nce childhood), off he set
triumphant and refreshed: his arm was strong, and he trusted in it, his
axe was sharp, and he looked to that for help; he knew no other God. Off
he set for miles--miles--miles: still that continuous high acacia wood,
though less naturally park-like, often-times choked with briars, and
here and there impervious a-head. Was it all this same starving forest
to the wide world's end? He dug for roots, and found some acrid bulbs
and tubers, which blistered up his mouth; but he was hungry, and ate
them; and dreaded as he ate. Were they poisonous? Next to it, Dillaway;
so he hurried eagerly to dilute their griping juices with the mountain
streams near which he slept: the water was at least kindly cooling to
his hot throat; he drank huge draughts, and stayed his stomach.

Next morning, off again: why could he not catch and eat some of those
half-tame antelopes? Ha! He lay in wait hours--hours, near the torrent
to which they came betimes to slake their thirst: but their beautiful
keen eyes saw him askance--and when he rashly hoped to hunt one down
afoot, they went like the wind for a minute--then turned to look at him
afar off, mockingly--poor, panting, baffled creeper.

No; give it up--this savoury hope of venison; he must go despondently on
and on; and he filled his belly with grass. Must he really starve in
this interminable wood! He dreamt that night of luxurious city feasts,
the turtle, turbot, venison, and champagne; and then how miserably weak
he woke. But he must on wearily and lamely, for ever through this
wood--objectless, except for life and liberty. Oh, that he could meet
some savage, and do him battle for the food he carried; or that a dead
bird, or beast, or snake lay upon his path; or that one of those
skipping kangaroos would but come within the reach of his oft-aimed
hatchet! No: for all the birds and flowers, and the free wild woods, and
hill, and dale, and liberty, he was starving--starving; so he browsed
the grass as Nebuchadnezzar in his lunacy. And the famished wretch would
have gladly been a slave again.

Next morning, he must lie and perish where he slept, or move on: he
turned to the left, not to go on for ever; probably, ay, too probably,
he had been creeping round a belt. Oh, precious thought of change! for
within three hours there was light a-head, light beneath the tangled
underwood: he struggled through the last cluster of thick bushes,
longing for a sight of fertile plai