The Lost Valley Part 15

They had lost all sight of the pursuers, though once Bradby caught a glimpse of smoke far away to the east, smoke that he fancied came from the mid-day fire of the troopers.

They halted at sunset in the shadow of a clump of red gums and made the first meal since morning. As a result of a hurried consultation they decided to press on until midnight. But the horses were wearied with the rough and constant travelling, and it took the better part of two hours for them to cover a little under three miles.

"They've got to have a rest and so have we," Bradby said finally. "The pace is killing, and I'm quite satisfied that the police are taking it fairly easy. We've got scared over nothing. They might not even be on our track. At any rate I suggest we finish for the night and get what sleep we can."

Abel c.u.mshaw raised no objection to this--as a matter of fact he was almost falling from his mount out of sheer saddle-weariness--so a halt was called, the horses were unsaddled, the men unrolled their blankets and settled down to slumber just as the silver ghost of the moon flooded the place with its cool white light.

It was broad daylight when they awoke, and the sun was already high up in the heavens.

"Somewhere about nine or ten o'clock," c.u.mshaw guessed. "We've slept in, Jack."

Bradby ruefully admitted that this was so, but excused it on the ground that they would be better fitted for the day's work.

"I'm hanged if I like this game," c.u.mshaw growled as they made a meagre breakfast on almost the last of their rations. "The food's running short, and it's only a matter of time until they wear us down. You know what it means for us, Jack, if they catch us with the gold. Now I've got an idea, and if we carry it out I see a chance of escaping scot-free.

The gold's weighing us down, so what we've got to do is to get rid of it."

"You're surely not going to throw it away after all we've gone through,"

said Bradby, aghast at the proposal.

"No, I'm not," c.u.mshaw told him. "What I suggest is that we hide it somewhere handy, make a note of the spot, and then clear out of this particular section for a time. We can easily keep afloat for a couple of months, and when the hue and cry has died down, we can come back and dig it up at our leisure. We'll gain nothing by sticking to it now and we'll run a chance of losing everything."

"Not a bad idea," Bradby agreed. "But the trouble's to find a suitable spot."

"We pa.s.sed dozens of such places already, Jack. We're just as likely to strike something as good or even better during the course of the day.

The whole country-side is honeycombed with hiding-places; it's like a rabbit-warren."

"There's nothing like being an optimist," Bradby said. "Have it your way, Abel. Now the sooner you find some nice secure little spot the better for us, I'm thinking. For one thing the food's running short, as you just remarked, and for another I don't intend keeping up this dodging game for ever. We can't last; they'll wear us down."

"That's supposing they don't get tired and go home," said the cheerful Mr. c.u.mshaw.

"Not much chance of that," Mr. Bradby retorted. "I only wish they would."

During the morning Bradby's horse developed lameness, and, though the two men slackened the pace in order to give it every chance, by mid-day it could barely limp along.

"This won't do," said Bradby in despair. "We're losing time we can ill afford. All the same this old crock'll have to struggle on until nightfall, and then we'll see whether we'll have to shoot it."

"I don't like shooting a horse," c.u.mshaw remarked. "It's like murder."

Bradby's only answer was a muttered oath. The trials of the Journey were bringing out the worst side of the man, a side that c.u.mshaw had never seen before. He eyed his companion thoughtfully. If the wilderness was to get on Bradby's nerves at this early stage, c.u.mshaw could see that there was likely to be very serious trouble before the end came. The air in the highlands was laden with a freshness which, while it stung the men to action, at the same time put a keen edge on their tempers. Both of them were children of the warm, sun-kissed lowlands, and the difference of even a few degrees of temperature had a remarkable effect on them. With Abel c.u.mshaw it was such as to send a warm glow into his cheeks; the cold bite of the air made his blood sparkle like new wine and urged him on to fresh efforts. It affected Mr. Bradby in another and a worse way. He became sullen, and there was a certain marked vindictiveness in the way he spurred his lame horse on to exertions that were plainly too much for it. Once or twice Abel was on the point of remonstrating with him, but for the sake of peace he held his tongue and waited, in the hope that the day would bring forth some measure of relief. But nothing happened that morning, and the hope died within him.

Late that day, when the pace had slowed down almost to a crawl, they stumbled across the place by the simplest kind of accident. They had been dropping down to lower levels the greater part of the day, and somewhere about three o'clock in the afternoon--they were not quite sure of the hour, since the sun was masked by the trees--they found themselves in what looked like a narrow gully. Both sides of it were lined with thick bushes of golden wattle that shut out all view on either hand. There were shadows galore in this narrow gully, and the place itself looked almost as dark as the entrance to the Pit. c.u.mshaw, who had a cla.s.sical education and had not been able to forget it, any more than the fact that he had once been a gentleman, murmured under his breath.

"What's that?" Bradby asked sharply.

c.u.mshaw repeated his quotation. "Facilis est descensus Averno," he said.

"What does that mean?" Bradby enquired, in the tone of a man who imagines he is being insulted in a language he does not understand.

"It's easy to go to h.e.l.l," c.u.mshaw translated.

Bradby shot one sharp curious glance at him, but made no comment on what he had said. They rode on in silence.

Presently they came to a patch of ground that had been broken by the wind or the rain, or perhaps both together. The shadows so fell that the travellers did not realise the treacherous nature of the soil until they were right in the middle of it. c.u.mshaw's horse floundered and would have fallen on its knees had he not reined in sharply. This caused him to cannon into his companion's mount. Bradby pulled back sharply, in some way jarring his animal's sore leg as he did so. It reared up on its haunches with the pain, and in the most approved manner bucked its rider off. He shot up in the air, described a beautiful half-circle, and sailed through the barrier of wattle like a human projectile.

c.u.mshaw slipped off his horse with the quickness of thought. He had enough presence of mind to tether both his own and Bradby's mount, and then he cautiously parted the bushes. For the moment he could see nothing but a great wall of golden blossoms, and then out of the depths came Bradby's furious voice. He was cursing the horse and the slope and everything and everyone within hearing in the simple and forceful fas.h.i.+on of the Australian bushman.

c.u.mshaw called to him and was answered with an oath.

"Where are you?" he repeated.

"Down here," said the voice, this time modifying its language. "Step carefully or you'll come a cropper."

Mr. c.u.mshaw pulled the bushes apart and found that he was standing on the verge of a sheer descent.

"Mind your eye," said the voice of the still invisible Mr. Bradby. "I've found the very place we've been looking for."

CHAPTER III.

THE HIDDEN VALLEY.

Abel c.u.mshaw caught at the bushes to save himself from slipping and turned a curious eye on the scene before him. Really there wasn't very much for him to see. Bradby had fallen into a miniature valley so small that it looked like the creation of a child. The place was heavily timbered, and almost all definable features were masked beneath the trees. Abel saw even in the first glance that here was just that ideal hiding-place for which they had been searching. Softly and cautiously he commenced to descend. The slope was slippery with green gra.s.s, and he finished the last few yards with a run. He came down amongst a lot of bracken and fern, and suffered no worse harm than the shock of a sudden stoppage. Mr. Bradby, he saw, was sitting almost buried in a ma.s.s of bracken, and looking much cheerier than his recent utterance would seem to suggest.

"Are you hurt?" c.u.mshaw asked him. He held out a helping hand. Mr.

Bradby struggled to his feet and smiled at his questioner.

"Hurt? No," he said. "Only surprised. Why, Abel, here's the very place we want. We could hide here for years, and they could be scouring the country for us, and them not a penny the wiser. That tumble of mine was just the luckiest thing imaginable. You talk about falling into h.e.l.l!

Why, man, we've fallen into heaven, and if we don't make the best use we can of the place we're the biggest duffers alive."

"How are we to get the horses down here?" queried the practical Mr.

c.u.mshaw.

Mr. Bradby eyed the slope down which he had come so precipitately, and then pursed up his lips.

"It don't look so easy from here," he said at length. "And from what I can see this place is walled in all round."

"Whether it is or not," said c.u.mshaw, "we've got to get those horses down, and get them down at once."

"But how?"

"That's what we've got to find out," said c.u.mshaw. And with that he commenced to climb up the slope again. It was hard work, much harder than coming down, but in the end he managed it. When he reached the top he turned, to find that Bradby was almost at his heels. He surveyed the place with the eye of a trained bushman; then he said, "We can manage it, Jack. It's a case of sliding them down, but once we get them started they'll go right enough."

"We'll give it a try," said Mr. Bradby. His usual good humor was fast re-a.s.serting itself now that they had reached a haven of comparative safety, and he was ready to try any scheme that promised even the smallest chance of success.

Without wasting any further words on the matter the two men scrambled through the bushes and made their way towards the horses. The lame animal had quite recovered from its fright, and suffered its owner to lead it up the slight rise to the wattles, though there it drew back as if conscious of the drop beneath. But by dint of prodding and coaxing Bradby forced it through the crackling brush, and then, with a wild whinny of fear, it lost its footing and slid down the slope in an avalanche of gra.s.s and twigs. c.u.mshaw's mount made the descent in fine style, and the two men followed.