Page:In bad company and other stories.djvu/222

 occur to-day? Such things are always on the cards. May not even the rightful possessor of this susceptible heart be widowed ere this very eve, and the callow Boldrewoods be rendered nestless? No matter! One can but die once. It won't be quite so hot as Tel-el-kebir. Even there survivors returned. So we shake up our well-tried steed, shoulder the double-barrel, and ruffle it with the rest, serene in confidence as to the doctrine of chances.

And now after three or four miles' brisk riding o'er hill and dale—the country in these parts may certainly be described as undulating—we come upon a line of recently 'blazed' trees. These are half-way between a ravine or gully, and the crest of a range, to which it runs parallel. As the first man reaches a marked tree, he takes his station, the next in line halting as he comes to the succeeding one. The distances between are perhaps seventy or eighty yards, and each man stands sheltered on one side of his tree-trunk. The number of guns may be some ten or fifteen. The beaters, horsemen also, have gone forward some time since, and our present attitude is one of expectation.

In about ten minutes a sound as of galloping hoofs is heard upon the western side, of ringing stockwhips, shouts and yells, then nearer still the measured 'thud, thud' which tells of the full-grown marsupial. Bang goes a gun at the end of the line; the battle has begun. A curious excitement commences to stir the blood. It is not so much unlike the real thing. And a line of skirmishers in close quarters with an enemy's vedette would be posted like us, and perhaps similarly affected by the first crackling fire of musketry. Two more shots right and left nearer to our position; then half-a-dozen. A volley in our immediate neighbourhood raises expectation and excitement to the highest pitch. 'May Allah protect us! There is but one Prophet,' we have but time to ejaculate, and lo! the marsupial tyrant of our flocks and herds is upon us in force. Here they come, straight for our tree, seven or eight of all sizes, from the innocent 'joey' to the grim ancient, 'the old man,' in the irreverent vernacular of the colonists.

Now is our time. We step bravely from behind our tree and bang into the patriarch's head and shoulders, as for one moment he arrests his mad career in wild astonishment at our sudden apparition.