Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1899-11-30
CHAPTER XXI
1.-THE DARKEST HOUR Is NEAREST THE
DAWN.

Next morning on aWahlHg L COulu
hear the go-go-burra shrieking and
cackling in its happiest fashion and re-
member being somewhat mystitied, for
that bird-''the settlers clock never
begins to assert itself and expostulate
with drowsy humanity until there Is
some light in the sky, while as yet it
was pitch dark.
Then the awful truth came crushing
down upon mel was blindl Oh, to
/ think that 1 would never again see the
stars go out one by one in the blue
heavens at break of day or the lemon
/ glow chaage to silver gray in the east
ern sky us the glorious sun rose, kissing
! away the gauzelike mists from the palm
| girt and lily draped lagoon: l could
never again go to the door of my tent
! and. spying to that go-go-burra, throw Il
| billeTof wood at it by way of playful
response to its premature greeting and
.ut of sheer light heartedness and good
/ feeling. It had not been passing
/ dream It was a stern horrible fact.
But tnen came the thought of the
love that | had won if l had lost my
! sight. That at least was mine which in
! this world seemed TO me best worth
| having My blindness mattered not to
| her. for She had told me that she had
( eyes for both of Us. There WAS no dream
about that. 1t was d glorious reality!
| Jack took me down 10 the creek for
! q wash, and then | went over with him
| to the camp and sat down in tAe shade
| Of a great oyerhang II; dg tree until he
was ready to come and tal-o lne to break
! fast Before many minutes ! became
! aware Of 4 woman II tJ-chin;. | had
| always maintained. s.c.-Ge to say, that
even blind person could tell Norah
Mackenzie's step, and now that sight
was denied me the truth OF what hard
been lightly said strucl: home 1t was a
| light, buoyant but firm step, indicative
of her character. Inssinctiyely l rose to
my faet to show he tIJt ! was cheerful
and not brooding over my misfortune
| indeed that l rather reJ0iced in the
| hope she had given me | wished her
Good morning and held out my
hand. | could not see her in the flesh,
but could see her with wonderful dis
tinctness in my minds eye 1t that mo-
ment as with shy gllGnCss on her
my two hands.
''Is this all you have for me?' she
cried and kissed Inc on the cheek with
out more ado.
Considering how things had come
about, was l altogether to be pitied
Actually my speculations that day
shaped themselves into the question,
Did | not owe something to my blind
ness, after all2
We made an early start SO as to reach
the st&ttor that night. The spare pack
horses belonging to the surveyors and
the suuatter were called into use, and
every one was mounted. Jack attached
q checkrein to Sir Henry. So what
with the former on one side and the
company of the squatter and sometimes
his daughter on the other the time
somehow slipped go quickly away that
when at noon we stopped to camp and
have dinner l was taken by surprise.
In the course of the afternoon we met
Mooney and the other stOckmen coming
at brisk pace up the creek. 1t seemed
that some of the horses which stamped
ed from US when the blacks had attack
ed US in the cave made back toward the
station. When they were seen, Moo
ney had talsen alarm, and, leaving the
station and everything in it to look aft
er itself, started out at once with plenty
Of ammunition to find out what had
gone wrong.
BY continuous travelling we reached
the station late in the evening, where
we found everything as it had been left.
1t seemed like getting hCme again after
the terrible experiences we had gone
through in that fateful cave.
In a couple of days the surveyors,
who were a capital set of fellows, left
for the Macarthur amid many express
sions of good will 1t was arranged
that after few more days of rest and
preparation we should start for Burke
town in Queensland again. Chilcot was
to be left in charge of the station, with
four or five other good hands. By this
time Gordon would be more able for the
Journey, as he, with his sister and Sa-
vile, was going back again overland to
Tarragong. Jack, of course, would ac-
company me to Burketown
AT last the time came to say goodby
Gordon-who was now fast recovering
from his wounds-his sister and Savile.
1t was indeed hard thing to part with
them at the wharf. They had been so
kind and attentive to me in my affiic-
tion, and so delicate with it all that at
times | was almost inclined to forget |
my blindness. If the essence of true po-
liteness is to conceal the fact that one
is comforting a favor and to make the
recipient lose sight of any Indebtedness,
then they were natures own gentle
folk They We're starting overland the
next day for TaITagong Mackenzie and |
his daughter were going round to Bowen
by one of Burns Philips boats. 1 gave
Gordon an envelope containing a e25
bank note to be given to Savile and
Elsie when certain happy event might |
be expected to take place. Savile, good |
soul, was unable to speak when he shook |
hands with me, but l understood him. |
There was no need to say anything.
Then the steamer Dugong blew its |
whistle. In n minute the score or so of |
bushmen and stockmen, with the entire |
population of Burketown, hurriedly re- |
crossed the gangway and stood upon |
the wharf. Soon we were steaming |
down the tortuous river. In couple of |
hours l was sitting upon deck chair, |
with NCrah beside me. The cool salt |
sea air was blowing on my cheek, and I |
felt strangely well and happy. The sea |
had always exercised powerful fasci- |
nation for me, and it exercised some of |
its old wistful glamour for me now as I |
listened to the swish and splash of the |
waves breaking and coursing along the |
sides of the old Dugong. But at length |
the vain regret forced itself upon me |
that | could not now look upon old |
oceans mystic face as it heaved in the |
moonlight, here with silvery flashes Of |
phosphorescent fire and there with |
yawning gulf of somber blackness. How |
often | had longed when in the sad |
voiced lonely bush to be once more |
within sound of its ever changing and |
mysterious whispers. And now my wish |
was granted. But, alas, might listen 10 |
the signing of winds and the soothing !
splash of waters, but it was written in |
the book that l was no more to look |
upon that dear familiar face.
Then / felt the gentle pressure of the |