The Convict: A TaleJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Convict: A Tale
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Prisoners -- Fiction
Dudley walked on, with his gun under his arm, while the glorious light
of the rising sun spread broad over the whole scene. The morning air
was fresh, and he felt invigorated by repose and society; but still
his mind was sadly depressed, and his eyes were more frequently bent
upon the ground than raised to the woody scene around him, or to the
glorious sky above. At length, however, about four hours before noon,
he paused for a moment in the midst of a wide savannah, surrounded on
every side by magnificent trees, to gaze at the park-like appearance
of the landscape, which had reminded him strongly, as had been the
case with Brady, of some of the most beautiful parts of his native
land. The memories that it called up were sweet, but a well of
bitterness sprang up in the past, turning the whole cup of life to
gall.
As he looked around, with a slow and contemplative gaze, he fancied he
saw a dim, shadowy figure creeping quietly along amidst the tall bolls
of the trees on the edge of the wide meadow. If his eyes did not
deceive him, it was the form of a tall man, stealing through the
second or third row of cedars, which were there very thick; but though
he watched intently, he could not catch another glance of it, and he
could only guess that it was one of the natives, who, on seeing a
white man, had plunged into the deeper parts of the scrub, or had
hidden himself behind some tree or bush. He knew that the aborigines
were fierce and cunning, especially the Milmendura, who were said to
frequent that neighbourhood; but he was well armed, and did not feel
much apprehension, for he had heard that the greater part of the tribe
were down at the Coorong, a great salt inlet of the sea, many miles
distant, or at the lakes in the same neighbourhood. With one or two,
he thought, if he should meet them, he could cope easily, at least on
open ground; and he consequently walked on without any appearance of
suspicion, though he kept his eyes upon the scrub, as if looking for
game. The cedars were succeeded by a large patch of tall stringy bark
trees, having no brushwood beneath them, and there he twice more
caught a sight of the dim figure, flitting along, almost step by step,
as he advanced, and then sheltering itself behind one of the large
trunks. He had now no doubt that it was that of a man watching him,
which certainly was not altogether pleasant, especially as the dark
colour of the native's skin so much resembled, in the shade, the
objects amongst which he was moving, that it was with very great
difficulty he was distinguished at all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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