In his desire to correct his blunder, the poor geographer became hopelessly involved. Lady Helena looked at him, wondering what had deprived him of his usual coolness; but, not wishing to embarrass him further, she retired with Mary to the tent, where Mr. Olbinett was engaged in preparing breakfast.
“I deserve to be transported myself,” said Paganel piteously.
“I think so,” replied Glenarvan.
Ayrton and the two sailors were still trying to extricate the cart. The ox and the horse, yoked side by side, were pulling with all their strength; the traces were stretched almost to breaking, and the bows threatened to give way to the strain. Wilson and Mulready pushed at the wheels, while the quartermaster, with voice and whip, urged on the ill-matched team. But the heavy vehicle did not stir. The clay, now dry, held it as if it had been cemented.
Captain Mangles wetted the clay to make it yield, but to no purpose: the cart was immovable. Unless the vehicle was taken to pieces, they must give up the idea of getting it out of the quagmire. As tools were wanting, of course they could not undertake such a task. Ayrton, however, who seemed determined to overcome the difficulty at any cost, was about to renew his exertions, when Lord Glenarvan stopped him.
“Enough, Ayrton! enough!” said he. “We must be careful of the ox and horse that remain. If we are to continue our journey on foot, one can carry the two ladies and the other the provisions. They may do us good service yet.”
“Very well, my lord,” replied the quartermaster, unyoking his exhausted animals.
“Now, my friends,” added Glenarvan, “let us return to camp, deliberate, consider our situation, know what our chances are, and come to a resolution.”
A few minutes after, the travelers were indemnifying themselves for their sleeplessness the past night by a good breakfast, and the discussion of their affairs began.
The first question was to determine the exact position of the encampment. Paganel was charged with this duty, and fulfilled it with his customary precision.
“How far are we from Twofold Bay?” asked Glenarvan.
“Seventy-five miles,” replied Paganel.
“And Melbourne is—?”
“Two hundred miles distant, at least.”
“Very well. Our position being determined,” continued Glenarvan, “what is it best to do?”
The answer was unanimous—make for the coast without delay. Lady Helena and Mary Grant engaged to travel fifteen miles a day. The courageous women did not shrink from traversing the entire distance on foot, if necessary.
“But are we certain to find at the bay the resources that we need?” asked Glenarvan.
“Without doubt,” replied Paganel. “Eden is not a new municipality; and its harbor must have frequent communication with Melbourne. I even believe that thirty-five miles from here, at the parish of Delegete, we can obtain provisions and the means of conveyance.”
“And the Duncan?” asked Ayrton. “Do you not think it advisable to order her to the bay?”
“What say you, captain?” said Glenarvan.
“I do not think that there is any necessity for such a proceeding,” replied the young captain, after reflection. “There will be plenty of time to send your orders to Tom Austin and summon him to the coast.”
“That is quite true,” added Paganel.
“Besides,” continued Captain Mangles, “in four or five days we shall be at Eden.”
“Four or five days!” interposed Ayrton, shaking his head; “say fifteen or twenty, captain, if you do not wish to regret your error hereafter.”
“Fifteen or twenty days to make seventy-five miles!” exclaimed Glenarvan.
“At least, my lord. You will have to cross the most difficult portion of Victoria—plains covered with underbrush, without any cleared roads, where it has been impossible to establish stations. You will have to travel with the hatchet or the torch in your hand; and, believe me, you will not advance rapidly.”
Ayrton’s tone was that of a man who is thoroughly acquainted with his subject. Paganel, towards whom questioning glances were turned, nodded approvingly at the words of the quartermaster.
“I acknowledge the difficulties,” said Captain Mangles, at length. “Well, in fifteen days, my lord, you can send your orders to the Duncan.”
“I may add,” resumed Ayrton, “that the principal obstacles do not proceed from the roughness of the journey. We must cross the Snowy, and, very probably, have to wait for the subsidence of the waters.”
“Wait!” cried the captain. “Can we not find a ford?”
“I think not,” replied Ayrton. “This morning I searched in vain for a practicable one. It is unusual to find a river so much swollen at this season; it is a fatality against which I am powerless.”
“This Snowy River is broad, then?” remarked Lady Glenarvan.
“Broad and deep, madam,” answered Ayrton; “a mile in breadth, with a strong current. A good swimmer could not cross it without danger.”
“Well, then, let us build a boat!” cried Robert, who was never at fault for a plan. “We can cut down a tree, hollow it out, embark, and the thing is done.”
“Good for the son of Captain Grant!” replied Paganel.
“The boy is right,” continued Captain Mangles. “We shall be forced to this. I therefore think it useless to waste our time in further discussions.”
“What do you think, Ayrton?” asked Glenarvan.
“I think, my lord, that if no assistance comes, in a month we shall still be detained on the banks of the Snowy.”
“But have you a better plan?” inquired Captain Mangles, somewhat impatiently.
“Yes; let the Duncan leave Melbourne, and sail to the eastern coast.”
“How can her presence in the bay assist us to arrive there?”
Ayrton meditated for a few moments, and then said, evasively:
“I do not wish to obtrude my opinion. What I do is for the interest of all, and I am disposed to start as soon as your lordship gives the signal for departure.”
Then he folded his arms.
“That is no
