An eventful meeting--Civilisation at last--Rage and despair--Awhite man's tracks--Yamba's find--Good Samaritans--Bitter disappointment--Bruno as guardian--A heavy burden--A strange invitation--The mysterious monster--"Come, and be our chief"--Idiscover a half-caste girl--The fate of Leichhardt--"In the valley of the shadow"--A sane white man--Gibson is dying--Vain efforts--Unearthly voices.
When we had been on the march southwards about nine months there came one of the most important incidents in my life, and one which completely changed my plans.One day we came across a party of about eight natives--all young fellows--who were on a punitive expedition; and as they were going in our direction (they overtook us going south), we walked along with them for the sake of their company.The country through which we were passing at that time is a dreary, undulating expanse of spinifex desert, with a few scattered and weird-looking palms, a little scrub, and scarcely any signs of animal life.The further east we went, the better grew the country; but, on the other hand, when we went westward we got farther and farther into the dreary wastes.At the spot I have in my mind ranges loomed to the south--a sight which cheered me considerably, for somehow I thought I should soon strike civilisation.
Had not the blacks we were with taken us to some wells we would have fared very badly indeed in this region, as no water could be found except by digging.I noticed that the blacks looked for a hollow depression marked by a certain kind of palm, and then dug a hole in the gravel and sandy soil with their hands and yam-sticks.
They usually came upon water a few feet down, but the distance often varied very considerably.
We were crossing the summit of a little hill, where we had rested for a breathing space, when, without the least warning I suddenly beheld, a few hundred yards away, in the valley beneath, FOUR WHILEMEN ON HORSEBACK! I think they had a few spare horses with them, but, of course, all that I saw were the four white men.Iafterwards learned that, according to our respective routes, we would have crossed their track, but they would not have crossed ours.They were going west.They wore the regulation dress of the Australian--broad sombrero hats, flannel shirts, and rather dirty white trousers, with long riding-boots.I remember they were moving along at a wretched pace, which showed that their horses were nearly spent.Once again, notwithstanding all previous bitter lessons, my uncontrollable excitement was my undoing.
"Civilisation at last!" I screamed to myself, and then, throwing discretion to the winds, I gave the war-whoop of the blacks and rushed madly forward, yelling myself hoarse, and supremely oblivious of the fantastic and savage appearance I must have presented--with my long hair flowing wildly out behind, and my skin practically indistinguishable from that of an ordinary black-fellow.My companions, I afterwards discovered, swept after me as in a furious charge, FOR THEY THOUGHT I WANTED TO ANNIHILATE THEWHITE MEN AT SIGHT.Naturally, the spectacle unnerved the pioneers, and they proceeded to repel the supposed attack by firing a volley into the midst of us.Their horses were terrified, and reared and plunged in a dangerous manner, thereby greatly adding to the excitement of that terrible moment.The roar of the volley and the whizz of the shots brought me to my senses, however, and although I was not hit, I promptly dropped to the ground amidst the long grass, as also did Yamba and the other blacks.Like a flash my idiotic blunder came home to me, and then I was ready to dash out again alone to explain; but Yamba forcibly prevented me from exposing myself to what she considered certain death.
The moment the horsemen saw us all disappear in the long grass they wheeled round, changing their course a little more to the south--they had been going west, so far as I can remember--and their caravan crawled off in a manner that suggested that the horses were pretty well done for.On our part, we at once made for the ranges that lay a little to the south.Here we parted with our friends the blacks, who made off in an east-south-easterly direction.
The dominant feeling within me as I saw the white men ride off was one of uncontrollable rage and mad despair.I was apparently a pariah, with the hand of every white man--when I met one--against me."Well," I thought, "if civilisation is not prepared to receive me, I will wait until it is." Disappointment after disappointment, coupled with the incessant persuasions of Yamba and my people generally, were gradually reconciling me to savage life; and slowly but relentlessly the thought crept into my mind that I WAS DOOMEDNEVER TO REACH CIVILISATION AGAIN, and so perhaps it would be better for me to resign myself to the inevitable, and stay where Iwas.I would turn back, I thought, with intense bitterness and heart-break, and make a home among the tribes in the hills, where we would be safe from the white man and his murderous weapons.And I actually DID turn back, accompanied, of course, by Yamba.We did not strike due north again, as it was our intention to find a permanent home somewhere among the ranges, at any rate for the ensuing winter.It was out of the question to camp where we were, because it was much too cold; and besides Yamba had much difficulty in finding roots.
Several days later, as we were plodding steadily along, away from the ranges that I have spoken of as lying to the south, Yamba, whose eyes were usually everywhere, suddenly gave a cry and stood still, pointing to some peculiar and unmistakable footprints in the sandy ground.These, she confidently assured me, were those of a white man WHO HAD LOST HIS REASON, and was wandering aimlessly about that fearful country.It was, of course, easy for her to know the white man's tracks when she saw them, but I was curious how she could be certain that the wanderer had lost his reason.
