First in the Field Part 66

"No. It is a regular trap; but I was thirsty, and I came down to drink.

Fell half the way," said Nic, holding up a bleeding hand.

"I went down the same way," said the convict quietly.

"Then there is a way out?" said Nic sharply.

"Yes, over the brink yonder."

"Oh yes, I found that out," said Nic, with a laugh; "but I don't want to break my neck. How did you get out?"

"Over there," said the convict quietly. "It requires a steady head, but you can creep along a narrow ledge, and get back to the top here, three or four hundred yards farther on. I did not find it out till I was nearly starved to death."

"Poor old chap," said Nic quietly. "I say, this sounds more like you."

"Does it? Did any one see you coming?"

"Bungarolo. But I sent him home before I was halfway here."

"He would not tell tales, poor fellow. They have had my life in their hands ever since."

"But, I say, Leather, it's awkward talking like this. I'll come up to you;" and he moved toward the edge.

"No, no, don't stir," cried the man fiercely. And Nic stamped angrily upon the rock.

"Why don't you shoot me?" he cried. "You've got the gun. There, be off; I don't want to see which way you go. Look here, Sorrel's over yonder somewhere. Go and find him, and ride off up the country as far as you like. Only send him back some day by one of the blacks, I'll pay him with blankets and things. I can't give him to you, because, as you know, he was father's gift. There's a pack of meal on his back; I brought it in case I could find you; but you'd better take this lump of damper too."

The convict made no reply for some minutes, but lay there at the edge of the rocks gazing sadly down at Nic, who had thrown himself upon his chest, and was looking into the gorge.

"Nic," he said at last.

"Well," was the reply; but the boy did not turn his head.

"Don't misunderstand me, lad; I said don't try to come up, because the risk of going along there made me shudder. I'm coming down to help you--where's your hand?"

"Oh, I say, I beg your pardon," cried Nic, springing up. "I didn't mean--I thought--I--I say, Leather, mind how you come."

"Yes, I'll mind," said the man. "But the gun. It is not safe to pitch it down to you."

"No; leave it up there."

"For another enemy to get hold of it. No, my lad, that won't do.

There, if I hold it crosswise like this, and drop it down, you can catch it."

"Yes, I think so."

"Then try."

As he spoke the man went down upon his face, held the gun at arm's length as far down over the edge as he could, and then after a warning let it fall.

"Right," cried Nic, catching it cleverly. "Now, how are you going to manage? I came down just there."

"And I'll try twenty feet to my left here," said the convict; and, selecting a place, he lowered himself down until he hung by his hands, and then began to descend with wonderful activity, reaching the bottom without a slip, solely from the rapidity of his movements.

"Why, Leather," cried Nic, grasping his hand, "you are as active as a squirrel."

"A man needs to be to lead my life, boy," said the convict quietly.

"Hah! that seems to put humanity into one again. The blacks are friendly enough; but it is for the touch of a white hand one yearns."

"Have some damper?" said Nic suddenly, so as to hide a peculiar feeling which troubled him.

The convict took the bread cake, broke it, and began to eat, seeking refuge in the act for the same reason.

"Hah!" he said, smiling, "it tastes good. Nic, boy, you forgive me all I have said?"

"Of course I do. But, I say, how have you managed to live?"

"The same as a black would. This is the first bread I have eaten since I broke away and became a savage."

"Do you think they will manage to catch you?" said Nic, after a pause.

"Not alive, my lad. Well, let's have just a few words together, and then you must go."

"You will stop about here, I suppose?"

The convict shook his head.

"Hunted beasts stay where they are safe. Hunt them, and they go farther away."

"You have been hunted, but you have not gone farther away."

"No, boy, because this is my sanctuary. There, you see I trust you, and I know that I am safe in your hands. Let's sit down."

Nic willingly did so, and the convict went on eating the bread cake, talking quietly the while.

"There is no place I could find where I should be so safe, Nic," he said; "and this is near human nature, which one likes, even if it is unkind. I had often thought of breaking away and making for the bush, feeling convinced that if I reached the place I could manage to live where so many poor wretches who have escaped found their end. But I was servant to a just man; your mother and sisters treated me when they saw me as if they were sorry for me, and I could not go. Then you dame, boy, and tied me tighter to the place, making all the petty troubles caused by that overbearing brute seem like nothing."

"I tied you tighter to the place?" cried Nic.

"Yes. Why, the hours I spent with you when you found me out in the run were the only happy ones I had had for years."

"Oh, I didn't do much," said Nic hurriedly. "I'm afraid it was because I liked to talk to you about birds and things. But, I say, do you mean to keep to this life?"

"Do you think I can give up and submit to that worst punishment of--to be flogged?"

"No," cried Nic firmly; "you can't do that. You must wait. And look here, I tell you what: try and find a way down into the gorge, and keep it a secret. Why, you can build yourself a gunyah (bark hut) somewhere below, and live there, and make your garden and keep fowls, and there are sheep and cattle. I'll bring you a live chicken now and then, and seeds and cuttings, and tea and sugar and flour when I come, and then we can go fis.h.i.+ng and hunting and collecting together. Why, it will be capital."

The convict smiled.