was in bed with a bandaged head, and feelingas weak all over as a kitten. Sarah was in the room with the landlady.
"Hush, my dear," said the latter; "you've been very ill for more than aweek. You're not to get up, nor even to speak."
Archie certainly did not feel inclined to do either. He just closed hiseyes and dozed off again, and his soul flew right away back to Burley.
"Oh, yes; he's out of danger!" It was the doctor's voice. "He'll dofirst-rate with careful nursing."
"He won't want for that, sir. Sarah here has been like a little motherto him."
Archie dozed for days. Only, whenever he was sensible, he could noticethat Sarah was far better dressed, and far older-looking andnicer-looking than ever she had been. And now and then the big-beardedman came and sat by his bed, looking sometimes at him, some times atSarah.
One day Archie was able to sit up; he felt quite well almost, though ofcourse he was not really so.
"I have you to thank for helping me that night," he said.
"Ay, ay, Master Archie; but don't you know me?"
"No--no. I don't think so."
The big-bearded man took out a little case from his pocket, and pulledtherefrom a pair of horn-bound spectacles.
"Why!" cried Archie, "you're not--"
"I _am_, really."
"Oh, Bob Cooper, I'm pleased to see you! Tell me all your story."
"Not yet, chummie; it is too long, or rather you're too weak. Why,you're crying!"
"It's tears of joy!"
"Well, well; I would join you, lad, but tears ain't in my line. Butsomebody else will want to see you to-morrow."
"Who?"
"Just wait and see."
Archie did wait. Indeed he had to; for the doctor left express ordersthat he was not to be disturbed.
The evening sun was streaming over the hills when Sarah entered next dayand gave a look towards the bed.
"I'm awake, Sarah."
"It's Bob," said Sarah, "and t'other little gent. They be both a-comin'upstairs athout their boots."
Archie was just wondering what right Sarah had to call Bob Cooper by hischristian name, when Bob himself came quietly in.
"Ah!" he said, as he approached the bed, "you're beginning to look yourold self already. Now who is this, think you?"
Archie extended a feeble white hand.
"Why, Whitechapel!" he exclaimed joyfully. "Wonders will never cease!"
"Well, Johnnie, and how are ye? I told ye, ye know, that `the king,might come in the cadger's way.'"
"Not much king about me now, Harry; but sit down. Why I've come throughsuch a lot since I saw you, that I begin to feel quite aged. Well, itis just like old times seeing you. But you're not a bit altered. Nobeard, or moustache, or anything, and just as cheeky-looking as when yougave me that thrashing in the wood at Burley. But you don't talk soCockneyfied."
"No, Johnnie; ye see I've roughed it a bit, and learned better Englishin the bush and scrub. But I say, Johnnie, I wouldn't mind being backfor a day or two at Burley. I think I could ride your buck-jumping`Eider Duck' now. Ah, I won't forget that first ride, though; I've gotto rub myself yet whenever I think of it."
"But how on earth did you get here at all, the pair of you?"
"Well," said Harry, "that ain't my story 'alf so much as it is Bob's. Ireckon he better tell it."
"Oh, but I haven't the gift of the gab like you, Harry! I'm a slowcoach. I am a duffer at a story."
"Stop telling both," cried Archie. "I don't want any story about thematter. Just a little conversational yarn; you can help each other out,and what I don't understand, why I'll ask, that's all."
"But wait a bit," he continued. "Touch that bell, Harry. Pull hard; itdoesn't ring else. My diggins are not much account. Here comes Sarah,singing. Bless her old soul! I'd been dead many a day if it hadn'tbeen for Sarah."
"Look here, Sarah."
"I'm looking nowheres else, Mister Broadbent; but mind you this, ifthere's too much talking, I'm to show both these gents downstairs.Them's the doctor's orders, and they've got to be obeyed. Now, what'syour will, sir?"
"Tea, Sarah."
"That's right. One or two words at a time and all goes easy. Tea youshall have in the twinkling of a bedpost. Tea and etceteras."
Sarah was as good as her word. In ten minutes she had laid a littletable and spread it with good things; a big teapot, cups and saucers,and a steaming urn.
Then off she went singing again.
Archie wondered what made her so happy, and meant to ask her when hisguests were gone.
"Now, young Squire," said Harry, "I'll be the lady; and if your teaisn't to your taste, why just holler."
"But don't call me Squire, Harry; I left that title at home. We're allequal here. No kings and no cadgers."
"Well, Bob, when last I saw you in old England, there was a sorrowfulface above your shoulders, and I'll never forget the way you turnedround and asked me to look after your mother's cat."
"Ah, poor mother! I wish I'd been better to her when I had her.However, I reckon we'll meet some day up-bye yonder."
"Yes, Bob, and you jumped the fence and disappeared in the wood! Wheredid you go?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
BOB'S STORY: WILD LIFE AT THE DIGGINGS.
"Well, it all came about like this, Archie: `England,' I said to myself,says I, `ain't no place for a poor man.' Your gentry people, most o'them anyhow, are just like dogs in the manger. The dog couldn't eat thestraw, but he wouldn't let the poor hungry cow have a bite. Your landedproprietors are just the same; they got their land as the dog got hismanger. They took it, and though they can't live on it all, they won'tlet anybody else do it."
"You're rather hard on the gentry, Bob."
"Well, maybe, Archie; but they ain't many o' them like Squire Broadbent.Never mind, there didn't seem to be room for me in England, and Icouldn't help noticing that all the best people, and the freest, andkindest, were men like your Uncle Ramsay, who had been away abroad, andhad gotten all their dirty little meannesses squeezed out of them. Sowhen I left you, after cutting that bit o' stick, I made tracks forLondon. I hadn't much money, so I tramped all the way to York, and thentook train. When I got to London, why I felt worse off than ever. Nota soul to speak to; not a face I knew; even the bobbies looking sourwhen I asked them a civil question; and starvation staring me in theface."
"Starvation, Bob?"
"Ay, Archie, and money in my pocket. Plenty o' shilling dinners; but,lo! what was _one_ London shilling dinner to the like o' me? Why, Icould have bolted three! Then I thought of Harry here, and made tracksfor whitechapel. I found the youngster--I'd known him at Burley--and hewas glad to see me again. His granny was dead, or somebody; anyhow, hewas all alone in the world. But he made me welcome--downright happy andwelcome. I'll tell you what it is, Archie lad, Harry is a littlegentleman, Cockney here or Cockney there; and deep down below thatwhite, thin face o' his, which three years and over of Australiansunshine hasn't made much browner, Harry carries a heart, look, see!that wouldn't disgrace an English Squire."
"Bravo, Bob! I like to hear you speak in that way about our friend."
"Well, that night I said to Harry, `Isn't it hard, Harry.' I says,`that in this free and enlightened land a man is put into gaol if hesnares a rabbit?'
"`Free and enlightened fiddlestick!' that was Harry's words. `I tell yewhat it is, Bob,' says he, `this country is played out. But I knowswhere there are lots o' rabbits for the catching.'
"`Where's that?' I says.
"`Australia O!' says Harry.
"`Harry,' says I, `let us pool up, and set sail for the land ofrabbits--for Australia O!'
"`Right you are,' says Harry; and we pooled up on the spot; and fromthat day we haven't had more'n one purse between the two of us, have we,Harry?"
"Only one," said Harry; "and one's enough between such old, old chums."
"He may well say old, _old_ chums, Archie; he may well put the two
oldsto it; for it isn't so much the time we've been together, it's whatwe've come through together; and shoulder to shoulder has always beenour motto. We've shared our bed, we've shared our blanket, our damperand our water also, when there wasn't much between the two of us.
"We got helped out by the emigration folks, and we've paid them since,and a bit of interest thrown in for luck like; but when we stoodtogether in Port Jackson for the first time, the contents of our pursewouldn't have kept us living long, I can assure you.
"`Cities aren't for the like of us, Harry,' says I.
"`Not now,' says Harry.
"So we joined a gang going west. There was a rush away to some placewhere somebody had found gold, and Harry and I thought we might do aswell as any o' them.
"Ay, Archie, that was a rush. `Tinklers, tailors, sodjers, sailors.' Ideclare we thought ourselves the best o' the whole gang, and I think sostill.
"We were lucky enough to meet an old digger, and he told us just exactlywhat to take and what to leave. One thing we _did_ take was steamboatand train, as far as they would go, and this helped us to leave the moba bit in the rear.
"Well, we got high up country at long last--"
"Hold!" cried Harry. "He's missing the best of it. Is that fair,Johnnie?"
"No, it isn't fair."
"Why, Johnnie, we hadn't got fifty miles beyond civilisation when, whatwith the heat and the rough food and bad water, Johnnie, my London legsand my London heart failed me, and down I must lie. We were near a bitof a cockatoo farmer's shanty."
"Does it pay to breed cockatoos?" said Archie innocently.
"Don't be the death o' me, Johnnie. A cockatoo farmer is just acrofter. Well, in there Bob helped me, and I could go no farther. Howlong was I ill, Bob?"
"The best part o' two mouths, Harry."
"Ay, Johnnie, and all that time Bob there helped the farmer--dug forhim, trenched and fenced, and all for my sake, and to keep the life inmy Cockney skin."
"Well, Harry," said Bob, "you proved your worth after we got up. Youhardened down fine after that fever."
Harry turned towards Archie.
"You mustn't believe all Bob says, Johnnie, when he speaks about me.Bob is a good-natured, silly sort of a chap; and though he has a beardnow, he ain't got more 'n 'alf the lime-juice squeezed out of him yet."
"Never mind, Bob," said Archie, "even limes and lemons should not besqueezed dry. You and I are country lads, and we would rather retain ashade of greenness than otherwise; but go on, Bob."
"Well, now," continued Bob, "I don't know that Harry's fever didn't dous both good in the long run; for when we started at last for theinterior, we met a good lot of the rush coming back. There was no fearof losing the tracks. That was one good thing that came o' Harry'sfever. Another was, that it kind o' tightened his constitution. La! hecould come through anything after that--get wet to the skin and dryagain; lie out under a tree or under the dews o' heaven, and nevercomplain of stiffness; and eat corn beef and damper as much as you'dlike to put before him; and he never seemed to tire. As for me, youknow, Archie, I'm an old bush bird. I was brought up in the woods andwilds; and, faith, I'm never so much at home as I am in the forests.Not but what we found the march inland wearisome enough. Worst of itwas, we had no horses, and we had to do a lot of what you might callgood honest begging; but if the squatters did give us food going up, wewere willing to work for it."
"If they'd let us, Bob."
"Which they didn't. Hospitality and religion go hand in hand with thesquatter. When I and Harry here set out on that terribly long march, Iconfess to both of ye now I didn't feel at all certain as to howanything at all would turn out. I was just as bad as the young bearwhen its mother put it down and told it to walk. The bear said, `Allright, mother; but how is it done?' And as the mother only answered bya grunt, the young bear had to do the best it could; and so did we.
"`How is it going to end?' I often said to Harry.
"`We can't lose anything, Bob,' Harry would say, laughing, `except ourlives, and they ain't worth much to anybody but ourselves; so I'mthinkin' we're safe.'"
Here Bob paused a moment to stir his tea, and look thoughtfully into thecup, as if there might be some kind of inspiration to be had from that.
He laughed lightly as he proceeded:
"I'm a bad hand at a yarn; better wi' the gun and the `girn,' Harry.But I'm laughing now because I remember what droll notions I had aboutwhat the Bush, as they call it, would be like when we got there."
"But, Johnnie," Harry put in, "the curious thing is, that we never didget there, according to the settlers."
"No?"
"No; because they would always say to us, `You're going Bush way, aren'tye, boys?' And we would answer, `Why, ain't we there now?' And theywould laugh."
"That's true," said Bob. "The country never seemed to be Bush enoughfor anybody. Soon's they settled down in a place the Bush'd be fartherwest."
"Then the Bush, when one is going west," said Archie, "must be liketo-morrow, always one day ahead."
"That's it; and always keeping one day ahead. But it was Bush enoughfor us almost anywhere. And though I feel ashamed like to own it now,there was more than once that I wished I hadn't gone there at all. ButI had taken the jump, you see, and there was no going back. Well, Iused to think at first that the heat would kill us, but it didn't. ThenI made sure the want of water would. That didn't either, because, oneway or another, we always came across some. But I'll tell you whatnearly killed us, and that was the lonesomeness of those forests. Talkof trees! La! Archie, you'd think of Jack and the beanstalk if you sawsome we saw. And why didn't the birds sing sometimes? But no, only theconstant bicker, bicker of something in the grass. There were soundsthough that did alarm us. We know now that they were made by birds andharmless beasts, but we were all in the dark then.
"Often and often, when we were just dropping, and thought it would be acomfort to lie down and die, we would come out of a forest all at once,and feel in a kind of heaven because we saw smoke, or maybe heard thebleating o' sheep. Heaven? Indeed, Archie, it seemed to be; for we hadmany a kindly welcome from the roughest-looking chaps you could possiblyimagine. And the luxury of bathing our poor feet, with the certainty ofa pair of dry, clean socks in the mornin', made us as happy as a coupleof kings. A lump of salt junk, a dab of damper, and a bed in a cornermade us feel so jolly we could hardly go to sleep for laughing.
"But the poor beggars we met, how they did carry on to be sure abouttheir bad luck, and about being sold, and this, that, and t'other. Ay,and they didn't all go back. We saw dead bodies under trees that nobodyhad stopped to bury; and it was sad enough to notice that a good many ofthese were women, and such pinched and ragged corpses! It isn't nice tothink back about it.
"Had anybody found gold in this rush? Yes, a few got good workingclaims, but most of the others stopped till they couldn't stop anylonger, and had to get away east again, crawling, and cursing their fateand folly.
"But I'll tell you, Archie, what ruined most o' them. Just drink. Itis funny that drink will find its way farther into the bush at timesthan bread will.
"Well, coming in at the tail o' the day, like, as Harry and I did, wecould spot how matters stood at a glance, and we determined to keepclear of bush hotels. Ah! they call them all hotels. Well, I'm a roughun, Archie, but the scenes I've witnessed in some of those drinkinghouffs has turned my stomach. Maudlin, drunken miners, singing, andblethering, and boasting; fighting and rioting worse than poachers,Archie, and among them--heaven help us!--poor women folks that wouldmelt your heart to look on.
"`Can we settle down here a bit?' I said to Harry, when we got to thediggings.
"`We'll try our little best, old chum,' was Harry's reply.
"And we did try. It was hard even to live at first. The food, such asit was in the new stores, was at famine price, and there was not much tobe got from the rivers and woods. But after a few months things mended;our station grew
into a kind o' working town. We had even a graveyard,and all the worst of us got weeded out, and found a place there.
"Harry and I got a claim after no end of prospecting that we weren't upto. We bought our claim, and bought it cheap; and the chap we got itfrom died in a week. Drink? Ay, Archie, drink. I'll never forget, andHarry I don't think will, the last time we saw him. We had left him ina neighbour's hut down the gully dying to all appearance, too weakhardly to speak. We bade him `good-bye' for the last time as wethought, and were just sitting and talking like in our slab hut beforeturning in, and late it must have been, when the door opened, and incame Glutz, that was his name. La! what a sight! His face looked