THE DEPRIVED... Chapter 4...Part 13.

A continuation of my book.

Sam watched the dust trail as the riders started to come up the hill towards him. Whether it was panic or the sudden idea that he was free caused Sam to jump astride the horse again and dig his heels in so the horse jumped in startled anger before heading down the other side of the hill and galloping away into the surrounding countryside and further until the green gave way to the red dust of the start to what Black-Jack called the outback. Sam remembered how Black-Jack had said the red soil stretched for miles, further than any man had been. Lifting himself in the saddle and turning Sam could not see any sign of the soldiers but knew they would not give up the search and would be helped by the Aborigine trackers. Kicking the horse into action he rode on into the night, crossing small patches of vegetation until the sun had climbed over the horizon and sunk leaving the sky dark and quiet and alive with stars, more closer to earth than he had ever remembered them before. Climbing down from the saddle, Sam walked the horse until he came to an amount of brushwood and a tree stump which protruded from the soil. Here he tied the reigns to a thick stump and settled down to sit and ponder his plight. Half of him wanted to return, to go back to the prison and its security, its food and its bunk. But the feeling of absolute freedom and able to do what he pleased was exhilarating so that Sam laughed aloud, forgetting his hunger and thirst left from the day’s heat as he lay down with his head against the stump of the tree. Sleep was hard to come by as a hundred thoughts came in and out of Sam’s mind, bringing both elation and fear for his position. Where would he find food? He had heard stories of a strange animal that hopped on its back legs, like a giant rat and ten times as fierce, liable to tear out a man’s stomach with the claws on its hind legs. Even if Sam came across one, how could he kill it? He had no weapons to hunt with or to protect himself should the savage Aborigines come across him. Such thoughts crossed his mind and were suddenly jerked from his mind as the horse began to rear, snorting and bucking until it broke away from the stump of the tree and bolted off into the night. Sam jumped to his feet, seeing the large snake which slivered away before he began to run after the horse, calling loudly. The drumming of hooves grew ever distant till Sam gave up and threw himself down onto the earth, the tears of frustration welling up in his eyes.

He lay there till the early morning light, hoping the horse would return but as the day broke there was no sign of the horse and Sam rose, to begin walking back the way he had come, staring ahead into a shimmering distance. It seemed that no matter how far Sam walked, his eyes on the distant clump of trees, he seemed to be no nearer. He licked his lips, feeling them cracked and dry. His stomach groaned in hunger while his eyes grew weaker and more bleary as he stared into the sun which had begun to dip once again below the horizon. Extremely tired, Sam threw himself down on the earth knowing he was lost and with little hope of finding the prison or any sign of life again. In a strange way he knew he would die out in this arid land and was quite happy to do so. He lay down and tried to remember who it was who said that acceptance of death is very strong medicine and takes away fear. Sam was not afraid to die and in his state even welcomed it. He closed his eyes and smiled up at the night sky.

The morning sun surprised him as Sam woke and quickly held his hands up to shade his eyes. It was as he closed his eyes and opened them again that dark shadows threw themselves across his face so that he screwed his eyes up and opened them once more. His vision cleared and he opened his eyes wide to look up at the three brown faces which stared down at him. Sam did not move, frozen to the spot as his mind tried to think what he should do. The three grinning faces moved away so the fierce sunlight caused Sam to sit up and stare round at the three Aborigines who stood naked except for the small pouches which covered their lower region. In their hands they held throwing sticks and thin spears of wood. Their bodies, thin and wiry, were painted with white designs of chalk markings. There seemed to be no aggression from them as they talked to each other in a language unknown to Sam. As they talked and pointed at him they wore continual grins which gave Sam a feeling of growing confidence. These men were not savages who would kill and eat a human being as Black-Jack had said. Sam rose to his feet and pointed at himself.
“Prison.” he said, pointing at his clothing.
This had the result of the three men first looking at each other then bursting out in loud laughter. One of them, the taller of the three and with more markings to his body came forward and touched at Sam’s clothes, feeling the rough material.
“Prison!” said Sam again, louder in frustration.
“He’s scarpered from the prison.”
Sam froze as the words in fair English came out of the Aborigine’s mouth.
“You speak English!” Sam exclaimed and started to laugh which had the three men laughing with him.
“I speak some from O’Connor but these do not.” said the tall man.
Sam had no understanding of who or what O’Connor was but before he could speak again the tall man spoke up.
“I’m Walking Tom.” said the Aborigine. “And this is John No Longer himself and that fella is Jim Who Whistles.”
Sam looked at the men, studying each before asking if they had food and drink.
“Come with us.” ordered Walking Tom, beginning to walk away with the other two behind him. While the men seemed to walk aimlessly and with no seemingly great speed, Sam felt himself almost running to keep up. Climbing a ridge he stood in surprise as he saw the same brushwood and the rising stump of tree he had left the day before. He had walked round in a circle. Walking Tom put a foot against the tree stump and pushed down hard so the stump snapped, leaving a rotten core and using the tip of his wooden spear Walking Tom drew out a large wriggling white grub.
“Eat.” he said, holding out the wriggling mass to Sam.
Sam jerked his head back in horror, which brought a round of loud laughter from the Aborigines. Walking Tom put the grub in his mouth and bit off the head, rubbing at his stomach before handing the rest of the grub to the other two who each had a bite in turn before giving the tail end back to Walking Tom who promptly swallowed it. The Aborigines began to walk away, laughing and talking to each other while Sam followed them, his body now weakening in the heat of the day. He sat down, ready to give up and was surprised to see the men come back to him and lift him to his feet.
“Water.” said Walking Tom, pointing out ahead. Sam nodded weakly and willed himself to keep up with the men.

A while later, Walking Tom held up his hand then dropped to his knees, putting his ear to the ground, appearing to be listening intently then nodded before digging into the sandy red soil. Sam watched as the man dug with his hands and was surprised to see the soil became darker the deeper he dug. Taking off his pouch, Walking Tom filled it with the dark soil and began squeezing till water began to run out from the bottom of the pouch. Indicating that Sam should lay down, Walking Tom held the pouch over Sam’s open mouth so that the water ran down Sam’s throat, causing him to swallow it greedily. Four times Walking Tom filled the pouch and let Sam drink his fill, then each of the men filled their own pouches and lay to squeeze the damp soil and drink noisily. Having quenched their thirst, the men led Sam onwards and once again stopped by some rotten stumps where they opened the wood and drew out the large white grubs, laughing as they offered them to Sam. This time, with hunger overcoming his reaction to be sick, he took an offered grub and put it into his mouth and began to chew. To his surprise the grub tasted good so that he swallowed it and accepted another. Now fortified, Sam was ready to continue walking with the three men. He wasn’t sure where they were going or even if they were leading him back to civilisation simply because their walking seemed to be aimless and without any sense of time. They had this magical gift of being able to find water at any time and offered him food of plants, grubs and even a snake they had killed and at night their habit was to squat rather than lay and chant themselves to sleep, humming a seemingly dull monotonous rhyme which Sam found hypnotic, quickly sending him to sleep.