The Dingo Boys | Page 8

There is no enemy," cried Rifle.
"Then why did my uncle post sentries?"
"Because he's a soldier," cried the other. "Here, have some tea. It isn't too hot now, and old Man's signalling for his dose."
"I can't drink tea now," said Tim, huskily. "I'm sure there's somebody there."
"Then let's go and see."
Tim was silent.
"What, are you afraid?" said his cousin.
"No. Are you?"
"Don't ask impertinent questions," replied Rifle shortly. "Will you come?"
For answer Tim cocked his piece, and the two boys advanced over the thick grass toward the patch of dense scrub, their hearts beating heavily as they drew nearer, and each feeling that, if he had been alone, he would have turned and run back as hard as ever he could.
But neither could show himself a coward in the other's eyes, and they walked on step by step, more and more slowly, in the full expectation of seeing a dozen or so of hostile blacks spring to their feet from their hiding-place, and charge out spear in hand.
The distance was short, but it seemed to them very long, and with eyes roving from bush to bush, they went on till they were close to the first patch of trees, the rest looking more scattered as they drew nearer, when all at once there was a hideous cry, which paralysed them for the moment, and Tim stood with his gun half raised to his shoulder, searching among the trees for the savage who had uttered the yell.
Another followed, with this time a beating of wings, and an ugly-looking black cockatoo flew off, while Rifle burst into a roar of laughter.
"Why didn't you shoot the savage?" he cried. "Here, let's go right through the bushes and back. Perhaps we shall see some more."
Tim drew a deep breath full of relief, and walked forward without a word, passing through the patch and back to where the tea-jug had been left.
Here he drank heartily, and wiped his brow, while Rifle filled the mug a second time.
"You may laugh," he said, "but it was a horrible sensation to feel that there were enemies."
"Poll parrots," interrupted Rifle.
"Enemies watching you," said Tim with a sigh. "I say, Rifle, don't you feel nervous coming right out here where there isn't a soul?"
"I don't know--perhaps. It does seem lonely. But not half so lonely as standing on deck looking over the bulwarks on a dark night far out at sea."
"Yes; that did seem terrible," said Tim.
"But we got used to it, and we must get used to this. More tea?"
"No, thank you."
"Then I'm off."
With the jug partly emptied, Rifle was able to run to the open part, where Man greeted him with:
"I say, what a while you've been. See some game over yonder?"
"No; but Tim thought there were savages in that bit of wood."
"What! and you two went to see?"
"Yes."
"You were stupid. Why, they might have speared you."
"Yes; but being a sentry, Tim thought we ought to search the trees and see, and being so brave we went to search the place."
He was pouring out some tea in the mug as he said the above, and his brother looked at him curiously.
"You're both so what?" cried Man, with a mocking laugh. "Why, I'll be bound to say--" glug, glug, glug, glug--"Oh, I was so thirsty. That was good," he sighed holding out the mug for more.
"What are you bound to say?" said Rifle, refilling the mug.
"That you both of you never felt so frightened before in your life. Come now, didn't you?"
"Well, I did feel a bit uneasy," said Rifle, importantly; but he avoided his brother's eye.
"Uneasy, eh?" said Man; "well, I call it frightened."
"You would have been if it had been you."
"Of course I should," replied Man. "I should have run for camp like a shot."
Rifle looked at him curiously.
"No; you wouldn't," he said.
"Oh, shouldn't I. Catch me stopping to let the blacks make a target of me. I should have run as hard as I could."
"That's what I thought," said Rifle, after a pause; "but I couldn't turn. I was too much frightened."
"What, did your knees feel all shivery-wiggle?"
"No; it wasn't that. I was afraid of Tim thinking I was a coward, and so I went on with him, and found it was only a black cockatoo that had frightened him, but I was glad when it was all over. You'd have done the same, Man."
"Would I?" said the lad, dubiously. "I don't know. Aren't you going to have a drop yourself?"
Rifle poured the remains of the tea into the mug, and gave it a twist round.
"I say," he said, to change the conversation, which was not pleasant to him, "as soon as we get settled down at the farm, I shall vote for our having milk with our tea."
"Cream," cried Man. "I'm tired of ship tea and nothing