Part 48 (2/2)
”Baal mumhill piccaninny, belong a you. Pidney you.”
”The child is safe,” said Craig, after asking a few more questions of this Scotch Myell black.
”Safe? and they are holding a corroboree and drinking. There is little time to lose. They may sacrifice the infant at any time.”
Craig struck a light as he spoke, and every man examined his arms.
”The moon will rise in an hour. Let us go on. Silent as death, men!
Do not overturn a stone or break a twig, or the poor baby's life will be sacrificed in a moment.”
They now advanced slowly and cautiously, guided by Jacoby, and at length lay down almost within pistol-shot of the place where the horrid corroboree was going on.
Considering the noise--the shrieking, the clas.h.i.+ng of arms, the rude chanting of songs, and awful din, of the dancers and actors in this ugly drama--to maintain silence might have seemed unnecessary; but these blacks have ears like wolves, and, in a lull of even half a second, would be sharp to hear the faintest unusual noise.
Craig and Archie, however, crept on till they came within sight of the ceremonies.
At another time it might have been interesting to watch the hideous grotesqueness of that awful war-dance, but other thoughts were in their minds at present--they were looking everywhere for Diana. Presently the wild, naked, dancing blacks surged backwards, and, asleep in the arms of a horrid gin, they discovered Bob's darling child. It was well Bob himself was not here or all would quickly have been lost. All was nearly lost as it was; for suddenly Archie inadvertently snapped a twig.
In a moment there was silence, except for the barking of a dog.
Craig raised his voice, and gave vent to a scream so wild and unearthly that even Archie was startled.
At once all was confusion among the blacks. Whether they had taken it for the yell of Bunyip or not may never be known, but they prepared to fly. The gin carrying Diana threw down the frightened child. A black raised his arm to brain the little toddler. He fell dead instead.
Craig's aim had been a steady one. Almost immediately after a volley or two completed the rout, and the blacks fled yelling into the forest.
Diana was saved! This was better than revenge; for not a hair of her bonnie wee head had been injured, so to speak, and she still wore the one little red-morocco shoe.
There was not a man there who did not catch that child up in his arms and kiss her, some giving vent to their feelings in wild words of thankfulness to G.o.d in heaven, while the tears came dripping over their hardy, sun-browned cheeks.
CHAPTER THIRTY.
CHEST TO CHEST WITH SAVAGES--HOW IT ALL ENDED.
No one thought of sleeping again that night. They went back for their horses, and, as the moon had now risen, commenced the journey in a bee line, as far as that was possible, towards Burley New Farm.
They travelled on all night, still under the guidance of Jacoby, who needed no blazed trees to show in which direction to go. But when morning came rest became imperative, for the men were beginning to nod in their saddles, and the horses too seemed to be falling asleep on their feet, for several had stumbled and thrown their half-senseless riders. So camp was now formed and breakfast discussed, and almost immediately all save a sentry went off into sound and dreamless slumber, Diana lying close to Craig, whom she was very fond of, with her head on his great shoulder and her fingers firmly entwined in his beard.
It was hard upon the one poor fellow who had to act as sentry. Do what he might he could scarcely keep awake, and he was far too tired to continue walking about. He went and leant his body against a tree, and in this position, what with the heat of the day, and the drowsy hum of insects, with the monotonous song of the gra.s.shopper, again and again he felt himself merging into the land of dreams. Then he would start and shake himself, and take a turn or two in the suns.h.i.+ne, then go back to the tree and nod as before.
The day wore on, the sun got higher and higher, and about noon, just when the sentry was thinking or rather dreaming of waking the sleepers, there was a wild shout from a neighbouring thicket, a spear flew past him and stuck in the tree. Next moment there was a terrible _melee_--a hand-to-hand fight with savages that lasted for long minutes, but finally resulted in victory for the squatters.
But, alas! it was a dearly-bought victory. Three out of the twelve were dead, and three more, including Gentleman Craig, grievously wounded.
The rest followed up the blacks for some little way, and more than one of them bit the dust. Then they returned to help their fellows.
Craig's was a spear wound through the side, none the less dangerous in that hardly a drop of blood was lost externally.
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