They had been more than a month away from Yanda, and Edgar began to wonder where their march would lead them. Yacka did not vouchsafe much information, but kept steadily on his way at a pace that astonished them. Mile after mile was traversed, and their guide showed no sign of weariness or flagging.
One beautiful moonlight night they camped by the shore of a large lagoon, which reminded them of a small lake in their own country. It was a magnificent sight, this sheet of still water glistening in the moonlight, the trees which overhung it reflecting weird shadows on the surface.
‘I had no idea there were such lakes as these,’ said Edgar. ‘There must be a lot of good shooting about here.’
‘Plenty of ducks and herons,’ said Yacka. ‘I will get you some ducks without firing a shot.’
They were interested in watching Yacka catch wild ducks. The black crept cautiously into the water, and then sat down amongst a lot of cover, which hid his head from view. Presently they heard a call such as the wild duck makes.
‘That’s Yacka,’ said Edgar. ‘He can imitate the cries of all kinds of birds and animals. Look! there’s a flock of wild ducks coming over.’
The birds flew right into the lagoon, and settled down on the water not far from Yacka. In a few minutes there was a flutter in the water, and the flock rose quickly and flew rapidly away, leaving three of their number struggling entangled in a fine-meshed net Yacka had thrown dexterously over them. Yacka stood up, and, seizing the ducks one by one, quickly killed them, and brought them to the shore where Edgar and Will were sitting.
‘Cleverly done,’ said Edgar. ‘If we run short of ammunition there is little fear of starving when Yacka can effect such captures.’
The ducks were spitted and roasted, Yacka as usual acting as cook, and they were thoroughly enjoyed. Wild bees seemed plentiful, and Yacka went in search of honey, which he soon found in the hollow of a tree.
So pleasant was it by the lagoon that they rested there for several days, enjoying bathing in the lukewarm water, and finding plenty of birds to supply their daily wants. Yacka captured a native bear, a curious little fellow with a woolly skin, and a sharp, inquiring face. When tucked up he looked for all the world like a big ball. Huge lizards were occasionally seen gliding about, and the shrill cries of parrots were heard overhead. At night the peculiar cry of the laughing jackass was heard. A flock of black swan passed by, but did not settle on the lagoon. They also saw pigeons, wild geese, plover, and quail, and a couple of pelicans.
So interesting was the wild life of this lagoon that Edgar was loath to move on into less hospitable country, but he saw signs that Yacka was becoming impatient, so decided to resume their march. They left the camp by the lagoon with much regret, and cast many a wistful glance behind.
‘It will be a long time before we strike such a good camping-ground again,’ said Edgar.
‘Wait until you reach Yacka’s country,’ said the black; ‘find plenty sport there. My tribe help you hunt and fish in big lakes and rivers.’
‘To which tribe do you belong?’ asked Edgar.
‘MacDonnell Ranges,’ said Yacka; ‘but we have gone miles and miles further north to the land of Enooma, the White Spirit, across sandy desert. My tribe very old and warlike. Their country goes far into the Northern Territory.’
‘So your tribe is known as the MacDonnell Ranges blacks,’ said Edgar; ‘but you have a native name, I expect. What is it?’
‘The Enooma,’ said Yacka. ‘We are the favoured tribe of the great White Spirit.’
‘And you are the son of Enooma,’ said Edgar. ‘Then we are safe with you.’
‘No one will harm the friends of the son of Enooma,’ said Yacka.
‘Why did you leave your own country?’ asked Edgar.
‘To wander far and learn much. It was the wish of Enooma, and she must be obeyed. I have been in big cities—Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide, and Brisbane, and have learned many things and seen much evil,’ said Yacka.
‘And how did you get on to Yanda Station?’ said Edgar.
‘From Queensland. I went to Adelaide first, and then walked to the other big cities. From Brisbane I went on until I came to Yanda, and there I camped.’
Yacka went on ahead, and Edgar said to Will:
‘It will be worth all our travels if we can clear up this mystery about Yacka’s birth. He must have been taught by white people, or he would not speak as he does. It is getting more and more interesting. Who would have thought when we were at Redbank we should in so short a time be tramping over the wilds of Australia with only a black for our companion?’
‘I wonder what they are up to at Redbank now?’ said Will.
‘The usual routine work,’ replied Edgar. ‘We had some jolly times there.’
‘I wish I could make a fortune!’ said Will suddenly.
Edgar laughed as he replied:
‘It does not look much like it at present, but there is no telling what may happen. Yacka says he can make me rich, and if so you will have a share in the plunder. Why do you wish to make a fortune? You were not always such a mercenary fellow.’
‘Because I love your sister, and I want to be in a position some day to ask her to be my wife. Now do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Edgar, ‘and I wish you luck. Doris is a lovable girl, and I know you will try and make her happy. It is a long time to look ahead, but there is nothing like having an object in life to make a man successful.’
‘You know my object,’ said Will. ‘What is yours?’
‘To earn a good name, and to make my father proud of his son,’ said Edgar.
‘Then you will certainly succeed,’ said Will, ‘even if you have not done so already.’
Edgar laughed as he said:
‘I have not done much at present to earn a name for myself. If ever I become a rich man, I will try and do good with my money. I have always found there is a lot of pleasure in helping other people.’
‘You always manage to get on with people,’ said Will. ‘You have even made a staunch friend of Yacka. How did you manage it?’
‘By treating him more like a human being than a dog,’ said Edgar. ‘Of course, Yacka is not like most of the natives. They are a dull, stupid lot, what I have seen of them so far, and it would be almost impossible to teach them anything. I believe Yacka could be taught just the same as a white man.’
One night, as they were camping under the shade of some bushes, Edgar was awakened by something cool touching his face. He put out his hand and felt a cold, smooth substance, which he at once knew must be a snake. He sprang to his feet, clutching the snake and flinging it from him. The noise roused Will, and Yacka was quickly on the alert. It was too dark to see anything, but Yacka shifted their camping-ground. In the morning Yacka came across a venomous yellow snake, which he killed and brought to Edgar.
‘Yellow snake,’ he said; ‘dangerous! Deadly poison! Almost as bad as a death adder! Yacka skin him,’ which he at once proceeded to do.
Edgar congratulated himself upon a lucky escape, for had the snake bitten him there would have been but little chance of his continuing the journey. For breakfast Yacka was busily engaged in roasting strips of flesh, but neither Edgar nor Will could think what animal he had killed to provide their meal.
‘What have you got there?’ asked Will. ‘I hope you’re not toasting that snake.’
Yacka shook his head and said:
‘You try it first, then I will tell you what it is. Very good indeed!’ and he smacked his lips.
They enjoyed the tasty morsels, and Yacka informed them it was the flesh of a species of iguana, one of the lizard tribe.
Will shuddered as he said:
‘I confess it tasted all right, but I do not think I should have eaten it had I known what it was.’
They were about to resume their journey, when they heard someone ‘cooeying’ loudly, and the sound proclaimed the person was some distance away.
Yacka had carefully avoided meeting wanderers in the country they had come through, and when he heard the ‘cooey’ he held up his hand, and they stopped.
‘Let us see who it is,’ said Edgar. ‘It will be a change to meet a stranger.’
‘All right,’ said Yacka; ‘I know where that comes from. We are near the telegraph route. Send news from Adelaide right across the country to Port Darwin. It is men, perhaps, looking after the line.’
‘Bravo!’ said Will. ‘We shall at least be able to hear some fresh news.’
They proceeded in the direction of the sound, and in the course of a quarter of an hour came upon a camp, where four white men were sitting down smoking and chatting.
‘Hallo! what have we got here?’ said one of the men, as he saw Yacka advancing in front of Edgar and Will.
‘Glad to see you,’ said Edgar, stepping forward. ‘We have not had any company but our own for such a long time that we are thankful to have fallen in with you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said the man. ‘Where do you hail from?’
‘We have come from Yanda station, in the west of New South Wales.’
The man stared at them in amazement.
‘What, just as you are? You two youngsters, with this blackfellow!’
‘Yes,’ said Will. ‘My friend was going alone with Yacka, but as I wanted to be in it if there were any adventures, they decided to take me along with them.’
‘Well, upon my word,’ said the man, ‘you’re a couple of good plucked ’uns! Do you know where you are?’
‘I have not the faintest idea,’ said Edgar, ‘but Yacka has.’
‘You seem to have a good deal of confidence in this blackfellow,’ said the man, eyeing Yacka closely.
‘We have,’ said Edgar. ‘He’s a fine fellow.’
‘That’s more than I can say for some of his kind,’ said the man. ‘It was only the other week one of our fellows was murdered beyond the Ranges by some of these blacks.’
‘Revenge!’ said Yacka quietly. ‘How many of the black men had he killed?’
‘Blest if the fellow can’t speak English as well as I can!’ said the man in astonishment. ‘Maybe it was revenge, but we don’t allow black men to kill white men without making an example of them.’ Turning to Edgar he said: ‘I like the look of you, young fellow, and your mate. My name’s Walter Hepburn, and I’m in the Government service, and stationed at Alice Springs, where the telegraph office is. We’ve been repairing on the line, and are on our way back to the Springs. If you care to come on with us, I have no doubt we can show you some fun.’
‘How far are we from Alice Springs?’ asked Edgar.
‘A couple of days will take us there.’
‘Then we shall be very pleased to go with you, and thank you heartily for your invitation. My name is Edgar Foster.’
‘What! the young fellow who saved the skipper’s baby from the wreck of the Distant Shore?’ exclaimed Walter Hepburn.
‘Yes,’ said Edgar sadly; ‘we were the only two saved.’
‘Give me your hand, lad,’ said Walter Hepburn; ‘I’m proud to shake it. Here, lads, give three cheers for Edgar Foster!’
The men gave three ringing cheers, that echoed far and wide.
It made Edgar’s heart beat fast to hear them in this wild country.
Good deeds make themselves known and felt the wide world over, and their influence can make men better even in a wilderness.
Yacka was pleased at the reception given to Edgar, and his black face was all smiling.
‘That blackfellow’s uncommon fond of you, I reckon?’ said Walter Hepburn.
‘He is,’ said Edgar. ‘Yacka planned this expedition for us, and we are in search of adventures, and want to see the country.’
That night Edgar and Will enjoyed a hearty supper with their newly-made acquaintances; and Edgar had to relate how he was rescued, and how he saved Eva from the wreck of the Distant Shore.
When Edgar mentioned to Walter Hepburn that they were going far beyond the Ranges with Yacka, he looked serious.
‘If you’ll take my advice, you will make for Adelaide from Alice Springs. It is over a thousand miles from there to Adelaide. If you go on north, to Port Darwin, that is over nine hundred miles. Where does Yacka, as you call him, want to take you on the other side of the Ranges?’
‘That is his secret,’ said Edgar, ‘and I cannot tell you what he has told me. Before we started from Yanda I meant to go through with this business, and I’ll do it if I live.’
‘I admire your pluck,’ said Walter Hepburn; ‘but what is the use of risking your life when there is no object to be gained?’
A couple of days after their meeting with the telegraph repairers the party arrived at Alice Springs—the most interesting of all the stations on the overland telegraph line. Alice Springs stands high above the sea-level, and there is magnificent and interesting scenery in the district, the valley in which it lies being of exceptional beauty.
As Edgar looked at the scene mapped out before him, he could not help expressing astonishment at what he saw. Alice Springs he had imagined as a bare, desolate spot, and here he saw the great MacDonnell Ranges lying to the north, the source of rivers, creeks, and springs, the valley stretching far away to east and west. The River Todd, running close by, lends a picturesque charm to the scene.
There were numerous people about when the party arrived, as Alice Springs is the repeating station on the line, and consequently a considerable number of officers were employed. The buildings were not particularly enchanting, but they were useful and commodious. Several trees were scattered about, affording a comfortable shade, and the hot winds had not scorched up all vegetation.
The officers employed at Alice Springs Station were a genial, jovial lot of fellows; and when Edgar and Will had been duly introduced by Walter Hepburn, they were at once made at home. After travelling so many miles, and living on the produce of their guns and Yacka’s ingenuity, it was a treat for them once more to come across civilization. They were feasted and made much of, and the inevitable race-meeting was got up in their honour.
Edgar noticed there were a good many men about besides the officers employed on the station, and he did not like the look of some of them. They had a hang-dog expression on their faces, and a lazy, loafing way of idling about that spoke ill for the manner in which they managed to knock out a living.
‘You have some queer customers about here,’ said Edgar to Walter Hepburn.
‘You mean those fellows over yonder,’ he replied.
‘I guess you’re about right—they are queer customers. They are out-and-out “spielers,” and you generally find them loafing about in the interior wherever there is a new settlement. They are always in fairly strong force around here, and when we have races they are only too ready to make wagers which they have no intention of paying. Some of our fellows are foolish enough to bet with them, and out of sheer despair at getting up a game of cards, I have known them play with these men. Needless to say, our fellows never win. These “spielers” know too much for them. In my opinion, they are worse than the blacks, and a greater danger to settlers. Horse-stealing and swindling they are always ready for; but they are cowards when fairly tackled, and soon seek fresh fields when a place becomes too hot to hold them.’
‘Strange how such men can find occupation here,’ said Edgar.
‘Well, you see, it’s this way,’ said Walter Hepburn. ‘Settlers in a new country, where white men are scarce, and blacks are dangerous and hostile, are only too glad to give a white man a welcome. No questions are asked as to who or what the white man may be, but they take it for granted his company must be an improvement on their black, quarrelsome neighbours. I’ve known blackguards like those you see over yonder stay at a place for a week, and then clear out with the best horses and anything else they could conveniently take away.’
‘I saw a couple of them eyeing our horses over a short time back,’ said Will Brown, who came up and heard the conversation. ‘Yacka says we had better leave our horses behind when we go beyond the Ranges, and call for them as we return; that is, if they will care to have them here.’
‘You can leave them with pleasure if you wish,’ said Walter Hepburn, ‘and I’ll promise to look after them for you as well as I can. You will certainly not have much use for horses if you are going west after you cross the ranges. It is, so far as we know, very little else but desert between here and West Australia. As I told you before, I am afraid you are undertaking a great risk, and all to very little purpose. You may as well remain here a week or two, and then return south towards Adelaide. You’ll have had enough of it when you reach there, without going farther north.’
‘I’ll consult Yacka, and hear what he has to say,’ said Edgar, and walked towards the black, leaving Will with Walter Hepburn.
Edgar explained what Hepburn had said, and Yacka replied:
‘I will go with you to Adelaide, if you wish; but you will be sorry for it. We have come so far, let us go on. These men know nothing of Enooma’s country. They have been lost in the desert and never found the green land. Come with me, and I will show you much. Yacka has said he will make you rich. Come and see if the son of Enooma speaks true.’
‘You say we had better leave our horses here until we return,’ said Edgar. ‘How far have we to go beyond the ranges?’
‘Long way,’ said Yacka, ‘but fine country. We soon leave the sand behind, and then you will see much better place than Yanda.’
‘I will go with you,’ said Edgar, and Yacka was pleased. ‘We will leave here in a few days.’
During the time they remained at Alice Springs there was plenty of amusement. Local races, and a cricket match filled in the time, and Edgar managed to impress it upon them that he could handle a bat.
Yacka amused himself in various ways. He kept aloof from everyone, and sat looking on at the various games in a contemplative style that amused Edgar.
The numerous ‘spielers’ about the place found time hang heavily on their hands, and two or three of them thought to pass a few hours away by teasing Yacka, and trying to work him into a frenzy. These vile wretches were adepts in the art of ill-using and insulting not only blacks, but white men, when they got the chance, and when there was but little danger connected with it.
Yacka was quietly carving a stick, when three of these vagabonds came up to him. One jerked the stick out of his hand and flung it away, another upset the log upon which he was sitting, and the third kicked him in the ribs as he lay on the floor.
Then these three white men with black hearts got a surprise from the black man with a white heart. Yacka sprang to his feet with a yell. He seized the nearest man round the waist, lifted him off his feet, and flung him over his shoulder, as easily as only a practised wrestler could. The man fell with a heavy thud upon the ground and lay there. Yacka bounded upon the next man before he had recovered from his surprise, and would have treated him in a similar way. The noise, however, attracted the attention of the ‘spielers’ mates, who came running up, and Yacka was surrounded by enemies.
The black’s eyes fairly blazed as he looked round at the cowardly crew hemming him in on every side. He could not see a loophole of escape, so he determined to fight for liberty. Yacka knew well enough if these men got him down he would probably be kicked to death.
A blow on the back of his head warned him his persecutors meant business. Yacka could see no weapon handy, so he used his fists, and struck out right and left with tremendous effect. Three of the crew measured their full length on the ground in almost as many seconds. Yacka’s blows fell fast, but he could not guard himself at the rear as well as in the front. Blows fell upon his head and made him dizzy, and he knew he could not hold out much longer.
‘There’s a row going on outside,’ said Walter Hepburn, as he got up from the table where they had just been refreshing themselves, and went to the door.
‘Hang me if it is not that black chap of yours! The “spielers” are on to him. Come along, quick, or they’ll do for him!’
Edgar and Will jumped up, and the three ran towards the scene of the encounter.
They were only just in time. One of the gang of cowards attacking Yacka struck him a severe blow on the head with a heavy stick, and the black fell on to his knees. No sooner was he down than a brutal assault was made upon him. Edgar outstripped his companions and was first on the scene. He said nothing, but he began to knock the ‘spielers’ about in a manner that left no doubt as to his hitting powers.
Will Brown and Walter Hepburn were not slow to follow his example, and although they were opposed to more than double their own number, the trio quickly drove the ‘spielers’ away, some of them much the worse for the encounter.
Edgar knelt down beside Yacka, who was lying on the ground half stunned.
‘The brutes!’ said Edgar. ‘They have mauled him badly. How do you feel, Yacka? Any bones broken?’
The black smiled feebly and said:
‘No bones broken, Master Edgar, but I have got a bad head. I could have beaten the first three, but more came up and they got at me from behind.’ Seeing Hepburn, he added significantly: ‘That is what causes revenge, and the killing of white men.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Will. ‘You cannot expect a blackfellow to stand such brutal conduct as this.’
‘No,’ said Hepburn, ‘but the worst of it is the innocent suffer for the guilty. These brutes get off scot-free, and some poor settler meets with his death.’
‘Yacka has never killed a man what you call a settler,’ said the black.
‘No one supposes you have,’ said Edgar. ‘Can you walk?’
Yacka managed to stand on his feet, but his head swam, and he felt dizzy.
‘Bring him into my shanty,’ said Hepburn. ‘I can’t stand even a blackfellow being knocked about in this style.’
The ‘spielers’ were hanging about as they led Yacka into Hepburn’s house. As he entered the door the black turned and shook his fist at them, and a cruel look came into his eyes.
Hepburn saw it and whispered to Edgar:
‘I would not give much for one of those fellows’ chances of salvation if Yacka got him alone.’
Had it been a white man the ‘spielers’ had set upon, they would have been hustled out of the place quickly enough, but a blackfellow more or less did not seem to matter with the bulk of the men. The majority of them would have knocked a ‘spieler’ down with the greatest of satisfaction, but even in such a case as the assault upon Yacka they were inclined to regard the black as the aggressor. This feeling naturally aroused Edgar’s indignation. He had not lived amongst savage blacks as most of these men had, and gone with his life in his hands every time he went a few miles up country. The blacks in many cases undoubtedly attacked peaceful settlers and murdered them in a treacherous manner. This naturally aroused a feeling of intense hatred against the original inhabitants of the country, and all blackfellows were treated alike. When the settlers treated the blacks kindly it was regarded by them as a sign of weakness, and an encouragement to attack them. Arguments such as these Hepburn used to convince Edgar the white men had good reason for hating the black.
‘The Finke blacks,’ said Hepburn, ‘are a peaceable lot; but when you get into the Musgrave and MacDonnell Ranges, and farther north, it is necessary to be well armed if you wish to come back again. I have been there and know, and that is the main reason I have endeavoured to persuade you not to go with Yacka.’
‘It would be cowardly on our part to desert Yacka now,’ said Edgar, ‘nor have we any inclination to do so. I would sooner trust a whole tribe of blacks than the brutal fellows who attacked him.’
Hepburn saw it was useless to argue more, so he said good-naturedly:
‘If you are bent upon proceeding, you must let me supply you with more ammunition. You will want it, I am afraid, unless Yacka is well-known to the northern tribes.’
‘You’re a brick!’ said Will enthusiastically, ‘and I for one will accept your gift.’
‘It’s a good while since I heard that expression,’ said Hepburn. ‘It reminds me of my school-days.’
‘Where were you put in training?’ asked Edgar with a smile.
‘At a grand old school, which I dare say you have heard of,’ said Hepburn. ‘I was educated at Redbank.’
Edgar and Will gave a whoop that startled Hepburn, and before he could realize what had happened, he felt both his arms being worked up and down in a rapid style that took his breath away.
‘Hold on, lads!’ he gasped; ‘you’ll have my arms off. What the deuce is the matter with you?’
‘This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of,’ said Edgar.
‘I see nothing very extraordinary in my having been educated at Redbank,’ said Hepburn, ‘except the fact that I might have done the school more credit, considering the training I received.’
‘We are Redbank boys,’ said Edgar.
It was Hepburn’s turn now, and the pumping process recommenced. They almost danced for joy, and Yacka, who was lying on the camp-bed, thought they had gone suddenly mad.
‘Bless my soul! it is remarkable after all,’ said Hepburn. ‘To think we Redbank fellows should all meet in this outlandish spot! The world is very small.’
What a night they made of it, and they were still talking over the glories of Redbank when the morning light made the lamp grow dim.
Edgar Foster learned that Walter Hepburn had gone to Redbank a term or two after his father left the school. Hepburn was therefore well acquainted with the prowess of Edgar’s father in the cricket-field. It seemed very strange that they should all meet at Alice Springs, and it was a date to be noted as a red-letter day when the discovery was made. Had Walter Hepburn been free to leave his post, he would, after finding out they were Redbank boys, have joined them in their travels farther north. School ties bind men fast together, especially when such a good feeling existed as always did amongst Redbank lads.
The time came for parting, and when Yacka was sufficiently recovered they left the station amidst general regret, and a universally expressed wish to see them safe back again.
Yacka was quite himself as soon as all traces of civilization were left behind. Once in the ranges he revelled in the mountain air, and appeared familiar with every pathway. In one place they had a difficult task to perform. Yacka led them up to a gigantic cleft in the rocks, which towered high above them on either side. Between these high, rocky walls flowed a river, and up it Yacka said they must swim.
‘It will save a big climb over the rocks,’ he said, ‘and I can take your clothes on my head.’
There was nothing for it but to strip, and Edgar and Will were not averse to a good swim.
Yacka tied their clothes in a bundle, and placing the guns on the top, put them all on his head, far out of the reach of the water. He had tied the bundle under his chin with a strap, and it was marvellous to watch how he swam up the river with such a load on his head.
Edgar and Will plunged in after him, and found the water very cold; but the exertion of swimming kept the circulation of their blood up.
‘By Jove! it was a cold bath,’ said Will, as he stood drying himself in the sun. ‘It must be the rocks make it like iced-water.’
‘Very refreshing on a hot day,’ said Edgar. ‘They would give a trifle to have such a cool bathing-place at Yanda.’
As they proceeded they came across a number of watercourses and hills and valleys. They climbed to the top of high rocks, and descended again into level lands. At sundown they were tired out, and could hardly eat the supper Yacka prepared for them. No sooner had they finished their meal than they were sound asleep. But Yacka did not sleep; he stood looking down at them with his big eyes, and seemed to be in deep thought. The moonlight showed his black form standing over the two sleepers, and his attitude was one of dejection.
‘How white they are,’ he muttered, ‘and Yacka so black! but they are not as white as Enooma, and Yacka is her son.’
He sat down, and commenced to reason in his own way as to why he should be black, and the two sleepers white. He could find no satisfactory solution to the problem. Yacka knew naught of the white man’s God, but he had a wonderful amount of superstition in his nature, and a firm belief that the White Spirit watched over him. Yacka had no fear of death; he would have laughed at such a thought, and yet he did not understand what death really meant. Had the blackfellow been able to express what he really thought about death, it would have been to the effect that it was merely the White Spirit’s way of rewarding him for his work here by carrying him off to a country where he would be happy for ever. Yacka slept but little that night, but he was awake early, and ready to start again.
The ranges were passed, and they were now in more open country. On the lowlands were numerous bushes, mulga on the hills, and gum and tea tree in the creeks. Plains of salt-bush could be seen, but on to the west they descried grass-land.
For several days they tramped on, living on the simplest fare, and yet feeling strong and well, and fit for almost any exertion.
‘Where are all the blacks we heard so much about?’ said Edgar. ‘We have met none yet.’
‘We shall be in the Enooma country by sunset to-morrow,’ said Yacka; ‘then you will see men of my tribe.’
Yacka spoke truly. The next night they came across a blacks’ camp. To Edgar’s surprise there were between two and three hundred of them. As they approached Yacka made a peculiar sound like the shrill cry of a parrot, only with quite a different note, which roused the blacks, and several rushed forward to meet them.
When they saw Yacka the effect was astonishing. At first they looked at him in amazement, then an old man cried aloud, ‘Yacka! Yacka! Enooma! Enooma!’ and the whole of the blacks, surrounding him, knelt before him.
There was a proud look on Yacka’s face as he motioned them to rise. Then he spoke rapidly in the native tongue, and pointed to Edgar and Will.
The blacks gave vent to warlike cries, and, shaking their wooden spears high in the air, drove them into the ground with terrific force.
‘That means they will kill any man who does you harm,’ said Yacka. ‘You are safe here, and the whole tribe will protect you.’
They moved towards the camp, and at their approach the blacks stood up and awaited their coming with eager and excited looks.
Yacka was known to them, and was evidently an important man with the tribe. Edgar fancied they regarded him with something akin to fear, and said to Will:
‘We were right to trust Yacka, for these blacks stand in awe of him, and we shall be safe with them.’
‘They are a savage-looking lot,’ said Will, ‘and I should not care to have come amongst them alone. If these are the men who molest the settlers, I am not surprised at the white men hating them.’
The blacks were tall, powerful men, of a far different stamp to those in the west of New South Wales. Yacka was small beside some of them, and many were six feet high and over. They were all armed with native weapons, and were well prepared for any encounter. As they were in such strong force, Edgar came to the conclusion they must be on the war-path, and questioned Yacka.
‘They are always armed,’ said Yacka. ‘The Curracoo tribe are their deadly enemies, and when they meet they fight.’
‘I never heard of that tribe,’ said Edgar.
‘The Enooma and the Curracoo are not known except in this part of Australia,’ said Yacka. ‘They are tribes of the MacDonnell and Musgrave blacks. They fight savagely. The Curracoo wish to seize the white spirit of the Enooma, and think to capture her; but they know nothing of our country, nor of the caves we are going to.’
The blacks regarded Edgar and Will with much curiosity, and from the manner in which many of them pointed at their own bodies and then at Edgar’s, he thought they could not have seen many white men. It was a strange sensation for the two friends to lie awake in the midst of a camp of over two hundred savage blacks, and wonder what was about to happen.
Early in the morning they were aroused by loud warlike cries, and Yacka hurried up to them and said:
‘Follow me; the Curracoo are at hand, and there will be a fight.’
‘And if the Enooma are beaten, what will become of us?’ said Will.
‘The Enooma will win,’ said Yacka. ‘If beaten, Yacka can save you.’
He led them to a small hill not far distant from the camp, and bade them remain until his return.
‘You can see the fight,’ he said, ‘and there is no danger.’
‘This is a lively situation,’ said Edgar. ‘With all due respect to Yacka, if his tribe is defeated, the Curracoo will make short work of us.’
‘There they are!’ said Will, pointing excitedly to a dark mass moving across the open country.
‘It seems to me there are some hundreds of them,’ said Edgar; ‘far more than the Enooma. This is a poor look-out, Will. We must be prepared to fight for our lives.’
As they stood on the rising ground they had a splendid view of the plain below, and were soon absorbed in the scene before them. The two bodies of blacks were approaching nearer and nearer, and neither tribe shirked an encounter. They could see Yacka standing some distance apart, and evidently directing the movements of the Enooma.
‘Yacka has learned something in the big cities,’ said Edgar; ‘look where he has sent about fifty men round that clump of trees, where they are hidden from the enemy. They intend to make an attack on the rear that will prove successful.’
Suddenly, and without a moment’s warning, the whole scene changed. On the plain, that a moment before had contained two bodies of blacks advancing towards each other, there was now a confused mass of figures, uttering terrible cries and fighting like furies. The sound of blows could be heard above the din, and the grass was dotted with the forms of fallen blacks. They were at too close quarters for spears, and were using heavy nulla-nullas, and warding off the blows with wooden shields.
They saw Yacka quietly surveying the scene, and wondered why he did not join in.
‘He is waiting for a favourable opportunity,’ said Edgar. ‘Those men behind the trees have not moved yet.’
The cries of the fighting blacks became more and more wild and furious. They looked like fiends dancing about in a frenzy, and dealing blows on every hand. One huge fellow, a chief of the Enooma, did terrible execution with an enormous weapon which he whirled about like a battle-axe, and Edgar and Will watched him with a fascination that deadened all sense of their own danger if the tribe suffered defeat.
‘Look at him!’ said Edgar. ‘He’s mowing them down like grass. No one can stand in his way. His wrist play is splendid—it reminds me of club exercise at school.’
‘It’s a trifle more exciting than that,’ said Will. ‘What strength the fellow has! He could fell an ox with one of those terrible blows. Nothing can stop him.’
As though to give the lie to his words, a black, nearly as big as the Enooma chief, barred his way, and a desperate combat took place. Both men had wooden shields with which they dexterously warded off the blows. They were evenly matched, although the Enooma black was a shade taller than his opponent. Both were mad with rage and thirst for blood, and it was a duel to the death.
‘He’s down!’ shouted Edgar, as the Enooma chief slipped; but it was only a feint, as the black, dodging a blow aimed at his head by his opponent, suddenly raised himself. The Curracoo overbalanced himself with the force of the blow, and fell forward. As he stumbled along, the Enooma, raising his huge club on high, brought it down with tremendous force on the back of the Curracoo’s head. Where they stood they could hear the blow, and Edgar shuddered as he saw the black’s head split open, and he fell dead on the ground.
Seeing their champion killed, the Curracoo wavered; and, seizing this favourable opportunity, Yacka, uttering a loud war-yell, sprang forward and called upon the men in ambush to follow him. In a few minutes the Enooma blacks were furiously attacking the Curracoos in the rear. Unaccustomed to these tactics, the Curracoos were terrified, and at once tried to run away from the danger. This, however, was impossible; they were hemmed in on all sides, and by merciless foes who knew not the meaning of the word ‘quarter.’ It was a fearful sight to see these blacks felled to the ground by the heavy blows rained upon them on all sides. The Enooma were bent upon slaughter, and killed their enemies without mercy. The plain had every appearance of a battle-field, and in some places half a dozen blacks were piled in a heap, dead.
At a signal from Yacka the Enooma ceased fighting, and, surrounding the blacks still left alive, held them prisoners. These men were disarmed and marched off towards the camp. A few of the Curracoos could be seen flying from the scene of the battle which had proved so fatal to them, but comparatively few of them escaped.
Yacka came to Edgar and Will, and they saw he was almost covered with blood, and his club was dripping dark-red drops. The black’s eyes shone with the light of battle and thirst for blood. All the savage nature of this strange being was roused, and the cruelty in him was uppermost. He shook the blood-stained club over his head, and said:
‘Victory to the Enooma. There has been a terrible slaughter. Come and see. Yacka will show you how the Enooma strike their enemies.’
Edgar and Will descended from the hill where they had witnessed the fight, and followed Yacka on to the field of battle.
It was indeed a terrible sight the two friends gazed upon. On the ground where the fight had furiously raged lay scores of dead blacks in all attitudes, just as they had fallen. It made them shudder to look at the scene. The terrific nature of the blows dealt was apparent, for most of the dead had their skulls fractured, and their features were ghastly and distorted. Their weapons lay near them, and Edgar picked up the club which the powerful black who fought the Enooma chief had used. It was a great weight, and fully three feet long, and capable of dealing a fearful blow, even in a weak man’s hands. The end was covered with blood and hair, showing that the Curracoo had killed many enemies before he was slain.
‘You will bury these men?’ asked Edgar.
‘The Enooma must have burial,’ said Yacka; ‘the Curracoo are not fit to be hidden away;’ and he struck a fallen black, who still showed signs of life, over the head with his club.
‘That was a cowardly thing to do,’ said Edgar.
‘They are not fit to live,’ said Yacka, and went on.
‘What a brute he is, after all!’ said Will, in a low voice. ‘He is no better than the others.’
‘He is a savage at heart,’ said Edgar, ‘and we must make allowances for him.’
‘If he kills defenceless men like that,’ said Will, ‘I would not give much for our lives if he felt disposed to turn upon us.’
‘He will not do that,’ said Edgar. ‘We are his friends, these men his enemies. Had the Curracoo won, they would have treated the Enooma in the same way. This savage warfare is the same the world over, I expect. It is a horrible sight.’
‘Over a hundred killed,’ said Yacka, with a savage smile; ‘and we have many prisoners.’
‘Shall you kill the prisoners?’ asked Edgar.
‘Yes; and leave them as a warning to the tribe.’
‘How will they be put to death?’ asked Edgar, who had read of the tortures inflicted by savages in Africa and elsewhere.
‘That will be decided,’ said Yacka. ‘The Enooma know how to kill their enemies.’
After a gruesome tramp over the battle-field, they returned to the camp. The victorious Enooma were already commencing to celebrate their triumph.
Edgar saw a group of prisoners, about forty or fifty in number, bound with thongs made of some kind of reed or long grass. They all looked terror-stricken, and evidently knew what was in store for them.
‘Poor wretches!’ said Will. ‘It would be a kindness to shoot them.’
‘We must not interfere,’ said Edgar. ‘It would be risking our lives to do so. Even Yacka would not stand that.’
‘You saw a dance at Yanda,’ said Yacka. ‘You will see a genuine war dance soon.’
Towards night the big men of the tribe assembled round Yacka, and all squatted on the ground.
‘They are deciding the fate of the prisoners,’ said Will. ‘I hope it will not be very awful.’
The consultation did not last long, and Yacka came towards them. He seemed pleased at the prospect before him, and laughed harshly.
‘It is good,’ he said. ‘All die a dog’s death.’
‘Will they be hanged?’ asked Will.
‘Some,’ said Yacka. ‘Wait and see.’
There were many trees near the camp, and they had big white branches a good height from the ground. Ten of the Curracoos were brought forward and thrown down under the trees. They were then raised feet first, and bound with their heads downwards round the trunks of the trees. Others were drawn up, feet foremost, over the branches, and left hanging with their heads touching the feet of the others.
Edgar protested to Yacka, but he took no notice. The black was looking at the fearful scene with savage delight. There was no mercy to be got out of Yacka, so Edgar did not speak to him again.
Other blacks were brought to these trees, cast down on their faces, and spears were driven through their backs, pinning them to the ground in such a manner that they could not get free. Their cries were fearful, and made the place seem like a hell upon earth. Some of the cruelties were too fearful to relate, and yet Yacka watched it all with fiendish glee. When the last prisoner had been tortured and left to die a lingering death, Yacka was satisfied.
‘We cannot trust you after what we have seen,’ said Edgar. ‘We shall go back. Guide us to Alice Springs; if not, we must risk it, and go alone.’
Yacka was dumfounded. He could not understand the reason of their distrust in him. He had acted according to the customs of his tribe, and knew, had the Curracoo won, the Enooma would have been treated in a similar way. It was the fortune of war. The Enooma had gained the victory; why should the white men mistrust him because the tribe had taken their just revenge?
‘Yacka is your friend,’ said the black. ‘You have come to no harm. We make war in our own way. You kill many men with big guns. I have seen them fired. They kill many at one shot. It is more terrible than our wars.’
‘We do not torture prisoners,’ said Edgar. ‘You are no better than these savages.’
‘I am the son of Enooma,’ said Yacka; ‘therefore I am the head of them. The head guides the body. I am the chief, the king, and I am above them all.’
‘You are as cruel as they are,’ said Edgar. ‘If you are the King of the Enooma, why did you not kill these men at once, not torture them?’
‘It is the will of Enooma,’ said Yacka, ‘and she must be obeyed.’
‘The White Spirit would never allow men to be tortured,’ said Edgar. ‘There is no White Spirit over the Enooma; it is a black spirit, and full of evil.’
‘You saved Yacka’s life,’ said the black, ‘and he is grateful. If my tribe know you call Enooma a black spirit, Yacka could not save you. Follow me. It is not far. Yacka will lead you back when you have looked upon the White Spirit, and seen the gold and beautiful stones.’
The agonized groans of the tortured blacks sounded terrible, and Edgar said:
‘Kill these men, and we will go with you.’
Yacka hesitated, and Edgar, noticing it, said:
‘I took your hand in friendship; now it is stained in blood. Kill these men, and I will forgive you, and the White Spirit will be glad.’
‘It shall be,’ said Yacka, and moved away towards the camp.
How he prevailed upon the tribe he did not say, but the tortured men were killed, and their groans ceased, much to Edgar’s relief.
After this experience, there was no telling what might happen if another encounter took place with a hostile tribe, and the Enooma were defeated. Yacka, however, had no intention of proceeding alone, and Edgar and Will found the tribe was to accompany them. Marching many miles a day in the company of a tribe of warlike blacks was a novel experience. Edgar had many opportunities of noting how they lived and their habits. He soon learned that the Enooma were excellent marksmen, and could throw a spear with as great accuracy as he could shoot. They used their boomerangs dexterously.
Yacka was an adept at throwing this peculiar weapon, which is almost in the shape of a half crescent, and is made of very hard wood, smooth and shaved down to a sharp edge on the inside curve. Yacka could throw his boomerang high into the air, until it appeared a mere speck, and it came down in a series of curves until it fell at his feet. No matter how far he threw the boomerang, it invariably returned to him.
The first time Edgar attempted throwing a boomerang he was rather astonished. Instead of going high into the air, it gave a few curves, then flew rapidly backwards, and Edgar had to duck his head quickly to avoid a blow.
‘It is not so easy as it looks,’ he said to Will. ‘Have a try?’
Will took the weapon and tried, with no better result; in fact, he came off worse than Edgar, for he got a severe blow on the shin. The blacks were amused at the white men’s clumsy attempts to throw the boomerang, and their grins of satisfaction exasperated Edgar.
‘They imagine we can do nothing in this line,’ he said to Will. ‘We must undeceive them, or they will have a very poor opinion of us. We have not many shots to spare; but it may be as well to show them how deadly a gun is.’
Edgar explained to Yacka that it was not fair the blacks should have it all their own way.
‘Throw your boomerang, and I’ll engage to hit it in the air,’ said Edgar.
Yacka did not care to risk his own boomerang, which was carved in a fantastic manner, so he took another, and, after telling the blacks what Edgar was about to do, he flung it into the air.
As it came circling down Edgar fired and hit it, but it did not split with the shot; the marks, however, were plainly visible, and the blacks were not only terrified at the noise, but amazed at the result. It was Will’s turn next, and he elected to try his luck with the revolver.
Yacka fastened one of the blacks’ loin-cloths to a tree, doubling it into a small space. These cloths were made of thick skin, probably kangaroo, and when doubled it offered strong resistance to a bullet.
Will fired at twenty paces. The bullet passed through the skin and flattened against the tree. On seeing this, the blacks regarded the revolver with much interest, but would not handle it.
The Enooma blacks were athletic fellows, and could run, jump, and wrestle in a manner that surprised Edgar, who knew a good deal about such sports.
In his Redbank days Edgar had run his hundred yards in even time, and he was in splendid condition now.
One of the Enooma, called Ouwana, they noticed was a fine runner, and Will suggested Edgar should try his speed against him.
Yacka, as usual, arranged matters.
Ouwana was a tall, lithe-limbed black, about twenty years old, and with a less repulsive cast of countenance than many of his tribe. He was quite willing to run Edgar, and Will measured out the distance as near as he could stride it.
Yacka acted as starter, the signal being a loud clap of the hands, and Will was judge. The blacks grew quite excited over the race.
Yacka’s hands met with a crack like a pistol, and, trained as he had been to start smartly, Edgar gained a slight advantage. He ran his best, but before he had gone fifty yards it was a hopeless case, as Ouwana passed him like a flash, and simply won hands down.
Edgar was amazed, not so much at being beaten, as by the easy way in which it was done.
‘He’s a champion,’ said Edgar.
‘He would be good enough to win one of those big handicaps we saw advertised in the Sydney paper before we left Yanda. How much was the prize money?’
‘About six hundred pounds, I think,’ said Will; ‘I wish we had Ouwana there.’
‘So do I,’ said Edgar; ‘it would be rare fun to see the black fellow “down” the cracks.’
The days passed quickly, and Edgar and Will had no thought of time. They did not even know what month it was, and were dead out of their reckoning as regards the days of the week.
What surprised them most was the fertile nature of the country. They had passed across a vast sandy plain, and taken some days to do it, but ever since they left it behind they had been tramping over what Edgar knew would not only be excellent sheep country, but would also carry cattle. Grass was plentiful—not brown, dry grass, but green and juicy—proving there had either been recent rain, or there was plenty of moisture in the earth.
It was not a flat, dull, and uninteresting country, for there were hills and valleys, and trees and shrubs, and beautiful wild flowers and blossoming trees were found in many places. Wild berries and fruits they found, and running streams of water, which seemed to find their source in the many caves with which the mountains were honeycombed. In some of these streams, which at times were sufficiently large to be called rivers, crocodiles were found, both large and small. The larger crocodile was voracious, and it was not safe to bathe when any of them showed their ugly heads, but the smaller species was harmless, and never ventured to attack them.
The Enooma blacks were fond of the water, and often risked their lives bathing and swimming where crocodiles were to be seen.
Ouwana was especially venturesome, and often speared a crocodile in the water.
Yacka said he had seen Ouwana fight a crocodile, with a shortened spear like a dagger, for the mere excitement of the sport.
Edgar managed to further earn the goodwill of the blacks by saving Ouwana’s life.
The black dived into the stream, and was swimming in the centre, when a huge crocodile appeared close beside him. The hideous creature opened its monster jaws, showing great ugly teeth, and in another moment would have ended Ouwana’s career. Edgar luckily had his gun with him, and, taking a steady aim with the barrel used for ball, fired. The crocodile sank like a stone.
Ouwana was unaware of his danger, and at first thought Edgar had fired at him. This roused all the ferociousness in the black’s nature, and it would have gone hard with Edgar had Yacka not come up and explained.
When Ouwana found out what Edgar had done he showed his repentance for doubting him, and his thankfulness for his delivery from a fearful death, by kneeling down and putting both arms round Edgar’s legs. He then looked up into his face with such sorrowful eyes that Edgar patted his woolly head, much as he would have done that of a big dog.
‘Look!’ said Yacka, pointing to a range of hills in the distance. ‘There you will find the cave of the White Spirit, and your journey will be ended.’
Gazing in the direction the black indicated, they saw hill upon hill towering one above the other like a number of huge pyramids. It was a strange sight in this wild country, where it was doubtful if ever a white man had set foot before.
They were all eagerness to continue the journey, but Yacka said this could not be. Certain forms and ceremonies were to be gone through before he could venture with them into the hills and caves where Enooma, the White Spirit, lay at rest. Only the head of the tribe was permitted to enter the cave, and so superstitious were the blacks upon this point, that they believed it meant certain death to anyone of their number who disobeyed. Consequently Yacka would have no difficulty in showing Edgar and Will what the cave contained, as he alone could enter.
Yacka had stated to the tribe that the white men were come to see Enooma, who was of the same race, and therefore they must be permitted to enter the cave.
At the foot of the nearest hill—it could almost be called a mountain—they halted, and the blacks commenced a wild, weird chant which sounded like the wail of lost spirits. They prostrated themselves upon the ground, and made signs with their spears.
Yacka stepped on ahead, and beckoned to Edgar and Will to follow, which they did without hesitation. The other blacks came on at a respectful distance, and seemed afraid that something was about to happen. In the side of the hill they were approaching, Edgar saw a large cleft in the rock wide enough to admit half a dozen people to pass in abreast. These hills were all solid rock, not merely mounds of earth, and were bare in many places, while in fissures grew trees, and wild creepers hung down in great profusion. Orchids were growing of exceptional beauty, and Edgar, as he looked at them, thought of the price they would bring in the old country. As they entered the cleft in the rock the blacks remained behind, and squatted down on the ground.
‘They guard the entrance,’ said Yacka. ‘When no one is here this opening in the rock closes up, and no one can find the cave of Enooma.’
Edgar wondered how Yacka knew the cleft closed up if no one was there to see such a strange thing happen.
‘How can you tell that,’ he said, ‘if you have never seen it?’
‘Rest and listen,’ said Yacka: ‘You never believe I speak truth because I am black. Once the Enooma were defeated by the Curracoo, and fled before them to these hills. They were so hard-pressed that they had to rush through the cleft in the rock, and when the last of the tribe passed in the cleft closed and shut the Curracoo out. This is true, for men of the tribe have told me, and they do not lie to the chief.’
Edgar believed this to be another superstition of the blacks, but he could not resist looking behind him towards the cleft they had entered by. With a loud cry he sprang to his feet, for behind them there was a solid rock, and he could see nothing of the blacks they had left. Will looked, and turned pale as he saw they were shut in.
‘How is this?’ said Edgar. ‘What has happened?’
‘Enooma has closed her gate,’ said Yacka. ‘She knows of the approach of her son and the white men, and she wishes to be undisturbed.’
Edgar walked back to where he imagined the cleft in the rock by which they entered had been, but he could see nothing but a solid mass in front of him. He felt the rock and it was hard and firm, and must have been there for ages. How had this strange thing happened? Yacka must have suddenly turned as they walked along, and the opening become hidden, but as they entered the black appeared to have gone straight on.
‘I give it up,’ said Edgar. ‘We seem to be blocked in here, and shall have to trust to Yacka to get us out. It makes a fellow feel queer when such strange things happen, but I have no doubt there is an explanation of it if we can find it out.’
The place they were now standing in was a narrow defile between rocks towering up perpendicularly to a considerable height. These rocks were bare and smooth, and not a plant or fern could be seen growing on the sides. Before them was the mouth of a cave, and inside seemed dark as pitch. Yacka walked to the mouth of the cave, and they followed him. When they became accustomed to the gloom, they saw a faint glimmer of light, about the size of a bull’s-eye lantern glass, in the far distance. So far as Edgar could make out, the sides of the cave were rocks, but smoothed in a similar way to those on either side of the defile they had left. The floor of the cave was hard and even, in some places so smooth that it became slippery and dangerous. Yacka did not speak, but kept moving slowly forward, and they could see the dim outline of his figure.
‘It must have been the action of water for ages that has made the floor so smooth,’ said Edgar. ‘How cold it is after the heat we have had! Reminds me of a petrifying cave. I believe if we remained here long enough we should be turned into stone.’
‘I have no desire to be turned into a petrified mummy at present,’ said Will laughing; ‘but you’re right about the cold—I am chilled to the bone.’
‘How much more of this is there, Yacka?’ said Edgar, speaking loud enough for the black, who was some way in front, to hear him.
The sound of his voice echoed through the passage, and gradually died away in the distance.
‘Wait,’ said Yacka. ‘Be careful here.’
They had need of the warning, for they were now treading upon something soft and slimy, and the sensation was not pleasant. They slipped about and made but little progress, and were glad when the ground felt hard and dry again.
The round ball of light at the end was gradually widening, and they could now see more plainly the nature of the passage they were traversing. Looking up to the roof Edgar saw thousands of glittering stars, which flashed and twinkled even with the faint light from the opening.
‘Look, Will,’ he said; ‘how lovely this roof would be if there was more light! They might be diamonds, they sparkle so.’
‘Wish they were,’ replied Will. ‘A few diamonds would help a fellow along—you know in what direction I mean.’
‘Yacka has promised to make us rich. I wonder if he will let us take what we like if there is anything to take?’
It was a mass of various-coloured stalactites on the roof that had attracted Edgar’s attention, and as they got more light in the passage they were seen in all their beauty. The sides were also covered with curiously-twisted and gnarled designs. As they neared the opening they saw the sun was shining brightly, and that they were about to enter an open space. They were not, however, prepared for the sight that burst upon their astonished gaze as they stepped out of the darkness into the full light of the sun. Yacka watched them with a delighted expression in his eyes, and had evidently anticipated the surprise he was about to give them.
They were so charmed with the scene that they sat down and looked upon it without saying a word. The spot they were in was like a large basin hollowed out of the solid rocks. The sides sloped down gradually, and were hollowed out at the base. Had there been tiers of seats round, it would have resembled in shape a vast amphitheatre. There was, however, something far more picturesque than bare seats round this wonderful circle. The whole of the basin was covered with a kind of green moss, which looked like velvet as the sun shone upon it.
This velvet bed was studded with a profusion of flowers of all colours, shapes, and sizes. Brilliant orchids selected the most shady nooks to fix their abode in. Huge white convolvulus spread over projections and clumps; lilies of great height filled in spaces where water lodged, and gently trickled down into a pool in the hollow of the basin. Great nest ferns surrounded the water, their fronds, over six feet long, spreading out like large fans. The miniata had its large carmine blossoms showing to perfection, the colour being dazzling. Pandanus and screw palms also grew amongst the giant ferns and lilies. Floating on the water in the basin were gigantic water-lilies.
So scooped out was this basin, that there was an ample shade for the numerous ferns and lilies that do not flourish with the full light of the sun upon them. Surrounded by such lovely flowers and ferns, and with a cool pool of water to make everything refreshing, it is small wonder, after their recent experiences, that Edgar and Will fancied themselves in an enchanted spot. How it all came here no one could fathom. Nature fixes upon strange spots in which to work at her best. All they knew and cared about was that in an unexplored part of Australia they had come upon such a wonderful scene.
Yacka assured them this was a mere nothing when compared with the cave of Enooma.
The place they were now in he described as the bathing-place of Enooma, and said the waters from the caves did not run into this place.
‘You can drink this water,’ said Yacka, ‘but not that in the caves. It is bitter, and will turn the tongue hard, and you will have no taste.’
It always struck Edgar as curious that, no matter where they happened to be, Yacka could invariably procure them a good meal. Even in this spot, where it did not seem likely they would be able to find much to relieve their hunger, Yacka got berries and roots, some water from the pool, and made quite a pleasant, and what proved to be a strengthening, drink. He also gave them a root which he said would appease hunger for a time whenever tasted.
Yacka would not allow them to linger here, but walked round the basin.
Edgar saw no outlet except the one by which they had entered. At the far side Yacka pulled aside the dense masses of ferns, and they saw an opening large enough to admit of a man crawling through. Yacka went first, and they followed on their hands and knees.
This passage was about fifty yards in length, and at the other end was an open cave, which was lighted by a hole in the roof, naturally formed. Gliding down the walls were glistening drops of water, and the floor was very uneven, and covered with masses of rock that must at some remote period have become detached from the roof. Some of the tracery on the walls Edgar looked at with wonder. It was of a rich cream colour, and almost like the texture of a cashmere shawl.
All sorts of shapes and figures could be seen caused by the action of the water, which must have taken thousands of years to perform its work, and would take thousands more years to complete it. Hanging from the roof were large pendants like icicles, and the water ran slowly down them and dripped off at the end. The hollow underneath caused by these drips showed the extreme age of the cave.
Leaning against the side of the cave Edgar saw close to him what at first looked like a bunch of grapes; but when he observed it closely he found it was a peculiar formation in the rock.
‘That is one of the secrets,’ said Yacka. ‘It is a guide to the inner cave we must enter. Watch.’
Yacka pushed the bunch of grapes, and a large slab of rock moved slowly round, and through the opening they saw another large cave beyond.
‘Enter and wait,’ said Yacka.
‘Are you coming?’ said Edgar.
‘I will fetch you,’ said Yacka; ‘but I must enter the White Spirit’s cave before you, or harm may befall.’
‘I don’t half like it,’ said Edgar. ‘We are not afraid, but you had better go on with us.’
Yacka said: ‘You must remain alone.’
‘All right,’ said Edgar, sitting down on a projection from the rock; ‘but make haste back.’
Yacka went away, and when they looked round they found the rock had swung back into its place, and they were imprisoned in the cave.
It was not a pleasant sensation to find themselves alone, shut up in a cave, only a faint glimmer of light being visible, and from which there appeared to be no means of escape. There was a peculiar clammy dampness about the atmosphere, and a strange vault-like smell. It might have been an old tomb, so weird was everything surrounding them.
‘The stone must have swung back into its place,’ said Edgar. ‘Yacka will open it when he returns.’
‘All the same, I don’t like it,’ said Will. ‘Suppose he could not move the stone again. If anything happened to him, we have very little chance of getting out.’
‘There is no occasion for alarm at present,’ said Edgar. ‘I trust Yacka, and he will soon return. To pass away the time we may as well examine the cave. It is evidently only one of many. The whole of these rocks and hills are honeycombed.’
They stepped cautiously, and felt the sides of the cave, finding them smooth and even.
‘Here is another of these peculiar formations like a bunch of grapes,’ said Edgar. ‘Perhaps there is another stone that swings round. We can try at any rate.’
He pushed the hard knob, as he had seen Yacka do, and cried out excitedly:
‘It moves, Will; come and help me! Push hard! I can feel it giving way.’
Slowly the huge stone moved, and there was an opening wide enough for them to pass through.
Edgar went through first, but came back quickly when Will called out the opening was closing up again and the stone swinging back into its place. Edgar had just time to step back into the cave when the stone swung to.
‘That is the way the other must have closed up,’ said Edgar. ‘It made no noise. Let us have another try, the cave on the other side is much larger than this.’
‘If we get through,’ said Will, ‘the stone will swing back, and we shall be worse off than before. Yacka will not be able to find us when he returns.’
‘He will follow us,’ said Edgar. ‘He must know of this cave and the way to enter it.’
‘If you mean going on, I will follow you,’ said Will.
They moved the stone again, and this time they both stepped quickly through before it swung back.
The cave they entered was, as Edgar said, much larger than the one they had just left. It was lighted by the same dim light, but they could not see from whence it came.
‘Here is another knob,’ said Will. ‘They must have been made by the blacks. Perhaps we are on the way to the cave of Enooma. I wonder what Yacka will think if we reach it before him.’
‘He will think we have been guided there by the White Spirit,’ said Edgar, ‘and will regard us with superstitious awe. It would be a good thing if we could come across the cave he spoke of without his help.’
The stone turned in a similar way to the others, but this time they found themselves in a long passage, like an old mining tunnel in a rock.
They walked cautiously along, but there was more light here than in the cave they had left. Edgar kicked a loose stone and it rolled some distance in front and then vanished, and they heard a splash. The stone had fallen into a deep hole, and as they peered down they saw the water rolling slowly along at a considerable depth.
‘It must be an underground river,’ said Edgar. ‘We have had a narrow escape.’
They shuddered to think what would have befallen them had they not been warned by the stone. Round one side of the opening was a narrow pathway, and along this they passed safely to the opposite side, looking well ahead in case there should be more of these death traps.
The passage wound through the rock in a tortuous manner, and after they had gone a considerable distance, they sat down to rest and wonder where it would lead them. Will wished they had remained in the cave and waited for Yacka’s return, and Edgar began to think he had ventured upon a foolhardy journey.
‘We are in for it now,’ he said, ‘and shall have to go on, for we cannot find our way back, and even if we did, we could not push the stones round from this side. It looks very much like the workings of an old mine, but there can have been no mining done here, because the blacks know nothing of such work. What’s that?’
They listened intently and heard a faint sound in the distance like someone in pain and wailing aloud.
‘Come along,’ said Edgar, ‘there is someone ahead of us.’
They walked on as fast as they were able, and presently came to the end of the passage. Here they found another stone blocking the exit, but it had been partly pushed aside as though someone had just entered, and it had not swung back into its place. Edgar passed through, and as he did so held up his hand to caution Will not to make a noise.
It was a strange, weird sight they saw. They had entered another large cave, but it was of a totally different formation to those they had seen. At the far end of the cave was a beautiful crystal wall nearly thirty feet high. The stalagmites were short and thick, and the stalactitic formations extremely long, many being over a hundred feet in length. Massive deposits could be seen on all sides heaped up in the most curious manner. Many of them were of a wondrous salmon colour, others were deep red, and brown, and several glittered with a dull blood-red glow.
They were awed by this grand, majestic freak of Nature. To the left was another passage, full of magnificent columns of stalactites and stalagmites, all pure white and diamond-like in brilliance; they seemed to be coated with sparkling and lustrous gems. These columns rose from floor to roof like huge pillars in some vast cathedral. They were of different formations, but all about the same height. All the colours of the rainbow sparkled in the various pillars, and the effect was dazzling.
Passing down this magnificent column passage, untouched by the art of man, and marvelling at its strange beauty, they came to a beautiful shawl-like formation of the purest white, which hung suspended from the roof between two massive pillars until it reached within a yard of the floor. This curtain was of the most delicate pattern, the tracery being very fine, in some places almost as fine as a spider’s web. There were designs on it of flowers and leaves unlike any they had ever seen in reality. It was evident this curtain shut off some chamber beyond from the passage of columns they had just passed through.
Edgar was about to speak, when they again heard the wail that had before startled them.
This time it sounded nearer, on the other side of the curtain, and Edgar stooped down in order to pass underneath. Will followed him, and both clutched their revolvers.
They were now in a richly-stocked chamber of large size, the colours on the rock and the roof being of a dazzling white, like alabaster. In a recess at the end was a white recumbent figure, resting on a huge salmon-coloured slab, from which hung down like drapery a yellow-tinted curtain of stone, with red-veined tracery running through it in all manner of intricate shapes and ways.
Before this stone figure, resting upon its hard bed, knelt the black figure of Yacka, standing out with extraordinary distinctness from his white surroundings. Yacka prostrated himself before the white figure, and from time to time gave a low, yet piercing, wailing cry.
They stood looking upon the strange scene in silence, and neither felt inclined to break it.
Yacka suddenly seemed to be aware that someone was present, for he rose to his feet and, turning round, faced them.
He did not seem at all surprised to see them, and beckoned to them to advance.
When they reached the stone upon which Yacka stood, the black said:
‘Kneel, kneel. This is the White Spirit of the Enooma. This is Enooma, and this is her cave. She dwells here. She has lived here from the beginning, and Yacka is her son. Kneel before the White Spirit.’
To humour him they knelt. There was something solemn about the proceedings—something it was difficult to understand. As they knelt, Yacka wailed again, and the peculiar cry echoed through the white, vaulted chamber.
‘I knew you would come,’ said Yacka. ‘Enooma told me you would find your way. She whispered to me that you were of her race, and her people.’ The black’s voice had a sad tone in it. ‘She has found her white sons, and the poor black must know her no more; Yacka is no longer the only son of Enooma. He has brought you to her, and she claims you as her own. You are of her race and her people. Rise and look upon the face of Enooma, the White Spirit, and say did Yacka speak false when he brought you here.’
Edgar and Will rose to their feet, and, standing on a large slab which Yacka pointed out to them, they looked down upon the figure before them.
To Edgar it looked like the figure of a very beautiful woman carved in alabaster. She lay on her back, with her hands hidden beneath the folds of a fine piece of stone lacework. The lower part of the figure had a similar covering, so that the actual part of a woman visible to them was the face only. But the lace covering of the body was of such fine work that the figure could almost be seen underneath.
The face of Enooma wore a calm and peaceful expression, such as is invariably found upon the carved monuments of the dead, and bearing but little sign of the mind that worked within before death.
‘Can this be the image of a being that once lived here?’ said Edgar to Will.
Yacka stood some distance away, and could not hear them.
‘Impossible,’ said Will. ‘No white woman has ever been here.’
‘It may not have been a white woman,’ said Edgar. ‘Carved as this is, one could not tell whether the original was black or white. It is an alabaster figure, or looks like it.’ He touched the figure on the face with his hand, and drew it back suddenly. ‘It feels quite hot,’ he said.
‘Probably so intensely cold that you imagined for the moment it burned you,’ said Will.
Edgar touched the face again, but, strange to say, could not keep his hand upon it.
‘You try,’ he said; and Will put his hand out.
Yacka saw the motion, and called out:
‘Touch her not! Only one must touch her.’
Will smiled as he said:
‘I will do her no harm, Yacka.’
‘At your own risk,’ said the black, ‘touch her, but do not blame me; I warned you.’
Will put out his hand again, and then a strange thing happened. Before he touched the face his feet slipped, and he fell off the slab with such force that, his head coming into violent contact with the stone, he was stunned.
Edgar jumped down and held up his head, and in a few moments Will recovered his senses.
‘I warned you,’ said Yacka.
‘It was a pure accident,’ said Will.
Edgar made no remark, but he thought it a strange coincidence.
A peculiar rumbling sound was heard, and Yacka listened intently. In a moment there was a terrific crash. The rock upon which they stood shook, and the sides of the cave seemed to rock.
The slab upon which rested the White Spirit of Enooma rocked to and fro, and the figure seemed to move.
Crash followed crash, and roar upon roar. The forces of Nature seemed to have suddenly burst loose, and a general upheaval was taking place. So violent became the oscillation, that they were compelled to lie down on the floor of the cave.
‘It is Enooma’s welcome to her own people,’ said Yacka, who was not in the least afraid.
‘It is an earthquake,’ said Edgar in an awestruck voice.
‘What is an earthquake?’ said Yacka.
Edgar made no reply. He could not. For the first time he felt a strange fear creep over him. With a trembling hand he pointed to the white figure of Enooma.
They looked with wondering eyes, and on Yacka’s face was an expression of absolute terror. The slab on which Enooma rested cracked and split, and the white figure disappeared from view.
With a terrible cry of rage Yacka sprang to his feet, and looked down the opening into which the White Spirit of Enooma had disappeared.