Grey The Wilderness Trek

1. Auflage 2015
ISBN: 978-1-5183-1231-1
Verlag: Krill Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 352 Seiten

Zane Grey (1872 - 1939) was an American author best known for writing Western novels, with his most famous being Riders of the Purple Sage. That work is widely considered the greatest Western ever written, and Grey remains one of the most famous authors of the genre. Grey also wrote many other novels on fishing and baseball.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Grey, Zane

Leseproben

CHAPTER I
.................. ACROSS THE BLUE TASMAN SEA, smooth and heaving on that last day, the American adventurers eagerly watched the Australian horizon line grow bold and rugged. “Red, it’s land—land,” said Sterl, his gray eyes dim from watching and remembrance of other land like that, from which he must forever be an exile. “The mate told me that was Sydney Heads over there.” “Shore, pard, I seen it long ago,” replied Red. “This heah sea gettin’ level an’ that sight just about saved my life...Sterl, no more ridin’ ships for Red Krehl.” “But Red, I begged you not to come,” replied Hazelton. “What kind of talk is thet? Do you think I’d ever let you go to hell alone? Pard, this heah Australia begins to loom up kinda big, at thet. But it’s English—an’ whoever heerd of an English gurl lookin’ at a cowboy?” “Red, someday you’ll get enough girl to do you for good and all, as I got.” “Shore I can stand a lot, Sterl...Say, if I’d had a bottle on this ship I wouldn’t be near daid now...Sterl, let’s have one orful drunk before we hunt for jobs.” “Sounds good, but it’s no sense.” “But we never had no sense nohow,” protested Red. “You takin’ the blame for thet gunplay! An’ me fool enough to let you!” This time Sterling Hazelton did not reprove his friend.—The pang was still there in his breast.—Nan Halbert had loved him as well as his cousin, Ross Haight—Ross, lovable and sweet-tempered except in his cups, the only child of an ailing father with lands and herds to bequeath—Ross, who had shot a man who certainly deserved it. Sterl had taken upon himself that guilt, which to him was not guilt. His family had been gone so long that he hardly remembered them, except his schoolteacher mother who had loved and taught him. There had been only Nan. And what could he have done for her, compared with what Ross could do? It all rolled back in poignant memory to the scene where Ross had confronted him and Red that last night. “But Sterl!” he had rung out, “Nan will believe you killed this man!...And everybody else. How can I stand that?” “For her sake! She loves you best...Go straight, Ross...Good-by!” And Sterl had raced away into the blackness of the Arizona night, followed by the loyal Red. “Red, you remember the package that Ross forced upon you to give me?” Hazelton said suddenly. “Shore I remember,” replied Red, looking up with interest. “I had a hunch it was money...” “Yes—money. Ten thousand dollars!” “Holy mavericks!” ejaculated Red, astounded. “Where’d Ross get it?” “Must have told his father. Red, I’m asking you to take half of this money and go back home.” “Yeah! The hell you air?” retorted Red. “Yes, pard, I’m begging you.” “An’ why for?” queried Red. “‘Cause you don’t want me with you?” “No—no. It’d be grand to have you—but for your sake!” “Wal, if it’s for my sake don’t insult me no more. Would you leave me if you was me an’ I you? Honest Injun, Sterl? Wal, what’s eatin’ you then?” “All right, I apologize. Stay with me, Red. God knows I’ll need you...Boy, we’re getting somewhere. Look. There’s a big ship steaming along under the left wall, from the west.” “Gosh, they shore look grand. I never seen ships atall till we got to Frisco...This Sydney must be a real man-sized burg, huh?” “Big city, Red, and I’m going to take you out of it ‘muy pronto.’” “Suits me, pard. But what air we gonna do? We don’t know nuthin’ but hosses, guns an’ cattle.” “I read that Australia is going to be a big cattle country.” “If thet’s a fact we’re ridin’ pretty,” returned Red, with satisfaction. They lapsed into one of their frequent silences while the ship sailed on, her yards and booms creaking. Soon the mile-wide gateway to Australia offered the sailing ship a lonely entrance. Australia’s far-famed harbor opened up to Sterl’s sight, a long curving bay with many arms cutting into the land. Miles inland, around a broad turn where ships rode at anchor, the city of Sydney stood revealed, foreign and stately, gray-walled, red-roofed. While Sterl and Red packed their bags, the ship eased alongside a dock, and tied up. From the dock, they were led into a shed, and after a brief examination were free. One of the stevedores directed them to an inn, where soon they had a room. It was early in the afternoon. Krehl voted for seeing the sights. But Sterl disapproved, for that meant looking upon drink. “Pard, we must get our bearings and rustle for the open range,” he said. Whereupon they set out to ask two cardinally important questions—where was the cattle country and how could they get there? “Outback,” replied more than one person, waving a hand, that like an Indian’s gesture signified vague and remote distance. At last a big man looked them up and down and smiled when he asked, “Yankees?” “Yes. It must be written all over us,” admitted Sterl, with an answering smile. “Are you drovers?” “Drovers?” echoed Sterl. “Horsemen—drivers of cattle.” “Oh! You bet. Plain Arizona and Texas cowboys. We eat up hard work. Where can we get jobs?” “Any station owner will hire you. But I advise you to go to Queensland. Big cattle mustering there.” “Where and how far?” queried Sterl, eagerly. “Five hundred miles up the coast and inland three or four hundred more. Board the freighter ‘Merrvvale’ down at the dock. Sails at six today. Brisbane is your stop. Good luck, cowboys.” Sterl led his comrade down the waterfront to where the big freighter was tied up in the center of busy shipping activities and bought passage to Brisbane. Next morning they awoke to find the sea calm, with the steamer tearing along not five miles out from a picturesque shoreline. And as the partners leaned over the rail of this steamer to gaze at a white-wreathed shoreline, extending for leagues on leagues to north and south, at the rolling green ridges rising on and upward to the high ranges, Sterl felt that beyond these calling, dim mountains there might await him the greatest adventure of his life. “Dog-gone-it!” Red was drawling. “I wanta be mad as hell, but I jest cain’t. Gosh, pard, it’s grand country! I hate to knuckle to it, but even Texas cain’t beat thet!” The sailors were friendly and talkative. On the second afternoon, the skipper, a fine old seadog, invited them to come up on the bridge. Sterl took advantage of the opportunity to tell him their plans. “Boys, you’ve a fine opening, if you can stand the heat, the dust, the drought, the blacks, the floods, the fires, besides harder work than galley slaves,” he said. “Captain, driving cattle on the Texas plain wasn’t just a picnic,” replied Sterl. “You’ll think so after droving upcountry here.” “Boss, I reckon we’ve been up agin’ all you said ‘cept the blacks. Jest what air these blacks?” inquired Red, deeply interested. “The natives of Australia. Aborigines.” “You mean niggers?” “Some people call them niggers. They’re not Negroes. But they are black as coal.” “Bad medicine, mebbe?” inquired Red. “Cannibals. They eat you.” “Boss,” said Red, “I’ve had my fill of fightin’ greasers, rustlers, robbers an’ redskins on the Texas trails, but gosh! all of them put together cain’t be as wuss as black men—cannibals who eat you.” “Captain,” said Sterl, “you’re sure putting the wind up us, as you Australians say. But tell us a little about cattle, and ranches—you call them stations.” “I’ve only a general bit of knowledge,” returned the skipper. “There are stations up and down New South Wales, and eastern and central Queensland. Gradually cattlemen are working outback. I’ve heard of the terrible times they had. No drovers have yet gone into the unknown interior—called the Never-never Land by the few explorers who did not leave their bones to be picked by the black men.” “Pard, thet’s kind hard to believe,” said Red, shaking his head. “No places I ever heard about was as bad as they was painted.” “You are in for an adventure at any rate,” went on the skipper....