The Gold Hunter's Adventures Or, Life In Australia Volume 2 ( Of 2 ), William H. Thomes [best story books to read .txt] 📗

Head As I Spoke, And Was

Riding In The Direction Indicated, When My Friend Stopped Me.

 

"Don't Be Rash In This Matter, For We Don't Know How Many Men Are

Concealed In That Clump Of Bushes, Watching Our Movements. Let Us Ride

On And Stop When Concealed By Those Trees In The Distance. From That

Place We Can Watch Movements In This Quarter Securely."

Volume 2 Chapter 65 (Journey After The Buried Treasure) Pg 133

 

I Considered Mr. Brown's Advice The Best, And We Adopted It Without

Further Discussion. Once Or Twice I Looked Back, But I Could See Nothing

That Would Excite Suspicion, And I Began To Think That My Friend's Fears

Were Groundless.

 

When Once Concealed, However, Beneath The Shadow Of The Trees We

Dismounted, And Watched Patiently--And Were Presently Rewarded By Seeing

A Man, Armed With A Long Gun, Steal Quietly From The Bushes Which We Had

Passed, And Make Towards Mount Tarrengower As Though In A Hurry To Reach

Some Location Without A Moment's Delay.

 

"It Is No Use To Give Chase," Mr. Brown Said, Seeing Me Make A Movement

Towards My Horse. "Even If We Should Bring The Fellow To Close Quarters,

One Of Us Would Have To Bite The Dust; For Let Me Tell You A Secret That

May Be Of Some Value To You Hereafter In Case You Are Anxious For A

Fight. Every Man In This Country Who Carries A Long Gun Is A Good Shot,

And Can Hit His Object With As Much Certainty As Your Famed Kentucky

Riflemen. So You Can See That We Should Get No Honor Or Profit By Giving

Chase To Yonder Long-Legged Fellow, Who, If I Am Not Much Mistaken, Is

Better Acquainted With This Section Of The Country Than Ourselves. Let

Him Go. He Is Probably A Shepherd; Been On A Visit To A Neighboring

Station, Or Else Out On A Tour Of Observation To Look After

Bushrangers."

 

"How Near Are We To A Station?" I Asked, Still Following With My Eyes

The Tall Form Of The Stranger, Who Jumped From Side To Side With Scarce

An Effort, And Who Did Not Appear To Regard The Heat Any More Than A

Salamander.

 

"As Near As I Can Judge," My Companion Said, "We Are Still On The Lands

Belonging To The Hawswood Station, Although I Am Not Certain. Adjoining

Those Lands Is A Station Owned By A Number Of Melbourne Merchants, And

The Stock-House Should Be Off Towards The Mountain. At Least, It Was

There Three Years Ago, During The First And Only Time That I Ever

Visited These Parts."

 

"Here We Are At Last," Mr. Brown Said, Pointing To A Small Strip Of Land

Containing Not More Than A Quarter Of An Acre, Surrounded By Those

Treacherous Bogs Which Are Familiar To All Who Ever Visited The Plains

Of Australia.

 

"That Must Be The Spot Indicated," He Continued, Surveying It With A

Keen Eye, "Yet I Can See No Means Of Reaching The Island. The Bog, Which

Looks Crusted Over And Hard, Would Not Bear The Weight Of A Lamb, Much

Less That Of A Man; Yet That Is Just Such A Spot As A Shrewd Bushranger

Would Select For Depositing His Plunder, Simply Because No One Would

Think Of Looking There For It."

 

"Let Us Dismount And Stake Out Our Animals, And Then Examine The Spot At

Our Leisure. If That Is The Place, We Will Find Means For Reaching It,

Even If We Have To Build A Bridge, Or Buy A Pontoon Of India Rubber."

 

My Companion Accepted The Advice, And Under The Shadow Of A Cluster Of

Volume 2 Chapter 65 (Journey After The Buried Treasure) Pg 134

Stunted, Gnarled Trees, We Removed The Saddles, And Then Prepared Our

Dinner, Which We Stood In Some Need Of, Having Been Without Food From

The Time That We Started In The Morning, Long Before Sunrise.

 

"I Wish That A Flock Of Sheep Would Stray This Way," Mr. Brown Said,

While Scraping Some Dried Grass Together For The Purpose Of Making A

Fire, While I Was Occupied In Undoing The Pack Which Contained Our

Provisions, As Well As Our Tools And Cooking Utensils; "I Feel Like

Having A Mutton Chop For Supper," He Continued.

 

"Behold Your Wish," I Replied, Pointing To A Flock Of About A Thousand

Sheep, Led By A Patriarch, Whose Horns Proclaimed Many Hard-Fought

Battles, Just Winding Their Way Towards The Salt Lick From Behind A

Small Knoll That Stood Between Us And Mount Tarrengower.

 

Mr. Brown Coolly Drew His Revolver, And Apparently Calculated The

Distance.

 

"What Do You Intend To Do?" I Asked, Seating Myself On The Pack, And

Watching His Proceedings.

 

"Have A Mutton Chop For Supper, If Those Animals Come Within Pistol

Shot. Keep Quiet, And Don't Alarm Them, And You Will See How Delicate I

Will Do The Trick."

 

I Was Too Hungry To Make Many Objections, And Therefore Followed The

Advice Of My Friend. On Came The Flock, The Old Patriarch At Their Head,

Unsuspicious Of Danger, And Thinking Probably Of The Rich Treat Which He

Was About To Confer Upon His Numerous Harem, By Allowing Them To Partake

Of A Bit Of Salt Grass At The Close Of The Day.

 

We Were So Well Concealed By The Trunks Of The Trees, That The Sheep,

Generally Wild And Suspicious Of Strangers, Did Not Discover Us Until

The Old Ram Was Within About Two Rods Of Our Hiding Place; Then He

Suddenly Stopped, And Snuffed The Air As Though He Smelled An Enemy, And

The Flock, Governed By His Actions And Motions, Likewise Halted And

Looked Around, To Discover The Cause Of The Commotion.

 

For A Few Seconds All Was Quiet, With The Exception Of A Number Of

Bleating Lambs In The Rear, And Just As The Ram Was Once More Elevating

His Head To Scent The Air, Mr. Brown Fired. A Fine Fat Ewe Sprang Into

The Air, And Then Rolled Over And Over In The Agonies Of Death.

 

"A Good Shot!" Cried Mr. Brown, But Hardly Were The Words From His Mouth

When There Was A Rushing Sound, And Before I Could Interfere, Or Raise

My Voice In Warning, The Old Patriarch Had Charged Past Me. My Comrade

Saw His Danger, But Disdained To Use His Revolver In Such A Quarrel, Or

Even To Fly. He Probably Thought That He Could Seize The Ram By His

Horns, And Arrest His Career Without A Violent Effort, But If Such Were

His Intentions He Was Bitterly Disappointed, For The Old Patriarch

Possessed The Strength And Power Of A Dozen Ordinary Sheep, And Possibly

Had Battled With Many Bushrangers For The Preservation Of His Flock From

Decimation.

 

Volume 2 Chapter 65 (Journey After The Buried Treasure) Pg 135

On Rushed The Ram With The Speed Of A Race Horse. He Passed Me Without

Notice, His Eyes Glowing Like Coals Of Fire, And Every Muscle In His

Neck Stretched For The Encounter. His Wives Did Not Offer To Fly, But

Stood Watching The Result Of The Old Fellow's Charge, Evidently Quite

Confident Of The Ultimate Result.

 

When The Ram Was Within Three Feet Of My Companion, He Thought That It

Was About Time To Make Good His Retreat, Seeing That His Opponent Was

Disposed To Be In Earnest.

 

Mr. Brown Started Back Suddenly, And Then Turned To Dodge Behind A Tree

Where He Could Have Laughed His Enemy To Scorn. But Unfortunately He Was

Too Late In Making Up His Mind, And Just As He Turned, The Ram Struck

Him Upon That Portion Of His Body Which Presents The Broadest Basis, And

In A Twinkling Over Went My Friend, As Though Shot From A Mortar.

 

I Could Not, For The Life Of Me, Help Laughing At The Sight, And Yet I

Was Not Disposed To Interfere Between Them. It Was A Fair Fight, And I

Wanted To See It Out.

 

I Will Give The Ram The Credit Of Acting In A Fair And Manly Manner, For

After He Had Floored His Opponent, He Stood Perfectly Still Until Mr.

Brown Began To Scramble Up, And After He Had Gained His Knees, The Old

Fellow Evidently Labored Under The Impression That More Work Was Cut For

Him. With A Fierce Stamp The Ram Retreated A Few Feet, And Then Rushed

On Like Lightning. Mr. Brown Was Thrown Headlong To The Ground, And Then

He Began To Look Upon The Contest As One Not To Be Despised. I Heard The

Click Of His Revolver, And I Knew That His Thoughts Were Deadly, But I

Resolved To Save The Life Of So Gallant An Opponent.

 

"Don't Fire," I Shouted; "It Is A Pity To Kill The Old Fellow For

Defending His Wives. How Would You Like It?"

 

"Call Him Off Then, Or D---- His Long Horns, I'll Blow A Hole Through

Him Large Enough To Take In A Pack Saddle," Cried Mr. Brown, Still

Maintaining His Recumbent Attitude, As Though No Longer Desirous Of

Provoking A Battle.

 

The Task Was Not Difficult. Indeed The Ram Had Grown So Inflated With

Victory That He Was Ready To Pitch Into Every Thing Living, And I Had

Only To Show Myself And Manifest A Hostile Attitude To Accomplish My

Purpose. The Very First Motion That I Made With My Head Attracted His

Attention. He Turned From A Fallen Foe With Disdain, And Braced Himself

For A New Conflict. I Made A Second Motion With My Head Suggestive Of

Butting, And On He Came, But I Was Prepared For Him. Springing Nimbly

Aside, I Let Him Strike The Hard Pack Saddle With All His Force, And The

Result Did Not Disappoint Me. The Saddle Yielded, And Over And Over Went

The Ram, Until He Picked Himself Up About Two Rods From The Spot Where I

Stood Awaiting A Renewal Of The Attack With Much Patience.

 

I Did Not Have To Wait Long. With A Toss Of His Shaggy Head The Old

Fellow Took Deliberate Aim, And Came Towards Me. I Waited Until He Got

Under Full Headway, And Then Stepped Behind A Tree That My Body Had

Screened. The Crash Was Terrible. The Ram Rebounded Several Paces, And

Rolled Over And Over, Kicking Violently, And When He Did Struggle To His

Feet He Winked His Eyes Rapidly, As Though Afflicted With A Headache Of

A Violent Nature. For A Few Minutes We Stood Looking At Each Other In

Silence, And Then The Old Patriarch Wagged His Tail Slowly, And Moved

Towards His Wives, With Rather A Crestfallen Appearance.