ved simple enough. The native
chief had fetched them straight to the spot. There was no sort of
nobility in the act: the man knew enough of white men's ways to
expect a big reward. Bob he did not know; but when Eustace appeared
on the scene he recognized the boy as belonging to the master of
the neighbouring plantation, whom he had seen many times from a
distance as he rode through the Bush. Mr. Orban was out with Mr.
Cochrane making a frantic search of the entire neighbourhood when
the chief arrived, and he would communicate his business to no one
else. Not that it is likely any one else would have understood him
or followed him as Mr. Orban did the moment he arrived home. The
language was unintelligible to both men; but putting two and two
together in their great anxiety, they made out that the chief could
lead them where they would find something of interest to
themselves. They had not dared to hope he knew the whereabouts of
both their sons, or to speculate which they should find; they did
not even know whether they were being taken to the living or the
dead.

"I'm afraid you'll have a bit of bother getting me home," said Bob;
"I'm as stiff as a board, and can't move hand or foot."

Then he told his story, and how Eustace had found him, and to all
intents and purposes saved his life.

"And you, Eustace," said Mr. Orban--"how did you come here?"

When Eustace came to the description of the answering coo-ee on the
banks of the creek, Mr. Orban interrupted him.

"That was only an echo. I knew there was one there, but I never
thought of telling you."

"Thank God you didn't," said Mr. Cochrane, "and that he made the
mistake. We should never have found Bob but for that."

"Father," Eustace said anxiously, "you won't forget poor old
Bolter, will you? This black-fellow has got him in the camp over
there."

"I had quite forgotten him," Mr. Orban said; "and we shall need him
too."

Their own horses were quietly waiting a little distance back. By
means of much gesticulation--pointing towards the horses, and then
in the direction of the camp--the chief was made to understand what
was wanted; and after a little demur he went away to fetch Bolter,
but certainly most grudgingly.

The journey back to the plantation was one that none of the party
could ever forget. The difficulty of conveying the helpless Bob,
the suffering he so bravely tried to endure, and the terrible time
it took, were indescribable.

It had of