"I'm full up of this ceaseless grind, Jack," suddenly broke out Robert Wentworth, a tall, slenderly built young man of about eighteen years of age, throwing down the paper he had been reading with unnecessary energy.

Jack Armstrong aroused himself from a reverie, and looked up with an amused gleam in his grey eyes. He was a medium-sized, squarely built youth about two years the junior of the first speaker.

"I believe I have heard you say that before, Bob," he said; "but all the same you echo my sentiments exactly. Still, what can we do? Our munificent salaries do little more than pay for our board in these digs"—he waved his hand comprehensively around the little room which they shared together—"and consequently we haven't saved enough to buy our steam yacht yet!" He laughed with affected cheerfulness.

Wentworth's strong, studious-looking face clouded momentarily.

"That's all very well, Jack," he answered severely; "but you know that there is little chance of our present[Pg 12] positions improving to any extent. Engineering is good enough for the few; but I can plainly see that life is too short for us to make a fortune at the game. The fact is," he added, in a more moderate tone, "this country is too crowded for us, and too old. Everything is standardized so accurately that we are little more than machines; and we must exist on our paltry pittances, seeing nothing but grime and smoke and rain and fogs, until we become old and brain-sodden, with never a hope beyond the morrow. No, I am tired of it—absolutely full up of it." He picked up the discarded paper once more, and directed Armstrong's attention to a paragraph under the heading of General News, and this was what the younger man read—

"Mr. James Mackay, who was the only survivor of the ill-fated Bentley Exploring Expedition in Central Australia, arrived in the city last night, and is staying at the Central Hotel. It will be remembered that Mr. Bentley's party was massacred by the blacks some months ago, the only man escaping being Mr. Mackay, chief bushman to the expedition, who, fortunately, was not with the others when they were attacked. It is generally supposed that the unknown tracks in Western and Central Australia hold vast treasure of gold and gems in their keeping, and they provide the incentive which sends the explorer across these trackless wastes."

"So that's the country you would like to go to, Bob," he said quizzically, "where explorers get killed by the natives?"

"Not exactly," replied Wentworth; "but it attracts me all the same. My only uncle went out to Australia about ten years ago, and we never heard of him again; I[Pg 13] suppose that has given me an interest in the country, for I remember him well as one of the finest men one could wish to meet. Anyhow, there can be no gain without risk, Jack, and I have often thought of trying my luck at the goldfields in Australia, though I don't suppose there can be much danger from the natives where they are."

"But there is time enough yet," ventured Armstrong. "We are not so very old——"

"All the more reason," returned his companion, quickly, "that we should decide on our future while our brains are fresh. If we continue on in the same groove here, we'll get so accustomed to it that we won't want to leave it. No, Jack, I am in earnest. I have decided to get out of it."

"You can't get out of it without me, Bob," said Armstrong, quietly. "You know I go with you. We haven't been chums these two years for nothing. And," he added proudly, "I am as strong as most men, and able to take care of myself in any part of the world."

Wentworth laughed grimly. "We'll face it together, Jack," said he.

"And we'll carve our way in it successfully, too," cried the boy, enthusiastically, now completely won over. "Hurrah for Australia, the land of gold!"

They arose and clasped hands, Wentworth's face expressing determined resolve, Armstrong's shining with the light of eagerness and hope.

Robert Wentworth and Jack Armstrong were chums in the truest sense of the word. They had been attracted to each other from their first day of meeting, when Armstrong, whose father had just died leaving him an orphan, homeless and well-nigh penniless, arrived at the Clyde[Pg 14] Engineering Works, to take up the post secured for him by a thoughtful friend who understood the boy's independent spirit. Wentworth had by this time served a year at his profession, but had made few friends, being too reserved and distant by nature to please the other apprentices; indeed, these unthinking, though well-meaning, individuals had grown inclined to misconstrue his quiet demeanour, until they got a rude awakening. A few of the rowdier spirits had surrounded Armstrong during the luncheon hour of his first day among them, and were endeavouring to get as much fun as they could at the new-comer's expense; and he, poor fellow, fresh from his sad bereavement, was in no mood to appreciate their witticisms.

"Can't you let the youngster alone?" said Wentworth, approaching the group.

They turned in amazement at his interruption; and one of them, a thick-set, pugnacious lad, inquired contemptuously, if irrelevantly—

"Well, and what could you do, anyhow, Mr. Philosopher? I didn't think you would care to risk a fight."

"Didn't you?" came the cool response, as the young engineer calmly doffed his coat. "You will think differently in a few minutes."

And when he had polished off his antagonist in a scientific manner that delighted the hearts of the beholders, even the defeated champion could not forbear his tribute.

"You are too much for me, Wentworth," he said feelingly, when he had recovered himself. "But I think it was mighty mean of you deceiving us so long."

After that Wentworth and Armstrong were always together; a bond of sympathy had sprung up between them, and before long they were sharing the same room,[Pg 15] and were known as David and Jonathan by their engineering associates. Wentworth's history was none of the brightest. His father had been a sea captain, and though ten years had elapsed since he and his ship had gone to the bottom in the China seas, Bob's memory easily carried him back to their last parting; and he recalled how, childlike, he had volunteered to take care of his mother until the captain came back—and he never came back. The widowed mother, left with her two children—Bob, and his sister Lucy, two years younger than himself—knowing how the roaming nature of the father had been repeated in the son, sought a home as far away from the sea as possible, and did her utmost on the scanty income left her to give them both the best of education. But Bob, old beyond his years, knew more of his mother's struggle than she guessed, and at fourteen he quietly seized an opportunity that offered, and apprenticed himself to the well-known firm of engineers already mentioned—and told his mother afterwards. And the discontent which he felt with his somewhat grimy surroundings, though hidden from his mother and sister, was often and often poured into the ears of his companion, whose sympathy was ever ready and sincere, and found culmination in the expression which opens this chapter.

And now that they had decided on a definite plan of action, they lost no time in carrying it into effect. So, a few days later, having called on their employer and explained their reasons for leaving his service, they directed their steps towards a general shipping office in order to procure full information concerning the vessels and routes of sailing to Australia.

When they entered the doorway there were no intending[Pg 16] voyagers engaging the attention of the clerk; but while Wentworth was making inquiries, some one entered and stood a little way behind the pair, and beguiled his time while he waited by whistling, most horribly out of tune, that familiar ballad, "Home, Sweet Home!"

"You can go to Australia by P. and O. or Orient Line, via the Suez Canal," the clerk reeled off glibly. "Or you may avoid the heat of the Red Sea by travelling round the Cape in a Shaw Savill, or New Zealand Shipping Company's boat. To what port do you wish to sail?"

"I think," said Bob, after a hurried consultation with Armstrong, "I think the port nearest the goldfields."

"That will be Melbourne," said the spruce shipping clerk, after some consideration. "Melbourne is the port for Ballarat."

"Go awa' and bile your held or study geography," came a gruff voice from behind. "You're an old fossil, you are, or you would ken that the laddies mean Western Australia. Ballarat has seen its day, but the West is still a land o' promise."

The two boys turned abruptly, while the clerk endeavoured to cough down his discomfiture. They saw beside them a burly middle-aged man with a deeply bronzed face, over which the shadow of a smile was stealing. Even at that moment, as they admitted afterwards, they both thought they had never seen a more kindly countenance, in spite of the grim lines around the mouth, which were only half concealed by a spiky red moustache. But immediately the interrupter saw the elder lad's face he started back as if shot, and a tremor seemed to run through his stalwart frame. "As like as twa peas," he[Pg 17] muttered hoarsely, and only Armstrong, who was close beside him, heard the words.

"And have ye decided to go out to Australia, my lads?" he inquired kindly, after a moment's pause. "Now, dinna get your backs up," he reproved mildly, as Wentworth seemed about to resent his interference, "I like you the better for your independence, but Australia's a place that is no very weel kent even at this period o' civilization, and maist certainly ye'll get nae reliable information from that wooden-heided mummy—ye'll pardon the gentle inseenuation," he said, with elaborate politeness, nodding to his victim behind the desk. "Now, I should ken Australia better than maist men," he continued, "an' it's my weakness that I should wish to shed my information abroad for the benefit o' mankind in general, but mair particularly"—here he laid a hand on each of the young men's shoulders—"would I like to assist young laddies like yoursel's wha are aboot to venture on so long a journey."

"We are obliged to you, sir," said Wentworth, gravely and distantly. "We certainly should like to know something of Australia."

"We would, indeed," supplemented Armstrong, impulsively holding out his hand.

The brawny Scot returned the grip; then, addressing himself more directly to Wentworth, said—

"I can see, my lad, that your head's screwed on the richt way, and I admire you for it; but you're a vera bad judge o' character, I'm thinkin', if ye canna distinguish between the spontaneous flow o' the milk o' human kindness, and the fause remarks o' an interested indiveedual. My name is Mackay," he concluded with dignity, "Big[Pg 18] Mackay they call me in Australia." He paused, and gazed searchingly at Wentworth. "Now," he added, and strangely enough there was no trace of the Doric in his language, "you may come and lunch with me at the Central if you wish, and I'll tell you about Australia, and if you prefer otherwise, why, there's no harm done."

He wheeled quickly and strode to the door, but the boys were by a common impulse at his side before he was half a dozen yards down the street.

"I am sorry if I appeared to doubt your good intentions, Mr. Mackay," said Wentworth, "but we are ignorant of the bigger world which you know so well, and kindnesses from strangers have not often come our way. But we have heard of you, sir; why, I believe it was through reading of you in the Herald some days ago that we decided to go to Australia."

The big man laughed good-naturedly. "You were quite right, my boy," said he, "but you may ken me better in future. It's no' so long since I was young mysel'," he concluded with a sigh.

By this time they were entering the hotel, and the boys were much impressed to observe the many tributes of respect which greeted their guide. Evidently his strange personality had become well known during his brief sojourn in the land of his fathers. Soon they were seated in the dining-room at a table conveniently remote from the others, and before the meal was finished Mackay was in possession of the lads' brief histories, and had been informed of their uncontrollable longing to get away to a new country.

"And your uncle went oot to Australia ten years ago?" he repeated musingly, when Wentworth told him his[Pg 19] story. "Well, well, Australia is a big country, and it's no likely ye'll meet him there. Why canna ye content yersel's where ye are?" he demanded brusquely.

"We can never hope for much if we remain here," argued Wentworth. "And we should like to have a chance——"

"Just so," gravely said Mackay, "just so, my young shavers. Well, I can tell ye this, some folk can do well in any part o' this wee planet, and others—and they are in the majority—are never much good. Energy and enterprise are what is wanted, and nae whining after hame——"

"I thought," interjected Armstrong, slyly, "that I heard you whistling 'Home, Sweet Home!' in the shipping office?"

Mackay beamed. "It's very kind of ye to say so," he replied. "Maist o' my acquaintances asseverate that my whustle is like a deein' dug's lament, an' no fit to be translated into any tune whatsoever. But, all the same, Jack, my man, that's a tune I can only whustle when I am at hame; it makes me think things are no' as meeserable as they seem. Why, you young scamps, a man should be at hame anywhere. As for me I'm maist at hame when I'm awa' from hame, which is what I call a paradoxical statement o' fact for ye to moralize on. Many years ago," he went on, "I sailed oot o' the Clyde as chief engineer on one o' the finest boats that was ever launched, but when I got to Australia and fell in touch wi' Bentley's exploring expedition, my good resolutions for a quiet ordinar' existence squelched oot o' me like the wind frae a punctured bicycle tyre. 'I want ye, Mac,' said Bentley, 'to cross the Never Never wi' me.' He had another rusty-heided Scotsman in his company, an auld friend o' mine, an' I said,[Pg 20] 'Well, if it's only to keep that gorilla-faced Pharisee oot o' mischief, I'll come.' An'—an' I went, an' I've been living like an aboriginal ever since; an' now that I've come back to look at my ain country, I feel like a pelican in the wilderness. I came awa' to try and forget aboot things an'—an' it's no' possible."

Mackay ceased; his eyes seemed to gaze into the distance, and his good-humoured countenance for the moment became drawn and haggard. His eager listeners too, felt the spell of his sadness, and for some minutes there was a sympathetic silence; then Armstrong spoke. "Will you tell us about it, Mr. Mackay," he asked gently, and without a word of introduction the big man began his story—

"We were three months oot on our exploring journey into Central Australia, and had come through the usual amount o' hardships—suffering from want o' water, occasional skirmishes wi' the niggers, and other similar trifles, and at this time the Chief was considerin' that we had a good chance o' cuttin' through a maist promisin' lookin' tract o' country which had never before been reached. As it was, we were further into the heart o' Australia than any explorer had ever penetrated, and every one o' us was fu' o' enthusiasm aboot our prospects, and dreamed o' findin' a new Eldorado in this far back country we were enterin' upon. But one morning, when we were east o' the 125th longitude, one of the pack camels grew obstreperous, and broke away into the bush to the nor'-east. We couldn't afford to lose the cantankerous animal; besides, he carried a fair amount o' our stores on his back. To make a long story short, I volunteered to track him up and fetch him back. 'Don't go too far, Mac,'[Pg 21] said Bentley to me as I was starting out, 'I'm none too sure of this district, there may be natives about.'

"But what did I care about a wheen niggers? 'Ye needna wait for me,' I shouted back, 'I'll fetch the beastie a' richt, and cut your trail afore you've travelled a dozen miles.'" Mackay stopped and sighed deeply.

"And what happened?" asked Wentworth and Armstrong almost with one breath.

"Heaven only knows, my lads. I never saw any of the party again. I tracked up Misery—that was the camel's name—but he took me a gey long travel, and it was late at night when I started to go back, but though I pushed hard to the south'ard until well into the next day, I couldna pick up a sign o' a track. A camel's pad is no easily missed, and though the ground was more broken and hilly than usual, I felt sure I couldna have crossed their route o' march. Back I went again, examining the ground maist carefully, then a' at once I got a sair shock. I came on a soft patch o' sand, and every bit o' it was marked wi' natives' footprints. I could see the marks o' their big, flat feet everywhere round aboot, and they telt me as plainly as if I had seen the niggers themselves that they had come in from the east, and had gone back over their ain tracks within the last half-dozen hours. I needna tell ye what I feared then. Though I hadna had a drink o' water nor a bite to eat since I left the camp, a' thought o' hunger or thirst left me, as I traced the nigger tracks backwards to the west. They took me straight to our old camp where Misery had broken away, and what do you think I saw there?"

The boys shook their heads wonderingly.

"Only bones; bones, in the middle o' a lot o' ashes[Pg 22] which were still warm, and the smell o' burnin' was like the stench o' a nigger corroboree. I turned again on their tracks. I must have been mad, for one man could do little against a tribe that had wiped out one of the finest expeditions that ever ventured into the Never Never Land, but I was desperate, and I tracked the skunks like a bloodhound. My throat was parched, my tongue was too big for my jaws, but I felt that I would gang under wi' pleasure if I could only get my rifle sights on the brutes first. But I couldna get even that satisfaction. Before I had gone far I was stopped by a mountain that seemed to rise like a wall straight from the flats. I hadn't seen it before, so I may have followed further than I thought, or maybe the sand haze had hidden it from our view. No one has ever believed that a mountain like it exists in that country, and I'm the only white man that knows it to be there. I was too weak to climb it, and after three or four tries I sat at the bottom and just raved.

"How I returned beats me yet to understand. The water-bag on Misery's back was empty, and our last spring charted was fifty miles to westward, wi' five hundred miles beyond that again to a mining camp. I'm no navigator, only a bushman, but somehow I got back, the only survivor of the party, and I felt like a murderer comin' in alone. I was the Chief's righthand man for ten years, my lads, and a straighter or better-hearted leader never lived. Then there was my old comrade Stewart wi' the red hair, wha I used to misca' so sairly; Pioneer Bill the bushman, and young Morris the geologist—they're a' gone, and I'm the puir unfortunate that's left.... I came home here wi' the intention o' stoppin' if I could; but the bush draws me back and I must go."

[Pg 23]

"I am very, very sorry," said Wentworth, breaking the pause that followed; "I can appreciate your feelings most deeply. It must be a vast country, that Never Never Land."

"It has claimed many a victim, my boy," answered Mackay. "But Western Australia is not all the same," he hastened to add cheerfully. "Around Kalgoorlie and north into Pilbarra the richest gold mines in the world have been found, and it's the thought that there's a treasure-house o' gold and gems in the far-back land that makes explorers risk their lives in that awful desert. It's the chance o' striking Eldorado that sends us wanderers into such out o' way corners o' the world. But I didna ask ye here to tell ye my experiences. If you have really made up your minds to go to Australia, an' I honestly believe it's the best country for any young man, I'll no' only advise you, but I'll accompany you, and I can say this, that what I dinna know about gold mining is no' worth knowing. I have never made a fortune at the game, but there's no denyin' that fortunes have been made. I've taken a fancy to you, my laddies, and I'll see that you come to no harm. If ye're short o' lucre," he continued, "I'll advance ye anything ye need."

Even Wentworth's reserve utterly broke down after this speech.

"How can we thank you for your goodness?" he said gratefully. "I for one shall be glad to go with you——"

"And I feel that I could follow you anywhere, Mr. Mackay," broke in Armstrong, eagerly.

The elder man smiled grimly. "Maybe ye'll think more seriously o' these words some day," he replied enigmatically. "Meanwhile, get awa' hame and make[Pg 24] your arrangements without any unnecessary delay, for we must catch the P. and O. Mongolia at London next Friday. Like enough," he concluded, with a laugh, "we'll hae mutual cause for congratulation over our partnership." He shook hands heartily with each of the lads, and accompanying them downstairs, watched them disappear into the street.

"Poor young fellows," he said musingly, as he turned away, "I was just the same mysel' at that age, discontented, ambitious.... But the likeness canna be doubted. Ah, well, I've just done what the Chief himsel' would have done had he been here."

"Well, Jack, what do you think of him?" asked Wentworth, as he and his companion walked homewards.

"I think he is the kindest-hearted man I have ever met," was Armstrong's enthusiastic response.

"I like him, too," admitted Wentworth, "and I expect to like him more when I know him better. What a strong man he must be; why, his chest measurement must be nearly fifty!"

"Only a strong man could have endured what he has suffered, Bob," said Armstrong, "and," with boyish delight, "he must be a real beauty in a scrimmage. His wrists seemed like bars of steel."

"He just bears out my opinion," spoke Wentworth, thoughtfully, "that travel broadens the mind more than is generally allowed, and destroys all trace of parochialism in a man's nature. I don't think, for instance," he declared, "that that man would care two straws whether we were Scotch, English, or Irish; it's humanity that counts with him——"

"Please don't wander me with philosophical reasoning[Pg 25] just now, Bob," pleaded Armstrong. "All I can say is, that I liked the man immediately I saw him, and I think we were very lucky in meeting him."

Never for a moment did these two think of drawing back from the projected journey. It was characteristic of them to accept their first decision as final, and the nearness of the day for sailing, as fixed by Mackay, in no wise appalled them. Neither of them was given to noisy exuberance.

"Environment has done it, Jack," said Wentworth, sagely. "You see we have been so much together, and have had so little time for amusement; then my temperament was always a bit studious, and, consequently, you have suffered——"

"Don't, Bob," interjected Armstrong; "you talk like an old man, and you are not nineteen yet. When we get under the sunny skies of Australia, we'll view things differently, and, who knows, we may come back with a fortune in a year or two."

"Who knows, indeed?" repeated Wentworth, absently gripping the boy's arm, and in this way they proceeded until they arrived at their little room on the top flat of No. 590, Great Southern Road.

That evening they broke the news of their early departure to their amiable landlady, Mrs. Campbell, much to that worthy woman's dismay.

"Eh, but, laddies, ye canna mean it!" she exclaimed. "Ye would gang to that awfu' country whaur the black bodies live——"

"But they are not all black, Mrs. Campbell," said Wentworth, soothingly. "In fact, the aborigines are becoming an extinct race."

[Pg 26]

"I dinna care what sort o' race they are becoming," moaned she, beginning to apply her apron to her eyes. "An' forbye, what dae ye want to gang oot there for? Ye baith are daein' sae weel in the engineerin' office, and in time ye micht be managers."

"That's a period too far distant for us to calculate on, Mrs. Campbell," said Armstrong, cheerily, though he was much distressed by the good woman's genuine emotion. "And our ambitions are giving us a shove along——"

"Ambitions, ambitions," wailed poor Mrs. Campbell. "And what should ye want wi' ambitions, at your age? They are nae guid to ye; in fact it's doonricht wrang for ye to hae them; they've never brocht happiness to ony man yet!" And she rushed from the room much affected.

"She's a real good sort," said Wentworth, "but very unreasonable," with which mature reflection he reached down a copy of "Raper's Navigation" from a shelf, and began to read assiduously, while Armstrong, with a whistle of relief, started to overhaul his wardrobe in preparation for their ocean trip.

The following day was a very busy one for the boys. After packing their most necessary belongings, they called on Mr. Mackay to receive his advice as to the outfit required. That gentleman met them, genial as ever.

"Ocean travel is no the same as it used to be," said he; "an' a' you'll need is twa or three light suits for the tropics. It's no' as if you were to be months at sea," he explained, "an' you may leave your West Australian wardrobe to take care o' itself—it will no be much o' a consideration."

But he was not satisfied, nevertheless, until he went[Pg 27] round the shops with them, and saw them fitted out with all that was needful.

"And now, my lad," he said, when they had finished, addressing himself to Wentworth, "if you'll tak' my advice, you'll gang hame and break the news as gently as ye can to your mother, for I can see ye havena telt her o' yer new plans yet. I'm a great believer in young fellows shouldering their ain responsibilities as early as possible, but ye can never get a truer friend than yer mother, an' I hope ye'll no forget that. I'm a rough hand at preaching, being mair used wi' other sort o' language, and, and——" Here Mackay's usually eloquent verbiage failed him, and he floundered hopelessly. "Be back in good time to leave wi' me for London on Thursday morning," he finished, recovering himself quickly, and they turned to go. But Mackay suddenly seemed to remember something, and he called them back.

"I was thinkin' o' buyin' you some books to read on the ship," said he, "and I was wondering how your tastes might lie. I don't mean novels," he hastened to add, "but books that might serve as a study."

"We'll leave the choice to you, Mr. Mackay," said Wentworth, with a smile; and again they departed, yet once more they were called back. Mackay was evidently ill at ease, for he hesitated in his speech, and, if possible, his bronzed cheeks became a shade deeper in colour.

"I've arranged aboot the tickets," he said at length; "so you'll hae no need to trouble in that direction."

Without waiting for a reply he wheeled suddenly, and strode down the street, leaving the boys rooted to the spot wholly overcome by the generous speech.

"He must have guessed our one great difficulty," said[Pg 28] Wentworth, flushing deeply. "Well, Jack, our obligations to Mr. Mackay will take some wiping out."

Later on in the evening, when the boys were talking over the events of the day in their little room, the landlady entered with a heavy parcel of books.

"A messenger has just brocht these," said she, "wi' Mr. Mackay's compliments."

"He is a gem," spoke Jack, emphatically, as he cut the string of the package, whereupon half a dozen handsome volumes were disclosed, three for Bob, and three for himself. They seized their possessions with avidity.

"'Leckie's Navigation,' 'Nautical Almanac,' and 'Burns's Poems,'" announced Wentworth, gleefully, gazing at his treasures. "Now, how could he have known that I wanted these so much?"

"'Mining Engineer's Handbook,' 'Metallurgy of Gold,' and 'Shakespeare,'" read out Jack, handling the volumes reverently. "Now, how could he have guessed our pet studies?"

"It beats me," said Bob. "I won't be surprised at anything Mackay knows after this. He is a conundrum."

"He is the decentest sort we have ever met," cried Jack, warmly.

"We agree on that," concurred Bob, gravely.