Eyre was soon at the camp, and a glance told him that he was now indeed
alone. Baxter, wounded to death, was lying on the ground in his last
agony, and as Eyre raised his faithful companion, then in the convulsion
of death, the frightful and appalling truth burst upon him in its full
horror.
"At the dead hour of night, in the wildest and most inhospitable waste of
Australia, with the fierce wind raging in unison with the scene of
violence before me, I was left with a single native, whose fidelity I
could not rely upon, and who, for aught I knew, might be in league with
the other two, who, perhaps were, even now, lurking about to take my
life, as they had done that of the overseer. Three days had passed away
since we left the last water, and it was very doubtful when we might find
any more. Six hundred miles of country had to be traversed before I could
hope to obtain the slightest aid or assistance of any kind, whilst I knew
not that a single drop of water, or an ounce of flour, had been left by
these murderers, from a stock that had previously, been so small."
On examining the camp, Eyre found that the two boys had carried off both
double-barrelled guns, all the baked bread, and other stores, and a keg
of water.
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