Page 541 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

Gabbett?’
‘It must do, any way,’ returned the giant carelessly.
The inspection over, the six proceeded up the shore, and
encamped under the lee of a rock. Bodenham was for light-
ing a fire, but Vetch, who, by tacit consent, had been chosen
leader of the expedition, forbade it, saying that the light
might betray them. ‘They’ll think we’re drowned, and won’t
pursue us,’ he said. So all that night the miserable wretches
crouched fireless together.
Morning breaks clear and bright, and—free for the
first time in ten years— they comprehend that their terri-
ble journey has begun. ‘Where are we to go? How are we
to live?’ asked Bodenham, scanning the barren bush that
stretches to the barren sea. ‘Gabbett, you’ve been out be-
fore—how’s it done?’
‘We’ll make the shepherds’ huts, and live on their tuck-
er till we get a change o’ clothes,’ said Gabbett evading the
main question. ‘We can follow the coast-line.’
‘Steady, lads,’ said prudent Vetch; ‘we must sneak round
yon sandhills, and so creep into the scrub. If they’ve a good
glass at the Neck, they can see us.’
‘It does seem close,’ said Bodenham; ‘I could pitch a
stone on to the guard-house. Good-bye, you Bloody Spot!’
he adds, with sudden rage, shaking his fist vindictively at
the Penitentiary; ‘I don’t want to see you no more till the
Day o’ Judgment.’
Vetch divides the provisions, and they travel all that
day until dark night. The scrub is prickly and dense. Their
clothes are torn, their hands and feet bleeding. Already

0 For the Term of His Natural Life