Adventures in Australia | Page 4

W.H.G. Kingston
was deadly pale and seemed so much exhausted that he did not even speak to us as we approached.
To leap from our horses and release him without asking questions, was the work of a minute. Having put him on his feet and waited until he had somewhat recovered, we inquired how he had been placed in the position in which we had found him.
"Some rascally bushrangers surprised, and `stuck me up,'" he answered. "I had just dismounted, when three of them, who had been lying in ambush, suddenly sprang on me, and before I could draw my revolver, knocked me down.
"I fully believed that they intended to murder me, but they contented themselves with carrying off my horse and arms and ammunition and everything I had about me; having lashed me to this tree, and then galloped away, leaving me to the chance of dying of thirst and starvation, or being gnawed to death by the dingoes. Had you not come up, such might have been my fate; and, believe me, I am deeply grateful to you for rescuing me from it."
We had been aware of the possibility that we might meet with natives, but had not thought of the likelihood of encountering bushrangers, indeed we fancied that the country was no longer infested by such characters.
We, of course, having assured the stranger that we were very glad to have been of use to him, invited him to accompany us until he could obtain another horse, and offered to let him ride one of ours by turns.
"I should like however to try and catch the fellows who robbed you;" exclaimed Guy. "Is there any chance of overtaking them? Surely they will encamp not far from this, and if we follow their tracks we might come upon them as suddenly as they surprised you."
"Very little chance of that," observed the stranger. "They are desperate fellows, and, knowing that every man's hand is against them, keep a strict watch. They are aware that it is possible that I might be released, and will probably ere this have got a good many miles away, I am, however, grateful to you for your offer, though I am sorry to delay you. I confess that, without a gun or flint and steel, I should be very sorry to perform the rest of the journey on foot by myself. I am going to the north-west, and I judge, from the direction you were riding, that our roads lie the same way."
Guy told him that we were bound for Mr Strong's station, which we understood was nearly a hundred miles off; and at the rate we could travel with our baggage-horse, we did not expect to reach it for three or four days.
Observing how ill the stranger looked I suggested that we should at once look out a good spot for camping.
"I can help you, as I know the country," said the stranger. "A short distance further on there is a water-hole in what during the rainy season is sometimes a torrent; we can there obtain all the requisites for a camp."
I now insisted that he should mount my horse, and we set out.
Pushing forward, we soon reached the spot he spoke of. Our new companion, after examining the ground, told us that the bushrangers had been there, and after watering their horses had ridden on, as he supposed they would, and that we need have no apprehensions of an attack from them.
We soon hobbled the horses in the usual fashion, fastening their legs together with leathern straps in such a way as to make it impossible for them to move beyond a slow walk, so that if they were inclined to stray they could not go far.
Toby quickly lighted a fire, while the stranger by our advice rested near it. Guy and I taking our guns went out in different directions in search of game, which is usually to be found near a water-hole in Australia. We soon came back, Guy with a brace of pigeons and I with three parrots, so that we had ample food for all hands. As we had damper and tea, we enjoyed a satisfactory meal which greatly revived our new friend. While we were seated round the fire--Toby watching the horses--the stranger inquired if we were related to Mr Strong. This led us to give him a brief sketch of our history.
"May I ask your name?" he said. "Mine is Norman Bracewell."
"And ours is Thurston," said my brother. "What! Guy Thurston?" exclaimed Bracewell, leaning forward and grasping Guy's hand; "I thought from the first that I knew your features. We were at school together. `Little Guy' we used to call you, and you haven't forgotten me?"
"No indeed!" said Guy warmly, "you always stood my friend when the big fellows tried
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