Wilderness Trek (1988) Page 23

  Then the lasso shot out, and the noose cracked over Eric's head and shoulders. Red whirled the big horse and spurred him shoreward. Eric was jerked off the wagon, over the very backs of the threshing crocodiles. Red dragged him free, through the shallow water, up on the mud. He leaped off, to run and loosen the noose. Eric's head had been dragged through the mud. Stanley and two drovers lifted the half-dead man, and carried him ashore. Sterl sat on his horse with his throat constricted. He had not cared much about Eric Dann, but the mad risk that intrepid cowboy had run!...

  "He ain't--hurt none," Red panted, coiling the muddy rope. "I was afraid --I'd get the noose--'round his neck. But it was a damn narrow shave! Pard, that's one hoss--in a million. By Gawd, I was scared he--wouldn't do it. But he did--he did!"

  They laid Eric Dann on the bank to let him recover. Sterl dismounted, and every time a head or a body lunged up he met it with a bullet. But the angle was bad. Most of the bullets glanced singingly across the river. One by one the horses were torn loose from the traces, and dragged away, until they disappeared under the deep water.

  The heavy wagon had remained upright, with the back end and wheels submerged. The tide was falling.

  "Miraculous, any way you look at it!" exclaimed Stanley Dann. "Red Krehl, as if my debt to you had not been great enough!"

  "Hell, boss. We've all been around yestiddy an' today, when things came off," drawled the cowboy.

  At low tide Ormiston's wagon was hauled out and back to camp. The girls clamored for the story. Red laughed at them, but Sterl told it, not wholly without elaboration. He wanted to see Beryl Dann's eyes betray her quick and profound emotions.

  "For my uncle! Red--when he hated you!"

  "Beryl, all in a day's ride," drawled Red. "Now if you was only like Duke!"

  "Red, I am not a horse. I am a woman," she rejoined with no response to his humor.

  "Shore, I know thet. I mean a hoss, if he's great like Duke an' cottons to a feller why he'll do anythin' for you." Red also had turned serious. "Beryl, I'd die for him, an' shore he'd die for me."

  "I'd like you to feel that way for me, Red Krehl," she returned, vibrantly. "I would die for you!"

  "Wal, yore wants, like yore eyes an' yore heart, air too big for you, Beryl."

  Leslie let go of Duke's neck to face Red.

  "Red, I give Duke to you. And you can return Jester to me," she said.

  "Wal! Dog-gone-it, Les, you hit me below the belt!"

  "It'll make my happy. And Beryl too." Stanley Dann broke in upon them with his booming order:

  "Cut more poles. We'll relay the road and cross my wagon before this day is done."

  While his drovers worked like beavers, he had Beryl's bed and baggage unloaded. Stanley drove his big wagon across. Friday sighted crocodiles, but none came near. Load and wagon were crossed in record time, after which six drovers carried Beryl's belongings across in two trips.

  The sun set red and evilly. The trekkers ate, and tried to be oblivious of the abo signals, the uncanny bats, the howls of the dingoes and the unseen menace that hovered over this somber camp. Stanley Dann roused them all in the gray of dawn. It was wet and chill. Dingoes bayed dismally in the bush. The cowboys found two of Dann's drovers mustering horses for the day. The cowboys bridled Duke, King and Lady Jane, and drove the rest of Leslie's horses into camp. Stanley Dann's hearty voice, his spirit, the drab gray dawn lighting ruddily, the hot breakfast--all seemed to work against the gripping, somber spell.

  "Men, this is our important day," boomed the leader. "Roland's wagon first. Unload all the heavy articles. Pack these bags of dried fruit Ormiston had--unknown to me. Slyter, will you drive Roland's wagon?"

  "Yes," replied Slyter. "Mum, you ride with me."

  "With Beryl and Leslie that will be a load!" said Dann.

  "Dad, I won't cross in the wagon," spoke up his daughter decidedly.

  Leslie interposed to say, "I'm riding Lady Jane."

  The leader gazed at these pioneer daughters with great luminous eyes, and made no further comment. He hurried the unpacking, and the hitching of two big draft horses to Roland's wagon. The sun came up gloriously bright. When Slyter mounted the high wagon seat, shouts from across the river told him that the drovers over there were ready. Roland straddled one of the lead horses of the teams. The tide was on the make, wanting a foot in height and a dozen yards up the mud bank to fill the river bed.

  "Friday! Everybody watch the river for crocs," ordered the leader.

  Leslie sat her horse, pale and resolute. She knew the peril. At this juncture Beryl emerged from the tent, slim in her rider's garb. She carried a small black bag.

  "Red, will you carry me across?" she asked, simply. Her darkly dilated eyes betrayed her terror.

  "Shore, Beryl, but why for?" drawled the cowboy.

  "I'd feel safer--and--and--"

  "Wal, dog-gone! There. Put yore foot on my stirrup. Up you come! No, I cain't hold you that way, Beryl. You've gotta fork Duke. Slip down in front of me. Sterl, how about slopin'?"

  "Friday grins good-o," replied Sterl, grimly. "Les, keep above me close. Larry, keep upstream from Red. Idea is to move pronto!"

  They plunged in, passed Slyter's teams and the drovers, reached the deeper water, breasted the channel.

  "Fellers, get ready for gunplay!" shouted the hawk-eyed Red. "Shet yore eyes, Beryl!"

  Across the river from the reedy bank above Roland's position came a crackling rush, a waving of reeds, then a zoom, as a big crocodile took to the water. The guns of Roland's group banged; mud splattered all around the reptile.

  Farther upstream, muddy-backed crocodiles, as huge as logs, piled into the river. The drovers were clamoring in fright and excitement. Slyter had driven his teams in up to their flanks. One drover was unfastening the traces, while two others were ready to drag the teams into the channel. Sterl spared only a glance for them. Roland and his men came pounding through the shallow water. Halfway across--two-thirds! Bligh's horse was lunging into the channel above Larry, carrying the tackle and rope for the wagon.

  Suddenly, almost in line with them, an open-jawed, yellow-fanged monster spread the reeds, and zoomed off the bank. Red, Sterl, Larry, Roland, were shooting. But the crocodile came on, got over his depth, and disappeared.

  "Watch for the wake!" called Red. "Thet feller is mean. Heah he comes! See them little knobs. That's his haid!"

  Sterl espied them. He regretted having left his rifle in the wagon.

  "Drop behind me, Leslie," he called. "Don't weaken. We'll get by him."

  Sterl did not fire because he did not want to drive the brute under water again. Evidently Red had the same thought. He headed Duke quarteringly away from the long ripple, and leaned far forward, gun extended. His left arm held the drooping girl. At the right instant he spurred Duke. Just then Duke struck bottom, and lunged. The crocodile was less than six feet distant when Red turned his gun loose. The bullets splashed and thudded, but they did not glance. With a tremendous swirl the reptile lurched partly out of the water, a ghastly spectacle. Sterl sent two leaden slugs into it. Falling back, the monster began to roll over and over, his ten-foot tail beating the water into foam.

  Red waded Duke past the teams and waiting drovers, out onto the bank. The drovers cheered. Ster, with Leslie behind him, followed Red up to the new camp. Red slid off and laid his gun on the grass. Beryl swayed, her eyes tight shut.

  "Beryl, come out of it," shouted Red. Her arms fell weakly.

  "I won't--faint! I won't," she cried with passion still left in her weak voice.

  "Who said you would?" drawled Red, as he helped her off.

  Leslie dismounted and came to Beryl. They clung together--a gesture more eloquent than any words.

  "Come, pard. Let's slope out there," called Red.

  When they rode out on the mud flat again Sterl was amazed to see Friday dragging what evidently was the monster crocodile into shallow water. A long spear sticking in the reptile spoke for itself. A splashing melee
distracted Sterl. The two teams were straining on the ropes, plowing through the mud. Between them and the wagon the drovers were yelling and hauling. Sterl observed that this wagon, the one in which he had calked the seams, floated almost flat. Mrs. Slyter stood behind her husband hanging on the seat while he made ready for the waiting teams. Once the wagon was in shallow water they unfastened the ropes and tackles, hitched the two teams and gave Slyter the word to drive out.

  Sterl and Red followed the muddy procession up the bank.

  Friday said to Sterl and Slyter, "Tinkit more better boss wait alonga sun. Crocs bad!"

  "We can't stop Dann now," Slyter said, grimly. "Come, all who're going back."

  "Wal, if you ask me we oughta load our guns," drawled Red.

  Chapter 26

  Five drovers crossed the river with Sterl and Red. Dann met them like a general greeting a victorious army.

  "We've time to drove Slyter's horses across, and carry these loose supplies," he said. "Tomorrow we will muster the cattle that rushed and drove the mob."

  When next morning the drovers had the big herd lengthened out to perhaps half a mile, at a signal from Dann they opened fire with their guns and charged. The fifty-yard wide belt of cattle headed for the river and piled over the low bank. Across the river crocodiles basked in the sun, their odor thick on the air. The leading cattle took fright and balked. Then it was too late. The pushing, bawling lines behind forced them. Some of them were bogged, to be trampled under. But almost miraculously the mob were driven into the mud before they could attempt a rush back.

  The point of least resistance lay to the fore. The leaders had to gravitate that way. From the opposite bank crocodiles slid down and shot across the mud into the shallow water. Released from a wall in front, the mass behind piled frantically into the river. As if by a miracle, thousands of horned heads breasted the channel. In several spot swirling, churning battles ensued, almost at once to be overridden by swimming cattle. As the front line struck bottom, the stench of the crocodiles and their furious attack precipitated a rush that was obscured in flying spray.

  "Come on, pard!" yelled Red, from below. "We wanta be close behind that stampede or the crocs will get us!"

  All the other drovers were in the mud, some at the heels of the mob, others shooting crippled and smashed cattle. The horse herd, driven in the wake of the mob, excited by the roar, made frantic efforts to get ahead. When they found bottom again, and plunged on into shallow water, Sterl looked up.

  A sea of bobbing backs sloped up to a fringe of bobbing horns. The long belt of cattle was moving with amazing speed. Sterl gazed back. Mired cattle dotted the river. Squirming crocodiles attested to the trampling they had received. Only one horse was down, and it had appeared to be struggling to rise.

  "Laig broke!" yelled Red, close to Sterl's ear. "Saddled too! By Gawd, pard, that's Eric Dann's hoss! An' if he ain't lyin' there on the mud, my eyes air pore!"

  Stanley Dann reached the prostrate man and horse ahead of Bligh and Heald. Sterl and Red got there as the drovers were dismounting, to sink ankle-deep in the mud.

  "It's Eric!" boomed the leader, as he leaned over. "Dead--or--no! He's still alive."

  "Horse's front legs broken," reported Bligh, tensely.

  "Shoot it! And help me--two of you."

  They lifted him across Bligh's saddle. How limp he hung! What a slimy, broken wreck of a man!

  "Hazelton, you and Krehl and Heald follow the mob," ordered the leader, harshly. "That rush will end soon."

  From the height of the bank Sterl looked over bushland and green downs which led to higher and denser bush. In the foreground, the mob of cattle had halted.

  "All the stampede is out of them," said Red.

  "Crocodile stampede. New one on us, Red," rejoined Sterl.

  "Cost Dann and Slyter plenty. Hundreds of cattle down, daid an' dyin'. Sterl, about Dann's drovers--after this last shuffle, what's the deal gonna be?"

  "You mean if Eric Dann holds up the trek?"

  "I shore mean that little thing."

  "Damn serious, pard."

  "Serious? If Bligh an' Hood an' the others stick it out, I'd say it'll be a damn sight more than any Americans would do. 'Cept a couple of dumb-haid, lovesick suckers like us!"

  When the cowboys arrived, the cattle had begun to lie down, too exhausted even to bawl. The horses had scattered off to the left toward camp. Sterl and Red helped muster them and drove them within sight of the wagons.

  "What held up Stanley Dann?" inquired Bligh, as the drovers collected again. Bligh was a young man, under thirty, gray-eyed and still-faced, a man on whom the other drovers leaned.

  "Eric's injured. Legs broken I think," replied Sterl.

  Bligh exchanged apprehensive glances with his intimates. He turned back to Sterl: "If the boss's brother is unable to travel, it'll precipitate a most serious situation."

  "We appreciate that. Let's hope it's not so bad he cannot be moved in a wagon."

  "Yes. You hope so, but you don't believe it," said Bligh, brusquely.

  "Righto."

  "Hazelton, we think you and Krehl are wonderful drovers, and what is more, right good cobbers," said Bligh, feelingly.

  "Thanks, Bligh," returned Sterl, heartily. "Red and I sure return the compliment."

  "For us this trek seems to have run into a forlorn hope."

  "Well, Bligh, I'm bound to agree with you. But it's not a lost cause yet."

  The drover shook his shaggy head, and ran skinned, dirty fingers through his scant beard. "Friends, it's different with you cowboys, on account of the girls--if you'll excuse my saying so."

  Neither Beryl nor Leslie put in an appearance at supper. Dann seemed for once an unapproachable figure. Slyter conversed in low tones with his wife, and once Sterl saw him throw up his hands in a singular gesture for him. Red stayed in the tent. The seven young drovers remained in a group at the other side of camp, where Bligh appeared to be haranguing them.

  Suddenly Bligh, leading Derrick, Hood and Heald, rose and started toward Stanley Dann's shelter. Pale despite their tan, resolute despite their fear! It did not seem a coincidence that Beryl and Leslie appeared from nowhere; that Slyter came out, his hair ruffled, his gaze fixed; that Red emerged from his tent, his lean hawklike head poised; that Friday hove in sight, lending to the scene the stark reality of the aborigine.

  Under Dann's shelter it was still light. Mrs. Slyter stood beside the stretcher where Eric Dann lay, his head and shoulders propped up on pillows, fully conscious and ghastly pale. His legs were covered with a blanket. Stanley Dann sat with bowed head. The drovers halted just outside of the shelter. Bligh took a further step.

  "Mr. Dann, is it true Eric is injured?" burst out Bligh, as if forced.

  Dann rose to his full height to stare at his visitors. He stalked out then like a man who faced death.

  "Bligh, I grieve to inform you that he is," he said.

  "We are--very sorry for him--and you," rejoined Bligh huskily.

  "I'm sure of that, Bligh."

  "Will it be possible to move him? In a wagon, you know, to carry on our trek?"

  "No! Even with proper setting of the bones he may be a cripple for life. To move him now--over rough ground--would be inhuman."

  "What do you intend to do?"

  "Stay here until he is mended enough to travel."

  "That would take weeks, sir. Perhaps more..."

  "Yes. Weeks. There is no alternative."

  Bligh made a gesture of inexpressible regret. He choked. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Dann, we--we feared this very thing... We talked it over. We can't we won't--go on with this wild-goose trek. You started all right. Then Ormiston and your brother... No sense in crying over spilled milk! We've stuck to the breaking point. We four have decided to trek back home."

  "Bligh--you too!" boomed the leader. Sterl saw him change as if he had shriveled up inside.

  "Yes, me!" rang out Bligh. "You ask too much of young men. We built our hopes on your
promises. Hood has a wife and child. Derrick is sick of this... We are going home."

  "Bligh, I have exacted too much of you all," returned Dann. "I'm sorry. If I had it to do over again... You are welcome to go, and God speed you... Take two teams for Ormiston's wagon. It is half full of food supplies. Bill will give you a box of tea. And if you can muster the cattle that rushed up the river--you are welcome to them."

  "Boss--that is big and fine--of you," returned Bligh, haltingly. "Honestly, sir..."

  "Don't thank me, Bligh. I am in your debt."

  Eric Dann called piercingly from under the shelter. "Bligh--tell him-- tell him!"

  "No Eric," returned Bligh, sorrowfully. "I've nothing to tell."

  "Tell me what?" boomed the leader, like an angry lion aroused. "Bligh, what have you to tell me?"

  "Nothing, 'sir. Eric is out of his head."

  "No, I'm not," yelled Eric, and his attempt to push himself higher on the stretcher ended in a shriek of pain. But he did sit up, and Mrs. Slyter supported him.

  "Eric, what could Bligh tell me?" queried Stanley Dann, hoarsely.

  There ensued a silence that seemed insupportable to Sterl. Every moment added to the torment of coming terrible disclosures. Eric Dann must have been wrenched by physical pain and mental anguish to a point beyond resistance. "Stanley--we are lost!" he groaned.

  "Lost?" echoed the giant, blankly.

  "Yes--yes. Lost!" cried Eric wildly. "We've been lost all the way! I didn't know this bushland... I've never been on a trek through outback Queensland!"

  "Merciful heaven!" boomed the leader, his great arms going aloft. "Your plans? Your assurances? Your map!"

  "Lies! All lies!" wailed Eric Dann. "I never was inland--from the coast. I met Ormiston. He talked cattle. He inflamed me about a fabulous range in the Northern Territory--west of the Gulf. Gave me the map we've trekked by. I planned with him to persuade you to muster a great mob of cattle... I didn't know that he was the bushranger Pell. That map is false. I couldn't confess--I couldn't--I kept on blindly... We're lost--Bligh knows that. Ormiston could not corrupt him. Yet he wouldn't betray me to you. We're lost--irretrievably lost. And I'm damned--to hell!"