Here We Also Made Acquaintance With The Native Bee, And Would Certainly
Have Been Counted Mad By Any Stranger Who Could Have Seen Us Sitting In
The Smoke Of A Fire In The Broiling Sun!
This was the only way to escape
them; not that they sting, on the contrary they are quite harmless,
And
content themselves by slowly crawling all over one, up one's sleeve, down
one's neck, and everywhere in hundreds, sucking up what moisture they
may - what an excellent flavour their honey must have!
On a gum-tree near the pool some initials were carved, and near them a
neatly executed kangaroo. The second name I recognised as that of Billy
Janet, the first to find alluvial gold at Lake Darlot. He was one of the
Kimberley prospectors in the old days of the '87 rush. Keeping north from
the Janet Creek we crossed stony tablelands timbered with gums, and
numerous ravines and small creeks, until, on following down a nicely
grassed gorge with a creek running through it, we struck the dry bed of
the Mary River on November 25th. Henceforth our path lay through pleasant
places; shady trees, long grass, and frequent pools of water in the
shingly beds of the creeks made a welcome change after the awful
desolation of the desert. Indications of white men were now constantly
met with - marked trees, old camps, and horse-tracks. Striking north from
the Mary, over plains of spinifex and grass, passing many queer,
fort-like hills, we reached the Margaret River, a noble creek, even when
dry as we saw it. Nice grass plains extend along its banks, and the
timber and bush is alive with the sounds of birds, whose bright plumage
was indeed good to look upon. Cockatoos and parrots of the most gorgeous
colouring darted here and there amongst the trees, and every now and then
a swamp-pheasant would fly shrieking from the branches above.
CHAPTER XIV
DEATH OF STANSMORE
Where the Margaret River forces its way through the Ramsay Range, a fine
pool enclosed between two steep rocks has been formed. This is a
permanent pool, and abounds in fish of various kinds. Above and below it
the river was merely a dry expanse of gravel and shingle; a month later
it was a roaring torrent, in places twenty feet deep. Close to the pool
we noticed an old dray road, the old road to Mount Dockrell. I asked
Warri where he supposed it led to, and he answered "Coolgardie!"
Curious that one impossible to bush in a short distance should be so
ludicrously out of his reckoning. Time now being no object, since the
numerous ducks and fish supplied us with food, we camped for two days at
the pool, enjoying its luxuries to the full. Our larder contained a
bucketful of cold boiled ducks, a turkey, and numerous catfish and
bream - rather a change from the sand-ridges! As to bathing, we felt
inclined to sit all day in the water. I think we enjoyed ourselves more
at that pool than any of us could remember having done for a long time.
The desert was forgotten, and only looked back upon as a hard task
finished.
All were as happy and cheerful as could be, speculating as to what sort
of place Hall's Creek was, and in what way our sudden appearance would
affect the inhabitants. Charlie was sure that they would receive us with
open arms and banquet us, the lord mayor and the city band would meet us,
and a lot more chaff of the kind. Only eight miles, I reckoned, lay
between us and the telegraph line and the Derby-to-Hall's-Creek road; and
we made bets in fun whether we should reach the line before or after a
certain hour; as we started our march on the 30th there was no happier
little band in the wide world. Charlie followed one side of the river,
carrying the gun, as we meant to celebrate the arrival at the telegraph
line with a pot of kangaroo-tail soup. To pass the ridge of rock, the end
of the Ramsay Range, it was necessary for us with the camels to keep wide
of the river bank and descend a steep little gorge. As we started to go
down we saw some kangaroos jumping off towards Charlie, and presently
heard a shot. A shout from us elicited no reply, so we concluded he had
missed, and continued on our march.
When we reached the river bank again, I looked out for Charlie, but
somebody said he was across the river-bed in the long grass. After about
an hour's travel it struck me that he should have rejoined us, or else
that he had shot the kangaroo and was delayed by skinning or carrying it.
No thought of any mishap entered my head, for a prolonged absence of one
or other of us was of common occurrence. However, after another half-hour
a nervous feeling came over me, and, stopping the camels, I sent Warri
back to see what Charlie was about. Before very long Warri returned,
hardly able to speak from fear mixed with sorrow.
"What on earth's come over the boy?" I said. Then he blurted out,
"Charlie dead, I think." "Good God! Are you sure? - did you speak to him,
or touch him?" I asked, as we ran back together, the rest with the camels
following behind. "Him dead, lie 'long a rock - quite still," Warri
answered, and he had not spoken or touched him. Panting and
anxious - though even then I thought of nothing worse than a sprained
ankle, and a faint in consequence - we arrived at the foot of the rocks
where Charlie had last been seen, and whence the sound of the gunshot had
come. Right above us, caught by a ledge on the face of the rock, fifty
feet from the ground, I saw Charlie lying, and clambering up somehow at
full speed, reached his side.
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