The Gold Hunter's Adventures Or, Life In Australia Volume 2 ( Of 2 ) by William H. Thomes (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📕

Above The Mud, Until At Length I Recommended Him To Endeavor To Work His

Legs Loose, So That He Could Rest Upon His Stomach, As Though He Was

Attempting To Swim.

Brown Followed My Advice, And When He Saw That There Was A Certain

Prospect Of Being Saved He Grew Quite Calm, And Soon I Had The

Satisfaction Of Reaching Out My Hand, Grasping One Of His Own, And

Dragging Him Upon The Peninsula, A Little The Worse For His Contact With

The Bog, But Cheerful, And Disposed To Regard His Adventure In The Light

Of A Joke.

"My Dear Friend," He Exclaimed, Clasping My Hand, And I Thought He Was

About To Pour Forth A Profusion Of Thanks For My Services, "Let Me

Advise You To Put Your Trousers On As Soon As Possible, For These

Blasted Mosquitoes Will Devour You Alive."

I Think That His Recommendation Was The Best Evidence Of His Attachment

That I Could Possibly Have Desired, For I Had Been So Inwrapt With The

Business Before Me That I Had Not Heeded The Cloud Of Ferocious Insects

Hovering Around My Naked Extremities, Filling Their Bodies With My Life

Blood, And Causing Me To Almost Desire A Bath In The Bog, For The

Purpose Of Getting Rid Of My Tormentors.

I Hurried On My Clothes Without Loss Of Time, And Then Desired To Know

In What Manner I Could Help Him.

"Let Me Get Away From This Place First, And Then Secure A Wash, And A

Change Of Clothing, For I Feel As Though I Had Been Fished Out Of A

Molasses Hogshead," Mr. Brown Said, Scraping The Mud From His Shirt And

Pants, And Even Taking It From His Pockets By Handfuls.

"What Made You Run In The Manner That You Did?" He Asked, As I Assisted

Him To Rise.

"I But Followed Your Example, And I Begin To Think That I Followed A

Very Poor One," I Replied.

"I Am Of The Same Opinion, For I Don't Believe That We Saw Any Thing

Excepting A Ram Anxious For A Hunting Match. Let Us Return."

As My Friend Ceased Speaking We Glanced At The Island, And That One Look

Was Sufficient To Start Us Towards The Main Land In Double Quick Time,

For, Standing At The End Of The Peninsula, With One Arm Raised In A

Threatening Manner, As Though Warning Us Against A Renewed Attempt For

The Treasure, Was The White Figure Which Had First Frightened Us.

"That Is Buckerly's Ghost," Gasped Mr. Brown, As We Gained The Palm

Trees Under Which The Horses Were Hitched; "I Know It Is His Spirit,

From The Many Descriptions Which I Have Heard Concerning It."

"What Do You Propose To Do?" I Asked, Beginning, Now That I Was Some

Distance From The Object Of My Terror, To Entertain Serious Doubts In

Relation To The Spirituality Of The Visitant.

"Do?" Repeated Mr. Brown, "What Can We Do Against A Ghost?"

"We Can At Least Find Out What Claims It Has Upon The Treasure, And

Whether It Requires A Fair Dividend In Case We Are Successful. Come,

Change Your Clothes, And Let Us Return And Question This Wonderful

Visitant."

"Would You Dare To Speak First?" Demanded Mr. Brown, In Astonishment.

"Don't You Know, Or Have You Not Read, That The Person Who Holds

Conversation With A Ghost Dies Within A Week?"

"A Week Is Better Than A Day, So We Can Have Time To Think Of Our Sins

And Get Prepared For The Event. Come, Let Us Return Like Men And Face

This White Object, And See What Kind Of Stuff It Is Made Of."

While I Was Urging Mr. Brown I Did Not Have The Faintest Idea That He

Would Accede To My Request. In Fact, I Rather Hoped That He Would Not,

For, In Spite Of My Expressed Doubts In Relation To The Ghost, I Was

More Than Half Inclined To Believe That There Was Something Supernatural

About It. A Desire To Make My Companion Think That I Was More Reckless

Than Himself Prompted Me To Attempt To Combat His Fears.

While I Was Talking, Mr. Brown Was Changing His Clothes, And Getting A

Portion Of The Mud From His Person By Means Of The Contents Of The

Water-Keg, And When He Had Succeeded I Think That His Courage Revived,

For He Asked Me For The Loan Of My Flask; And When I Handed It To Him,

He Lowered Its Contents Materially, And Then Declared That He Felt

Better Than When He Was Up To His Neck In Mud.

"You Say That You Are Anxious To Return And Have An Interview With The

Old Fellow With Horns On His Head?" Mr. Brown Asked, And I Observed A

Wonderful Change In His Bearing All At Once, Which I Could Only

Attribute To Putting On Clean Clothes, Or Due To The Magical Influence

Of My Flask. I Was Inclined To The Latter Opinion, And Therefore Tasted

The Liquor For The Purpose Of Seeing If I Could Not Get A Little Dutch

Courage.

"The Fact Of It Is," My Friend Continued, "I Am Inclined To Think That

We Have Been Frightened At A Shadow, And Therefore I Am In Favor Of

Returning To The Island Without Delay. No Blasted Ghost Is To Keep Me

From The Treasure Which Was Bequeathed To Me In Due Form By Its Owner,

And For Which I Paid Him In Candles, Six To A Pound. How Does The Liquor

Hold Out?"

I Shook The Flask, And Found That Almost Half A Pint Remained.

"I Think That A Quantity Of Salt Mud Got In My Mouth, For I Have A Bad

Taste Which Nothing But Brandy Can Remove. Let Me Have Another Spoonful,

And Then We Will Start With Courage Enough To Face The Devil.

"A Man," My Companion Exclaimed, Throwing Back His Head And Looking Full

At The Moon, "Should Never Depend Upon Liquor For Courage, For In The

Moment Of Danger He Wants All His Self-Possession. I Only Make The

Remark," He Continued, As He Handed Me Back The Empty Flask, "To Warn

You Against Drinking Any Thing Of An Intoxicating Nature Upon The Eve Of

An Important Expedition."

"Your Advice Is Good," I Remarked, "And To Help Me Carry It Out You Have

Drained The Flask Of Its Last Drop. The Next Time We Go On An

Expedition, I Wish That You Would Practise What You Preach."

"This Is An Ungrateful World," Mr. Brown Remarked, As He Rose From The

Saddle Upon Which He Had Been Seated, And Steadied Himself By Holding On

My Shoulder. "I Have Drank Your Liquor Merely Out Of Friendship, And Now

I Am Reproached For My Kindness; I Didn't Expect It."

"I Didn't Expect That You Would Help Yourself So Liberally," I Replied,

Laughing At His Quiet Humor. "But Come Along, If You Intend To Reach The

Island Before Day, For It's Said That Ghosts Don't Walk During

Daylight."

"Look First To Your Revolver, For Mine Is In A Deplorable Condition, And

Wouldn't Go If I Should Carry It. The Barrel Is Filled With Mud, And The

Chambers With Salt."

"Remember, There Is To Be No Running Away This Time," I Said, As I

Replaced My Revolver In My Belt, Having Found It In Good Order And

Condition. I Almost Wished, As I Spoke, That Brown Would Decline Going,

And Find Some Valid Excuse For Declining. But There Was No Hope For

That. He Had Drank Too Much, And Was As Full Of Pluck As An Irishman On

A Fair Day.

"No Fear Of Me, My Boy," He Cried, As We Started Towards The Peninsula,

Walking Rather Slow, However. "I Am Determined To See What Kind Of A

Devil Is On The Island, Even If I Tumble Into The Bog Again. You Are

Sure," He Continued, "That The Liquor Is Exhausted?"

"Every Drop."

"I Am Sorry For That, 'Cos It Is Good To Keep The Stomach In Order, When

Mixed With A Little River Water. Although, To Save Trouble, I Like It,

As A General Thing, With As Little Of The Latter As Possible, For Fear

Of Disorders And Snakes."

We Were Within Five Rods Of The Bridge, When We Suddenly Stopped, As

Though By Mutual Consent, And Looked At Each Other For A Few Moments In

Silence.

"Well?" Said My Companion.

"Well," I Answered.

"Are You Going To The Island Or Not?" Demanded Mr. Brown.

"That Is For You To Say," I Replied.

"The Liquor Is All Gone?"

"Every Drop," I Answered.

"I Think," Said Mr. Brown, After A Short Pause, "That I Would Give A

Month's Pay, Including Bribes, If I Had A Gallon Of Good Whiskey By My

Side. A Man Who Intends To Combat The Devil And His Imps Should Have

Something Besides Powder And Ball To Fling At Their Heads."

"If You Had The Liquor," I Replied, "Neither Of Us Would Be In A

Condition, After A Few Drinks, To Throw Any Thing At Your Ghosts. I Know

Of One Man Who Would Throw Himself Upon The Ground And Sleep Until

Morning, And Let Bill Swinton And Money Go To The Devil, Where They

Belong."

"Pass On," Whispered Mr. Brown, Making Way For Me To Proceed, The Bridge

Being Too Narrow For Both Of Us To Walk Abreast.

"Excuse Me," I Replied, "I Think That I Should Follow On Behind To

Prevent You From Running Away; Or In Case You Again Tumble Into The Bog,

To Lend A Ready Hand. You Go First."

My Friend Hesitated For A Moment, Glanced Eagerly Towards The Island,

And Seeing Nothing Objectionable, Stepped Foot Upon The Bridge And

Commenced The Perilous Journey.

I Followed Close At His Heels, And When We Reached The Spot Which Was

The Scene Of His Experience In The Bog, The Slime And Water Had Filled

Up The Hole Which His Body Made, And All Looked Hard And Treacherous As

Ever. Mr. Brown Pointed To The Spot With His Hand As He Passed, But He

Neither Turned Nor Made Remark, Although I Thought I Saw His Form

Tremble At The Recollection Of His Danger.

We Were Not More Than Two Minutes In Reaching The End Of The Bridge, And

Then We Again Paused To Reconnoitre. Nothing To Alarm Us Was To Be Seen,

And We Again Ventured Forward, This Time With More Confidence Than We

Had Felt