From Squire to Squatter Part 34

Archie met him boldly enough, intending to cut him in the face as he dashed past. In his excitement he dug his spurs into Tell, and next minute he was on the ground. The bull rushed by, but speedily wheeled, and came tearing back, sure now of blood in which to dip his ugly hoofs.

Archie had scrambled up, and was near a tree when the infuriated beast came down on the charge. Even at this moment of supreme danger Archie-- he remembered this afterwards--could not help admiring the excessively business-like way the animal came at him to break him up. There was a terrible earnestness and a terrible satisfaction in his face or eyes; call it what you like, there it was.

Near as Archie was to the tree, to reach and get round it was impossible. He made a movement to get at his revolver; but it was too late to draw and fire, so at once he threw himself flat on the ground.

The bull rushed over him, and came into collision with the tree trunk.

This confused him for a second or two, and Archie had time to regain his feet. He looked wildly about for his horse. Tell was quietly looking on; he seemed to be waiting for his young master. But Archie never would have reached the horse alive had not brave Etheldene's whip not been flicked with painful force across the bull's eyes. That blow saved Archie, though the girl's horse was wounded on the flank.

A minute after both were galloping speedily across the plain, all danger over; for the bull was still rooting around the tree, apparently thinking that his tormentors had vanished through the earth.

"How best can I thank you?" Archie was saying.

"By saying nothing about it," was Etheldene's answer.

"But you have saved my life, child."

"A mere bagatelle, as father says," said this saucy Queensland maiden, with an arch look at her companion. But Archie did not look arch as he put the next question.

"Which do you mean is the bagatelle, Etheldene, my life, or the saving of it?"

"Yes, you may call me Etheldene--father's friends do--but don't, please, call me child again."

"I beg your pardon, Etheldene."

"It is granted, sir."

"But now you haven't answered my question."

"What was it? I'm so stupid!"

"Which did you mean was the bagatelle--my life, or the saving of it?"

"Oh, both!"

"Thank you."

"I wish I could save Gentleman Craig's life," she added, looking thoughtful and earnest all in a moment.

"Bother Gentleman Craig!" thought Archie; but he was not rude enough to say so.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because he once saved mine. That was when I was lost in the Bush, you know. He will tell you some day--I will ask him to. He is very proud though, and does not like to talk very much about himself."

Archie was silent for a short time. Why, he was wondering to himself, did it make him wretched--as it certainly had done--to have Etheldene look upon his life and the saving of it as a mere bagatelle. Why should she not? Still the thought was far from pleasant. Perhaps, if he had been killed outright, she would have ridden home and reported his death in the freest and easiest manner, and the accident would not have spoiled her dinner. The girl could have no feeling; and yet he had destined her, in his own mind, to be Rupert's wife. She was unworthy of so great an honour. It should never happen if he could prevent it.

Suddenly it occurred to him to ask her what a bagatelle was.

"A bagatelle?" she replied. "Oh, about a thousand pounds. Father always speaks of a thousand pounds as a mere bagatelle."

Archie laughed aloud--he could not help it; but Etheldene looked merrily at him as she remarked quietly, "You wouldn't laugh if you knew what I know."

"Indeed! What is it?"

"We are both lost!"

"Goodness forbid!"

"You won't have grace to say to-day--there will be no dinner; that's always the worst of being lost."

Archie looked around him. There was not a blazed tree to be seen, and he never remembered having been in the country before in which they now rode.

"We cannot be far out," he said, "and I believe we are riding straight for the creek."

"So do I, and that is one reason why we are both sure to be wrong. It's great fun, isn't it?"

"I don't think so. We're in an ugly fix. I really thought I was a better Bushman than I am."

Poor Archie! His pride had received quite a series of ugly falls since morning, but this was the worst come last. He felt a very crestfallen cavalier indeed.

It did not tend to raise his spirits a bit to be told that if Gentleman Craig were here, he would find the blazed-tree line in a very short time.

But things took a more cheerful aspect when out from a clump of trees rode a rough-looking stockman, mounted on a sackful of bones in the shape of an aged white horse.

He stopped right in front of them.

"Hillo, younkers! Whither away? Can't be sundowners, sure-ly!"

"No," said Archie; "we are not sundowners. We are riding straight home to Burley New Farm."

"'Xcuse me for contradicting you flat, my boy. It strikes me ye ain't boss o' the sitivation. Feel a kind o' bushed, don't ye?"

Archie was fain to confess it.

"Well, I know the tracks, and if ye stump it along o' me, ye won't have to play at babes o' the wood to-night."

They did "stump it along o' him," and before very long found themselves in the farm pasture lands.

They met Craig coming, tearing along on his big horse, and glad he was to see them.

"Oh, Craig," cried Etheldene, "we've been having such fun, and been bushed, and everything!"

"I found this 'ere young gent a-bolting with this 'ere young lady," said their guide, whom Craig knew and addressed by the name of Hurricane Bill.

"A runaway match, eh? Now, who was in the fault? But I think I know.

Let me give you a bit of advice, sir. Never trust yourself far in the Bush with Miss Ethie. She doesn't mind a bit being lost, and I can't be always after her. Well, dinner is getting cold."

"Did you wait for us?" said Etheldene.

"Not quite unanimously, Miss Ethie. It was like this: Mr Cooper and Mr Harry waited for you, and your father waited for Mr Broadbent. It comes to the same thing in the end, you know."