Part 16

The warriors are now right up, fronting the fire. In a few minutes the grand finale will have been enacted, and the curtain rung down. Unfortunately, however, one of the young men has a quarrel with a youth belonging to the visiting tribe. In the culminating point of this sham fight he sees his enemy among the crowd of onlookers, and, urged by his excited feelings, he directs insulting remarks full at this man, who, running out into the clear space in front of the fighters, returns these with interest. This so enrages the Bullaroi youth that, darting from the ranks, he slings his spear full at the enemy, and transfixes him in the breast. Loud cries of consternation come from the women, and a moment's awful stillness from the men. Then, as if by magic, the Dingdonglas have risen in their wrath, arms in hand. The play has vanished, and downright fight and bloody battle ensues. Spears hurtle and boomerangs swish through the air; the crash of nulla-nulla on shields supplants the music of the orchestra, the while the gins flee in sheer terror from the bloody scene to their huts in the forest, rending the air with their shrill screams as they speed.

But what of the whites?

They stand a few moments horrorstruck at the raging human cyclone. At first the grim reality seemed unreal, just as previously the sham battle-action appeared real. Joe is the first to size up the situation. Not only are the blacks in blood-red earnest, but there is actual peril to the spectators. The combatants are surging to and fro in the strife of conflict, and circling as though in a vortex. At any moment the spectators might be drawn into the battle zone through the movements of the belligerents.

"Come, Mag, Jess, quickly!" cries that youth, seizing the girls as he speaks and drawing them away. "The brutes are at it in real earnest. Come! we must bolt to the trees. Great Caesar, look at that!" A spear whistled through the air and impaled itself in a tree near by.

Just then, one of the fighters detached himself from the scrum and came bounding up to the little group, spear extended. As he seemed to be on hostile intent, the youths lined up in front of the girls, ready to defend them and grapple with the foe. On nearing, Sandy knew him to be Willy the station boy. Willy, loyal to the family, came to entreat them to leave the field. There was little fear of any direct attack upon them, though it were hard to say what turn the savage mind might take. The apparent danger was from fugitive spears and boomerangs. So Willy paused but to cry out, "Take 'em girls to horses: safe there; no safe here. Go!" and then skipped back to his band, throwing himself heart and soul into the fray. For the hour the boy was as great a savage as any of the young men of the tribe.

The girls, now really terrified, need no pressure to leave; so they scurry from the field and reach their horses, some distance beyond spear reach. There they watch the tide of battle as it ebbs and flows until it dies, which it is not long in doing, from its very violence.

When the casualties were reckoned it was found that most of the combatants had received bruises or gashes, limbs were broken, but the only fatalities were those of the lads who began the quarrel. Now that the fight is over, both sides settle down to supper in the best of humours. The slate has been cleaned in this primitive fashion, and now friendships are renewed over handfuls of luscious tree-grubs and hunches of roast kangaroo. To-morrow there will be weeping in common over the biers of the departed braves.

"Well, Denny, what do you think of this dreadful corrobberie?" exclaimed Jessie to the Irish boy as they rode home about midnight.

"Phwat div Oi think iv it, Miss Jassie? Whoi, it's been a lovely foight, shure. Och, they're the very divils ontoirely! Nivir seen sich a bit of divarsion since Oi left owld Oireland, bedad! Begorrah, it'd ta-ake owld Tipperary itself to bate it."

"Do you know what I've been thinking of, Denny?" continued the mischievous girl.

"Nawthin' but lovely thoughts, Miss Jassie."

"You of course are the best judge, Denny, being an Irishman. What I was thinking was this: scratch an aboriginal, and you have an Irishman."

"Och, dear-a-dear, Miss Jassie, to maline me poor counthrymen loike that! Troth, then," cried the lad, with a serio-comic air and the suspicion of a wink, "there's one thing indade which Irishmen have in common wid these poor naggurs."

"What is that, Denny?"

"We both suffer at the hands of Saxon landlords."

And Jessie had no answer.

*CHAPTER XXV*

*IN THE BUSHRANGERS' CAVES*

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree, Where Alph the sacred river ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea." KUBLA KHAN.

"Joe!"

Silence.

"J-o-o!"

No answer.

"J-o-o-o!"

Profound stillness, broken only by a buzzing fly.

"If you don't answer within five seconds, an' short ones at that, look out for squalls. You're only 'possumin', you rascal!"

Presently a hurtling pillow, and not too soft a one either, struck Joe Blain, who lay flat on his back, with open mouth, closed eyes, and deaf ears. The missile hit him fair and square on the face, hermetically sealing his breathing apparatus for a moment.

A muffled sound, a quick contortion of the body, and an instinctive clutch of the hands got rid of the obstruction, which in a twinkling described a trajectory that impinged on Tom's left ear.

"Well, what's in the wind, now?" asked Joe, after this customary exchange of shots, which was an everyday occurrence.

"I've an idea, Joe."

"Howly Moses, you don't mean it! Terrible, terrible! Where did you catch it?"

"Catch your grandmother's sister's cat! Only, you're such a numskull, I'd try an' put it in your head."

"What! my grandmother's sister's----"

"No, you ass; a simple idea!"

"Then I'll bet tuppence it's simple enough, you goat!"

After this complimentary interchange Tom proceeded: "When we went out to the caves the other day, we said we'd return before the holidays were ended, an' we've come to the larst day, ole man. Ding-bust it! we'll have to make for home to-morrer, an'----"

"Ugh! don't mention it! Go on about the caves."

"Well, then, that day we went out---- Oh Joey! shall we ever forget the sight of 'Fevvers' rollin'----?"

"Look here, Hawkins, if you can't spit out that idea of yours quick an' lively, you'd better swallow it! If you think to waste my valuable time----"

"Your time wasted! Pish! Listen, then. I vote we go out to the caves an' have a look round for the place where Ben Bolt kep' his horses. It'd be no end of a lark for us to find, after the police an' others have given it up. What say?"

"There's not much in your notions, Hawkins, generally speaking; still, you've struck ile this time, sonny. Gewhillikins! it's all right. Let's have a talk with ole Sandy about it."

"Oh, he's sure to be nuts on it! He's always talkin' about the mystery."

"Up, guards, an' at 'em! as Cromwell sang out at the battle of Marathon," quoth Joe, in slight historical confusion, as he tumbled out of bed.

They dressed quickly and then rushed out to find Sandy, who had risen earlier to yard the horses. Sandy was nothing loth. Indeed, he was as eager as the others, if not more so. He had often brooded over the puzzle, and discussed it at times with his mates, but oftener with himself. Like the others, he had theories.

"I've got to take the harrow to the cultivation paddock after breakfast, an' then I'll be free."

"Can't you take it now?" suggested Tom. "Good hour yet to breakfast. You'll have whips of time, an' we'll help you."

Sandy was agreeable, and the boys soon hoisted the harrow on to the cart. They returned in good time for breakfast, and got Mr. M'Intyre's consent.

"Best take us with you, Sandy."

"Girls 'd only be in the way, Mag."

"Thanks, me brither! Just wait till you ask me to cut your lunches!"

"Oh, mother'll do that."

"Yes; rin to your mither and hold on to her apron-strings. For selfishness and for cheek, commend me to a brother! You're all alike. I expect Tom and Joe are no better at home, for all they put on mighty innocent airs here," prattled the girl, in mock sarcasm.

"I hope you'll count me in, boys?" said Neville. "I have intimated to Mrs. M'Intyre that I shall be forced to tear myself away from her unbounded hospitality,"--"Fevvers" was still a trifle stilted,--"but she will not hear of my leaving till the end of the week. You know," he went on, "I did not have an opportunity--the last time I--er--we were out there--and----"

"You lassoed an Englishman with a stock whip," broke in Jessie the tease.

"And behaved like a brick," interposed Maggie, who noticed the involuntary wince on the part of the Englishman. This was, indeed, a sore spot; but he was growing rapidly in grace.

Neville winced under Jess's sally, but took it in good part. "It's all part of the breaking-in process, Miss Jessie. I believe I can dismount now a little more gracefully. I shall be glad of an opportunity to see the famous bandit's caves. It will be something to relate in England."

It did not take the boys long to get ready. Half an hour later the party was _en route_ for the caves, determined to solve the puzzle.

"You'll do nothing rash, boys?" said the careful mother at parting, "Have you enough candles?"

"Plenty; also ropes and tucker. Don't worry about us, mother; we may not be back till near bedtime--depends on what luck we have."

"You've got a scheme, Sandy, I s'pose?" remarked Joe, as they jogged along the road.

"Yes, Joe, I've an idea; but of course only testing it will prove its worth. The caves are situated in a spur running north and south. The opening, we know, is on the east side. Nothing bigger than a wallaby or a dingo, save of course a man, can squeeze through that opening. Either there is another and separate cave adjacent, where the 'rangers stalled their horses, or there is an easier entrance somewhere in the spur that has a connection with the ones we have already visited."

"You must remember, though, Sandy, that Inspector Garvie and his men spent days in searching the locality, an' how are we chaps to do in a day what they failed to do after several days, and with black trackers, too?"

"I'm not likely to forget that."

"I vote, then," said Joe, "we go straight to the caves an' explore 'em first."

"It'd take us all day to search those ravines and bluffs on the west side," added Tom, "so I'm in favour of Joe's proposal."

"I'm not sure that I should have a voice in this matter," spoke Neville. "You fellows will have to settle it between yourselves. Whatever you decide upon will be agreeable to me."

"Matter's decided, then," answered Sandy. "Joe and Tom are for the caves direct. Honestly speaking, although I would dearly love a try at the western side, for I'm convinced that the outlet lies there, I think, on the whole, we'd better stick to the caves, giving them first show, anyhow."

"Carried unanimously by a large majority, as Denny would say," cried Joe the spokesman.

On arrival at the camping grounds, the place of the late serio-comic adventure, the explorers--for such we must call them--unsaddled, and short-hobbled their horses.

"I vote," said Joe, "that we boil the billy an' have a go at the tuck before we tackle the caves. It'll be better than taking the prog with us, an' 'll save us coming out for lunch."

"Agreed!" chorus the rest with a readiness and gusto which in matters of meat is almost an instinct of boyhood. Accordingly the wood is gathered, and ere long, with whetted appetites, they are absorbingly engaged on a substantial meal.

"There are three things to remember, mates. First of all, the candles. We'll divide them equally, three apiece. Here's a box of matches for each. Father gave me a caution, about lights. We're to carefully watch the candles as we proceed through the passages. He says the poisonous gases collect in places that are not well ventilated, an' that means death in no time if we remain in such spots."

"How'd we know, Sandy?"

"I was just going to tell you. If we get into such places, father says, the candle will burn dimly, an' if it's very bad, will go out altogether. When we happen on such spots, if there are any, we are to retreat immediately; so don't forget, boys, should we be separated."

"That," said Neville, "is most important." He related one or two incidents of fatal accidents in connection with English collieries through fire-damp. That danger, though, is seldom encountered in such caves as the boys were intent on exploring.

"What's the third thing, Sandy?"

"The third thing, Hawkins, is to make fast to this green-hide. It is twenty-five feet long, an' we'll tie on to it as we go through the passages. Father says there are often holes in the floors and very steep inclines. Best to be on the safe side, though I don't suppose we'll really need it."

"I say," queried Neville, "hadn't we better take some stout cudgels with us, for fear of snakes and wild beasts?"

"Happy thought, Mr. Neville. Not for wild beasts, though an old-man kangaroo can be as dangerous as a bear with his paws when he's bailed up by the dogs."

"What about monkeys, then?"

"Monkeys? We haven't any."

"Well, I heard one of the travellers say, while he was having a feed at the men's hut, that he'd been engaged to go for a mob of monkeys."

"Ha--ha--ha! Well, you are a----Why, the man was talking about sheep. Monkey is a pet name for them. We'll want some sticks, though, as well as the tomahawk."

So saying, Sandy proceeded to hack at a cluster of gum saplings, and cut three waddies about five feet in length, and a fourth one eight feet long, and proportionately thick. Armed with these and carrying the other necessaries, including a billy of water and a snack of food, the exploration party proceeded to the cave entrance.

After gaining access to the first cave, the boys allowed Neville a few minutes' pause to get at home with his surroundings, before going on to the second or cathedral chamber. They then pursued their way through the tortuous and difficult passage between the two chambers, till at length they arrived at the opening.

"Hello!" exclaimed Sandy, who was in the lead, with an involuntary gasp.

"What's up?" cried Joe, who was immediately behind him.

"Why, ladder's gone!"

"Jemima! you don't say so. Why--how----?"

"It's gone, all right," replied the leader, as he peered by the light of his candle into the gloomy recesses of the cave. "Clean gone! Don't see it on the floor below, so it can't have dropped."

Joe, squeezing abreast Sandy, and doubling the light power, added his eyes to those of his mate in the search.

"No go," said he, after a keen but vain search. "Anyway, I can see how to get down easy enough." So saying, he placed his stick across the mouth of the passage, jamming it on either side into an interstice. "There!" he exclaimed, as he hung his weight upon the transverse beam, which, though bowing, did not crack when bearing his weight. "Let's put the rope round this, an' we'll slip down less'n no time."

"Wait a jiffy, Joe," said Sandy, who had been critically eyeing the staff. "We'll make 'assurance doubly sure,' as your father said in his sermon last Sunday,"--poking his stick while he spoke, into the same cavities as the other occupied. "That will stiffen it. It's easy enough getting down: we could jump, for that matter. It's the getting up that's the problem. There, it's as stiff as a fire-bar now. Here's the first to go down."

Holding the rope, the boy swung off, and was soon standing on the floor of the lower cave. The others followed rapidly. They could find no trace of the missing ladder. Not only was the ladder spirited away, there were other signs which showed that the caves had been entered since the last visit of the boys, and on proceeding to the third chamber, where the bushrangers slept, there were manifest signs of disturbance.

"Some un's been here, that's certain."

Sandy gave voice to the one opinion. The bark bunks occupied by the outlaws were thrown off their trestles to the ground. There was no gainsaying Sandy's statement. The situation was peculiar. The boys might well be pardoned for being a little fearsome and creepy under the circumstances.

"I heard Dickson tell your father, Sandy, at the brumby hunt, that a party was comin' out from Tareela to visit the caves. P'r'aps it's them that have moved the ladder."

"Don't think it could have been," persisted Joe. "There's no sign of their camp outside."

"What about the 'rangers?"

The thought was decidedly unpleasant, and when voiced it struck a chill in the hearts of all. As a matter of fact, the thought had lain in Sandy's mind from the time he missed the ladder.

Ben Bolt was not a desperado of the Morgan or Kelly type--men who were conscienceless, treacherous, and full of the blood-lust. Many, indeed, of his acts of gallantry and open-hearted generosity, if theatrical, were nevertheless redeeming qualities in the old-time bushranger. A man of great resource and daring, a thorough bushman, a superb rider, mounted always on the finest of horses,--stud stock mostly, which he "lifted" from celebrated breeding stations,--the 'ranger was, in some respects, a picturesque figure, and had a most adventurous career. Often located and even sighted by the police, he was always able to make good his escape, either by bush strategy or by an amazingly daring piece of riding in rough country, at which even his intrepid pursuers, themselves accomplished horsemen, stood aghast.

There was a spirit of romanticism about the fellow. His dress and appearance gave colour to that. He was passionately attached to his wife and children, and often incurred desperate risks in visiting them when "home-sickness" seized him. His house was ever under the surveillance of the police, who fondly hoped to catch him by that lure. Yet, though often within an ace of capture, he always escaped. Outwitting the subtlest efforts of the police, he was their despair. Though of a sanguine temperament, there were seasons when he was the victim of a black mood. At such times he was most dangerous and cruel.

"It could hardly be Ben Bolt," said Sandy at length. "It's quite possible that the town party has been. How could Ben be here an' in Queensland?"

"Well, what's next, Sandy?"

"I'd like us to explore the opening in the passage first, Joe. Come, boys, let's shin up."

This was speedily accomplished, and the pals proceeded to the spot that was in Sandy's eye, so to speak.

"Here's the place I meant!" exclaimed he, when they had retraced their steps some distance through the passage. The opening, at first sight, appeared to be a deep recess. Upon close examination, however, it was found that the wall and the roof did not meet. There was a hole some two feet in diameter.

"I spotted this when I came with father," explained the leader. "Now, if one of you fellows will give me a hoist, I'll get my head and shoulders into that opening above, and find out whether it's a chimney, or takes a turn and forms a passage."

Accordingly Joe, stooping a little, received Sandy on his shoulders, by which he was able to rise into the hole.

"Hurrah--hurrah!" he exclaimed a minute later. "It's a passage all right, boys. There's a sort of landing, anyway, and it looks as though there's a passage beyond. Hold steady, Joe, an' I'll try an' get my hands on the ledge."

The boy made several efforts without avail, for he was an inch or so too low.

"Step on my shoulders, Sandy." It was Neville who had placed himself alongside Joe. His shoulders were at least three inches higher. Thus raised, Sandy had no difficulty in grasping the ledge of the landing. Catching the lad's feet with his hands, Neville pushed the boy higher, and soon he worked his way on to the floor of the ceiling, as it were.

This done, he proceeded to light his candle and explore, for it was impenetrably dark. Following the passage inwards, the boy advanced some distance. He found that it widened as he proceeded, and became easier to traverse.

"I'd better return now for the other chaps," muttered the lad. Accordingly he retraced his steps and explained matters to the anxiously waiting group. By the aid of the green-hide lariat, the others were soon up with the leader on the landing.

Here, then, was a new situation. In all probability the foot of man had never trodden this place. There were no traces of any living thing. It was in no light mood, therefore, that the boys made a start. Their position was unique and thrilled them. They might, in a literal way, bring to light the hidden things of darkness. Not for ages, or ever, in all likelihood, had those walls been lighted up and gazed upon. Whither would the pathway lead?

Proceeding, they encountered no difficulty for some time, as the passage widened in places, enabling them to walk abreast. Soon, however, it began to contract, and in places it became a squeeze. The roof, too, dipped considerably, so that it could be touched by the extended hand.

Sandy, who was still leading, began to experience a tired feeling. There was a peculiar sensation in his ears, and a tightening in the throat. After advancing a few steps farther he stumbled and almost fell. His candle, too, began to burn very dimly. His followers were experiencing similar feelings. In a moment the cause of this untoward feeling came flashing across his mind.

Joe, behind him, cried out, "I say, Sand ... I'm gettin' ... short..."

"Back, everybody! Fire-damp!" cried the leader in a raucous voice, after a violent effort.

It was a narrow squeak. Though only a few minutes in the poisoned air, they were all on the verge of unconsciousness. Gasping, trembling, the sweat oozing from every pore, they struggled on until they reached the widened area of the passage, and then sank, exhausted, to the ground. Tom, who was at the tail of the procession was not so bad as the others, not having penetrated so far into the poison zone.

The pure air soon revived them. Their respiration, which was very laboured at first, improved as soon as the sweet, dry air entered their lungs, and ousted the putrid gas which had lodged there. A pull at the water-can, which fortunately they had brought with them, helped them a lot, and in a short time they were themselves again.

"That ends chapter one," said Joe dryly. "Whereaway now, Captain?"

"We've come to the end of our tether sudden enough, and with a vengeance. It'll be something, Mr. Neville, to tell 'em in England. Let us get back to the old passage. This is nothing but a death-trap."

*CHAPTER XXVI*

*THE EXPLORERS*

"'The best hearts, Trim, are ever the bravest,' replied my uncle Toby."--STERNE.

"That's a valiant flea that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion!"--SHAKESPEARE.

"How quickly we ran into that poison-trap! No smell or anything to warn us," remarked Neville, when the normal condition of the lads was restored, "save a nauseous feeling which supervened."

"Whatcher think made it hang like that, Mr. Neville? Seemed to me like an invisible fog that we suddenly encountered."

"That is really what I believe it to be, Tom. I know from what I have read and heard, the gas is colourless and quite heavy. An uncle of mine is a colliery manager in Wales, and this fire-damp, or choke-damp, as it is sometimes called, is often fatal, because it fills the lungs so that no other air can enter, and in this way suffocates its victims. We were just on the fringe of it, I think.