Many
travellers had come into our lies and passed on with a bright nod of
farewell; but at the first stirring of the dawn, without one word of
farewell, this traveller had passed on and left us; left us, and the
faithful mate of those seven strong young years and those last few days
of weariness. "Unexpected heart failure," our chief said, as the Dandy
went to fulfil his promise to the sleeping mate. He promised to waken
him at the dawn, and leaving that awakening in the Dandy's hands, as we
thought of that lonely Warloch camp our one great thankfulness was that
when the awakening came the man was not to be alone there with his dead
comrade. The bush can be cruel at times, and yet, although she may leave
us alone with our beloved dead, her very cruelty bungs with it a fierce,
consoling pain; for out-bush our dead are all our own.
Beyond those seven faithful years the mate could tell us but little of
his comrade's life. He was William Neaves, born at Woolongong, with a
mother living somewhere there. That was all he knew. "He was always a
reticent chap," he reiterated.
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