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The Story of Wild Will Enderby

Chapter VI. The Quest of the "Argus."

page 33

Chapter VI. The Quest of the "Argus."

When Harry Grey returned to the township in quest of another copy of the unlucky newspaper which he had so impetuously consigned to destruction, he found that the supply had been exhausted. Not an "Argus" was to be had for love or money. In vain he sought to purchase a copy at the stores. At some, the inmates were even too busy to answer him. Others, on learning his errand, replied monosyllabically in the negative, and turned their attention to more profitable clients. At last he stumbled upon the man from whom he had made his original purchase, and who imparted the consolatory information that—"werry likely he should 'ave some more on 'em by the next coach," (in a week's time.) And he kindly offered to keep as many copies as our friend might wish for, provided always that he there and then paid for them in advance. Harry did not feel greatly comforted by this prospect. He bribed the man—popularly known as "Argus Bill"—to endeavour to re-purchase a copy from some previous customer. In half-an-hour the newsman returned—empty-handed. None of the possessors of the coveted "Argus" could or would part with their newly-acquired stock of literature; for was there not in its pages an page 34account of a "New Rush" to some place so far away and so little known as to render its attractions irresistibly fascinating?

In very despair, Harry told the sympathising newsvendor how he had lost the paper.

"Blowed into the river, did it? Why it might get jammed on to a rock, or washed ashore, somewheres between here and Mutton-town."

Here was a ray of hope at last—faint indeed—a mere glimmer as it were; but Harry hailed it with eagerness. For a suitable consideration, Argus Bill was induced to aid in the search. At the rear of the township the river hurries by with a ten-knot current, but a little further on there is one of those smooth reaches, whereof I have previously spoken. Much valuable time had already been lost; so it was arranged that one should begin the search at the spot where the paper had been whisked into the water, whilst the other went down the river bank for a few miles and worked upwards. Harry's impatience naturally impelled him to undertake the latter task.

Now this is what happened. Our friend Harry, having reached a point beyond which it seemed improbable that the paper should have progressed, pursued his way up the stream; scrambling over rocks, boulders, and other impediments, and ever carefully scanning the chlorite-tinted waters and the narrow beaches as he went. But the lost treasure greeted not his vision. And what surpised him was that he did not meet Argus Bill on his way. Just as he came to a bend of the river within sight of the township, a "Coo-ee!" attracted his attention to the opposite bank, and behold there page 35stood the newsman with his hands in his pockets calmly regarding the scene.

"Heaven help me!" exclaimed Harry in the extremity of his vexation. "The scoundrel has deceived me."

Wherein Harry was altogether mistaken, for, with wise prevision, Argus Bill had crossed the river at the Town-ferry, so that both banks might be examined. He regarded the affair as a silly business—"making such a fuss about a newspaper." But, as long as the "young cove" paid him for his trouble, it mattered not to him. So having searched the left bank, as far as he considered it necessary or desirable to do so, he retraced his steps, and went over to the right bank to renew the quest.

Partly by signs, and partly by words shot from a hand-formed speaking trumpet, and half lost in their transit over the waters, the newsman intimated to Harry that "It was there." This unexpected piece of intelligence sent the latter off at a run to the Ferry, where he railed at the local Charon for not putting off at once, other passengers there being none, and in return got himself abused in choice, highly-seasoned, and intensely sanguineous phraseology.45 Finally, he settled the dispute by paying the charges of the whole boat-load of passengers ag his single fare.

Once landed on the further bank, he started off at the top of his speed "as if" (to quote the forcible language of the only half-appeased ferryman) "the very devil was after him."

"I would'nt mind laying a trifle," said this charitable fellow, when relating the story to the next cargo page 36of passengers, "that he's been and gone and done something."

"Then, why don't you go and inform the police?" queried a logical listener.

"Police be unblessed!" growled Charon. "I ain't a-goin' to turn informer, if I knows it. Let the ruby-tinted traps look after their business theirselves."

45 Local Charon - Figure of Greek mythology as the ferryman, taking the souls of the dead across the river Styx, usually after payment of a coin in the corpse’s mouth.