had nothing whatever to do with the goat raid, but the boyish sense of justice does not stoop to find distinctions.
Jacker Mack had another string to his bow. 'They say Harry Hardy's comin' home this week,' he said.
'No!' cried Dick, much moved. 'Who says?'
'Gable says.'
'Pooh! Gable's a kid.'
'No matter, it's true. Mrs. Hardy had a letter, 'n Harry's coming down with cattle.'
'Gosh! he'll make it hot for Tinribs, I bet.'
Waddy had been waiting for Harry Hardy to come home, confident that he would do something of an exciting character to the disadvantage of those persons who had been instrumental in sending his brother Frank to gaol. Harry was much the younger of the two brothers; for some years he had been away droving, and the news of his brother's misfortune was bringing him home from a Queensland station. The township thought, too, there would be a score to wipe out on his mother's account, and the return was looked for as an important public event.
Dick pondered over the situation for a moment. It would never do to miss any entertainment that might result from Harry's return, and yet there was Joel Ham still to be reckoned with.
'I think we'd better wait,' he said. 'You fellows can let on as soon's he arrives.'
Ted's face fell again, and Jacker moved uneasily. He was anxious to be out of the mine and away from the uncanny possibilities of that dark chasm, and yet it was absolutely necessary that he should show no sign of funk, leave no opening for the tongue of derision. Some day, perhaps, when the full strength of the company was available and candles were numerous, he would follow Dick's lead in the work of exploration, but for the present his whole desire was to get to the surface. Now recollection came, and with it hope. Diving into his breast pocket, he drew and crumpled envelope, and handed it to Dick.
A letter,' he said, 'from your mother.'
Dick was surprised; as he took the note Jacker discovered an accusation in his eye.
'The oath don't say nothin' agin' letters,' said McKnight sullenly.
'No,' answered his mate, 'but really miners ain't supposed to have mothers runnin' after 'em, like if they were kids.'
'Well,' said the other, on the defensive, 'your mother comes to me at dinner time, an' she says: 'I s'pose 'taint likely you'll see my Dick, Jacker.' I said,' No, Missus Haddon, 'taint, s'elp me.' Then she says, 'Well, if he should come to see you, will you give him this?' So I took it, an' there you are.'
Dick read the letter slowly; it was a very artful letter, most pathetic, and sprinkled with drops which might have been tears. The writer spoke despondingly of her loneliness and her desolation, and the fears she endured when by herself in the house at night, knowing there was a camp of blacks in the corner paddock,