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"Going, boy? I'm sorry. But you will come back?"
"I hope so; with news. I shall go and see Sir John and Lady O'Hara, tell them your story, and get you pardoned."
"No. The governor did what he could: I was allowed to go out as an a.s.signed servant; I have disgraced myself, and I should have to go back to the gang."
"Not if he knew that you were innocent."
"My character with which I came out spoils that, boy. Don't talk about it. Mine is a hopeless case."
"But Lady O'Hara is my friend."
"Hus.h.!.+ It is too late."
They went on and on through the obscurity in comparative silence now, Nic feeling as if he were being led always by that black shadow of a gigantic man, beyond which there was a faint glow.
Always the same tramp, tramp through the splas.h.i.+ng water, and along its soft bed, which was never more than four or five feet wide at that time, and the flowing stream kept them easily in the right way. Once or twice Nic felt startled at the want of light from the smouldering torch, but a few waves in the air brightened its faint glow again, and they went on and on as if their journey were to be right through the grim bowels of the world.
"Is it much farther?" said Nic at last, to break the painful silence.
"Not much."
"But we seem to have come miles."
"I dare say it is two," said the convict, "but imagination makes it longer. My first journeyings made me think that it must be at least twenty. Come closer here."
Nic stepped up and touched the arm which bore the light.
"Now look straight on."
"I can see nothing."
"You are not looking the right way. Try again."
"Yes, I see now. What is it? A spark?"
"Of daylight. We are nearly through."
Nic's heart throbbed. He felt as if a huge load had been taken off his brain; a thrill ran through him, and he stepped on briskly, with the faint light ahead rapidly growing brighter. Five minutes later they could see the golden glow of suns.h.i.+ne, and in another minute they were wading in deeper water at the bottom of a vast rift overhung by the ferns which grew on the ledges higher and higher. The next minute they stepped out into broad daylight on the sides of the deep cleft, and in a short time, after some sharp climbing, they were at the bottom of the mighty gorge, with Nic shading his aching eyes.
"My little kingdom, Nic," said the convict. "Welcome to my savage home!"
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.
CASTLES IN THE AIR.
"Don't try to find any more adjectives, boy," said the convict about an hour later. "Be content with beautiful. That's what it is."
They were sitting in front of a loosely made bark gunyah, bare-footed, and with their shoes and well-worn stockings placed upon a scorching sheet of rock to dry. The wallet was empty, for they had made a hearty meal; after which Nic had been piling up all the words he could think of to express his admiration for the valley shut in by those tremendous walls, or his delight with the beauty and novelty of the place.
The troubles of his life seemed to have dropped from the convict, who laughed and talked as if he were a dozen years younger, and free from care. The hard, bitter look had gone from his eyes, and he entered with boyish zest into the proposals his young companion made.
"Oh yes," he cried, "we must have plenty of shooting and fis.h.i.+ng. How many birds have you collected and skinned?"
"Two," said Nic, making a grimace. "I've been so busy."
"Never mind; you can come here and shoot. I'll skin for you, and you can get a fine collection."
"Birds ought to be plentiful here."
"They swarm," said the convict. "You can get the beautiful lyre bird, with its wonderful curved tail. I can show you the bower birds' nests, with their decorations. Then there is that beautiful purply black kind of crow--the rifle bird they call it. As to the parrots and c.o.c.katoos, they are in flocks."
"The kangaroos are plentiful enough, too, seemingly."
"Herds of them, from the little wallaby rats right up to the red old men."
"And snakes?"
"Too many of them; I'm obliged to be careful. We can have some grand hunts, Nic, and I can feast you afterwards on roast c.o.c.katoo and mutton."
"And I shall bring you--I say, I'd forgotten: did you bring the flour down here?"
"No," said the convict, smiling; "you forgot to hide it where you said."
"It was too dark that night to find the place, but I put it there next day. Didn't you get it?"
"No; some one must have seen you hide it, and taken it away. One of the blacks, I suppose."
"Or Brookes."
"Was he anywhere near, Nic?"
The boy nodded.
"That's bad, my boy," said the convict, with the bright look fading out of his face, to leave it cold and hard. "There, the sun is getting low; we have the tunnel to go through, and then you have a long walk back to your horse. We have been going too fast, Nic. I'm afraid you must wait some time before you come again."
Nic looked pained, and sat gazing at his companion sadly.
"Must I go now?" he said.
"Yes."
Nic thrust his stockings into his pocket, tied his shoes together to sling over his arm, and picked up his gun. Then reluctantly he followed his silent companion to the mouth of the tunnel-like cavern, where a bigger piece of touchwood was lit, and they commenced the return journey.
It was up hill, but it did not seem half so far; and at last they stopped close to the well-like opening, down whose side the water trickled musically.
"Frank," said Nic, "I'm going to leave you my gun."