ROBBERY UNDER ARMS

A Story of Life and Adventure in the Bush and in the Goldfields ofAustralia

By Thomas Alexander Browne, AKA Rolf Boldrewood

An Australian writer. 1826-1915. 

Author of 'The Miner's Right', 'The Squatter's Dream', 'A ColonialReformer', etc. 

[Note on text: Italicized words or phrases are capitalised. Some obviouserrors have been corrected, as noted at the end of the text. ]

Preface to New Edition

I dedicate this 'ower true tale' of the wilder aspects of Australianlife to my old comrade R. Murray Smith, late Agent-General in London forthe colony of Victoria, with hearty thanks for the time and trouble hehas devoted to its publication. I trust it will do no discredit to therising reputation of Australian romance. But though presented in theguise of fiction, this chronicle of the Marston family must not beset down by the reader as wholly fanciful or exaggerated. Much of thenarrative is literally true, as can be verified by official records. A lifelong residence in Australia may be accepted as a guaranteefor fidelity as to local colour and descriptive detail. I take thisopportunity of acknowledging the prompt and liberal recognition of thetale by the proprietors of the 'Sydney Mail', but for which it mightnever have seen the light. 

ROLF BOLDREWOOD. 

117 Collins Street West, Melbourne, 12th December 1888. 

ROBBERY UNDER ARMS

Chapter 1

My name's Dick Marston, Sydney-side native. I'm twenty-nine years old, six feet in my stocking soles, and thirteen stone weight. Pretty strongand active with it, so they say. I don't want to blow--not here, anyroad--but it takes a good man to put me on my back, or stand up to mewith the gloves, or the naked mauleys. I can ride anything--anythingthat ever was lapped in horsehide--swim like a musk-duck, and track likea Myall blackfellow. Most things that a man can do I'm up to, and that'sall about it. As I lift myself now I can feel the muscle swell on my armlike a cricket ball, in spite of the--well, in spite of everything. 

The morning sun comes shining through the window bars; and ever since hewas up have I been cursing the daylight, cursing myself, and them thatbrought me into the world. Did I curse mother, and the hour I was borninto this miserable life?

Why should I curse the day? Why do I lie here, groaning; yes, cryinglike a child, and beating my head against the stone floor? I am not mad, though I am shut up in a cell. No. Better for me if I was. But it's allup now; there's no get away this time; and I, Dick Marston, as strong asa bullock, as active as a rock-wallaby, chock-full of life and spiritsand health, have been tried for bush-ranging--robbery under arms theycall it--and though the blood runs through my veins like the water inthe mountain creeks, and every bit of bone and sinew is as sound as theday I was born, I must die on the gallows this day month. 

Die--die--yes, die; be strung up like a dog, as they say. I'm blessedif ever I did know of a dog being hanged, though, if it comes to that, a shot or a bait generally makes an end of 'em in this country. Ha, ha!Did I laugh? What a rum thing it is that a man should have a laugh inhim when he's only got twenty-nine days more to live--a day for everyyear of my life. Well, laughing or crying, this is what it has come toat last. All the drinking and recklessness; the flash talk and the idleways; the merry cross-country rides that we used to have, night orday, it made no odds to us; every man well mounted, as like as not on aracehorse in training taken out of his stable within the week; the sharpbrushes with the police, when now and then a man was wounded on eachside, but no one killed. That came later on, worse luck. The jollysprees we used to have in the bush townships, where we chucked our moneyabout like gentlemen, where all the girls had a smile and a kind wordfor a lot of game upstanding chaps, that acted like men, if they didkeep the road a little lively. Our 'bush telegraphs' were safe to letus know when the 'traps' were closing in on us, and then--why the coachwould be 'stuck up' a hundred miles away, in a different direction, within twenty-four hours. Marston's gang again! The police are inpursuit! That's what we'd see in the papers. We had 'em sent to usregular; besides having the pick of 'em when we cut open the mail bags. 

And now--that chain rubbed a sore, curse it!--all that racket's over. It's more than hard to die in this settled, infernal, fixed sort of way, like a bullock in the killing-yard, all ready to be 'pithed'. I used topity them when I was a boy, walking round the yard, pushing their nosesthrough the rails, trying for a likely place to jump, stamping andpawing and roaring and knocking their heads against the heavy closerails, with misery and rage in their eyes, till their time was up. Nobody told THEM beforehand, though!

Have I and the likes of me ever felt much the same, I wonder, shut upin a pen like this, with the rails up, and not a place a rat could creepthrough, waiting till our killing time was come? The poor devils ofsteers have never done anything but ramble off the run now and again, while we--but it's too late to think of that. It IS hard. There's nosaying it isn't; no, nor thinking what a fool, what a blind, stupid, thundering idiot a fellow's been, to laugh at the steady working lifethat would have helped him up, bit by bit, to a good farm, a good wife, and innocent little kids about him, like that chap, George Storefield, that came to see me last week. He was real rightdown sorry for me, I could tell, though Jim and I used to laugh at him, and call him aregular old crawler of a milker's calf in the old days. The tears cameinto his eyes reg'lar like a woman as he gave my hand a squeeze andturned his head away. We was little chaps together, you know. A manalways feels that, you know. And old George, he'll go back--a fifty-mileride, but what's that on a good horse? He'll be late home, but he cancross the rock ford the short way over the creek. I can see him turn hishorse loose at the garden-gate, and walk through the quinces that leadup to the cottage, with his saddle on his arm. Can't I see it all, asplain as if I was there?

And his wife and the young 'uns 'll run out when they hear father'shorse, and want to hear all the news. When he goes in there's his mealtidy and decent waiting for him, while he tells them about the poor chaphe's been to see as is to be scragged next month. Ha! ha! what a rumjoke it is, isn't it?

And then he'll go out in the verandah, with the roses growin' all overthe posts and smellin' sweet in the cool night air. After that he'llhave his smoke, and sit there thinkin' about me, perhaps, and old days, and what not, till all hours--till his wife comes and fetches him in. And here I lie--my God! why didn't they knock me on the head when I wasborn, like a lamb in a dry season, or a blind puppy--blind enough, Godknows! They do so in some countries, if the books say true, and what ahell of misery that must save some people from!

Well, it's done now, and there's no get away. I may as well make thebest of it. A sergeant of police was shot in our last scrimmage, andthey must fit some one over that. It's only natural. He was rash, orStarlight would never have dropped him that day. Not if he'd been sobereither. We'd been drinking all night at that Willow Tree shanty. Badgrog, too! When a man's half drunk he's fit for any devilment thatcomes before him. Drink! How do you think a chap that's taken to thebush--regularly turned out, I mean, with a price on his head, and afire burning in his heart night and day--can stand his life if he don'tdrink? When he thinks of what he might have been, and what he is! Why, nearly every man he meets is paid to run him down, or trap him some waylike a stray dog that's taken to sheep-killin'. He knows a score of men, and women too, that are only looking out for a chance to sell his bloodon the quiet and pouch the money. Do you think that makes a chap madand miserable, and tired of his life, or not? And if a drop of grogwill take him right out of his wretched self for a bit why shouldn't hedrink? People don't know what they are talking about. Why, he is thatmiserable that he wonders why he don't hang himself, and save theGovernment all the trouble; and if a few nobblers make him feel as ifhe might have some good chances yet, and that it doesn't so much matterafter all, why shouldn't he drink?

He does drink, of course; every miserable man, and a good many women ashave something to fear or repent of, drink. The worst of it is thattoo much of it brings on the 'horrors', and then the devil, instead ofgiving you a jog now and then, sends one of his imps to grin in yourface and pull your heartstrings all day and all night long. By George, I'm getting clever--too clever, altogether, I think. If I could forgetfor one moment, in the middle of all the nonsense, that I was to dieon Thursday three weeks! die on Thursday three weeks! die on Thursday!That's the way the time runs in my ears like a chime of bells. But it'sall mere bosh I've been reading these long six months I've been chainedup here--after I was committed for trial. When I came out of thehospital after curing me of that wound--for I was hit bad by that blacktracker--they gave me some books to read for fear I'd go mad and cheatthe hangman. I was always fond of reading, and many a night I've read topoor old mother and Aileen before I left the old place. I was that weakand low, after I took the turn, and I felt glad to get a book to takeme away from sitting, staring, and blinking at nothing by the hourtogether. It was all very well then; I was too weak to think much. Butwhen I began to get well again I kept always coming across something inthe book that made me groan or cry out, as if some one had stuck a knifein me. A dark chap did once--through the ribs--it didn't feel so bad, alittle sharpish at first; why didn't he aim a bit higher? He never wasno good, even at that. As I was saying, there'd be something about ahorse, or the country, or the spring weather--it's just coming in now, and the Indian corn's shooting after the rain, and I'LL never see it; orthey'd put in a bit about the cows walking through the river in the hotsummer afternoons; or they'd go describing about a girl, until I beganto think of sister Aileen again; then I'd run my head against the wall, or do something like a madman, and they'd stop the books for a week; andI'd be as miserable as a bandicoot, worse and worse a lot, with allthe devil's tricks and bad thoughts in my head, and nothing to put themaway. 

I must either kill myself, or get something to fill up my time tillthe day--yes, the day comes. I've always been a middling writer, tho' Ican't say much for the grammar, and spelling, and that, but I'll put itall down, from the beginning to the end, and maybe it'll save some otherunfortunate young chap from pulling back like a colt when he's firstroped, setting himself against everything in the way of proper breaking, making a fool of himself generally, and choking himself down, as I'vedone. 

The gaoler--he looks hard--he has to do that, there's more than oneor two within here that would have him by the throat, with his heart'sblood running, in half a minute, if they had their way, and the warderwas off guard. He knows that very well. But he's not a bad-hearted chap. 

'You can have books, or paper and pens, anything you like, ' he said, 'you unfortunate young beggar, until you're turned off. '

'If I'd only had you to see after me when I was young, ' says I----

'Come; don't whine, ' he said, then he burst out laughing. 'You didn'tmean it, I see. I ought to have known better. You're not one of thatsort, and I like you all the better for it. '

 . . . . . 

Well, here goes. Lots of pens, a big bottle of ink, and ever so muchfoolscap paper, the right sort for me, or I shouldn't have been here. I'm blessed if it doesn't look as if I was going to write copies again. Don't I remember how I used to go to school in old times; the ridesthere and back on the old pony; and pretty little Grace Storefield thatI was so fond of, and used to show her how to do her lessons. I believeI learned more that way than if I'd had only myself to think about. There was another girl, the daughter of the poundkeeper, that I wantedher to beat; and the way we both worked, and I coached her up, was acaution. And she did get above her in her class. How proud we were! Shegave me a kiss, too, and a bit of her hair. Poor Gracey! I wonder whereshe is now, and what she'd think if she saw me here to-day. If I couldhave looked ahead, and seen myself--chained now like a dog, and going todie a dog's death this day month!

Anyhow, I must make a start. How do people begin when they set to workto write their own sayings and doings? There's been a deal more doingthan talking in my life--it was the wrong sort--more's the pity. 

Well, let's see; his parents were poor, but respectable. That's whatthey always say. My parents were poor, and mother was as good a soul asever broke bread, and wouldn't have taken a shilling's worth that wasn'ther own if she'd been starving. But as for father, he'd been a poacherin England, a Lincolnshire man he was, and got sent out for it. Hewasn't much more than a boy, he said, and it was only for a hare ortwo, which didn't seem much. But I begin to think, being able to see theright of things a bit now, and having no bad grog inside of me to turn afellow's head upside down, as poaching must be something like cattleand horse duffing--not the worst thing in the world itself, but mightylikely to lead to it. 

Dad had always been a hard-working, steady-going sort of chap, good atmost things, and like a lot more of the Government men, as the convictswere always called round our part, he saved some money as soon as he haddone his time, and married mother, who was a simple emigrant girljust out from Ireland. Father was a square-built, good-looking chap, I believe, then; not so tall as I am by three inches, but wonderfullystrong and quick on his pins. They did say as he could hammer any manin the district before he got old and stiff. I never saw him 'shape' butonce, and then he rolled into a man big enough to eat him, and polishedhim off in a way that showed me--though I was a bit of a boy then--thathe'd been at the game before. He didn't ride so bad either, though hehadn't had much of it where he came from; but he was afraid of nothing, and had a quiet way with colts. He could make pretty good play in thickcountry, and ride a roughish horse, too. 

Well, our farm was on a good little flat, with a big mountain in front, and a scrubby, rangy country at the back for miles. People often askedhim why he chose such a place. 'It suits me, ' he used to say, with alaugh, and talk of something else. We could only raise about enough cornand potatoes, in a general way, for ourselves from the flat; but therewere other chances and pickings which helped to make the pot boil, andthem we'd have been a deal better without. 

First of all, though our cultivation paddock was small, and the goodland seemed squeezed in between the hills, there was a narrow tract upthe creek, and here it widened out into a large well-grassed flat. Thiswas where our cattle ran, for, of course, we had a team of workers anda few milkers when we came. No one ever took up a farm in those dayswithout a dray and a team, a year's rations, a few horses and milkers, pigs and fowls, and a little furniture. They didn't collar a 40-acreselection, as they do now--spend all their money in getting the land andsquat down as bare as robins--a man with his wife and children allunder a sheet of bark, nothing on their backs, and very little in theirbellies. However, some of them do pretty well, though they do say theyhave to live on 'possums for a time. We didn't do much, in spite of ourgrand start. 

The flat was well enough, but there were other places in the gulliesbeyond that that father had dropped upon when he was out shooting. Hewas a tremendous chap for poking about on foot or on horseback, andthough he was an Englishman, he was what you call a born bushman. Inever saw any man almost as was his equal. Wherever he'd been once, there he could take you to again; and what was more, if it was in thedead of the night he could do it just the same. People said he was asgood as a blackfellow, but I never saw one that was as good as he was, all round. In a strange country, too. That was what beat me--he'd knowthe way the creek run, and noticed when the cattle headed to camp, anda lot of things that other people couldn't see, or if they did, couldn'tremember again. He was a great man for solitary walks, too--he and anold dog he had, called Crib, a cross-bred mongrel-looking brute, mostlike what they call a lurcher in England, father said. Anyhow, he coulddo most anything but talk. He could bite to some purpose, drive cattleor sheep, catch a kangaroo, if it wasn't a regular flyer, fight like abulldog, and swim like a retriever, track anything, and fetch and carry, but bark he wouldn't. He'd stand and look at dad as if he worshippedhim, and he'd make him some sign and off he'd go like a child that's gota message. Why he was so fond of the old man we boys couldn't make out. We were afraid of him, and as far as we could see he never patted ormade much of Crib. He thrashed him unmerciful as he did us boys. Stillthe dog was that fond of him you'd think he'd like to die for him thereand then. But dogs are not like boys, or men either--better, perhaps. 

Well, we were all born at the hut by the creek, I suppose, for Iremember it as soon as I could remember anything. It was a snug hutenough, for father was a good bush carpenter, and didn't turn hisback to any one for splitting and fencing, hut-building andshingle-splitting; he had had a year or two at sawing, too, but afterhe was married he dropped that. But I've heard mother say that he tookgreat pride in the hut when he brought her to it first, and said it wasthe best-built hut within fifty miles. He split every slab, cut everypost and wallplate and rafter himself, with a man to help him at oddtimes; and after the frame was up, and the bark on the roof, he campedunderneath and finished every bit of it--chimney, flooring, doors, windows, and partitions--by himself. Then he dug up a little gardenin front, and planted a dozen or two peaches and quinces in it; put acouple of roses--a red and a white one--by the posts of the verandah, and it was all ready for his pretty Norah, as she says he used to callher then. If I've heard her tell about the garden and the quince treesand the two roses once, I've heard her tell it a hundred times. Poormother! we used to get round her--Aileen, and Jim, and I--and say, 'Tellus about the garden, mother. ' She'd never refuse; those were her happydays, she always said. She used to cry afterwards--nearly always. 

The first thing almost that I can remember was riding the old pony, 'Possum, out to bring in the milkers. Father was away somewhere, somother took us all out and put me on the pony, and let me have awhip. Aileen walked alongside, and very proud I was. My legs stuck outstraight on the old pony's fat back. Mother had ridden him up when shecame--the first horse she ever rode, she said. He was a quiet little oldroan, with a bright eye and legs like gate-posts, but he never fell downwith us boys, for all that. If we fell off he stopped still and beganto feed, so that he suited us all to pieces. We soon got sharp enoughto flail him along with a quince stick, and we used to bring up themilkers, I expect, a good deal faster than was good for them. After abit we could milk, leg-rope, and bail up for ourselves, and help dadbrand the calves, which began to come pretty thick. There were onlythree of us children--my brother Jim, who was two years younger than Iwas, and then Aileen, who was four years behind him. I know we were bothable to nurse the baby a while after she came, and neither of us wantedbetter fun than to be allowed to watch her, or rock the cradle, or as agreat treat to carry her a few steps. Somehow we was that fond and proudof her from the first that we'd have done anything in the world for her. And so we would now--I was going to say--but that poor Jim lies under aforest oak on a sandhill, and I--well, I'm here, and if I'd listenedto her advice I should have been a free man. A free man! How it sounds, doesn't it? with the sun shining, and the blue sky over your head, andthe birds twittering, and the grass beneath your feet! I wonder if Ishall go mad before my time's up. 

Mother was a Roman Catholic--most Irishwomen are; and dad was aProtestant, if he was anything. However, that says nothing. People thatdon't talk much about their religion, or follow it up at all, won'tchange it for all that. So father, though mother tried him hard enoughwhen they were first married, wouldn't hear of turning, not if he was tobe killed for it, as I once heard him say. 'No!' he says, 'my father andgrandfather, and all the lot, was Church people, and so I shall liveand die. I don't know as it would make much matter to me, but such asmy notions is, I shall stick to 'em as long as the craft holds together. You can bring up the girl in your own way; it's made a good woman ofyou, or found you one, which is most likely, and so she may take herchance. But I stand for Church and King, and so shall the boys, as sureas my name's Ben Marston. '

Chapter 2

Father was one of those people that gets shut of a deal of trouble inthis world by always sticking to one thing. If he said he'd do this orthat he always did it and nothing else. As for turning him, a wild bullhalf-way down a range was a likelier try-on. So nobody ever bothered himafter he'd once opened his mouth. They knew it was so much lost labour. I sometimes thought Aileen was a bit like him in her way of sticking tothings. But then she was always right, you see. 

So that clinched it. Mother gave in like a wise woman, as she was. Theclergyman from Bargo came one day and christened me and Jim--made onejob of it. But mother took Aileen herself in the spring cart all the wayto the township and had her christened in the chapel, in the middle ofthe service all right and regular, by Father Roche. 

There's good and bad of every sort, and I've met plenty that were nochop of all churches; but if Father Roche, or Father anybody else, hadany hand in making mother and Aileen half as good as they were, I'd turnto-morrow, if I ever got out again. I don't suppose it was the religionthat made much difference in our case, for Patsey Daly and his threebrothers, that lived on the creek higher up, were as much on the crossas men could be, and many a time I've seen them ride to chapel andattend mass, and look as if they'd never seen a 'clearskin' in theirlives. Patsey was hanged afterwards for bush-ranging and gold robbery, and he had more than one man's blood to answer for. Now we weren't likethat; we never troubled the church one way or the other. We knew we weredoing what we oughtn't to do, and scorned to look pious and keep twofaces under one hood. 

By degrees we all grew older, began to be active and able to do half aman's work. We learned to ride pretty well--at least, that is we couldride a bare-backed horse at full gallop through timber or down a range;could back a colt just caught and have him as quiet as an old cow ina week. We could use the axe and the cross-cut saw, for father droppedthat sort of work himself, and made Jim and I do all the rough jobs ofmending the fences, getting firewood, milking the cows, and, after abit, ploughing the bit of flat we kept in cultivation. 

Jim and I, when we were fifteen and thirteen--he was bigger for hisage than I was, and so near my own strength that I didn't care abouttouching him--were the smartest lads on the creek, father said--hedidn't often praise us, either. We had often ridden over to help at themuster of the large cattle stations that were on the side of the range, and not more than twenty or thirty miles from us. 

Some of our young stock used to stray among the squatters' cattle, andwe liked attending the muster because there was plenty of gallopingabout and cutting out, and fun in the men's hut at night, and often ahalf-crown or so for helping some one away with a big mob of cattle ora lot for the pound. Father didn't go himself, and I used to notice thatwhenever we came up and said we were Ben Marston's boys both master andsuper looked rather glum, and then appeared not to think any more aboutit. I heard the owner of one of these stations say to his managing man, 'Pity, isn't it? fine boys, too. ' I didn't understand what they meant. Ido now. 

We could do a few things besides riding, because, as I told you before, we had been to a bit of a school kept by an old chap that had once seenbetter days, that lived three miles off, near a little bush township. This village, like most of these places, had a public-house and ablacksmith's shop. That was about all. The publican kept the store, andmanaged pretty well to get hold of all the money that was made by thepeople round about, that is of those that were 'good drinking men'. Hehad half-a-dozen children, and, though he was not up to much, he wasn'tthat bad that he didn't want his children to have the chance of beingbetter than himself. I've seen a good many crooked people in my day, butvery few that, though they'd given themselves up as a bad job, didn'thope a bit that their youngsters mightn't take after them. Curious, isn't it? But it is true, I can tell you. So Lammerby, the publican, though he was a greedy, sly sort of fellow, that bought things he knewwere stolen, and lent out money and charged everybody two prices for thethings he sold 'em, didn't like the thought of his children growing uplike Myall cattle, as he said himself, and so he fished out this old Mr. Howard, that had been a friend or a victim or some kind of pal of his inold times, near Sydney, and got him to come and keep school. 

He was a curious man, this Mr. Howard. What he had been or done noneof us ever knew, but he spoke up to one of the squatters that saidsomething sharp to him one day in a way that showed us boys that hethought himself as good as he was. And he stood up straight and lookedhim in the face, till we hardly could think he was the same man thatwas so bent and shambling and broken-down-looking most times. He usedto live in a little hut in the township all by himself. It was just bigenough to hold him and us at our lessons. He had his dinner at the inn, along with Mr. And Mrs. Lammerby. She was always kind to him, and madehim puddings and things when he was ill. He was pretty often ill, andthen he'd hear us our lessons at the bedside, and make a short day ofit. 

Mostly he drank nothing but tea. He used to smoke a good deal out of abig meerschaum pipe with figures on it that he used to show us when hewas in a good humour. But two or three times a year he used to set-toand drink for a week, and then school was left off till he was right. We didn't think much of that. Everybody, almost, that we knew did thesame--all the men--nearly all, that is--and some of the women--notmother, though; she wouldn't have touched a drop of wine or spirits tosave her life, and never did to her dying day. We just thought of itas if they'd got a touch of fever or sunstroke, or broke a rib orsomething. They'd get over it in a week or two, and be all right again. 

All the same, poor old Mr. Howard wasn't always on the booze, not byany manner of means. He never touched a drop of anything, not evenginger-beer, while he was straight, and he kept us all going from nineo'clock in the morning till three in the afternoon, summer and winter, for more than six years. Then he died, poor old chap--found dead in hisbed one morning. Many a basting he gave me and Jim with an old malaccacane he had with a silver knob to it. We were all pretty frightened ofhim. He'd say to me and Jim and the other boys, 'It's the best chanceof making men of yourselves you ever had, if you only knew it. You'll berich farmers or settlers, perhaps magistrates, one of these days--thatis, if you're not hanged. It's you, I mean, ' he'd say, pointing to meand Jim and the Dalys; 'I believe some of you WILL be hanged unlessyou change a good deal. It's cold blood and bad blood that runs in yourveins, and you'll come to earn the wages of sin some day. It's a strangething, ' he used to say, as if he was talking to himself, 'that the girlsare so good, while the boys are delivered over to the Evil One, except acase here and there. Look at Mary Darcy and Jane Lammerby, and mylittle pet Aileen here. I defy any village in Britain to turn out suchgirls--plenty of rosy-cheeked gigglers--but the natural refinement andintelligence of these little damsels astonishes me. '

Well, the old man died suddenly, as I said, and we were all very sorry, and the school was broken up. But he had taught us all to write fairlyand to keep accounts, to read and spell decently, and to know a littlegeography. It wasn't a great deal, but what we knew we knew well, andI often think of what he said, now it's too late, we ought to have madebetter use of it. After school broke up father said Jim and I knew quiteas much as was likely to be any good to us, and we must work for ourliving like other people. We'd always done a pretty fair share of that, and our hands were hard with using the axe and the spade, let aloneholding the plough at odd times and harrowing, helping father to killand brand, and a lot of other things, besides getting up while the starswere in the sky so as to get the cows milked early, before it was timeto go to school. 

All this time we had lived in a free kind of way--we wanted for nothing. We had plenty of good beef, and a calf now and then. About this time Ibegan to wonder how it was that so many cattle and horses passed throughfather's hands, and what became of them. 

I hadn't lived all my life on Rocky Creek, and among some of thesmartest hands in that line that old New South Wales ever bred, withoutknowing what 'clearskins' and 'cross' beasts meant, and being well awarethat our brand was often put on a calf that no cow of ours ever suckled. Don't I remember well the first calf I ever helped to put our letterson? I've often wished I'd defied father, then taken my licking, andbolted away from home. It's that very calf and the things it led tothat's helped to put me where I am!

Just as I sit here, and these cursed irons rattle whenever I move myfeet, I can see that very evening, and father and the old dog with alittle mob of our crawling cattle and half-a-dozen head of strangers, cows and calves, and a fat little steer coming through the scrub to theold stockyard. 

It was an awkward place for a yard, people used to say; scrubby andstony all round, a blind sort of hole--you couldn't see till you wereright on the top of it. But there was a 'wing' ran out a good waythrough the scrub--there's no better guide to a yard like that--andthere was a sort of track cattle followed easy enough once you wereround the hill. Anyhow, between father and the dog and the old mare healways rode, very few beasts ever broke away. 

These strange cattle had been driven a good way, I could see. Thecows and calves looked done up, and the steer's tongue was out--it washottish weather; the old dog had been 'heeling' him up too, for he wasbleeding up to the hocks, and the end of his tail was bitten off. Hewas a savage old wretch was Crib. Like all dogs that never bark--and mentoo--his bite was all the worse. 

'Go and get the brands--confound you--don't stand there frightening thecattle, ' says father, as the tired cattle, after smelling and jostling abit, rushed into the yard. 'You, Jim, make a fire, and look sharp aboutit. I want to brand old Polly's calf and another or two. ' Father camedown to the hut while the brands were getting ready, and began to lookat the harness-cask, which stood in a little back skillion. It waspretty empty; we had been living on eggs, bacon, and bread and butterfor a week. 

'Oh, mother! there's such a pretty red calf in the yard, ' I said, 'witha star and a white spot on the flank; and there's a yellow steer fatenough to kill!'

'What!' said mother, turning round and looking at father with her eyesstaring--a sort of dark blue they were--people used to say mine andJim's were the same colour--and her brown hair pushed back off her face, as if she was looking at a ghost. 'Is it doing that again you are, after all you promised me, and you so nearly caught--after the last one?Didn't I go on my knees to ye to ask ye to drop it and lead a goodlife, and didn't ye tell me ye'd never do the like again? And the poorinnocent children, too, I wonder ye've the heart to do it. '

It came into my head now to wonder why the sergeant and two policemenhad come down from Bargo, very early in the morning, about three monthsago, and asked father to show them the beef in his cask, and the hidebelonging to it. I wondered at the time the beast was killed why fathermade the hide into a rope, and before he did that had cut out the brandand dropped it into a hot fire. The police saw a hide with our brand on, all right--killed about a fortnight. They didn't know it had been takenoff a cancered bullock, and that father took the trouble to 'stick' himand bleed him before he took the hide off, so as it shouldn't look dark. Father certainly knew most things in the way of working on the cross. I can see now he'd have made his money a deal easier, and no trouble ofmind, if he'd only chosen to go straight. 

When mother said this, father looked at her for a bit as if he was sorryfor it; then he straightened himself up, and an ugly look came into hisface as he growled out--

'You mind your own business; we must live as well as other people. There's squatters here that does as bad. They're just like the squiresat home; think a poor man hasn't a right to live. You bring the brandand look alive, Dick, or I'll sharpen ye up a bit. '

The brand was in the corner, but mother got between me and it, andstretched out her hand to father as if to stop me and him. 

'In God's name, ' she cried out, 'aren't ye satisfied with losing yourown soul and bringing disgrace upon your family, but ye must be the ruinof your innocent children? Don't touch the brand, Dick!'

But father wasn't a man to be crossed, and what made it worse he hada couple of glasses of bad grog in him. There was an old villain of ashanty-keeper that lived on a back creek. He'd been there as he cameby and had a glass or two. He had a regular savage temper, father had, though he was quiet enough and not bad to us when he was right. But thegrog always spoiled him. 

He gave poor mother a shove which sent her reeling against the wall, where she fell down and hit her head against the stool, and lay there. Aileen, sitting down in the corner, turned white, and began to cry, while father catches me a box on the ear which sends me kicking, picksup the brand out of the corner, and walks out, with me after him. 

I think if I'd been another year or so older I'd have struck back--Ifelt that savage about poor mother that I could have gone at himmyself--but we had been too long used to do everything he told us; andsomehow, even if a chap's father's a bad one, he don't seem like othermen to him. So, as Jim had lighted the fire, we branded the little redheifer calf first--a fine fat six-months-old nugget she was--and thenthree bull calves, all strangers, and then Polly's calf, I suppose justfor a blind. Jim and I knew the four calves were all strangers, but wedidn't know the brands of the mothers; they all seemed different. 

After this all was made right to kill a beast. The gallows was readyrigged in a corner of the yard; father brought his gun and shot theyellow steer. The calves were put into our calf-pen--Polly's andall--and all the cows turned out to go where they liked. 

We helped father to skin and hang up the beast, and pretty late it waswhen we finished. Mother had laid us out our tea and gone to bed withAileen. We had ours and then went to bed. Father sat outside and smokedin the starlight. Hours after I woke up and heard mother crying. Beforedaylight we were up again, and the steer was cut up and salted and inthe harness-cask soon after sunrise. His head and feet were all poppedinto a big pot where we used to make soup for the pigs, and by the timeit had been boiling an hour or two there was no fear of any one swearingto the yellow steer by 'head-mark'. 

We had a hearty breakfast off the 'skirt', but mother wouldn't touch abit, nor let Aileen take any; she took nothing but a bit of bread anda cup of tea, and sat there looking miserable and downcast. Father saidnothing, but sat very dark-looking, and ate his food as if nothing wasthe matter. After breakfast he took his mare, the old dog followed;there was no need to whistle for him--it's my belief he knew more thanmany a Christian--and away they went. Father didn't come home fora week--he had got into the habit of staying away for days and daystogether. Then things went on the old way. 

Chapter 3

So the years went on--slow enough they seemed to us sometimes--the greenwinters, pretty cold, I tell you, with frost and hail-storms, and thelong hot summers. We were not called boys any longer, except by motherand Aileen, but took our places among the men of the district. We livedmostly at home, in the old way; sometimes working pretty hard, sometimesdoing very little. When the cows were milked and the wood chopped, therewas nothing to do for the rest of the day. The creek was that close thatmother used to go and dip the bucket into it herself, when she wantedone, from a little wooden step above the clear reedy waterhole. 

Now and then we used to dig in the garden. There was reaping andcorn-pulling and husking for part of the year; but often, for weeks ata time, there was next to nothing to do. No hunting worth much--we weresick of kangarooing, like the dogs themselves, that as they grew oldwould run a little way and then pull up if a mob came, jump, jump, pastthem. No shooting, except a few ducks and pigeons. Father used to laughat the shooting in this country, and say they'd never have poachershere--the game wasn't worth it. No fishing, except an odd codfish, inthe deepest waterholes; and you might sit half a day without a bite. 

Now this was very bad for us boys. Lads want plenty of work, and alittle play now and then to keep them straight. If there's none, they'llmake it; and you can't tell how far they'll go when they once start. 

Well, Jim and I used to get our horses and ride off quietly in theafternoon, as if we were going after cattle; but, in reality, as soonas we were out of sight of mother, to ride over to that old villain, Grimes, the shanty-keeper, where we met the young Dalys, and others ofthe same sort--talked a good deal of nonsense and gossip; what was worseplayed at all-fours and euchre, which we had learned from an Americanharvest hand, at one of the large farms. 

Besides playing for money, which put us rather into trouble sometimes, as we couldn't always find a half-crown if we lost it, we learnedanother bad habit, and that was to drink spirits. What burning nastystuff I thought it at first; and so did we all! But every one wanted tobe thought a man, and up to all kinds of wickedness, so we used to makeit a point of drinking our nobbler, and sometimes treating the otherstwice, if we had cash. 

There was another family that lived a couple of miles off, higher up thecreek, and we had always been good friends with them, though theynever came to our house, and only we boys went to theirs. They were theparents of the little girl that went to school with us, and a boy whowas a year older than me. 

Their father had been a gardener at home, and he married a native girlwho was born somewhere about the Hawkesbury, near Windsor. Her fatherhad been a farmer, and many a time she told us how sorry she was to goaway from the old place, and what fine corn and pumpkins they grew; andhow they had a church at Windsor, and used to take their hay and fruitand potatoes to Sydney, and what a grand place Sydney was, with stonebuildings called markets for people to sell fruit and vegetables andpoultry in; and how you could walk down into Lower George Street and seeSydney Harbour, a great shining salt-water plain, a thousand times asbig as the biggest waterhole, with ships and boats and sailors, andevery kind of strange thing upon it. 

Mrs. Storefield was pretty fond of talking, and she was always fond ofme, because once when she was out after the cows, and her man was away, and she had left Grace at home, the little thing crawled down to thewaterhole and tumbled in. I happened to be riding up with a message formother, to borrow some soap, when I heard a little cry like a lamb's, and there was poor little Gracey struggling in the water like a drowningkitten, with her face under. Another minute or two would have finishedher, but I was off the old pony and into the water like a teal flapper. I had her out in a second or two, and she gasped and cried a bit, butsoon came to, and when Mrs. Storefield came home she first cried overher as if she would break her heart, and kissed her, and then she kissedme, and said, 'Now, Dick Marston, you look here. Your mother's a goodwoman, though simple; your father I don't like, and I hear many storiesabout him that makes me think the less we ought to see of the lot ofyou the better. But you've saved my child's life to-day, and I'll be afriend and a mother to you as long as I live, even if you turn out bad, and I'm rather afraid you will--you and Jim both--but it won't be myfault for want of trying to keep you straight; and John and I willbe your kind and loving friends as long as we live, no matter whathappens. '

After that--it was strange enough--but I always took to the littletoddling thing that I'd pulled out of the water. I wasn't very bigmyself, if it comes to that, and she seemed to have a feeling about it, for she'd come to me every time I went there, and sit on my knee andlook at me with her big brown serious eyes--they were just the sameafter she grew up--and talk to me in her little childish lingo. Ibelieve she knew all about it, for she used to say, 'Dick pull Graceyout of water;' and then she'd throw her arms round my neck and kiss me, and walk off to her mother. If I'd let her drown then, and tied a stoneround my neck and dropped through the reeds to the bottom of the bigwaterhole, it would have been better for both of us. 

When John came home he was nearly as bad as the old woman, and wanted togive me a filly, but I wouldn't have it, boy as I was. I never cared formoney nor money's worth, and I was not going to be paid for picking akid out of the water. 

George Storefield, Gracey's brother, was about my own age. He thought alot of what I'd done for her, and years afterwards I threatened to punchhis head if he said anything more about it. He laughed, and held out hishand. 

'You and I might have been better friends lately, ' says he; 'but don'tyou forget you've got another brother besides Jim--one that will stickto you, too, fair weather or foul. '

I always had a great belief in George, though we didn't get on overwell, and often had fallings out. He was too steady and hardworkingaltogether for Jim and me. He worked all day and every day, and savedevery penny he made. Catch him gaffing!--no, not for a sixpence. Hecalled the Dalys and Jacksons thieves and swindlers, who would be lockedup, or even hanged, some day, unless they mended themselves. As fordrinking a glass of grog, you might just as soon ask him to take alittle laudanum or arsenic. 

'Why should I drink grog, ' he used to say--'such stuff, too, as youget at that old villain Grimes's--with a good appetite and a goodconscience? I'm afraid of no man; the police may come and live on myground for what I care. I work all day, have a read in the evening, andsleep like a top when I turn in. What do I want more?'

'Oh, but you never see any life, ' Jim said; 'you're just like an oldworking bullock that walks up to the yoke in the morning and never stopshauling till he's let go at night. This is a free country, and I don'tthink a fellow was born for that kind of thing and nothing else. '

'This country's like any other country, Jim, ' George would say, holdingup his head, and looking straight at him with his steady gray eyes; 'aman must work and save when he's young if he don't want to be a beggaror a slave when he's old. I believe in a man enjoying himself as well asyou do, but my notion of that is to have a good farm, well stocked andpaid for, by and by, and then to take it easy, perhaps when my back is alittle stiffer than it is now. '

'But a man must have a little fun when he is young, ' I said. 'What's theuse of having money when you're old and rusty, and can't take pleasurein anything?'

'A man needn't be so very old at forty, ' he says then, 'and twentyyears' steady work will put all of us youngsters well up the ladder. Besides, I don't call it fun getting half-drunk with a lot ofblackguards at a low pothouse or a shanty, listening to the stupidtalk and boasting lies of a pack of loafers and worse. They're fit fornothing better; but you and Jim are. Now, look here, I've got a smallcontract from Mr. Andrews for a lot of fencing stuff. It will pay uswages and something over. If you like to go in with me, we'll go shareand share. I know what hands you both are at splitting and fencing. Whatdo you say?'

Jim, poor Jim, was inclined to take George's offer. He was thatgood-hearted that a kind word would turn him any time. But I was put outat his laying it down so about the Dalys and us shantying and gaffing, and I do think now that some folks are born so as they can't do withouta taste of some sort of fun once in a way. I can't put it out clear, butit ought to be fixed somehow for us chaps that haven't got the gift ofworking all day and every day, but can do two days' work in one whenwe like, that we should have our allowance of reasonable fun andpleasure--that is, what we called pleasure, not what somebody thinks weought to take pleasure in. Anyway, I turned on George rather rough, andI says, 'We're not good enough for the likes of you, Mr. Storefield. It's very kind of you to think of us, but we'll take our own line andyou take yours. '

'I'm sorry for it, Dick, and more sorry that you take huff at anold friend. All I want is to do you good, and act a friend's part. Good-bye--some day you'll see it. '

'You're hard on George, ' says Jim, 'there's no pleasing you to-day; onewould think there were lots of chaps fighting how to give us a lift. Good-bye, George, old man; I'm sorry we can't wire in with you; we'dsoon knock out those posts and rails on the ironbark range. '

'You'd better stop, Jim, and take a hand in the deal, ' says I (or, rather, the devil, for I believe he gets inside a chap at times), 'andthen you and George can take a turn at local-preaching when you're cutout. I'm off. ' So without another word I jumped on to my horse and wentoff down the hill, across the creek, and over the boulders the otherside, without much caring where I was going. The fact was, I felt I hadacted meanly in sneering at a man who only said what he did for my good;and I wasn't at all sure that I hadn't made a breach between Gracey andmyself, and, though I had such a temper when it was roused that all theworld wouldn't have stopped me, every time I thought of not seeing thatgirl again made my heart ache as if it would burst. 

I was nearly home before I heard the clatter of a horse's feet, and Jimrode up alongside of me. He was just the same as ever, with a smile onhis face. You didn't often see it without one. 

I knew he had come after me, and had given up his own fancy for mine. 

'I thought you were going to stay and turn good, ' I said. 'Why didn'tyou?'

'It might have been better for me if I had, ' he said, 'but you know verywell, Dick, that whatever turns up, whether it's for good or evil, youand I go together. '

We looked at one another for a moment. Our eyes met. We didn't sayanything; but we understood one another as well as if we had talked fora week. We rode up to the door of our cottage without speaking. The sunhad set, and some of the stars had come out, early as it was, for itwas late autumn. Aileen was sitting on a bench in the verandah reading, mother was working away as usual at something in the house. Mothercouldn't read or write, but you never caught her sitting with her handsbefore her. Except when she was asleep I don't think she ever was quitestill. 

Aileen ran out to us, and stood while we let go our horses, and broughtthe saddles and bridles under the verandah. 

'I'm glad you're come home for one thing, ' she said. 'There is a messagefrom father. He wants you to meet him. '

'Who brought it?' I said. 

'One of the Dalys--Patsey, I think. '

'All right, ' said Jim, kissing her as he lifted her up in his greatstrong arms. 'I must go in and have a gossip with the old woman. Aileencan tell me after tea. I daresay it's not so good that it won't keep. '

Mother was that fond of both of us that I believe, as sure as I sithere, she'd have put her head on the block, or died in any other way foreither of her boys, not because it was her duty, but glad and cheerfullike, to have saved us from death or disgrace. I think she was fonderof us two than she was of Aileen. Mothers are generally fonder of theirsons. Why I never could see; and if she thought more of one than theother it was Jim. He was the youngest, and he had that kind ofbig, frolicsome, loving way with him, like a Newfoundland pup abouthalf-grown. I always used to think, somehow, nobody ever seemed to beable to get into a pelter with Jim, not even father, and that was athing as some people couldn't be got to believe. As for mother andAileen, they were as fond of him as if he'd been a big baby. 

So while he went to sit down on the stretcher, and let mother put herarms round his neck and hug him and cry over him, as she always did ifhe'd been away more than a day or two, I took a walk down the creek withAileen in the starlight, to hear all about this message from father. Besides, I could see that she was very serious over it, and I thoughtthere might be something in it more than common. 

'First of all, did you make any agreement with George Storefield?' shesaid. 

'No; why should I? Has he been talking to you about me? What right hashe to meddle with my business?'

'Oh, Dick, don't talk like that. Anything that he said was only to doyou a kindness, and Jim. '

'Hang him, and his kindness too, ' I said. 'Let him keep it for thosethat want it. But what did he tell you?'

'He said, first of all, ' answered poor Aileen, with the tears in hereyes, and trying to take hold of my hand, 'that he had a contract forfencing timber, which he had taken at good prices, which he would sharewith you and Jim; that he knew you two and himself could finish it in afew weeks, and that he expected to get the contract for the timber forthe new bridge at Dargo, which he would let you go shares in too. Hedidn't like to speak about that, because it wasn't certain; but he hadcalculated all the quantities and prices, and he was sure you would make70 or 80 Pounds each before Christmas. Now, was there any harm in that;and don't you think it was very good of him to think of it?'

'Well, he's not a bad fellow, old George, ' I said, 'but he's a littletoo fond of interfering with other people's business. Jim and I arequite able to manage our own affairs, as I told him this evening, when Irefused to have anything to do with his fencing arrangement. '

'Oh, Dick, did you?' she said. 'What a pity! I made sure Jim would haveliked it so, for only last week he said he was sick and tired of havingnothing to do--that he should soon lose all his knack at using toolsthat he used to be so proud of. Didn't he say he'd like to join George?'

'He would, I daresay, and I told him to do as he liked. I came awayby myself, and only saw him just before we crossed the range. He's bigenough and old enough to take his own line. '

'But you know he thinks so much of you, ' she groaned out, 'that he'dfollow you to destruction. That will be the end of it, depend upon it, Dick. I tell you so now; you've taken to bad ways; you'll have his bloodon your head yet. '

'Jim's old enough and big enough to take care of himself, ' I saidsulkily. 'If he likes to come my way I won't hinder him; I won't try topersuade him one way or the other. Let him take his own line; I don'tbelieve in preaching and old women's talk. Let a man act and think forhimself. '

'You'll break my heart and poor mother's, too, ' said Aileen, suddenlytaking both my hands in hers. 'What has she done but love us ever sincewe were born, and what does she live for? You know she has no pleasureof any kind, you know she's afraid every morning she wakes that thepolice will get father for some of his cross doings; and now you and Jimare going the same wild way, and what ever--what ever will be the end ofit?'

Here she let go my hands, and sobbed and cried as if she was a childagain, much as I remember her doing one day when my kangaroo dog killedher favourite cat. And Aileen was a girl that didn't cry much generally, and never about anything that happened to herself; it was always aboutsomebody else and their misfortunes. She was a quiet girl, too, verydetermined, and not much given to talking about what she was going todo; but when she made up her mind she was sure to stick to it. I used tothink she was more like father than any of us. She had his coloured hairand eyes, and his way of standing and looking, as if the whole worldwouldn't shift him. But she'd mother's soft heart for all that, and Itook the more notice of her crying and whimpering this time because itwas so strange for her. 

If any one could have seen straight into my heart just then I wasregularly knocked over, and had two minds to go inside to Jim and tellhim we'd take George's splitting job, and start to tackle it first thingto-morrow morning; but just then one of those confounded night-hawksflitted on a dead tree before us and began his 'hoo-ho', as if it waslaughing at me. I can see the place now--the mountain black and dismal, the moon low and strange-looking, the little waterhole glittering in thehalf-light, and this dark bird hooting away in the night. An odd feelingseemed to come over my mind, and if it had been the devil himselfstanding on the dead limb it could not have had a worse effect on me asI stopped there, uncertain whether to turn to the right or the left. 

We don't often know in this world sometimes whether we are turning offalong a road where we shall never come back from, or whether we can gojust a little way and look at the far-off hills and new rivers, and comehome safe. 

I remember the whole lot of bad-meaning thoughts coming with a rushover my heart, and I laughed at myself for being so soft as to choosea hard-working, pokey kind of life at the word of a slow fellow likeGeorge, when I might be riding about the country on a fine horse, eatingand drinking of the best, and only doing what people said half the oldsettlers had made their money by. 

Poor Aileen told me afterwards that if she'd thought for a moment Icould be turned she'd have gone down on her knees and never got up tillI promised to keep straight and begin to work at honest daily labourlike a man--like a man who hoped to end his days in a good house, on agood farm, with a good wife and nice children round him, and not in aprison cell. Some people would call the first, after years of honestwork, and being always able to look every one in the face, being moreof a man than the other. But people have different ways and differentideas. 

'Come, Ailie, ' I said, 'are you going to whine and cry all night? Ishall be afraid to come home if you're going to be like this. What's themessage from father?'

She wiped away her tears, and, putting her hand on my shoulder, lookedsteadily into my face. 

'Poor boy--poor, dear Dick, ' she said, 'I feel as if I should see thatfresh face of yours looking very different some day or other. Somethingtells me that there's bad luck before you. But never mind, you'll neverlose your sister if the luck's ever so bad. Father sent word you and Jimwere to meet him at Broken Creek and bring your whips with you. '

'What in the world's that for?' I said, half speaking to myself. 'Itlooks as if there was a big mob to drive, and where's he to get a bigmob there in that mountainous, beastly place, where the cattle all boltlike wallabies, and where I never saw twenty head together?'

'He's got some reason for it, ' said Aileen sorrowfully. 'If I were youI wouldn't go. It's no good, and father's trying now to drag you and Jiminto the bad ways he's been following these years. '

'How do you know it's so bad?' said I. 'How can a girl like you know?'

'I know very well, ' she said. 'Do you think I've lived here all theseyears and don't know things? What makes him always come home after dark, and be that nervous every time he sees a stranger coming up you'd thinkhe was come out of gaol? Why has he always got money, and why doesmother look so miserable when he's at home, and cheer up when he goesaway?'

'He may get jobs of droving or something, ' I said. 'You have no rightto say that he's robbing, or something of that sort, because he doesn'tcare about tying himself to mother's apron-string. '

Aileen laughed, but it was more like crying. 

'You told me just now, ' she said--oh! so sorrowfully--'that you and Jimwere old enough to take a line of your own. Why don't you do it now?'

'And tell father we'll have nothing more to do with him!'

'Why not?' she said, standing up straight before me, and facing me justas I saw father face the big bullock-driver before he knocked him down. 'Why not? You need never ask him for another meal; you can earn an easyliving in half-a-dozen ways, you and Jim. Why should you let him spoilyour life and ruin your soul for evermore?'

'The priest put that into your head, ' I said sneeringly; 'FatherDoyle--of course he knows what they'll do with a fellow after he'sdead. '

'No!' she said, 'Father Doyle never said a word about you that wasn'tgood and kind. He says mother's a good Catholic, and he takes aninterest in you boys and me because of her. '

'He can persuade you women to do anything, ' I said, not that I had anygrudge against poor old Father Doyle, who used to come riding up therough mountain track on his white horse, and tiring his old bones, just 'to look after his flock, ' as he said--and nice lambs some of themwere--but I wanted to tease her and make her break off with this fancyof hers. 

'He never does, and couldn't persuade me, except for my good, ' said she, getting more and more roused, and her black eyes glowed again, 'and I'lltell you what I'll do to prove it. It's a sin, but if it is I'll standby it, and now I'll swear it (here she knelt down), as Almighty Godshall help me at the last day, if you and Jim will promise me to startstraight off up the country and take bush-work till shearing comes on, and never to have any truck with cross chaps and their ways, I'll turnProtestant. I'll go to church with you, and keep to it till I die. '

Wasn't she a trump? I've known women that would give up a lot for a manthey were sweet on, and wives that would follow their husbands aboutlike spaniels, and women that would lie and deceive and all but rob andmurder for men they were fond of, and sometimes do nearly as much tospite other women. But I don't think I ever knew a woman that wouldgive up her religion for any one before, and it's not as if shewasn't staunch to her own faith. She was as regular in her prayers andcrossings and beads and all the rest of it as mother herself, and ifthere ever was a good girl in the whole world she was one. She turnedfaint as she said this, and I thought she was going to drop down. Ifanything could have turned me then it would have been this. It wasalmost like giving her life for ours, and I don't think she'd havevalued hers two straws if she could have saved us. There's a greatdeal said about different kinds of love in this world, but I can'thelp thinking that the love between brothers and sisters that have beenbrought up together and have had very few other people to care aboutis a higher, better sort than any other in the world. There's lessselfishness about it--no thought but for the other's good. If thatcan be made safe, death and pain and poverty and misery are all littlethings. And wasn't I fond of Aileen, in spite of all my hardness andcross-grained obstinacy?--so fond that I was just going to hug her to meand say, 'Take it all your own way, Ailie dear, ' when Jim came tearingout of the hut, bareheaded, and stood listening to a far-off sound thatcaught all our ears at once. We made out the source of it too well--fartoo well. 

What was the noise at that hour of the night?

It was a hollow, faint, distant roaring that gradually kept gettinglouder. It was the strange mournful bellowing that comes from a droveof cattle forced along an unknown track. As we listened the sound cameclearly on the night wind, faint, yet still clearly coming nearer. 

'Cattle being driven, ' Jim cried out; 'and a big mob too. It'sfather--for a note. Let's get our horses and meet him. '

Chapter 4

'All right, ' said I, 'he must have got there a day before his time. Itis a big mob and no mistake. I wonder where they're taking them to. 'Aileen shrugged her shoulders and walked in to mother with a look ofmisery and despair on her face such as I never saw there before. 

She knew it was no use talking to me now. The idea of going out to meeta large lot of unknown cattle had strongly excited us, as would havebeen the case with every bush-bred lad. All sorts of wonders passedthrough our minds as we walked down the creek bank, with our bridles inour hands, towards where our horses usually fed. One was easy to catch, the other with a little management was secured. In ten minutes we wereriding fast through the dark trees and fallen timber towards the wildgullies and rock-strewed hills of Broken Creek. 

It was not more than an hour when we got up to the cattle. We could hearthem a good while before we saw them. 'My word, ' said Jim, 'ain't theyrestless. They can't have come far, or they wouldn't roar so. Where canthe old man have "touched" for them?'

'How should I know?' I said roughly. I had a kind of idea, but I thoughthe would never be so rash. 

When we got up I could see the cattle had been rounded up in a flat withstony ridges all round. There must have been three or four hundred ofthem, only a man and a boy riding round and wheeling them every now andthen. Their horses were pretty well knocked up. I knew father at once, and the old chestnut mare he used to ride--an animal with legs liketimbers and a mule rump; but you couldn't tire her, and no beast thatever was calved could get away from her. The boy was a half-caste thatfather had picked up somewhere; he was as good as two men any day. 

'So you've come at last, ' growled father, 'and a good thing too. Ididn't expect to be here till to-morrow morning. The dog came home, Isuppose--that's what brought you here, wasn't it? I thought the infernalcattle would beat Warrigal and me, and we'd have all our trouble fornothing. '

'Whose cattle are they, and what are you going to do with them?'

'Never you mind; ask no questions, and you'll see all about itto-morrow. I'll go and take a snooze now; I've had no sleep for threenights. '

With our fresh horses and riding round so we kept the cattle easilyenough. We did not tell Warrigal he might go to rest, not thinking ahalf-caste brat like him wanted any. He didn't say anything, but went tosleep on his horse, which walked in and out among the angry cattle as hesat on the saddle with his head down on the horse's neck. They sniffedat him once or twice, some of the old cows, but none of them horned him;and daylight came rather quicker than one would think. 

Then we saw whose cattle they were; they had all Hunter's and Falkland'sbrands on, which showed that they belonged to Banda and Elingamahstations. 

'By George!' says Jim, 'they're Mr. Hunter's cattle, and all thesecircle dots belong to Banda. What a mob of calves! not one of thembranded! What in the world does father intend to do with them?'

Father was up, and came over where we stood with our horses in our handsbefore we had time to say more. He wasn't one of those that slept afterdaylight, whether he had work to do or not. He certainly COULD work;daylight or dark, wet or dry, cold or hot, it was all one to father. Itseems a pity what he did was no use to him, as it turned out; for he wasa man, was old dad, every inch of him. 

'Now, boys, ' he said, quite brisk and almost good-natured for him, 'lookalive and we'll start the cattle; we've been long enough here; let 'emhead up that gully, and I'll show you something you've never seen beforefor as long as you've known Broken Creek Ranges. '

'But where are you going to take 'em to?' I said. 'They're all Mr. Hunter's and Mr. Falkland's; the brands are plain enough. '

'Are the calves branded, you blasted fool?' he said, while the blacklook came over his face that had so often frightened me when I was achild. 'You do what I tell you if you've any pluck and gumption aboutyou; or else you and your brother can ride over to Dargo Police Stationand "give me away" if you like; only don't come home again, I warn you, sons or no sons. '

If I had done what I had two minds to do--for I wasn't afraid of himthen, savage as he looked--told him to do his own duffing and riddenaway with Jim there and then--poor Jim, who sat on his horse staring atboth of us, and saying nothing--how much better it would have been forall of us, the old man as well as ourselves; but it seemed as if itwasn't to be. Partly from use, and partly from a love of danger andsomething new, which is at the bottom of half the crime in the bushdistricts, I turned my horse's head after the cattle, which were nowbeginning to straggle. Jim did the same on his side. How easy is it forchaps to take the road to hell! for that was about the size of it, andwe were soon too busy to think about much else. 

The track we were driving on led along a narrow rocky gully which lookedas if it had been split up or made out of a crack in the earth thousandsof years ago by an earthquake or something of that kind. The hills werethat steep that every now and then some of the young cattle that werenot used to that sort of country would come sliding down and bellow asif they thought they were going to break their necks. 

The water rushed down it like a torrent in wet winters, and formed asort of creek, and the bed of it made what track there was. There wereoverhanging rocks and places that made you giddy to look at, and someof these must have fallen down and blocked up the creek at one time orother. We had to scramble round them the best way we could. 

When we got nearly up to the head of the gully--and great work it wasto force the footsore cattle along, as we couldn't use our whipsovermuch--Jim called out--

'Why, here comes old Crib. Who'd have thought he'd have seen the track?Well done, old man. Now we're right. '

Father never took any notice of the poor brute as he came limping alongthe stones. Woman or child, horse or dog, it's the same old thing--themore any creature loves a man in this world the worse they're treated. It looks like it, at any rate. I saw how it was; father had given Criba cruel beating the night before, when he was put out for some triflingmatter, and the dog had left him and run home. But now he had thoughtbetter of it, and seen our tracks and come to work and slave, with hisbleeding feet--for they were cut all to pieces--and got the whip acrosshis back now and then for his pains. It's a queer world!

When we got right to the top of this confounded gully, nearly dead-beatall of us, and only for the dog heeling them up every now and then, andmaking his teeth nearly meet in them, without a whimper, I believe thecattle would have charged back and beat us. There was a sort of roughtable-land--scrubby and stony and thick it was, but still the grasswasn't bad in summer, when the country below was all dried up. Therewere wild horses in troops there, and a few wild cattle, so Jim and Iknew the place well; but it was too far and too much of a journey forour own horses to go often. 

'Do you see that sugar-loaf hill with the bald top, across the range?'said father, riding up just then, as we were taking it easy a little. 'Don't let the cattle straggle, and make straight for that. '

'Why, it's miles away, ' said Jim, looking rather dismal. 'We could neverget 'em there. '

'We're not going there, stupid, ' says father; 'that's only the line tokeep. I'll show you something about dinner-time that'll open your eyes abit. '

Poor Jim brightened up at the mention of dinner-time, for, boylike, hewas getting very hungry, and as he wasn't done growing he had no end ofan appetite. I was hungry enough for the matter of that, but I wouldn'town to it. 

'Well, we shall come to somewhere, I suppose, ' says Jim, when father wasgone. 'Blest if I didn't think he was going to keep us wandering inthis blessed Nulla Mountain all day. I wish I'd never seen the blessedcattle. I was only waiting for you to hook it when we first seen thebrands by daylight, and I'd ha' been off like a brindle "Mickey" down arange. '

'Better for us if we had, ' I said; 'but it's too late now. We must stickto it, I suppose. '

We had kept the cattle going for three or four miles through thethickest of the country, every now and then steering our course by theclear round top of Sugarloaf, that could be seen for miles round, but never seemed to get any nearer, when we came on a rough sort oflog-fence, which ran the way we were going. 

'I didn't think there were any farms up here, ' I said to Jim. 

'It's a "break", ' he said, almost in a whisper. 'There's a"duffing-yard" somewhere handy; that's what's the matter. '

'Keep the cattle along it, anyway. We'll soon see what it leads to. '

The cattle ran along the fence, as if they expected to get to the end oftheir troubles soon. The scrub was terribly thick in places, and everynow and then there was a break in the fence, when one of us had to gooutside and hunt them until we came to the next bit. At last we came toa little open kind of flat, with the scrub that thick round it as youcouldn't hardly ride through it, and, just as Jim said, there was theyard. 

It was a 'duffing-yard' sure enough. No one but people who had cattle tohide and young stock they didn't want other people to see branded wouldhave made a place there. 

Just on the south side of the yard, which was built of great heavystringy-bark trees cut down in the line of the fence, and made up withlimbs and logs, the range went up as steep as the side of a house. Thecattle were that tired and footsore--half their feet were bleeding, poordevils--that they ran in through the sliprails and began to lay down. 

'Light a fire, one of you boys, ' says father, putting up the heavysliprails and fastening them. 'We must brand these calves before dark. One of you can go to that gunyah, just under the range where that bigwhite rock is, and you'll find tea and sugar and something to eat. '

Jim rushed off at once, while I sulkily began to put some bark and twigstogether and build a fire. 

'What's the use of all this cross work?' I said to father; 'we're boundto be caught some day if we keep on at it. Then there'll be no one leftto take care of mother and Aileen. '

He looked rather struck at this, and then said quietly--

'You and your brother can go back now. Never say I kept you against yourwill. You may as well lend a hand to brand these calves; then you mayclear out as soon as you like. '

Well, I didn't quite like leaving the old chap in the middle of the worklike that. I remember thinking, like many another young fool, I suppose, that I could draw back in time, just after I'd tackled this job. 

Draw back, indeed! When does a man ever get the chance of doing that, once he's regularly gone in for any of the devil's work and wages? Hetakes care there isn't much drawing back afterwards. So I said--

'We may as well give you a hand with this lot; but we'll go home then, and drop all this duffing work. It don't pay. I'm old enough to knowthat, and you'll find it out yet, I expect, father, yourself. '

'The fox lives long, and gives the hounds many a long chase before he'srun into, ' he said, with a grim chuckle. 'I swore I'd be revenged on 'emall when they locked me up and sent me out here for a paltry hare; brokemy old mother's heart, so it did. I've had a pound for every hair inher skin, and I shall go on till I die. After all, if a man goes to workcautious and runs mute it's not so easy to catch him in this country, atany rate. '

Jim at this came running out of the cave with a face of joy, a bag ofship-biscuit, and a lot of other things. 

'Here's tea and sugar, ' he said; 'and there's biscuits and jam, and abig lump of cheese. Get the fire right, Dick, while I get some water. We'll soon have some tea, and these biscuits are jolly. '

The tea was made, and we all had a good meal. Father found a bottle ofrum, too; he took a good drink himself, and gave Jim and me a sip each. I felt less inclined to quarrel with father after that. So we draftedall the calves into a small pen-yard, and began to put our brand on themas quick as we could catch 'em. 

A hundred and sixty of 'em altogether--all ages, from a month old tonearly a year. Fine strong calves, and in rare condition, too. We couldsee they were all belonging to Mr. Hunter and Mr. Falkland. How theycame to leave them all so long unbranded I can't say. Very carelessthey often are on these large cattle-stations, so that sharp people likefather and the Dalys, and a lot more, get an easy chance at them. 

Whatever father was going to do with them all when he had branded 'em, we couldn't make out. 

'There's no place to tail or wean 'em, ' whispered Jim. 'We're not abovethirty miles from Banda in a straight line. These cows are dead sure tomake straight back the very minute they're let out, and very nice workit'll look with all these calves with our brand on sucking these cows. '

Father happened to come round for a hot brand just as Jim finished. 

'Never you mind about the weaning, ' he snarled. 'I shan't ask you totail them either. It wouldn't be a nice job here, would it?' and fatheractually laughed. It wasn't a very gay kind of a laugh, and he shut uphis mouth with a sort of snap again. Jim and I hadn't seen him laugh forI don't know how long, and it almost frightened us. 

As Jim said, it wouldn't do to let the cattle out again. If calves areweaned, and have only one brand on, it is very hard for any man to swearthat they are not the property of the man to whom that brand belongs. He may believe them to be his, but may never have seen them in his life;and if he has seen them on a camp or on the run, it's very hard to swearto any one particular red or spotted calf as you would to a horse. 

The great dart is to keep the young stock away from their mothers untilthey forget one another, and then most of the danger is past. But ifcalves with one man's brand on are seen sucking another man's cows, itis pretty plain that the brand on the calves has been put on without theconsent of the owner of the cows--which is cattle-stealing; a felony, according to the Act 7 and 8 George IV, No. 29, punishable with threeyears' imprisonment, with hard labour on the roads of the colony orother place, as the Judge may direct. 

There's a lot of law! How did I learn it? I had plenty of time inBerrima Gaol--worse luck--my first stretch. But it was after I'd donethe foolishness, and not before. 

Chapter 5

'Now then, you boys!' says father, coming up all of a sudden like, andbringing out his words as if it was old times with us, when we didn'tknow whether he'd hit first and talk afterwards, or the other way on, 'get out the lot we've just branded, and drive 'em straight for thatpeak, where the water shines dripping over the stones, right again thesun, and look slippy; we're burning daylight, and these cows are makingrow enough, blast 'em! to be heard all the way to Banda. I'll go on andsteady the lead; you keep 'em close up to me. '

Father mounted the old mare. The dog stopped behind; he knew he'dhave to mind the tail--that is the hindmost cattle--and stop 'em frombreaking or running clear away from the others. We threw down the rails. Away the cattle rushed out, all in a long string. You'd 'a thought nomortal men could 'a kept 'em in that blind hole of a place. But fatherheaded 'em, and turned 'em towards the peak. The dog worried those thatwanted to stay by the yard or turn another way. We dropped our whip on'em, and kept 'em going. In five minutes they were all a-moving alongin one mob at a pretty sharpish trot like a lot of store cattle. Fatherknew his way about, whether the country was thick or open. It was all asone to him. What a slashing stockman he would have made in new country, if he only could have kept straight. 

It took us an hour's hard dinkum to get near the peak. Sometimes it wasawful rocky, as well as scrubby, and the poor devils of cattle got assore-footed as babies--blood up to the knee, some of 'em; but we crowded'em on; there was no help for it. 

At last we rounded up on a flat, rocky, open kind of a place; and herefather held up his hand. 

'Let 'em ring a bit; some of their tongues are out. These young thingsis generally soft. Come here, Dick. ' I rode up, and he told me to followhim. 

We walked our horses up to the edge of the mountain and looked over. Itwas like the end of the world. Far down there was a dark, dreadful dropinto a sort of deep valley below. You couldn't see the bottom of it. The trees on the mountain side looked like bushes, and they were bigironbarks and messmates too. On three sides of us was this awful, desolate-looking precipice--a dreary, gloomy, God-forsaken kind of spot. The sky got cloudy, and the breeze turned cold and began to murmurand whistle in an odd, unnatural kind of way, while father, seeing howscared and puzzled I was, began to laugh. I shuddered. A thought crossedmy mind that it might be the Enemy of Souls, in his shape, going tocarry us off for doing such a piece of wickedness. 

'Looks queer, doesn't it?' says father, going to the brink and kickingdown a boulder, that rolled and crashed down the steep mountain side, tearing its way through scrub and heath till it settled down in the glenbelow. 'It won't do for a man's horse to slip, will it, boy? And yetthere's a track here into a fine large paddock, open and clear, too, where I'm going to put these cattle into. '

I stared at him, without speaking, thinking was he mad. 

'No! the old man isn't mad, youngster, ' he said; 'not yet, at least. I'mgoing to show you a trick that none of you native boys are up to, smartas you think yourselves. ' Here he got off the old mare, and began tolead her to the edge of the mountain. 

'Now, you rally the cattle well after me, ' he said; 'they'll follow theold mare after a bit. I left a few cows among 'em on purpose, and whenthey "draw" keep 'em going well up, but not too fast. '

He had lengthened the bridle of the mare, and tied the end of a lighttether rope that he had round her neck to it. I saw her follow himslowly, and turn down a rocky track that seemed to lead straight over abluff of the precipice. 

However, I gave the word to 'head on'. The dog had started rounding 'emup as soon as he saw the old mare walk towards the mountain side, andthe cattle were soon crushed up pretty close to the mare's heels. 

Mind this, that they were so footsore and tender about the hoofs thatthey could not have run away from us on foot if they had tried. 

After 'ringing' a bit, one of the quiet cows followed up the old marethat was walking step by step forward, and all the rest followed herlike sheep. Cattle will do that. I've seen a stockrider, when all thehorses were dead beat, trying to get fat cattle to take a river inflood, jump off and turn his horse loose into the stream. If he wentstraight, and swam across, all the cattle would follow him like sheep. 

Well, when the old mare got to the bluff she turned short round to theright, and then I saw that she had struck a narrow path down a gullythat got deeper and deeper every yard we went. There was just room fora couple or three calves to go abreast, and by and by all of 'em waswalking down it like as if they was the beasts agoing into Noah's Ark. It wound and wound and got deeper and deeper till the walls of rock wereever so far above our heads. Our work was done then; the cattle had towalk on like sheep in a race. We led our horses behind them, and the dogwalked along, saving his sore feet as well as he could, and never triedto bite a beast once he got within the walls. He looked quite satisfied, and kept chuckling almost to himself. I really believe I've seen dogslaugh. Once upon a time I've read of they'd have taken poor Crib for afamiliar spirit, and hanged or burnt him. Well, he knew a lot, and nomistake. I've seen plenty of Christians as he could buy and sell, and notrouble to him. I'm dashed if the old mare, too, didn't take a pleasurein working cattle on the cross. She was the laziest old wretch bringingup the cows at home, or running in the horses. Many a time Jim and Itook a turn out of her when father didn't know. But put her after abig mob of cattle--she must have known they couldn't be ours--and she'dclatter down a range like the wall of a house, and bite and kick thetail cattle if they didn't get out of her way. They say dogs and horsesare all honest, and it's only us as teaches 'em to do wrong. My notion'sthey're a deal like ourselves, and some of 'em fancies the square racketdull and safe, while some takes a deal kindlier to the other. Anyhow, nocattle-duffer in the colonies could have had a better pair of mates thanold Sally and Crib, if the devil himself had broken 'em in special forthe trade. 

It was child's play now, as far as the driving went. Jim and I walkedalong, leading our horses and yarning away as we used to do when we werelittle chaps bringing in the milkers. 

'My word, Dick, dad's dropped into a fine road through this thunderingmountain, hasn't he? I wonder where it leads to? How high the rock-wallsare getting above us!' he says. 'I know now. I think I heard long agofrom one of the Crosbies of a place in the ranges down towards behindthe Nulla Mountain, "Terrible Hollow". He didn't know about it himself, but said an old stockman told him about it when he was drunk. He saidthe Government men used to hide the cattle and horses there in oldtimes, and that it was never found out. '

'Why wasn't it found out, Jim? If the old fellow "split" about it someone else would get to know. '

'Well, old Dan said that they killed one man that talked of telling; therest were too frightened after that, and they all swore a big oath neverto tell any one except he was on the cross. '

'That's how dad come to know, I suppose, ' said Jim. 'I wish he neverhad. I don't care about those cross doings. I never did. I never seenany good come out of them yet. '

'Well, we must go through with it now, I suppose. It won't do to leaveold dad in the lurch. You won't, will you, Jim?'

'You know very well I won't, ' says Jim, very soberlike. 'I don't likeit any the more for that. But I wish father had broke his leg, and waslying up at home, with mother nursing him, before he found out thishell-hole of a place. '

'Well, we're going to get out of it, and soon too. The gully seemsgetting wider, and I can see a bit of open country through the trees. '

'Thank God for that!' says Jim. 'My boots'll part company soon, and thepoor devils of calves won't have any hoofs either, if there's much moreof this. '

'They're drawing faster now. The leading cattle are beginning to run. We're at the end of the drive. '

So it was. The deep, rocky gully gradually widened into an open andpretty smooth flat; this, again, into a splendid little plain, up tothe knees in grass; a big natural park, closed round on every side withsandstone rockwalls, as upright as if they were built, and a couple ofthousand feet above the place where we stood. 

This scrub country was crossed by two good creeks; it was several milesacross, and a trifle more in length. Our hungry weaners spread out andbegan to feed, without a notion of their mothers they'd left behind; butthey were not the only ones there. We could see other mobs of cattle, some near, some farther off; horses, too; and the well-worn track inseveral ways showed that this was no new grazing ground. 

Father came riding back quite comfortable and hearty-like for him. 

'Welcome to Terrible Hollow, lads, ' says he. 'You're the youngest chapsit has ever been shown to, and if I didn't know you were the rightstuff, you'd never have seen it, though you're my own flesh and blood. Jump off, and let your horses go. They can't get away, even if theytried; they don't look much like that. '

Our poor nags were something like the cattle, pretty hungry and stiff. They put their heads down to the thick green grass, and went in at itwith a will. 

'Bring your saddles along with you, ' father said, 'and come after me. I'll show you a good camping place. You deserve a treat after lastnight's work. '

We turned back towards the rocky wall, near to where we had come in, andthere, behind a bush and a big piece of sandstone that had fallendown, was the entrance to a cave. The walls of it were quite clean andwhite-looking, the floor was smooth, and the roof was pretty high, wellblackened with smoke, too, from the fires which had been lighted in itfor many a year gone by. 

A kind of natural cellar had been made by scooping out the softsandstone behind a ledge. From this father took a bag of flour andcorn-meal. We very soon made some cakes in the pan, that tasted well, I can tell you. Tea and sugar too, and quart pots, some bacon in aflour-bag; and that rasher fried in the pan was the sweetest meat I everate in all my born days. 

Then father brought out a keg and poured some rum into a pint pot. Hetook a pretty stiff pull, and then handed it to us. 'A little of itwon't hurt you, boys, ' he said, 'after a night's work. '

I took some--not much; we hadn't learned to drink then--to keep downthe fear of something hanging over us. A dreadful fear it is. It makesa coward of every man who doesn't lead a square life, let him be as gameas he may. 

Jim wouldn't touch it. 'No, ' he said, when I laughed at him, 'I promisedmother last time I had more than was good for me at Dargo Races that Iwouldn't touch it again for two years; and I won't either. I can standwhat any other man can, and without the hard stuff, either. '

'Please yourself, ' said father. 'When you're ready we'll have a ridethrough the stock. '

We finished our meal, and a first-rate one it was. A man never hasthe same appetite for his meals anywhere else that he has in the bush, specially if he has been up half the night. It's so fresh, and the airmakes him feel as if he'd ate nothing for a week. Sitting on a log, orin the cave, as we were, I've had the best meal I've ever tasted sinceI was born. Not like the close-feeling, close-smelling, dirty-cleangraveyard they call a gaol. But it's no use beginning on that. We wereyoung men, and free, too. Free! By all the devils in hell, if there aredevils--and there must be to tempt a man, or how could he be so great afool, so blind a born idiot, as to do anything in this world that wouldput his freedom in jeopardy? And what for? For folly and nonsense. Fora few pounds he could earn with a month's honest work and be all thebetter man for it. For a false woman's smile that he could buy, and tenlike her, if he only kept straight and saving. For a bit of sudden prideor vanity or passion. A short bit of what looks like pleasure, againstmonths and years of weariness, and cold and heat, and dull half-death, with maybe a dog's death at the end!

I could cry like a child when I think of it now. I have cried many'sthe time and often since I have been shut up here, and dashed my headagainst the stones till I pretty nigh knocked all sense and feeling outof it, not so much in repentance, though I don't say I feel sorry, but to think what a fool, fool, fool I'd been. Yes, fool, three timesover--a hundred times--to put my liberty and life against such amiserable stake--a stake the devil that deals the pack is so safe to winat the end. 

I may as well go on. But I can't help breaking out sometimes when I hearthe birds calling to one another as they fly over the yard, and knowit's fresh air and sun and green grass outside that I never shall seeagain. Never see the river rippling under the big drooping trees, orthe cattle coming down in the twilight to drink after the long hot day. Never, never more! And whose fault is it? Who have I to blame? Perhapsfather helped a bit; but I knew better, and no one is half as much toblame as myself. 

Where were we? Oh, at the cave-mouth, coming out with our bridles in ourhands to catch our horses. We soon did that, and then we rode away tothe other cattle. They were a queer lot, in fine condition, but allsorts of ages and breeds, with every kind of brand and ear-mark. 

Lots of the brands we didn't know, and had never heard of. Some hadno brands at all--full-grown beasts, too; that was a thing we had veryseldom seen. Some of the best cattle and some of the finest horses--andthere were some real plums among the horses--had a strange brand, JJ. 

'Who does the JJ brand belong to?' I said to father. 'They're the pickof the lot, whose ever they are. '

Father looked black for a bit, and then he growled out, 'Don't you asktoo many questions, lad. There's only four living men besides yourselvesknows about this place; so take care and don't act foolishly, or you'lllose a plant that may save your life, as well as keep you in cash formany a year to come. That brand belongs to Starlight, and he was theonly man left alive of the men that first found it and used it to putaway stock in. He wanted help, and told me five years ago. He took in ahalf-caste chap, too, against my will. He helped him with that last lotof cattle that you noticed. '

'But where did those horses come from?' Jim said. 'I never hardly sawsuch a lot before. All got the JJ brand on, too, and nothing else; allabout three year old. '

'They were brought here as foals, ' says father, 'following theirmothers. Some of them was foaled here; and, of course, as they've onlythe one brand on they never can be claimed or sworn to. They're fromsome of Mr. Maxwell's best thoroughbred mares, and their sire was Earlof Atheling, imported. He was here for a year. '

'Well, they might look the real thing, ' said Jim, his eyes brighteningas he gazed at them. 'I'd like to have that dark bay colt with the star. My word, what a forehand he's got; and what quarters, too. If he can'tgallop I'll never say I know a horse from a poley cow. '

'You shall have him, or as good, never fear, if you stick to your work, 'says father. 'You mustn't cross Starlight, for he's a born devil whenhe's taken the wrong way, though he talks so soft. The half-caste is anout-and-out chap with cattle, and the horse doesn't stand on four legsthat he can't ride--and make follow him, for the matter of that. Buthe's worth watching. I don't believe in him myself. And now ye have thelot. '

'And a d----d fine lot they are, ' I said, for I was vexed with Jim fortaking so easy to the bait father held out to him about the horse. 'Avery smart crowd to be on the roads inside of five years, and drag us inwith 'em. '

'How do you make that out?' says father. 'Are you going to turn dog, nowyou know the way in? Isn't it as easy to carry on for a few years moreas it was twenty years ago?'

'Not by a long chalk, ' I said, for my blood was up, and I felt as if Icould talk back to father and give him as good as he sent, and all forJim's sake. Poor Jim! He'd always go to the mischief for the sake of agood horse, and many another 'Currency' chap has gone the same way. It'sa pity for some of 'em that a blood horse was ever foaled. 

'You think you can't be tracked, ' says I, 'but you must bear in mind youhaven't got to do with the old-fashioned mounted police as was potterin'about when this "bot" was first hit on. There's chaps in the policegetting now, natives or all the same, as can ride and track every bitas well as the half-caste you're talking about. Some day they'll drop onthe track of a mob coming in or getting out, and then the game will beall up. '

'You can cut it if you like now, ' said father, looking at me curiouslike. 'Don't say I dragged you in. You and your brother can go home, andno one will ever know where you were; no more than if you'd gone to themoon. '

Jim looked at the brown colt that just came trotting up as dad finishedspeaking--trotting up with his head high and his tail stuck out likea circus horse. If he'd been the devil in a horsehide he couldn't havechosen a better moment. Then his eyes began to glitter. 

We all three looked at each other. No one spoke. The colt stopped, turned, and galloped back to his mates like a red flyer with the dogsclose behind him. 

It was not long. We all began to speak at once. But in that time the diewas cast, the stakes were down, and in the pool were three men's lives. 

'I don't care whether we go back or not, ' says Jim; 'I'll do either waythat Dick likes. But that colt I must have. '

'I never intended to go back, ' I said. 'But we're three d----d fools allthe same--father and sons. It'll be the dearest horse you ever bought, Jim, old man, and so I tell you. '

'Well, I suppose it's settled now, ' says father; 'so let's have no morechat. We're like a pack of old women, blessed if we ain't. '

After that we got on more sociably. Father took us all over the place, and a splendid paddock it was--walled all round but where we had comein, and a narrow gash in the far side that not one man in a thousandcould ever hit on, except he was put up to it; a wild country for mileswhen you did get out--all scrub and rock, that few people ever had callto ride over. There was splendid grass everywhere, water, and shelter. It was warmer, too, than the country above, as you could see by thecoats of the cattle and horses. 

'If it had only been honestly come by, ' Jim said, 'what a jolly place itwould have been!'

Towards the north end of the paddock was a narrow gully with greatsandstone walls all round, and where it narrowed the first discoverershad built a stockyard, partly with dry stone walls and partly with logsand rails. 

There was no trouble in getting the cattle or horses into this, andthere were all kinds of narrow yards and pens for branding the stock ifthey were clearskins, and altering or 'faking' the brands if they wereplain. This led into another yard, which opened into the narrowest partof the gully. Once in this, like the one they came down, and the cattleor horses had no chance but to walk slowly up, one behind the other, till they got on the tableland above. Here, of course, every kind ofwork that can be done to help disguise cattle was done. Ear-marks werecut out and altered in shape, or else the whole ear was cropped off;every letter in the alphabet was altered by means of straight bars orhalf-circles, figures, crosses, everything you could think of. 

'Mr. Starlight is an edicated man, ' said father. 'This is all hisnotion; and many a man has looked at his own beast, with the earsaltered and the brand faked, and never dreamed he ever owned it. He's agreat card is Starlight. It's a pity he ever took to this kind of life. '

Father said this with a kind of real sorrow that made me look at him tosee if the grog had got into his head; just as if his life, mine, andJim's didn't matter a straw compared to this man's, whoever he was, thathad had so many better chances than we had and had chucked 'em all away. 

But it's a strange thing that I don't think there's any place in theworld where men feel a more real out-and-out respect for a gentlemanthan in Australia. Everybody's supposed to be free and equal now; ofcourse, they couldn't be in the convict days. But somehow a man that'sborn and bred a gentleman will always be different from other men to theend of the world. What's the most surprising part of it is that men likefather, who have hated the breed and suffered by them, too, can't helphaving a curious liking and admiration for them. They'll follow themlike dogs, fight for them, shed their blood, and die for them; must besome sort of a natural feeling. Whatever it is, it's there safe enough, and nothing can knock it out of nine-tenths of all the men and women youmeet. I began to be uneasy to see this wonderful mate of father's, who was so many things at once--a cattle-stealer, a bush-ranger, and agentleman. 

Chapter 6

After we'd fairly settled to stay, father began to be more pleasant thanhe'd ever been before. We were pretty likely, he said, to have a visitfrom Starlight and the half-caste in a day or two, if we'd like to wait. He was to meet him at the Hollow on purpose to help him out with the mobof fat bullocks we had looked at. Father, it appears, was coming hereby himself when he met this outlying lot of Mr. Hunter's cattle, andthought he and old Crib could bring them in by themselves. And a mightygood haul it was. Father said we should share the weaners between thethree of us; that meant 50 Pounds a piece at least. The devil alwayshelps beginners. 

We put through a couple of days pleasantly enough, after our hardish bitof work. Jim found some fish-hooks and a line, and we caught plentyof mullet and eels in the deep, clear waterholes. We found a coupleof double-barrelled guns, and shot ducks enough to last us a week. Nowonder the old frequenters of the Hollow used to live here for a monthat a time, having great times of it as long as their grog lasted; andsometimes having the tribe of blacks that inhabited the district to makemerry and carouse with them, like the buccaneers of the Spanish Mainthat I've read about, till the plunder was all gone. There were scrawlson the wall of the first cave we had been in that showed all thevisitors had not been rude, untaught people; and Jim picked up part ofa woman's dress splashed with blood, and in one place, among somesmouldering packages and boxes, a long lock of woman's hair, fair, bright-brown, that looked as if the name of Terrible Hollow might nothave been given to this lonely, wonderful glen for nothing. 

We spent nearly a week in this way, and were beginning to get rathersick of the life, when father, who used always to be looking at a barepatch in the scrub above us, said--

'They're coming at last. '

'Who are coming--friends?'

'Why, friends, of course. That's Starlight's signal. See that smoke? Thehalf-caste always sends that up--like the blacks in his mother's tribe, I suppose. '

'Any cattle or horses with them?' said Jim. 

'No, or they'd send up two smokes. They'll be here about dinner-time, sowe must get ready for them. '

We had plenty of time to get ourselves or anything else ready. In aboutfour hours we began to look at them through a strong spyglass whichfather brought out. By and by we got sight of two men coming along onhorseback on the top of the range the other side of the far wall. Theywasn't particularly easy to see, and every now and then we'd lose sightof 'em as they got into thick timber or behind rocks. 

Father got the spyglass on to 'em at last, pretty clear, and nearlythrew it down with an oath. 

'By----!' he says, 'I believe Starlight's hurt somehow. He's so infernalrash. I can see the half-caste holding him on. If the police are on histracks they'll spring the plant here, and the whole thing'll be blown. '

We saw them come to the top of the wall, as it were, then they stoppedfor a long while, then all of a sudden they seemed to disappear. 

'Let's go over to the other side, ' says father; 'they're coming down thegully now. It's a terrible steep, rough track, worse than the other. IfStarlight's hurt bad he'll never ride down. But he has the pluck of thedevil, sure enough. '

We rode over to the other side, where there was a kind of gully thatcame in, something like the one we came in by, but rougher, and full ofgibbers (boulders). There was a path, but it looked as if cattle couldnever be driven or forced up it. We found afterwards that they had anold pack bullock that they'd trained to walk up this, and down, too, when they wanted him, and the other cattle followed in his track, ascattle will. 

Father showed us a sort of cave by the side of the track, where one man, with a couple of guns and a pistol or two, could have shot down a smallregiment as they came down one at a time. 

We stayed in there by the track, and after about half-an-hour we heardthe two horses coming down slowly, step by step, kicking the stones downbefore them. Then we could hear a man groaning, as if he couldn't bearthe pain, and partly as if he was trying to smother it. Then anotherman's voice, very soft and soothing like, trying to comfort another. 

'My head's a-fire, and these cursed ribs are grinding against oneanother every step of this infernal ladder. Is it far now?' How hegroaned then!

'Just got the bottom; hold on a bit longer and you'll be all right. '

Just then the leading horse came out into the open before the cave. Wehad a good look at him and his rider. I never forgot them. It was a badday I ever saw either, and many a man had cause to say the same. 

The horse held up his head and snorted as he came abreast of us, andwe showed out. He was one of the grandest animals I'd ever seen, andI afterwards found he was better than he looked. He came stepping downthat beastly rocky goat-track, he, a clean thoroughbred that ought neverto have trod upon anything rougher than a rolled training track, orthe sound bush turf. And here he was with a heavy weight on his back--ahalf-dead, fainting man, that couldn't hold the reins--and him walkingdown as steady as an old mountain bull or a wallaroo on the side of acreek bank. 

I hadn't much time to look him over. I was too much taken up with therider, who was lying forward on his chest across a coat rolled round andstrapped in front of the saddle, and his arms round the horse's neck. Hewas as pale as a ghost. His eyes--great dark ones they were, too--werestaring out of his head. I thought he was dead, and called out to fatherand Jim that he was. 

They ran up, and we lifted him off after undoing some straps and a rope. He was tied on (that was what the half-caste was waiting for at the topof the gully). When we laid him down his head fell back, and he lookedas much like a corpse as if he had been dead a day. 

Then we saw he had been wounded. There was blood on his shirt, and theupper part of his arm was bandaged. 

'It's too late, father, ' said I; 'he's a dead man. What pluck he musthave had to ride down there!'

'He's worth two dead 'uns yet, ' said father, who had his hand on hispulse. 'Hold his head up one of you while I go for the brandy. How didhe get hit, Warrigal?'

'That----Sergeant Goring, ' said the boy, a slight, active-looking chap, about sixteen, that looked as if he could jump into a gum tree and backagain, and I believe he could. 'Sergeant Goring, he very near grab usat Dilligah. We got a lot of old Jobson's cattle when he came on us. Hejump off his horse when he see he couldn't catch us, and very near dropStarlight. My word, he very nearly fall off--just like that' (here heimitated a man reeling in his saddle); 'but the old horse stop steadywith him, my word, till he come to. Then the sergeant fire at him again;hit him in the shoulder with his pistol. Then Starlight come to hissenses, and we clear. My word, he couldn't see the way the old horsewent. Ha, ha!'--here the young devil laughed till the trees and rocksrang again. 'Gallop different ways, too, and met at the old needle-rock. But they was miles away then. '

Before the wild boy had come to the end of his story the wounded man hadproved that it was only a dead faint, as the women call it, not thereal thing. And after he had tasted a pannikin full of brandy and water, which father brought him, he sat up and looked like a living man oncemore. 

'Better have a look at my shoulder, ' he said. 'That----fellow shot likea prize-winner at Wimbledon. I've had a squeak for it. '

'Puts me in mind of our old poaching rows, ' said father, while hecarefully cut the shirt off, that was stiffened with blood and showedwhere the bullet had passed through the muscle, narrowly missingthe bone of the joint. We washed it, and relieved the wounded man bydiscovering that the other bullet had only been spent, after strikinga tree most like, when it had knocked the wind out of him and nearlyunhorsed him, as Warrigal said. 

'Fill my pipe, one of you. Who the devil are these lads? Yours, Isuppose, Marston, or you wouldn't be fool enough to bring them here. Whydidn't you leave them at home with their mother? Don't you think you andI and this devil's limb enough for this precious trade of ours?'

'They'll take their luck as it comes, like others, ' growled father;'what's good enough for me isn't too bad for them. We want another handor two to work things right. '

'Oh! we do, do we?' said the stranger, fixing his eyes on father as ifhe was going to burn a hole in him with a burning-glass; 'but if I'd abrace of fine boys like those of my own I'd hang myself before I'd dragthem into the pit after myself. '

'That's all very fine, ' said father, looking very dark and dangerous. 'Is Mr. Starlight going to turn parson? You'll be just in time, forwe'll all be shopped if you run against the police like this, and nextthing to lay them on to the Hollow by making for it when you're too weakto ride. '

'What would you have me do? Pull up and hold up my hands? There wasnowhere else to go; and that new sergeant rode devilish well, I can tellyou, with a big chestnut well-bred horse, that gave old Rainbow here allhe knew to lose him. Now, once for all, no more of that, Marston, and mind your own business. I'm the superior officer in this ship'scompany--you know that very well--your business is to obey me, and takesecond place. '

Father growled out something, but did not offer to deny it. We could seeplainly that the stranger was or had been far above our rank, whateverwere the reasons which had led to his present kind of life. 

We stayed for about ten days, while the stranger's arm got well. Withcare and rest, it soon healed. He was pleasant enough, too, when thepain went away. He had been in other countries, and told us all kinds ofstories about them. 

He said nothing, though, about his own former ways, and we oftenwondered whatever could have made him take to such a life. Unknown tofather, too, he gave us good advice, warned us that what we were inwas the road to imprisonment or death in due course, and not to flatterourselves that any other ending was possible. 

'I have my own reasons for leading the life I do, ' he said, 'and mustrun my own course, of which I foresee the end as plainly as if it waswritten in a book before me. Your father had a long account to squarewith society, and he has a right to settle it his own way. That yellowwhelp was never intended for anything better. But for you lads'--andhere he looked kindly in poor old Jim's honest face (and an honest faceand heart Jim's was, and that I'll live and die on)--'my advice to youis, to clear off home, when we go, and never come back here again. Tellyour father you won't come; cut loose from him, once and for all. You'dbetter drown yourselves comfortably at once than take to this cursedtrade. Now, mind what I tell you, and keep your own counsel. '

By and by, the day came when the horses were run in for father and Mr. Starlight and Warrigal, who packed up to be off for some other part. 

When they were in the yard we had a good look at his own horse--a goodlook--and if I'd been a fellow that painted pictures, and that kind ofthing, I could draw a middlin' good likeness of him now. 

By George! how fond I am of a good horse--a real well-bred clinker. I'dnever have been here if it hadn't been for that, I do believe; and manyanother Currency chap can say the same--a horse or a woman--that's aboutthe size of it, one or t'other generally fetches us. I shall never putfoot in stirrup again, but I'll try and scratch out a sort of likenessof Rainbow. 

He was a dark bay horse, nearly brown, without a white hair on him. Hewasn't above 15 hands and an inch high, but looked a deal bigger thanhe was, for the way he held his head up and carried himself. He was deepand thick through behind the shoulders, and girthed ever so much morethan you'd think. He had a short back, and his ribs went out like acask, long quarter, great thighs and hocks, wonderful legs, and feet ofcourse to do the work he did. His head was plainish, but clean and bony, and his eye was big and well opened, with no white showing. His shoulderwas sloped back that much that he couldn't fall, no matter whathappened his fore legs. All his paces were good too. I believe he couldjump--jump anything he was ridden at, and very few horses could get thebetter of him for one mile or three. 

Where he'd come from, of course, we were not to know then. He had asmall private sort of brand that didn't belong to any of the big studs;but he was never bred by a poor man. I afterwards found out that he wasstolen before he was foaled, like many another plum, and his dam killedas soon as she had weaned him. So, of course, no one could swear to him, and Starlight could have ridden past the Supreme Court, at the assizes, and never been stopped, as far as this horse was concerned. 

Before we went away father and Starlight had some terrible long talks, and one evening Jim came to me, and says he--

'What do you think they're up to now?'

'How should I know? Sticking up a bank, or boning a flock of maiden ewesto take up a run with? They seem to be game for anything. There'll be ahanging match in the family if us boys don't look out. '

'There's no knowing, ' says Jim, with a roguish look in his eye (I didn'tthink then how near the truth I was), 'but it's about a horse thistime. '

'Oh! a horse; that alters the matter. But what's one horse to make sucha shine about?'

'Ah, that's the point, ' says poor old Jim, 'it's a horse worth talkingabout. Don't you remember the imported entire that they had his picturein the papers--him that Mr. Windhall gave 2000 Pounds for?'

'What! the Marquis of Lorne? Why, you don't mean to say they're goingfor him?'

'By George, I do!' says Jim; 'and they'll have him here, and twentyblood mares to put to him, before September. '

'They're all gone mad--they'll raise the country on us. Every policetrooper in the colony'll be after us like a pack of dingoes after an oldman kangaroo when the ground's boggy, and they'll run us down, too; theycan't be off it. Whatever made 'em think of such a big touch as that?'

'That Starlight's the devil, I think, ' said Jim slowly. 'Father didn'tseem to like it at first, but he brought him round bit by bit--said heknew a squatter in Queensland he could pass him on to; that they'dkeep him there for a year and get a crop of foals by him, and when the"derry" was off he'd take him over himself. '

'But how's he going to nail him? People say Windhall keeps him locked upat night, and his box is close to his house. '

'Starlight says he has a friend handy; he seems to have one ortwo everywhere. It's wonderful, as father told him, where he getsinformation. '

'By George! it would be a touch, and no mistake. And if we could get afew colts by him out of thoroughbred mares we might win half the racesevery year on our side and no one a bit the wiser. '

It did seem a grand sort of thing--young fools that we were--to get holdof this wonderful stallion that we'd heard so much of, as thoroughbredas Eclipse; good as anything England could turn out. I say again, ifit weren't for the horse-flesh part of it, the fun and hard-riding andtracking, and all the rest of it, there wouldn't be anything like thecross-work that there is in Australia. It lies partly between that andthe dry weather. There's the long spells of drought when nothing can bedone by young or old. Sometimes for months you can't work in the garden, nor plough, nor sow, nor do anything useful to keep the devil out ofyour heart. Only sit at home and do nothing, or else go out and watchthe grass witherin' and the water dryin' up, and the stock dyin' byinches before your eyes. And no change, maybe, for months. The groundlike iron and the sky like brass, as the parson said, and very true, too, last Sunday. 

Then the youngsters, havin' so much idle time on their hands, take togaffin' and flash talk; and money must be got to sport and pay up ifthey lose; and the stock all ramblin' about and mixed up, and there's atemptation to collar somebody's calves or foals, like we did that firstred heifer. I shall remember her to my dying day. It seems as if I hadput that brand on my own heart when I jammed it down on her soft skin. Anyhow, I never forgot it, and there's many another like me, I'll bebound. 

The next morning Jim and I started off home. Father said he should stayin the Hollow till Starlight got round a bit. He told us not to tellmother or Ailie a word about where we'd been. Of course they couldn'tbe off knowin' that we'd been with him; but we were to stall them offby saying we'd been helping him with a bit of bush-work or anything wecould think off. 'It'll do no good, and your mother's quite miserableenough as it is, boys, ' he said. 'She'll know time enough, and maybebreak her heart over it, too. Poor Norah!'

Dashed if I ever heard father say a soft thing before. I couldn't 'abelieved it. I always thought he was ironbark outside and in. But heseemed real sorry for once. And I was near sayin', 'Why don't ye cut thewhole blessed lot, then, and come home and work steady and make us allcomfortable and happy?' But when I looked again his face was all changedand hard-like. 'Off you go, ' he says, with his old voice. 'Next time Iwant either of you I'll send Warrigal for you. '

And with that he walked off from the yard where we had been catching ourhorses, and never looked nigh us again. 

We rode away to the low end of the gully, and then we led the horsesup, foot by foot, and hard work it was--like climbing up the roof of ahouse. We were almost done when we got to the tableland at the top. 

We made our way to the yard, where there were the tracks of the cowsall round about it, but nothing but the wild horses had ever been theresince. 

'What a scrubby hole it is!' said Jim; 'I wonder how in the world theyever found out the way to the Hollow?'

'Some runaway Government men, I believe, so that half-caste chap toldme, and a gin [*] showed 'em the track down, and where to get water andeverything. They lived on kangaroos at first. Then, by degrees, theyused to crawl out by moonlight and collar a horse or two or a fewcattle. They managed to live there years and years; one died, one waskilled by the blacks; the last man showed it to the chaps that passedit on to Starlight. Warrigal's mother, or aunt or something, was the ginthat showed it to the first white men. '

 * A black woman. 

Chapter 7

It was pretty late that night when we got home, and poor mother andAileen were that glad to see us that they didn't ask too many questions. Mother would sit and look at the pair of us for ever so long withoutspeaking, and then the tears would come into her eyes and she'd turnaway her head. 

The old place looked very snug, clean, and comfortable, too, after allthe camping-out, and it was first-rate to have our own beds again. Thenthe milk and fresh butter, and the eggs and bacon--my word! how Jim didlay in; you'd have thought he was goin' on all night. 

'By George! home's a jolly place after all, ' he said. 'I am going tostay ever so long this time, and work like an old near-side poler--seeif I don't. Let's look at your hands, Aileen; my word, you've been doin'your share. '

'Indeed, has she, ' said mother. 'It's a shame, so it is, and her withtwo big brothers, too. '

'Poor Ailie, ' said Jim, 'she had to take an axe, had she, in her prettylittle hands; but she didn't cut all that wood that's outside the doorand I nearly broke my neck over, I'll go bail. '

'How do you know?' says she, smiling roguish-like. 'All the world mighthave been here for what you'd been the wiser--going away nobody knowswhere, and coming home at night like--like----'

'Bush-rangers, ' says I. 'Say it out; but we haven't turned out yet, ifthat's what you mean, Miss Marston. '

'I don't mean anything but what's kind and loving, you naughty boy, 'says she, throwing her arms about my neck; 'but why will you break ourhearts, poor mother's and mine, by going off in such a wild way andstaying away, as if you were doing something that you were ashamed of?'

'Women shouldn't ask questions, ' I said roughly. 'You'll know timeenough, and if you never know, perhaps it's all the better. '

Jim was alongside of mother by this time, lying down like a child on theold native dogskin rug that we tanned ourselves with wattle bark. Shehad her hand on his hair--thick and curly it was always from a child. She didn't say anything, but I could see the tears drip, drip down fromher face; her head was on Jim's shoulder, and by and by he put his armsround her neck. I went off to bed, I remember, and left them to it. 

Next morning Jim and I were up at sunrise and got in the milkers, as wealways did when we were at home. Aileen was up too. She had done all thedairying lately by herself. There were about a dozen cows to milk, andshe had managed it all herself every day that we were away; put up thecalves every afternoon, drove up the cows in the cold mornings, madethe butter, which she used to salt and put into a keg, and feed the pigswith the skim milk. It was rather hard work for her, but I never saw herequal for farm work--rough or smooth. And she used to manage to dressneat and look pretty all the time; not like some small settlers'daughters that I have seen, slouching about with a pair of Blucher bootson, no bonnet, a dirty frock, and a petticoat like a blanket rag--notbad-looking girls either--and their hair like a dry mop. No, Aileen wasalways neat and tidy, with a good pair of thick boots outside and a thinpair for the house when she'd done her work. 

She could frighten a wildish cow and bail up anything that would stayin a yard with her. She could ride like a bird and drive bullocks on apinch in a dray or at plough, chop wood, too, as well as here and therea one. But when she was in the house and regularly set down to hersewing she'd look that quiet and steady-going you'd think she was onlyfit to teach in a school or sell laces and gloves. 

And so she was when she was let work in her own way, but if she wascrossed or put upon, or saw anything going wrong, she'd hold up herhead and talk as straight as any man I ever saw. She'd a look just likefather when he'd made up his mind, only her way was always the rightway. What a difference it makes, doesn't it? And she was so handsomewith it. I've seen a goodish lot of women since I left the old place, let alone her that's helped to put me where I am, but I don't thinkI ever saw a girl that was a patch on Aileen for looks. She hada wonderful fair skin, and her eyes were large and soft like poormother's. When she was a little raised-like you'd see a pink flush comeon her cheeks like a peach blossom in September, and her eyes had abright startled look like a doe kangaroo when she jumps up and looksround. Her teeth were as white and even as a black gin's. The mouth wassomething like father's, and when she shut it up we boys always knewshe'd made up her mind, and wasn't going to be turned from it. But herheart was that good that she was always thinking of others and not ofherself. I believe--I know--she'd have died for any one she loved. Shehad more sense than all the rest of us put together. I've often thoughtif she'd been the oldest boy instead of me she'd have kept Jim straight, and managed to drive father out of his cross ways--that is, if any oneliving could have done it. As for riding, I have never seen any one thatcould sit a horse or handle him through rough, thick country like her. She could ride barebacked, or next to it, sitting sideways on nothingbut a gunny-bag, and send a young horse flying through scrub and rocks, or down ranges where you'd think a horse could hardly keep his feet. Wecould all ride a bit out of the common, if it comes to that. Better ifwe'd learned nothing but how to walk behind a plough, year in year out, like some of the folks in father's village in England, as he used totell us about when he was in a good humour. But that's all as people arereared, I suppose. We'd been used to the outside of a horse ever sincewe could walk almost, and it came natural to us. Anyhow, I think Aileenwas about the best of the lot of us at that, as in everything else. 

Well, for a bit all went on pretty well at home. Jim and I worked awaysteady, got in a tidy bit of crop, and did everything that lay in ourway right and regular. We milked the cows in the morning, and brought ina big stack of firewood and chopped as much as would last for a monthor two. We mended up the paddock fence, and tidied the garden. The oldplace hadn't looked so smart for many a day. 

When we came in at night old mother used to look that pleased and happywe couldn't help feeling better in our hearts. Aileen used to readsomething out of the paper that she thought might amuse us. I could readpretty fair, and so could Jim; but we were both lazy at it, and afterworking pretty hard all day didn't so much care about spelling out thelong words in the farming news or the stories they put in. All the same, it would have paid us better if we'd read a little more and put the'bullocking' on one side, at odd times. A man can learn as much out ofa book or a paper sometimes in an hour as will save his work for a week, or put him up to working to better purpose. I can see that now--toolate, and more's the pity. 

Anyhow, Aileen could read pretty near as fast as any one I ever saw, andshe used to reel it out for us, as we sat smoking over the fire, in away that kept us jolly and laughing till it was nearly turning-in time. Now and then George Storefield would come and stay an hour or two. He could read well; nearly as well as she could. Then he had alwayssomething to show her that she'd been asking about. His place was eightmiles off, but he'd always get his horse and go home, whatever the nightwas like. 

'I must be at my work in the morning, ' he'd say; 'it's more than halfa day gone if you lose that, and I've no half-days to spare, orquarter-days either. '

 . . . . . 

So we all got on first-rate, and anybody would have thought that therewasn't a more steady-going, hard-working, happy family in the colony. Nomore there wasn't, while it lasted. After all, what is there that's halfas good as being all right and square, working hard for the food youeat, and the sleep you enjoy, able to look all the world in the face, and afraid of nothing and nobody!

We were so quiet and comfortable till the winter was over and the springcoming on, till about September, that I almost began to believe we'dnever done anything in our lives we could be made to suffer for. 

Now and then, of course, I used to wake up in the night, and my thoughtswould go back to 'Terrible Hollow', that wonderful place; and one nightwith the unbranded cattle, and Starlight, with the blood dripping onto his horse's shoulder, and the half-caste, with his hawk's eyeand glittering teeth--father, with his gloomy face and dark words. Iwondered whether it was all a dream; whether I and Jim had been in atall; whether any of the 'cross-work' had been found out; and, if so, what would be done to me and Jim; most of all, though, whether fatherand Starlight were away after some 'big touch'; and, if so, where andwhat it was, and how soon we should hear of it. 

As for Jim, he was one of those happy-go-lucky fellows that didn'tbother himself about anything he didn't see or run against. I don'tthink it ever troubled him. It was the only bad thing he'd ever beenin. He'd been drawn in against his will, and I think he had made up hismind--pretty nearly--not to go in for any more. 

I have often seen Aileen talking to him, and they'd walk along in theevening when the work was done--he with his arm round her waist, and shelooking at him with that quiet, pleased face of hers, seeming so proudand fond of him, as if he'd been the little chap she used to leadabout and put on the old pony, and bring into the calf-pen when she wasmilking. I remember he had a fight with a little bull-calf, about a weekold, that came in with a wild heifer, and Aileen made as much of hispluck as if it had been a mallee scrubber. The calf baaed and buttedat Jim, as even the youngest of them will, if they've the wild bloodin 'em, and nearly upset him; he was only a bit of a toddler. But Jimpicked up a loose leg of a milking-stool, and the two went at it hammerand tongs. I could hardly stand for laughing, till the calf gave himbest and walked. 

Aileen pulled him out, and carried him in to mother, telling her that hewas the bravest little chap in the world; and I remember I got scoldedfor not going to help him. How these little things come back!

'I'm beginning to be afraid, ' says George, one evening, 'that it's goingto be a dry season. '

'There's plenty of time yet, ' says Jim, who always took the bright sideof things; 'it might rain towards the end of the month. '

'I was thinking the same thing, ' I said. 'We haven't had any rainto speak of for a couple of months, and that bit of wheat of ours isbeginning to go back. The oats look better. '

'Now I think of it, ' put in Jim, 'Dick Dawson came in from outside, andhe said things are shocking bad; all the frontage bare already, and thewater drying up. '

'It's always the way, ' I said, bitter-like. 'As soon as a poor man'sgot a chance of a decent crop, the season turns against him or prices godown, so that he never gets a chance. '

'It's as bad for the rich man, isn't it?' said George. 'It's God's will, and we can't make or mend things by complaining. '

'I don't know so much about that, ' I said sullenly. 'But it's not asbad for the rich man. Even if the squatters suffer by a drought and losetheir stock, they've more stock and money in the bank, or else credit tofall back on; while the like of us lose all we have in the world, and noone would lend us a pound afterwards to save our lives. '

'It's not quite so bad as that, ' said George. 'I shall lose my year'swork unless rain comes, and most of the cattle and horses besides; butI shall be able to get a few pounds to go on with, however the seasongoes. '

'Oh! if you like to bow and scrape to rich people, well and good, ' Isaid; 'but that's not my way. We have as good a right to our share ofthe land and some other good things as they have, and why should we bedone out of it?'

'If we pay for the land as they do, certainly, ' said George. 

'But why should we pay? God Almighty, I suppose, made the land and thepeople too, one to live on the other. Why should we pay for what is ourown? I believe in getting my share somehow. '

'That's a sort of argument that doesn't come out right, ' said George. 'How would you like another man to come and want to halve the farm withyou?'

'I shouldn't mind; I should go halves with some one else who had abigger one, ' I said. 'More money too, more horses, more sheep, a biggerhouse! Why should he have it and not me?'

'That's a lazy man's argument, and--well, not an honest man's, ' saidGeorge, getting up and putting on his cabbage-tree. 'I can't sit andhear you talk such rot. Nobody can work better than you and Jim, whenyou like. I wonder you don't leave such talk to fellows like Frowser, that's always spouting at the Shearers' Arms. '

'Nonsense or not, if a dry season comes and knocks all our work over, Ishall help myself to some one's stuff that has more than he knows whatto do with. '

'Why can't we all go shearing, and make as much as will keep us for sixmonths?' said George. 'I don't know what we'd do without the squatters. '

'Nor I either; more ways than one; but Jim and I are going shearing nextweek. So perhaps there won't be any need for "duffing" after all. '

'Oh, Dick!' said Aileen, 'I can't bear to hear you make a joke of thatkind of thing. Don't we all know what it leads to! Wouldn't it be betterto live on dry bread and be honest than to be full of money and neverknow the day when you'd be dragged to gaol?'

'I've heard all that before; but ain't there lots of people that havemade their money by all sorts of villainy, that look as well as thebest, and never see a gaol?'

'They're always caught some day, ' says poor Aileen, sobbing, 'and what adreadful life of anxiety they must lead!'

'Not at all, ' I said. 'Look at Lucksly, Squeezer, and Frying-pan Jack. Everybody knows how they got their stock and their money. See how theylive. They've got stations, and public-house and town property, and theyget richer every year. I don't think it pays to be too honest in a drycountry. '

'You're a naughty boy, Dick; isn't he, Jim?' she said, smiling throughher tears. 'But he doesn't mean half what he says, does he?'

'Not he, ' says Jim; 'and very likely we'll have lots of rain after all. '

Chapter 8

The 'big squatter', as he was called on our side of the country, was Mr. Falkland. He was an Englishman that had come young to the colony, andworked his way up by degrees. He had had no money when he first came, people said; indeed, he often said so himself. He was not proud, at anyrate in that way, for he was not above telling a young fellow that heshould never be downhearted because he hadn't a coat to his back or ashilling in his pocket, because he, Herbert Falkland, had known whatit was to be without either. 'This was the best country in the wholeworld, ' he used to say, 'for a gentleman who was poor or a working man. 'The first sort could always make an independence if they were moderatelystrong, liked work, and did not drink. There were very few countrieswhere idle, unsteady people got rich. 'As for the poor man, he was thereal rich man in Australia; high wages, cheap food, lodging, clothing, travelling. What more did he want? He could save money, live happily, and die rich, if he wasn't a fool or a rogue. Unfortunately, these lastwere highly popular professions; and many people, high and low, belongedto them here--and everywhere else. '

We were all well up in this kind of talk, because for the last two orthree years, since we had begun to shear pretty well, we had alwaysshorn at his shed. He was one of those gentlemen--and he was agentleman, if ever there was one--that takes a deal of notice of hisworking hands, particularly if they were young. Jim he took a greatfancy to the first moment he saw him. He didn't care so much about me. 

'You're a sulky young dog, Richard Marston, ' he used to say. 'I'm notsure that you'll come to any good; and though I don't like to say allI hear about your father before you, I'm afraid he doesn't teach youanything worth knowing. But Jim there's a grand fellow; if he'd beencaught young and weaned from all of your lot, he'd have been an honourto the land he was born in. He's too good for you all. '

'Every one of you gentlemen wants to be a small God Almighty, ' I saidimpudently. 'You'd like to break us all in and put us in yokes and bows, like a lot of working bullocks. '

'You mistake me, my boy, and all the rest of us who are worth callingmen, let alone gentlemen. We are your best friends, and would help youin every way if you'd only let us. '

'I don't see so much of that. '

'Because you often fight against your own good. We should like to seeyou all have farms of your own--to be all well taught and able to makethe best of your lives--not driven to drink, as many of you are, becauseyou have no notion of any rational amusement, and anything between hardwork and idle dissipation. '

'And suppose you had all this power, ' I said--for if I was afraid offather there wasn't another man living that could overcrow me--'don'tyou think you'd know the way to keep all the good things for yourselves?Hasn't it always been so?'

'I see your argument, ' he said, quite quiet and reasonable, just as if Ihad been a swell like himself--that was why he was unlike any other manI ever knew--'and it is a perfectly fair way of putting it. But yourclass might, I think, always rely upon there being enough kindness andwisdom in ours to prevent that state of things. Unfortunately, neitherside trusts the other enough. And now the bell is going to ring, Ithink. '

Jim and I stopped at Boree shed till all the sheep were cut out. It payswell if the weather is pretty fair, and it isn't bad fun when there'stwenty or thirty chaps of the right sort in the shearers' hut; there'salways some fun going on. Shearers work pretty hard, and as they buytheir own rations generally, they can afford to live well. After a hardday's shearing--that is, from five o'clock in the morning to seven atnight, going best pace all the time, every man working as hard as if hewas at it for his life--one would think a man would be too tired to doanything. But we were mostly strong and hearty, and at that age a mantakes a deal of killing; so we used to have a little card-playing atnight to pass away the time. 

Very few of the fellows had any money to spend. They couldn't get anyeither until shearing was over and they were paid off; but they'd getsome one who could write to scribble a lot of I O U's, and they did aswell. 

We used to play 'all-fours' and 'loo', and now and then an Americangame which some of the fellows had picked up. It was strange how soon wemanaged to get into big stakes. I won at first, and then Jim and I beganto lose, and had such a lot of I O U's out that I was afraid we'd haveno money to take home after shearing. Then I began to think what a foolI'd been to play myself and drag Jim into it, for he didn't want to playat first. 

One day I got a couple of letters from home--one from Aileen and anotherin a strange hand. It had come to our little post-office, and Aileen hadsent it on to Boree. 

When I opened it there were a few lines, with father's name at thebottom. He couldn't write, so I made sure that Starlight had writtenit for him. He was quite well, it said; and to look out for him aboutChristmas time; he might come home then, or send for us; to stop atBoree if we could get work, and keep a couple of horses in good trim, ashe might want us. A couple of five-pound notes fell out of the letter asI opened it. 

When I looked at them first I felt a kind of fear. I knew what they camefrom. And I had a sort of feeling that we should be better without them. However, the devil was too strong for me. Money's a tempting thing, whether it's notes or gold, especially when a man's in debt. I had begunto think the fellows looked a little cool on us the last three or fournights, as our losses were growing big. 

So I gave Jim his share; and after tea, when we sat down again, thereweren't more than a dozen of us that were in the card racket. I flungdown my note, and Jim did his, and told them that we owed to take thechange out of that and hand us over their paper for the balance. 

They all stared, for such a thing hadn't been seen since the shearingbegan. Shearers, as a rule, come from their homes in the settleddistricts very bare. They are not very well supplied with clothes; theirhorses are poor and done up; and they very seldom have a note in theirpockets, unless they have managed to sell a spare horse on the journey. 

So we were great men for the time, looked at by the others with wonderand respect. We were fools enough to be pleased with it. Strangely, too, our luck turned from that minute, and it ended in our winning not onlyour own back, but more than as much more from the other men. 

I don't think Mr. Falkland liked these goings on. He wouldn't haveallowed cards at all if he could have helped it. He was a man that hatedwhat was wrong, and didn't value his own interest a pin when it came inthe way. However, the shearing hut was our own, in a manner of speaking, and as long as we shore clean and kept the shed going the overseer, Mr. M'Intyre, didn't trouble his head much about our doings in the hut. He was anxious to get done with the shearing, to get the wool intothe bales before the dust came in, and the grass seed ripened, and theclover burrs began to fall. 

'Why should ye fash yoursel', ' I heard him say once to Mr. Falkland, 'aboot these young deevils like the Marstons? They're as good's readymoney in auld Nick's purse. It's bred and born and welded in them. Ye'lljust have the burrs and seeds amang the wool if ye keep losing a smartshearer for the sake o' a wheen cards and dice; and ye'll mak' nae heedof convairtin' thae young caterans ony mair than ye'll change a Norrowayfalcon into a barn-door chuckie. '

I wonder if what he said was true--if we couldn't help it; if it was inour blood? It seems like it; and yet it's hard lines to think a fellowmust grow up and get on the cross in spite of himself, and come to thegallows-foot at last, whether he likes it or not. The parson here isn'tbad at all. He's a man and a gentleman, too; and he's talked and readto me by the hour. I suppose some of us chaps are like the poor stupidtribes that the Israelites found in Canaan, only meant to live for a bitand then to be rubbed out to make room for better people. 

When the shearing was nearly over we had a Saturday afternoon toourselves. We had finished all the sheep that were in the shed, and oldM'Intyre didn't like to begin a fresh flock. So we got on our horses andtook a ride into the township just for the fun of the thing, and fora little change. The horses had got quite fresh with the rest andthe spring grass. Their coats were shining, and they all looked verydifferent from what they did when we first came. Our two were not sopoor when they came, so they looked the best of the lot, and jumpedabout in style when we mounted. Ah! only to think of a good horse. 

All the men washed themselves and put on clean clothes. Then we had ourdinner and about a dozen of us started off for the town. 

Poor old Jim, how well he looked that day! I don't think you could picka young fellow anywhere in the countryside that was a patch on him forgood looks and manliness, somewhere about six foot or a little over, asstraight as a rush, with a bright blue eye that was always laughing andtwinkling, and curly dark brown hair. No wonder all the girls used tothink so much of him. He could do anything and everything that a mancould do. He was as strong as a young bull, and as active as a rockwallaby--and ride! Well, he sat on his horse as if he was born on one. With his broad shoulders and upright easy seat he was a regular pictureon a good horse. 

And he had a good one under him to-day; a big, brown, resolute, well-bred horse he had got in a swap because the man that had him wasafraid of him. Now that he had got a little flesh on his bones he lookedsomething quite out of the common. 'A deal too good for a poor man, andhim honest, ' as old M'Intyre said. 

But Jim turned on him pretty sharp, and said he had got the horse in afair deal, and had as much right to a good mount as any one else--superor squatter, he didn't care who he was. 

And Mr. Falkland took Jim's part, and rather made Mr. M'Intyre out inthe wrong for saying what he did. The old man didn't say much more, onlyshook his head, saying--

'Ah, ye're a grand laddie, and buirdly, and no that thrawn, either--likeye, Dick, ye born deevil, ' looking at me. 'But I misdoot sair ye'll diewi' your boots on. There's a smack o' Johnnie Armstrong in the glint o'yer e'e. Ye'll be to dree yer weird, there's nae help for't. '

'What's all that lingo, Mr. M'Intyre?' called out Jim, all good-naturedagain. 'Is it French or Queensland blacks' yabber? Blest if I understanda word of it. But I didn't want to be nasty, only I am regular shook onthis old moke, I believe, and he's as square as Mr. Falkland's dogcarthorse. '

'Maybe ye bocht him fair eneugh. I'll no deny you. I saw the receiptmysel'. But where did yon lang-leggit, long-lockit, Fish Rivermoss-trooping callant win haud o' him? Answer me that, Jeems. '

'That says nothing, ' answered Jim. 'I'm not supposed to trace back everyhorse in the country and find out all the people that owned him since hewas a foal. He's mine now, and mine he'll be till I get a better one. '

'A contuma-acious and stiff-necked generation, ' said the old man, walking off and shaking his head. 'And yet he's a fine laddie; a gra-andladdie wad he be with good guidance. It's the Lord's doing, nae doot, and we daurna fault it; it's wondrous in our een. '

That was the way old Mac always talked. Droll lingo, wasn't it?

Chapter 9

Well, away we went to this township. Bundah was the name of it; not thatthere was anything to do or see when we got there. It was the regularup-country village, with a public-house, a store, a pound, and ablacksmith's shop. However, a public-house is not such a bad place--atany rate it's better than nothing when a fellow's young and red-hot foranything like a bit of fun, or even a change. Some people can work awayday after day, and year after year, like a bullock in a team or a horsein a chaff-cutting machine. It's all the better for them if they can, though I suppose they never enjoy themselves except in a cold-bloodedsort of way. But there's other men that can't do that sort of thing, andit's no use talking. They must have life and liberty and a free range. There's some birds, and animals too, that either pine in a cage or killthemselves, and I suppose it's the same way with some men. They can'tstand the cage of what's called honest labour, which means workingfor some one else for twenty or thirty years, never having a day toyourself, or doing anything you like, and saving up a trifle for yourold age when you can't enjoy it. I don't wonder youngsters break tracesand gallop off like a colt out of a team. 

Besides, sometimes there's a good-looking girl even at a bush public, the daughter or the barmaid, and it's odd, now, what a difference thatmakes. There's a few glasses of grog going, a little noisy, rattlingtalk, a few smiles and a saucy answer or two from the girl, a look atthe last newspaper, or a bit of the town news from the landlord; he'salways time to read. Hang him--I mean confound him--for he's generally asly old spider who sucks us fellows pretty dry, and then don't care whatbecomes of us. Well, it don't amount to much, but it's life--the onlytaste of it that chaps like us are likely to get. And people may talk asmuch as they like; boys, and men too, will like it, and take to it, andhanker after it, as long as the world lasts. There's danger in it, andmisery, and death often enough comes of it, but what of that? If a manwants a swim on the seashore he won't stand all day on the beach becausehe may be drowned or snapped up by a shark, or knocked against a rock, or tired out and drawn under by the surf. No, if he's a man he'll jumpin and enjoy himself all the more because the waves are high and thewaters deep. So it was very good fun to us, simple as it might soundto some people. It was pleasant to be bowling along over the firm greenturf, along the plain, through the forest, gully, and over the creek. Our horses were fresh, and we had a scurry or two, of course; but therewasn't one that could hold a candle to Jim's brown horse. He was along-striding, smooth goer, but he got over the ground in wonderfulstyle. He could jump, too, for Jim put him over a big log fence or two, and he sailed over them like a forester buck over the head of a fallenwattle. 

Well, we'd had our lark at the Bundah Royal Hotel, and were coming hometo tea at the station, all in good spirits, but sober enough, when, justas we were crossing one of the roads that came through the run--over the'Pretty Plain', as they called it--we heard a horse coming along bestpace. When we looked who should it be but Miss Falkland, the owner'sonly daughter. 

She was an only child, and the very apple of her father's eye, you maybe sure. The shearers mostly knew her by sight, because she had takena fancy to come down with her father a couple of times to see the shedwhen we were all in full work. 

A shed's not exactly the best place for a young lady to come into. Shearers are rough in their language now and then. But every manliked and respected Mr. Falkland, so we all put ourselves on our bestbehaviour, and the two or three flash fellows who had no sense ordecent feeling were warned that if they broke out at all they would getsomething to remember it by. 

But when we saw that beautiful, delicate-looking creature stepping downthe boards between the two rows of shearers, most of them stripped totheir jerseys and working like steam-engines, looking curiously andpitifully at the tired men and the patient sheep, with her great, soft, dark eyes and fair white face like a lily, we began to think we'd heardof angels from heaven, but never seen one before. 

Just as she came opposite Jim, who was trying to shear sheep and sheepwith the 'ringer' of the shed, who was next on our right, the wether hewas holding kicked, and knocking the shears out of his hand, sent thempoint down against his wrist. One of the points went right in, andthough it didn't cut the sinews, as luck would have it, the point stuckout at the other side; out spurted the blood, and Jim was just going tolet out when he looked up and saw Miss Falkland looking at him, with herbeautiful eyes so full of pity and surprise that he could have had hishand chopped off, so he told me afterwards, rather than vex her for amoment. So he shut up his mouth and ground his teeth together, for itwas no joke in the way of pain, and the blood began to run like a blindcreek after a thunderstorm. 

'Oh! poor fellow. What a dreadful cut! Look, papa!' she cried out. 'Hadn't something better be bound round it? How it bleeds! Does it painmuch?'

'Not a bit, miss!' said Jim, standing up like a schoolboy going to sayhis lesson. 'That is, it doesn't matter if it don't stop my shearing. '

'Tar!' sings out my next-door neighbour. 'Here, boy; tar wanted for No. 36. That'll put it all right, Jim; it's only a scratch. '

'You mind your shearing, my man, ' said Mr. Falkland quietly. 'I don'tknow whether Mr. M'Intyre will quite approve of that last sheep ofyours. This is rather a serious wound. The best thing is to bind it upat once. '

Before any one could say another word Miss Falkland had whipped out hersoft fine cambric handkerchief and torn it in two. 

'Hold up your hand, ' she said. 'Now, papa, lend me yours. ' With thelast she cleared the wound of the flowing blood, and then neatly andskilfully bound up the wrist firmly with the strips of cambric. This shefurther protected by her father's handkerchief, which she helped herselfto and finally stopped the blood with. 

Jim kept looking at her small white hands all the time she was doingit. Neither of us had ever seen such before--the dainty skin, the pinknails, the glittering rings. 

'There, ' she said, 'I don't think you ought to shear any more to-day;it might bring on inflammation. I'll send to know how it gets onto-morrow. '

'No, miss; my grateful thanks, miss, ' said Jim, opening his eyes andlooking as if he'd like to drop down on his knees and pray to her. 'Ishall never forget your goodness, Miss Falkland, if I live till I'm ahundred. ' Then Jim bent his head a bit--I don't suppose he ever madea bow in his life before--and then drew himself up as straight as asoldier, and Miss Falkland made a kind of bow and smile to us all andpassed out. 

Jim did shear all the same that afternoon, though the tally wasn't anygreat things. 'I can't go and lie down in a bunk in the men's hut, ' hesaid; 'I must chance it, ' and he did. Next day it was worse and verypainful, but Jim stuck to the shears, though he used to turn white withthe pain at times, and I thought he'd faint. However, it gradually gotbetter, and, except a scar, Jim's hand was as good as ever. 

Jim sent back Mr. Falkland's handkerchief after getting the cook to washit and iron it out with a bit of a broken axletree; but the strips ofwhite handkerchief--one had C. F. In the corner--he put away in hisswag, and made some foolish excuse when I laughed at him about it. 

She sent down a boy from the house next day to ask how Jim's hand was, and the day after that, but she never came to the shed any more. So wedidn't see her again. 

So it was this young lady that we saw coming tearing down the back road, as they called it, that led over the Pretty Plain. A good way behind wesaw Mr. Falkland, but he had as much chance of coming up with her as acattle dog of catching a 'brush flyer'. 

The stable boy, Billy Donnellan, had told us (of course, like all thosesort of youngsters, he was fond of getting among the men and listeningto them talk) all about Miss Falkland's new mare. 

She was a great beauty and thoroughbred. The stud groom had boughther out of a travelling mob from New England when she was dog-poor andhardly able to drag herself along. Everybody thought she was going to bethe best lady's horse in the district; but though she was as quiet asa lamb at first she had begun to show a nasty temper lately, and to getvery touchy. 'I don't care about chestnuts myself, ' says Master Billy, smoking a short pipe as if he was thirty; 'they've a deal of temper, andshe's got too much white in her eye for my money. I'm afeard she'll dosome mischief afore we've done with her; and Miss Falkland's that gameas she won't have nothing done to her. I'd ride the tail off her butwhat I'd bring her to, if I had my way. '

So this was the brute that had got away with Miss Falkland, the daywe were coming back from Bundah. Some horses, and a good many men andwomen, are all pretty right as long as they're well kept under andstarved a bit at odd times. But give them an easy life and four feeds ofcorn a day, and they're troublesome brutes, and mischievous too. 

It seems this mare came of a strain that had turned out more devils andkilled more grooms and breakers than any other in the country. She wasa Troubadour, it seems; there never was a Troubadour yet that wouldn'tbuck and bolt, and smash himself and his rider, if he got a fright, orhis temper was roused. Men and women, horses and dogs, are very muchalike. I know which can talk best. As to the rest, I don't know whetherthere's so much for us to be proud of. 

It seems that this cranky wretch of a mare had been sideling andfidgeting when Mr. Falkland and his daughter started for their ride; buthad gone pretty fairly--Miss Falkland, like my sister Aileen, could rideanything in reason--when suddenly a dead limb dropped off a tree closeto the side of the road. 

I believe she made one wild plunge, and set to; she propped and reared, but Miss Falkland sat her splendidly and got her head up. When she sawshe could do nothing that way, she stretched out her head and went offas hard as she could lay legs to the ground. 

She had one of those mouths that are not so bad when horses are goingeasy, but get quite callous when they are over-eager and excited. Anyhow, it was like trying to stop a mail-coach going down MountVictoria with the brake off. 

So what we saw was the wretch of a mare coming along as if the devil wasafter her, and heading straight across the plain at its narrowest part;it wasn't more than half-a-mile wide there, in fact, it was more like aflat than a plain. The people about Boree didn't see much open country, so they made a lot out of what they had. 

The mare, like some women when they get their monkey up, was clean outof her senses, and I don't believe anything could have held her under ahide rope with a turn round a stockyard post. This was what she wanted, and if it had broken her infernal neck so much the better. 

Miss Falkland was sitting straight and square, with her hands down, leaning a bit back, and doing her level best to stop the brute. Her hatwas off and her hair had fallen down and hung down her back--plenty ofit there was, too. The mare's neck was stretched straight out; her mouthwas like a deal board, I expect, by that time. 

We didn't sit staring at her all the time, you bet. We could see the boyever so far off. We gathered up our reins and went after her, not in ahurry, but just collecting ourselves a bit to see what would be the bestway to wheel the brute and stop her. 

Jim's horse was far and away the fastest, and he let out to head themare off from a creek that was just in front and at the end of theplain. 

'By George!' said one of the men--a young fellow who lived near theplace--'the mare's turning off her course, and she's heading straightfor the Trooper's Downfall, where the policeman was killed. If she goesover that, they'll be smashed up like a matchbox, horse and rider. '

'What's that?' I said, closing up alongside of him. We were all doingour best, and were just in the line to back up Jim, who looked as if hewas overhauling the mare fast. 

'Why, it's a bluff a hundred feet deep--a straight drop--and rocks atthe bottom. She's making as straight as a bee-line for it now, blasther!'

'And Jim don't know it, ' I said; 'he's closing up to her, but he doesn'tcalculate to do it for a quarter of a mile more; he's letting her takeit out of herself. '

'He'll never catch her in time, ' said the young chap. 'My God! it's anawful thing, isn't it? and a fine young lady like her--so kind to uschaps as she was. '

'I'll see if I can make Jim hear, ' I said, for though I looked coolI was as nearly mad as I could be to think of such a girl being lostbefore our eyes. 'No, I can't do that, but I'll TELEGRAPH. '

Chapter 10

Now Jim and I had had many a long talk together about what we should doin case we wanted to signal to each other very pressing. We thought thetime might come some day when we might be near enough to sign, but notto speak. So we hit upon one or two things a little out of the common. 

The first idea was, in case of one wanting to give the other the officethat he was to look out his very brightest for danger, and not to trustto what appeared to be the state of affairs, the sign was to hold upyour hat or cap straight over your head. If the danger threatened on theleft, to shift to that side. If it was very pressing and on the jump, asit were, quite unexpected, and as bad as bad could be, the signalman wasto get up on the saddle with his knees and turn half round. 

We could do this easy enough and a lot of circus tricks besides. Howhad we learned them? Why, in the long days we had spent in the saddletailing the milkers and searching after lost horses for many a night. 

As luck would have it Jim looked round to see how we were getting on, and up went my cap. I could see him turn his head and keep watchingme when I put on the whole box and dice of the telegraph business. He'dropped', I could see. He took up the brown horse, and made such a rushto collar the mare that showed he intended to see for himself what thedanger was. The cross-grained jade! She was a well-bred wretch, and behanged to her! Went as if she wanted to win the Derby and gave Jim allhe knew to challenge her. We could see a line of timber just ahead ofher, and that Jim was riding for his life. 

'By----! they'll both be over it, ' said the young shearer. 'They can'tstop themselves at that pace, and they must be close up now. '

'He's neck and neck, ' I said. 'Stick to her, Jim, old man!'

We were all close together now. Several of the men knew the place, andthe word had been passed round. 

No one spoke for a few seconds. We saw the two horses rush up at topspeed to the very edge of the timber. 

'By Jove! they're over. No! he's reaching for her rein. It's no use. Now--now! She's saved! Oh, my God! they're both right. By the Lord, welldone! Hurrah! One cheer more for Jim Marston!'

 . . . . . 

It was all right. We saw Jim suddenly reach over as the horses weregoing stride and stride; saw him lift Miss Falkland from her saddle asif she had been a child and place her before him; saw the brown horseprop, and swing round on his haunches in a way that showed he hadnot been called the crack 'cutting-out' horse on a big cattle run fornothing. We saw Jim jump to the ground and lift the young lady down. Wesaw only one horse. 

Three minutes after Mr. Falkland overtook us, and we rode up together. His face was white, and his dry lips couldn't find words at first. Buthe managed to say to Jim, when we got up--

'You have saved my child's life, James Marston, and if I forget theservice may God in that hour forget me. You are a noble fellow. You mustallow me to show my gratitude in some way. '

'You needn't thank me so out and out as all that, Mr. Falkland, ' saidJim, standing up very straight and looking at the father first, and thenat Miss Falkland, who was pale and trembling, not altogether from fear, but excitement, and trying to choke back the sobs that would come outnow and then. 'I'd risk life and limb any day before Miss Falkland'sfinger should be scratched, let alone see her killed before my eyes. Iwonder if there's anything left of the mare, poor thing; not that shedon't deserve it all, and more. '

Here we all walked forward to the deep creek bank. A yard or two fartherand the brown horse and his burden must have gone over the terribledrop, as straight as a plumb-line, on to the awful rocks below. We couldsee where the brown had torn up the turf as he struck all four hoofsdeep into it at once. Indeed, he had been newly shod, a freak of Jim'sabout a bet with a travelling blacksmith. Then the other tracks, thelong score on the brink--over the brink--where the frightened, maddenedanimal had made an attempt to alter her speed, all in vain, and hadplunged over the bank and the hundred feet of fall. 

We peered over, and saw a bright-coloured mass among the rocksbelow--very still. Just at the time one of the ration-carriers came bywith a spring cart. Mr. Falkland lifted his daughter in and took thereins, leaving his horse to be ridden home by the ration-carrier. As forus we rode back to the shearers' hut, not quite so fast as we came, withJim in the middle. He did not seem inclined to talk much. 

'It's lucky I turned round when I did, Dick, ' he said at last, 'and sawyou making the "danger-look-out-sharp" signal. I couldn't think what thedickens it was. I was so cocksure of catching the mare in half-a-milefarther that I couldn't help wondering what it was all about. Anyhow, I knew we agreed it was never to be worked for nothing, so thought thebest thing I could do was to call in the mare, and see if I couldfind out anything then. When I got alongside, I could see that MissFalkland's face was that white that something must be up. It weren't themare she was afraid of. She was coming back to her. It took something tofrighten her, I knew. So it must be something I did not know, or didn'tsee. 

'"What is it, Miss Falkland?" I said. 

'"Oh!" she cried out, "don't you know? Another fifty yards and we'll beover the downfall where the trooper was killed. Oh, my poor father!"

'"Don't be afraid, " I said. "We'll not go over if I can help it. "

'So I reached over and got hold of the reins. I pulled and jerked. She said her hands were cramped, and no wonder. Pulling double for afour-mile heat is no joke, even if a man's in training. Fancy a woman, a young girl, having to sit still and drag at a runaway horse all thetime. I couldn't stop the brute; she was boring like a wild bull. Sojust as we came pretty close I lifted Miss Falkland off the saddle andyelled at old Brownie as if I had been on a cattle camp, swinging roundto the near side at the same time. Round he came like one o'clock. Icould see the mare make one prop to stop herself, and then go flyingright through the air, till I heard a beastly "thud" at the bottom. 

'Miss Falkland didn't faint, though she turned white and then red, andtrembled like a leaf when I lifted her down, and looked up at me with asweet smile, and said--

'"Jim, you have paid me for binding up your wrist, haven't you? You havesaved me from a horrible death, and I shall think of you as a brave andnoble fellow all the days of my life. "

'What could I say?' said Jim. 'I stared at her like a fool. "I'd havegone over the bank with you, Miss Falkland, " I said, "if I could nothave saved you. "

'"Well, I'm afraid some of my admirers would have stopped short of that, James, " she said. She did indeed. And then Mr. Falkland and all of youcame up. '

'I say, Jim, ' said one of the young fellows, 'your fortune's made. Mr. Falkland 'll stand a farm, you may be sure, for this little fakement. '

'And I say, Jack, ' says old Jim, very quiet like, 'I've told you all theyarn, and if there's any chaff about it after this the cove will have tosee whether he's best man or me; so don't make any mistake now. '

There was no more chaff. They weren't afraid. There were two or threeof them pretty smart with their hands, and not likely to take much fromanybody. But Jim was a heavy weight and could hit like a horse kicking;so they thought it wasn't good enough, and left him alone. 

Next day Mr. Falkland came down and wanted to give Jim a cheque for ahundred; but he wouldn't hear of so much as a note. Then he said he'dgive him a billet on the run--make him under overseer; after a bit buya farm for him and stock it. No! Jim wouldn't touch nothing or take abillet on the place. He wouldn't leave his family, he said. And as fortaking money or anything else for saving Miss Falkland's life, it wasridiculous to think of it. There wasn't a man of the lot in the shed, down to the tarboy, that wouldn't have done the same, or tried to. Allthat was in it was that his horse was the fastest. 

'It's not a bad thing for a poor man to have a fast horse now and then, is it, Mr. Falkland?' he said, looking up and smiling, just like a boy. He was very shy, was poor Jim. 

'I don't grudge a poor man a good horse or anything else he likes tohave or enjoy. You know that, all of you. It's the fear I have of theeffect of the dishonest way that horses of value are come by, and thenet of roguery that often entangles fine young fellows like you and yourbrother; that's what I fear, ' said Mr. Falkland, looking at the pair ofus so kind and pitiful like. 

I looked him in the face, though I felt I could not say he was wrong. I felt, too, just then, as if I could have given all the world to beafraid of no man's opinion. 

What a thing it is to be perfectly honest and straight--to be able tolook the whole world in the face!

But if more gentlemen were like Mr. Falkland I do really believe no onewould rob them for very shame's sake. When shearing was over we were allpaid up--shearers, washers, knock-about men, cooks, and extra shepherds. Every soul about the place except Mr. M'Intyre and Mr. Falkland seemedto have got a cheque and a walking-ticket at the same time. Away theywent, like a lot of boys out of school; and half of 'em didn't show asmuch sense either. As for me and Jim we had no particular wish to gohome before Christmas. So as there's always contracts to be let abouta big run like Banda we took a contract for some bush work, and went atit. Mr. M'Intyre looked quite surprised. But Mr. Falkland praised us up, and was proud we were going to turn over a new leaf. 

Nobody could say at that time we didn't work. Fencing, dam-making, horse-breaking, stock-riding, from making hay to building a shed, allbushwork came easy enough to us, Jim in particular; he took a pleasurein it, and was never happier than when he'd had a real tearing day'swork and was settling himself after his tea to a good steady smoke. Agreat smoker he'd come to be. He never was much for drinking exceptnow and again, and then he could knock it off as easy as any man I everseen. Poor old Jim! He was born good and intended to be so, like mother. Like her, his luck was dead out in being mixed up with a lot like ours. 

One day we were out at the back making some lambing yards. We were abouttwenty miles from the head station and had about finished the job. Wewere going in the next day. We had been camping in an old shepherd's hutand had been pretty jolly all by ourselves. There was first-rate feedfor our horses, as the grass was being saved for the lambing season. Jimwas in fine spirits, and as we had plenty of good rations and first-ratetobacco we made ourselves pretty comfortable. 

'What a jolly thing it is to have nothing on your mind!' Jim used tosay. 'I hadn't once, and what a fine time it was! Now I'm always wakingup with a start and expecting to see a policeman or that infernalhalf-caste. He's never far off when there's villainy on. Some fine dayhe'll sell us all, I really do believe. '

'If he don't somebody else will; but why do you pitch upon him? Youdon't like him somehow; I don't see that he's worse than any other. Besides, we haven't done anything much to have a reward put on us. '

'No! that's to come, ' answered Jim, very dismally for him. 'I don't seewhat else is to come of it. Hist! isn't that a horse's step coming thisway? Yes, and a man on him, too. '

It was a bright night, though only the stars were out; but the weatherwas that clear that you could see ever so well and hear ever so faralso. Jim had a blackfellow's hearing; his eyes were like a hawk's; hecould see in about any light, and read tracks like a printed book. 

I could hear nothing at first; then I heard a slight noise a good wayoff, and a stick breaking every now and then. 

'Talk of the devil!' growled Jim, 'and here he comes. I believe that'sMaster Warrigal, infernal scoundrel that he is. Of course he's got amessage from our respectable old dad or Starlight, asking us to put ourheads in a noose for them again. '

'How do you know?'

'I know it's that ambling horse he used to ride, ' says Jim. 'I can makeout his sideling kind of way of using his legs. All amblers do that. '

'You're right, ' I said, after listening for a minute. 'I can hear theregular pace, different from a horse's walk. '

'How does he know we're here, I wonder?' says Jim. 

'Some of the telegraphs piped us, I suppose, ' I answered. 'I begin towish they forgot us altogether. '

'No such luck, ' says Jim. 'Let's keep dark and see what this black snakeof a Warrigal will be up to. I don't expect he'll ride straight up tothe door. '

He was right. The horse hoofs stopped just inside a thick bit of scrub, just outside the open ground on which the hut stood. After a few secondswe heard the cry of the mopoke. It's not a cheerful sound at the dead ofnight, and now, for some reason or other, it affected Jim and me inmuch the same manner. I remembered the last time I had heard the birdat home, just before we started over for Terrible Hollow, and it seemedunlucky. Perhaps we were both a little nervous; we hadn't drunk anythingbut tea for weeks. We drank it awfully black and strong, and a great lotof it. 

Anyhow, as we heard the quick light tread of the horse pacing in histwo-feet-on-one-side way over the sandy, thin-grassed soil, every momentcoming nearer and nearer, and this queer dismal-voiced bird hooting itshoarse deep notes out of the dark tree that swished and sighed-likein front of the sandhill, a queer feeling came over both of us thatsomething unlucky was on the boards for us. We felt quite relieved whenthe horse's footsteps stopped. After a minute or so we could see a darkform creeping towards the hut. 

Chapter 11

Warrigal left his horse at the edge of the timber, for fear he mightwant him in a hurry, I suppose. He was pretty 'fly', and never threwaway a chance as long as he was sober. He could drink a bit, like therest of us, now and then--not often--but when he did it made a regulardevil of him--that is, it brought the devil out that lives low down inmost people's hearts. He was a worse one than usual, Jim said. He sawhim once in one of his break-outs, and heard him boast of something he'ddone. Jim never liked him afterwards. For the matter of that he hatedJim and me too. The only living things he cared about were Starlight andthe three-cornered weed he rode, that had been a 'brumbee', and wouldn'tlet any one touch him, much less ride him, but himself. How he usedto snort if a stranger came near him! He could kick the eye out of amosquito, and bite too, if he got the chance. 

As for Warrigal, Starlight used to knock him down like a log if hedidn't please him, but he never offered to turn upon him. He seemedto like it, and looked regular put out once when Starlight hurt hisknuckles against his hard skull. 

Us he didn't like, as I said before--why, I don't know--nor we him. Likes and dislikes are curious things. People hardly know the rights ofthem. But if you take a regular strong down upon a man or woman when youfirst see 'em it's ten to one that you'll find some day as you've goodreason for it. We couldn't say what grounds we had for hating the sightof Warrigal neither, for he was as good a tracker as ever followed manor beasts. He could read all the signs of the bush like a printed book. He could ride any horse in the world, and find his way, day or night, toany place he'd ever once been to in his life. 

Sometimes we should have been hard pushed when we were making acrosscountry at night only for him. Hour after hour he'd ride ahead throughscrub or forest, up hill or down dale, with that brute of a horse ofhis--he called him 'Bilbah'--ambling away, till our horses, exceptRainbow, used to shake the lives out of us jogging. I believe he did iton purpose. 

He was a fine shot, and could catch fish and game in all sorts of waysthat came in handy when we had to keep dark. He had pluck enough, and could fight a pretty sharp battle with his fists if he wasn'toverweighted. There were white men that didn't at all find him a goodthing if they went to bully him. He tried it on with Jim once, but heknocked the seven senses out of him inside of three rounds, and thatsatisfied him. He pretended to make up, but I was always expecting himto play us some dog's trick yet. Anyway, so far he was all right, andas long as Starlight and us were mixed up together, he couldn't hurt onewithout the other. He came gliding up to the old hut in the dull lightby bits of moves, just as if he'd been a bush that had changed itsplace. We pretended to be asleep near the fire. 

He peeped in through a chink. He could see us by the firelight, anddidn't suppose we were watching him. 

'Hullo, Warrigal!' sung out Jim suddenly, 'what's up now? Some devil'swork, I suppose, or you wouldn't be in it. Why don't you knock at agentleman's door when you come a visiting?'

'Wasn't sure it was you, ' he answered, showing his teeth; 'it don't doto get sold. Might been troopers, for all I know. '

'Pity we wasn't, ' said Jim; 'I'd have the hobbles on you by this time, and you'd have got "fitted" to rights. I wish I'd gone into the policesometimes. It isn't a bad game for a chap that can ride and track, andlikes a bit of rough-and-tumble now and then. '

'If I'd been a police tracker I'd have had as good a chance of nailingyou, Jim Marston, ' spoke up Warrigal. 'Perhaps I will some day. Mr. Garton wanted me bad once, and said they'd never go agin me for oldtimes. But that says nothin'. Starlight's out at the back and the oldman, too. They want you to go to them--sharp. '

'What for?'

'Dunno. I was to tell you, and show the camp; and now gimme some grub, for I've had nothing since sunrise but the leg of a 'possum. '

'All right, ' said Jim, putting the billy on; 'here's some damper andmutton to go on with while the tea warms. '

'Wait till I hobble out Bilbah; he's as hungry as I am, and thirsty too, my word. '

'Take some out of the barrel; we shan't want it to-morrow, ' said Jim. 

Hungry as Warrigal was--and when he began to eat I thought he neverwould stop--he went and looked after his horse first, and got him acouple of buckets of water out of the cask they used to send us outevery week. There was no surface water near the hut. Then he hobbled himout of a bit of old sheep-yard, and came in. 

The more I know of men the more I see what curious lumps of good andbad they're made up of. People that won't stick at anything in some wayswill be that soft and good-feeling in others--ten times more so thanyour regular good people. Any one that thinks all mankind's dividedinto good, bad, and middlin', and that they can draft 'em like a lot ofcattle--some to one yard, some to another--don't know much. There's amob in most towns though, I think, that wants boilin' down bad. Someday they'll do it, maybe; they'll have to when all the good country'sstocked up. After Warrigal had his supper he went out again to see hishorse, and then coiled himself up before the fire and wouldn't hardlysay another word. 

'How far was it to where Starlight was?'

'Long way. Took me all day to come. '

'Had he been there long?'

'Yes; had a camp there. '

'Anybody else with him?'

'Three more men from this side. '

'Did the old man say we were to come at once?'

'Yes, or leave it alone--which you liked. '

Then he shut his eyes, and his mouth too, and was soon as fast asleep asif he never intended to wake under a week. 

'What shall we do, Jim?' I said; 'go or not?'

'If you leave it to me, ' says Jim, 'I say, don't go. It's only someother cross cattle or horse racket. We're bound to be nobbled some day. Why not cut it now, and stick to the square thing? We couldn't do betterthan we're doing now. It's rather slow, but we'll have a good cheque byChristmas. '

'I'm half a mind to tell Warrigal to go back and say we're not on, ' Isaid. 'Lots of other chaps would join without making any bones aboutit. '

'Hoo--hoo--hoo--hoo, ' sounded once more the night-bird from the blacktree outside. 

'D----the bird! I believe he's the devil in the shape of a mopoke! Andyet I don't like Starlight to think we're afraid. He and the old manmight be in a fix and want help. Suppose we toss up?'

'All right, ' says Jim, speaking rather slowly. 

You couldn't tell from his face or voice how he felt about it; but Ibelieve now--more than that, he let on once to me--that he was awfullycut up about my changing, and thought we were just in for a spell ofstraightforward work, and would stash the other thing for good and all. 

We put the fire together. It burnt up bright for a bit. I pulled out ashilling. 

'If it's head we go, Jim; if it's woman, we stay here. '

I sent up the coin; we both bent over near the fire to look at it. 

The head was uppermost. 

'Hoo--hoo--hoo--hoo, ' came the night-bird's harsh croak. 

There was a heavyish stake on that throw, if we'd only known. Onlyruin--only death. Four men's lives lost, and three women made miserablefor life. 

Jim and I looked at one another. He smiled and opened the door. 

'It's all the fault of that cursed owl, I believe, ' he said; 'I'll havehis life if he waits till it's daylight. We must be off early and getup our horses. I know what a long day for Warrigal and that amblingthree-cornered devil of his means--seventy or eighty miles, if it's ayard. '

We slept sound enough till daybreak, and COULD SLEEP then, whatever wason the card. As for Jim, he slept like a baby always once he turned in. When I woke I got up at once. It was half dark; there was a little lightin the east. But Warrigal had been out before me, and was leading hishorse up to the hut with the hobbles in his hand. 

Our horses were not far off; one of them had a bell on. Jim had his oldbrown, and I had a chestnut that I thought nearly as good. We weren'tlikely to have anything to ride that wasn't middlin' fast and plucky. Them that overhauled us would have to ride for it. We saddled up andtook our blankets and what few things we couldn't do without. The reststopped in the hut for any one that came after us. We left our wages, too, and never asked for 'em from that day to this. A trifle like thatdidn't matter after what we were going in for. More's the pity. 

As we moved off my horse propped once or twice, and Warrigal looked atus in a queer side sort of way and showed his teeth a bit--smile norlaugh it wasn't, only a way he had when he thought he knew more than wedid. 

'My word! your horse's been where the feed's good. We're goin' a goodway to-day. I wonder if they'll be as flash as they are now. '

'They'll carry us wherever that three-cornered mule of yours willshuffle to to-night, ' said Jim. 'Never you mind about them. You ridestraight, and don't get up to any monkey tricks, or, by George, I'llstraighten you, so as you'll know better next time. '

'You know a lot, Jim Marston, ' said the half-caste, looking at him withhis long dark sleepy eyes which I always thought were like a half-rousedsnake's. 'Never mind, you'll know more one of these days. We'd betterpush on. '

He went off at a hand-gallop, and then pulled back into a longdarting kind of canter, which Bilbah thought was quite the thing for ajourney--anyhow, he never seemed to think of stopping it--went on mileafter mile as if he was not going to pull up this side of sundown. Awiry brute, always in condition, was this said Bilbah, and just at thistime as hard as nails. Our horses had been doing nothing lately, andbeing on good young feed had, of course, got fat, and were rather soft. 

After four or five miles they began to blow. We couldn't well pull up;the ground was hard in places and bad for tracking. If we went on at thepace we should cook our horses. As soon as we got into a bit of open Iraced up to him. 

'Now, look here, Warrigal, ' I said, 'you know why you're doing this, andso do I. Our horses are not up to galloping fifty or sixty miles on endjust off a spell and with no work for months. If you don't pull up andgo our pace I'll knock you off your horse. '

'Oh! you're riled!' he said, looking as impudent as he dared, butslackening all the same. 'Pulled up before if I knowed your horses weregetting baked. Thought they were up to anything, same as you and Jim. '

'So they are. You'll find that one of these days. If there's work aheadyou ought to have sense enough not to knock smoke out of fresh horsesbefore we begin. '

'All right. Plenty of work to do, my word. And Starlight said, "Tell 'emto be here to-day if they can. " I know he's afraid of some one follerin'up our tracks, as it is. '

'That's all right, Warrigal; but you ride steady all the same, and don'tbe tearing away through thick timber, like a mallee scrubber that'sgot into the open and sees the devil behind him until he can get coveragain. We shall be there to-night if it's not a hundred miles, andthat's time enough. '

We did drop in for a long day, and no mistake. We only pulled up for ashort halt in the middle, and Warrigal's cast-iron pony was off again, as if he was bound right away for the other side of the continent. However, though we were not going slow either, but kept up a reasonablefast pace, it must have been past midnight when we rode into Starlight'scamp; very glad Jim and I were to see the fire--not a big one either. We had been taking it pretty easy, you see, for a month or two, andwere not quite so ready for an eighty-mile ride as if we had been insomething like training. The horses had had enough of it, too, thoughneither of them would give in, not if we'd ridden 'em twenty milefarther. As for Warrigal's Bilbah he was near as fresh as when hestarted, and kept tossin' his head an' amblin' and pacin' away as if hewas walkin' for a wager round a ring in a show-yard. 

As we rode up we could see a gunyah made out of boughs, and a longishwing of dogleg fence, made light but well put together. As soon as wegot near enough a dog ran out and looked as if he was going to worry us;didn't bark either, but turned round and waited for us to get off. 

'It's old Crib, ' said Jim, with a big laugh; 'blest if it ain't. Father's somewhere handy. They're going to take up a back block and dothe thing regular: Marston, Starlight, and Company--that's the fakement. They want us out to make dams or put up a woolshed or something. I don'tsee why they shouldn't, as well as Crossman and Fakesley. It's six ofone and half-a-dozen of the other, as far as being on the square goes. Depend upon it, dad's turned over a new leaf. '

'Do you fellows want anything to eat?' said a voice that I knew to beStarlight's. 'If you do there's tea near the fire, and some grub inthat flour bag. Help yourselves and hobble out your horses. We'll settlematters a bit in the morning. Your respected parent's abed in hisown camp, and it's just as well not to wake him, unless you want hisblessing ere you sleep. '

We went with Starlight to his gunyah. A path led through a clump ofpines, so thick that a man might ride round it and never dream therewas anything but more pines inside. A clear place had been made in thesandhill, and a snug crib enough rigged with saplings and a few sheetsof bark. It was neat and tidy, like everything he had to do with. 'I wasat sea when I was young, ' he once said to Jim, when he was a bit 'on', 'and a man learns to be neat there. ' There was a big chimney outside, and a lot of leaves and rushes out of a swamp which he had made Warrigalgather. 

'Put your blankets down there, boys, and turn in. You'll see how theland lies in the morning. ' We didn't want asking twice, Jim's eyes werenigh shut as it was. The sun was up when we woke. 

Outside the first thing we saw was father and Starlight talking. Both ofthese seemed a bit cranky. 'It's a d----shame, ' we heard Starlightsay, as he turned and walked off. 'We could have done it well enough byourselves. '

'I know what I'm about, ' says father, 'it's all or none. What's the useof crying after being in it up to our neck?'

'Some day you'll think different, ' says Starlight, looking back at him. 

I often remembered it afterwards. 

'Well, lads, ' says father, looking straight at us, 'I wasn't sure asyou'd come. Starlight has been barneying with me about sending for you. But we've got a big thing on now, and I thought you'd like to be in it. '

'We have come, ' says I, pretty short. 'Now we're here what's the playcalled, and when does the curtain rise? We're on. ' I was riled, vexedat Starlight talking as if we were children, and thought I'd show as wewere men, like a young fool as I was. 

'All right, ' says father, and he sat down on a log, and began to tell ushow there was any quantity of cattle running at the back where they werecamped--a good lot strayed and mixed up, from the last dry season, andhad never been mustered for years. The stockmen hardly ever came outtill the autumn musters. One of the chaps that was in it knew all thisside and had told them. They were going to muster for a month or so, anddrive the mob right through to Adelaide. Store cattle were dear then, and we could get them off easy there and come back by sea. No one was toknow we were not regular overlanders; and when we'd got the notes in ourpockets it would be a hard matter to trace the cattle or prove that wewere the men that sold 'em. 

'How many head do you expect to get?' says Jim. 

'A thousand or twelve hundred; half of 'em fat, and two-thirds of themyoung cattle. '

'By George! that's something like a haul; but you can't muster such alot as that without a yard. '

'I know that, ' says father. 'We're putting up a yard on a little plainabout a mile from here. When they find it, it'll be an old nest, and thebirds flown. '

'Well, if that ain't the cheekiest thing I ever heard tell of, ' says Ilaughingly. 'To put up a yard at the back of a man's run, and musterhis cattle for him! I never heard the like before, nor any one else. Butsuppose the cove or his men come across it?'

''Tain't no ways likely, ' says father. 'They're the sleepiest lot ofchaps in this frontage I ever saw. It's hardly worth while "touching"them. There's no fun in it. It's like shooting pheasants when theyain't preserved. There's no risk, and when there's no risk there's nopleasure. Anyway that's my notion. '

'Talking about risks, why didn't you work that Marquis of Lorne racketbetter? We saw in the papers that the troopers hunted you so close youhad to kill him in the ranges. '

Father looked over at us and then began to laugh--not long, and he brokeoff short. Laughing wasn't much in his line. 

'Killed him, did we? And a horse worth nigh on to two thousand pounds. You ought to have known your old father better than that. We did killA chestnut horse, one we picked out a purpose; white legs, white knee, short under lip, everything quite regular. We even fed him for a week onprairie grass, just like the Marquis had been eating. Bless you, we knewhow to work all that. We deceived Windhall his own self, and he thinkshe's pretty smart. No! the Marquis is all safe--you know where. '

I opened my eyes and stared at father. 

'You've some call to crow if you can work things like that. How you evergot him away beats me; but not more than how you managed to keep him hidwith a ring of troopers all round you from every side of the district. '

'We had friends, ' father said. 'Me and Warrigal done all the travellingby night. No one but him could have gone afoot, I believe, much less leda blood horse through the beastly scrub and ranges he showed us. But thedevil himself could not beat him and that little brute Bilbah in roughcountry. '

'I believe you, ' I said, thinking of our ride yesterday. 'It's quitebad enough to follow him on level ground. But don't you think our trackswill be easy to follow with a thousand head of cattle before us? Anyfool could do that. '

'It ain't that as I'm looking at, ' said father; 'of course an old womancould do it, and knit stockings all the time; but our dart is to be offand have a month's start before anybody knows they are off the run. Theywon't think of mustering before fat cattle takes a bit of a turn. Thatwon't be for a couple of months yet. Then they may catch us if theycan. '

We had a long talk with Starlight, and what he said came to much thesame. One stockman they had 'squared', and he was to stand in. They hadgot two or three flash chaps to help muster and drive, who were to swearthey thought we were dealers, and had bought cattle all right. One ortwo more were to meet us farther on. If we could get the cattle togetherand clear off before anything was suspected the rest was easy. The yardwas nearly up, and Jim and I wired in and soon finished it. It didn'twant very grand work putting into it as long as it would last our time. So we put it up roughly, but pretty strong, with pine saplings. The drawing in was the worst, for we had to 'hump' the most of themourselves. Jim couldn't help bursting out laughing from time to time. 

'It does seem such a jolly cheeky thing, ' he said. 'Driving off a mob ofcattle on the quiet I've known happen once or twice; but I'm dashed ifever I heard tell of putting up duffing improvements of a superior classon a cove's run and clearing off with a thousand drafted cattle, allquiet and regular, and him pottering about his home-station and never"dropping" to it no more than if he was in Sydney. '

'People ought to look after their stock closer than they do, ' I said. 'It is their fault almost as much as ours. But they are too lazy to lookafter their own work, and too miserable to pay a good man to do it forthem. They just get a half-and-half sort of fellow that'll take lowwages and make it up with duffing, and of course he's not likely to lookvery sharp after the back country. '

'You're not far away, ' says Jim; 'but don't you think they'd have tolook precious sharp and get up very early in the morning to be levelwith chaps like father and Starlight, let alone Warrigal, who's as goodby night as day? Then there's you and me. Don't try and make us outbetter than we are, Dick; we're all d----scoundrels, that's the truthof it, and honest men haven't a chance with us, except in the longrun--except in the long run. That's where they'll have us, DickMarston. '

'That's quite a long speech for you, Jim, ' I said; 'but it don't mattermuch that I know of whose fault it is that we're in this duffing racket. It seems to be our fate, as the chap says in the book. We'll have ajolly spree in Adelaide if this journey comes out right. And now let'sfinish this evening off. To-morrow they're going to yard the first mob. '

After that we didn't talk much except about the work. Starlight andWarrigal were out every day and all day. The three new hands were somechaps who formed part of a gang that did most of the horse-stealing inthat neighbourhood, though they never showed up. The way they managed itwas this. They picked up any good-looking nag or second-class racehorsethat they fell across, and took them to a certain place. There they metanother lot of fellows, who took the horses from them and cleared out toanother colony; at the same time they left the horses they had brought. So each lot travelled different ways, and were sold in places where theywere quite strange and no one was likely to claim them. 

After a man had had a year or two at this kind of work, he was good, orrather bad, for anything. These young chaps, like us, had done prettywell at these games, and one of them, falling in with Starlight, hadproposed to him to put up a couple of hundred head of cattle on OuterBack Momberah, as the run was called; then father and he had seen thata thousand were as easy to get as a hundred. Of course there was a riskyfeeling, but it wasn't such bad fun while it lasted. We were out all dayrunning in the cattle. The horses were in good wind and condition now;we had plenty of rations--flour, tea, and sugar. There was no cart, but some good packhorses, just the same as if we were a regular stationparty on our own run. Father had worked all that before we came. We hadthe best of fresh beef and veal too--you may be sure of that--there wasno stint in that line; and at night we were always sure of a yarn fromStarlight--that is, if he was in a good humour. Sometimes he wasn't, andthen nobody dared speak to him, not even father. 

He was an astonishing man, certainly. Jim and I used to wonder, bythe hour, what he'd been in the old country. He'd been all over theworld--in the Islands and New Zealand; in America, and among Malays andother strange people that we'd hardly ever heard of. Such stories ashe'd tell us, too, about slaves and wild chiefs that he'd lived with andgone out to fight with against their enemy. 'People think a great dealof a dead man now and then in this innocent country, ' he said oncewhen the grog was uppermost; 'why, I've seen fifty men killed beforebreakfast, and in cold blood, too, chopped up alive, or next thing toit; and a drove of slaves--men, women, and children--as big nearly asour mob, handed over to a slave-dealer, and driven off in chains justas you'd start a lot of station cattle. They didn't like it, going offtheir run either, poor devils. The women would try and run back aftertheir pickaninnies when they dropped, just like that heifer whenWarrigal knocked her calf on the head to-day. ' What a man he was! Thiswas something like life, Jim and I thought. When we'd sold the cattle, if we got 'em down to Adelaide all right, we'd take a voyage to someforeign country, perhaps, and see sights too. What a paltry thingworking for a pound a week seemed when a rise like this was to be made!

Well, the long and short of it is that we mustered the cattle quitecomfortably, nobody coming anext or anigh us any more than if we'dtaken the thing by contract. You wouldn't have thought there was anybodynearer than Bathurst. Everything seemed to be in our favour. So it was, just at the start. We drafted out all the worst and weediest of thecattle, besides all the old cows, and when we counted the mob out wehad nearly eleven hundred first-rate store cattle; lots of fine youngbullocks and heifers, more than half fat--altogether a prime well-bredmob that no squatter or dealer could fault in any way if the price wasright. We could afford to sell them for a shade under market price forcash. Ready money, of course, we were bound to have. 

Just as we were starting there was a fine roan bull came running up witha small mob. 

'Cut him out, and beat him back, ' says father; 'we don't want to bebothered with the likes of him. '

'Why, I'm dashed if that ain't Hood's imported bull, ' says Billy theBoy, a Monaro native that we had with us. 'I know him well. How's hecome to get back? Why, the cove gave two hundred and fifty notes for himafore he left England, I've heard 'em say. '

'Bring him along, ' said Starlight, who came up just then. 'In for apenny, in for a pound. They'll never think of looking for him on theCoorong, and we'll be there before they miss any cattle worth talkingabout. '

So we took 'Fifteenth Duke of Cambridge' along with us; a red roan hewas, with a little white about the flank. He wasn't more than four yearold. He'd been brought out from England as a yearling. How he'd workedhis way out to this back part of the run, where a bull of his qualityain't often seen, nobody could say. But he was a lively active beast, and he'd got into fine hard fettle with living on saltbush, dry grass, and scrub for the last few months, so he could travel as well as theothers. I took particular notice of him, from his little waxy horns tohis straight locks and long square quarters. And so I'd need to--butthat came after. He had only a little bit of a private brand on theshoulder. That was easily faked, and would come out quite different. 

Chapter 12

We didn't go straight ahead along any main track to the Lower Murray andAdelaide exactly. That would have been a little too open and barefaced. No; we divided the mob into three, and settled where to meet in about afortnight. Three men to each mob. Father and Warrigal took one lot; theyhad the dog, old Crib, to help them. He was worth about two men and aboy. Starlight, Jim, and I had another; and the three stranger chapsanother. We'd had a couple of knockabouts to help with the cooking andstockyard work. They were paid by the job. They were to stay at thecamp for a week, to burn the gunyahs, knock down the yard, and blind thetrack as much as they could. 

Some of the cattle we'd left behind they drove back and forward acrossthe track every day for a week. If rain came they were to drop it, andmake their way into the frontage by another road. If they heard aboutthe job being blown or the police set on our track, they were to wire toone of the border townships we had to pass. Weren't we afraid of theirselling us? No, not much; they were well paid, and had often givenfather and Starlight information before, though they took care neverto show out in the cattle or horse-stealing way themselves. As longas chaps in our line have money to spend, they can always get goodinformation and other things, too. It is when the money runs short thatthe danger comes in. I don't know whether cattle-duffing was ever donein New South Wales before on such a large scale, or whether it will everbe done again. Perhaps not. These wire fences stop a deal of cross-work;but it was done then, you take my word for it--a man's word as hasn'tthat long to live that it's worth while to lie--and it all came outright; that is as far as our getting safe over, selling the cattle, andhaving the money in our pockets. 

We kept on working by all sorts of outside tracks on the main line ofroad--a good deal by night, too--for the first two or three hundredmiles. After we crossed the Adelaide border we followed the Darling downto the Murray. We thought we were all right, and got bolder. Starlighthad changed his clothes, and was dressed like a swell--away on aroughish trip, but still like a swell. 

'They were his cattle; he had brought them from one of his stations onthe Narran. He was going to take up country in the Northern Territory. He expected a friend out from England with a lot more capital. '

Jim and I used to hear him talking like this to some of the squatterswhose runs we passed through, as grave as you please. They used to askhim to stay all night, but he always said 'he didn't like to leavehis men. He made it a practice on the road. ' When we got within afortnight's drive of Adelaide, he rode in and lived at one of the besthotels. He gave out that he expected a lot of cattle to arrive, andgot a friend that he'd met in the billiard-room (and couldn't he playsurprisin'?) to introduce him to one of the leading stock agents there. So he had it all cut and dry, when one day Warrigal and I rode in, andthe boy handed him a letter, touching his hat respectfully, as he hadbeen learned to do, before a lot of young squatters and other swellsthat he was going out to a picnic with. 

'My confounded cattle come at last, ' he says. 'Excuse me for mentioningbusiness. I began to hope they'd never come; 'pon my soul I did. Thetime passes so deuced pleasantly here. Well, they'll all be at the yardsto-morrow. You fellows had all better come and see them sold. There'llbe a little lunch, and perhaps some fizz. You go to the stock agents, Runnimall and Co. ; here's their address, Jack, ' he says to me, lookingme straight in the eyes. 'They'll send a man to pilot you to the yards;and now off with you, and don't let me see your face till to-morrow. '

How he carried it off! He cantered away with the rest of the party, asif he hadn't a thought in the world except about pleasure and honestbusiness. Nobody couldn't have told that he wasn't just like them otheryoung gentlemen with only their stock and station to think about, anda little fun at the races now and then. And what a risk he was runningevery minute of his life, he and all the rest of us. I wasn't sorry tobe out of the town again. There were lots of police, too. Suppose oneof them was to say, 'Richard Marston, I arrest you for----' It hardlymattered what. I felt as if I should have tumbled down with sheer frightand cowardliness. It's a queer thing you feel like that off and on. Other times a man has as much pluck in him as if his life was worthfighting for--which it isn't. 

The agent knew all about us (or thought he did), and sent a chap to showMr. Carisforth's cattle (Charles Carisforth, Esq. , of Sturton, Yorkshireand Banda, Waroona, and Ebor Downs, New South Wales; that was the namehe went by) the way to the yards. We were to draft them all next morninginto separate pens--cows and bullocks, steers and heifers, and so on. He expected to sell them all to a lot of farmers and small settlers thathad taken up a new district lately and were very short of stock. 

'You couldn't have come into a better market, young fellow, ' says theagent's man to me. 'Our boss he's advertised 'em that well as there'llbe smart bidding between the farmers and some of the squatters. Goodstore cattle's been scarce, and these is in such rattling condition. That's what'll sell 'em. Your master seems a regular free-handed sortof chap. He's the jolliest squatter there's been in town these years, I hear folk say. Puts 'em in mind of Hawdon and Evelyn Sturt in the oldoverlander days. '

Next day we were at the yards early, you bet. We wanted to have time todraft them into pens of twenty to fifty each, so that the farmers andsmall settlers might have a chance to buy. Besides, it was the lastday of our work. Driving all day and watching half the night is prettystiffish work, good weather and bad, when you've got to keep it up formonths at a time, and we'd been three months and a week on the road. 

The other chaps were wild for a spree. Jim and I had made up our mindsto be careful; still, we had a lot to see in a big town like Adelaide;for we'd never been to Sydney even in our lives, and we'd never seen thesea. That was something to look at for the first time, wasn't it?

Well, we got the cattle drafted to rights, every sort and size and ageby itself, as near as could be. That's the way to draft stock, whetherthey're cattle, sheep, or horses; then every man can buy what he likesbest, and isn't obliged to lump up one sort with another. We had timeto have a bit of dinner. None of us had touched a mouthful since beforedaylight. Then we began to see the buyers come. 

There'd been a big tent rigged, as big as a small woolshed, too. It cameout in a cart, and then another cart came with a couple of waiters, andthey laid out a long table of boards on trestles with a real first-classfeed on it, such as we'd never seen in our lives before. Fowls andturkeys and tongues and rounds of beef, beer and wine in bottles withgilt labels on. Such a set-out it was. Father began to growl a bit. 'If he's going to feed the whole country this way, he'll spend half thestuff before we get it, let alone drawing a down on the whole thing. 'But Jim and me could see how Starlight had been working the thing torights while he was swelling it in the town among the big bugs. We toldhim the cattle would fetch that much more money on account of the lunchand the blowing the auctioneer was able to do. These would pay for thefeed and the rest of the fal-lals ten times over. 'When he gets in withmen like his old pals he loses his head, I believe, ' father says, 'andfancies he's what he used to be. He'll get "fitted" quite simple someday if he doesn't keep a better look-out. '

That might be, but it wasn't to come about this time. Starlight cameriding out by and by, dressed up like a real gentleman, and lookin' sodifferent that Jim and I hardly dared speak to him--on a splendid horsetoo (not Rainbow, he'd been left behind; he was always left within ahundred miles of The Hollow, and he could do it in one day if he waswanted to), and a lot of fine dressed chaps with him--young squattersand officers, and what not. I shouldn't have been surprised if he'dhad the Governor out with him. They told us afterwards he did dine atGovernment House reg'lar, and was made quite free and welcome there. 

Well, he jumps down and shakes hands with us before them all. 'Well, Jack! Well, Bill!' and so on, calls us his good faithful fellows, andhow well we'd brought the cattle over; nods to father, who didn't seemable to take it all in; says he'll back us against any stockmen inAustralia; has up Warrigal and shows him off to the company. 'Mostintelligent lad. ' Warrigal grinned and showed his white teeth. It was asgood as a play. 

Then everybody goes to lunch--swells and selectors, Germans and Paddies, natives and immigrants, a good many of them, too, and there waseating and drinking and speechifying till all was blue. By and by theauctioneer looks at his watch. He'd had a pretty good tuck-in himself, and they must get to business. 

Father opened his eyes at the price the first pen brought, all primeyoung bullocks, half fat most of them. Then they all went off likewildfire; the big men and the little men bidding, quite jealous, sometimes one getting the lot, sometimes another. One chap made a remarkabout there being such a lot of different brands; but Starlight saidthey'd come from a sort of depot station of his, and were the odds andends of all the mobs of store cattle that he'd purchased the last fouryears. That satisfied 'em, particularly as he said it in a careless, fierce way which he could put on, as if it was like a man's----impudenceto ask him anything. It made the people laugh; I could see that. 

By and by we comes to the imported bull. He was in a pen by himself, looking first-rate. His brand had been faked, and the hair had grownpretty well. It would have took a sharp hand to know him again. 

'Well, gentlemen, ' says the auctioneer, 'here is the imported bull "Dukeof Brunswick". It ain't often an animal of his quality comes in with amob of store cattle; but I am informed by Mr. Carisforth that he leftorders for the whole of the cattle to be cleared off the run, and thisvaluable animal was brought away in mistake. He was to return by sea;but as he happens to be here to-day, why, sooner than disappoint anyintending buyer, Mr. Carisforth has given me instructions to put him up, and if he realises anything near his value he will be sold. '

'Yes!' drawls Starlight, as if a dozen imported bulls, more or less, made no odds to him, 'put him up, by all means, Mr. Runnimall. Expectin'rather large shipment of Bates's "Duchess" tribe next month. Ratherprefer them on the whole. The "Duke" here is full of Booth blood, sohe may just as well go with the others. I shall never get what he cost, though; I know that. He's been a most expensive animal to me. '

Many a true word spoken in jest. He had good call to know him, as wellas the rest of us, for a most expensive animal, before all was said anddone. What he cost us all round it would be hard indeed to cipher up. 

Anyhow, there was a great laugh at Starlight's easy way of takingit. First one and then another of the squatters that was going in forbreeding began to bid, thinking he'd go cheap, until they got warm, andthe bull went up to a price that we never dreamed he'd fetch. Everythingseemed to turn out lucky that day. One would have thought they'd neverseen an imported bull before. The young squatters got running oneanother, as I said before, and he went up to 270 Pounds! Then theauctioneer squared off the accounts as sharp as he could; an' it tookhim all his time, what with the German and the small farmers, who tooktheir time about it, paying in greasy notes and silver and copper, out of canvas bags, and the squatters, who were too busy chaffing andtalking among themselves to pay at all. It was dark before everythingwas settled up, and all the lots of cattle delivered. Starlight told theauctioneer he'd see him at his office, in a deuced high and mighty kindof way, and rode off with his new friend. 

All of us went back to our camp. Our work was over, but we had to settleup among ourselves and divide shares. I could hardly believe my eyeswhen I saw the cattle all sold and gone, and nothing left at the campbut the horses and the swags. 

When we got there that night it was late enough. After tea father and Iand Jim had a long yarn, settling over what we should do and wonderingwhether we were going to get clean away with our share of the moneyafter all. 

'By George!' says Jim, 'it's a big touch, and no mistake. To think ofour getting over all right, and selling out so easy, just as if they wasour own cattle. Won't there be a jolly row when it's all out, and theMomberah people miss their cattle?' (more than half 'em was theirs). 'And when they muster they can't be off seein' they're some hundredsshort. '

'That's what's botherin' me, ' says father. 'I wish Starlight hadn't beenso thundering flash with it all. It'll draw more notice on us, and everyone 'll be gassin' about this big sale, and all that, till people's seton to ask where the cattle come from, and what not. '

'I don't see as it makes any difference, ' I said. 'Somebody was boundto buy 'em, and we'd have had to give the brands and receipts just thesame. Only if we'd sold to any one that thought there was a cross lookabout it, we'd have had to take half money, that's all. They've fetcheda rattling price, through Starlight's working the oracle with thoseswells, and no mistake. '

'Yes, but that ain't all of it, ' says the old man, filling his pipe. 'We've got to look at what comes after. I never liked that importedbull being took. They'll rake all the colonies to get hold of him again, partic'ler as he sold for near three hundred pound. '

'We must take our share of the risk along with the money, ' said Jim. 'We shall have our whack of that according to what they fetched to-day. It'll be a short life and a merry one, though, dad, if we go on biglicks like this. What'll we tackle next--a bank or Government House?'

'Nothing at all for a good spell, if you've any sense, ' growled father. 'It'll give us all we know to keep dark when this thing gets into thepapers, and the police in three colonies are all in full cry like a packof beagles. The thing is, what'll be our best dart now?'

'I'll go back overland, ' says he. 'Starlight's going to take Warrigalwith him, and they'll be off to the islands for a turn. If he knowswhat's best for him, he'll never come back. These other chaps saythey'll separate and sell their horses when they get over to the Murraylow down, and work their way up by degrees. Which way are you boysgoing?'

'Jim and I to Melbourne by next steamer, ' I said. 'May as well see a bitof life now we're in it. We'll come back overland when we're tired ofstrange faces. '

'All right, ' says father, 'they won't know where I'm lyin' by for a bit, I'll go bail, and the sooner you clear out of Adelaide the better. News like ours don't take long to travel, and you might be nabbed verysimple. One of ye write a line to your mother and tell her where you'reoff to, or she'll be frettin' herself and the gal too--frettin' overwhat can't be helped. But I suppose it's the natur' o' some women. '

We done our settling-up next day. All the sale money was paid overto Starlight. He cashed the cheques and drew the lot in notes andgold--such a bundle of 'em there was. He brought them out to us at thecamp, and then we 'whacked' the lot. There were eight of us that had toshare and share alike. How much do you think we had to divide? Why, nota penny under four thousand pounds. It had to be divided among the eightof us. That came to five hundred a man. A lot of money to carry about, that was the worst of it. 

Next day there was a regular split and squander. We didn't wait longafter daylight, you bet. Father was off and well on his way before thestars were out of the sky. He took Warrigal's horse, Bilbah, backwith him; he and Starlight was going off to the islands together, andcouldn't take horses with them. But he was real sorry to part with thecross-grained varmint; I thought he was going to blubber when he sawfather leading him off. Bilbah wouldn't go neither at first; pulledback, and snorted and went on as if he'd never seen only one man aforein his life. Father got vexed at last and makes a sign to old Crib; hefetches him such a 'heeler' as gave him something else to think of for afew miles. He didn't hang back much after that. 

The three other chaps went their own road. They kept very dark allthrough. I know their names well enough, but there's no use in bringingthem up now. 

Jim and I cuts off into the town, thinking we was due for a little fun. We'd never been in a big town before, and it was something new tous. Adelaide ain't as grand quite as Melbourne or Sydney, but there'ssomething quiet and homelike about it to my thinking--great widestreets, planted with trees; lots of steady-going German farmers, withtheir vineyards and orchards and droll little waggons. The women workas hard as the men, harder perhaps, and get brown and scorched up in notime--not that they've got much good looks to lose; leastways none weever saw. 

We could always tell the German farmers' places along the road from oneof our people by looking outside the door. If it was an Englishman or anAustralian, you'd see where they'd throwed out the teapot leavings; ifit was a German, you wouldn't see nothing. They drink their own sourwine, if their vines are old enough to make any, or else hop beer; butthey won't lay out their money in the tea chest or sugar bag; no fear, or the grog either, and not far wrong. Then the sea! I can see poor oldJim's face now the day we went down to the port and he seen it for thefirst time. 

'So we've got to the big waterhole at last, ' he said. 'Don't it makea man feel queer and small to think of its going away right from herewhere we stand to the other side of the world? It's a long way across. '

'Jim, ' says I, 'and to think we've lived all our lives up to this timeand never set eyes on it before. Don't it seem as if one was shut up inthe bush, or tied to a gum tree, so as one can never have a chance tosee anything? I wonder we stayed in it so long. '

'It's not a bad place, though it is rather slow and wired in sometimes, 'says Jim. 'We might be sorry we ever left it yet. When does the steamergo to Melbourne?'

'The day after to-morrow. '

'I'll be glad to be clear off; won't you?'

We went to the theatre that night, and amused ourselves pretty well nextday and till the time came for our boat to start for Melbourne. We hadaltered ourselves a bit, had our hair cut and our beards trimmed bythe hairdresser. We bought fresh clothes, and what with this, and thefeeling of being in a new place and having more money in our pocketsthan we'd ever dreamed about before, we looked so transmogrified whenwe saw ourselves in the glass that we hardly knew ourselves. We hadto change our names, too, for the first time in our lives; and it wentharder against the grain than you'd think, for all we were a couple ofcattle-duffers, with a warrant apiece sure to be after us before theyear was out. 

'It sounds ugly, ' says Jim, after we had given our names as John Simmonsand Henry Smith at the hotel where we put up at till the steamerwas ready to start. 'I never thought that Jim Marston was to cometo this--to be afraid to tell a fat, greasy-looking fellow like thatinnkeeper what his real name was. Seems such a pitiful mean lie, don'tit, Dick?'

'It isn't so bad as being called No. 14, No. 221, as they sing out forthe fellows in Berrima Gaol. How would you like that, Jim?'

'I'd blow my brains out first, ' cried out Jim, 'or let some other fellowdo it for me. It wouldn't matter which. '

It was very pleasant, those two or three days in Adelaide, if they'donly lasted. We used to stroll about the lighted streets till all hours, watching the people and the shops and everything that makes a large citydifferent from the country. The different sorts of people, the cartsand carriages, buggies and drays, pony-carriages and spring-carts, alljumbled up together; even the fruit and flowers and oysters and fishunder the gas-lights seemed strange and wonderful to us. We felt as ifwe would have given all the world to have got mother and Aileen down tosee it all. Then Jim gave a groan. 

'Only to think, ' says he, 'that we might have had all this fun some day, and bought and paid for it honest. Now it isn't paid for. It's out ofsome other man's pocket. There's a curse on it; it will have to be paidin blood or prison time before all's done. I could shoot myself forbeing such a cursed fool. '

'Too late to think of that, ' I said; 'we'll have some fun in Melbournefor a bit, anyhow. For what comes after we must "chance it", as we'vedone before, more than once or twice, either. '

 . . . . . 

Next day our steamer was to sail. We got Starlight to come down with usand show us how to take our passage. We'd never done it before, and feltawkward at it. He'd made up his mind to go to New Zealand, and afterthat to Honolulu, perhaps to America. 

'I'm not sure that I'll ever come back, boys, ' he said, 'and if I wereyou I don't think I would either. If you get over to San Francisco you'dfind the Pacific Slope a very pleasant country to live in. The peopleand the place would suit you all to pieces. At any rate I'd stay awayfor a few years and wait till all this blows over. '

I wasn't sorry when the steamer cleared the port, and got out of sightof land. There we were--where we'd never been before--in blue water. There was a stiff breeze, and in half-an-hour we shouldn't have turnedour heads if we'd seen Hood and the rest of 'em come riding after us onseahorses, with warrants as big as the mainsail. Jim made sure he wasgoing to die straight off, and the pair of us wished we'd never seenOuter Back Momberah, nor Hood's cattle, nor Starlight, nor Warrigal. Wealmost made up our minds to keep straight and square to the last day ofour lives. However, the wind died down a bit next day, and we both felta lot better--better in body and worse in mind--as often happens. Beforewe got to Melbourne we could eat and drink, smoke and gamble, and werequite ourselves again. We'd laid it out to have a reg'lar good month ofit in town, takin' it easy, and stopping nice and quiet at a good hotel, havin' some reasonable pleasure. Why shouldn't we see a little life?We'd got the cash, and we'd earned that pretty hard. It's the hardestearned money of all, that's got on the cross, if fellows only knew, butthey never do till it's too late. 

When we got tired of doing nothing, and being in a strange place, we'dget across the border, above Albury somewhere, and work on the mountainruns till shearing came round again; and we could earn a fairish bit ofmoney. Then we'd go home for Christmas after it was all over, and seemother and Aileen again. How glad and frightened they'd be to see us. Itwouldn't be safe altogether, but go we would. 

Chapter 13

We got to Melbourne all right, and though it's a different sort of aplace from Sydney, it's a jolly enough town for a couple of young chapswith money in their pockets. Most towns are, for the matter of that. Wetook it easy, and didn't go on the spree or do anything foolish. No, weweren't altogether so green as that. We looked out for a quiet place tolodge, near the sea--St. Kilda they call it, in front of the beach--andwe went about and saw all the sights, and for a time managed to keepdown the thought that perhaps sooner or later we'd be caught, and haveto stand our trial for this last affair of ours, and maybe one or twoothers. It wasn't a nice thing to think of; and now and then it usedto make both of us take an extra drop of grog by way of driving thethoughts of it out of our heads. That's the worst of not being straightand square. A man's almost driven to drink when he can't keep fromthinking of all sorts of miserable things day and night. We used to goto the horse-yards now and then, and the cattle-yards too. It was likeold times to see the fat cattle and sheep penned up at Flemington, andthe butchers riding out on their spicy nags or driving trotters. Buttheir cattle-yards was twice as good as ours, and me and Jim used oftento wonder why the Sydney people hadn't managed to have something likethem all these years, instead of the miserable cockatoo things atHomebush that we'd often heard the drovers and squatters grumble about. 

However, one day, as we was sitting on the rails, talking away quitecomfortable, we heard one butcher say to another, 'My word, this is asmart bit of cattle-duffing--a thousand head too!' 'What's that?' saysthe other man. 'Why, haven't you heard of it?' says the first one, andhe pulls a paper out of his pocket, with this in big letters: 'GreatCattle Robbery. --A thousand head of Mr. Hood's cattle were driven offand sold in Adelaide. Warrants are out for the suspected parties, whoare supposed to have left the colony. ' Here was a bit of news! We feltas if we could hardly help falling off the rails; but we didn't showit, of course, and sat there for half-an-hour, talking to the buyers andsellers and cracking jokes like the others. But we got away home as soonas we could, and then we began to settle what we should do. 

Warrants were out, of course, for Starlight, and us too. He was known, and so were we. Our descriptions were sure to be ready to send out allover the country. Warrigal they mightn't have noticed. It was commonenough to have a black boy or a half-caste with a lot of travellingcattle. Father had not shown up much. He had an old pea-jacket on, andthey mightn't have dropped down to him or the three other chaps thatwere in it with us; they were just like any other road hands. But aboutthere being warrants out, with descriptions, in all the colonies, for aman to be identified, but generally known as Starlight, and for Richardand James Marston, we were as certain as that we were in St. Kilda, ina nice quiet little inn, overlooking the beach; and what a murder it wasto have to leave it at all. 

Leave the place we had to do at once. It wouldn't do to be strollin'about Melbourne with the chance of every policeman we met taking alook at us to see if we tallied with a full description they had atthe office: 'Richard and James Marston are twenty-five and twenty-two, respectively; both tall and strongly built; having the appearance ofbushmen. Richard Marston has a scar on left temple. James Marstonhas lost a front tooth, ' and so on. When we came to think of it, theycouldn't be off knowing us, if they took it into their heads to bail usup any day. They had our height and make. We couldn't help looking likebushmen--like men that had been in the open air all their lives, andthat had a look as if saddle and bridle rein were more in our way thanthe spade and plough-handle. We couldn't wash the tan off our skins;faces, necks, arms, all showed pretty well that we'd come from where thesun was hot, and that we'd had our share of it. They had my scar, got ina row, and Jim's front tooth, knocked out by a fall from a horse when hewas a boy; there was nothing for it but to cut and run. 

'It was time for us to go, my boys, ' as the song the Yankee sailor sungus one night runs, and then, which way to go? Every ship was watchedthat close a strange rat couldn't get a passage, and, besides, we hadthat feeling we didn't like to clear away altogether out of the oldcountry; there was mother and Aileen still in it, and every man, woman, and child that we'd known ever since we were born. A chap feels that, even if he ain't much good other ways. We couldn't stand the thought ofclearin' out for America, as Starlight advised us. It was like deathto us, so we thought we'd chance it somewhere in Australia for a bitlonger. 

Now where we put up a good many drovers from Gippsland used to stay, as they brought in cattle from there. The cattle had to be brought overSwanston Street Bridge and right through the town after twelve o'clockat night. We'd once or twice, when we'd been out late, stopped to lookat them, and watched the big heavy bullocks and fat cows staring andstarting and slipping all among the lamps and pavements, with the streetall so strange and quiet, and laughed at the notion of some of theshopkeepers waking up and seeing a couple of hundred wild cattle, withthree or four men behind 'em, shouldering and horning one another, thenrushing past their doors at a hard trot, or breaking into a gallop for abit. 

Some of these chaps, seeing we was cattle-men and knew most things inthat line, used to open out about where they'd come from, and what agrand place Gippsland was--splendid grass country, rivers that run allthe year round, great fattening country; and snowy mountains at theback, keeping everything cool in the summer. Some of the mountaincountry, like Omeo, that they talked a lot of, seemed about one of themost out-of-the-way places in the world. More than that, you could getback to old New South Wales by way of the Snowy River, and then on toMonaro. After that we knew where we were. 

Going away was easy enough, in a manner of speaking; but we'd beena month in Melbourne, and when you mind that we were not bad-lookingchaps, fairishly dressed, and with our pockets full of money, it wasonly what might be looked for if we had made another friend or twobesides Mrs. Morrison, the landlady of our inn, and Gippsland drovers. When we had time to turn round a bit in Melbourne of course we began tomake a few friends. Wherever a man goes, unless he keeps himself thatclose that he won't talk to any one or let any one talk to him, he'ssure to find some one he likes to be with better than another. If he'sold and done with most of his fancies, except smokin' and drinkin' it'sa man. If he's young and got his life before him it's a woman. So Jimand I hadn't been a week in Melbourne before we fell across a coupleof--well, friends--that we were hard set to leave. It was a way of mineto walk down to the beach every evening and have a look at the boatsin the bay and the fishermen, if there were any--anything that might begoing on. Sometimes a big steamer would be coming in, churning the waterunder her paddles and tearing up the bay like a hundred bunyips. Thefirst screw-boat Jim and I saw we couldn't make out for the life of uswhat she moved by. We thought all steamers had paddles. Then the sailingboats, flying before the breeze like seagulls, and the waves, if itwas a rough day, rolling and beating and thundering on the beach. Igenerally stayed till the stars came out before I went back to thehotel. Everything was so strange and new to a man who'd seen solittle else except green trees that I was never tired of watching, andwondering, and thinking what a little bit of a shabby world chaps likeus lived in that never seen anything but a slab hut, maybe, all the yearround, and a bush public on high days and holidays. 

Sometimes I used to feel as if we hadn't done such a bad stroke incutting loose from all this. But then the horrible feeling would comeback of never being safe, even for a day, of being dragged off and putin the dock, and maybe shut up for years and years. Sometimes I usedto throw myself down upon the sand and curse the day when I ever didanything that I had any call to be ashamed of and put myself in thepower of everything bad and evil in all my life through. 

Well, one day I was strolling along, thinking about these things, andwondering whether there was any other country where a man could go andfeel himself safe from being hounded down for the rest of his life, when I saw a woman walking on the beach ahead of me. I came up with herbefore long, and as I passed her she turned her head and I saw shewas one of two girls that we had seen in the landlady's parlour oneafternoon. The landlady was a good, decent Scotch woman, and had takena fancy to both of us (particularly to Jim--as usual). She thought--shewas that simple--that we were up-country squatters from some far-backplace, or overseers. Something in the sheep or cattle line everybodycould see that we were. There was no hiding that. But we didn't talkabout ourselves overmuch, for very good reasons. The less people say themore others will wonder and guess about you. So we began to be lookedupon as bosses of some sort, and to be treated with a lot of respectthat we hadn't been used to much before. So we began to talk abit--natural enough--this girl and I. She was a good-looking girl, witha wonderful fresh clear skin, full of life and spirits, and pretty welltaught. She and her sister had not been a long time in the country;their father was dead, and they had to live by keeping a very small shopand by dressmaking. They were some kind of cousins of the landlady andthe same name, so they used to come and see her of evenings and Sundays. Her name was Kate Morrison and her sister's was Jeanie. This and a lotmore she told me before we got back to the hotel, where she said she wasgoing to stay that night and keep Mrs. Morrison company. 

After this we began to be a deal better acquainted. It all came easyenough. The landlady thought she was doing the girls a good turn byputting them in the way of a couple of hard-working well-to-do fellowslike us; and as Jim and the younger one, Jeanie, seemed to take a fancyto each other, Mrs. Morrison used to make up boating parties, and wesoon got to know each other well enough to be joked about falling inlove and all the rest of it. 

After a bit we got quite into the way of calling for Kate and Jeanieafter their day's work was done, and taking them out for a walk. I don'tknow that I cared so much for Kate in those days anyhow, but by degreeswe got to think that we were what people call in love with each other. It went deeper with her than me, I think. It mostly does with women. Inever really cared for any woman in the world except Gracey Storefield, but she was far away, and I didn't see much likelihood of my being ableto live in that part of the world, much less to settle down and marrythere. So, though we'd broken a six-pence together and I had my half, I looked upon her as ever so much beyond me and out of my reach, anddidn't see any harm in amusing myself with any woman that I might happento fall across. 

So, partly from idleness, partly from liking, and partly seeing that thegirl had made up her mind to throw in her lot with me for good and all, I just took it as it came; but it meant a deal more than that, if Icould have foreseen the end. 

I hadn't seen a great many women, and had made up my mind that, excepta few bad ones, they was mostly of one sort--good to lead, not hard todrive, and, above all, easy to see through and understand. 

I often wonder what there was about this Kate Morrison to make her sodifferent from other women; but she was born unlike them, I expect. Anyway, I never met another woman like her. She wasn't out-and-outhandsome, but there was something very taking about her. Her figurewas pretty near as good as a woman's could be; her step was light andactive; her feet and hands were small, and she took a pride in showingthem. I never thought she had any temper different from other women;but if I'd noticed her eyes, surely I'd have seen it there. There wassomething very strange and out of the way about them. They hardly seemedso bright when you looked at them first; but by degrees, if she gotroused and set up about anything, they'd begin to burn with a steadysort of glitter that got fiercer and brighter till you'd think they'dburn everything they looked at. The light in them didn't go out againin a hurry, either. It seemed as if those wonderful eyes would keep onshining, whether their owner wished it or not. 

I didn't find out all about her nature at once--trust a woman for that. Vain and fond of pleasure I could see she was; and from having beenalways poor, in a worrying, miserable, ill-contented way, she had gotto be hungry for money and jewels and fine clothes; just like a personthat's been starved and shivering with cold longs for a fire and a fullmeal and a warm bed. Some people like these things when they can getthem; but others never seem to think about anything else, and would selltheir souls or do anything in the whole world to get what their heartsare set on. When men are like this they're dangerous, but they hardlyhurt anybody, only themselves. When women are born with hearts of thissort it's a bad look-out for everybody they come near. Kate Morrisoncould see that I had money. She thought I was rich, and she made up hermind to attract me, and go shares in my property, whatever it mightbe. She won over her younger sister, Jeanie, to her plans, and ouracquaintance was part of a regular put-up scheme. Jeanie was a soft, good-tempered, good-hearted girl, with beautiful fair hair, blue eyes, and the prettiest mouth in the world. She was as good as she was pretty, and would have worked away without grumbling in that dismal little shopfrom that day to this, if she'd been let alone. She was only just turnedseventeen. She soon got to like Jim a deal too well for her own good, and used to listen to his talk about the country across the border, andsuch simple yarns as he could tell her, poor old Jim! until she saidshe'd go and live with him under a salt-bush if he'd come back and marryher after Christmas. And of course he did promise. He didn't see anyharm in that. He intended to come back if he could, and so did I forthat matter. Well, the long and short of it was that we were bothregularly engaged and had made all kinds of plans to be married atChristmas and go over to Tasmania or New Zealand, when this terribleblow fell upon us like a shell. I did see one explode at a review inMelbourne--and, my word! what a scatteration it made. 

Well, we had to let Kate and Jeanie know the best way we could that ourbusiness required us to leave Melbourne at once, and that we shouldn'tbe back till after Christmas, if then. 

It was terrible hard work to make out any kind of a story that woulddo. Kate questioned and cross-questioned me about the particular kindof business that called us away like a lawyer (I've seen plenty of thatsince) until at last I was obliged to get a bit cross and refuse toanswer any more questions. 

Jeanie took it easier, and was that down-hearted and miserable atparting with Jim that she hadn't the heart to ask any questions of anyone, and Jim looked about as dismal as she did. They sat with theirhands in each other's till it was nearly twelve o'clock, when theold mother came and carried the girls off to bed. We had to start atdaylight next morning; but we made up our minds to leave them a hundredpounds apiece to keep for us until we came back, and promised if we werealive to be at St. Kilda next January, which they had to be contentedwith. 

Jeanie did not want to take the money; but Jim said he'd very likelylose it, and so persuaded her. 

We were miserable and low-spirited enough ourselves at the idea of goingaway all in a hurry. We had come to like Melbourne, and had bit bybit cheated ourselves into thinking that we might live comfortably andsettle down in Victoria, out of reach of our enemies, and perhaps liveand die unsuspected. 

From this dream we were roused up by the confounded advertisement. Detectives and constables would be seen to be pretty thick in all thecolonies, and we could not reasonably expect not to be taken some timeor other, most likely before another week. 

We thought it over and over again, in every way. The more we thoughtover it the more dangerous it seemed to stop in Melbourne. There wasonly one thing for it, that was to go straight out of the country. TheGippsland men were the only bushmen we knew at all well, and perhapsthat door might shut soon. 

So we paid our bill. They thought us a pair of quiet, respectable chapsat that hotel, and never would believe otherwise. People may say whatthey like, but it's a great thing to have some friends that can say ofyou--

'Well, I never knew no harm of him; a better tempered chap couldn't be;and all the time we knowed him he was that particular about his billsand money matters that a banker couldn't have been more regular. He mayhave had his faults, but we never seen 'em. I believe a deal that wassaid of him wasn't true, and nothing won't ever make me believe it. '

These kind of people will stand up for you all the days of your life, and stick to you till the very last moment, no matter what you turn outto be. Well, there's something pleasant in it; and it makes you thinkhuman nature ain't quite such a low and paltry thing as some peopletries to make out. Anyhow, when we went away our good little landladyand her sister was that sorry to lose us, as you'd have thought they wasour blood relations. As for Jim, every one in the house was fit to crywhen he went off, from the dogs and cats upwards. Jim never was in nohouse where everybody didn't seem to take naturally to him. Poor oldJim!

We bought a couple of horses, and rode away down to Sale with thesechaps that had sold their cattle in Melbourne and was going home. Itrained all the way, and it was the worst road by chalks we'd ever seenin our lives; but the soil was wonderful, and the grass was something totalk about; we'd hardly ever seen anything like it. A few thousand acresthere would keep more stock than half the country we'd been used to. 

We didn't stay more than a day or so in Sale. Every morning at breakfastsome one was sure to turn up the paper and begin jabbering about thesame old infernal business, Hood's cattle, and what a lot were taken, and whether they'll catch Starlight and the other men, and so on. 

We heard of a job at Omeo while we were in Sale, which we thought wouldjust about suit us. All the cattle on a run there were to be musteredand delivered to a firm of stock agents that had bought them; theywanted people to do it by contract at so much a head. Anybody who tookit must have money enough to buy stock horses. The price per head waspretty fair, what would pay well, and we made up our minds to go in forit. 

So we made a bargain; bought two more horses each, and started awayfor Omeo. It was near 200 miles from where we were. We got up there allright, and found a great rich country with a big lake, I don't knowhow many feet above the sea. The cattle were as wild as hares, but thecountry was pretty good to ride over. We were able to keep our horses ingood condition in the paddocks, and when we had mustered the whole lotwe found we had a handsome cheque to get. 

It was a little bit strange buckling to after the easy life we'd led forthe last few months; but after a day or two we found ourselves as goodmen as ever, and could spin over the limestone boulders and throughthe thick mountain timber as well as ever we did. A man soon gets rightagain in the fresh air of the bush; and as it used to snow there everynow and then the air was pretty fresh, you bet, particularly in themornings and evenings. 

After we'd settled up we made up our minds to get as far as Monaro, and wait there for a month or two. After that we might go in for theshearing till Christmas, and then whatever happened we would both make astrike back for home, and have one happy week, at any rate, with motherand Aileen. 

We tried as well as we could to keep away from the large towns and theregular mail coach road. We worked on runs where the snow came downevery now and then in such a way as to make us think that we might besnowed up alive some fine morning. It was very slow and tedious work, but the newspapers seldom came there, and we were not worried dayafter day with telegrams about our Adelaide stroke, and descriptionsof Starlight's own look and way of speaking. We got into the old way ofworking hard all day and sleeping well at night. We could eat and drinkwell; the corned beef and the damper were good, and Jim, like when wewere at the back of Boree when Warrigal came, wished that we couldstick to this kind of thing always, and never have any fret or crookeddealings again as long as we lived. 

But it couldn't be done. We had to leave and go shearing when the springcame on. We did go, and went from one big station to the other when thespring was regularly on and shearers were scarce. By and by the weathergets warmer, and we had cut our last shed before the first week inDecember. 

Then we couldn't stand it any longer. 

'I don't care, ' says Jim, 'if there's a policeman standing at everycorner of the street, I must make a start for home. They may catch us, but our chance is a pretty good one; and I'd just as soon be laggedoutright as have to hide and keep dark and moulder away life in some ofthese God-forsaken spots. '

So we made up to start for home and chance it. We worked our way bydegrees up the Snowy River, by Buchan and Galantapee, and gradually madetowards Balooka and Buckley's Crossing. On the way we crossed some ofthe roughest country we had ever seen or ridden over. 

'My word, Dick, ' said Jim one day, as we were walking along and leadingour horses, 'we could find a place here if we were hard pushed near asgood for hiding in as the Hollow. Look at that bit of tableland thatruns up towards Black Mountain, any man that could find a track up to itmight live there for a year and all the police of the country be afterhim. '

'What would he get to eat if he was there?'

'That long chap we stayed with at Wargulmerang told us that there werewild cattle on all those tablelands. Often they get snowed up in winterand die, making a circle in the snow. Then fish in all the creeks, besides the old Snowy, and there are places on the south side of himthat people didn't see once in five years. I believe I shall make acamp for myself on the way, and live in it till they've forgot all aboutthese cursed cattle. Rot their hides, I wish we'd never have set eyes onone of them. '

'So do I; but like many things in the world it's too late--too late, Jim!'

Chapter 14

One blazing hot day in the Christmas week Jim and I rode up the 'gap'that led from the Southern road towards Rocky Creek and the little flatnear the water where our hut stood. The horses were tired, for we'dridden a long way, and not very slow either, to get to the old place. How small and queer the old homestead looked, and everything about itafter all we had seen. The trees in the garden were in full leaf, andwe could see that it was not let go to waste. Mother was sitting in theverandah sewing, pretty near the same as we went away, and a girl waswalking slowly up from the creek carrying a bucket of water. It wasAileen. We knew her at once. She was always as straight as a rush, andheld her head high, as she used to do; but she walked very slow, andlooked as if she was dull and weary of everything. All of a sudden Jimjumped off, dropped his horse's bridle on the ground, and started torun towards her. She didn't see him till he was pretty close; then shelooked up astonished-like, and put her bucket down. She gave a suddencry and rushed over to him; the next minute she was in his arms, sobbingas if her heart would break. 

I came along quiet. I knew she'd be glad to see me--but, bless you, sheand mother cared more for Jim's little finger than for my wholebody. Some people have a way of gettin' the biggest share of nearlyeverybody's liking that comes next or anigh 'em. I don't know how it'sdone, or what works it. But so it is; and Jim could always count onevery man, woman, and child, wherever he lived, wearing his colours andbacking him right out, through thick and thin. 

When I came up Aileen was saying--

'Oh, Jim, my dear old Jim! now I'll die happy; mother and I were onlytalking of you to-day, and wondering whether we should see you atChristmas--and now you have come. Oh, Dick! and you too. But we shall befrightened every time we hear a horse's tread or dog's bark. '

'Well, we're here now, Aileen, and that's something. I had a greatnotion of clearing out for San Francisco and turning Yankee. What wouldyou have done then?'

We walked up to the house, leading our horses, Jim and Aileen hand inhand. Mother looked up and gave a scream; she nearly fell down; when wegot in her face was as white as a sheet. 

'Mother of Mercy! I vowed to you for this, ' she said; 'sure she hearsour prayers. I wanted to see ye both before I died, and I didn't thinkyou'd come. I was afraid ye'd be dreadin' the police, and maybe stayaway for good and all. The Lord be thanked for all His mercies!'

We went in and enjoyed our tea. We had had nothing to eat that day sincebreakfast; but better than all was Aileen's pleasant, clever tongue, though she said it was getting stiff for want of exercise. She wantedto know all about our travels, and was never tired of listening to Jim'sstories of the wonders we had seen in the great cities and the strangeplaces we had been to. 

'Oh! how happy you must have been!' she would say, 'while we have beenpining and wearying here, all through last spring and summer, and thenwinter again--cold and miserable it was last year; and now Christmas hascome again. Don't go away again for a good while, or mother and I'll diestraight out. '

Well, what could we say? Tell her we'd never go away at all if we couldhelp it--only she must be a good girl and make the best of things, formother's sake? When had she seen father last?

'Oh! he was away a good while once; that time you and Jim were at Mr. Falkland's back country. You must have had a long job then; no wonderyou've got such good clothes and look so smartened up like. He comesevery now and then, just like he used. We never know what's become ofhim. '

'When was he here last?'

'Oh! about a month ago. He said he might be here about Christmas; buthe wasn't sure. And so you saved Miss Falkland from being killed off herhorse, Jim? Tell me all about it, like a good boy, and what sort of alooking young lady is she?'

'All right, ' said Jim. 'I'll unload the story bag before we get through;there's a lot in there yet; but I want to look at you and hear you talkjust now. How's George Storefield?'

'Oh! he's just the same good, kind, steady-going fellow he always was, 'says she. 'I don't know what we should do without him when you're away. He comes and helps with the cows now and then. Two of the horses gotinto Bargo pound, and he went and released them for us. Then a stormblew off best part of the roof of the barn, and the bit of wheat wouldhave been spoiled only for him. He's the best friend we have. '

'You'd better make sure of him for good and all, ' I said. 'I supposehe's pretty well-to-do now with that new farm he bought the other day. '

'Oh! you saw that, ' she said. 'Yes; he bought out the Cumberers. Theynever did any good with Honeysuckle Flat, though the land was so good. He's going to lay it all down in lucerne, he says. '

'And then he'll smarten up the cottage, and sister Aileen 'll go over, and live in it, ' says Jim; 'and a better thing she couldn't do. '

'I don't know, ' she said. 'Poor George, I wish I was fonder of him. There never was a better man, I believe; but I cannot leave mother yet, so it's no use talking. ' Then she got up and went in. 

'That's the way of the world, ' says Jim. 'George worships the ground shetreads on, and she can't make herself care two straws about him. Perhapsshe will in time. She'll have the best home and the best chap in thewhole district if she does. '

'There's a deal of "if" in this world, ' I said; 'and "if" we're "copped"on account of that last job, I'd like to think she and mother had someone to look after them, good weather and bad. '

'We might have done that, and not killed ourselves with work either, 'said Jim, rather sulkily for him; and he lit his pipe and walked offinto the bush without saying another word. 

I thought, too, how we might have been ten times, twenty times, as happyif we'd only kept on steady ding-dong work, like George Storefield, having patience and seeing ourselves get better off--even a little--yearby year. What had he come to? And what lay before us? And though we werethat fond of poor mother and Aileen that we would have done anything inthe world for them--that is, we would have given our lives for them anyday--yet we had left them--father, Jim, and I--to lead this miserable, lonesome life, looked down upon by a lot of people not half good enoughto tie their shoes, and obliged to a neighbour for help in every littledistress. 

Jim and I thought we'd chance a few days at home, no matter what risk weran; but still we knew that if warrants were out the old home would bewell watched, and that it was the first place the police would come to. So we made up our minds not to sleep at home, but to go away every nightto an old deserted shepherd's hut, a couple of miles up the gully, thatwe used to play in when we were boys. It had been strongly built atfirst; time was not much matter then, and there were no wages to speakof, so that it was a good shelter. The weather was that hot, too, it wasjust as pleasant sleeping under a tree as anywhere else. So we didn'tshow at home more than one at a time, and took care to be ready for abolt at any time, day or night, when the police might show themselves. Our place was middling clear all round now, and it was hard for any oneon horseback to get near it without warning; and if we could once reachthe gully we knew we could run faster than any man could ride. 

One night, latish, just as we were walking off to our hut there was ascratching at the door; when we opened it there was old Crib! He ran upto both of us and smelt round our legs for a minute to satisfy himself;then jumped up once to each of us as if he thought he ought to do thecivil thing, wagged his stump of a tail, and laid himself down. Hewas tired, and had come a long way. We could see that, and that he wasfootsore too. We knew that father wasn't so very far off, and would soonbe in. If there'd been anybody strange there Crib would have run backfast enough; then father'd have dropped there was something up and notshown. No fear of the dog not knowing who was right and who wasn't. Hecould tell every sort of a man a mile off, I believe. He knew the verywalk of the police troopers' horses, and would growl, father said, if heheard their hoofs rattle on the stones of the road. 

About a quarter of an hour after father walks in, quiet as usual. Nothing never made no difference to him, except he thought it wasworth while. He was middlin' glad to see us, and behaved kind enoughto mother, so the poor soul looked quite happy for her. It was littleenough of that she had for her share. By and by father walks outsidewith us, and we had a long private talk. 

It was a brightish kind of starlight night. As we walked down to thecreek I thought how often Jim and I had come out on just such a night'possum hunting, and came home so tired that we were hardly able to pullour boots off. Then we had nothing to think about when we woke in themorning but to get in the cows; and didn't we enjoy the fresh butterand the damper and bacon and eggs at breakfast time! It seems to methe older people get the more miserable they get in this world. If theydon't make misery for themselves other people do it for 'em; orjust when everything's going straight, and they're doing their dutyfirst-rate and all that, some accident happens 'em just as if they wasthe worst people in the world. I can't make it out at all. 

'Well, boys, ' says dad, 'you've been lucky so far; suppose you had apretty good spree in Melbourne? You seen the game was up by the papers, didn't you? But why didn't you stay where you were?'

'Why, of course, that brought us away, ' says Jim; 'we didn't want tobe fetched back in irons, and thought there was more show for it in thebush here. '

'But even if they'd grabbed Starlight, ' says the old man, 'you'd no callto be afeard. Not much chance of his peaching, if it had been a hangingmatter. '

'You don't mean to say there ain't warrants against us and the rest ofthe lot?' I said. 

'There's never a warrant out agin any one but Starlight, ' said the oldman. 'I've had the papers read to me regular, and I rode over to Bargoand saw the reward of 200 Pounds (a chap alongside of me read it) as isoffered for a man generally known as Starlight, supposed to have leftthe country; but not a word about you two and me, or the boy, or themother coves. '

'So we might as well have stayed where we were, Jim. ' Jim gave a kindof groan. 'Still, when you look at it, isn't it queer, ' I went on, 'thatthey should only spot Starlight and leave us out? It looks as if theywas keepin' dark for fear of frightening us out of the country, butwatching all the same. '

'It's this way I worked it, ' says father, rubbing his tobacco in hishands the old way, and bringing out his pipe: 'they couldn't be offmarking down Starlight along of his carryin' on so. Of course he drawednotice to himself all roads. But the rest of us only come in withthe mob, and soon as they was sold stashed the camp and cleared outdifferent ways. Them three fellers is in Queensland long ago, and nobodywas to know them from any other road hands. I was back with the old mareand Bilbah in mighty short time. I rode 'em night and day, turn about, and they can both travel. You kept pretty quiet, as luck had it, and wasoff to Melbourne quick. I don't really believe they dropped to any ofus, bar Starlight; and if they don't nab him we might get shut of italtogether. I've known worse things as never turned up in this world, and never will now. ' Here the old man showed his teeth as if he weregoing to laugh, but thought better of it. 

'Anyhow, we'd made it up to come home at Christmas, ' says Jim; 'but it'sall one. It would have saved us a deal of trouble in our minds all thesame if we'd known there was no warrants out after us two. I wonder ifthey'll nail Starlight. '

'They can't be well off it, ' says father. 'He's gone off his head, andstopped in some swell town in New Zealand--Canterbury, I think it'scalled--livin' tiptop among a lot of young English swells, instead ofmakin' off for the Islands, as he laid out to do. '

'How do you know he's there?' I said. 

'I know, and that's enough, ' snarls father. 'I hear a lot in many waysabout things and people that no one guesses on, and I know this--thathe's pretty well marked down by old Stillbrook the detective as wentdown there a month ago. '

'But didn't you warn him?'

'Yes, of course, as soon as I heard tell; but it's too late, I'mthinking. He has the devil's luck as well as his own, but I always usedto tell him it would fail him yet. '

'I believe you're the smartest man of the crowd, dad, ' says Jim, layinghis hand on father's shoulder. He could pretty nigh get round the oldchap once in a way, could Jim, surly as he was. 'What do you think we'dbetter do? What's our best dart?'

Father shook off his hand, but not roughly, and his voice wasn't so hardwhen he said--

'Why, stop at home quiet, of course, and sleep in your beds at night. Don't go planting in the gully, or some one 'll think you're wanted, andlet on to the police. Ride about the country till I give you theoffice. Never fear but I'll have word quick enough. Go about and see theneighbours round just as usual. '

Jim and I was quite stunned by this bit of news; no doubt we was prettysorry as ever we left Melbourne, but there was nothing for it now but tofollow it out. After all, we were at home, and it was pleasant to thinkwe wouldn't be hunted for a bit and might ride about the old place andenjoy ourselves a bit. Aileen was as happy as the day was long, and poormother used to lay her head on Jim's neck and cry for joy to have himwith her. Even father used to sit in the front, under the quinces, andsmoke his pipe, with old Crib at his feet, most as if he thought he washappy. I wonder if he ever looked back to the days when he was a farmin'boy and hadn't took to poaching? He must have been a smart, handy kindof lad, and what a different look his face must have had then!

We had our own horses in pretty good trim, so we foraged up Aileen'smare, and made it up to ride over to George Storefield's, and gave him alook-up. He'd been away when we came, and now we heard he was home. 

'George has been doing well all this time, of course, ' I said. 'I expecthe'll turn squatter some day and be made a magistrate. '

'Like enough, ' says Jim. 'More than one we could pick began lower downthan him, and sits on the Bench and gives coves like us a turn whenwe're brought up before 'em. Fancy old George sayin', "Is anythingknown, constable, of this prisoner's anterseedents?" as I heard oldHiggler say one day at Bargo. '

'Why do you make fun of these things, Jim, dear?' says Aileen, lookingso solemn and mournful like. 'Oughtn't a steady worker to rise inlife, and isn't it sad to see cleverer men and better workers--if theyliked--kept down by their own fault?'

'Why wasn't your roan mare born black or chestnut?' says Jim, laughing, and pretending to touch her up. 'Come along, and let's see if she cantrot as well as she used to do?'

'Poor Lowan, ' says she, patting the mare's smooth neck (she was awonderful neat, well-bred, dark roan, with black points--one of dad's, perhaps, that he'd brought her home one time he was in special goodhumour about something. Where she was bred or how, nobody ever knew);'she was born pretty and good. How little trouble her life gives her. It's a pity we can't all say as much, or have as little on our minds. '

'Whose fault's that?' says Jim. 'The dingo must live as well as thecollie or the sheep either. One's been made just the same as the other. I've often watched a dingo turn round twice, and then pitch himselfdown in the long grass like as if he was dead. He's not a bad sort, olddingo, and has a good time of it as long as it lasts. '

'Yes, till he's trapped or shot or poisoned some day, which he alwaysis, ' said Aileen bitterly. 'I wonder any man should be content with awicked life and a shameful death. ' And she struck Lowan with aswitch, and spun down the slope of the hill between the trees like aforester-doe with the hunter-hound behind her. 

When we came up with her she was all right again, and tried to smile. Whatever put her out for the time she always worked things by kindness, and would lead us straight if she could. Driven, she knew we couldn'tbe; and I believe she did us about ten times as much good that way as ifshe had scolded and raged, or even sneered at us. 

When we rode up to Mr. Storefield's farm we were quite agreeable andpleasant again, Jim makin' believe his horse could walk fastest, andsaying that her mare's pace was only a double shuffle of an amble likeBilbah's, and she declaring that the mare's was a true walk--and soit was. The mare could do pretty well everything but talk, and all herpaces were first-class. 

Old Mrs. Storefield was pottering about in the garden with a bigsun-bonnet on. She was a great woman for flowers. 

'Come along in, Aileen, my dear, ' she said. 'Gracey's in the dairy;she'll be out directly. George only came home yesterday. Who be theseyou've got with ye? Why, Dick!' she says, lookin' again with her sharp, old, gray eyes, 'it's you, boy, is it? Well, you've changed a deal too;and Jim too. Is he as full of mischief as ever? Well, God bless you, boys, I wish you well! I wish you well. Come in out of the sun, Aileen;and one of you take the horses up to the stable. You'll find Georgethere somewhere. '

Aileen had jumped down by this time, and had thrown her rein to Jim, sowe rode up to the stable, and a very good one it was, not long put up, that we could see. How the place had changed, and how different it wasfrom ours! We remembered the time when their hut wasn't a patch on ours, when old Isaac Storefield, that had been gardener at Mulgoa to some ofthe big gentlemen in the old days, had saved a bit of money and takenup a farm; but bit by bit their place had been getting better and biggerevery year, while ours had stood still and now was going back. 

Chapter 15

George Storefield's place, for the old man was dead and all the placebelonged to him and Gracey, quite stunned Jim and me. We'd been awaymore than a year, and he'd pulled down the old fences and put upnew ones--first-rate work it was too; he was always a dead hand atsplitting. Then there was a big hay-shed, chock-full of good sweet hayand wheat sheaves, and, last of all, the new stable, with six stallsand a loft above, and racks, all built of ironbark slabs, as solid andreg'lar as a church, Jim said. 

They'd a good six-roomed cottage and a new garden fence ever so long. There were more fruit trees in the garden and a lot of good draughthorses standing about, that looked well, but as if they'd come off ajourney. 

The stable door opens, and out comes old George as hearty as ever, butlooking full of business. 

'Glad to see you, boys, ' he says; 'what a time you've been away! Beenaway myself these three months with a lot of teams carrying. I've takengreatly to the business lately. I'm just settling up with my drivers, but put the horses in, there's chaff and corn in the mangers, and I'llbe down in a few minutes. It's well on to dinner-time, I see. '

We took the bridles off and tied up the horses--there was any amount offeed for them--and strolled down to the cottage again. 

'Wonder whether Gracey's as nice as she used to be, ' says Jim. 'Next toAileen I used to think she wasn't to be beat. When I was a little chapI believed you and she must be married for certain. And old George andAileen. I never laid out any one for myself, I remember. '

'The first two don't look like coming off, ' I said. 'You're thelikeliest man to marry and settle if Jeanie sticks to you. '

'She'd better go down to the pier and drown herself comfortably, ' saidJim. 'If she knew what was before us all, perhaps she would. Poor littleJeanie! We'd no right to drag other people into our troubles. I believewe're getting worse and worse. The sooner we're shot or locked up thebetter. '

'You won't think so when it comes, old man, ' I said. 'Don't bother yourhead--it ain't the best part of you--about things that can't be helped. We're not the only horses that can't be kept on the course--with a goodturn of speed too. '

'"They want shooting like the dingoes, " as Aileen said. They're never nogood, except to ruin those that back 'em and disgrace their owners andthe stable they come out of. That's our sort, all to pieces. Well, we'dbetter come in. Gracey 'll think we're afraid to face her. '

When we went away last Grace Storefield was a little over seventeen, so now she was nineteen all out, and a fine girl she'd grown. Though Inever used to think her a beauty, now I almost began to think she mustbe. She wasn't tall, and Aileen looked slight alongside of her; but shewas wonderful fair and fresh coloured for an Australian girl, with alot of soft brown hair and a pair of clear blue eyes that always lookedkindly and honestly into everybody's face. Every look of her seemed towish to do you good and make you think that nothing that wasn't squareand right and honest and true could live in the same place with her. 

She held out both hands to me and said--

'Well, Dick, so you're back again. You must have been to the end of theworld, and Jim, too. I'm very glad to see you both. '

She looked into my face with that pleased look that put me in mind ofher when she was a little child and used to come toddling up to me, staring and smiling all over her face the moment she saw me. Now she wasa grown woman, and a sweet-looking one too. I couldn't lift her up andkiss her as I used to do, but I felt as if I should like to do it allthe same. She was the only creature in the whole world, I think, thatliked me better than Jim. I'd been trying to drive all thoughts of herout of my heart, seeing the tangle I'd got into in more ways than one;but now the old feeling which had been a part of me ever since I'd grownup came rushing back stronger than ever. I was surprised at myself, andlooked queer I daresay. 

Then Aileen laughed, and Jim comes to the rescue and says--

'Dick doesn't remember you, Gracey. You've grown such a swell, too. Youcan't be the little girl we used to carry on our backs. '

'Dick remembers very well, ' she says, and her very voice was ever somuch fuller and softer, 'don't you, Dick?' and she looked into my faceas innocent as a child. 'I don't think he could pull me out of the waterand carry me up to the cottage now. '

'You tumble in and we'll try, ' says Jim; 'first man to keep you forgood--eh, Gracey? It's fine hot weather, and Aileen shall see fairplay. '

'You're just as saucy as ever, Jim, ' says she, blushing and smiling. 'Isee George coming, so I must go and fetch in dinner. Aileen's going tohelp me instead of mother. You must tell us all about your travels whenwe sit down. '

When George came in he began to talk to make up for lost time, and toldus where he had been--a long way out in some new back country, justtaken up with sheep. He had got a first-rate paying price for hiscarriage out, and had brought back and delivered a full load of wool. 

'I intend to do it every year for a bit, ' he said. 'I can breed and feeda good stamp of draught horse here. I pay drivers for three waggons anddrive the fourth myself. It pays first-rate so far, and we had very fairfeed all the way there and back. '

'Suppose you get a dry season, ' I said, 'how will that be?'

'We shall have to carry forage, of course; but then carriage will behigher, and it will come to the same thing. I don't like being so longaway from home; but it pays first-rate, and I think I see a way to itspaying better still. '

'So you've ridden over to show them the way, Aileen, ' he said, as thegirls came in; 'very good of you it was. I was afraid you'd forgottenthe way. '

'I never forget the way to a friend's place, George, ' she said, 'andyou've been our best friend while these naughty boys have left motherand me so long by ourselves. But you've been away yourself. '

'Only four months, ' he said; 'and after a few more trips I shan't wantto go away any more. '

'That will be a good day for all of us, ' she said. 'You know, Gracey, wecan't do without George, can we? I felt quite deserted, I can tell you. '

'He wouldn't have gone away at all if you'd held up your little finger, you know that, you hard-hearted girl, ' said Grace, trying to frown. 'It's all your fault. '

'Oh! I couldn't interfere with Mr. Storefield's business, ' said Aileen, looking very grave. 'What kind of a country was it you were out in?'

'Not a bad place for sheep and cattle and blacks, ' said poor George, looking rather glum; 'and not a bad country to make money or do anythingbut live in, but that hot and dry and full of flies and mosquitoes thatI'd sooner live on a pound a week down here than take a good station asa present there. That is, if I was contented, ' he went on to say, with asort of a groan. 

There never was a greater mistake in the world, I believe, than for aman to let a woman know how much he cares for her. It's right enough ifshe's made up her mind to take him, no odds what happens. But if there'sany half-and-half feeling in her mind about him, and she's uncertain anddoubtful whether she likes him well enough, all this down-on-your-kneesbusiness works against you, more than your worst enemy could do. Ididn't know so much about it then. I've found it out since, worse luck. And I really believe if George had had the savey to crack himself up alittle, and say he'd met a nice girl or two in the back country and hidhis hand, Aileen would have made it up with him that very Christmas, andbeen a happy woman all her life. 

When old Mrs. Storefield came in she put us through our facings prettybrisk--where we'd been, what we'd done? What took us to Melbourne, --howwe liked it? What kind of people they were? and so on. We had to tellher a good lot, part of it truth, of course, but pretty mixed. It maderather a good yarn, and I could see Grace was listening with her heartas well as her ears. Jim said generally we met some very nice people inMelbourne named Jackson, and they were very kind to us. 

'Were there any daughters in the family, Jim?' asked Grace. 

'Oh! yes, three. '

'Were they good-looking?'

'No, rather homely, particularly the youngest. '

'What did they do?'

'Oh! their mother kept a boarding-house. We stayed there. '

I don't think I ever knew Jim do so much lying before; but after he'dbegun he had to stick to it. He told me afterwards he nearly broke downabout the three daughters; but was rather proud of making the youngestthe ugliest. 

'I can see Gracey's as fond of you as ever she was, Dick, ' says he;'that's why she made me tell all those crammers. It's an awful pity wecan't all square it, and get spliced this Christmas. Aileen would takeGeorge if she wasn't a fool, as most women are. I'd like to bring Jeanieup here, and join George in the carrying business. It's going to be abig thing, I can see. You might marry Gracey, and look after both placeswhile we were away. '

'And how about Kate?'

'The devil take her! and then he'd have a bargain. I wish you'd neverdropped across her, and that she wasn't Jeanie's sister, ' blurts outJim. 'She'll bring bad luck among us before she's done, I feel, as sureas we're standing here. '

'It's all a toss up--like our lives; married or lagged, bushwork orroadwork (in irons), free or bond. We can't tell how it will be with usthis day year. '

'I've half a mind to shoot myself, ' says Jim, 'and end it all. I would, too, only for mother and Aileen. What's the use of life that isn't life, but fear and misery, from one day's end to another, and we only justgrown up? It's d----d hard that a chap's brains don't grow along withhis legs and arms. '

We didn't ride home till quite the evening. Grace would have us stayfor tea; it was a pretty hot day, so there was no use riding in the sun. George saddled his horse, and he and Grace rode part of the way homewith us. He'd got regular sunburnt like us, and, as he could ride a bit, like most natives, he looked better outside of a horse than on his ownlegs, being rather thick-set and shortish; but his heart was in theright place, like his sister's, and his head was screwed on right, too. I think more of old George now than I ever did before, and wish I'd hadthe sense to value his independent straight-ahead nature, and the trackit led him, as he deserved. 

Jim and I rode in front, with Gracey between us. She had on a neat habitand a better hat and gloves than Aileen, but nothing could ever give herthe seat and hand and light, easy, graceful way with her in the saddlethat our girl had. All the same she could ride and drive too, and as werode side by side in the twilight, talking about the places I'd been to, and she wanting to know everything (Jim drew off a bit when the road gotnarrow), I felt what a fool I'd been to let things slide, and would havegiven my right hand to have been able to put them as they were threeshort years before. 

At last we got to the Gap; it was the shortest halt from their home. George shook hands with Aileen, and turned back. 

'We'll come and see you next----' he said. 

'Christmas Eve!' said Aileen. 

'Christmas Eve let it be, ' says George. 

'All right, ' I said, holding Grace's hand for a bit. And so weparted--for how long, do you think?

Chapter 16

When we got home it was pretty late, and the air was beginning to coolafter the hot day. There was a low moon, and everything showed outclear, so that you could see the smallest branches of the trees on NullaMountain, where it stood like a dark cloud-bank against the western sky. There wasn't the smallest breeze. The air was that still and quiet youcould have heard anything stir in the grass, or almost a 'possum digginghis claws into the smooth bark of the white gum trees. The curlews setup a cry from time to time; but they didn't sound so queer and shrill asthey mostly do at night. I don't know how it was, but everything seemedquiet and pleasant and homelike, as if a chap might live a hundredyears, if it was all like this, and keep growing better and happierevery day. I remember all this so particular because it was the onlytime I'd felt like it for years, and I never had the same feelingafterwards--nor likely to. 

'Oh! what a happy day I've had, ' Aileen said, on a sudden. Jim and I andher had been riding a long spell without speaking. 'I don't know whenI've enjoyed myself so much; I've got quite out of the way of beinghappy lately, and hardly know the taste of it. How lovely it would beif you and Jim could always stay at home like this, and we could do ourwork happy and comfortable together, without separating, and all thisdeadly fear of something terrible happening, that's never out of mymind. Oh! Dick, won't you promise me to stop quiet and work steady athome, if you--if you and Jim haven't anything brought against you?'

She bent forward and looked into my face as she said this. I could seeher eyes shine, and every word she said seemed to come straight from herheart. How sad and pitiful she looked, and we felt for a moment just aswe did when we were boys, and she used to come and persuade us to go onwith our work and not grieve mother, and run the risk of a licking fromfather when he came home. 

Her mare, Lowan, was close alongside of my horse, stepping along at herfast tearing walk, throwing up her head and snorting every now and then, but Aileen sat in her saddle better than some people can sit in a chair;she held the rein and whip together and kept her hand on mine till Ispoke. 

'We'll do all we can, Aileen dear, for you and poor mother, won't we, Jim?' I felt soft and down-hearted then, if ever I did. 'But it's toolate--too late! You'll see us now and then; but we can't stop at homequiet, nor work about here all the time as we used to do. That day'sgone. Jim knows it as well as me. There's no help for it now. We'll haveto do like the rest--enjoy ourselves a bit while we can, and stand up toour fight when the trouble comes. '

She took her hand away, and rode on with her rein loose and her headdown. I could see the tears falling down her face, but after a bit sheput herself to rights, and we rode quietly up to the door. Mother wasworking away in her chair, and father walking up and down before thedoor smoking. 

When we were letting go the horses, father comes up and says--

'I've got a bit of news for you, boys; Starlight's been took, and thedarkie with him. '

'Where?' I said. Somehow I felt struck all of a heap by hearing this. I'd got out of the way of thinking they'd drop on him. As for Jim, he heard it straight enough, but he went on whistling and patting themare's neck, teasing her like, because she was so uneasy to get herhead-stall off and run after the others. 

'Why, in New Zealand, to be sure. The blamed fool stuck there all thistime, just because he found himself comfortably situated among people ashe liked. I wonder how he'll fancy Berrima after it all? Sarves him wellright. '

'But how did you come to hear about it?' We knew father couldn't readnor write. 

'I have a chap as is paid to read the papers reg'lar, and to put meon when there's anything in 'em as I want to know. He's bin over hereto-day and give me the office. Here's the paper he left. '

Father pulls out a crumpled-up dirty-lookin' bit of newspaper. Itwasn't much to look at; but there was enough to keep us in readin', andthinkin', too, for a good while, as soon as we made it out. In prettybig letters, too. 

IMPORTANT CAPTURE BY DETECTIVE STILLBROOK, OF THE NEW SOUTH WALES POLICE. 

That was atop of the page, then comes this:--

Our readers may remember the description given in this journal, somemonths since, of a cattle robbery on the largest scale, when upwards ofa thousand head were stolen from one of Mr. Hood's stations, driven toAdelaide, and then sold, by a party of men whose names have not as yettranspired. It is satisfactory to find that the leader of the gang, whois well known to the police by the assumed name of 'Starlight', with ahalf-caste lad recognised as an accomplice, has been arrested by thisactive officer. It appears that, from information received, DetectiveStillbrook went to New Zealand, and, after several months' patientsearch, took his passage in the boat which left that colony, in orderto meet the mail steamer, outward bound, for San Francisco. As thepassengers were landing he arrested a gentlemanlike and well-dressedpersonage, who, with his servant, was about to proceed to Menzies'sHotel. Considerable surprise was manifested by the other passengers, with whom the prisoner had become universally popular. He indignantlydenied all knowledge of the charge; but we have reason to believe thatthere will be no difficulty as to identification. A large sum of moneyin gold and notes was found upon him. Other arrests are likely tofollow. 

This looked bad; for a bit we didn't know what to think. While Jim andI was makin' it all out, with the help of a bit of candle we smuggledout--we dursn't take it inside--father was smokin' his pipe--in the oldfashion--and saying nothing. When we'd done he put up his pipe in hispouch and begins to talk. 

'It's come just as I said, and knowed it would, through Starlight'scussed flashness and carryin's on in fine company. If he'd cleared outand made for the Islands as I warned him to do, and he settled to, or asgood, afore he left us that day at the camp, he'd been safe in some o'them 'Merikin places he was always gassin' about, and all this wouldn't'a happened. '

'He couldn't help that, ' says Jim; 'he thought they'd never know himfrom any other swell in Canterbury or wherever he was. He's been took inlike many another man. What I look at is this: he won't squeak. How arethey to find out that we had any hand in it?'

'That's what I'm dubersome about, ' says father, lightin' his pipe again. 'Nobody down there got much of a look at me, and I let my beard grow onthe road and shaved clean soon's I got back, same as I always do. Nowthe thing is, does any one know that you boys was in the fakement?'

'Nobody's likely to know but him and Warrigal. The knockabouts and thoseother three chaps won't come it on us for their own sakes. We may aswell stop here till Christmas is over and then make down to the Barwon, or somewhere thereabouts. We could take a long job at droving till thederry's off a bit. '

'If you'll be said by me, ' the old man growls out, 'you'll make tracksfor the Hollow afore daylight and keep dark till we hear how the playgoes. I know Starlight's as close as a spring-lock; but that chapWarrigal don't cotton to either of you, and he's likely to give you awayif he's pinched himself--that's my notion of him. '

'Starlight 'll keep him from doing that, ' Jim says; 'the boy 'll donothing his master don't agree to, and he'd break his neck if he foundhim out in any dog's trick like that. '

'Starlight and he ain't in the same cell, you take your oath. I don'ttrust no man except him. I'll be off now, and if you'll take a fool'sadvice, though he is your father, you'll go too; we can be there bydaylight. '

Jim and I looked at each other. 

'We promised to stay Chris'mas with mother and Aileen, ' says he, 'and ifall the devils in hell tried to stop us, I wouldn't break my word. Butwe'll come to the Hollow on Boxing Day, won't we, Dick?'

'All right! It's only two or three days. The day after to-morrow'sChris'mas Eve. We'll chance that, as it's gone so far. '

'Take your own way, ' growls father. 'Fetch me my saddle. The old mare'sclose by the yard. '

Jim fetches the saddle and bridle, and Crib comes after him, out of theverandah, where he had been lying. Bless you! he knew something was up. Just like a Christian he was, and nothing never happened that dad was inas he wasn't down to. 

'May as well stop till morning, dad, ' says Jim, as we walked up to theyard. 

'Not another minute, ' says the old man, and he whips the bridle out ofJim's hand and walks over to the old mare. She lifts up her head fromthe dry grass and stands as steady as a rock. 

'Good-bye, ' he says, and he shook hands with both of us; 'if I don't seeyou again I'll send you word if I hear anything fresh. '

In another minute we heard the old mare's hoofs proceeding away amongthe rocks up the gully, and gradually getting fainter in the distance. 

Then we went in. Mother and Aileen had been in bed an hour ago, and allthe better for them. Next morning we told mother and Aileen that fatherhad gone. They didn't say much. They were used to his ways. They neverexpected him till they saw him, and had got out of the fashion of askingwhy he did this or that. He had reasons of his own, which he never toldthem, for going or coming, and they'd left off troubling their headsabout it. Mother was always in dread while he was there, and they werefar easier in their minds when he was away off the place. 

As for us, we had made up our minds to enjoy ourselves while we could, and we had come to his way of thinking, that most likely nothing wasknown of our being in the cattle affair that Starlight and the boy hadbeen arrested for. We knew nothing would drag it out of Starlight abouthis pals in this or any other job. Now they'd got him, it would contentthem for a bit, and maybe take off their attention from us and theothers that were in it. 

There were two days to Christmas. Next day George and his sister wouldbe over, and we all looked forward to that for a good reminder of oldtimes. We were going to have a merry Christmas at home for once in away. After that we would clear out and get away to some of the far outstations, where chaps like ourselves always made to when they wanted tokeep dark. We might have the luck of other men that we had known of, and never be traced till the whole thing had died out and beenhalf-forgotten. Though we didn't say much to each other we had prettywell made up our minds to go straight from this out. We might take up abit of back country, and put stock on it with some of the money we hadleft. Lots of men had begun that way that had things against them as badas us, and had kept steady, and worked through in course of time. Whyshouldn't we as well as others? We wanted to see what the papers said ofus, so we rode over to a little post town we knew of and got a copy ofthe 'Evening Times'. There it all was in full:--

 CATTLE-LIFTING EXTRAORDINARY. 

We have heard from time to time of cattle being stolen in lots ofreasonable size, say from ten to one hundred, or even as high as twohundred head at the outside. But we never expected to have to record theerecting of a substantial stockyard and the carrying off and disposingof a whole herd, estimated at a thousand or eleven hundred head, chieflythe property of one proprietor. Yet this has been done in New SouthWales, and done, we regret to say, cleverly and successfully. It hasjust transpired, beyond all possibility of mistake, that Mr. Hood'sOuter Back Momberah run has suffered to that extent in the past winter. The stolen herd was driven to Adelaide, and there sold openly. Themoney was received by the robbers, who were permitted to decamp at theirleisure. 

When we mention the name of the notorious 'Starlight', no one will besurprised that the deed was planned, carried out, and executed withconsummate address and completeness. It seems matter of regret that wecannot persuade this illustrious depredator to take the command of ourpolice force, that body of life-assurers and property-protectors whichhas proved so singularly ineffective as a preventive service in thepresent case. On the well-known proverbial principle we might hope forthe best results under Mr. Starlight's intelligent supervision. We mustnot withhold our approval as to one item of success which the force hasscored. Starlight himself and a half-caste henchman have been cleverlycaptured by Detective Stillbrook, just as the former, who has beenruffling it among the 'aristocratic' settlers of Christchurch, was aboutto sail for Honolulu. The names of his other accomplices, six in number, it is said, have not as yet transpired. 

This last part gave us confidence, but all the same we kept everythingready for a bolt in case of need. We got up our horses every evening andkept them in the yard all night. The feed was good by the creek now--alittle dried up but plenty of bite, and better for horses that had beenridden far and fast than if it was green. We had enough of last year'shay to give them a feed at night, and that was all they wanted. Theywere two pretty good ones and not slow either. We took care of that whenwe bought them. Nobody ever saw us on bad ones since we were boys, andwe had broken them in to stand and be caught day or night, and to let usjump on and off at a moment's notice. 

All that day, being awful hot and close, we stayed in the house andyarned away with mother and Aileen till they thought--poor souls--thatwe had turned over a new leaf and were going to stay at home and be goodboys for the future. When a man sees how little it takes to make womenhappy--them that's good and never thinks of anything but doing theirbest for everybody belonging to 'em--it's wonderful how men ever makeup their minds to go wrong and bring all that loves them to shame andgrief. When they've got nobody but themselves to think of it don't somuch matter as I know of; but to keep on breaking the hearts of thoseas never did you anything but good, and wouldn't if they lived for ahundred years, is cowardly and unmanly any way you look at it. And yetwe'd done very little else ourselves these years and years. 

We all sat up till nigh on to midnight with our hands in oneanother's--Jim down at mother's feet; Aileen and I close beside them onthe old seat in the verandah that father made such a time ago. At lastmother gets up, and they both started for bed. Aileen seemed as if shecouldn't tear herself away. Twice she came back, then she kissed usboth, and the tears came into her eyes. 'I feel too happy, ' she said;'I never thought I should feel like this again. God bless you both, and keep us all from harm. ' 'Amen, ' said mother from the next room. Weturned out early, and had a bathe in the creek before we went up to theyard to let out the horses. There wasn't a cloud in the sky; it was safeto be a roasting hot day, but it was cool then. The little waterholewhere we learned to swim when we were boys was deep on one side and hada rocky ledge to jump off. The birds just began to give out a note ortwo; the sun was rising clear and bright, and we could see the dark topof Nulla Mountain getting a sort of rose colour against the sky. 

'George and Gracey 'll be over soon after breakfast, ' I said; 'we musthave everything look ship-shape as well as we can before they turn up. '

'The horses may as well go down to the flat, ' Jim says; 'we can catchthem easy enough in time to ride back part of the way with them. I'llrun up Lowan, and give her a bit of hay in the calf-pen. '

We went over to the yard, and Jim let down the rails and walked in. Istopped outside. Jim had his horse by the mane, and was patting his neckas mine came out, when three police troopers rose up from behind thebushes, and covering us with their rifles called out, 'Stand, in theQueen's name!'

Jim made one spring on to his horse's back, drove his heels into hisflank, and was out through the gate and half-way down the hill beforeyou could wink. 

Just as Jim cleared the gate a tall man rose up close behind me and tooka cool pot at him with a revolver. I saw Jim's hat fly off, and anotherbullet grazed his horse's hip. I saw the hair fly, and the horse makea plunge that would have unseated most men with no saddle between theirlegs. But Jim sat close and steady and only threw up his arm and gave ashout as the old horse tore down the hill a few miles an hour faster. 

'D--n those cartridges, ' said the tall trooper; 'they always put toomuch powder in them for close shooting. Now, Dick Marston!' he went on, putting his revolver to my head, 'I'd rather not blow your brains outbefore your people, but if you don't put up your hands by----I'll shootyou where you stand. ' I had been staring after Jim all the time; Ibelieve I had never thought of myself till he was safe away. 

'Get your horses, you d----d fools, ' he shouts out to the men, 'and seeif you can follow up that madman. He's most likely knocked off against atree by this time. '

There was nothing else for it but to do it and be handcuffed. As thesteel locks snapped I saw mother standing below wringing her hands, andAileen trying to get her into the house. 

'Better come down and get your coat on, Dick, ' said the seniorconstable. 'We want to search the place, too. By Jove! we shall getpepper from Sir Ferdinand when we go in. I thought we had you both assafe as chickens in a coop. Who would have thought of Jim givin' us theslip, on a barebacked horse, without so much as a halter? I'm devilishsorry for your family; but if nothing less than a thousand head ofcattle will satisfy people, they must expect trouble to come of it. '

'What are you talking about?' I said. 'You've got the wrong story andthe wrong men. '

'All right; we'll see about that. I don't know whether you want anybreakfast, but I should like a cup of tea. It's deuced slow workwatching all night, though it isn't cold. We've got to be in Bargobarracks to-night, so there's no time to lose. '

It was all over now--the worst HAD come. What fools we had been not totake the old man's advice, and clear out when he did. He was safe in theHollow, and would chuckle to himself--and be sorry, too--when he heardof my being taken, and perhaps Jim. The odds were he might be smashedagainst a tree, perhaps killed, at the pace he was going on a horse hecould not guide. 

They searched the house, but the money they didn't get. Jim and I hadtaken care of that, in case of accidents. Mother sat rocking herselfbackwards and forwards, every now and then crying out in a pitiful way, like the women in her country do, I've heard tell, when some one oftheir people is dead; 'keening', I think they call it. Well, Jim and Iwere as good as dead. If the troopers had shot the pair of us there andthen, same as bushmen told us the black police did their prisoners whenthey gave 'em any trouble, it would have been better for everybody. However, people don't die all at once when they go to the bad, and taketo stealing or drinking, or any of the devil's favourite traps. Pitythey don't, and have done with it once and for all. 

I know I thought so when I was forced to stand there with my handschained together for the first time in my life (though I'd worked forit, I know that); and to see Aileen walking about laying the cloth forbreakfast like a dead woman, and know what was in her mind. 

The troopers were civil enough, and Goring, the senior constable, triedto comfort them as much as he could. He knew it was no fault of theirs;and though he said he meant to have Jim if mortal men and horses coulddo it he thought he had a fair chance of getting away. 'He's sure to becaught in the long run, though, ' he went on to say. 'There's a warrantout for him, and a description in every "Police Gazette" in thecolonies. My advice to him would be to come back and give himselfup. It's not a hanging matter, and as it's the first time you've beenfitted, Dick, the judge, as like as not, will let you off with a lightsentence. '

So they talked away until they had finished their breakfast. I couldn'ttouch a mouthful for the life of me, and as soon as it was all overthey ran up my horse and put the saddle on. But I wasn't to ride him. Nofear! Goring put me on an old screw of a troop horse, with one leg likea gate-post. I was helped up and my legs tied under his belly. Then oneof the men took the bridle and led me away. Goring rode in front and theother men behind. 

As we rose the hill above the place I looked back and saw mother dropdown on the ground in a kind of fit, while Aileen bent over her andseemed to be loosening her dress. Just at that moment George Storefieldand his sister rode up to the door. George jumped off and rushed over toAileen and mother. I knew Gracey had seen me, for she sat on her horseas if she had been turned to stone, and let her reins drop on his neck. Strange things have happened to me since, but I shall never forget thatto the last day of my miserable life. 

Chapter 17

I wasn't in the humour for talking, but sometimes anything's better thanone's own thoughts. Goring threw in a word from time to time. He'd onlylately come into our district, and was sure to be promoted, everybodysaid. Like Starlight himself, he'd seen better days at home in England;but when he got pinched he'd taken the right turn and not the wrong one, which makes all the difference. He was earning his bread honest, anyway, and he was a chap as liked the fun and dash of a mounted policeman'slife. As for the risk--and there is some danger, more than peoplethinks, now and then--he liked that the best of it. He was put out atlosing Jim; but he believed he couldn't escape, and told me so in afriendly way. 'He's inside a circle and he can't get away, you markmy words, ' he said, two or three times. 'We have every police-stationwarned by wire, within a hundred miles of here, three days ago. There'snot a man in the colony sharper looked after than Master Jim is thisminute. '

'Then you only heard about us three days ago?' I said. 

'That's as it may be, ' he answered, biting his lip. 'Anyhow, there isn'ta shepherd's hut within miles that he can get to without our knowingit. The country's rough, but there's word gone for a black tracker to godown. You'll see him in Bargo before the week's out. '

I had a good guess where Jim would make for, and he knew enough to hidehis tracks for the last few miles if there was a whole tribe of trackersafter him. 

That night we rode into Bargo. A long day too we'd had--we were alltired enough when we got in. I was locked up, of course, and as soon aswe were in the cell Goring said, 'Listen to me, ' and put on his officialface--devilish stern and hard-looking he was then, in spite of all thetalking and nonsense we'd had coming along. 

'Richard Marston, I charge you with unlawfully taking, stealing, andcarrying away, in company with others, one thousand head of mixedcattle, more or less the property of one Walter Hood, of Outer Back, Momberah, in or about the month of June last. '

'All right; why don't you make it a few more while you're about it?'

'That'll do, ' he said, nodding his head, 'you decline to say anything. Well, I can't exactly wish you a merry Christmas--fancy this beingChristmas Eve, by Jove!--but you'll be cool enough this deuced hotweather till the sessions in February, which is more than some of uscan say. Good-night. ' He went out and locked the door. I sat down onmy blanket on the floor and hid my head in my hands. I wonder it didn'tburst with what I felt then. Strange that I shouldn't have felt half asbad when the judge, the other day, sentenced me to be a dead man in acouple of months. But I was young then. 

 . . . . . 

Christmas Day! Christmas Day! So this is how I was to spend it afterall, I thought, as I woke up at dawn, and saw the gray light justbeginning to get through the bars of the window of the cell. 

Here was I locked up, caged, ironed, disgraced, a felon and an outcastfor the rest of my life. Jim, flying for his life, hiding from everyhonest man, every policeman in the country looking after him, andauthorised to catch him or shoot him down like a sheep-killing dog. Father living in the Hollow, like a blackfellow in a cave, afraid tospend the blessed Christmas with his wife and daughter, like the poorestman in the land could do if he was only honest. Mother half dead withgrief, and Aileen ashamed to speak to the man that loved and respectedher from her childhood. Gracey Storefield not daring to think of me orsay my name, after seeing me carried off a prisoner before her eyes. Here was a load of misery and disgrace heaped up together, to be borneby the whole family, now and for the time to come--by the innocentas well as the guilty. And for what? Because we had been too idle andcareless to work regularly and save our money, though well able to doit, like honest men. Because, little by little, we had let bad dishonestways and flash manners grow upon us, all running up an account that hadto be paid some day. 

And now the day of reckoning had come--sharp and sudden with avengeance! Well, what call had we to look for anything else? We had beenworking for it; now we had got it, and had to bear it. Not for want ofwarning, neither. What had mother and Aileen been saying ever since wecould remember? Warning upon warning. Now the end had come just as theysaid. Of course I knew in a general way that I couldn't be punishedor be done anything to right off. I knew law enough for that. Thenext thing would be that I should have to be brought up before themagistrates and committed for trial as soon as they could get anyevidence. 

After breakfast, flour and water or hominy, I forget which, the wardertold me that there wasn't much chance of my being brought up beforeChristmas was over. The police magistrate was away on a month's leave, and the other magistrates would not be likely to attend before the endof the week, anyway. So I must make myself comfortable where I was. Comfortable!

'Had they caught Jim?'

'Well, not that he'd heard of; but Goring said it was impossible for himto get away. At twelve he'd bring me some dinner. '

I was pretty certain they wouldn't catch Jim, in spite of Goring beingso cocksure about it. If he wasn't knocked off the first mile or so, he'd find ways of stopping or steadying his horse, and facing him up towhere we had gone to join father at the tableland of the Nulla Mountain. Once he got near there he could let go his horse. They'd be followinghis track, while he made the best of his way on foot to the path thatled to the Hollow. If he had five miles start of them there, as was mostlikely, all the blacks in the country would never track where he got to. He and father could live there for a month or so, and take it easy untilthey could slip out and do a bit of father's old trade. That was aboutwhat I expected Jim to do, and as it turned out I was as nearly rightas could be. They ran his track for ten miles. Then they followed hishorse-tracks till late the second day, and found that the horse hadslued round and was making for home again with nobody on him. Jim wasnowhere to be seen, and they'd lost all that time, never expecting thathe was going to dismount and leave the horse to go his own way. 

They searched Nulla Mountain from top to bottom; but some of thesmartest men of the old Mounted Police and the best of the stockmenin the old days--men not easy to beat--had tried the same country manyyears before, and never found the path to the Hollow. So it wasn'tlikely any one else would. They had to come back and own that they werebeat, which put Goring in a rage and made the inspector, Sir FerdinandMorringer, blow them all up for a lot of duffers and old women. Altogether they had a bad time of it, not that it made any difference tome. 

After the holidays a magistrate was fished up somehow, and I was broughtbefore him and the apprehending constable's evidence taken. Then I wasremanded to the Bench at Nomah, where Mr. Hood and some of the otherwitnesses were to appear. So away we started for another journey. Goringand a trooper went with me, and all sorts of care was taken that Ididn't give them the slip on the road. Goring used to put one of myhandcuffs on his own wrist at night, so there wasn't much chance ofmoving without waking him. I had an old horse to ride that couldn't gomuch faster than I could run, for fear of accident. It was even bettingthat he'd fall and kill me on the road. If I'd had a laugh in me, Ishould have had a joke against the Police Department for not keepingsafer horses for their prisoners to ride. They keep them till theyhaven't a leg to stand upon, and long after they can't go a hundredyards without trying to walk on their heads they're thought good enoughto carry packs and prisoners. 

'Some day, ' Goring said, 'one of those old screws will be the death ofa prisoner before he's committed for trial, and then there'll be a rowover it, I suppose. '

We hadn't a bad journey of it on the whole. The troopers were civilenough, and gave me a glass of grog now and then when they had onethemselves. They'd done their duty in catching me, and that was all theythought about. What came afterwards wasn't their look-out. I've no callto have any bad feeling against the police, and I don't think most menof my sort have. They've got their work to do, like other people, and aslong as they do what they're paid for, and don't go out of their wayto harass men for spite, we don't bear them any malice. If one's hitin fair fight it's the fortune of war. What our side don't like is mengoing in for police duty that's not in their line. That's interfering, according to our notions, and if they fall into a trap or are metwith when they don't expect it they get it pretty hot. They've onlythemselves to thank for it. 

Goring, I could see by his ways, had been a swell, something likeStarlight. A good many young fellows that don't drop into fortunes whenthey come out here take to the police in Australia, and very good menthey make. They like the half-soldiering kind of life, and if theystick steady at their work, and show pluck and gumption, they mostlyget promoted. Goring was a real smart, dashing chap, a good rider for anEnglishman; that is, he could set most horses, and hold his own with usnatives anywhere but through scrub and mountain country. No man can ridethere, I don't care who he is, the same as we can, unless he's been atit all his life. There we have the pull--not that it is so much afterall. But give a native a good horse and thick country, and he'll loseany man living that's tackled the work after he's grown up. 

By and by we got to Nomah, a regular hot hole of a place, with a loglock-up. I was stuck in, of course, and had leg-irons put on for fear Ishould get out, as another fellow had done a few weeks back. Starlightand Warrigal hadn't reached yet; they had farther to come. The trialcouldn't come till the Quarter Sessions. January, and February too, passed over, and all this time I was mewed up in a bit of a place enoughto stifle a man in the burning weather we had. 

I heard afterwards that they wanted to bring some of the cattle over, soas Mr. Hood could swear to 'em being his property. But he said he couldonly swear to its being his brand; that he most likely had never seteyes on them in his life, and couldn't swear on his own knowledge thatthey hadn't been sold, like lots of others, by his manager. Sothis looked like a hitch, as juries won't bring a man in guilty ofcattle-stealing unless there's clear swearing that the animals he soldwere the property of the prosecutor, and known by him to be such. 

Mr. Hood had to go all the way to Adelaide himself, and they told me wemight likely have got out of it all, only for the imported bull. Whenhe saw him he said he could swear to him point blank, brand or no brand. He'd no brand on him, of course, when he left England; but Hood happenedto be in Sydney when he came out, and at the station when he came up. Hewas stabled for the first six months, so he used to go and look him overevery day, and tell visitors what a pot of money he'd cost, till heknew every hair in his tail, as the saying is. As soon as he seen himin Adelaide he said he could swear to him as positive as he could tohis favourite riding horse. So he was brought over in a steamer fromAdelaide, and then drove all the way up to Nomah. I wished he'd brokenhis neck before we ever saw him. 

Next thing I saw was Starlight being brought in, handcuffed, betweentwo troopers, and looking as if he'd ridden a long way. He was just aseasy-going and devil-may-care as ever. He said to one of the troopers--

'Here we are at last, and I'm deuced glad of it. It's perfectlymonstrous you fellows haven't better horses. You ought to make meremount agent, and I'd show you the sort of horses that ought to bebought for police service. Let me have a glass of beer, that's a goodfellow, before I'm locked up. I suppose there's no tap worth speaking ofinside. '

The constable laughed, and had one brought to him. 

'It will be some time before you get another, captain. Here's a long onefor you; make the most of it. '

Where, in the devil's name, is that Warrigal? I thought to myself. Hashe given them the slip? He had, as it turned out. He had slipped thehandcuffs over his slight wrists and small hands, bided his time, andthen dashed into a scrub. There he was at home. They rode and rode, butWarrigal was gone like a rock wallaby. It was a good while before he wasas near the gaol again. 

All this time I'd been wondering how it was they came to drop on ournames so pat, and to find out that Jim and I had a share in the Momberahcattle racket. All they could have known was that we left the back ofBoree at a certain day; and that was nothing, seeing that for all theyknew we might have gone away to new country or anywhere. The more Ilooked at it the more I felt sure that some one had given to thepolice information about us--somebody who was in it and knew all abouteverything. It wasn't Starlight. We could have depended our life on him. It might have been one of the other chaps, but I couldn't think of anyone, except Warrigal. He would do anything in the world to spite meand Jim, I knew; but then he couldn't hurt us without drawing the nettighter round Starlight. Sooner than hurt a hair of his head he'd haveput his hand into the fire and kept it there. I knew that from thingsI'd seen him do. 

Starlight and I hadn't much chance of a talk, but we managed to get newsfrom each other, a bit at a time; that can always be managed. We were tobe defended, and a lawyer fetched all the way from Sydney to fight ourcase for us. The money was there. Father managed the other part of itthrough people he had that did every kind of work for him; so when thejudge came up we should have a show for it. 

The weary long summer days--every one of them about twenty hourslong--came to an end somehow or other. It was so hot and close and Iwas that miserable I had two minds to knock my brains out and finishthe whole thing. I couldn't settle to read, as I did afterwards. I wasalways wishing and wondering when I'd hear some news from home, and noneever came. Nomah was a bit of a place where hardly anybody did anythingbut idle and drink, and spend money when they had it. When they had nonethey went away. There wasn't even a place to take exercise in, and theleg-irons I wore night and day began to eat into my flesh. I wasn't usedto them in those days. I could feel them in my heart, too. Last of all Igot ill, and for a while was so weak and low they thought I was going toget out of the trial altogether. 

At last we heard that the judge and all his lot were on the road, andwould be up in a few days. We were almost as glad when the news cameas if we were sure of being let off. One day they did come, and all thelittle town was turned upside down. The judge stopped at one hotel (theytold us); the lawyers at another. Then the witnesses in ours and othercases came in from all parts, and made a great difference, especiallyto the publicans. The jurors were summoned, and had to come, unless theyhad a fancy for being fined. Most of this I heard from the constables;they seemed to think it was the only thing that made any differencein their lives. Last of all I heard that Mr. Hood had come, and theimported bull, and some other witnesses. 

There were some small cases first, and then we were brought out, Starlight and I, and put in the dock. The court was crammed and crowded;every soul within a hundred miles seemed to have come in; there neverwere so many people in the little courthouse before. Starlight wasquietly dressed, and looked as if he was there by mistake. Anybody wouldhave thought so, the way he lounged and stared about, as if he thoughtthere was something very curious and hard to understand about the wholething. I was so weak and ill that I couldn't stand up, and after a whilethe judge told me to sit down, and Starlight too. Starlight made a mostpolite bow, and thanked his Honour, as he called him. Then the jurywere called up, and our lawyer began his work. He stood alongside ofStarlight, and whispered something to him, after which Starlight stoodup, and about every second man called out 'Challenge'; then that jurorhad to go down. It took a good while to get our jury all together. Ourlawyer seemed very particular about the sort of jury he was satisfiedwith; and when they did manage to get twelve at last they were not thebest-looking men in the court by a very long way. 

The trial had to go on, and then the Crown Prosecutor made a speech, inwhich he talked about the dishonesty which was creeping unchecked overthe land, and the atrocious villainy of criminals who took a thousandhead of cattle in one lot, and made out the country was sure to go todestruction if we were not convicted. He said that unfortunately theywere not in a position to bring many of the cattle back that had beentaken to another colony; but one remarkable animal was as good forpurposes of evidence as a hundred. Such an animal he would produce, and he would not trespass on the patience of jurors and gentlemen inattendance any longer, but call his first witness. 

John Dawson, sworn: Was head stockman and cattle manager at Momberah;knew the back country, and in a general way the cattle running there;was not out much in the winter; the ground was boggy, and the cattlewere hardly ever mustered till spring; when he did go, with some otherstock-riders, he saw at once that a large number of the Momberah cattle, branded HOD and other brands, were missing; went to Adelaide a fewmonths after; saw a large number of cattle of the HOD brand, which hewas told had been sold by the prisoner now before the court, and knownas Starlight, and others, to certain farmers; he could swear that thecattle he saw bore Mr. Hood's brand; could not swear that he recognisedthem as having been at Momberah in his charge; believed so, but couldnot swear it; he had seen a short-horn bull outside of the court thismorning; he last saw the said bull at the station of Messrs. FordhamBrothers, near Adelaide; they made a communication to him concerning thebull; he would and could swear to the identity of the animal with theFifteenth Duke of Cambridge, an imported short-horn bull, the propertyof Mr. Hood; had seen him before that at Momberah; knew that Mr. Hoodhad bought said bull in Sydney, and was at Momberah when he was sent up;could not possibly be mistaken; when he saw the bull at Momberah, ninemonths since, he had a small brand like H on the shoulder; Mr. Hood putit on in witness's presence; it was a horse-brand, now it resembled J-E;the brand had been 'faked' or cleverly altered; witness could see theoriginal brand quite plain underneath; as far as he knew Mr. Hood neversold or gave any one authority to take the animal; he had missed himsome months since, and always believed he had strayed; knew the bull tobe a valuable animal, worth several hundred pounds. 

We had one bit of luck in having to be tried in an out-of-the-way placelike Nomah. It was a regular outside bush township, and though thedistance oughtn't to have much to say to people's honesty, you'll mostlyfind that these far-out back-of-beyond places have got men and women tomatch 'em. 

Except the squatters and overseers, the other people's mostly a shadylot. Some's run away from places that were too hot to hold 'em. The women ain't the men's wives that they live with, but somebodyelse's--who's well rid of 'em too if all was known. There's most likelya bit of horse and cattle stealing done on the quiet, and the publicansand storekeepers know who are their best customers, the square peopleor the cross ones. It ain't so easy to get a regular up-and-downstraight-ahead jury in a place of this sort. So Starlight and I knewthat our chance was a lot better than if we'd been tried at Bargo orDutton Forest, or any steady-going places of that sort. 

If we'd made up our minds from the first that we were to get into itit wouldn't have been so bad; we'd have known we had to bear it. Now wemight get out of it, and what a thing it would be to feel free again, and walk about in the sun without any one having the right to stop you. Almost, that is--there were other things against us; but there wasn'tso much of a chance of their turning up. This was the great stake. If wewon we were as good as made. I felt ready to swear I'd go home and nevertouch a shilling that didn't come honest again. If we lost it seemedas if everything was so much the worse, and blacker than it looked atfirst, just for this bit of hope and comfort. 

After the bull had been sworn to by Mr. Hood and another witness, theybrought up some more evidence, as they called it, about the other cattlewe had sold in Adelaide. They had fetched some of the farmers up thathad been at the sale. They swore straight enough to having bought cattlewith certain brands from Starlight. They didn't know, of course, at thetime whose they were, but they could describe the brands fast enough. There was one fellow that couldn't read nor write, but he remembered allthe brands, about a dozen, in the pen of steers he bought, and describedthem one by one. One brand, he said, was like a long-handled shovel. Itturned out to be--D. [*] TD--Tom Dawson's, of Mungeree. About a hundred ofhis were in the mob. They had drawn back for Mungeree, as was nearly allfrontage and cold in the winter. He was the worst witness for us of thelot, very near. He'd noticed everything and forgot nothing. 

 * In the original text, the horizontal bar is represented by a capital "I" rotated 90 degrees, and a bit lower than centre--but from the description, '--D' may be better, where the '--' represents the upright of the T in TD. --A. L. , 1997. --

'Do you recognise either of the prisoners in the dock?' he was asked. 

'Yes; both of 'em, ' says he. I wish I could have got at him. 'I see theswell chap first--him as made out he was the owner, and gammoned allthe Adelaide gentlemen so neat. There was a half-caste chap with him asfollowed him about everywhere; then there was another man as didn't talkmuch, but seemed, by letting down sliprails and what not, to be in it. I heard this Starlight, as he calls hisself now, say to him, "Youhave everything ready to break camp by ten o'clock, and I'll be thereto-morrow and square up. " I thought he meant to pay their wages. I neverdropped but what they was his men--his hired servants--as he was goingto pay off or send back. '

'Will you swear, ' our lawyer says, 'that the younger prisoner is the manyou saw at Adelaide with the cattle?'

'Yes; I'll swear. I looked at him pretty sharp, and nothing ain't likelyto make me forget him. He's the man, and that I'll swear to. '

'Were there not other people there with the cattle?'

'Yes; there was an oldish, very quiet, but determined-like man--he had astunnin' dorg with him--and a young man something like this gentleman--Imean the prisoner. I didn't see the other young man nor the half-castein court. '

'That's all very well, ' says our lawyer, very fierce; 'but will youswear, sir, that the prisoner Marston took any charge or ownership ofthe cattle?'

'No, I can't, ' says the chap. 'I see him a drafting 'em in the morning, and he seemed to know all the brands, and so on; but he done no morethan I've seen hired servants do over and over again. '

The other witnesses had done, when some one called out, 'HerbertFalkland, ' and Mr. Falkland steps into the court. He walks in quiet anda little proud; he couldn't help feeling it, but he didn't show it inhis ways and talk, as little as any man I ever saw. 

He's asked by the Crown Prosecutor if he's seen the bull outside of thecourt this day. 

'Yes; he has seen him. '

'Has he ever seen him before?'

'Never, to his knowledge. '

'He doesn't, then, know the name of his former owner?'

'Has heard generally that he belonged to Mr. Hood, of Momberah; but doesnot know it of his own knowledge. '

'Has he ever seen, or does he know either of the prisoners?'

'Knows the younger prisoner, who has been in the habit of working forhim in various ways. '

'When was prisoner Marston working for him last?'

'He, with his brother James, who rendered his family a service heshall never forget, was working for him, after last shearing, for somemonths. '

'Where were they working?'

'At an out-station at the back of the run. '

'When did they leave?'

'About April or May last. '

'Was it known to you in what direction they proceeded after leaving yourservice?'

'I have no personal knowledge; I should think it improper to quotehearsay. '

'Had they been settled up with for their former work?'

'No, there was a balance due to them. '

'To what amount?'

'About twenty pounds each was owing. '

'Did you not think it curious that ordinary labourers should leave solarge a sum in your hands?'

'It struck me as unusual, but I did not attach much weight to thecircumstance. I thought they would come back and ask for it before thenext shearing. I am heartily sorry that they did not do so, and regretstill more deeply that two young men worthy of a better fate should havebeen arraigned on such a charge. '

'One moment, Mr. Falkland, ' says our counsel, as they call them, anda first-rate counsellor ours was. If we'd been as innocent as twoschoolgirls he couldn't have done more for us. 'Did the prisoner Marstonwork well and conduct himself properly while in your employ?'

'No man better, ' says Mr. Falkland, looking over to me with that pityingkind of look in his eyes as made me feel what a fool and rogue I'd beenten times worse than anything else. 'No man better; he and his brotherwere in many respects, according to my overseer's report, the mosthard-working and best-conducted labourers in the establishment. '

Chapter 18

Mr. Runnimall, the auctioneer, swore that the older prisoner placedcertain cattle in his hands, to arrive, for sale in the usual way, stating that his name was Mr. Charles Carisforth, and that he hadseveral stations in other colonies. Had no reason for doubting him. Prisoner was then very well dressed, was gentlemanly in his manners, andcame to his office with a young gentleman of property whom he knew well. The cattle were sold in the usual way for rather high prices, as themarket was good. The proceeds in cash were paid over to the prisoner, whom he now knew by the name of Starlight. He accounted for there beingan unusual number of brands by saying publicly at the sale thatthe station had been used as a depot for other runs of his, and theremainder lots of store cattle kept there. 

He had seen a short-horn bull outside of the court this day branded'J-E' on the shoulder. He identified him as one of the cattle placed inhis hands for sale by the prisoner Starlight. He sold and delivered himaccording to instructions. He subsequently handed over the proceeds tothe said prisoner. He included the purchase money in a cheque given forthe bull and other cattle sold on that day. He could swear positively tothe bull; he was a remarkable animal. He had not the slightest doubt asto his identity. 

'Had he seen the prisoner Marston when the cattle were sold now allegedto belong to Mr. Hood?'

'Yes; he was confident that prisoner was there with some other men whomhe (witness) did not particularly remark. He helped to draft the cattle, and to put them in pens on the morning of the sale. '

'Was he prepared to swear that prisoner Marston was not a hired servantof prisoner Starlight?'

'No; he could not swear. He had no way of knowing what the relationswere between the two. They were both in the robbery; he could see that. '

'How could you see that?' said our lawyer. 'Have you never seen a paidstockman do all that you saw prisoner Marston do?'

'Well, I have; but somehow I fancy this man was different. '

'We have nothing to do with your fancies, sir, ' says our man, mightyhot, as he turns upon him; 'you are here to give evidence as to facts, not as to what you fancy. Have you any other grounds for connectingprisoner Marston with the robbery in question?'

'No, he had not. '

'You can go down, sir, and I only wish you may live to experience someof the feelings which fill the breasts of persons who are unjustlyconvicted. '

 . . . . . 

This about ended the trial. There was quite enough proved for a moderatedose of transportation. A quiet, oldish-looking man got up now and cameforward to the witness-box. I didn't know who he was; but Starlightnodded to him quite pleasant. He had a short, close-trimmed beard, andwas one of those nothing-particular-looking old chaps. I'm blessed ifI could have told what he was. He might have been a merchant, or asquatter, or a head clerk, or a wine merchant, or a broker, or lived inthe town, or lived in the country; any of half-a-dozen trades would suithim. The only thing that was out of the common was his eyes. They had asort of curious way of looking at you, as if he wondered whether you wasspeaking true, and yet seein' nothing and tellin' nothing. He regulartook in Starlight (he told me afterwards) by always talking about theChina Seas; he'd been there, it seems; he'd been everywhere; he'd lastcome from America; he didn't say he'd gone there to collar a clerk thathad run off with two or three thousand pounds, and to be ready to meethim as he stepped ashore. 

Anyhow he'd watched Starlight in Canterbury when he was riding andflashing about, and had put such a lot of things together that he took apassage in the same boat with him to Melbourne. Why didn't he arrest himin New Zealand? Because he wasn't sure of his man. It was from somethingStarlight let out on board ship. He told me himself afterwards thathe made sure of his being the man he wanted; so he steps into thewitness-box, very quiet and respectable-looking, with his whitewaistcoat and silk coat--it was hot enough to fry beefsteaks on the roofof the courthouse that day--and looks about him. The Crown Prosecutorbegins with him as civil as you please. 

'My name is Stephen Stillbrook. I am a sergeant of detective policein the service of the Government of New South Wales. From informationreceived, I proceeded to Canterbury, in New Zealand, about the monthof September last. I saw there the older prisoner, who was living at afirst-class hotel in Christchurch. He was moving in good society, andwas apparently possessed of ample means. He frequently gave expensiveentertainments, which were attended by the leading inhabitants and highofficials of the place. I myself obtained an introduction to him, andpartook of his hospitality on several occasions. I attempted to draw himout in conversation about New South Wales; but he was cautious, andgave me to understand that he had been engaged in large squattingtransactions in another colony. From his general bearing and from thecharacter of his associates, I came to the belief that he was not theindividual named in the warrant, and determined to return to Sydney. I was informed that he had taken his passage to Melbourne in a mailsteamer. From something which I one day heard his half-caste servantsay, who, being intoxicated, was speaking carelessly, I determined toaccompany them to Melbourne. My suspicions were confirmed on the voyage. As we went ashore at the pier at Sandridge I accosted him. I said, "Iarrest you on suspicion of having stolen a herd of cattle, the propertyof Walter Hood, of Momberah. " Prisoner was very cool and polite, just asany other gentleman would be, and asked me if I did not think I'd madea most ridiculous mistake. The other passengers began to laugh, as ifit was the best joke in the world. Starlight never moved a muscle. I'veseen a good many cool hands in my time, but I never met any one likehim. I had given notice to one of the Melbourne police as he cameaboard, and he arrested the half-caste, known as Warrigal. I produced awarrant, the one now before the court, which is signed by a magistrateof the territory of New South Wales. '

The witnessing part was all over. It took the best part of the day, and there we were all the time standing up in the dock, with the courtcrammed with people staring at us. I don't say that it felt as bad as itmight have done nigh home. Most of the Nomah people looked upon fellowsstealing cattle or horses, in small lots or big, just like most peoplelook at boys stealing fruit out of an orchard, or as they used to talkof smugglers on the English coast, as I've heard father tell of. Any manmight take a turn at that sort of thing, now and then, and not be such abad chap after all. It was the duty of the police to catch him. If theycaught him, well and good, it was so much the worse for him; if theydidn't, that was their look-out. It wasn't anybody else's businessanyhow. And a man that wasn't caught, or that got turned up at histrial, was about as good as the general run of people; and there was noreason for any one to look shy at him. 

After the witnesses had said all they knew our lawyer got up and made astunning speech. He made us out such first-rate chaps that it looked asif we ought to get off flying. He blew up the squatters in a general wayfor taking all the country, and not giving the poor man a chance--forneglecting their immense herds of cattle and suffering them to roamall over the country, putting temptation in the way of poor people, andcausing confusion and recklessness of all kinds. Some of these cattleare never seen from the time they are branded till they are mustered, every two or three years apparently. They stray away hundreds ofmiles--probably a thousand--who is to know? Possibly they are sold. Itwas admitted by the prosecutor that he had sold 10, 000 head of cattleduring the last six years, and none had been rebranded to his knowledge. What means had he of knowing whether these cattle that so much was saidabout had not been legally sold before? It was a most monstrous thingthat men like his clients--men who were an honour to the land they livedin--should be dragged up to the very centre of the continent upona paltry charge like this--a charge which rested upon the flimsiestevidence it had ever been his good fortune to demolish. 

With regard to the so-called imported bull the case against his clientswas apparently stronger, but he placed no reliance upon the statementsof the witnesses, who averred that they knew him so thoroughly that theycould not be deceived in him. He distrusted their evidence and believedthe jury would distrust it too. The brand was as different as possiblefrom the brand seen to have been on the beast originally. One short-hornwas very like another. He would not undertake to swear positively inany such case, and he implored the jury, as men of the world, as menof experience in all transactions relating to stock (here some of thepeople in the court grinned) to dismiss from their minds everythingof the nature of prejudice, and looking solely at the miserable, incomplete, unsatisfactory nature of the evidence, to acquit theprisoners. 

It sounded all very pleasant after everything before had been so roughon our feelings, and the jury looked as if they'd more than half made uptheir minds to let us off. 

Then the judge put on his glasses and began to go all over the evidence, very grave and steady like, and read bits out of the notes which he'dtaken very careful all the time. Judges don't have such an easy time ofit as some people thinks they have. I've often wondered as they take somuch trouble, and works away so patient trying to find out the rightsand wrongs of things for people that they never saw before, and won'tsee again. However, they try to do their best, all as I've ever seen, and they generally get somewhere near the right and justice of things. So the judge began and read--went over the evidence bit by bit, and laidit all out before the jury, so as they couldn't but see it where it toldagainst us, and, again, where it was a bit in our favour. 

As for the main body of the cattle, he made out that there was stronggrounds for thinking as we'd taken and sold them at Adelaide, and hadthe money too. The making of a stockyard at the back of Momberah was notthe thing honest men would do. But neither of us prisoners had been seenthere. There was no identification of the actual cattle, branded 'HOD', alleged to have been stolen, nor could Mr. Hood swear positively thatthey were his cattle, had never been sold, and were a portion of hisherd. It was in the nature of these cases that identification of livestock, roaming over the immense solitudes of the interior, should bedifficult, occasionally impossible. Yet he trusted that the jurywould give full weight to all the circumstances which went to show acontinuous possession of the animals alleged to be stolen. The personsof both prisoners had been positively sworn to by several witnesses ashaving been seen at the sale of the cattle referred to. They were bothremarkable-looking men, and such as if once seen would be retained inthe memory of the beholder. 

But the most important piece of evidence (here the judge stoppedand took a pinch of snuff) was that afforded by the short-horn bull, Fifteenth Duke of Cambridge--he had been informed that was his name. That animal, in the first place, was sworn to most positively by Mr. Hood, and claimed as his property. Other credible witnesses testifiedalso to his identity, and corroborated the evidence of Mr. Hood in allrespects; the ownership and identity of the animal are thus establishedbeyond all doubt. 

Then there was the auctioneer, Mr. Runnimall, who swore that this animalhad been, with other cattle, placed in his hands for sale by the olderprisoner. The bull is accordingly sold publicly by him, and in theprisoner's presence. He subsequently receives from the witness theprice, about 270 Pounds, for which the bull was sold. The youngerprisoner was there at the same time, and witnessed the sale of the bulland other cattle, giving such assistance as would lead to the conclusionthat he was concerned in the transaction. 

He did not wish to reflect upon this or any other jury, but he couldnot help recalling the fact that a jury in that town once committed theunpardonable fault, the crime, he had almost said, of refusing to finda prisoner guilty against whom well confirmed evidence had been brought. It had been his advice to the Minister for Justice, so glaring wasthe miscarriage of justice to which he referred, that the whole of thejurymen who had sat upon that trial should be struck off the roll. Thiswas accordingly done. 

He, the judge, was perfectly convinced in his own mind that noimpropriety of this sort was likely to be committed by the intelligent, respectable jury whom he saw before him; but it was his duty to warnthem that, in his opinion, they could not bring in any verdict but'Guilty' if they respected their oaths. He should leave the caseconfidently in their hands, again impressing upon them that they couldonly find one verdict if they believed the evidence. 

 . . . . . 

The jury all went out. Then another case was called on, and a fresh jurysworn in for to try it. We sat in the dock. The judge told Starlight hemight sit down, and we waited till they came back. I really believe thatwaiting is the worst part of the whole thing, the bitterest part ofthe punishment. I've seen men when they were being tried for theirlives--haven't I done it, and gone through it myself?--waiting there anhour--two hours, half through the night, not knowing whether they was tobe brought in guilty or not. What a hell they must have gone throughin that time--doubt and dread, hope and fear, wretchedness and despair, over and over and over again. No wonder some of 'em can't stand it, butkeeps twitching and shifting and getting paler and turning faint whenthe jury comes back, and they think they see one thing or the otherwritten in their faces. I've seen a strong man drop down like a deadbody when the judge opened his mouth to pass sentence on him. I've seen'em faint, too, when the foreman of the jury said 'Not guilty. ' Onechap, he was an innocent up-country fellow, in for his first bit ofduffing, like we was once, he covered his face with his hands when hefound he was let off, and cried like a child. All sorts and kinds ofdifferent ways men takes it. I was in court once when the judge askeda man who'd just been found guilty if he'd anything to say why heshouldn't pass sentence of death upon him. He'd killed a woman, cut herthroat, and a regular right down cruel murder it was (only men 'llkill women and one another, too, for some causes, as long as the worldlasts); and he just leaned over the dock rails, as if he'd been going toget three months, and said, cool and quiet, 'No, your Honour; not as Iknow of. ' He'd made up his mind to it from the first, you see, and thatmakes all the difference. He knew he hadn't the ghost of a chance toget out of it, and when his time came he faced it. I remember seeing hisworst enemy come into the court, and sit and look at him then just tosee how he took it, but he didn't make the least sign. That man couldn'thave told whether he seen him or not. 

Starlight and I wasn't likely to break down--not much--whatever the jurydid or the judge said. All the same, after an hour had passed, and westill waiting there, it began to be a sickening kind of feeling. The dayhad been all taken up with the evidence and the rest of the trial; alllong, dragging hours of a hot summer's day. The sun had been blazingaway all day on the iron roof of the courthouse and the red dust of thestreets, that lay inches deep for a mile all round the town. The fliesbuzzed all over the courthouse, and round and round, while the lawyerstalked and wrangled with each other; and still the trial went on. Witness after witness was called, and cross-examined and bullied, andconfused and contradicted till he was afraid to say what he knew or whathe didn't know. I began to think it must be some kind of performancethat would go on for ever and never stop, and the day and it never couldend. 

At last the sun came shining level with the lower window, and we knewit was getting late. After a while the twilight began to get dimmerand grayer. There isn't much out there when the sun goes down. Then thejudge ordered the lamps to be lighted. 

Just at that time the bailiff came forward. 

'Your Honour, the jury has agreed. ' I felt my teeth shut hard; but Imade no move or sign. I looked over at Starlight. He yawned. He did, asI'm alive. 

'I wish to heaven they'd make more haste, ' he said quietly; 'his Honourand we are both being done out of our dinners. '

I said nothing. I was looking at the foreman's face. I thought I knewthe word he was going to say, and that word was 'Guilty. ' Sure enough Ididn't hear anything more for a bit. I don't mind owning that. Most menfeel that way the first time. There was a sound like rushing waters inmy ears, and the courthouse and the people all swam before my eyes. 

The first I heard was Starlight's voice again, just as cool andleisurely as ever. I never heard any difference in it, and I've knownhim speak in a lot of different situations. If you shut your eyes youcouldn't tell from the tone of his voice whether he was fighting for hislife or asking you to hand him the salt. When he said the hardest andfiercest thing--and he could be hard and fierce--he didn't raise hisvoice; he only seemed to speak more distinct like. His eyes were worsethan his voice at such times. There weren't many men that liked to lookback at him, much less say anything. 

Now he said, 'That means five years of Berrima, Dick, if not seven. It'scooler than these infernal logs, that's one comfort. '

I said nothing. I couldn't joke. My throat was dry, and I felt hot andcold by turns. I thought of the old hut by the creek, and could seemother sitting rocking herself, and crying out loud, and Aileen witha set dull look on her face as if she'd never speak or smile again. Ithought of the days, months, years that were to pass under lock and key, with irons and shame and solitude all for company. I wondered if theplace where they shut up mad people was like a gaol, and why we were notsent there instead. 

I heard part of what the judge said, but not all--bits here and there. The jury had brought in a most righteous verdict; just what he shouldhave expected from the effect of the evidence upon an intelligent, well-principled Nomah jury. (We heard afterwards that they were six tosix, and then agreed to toss up how the verdict was to go. ) 'The crimeof cattle and horse stealing had assumed gigantic proportions. Sheep, asyet, appeared to be safe; but then there were not very many within a fewhundred miles of Nomah. It appeared to him that the prisoner known asStarlight, though from old police records his real name appeared tobe----'

Here he drew himself up and faced the judge in defiance. Then likelightning he seemed to change, and said--

'Your Honour, I submit that it can answer no good purpose to disclose myalleged name. There are others--I do not speak for myself. '

The judge stopped a bit; then hesitated. Starlight bowed. 'I donot--a--know whether there is any necessity to make public a namewhich many years since was not better known than honoured. I saythe--a--prisoner known as Starlight has, from the evidence, takenthe principal part in this nefarious transaction. It is not the firstoffence, as I observe from a paper I hold in my hand. The youngerprisoner, Marston, has very properly been found guilty of criminalcomplicity with the same offence. It may be that he has been concernedin other offences against the law, but of that we have no proof beforethis court. He has not been previously convicted. I do not offer adviceto the elder criminal; his own heart and conscience, the promptings ofwhich I assume to be dulled, not obliterated, I feel convinced, havesaid more to him in the way of warning, condemnation, and remorse thancould the most impressive rebuke, the most solemn exhortation from ajudicial bench. But to the younger man, to him whose vigorous framehas but lately attained the full development of early manhood, I feelcompelled to appeal with all the weight which age and experience maylend. I adjure him to accept the warning which the sentence I am aboutto pass will convey to him, to endure his confinement with submissionand repentance, and to lead during his remaining years, which may belong and comparatively peaceful, the free and necessarily happy lifeof an honest man. The prisoner Starlight is sentenced to seven years'imprisonment; the prisoner Richard Marston to five years' imprisonment;both in Berrima Gaol. '

I heard the door of the dock unclose with a snap. We were taken out; Ihardly knew how. I walked like a man in his sleep. 'Five years, BerrimaGaol! Berrima Gaol!' kept ringing in my ears. 

The day was done, the stars were out, as we moved across from thecourthouse to the lock-up. The air was fresh and cool. The sun had gonedown; so had the sun of our lives, never to rise again. 

Morning came. Why did it ever come again? I thought. What did we wantbut night?--black as our hearts--dark as our fate--dismal as the deathwhich likely would come quick as a living tomb, and the sooner thebetter. Mind you, I only felt this way the first time. All men do, Isuppose, that haven't been born in gaols and workhouses. Afterwards theytake a more everyday view of things. 

'You're young and soft, Dick, ' Starlight said to me as we were rumblingalong in the coach next day, with hand and leg-irons on, and a trooperopposite to us. 'Why don't I feel like it? My good fellow, I have feltit all before. But if you sear your flesh or your horse's with a red-hotiron you'll find the flesh hard and callous ever after. My heart wasseared once--ay, twice--and deeply, too. I have no heart now, or if Iever feel at all it's for a horse. I wonder how old Rainbow gets on. '

'You were sorry father let us come in the first time, ' I said. 'How doyou account for that, if you've no heart?'

'Really! Well, listen, Richard. Did I? If you guillotine a man--cut offhis head, as they do in France, with an axe that falls like themonkey of a pile-driver--the limbs quiver and stretch, and move almostnaturally for a good while afterwards. I've seen the performancemore than once. So I suppose the internal arrangements immediatelysurrounding my heart must have performed some kind of instinctive motionin your case and Jim's. By the way, where the deuce has Jim been allthis time? Clever James!'

'Better ask Evans here if the police knows. It is not for want of tryingif they don't. '

'By the Lord Harry, no!' said the trooper, a young man who saw no reasonnot to be sociable. 'It's the most surprisin' thing out where he's gotto. They've been all round him, reg'lar cordon-like, and he must havedisappeared into the earth or gone up in a balloon to get away. '

Chapter 19

It took us a week's travelling or more to get to Berrima. Sometimeswe were all night in the coach as well as all day. There were otherpassengers in the coach with us. Two or three bushmen, a stationoverseer with his wife and daughter, a Chinaman, and a lunatic that hadcome from Nomah, too. I think it's rough on the public to pack madmenand convicts in irons in the same coach with them. But it saves theGovernment a good deal of money, and the people don't seem to care. Theystand it, anyhow. 

We would have made a bolt of it if we'd had a chance, but we never had, night nor day, not half a one. The police were civil, but they neverleft us, and slept by us at night. That is, one watched while theother slept. We began to sleep soundly ourselves and to have a betterappetite. Going through the fresh air had something to do with it, Idaresay. And then there was no anxiety. We had played for a big stakeand lost. Now we had to pay and make the best of it. It was the tenthday (there were no railways then to shorten the journey) when we droveup to the big gate and looked at the high walls and dark, heavy lines ofBerrima Gaol, the largest, the most severe, the most dreaded of all theprisons in New South Wales. It had leaked out the day before, somehow, that the famous Starlight and the other prisoner in the great Momberahcattle robbery were to be brought in this particular day. There was afair-sized crowd gathered as we were helped down from the coach. At theside of the crowd was a small mob of blacks with their dogs, spears, 'possum rugs and all complete. They and their gins and pickaninniesappeared to take great notice of the whole thing. One tallish gin, darker than the others, and with her hair tucked under an old bonnet, wrapped her 'possum cloak closely round her shoulders and pushed upclose to us. She looked hard at Starlight, who appeared not to see her. As she drew back some one staggered against her; an angry scowl passedover her face, so savage and bitter that I felt quite astonished. Ishould have been astonished, I mean, if I had not been able, by thatvery change, to know again the restless eyes and grim set mouth ofWarrigal. 

It was only a look, and he was gone. The lock creaked, the great irondoor swung back, and we were swallowed up in a tomb--a stone vault wheremen are none the less buried because they have separate cells. Theydo not live, though they appear to be alive; they move, and sometimesspeak, and appear to hear words. Some have to be sent away and buriedoutside. They have been dead a long time, but have not seemed to wantputting in the ground. That makes no change in them--not much, I mean. If they sleep it's all right; if they don't sleep anything must behappiness after the life they have escaped. 'Happy are the dead' iswritten on all prison walls. 

What I suffered in that first time no tongue can tell. I can't bear nowto think of it and put it down. The solitary part of it was enough todrive any man mad that had been used to a free life. Day after day, night after night, the same and the same and the same over again. 

Then the dark cells. I got into them for a bit. I wasn't always as coolas I might be--more times that mad with myself that I could have smashedmy own skull against the wall, let alone any one else's. There was oneof the warders I took a dislike to from the first, and he to me, I don'tdoubt. I thought he was rough and surly. He thought I wanted to have myown way, and he made it up to take it out of me, and run me every wayhe could. We had a goodish spell of fighting over it, but he gave in atlast. Not but what I'd had a lot to bear, and took a deal of punishmentbefore he jacked up. I needn't have had it. It was all my own obstinacyand a sort of dogged feeling that made me feel I couldn't give in. Ibelieve it done me good, though. I do really think I should have gonemad else, thinking of the dreadful long months and years that lay beforeme without a chance of getting out. 

Sometimes I'd take a low fit and refuse my food, and very near give upliving altogether. The least bit more, and I'd have died outright. Oneday there was a party of ladies and gentlemen came to be shown over thegaol. There was a lot of us passing into the exercise yard. I happenedto look up for a minute, and saw one of the ladies looking steadily atus, and oh! what a pitying look there was in her face. In a moment I sawit was Miss Falkland, and, by the change that came into her face, thatshe knew me again, altered as I was. I wondered how she could have knownme. I was a different-looking chap from when she had seen me last. Witha beastly yellow-gray suit of prison clothes, his face scraped smoothevery day, like a fresh-killed pig, and the look of a free man gone outof his face for ever--how any woman, gentle or simple, ever can know aman in gaol beats me. Whether or no, she knew me. I suppose she saw thelikeness to Jim, and she told him, true enough, she'd never forget himnor what he'd done for her. 

I just looked at her, and turned my head away. I felt as if I'd make afool of myself if I didn't. All the depth down that I'd fallen since Iwas shearing there at Boree rushed into my mind at once. I nearly felldown, I know. I was pretty weak and low then; I'd only just come out ofthe doctor's hands. 

I was passing along with the rest of the mob. I heard her voice quiteclear and firm, but soft and sweet, too. How sweet it sounded to methen!

'I wish to speak a few words to the third prisoner in the line--the tallone. Can I do so, Captain Wharton?'

'Oh! certainly, Miss Falkland, ' said the old gentleman, who had broughtthem all in to look at the wonderful neat garden, and the baths, and thehospital, and the unnatural washed-up, swept-up barracks that make thecleanest gaol feel worse than the roughest hut. He was the visitingmagistrate, and took a deal of interest in the place, and believed heknew all the prisoners like a book. 'Oh! certainly, my dear young lady. Is Richard Marston an acquaintance of yours?'

'He and his brother worked for my father at Boree, ' she said, quitestately. 'His brother saved my life. '

I was called back by the warder. Miss Falkland stepped out before themall, and shook hands with me. Yes, SHE SHOOK HANDS WITH ME, and thetears came into her eyes as she did so. 

If anything could have given a man's heart a turn the right way thatwould have done it. I felt again as if some one cared for me in theworld, as if I had a soul worth saving. And people may talk as theylike, but when a man has the notion that everybody has given him up asa bad job, and has dropped troubling themselves about him, he gets worseand worse, and meets the devil half-way. 

She said--

'Richard Marston, I cannot tell how grieved I am to see you here. Bothpapa and I were so sorry to hear all about those Momberah cattle. '

I stammered out something or other, I hardly knew what. 

She looked at me again with her great beautiful eyes like a wonderingchild. 

'Is your brother here too?'

'No, Miss Falkland, ' I said. 'They've never caught Jim yet, and, what'smore, I don't think they will. He jumped on a bare-backed horse withoutsaddle or bridle, and got clear. '

She looked as if she was going to smile, but she didn't. I saw her eyessparkle, though, and she said softly--

'Poor Jim! so he got away; I am glad of that. What a wonderful rider hewas! But I suppose he will be caught some day. Oh, I do so wish I couldsay anything that would make you repent of what you have done, and tryand do better by and by. Papa says you have a long life before you mostlikely, and might do so much with it yet. You will try, for my sake;won't you now?'

'I'll do what I can, miss, ' I said; 'and if I ever see Jim again I'lltell him of your kindness. '

'Thank you, and good-bye, ' she said, and she held out her hand again andtook mine. I walked away, but I couldn't help holding my head higher, and feeling a different man, somehow. 

I ain't much of a religious chap, wasn't then, and I am farther off itnow than ever, but I've heard a power of the Bible and all that readin my time; and when the parson read out next Sunday about Jesus Christdying for men, and wanting to have their souls saved, I felt as if Icould have a show of understanding it better than I ever did before. IfI'd been a Catholic, like Aileen and mother, I should have settled whatthe Virgin Mary was like when she was alive, and never said a prayer toher without thinking of Miss Falkland. 

While I was dying one week and getting over it another, and goingthrough all the misery every fellow has in his first year of gaol, Starlight was just his old self all the time. He took it quite easy, never gave any one trouble, and there wasn't a soul in the place thatwouldn't have done anything for him. The visiting magistrate thought hisa most interesting case, and believed in his heart that he had been themeans of turning him from the error of his ways--he and the chaplainbetween them, anyhow. He even helped him to be allowed to be kept alittle separate from the other prisoners (lest they should contaminatehim!), and in lots of ways made his life a bit easier to him. 

It was reported about that it was not the first time that he had beenin a gaol. That he'd 'done time', as they call it, in another colony. He might or he might not. He never said. And he wasn't the man, with allhis soft ways, you'd like to ask about such a thing. 

By the look of it you wouldn't think he cared about it a bit. He took itvery easy, read half his time, and had no sign about him that he wasn'tperfectly satisfied. He intended when he got out to lead a new life, thechaplain said, and be the means of keeping other men right and straight. 

One day we had a chance of a word together. He got the soft side ofthe chaplain, who thought he wanted to convert me and take me out of mysulky and obstinate state of mind. He took good care that we were notoverheard or watched, and then said rather loud, for fear of accidents--

'Well, Richard, how are you feeling? I am happy to say that I have beenled to think seriously of my former evil ways, and I have made up mymind, besides, to use every effort in my power to clear out of thisinfernal collection of tombstones when the moon gets dark again, aboutthe end of this month. '

'How have you taken to become religious?' I said. 'Are you quite surethat what you say can be depended upon? And when did you get the goodnews?'

'I have had many doubts in my mind for a long time, ' he said, 'and havewatched and prayed long, and listened for the word that was to come;and the end of it is that I have at length heard the news that makesthe soul rejoice, even for the heathen, the boy Warrigal, who will bewaiting outside these walls with fresh horses. I must now leave you, my dear Richard, ' he said; 'and I hope my words will have made animpression on you. When I have more to communicate for your good I willask leave to return. '

After I heard this news I began to live again. Was there a chance of ourgetting out of this terrible tomb into the free air and sunshine oncemore? However it was to be managed I could not make out. I trustedmostly to Starlight, who seemed to know everything, and to be quite easyabout the way it would all turn out. 

All that I could get out of him afterwards was that on a certain night aman would be waiting with two horses outside of the gaol wall; and thatif we had the luck to get out safe, and he thought we should, we wouldbe on their backs in three minutes, and all the police in New SouthWales wouldn't catch us once we got five minutes' start. 

This was all very well if it came out right; but there was an awful lotto be done before we were even near it. The more I began to think overit the worse it looked; sometimes I quite lost heart, and believed weshould never have half a chance of carrying out our plan. 

We knew from the other prisoners that men had tried from time to timeto get away. Three had been caught. One had been shot dead--he waslucky--another had fallen off the wall and broke his leg. Two had gotclear off, and had never been heard of since. 

We were all locked up in our cells every evening, and at five o'clock, too. We didn't get out till six in the morning; a long, long time. Coldenough in the bitter winter weather, that had then come in, and a long, weary, wretched time to wait and watch for daylight. 

Well, first of all, we had to get the cell door open. That was theeasiest part of the lot. There's always men in a big gaol that all kindsof keys and locks are like large print to. They can make most locks flyopen like magic; what's more, they're willing to do it for anybodyelse, or show them how. It keeps their hand in; they have a pleasure inspiting those above them whenever they can do it. 

The getting out of the cell was easy enough, but there was a lot ofdanger after you had got out. A passage to cross, where the warder, with his rifle, walked up and down every half-hour all night; then a bigcourtyard; then another smaller door in the wall; then the outeryard for those prisoners who are allowed to work at stone-cutting orout-of-door trades. 

After all this there was the great outer wall to climb up and drop downfrom on the other side. 

We managed to pick our night well. A French convict, who liked thatsort of thing, gave me the means of undoing the cell door. It was threeo'clock in the morning, when in winter most people are sleepy thathaven't much on their minds. The warder that came down the passagewasn't likely to be asleep, but he might have made it up in his mindthat all was right, and not taken as much notice as usual. This was whatwe trusted to. Besides, we had got a few five-pound notes smuggled into us; and though I wouldn't say that we were able to bribe any of thegaolers, we didn't do ourselves any harm in one or two little ways bythrowing a few sovereigns about. 

I did just as I was told by the Frenchman, and I opened the cell door aseasy as a wooden latch. I had to shut it again for fear the warder wouldsee it and begin to search and sound the alarm at once. Just as I'd donethis he came down the passage. I had only time to crouch down in theshadow when he passed me. That was right; now he would not be back forhalf-an-hour. 

I crawled and scrambled, and crept along like a snake until little bylittle I got to the gate through the last wall but one. The lock herewas not so easy as the cell door, and took me more time. While I stoodthere I was in a regular tremble with fright, thinking some one mightcome up, and all my chance would be gone. After a bit the lock gave way, and I found myself in the outer yard. I went over to the wall andcrept along it till I came to one of the angles. There I was to meetStarlight. He was not there, and he was to bring some spikes to climbthe wall with, and a rope, with two or three other things. 

I waited and waited for half-an-hour, which seemed a month. What wasI to do if he didn't come? I could not climb the thirty-foot wall bymyself. One had to be cautious, too, for there were towers at shortdistances along the wall; in every one of these a warder, armed witha rifle, which he was sure to empty at any one that looked likegaol-breaking. I began to think he had made a mistake in the night. Then, that he had been discovered and caught the moment he tried toget out of the cell. I was sure to be caught if he was prevented fromcoming; and shutting up would be harder to bear than ever. 

Then I heard a man's step coming up softly; I knew it was Starlight. Iknew his step, and thought I would always tell it from a thousand othermen's; it was so light and firm, so quick and free. Even in a prison itwas different from other men's; and I remembered everything he had eversaid about walking and running, both of which he was wonderfully goodat. 

He was just as cool as ever. 'All right, Dick; take these spikes. ' Hehad half-a-dozen stout bits of iron; how ever he got them I know no morethan the dead, but there they were, and a light strong coil of rope aswell. I knew what the spikes were for, of course; to drive into thewall between the stones and climb up by. With the rope we were to dropourselves over the wall the other side. It was thirty feet high--no foolof a drop. More than one man had been picked up disabled at the bottomof it. He had a short stout piece of iron that did to hammer the spikesin; and that had to be done very soft and quiet, you may be sure. 

It took a long time. I thought the night would be over and the daylightcome before it was all done; it was so slow. I could hear the tick-tackof his iron every time he knocked one of the spikes in. Of course hewent higher every time. They were just far enough apart for a man toget his foot on from one to another. As he went up he had one end of thecoil of the rope round his wrist. When he got to the top he was to drawit up to fasten to the top spike, and lower himself down by it to theground on the other side. At last I felt him pull hard on the rope. Iheld it, and put my foot on the first spike. I don't know that I shouldhave found it so very easy in the dark to get up by the spikes--it wasalmost blackfellows' work, when they put their big toe into a notchcut in the smooth stem of a gum tree that runs a hundred feet withouta branch, and climb up the outside of it--but Jim and I had oftenpractised this sort of climbing when we were boys, and were both prettygood at it. As for Starlight, he had been to sea when he was young, andcould climb like a cat. 

When I got to the top I could just see his head above the wall. The ropewas fastened well to the top spike, which was driven almost to the headinto the wall. Directly he saw me, he began to lower himself down therope, and was out of sight in a minute. I wasn't long after him, you maybe sure. In my hurry I let the rope slip through my hands so fast theywere sore for a week afterwards. But I didn't feel it then. I shouldhardly have felt it if I had cut them in two, for as my feet touchedthe ground in the darkness I heard the stamp of a horse's hoof and thejingle of a bit--not much of a sound, but it went through my heart likea knife, along with the thought that I was a free man once more; thatis, free in a manner of speaking. I knew we couldn't be taken then, baraccidents, and I felt ready to ride through a regiment of soldiers. 

As I stood up a man caught my hand and gave it a squeeze as if he'd havecrushed my fingers in. I knew it was Jim. Of course, I'd expected him tobe there, but wasn't sure if he'd be able to work it. We didn't speak, but started to walk over to where two horses were standing, with a manholding 'em. It was pretty dark, but I could see Rainbow's star--just inhis forehead it was--the only white he had about him. Of course it wasWarrigal that was holding them. 

'We must double-bank my horse, ' whispers Jim, 'for a mile or two, till we're clear of the place; we didn't want to bring a lot of horsesabout. '

He jumped up, and I mounted behind him. Starlight was on Rainbow in asecond. The half-caste disappeared, he was going to keep dark for a fewdays and send us the news. Jim's horse went off as if he had only tenstone on his back instead of pretty nigh five-and-twenty. And we werefree! Lord God! to think that men can be such fools as ever to doanything of their own free will and guiding that puts their liberty indanger when there's such a world outside of a gaol wall--such a heavenon earth as long as a man's young and strong, and has all the feelingsof a free man, in a country like this. Would I do the first crookedthing again if I had my life to live over again, and knew a hundredthpart of what I know now? Would I put my hand in the fire out of lazinessor greed? or sit still and let a snake sting me, knowing I should bedead in twelve hours? Any man's fool enough to do one that'll do theother. Men and women don't know this in time, that's the worst of it;they won't believe half they're told by them that do know and wish 'emwell. They run on heedless and obstinate, too proud to take advice, tillthey do as we did. The world's always been the same, I suppose, and willto the end. Most of the books say so, anyway. 

Chapter 20

What a different feel from prison air the fresh night breeze had as weswept along a lonely outside track! The stars were out, though the skywas cloudy now and then, and the big forest trees looked strange inthe broken light. It was so long since I'd seen any. I felt as if I wasgoing to a new world. None of us spoke for a bit. Jim pulled up at asmall hut by the roadside; it looked like a farm, but there was not muchshow of crops or anything about the place. There was a tumble-downold barn, with a strong door to it, and a padlock; it seemed the onlybuilding that there was any care taken about. A man opened the door ofthe hut and looked out. 

'Look sharp, ' says Jim. 'Is the horse all right and fit?'

'Fit enough to go for the Hawkesbury Guineas. I was up and fed him threehours ago. He's----'

'Bring him out, and be hanged to you, ' says Jim; 'we've no time forchat. '

The man went straight to the barn, and after a minute or two brought outa horse--the same I'd ridden from Gippsland, saddled and bridled, andready to jump out of his skin. Jim leaned forward and put something intohis hand, which pleased him, for he held my rein and stirrup, and thensaid--

'Good luck and a long reign to you, ' as we rode away. 

All this time Starlight had sat on his horse in the shade of a tree agood bit away. When we started he rode alongside of us. We were soon ina pretty fair hand-gallop, and we kept it up. All our horses were good, and we bowled along as if we were going to ride for a week withoutstopping. 

What a ride it was! It was a grand night, anyway I thought so. I blessedthe stars, I know. Mile after mile, and still the horses seemed to goall the fresher the farther they went. I felt I could ride on that wayfor ever. As the horses pulled and snorted and snatched at their bridlesI felt as happy as ever I did in my life. Mile after mile it was all thesame; we could hear Rainbow snorting from time to time and see his starmove as he tossed up his head. We had many a night ride after together, but that was the best. We had laid it out to make for a place we knewnot so far from home. We dursn't go there straight, of course, but nighenough to make a dart to it whenever we had word that the coast wasclear. 

We knew directly we were missed the whole countryside would be turnedout looking for us, and that every trooper within a hundred miles wouldbe hoping for promotion in case he was lucky enough to drop on either ofthe Marstons or the notorious Starlight. His name had been pretty wellin every one's mouth before, and would be a little more before they weredone with him. 

It was too far to ride to the Hollow in a day, but Jim had got a placeready for us to keep dark in for a bit, in case we got clear off. There's never any great trouble in us chaps finding a home for a weekor two, and somebody to help us on our way as long as we've the notes tochuck about. All the worse in the long run. We rode hardish (some peoplewould have called it a hand-gallop) most of the way; up hill and down, across the rocky creeks, through thick timber. More than one river wehad to swim. It was mountain water, and Starlight cursed and swore, andsaid he would catch his death of cold. Then we all laughed; it was thefirst time we'd done that since we were out. My heart was too full totalk, much less laugh, with the thought of being out of that cursedprison and on my own horse again, with the free bush breeze filling mybreast, and the free forest I'd lived in all my life once more aroundme. I felt like a king, and as for what might come afterwards I hadno more thought than a schoolboy has of his next year's lessons at thebeginning of his holidays. It might come now. As I took the old horse bythe head and raced him down the mountain side, I felt I was living againand might call myself a man once more. 

The sun was just rising, the morning was misty and drizzling; the longsour-grass, the branches of the scrubby trees, everything we touched andsaw was dripping with the night dew, as we rode up a 'gap' betweentwo stiffish hills. We had been riding all night from track to track, sometimes steering by guesswork. Jim seemed to know the country in ageneral way, and he told us father and he had been about there a gooddeal lately, cattle-dealing and so on. For the last hour or so we hadbeen on a pretty fair beaten road, though there wasn't much trafficon it. It was one of the old mail tracks once, but new coach lines hadknocked away all the traffic. Some of the old inns had been good bighouses, well kept and looked after then. Now lots of them were empty, with broken windows and everything in ruins; others were just goodenough to let to people who would live in them, and make a living bycultivating a bit and selling grog on the sly. Where we pulled up wasone of these places, and the people were just what you might expect. 

First of all there was the man of the house, Jonathan Barnes, a tall, slouching, flash-looking native; he'd been a little in the horse-racingline, a little in the prize-fighting line--enough to have his nosebroken, and was fond of talking about 'pugs' as he'd known intimate--alittle in the farming and carrying line, a little in every line thatmeant a good deal of gassing, drinking, and idling, and mighty littlehard work. He'd a decent, industrious little wife, about forty times toogood for him, and the girls, Bella and Maddie, worked well, or else he'dhave been walking about the country with a swag on his back. They kepthim and the house too, like many another man, and he took all the creditof it, and ordered them about as if he'd been the best and straightestman in the land. If he made a few pounds now and then he'd drop it on ahorse-race before he'd had it a week. They were glad enough to see us, anyhow, and made us comfortable, after a fashion. Jim had brought freshclothes, and both of us had stopped on the road and rigged ourselvesout, so that we didn't look so queer as men just out of the jug mostlydo, with their close-shaved faces, cropped heads, and prison clothes. Starlight had brought a false moustache with him, which he stuck on, sothat he looked as much like a swell as ever. Warrigal had handed him asmall parcel, which he brought with him, just as we started; and, witha ring on his finger, some notes and gold in his pocket, he ate hisbreakfast, and chatted away with the girls as if he'd only ridden outfor a day to have a look at the country. 

Our horses were put in the stable and well looked to, you may besure. The man that straps a cross cove's horse don't go short of hishalf-crown--two or three of them, maybe. We made a first-rate breakfastof it; what with the cold and the wet and not being used to ridinglately, we were pretty hungry, and tired too. We intended to camp therethat day, and be off again as soon as it was dark. 

Of course we ran a bit of a risk, but not as bad as we should by ridingin broad daylight. The hills on the south were wild and rangy enough, but there were all sorts of people about on their business in thedaytime; and of course any of them would know with one look that threemen, all on well-bred horses, riding right across country and notstopping to speak or make free with any one, were likely to be 'on thecross'--all the more if the police were making particular inquiriesabout them. We were all armed, too, now. Jim had seen to that. If wewere caught, we intended to have a flutter for it. We were not goingback to Berrima if we knew it. 

So we turned in, and slept as if we were never going to wake again. We'dhad a glass of grog or two, nothing to hurt, though; and the food andone thing and another made us sleep like tops. Jim was to keep a goodlook-out, and we didn't take off our clothes. Our horses were keptsaddled, too, with the bridles on their heads, and only the bits outof their mouths--we could have managed without the bits at apinch--everything ready to be out of the house in one minute, and insaddle and off full-split the next. We were learned that trick prettywell before things came to an end. 

Besides that, Jonathan kept a good look-out, too, for strangers of thewrong sort. It wasn't a bad place in that way. There was a long stonytrack coming down to the house, and you could see a horseman or acarriage of any kind nearly a mile off. Then, in the old times, thetimber had been cleared pretty nigh all round the place, so there wasno chance of any one sneaking up unknown to people. There couldn't havebeen a better harbour for our sort, and many a jolly spree we had thereafterwards. Many a queer sight that old table in the little parlour sawyears after, and the notes and gold and watches and rings and thingsI've seen the girls handling would have stunned you. But that was all tocome. 

Well, about an hour before dark Jim wakes us up, and we both felt asright as the bank. It took a good deal to knock either of us out of timein those days. I looked round for a bit and then burst out laughing. 

'What's that about, Dick?' says Jim, rather serious. 

'Blest if I didn't think I was in the thundering old cell again, ' Isaid. 'I could have sworn I heard the bolt snap as your foot sounded inthe room. '

'Well, I hope we shan't, any of us, be shopped again for a while, ' sayshe, rather slow like. 'It's bad work, I'm afraid, and worse to come; butwe're in it up to our neck and must see it out. We'll have another feedand be off at sundown. We've the devil's own ride before daylight. '

'Anybody called?' says Starlight, sauntering in, washed and dressed andcomfortable-looking. 'You told them we were not at home, Jim, I hope. '

Jim smiled in spite of himself, though he wasn't in a very gay humour. Poor old Jim was looking ahead a bit, I expect, and didn't see anythingmuch to be proud of. 

We had a scrumptious feed that night, beefsteaks and eggs, fresh butterand milk, things we hadn't smelt for months. Then the girls waitedon us; a good-looking pair they was too, full of larks and fun of allkinds, and not very particular what sort of jokes they laughed at. Theyknew well enough, of course, where we'd come from, and what we laid byall day and travelled at night for; they thought none the worse of usfor that, not they. They'd been bred up where they'd heard all kinds ofrough talk ever since they was little kiddies, and you couldn't well putthem out. 

They were a bit afraid of Starlight at first, though, because they seenat once that he was a swell. Jim they knew a little of; he and fatherhad called there a good deal the last season, and had done a little inthe stock line through Jonathan Barnes. They could see I was somethingin the same line as Jim. So I suppose they had made it up to have a bitof fun with us that evening before we started. They came down into theparlour where our tea was, dressed out in their best and looking verygrand, as I thought, particularly as we hadn't seen the sight of so muchas a woman's bonnet and shawl for months and months. 

'Well, Mr. Marston, ' says the eldest girl, Bella, to Jim, 'we didn'texpect you'd travel this way with friends so soon. Why didn't you tellus, and we'd have had everything comfortable?'

'Wasn't sure about it, ' says Jim, 'and when you ain't it's safest tohold your tongue. There's a good many things we all do that don't wanttalking about. '

'I feel certain, Jim, ' says Starlight, with his soft voice and pleasantsmile, which no woman as I ever saw could fight against long, 'that anyman's secret would be safe with Miss Bella. I would trust her with mylife freely--not that it's worth a great deal. '

'Oh! Captain, ' says poor Bella, and she began to blush quite innocentlike, 'you needn't fear; there ain't a girl from Shoalhaven to Alburythat would let on which way you were heading, if they were to offer herall the money in the country. '

'Not even a diamond necklace and earrings? Think of a lovely pendant, across all brilliants, and a brooch to match, my dear girl. '

'I wouldn't "come it", unless I could get that lovely horse of yours, 'says the youngest one, Maddie; 'but I'd do anything in the world to havehim. He's the greatest darling I ever saw. Wouldn't he look stunningwith a side-saddle? I've a great mind to "duff" him myself one of thesedays. '

'You shall have a ride on Rainbow next time we come, ' says Starlight. 'I've sworn never to give him away or sell him, that is as long asI'm alive; but I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll leave him to you in mywill. '

'How do you mean?' says she, quite excited like. 

'Why, if I drop one of these fine days--and it's on the cards anytime--you shall have Rainbow; but, mind now, you're to promise me'--herehe looked very grave--'that you'll neither sell him, nor lend him, norgive him away as long as you live. '

'Oh! you don't mean it, ' says the girl, jumping up and clapping herhands; 'I'd sooner have him than anything I ever saw in the world. Oh!I'll take such care of him. I'll feed him and rub him over myself; onlyI forgot, I'm not to have him before you're dead. It's rather rough onyou, isn't it?'

'Not a bit, ' says Starlight; 'we must all go when our time comes. Ifanything happens to me soon he'll be young enough to carry you for yearsyet. And you'll win all the ladies' hackney prizes at the shows. '

'Oh! I couldn't take him. '

'But you must now. I've promised him to you, and though I am a--well--anindifferent character, I never go back on my word. '

'Haven't you anything to give me, Captain?' says Bella; 'you're in sucha generous mind. '

'I must bring you something, ' says he, 'next time we call. What shall itbe? Now's the time to ask. I'm like the fellow in the "Arabian Nights", the slave of the ring--your ring. ' Here he took the girl's hand, andpretending to look at a ring she wore took it up and kissed it. Itwasn't a very ugly one neither. 'What will you have, Bella?'

'I'd like a watch and chain, ' she said, pretending to look a littleoffended. 'I suppose I may as well ask for a good thing at once. '

Starlight pulled out a pocket-book, and, quite solemn and regular, madea note of it. 

'It's yours, ' he said, 'within a month. If I cannot conveniently calland present it in person, I'll send it by a sure hand, as they used tosay; and now, Jim, boot and saddle. '

The horses were out by this time; the groom was walking Rainbow up anddown; he'd put a regular French-polish on his coat, and the old horsewas arching his neck and chawing his bit as if he thought he was goingto start for the Bargo Town Plate. Jonathan himself was holding our twohorses, but looking at him. 

'My word!' he said, 'that's a real picture of a horse; he's too good fora--well--these roads; he ought to be in Sydney carrying some swell aboutand never knowing what a day's hardship feels like. Isn't he a regularout-and-outer to look at? And they tell me his looks is about the worstof him. Well--here's luck!' Starlight had called for drinks all roundbefore we started. 'Here's luck to roads and coaches, and them as livesby 'em. They'll miss the old coaching system some day--mark my word. I don't hold with these railways they're talkin' about--all steam andhurry-scurry; it starves the country. '

'Quite right, Jonathan, ' says Starlight, throwing his leg over Rainbow, and chucking the old groom a sovereign. 'The times have never been halfas good as in the old coaching days, before we ever smelt a funnel inNew South Wales. But there's a coach or two left yet, isn't there? andsometimes they're worth attending to. '

He bowed and smiled to the girls, and Rainbow sailed off with hisbeautiful easy, springy stride. He always put me in mind of the deer Ionce saw at Mulgoa, near Penrith; I'd never seen any before. My word!how one of them sailed over a farmer's wheat paddock fence. He'd been inthere all night, and when he saw us coming he just up and made for thefence, and flew it like a bird. I never saw any horse have the sameaction, only Rainbow. You couldn't tire him, and he was just thesame the end of the day as the beginning. If he hadn't fallen intoStarlight's hands as a colt he'd have been a second-class racehorse, andwore out his life among touts and ringmen. He was better where he was. Off we went; what a ride we had that night! Just as well we'd fed andrested before we started, else we should never have held out. Allthat night long we had to go, and keep going. A deal of the road wasrough--near the Shoalhaven country, across awful deep gullies witha regular climb-up the other side, like the side of a house. Throughdismal ironbark forests that looked as black by night as if all thetree-trunks were cast-iron and the leaves gun-metal. The night wasn't asdark as it might have been, but now and again there was a storm, and thewhole sky turned as black as a wolf's throat, as father used to say. Wegot a few knocks and scrapes against the trees, but, partly through thehorses being pretty clever in their kind of way, and having sharpisheyesight of our own, we pulled through. It's no use talking, sometimesI thought Jim must lose his way. Starlight told us he'd made up his mindthat we were going round and round, and would fetch up about where we'dstarted from, and find the Moss Vale police waiting there for us. 

'All right, Captain, ' says Jim; 'don't you flurry yourself. I've beenalong this track pretty often this last few months, and I can steer bythe stars. Look at the Southern Cross there; you keep him somewhere onthe right shoulder, and you'll pull up not so very far off that blackrange above old Rocky Flat. '

'You're not going to be so mad as to call at your own place, Jim, areyou?' says he. 'Goring's sure to have a greyhound or two ready to slipin case the hare makes for her old form. '

'Trust old dad for that, ' says Jim; 'he knows Dick and you are on thegrass again. He'll meet us before we get to the place and have freshhorses. I'll bet he's got a chap or two that he can trust to smell outthe traps if they are close handy the old spot. They'll be mighty cleverif they get on the blind side of father. '

'Well, we must chance it, I suppose, ' I said; 'but we were sold once, and I've not much fancy for going back again. '

'They're all looking for you the other way this blessed minute, I'll gobail, ' says Jim. 'Most of the coves that bolt from Berrima takes downthe southern road to get across the border into Port Philip as soon asthey can work it. They always fancy they are safer there. '

'So they are in some ways; I wouldn't mind if we were back there again, 'I said. 'There's worse places than Melbourne; but once we get to theHollow, and that'll be some time to-day, we may take it easy and spellfor a week or two. How they'll wonder what the deuce has become of us. '

The night was long, and that cold that Jim's beard was froze as stiffas a board; but I sat on my horse, I declare to heaven, and never feltanything but pleasure and comfort to think I was loose again. You'veseen a dog that's been chained up. Well, when he's let loose, don't hego chevying and racing about over everything and into everything that'snext or anigh him? He'll jump into water or over a fence, and turn asidefor nothing. He's mad with joy and the feeling of being off the chain;he can't hardly keep from barking till he's hoarse, and rushing throughand over everything till he's winded and done up. Then he lies down withhis tongue out and considers it all over. 

Well a man's just like that when he's been on the chain. He mayn'tjump about so much, though I've seen foreign fellows do that when theircollar was unbuckled; but he feels the very same things in his heart asthat dog does, you take my word for it. 

So, as I said, though I was sitting on a horse all that long coldwinter's night through, and had to mind my eye a bit for the road andthe rocks and the hanging branches, I felt my heart swell that much andmy courage rise that I didn't care whether the night was going to turninto a snowstorm like we'd been in Kiandra way, or whether we'd havea dozen rivers to swim, like the head-waters of the M'Alister, inGippsland, as nearly drowned the pair of us. There I sat in my saddlelike a man in a dream, lettin' my horse follow Jim's up hill and downdale, and half the time lettin' go his head and givin' him his own road. Everything, too, I seemed to notice and to be pleased with somehow. Sometimes it was a rock wallaby out on the feed that we'd come closeon before we saw one another, and it would jump away almost under thehorse's neck, taking two or three awful long springs and lighting squareand level among the rocks after a drop-leap of a dozen feet, like a catjumping out of a window. But the cat's got four legs to balance on andthe kangaroo only two. How they manage it and measure the distanceso well, God only knows. Then an old 'possum would sing out, or ablack-furred flying squirrel--pongos, the blacks call 'em--would comesailing down from the top of an ironbark tree, with all his stern sailsspread, as the sailors say, and into the branches of another, lookingas big as an eagle-hawk. And then we'd come round the corner of a littlecreek flat and be into the middle of a mob of wild horses that had comedown from the mountain to feed at night. How they'd scurry off throughthe scrub and up the range, where it was like the side of a house, andthat full of slate-bars all upon edge that you could smell the hoofs ofthe brumbies as the sharp stones rasped and tore and struck sparks outof them like you do the parings in a blacksmith's shop. 

Then, just as I thought daybreak was near, a great mopoke flits closeover our heads without any rustling or noise, like the ghost of abird, and begins to hoot in a big, bare, hollow tree just ahead of us. Hoo-hoo! hoo-hoo! The last time I heard it, it made me shiver a bit. NowI didn't care. I was a desperate man that had done bad things, and waslikely to do worse. But I was free of the forest again, and had a goodhorse under me; so I laughed at the bird and rode on. 

Chapter 21

Daylight broke when we were close up to the Black Range, safe enough, a little off the line but nothing to signify. Then we hit off the trackthat led over the Gap and down into a little flat on a creek that ranthe same way as ours did. 

Jim had managed for father and Warrigal to meet us somewhere near herewith fresh horses. There was an old shepherd's hut that stood by itselfalmost covered with marsh-mallows and nettles. As we came down the steeptrack a dog came up snuffing and searching about the grass and stones asif he'd lost something. It was Crib. 

'Now we're getting home, Jim, ' says Starlight. 'It's quite a treat tosee the old scamp again. Well, old man, ' he says to the dog, 'how's allgetting on at the Hollow?' The dog came right up to Rainbow and rubbedagainst his fetlock, and jumped up two or three times to see if he couldtouch his rider. He was almost going to bark, he seemed that glad to seehim and us. 

Dad was sitting on a log by the hut smoking, just the same as he wasbefore he left us last time. He was holding two fresh horses, and wewere not sorry to see them. Horses are horses, and there wasn't muchleft in our two. We must have ridden a good eighty miles that night, andit was as bad as a hundred by daylight. 

Father came a step towards us as we jumped off. By George, I was thatstiff with the long ride and the cold that I nearly fell down. He'd gota bit of a fire, so we lit our pipes and had a comfortable smoke. 

'Well, Dick, you're back agin, I see, ' he says, pretty pleasant for him. 'Glad to see you, Captain, once more. It's been lonesome work--nobodybut me and Jim and Warrigal, that's like a bear with a sore head halfhis time. I'd a mind to roll into him once or twice, and I should tooonly for his being your property like. '

'Thank you, Ben, I'll knock his head off myself as soon as we getsettled a bit. Warrigal's not a bad boy, but a good deal like a RockyMountain mule; he's no good unless he's knocked down about once a monthor so, only he doesn't like any one but me to do it. '

'You'll see him about a mile on, ' says father. 'He told me he'd bebehind the big rock where the tree grows--on the left of the road. Hesaid he'd get you a fresh horse, so as he could take Rainbow back to theHollow the long way round. '

Sure enough after we'd just got well on the road again Warrigal comesquietly out from behind a big granite boulder and shows himself. He wasriding Bilbah, and leading a well-bred, good-looking chestnut. He wasone of the young ones out of the Hollow. He'd broken him and got himquiet. I remembered when I was there first spotting him as a yearling. Iknew the blaze down his face and his three white legs. 

Warrigal jumps off Bilbah and throws down the bridle. Then he leads thechestnut up to where Starlight was standing smoking, and throws himselfdown at his feet, bursting out crying like a child. He was just likea dog that had found his master again. He kept looking up at Starlightjust like a dog does, and smiling and going on just as if he neverexpected to see such a good thing again as long as he lived. 

'Well, Warrigal, ' says Starlight, very careless like, 'so you've broughtme a horse, I see. You've been a very good boy. Take Rainbow roundthe long way into the Hollow. Look after him, whatever you do, or I'llmurder you. Not that he's done, or anything near it; but had enoughfor one ride, poor old man. Off with you!' He changed the saddle, andWarrigal hopped on to Bilbah, and led off Rainbow, who tossed his head, and trotted away as if he'd lots to spare, and hadn't had twelve hoursunder saddle; best part without a halt or a bait. I've seen a few good'uns in my time, but I never saw the horse that was a patch on Rainbow, take him all round. 

We pushed on again, then, for ten miles, and somewhere about eighto'clock we pulled up at home--at home. Aileen knew we were coming, andran out to meet us. She threw her arms round me, and kissed and criedover me for ever so long before she took any notice of Starlight, who'dgot down and was looking another way. 'Oh! my boy, my boy, ' she said, 'Inever thought to see you again for years. How thin you've got and pale, and strange looking. You're not like your old self at all. But you'rein the bush again now, by God's blessing. We must hide you better nexttime. I declare I begin to feel quite wicked, and as if I could fightthe police myself. '

'Well spoken, Miss Marston, ' said Starlight, just lifting his hat andmaking a bit of a bow like, just as if she was a real lady; but he wasthe same to all women. He treated them all alike with the same respectof manner as if they were duchesses; young or old, gentle or simple--itmade no odds to him. 'We must have your assistance if we're to do anygood. Though whether it wouldn't be more prudent on your part to cut usall dead, beginning with your father, I shouldn't like to say. '

Aileen looked at him, surprised and angry like for a second. Then shesays--

'Captain Starlight, it's too late now; but words can never tell how Ihate and despise the whole thing. My love for Dick got the better of myreason for a bit, but I could----Why, how pale you look!'

He was growing pale, and no mistake. He had been ill for a bit beforehe left Berrima, though he wouldn't give in, and the ride was rather toomuch for him, I suppose. Anyhow, down he tumbles in a dead faint. Aileenrushed over and lifted up his head. I got some water and dabbed it overhim. After a bit he came to. He raises himself on his elbows and looksat Aileen. Then he smiles quietly and says--

'I'm quite ashamed of myself. I'm growing as delicate as a young lady. Ihope I haven't given you much trouble. '

When he got up and walked to the verandah he quite staggered, showing hewas that weak as he could hardly walk without help. 

'I shall be all right, ' he said, 'after a week's riding again. '

'And where are you going when you leave this place?' she asked. 'Surelyyou and my brothers never can live in New South Wales after all that haspassed. '

'We must try, at all events, Miss Marston, ' Starlight answered, raisingup his head and looking proud. 'You will hear something of us beforelong. '

We made out that there was no great chance of our being run into at theold place. Father went on first with Crib. He was sure to give warningin some way, best known to father himself, if there was any one aboutthat wasn't the right sort. So we went up and went in. 

Mother was inside. I thought it was queer that she didn't come outside. She was always quick enough about that when we came home before, day ornight. When I went in I could see, when she got up from her chair, thatshe was weak, and looked as if she'd been ill. She looked ever so mucholder, and her hair was a lot grayer than it used to be. 

She held out her arms and clung round my neck as if I'd been raised fromthe dead. So I was in a kind of a way. But she didn't say much, or askwhat I was going to do next. Poor soul! she knew it couldn't be muchgood anyway; and that if we were hunted before, we'd be worse huntednow. Those that hadn't heard of our little game with the Momberah cattlewould hear of our getting out of Berrima Gaol, which wasn't done everyday. 

We hadn't a deal of time to spare, because we meant to start off for theHollow that afternoon, and get there some time in the night, even ifit was late. Jim and dad knew the way in almost blindfold. Once we gotthere we could sleep for a week if we liked, and take it easy all roads. So father told mother and Aileen straight that we'd come for a goodcomfortable meal and a rest, and we must be off again. 

'Oh! father, can't Dick and Jim stop for a day?' cries out Aileen. 'Itdoes seem so hard when we haven't seen Dick for such a while; and heshut up too all the time. '

'D'ye want to have us all took the same as last time?' growls father. 'Women's never contented as I can see. For two pins I wouldn't havebrought them this way at all. I don't want to be making roads from thisold crib to the Hollow, only I thought you'd like one look at Dick. '

'We must do what's best, of course, ' said poor Aileen; 'but it'shard--very hard on us. It's mother I'm thinking of, you know. If youknew how she always wakes up in the night, and calls for Dick, and crieswhen she wakes up, you'd try to comfort her a bit more, father. '

'Comfort her!' says dad; 'why, what can I do? Don't I tell you if westay about here we're shopped as safe as anything ever was? Will thatcomfort her, or you either? We're safe today because I've got telegraphson the outside that the police can't pass without ringing the bell--ina way of speaking. But you see to-morrow there'll be more than one lothere, and I want to be clean away before they come. '

'You know best, ' says Aileen; 'but suppose they come here to-morrowmorning at daylight, as they did last time, and bring a black trackerwith them, won't he be able to follow up your track when you go awayto-night?'

'No, he won't; for this reason, we shall all ride different ways as soonas we leave here. A good while before we get near the place where we allmeet we shall find Warrigal on the look-out. He can take the Captain inby another track, and there'll be only Jim and I and the old dog, theonly three persons that'll go in the near way. '

'And when shall we see--see--any of you again?'

'Somewheres about a month, I suppose, if we've luck. There's a dealbelongs to that. You'd better go and see what there is for us to eat. We've a long way and a rough way to go before we get to the Hollow. '

Aileen was off at this, and then she set to work and laid a cleantablecloth in the sitting-room and set us down our meal--breakfast, orwhatever it was. It wasn't so bad--corned beef, first-rate potatoes, fresh damper, milk, butter, eggs. Tea, of course, it's the great drinkin the bush; and although some doctors say it's no good, what wouldbushmen do without it?

We had no intention of stopping the whole night, though we were temptedto do so--to have one night's rest in the old place where we used tosleep so sound before. It was no good thinking of anything of that kind, anyhow, for a good while to come. What we'd got to do was to look outsharp and not be caught simple again like we was both last time. 

After we had our tea we sat outside the verandah, and tried to make thebest of it. Jim stayed inside with mother for a good while; she didn'tleave her chair much now, and sat knitting by the hour together. Therewas a great change come over her lately. She didn't seem to be afraidof our getting caught as she used to be, nor half as glad or sorry aboutanything. It seemed like as if she'd made up her mind that everythingwas as bad as it could be, and past mending. So it was; she was rightenough there. The only one who was in real good heart and spirits wasStarlight. He'd come round again, and talked and rattled away, and madeAileen and Jim and me laugh, in spite of everything. He said we had allfine times before us now for a year or two, any way. That was a goodlong time. After that anything might happen. What it would be he neitherknew nor cared. Life was made up of short bits; sometimes it was hardluck; sometimes everything went jolly and well. We'd got our libertyagain, our horses, and a place to go to, where all the police in thecountry would never find us. He was going in for a short life anda merry one. He, for one, was tired of small adventures, and he wasdetermined to make the name of Starlight a little more famous beforevery long. If Dick and Jim would take his advice--the advice of adesperate, ill-fated outcast, but still staunch to his friends--theywould clear out, and leave him to sink or swim alone, or with suchassociates as he might pick up, whose destination would be no greatmatter whatever befell them. They could go into hiding for a while--makefor Queensland and then go into the northern territory. There was newcountry enough there to hide all the fellows that were 'wanted' in NewSouth Wales. 

'But why don't you take your own advice?' said Aileen, looking over atStarlight as he sat there quite careless and comfortable-looking, as ifhe'd no call to trouble his head about anything. 'Isn't your life worthmending or saving? Why keep on this reckless miserable career which youyourself expect to end ill?'

'If you ask me, Miss Marston, ' he said, 'whether my life--what is leftof it--is worth saving, I must distinctly answer that it is not. It islike the last coin or two in the gambler's purse, not worth troublingone's head about. It must be flung on the board with the rest. It mightland a reasonable stake. But as to economising and arranging detailsthat would surely be the greatest folly of all. '

I heard Aileen sigh to herself. She said nothing for a while; and thenold Crib began to growl. He got up and walked along the track thatled up the hill. Father stood up, too, and listened. We all did exceptStarlight, who appeared to think it was too much trouble, and nevermoved or seemed to notice. 

Presently the dog came walking slowly back, and coiled himself up againclose to Starlight, as if he had made up his mind it didn't matter. We could hear a horse coming along at a pretty good bat over the hard, rocky, gravelly road. We could tell it was a single horse, and more thanthat, a barefooted one, coming at a hand-gallop up hill and down dalein a careless kind of manner. This wasn't likely to be a police trooper. One man wouldn't come by himself to a place like ours at night; and notrooper, if he did come, would clatter along a hard track, making rowenough to be heard more than a mile off on a quiet night. 

'It's all right, ' says father. 'The old dog knowed him; it's Billy theBoy. There's something up. '

Just as he spoke we saw a horseman come in sight; and he rattled downthe stony track as hard as he could lick. He pulled up just oppositethe house, close by where we were standing. It was a boy about fifteen, dressed in a ragged pair of moleskin trousers, a good deal too largefor him, but kept straight by a leather strap round the waist. An oldcabbage-tree hat and a blue serge shirt made up the rest of his rig. Boots he had on, but they didn't seem to be fellows, and one rusty spur. His hair was like a hay-coloured mop, half-hanging over his eyes, whichlooked sharp enough to see through a gum tree and out at the other side. 

He jumped down and stood before us, while his horse's flanks heaved upand down like a pair of bellows. 

'Well, what's up?' says father. 

'My word, governor, you was all in great luck as I come home last night, after bein' away with them cattle to pound. Bobby, he don't know ap'leeceman from a wood-an'-water joey; he'd never have dropped they wascomin' here unless they'd pasted up a notice on the door. '

'How did you find out, Billy?' says father, 'and when'll they be here?'

'Fust thing in the morning, ' says the young wit, grinning all over hisface. 'Won't they be jolly well sold when they rides up and plants bythe yard, same as they did last time, when they took Dick. '

'Which ones was they?' asks father, fillin' his pipe quitebusiness-like, just as if he'd got days to spare. 

'Them two fellers from Bargo; one of 'em's a new chum--got his hair cutshort, just like Dick's. My word, I thought he'd been waggin' it fromsome o' them Gov'ment institoosh'ns. I did raly, Dick, old man. '

'You're precious free and easy, my young friend, ' says Starlight, walking over. 'I rather like you. You have a keen sense of humour, evidently; but can't you say how you found out that the men were herMajesty's police officers in pursuit of us?'

'You're Cap'n Starlight, I suppose, ' says the youngster, lookingstraight and square at him, and not a bit put out. 'Well, I've beenpretty quick coming; thirty mile inside of three hours, I'll be bound. I heard them talking about you. It was Starlight this and Starlight thatall the time I was going in and out of the room, pretending to look forsomething, and mother scolding me. '

'Had they their uniform on?' I asked. 

'No fear. They thought we didn't tumble, I expect; but I seen theirhorses hung up outside, both shod all round; bits and irons bright. Stabled horses, too, I could swear. Then the youngest chap--him with theold felt hat--walked like this. '

Here he squared his shoulders, put his hands by his side, and marched upand down, looking for all the world like one of them chaps that playedat soldiering in Bargo. 

'There's no hiding the military air, you think, Billy?' said Starlight. 'That fellow was a recruit, and had been drilled lately. '

'I d'no. Mother got 'em to stay, and began to talk quite innocent-likeof the bad characters there was in the country. Ha! ha! It was as goodas a play. Then they began to talk almost right out about SergeantGoring having been away on a wrong scent, and how wild he was, and howhe would be after Starlight's mob to-morrow morning at daylight, andsome p'leece was to meet him near Rocky Flat. They didn't say they wasthe p'leece; that was about four o'clock, and getting dark. '

'How did you get the horse?' says Jim. 'He's not one of yours, is he?'

'Not he, ' says the boy; 'I wish I had him or the likes of him. Hebelongs to old Driver. I was just workin' it how I'd get out andcatch our old moke without these chaps being fly as I was going totalligrarph, when mother says to me--

'"Have you fetched in the black cow?"

'We ain't got no black cow, but I knowed what she meant. I says--

'"No, I couldn't find her. "

'"You catch old Johnny Smoker and look for her till you do find her, ifit's ten o'clock to-night, " says mother, very fierce. "Your father'llgive you a fine larrupin' if he comes home and there's that cow lost. "

'So off I goes and mans old Johnny, and clears out straight for here. When I came to Driver's I runs his horses up into a yard nigh the angleof his outside paddock and collars this little 'oss, and lets old Johnnygo in hobbles. My word, this cove can scratch!'

'So it seems, ' says Starlight; 'here's a sovereign for you, youngster. Keep your ears and eyes open; you'll always find that good informationbrings a good price. I'd advise you to keep away from Mr. Marston, sen. , and people of his sort, and stick to your work, if I thought there wasthe least earthly chance of your doing so; but I see plainly that you'renot cut out for the industrious, steady-going line. '

'Not if I know it, ' said the boy; 'I want to see life before I die. I'm not going to keep on milling and slaving day after day all the yearround. I'll cut it next year as sure as a gun. I say, won't you let meride a bit of the way with ye?'

'Not a yard, ' says father, who was pretty cranky by this time; 'yougo home again and put that horse where you got him. We don't want oldDriver tracking and swearing after us because you ride his horses; andkeep off the road as you go back. '

Billy the Boy nodded his head, and jumping into his saddle, rodeoff again at much about the same pace he'd come at. He was a regularreckless young devil, as bold as a two-year-old colt in a branding-yard, that's ready to jump at anything and knock his brains out against astockyard post, just because he's never known any real regular hurt ordanger, and can't realise it. He was terrible cruel to horses, and wouldruin a horse in less time than any man or boy I ever seen. I alwaysthought from the first that he'd come to a bad end. Howsoever, he wasa wonderful chap to track and ride; none could beat him at that; hewas nearly as good as Warrigal in the bush. He was as cunning as apet dingo, and would look as stupid before any one he didn't know, orthought was too respectable, as if he was half an idiot. But no oneever stirred within twenty or thirty miles of where he lived without ourhearing about it. Father fished him out, having paid him pretty well forsome small service, and ever after that he said he could sleep in peace. 

We had the horses up, ready saddled and fed, by sundown, and as soon asthe moon rose we made a start of it. I had time for a bit of a talkwith Aileen about the Storefields, though I couldn't bring myself to saytheir names at first. I was right in thinking that Gracey had seen meled away a prisoner by the police. She came into the hut afterwards withAileen, as soon as mother was better, and the two girls sat down besideone another and cried their eyes out, Aileen said. 

George Storefield had been very good, and told Aileen that, whateverhappened to us or the old man, it would make no difference to him orto his feelings towards her. She thanked him, but said she could neverconsent to let him disgrace himself by marrying into a family likeours. He had come over every now and then, and had seen they wanted fornothing when father and Jim were away; but she always felt her heartgrowing colder towards him and his prosperity while we were so low downin every way. As for Gracey, she (Aileen) believed that she was in lovewith me in a quiet, steady way of her own, without showing it much, butthat she would be true to me, if I asked her, to the end of the world, and she was sure that she could never marry any one else as long asI lived. She was that sort of girl. So didn't I think I ought to doeverything I could to get a better character, and try and be good enoughfor such a girl? She knew girls pretty well. She didn't think there wassuch another girl in the whole colony, and so on. 

And when we went away where were we going to hide? I could not say aboutparticular distances, but I told her generally that we'd keep out ofharm's way, and be careful not to be caught. We might see her and mothernow and then, and by bush-telegraphs and other people we could trustshould be able to send news about ourselves. 

'What's the Captain going to do?' she said suddenly. 'He doesn't lookable to bear up against hardship like the rest of you. What beautifulsmall hands he has, and his eyes are like sleeping fires. '

'Oh, he's a good deal stronger than he looks, ' I said; 'he's thesmartest of the lot of us, except it is dad, and I've heard the old mansay he must knock under to him. But don't you bother your head abouthim; he's quite able to take care of himself, and the less a girl likeyou thinks about a man like him the better for her. '

'Oh, nonsense, ' she said, at the same time looking down in ahalf-confused sort of way. 'I'm not likely to think about him or any oneelse just now; but it seems such a dreadful thing to think a man likehim, so clever and daring, and so handsome and gentle in his ways, should be obliged to lead such a life, hunted from place to placelike--like----'

'Like a bush-ranger, Ailie, ' I said, 'for that'll be the long and shortof it. You may as well know it now, we're going to "turn out". '

'You don't say that, Dick, ' she said. 'Oh! surely you will never be somad. Do you want to kill mother and me right out? If you do, why nottake a knife or an axe and do it at once? Her you've been killing allalong. As for me, I feel so miserable and degraded and despairing attimes that but for her I could go and drown myself in the creek when Ithink of what the family is coming to. '

'What's the use of going on like that, Aileen?' I said roughly. 'Ifwe're caught now, whatever we do, great or small, we're safe for yearsand years in gaol. Mayn't we as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb? Whatodds can it make? We'll only have bolder work than duffing cattle andfaking horse-brands like a lot of miserable crawlers that are not gamefor anything more sporting. '

'I hear, I hear, ' says sister, sitting down and putting her head in herhands. 'Surely the devil has power for a season to possess himself ofthe souls of men, and do with them what he will. I know how obstinateyou are, Dick. Pray God you may not have poor Jim's blood to answer foras well as your own before all is done. Good-bye. I can't say God blessyou, knowing what I do; but may He turn your heart from all wickedways, and keep you from worse and deadlier evil than you have committed!Good-night. Why, oh why, didn't we all die when we were littlechildren!'

Chapter 22

I brought it out sudden-like to Aileen before I could stop myself, butit was all true. How we were to make the first start we couldn't agree;but we were bound to make another big touch, and this time the policewould be after us for something worth while. Anyhow, we could take iteasy at the Hollow for a bit, and settle all the ins and outs withouthurrying ourselves. 

Our dart now was to get to the Hollow that night some time, and not toleave much of a track either. Nobody had found out the place yet, andwasn't going to if we knew. It was too useful a hiding-place to giveaway without trouble, and we swore to take all sorts of good care tokeep it secret, if it was to be done by the art of man. 

We went up Nulla Mountain the same way as we remembered doing when Jimand I rode to meet father that time he had the lot of weaners. We keptwide and didn't follow on after one another so as to make a markedtrail. It was a long, dark, dreary ride. We had to look sharp so as notto get dragged off by a breast-high bough in the thick country. Therewas no fetching a doctor if any one was hurt. Father rode ahead. He knewthe ins and outs of the road better than any of us, though Jim, who hadlived most of his time in the Hollow after he got away from thepolice, was getting to know it pretty well. We were obliged to go slowmostly--for a good deal of the track lay along the bed of a creek, fullof boulders and rocks, that we had to cross ever so many times in amile. The sharp-edged rocks, too, overhung low enough to knock yourbrains out if you didn't mind. 

It was far into the night when we got to the old yard. There it stood, just as I recollect seeing it the time Jim and I and father branded theweaners. It had only been used once or twice since. It was patched up abit in places, but nobody seemed to have gone next or nigh it for a longtime. The grass had grown up round the sliprails; it was as strange andforsaken-looking as if it belonged to a deserted station. 

As we rode up a man comes out from an angle of the fence and gives awhistle. We knew, almost without looking, that it was Warrigal. He'dcome there to meet Starlight and take him round some other way. Everytrack and short cut there was in the mountains was as easy to him asthe road to George Storefield's was to us. Nulla Mountain was full ofcurious gullies and caves and places that the devil himself could hardlyhave run a man to ground in, unless he'd lived near it all his life asWarrigal had. He wasn't very free in showing them to us, but he'd havemade a bridge of his own body any time to let Starlight go safe. So whenthey rode away together we knew he was safe whoever might be after us, and that we should see him in the Hollow some time next day. 

We went on for a mile or two farther; then we got off, and turned ourhorses loose. The rest of the way we had to do on foot. My horse andJim's had got regularly broke into Rocky Flat, and we knew that they'dgo home as sure as possible, not quite straight, but keeping somewherein the right direction. As for father he always used to keep a horseor two, trained to go home when he'd done with him. The pony he rodeto-night would just trot off, and never put his nose to the groundalmost till he got wind of home. 

We humped our saddles and swags ourselves; a stiffish load too, but thenight was cool, and we did our best. It was no use growling. It had tobe done, and the sooner the better. It seemed a long time--followingfather step by step--before we came to the place where I thought thecattle were going to be driven over the precipice. Here we pulled up fora bit and had a smoke. It was a queer time and a queer look-out. 

Three o'clock in the morning--the stars in the sky, and it so clearthat we could see Nulla Mountain rising up against it a big black lump, without sign of tree or rock; underneath the valley, one sea of mist, and we just agoing to drop into it; on the other side of the Hollow, theclear hill we called the Sugarloaf. Everything seemed dead, silent, andsolitary, and a rummier start than all, here were we--three desperatemen, driven to make ourselves a home in this lonesome, God-forsakenplace! I wasn't very fanciful by that time, but if the devil had risenup to make a fourth amongst us I shouldn't have been surprised. Theplace, the time, and the men seemed regularly cut out for him and hismob. 

We smoked our pipes out, and said nothing to each other, good or bad. Then father makes a start, and we follows him; took a goodish while, butwe got down all right, and headed for the cave. When we got there ourtroubles were over for a while. Jim struck a match and had a fire goingin no time; there was plenty of dry wood, of course. Then father rollsa keg out of a hole in the wall; first-rate dark brandy it was, and wefelt a sight better for a good stiff nip all round. When a man's coldand tired, and hungry, and down on his luck as well, a good caulker ofgrog don't do him no harm to speak of. It strings him up and puts himstraight. If he's anything of a man he can stand it, and feel all thebetter for it; but it's a precious sight too easy a lesson to learn, andthere's them that can't stop, once they begin, till they've smotheredwhat brains God Almighty put inside their skulls, just as if they wasto bore a hole and put gunpowder in. No! they wouldn't stop if they weresure of going to heaven straight, or to hell next minute if they put thelast glass to their lips. I've heard men say it, and knew they meant it. Not the worst sort of men, either. 

We were none of us like that. Not then, anyhow. We could take or leaveit, and though dad could do with his share when it was going, he alwaysknew what he was about, and could put the peg in any time. So we hadone strongish tot while the tea was boiling. There was a bag of shipbiscuit; we fried some hung beef, and made a jolly good supper. We werethat tired we didn't care to talk much, so we made up the fire lastthing and rolled ourselves in our blankets; I didn't wake till the sunhad been up an hour or more. 

I woke first; Jim was fast asleep, but dad had been up a goodish whileand got things ready for breakfast. It was a fine, clear morning;everything looked beautiful, 'specially to me that had been locked upaway from this sort of thing so long. The grass was thick and greenround the cave, and right up to the big sandstone slabs of the floor, looking as if it had never been eat down very close. No more it had. Itwould never have paid to have overstocked the Hollow. What cattle andhorses they kept there had a fine time of it, and were always in grandcondition. 

Opposite where we were the valley was narrow. I could see the sandstoneprecipices that walled us in, a sort of yellowish, white colour, alllighted up with the rays of the morning sun, looking like gold towersagainst the heavy green forest timber at the foot of them. Birds werecalling and whistling, and there was a little spring that fell drip, drip over a rough rock basin all covered with ferns. A little mob ofhorses had fed pretty close up to the camp, and would walk up to lookcurious-like, and then trot off with their heads and tails up. It was apretty enough sight that met my eyes on waking. It made me feel a sortof false happiness for a time, to think we had such a place to camp inon the quiet, and call our own, in a manner of speaking. 

Jim soon woke up and stretched himself. Then father began, quitecheerful like--

'Well, boys, what d'ye think of the Hollow again? It's not a bad earthfor the old dog-fox and his cubs when the hounds have run him close. They can't dig him out here, or smoke him out either. We've no call todo anything but rest ourselves for a week or two, anyhow; then we mustsettle on something and buckle to it more business-like. We've been toohelter-skelter lately, Jim and I. We was beginning to run risks, gotnearly dropped on more nor once. '

There's no mistake, it's a grand thing to wake up and know you've gotnothing to do for a bit but to take it easy and enjoy yourself. Nomatter how light your work may be, if it's regular and has to be doneevery day, the harness 'll gall somewhere; you get tired in time andsick of the whole thing. 

Jim and I knew well that, bar accidents, we were as safe in the Hollowas we used to be in our beds when we were boys. We'd searched it throughand through last time, till we'd come to believe that only three orfour people, and those sometimes not for years at a time, had ever beeninside of it. There were no tracks of more. 

We could see how the first gang levied; they were different. Every nowand then they had a big drink--'a mad carouse', as the books say--whenthey must have done wild, strange things, something like the SpanishMain buccaneers we'd read about. They'd brought captives with them, too. We saw graves, half-a-dozen together, in one place. THEY didn't belongto the band. 

We had a quiet, comfortable meal, and a smoke afterwards. Then Jim and Itook a long walk through the Hollow, so as to tell one another what wasin our minds, which we hadn't a chance to do before. Before we'd gonefar Jim pulls a letter out of his pocket and gives it to me. 

'It was no use sending it to you, old man, while you was in the jug, 'he says; 'it was quite bad enough without this, so I thought I'd keep ittill we were settled a bit like. Now we're going to set up in businesson our own account you'd best look over your mail. '

I knew the writing well, though I hadn't seen it lately. It was fromher--from Kate Morrison that was. It began--not the way most womenwrite, like HER, though--

So this is the end of your high and mighty doings, Richard Marston, passing yourself and Jim off as squatters. I don't blame him--[no, ofcourse not, nobody ever blamed Jim, or would, I suppose, if he'd burneddown Government House and stuck up his Excellency as he was coming outof church]--but when I saw in the papers that you had been arrested forcattle-stealing I knew for the first time how completely Jeanie and Ihad been duped. 

I won't pretend that I didn't think of the money you were said to have, and how pleasant it would be to spend some of it after the miserable, scrambling, skimping life we had lately been used to. But I loved you, Dick Marston, for YOURSELF, with a deep and passionate love which youwill never know now, which you would scorn and treat lightly, perhaps, if you did know. You may yet find out what you have lost, if ever youget out of that frightful gaol. 

I was not such a silly fool as to pine and fret over our romance socruelly disturbed, though Jeanie was; it nearly broke her heart. No, Richard, my nature is not of that make. I generally get even with peoplewho wrong me. I send you a photo, giving a fair idea of myself and myHUSBAND, Mr. Mullockson. I accepted his offer soon after I saw youradventures, and those of your friend Starlight, in every newspaper inthe colonies. I did not hold myself bound to live single for yoursake, so did what most women do, though they pretend to act from othermotives, I disposed of myself to the best advantage. 

Mr. Mullockson has plenty of money, which is NEARLY everything in thisworld, so that I am comfortable and well off, as far as that goes. IfI am not happy that is your fault--your fault, I say, because I am notable to tear your false image and false self from my thoughts. Whateverhappens to me in the future you may consider yourself to blame for. Ishould have been a happy and fairly good woman, as far as women go, if you had been true, or rather if everything about you had not beenutterly false and despicable. 

You think it fortunate after reading this, I daresay, that we areseparated for ever, BUT WE MAY MEET AGAIN, Richard Marston. THEN you mayhave reason to curse the day, as I do most heartily, when you first seteyes on KATE MULLOCKSON. 

Not a pleasant letter, by no manner of means. I was glad I didn't get itwhile I was eating my heart out under the stifling low roof of the cellat Nomah, or when I was bearing my load at Berrima. A few pounds morewhen the weight was all I could bear and live would have crushed theheart out of me. I didn't want anything to cross me when I was lookingat mother and Aileen and thinking how, between us, we'd done everythingour worst enemy could have wished us to do. But here, when there wasplenty of time to think over old days and plan for the future, I couldbear the savage, spiteful sound of the whole letter and laugh at theway she had got out of her troubles by taking up with a rough old fellowwhose cheque-book was the only decent thing about him. I wasn't sorry tobe rid of her either. Since I'd seen Gracey Storefield again every otherwoman seemed disagreeable to me. I tore up the letter and threw it away, hoping I had done for ever with a woman that no man living would everhave been the better for. 

'Glad you take it so quiet, ' Jim says, after holding his tongue longerthan he did mostly. 'She's a bad, cold-hearted jade, though she isJeanie's sister. If I thought my girl was like her she'd never haveanother thought from me, but she isn't, and never was. The worse luckI've had the closer she's stuck to me, like a little brick as she is. I'd give all I ever had in the world if I could go to her and say, "HereI am, Jim Marston, without a penny in the world, but I can look everyman in the face, and we'll work our way along the road of life cheerfuland loving together. " But I CAN'T say it, Dick, that's the devil ofit, and it makes me so wild sometimes that I could knock my brains outagainst the first ironbark tree I come across. '

I didn't say anything, but I took hold of Jim's hand and shook it. We looked in each other's eyes for a minute; there was no call to sayanything. We always understood one another, Jim and I. 

As we were safe to stop in the Hollow for long spells at a time we tooka good look over it, as far as we could do on foot. We found a rum sortof place at the end of a long gully that went easterly from the mainflat. In one way you'd think the whole valley had been an arm of the seasome time or other. It was a bit like Sydney Harbour in shape, with oneprincipal valley and no end of small cover and gullies running off fromit, and winding about in all directions. Even the sandstone walls, bywhich the whole affair, great and small, was hemmed in, were just likethe cliff about South Head; there were lines, too, on the face of them, Jim and I made out, just like where the waves had washed marks andlevels on the sea-rock. We didn't trouble ourselves much about that partof it. Whatever might have been there once, it grew stunning fine grassnow, and there was beautiful clear fresh water in all the creeks thatran through it. 

Well, we rambled up the long, crooked gully that I was talking abouttill about half-way up it got that narrow that it seemed stopped by abig rock that had tumbled down from the top and blocked the path. It waspretty well grown over with wild raspberries and climbers. 

'No use going farther, ' says Jim; 'there's nothing to see. '

'I don't know that. Been a track here some time. Let's get round andsee. '

When we got round the rock the track was plain again; it had been wellworn once, though neither foot nor hoof much had been along it for manya year. It takes a good while to wear out a track in a dry country. 

The gully widened out bit by bit, till at last we came to a littleround green flat, right under the rock walls which rose up a couple ofthousand feet above it on two sides. On the flat was an old hut--veryold it seemed to be, but not in bad trim for all that. The roof was ofshingles, split, thick, and wedge shaped; the walls of heavy ironbarkslabs, and there was a stone chimney. 

Outside had been a garden; a few rose trees were standing yet, raggedand stunted. The wallabies had trimmed them pretty well, but we knewwhat they were. Been a corn-patch too--the marks where it had been hoedup were there, same as they used to do in old times when there were morehoes than ploughs and more convicts than horses and working bullocks inthe country. 

'Well, this is a rum start, ' says Jim, as we sat down on a log outsidethat looked as if it had been used for a seat before. 'Who the deuceever built this gunyah and lived in it by himself for years and years?You can see it was no two or three months' time he done here. There'sthe spring coming out of the rock he dipped his water from. The track'sreg'lar worn smooth over the stones leading to it. There was a fenceround this garden, some of the rails lying there rotten enough, but ittakes time for sound hard wood to rot. He'd a stool and table too, notbad ones either, this Robinson Crusoe cove. No end of manavilins either. I wonder whether he come here before them first--Government men--chapswe heard of. Likely he did and died here too. He might have chummed inwith them, of course, or he might not. Perhaps Starlight knows somethingabout him, or Warrigal. We'll ask them. '

We fossicked about for a while to see if the man who lived so long byhimself in this lonely place had left anything behind him to help usmake out what sort he was. We didn't find much. There was writing onthe walls here and there, and things cut on the fireplace posts. Jimcouldn't make head or tail of them, nor me either. 

'The old cove may have left something worth having behind him, ' he said, after staring at the cold hearth ever so long. 'Men like him often leavegold pieces and jewels and things behind them, locked up in brass-boundboxes; leastways the story-books say so. I've half a mind to root up theold hearthstone; it's a thundering heavy one, ain't it? I wonder how hegot it here all by himself. '

'It IS pretty heavy, ' I said. 'For all we know he may have had help tobring it in. We've no time now to see into it; we'd better make tracksand see if Starlight has made back. We shall have to shape after a bit, and we may as well see how he stands affected. '

'He'll be back safe enough. There's no pull in being outside now withall the world chevying after you and only half rations of food andsleep. '

Jim was right. As we got up to the cave we saw Starlight talking to theold man and Warrigal letting go the horse. They'd taken their time tocome in, but Warrigal knew some hole or other where they'd hid beforevery likely, so they could take it easier than we did the night we leftRocky Creek. 

'Well, boys!' says Starlight, coming forward quite heartily, 'glad tosee you again; been taking a walk and engaging yourselves this fineweather? Rather nice country residence of ours, isn't it? Wonder howlong we shall remain in possession! What a charm there is in home! Noplace like home, is there, governor?'

Dad didn't smile, he very seldom did that, but I always thought he neverlooked so glum at Starlight as he did at most people. 

'The place is well enough, ' he growled, 'if we don't smother it all byletting our tracks be followed up. We've been dashed lucky so far, butit'll take us all we know to come in and out, if we've any roadwork onhand, and no one the wiser. '

'It can be managed well enough, ' says Starlight. 'Is that dinnerever going to be ready? Jim, make the tea, there's a good fellow; I'mabsolutely starving. The main thing is never to be seen together excepton great occasions. Two men, or three at the outside, can stick up anycoach or travellers that are worth while. We can get home one by onewithout half the risk there would be if we were all together. Hand methe corned beef, if you please, Dick. We must hold a council of war byand by. '

We were smoking our pipes and lying about on the dry floor of the cave, with the sun coming in just enough to make it pleasant, when I startedthe ball. 

'We may as well have it out now what lay we're going upon and whetherwe're all agreed in our minds TO TURN OUT, and do the thing in theregular good old-fashioned Sydney-side style. It's risky, of course, andwe're sure to have a smart brush or two; but I'm not going to be juggedagain, not if I know it, and I don't see but what bush-ranging--yes, BUSH-RANGING, it's no use saying one thing and meaning another--ain'tas safe a game, let alone the profits of it, as mooching aboutcattle-duffing and being lagged in the long run all the same. '

Chapter 23

'Because it's too late, ' growled father; 'too late by years. It's sinkor swim with all of us. If we work together we may make ten thousandpounds or more in the next four or five years, enough to clear out withaltogether if we've luck. If any of us goes snivelling in now and givinghimself up, they'd know there's something crooked with the lot of us, and they'll run us down somehow. I'll see 'em all in the pit of h--lbefore I give in, and if Jim does, he opens the door and sells the passon us. You can both do what you like. ' And here the old man walked bangaway and left us. 

'No use, Dick, ' says Jim. 'If he won't it's no use my giving in. I can'tstand being thought a coward. Besides, if you were nabbed afterwardspeople might say it was through me. I'd sooner be killed and buried adozen times over than that. It's no use talking--it isn't to be--we hadbetter make up our minds once for all, and then let the matter drop. '

Poor old Jim. He had gone into it innocent from the very first. He wasregular led in because he didn't like to desert his own flesh and blood, even if it was wrong. Bit by bit he had gone on, not liking or caringfor the thing one bit, but following the lead of others, till he reachedhis present pitch. How many men, and women too, there are in the worldwho seem born to follow the lead of others for good or evil! They getdrawn in somehow, and end by paying the same penalty as those that meantnothing else from the start. 

The finish of the whole thing was this, that we made up our minds toturn out in the bush-ranging line. It might seem foolish enough tooutsiders, but when you come to think of it we couldn't better ourselvesmuch. We could do no worse than we had done, nor run any greater risk tospeak of. We were 'long sentence men' as it was, sure of years and yearsin prison; and, besides, we were certain of something extra for breakinggaol. Jim and Warrigal were 'wanted', and might be arrested by anychance trooper who could recollect their description in the 'PoliceGazette'. Father might be arrested on suspicion and remanded again andagain until they could get some evidence against him for lots of thingsthat he'd been in besides the Momberah cattle. When it was all boileddown it came to this, that we could make more money in one night bysticking up a coach or a bank than in any other way in a year. That whenwe had done it, we were no worse off than we were now, as far as beingoutlaws, and there was a chance--not a very grand one, but stilla chance--that we might find a way to clear out of New South Walesaltogether. 

So we settled it at that. We had plenty of good horses--what withthe young ones coming on, that Warrigal could break, and what we hadalready. There was no fear of running short of horse-flesh. Firearms wehad enough for a dozen men. They were easy enough to come by. We knewthat by every mail-coach that travelled on the Southern or Western linethere was always a pretty fair sprinkling of notes sent in the letters, besides what the passengers might carry with them, watches, rings, andother valuables. It wasn't the habit of people to carry arms, and ifthey did, there isn't one in ten that uses 'em. It's all very well totalk over a dinner-table, but any one who's been stuck up himself knowsthat there's not much chance of doing much in the resisting line. 

Suppose you're in a coach, or riding along a road. Well, you're expectedand waited for, and the road party knows the very moment you'll turn up. They see you a-coming. You don't see them till it's too late. There's alog or something across the road, if it's a coach, or else the driver'swalking his horses up a steepish hill. Just at the worst pinch or at aturn, some one sings out 'Bail up. ' The coachman sees a strange man infront, or close alongside of him, with a revolver pointed straightat him. He naturally don't like to be shot, and he pulls up. There'sanother man covering the passengers in the body of the coach, and hesays if any man stirs or lifts a finger he'll give him no second chance. Just behind, on the other side, there's another man--perhaps two. Well, what's any one, if he's ever so game, to do? If he tries to draw aweapon, or move ever so little, he's rapped at that second. He can onlyshoot one man, even if his aim is good, which it's not likely tobe. What is more, the other passengers don't thank him--quite thecontrary--for drawing the fire on them. I have known men take away afellow's revolver lest he should get them all into trouble. That was aqueer start, wasn't it? Actually preventing a man from resisting. Theywere quite right, though; he could only have done mischief and made itharder for himself and every one else. If the passengers were armed, andall steady and game to stand a flutter, something might be done, but youdon't get a coach-load like that very often. So it's found better in ageneral way to give up what they have quietly and make no fuss about it. I've known cases where a single bush-ranger was rushed by a couple ofdetermined men, but that was because the chap was careless, and theywere very active and smart. He let them stand too near him. They hadhim, simple enough, and he was hanged for his carelessness; but whenthere's three or four men, all armed and steady, it's no use trying therush dodge with them. 

Of course there were other things to think about: what we were to dowith the trinkets and bank-notes and things when we got them--how topass them, and so on. There was no great bother about that. BesidesJonathan Barnes and chaps of his sort, dad knew a few 'fences' that hadworked for him before. Of course we had to suffer a bit in value. Thesesort of men make you pay through the nose for everything they do foryou. But we could stand that out of our profits, and we could stick towhatever was easy to pass and some of the smaller things that were lightto carry about. Men that make 300 or 400 Pounds of a night can afford topay for accommodation. 

The big houses in the bush, too. Nothing's easier than to stick up oneof them--lots of valuable things, besides money, often kept there, andit's ten to one against any one being on the look-out when the boyscome. A man hears they're in the neighbourhood, and keeps a watch fora week or two. But he can't be always waiting at home all day long withdouble-barrelled guns, and all his young fellows and the overseer thatought to be at their work among their cattle or sheep on the run idlingtheir time away. No, he soon gets sick of that, and either sends hisfamily away to town till the danger's past, or he 'chances it', aspeople do about a good many things in the country. Then some fine day, about eleven or twelve o'clock, or just before tea, or before they'vegone to bed, the dogs bark, and three or four chaps seem to have gotinto the place without anybody noticing 'em, the master of the housefinds all the revolvers looking his way, and the thing's done. Thehouse is cleared out of everything valuable, though nobody's harmed orfrightened--in a general way, that is--a couple of the best horses aretaken out of the stable, and the next morning there's another flaringarticle in the local paper. A good many men tried all they knew tobe prepared and have a show for it; but there was only one that evermanaged to come out right. 

We didn't mean to turn out all in a minute. We'd had a rough time of itlately, and we wanted to wait and take it easy in the Hollow and closeabout for a month or so before we began business. 

Starlight and I wanted to let our beards grow. People without any hairon their faces are hardly ever seen in the country now, except they'vebeen in gaol lately, and of course we should have been marked men. 

We saw no reason why we shouldn't take it easy. Starlight was none toostrong, though he wouldn't own it; he wouldn't have fainted as he did ifhe had. He wanted good keep and rest for a month, and so did I. Now thatit was all over I felt different from what I used to do, only half theman I once was. If we stayed in the Hollow for a month the police mightthink we'd gone straight out of the country and slack off a bit. Anyhow, as long as they didn't hit the trail off to the entrance, we couldn'tbe in a safer place, and though there didn't seem much to do we thoughtwe'd manage to hang it out somehow. One day we were riding all togetherin the afternoon, when we happened to come near the gully where Jim andI had gone up and seen the Hermit's Hut, as we had christened it. Oftenwe had talked about it since; wondered about the man who had lived init, and what his life had been. 

This time we'd had all the horses in and were doing a bit ofcolt-breaking. Warrigal and Jim were both on young horses that had onlybeen ridden once before, and we had come out to give them a hand. 

'Do you know anything about that hut in the gully?' I asked Starlight. 

'Oh yes, all there is to know about it; and that's not much. Warrigaltold me that, while the first gang that discovered this desirablecountry residence were in possession, a stranger accidentally foundout the way in. At first they were for putting him to death, but onhis explaining that he only wanted a solitary home, and should neithertrouble nor betray them, they agreed to let him stay. He was "a big onegentleman", Warrigal said; but he built the hut himself, with occasionalhelp from the men. He was liberal with his gold, of which he had a smallstore, while it lasted. He lived here many years, and was buried under abig peach tree that he had planted himself. '

'A queer start, to come and live and die here; and about the strangestplace to pick for a home I ever saw. '

'There's a good many strange people in the colony, Dick, my boy, ' saysStarlight, 'and the longer you live the more you'll find of them. Someday, when we've got quiet horses, we'll come up and have a regularoverhauling of the spot. It's years since I've been there. '

'Suppose he turned out some big swell from the old country? Dad saysthere used to be a few in the old days, in the colony. He might haveleft papers and things behind him that might turn to good account. '

'Whatever he did leave was hidden away. Warrigal says he was a littlechap when he died, but he says he remembers men making a great coroboreeover him when he died, and they could find nothing. They always thoughthe had money, and he showed them one or two small lumps of gold, andwhat he said was gold-dust washed out from the creek bed. '

As we had no call to work now, we went in for a bit of sport everyday. Lord! how long it seemed since Jim and I had put the guns on ourshoulders and walked out in the beautiful fresh part of the morning tohave a day's shooting. It made us feel like boys again. When I said sothe tears came into Jim's eyes and he turned his head away. Father cameone day; he and old Crib were a stunning pair for pot shooting, andhe was a dead game shot, though we could be at him with the rifle andrevolver. 

There was a pretty fair show of game too. The lowan (Mallee hen, they'remostly called) and talegalla (brush turkey) were thick enough in some ofthe scrubby corners. Warrigal used to get the lowan eggs--beautiful pinkthin-shelled ones they are, first-rate to eat, and one of 'em a man'sbreakfast. Then there were pigeons, wild ducks, quail, snipe nowand then, besides wallaby and other kangaroos. There was no fear ofstarving, even if we hadn't a tidy herd of cattle to come upon. 

The fishing wasn't bad either. The creeks ran towards the north-westwatershed and were full of codfish, bream, and perch. Even the jewfishwasn't bad with their skins off. They all tasted pretty good, I tellyou, after a quick broil, let alone the fun of catching them. Warrigalused to make nets out of cooramin bark, and put little weirs across theshallow places, so as we could go in and drive the fish in. Many a finecod we took that way. He knew all the blacks' ways as well as a goodmany of ours. The worst of him was that except in hunting, fishing, andriding he'd picked up the wrong end of the habits of both sides. Fatherused to set snares for the brush kangaroo and the bandicoots, like he'dbeen used to do for the hares in the old country. We could always manageto have some kind of game hanging up. It kept us amused too. 

But I don't know whatever we should have done, that month we stayedthere, at the first--we were never so long idle again--without thehorses. We used to muster them twice a week, run 'em up into the bigreceiving yard, and have a regular good look over 'em till we knew everyone of 'em like a book. 

Some of 'em was worth looking at, my word! 'D'ye see that big upstandingthree-year-old dark bay filly, with a crooked streak down her face, 'Starlight would say, 'and no brand but your father's on. Do you know hername? That's young Termagant, a daughter of Mr. Rouncival's racing mareof the same name that was stolen a week before she was born, and her damwas never seen alive again. Pity to kill a mare like that, wasn't it?Her sire was Repeater, the horse that ran the two three-mile heats withMackworth, in grand time, too. ' Then, again, 'That chestnut colt withthe white legs would be worth five hundred all out if we could sellhim with his right name and breeding, instead of having to do without apedigree. We shall be lucky if we get a hundred clear for him. The blackfilly with the star--yes, she's thoroughbred too, and couldn't have beenbought for money. Only a month old and unbranded, of course, when yourfather and Warrigal managed to bone the old mare. Mr. Gibson offered 50Pounds reward, or 100 Pounds on conviction. Wasn't he wild! That big bayhorse, Warrior, was in training for a steeplechase when I took him outof Mr. King's stable. I rode him 120 miles before twelve next day. Thosetwo browns are Mr. White's famous buggy horses. He thought no man couldget the better of him. But your old father was too clever. I believe hecould shake the devil's own four-in-hand--(coal black, with manes andtails touching the ground, and eyes of fire, some German fellow saysthey are)--and the Prince of Darkness never be the wiser. The pull of itis that once they're in here they're never heard of again till it's timeto shift them to another colony, or clear them out and let the buyertake his chance. '

'You've some plums here, ' I said. 'Even the cattle look pretty wellbred. '

'Always go for pedigree stock, Fifteenth Duke notwithstanding. Theytake no more keep than rough ones, and they're always saleable. Thatred short-horn heifer belongs to the Butterfly Red Rose tribe; she wascarried thirty miles in front of a man's saddle the day she was calved. We suckled her on an old brindle cow; she doesn't look the worse for it. Isn't she a beauty? We ought to go in for an annual sale here. How doyou think it would pay?'

All this was pleasant enough, but it couldn't last for ever. After thefirst week's rest, which was real pleasure and enjoyment, we began tofind the life too dull and dozy. We'd had quite enough of a quiet life, and began to long for a bit of work and danger again. Chaps that havegot something on their minds can't stand idleness, it plays the bearwith them. I've always found they get thinking and thinking till theyget a low fit like, and then if there's any grog handy they try to screwthemselves up with that. It gives them a lift for a time, but afterwardsthey have to pay for it over and over again. That's where the drinkinghabit comes in--they can't help it--they must drink. If you'll take thetrouble to watch men (and women too) that have been 'in trouble' you'llfind that nineteen out of every twenty drink like fishes when they getthe chance. It ain't the love of the liquor, as teetotalers and thosekind of goody people always are ramming down your throat--it's thelove of nothing. But it's the fear of their own thoughts--the dreadfulmisery--the anxiety about what's to come, that's always hanging like ablack cloud over their heads. That's what they can't stand; and liquor, for a bit, mind you--say a few hours or so--takes all that kind offeeling clean away. Of course it returns, harder than before, but thatsays nothing. It CAN be driven away. All the heavy-heartedness whicha man feels, but never puts into words, flies away with the first orsecond glass of grog. If a man was suffering pains of any kind, or wasbeing stretched on the rack (I never knew what a rack was till I'd timefor reading in gaol, except a horse-rack), or was being flogged, anda glass of anything he could swallow would make him think he was on afeather bed enjoying a pleasant doze, wouldn't he swig it off, do youthink? And suppose there are times when a man feels as if hell couldn'tbe much worse than what he's feeling all the long day through--and Itell you there are--I, who have often stood it hour after hour--won't hedrink then? And why shouldn't he?

We began to find that towards the end of the day we all of us found theway to father's brandy keg--that by nightfall the whole lot of us hadquite as much as we could stagger under. I don't say we regularly wentin for drinking; but we began to want it by twelve o'clock every day, and to keep things going after that till bedtime. In the morning we feltnervous and miserable; on the whole we weren't very gay till the sun wasover the foreyard. 

Anyhow, we made it up to clear out and have the first go-in for a touchon the southern line the next week as ever was. Father was as eager forit as anybody. He couldn't content himself with this sort of RobinsonCrusoe life any longer, and said he must have a run and a bit of workof some sort or he'd go mad. This was on the Saturday night. Well, onSunday we sent Warrigal out to meet one of our telegraphs at a placeabout twenty miles off, and to bring us any information he could pickup and a newspaper. He came back about sundown that evening, and toldus that the police had been all over the country after us, and thatGovernment had offered 200 Pounds reward for our apprehension--mine andStarlight's--with 50 Pounds each for Warrigal and Jim. They had an ideawe'd all shipped for America. He sent us a newspaper. There was somenews; that is, news worth talking about. Here was what was printed inlarge letters on the outside:--

 WONDERFUL DISCOVERY OF GOLD AT THE TURON. 

We have much pleasure in informing our numerous constituents thatgold, similar in character and value to that of San Francisco, hasbeen discovered on the Turon River by those energetic and experiencedpractical miners, Messrs. Hargraves and party. The method of cradlingis the same, the appliances required are simple and inexpensive, andthe proportional yield of gold highly reassuring. It is impossibleto forecast the results of this most momentous discovery. It willrevolutionise the new world. It will liberate the old. It willprecipitate Australia into a nation. 

Meanwhile numberless inconveniences, even privations, will arise--to beendured unflinchingly--to be borne in silence. But courage, England, wehave hitherto achieved victory. 

This news about the gold breaking out in such a place as the Turonmade a great difference in our notions. We hardly knew what to think atfirst. The whole country seemed upside down. Warrigal used to sneak outfrom time to time, and come back open-mouthed, bringing us all sortsof news. Everybody, he said, was coming up from Sydney. There would benobody left there but the Governor. What a queer start--the Governorsitting lonely in a silent Government House, in the middle of a desertedcity! We found out that it was true after we'd made one or two shortrides out ourselves. Afterwards the police had a deal too much to do tothink of us. We didn't run half the chance of being dropped on to thatwe used to do. The whole country was full of absconders and deserters, servants, shepherds, shopmen, soldiers, and sailors--all running awayfrom their work, and making in a blind sort of way for the diggings, like a lot of caterpillars on the march. 

We had more than half a notion about going there ourselves, but weturned it over in our minds, and thought it wouldn't do. We should besure to be spotted anywhere in New South Wales. All the police stationshad our descriptions posted up, with a reward in big letters on thedoor. Even if we were pretty lucky at the start we should always beexpecting them to drop on us. As it was, we should have twenty times thechance among the coaches, that were sure to be loaded full up with menthat all carried cash, more or less; you couldn't travel then inthe country without it. We had twice the pull now, because so manystrangers, that couldn't possibly be known to the police, werestraggling over all the roads. There was no end of bustle and rush inevery line of work and labour. Money was that plentiful that everybodyseemed to be full of it. Gold began to be sent down in big lots, by theEscort, as it was called--sometimes ten thousand ounces at a time. Thatwas money if you liked--forty thousand pounds!--enough to make one'smouth water--to make one think dad's prophecy about the ten thousandpounds wasn't so far out after all. 

Just at the start most people had a kind of notion that the gold wouldonly last a short time, and that things would be worse than before. Butit lasted a deal longer than any of us expected. It was 1850 that I'mtalking about. It's getting on for 1860 now, and there seems more of itabout than ever there was. 

Most of our lives we'd been used to the southern road, and we kept to itstill. It wasn't right in the line of the gold diggings, but it wasn'tso far off. It was a queer start when the news got round about to theother colonies, after that to England, and I suppose all the other oldworld places, but they must have come by ship-loads, the road was thatfull of new chums--we could tell 'em easy by their dress, their freshfaces, their way of talk, their thick sticks, and new guns and pistols. Some of them you'd see dragging a hand-cart with another chap, and theyhaving all their goods, tools, and clothes on it. Then there'd be adozen men, with a horse and cart, and all their swags in it. If thehorse jibbed at all, or stuck in the deep ruts--and wasn't it a wetseason?--they'd give a shout and a rush, and tear out cart and horse andeverything else. They told us that there were rows of ships in SydneyHarbour without a soul to take care of them; that the soldiers wererunning away to the diggings just as much as the sailors; clergymen anddoctors, old hands and new chums, merchants and lawyers. They all seemedas if they couldn't keep away from the diggings that first year fortheir lives. 

All stock went up double and treble what they were before. Cattle andsheep we didn't mind about. We could do without them now. But the horsemarket rose wonderfully, and that made a deal of odds to us, you may besure. 

It was this way. Every man that had a few pounds wanted a horse to rideor drive; every miner wanted a wash-dirt cart and a horse to draw it. The farmer wanted working horses, for wasn't hay sixty or seventy poundsa ton, and corn what you liked to ask for it? Every kind of harnesshorse was worth forty, fifty, a hundred pounds apiece, and only to askit; some of 'em weedy and bad enough, Heaven knows. So between the horsetrade and the road trade we could see a fortune sticking out, ready forus to catch hold of whenever we were ready to collar. 

Chapter 24

Our first try-on in the coach line was with the Goulburn mail. We knewthe road pretty well, and picked out a place where they had to go slowand couldn't get off the road on either side. There's always places likethat in a coach road near the coast, if you look sharp and lay it outbeforehand. This wasn't on the track to the diggings, but we meant toleave that alone till we got our hand in a bit. There was a lot of moneyflying about the country in a general way where there was no sign ofgold. All the storekeepers began to get up fresh goods, and to sendmoney in notes and cheques to pay for them. The price of stock keptdealers and fat cattle buyers moving, who had their pockets full ofnotes as often as not. 

Just as you got nearly through Bargo Brush on the old road there was astiffish hill that the coach passengers mostly walked up, to savethe horses--fenced in, too, with a nearly new three-rail fence, allironbark, and not the sort of thing that you could ride or drive overhandy. We thought this would be as good a place as we could pick, so welaid out the whole thing as careful as we could beforehand. 

The three of us started out from the Hollow as soon as we could see inthe morning; a Friday it was, I remember it pretty well--good reason Ihad, too. Father and Warrigal went up the night before with the horseswe were to ride. They camped about twenty miles on the line we weregoing, at a place where there was good feed and water, but well out ofthe way and on a lonely road. There had been an old sheep station thereand a hut, but the old man had been murdered by the hut-keeper for somemoney he had saved, and a story got up that it was haunted by his ghost. It was known as the 'Murdering Hut', and no shepherd would ever livethere after, so it was deserted. We weren't afraid of shepherds alive ordead, so it came in handy for us, as there was water and feed in an oldlambing paddock. Besides, the road to it was nearly all a lot of rockand scrub from the Hollow, that made it an unlikely place to be trackedfrom. 

Our dodge was to take three quiet horses from the Hollow and ride themthere, first thing; then pick up our own three--Rainbow and two otherout-and-outers--and ride bang across the southern road. When things wereover we were to start straight back to the Hollow. We reckoned to besafe there before the police had time to know which way we'd made. 

It all fitted in first-rate. We cracked on for the Hollow in the morningearly, and found dad and Warrigal all ready for us. The horses were ingreat buckle, and carried us over to Bargo easy enough before dark. Wecamped about a mile away from the road, in as thick a place as we couldfind, where we made ourselves as snug as things would allow. We hadbrought some grub with us and a bottle of grog, half of which wefinished before we started out to spend the evening. We hobbled thehorses out and let them have an hour's picking. They were likely to wantall they could get before they saw the Hollow again. 

It was near twelve o'clock when we mounted. Starlight said--

'By Jove, boys, it's a pity we didn't belong to a troop of irregularhorse instead of this rotten colonial Dick Turpin business, that onecan't help being ashamed of. They would have been delighted to haverecruited the three of us, as we ride, and our horses are worth bestpart of ten thousand rupees. What a tent-pegger Rainbow would have made, eh, old boy?' he said, patting the horse's neck. 'But Fate won't haveit, and it's no use whining. '

The coach was to pass half-an-hour after midnight. An awful long timeto wait, it seemed. We finished the bottle of brandy, I know. I thoughtthey never would come, when all of a sudden we saw the lamp. 

Up the hill they came slow enough. About half-way up they stopped, andmost of the passengers got out and walked up after her. As they camecloser to us we could hear them laughing and talking and skylarking, like a lot of boys. They didn't think who was listening. 'You won't beso jolly in a minute or two, ' I thinks to myself. 

They were near the top when Starlight sings out, 'Stand! Bail up!' andthe three of us, all masked, showed ourselves. You never saw a man lookso scared as the passenger on the box-seat, a stout, jolly commercial, who'd been giving the coachman Havana cigars, and yarning and nippingwith him at every house they passed. Bill Webster, the driver, pulls upall standing when he sees what was in Starlight's hand, and holds thereins so loose for a minute I thought they'd drop out of his hands. Iwent up to the coach. There was no one inside--only an old woman and ayoung one. They seemed struck all of a heap, and couldn't hardly speakfor fright. 

The best of the joke was that the passengers started running up fullsplit to warm themselves, and came bump against the coach before theyfound out what was up. One of them had just opened out for a bit ofblowing. 'Billy, old man, ' he says, 'I'll report you to the Company ifyou crawl along this way, ' when he catches sight of me and Starlight, standing still and silent, with our revolvers pointing his way. ByGeorge! I could hardly help laughing. His jaw dropped, and he couldn'tget a word out. His throat seemed quite dry. 

'Now, gentlemen, ' says Starlight, quite cool and cheerful-like, 'youunderstand her Majesty's mail is stuck up, to use a vulgar expression, and there's no use resisting. I must ask you to stand in a row there bythe fence, and hand out all the loose cash, watches, or rings you mayhave about you. Don't move; don't, I say, sir, or I must fire. ' (Thiswas to a fidgety, nervous man who couldn't keep quiet. ) 'Now, NumberOne, fetch down the mail bags; Number Two, close up here. '

Here Jim walked up, revolver in hand, and Starlight begins at the firstman, very stern--

'Hand out your cash; keep back nothing, if you value your life. '

You never saw a man in such a funk. He was a storekeeper, we foundafterwards. He nearly dropped on his knees. Then he handed Starlight abundle of notes, a gold watch, and took a handsome diamond ring fromhis finger. This Starlight put into his pocket. He handed the notes andwatch to Jim, who had a leather bag ready for them. The man sank down onthe ground; he had fainted. 

He was left to pick himself up. No. 2 was told to shell out. They allhad something. Some had sovereigns, some had notes and small cheques, which are as good in a country place. The squatters draw too many toknow the numbers of half that are out, so there's no great chance oftheir being stopped. There were eighteen male passengers, besidesthe chap on the box-seat. We made him come down. By the time we'd gotthrough them all it was best part of an hour. 

I pulled the mail bags through the fence and put them under a tree. ThenStarlight went to the coach where the two women were. He took off hishat and bowed. 

'Unpleasant necessity, madam, most painful to my feelings altogether, Iassure you. I must really ask you--ah--is the young lady your daughter, madam?'

'Not at all, ' says the oldest, stout, middle-aged woman; 'I never seteyes on her before. '

'Indeed, madam, ' says Starlight, bowing again; 'excuse my curiosity, Iam desolated, I assure you, but may I trouble you for your watches andpurses?'

'As you're a gentleman, ' said the fat lady, 'I fully expected you'd havelet us off. I'm Mrs. Buxter, of Bobbrawobbra. '

'Indeed! I have no words to express my regret, ' says Starlight; 'but, mydear lady, hard necessity compels me. Thanks, very much, ' he said to theyoung girl. 

She handed over a small old Geneva watch and a little purse. The plumplady had a gold watch with a chain and purse to match. 

'Is that all?' says he, trying to speak stern. 

'It's my very all, ' says the girl, 'five pounds. Mother gave me herwatch, and I shall have no money to take me to Bowning, where I am goingto a situation. '

Her lips shook and trembled and the tears came into her eyes. 

Starlight carefully handed Mrs. Buxter's watch and purse to Jim. I sawhim turn round and open the other purse, and he put something in, if Ididn't mistake. Then he looked in again. 

'I'm afraid I'm rather impertinent, ' says he, 'but your face, Miss--ah--Elmsdale, thanks--reminds me of some one in another world--theone I once lived in. Allow me to enjoy the souvenir and to return youreffects. No thanks; that smile is ample payment. Ladies, I wish you apleasant journey. '

He bowed. Mrs. Buxter did not smile, but looked cross enough at theyoung lady, who, poor thing, seemed pretty full up and inclined to cryat the surprise. 

'Now then, all aboard, ' sings out Starlight; 'get in, gentlemen, ourbusiness matters are concluded for the night. Better luck next time. William, you had better drive on. Send back from the next stage, and youwill find the mail bags under that tree. They shall not be injured morethan can be helped. Good-night!'

The driver gathered up his reins and shouted to his team, that waspretty fresh after their spell, and went off like a shot. We sat downby the roadside with one of the coach lamps that we had boned and wentthrough all the letters, putting them back after we'd opened them, andpopping all notes, cheques, and bills into Jim's leather sack. We didnot waste more time over our letter-sorting than we could help, you bet;but we were pretty well paid for it--better than the post-office clerksare, by all accounts. We left all the mail bags in a heap under thetree, as Starlight had told the driver; and then, mounting our horses, rode as hard as we could lick to where dad and Warrigal were camped. 

When we overhauled the leather sack into which Jim had stowed all thenotes and cheques we found that we'd done better than we expected, though we could see from the first it wasn't going to be a bad night'swork. We had 370 Pounds in notes and gold, a biggish bag of silver, a lot of cheques--some of which would be sure to be paid--seven goldwatches and a lot of silver ones, some pretty good. Mrs. Buxter's watchwas a real beauty, with a stunning chain. Starlight said he should liketo keep it himself, and then I knew Bella Barnes was in for a present. Starlight was one of those chaps that never forgot any kind of promisehe'd once made. Once he said a thing it would be done as sure asdeath--if he was alive to do it; and many a time I've known him take thegreatest lot of trouble no matter how pushed he might be, to carry outsomething which another man would have never troubled his head about. 

We got safe to the Murdering Hut, and a precious hard ride it was, andtried our horses well, for, mind you, they'd been under saddle best partof twenty-four hours when we got back, and had done a good deal over ahundred miles. We made a short halt while the tea was boiling, then weall separated for fear a black tracker might have been loosed on ourtrail, and knowing well what bloodhounds they are sometimes. 

Warrigal and Starlight went off together as usual; they were pretty safeto be out of harm's way. Father made off on a line of his own. We tookthe two horses we'd ridden out of the Hollow, and made for that placethe shortest way we knew. We could afford to hit out--horse-flesh wascheap to us--but not to go slow. Time was more than money to us now--itwas blood, or next thing to it. 

'I'll go anywhere you like, ' says Jim, stretching himself. 'It makes noodds to me now where we go. What do you think of it, dad?'

'I think you've no call to leave here for another month anyhow; but as Isuppose some folks 'll play the fool some road or other you may as wellgo there as anywhere else. If you must go you'd better take some ofthese young horses with you and sell them while prices keep up. '

'Capital idea, ' says Starlight; 'I was wondering how we'd get thosecolts off. You've the best head amongst us, governor. We'll start outto-day and muster the horses, and we can take Warrigal with us as far asJonathan Barnes's place. '

We didn't lose time once we'd made up our minds to anything. So thatnight all the horses were in and drafted ready--twenty-five upstandingcolts, well bred, and in good condition. We expected they'd fetch a lotof money. They were all quiet, too, and well broken in by Warrigal, whoused to get so much a head extra for this sort of work, and liked it. Hecould do more with a horse than any man I ever saw. They never seemed toplay up with him as young horses do with other people. Jim and Icould ride 'em easy enough when they was tackled, but for handling andcatching and getting round them we couldn't hold a candle to Warrigal. 

The next thing was to settle how to work it when we got to the diggings. We knew the auctioneers there and everywhere else would sell a lot oflikely stock and ask no questions; but there had been such a lot ofhorse-stealing since the diggings broke out that a law had been passedon purpose to check it. In this way: If any auctioneer sold a stolenhorse and the owner claimed it before six months the auctioneer was heldliable. He had to return the horse and stand the loss. But they founda way to make themselves right. Men generally do if a law's over sharp;they get round it somehow or other. So the auctioneers made it up amongthemselves to charge ten per cent on the price of all horses that theysold, and make the buyer pay it. For every ten horses they sold theycould afford to return one. The proof of an animal being stolen didn'tturn up above once in fifty or a hundred times, so they could wellafford the expense when it did. 

It wasn't an easy thing to drive horses out of the Hollow, 'speciallythose that had been bred or reared there. But they were up to all thatkind of thing, dad and Starlight. First there was a yard at the lowerend of the gully that led up where we'd first seen Starlight come down, and a line of fence across the mountain walls on both sides, so thatstock once in there couldn't turn back. Then they picked out a coupleor three old mares that had been years and years in the Hollow, and beenused to be taken up this track and knew their way back again. One theyled up; dad went first with her, and another followed; then the coltstook the track after them, as stock will. In half-an-hour we had themall up at the top, on the tableland, and ready to be driven anywhere. The first day we meant to get most of the way to Jonathan Barnes'splace, and to stop there, and have a bit of a spell the second. Weshould want to spell the horses and make 'em up a bit, as it was alongish drive over rough country to get there. Besides, we wanted allthe information we could get about the diggings and other matters, andwe knew Jonathan was just that open-mouthed, blatherskitin' sort of chapthat would talk to everybody he saw, and hear mostly all that was goingon. 

A long, hard day was that first one. The colts tried to make back everynow and then, or something would start them, and they'd make a regularstampede for four or five miles as hard as they could lay leg to ground. It wasn't easy to live with 'em across broken country, well-bred 'unslike them, as fast as racehorses for a short distance; but there wereas good behind 'em, and Warrigal was pretty nearly always near the lead, doubling and twisting and wheeling 'em the first bit of open groundthere was. He was A1 through timber, and no mistake. We got to a placefather knew, where there was a yard, a little before dark; but we tookcare to watch them all night for fear of accidents. It wouldn't do tolet 'em out of our sight about there. We should never have set eyes on'em again, and we knew a trick worth two of that. 

Next day, pretty early, we got to Barnes's, where we thought we shouldbe welcome. It was all right. The old man laughed all over his face whenhe saw us, and the girls couldn't do enough for us when they heard we'dhad scarce a morsel to eat or drink that day. 

'Why, you're looking first-rate, Captain!' says Bella. 'Dick, I hardlyknowed ye--the mountain air seems to agree with you. Maddie and Ithought you was never going to look in no more. Thought you'd cleanforgot us--didn't we, Mad? Why, Dick, what a grand beard you've grown! Inever thought you was so handsome before!'

'I promised you a trifling present when I was here last, didn't I, Bella?' says Starlight. 'There. ' He handed her a small parcel carefullytied up. 'It will serve to remind you of a friend. '

'Oh, what a lovely, splendid duck of a watch!' says the girl, tearingopen the parcel. 'And what a love of a chain! and lots of charms, too. Where, in all the world, did you get this? I suppose you didn't buy itin George Street. '

'It WAS bought in George Street, ' says he; 'and here's the receipt; youneedn't be afraid of wearing it to church or anywhere else. Here's Mr. Flavelle's name, all straight and square. It's quite new, as you cansee. '

Jim and I stared. Dad was outside, seeing the horses fed, with Warrigal. We made sure at first it was Mrs. Buxter's watch and chain; but he knewbetter than to give the girl anything that she could be brought intotrouble for wearing, if it was identified on her; so he'd sent the cashdown to Sydney, and got the watch sent up to him by one of father'spals. It was as right as the bank, and nobody could touch it or hereither. That was Starlight all over; he never seemed to care muchfor himself. As to anything he told a woman, she'd no call to troubleherself about whether it would be done or not. 

'It'll be my turn next, ' says Maddie. 'I can't afford to waittill--till--the Captain leaves me that beauty horse of his. It's toolong. I might be married before that, and my old man cut up rough. JimMarston, what are you going to give me? I haven't got any earrings worthlooking at, except these gold hoops that everybody knows. '

'All right, ' says Jim. 'I'll give you and Bell a pair each, if you'regood girls, when we sell the horses, unless we're nailed at the Turon. What sort of a shop is it? Are they getting much gold?'

'Digging it out like potatoes, ' says Bella; 'so a young chap told usthat come this way last week. My word! didn't he go on about the coachbeing stuck up. Mad and I nearly choked ourselves laughing. We made himtell it over twice. He said a friend of his was in it--in the coach, that is--and we could have told him friends of ours was in it too, couldn't we?'

'And what did he think of it all?'

'Oh, he was a new chum; hadn't been a year out. Not a bad cut of a youngfeller. He was awful shook on Mad; but she wouldn't look at him. He saidif it was in England the whole countryside would rise up and hunt suchscoundrels down like mad dogs; but in a colony like this people didn'tseem to know right from wrong. '

'Did he, indeed?' says Starlight. 'Ingenuous youth! When he lives alittle longer he'll find that people in England, and, indeed, everywhereelse, are very much like they are here. They'll wink at a littlerobbery, or take a hand themselves if it's made worth their while. Andwhat became of your English friend?'

'Oh! he said he was going on to Port Phillip. There's a big diggingsbroke out there too, he says; and he has some friends there, and hethinks he'll like that side better. '

'I think we'd better cut the Sydney "side", too, ' says Starlight. 'What do you say, Maddie? We'll be able to mix up with these new chumEnglishmen and Americans that are coming here in swarms, and puzzleSergeant Goring and his troopers more than ever. '

'Oh! come, now! that would be mean, ' says Maddie. 'I wouldn't be droveaway from my own part of the country, if I was a man, by anybody. I'dstay and fight it out. Goring was here the other day, and tried to pickout something from father and us about the lot of you. '

'Ha!' says Starlight, his face growing dark, and different-looking aboutthe eyes from what I'd ever seen him, 'did he? He'd better beware. Hemay follow up my trail once too often. And what did you tell him?'

'We told him a lot of things, ' says the girl; 'but I am afeared they wasnone of 'em true. He didn't get much out of us, nor wouldn't if he wasto come once a week. '

'I expect not, ' says Jim; 'you girls are smart enough. There's no manin the police or out of it that'll take much change out of you. I'm mostafraid of your father, though, letting the cat out of the bag; he's suchan old duffer to blow. '

'He was nearly telling the sergeant he'd seen a better horse lately herethan his famous chestnut Marlborough, only Bella trod on his toe, andtold him the cows was in the wheat. Of course Goring would have droppedit was Rainbow, or some well-bred horse you chaps have been shakinglately. '

'You're a regular pearl of discretion, my dear, ' says Starlight, 'andit's a pity, like some other folks, you haven't a better field for theexercise of your talents. However, that's very often the way in thisworld, as you'll perhaps find out when you're old and ugly, and theknowledge can't do you any good. Tell us all you heard about the coachaccident. '

'My word! it was the greatest lark out, ' says Maddie. She'd twice thefun in her the other had, and was that good-tempered nothing seemed toput her out. 'Everybody as come here seemed to have nothing else to talkabout. Those that was going to the diggings, too, took it much easierthan those that was coming away. '

'How was that?'

'Well, the chaps that come away mostly have some gold. They showed ussome pretty fair lumps and nuggets, I can tell you. They seemed awfullygallied about being stuck up and robbed of it, and they'd heard yarns ofmen being tied to trees in the bush and left there to die. '

'Tell them for me, my fair Madeline, that Starlight and Company don'tdeal with single diggers; ours is a wholesale business--eh, Dick? Weleave the retail robbery to meaner villains. '

We had the horses that quiet by this time that we could drive them therest of the way to the Turon by ourselves. We didn't want to be too biga mob at Barnes's house. Any one might come in accidental, and it mightget spread about. So after supper Warrigal was sent back; we didn't wanthis help any more, and he might draw attention. The way we were to takein the horses, and sell them, was all put up. 

Jim and I were to drive them the rest of the way across the ranges tothe Turon. Barnes was to put us on a track he knew that would take us inall right, and yet keep away from the regular highway. Starlight was tostay another day at Barnes's, keeping very quiet, and making believe, ifany one came, to be a gentleman from Port Phillip that wasn't very well. He'd come in and see the horses sold, but gammon to be a stranger, andnever set eyes on us before. 

'My word!' said Barnes, who just came in at the time, 'you've made talkenough for all the countryside with that mail coach racket of yours. Every man, woman, and child that looks in here's sure to say, "Didyou hear about the Goulburn mail being stuck up?" "Well, I did hearsomething, " I says, and out it all comes. They wonder first whether thebush-rangers will be caught; where they're gone to that the police can'tget 'em; how it was that one of 'em was so kind to the young lady as togive her new watch back, and whether Captain Starlight was as handsomeas people say, and if Mrs. Buxter will ever get her watch back with thebig reward the Government offered. More than that, whether they'll stickup more coaches or fly the country. '

'I'd like to have been there and see how Bill Webster looked, ' saysMaddie. 'He was here one day since, and kept gassin' about it all as ifhe wouldn't let none of you do only what he liked. I didn't think he wasthat game, and told him so. He said I'd better take a seat some day andsee how I liked it. I asked him wasn't they all very good-looking chaps, and he said Starlight was genteel-lookin', but there was one great, big, rough-lookin' feller--that was you, Jim--as was ugly enough to turn acask of beer sour. '

'I'll give him a hammerin' for that yet, ' grumbles old Jim. 'My word, he was that shaky and blue-lookin' he didn't know whether I was white orblack. '

We had a great spree that night in a quiet way, and got all the fun aswas to be had under the circumstances. Barnes came out with some prettygood wine which Starlight shouted for all round. The old woman cookedus a stunning good dinner, which we made the girls sit down to and somecousins of theirs that lived close by. We were merry enough before theevening was out. Bella Barnes played the piano middling, and Maddiecould sing first-rate, and all of them could dance. The last thing Irecollect was Starlight showing Maddie what he called a minuet step, andJonathan and the old woman sitting on the sofa as grave as owls. 

Anyhow, we all enjoyed ourselves. It was a grand change after being solong alone. The girls romped and laughed and pretended to be offendedevery now and then, but we had a regular good lark of it, and didn'tfeel any the worse at daylight next morning. 

Jim and I were away before sunrise, and after we'd once got on the roadthat Jonathan showed us we got on well enough. We were dressed just likecommon bushmen. There were plenty on the road just then bringing cattleand horses to the diggings. It was well known that high prices weregoing there and that everybody paid in cash. No credit was given, ofcourse. 

We had on blue serge shirts, moleskin trousers, and roughish leathergaiters that came up to the knee, with ponchos strapped on in front;inside them was a spare shirt or two; we had oldish felt hats, as ifwe'd come a good way. Our saddles and bridles were rusty-looking andworn; the horses were the only things that were a little too good, andmight bring the police to suspect us. We had to think of a yarn aboutthem. We looked just the same as a hundred other long-legged six-footnatives with our beards and hair pretty wild--neither better nor worse. 

As soon as Starlight came on to the Turon he was to rig himself out as aregular swell, and gammon he'd just come out from England to look at thegoldfields. He could do that part wonderfully well. We would have backedhim to take in the devil himself, if he saw him, let alone goldfieldspolice, if Sergeant Goring wasn't about. 

The second day Jim and I were driving quietly and easy on the road, thecolts trotting along as steady as old stock horses, and feeding a bitevery now and then. We knew we were getting near the Turon, so manytracks came in from all parts, and all went one way. All of a sudden weheard a low rumbling, roaring noise, something like the tide coming inon the seashore. 

'I say, Jim, old man, we haven't made any mistake--crossed over the mainrange and got back to the coast, have we?'

'Not likely, ' he said; 'but what the deuce is that row? I can't reckonit up for the life of me. '

I studied and studied. On it went grinding and rattling like all theround pebbles in the world rolling on a beach with a tidy surf on. Itumbled at last. 

'Remember that thing with the two rockers we saw at the Hermit's Hut inthe Hollow?' I said to Jim. 'We couldn't make out what it was. I knownow; it was a gold cradle, and there's hundreds and thousands rockingthere at the Turon. That's what's the matter. '

'We're going to see some life, it strikes me, ' says he. 'We'll know itall directly. But the first thing we've got to do is to shut these young'uns up safe in the sale-yard. Then we can knock round this town incomfort. '

We went outside of a rocky point, and sure enough here was the firstAustralian gold-diggings in full blast. What a sight it was, to be sure!Jim and I sat in our saddles while the horses went to work on the greengrass of the flat, and stared as if we'd seen a bit of another world. Soit was another world to us, straight away from the sad-voiced solitudesof the bush. 

Barring Sydney or Melbourne, we'd never seen so many men in a crowdbefore; and how different they looked from the crawling people of atown! A green-banked rapid river ran before us, through a deep narrowvalley. The bright green flats looked so strange with the yellow waterrippling and rushing between them. Upon that small flat, and by thebank, and in the river itself, nearly 20, 000 men were at work, harderand more silently than any crowd we'd ever seen before. Most of 'em weredigging, winding up greenhide buckets filled with gravel from shafts, which were sunk so thickly all over the place that you could not passbetween without jostling some one. Others were driving carts heavilyladen with the same stuff towards the river, in which hundreds of menwere standing up to their waists washing the gold out of tin pans, ironbuckets, and every kind of vessel or utensil. By far the greater numberof miners used things like child's cradles, rocking them to and frowhile a constant stream of yellow water passed through. Very littletalk went on; every man looked feverishly anxious to get the greatestquantity of work done by sundown. 

Foot police and mounted troopers passed through the crowd every now andthen, but there was apparently no use or no need for them; that timewas to come. Now and then some one would come walking up, carrying aknapsack, not a swag, and showing by his round, rosy face that he hadn'tseen a summer's sun in Australia. We saw a trooper riding towards us, and knowing it was best to take the bull by the horns, I pushed overto him, and asked if he could direct us to where Mr. Stevenson's, theauctioneer's, yard was. 

'Whose horses are these?' he said, looking at the brands. 'B. M. , isn'tit?'

'Bernard Muldoon, Lower Macquarie, ' I answered. 'There's a friend ofhis, a new chum, in charge; he'll be here to-morrow. '

'Go on down Main Street [the first street in a diggings is always calledMain Street] as you're going, ' he said carelessly, giving us all aparting look through, 'and take the first lane to the right. It takesyou to the yard. It's sale-day to-morrow; you're in luck. '

It was rather sharp work getting the colts through men, women, andchildren, carts, cradles, shafts, and tin dishes; but they were a trifletired and tender-footed, so in less than twenty minutes they were allinside of a high yard, where they could scarcely see over the cap, witha row of loose boxes and stalls behind. We put 'em into Joe Stevenson'shands to sell--that was what every one called the auctioneer--and walkeddown the long street. 

My word, we were stunned, and no mistake about it. There was nothing tosee but a rocky river and a flat, deep down between hills like we'd seenscores and scores of times all our lives and thought nothing of, andhere they were digging gold out of it in all directions, just likepotatoes, as Maddie Barnes said. Some of the lumps we saw--nuggets theycalled 'em--was near as big as new potatoes, without a word of a liein it. I couldn't hardly believe it; but I saw them passing the littlewashleather bags of gold dust and lumps of dirty yellow gravel, butheavier, from one to the other just as if they were nothing--nearly 4Pounds an ounce they said it was all worth, or a trifle under. It lickedme to think it had been hid away all the time, and not even the blacksfound it out. I believe our blacks are the stupidest, laziest beggarsin the whole world. That old man who lived and died in the Hollow, though--HE must have known about it; and the queer-looking thing withthe rockers we saw near his hut, that was the first cradle ever was madein Australia. 

The big man of the goldfield seemed to be the Commissioner. We saw himcome riding down the street with a couple of troopers after his heels, looking as if all the place, and the gold too, belonged to him. He hadto settle all the rows and disputes that came up over the gold, and theboundaries of the claims, as they called the twenty-foot paddocks theyall washed in, and a nice time he must have had of it! However, he waspretty smart and quick about it. The diggers used to crowd round andkick up a bit of a row sometimes when two lots of men were fighting forthe same claim and gold coming up close by; but what he said was law, and no mistake. When he gave it out they had to take it and be content. Then he used to ride away and not trouble his head any more about it;and after a bit of barneying it all seemed to come right. Men liked tobe talked to straight, and no shilly-shally. 

What I didn't like so much was the hunting about of the poor devils thathad not got what they called a licence--a printed thing giving 'em leavefor to dig gold on the Crown lands. This used to cost a pound or thirtyshillings a month--I forget rightly which--and, of course, some ofthe chaps hadn't the money to get it with--spent what they had, beenunlucky, or run away from somewhere, and come up as bare of everythingto get it out of the ground. 

You'd see the troopers asking everybody for their licences, and thosethat hadn't them would be marched up to the police camp and chained to abig log, sometimes for days and days. The Government hadn't time to getup a lock-up, with cells and all the rest of it, so they had to do thechain business. Some of these men had seen better days, and felt it;the other diggers didn't like it either, and growled a good deal amongthemselves. We could see it would make bad blood some day; but there wassuch a lot of gold being got just then that people didn't bother theirheads about anything more than they could help--plenty of gold, plentyof money, people bringing up more things every day from the towns forthe use of the diggers. You could get pretty near anything you wanted bypaying for it. Hard work from daylight to dark, with every now and thena big find to sweeten it, when a man could see as much money lying athis foot, or in his hand, as a year's work--no, nor five--hadn't madefor him before. No wonder people were not in a hurry to call out forchange in a place like the Turon in the year 1850!

The first night put the stuns on us. Long rows of tents, with bigroaring log fires in front hot enough to roast you if you went too near;mobs of men talking, singing, chaffing, dealing--all as jolly as a lotof schoolboys. There was grog, too, going, as there is everywhere. Nopublics were allowed at first, so, of course, it was sold on the sly. 

It's no use trying to make men do without grog, or the means of gettingit; it never works. I don't hold with every shanty being licensed andits being under a man's nose all day long; but if he has the money topay for it, and wants to have an extra glass of grog or two with hisfriends, or because he has other reasons, he ought to be able to get itwithout hardships being put in his way. 

The Government was afraid of there being tremendous fights and riots atthe diggings, because there was all sorts of people there, Englishand French, Spaniards and Italians, natives and Americans, Greeks andGermans, Swedes and negroes, every sort and kind of man from everycountry in the world seemed to come after a bit. But they needn'thave been frightened at the diggers. As far as we saw they were thesensiblest lot of working men we ever laid eyes on; not at all inclinedto make a row for nothing--quite the other way. But the shutting off ofpublic-houses led to sly grog tents, where they made the digger pay apound a bottle for his grog, and didn't keep it very good either. 

When the police found a sly grog tent they made short work of it, Iwill say. Jim and I were close by, and saw them at the fun. Somebody hadinformed on the man, or they had some other reason; so they rode down, about a dozen troopers, with the Commissioner at their head. He went inand found two casks of brandy and one of rum, besides a lot of bottledstuff. They didn't want that for their own use, he believed. 

First he had the heads knocked in of the hogsheads; then all the bottledwine and spirits were unpacked and stowed in a cart, while the strawwas put back in the tent. Then the men and women were ordered to comeoutside, and a trooper set fire to the straw. In five minutes the tentand everything in it was a mass of flame. 

There was a big crowd gathered round outside. They began to groan whenthe trooper lit the straw, but they did nothing, and went quietly homeafter a bit. We had the horses to see after next day. Just beforethe sale began, at twelve o'clock, and a goodish crowd had turned up, Starlight rides quietly up, the finest picture of a new chum you everset eyes on. Jim and I could hardly keep from bursting out laughing. 

He had brought up a quiet cobby sort of stock horse from the Hollow, plain enough, but a wonder to go, particularly over broken country. Ofcourse, it didn't do to bring Rainbow out for such work as this. Fora wonder, he had a short tail. Well, he'd squared this cob's tail andhogged his mane so that he looked like another animal. He was prettyfat, too. 

He was dressed up to the nines himself, and if we didn't expect him wewouldn't have known him from a crow. First of all, he had a thick roughsuit of tweed clothing on, all the same colour, with a round felt hat. He had a bran new saddle and bridle, that hadn't got the yellow rubbedoff them yet. He had an English hunting whip in his hand, and browndogskin gloves. He had tan leather gaiters that buttoned up to hisknees. He'd shaved his beard all but his moustache and a pair of shortwhiskers. 

He had an eyeglass in his eye, which he let drop every now and then, putting it up when he wanted to look at anybody. 

When he rode up to the yard everybody stared at him, and one or two ofthe diggers laughed and began to call out 'Joe. ' Jim and I thought howsold some of them would have been if he turned on them and they'd foundout who it was. However, he pushed up to the auctioneer, without lookingout right or left, and drawled--

'May I--er--ask if you are Mr. --er--Joseph Stevenson?'

'I'm Joe Stevenson, ' says the auctioneer. 'What can I do for you?'

'Oh!--a--here is a letter from my friend, Mr. Bernard Muldoon, ofthe Lower Macquarie--er--requesting you to sell these horses faw him;and--er--hand over the pwoceeds to--er--me--Mr. Augustus Gwanby--aw!'

Stevenson read the letter, nodded his head, said, 'All right; I'llattend to it, ' and went on with the sale. 

It didn't take long to sell our colts. There were some draught stockto come afterwards, and Joe had a day's work before him. But ours soldwell. There had not been anything like this for size, quality, andcondition. The Commissioner sent down and bought one. The Inspector ofPolice was there, and bought one recommended by Starlight. They fetchedhigh prices, from fifty to eighty-five guineas, and they came to afairish figure the lot. 

When the last horse was sold, Starlight says, 'I feel personally obligedto you, Mr. --aw--Stevenson--faw the highly satisfactory manner in whichyou have conducted the sale, and I shall inform my friend, Mr. Muldoon, of the way you have sold his stock. '

'Much obliged, sir, ' says Joe, touching his hat. 'Come inside and I'llgive you the cheque. '

'Quite unnecessary now, ' says Starlight; 'but as I'm acting for afriend, it may be as well. '

We saw him pocket the cheque, and ride slowly over to the bank, whichwas half-tent, half-bark hut. 

We didn't think it safe to stay on the Turon an hour longer than we wereforced to do. We had seen the diggings, and got a good notion of whatthe whole thing was like; sold the horses and got the money, that wasthe principal thing. Nothing for it now but to get back to the Hollow. Something would be sure to be said about the horses being sold, andwhen it came out that they were not Muldoon's there would be a greatflare-up. Still they could not prove that the horses were stolen. Therewasn't a wrong brand or a faked one in the lot. And no one could swearto a single head of them, though the whole lot were come by on thecross, and father could have told who owned every one among them. Thatwas curious, wasn't it?

We put in a night at Jonathan Barnes's on our way back. Maddie got theearrings, and Bella the making of a new riding habit, which she had beenwanting and talking about for a good while. Starlight dressed up, anddid the new chum young Englishman, eyeglass and all, over again, andrepeated the conversation he had with the Inspector of Police abouthis friend Mr. Muldoon's illness, and the colts he recommended. It wasgrand, and the girls laughed till they cried again. Well, those weremerry days; we DID have a bit of fun sometimes, and if the devil wasdogging us he kept a good way out of sight. It's his way at the startwhen fellows take the downward track. 

 . . . . . 

We got back safe enough, and father opened his eyes when he saw theroll of notes Starlight counted over as the price of the colts. 'Horse-breeding's our best game, ' says the old man, 'if they're going topay such prices as this. I've half a mind to start and take a lot overto Port Phillip. '

Chapter 25

Our next chance came through father. He was the intelligence man, andhad all the news sent to him--roundabout it might be, but it alwayscame, and was generally true; and the old man never troubled anybodytwice that he couldn't believe in, great things or small. Well, word waspassed about a branch bank at a place called Ballabri, where a goodishbit of gold was sent to wait the monthly escort. There was only themanager and one clerk there now, the other cove having gone away on sickleave. Towards the end of the month the bank gold was heaviest and themost notes in the safe. The smartest way would be to go into the bankjust before shutting-up time--three o'clock, about--and hand a chequeover the counter. While the clerk was looking at it, out with a revolverand cover him. The rest was easy enough. A couple more walked in after, and while one jumped over the counter and bailed up the manager theother shut the door. Nothing strange about that. The door was alwaysshut at three o'clock sharp. Nobody in town would drop to what might begoing on inside till the whole thing was over, and the swag ready to bepopped into a light trap and cleared off with. 

That was the idea. We had plenty of time to think it over and settle itall, bit by bit, beforehand. 

So one morning we started early and took the job in hand. Every littlething was looked through and talked over a week before. Father got Mr. White's buggy-horses ready and took Warrigal with him to a place wherea man met him with a light four-wheeled Yankee trap and harness. Dad wasdressed up to look like a back-country squatter. Lots of 'em were quiteas rough-looking as he was, though they drive as good horses as anygentleman in the land. Warrigal was togged out something like a groom, with a bit of the station-hand about him. Their saddles and bridles theykept with 'em in the trap; they didn't know when they might want them. They had on their revolvers underneath their coats. We were to go roundby another road and meet at the township. 

Well, everything turned out first-rate. When we got to Ballabri therewas father walking his horses up and down. They wanted cooling, my word. They'd come pretty smart all the way, but they were middlin' soft, beingin great grass condition and not having done any work to speak of for agoodish while, and being a bit above themselves in a manner of speaking. We couldn't help laughing to see how solemn and respectable dad looked. 

'My word, ' said Jim, 'if he ain't the dead image of old Mr. Carter, ofBrahway, where we shore three years back. Just such another hard-faced, cranky-looking old chap, ain't he, Dick? I'm that proud of him I'd doanything he asked me now, blest if I wouldn't!'

'Your father's a remarkable man, ' says Starlight, quite serious; 'musthave made his way in life if he hadn't shown such a dislike to anythingon the square. If he'd started a public-house and a pound about the timehe turned his mind to cattle-duffing as one of the fine arts, he'd havehad a bank account by this time that would have kept him as honest asa judge. But it's the old story. I say, where are the police quarters?It's only manners to give them a call. '

We rode over to the barracks. They weren't much. A four-roomed cottage, a log lock-up with two cells, a four-stalled stable, and a horse-yard. Ballabri was a small township with a few big stations, a good many farmsabout it, and rather more public-houses than any other sort of buildingsin it. A writing chap said once, 'A large well-filled graveyard, a smallchurch mostly locked up, six public-houses, gave the principal featuresof Ballabri township. The remaining ones appear to be sand, bones, andbroken bottles, with a sprinkling of inebriates and blackfellows. ' Withall that there was a lot of business done there in a year by the storesand inns, particularly since the diggings. Whatever becomes of the moneymade in such places? Where does it all go to? Nobody troubles theirheads about that. 

A goodish lot of the first people was huddled away in the graveyardunder the sand ridges. Many an old shepherd had hobbled into theTravellers' Rest with a big cheque for a fortnight's spree, and hadstopped behind in the graveyard, too, for company. It was always awonderful place for steadying lushingtons, was Ballabri. 

Anyhow we rode over to the barracks because we knew the senior constablewas away. We'd got up a sham horse-stealing case the day before, throughsome chaps there that we knew. This drawed him off about fifty mile. Theconstable left behind was a youngish chap, and we intended to have a bitof fun with him. So we went up to the garden-gate and called out for theofficer in charge of police quite grand. 

'Here I am, ' says he, coming out, buttoning up his uniform coat. 'Isanything the matter?'

'Oh! not much, ' says I; 'but there's a man sick at the Sportsman's Arms. He's down with the typhus fever or something. He's a mate of ours, andwe've come from Mr. Grant's station. He wants a doctor fetched. '

'Wait a minute till I get my revolver, ' says he, buttoning up hiswaistcoat. He was just fresh from the depot; plucky enough, but not upto half the ways of the bush. 

'You'll do very well as you are, ' says Starlight, bringing out hispretty sharp, and pointing it full at his head. 'You stay there till Igive you leave. '

He stood there quite stunned, while Jim and I jumped off and muzzledhim. He hadn't a chance, of course, with one of us on each side, andStarlight threatening to shoot him if he raised a finger. 

'Let's put him in the logs, ' says Jim. 'My word! just for a lark; turnfor turn. Fair play, young fellow. You're being "run in" yourself now. Don't make a row, and no one'll hurt you. '

The keys were hanging up inside, so we pushed him into the farthest celland locked both doors. There were no windows, and the lock-up, likemost bush ones, was built of heavy logs, just roughly squared, with theceiling the same sort, so there wasn't much chance of his making himselfheard. If any noise did come out the town people would only think it wasa drunken man, and take no notice. 

We lost no time then, and Starlight rode up to the bank first. It wasabout ten minutes to three o'clock. Jim and I popped our horses into thepolice stables, and put on a couple of their waterproof capes. The daywas a little showery. Most of the people we heard afterwards took us fortroopers from some other station on the track of bush-rangers, and notin regular uniform. It wasn't a bad joke, though, and the police gotwell chaffed about it. 

We dodged down very careless like to the bank, and went in a minute ortwo after Starlight. He was waiting patiently with the cheque in hishand till some old woman got her money. She counted it, shillings, pence, and all, and then went out. The next moment Starlight pushed hischeque over. The clerk looks at it for a moment, and quick-like says, 'How will you have it?'

'This way, ' Starlight answered, pointing his revolver at his head, 'anddon't you stir or I'll shoot you before you can raise your hand. '

The manager's room was a small den at one side. They don't allow muchroom in country banks unless they make up their mind to go in for aregular swell building. I jumped round and took charge of the youngman. Jim shut and locked the front door while Starlight knocked at themanager's room. He came out in a hurry, expecting to see one of thebank customers. When he saw Starlight's revolver, his face changed quickenough, but he made a rush to his drawer where he kept his revolver, andtried to make a fight of it, only we were too quick for him. Starlightput the muzzle of his pistol to his forehead and swore he'd blow out hisbrains there and then if he didn't stop quiet. We had to use the samewords over and over again. Jim used to grin sometimes. They generallydid the business, though, so of course he was quite helpless. We hadn'tto threaten him to find the key of the safe, because it was unlocked andthe key in it. He was just locking up his gold and the day's cash as wecame in. 

We tied him and the young fellow fast, legs and arms, and laid them downon the floor while we went through the place. There was a good lot ofgold in the safe all weighed and labelled ready for the escort, whichcalled there once a month. Bundles of notes, too; bags of sovereigns, silver, and copper. The last we didn't take. But all the rest we bundledup or put into handy boxes and bags we found there. Father had comeup by this time as close as he could to the back-yard. We carriedeverything out and put them into his express-waggon; he shoved a rugover them and drove off, quite easy and comfortable. We locked the backdoor of the bank and chucked away the key, first telling the manager notto make a row for ten minutes or we might have to come back again. Hewas a plucky fellow, and we hadn't been rough with him. He had senseenough to see that he was overmatched, and not to fight when it wasno good. I've known bankers to make a regular good fight of it, andsometimes come off best when their places was stuck up; but not whenthey were bested from the very start, like this one. No man couldhave had a show, if he was two or three men in one, at the Ballabrimoney-shop. We walked slap down to the hotel--then it was near thebank--and called for drinks. There weren't many people in the streets atthat time in the afternoon, and the few that did notice us didn't thinkwe were any one in particular. Since the diggings broke out all sortsof travellers a little out of the common were wandering all about thecountry--speculators in mines, strangers, new chums of all kinds; eventhe cattle-drovers and stockmen, having their pockets full of money, began to put on more side and dress in a flash way. The bush peopledidn't take half the notice of strangers they would have done a coupleof years before. 

So we had our drinks, and shouted for the landlord and the people inthe bar; walked up to the police station, took out our horses, and rodequickly off, while father was nearly five miles away on a cross-road, making Mr. White's trotters do their best time, and with seven or eightthousand pounds' worth of gold and cash under the driving seat. That, Ioften think, was about the smartest trick we ever did. It makes me laughwhen I remember how savage the senior constable was when he came home, found his sub in a cell, the manager and his clerk just untied, the bankrobbed of nearly everything, and us gone hours ago, with about as muchchance of catching us as a mob of wild cattle that got out of the yardthe night before. 

Just about dark father made the place where the man met him with thetrap before. Fresh horses was put in and the man drove slap away anotherroad. He and Warrigal mounted the two brown horses and took the stuff insaddle-bags, which they'd brought with 'em. They were back at the Hollowby daylight, and we got there about an hour afterwards. We only rodesharp for the first twenty miles or so, and took it easier afterwards. 

If sticking up the Goulburn mail made a noise in the country, you maydepend the Ballabri bank robbery made ten times as much. Every littlenewspaper and all the big ones, from one end of the colony to the other, were full of it. The robbery of a bank in broad daylight, almost in themiddle of the day, close to a police station, and with people going upand down the streets, seemed too out-and-out cheeky to be believed. Whatwas the country coming to? 'It was the fault of the gold that unsettledyoung fellows' minds, ' some said, 'and took them away from honestindustry. ' Our minds had been unsettled long before the gold, worseluck. Some shouted for more police protection; some for vigilancecommittees; all bush-rangers and horse-thieves to be strung up to thenext tree. The whole countryside was in an uproar, except the people atthe diggings, who had most of them been in other places, and knew that, compared with them, Australia was one of the safest countries any mancould live or travel in. A good deal of fun was made out of our lockingup the constable in his own cell. I believe he got blown up, too, andnearly dismissed by his inspector for not having his revolver on him andready for use. But young men that were any good were hard to get for thepolice just then, and his fault was passed over. It's a great wonder tome more banks were not robbed when you think of it. A couple of youngfellows are sent to a country place; there's no decent buildings, oranything reasonable for them to live in, and they're expected to takecare of four or five thousand pounds and a lot of gold, as if it was somany bags of potatoes. If there's police, they're half their time away. The young fellows can't be all their time in the house, and two or threedetermined men, whether they're bush-rangers or not, that like to blacktheir faces, and walk in at any time that they're not expected, can sackthe whole thing, and no trouble to them. I call it putting temptation inpeople's way, and some of the blame ought to go on the right shoulders. As I said before, the little affair made a great stir, and all thepolice in the country were round Ballabri for a bit, tracking andtracking till all hours, night and day; but they couldn't find out whathad become of the wheel-marks, nor where our horse tracks led to. Theman that owned the express waggon drove it into a scrubby bit of countryand left it there; he knew too much to take it home. Then he broughtaway the wheels one by one on horseback, and carted the body in a longtime after with a load of wool, just before a heavy rain set in andwashed out every track as clean as a whistle. 

Nothing in that year could keep people's thoughts long away from thediggings, which was just as well for us. Everything but the gold wasforgotten after a week. If the harbour had dried up or Sydney town beenburied by an earthquake, nobody would have bothered themselves aboutsuch trifles so long as the gold kept turning up hand over hand the wayit did. There seemed no end to it. New diggings jumped up every day, and now another big rush broke out in Port Phillip that sent every onewilder than ever. 

Starlight and us two often used to have a quiet talk about Melbourne. We all liked that side of the country; there seemed an easier chance ofgetting straight away from there than any part of New South Wales, whereso many people knew us and everybody was on the look-out. 

All kinds of things passed through our minds, but the notion we likedbest was taking one of the gold ships bodily and sailing her away to aforeign port, where her name could be changed, and she never heardof again, if all went well. That would be a big touch and no mistake. Starlight, who had been at sea, and was always ready for anything out ofthe way and uncommon, the more dangerous the better, thought it might bedone without any great risk or bother. 

'A ship in harbour, ' he said, 'is something like the Ballabri bank. Noone expects anything to happen in harbour, consequently there's no watchkept or any look-out that's worth much. Any sudden dash with a few goodmen and she'd be off and out to sea before any one could say "knife". '

Father didn't like this kind of talk. He was quite satisfied where wewere. We were safe there, he said; and, as long as we kept our heads, noone need ever be the wiser how it was we always seemed to go through theground and no one could follow us up. What did we fret after? Hadn'twe everything we wanted in the world--plenty of good grub, the best ofliquor, and the pick of the countryside for horses, besides living amongour own friends and in the country we were born in, and that had thebest right to keep us. If we once got among strangers and in anothercolony we should be 'given away' by some one or other, and be sure tocome to grief in the long run. 

Well, we couldn't go and cut out this ship all at once, but Jim and Ididn't leave go of the notion, and we had many a yarn with Starlightabout it when we were by ourselves. 

What made us more set upon clearing out of the country was that wewere getting a good bit of money together, and of course we hadn't muchchance of spending it. Every place where we'd been seen was that wellwatched there was no getting nigh it, and every now and then astrong mob of police, ordered down by telegraph, would muster at someparticular spot where they thought there was a chance of surrounding us. However, that dodge wouldn't work. They couldn't surround the Hollow. Itwas too big, and the gullies between the rocks too deep. You could seeacross a place sometimes that you had to ride miles round to get over. Besides, no one knew there was such a place, leastways that we werethere, any more than if we had been in New Zealand. 

Chapter 26

After the Ballabri affair we had to keep close for weeks and weeks. Thewhole place seemed to be alive with police. We heard of them being onNulla Mountain and close enough to the Hollow now and then. But Warrigaland father had places among the rocks where they could sit up and seeeverything for miles round. Dad had taken care to get a good glass, too, and he could sweep the country round about almost down to Rocky Flat. Warrigal's eyes were sharp enough without a glass, and he often used totell us he seen things--men, cattle, and horses--that we couldn't makeout a bit in the world. We amused ourselves for a while the best waywe could by horse-breaking, shooting, and what not; but we began to getawful tired of it, and ready for anything, no matter what, that wouldmake some sort of change. 

One day father told us a bit of news that made a stir in the camp, andnearly would have Jim and me clear out altogether if we'd had any placeto go to. For some time past, it seems, dad had been grumbling aboutbeing left to himself so much, and, except this last fakement, nothaving anything to do with the road work. 'It's all devilish fine foryou and your brother and the Captain there to go flashin' about thecountry and sporting your figure on horseback, while I'm left alone todo the housekeepin' in the Hollow. I'm not going to be wood-and-waterJoey, I can tell ye, not for you nor no other men. So I've made it rightwith a couple of chaps as I've know'd these years past, and we can do atouch now and then, as well as you grand gentlemen, on the "high toby", as they call it where I came from. '

'I didn't think you were such an old fool, Ben, ' said Starlight; 'butkeeping this place here a dead secret is our sheet-anchor. Lose that, and we'll be run into in a week. If you let it out to any fellow youcome across, you will soon know all about it. '

'I've known Dan Moran and Pat Burke nigh as long as I've known you, forthe matter of that, ' says father. 'They're safe enough, and they're notto come here or know where I hang out neither. We've other places tomeet, and what we do 'll be clean done, I'll go bail. '

'It doesn't matter two straws to me, as I've told you many a time, ' saidStarlight, lighting a cigar (he always kept a good supply of them). 'Butyou see if Dick and Jim, now, don't suffer for it before long. '

'It was as I told you about the place, wasn't it?' growls father; 'don'tyou suppose I know how to put a man right? I look to have my turn atsteering this here ship, or else the crew better go ashore for good. '

Father had begun to drink harder now than he used; that was partlythe reason. And when he'd got his liquor aboard he was that savage andobstinate there was no doing anything with him. We couldn't well part. We couldn't afford to do without each other. So we had to patch it upthe best way we could, and let him have his own way. But we none of usliked the new-fangled way, and made sure bad would come of it. 

We all knew the two men, and didn't half like them. They were the headmen of a gang that mostly went in for horse-stealing, and only did a bitof regular bush-ranging when they was sure of getting clear off. They'dnever shown out the fighting way yet, though they were ready enough forit if it couldn't be helped. 

Moran was a dark, thin, wiry-looking native chap, with a big beard, anda nasty beady black eye like a snake's. He was a wonderful man outsideof a horse, and as active as a cat, besides being a deal stronger thanany one would have taken him to be. He had a drawling way of talking, and was one of those fellows that liked a bit of cruelty when he had thechance. I believe he'd rather shoot any one than not, and when hewas worked up he was more like a devil than a man. Pat Burke was abroad-shouldered, fair-complexioned fellow, most like an Englishman, though he was a native too. He'd had a small station once, and mighthave done well (I was going to say) if he'd had sense enough to gostraight. What rot it all is! Couldn't we all have done well, if thedevils of idleness and easy-earned money and false pride had let usalone?

Father said his bargain with these chaps was that he should send downto them when anything was up that more men was wanted for, and they wasalways to meet him at a certain place. He said they'd be satisfied witha share of whatever the amount was, and that they'd never want to beshown the Hollow or to come anigh it. They had homes and places of theirown, and didn't want to be known more than could be helped. Besidesthis, if anything turned up that was real first chop, they could alwaysfind two or three more young fellows that would stand a flutter, anddisappear when the job was done. This was worth thinking over, he said, because there weren't quite enough of us for some things, and we couldkeep these other chaps employed at outside work. 

There was something in this, of course, and dad was generally near themark, there or thereabouts, so we let things drift. One thing was thatthese chaps could often lay their hands upon a goodish lot of horses orcattle; and if they delivered them to any two of us twenty miles fromthe Hollow, they could be popped in there, and neither they or anyone else the wiser. You see father didn't mind taking a hand in thebush-ranging racket, but his heart was with the cattle and horse-duffingthat he'd been used to so long, and he couldn't quite give it up. It'smy belief he'd have sooner made a ten-pound note by an unbranded colt ora mob of fat cattle than five times as much in any other way. Every manto his taste, they say. 

Well, between this new fad of the old man's and our having a notion thatwe had better keep quiet for a spell and let things settle down a bit, we had a long steady talk, and the end of it was that we made up ourminds to go and put in a month or two at the diggings. 

We took a horse apiece that weren't much account, so we could eithersell them or lose them, it did not make much odds which, and made astart for Jonathan Barnes's place. We got word from him every now andthen, and knew that the police had never found out that we had beenthere, going or coming. Jonathan was a blowing, blatherskiting fool; buthis very foolishness in that way made them think he knew nothing at all. He had just sense enough not to talk about us, and they never thoughtabout asking him. So we thought we'd have a bit of fun there before wesettled down for work at the Turon. We took old saddles and bridles, andhad a middling-sized swag in front, just as if we'd come a long way. Wedressed pretty rough too; we had longish hair and beards, and (exceptStarlight) might have been easy taken for down-the-river stockmen ordrovers. 

When we got to Barnes's place he and the old woman seemed ever soglad to see us. Bella and Maddie rushed out, making a great row, andchattering both at a time. 

'Why, we thought you were lost, or shot, or something, ' Bella says. 'Youmight have sent us a letter, or a message, only I suppose you didn'tthink it worth while. '

'What a bad state the country's getting in, ' says Maddie. 'Think ofthem bush-rangers sticking up the bank at Ballabri, and locking upthe constable in his own cell. Ha! ha! The police magistrate was hereto-night. You should have heard Bella talking so nice and proper to himabout it. '

'Yes, and you said they'd all be caught and hanged, ' said Bella; 'thatit was settin' such a bad example to the young men of the colony. Myword! it was as good as a play. Mad was so full of her fun, and whenthe P. M. Said they'd be sure to be caught in the long run, Maddie saidthey'd have to import some thoroughbred police to catch 'em, for ourSydney-side ones didn't seem to have pace enough. This made the oldgentleman stare, and he looked at Maddie as if she was out of her mind. Didn't he, Mad?'

'I do think it's disgraceful of Goring and his lot not to have run themin before, ' says Starlight, 'but it wouldn't do for us to interfere. '

'Ah! but Sir Ferdinand Morringer's come up now, ' says Maddie. 'He'llbegin to knock saucepans out of all the boys between here and WeddinMountain. He was here, too, and asked us a lot of questions about peoplewho were "wanted" in these parts. '

'He fell in love with Maddie, too, ' says Bella, 'and gave her one of thecharms of his watch chain--such a pretty one, too. He's going to catchStarlight's mob, as he calls them. Maddie says she'll send him word ifever she knows of their being about. '

'Well done, Maddie!' says Jim; 'so you may, just an hour or two afterwe're started. There won't be much likelihood of his overhauling usthen. He won't be the first man that's been fooled by a woman, will he?'

'Or the last, Jim, ' says Bella. 'What do you say, Captain? It seems tome we're doing all the talking, and you're doing all the listening. Thatisn't fair, you know. We like to hear ourselves talk, but fair play isbonny play. Suppose you tell us what you've been about all this time. Ithink tea's ready. '

We had our innings in the talking line; Jim and Maddie made noise enoughfor half-a-dozen. Starlight let himself be talked to, and didn't saymuch himself; but I could see even he, that had seen a lot of highlife in his time, was pleased enough with the nonsense of a coupleof good-looking girls like these--regular bush-bred fillies as theywere--after being shut up in the Hollow for a month or two. 

Before we'd done a couple of travellers rode up. Jonathan's place wasgetting a deal more custom now--it lay near about the straight line forthe Turon, and came to be known as a pretty comfortable shop. Jonathancame in with them, and gave us a wink as much as to say, 'It's allright. '

'These gentlemen's just come up from Sydney, ' he said, 'not long fromEngland, and wants to see the diggings. I told 'em you might be goingthat way, and could show 'em the road. '

'Very happy, ' says Starlight. 'I am from Port Phillip last myself, and think of going back by Honolulu after I've made the round of thecolonies. My good friends and travelling companions are on their way forthe Darling. We can all travel together. '

'What a fortunate thing we came here, Clifford, eh?' says one youngfellow, putting up his eyeglass. 'You wanted to push on. Now we shallhave company, and not lose our way in this beastly "bush", as they callit. '

'Well, it does look like luck, ' says the other man. 'I was beginning tothink the confounded place was getting farther off every day. Can youshow us our rooms, if you please? I suppose we couldn't have a bath?'

'Oh yes, you can, ' said Maddie; 'there's the creek at the bottom of thegarden, only there's snakes now and then at night. I'll get you towels. '

'In that case I think I shall prefer to wait till the morning, ' says thetall man. 'It will be something to look forward to. '

We were afraid the strangers would have spoiled our fun for the evening, but they didn't; we made out afterwards that the tall one was a lord. They were just like anybody else, and when we got the piano to workafter tea they made themselves pleasant enough, and Starlight sang asong or two--he could sing, and no mistake, when he liked--and then oneof them played a waltz and the girls danced together, and Starlight hadsome champagne in, said it was his birthday, and he'd just thought ofit, and they got quite friendly and jolly before we turned in. 

Next day we made a start, promising the girls a nugget each for a ringout of the first gold we got, and they promised to write to us and tellus if they heard any news. They knew what to say, and we shouldn't becaught simple if they could help it. Jim took care, though, to keep welloff the road, and take all the short cuts he knew. We weren't quite safetill we was in the thick of the mining crowd. That's the best placefor a man, or woman either, to hide that wants to drop out of sight andnever be seen again. Many a time I've known a man, called Jack or Tomamong the diggers, and never thought of as anything else, working likethem, drinking and taking his pleasure and dressing like them, till hemade his pile or died, or something, and then it turned out he wasthe Honourable Mr. So-and-So, Captain This, or Major That; perhaps theReverend Somebody--though that didn't happen often. 

We were all the more contented, though, when we heard the row of thecradles and the clang and bang of the stampers in the quartz-crushingbatteries again, and saw the big crowd moving up and down like a hill ofants, the same as when we'd left Turon last. As soon as we got into themain street we parted. Jim and I touched our hats and said good-bye toStarlight and the other two, who went away to the crack hotel. We wentand made a camp down by the creek, so that we might turn to and peg outa claim, or buy out a couple of shares, first thing in the morning. 

Except the Hollow it was the safest place in the whole country just now, as we could hear that every week fresh people were pouring in fromall the other colonies, and every part of the world. The police on thediggings had their own work pretty well cut out for them, what with oldhands from Van Diemen's Land, Californians--and, you may bet, roughs andrascals from every place under the sun. Besides, we wanted to see forourselves how the thing was done, and pick up a few wrinkles that mightcome in handy afterwards. Our dodge was to take a few notes with us, andbuy into a claim--one here, one there--not to keep together for fear ofconsequences. If we worked and kept steady at it, in a place wherethere were thousands of strangers of all kinds, it would take the devilhimself to pick us out of such a queer, bubbling, noisy, mixed-up pot ofhell-broth. 

Things couldn't have dropped in more lucky for us than they did. In thisway. Starlight was asked by the two swells to join them, because theywanted to do a bit of digging, just for the fun of it; and he made outhe'd just come from Melbourne, and hadn't been six months longer in thecountry than they had. Of course he was sunburnt a bit. He got that inIndia, he said. My word! they played just into his hand, and he didthe new-chum swell all to pieces, and so that natural no one could havepicked him out from them. He dressed like them, talked like them, andnever let slip a word except about shooting in England, hunting inAmerica and India, besides gammoning to be as green about all Australianways as if he'd never seen a gum tree before. They took up a claim, andbought a tent. Then they got a wages-man to help them, and all four usedto work like niggers. The crowd christened them 'The Three Honourables', and used to have great fun watching them working away in their jerseys, and handling their picks and shovels like men. Starlight used to drawljust like the other two, and asked questions about the colony; and walkabout with them on Sundays and holidays in fashionable cut clothes. He'dbrought money, too, and paid his share of the expenses, and somethingover. It was a great sight to see at night, and people said like nothingelse in the world just then. Every one turned out for an hour or twoat night, and then was the time to see the Turon in its glory. Big, sunburnt men, with beards, and red silk sashes round their waists, witha sheath-knife and revolvers mostly stuck in them, and broad-leavedfelt hats on. There were Californians, then foreigners of allsorts--Frenchmen, Italians, Germans, Spaniards, Greeks, Negroes, Indians, Chinamen. They were a droll, strange, fierce-looking crowd. There weren't many women at first, but they came pretty thick aftera bit. A couple of theatres were open, a circus, hotels with lots ofplate-glass windows and splendid bars, all lighted up, and the front ofthem, anyhow, as handsome at first sight as Sydney or Melbourne. Drapersand grocers, ironmongers, general stores, butchers and bakers, all keptopen until midnight, and every place was lighted up as clear as day. It was like a fairy-story place, Jim said; he was as pleased as a childwith the glitter and show and strangeness of it all. Nobody was poor, everybody was well dressed, and had money to spend, from the childrenupwards. Liquor seemed running from morning to night, as if therewere creeks of it; all the same there was very little drunkenness andquarrelling. The police kept good order, and the miners were their ownpolice mostly, and didn't seem to want keeping right. We always expectedthe miners to be a disorderly, rough set of people--it was quite theother way. Only we had got into a world where everybody had everythingthey wanted, or else had the money to pay for it. How different itseemed from the hard, grinding, poverty-stricken life we had beenbrought up to, and all the settlers we knew when we were young! Peoplehad to work hard for every pound they made then, and, if they hadn't theready cash, obliged to do without, even if it was bread to eat. Manya time we'd had no tea and sugar when we were little, because fatherhadn't the money to pay for it. That was when he stayed at home andworked for what he got. Well, it was honest money, at any rate--pity hehadn't kept that way. 

Now all this was changed. It wasn't like the same country. Everybodydressed well, lived high, and the money never ran short, nor was likelyto as long as the gold kept spreading, and was found in 10, 20, 50 poundnuggets every week or two. We had a good claim, and began to think aboutsix months' work would give us enough to clear right away with. We letour hair grow long, and made friends with some Americans, so we beganto talk a little like them, just for fun, and most people took us forYankees. We didn't mind that. Anything was better than being taken forwhat we were. And if we could get clear off to San Francisco there werelots of grand new towns springing up near the Rocky Mountains, where aman could live his life out peaceably, and never be heard of again. 

As for Starlight he'd laid it out with his two noble friends to go backto Sydney in two or three months, and run down to Honolulu in one of thetrading vessels. They could get over to the Pacific slope, or else havea year among the Islands, and go anywhere they pleased. They had gotthat fond of Haughton, as he called himself--Frank Haughton--thatnothing would have persuaded them to part company. And wasn't he a manto be fond of?--always ready for anything, always good-tempered exceptwhen people wouldn't let him, ready to work or fight or suffer hardship, if it came to that, just as cheerful as he went to his dinner--neverthinking or talking much about himself, but always there when he waswanted. You couldn't have made a more out-and-out all round man to liveand die with; and yet, wasn't it a murder, that there should be thatagainst him, when it came out, that spoiled the whole lot? We used tomeet now and then, but never noticed one another except by a bit ofa nod or a wink, in public. One day Jim and I were busy puddling somedirt, and we saw Sergeant Goring ride by with another trooper. He lookedat us, but we were splashed with yellow mud, and had handkerchiefstied over our heads. I don't think mother would have known us. He justglanced over at us and took no notice. If he didn't know us there was nofear of any one else being that sharp to do it. So we began to take iteasy, and to lose our fear of being dropped on at any time. Ours was amiddling good claim, too; two men's ground; and we were lucky from thestart. Jim took to the pick and shovel work from the first, and was ashappy as a man could be. 

After our day's work we used to take a stroll through the lightedstreets at night. What a place it had grown to be, and how different itwas from being by ourselves at the Hollow. The gold was coming in thatfast that it paid people to build more shops, and bring up goods fromSydney every week, until there wasn't any mortal thing you couldn'tget there for money. Everything was dear, of course; but everybodyhad money, and nobody minded paying two prices when they were washing, perhaps, two or three pounds' weight of gold out of a tub of dirt. 

One night Jim and I were strolling about with some of our Yankeefriends, when some one said there'd been a new hotel opened by someMelbourne people which was very swell, and we might take a look at it. We didn't say no, so we all went into the parlour and called for drinks. The landlady herself came in, dressed up to the nines, and made herselfagreeable, as she might well do. We were all pretty well in, but one ofthe Americans owned the Golden Gate claim, and was supposed to be therichest man on the field. He'd known her before. 

'Waal, Mrs. Mullockson, ' says he, 'so you've pulled up stakes fromBendigo City and concluded to locate here. How do you approbate Turon?'

She said something or other, we hardly knew what. Jim and I couldn'thelp giving one look. Her eyes turned on us. We could see she knew us, though she hadn't done so at first. We took no notice; no more did she, but she followed us to the door, and touched me on the shoulder. 

'You're not going to desert old friends, Dick?' she said in a low voice. 'I wrote you a cross letter, but we must forgive and forget, you know. You and Jim come up to-morrow night, won't you?'

'All right, Kate, ' I said, and we followed our party. 

Chapter 27

This meeting with Kate Morrison put the stuns upon me and Jim, andno mistake. We never expected to see her up at the Turon, and it alldepended which way the fit took her now whether it would be a fit placefor us to live in any longer. Up to this time we had done capital well. We had been planted as close as if we had been at the Hollow. We'd hadlots of work, and company, and luck. It began to look as if our luckwould be dead out. Anyhow, we were at the mercy of a tiger-cat of awoman who might let loose her temper at any time and lay the policeon to us, without thinking twice about it. We didn't think she knewStarlight was there, but she was knowing enough for anything. She couldput two and two together, and wait and watch, too. It gave me a fit ofthe shivers every time I thought of it. This was the last place I everexpected to see her at. However, you never can tell what'll turn up inthis world. She might have got over her tantrums. 

Of course we went over to the Prospectors' Arms that night, as the newhotel was called, and found quite a warm welcome. Mrs. Mullockson hadturned into quite a fashionable lady since the Melbourne days; dressedvery grand, and talked and chaffed with the commissioner, the policeinspectors, and goldfield officers from the camp as if she'd beenbrought up to it. People lived fast in those goldfields days; it don'ttake long to pick up that sort of learning. 

The Prospectors' Arms became quite the go, and all the swell minersand quartz reefers began to meet there as a matter of course. There wasDandy Green, the Lincolnshire man from Beevor, that used to wear no endof boots and spend pounds and pounds in blacking. He used to turn outwith everything clean on every morning, fit to go to a ball, as hewalked on to the brace. There was Ballersdorf, the old Prussian soldier, that had fought against Boney, and owned half-a-dozen crushing machinesand a sixth share in the Great Wattle Flat Company; Dan Robinson, theman that picked up the 70 pound nugget; Sam Dawson, of White Hills, and Peter Paul, the Canadian, with a lot of others, all known men, wentthere regular. Some of them didn't mind spending fifty or a hundredpounds in a night if the fit took them. The house began to do atremendous trade, and no mistake. 

Old Mullockson was a quiet, red-faced old chap, who seemed to do allKate told him, and never bothered himself about the business, exceptwhen he had to buy fresh supplies in the wine and spirit line. There hewas first chop. You couldn't lick him for quality. And so the place gota name. 

But where was Jeanie all this time? That was what Jim put me up to askthe first night we came. 'Oh! Jeanie, poor girl, she was stopping withher aunt in Melbourne. ' But Kate had written to her, and she was comingup in a few weeks. This put Jim into great heart. What with the regularwork and the doing well in the gold line, and Jeanie coming up, poor oldJim looked that happy that he was a different man. No wonder the policedidn't know him. He had grown out of his old looks and ways; and thoughthey rubbed shoulders with us every day, no one had eyes sharp enough tosee that James Henderson and his brother Dick--mates with the bestmen on the field--were escaped prisoners, and had a big reward on thembesides. 

Nobody knew it, and that was pretty nigh as good as if it wasn't true. So we held on, and made money hand over fist. We used to go up to thehotel whenever we'd an evening to spare, but that wasn't often. Weintended to keep our money this time, and no publican was to be any thebetter for our hard work. 

As for Kate, I couldn't make her out. Most times she'd be that pleasantand jolly no one could help liking her. She had a way of talking to meand telling me everything that happened, because I was an old friend shesaid--that pretty nigh knocked me over, I tell you. Other times she wasthat savage and violent no one would go near her. She didn't care who itwas--servants or customers, they all gave her a wide berth when shewas in her tantrums. As for old Mullockson, he used to take a drive toSawpit Gully or Ten-Mile as soon as ever he saw what o'clock it was--andglad to clear out, too. She never dropped on to me, somehow. Perhaps shethought she'd get as good as she gave; I wasn't over good to lead, andcouldn't be drove at the best of times. No! not by no woman that everstepped. 

One evening Starlight and his two swell friends comes in, quiteaccidental like. They sat down at a small table by themselves andordered a couple of bottles of foreign wine. There was plenty of thatif you liked to pay a guinea a bottle. I remember when common brandy wasthat price at first, and I've seen it fetched out of a doctor's tent asmedicine. It paid him better than his salts and rhubarb. That was beforethe hotels opened, and while all the grog was sold on the sly. Theymarched in, dressed up as if they'd been in George Street, thougheverybody knew one of 'em had been at the windlass all day with thewages man, and the other two below, working up to their knees in water;for they'd come on a drift in their claim, and were puddling back. However, that says nothing; we were all in good clothes and fancyshirts and ties. Miners don't go about in their working suits. The twoHonourables walked over to the bar first of all, and said a word or twoto Kate, who was all smiles and as pleasant as you please. It was one ofher good days. Starlight put up his eyeglass and stared round as if wewere all a lot of queer animals out of a caravan. Then he sat down andtook up the 'Turon Star'. Kate hardly looked at him, she was so taken upwith his two friends, and, woman-like, bent on drawing them on, knowingthem to be big swells in their own country. We never looked his way, except on the sly, and no one could have thought we'd ever slept underone tree together, or seen the things we had. 

When the waiter was opening their wine one of the camp officers comes inthat they had letters to. So they asked him to join them, and Starlightsends for another bottle of Moselle--something like that, he called it. 

'The last time I drank wine as good as this, ' says Starlight, 'was atthe Caffy Troy, something or other, in Paris. I wouldn't mind beingthere again, with the Variety Theatre to follow. Would you, Clifford?'

'Well, I don't know, ' says the other swell. 'I find this amazing goodfun for a bit. I never was in such grand condition since I left Oxford. This eight-hours' shift business is just the right thing for training. Ifeel fit to go for a man's life. Just feel this, Despard, ' and he holdsout his arm to the camp swell. 'There's muscle for you!'

'Plenty of muscle, ' said Mr. Despard, looking round. He was a swell thatdidn't work, and wouldn't work, and thought it fine to treat the diggerslike dogs. Most of the commissioners and magistrates were gentlemen andacted as such; but there were a few young fools like this one, and theydid the Government a deal of harm with the diggers more than they knew. 'Plenty of muscle, ' says he, 'but devilish little society. '

'I don't agree with you, ' says the other Honourable. 'It's the mostamusing and in a way instructive place for a man who wants to know hisfellow-creatures I was ever in. I never pass a day without meeting somefresh variety of the human race, man or woman; and their experiencesare well worth knowing, I can tell you. Not that they're in a hurry toimpart them; for that there's more natural, unaffected good manners ona digging than in any society I ever mingled in I shall never doubt. But when they see you don't want to patronise, and are content to bea simple man among men, there's nothing they won't do for you or tellyou. '

'Oh, d--n one's fellow-creatures; present company excepted, ' saysMr. Despard, filling his glass, 'and the man that grew this "tipple". They're useful to me now and then and one has to put up with this crowd;but I never could take much interest in them. '

'All the worse for you, Despard, ' says Clifford. 'You're wasting yourchances--golden opportunities in every sense of the word. You'll neversee such a spectacle as this, perhaps, again as long as you live. It's afancy dress ball with real characters. '

'Dashed bad characters, if we only knew, ' says Despard, yawning. 'Whatdo you say, Haughton?' looking at Starlight, who was playing with hisglass and not listening much by the look of him. 

'I say, let's go into the little parlour and have a game of picquet, unless you'll take some more wine. No? Then we'll move. Bad characters, you were saying? Well, you camp fellows ought to be able to give anopinion. '

They sauntered through the big room, which was just then crowded with acurious company, as Clifford said. I suppose there was every kind of manand miner under the sun. Not many women, but what there was not a littleout of the way in looks and manners. We kept on working away all thetime. It helped to stop us from thinking, and every week we had a biggerdeposit-receipt in the bank where we used to sell our gold. People maysay what they like, but there's nothing like a nest egg; seeing it growbigger keeps many a fellow straight, and he gets to like adding to it, and feels the pull of being careful with his money, which a poor manthat never has anything worth saving doesn't. Poor men are the mostextravagant, I've always found. They spend all they have, which middlingkind of people just above them don't. They screw and pinch to bringup their children, and what not; and dress shabby and go without a lotwhich the working man never thinks of stinting himself in. But there'sthe parson here to do that kind of thing. I'm not the proper sort ofcove to preach. I'd better leave it to him. So we didn't spend our moneyfoolish, like most part of the diggers that had a bit of luck; but wehad to do a fair thing. We got through a lot of money every week, Iexpect. Talking of foolish things, I saw one man that had his horse shodwith gold, regular pure gold shoes. The blacksmith made 'em--good solidones, and all regular. He rode into the main street one holiday, and noend of people stopped him and lifted up his horse's feet to see. Theyweighed 7 oz. 4 dwt. Each. Rainbow ought to have been shod that way. If ever a horse deserved it he did. But Starlight didn't go in for thatkind of thing. Now and then some of the old colonial hands, when theywere regularly 'on the burst', would empty a dozen of champagne into abucket or light their pipes with a ten-pound note. But these were noteveryday larks, and were laughed at by the diggers themselves as much asanybody. 

But of course some allowance had to be made for men not making muchabove wages when they came suddenly on a biggish stone, and stickingthe pick into it found it to be a gigantic nugget worth a small fortune. Most men would go a bit mad over a stroke of luck like that, and theydid happen now and then. There was the Boennair nugget, dug at LouisaCreek by an Irishman, that weighed 364 oz. 11 dwt. It was sold in Sydneyfor 1156 Pounds. There was the King of Meroo nugget, weighing 157 oz. ;and another one that only scaled 71 oz. Seemed hardly worth picking upafter the others, only 250 Pounds worth or so. But there was a biggerone yet on the grass if we'd only known, and many a digger, and shepherdtoo, had sat down on it and lit his pipe, thinking it no better thanother lumps of blind white quartz that lay piled up all along the crownof the ride. 

Mostly after we'd done our day's work and turned out clean andcomfortable after supper, smoking our pipes, we walked up the street foran hour or two. Jim and I used to laugh a bit in a queer way over thechange it was from our old bush life at Rocky Flat when we were boys, before we had any thoughts beyond doing our regular day's work andmilking the cows and chopping wood enough to last mother all day. Thelittle creek, that sounded so clear in the still night when we woke up, rippling and gurgling over the stones, the silent, dark forest allround on every side; and on moonlight nights the moon shining over NullaMountain, dark and overhanging all the valley, as if it had been sailingin the clear sky over it ever since the beginning of the world. Wedidn't smoke then, and we used to sit in the verandah, and Aileen wouldtalk to us till it was time to go to bed. 

Even when we went into Bargo, or some of the other country towns, theydid not seem so much brighter. Sleepy-looking, steady-going places theyall were, with people crawling about them like a lot of old workingbullocks. Just about as sensible, many of 'em. What a change all thiswas! Main Street at the Turon! Just as bright as day at twelve o'clockat night. Crowds walking up and down, bars lighted up, theatres goingon, dance-houses in full swing, billiard-tables where you could hear theballs clicking away till daylight; miners walking down to their nightshifts, others turning out after sleeping all the afternoon quite freshand lively; half-a-dozen troopers clanking down the street, backfrom escort duty. Everybody just as fresh at midnight as at breakfasttime--more so, perhaps. It was a new world. 

One thing's certain; Jim and I would never have had the chance of seeingas many different kinds of people in a hundred years if it hadn't beenfor the gold. No wonder some of the young fellows kicked over the tracesfor a change--a change from sheep, cattle, and horses, ploughing andreaping, shearing and bullock-driving; the same old thing every day;the same chaps to talk to about the same things. It does seem adead-and-live kind of life after all we've seen and done since. However, we'd a deal better have kept to the bulldog's motter, 'Hang on', andstick to it, even if it was a shade slow and stupid. We'd have come outright in the end, as all coves do that hold fast to the right thing andstick to the straight course, fair weather or foul. I can see that now, and many things else. 

But to see the big room at the Prospectors' Arms at night--the hall, they called it--was a sight worth talking about--as Jim and I walked upand down, or sat at one of the small tables smoking our pipes, with goodliquor before us. It was like a fairy-tale come true to chaps like us, though we had seen a little life in Sydney and Melbourne. 

What made it so different from any other place we'd ever seen or thoughtof before was the strange mixture of every kind and sort of man andwoman; to hear them all jabbering away together in different languages, or trying to speak English, used to knock us altogether. The Americandiggers that we took up with had met a lot of foreigners in Californiaand other places. They could speak a little Spanish and French, and goton with them. But Jim and I could only stare and stand open-mouthedwhen a Spanish-American chap would come up with his red sash and his bigsheath-knife, while they'd yabber away quite comfortable. 

It made us feel like children, and we began to think what a fine thingit would be to clear out by Honolulu, and so on to San Francisco, asStarlight was always talking about. It would make men of us, at anyrate, and give us something to think about in the days to come. 

If we could clear out what a heaven it would be! I could send over forGracey to come to me. I knew she'd do that, if I was only once acrossthe sea, ready and willing to lead a new life, and with somethinghonest-earned and hard-worked-for to buy a farm with. Nobody need know. Nobody would even inquire in the far West where we'd come from or whatwe'd done. We should live close handy to one another--Jim and Jeanie, Gracey and I--and when dad went under, mother and Aileen could come outto us; and there would still be a little happiness left us, for all thatwas come and gone. Ah! if things would only work out that way. 

Well, more unlikely things happen every day. And still the big roomgets fuller. There's a band strikes up in the next room and the dancingbegins. This is a ball night. Kate has started that game. She's a greathand at dancing herself, and she manages to get a few girls to come up;wherever they come from nobody knows, for there's none to be seen in thedaytime. But they turn out wonderfully well-dressed, and some of themmighty good-looking; and the young swells from the camp come down, andthe diggers that have been lucky and begin to fancy themselves. Andthere's no end of fun and flirting and nonsense, such as there always iswhen men and women get together in a place where they're not obliged tobe over-particular. Not that there was any rowdiness or bad behaviourallowed. A goldfield is the wrong shop for that. Any one that didn'tbehave himself would have pretty soon found himself on his head in thestreet, and lucky if he came out of it with whole bones. 

I once tried to count the different breeds and languages of the men inthe big room one night. I stopped at thirty. There were Germans, Swedes, Danes, Norwegians, Russians, Italians, Greeks, Jews, Spaniards, Frenchmen, Maltese, Mexicans, Negroes, Indians, Chinamen, NewZealanders, English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Australians, Americans, Canadians, Creoles, gentle and simple, farmers and labourers, squattersand shepherds, lawyers and doctors. They were all alike for a bit, all pretty rich; none poor, or likely to be; all workers and comrades;nobody wearing much better clothes or trying to make out he was higherthan anybody else. Everybody was free with his money. If a fellow wassick or out of luck, or his family was down with fever, the notes camefreely--as many as were wanted, and more when that was done. There wasno room for small faults and vices; everything and everybody was workedon a high scale. It was a grand time--better than ever was in ourcountry before or since. Jim and I always said we felt better men whilethe flash time lasted, and hadn't a thought of harm or evil about us. We worked hard enough, too, as I said before; but we had good call to doso. Every week when we washed up we found ourselves a lot forrarder, andcould see that if it held on like this for a few months more we shouldhave made our 'pile', as the diggers called it, and be able to get clearoff without much bother. 

Because it wasn't now as it was in the old times, when Government couldafford to keep watch upon every vessel, big and little, that left theharbour. Now there was no end of trouble in getting sailors to man theships, and we could have worked our passage easy enough; they'd havetaken us and welcome, though we'd never handled a rope in our livesbefore. Besides that, there were hundreds of strangers starting forEurope and America by every vessel that left. Men who had come out tothe colony expecting to pick up gold in the streets, and had gone homedisgusted; lucky men, too, like ourselves, who had sworn to start forhome the very moment they had made a fair thing. How were any police inthe world to keep the run of a few men that had been in trouble beforeamong such a mixed-up mob?

Now and then we managed to get a talk with Starlight on the sly. He usedto meet us at a safe place by night, and talk it all over. He and hismates were doing well, and expected to be ready for a start in a fewmonths, when we might meet in Melbourne and clear out together. Hebelieved it would be easy, and said that our greatest danger of beingrecognised was now over--that we had altered so much by living andworking among the diggers that we could pass for diggers anywhere. 

'Why, we were all dining at the Commissioner's yesterday, ' he said, 'when who should walk in but our old friend Goring. He's been madeinspector now; and, of course, he's a great swell and a generalfavourite. The Commissioner knew his family at home, and makes no end offuss about him. He left for the Southern district, I am glad to say. I felt queer, I must say; but, of course, I didn't show it. Wewere formally introduced. He caught me with that sudden glance ofhis--devilish sharp eyes, he has--and looks me full in the face. 

'"I don't remember your name, Mr. Haughton, " said he; "but your faceseems familiar to me somehow. I can't think where I've met you before. "

'"Must have been at the Melbourne Club, " says I, pulling my moustache. "Met a heap of Sydney people there. "

'"Perhaps so, " says he. "I used to go and lunch there a good deal. I hada month's leave last month, just after I got my step. Curious it seems, too, " says he; "I can't get over it. "

'"Fill your glass and pass the claret, " says the Commissioner. "Facesare very puzzling things met in a different state of existence. I don'tsuppose Haughton's wanted, eh, Goring?"

'This was held to be a capital joke, and I laughed too in a way thatwould have made my fortune on the stage. Goring laughed too, and seemedto fear he'd wounded my feelings, for he was most polite all the rest ofthe evening. '

'Well, if HE didn't smoke you, ' says Jim, 'we're right till the Day ofJudgment. There's no one else here that's half a ghost of a chance toswear to us. '

'Except, ' says I----

'Oh! Kate?' says Jim; 'never mind her. Jeanie's coming up to be marriedto me next month, and Kate's getting so fond of you again that there'sno fear of her letting the cat out. '

'That's the very reason. I never cared two straws about her, and nowI hate the sight of her. She's a revengeful devil, and if she takes itinto her head she'll turn on us some fine day as sure as we're alive. '

'Don't you believe it, ' says Jim; 'women are not so bad as all that. '('Are they not?' says Starlight. ) 'I'll go bail we'll be snug andsafe here till Christmas, and then we'll give out, say we're going toMelbourne for a spree, and clear straight out. '

Chapter 28

As everything looked so fair-weather-like, Jim and Jeanie made it up tobe married as soon after she came up as he could get a house ready. Shecame up to Sydney, first by sea and after that to the diggings by thecoach. She was always a quiet, hard-working, good little soul, awfultimid, and prudent in everything but in taking a fancy to Jim. Butthat's neither here nor there. Women will take fancies as long as theworld lasts, and if they happen to fancy the wrong people the moreobstinate they hold on to 'em. Jeanie was one of the prettiest girlsI ever set eyes on in her way, very fair and clear coloured, with big, soft blue eyes, and hair like a cloud of spun silk. Nothing like her wasever seen on the field when she came up, so all the diggers said. 

When they began to write to one another after we came to the Turon, Jimtold her straight out that though we were doing well now it mightn'tlast. He thought she was a great fool to leave Melbourne when she wassafe and comfortable, and come to a wild place, in a way like the Turon. Of course he was ready and willing to marry her; but, speaking all forher own good, he advised her not. She'd better give him up and sether mind on somebody else. Girls that was anyway good-looking and keptthemselves proper and decent were very scarce in Melbourne and Sydneynow, considering the number of men that were making fortunes and wereanxious to get a wife and settle down. A girl like her could marryanybody--most likely some one above her own rank in life. Of courseshe wouldn't have no one but Jim, and if he was ready to marry her, andcould get a little cottage, she was ready too. She would always be hisown Jeanie, and was willing to run any kind of risk so as to be with himand near him, and so on. 

Starlight and I both tried to keep Jim from it all we knew. It wouldmake things twice as bad for him if he had to turn out again, and therewas no knowing the moment when we might have to make a bolt for it; andwhere could Jeanie go then?

But Jim had got one of his obstinate fits. He said we were regularlymixed up with the diggers now. He never intended to follow any otherlife, and wouldn't go back to the Hollow or take part in any fresh crosswork, no matter how good it might be. Poor old Jim! I really believehe'd made up his mind to go straight from the very hour he was buckledto Jeanie; and if he'd only had common luck he'd have been as square andright as George Storefield to this very hour. 

I was near forgetting about old George. My word! he was getting onfaster than we were, though he hadn't a golden hole. He was gold-findingin a different way, and no mistake. One day we saw a stoutish man driveup Main Street to the camp, with a well-groomed horse, in a dogcart, anda servant with him; and who was this but old George? He didn't twig us. He drove close alongside of Jim, who was coming back from the creek, where he'd been puddling, with two shovels and a pick over his shoulder, and a pair of old yellow trousers on, and him splashed up to the eyes. George didn't know him a bit. But we knew him and laughed to ourselvesto see the big swell he had grown into. He stopped at the camp and lefthis dogcart outside with his man. Next thing we saw was the Commissionerwalking about outside the camp with him, and talking to him just as ifhe was a regular intimate friend. 

The Commissioner, that was so proud that he wouldn't look at a digger orshake hands with him, not if he was a young marquis, as long as he wasa digger. 'No!' he used to say, 'I have to keep my authority over thesethousands and tens of thousands of people, some of them very wild andlawless, principally by moral influence, though, of course, I have theGovernment to fall back upon. To do that I must keep up my position, and over-familiarity would be the destruction of it. ' When we saw himshaking hands with old George and inviting him to lunch we asked oneof the miners next to our claim if he knew what that man's name andoccupation was there. 

'Oh!' he says, 'I thought everybody knew him. That's Storefield, thegreat contractor. He has all the contracts for horse-feed for the campsand police stations; nearly every one between here and Kiandra. He'stook 'em lucky this year, and he's making money hand over fist. '

Well done, steady old George! No wonder he could afford to drive a goodhorse and a swell dogcart. He was getting up in the world. We were a bitmore astonished when we heard the Commissioner say--

'I am just about to open court, Mr. Storefield. Would you mind taking afew cases with me this morning?'

We went into the courthouse just for a lark. There was old Georgesitting on the bench as grave as a judge, and a rattling good magistratehe made too. He disagreed from the Commissioner once or twice, andshowed him where he was right, too, not in the law but in the facts ofthe case, where George's knowing working men and their ways gave himthe pull. He wasn't over sharp and hard either, like some men directlythey're raised up a bit, just to show their power. But just seemed to doa fair thing, neither too much one way or the other. George stayedand had lunch at the camp with the Commissioner when the courtwas adjourned, and he drove away afterwards with his upstandingeighty-guinea horse--horses was horses in those days--just as gooda gentleman to look at as anybody. Of course we knew there was adifference, and he'd never get over a few things he'd missed when he wasyoung, in the way of education. But he was liked and respected for allthat, and made welcome everywhere. He was a man as didn't push himselfone bit. There didn't seem anything but his money and his good-naturedhonest face, and now and then a bit of a clumsy joke, to make him aplace. But when the swells make up their minds to take a man in amongthemselves they're not half as particular as commoner people; they do athing well when they're about it. 

So George was hail-fellow-well-met with all the swells at the camp, and the bankers and big storekeepers, and the doctors and lawyers andclergymen, all the nobs there were at the Turon; and when the Governorhimself and his lady came up on a visit to see what the place was like, why George was taken up and introduced as if he'd been a regular blessedcuriosity in the way of contractors, and his Excellency hadn't set eyeson one before. 

'My word! Dick, ' Jim says, 'it's a murder he and Aileen didn't cottonto one another in the old days. She'd have been just the girl to havefancied all this sort of swell racket, with a silk gown and dressed up abit. There isn't a woman here that's a patch on her for looks, is therenow, except Jeanie, and she's different in her ways. '

I didn't believe there was. I began to think it over in my own mind, andwonder how it came about that she'd missed all her chances of risingin life, and if ever a woman was born for it she was. I couldn't helpseeing whose fault it was that she'd been kept back and was now obligedto work hard, and almost ashamed to show herself at Bargo and the othersmall towns; not that the people were ever shy of speaking to her, butshe thought they might be, and wouldn't give them a chance. In about amonth up comes Jeanie Morrison from Melbourne, looking just the same asthe very first evening we met Kate and her on the St. Kilda beach. Justas quiet and shy and modest-looking--only a bit sadder, and not quite soready to smile as she'd been in the old days. She looked as if she'd hada grief to hide and fight down since then. A girl's first sorrowwhen something happened to her love! They never look quite the sameafterwards. I've seen a good many, and if it was real right down love, they were never the same in looks or feelings afterwards. They might'get over it', as people call it; but that's a sort of healing over awound. It don't always cure it, and the wound often breaks out again andbleeds afresh. 

Jeanie didn't look so bad, and she was that glad to see Jim again andto find him respected as a hard-working well-to-do miner that she forgotmost of her disappointments and forgave him his share of any deceit thathad been practised upon her and her sister. Women are like that. They'llalways make excuses for men they're fond of and blame anybody else thatcan be blamed or that's within reach. She thought Starlight and me hadthe most to do with it--perhaps we had; but Jim could have cut loosefrom us any time before the Momberah cattle racket much easier than hecould now. I heard her say once that she thought other people were muchmore to blame than poor James--people who ought to have known better, and so on. By the time she had got to the end of her little explanationJim was completely whitewashed of course. It had always happened to him, and I suppose always would. He was a man born to be helped and lookedout for by every one he came near. 

Seeing how good-looking Jeanie was thought, and how all the swellskept crowding round to get a look at her, if she was near the bar, Katewanted to have a ball and show her off a bit. But she wouldn't have it. She right down refused and close upon quarrelled with Kate about it. Shedidn't take to the glare and noise and excitement of Turon at all. Shewas frightened at the strange-looking men that filled the streets by dayand the hall at the Prospectors' by night. The women she couldn't abide. Anyhow she wouldn't have nothing to say to them. All she wanted--and shekept at Jim day after day till she made him carry it out--was for him tobuild or buy a cottage, she didn't care how small, where they couldgo and live quietly together. She would cook his meals and mend hisclothes, and they would come into town on Saturday nights only and beas happy as kings and queens. She didn't come up to dance or flirt, shesaid, in a place like Turon, and if Jim didn't get a home for her she'dgo back to her dressmaking at St. Kilda. This woke up Jim, so he boughtout a miner who lived a bit out of the town. He had made money andwanted to sell his improvements and clear out for Sydney. It was a smallfour-roomed weatherboard cottage, with a bark roof, but very neatly puton. There was a little creek in front, and a small flower garden, withrose trees growing up the verandah posts. Most miners, when they'redoing well, make a garden. They take a pride in having a neat cottageand everything about it shipshape. The ground, of course, didn't belongto him, but he held it by his miner's right. The title was good enough, and he had a right to sell his goodwill and improvements. 

Jim gave him his price and took everything, even to the bits offurniture. They weren't much, but a place looks awful bare without them. The dog, and the cock and hens he bought too. He got some real nicethings in Turon--tables, chairs, sofas, beds, and so on; and had theplace lined and papered inside, quite swell. Then he told Jeanie thehouse was ready, and the next week they were married. They were marriedin the church--that is, the iron building that did duty for one. It hadall been carted up from Melbourne--framework, roof, seats, and all--andput together at Turon. It didn't look so bad after it was painted, though it was awful hot in summer. 

Here they were married, all square and regular, by the Scotch clergyman. He was the first minister of any kind that came up to the diggings, andthe men had all come to like him for his straightforward, earnest wayof preaching. Not that we went often, but a good few of us diggers wentevery now and then just to show our respect for him; and so Jimsaid he'd be married by Mr. Mackenzie and no one else. Jeanie was aPresbyterian, so it suited her all to pieces. 

Well, the church was chock-full. There never was such a congregationbefore. Lots of people had come to know Jim on the diggings, and morehad heard of him as a straightgoing, good-looking digger, who was freewith his money and pretty lucky. As for Jeanie, there was a report thatshe was the prettiest girl in Melbourne, and something of that sort, andso they all tried to get a look at her. Certainly, though there had beena good many marriages since we had come to the Turon, the church hadnever held a handsomer couple. Jeanie was quietly dressed in plain whitesilk. She had on a veil; no ornaments of any kind or sorts. It was awarmish day, and there was a sort of peach-blossom colour on her cheeksthat looked as delicate as if a breath of air would blow it away. Whenshe came in and saw the crowd of bronze bearded faces and hundreds ofstrange eyes bent on her, she turned quite pale. Then the flush cameback on her face, and her eyes looked as bright as some of the sapphireswe used to pick up now and then out of the river bed. Her hair wastwisted up in a knot behind; but even that didn't hide the lovely colournor what a lot there was of it. As she came in with her slight figureand modest sweet face that turned up to Jim's like a child's, therewas a sort of hum in the church that sounded very like breaking into acheer. 

Jim certainly was a big upstanding chap, strong built but active withit, and as fine a figure of a man as you'd see on the Turon or any otherplace. He stood about six feet and an inch, and was as straight as arush. There was no stiffness about him either. He was broad-shoulderedand light flanked, quick on his pins, and as good a man--all round--withhis hands as you could pick out of the regular prize ring. He was asstrong as a bullock, and just as good at the end of a day as at thestart. With the work we'd had for the last five or six months we wereall in top condition, as hard as a board and fit to work at any pace fortwenty-four hours on end. He had an open, merry, laughing face, had Jim, with straight features and darkish hair and eyes. Nobody could ever keepangry with Jim. He was one of those kind of men that could fight to somepurpose now and then, but that most people found it very hard to keepbad friends with. 

Besides the miners, there were lots of other people in church who hadheard of the wedding and come to see us. I saw Starlight and the twoHonourables, dressed up as usual, besides the Commissioner and the campofficers; and more than that, the new Inspector of Police, who'd onlyarrived the day before. Sir Ferdinand Morringer, even he was there, dividing the people's attention with the bride. Besides that, who shouldI see but Bella and Maddie Barnes and old Jonathan. They'd ridden intothe Turon, for they'd got their riding habits on, and Bella had thewatch and chain Starlight had given her. I saw her look over to wherehe and the other two were, but she didn't know him again a bit in theworld. He was sitting there looking as if he was bored and tired withthe whole thing--hadn't seen a soul in the church before, and didn'twant to see 'em again. 

I saw Maddie Barnes looking with all her eyes at Jim, while her facegrew paler. She hadn't much colour at the best of times, but she was afine-grown, lissom, good-looking girl for all that, and as full of funand games as she could stick. Her eyes seemed to get bigger and darkeras she looked, and when the parson began to read the service she turnedaway her head. I always thought she was rather soft on Jim, and now Isaw it plain enough. He was one of those rattling, jolly kind of fellowsthat can't help being friendly with every girl he meets, and very seldomcares much for any one in particular. He had been backward and forwarda good deal with father before we got clear of Berrima, and that's howpoor Maddie had come to take the fancy so strong and set her heart uponhim. 

It must be hard lines for a woman to stand by, in a church or anywhereelse, and see the man she loves given away, for good and all, buckledhard and fast to another woman. Nobody took much notice of poor Maddie, but I watched her pretty close, and saw the tears come into hereyes, though she let 'em run down her face before she'd pull out herhandkerchief. Then she put up her veil and held up her head with abit of a toss, and I saw her pride had helped her to bear it. I don'tsuppose anybody else saw her, and if they did they'd only think shewas cryin' for company--as women often do at weddings and all kinds ofthings. But I knew better. She wouldn't peach, poor thing! Still, I sawthat more than one or two knew who we were and all about us that day. 

We'd only just heard that the new Inspector of Police had come on to thefield; so of course everybody began to talk about him and wanted to havea look at him. Next to the Commissioner and the P. M. , the Inspector ofPolice is the biggest man in a country town or on a goldfield. He has atremendous lot of power, and, inside of the law, can do pretty much whathe pleases. He can arrest a man on suspicion and keep him in gaol fora month or two. He can have him remanded from time to time for furtherevidence, and make it pretty hot for him generally. He can let him outwhen he proves innocent, and nobody can do anything. All he has to sayis: 'There was a mistake in the man's identity;' or, 'Not sufficientproof. ' Anything of that sort. He can walk up to any man he likes (ordislikes) and tell him to hold up his hands for the handcuffs, and shoothim if he resists. He has servants to wait on him, and orderly troopersto ride behind him; a handsome uniform like a cavalry officer; and ifhe's a smart, soldierly, good-looking fellow, as he very often is, he's run after a good deal and can hold his head as high as he pleases. There's a bit of risk sometimes in apprehending desperate--ahem!--badcharacters, and with bush-rangers and people of that sort, but nothingmore than any young fellow of spirit would like mixed up with his work. Very often they're men of good family in the old country that have foundnothing to do in this, and have taken to the police. When it was knownthat this Ferdinand Morringer was a real baronet and had been an officerin the Guards, you may guess how the flood of goldfields' talk roseand flowed and foamed all round him. It was Sir Ferdinand this and SirFerdinand that wherever you went. He was going to lodge at the Royal. No, of course he was going to stay at the camp! He was married and hadthree children. Not a bit of it; he was a bachelor, and he was going tobe married to Miss Ingersoll, the daughter of the bank manager of theBank of New Holland. They'd met abroad. He was a tall, fine-lookingman. Not at all, only middle-sized; hadn't old Major Trenck, thesuperintendent of police, when he came to enlist and said he had been inthe Guards, growled out, 'Too short for the Guards!'

'But I was not a private, ' replied Sir Ferdinand. 

'Well, anyhow there's a something about him. Nobody can deny he lookslike a gentleman; my word, he'll put some of these Weddin Mountain chapsthro' their facin's, you'll see, ' says one miner. 

'Not he, ' says another; 'not if he was ten baronites in one; all thesame, he's a manly-looking chap and shows blood. '

This was the sort of talk we used to hear all round us--from the miners, from the storekeepers, from the mixed mob at the Prospectors' Arms, inthe big room at night, and generally all about. We said nothing, andtook care to keep quiet, and do and say nothing to be took hold of. Allthe same, we were glad to see Sir Ferdinand. We'd heard of him beforefrom Goring and the other troopers; but he'd been on duty in anotherdistrict, and hadn't come in our way. 

One evening we were all sitting smoking and yarning in the big room ofthe hotel, and Jim, for a wonder--we'd been washing up--when we saw oneof the camp gentlemen come in, and a strange officer of police withhim. A sort of whisper ran through the room, and everybody made up theirminds it was Sir Ferdinand. Jim and I both looked at him. 

'Wa-al!' said one of our Yankee friends, 'what 'yur twistin' your necksat like a flock of geese in a corn patch? How d'ye fix it that a lord'sbetter'n any other man?'

'He's a bit different, somehow, ' I says. 'We're not goin' to kneel downor knuckle under to him, but he don't look like any one else in thisroom, does he?'

'He's no slouch, and he looks yer square and full in the eye, like ahunter, ' says Arizona Bill; 'but durn my old buckskins if I can seewhy you Britishers sets up idols and such and worship 'em, in a colony, jest's if yer was in that benighted old England again. '

We didn't say any more. Jim lit his pipe and smoked away, thinking, perhaps, more whether Sir Ferdinand was anything of a revolver shot, andif he was likely to hit him (Jim) at forty or fifty yards, in case sucha chance should turn up, than about the difference of rank and suchthings. 

While we were talking we saw Starlight and one of the Honourables comein and sit down close by Sir Ferdinand, who was taking his grog at asmall table, and smoking a big cigar. The Honourable and he jumps up atonce and shook hands in such a hurry so as we knew they'd met before. Then the Honourable introduces Starlight to Sir Ferdinand. We felt tooqueer to laugh, Jim and I, else we should have dropped off our seatswhen Starlight bowed as grave as a judge, and Sir Ferdinand (we couldhear) asked him how many months he'd been out in the colony, and how heliked it?

Starlight said it wasn't at all a bad place when you got used to it, buthe thought he should try and get away before the end of the year. 

We couldn't help sniggerin' a bit at this, 'specially when Arizona Billsaid, 'Thar's another durned fool of a Britisher; look at his eyeglass!I wonder the field has not shaken some of that cussed foolishness out ofhim by this time. '

Chapter 29

Jim and his wife moved over to the cottage in Specimen Gully; the minerswent back to their work, and there was no more talk or bother about thematter. Something always happened every day at the Turon which wiped thelast thing clean out of people's mind. Either it was a big nugget, ora new reef, or a tent robbery, a gold-buyer stuck up and robbed in theIronbarks, a horse-stealing match, a fight at a dance-house, or a biglaw case. Accidents and offences happened every day, and any of them wasenough to take up the whole attention of every digger on the field tillsomething else turned up. 

Not that we troubled our heads over much about things of this sort. Wehad set our minds to go on until our claims were worked out, or closeup; then to sell out, and with the lot we'd already banked to get downto Melbourne and clear out. Should we ever be able to manage that? Itseemed getting nearer, nearer, like a star that a man fixes his eyes onas he rides through a lonely bit of forest at night. We had all got oureyes fixed on it, Lord knows, and were working double tides, doing ourvery best to make up a pile worth while leaving the country with. Asfor Jim, he and his little wife seemed that happy that he grudgedevery minute he spent away from her. He worked as well as ever--better, indeed, for he never took his mind from his piece of work, whatever itwas, for a second. But the very minute his shift was over Jim was awayalong the road to Specimen Gully, like a cow going back to find hercalf. He hardly stopped to light his pipe now, and we'd only seen himonce up town, and that was on a Saturday night with Jeanie on his arm. 

Well, the weeks passed over, and at long last we got on as far in theyear as the first week in December. We'd given out that we might gosomewhere to spend our Christmas. We were known to be pretty well in, and to have worked steady all these months since the early part of theyear. We had paid our way all the time, and could leave at a minute'snotice without asking any man's leave. 

If we were digging up gold like potatoes we weren't the only ones. No, not by a lot. There never was a richer patch of alluvial, I believe, inany of the fields, and the quantity that was sent down in one year wasa caution. Wasn't the cash scattered about then? Talk of money, it waslike the dirt under your feet--in one way, certainly--as the dirt wasmore often than not full of gold. 

We could see things getting worse on the field after a bit. We didn'tset up to be any great shakes ourselves, Jim and I; but we didn't wantthe field to be overrun by a set of scoundrels that were the very scumof the earth, let alone the other colonies. We were afraid they'd go infor some big foolish row, and we should get dragged in for it. That wasexactly what we didn't want. 

With the overflowing of the gold, as it were, came such a town and sucha people to fill it, as no part of Australia had ever seen before. Whenit got known by newspapers, and letters from the miners themselves totheir friends at home, what an enormous yield of gold was being dugout of the ground in such a simple fashion, all the world seemed tobe moving over. At that time nobody could tell a lie hardly about thetremendous quantity that was being got and sent away every week. Thiswas easy to know, because the escort returns were printed in all thenewspapers every week; so everybody could see for themselves what poundsand hundredweights and tons--yes, tons of gold--were being got by menwho very often, as like as not, hadn't to dig above twenty or thirtyfeet for it, and had never handled a pick or a shovel in their livesbefore they came to the Turon. 

There were plenty of good men at the diggings. I will say this for theregular miners, that a more manly, straightgoing lot of fellows no manever lived among. I wish we'd never known any worse. We were not whatmight be called highly respectable people ourselves--still, men like usare only half-and-half bad, like a good many more in this world. They're partly tempted into doing wrong by opportunity, and kept backby circumstances from getting into the straight track afterwards. But onevery goldfield there's scores and scores of men that always hurry offthere like crows and eagles to a carcass to see what they can rend andtear and fatten upon. They ain't very particular whether it's the livingor the dead, so as they can gorge their fill. There was a good many ofthis lot at the Turon, and though the diggers gave them a wide berth, and helped to run them down when they'd committed any crime, theycouldn't be kept out of sight and society altogether. 

We used to go up sometimes to see the gold escort start. It was one ofthe regular sights of the field, and the miners that were off shift andpeople that hadn't much to do generally turned up on escort day. The gold was taken down to Sydney once a week in a strong expresswaggon--something like a Yankee coach, with leather springs and a highdriving seat; so that four horses could be harnessed. One of the policesergeants generally drove, a trooper fully armed with rifle and revolveron the box beside him. In the back seat sat two more troopers with theirSniders ready for action; two rode a hundred yards ahead, and anothercouple about the same distance behind. 

We always noticed that a good many of the sort of men that never seemedto do any digging and yet always had good clothes and money to spendused to hang about when the escort was starting. People in the crowd'most always knew whether it was a 'big' escort or a 'light' one. Itgenerally leaked out how many ounces had been sent by this bank and howmuch by that; how much had come from the camp, for the diggers who didnot choose to sell to the banks were allowed to deposit their gold withan officer at the camp, where it was carefully weighed, and a receiptgiven to them stating the number of ounces, pennyweights, and grains. Then it was forwarded by the escort, deducting a small percentage forthe carriage and safe keeping. Government did not take all the risk uponitself. The miner must run his chance if he did not sell. But the chancewas thought good enough; the other thing was hardly worth talking about. Who was to be game to stick up the Government escort, with eight policetroopers, all well armed and ready to make a fight to the death beforethey gave up the treasure committed to their charge? The policecouldn't catch all the horse-stealers and bush-rangers in a country thatcontained so many millions of acres of waste land; but no one doubtedthat they would make a first-rate fight, on their own ground as it were, and before they'd let anything be taken away from them that had beencounted out, box by box, and given into their charge. 

We had as little notion of trying anything of the sort ourselves than aswe had of breaking into the Treasury in Sydney by night. But those whoknew used to say that if the miners had known the past history of someof the men that used to stand up and look on, well dressed or in regulardigger rig, as the gold boxes were being brought out and countedinto the escort drag, they would have made a bodyguard to go with itthemselves when they had gold on board, or have worried the Governmentinto sending twenty troopers in charge instead of six or eight. 

One day, as Jim and I happened to be at the camp just as the escort wasstarting, the only time we'd been there for a month, we saw Warrigal andMoran standing about. They didn't see us; we were among a lot of otherdiggers, so we were able to take them out of winding a bit. 

They were there for no good, we agreed. Warrigal's sharp eyes notedeverything about the whole turn-out--the sergeant's face that drove, theway the gold boxes were counted out and put in a kind of fixed lockerunderneath the middle of the coach. He saw where the troopers sat beforeand behind, and I'll be bound came away with a wonderful good generalidea of how the escort travelled, and of a good many things more aboutit that nobody guessed at. As for Moran, we could see him fix his eyesupon the sergeant who was driving, and look at him as if he could lookright through him. He never took his eyes off him the whole time, butglared at him like a maniac; if some of his people hadn't given him ashove as they passed he would soon have attracted people's attention. But the crowd was too busy looking at the well-conditioned prancinghorses and the neatly got up troopers of the escort drag to waste theirthoughts upon a common bushman, however he might stare. When he turnedaway to leave he ground out a red-hot curse betwixt his teeth. It madeus think that Warrigal's coming about with him on this line counted forno good. 

They slipped through the crowd again, and, though they were prettyclose, they never saw us. Warrigal would have known us however we mighthave been altered, but somehow he never turned his head our way. Hewas like a child, so taken up with all the things he saw that hisgreat-grandfather might have jumped up from the Fish River Caves, orwherever he takes his rest, and Warrigal would never have wondered athim. 

'That's a queer start!' says Jim, as we walked on our homeward path. 'I wonder what those two crawling, dingo-looking beggars were here for?Never no good. I say, did you see that fellow Moran look at the sergeantas if he'd eat him? What eyes he has, for all the world like a blacksnake! Do you think he's got any particular down on him?'

'Not more than on all police. I suppose he'd rub them out, everymother's son, if he could. He and Warrigal can't stick up the escort bythemselves. '

We managed to get a letter from home from time to time now we'd settled, as it were, at the Turon. Of course they had to be sent in the name ofHenderson, but we called for them at the post-office, and got them allright. It was a treat to read Aileen's letters now. They were so jollyand hopeful-like besides what they used to be. Now that we'd been solong, it seemed years, at the diggings, and were working hard, doingwell, and getting quite settled, as she said, she believed that allwould go right, and that we should be able really to carry out our plansof getting clear away to some country where we could live safe and quietlives. Women are mostly like that. They first of all believe all thatthey're afraid of will happen. Then, as soon as they see things brightenup a bit, they're as sure as fate everything's bound to go right. Theydon't seem to have any kind of feeling between. They hate making uptheir minds, most of 'em as I've known, and jump from being ready todrown themselves one moment to being likely to go mad with joy another. Anyhow you take 'em, they're better than men, though. I'll never go backon that. 

So Aileen used to send me and Jim long letters now, telling us thatthings were better at home, and that she really thought mother wascheerfuller and stronger in health than she'd been ever since--well, ever since--that had happened. She thought her prayers had been heard, and that we were going to be forgiven for our sins and allowed, byGod's mercy, to lead a new life. She quite believed in our leaving thecountry, although her heart would be nearly broken by the thought thatshe might never see us again, and a lot more of the same sort. 

Poor mother! she had a hard time of it if ever any one ever had in thisworld, and none of it her own fault as I could ever see. Some peoplegets punished in this world for the sins other people commit. I cansee that fast enough. Whether they get it made up to 'em afterwards, ofcourse I can't say. They ought to, anyhow, if it can be made up to 'em. Some things that are suffered in this world can't be paid for, I don'tcare how they fix it. 

More than once, too, there was a line or two on a scrap of paper slippedin Aileen's letters from Gracey Storefield. She wasn't half as good withthe pen as Aileen, but a few words from the woman you love goes a longway, no matter what sort of a fist she writes. Gracey made shift to tellme she was so proud to hear I was doing well; that Aileen's eyes hadbeen twice as bright lately; that mother looked better than she'd seenher this years; and if I could get away to any other country she'dmeet me in Melbourne, and would be, as she'd always been, 'your ownGracey'--that's the way it was signed. 

When I read this I felt a different man. I stood up and took anoath--solemn, mind you, and I intended to keep it--that if I got clearaway I'd pay her for her love and true heart with my life, what was leftof it, and I'd never do another crooked thing as long as I lived. Then Ibegan to count the days to Christmas. 

I wasn't married like Jim, and it not being very lively in the tent atnight, Arizona Bill and I mostly used to stroll up to the Prospectors'Arms. We'd got used to sitting at the little table, drinking our beer orwhat not, smoking our pipes and listening to all the fun that was goingon. Not that we always sat in the big hall. There was a snug littleparlour beside the bar that we found more comfortable, and Kate used torun in herself when business was slack enough to leave the barmaid; thenshe'd sit down and have a good solid yarn with us. 

She made a regular old friend of me, and, as she was a handsome woman, always well dressed, with lots to say and plenty of admirers, I wasn'tabove being singled out and made much of. It was partly policy, ofcourse. She knew our secret, and it wouldn't have done to have let herlet it out or be bad friends, so that we should be always going indread of it. So Jim and I were always mighty civil to her, and I reallythought she'd improved a lot lately and turned out a much nicer womanthan I thought she could be. 

We used to talk away about old times, regular confidential, and thoughshe'd great spirits generally, she used to change quite sudden sometimesand say she was a miserable woman, and wished she hadn't been in sucha hurry and married as she had. Then she'd crack up Jeanie, and sayhow true and constant she'd been, and how she was rewarded for it bymarrying the only man she ever loved. She used to blame her temper;she'd always had it, she said, and couldn't get rid of it; but shereally believed, if things had turned out different, she'd have been adifferent woman, and any man she really loved would never have had nocall to complain. Of course I knew what all this meant, but thought Icould steer clear of coming to grief over it. 

That was where I made the mistake. But I didn't think so then, or howmuch hung upon careless words and looks. 

Well, somehow or other she wormed it out of me that we were offsomewhere at Christmas. Then she never rested till she'd found out thatwe were going to Melbourne. After that she seemed as if she'd changedright away into somebody else. She was that fair and soft-speaking andhumble-minded that Jeanie couldn't have been more gentle in her ways;and she used to look at me from time to time as if her heart wasbreaking. I didn't believe that, for I didn't think she'd any heart tobreak. 

One night, after we'd left about twelve o'clock, just as the house shutup, Arizona Bill says to me--

'Say, pard, have yer fixed it up to take that young woman along when youpull up stakes?'

'No, ' I said; 'isn't she a married woman? and, besides, I haven't such afancy for her as all that comes to. '

'Ye heven't?' he said, speaking very low, as he always did, and takingthe cigar out of his mouth--Bill always smoked cigars when he couldget them, and not very cheap ones either; 'well, then, I surmise you'relettin' her think quite contrairy, and there's bound to be a muss if youdon't hide your tracks and strike a trail she can't foller on. '

'I begin to think I've been two ends of a dashed fool; but what's a manto do?'

'See here, now, ' he said; 'you hev two cl'ar weeks afore ye. You slackoff and go slow; that'll let her see you didn't sorter cotton to hermore'n's in the regulations. '

'And have a row with her?'

'Sartin, ' says Bill, 'and hev the shootin' over right away. It's aplaguey sight safer than letting her carry it in her mind, and thenlaying for yer some day when ye heven't nary thought of Injuns in yourhead. That's the very time a woman like her's bound to close on yer andlift yer ha'r if she can. '

'Why, how do you know what she's likely to do?'

'I've been smokin', pard, while you hev bin talkin', sorter carelesslike. I've had my eyes open and seen Injun sign mor'n once or twiceeither. I've hunted with her tribe afore, I guess, and old Bill ain'tforgot all the totems and the war paint. '

After this Bill fresh lit his cigar, and wouldn't say any more. But Icould see what he was driving at, and I settled to try all I knew tokeep everything right and square till the time came for us to make ourdart. 

I managed to have a quiet talk with Starlight. He thought that by takingcare, being very friendly, but not too much so, we might get clean off, without Kate or any one else being much the wiser. 

Next week everything seemed to go on wheels--smooth and fast, no hitchesanywhere. Jim reckoned the best of our claim would be worked out bythe 20th of the month, and we'd as good as agreed to sell our shares toArizona Bill and his mate, who were ready, as Bill said, 'to plank downconsiderable dollars' for what remained of it. If they got nothing worthwhile, it was the fortune of war, which a digger never growls at, nomatter how hard hit he may be. If they did well, they were such up anddown good fellows, and such real friends to us, that we should havegrudged them nothing. 

As for Jeanie, she was almost out of her mind with eagerness to get backto Melbourne and away from the diggings. She was afraid of many of thepeople she saw, and didn't like others. She was terrified all thetime Jim was away from her, but she would not hear of living at theProspectors' Arms with her sister. 

'I know where that sort of thing leads to, ' she said; 'let us have ourown home, however rough. '

Kate went out to Specimen Gully to see her sister pretty often, and theysat and talked and laughed, just as they did in old times, Jeanie said. She was a simple little thing, and her heart was as pure as quartzcrystal. I do really believe she was no match for Kate in any way. Sothe days went on. I didn't dare stay away from the Prospectors' Arms, for fear she'd think I wanted to break with her altogether, and yet Iwas never altogether comfortable in her company. It wasn't her fault, for she laid herself out to get round us all, even old Arizona Bill, whoused to sit solemnly smoking, looking like an Indian chief or a gravenimage, until at last his brick-coloured, grizzled old face would breakup all of a sudden, and he'd laugh like a youngster. As the days drewnigh Christmas I could see a restless expression in her face thatI never saw before. Her eyes began to shine in a strange way, andsometimes she'd break off short in her talk and run out of the room. Then she'd pretend to wish we were gone, and that she'd never seen usagain. I could hardly tell what to make of her, and many a time Iwished we were on blue water and clear away from all chance of delay anddrawback. 

Chapter 30

We made up our minds to start by Saturday's coach. It left at night andtravelled nigh a hundred miles by the same hour next morning. It's moreconvenient for getting away than the morning. A chap has time for doingall kinds of things just as he would like; besides, a quieter time toslope than just after breakfast. The Turon daily mail was well horsedand well driven. Nightwork though it was, and the roads dangerous inplaces, the five big double-reflector lamps, one high up over the top ofthe coach in the middle with two pair more at the side, made everythingplain. We Cornstalks never thought of more than the regular pair oflamps, pretty low down, too, before the Yankee came and showed us whatcross-country coaching was. We never knew before. My word, they taughtus a trick or two. All about riding came natural, but a heap of dodgesabout harness we never so much as heard of till they came to the countrywith the gold rush. 

We'd made all our bits of preparations, and thought nothing stood in theway of a start next evening. This was Friday. Jim hadn't sold his bitsof traps, because he didn't want it to be known he wasn't coming back. He left word with a friend he could trust, though, to have 'em allauctioned and the goodwill of his cottage, and to send the money afterhim. My share and his in the claim went to Arizona Bill and his mate. Wehad no call to be ashamed of the money that stood to our credit in thebank. That we intended to draw out, and take with us in an order or adraft, or something, to Melbourne. Jeanie had her boxes packed, and wasso wild with looking forward to seeing St. Kilda beach again that shecould hardly sleep or eat as the time drew near. 

Friday night came; everything had been settled. It was the last night weshould either of us spend at the Turon for many a day--perhaps never. Iwalked up and down the streets, smoking, and thinking it all over. Theidea of bed was ridiculous. How wonderful it all seemed! After what wehad gone through and the state we were in less than a year ago, to thinkthat we were within so little of being clear away and safe for ever inanother country, with as much as would keep us comfortable for life. I could see Gracey, Aileen, and Jeanie, all so peaceful and lovingtogether, with poor old mother, who had lost her old trick of listeningand trembling whenever she heard a strange step or the tread of a horse. What a glorious state of things it would be! A deal of it was owing tothe gold. This wonderful gold! But for it we shouldn't have had such achance in a hundred years. I was that restless I couldn't settle, whenI thought, all of a sudden, as I walked up and down, that I had promisedto go and say good-bye to Kate Mullockson, at the Prospectors' Arms, the night before we started. I thought for a moment whether it would besafer to let it alone. I had a strange, unwilling kind of feeling aboutgoing there again; but at last, half not knowing what else to do, andhalf not caring to make an enemy of Kate, if I could help it, I walkedup. 

It was latish. She was standing near the bar, talking to half-a-dozenpeople at once, as usual; but I saw she noticed me at once. She quicklydrew off a bit from them all; said it was near shutting-up time, and, after a while, passed through the bar into the little parlour where Iwas sitting down. It was just midnight. The night was half over before Ithought of coming in. So when she came in and seated herself near me onthe sofa I heard the clock strike twelve, and most of the men who werewalking about the hall began to clear out. 

Somehow, when you've been living at a place for a goodish while, anddone well there, and had friends as has stuck by you, as we had at theTuron, you feel sorry to leave it. What you've done you're sure of, no matter how it mayn't suit you in some ways, nor how much better youexpect to be off where you are going to. You had that and had the goodof it. What the coming time may bring you can't reckon on. All kinds ofcross luck and accidents may happen. What's the use of money to a man ifhe smashes his hip and has to walk with a crutch all his days? I've seena miner with a thousand a month coming in, but he'd been crushed prettynear to death with a fall of earth, and about half of him was dead. What's a good dinner to a man that his doctor only allows him one sliceof meat, a bit of bread, and some toast and water? I've seen chaps likethem, and I'd sooner a deal be the poorest splitter, slogging away witha heavy maul, and able, mind you, to swing it like a man, than one ofthose broken-down screws. We'd had a good time there, Jim and I. We always had a kind spot in our hearts for Turon and the diggingsafterwards. Hard work, high pay, good friends that would stick to a manback and edge, and a safe country to lie in plant in as ever was seen. We was both middlin' sorry, in a manner of speaking, to clear out. Notas Jim said much about it on account of Jeanie; but he thought it allthe same. 

Well, of course, Kate and I got talkin' and talkin', first about thediggings, and then about other things, till we got to old times inMelbourne, and she began to look miserable and miserabler whenever shespoke about marrying the old man, and wished she'd drownded herselffirst. She made me take a whisky--a stiffish one that she mixedherself--for a parting glass, and I felt it took a bit of effect uponme. I'd been having my whack during the day. I wasn't no ways drunk; butI must have been touched more or less, because I felt myself to be sosober. 

'You're going at last, Dick, ' says she; 'and I suppose we shan't meetagain in a hurry. It was something to have a look at you now and then. It reminded me of the happy old times at St. Kilda. '

'Oh, come, Kate, ' I said, 'it isn't quite so bad as all that. Besides, we'll be back again in February, as like as not. We're not going forever. '

'Are you telling me the truth, Richard Marston?' says she, standing upand fixing her eyes full on me--fine eyes they were, too, in their way;'or are you trying another deceit, to throw me off the scent and get ridof me? Why should you ever want to see my face after you leave?'

'A friendly face is always pleasant. Anyhow, Kate, yours is, thoughyou did play me a sharpish trick once, and didn't stick to me like somewomen might have done. '

'Tell me this, ' she said, leaning forward, and putting one hand on myshoulder, while she seemed to look through the very soul of me--her facegrew deadly pale, and her lips trembled, as I'd seen them do once beforewhen she was regular beyond herself--'will you take me with you when yougo for good and all? I'm ready to follow you round the world. Don't beafraid of my temper. No woman that ever lived ever did more for the manshe loved than I'll do for you. If Jeanie's good to Jim--and you knowshe is--I'll be twice the woman to you, or I'll die for it. Don'tspeak!' she went on; 'I know I threw you over once. I was mad with rageand shame. You know I had cause, hadn't I, Dick? You know I had. Tospite you, I threw away my own life then; now it's a misery and atorment to me every day I live. I can bear it no longer, I tell you. It's killing me--killing me day by day. Only say the word, and I'll joinyou in Melbourne within the week--to be yours, and yours only, as longas I live. '

I didn't think there was that much of the loving nature about her. Sheused to vex me by being hard and uncertain when we were courting. I knewthen she cared about me, and I hadn't a thought about any other woman. Now when I didn't ask her to bother herself about me, and only to letme alone and go her own way, she must turn the tables on me, and want toruin the pair of us slap over again. 

She'd thrown her arms round my neck and was sobbing on my shoulder whenshe finished. I took her over to the sofa, and made her sit down by theside of me. 

'Kate, ' I said, 'this won't do. There's neither rhyme nor reason aboutit. I'm as fond of you as ever I was, but you must know well enoughif you make a bolt of it now there'll be no end of a bobbery, andeverybody's thoughts will be turned our way. We'll be clean bowled--thelot of us. Jim and I will be jugged. You and Jeanie will be left to themercy of the world, worse off by a precious sight than ever you werein your lives. Now, if you look at it, what's the good of spoiling thewhole jimbang for a fancy notion about me? You and I are safe to befirst-rate friends always, but it will be the ruin of both of us ifwe're fools enough to want to be more. You're living here like a regularqueen. You've got a good husband, that's proud of you and gives youeverything you can think of. You took him yourself, and you're bound tostick to him. Besides, think of poor Jeanie and Jim. You'll spoil alltheir happiness; and, more than all--don't make any mistake--you knowwhat Jeanie thinks of a woman who leaves her husband for another man. '

If you let a woman have a regular good cry and talk herself out, youcan mostly bring her round in the end. So after a bit Kate grew morereasonable. That bit about Jeanie fetched her too. She knew her ownsister would turn against her--not harsh like, but she'd never be thesame to her again as long as she lived. 

The lamp had been put out in the big hall. There was only one in thisparlour, and it wasn't over bright. I talked away, and last of all shecame round to my way of thinking; at any rate not to want to clear offfrom the old man now, but to wait till I came back, or till I wrote toher. 

'You are right, Dick, ' she said at last, 'and you show your sense intalking the way you have; though, if you loved as I do, you could notdo it. But, once more, there's no other woman that you're fonder of thanme? It isn't that that makes you so good? Dick Marston good!' and hereshe laughed bitterly. 'If I thought that I should go mad. '

What was I to do? I could not tell her that I loved Gracey Storefieldten times as much as I'd ever cheated myself into thinking I cared abouther. So I swore that I cared more for her than any woman in the wholeworld, and always had done so. 

This steadied her. We parted good friends, and she promised to keepquiet and try and make the best of things. She turned up the lamp toshow me the way out, though the outer door of the hall was left opennight and day. It was a way we had at the Turon; no one troubledthemselves to be particular about such trifles as furniture and so on. There was very little small robbery there; it was not worth while. Allpetty stealers were most severely punished into the bargain. 

As I stood up to say good-bye a small note dropped out of mybreast-pocket. It had shifted somehow. Kate always had an eye like ahawk. With one spring she pounced upon it, and before I could interfereopened and read it! It was Gracey Storefield's. She stood for one momentand glared in my face. I thought she had gone mad. Then she threw thebit of paper down and trampled upon it, over and over again. 

'So, Dick Marston, ' she cried out hoarsely, her very voice changed, 'youhave tricked me a second time! Your own Gracey! your own Gracey! andthis, by the date, at the very time you were letting me persuade myself, like a fool, like an idiot that I was, that you still care for me! Youhave put the cap to your villainy now. And, as God made me, you shallhave cause--good cause--to fear the woman you have once betrayed andtwice scorned. Look to yourself. '

She gazed at me for a moment with a face from which every trace ofexpression had vanished, except that of the most devilish fury andspite--the face of an evil spirit more than of a woman; and then shewalked slowly away. I couldn't help pitying her, though I cursed my ownfolly, as I had done a thousand times, that I had ever turned my heador spoken a word to her when first she crossed my path. I got into thestreet somehow; I hardly knew what to think or to do. That dangerwas close at our heels I didn't doubt for a moment. Everything seemedchanged in a minute. What was going to happen? Was I the same DickMarston that had been strolling up Main Street a couple of hours ago?All but off by the to-morrow evening's coach, and with all the worldbefore me, a good round sum in the bank; best part of a year's hard, honest work it was the price of, too. 

Then all kinds of thoughts came into my head. Would Kate, when her burstof rage was over, go in for revenge in cold blood? She could hardlystrike me without at the same time hurting Jeanie through Jim. ShouldI trust her? Would she come right, kiss, and make friends, and callherself a madwoman--a reckless fool--as she'd often done before? No; shewas in bitter earnest this time. It did not pay to be slack in makingoff. Once we had been caught napping, and once was enough. 

The first thing to do was to warn Jim--poor old Jim, snoring away, mostlike, and dreaming of taking the box-seat for himself and Jeanie at theagent's next morning. It seemed cruel to wake him, but it would havebeen crueller not to do so. 

I walked up the narrow track that led up to the little gully with themoon shining down upon the white quartz rock. The pathway wound througha 'blow' of it. I threw a pebble at the door and waited till Jim cameout. 

'Who's there? Oh! it's you, old man, is it? It's rather late for a call;but if you've come to spend the evening I'll get up, and we'll have asmoke, anyhow. '

'You dress yourself, Jim, ' I said, 'as quick as you can. Put on your hatand come with me; there's something up. '

'My God!' says Jim, 'what is it? I'm a rank coward now I've got Jeanie. Don't go and tell me we've got to cut and run again. '

'Something like it, ' I said. 'If it hasn't come to that yet, it's notfar off. '

We walked up the gully together. Jim lit his pipe while I told himshortly what had happened to me with Kate. 

'May the devil fly away with her!' said Jim savagely, 'for a bad-minded, bad-hearted jade; and then he'd wish he'd left her where she was. She'dbe no chop-down there even. I think sometimes she can't be Jeanie'ssister at all. They must have changed her, and mothered the wrong childon the old woman. My word! but it's no laughing matter. What's to bedone?'

'There's no going away by the coach to-morrow, I'm afraid. She's justthe woman to tear straight up the camp and let it all out before hertemper cooled. It would take a week to do that. The sergeant or SirFerdinand knows all about it now. They'll lose no time, you may becertain. '

'And must I leave without saying good-night to Jeanie?' says Jim. 'No, by----! If I have half-a-dozen bullets through me, I'll go back and holdher in my arms once more before I'm hunted off and through the countrylike a wild dog once more. If that infernal Kate has given us away, byGeorge, I could go and kill her with my own hand! The cruel, murdering, selfish brute, I believe she'd poison her mother for a ten-pound note!'

'No use swearing at Kate, Jim, ' I said; 'that won't mend matters. It'snot the first time by a thousand that I've wished I'd never set eyes onher; but if I'd never seen her that day on St. Kilda beach you'd neverknown Jeanie. So there's evens as well as odds. The thing is, what arewe to do now?'

'Dashed if I know. I feel stupid about tackling the bush again; andwhat can I do with Jeanie? I wish I was dead. I've half a mind to go andshoot that brute of a woman and then myself. But then, poor Jeanie! poorlittle Jeanie! I can't stand it, Dick; I shall go mad!'

I thought Jim was going to break out crying just as he used when he wasa boy. His heart was a big soft one; and though he could face anythingin the way of work or fighting that a man dare do, and do two men'sshare very like, yet his tears, mother said, laid very near his eyes, and till he was a grown man they used to pump up on all sorts ofoccasions. 

'Come, be a man, Jim, ' I said, 'we've got to look the thing in the face;there's no two ways about it. I shall go to Arizona Bill's claim andsee what he says. Anyhow I'll leave word with him what to do when we'regone. I'd advise you not to try to see Jeanie; but if you will you must, I suppose. Good-bye, old man. I shall make my way over to Jonathan's, borrow a horse from him, and make tracks for the Hollow as soon as Ican. You'd better leave Jeanie here and do the same. '

Jim groaned, but said nothing. He wrung my hands till the bones seemedto crack, and walked away without a word. We knew it was a chancewhether we should meet again. 

I walked on pretty quick till I came to the flat where Arizona Bill andhis mates had their sluicing claim. There were six of them altogether, tall wiry men all of them; they'd mostly been hunters and trappers inthe Rocky Mountains before the gold was struck at Suttor's Mill, in theSacramento Valley. They had been digging in '49 in California, buthad come over when they heard from an old mate of a placer diggings atTuron, richer than anything they had ever tried in America. 

This camp was half a mile from ours, and there was a bit of brokenground between, so that I thought I was safe in having a word with thembefore I cleared for Barnes's place, though I took care not to gonear our own camp hut. I walked over, and was making straight for thesmallest hut, when a rough voice hailed me. 

'Hello! stranger, ye came darned near going to h--l with your boots on. What did yer want agin that thar cabin?'

I saw then that in my hurry I had gone stumbling against a small hutwhere they generally put their gold when the party had been washing upand had more than was safe to start from camp with. In this they alwaysput a grizzled old hunter, about whom the yarn was that he never wentto sleep, and could shoot anything a mile off. It was thought a veryunlikely thing that any gold he watched would ever go crooked. Mostpeople considered him a deal safer caretaker than the escort. 

'Oh! it's you, is it?' drawled Sacramento Joe. 'Why, what's doin' at yerold camp?'

'What about?' said I. 

'Wal, Bill and I seen three or four half-baked vigilantes that callthemselves police; they was a setting round the hut and looked as ifthey was awaiting for somebody. '

'Tell Bill I want him, Joe, ' I said. 

'Can't leave guard nohow, ' says the true grit old hunter, pointing tohis revolver, and dodging up and down with his lame leg, a crooked arm, and a seam in his face like a terrible wound there some time or other. 'I darsn't leave guard. You'll find him in that centre tent, with thered flag on it. '

I lifted the canvas flap of the door and went in. Bill raised himself inthe bed and looked at me quite coolly. 

'I was to your location a while since, ' he said. 'Met some friendsof yours there too. I didn't cotton to 'em muchly. Something haseventuated. Is that so?'

'Yes. I want your help. ' I told him shortly all I could tell him in thetime. 

 . . . . . 

He listened quietly, and made no remark for a time. 

'So ye hev' bin a road agent. You and Jim, that darned innocent oldcuss, robbing mails and cattle ranches. It is a real scoop up for me, you bet. I'd heern of bush-ranging in Australia, but I never reckonedon their bein' men like you and Jim. So the muchacha went back onyer--snakes alive! I kinder expected it. I reckon you're bound to git. '

'Yes, Bill, sharp's the word. I want you to draw my money and Jim's outof the bank; it's all in my name. There's the deposit receipt. I'll backit over to you. You give Jeanie what she wants, and send the rest when Itell you. Will you do that for me, Bill? I've always been on the squarewith you and your mates. '

'You hev', boy, that I'll not deny, and I'll corral the dollars for you. It's an all-fired muss that men like you and Jim should have a blackmark agin your record. A spry hunter Jim would have made. I'd laid outto have had him to Arizona yet--and you're a going to dust out rightaway, you say?'

'I'm off now. Jim's waited too long, I expect. One other thing; let Mr. Haughton, across the creek, have this before daylight. '

'What, the Honourable!!! Lawful heart! Wal, I hope ye may strike abetter trail yet. Yer young, you and Jim, poor old Jim. Hold on. Hev' yenary shootin' iron?'

'No time, ' I said. 'I haven't been to the camp. '

'Go slow, then. Wait here; you'll want suthin, may be, on the peraira. If ye do, boy! Jim made good shootin' with this, ye mind. Take it andwelcome; it'll mind ye of old Arizona Bill. '

He handed me a beautifully finished little repeating rifle, hardlyheavier than a navy revolver, and a small bag of cartridges. 

'Thar, that'll be company for ye, in case ye hev to draw a bead onthe--any one--just temp'ry like. Our horses is hobbled in Bates'sclearing. Take my old sorrel if ye can catch him. ' He stopped for asecond and put his hand in a listening fashion. His hunter's ear wasquicker than mine. 'Thar's a war party on the trail, I reckon. It'sa roughish crossing at Slatey Bar, ' and he pointed towards the river, which we could plainly hear rushing over a rocky bed. We shook hands, and as I turned down the steep river bank I saw him walk slowly into histent and close the canvas after him. 

The line he pointed to was the one I fixed in my own mind to take longbefore our talk was over. The Turon, always steep-banked, rocky inplaces, ran here under an awful high bluff of slate rock. The rushingwater in its narrow channel had worn away the rock a good deal, and leftledges or bars under which a deal of gold had been found. Easy enough tocross here on a kind of natural ford. We had many a time walked over onSundays and holidays for a little kangaroo-shooting now and then. It washere Jim one day, when we were all together for a ramble, surprised theAmericans by his shooting with the little Ballard rifle. 

As I crossed there was just moon enough to show the deep pools and thehurrying, tearing waters of the wild river, foaming betwixt the bigboulders and jags of rock which the bar was strewed with. In front thebank rose 300 feet like the roof of a house, with great overhangingcrags of slate rock, and a narrow track in and out between. If I hadlight enough to find this and get to the top--the country was terriblyrough for a few miles, with the darkness coming on--I should be prettywell out of reach by daylight. 

I had just struck the track when I heard voices and a horse's trampon the other side of the river. They seemed not to be sure whether I'dcrossed or not, and were tracking up and down on each side of the bar. Ibreasted the hill track faster than I had done for many a day, and whenI got to the top stopped to listen, but could hear nothing. The moonhad dropped suddenly; the forest was as black as pitch. You couldn't seeyour hand before you. 

I knew that I was safe now, if a hundred men were at my heels, tilldaybreak at any rate. I had the two sides of the gully to guide me. Icould manage to make to the farm where the sorrel was at grass with alot of other diggers' horses. If I could get a saddle and catch theold horse I could put many a mile between me and them before sundown. I stood still when I reached the top of the bluff, partly to get breathand partly to take a last look at old Turon. 

Below lay the goldfield clearly marked out by hundreds of camp-firesthat were still red and showed bright in the darkened sky. The courseof the river was marked by them, in and out, as most of the shallowdiggings had followed the river flats. Far back the fires glowed againstthe black forest, and just before the moon fell I could catch the shineof the water in the deeper reaches of the river. 

It was the very picture of what I'd read about an army in camp--linesof tents and a crowd of men all spread out over a bit of land hardlybig enough for a flock of sheep. Now and then a dog would bark--nowa revolver would go off. It was never quiet on Turon diggings, day ornight. 

Well, there they all were, tents and diggers, claims and windlasses, pumps and water-wheels. I had been happy enough there, God knows; andperhaps I was looking at it all for the last time. As I turned and madedown the hill into the black forest that spread below me like the sea, I felt as if I was leaving everything that was any good in life behindwith the Turon lights, and being hunted once more, in spite of myself, into a desert of darkness and despair. 

Chapter 31

I got to Bates's paddocks about daylight, and went straight up to thehut where the man lived that looked after it. Most of the diggers thatcared about their horses paid for their grass in farmers' and squatters'paddocks, though the price was pretty high. Old Bates, who had a bitof a good grassed flat, made a pretty fair thing out of it by taking inhorses at half-a-crown a week apiece. As luck would have it, the man incharge knew me; he'd seen me out with the Yankees one day, and saw Iwas a friend with them, and when I said I'd come for Bill's sorrel hethought it likely enough, and got out the saddle and bridle. I tippedhim well, and went off, telling him I was going to Wattle Flat to lookat a quartz-crushing plant that was for sale. I accounted for coming upso early by saying I'd lost my road, and that I wanted to get to WattleFlat sharp, as another chap wished to buy the plant. I cut across therange, kept the sun on my right hand, and pushed on for Jonathan's. Igot there early, and it's well I did. I rode the sorrel hard, but I knewhe was pretty tough, and I was able to pay for him if I killed him. Itrusted to leaving him at Jonathan's, and getting a fresh horse there. What with the walk over the bluff and the forest, having no sleep thenight before, and the bother and trouble of it all, I was pretty wellused up. I was real glad to see Jonathan's paddock fence and the oldhouse we'd thought so little of lately. It's wonderful how soon peoplerise grand notions and begin to get too big for their boots. 

'Hello, Dick, what's up?' says Jonathan. 'No swag, 'lastic-side boots, flyaway tie, new rifle, old horse; looks a bit fishy don't it?'

'I can't stop barneying, ' I said. 'Have you a decent horse to giveme? The game's up. I must ride night and day till I get home. Heardanything?'

'No; but Billy the Boy's just rode up. I hear him a-talkin' to the gals. He knows if anybody does. I'll take the old moke and put him in thepaddock. I can let you have a stunner. '

'All right; I'll go in and have some breakfast. It's as much as I darestop at all now. '

'Why, Dick Marston, is that you? No, it can't be, ' said both girlstogether. 'Why, you look like a ghost. He doesn't; he looks as if he'dbeen at a ball all night. Plenty of partners, Dick?'

'Never mind, Dick, ' says Maddie; 'go and make yourself comfortable inthat room, and I'll have breakfast for you while you'd let a cow out ofthe bail. We don't forget our friends. '

'If all our friends were as true as you, Maddie, ' I said, ratherdown-like, 'I shouldn't be here to-day. '

'Oh! that's it, is it?' says she; 'we're only indebted to somebody'slaying the traps on--a woman of course--for your honour's company. Nevermind, old man, I won't hit you when you're down. But, I say, you go andhave a yarn with Billy the Boy--he's in the kitchen. I believe the youngimp knows something, but he won't let on to Bell and I. '

While the steaks were frying--and they smelt very good, bad as I felt--Icalled out Master Billy and had a talk with him. I handed him a note tobegin with. It was money well spent, and, you mark my words, ashilling spent in grog often buys a man twenty times the worth of it ininformation, let alone a pound. 

Billy had grown a squarish-set, middle-sized chap; his hair wasn'tso long, and his clothes were better; his eye was as bright andbold-looking. As he stood tapping one of his boots with his whip, helooked for all the world like a bull-terrier. 

'My colonial oath, Dick, you're quite the gentleman--free with yourmoney just the same as ever. You takes after the old governor; he alwayspaid well if you told him the truth. I remember him giving me a hidin'when I was a kiddy for saying something I wasn't sure of. My word! I wasthat sore for a week after I couldn't button my shirt. But ain't it apity about Jim?'

'Oh, that's it. What about Jim?'

'Why, the p'leece grabbed him, of course. You fellers don't think you'regoing on for ever and ever, keepin' the country in a state of terrorism, as the papers say. No, Dick, it's wrong and wicked and sinful. You'llhave to knock under and give us young uns a chance. '

Here the impudent young rascal looked in my face as bold as brass andburst out laughing. He certainly was the cheekiest young scoundrel Iever came across. But in his own line you couldn't lick him. 

'Jim's took, ' he said, and he looked curiously over at me. 'I seen thep'leece a-takin' him across the country to Bargo early this morning. There was poor old Jim a-lookin' as if he was goin' to be hanged, with achap leading the screw he was on, and Jim's long legs tied underneath. Iwas gatherin' cattle, I was. I drew some up just for a stall, and had agood look. '

'How many men were with him?'

'Only two; and they're to pass through Bargo Brush about sundownto-night, or a bit earlier. I asked one of the men the road; said I'dlost myself, and would be late home. Ha! ha! ha!'

And how the young villain laughed till the tears came into his eyes, while he danced about like a blackfellow. 

'See here, Billy, ' I said, 'here's another pound for you, and there'llbe a fiver after if you stick well to me to-day. I won't let Jim bewalked off to Berrima without a flutter to save him. It'll be the deathof him. He's not like me, and he's got a young wife besides. '

'More fool he, Dick. What does a cross cove want with a wife? He can'tnever expect to do any good with a wife follerin' of him about. I'magin marrying, leastways as long as a chap's sound on his pins. But I'llstick to you, Dick, and, what's more, I can take you a short cut to thebrush, and we can wait in a gully and see the traps come up. You havea snack and lie down for a bit. I seen you were done when you came up. I'll have the horses ready saddled up. '

'How about the police? Suppose they come this way. '

'Not they. They split and took across towards the Mountain Hut, whereyou all camped with the horses. I didn't see 'em; but I cut theirtracks. Five shod horses. They might be here to-morrow. '

A bush telegraph ain't a bad thing. They're not all as good as Billy theBoy. But the worst of 'em, like a bad sheep dog, is a deal better thannone. 

A bush telegraph, you see, is mostly worked about the neighbourhood hewas born in. He's not much good anywhere else. He's like a blackfellowoutside of his own 'tauri'. He's at sea. But within twenty or thirtymiles of where he was born and bred he knows every track, every range, every hill, every creek, as well as all the short cuts and by-roads. Hecan bring you miles shorter than any one that only follows the road. Hecan mostly track like a blackfellow, and tell you whether the cattle orhorses which he sees the tracks of are belonging to his country or arestrangers. He can get you a fresh horse on a pinch, night or day, forhe knows everybody's paddocks and yards, as well as the number, looks, pace, and pluck of everybody's riding horses--of many of which he has'taken a turn' out of--that is, ridden them hard and far, and returnedthem during the night. Of course he can be fined--even imprisoned forthis--when he is caught in the act. Herein lies the difficulty. I feltlike another man after a wash, a nip, and a real good meal, with the twogirls sitting close by, and chattering away as usual. 

'Do you know, ' says Bella, 'it half serves you right. Not that that PortPhillip woman was right to peach. She ought to have had her tongue tornout first, let alone go open-mouthed at it. But mightn't you have comedown here from the Turon on Sundays and holidays now and then, and had ayarn with us all?'

'Of course we ought, and we deserve to be kicked--the lot of us; butthere were good reasons why we didn't like to. We were regularly boxedup with the diggers, nobody knew who we were, or where we came from, andonly for this Jezebel never would have known. If we'd come here they'dhave all dropped that we were old friends, and then they'd have knownall about us. '

'Well, I'm glad you've lost your characters, ' says Maddie. 'You won'thave to be so particular now, and you can come as often as Sir Ferdinandwill let you. Good-bye. Billy's waving his hat. '

It wasn't long before I was in the saddle and off again. I'd made abit of a bargain with Jonathan, who sold me a pair of riding boots, butcher's, and a big tweed poncho. The boots were easier to take a longrough ride in than trousers, and I wanted the poncho to keep the Ballardrifle under. It wouldn't do to have it in your hand all the time. 

As we rode along I settled upon the way I'd try and set poor Jim free. Bad off as I was myself I couldn't bear to see him chained up, andknew that he was going for years and years to a place more wicked andmiserable than he'd ever heard of. 

After riding twenty miles the sun was getting low, when Billy pointed toa trail which came broad ways across the road, and which then followedit. 

'Here they are--p'leece, and no mistake. Here's their horses' tracksright enough. Here's the prisoner's horse, see how he stumbled? and thisroad they're bound to go till they cross the Stony point, and get intoBargo Brush, near a creek. '

We had plenty of time by crossing a range and running a blind creek downto be near the place where the troopers must pass as they crossed themain creek. We tied up the horses a hundred yards' distance behind usin the forest, and I made ready to rescue Jim, if it could be managedanyhow. 

How was it to be done? I could depend on the rifle carrying true atshort ranges; but I didn't like the notion of firing at a man behind hisback, like. I hardly knew what to do, when all of a sudden two policemenshowed up at the end of the track nearest the creek. 

One man was a bit in front--riding a fine horse, too. The next one had aled horse, on which rode poor old Jim, looking as if he was going to behanged that day, as Billy said, though I knew well he wasn't thinkingabout himself. I don't believe Jim ever looked miserable for so longsince he was born. Whatever happened to him before he'd have a cry ora fight, and it would be over. But now his poor old face looked thatwretched and miserable, as if he'd never smile again as long as helived. He didn't seem to care where they took him; and when the oldhorse stumbled and close upon fell down he didn't take notice. 

When I saw that, my mind was made up. I couldn't let them take him awayto his death. I could see he wouldn't live a month. He'd go frettinghis life about Jeanie, and after the free life he'd always led he'd fallsick like the blacks when they're shut up, and die without any reasonbut because a wild bird won't live in a cage. 

So I took aim and waited till they were just crossing the creek into theforest. The leading man was just riding up the bank, and the one thatled Jim's horse was on the bit of a sand bed that the water had broughtdown. He was the least bit ahead of Jim, when I pulled trigger, and senta ball into him, just under the collar-bone. I fired high on purpose. He drops off his saddle like a dead man. The next minute Billy the Boyraises the most awful corroboree of screams and howls, enough for awhole gang of bush-rangers, if they went in for that sort of thing. Heemptied four chambers of his revolver at the leading trooper right away, and I fired at his horse. The constable never doubted--the attack was sosudden and savage like--but there was a party of men hid in the brush. Billy's shots had whistled round him, and mine had nearly dropped hishorse, so he thought it no shame to make a bolt and leave his mate, asseemed very bad hit, in our hands. 

His horse's hand-gallop growed fainter and fainter in the distance, and then we unbound poor Jim, set his feet at liberty, and managed todispose of the handcuffs. Jim's face began to look more cheerful, buthe was down in the mouth again when he saw the wounded man. He began atonce to do all he could for him. We stopped a short distance behind thebrush, which had already helped us well. 

Jim propped up the poor chap, whose life-blood was flowing red throughthe bullet-hole, and made him as comfortable as he could. 'I must takeyour horse, mate, ' he says; 'but you know it's only the fortune of war. A man must look after himself. Some one'll come along the road soon. 'He mounted the trooper's horse, and we slipped through the trees--itwas getting dark now--till we came to our horses. Then we all rode offtogether. We took Billy the Boy with us until he put us on to a roadthat led us into the country that we knew. We could make our own wayfrom there, and so we sent off our scout, telling him to ride to thenearest township and say he'd seen a trooper lying badly wounded by theBargo Brush roadside. The sooner he was seen to, the better chance he'dhave. 

Jim brightened up considerably after this. He told me how he'd goneback to say good-bye to Jeanie--how the poor girl went into fits, andhe couldn't leave her. By the time she got better the cottage wassurrounded by police; there was no use being shot down without a chance, so he gave himself up. 

'My word, Dick, ' he said, 'I wished for a bare-backed horse, and a deepgully, then; but it wasn't to be. There was no horse handy, and I'd onlyhave been carried into my own place a dead man and frightened the lifeout of poor Jeanie as well. '

'You're worth a dozen dead men yet, Jim, ' I said. 'Keep up your pecker, old man. We'll get across to the Hollow some time within the nexttwenty-four hours, and there we'll be safe anyhow. They can't touchJeanie, you know; and you're not short of what cash she'll want to keepher till this blows over a bit. '

'And what am I to do all the time?' he says so pitiful like. 'We're thatfond of one another, Dick, that I couldn't hardly bear her out of mysight, and now I'll be months and months and months without a lookat her pretty face, where I've never seen anything yet but love andkindness. Too good for me she always was; and what have I brought herto? My God! Dick, I wish you'd shot me instead of the constable, poordevil!'

'Well, you wasn't very far apart, ' I says, chaffing like. 'If that oldhorse they put you on had bobbed forward level with him you'd have gotplugged instead. But it's no use giving in, Jim. We must stand up to ourfight now, or throw up the sponge. There's no two ways about it. '

We rattled on then without speaking, and never cried crack till we gotto Nulla Mountain, where we knew we were pretty safe not to be followedup. We took it easier then, and stopped to eat a bit of bread and meatthe girls had put up for me at Jonathan's. I'd never thought of itbefore. When I took the parcel out of the pocket of my poncho I thoughtit felt deuced heavy, and there, sure enough, was one of those shillingflasks of brandy they sell for chaps to go on the road with. 

Brandy ain't a good thing at all times and seasons, and I've seen morethan one man, or a dozen either, that might just as well have sawedaway at their throats with a blunt knife as put the first glass to theirlips. But we was both hungry, thirsty, tired, miserable, and pretty welldone and beaten, though we hadn't had time to think about it. That dropof brandy seemed as if it had saved our lives. I never forgot it, norpoor Maddie Barnes for thinking of it for me. And I did live to do hera good turn back--much as there's been said again me, and true enough, too. 

It was a long way into the night, and not far from daylight either, whenwe stumbled up to the cave--dead beat, horses and men both. We'd twominds to camp on the mountain, but we might have been followed up, hardas we'd ridden, and we didn't like to throw a chance away. We didn'twant the old man to laugh at us, and we didn't want to do any more timein Berrima--not now, anyhow. We'd been living too gay and free a life tobegin with the jug all over again. 

So we thought we'd make one job of it, and get right through, if we hadto sleep for a week after it. It would be slow enough, but anything wasbetter than what we'd gone through lately. 

After we'd got down the mountain and on the flat land of the valleyit rested our feet a bit, that was pretty nigh cut to pieces with therocks. Our horses were that done we dursn't ride 'em for hours before. As we came close, out walks old Crib, and smells at us. He knew us ina minute, and jumped up and began to try and lick Jim's hand: the oldstory. He just gave one sort of sniff at me, as much as to say, 'Oh!it's you, is it?' Then he actually gave a kind of half-bark. I don'tbelieve he'd barked for years, such a queer noise it was. Anyhow, itwoke up dad, and he came out pretty sharp with a revolver in his hand. As soon as he saw the old dog walking alongside of us he knew it wasright, and begins to feel for his pipe. First thing father always did assoon as any work or fighting or talking was over was to get out his pipeand light it. He didn't seem the same man without it. 

'So you've found your way back again, have ye?' he says. 'Why, I thoughtyou was all on your way to Californy by this time. Ain't this Christmasweek? Why, I was expecting to come over to Ameriky myself one of thesedays, when all the derry was over---- Why, what's up with the boy?'

Jim was standing by, sayin' nothing, while I was taking off the saddlesand bridles and letting the horses go, when all of a sudden he gives alurch forward, and if the old man hadn't laid hold of him in his strongarms and propped him up he'd have gone down face foremost like a girl ina dead faint. 

'What's up with him, Dick?' says father, rather quick, almost as if hewas fond of him, and had some natural feeling--sometimes I raly think hehad--'been any shooting?'

'Yes; not at him, though. Tell you all about it in the morning. He'seaten nothing, and we've been travelling best part of twenty-four hoursright off the reel. '

'Hold him up while I fetch out the pannikin. There's plenty of grubinside. He'll be all right after a sleep. '

A drop of rum and water brought him to, and after that we made ourselvesa cup of tea and turned in. The sun was pretty high when I woke. WhenI looked out there was the old man sitting on the log by the fire, smoking. What was a deal more curious, I saw the half-caste, Warrigal, coming up from the flat, leading a horse and carrying a pair of hobbles. Something made me look over to a particular corner where Starlightalways slept when he was at the Hollow. Sure enough there was the figureof a man rolled up in a cloak. I knew by the way his boots and thingswere thrown about that it could be no other than Starlight. 

Chapter 32

I'd settled in my mind that it couldn't be any one else, when he sat up, yawned, and looked round as if he had not been away from the old place aweek. 

'Ha! Richard, here we are again! "Feeds the boar in the old frank?" Thegovernor told me you and Jim had made back. Dreadful bore, isn't it?Just when we'd all rubbed off the rust of our bush life and were gettingcivilised. I feel very seriously ill-treated, I assure you. I have agreat mind to apply to the Government for compensation. That's the worstof these new inspectors, they are so infernally zealous. '

'You were too many for them, it seems. I half thought you might havebeen nailed. How the deuce did you get the office in time?'

'The faithful Warrigal, as usual, gave me timely warning, and brought ahorse, of course. He will appear on the Judgment Day leading Rainbow, I firmly believe. Why he should be so confoundedly anxious about mywelfare I can't make out--I can't, really. It's his peculiar form ofmania, I suppose. We all suffer from some madness or other. '

'How the blazes did he know the police were laid on to the lot of us?' Isaid. 

'I didn't know myself that your Kate had come the double on you. I mighthave known she would, though. Well, it seems Warrigal took it into hissemi-barbaric head to ride into Turon and loaf about, partly to see me, and partly about another matter that your father laid him on about. Hewas standing about near the Prospectors' Arms, late on Friday night, doing nothing and seeing everything, as usual, when he noticed Mrs. Mullockson run out of the house like a Bedlamite. "My word, that missisbig one coolah!" was his expression, and made straight for the camp. NowWarrigal had seen you come out just before. He doesn't like you and Jimover much--bad taste, I tell him, on his part--but I suppose he looksupon you as belonging to the family. So he stalked the fair and furiousKate. '

'That was how it was, then?'

'Yes, much in that way. I must say, Dick, that if you are so extremelyfond of--well--studying the female character, you should carry on thepursuit more discreetly. Just see what this miscalculation has cost yourfriends!'

'Confound her! She's a heartless wretch, and I hope she'll die in aditch. '

'Exactly. Well, she knocked, and a constable opened the outer door. 

'"I want to see Sir Ferdinand, " she says. 

'"He's in bed and can't be disturbed, " says the bobby. "Any message Ican deliver?"

'"I have important information, " says she. "Rouse him up, or you'll besorry for it. "

'"Won't it do to-morrow morning?" says he. 

'"No, it won't, " says she, stamping her foot. "Do what I tell you, anddon't stand there like a fool. "

'She waited a bit. Then, Warrigal says, out came Sir Ferdinand, verypolite. "What can I do for you, " says he, "Mrs. Mullockson?"

'"Should you like to know where the Marstons are, Sir Ferdinand, " saysshe, "Dick and Jim?"

'"Know? Would I not?" says he. "No end of warrants out for them; sincethat Ballabri Bank robbery they seem to have disappeared under ground. And that fellow Starlight, too! Most remarkable man of his day. I'd givemy eyes to put the bracelets upon him. "

'She whispered something into his ear. 

'"Guard, turn out, " he roars out first; then, dropping his voice, saysout, "My dear Mrs. Mullockson" (you should hear Warrigal imitate him), "you have made my fortune--officially, I mean, of course. I shall neverforget your kindness. Thanks, a thousand times. "

'"Don't thank me, " she says, and she burst out crying, and goes slowlyback to the hotel. 

'Warrigal had heard quite enough. He rips over to Daly's mob, borrows ahorse, saddle, and bridle, and leads him straight down to our camp. Heroused me up about one o'clock, and I could hardly make any explanationto my mates. Such stunning good fellows they were, too! I wonder whetherI shall ever associate with gentlemen again? The chances are against it. 

'I had all kinds of trouble to tell them I was going away with Warrigal, and yet not to tell too much. 

'"What the dickens, " says Clifford, "can you want, going away with thisfamiliar of yours at this hour of the night? You're like the fellowin Scott's novel ('Anne of Geierstein') that I was reading over againyesterday--the mysterious stranger that's called for at midnight by theAvenger of Blood, departs with him and is never seen more. "

'"In case you never see me afterwards, " I said, "we'd better saygood-bye. We've been good mates and true friends, haven't we?"

'"Never better, " he said. "I don't know what we shall do without you. But, of course, you're not going very far?"

'"Good-bye, in case, " I said. "Anyhow, I'll write you a line, " and as Ishook hands with them--two regular trumps, if ever there were any in theworld--I had a kind of notion I'd never see them again. Hardly think Ishall, either. Sir Ferdinand surrounded the hut about an hour later, andmade them come out one by one--both of them and the wages man. I daresaythey were surprised. 

'"Where's the fourth man, Clifford?" says Sir Ferdinand. "Just ask himto come out, will you?"

'"What, Frank Haughton?" says he. 

'I heard most of this from that young devil, Billy the Boy. He saw SirFerdinand ride up, so he hid close by, just for the fun of hearing howhe got on. He'd seen Warrigal and me ride away. 

'"Frank Devil!" bangs out Sir Ferdinand, who'd begun to get his monkeyup. "How should I know his infernal purser's name? No man, it seemsto me, has his right name on this confounded goldfield. I meanStarlight--Starlight the cattle stealer, the mail robber, thebush-ranger, whose name is notorious over the three colonies, and NewZealand to boot--your intimate friend and partner for the last ninemonths!"

'"You perfectly amaze me, " says Clifford. "But can't you be mistaken? Isyour information to be depended upon?"

'"Mine came from a jealous woman, " says Sir Ferdinand. "They maygenerally be depended upon for a straight tip. But we're losing time. When did he leave the claim, and which way did he go?"

'"I have no idea which way he went, " says Clifford. "He did not say, buthe left about an hour since. "

'"On foot or on horseback?"

'"On horseback. "

'"Any one with him?"

'"Yes, another horseman. "

'"What was he like?"

'"Slight, dark man, youngish, good-looking. "

'"Warrigal the half-caste! By George! warrants out for him also, " saysSir Ferdinand. "On a good horse, of course, with an hour's start. We maygive up the idea of catching him this time. Follow him up as a matter ofform. Good-bye, Clifford. You'll hear news of your friend before long, or I'm much mistaken. "

'"Stop, Sir Ferdinand, you must pardon me; but I don't exactlyunderstand your tone. The man that we knew by the name of Frank Haughtonmay be, as you say, an escaped criminal. All I know is that he livedwith us since we came here, and that no fellow could have behaved moretruly like a man and a gentleman. As far as we are concerned, I have amaterial guarantee that he has been scrupulously honest. Do you mean tohint for one moment that we were aware of his previous history, or inany way mixed up with his acts?"

'"If I do, what then?" says Sir Ferdinand, laughing. 

'"The affair is in no way ludicrous, " says Clifford, very stiff anddignified. "I hold myself to have received an insult, and must ask youto refer me to a friend. "

'"Do you know that I could arrest you and Hastings now and lock you upon suspicion of being concerned with him in the Ballabri Bank robbery?"says Sir Ferdinand in a stern voice. "Don't look so indignant. I onlysay I could. I am not going to do so, of course. As to fighting you, my dear fellow, I am perfectly at your service at all times and seasonswhenever I resign my appointment as Inspector of Police for the colonyof New South Wales. The Civil Service regulations do not permit ofduelling at present, and I found it so deuced hard to work up to thebillet that I am not going to imperil my continuance therein. After all, I had no intention of hurting your feelings, and apologise if I did. Asfor that rascal Starlight, he would deceive the very devil himself. "

'And so Sir Ferdinand rode off. '

'How did you come; by Jonathan's?'

'We called nowhere. Warrigal, as usual, made a short cut of his ownacross the bush--scrubs, gullies, mountains, all manner of desert paths. We made the Hollow yesterday afternoon, and went to sleep in a nookknown to us of old. We dropped in to breakfast here at daylight, and Ifelt sleepy enough for another snooze. '

'We're all here again, it seems, ' I said, sour enough. 'I suppose we'llhave to go on the old lay; they won't let us alone when we're doing fairwork and behaving ourselves like men. They must take the consequences, d--n them!'

'Ha! very true, ' says Starlight in his dreamy kind of way. 'Most true, Richard. Society should make a truce occasionally, or proclaim anamnesty with offenders of our stamp. It would pay better than drivingus to desperation. How is Jim? He's worse off than either of us, poorfellow. '

'Jim's very bad. He can't get over being away from Jeanie. I never sawhim so down in the mouth this years. '

'Poor old Jim, he's a deal too good for the place. Sad mistake thisgetting married. People should either keep straight or have no relativesto bear the brunt of their villainies. "But, soft, " as they say in theplay, "where am I?" I thought I was a virtuous miner again. Here we areat this devil-discovered, demon-haunted old Hollow again--first cousinto the pit of Acheron. There's no help for it, Dick. We must play ourparts gallantly, as demons of this lower world, or get hissed off thestage. '

 . . . . . 

We didn't do much for a few days, you may be sure. There was nothing todo, for one thing; and we hadn't made up our mind what our line was tobe. One thing was certain: there would be more row made about us thanever. We should have all the police in the country worried and barkedat by the press, the people, the Government, and their superior officerstill they got something to show about us. Living at the diggings underthe nose of the police, without their having the least suspicion whowe were, was bad enough; but the rescue of Jim and the shooting of apoliceman in charge of him was more serious--the worst thing that hadhappened yet. 

There would be the devil to pay if they couldn't find a track of us. Nodoubt money would be spent like water in bribing any one who might giveinformation about us. Every one would be tried that we had ever beenknown to be friendly with. A special body of men could be told off tomake a dart to any spot they might get wind of near where we had beenlast seen. 

We had long talks and barneys over the whole thing--sometimes byourselves with Starlight, sometimes with father. A long time it wasbefore we settled upon any regular put-up bit of work to do. 

Sooner or later we began to see the secret of the Hollow would befound out. There was no great chance in the old times with only a fewshepherds and stock-riders wandering through the bush, once in a waystraggling over the country. But now the whole colony swarmed withminers, who were always prospecting, as they called it--that is, lookingout for fresh patches of gold. Now, small parties of these men--bold, hardy, experienced chaps--would take a pick and shovel, a bucket, anda tin dish, with a few weeks' rations, and scour the whole countryside. They would try every creek, gully, hillside, and river bed. If theyfound the colour of gold, the least trace of it in a dish of wash-dirt, they would at once settle down themselves. If it went rich the newswould soon spread, and a thousand men might be gathered in one spot--thebank of a small creek, the side of a steep range--within a fortnight, with ten thousand more sure to follow within a month. 

That might happen at any time on one of the spurs of Nulla Mountain;and the finding out of the track down to the Hollow by some one of thedozens of rambling, shooting, fishing diggers would be as certain tohappen as the sun to rise. 

Well, the country had changed, and we were bound to change with it. We couldn't stop boxed up in the Hollow day after day, and month aftermonth, shooting and horse-breaking, doing nothing and earning nothing. 

If we went outside there were ten times more men looking out for us thanever, ten times more chance of our being tracked or run down than ever. That we knew from the newspapers. How did we see them? Oh, the old way. We sent out our scout, Warrigal, and he got our letters and papers too, from a 'sure hand', as Starlight said the old people in the English warsused to say. 

The papers were something to see. First he brought us in a handbill thatwas posted in Bargo, like this:--

 FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS REWARD. 

The above reward will be paid to any one giving information as to thewhereabouts of Richard Marston, James Marston, and a man whose nameis unknown, but who can be identified chiefly by the appellation ofStarlight. 

'Pleasing way of drawing attention to a gentleman's private residence, 'says Starlight, smiling first and looking rather grim afterwards. 'Nevermind, boys, they'll increase that reward yet, by Jove! It will have tobe a thousand a piece if they don't look a little sharper. '

We laughed, and dad growled out--

'Don't seem to have the pluck, any on ye, to tackle a big touch again. Iexpect they'll send a summons for us next, and get old Bill Barkis, thebailiff at Bargo, to serve it. '

'Come, come, governor, ' says Starlight, 'none of that. We've got quiteenough devil in us yet, without your stirring him up. You must give ustime, you know. Let's see what this paper says. "Turon Star"! What agodsend to it!

 'BUSH-RANGERS!

 'STARLIGHT AND THE MARSTONS AGAIN. 

'The announcement will strike our readers, if not with the mostprofound astonishment, certainly with considerable surprise, that thesecelebrated desperadoes, for whose apprehension such large sums havebeen offered, for whom the police in all the colonies have made suchunremitting search, should have been discovered in our midst. Yetsuch is the case. On this very morning, from information received, ourrespected and efficient Inspector of Police, Sir Ferdinand Morringer, proceeded soon after midnight to the camp of Messrs. Clifford andHastings. He had every reason to believe that he would have had nodifficulty in arresting the famous Starlight, who, under the cognomenof the Honourable Frank Haughton, has been for months a partner in thisclaim. The shareholders were popularly known as "the three Honourables", it being rumoured that both Mr. Clifford and Mr. Hastings were entitledto that prefix, if not to a more exalted one. 

'With characteristic celerity, however, the famous outlaw had shortlybefore quitted the place, having received warning and been provided witha fast horse by his singular retainer, Warrigal, a half-caste nativeof the colony, who is said to be devotedly attached to him, and who hasbeen seen from time to time on the Turon. 

'Of the Marston brothers, the elder one, Richard, would seem to havebeen similarly apprised, but James Marston was arrested in his cottagein Specimen Gully. Having been lately married, he was apparentlyunwilling to leave his home, and lingered too long for prudence. 

'While rejoicing, as must all good citizens, at the discovery ofevil-doers and the capture of one member of a band of notoriouscriminals, we must state in fairness and candour that their conduct hasbeen, while on the field as miners, free from reproach in every way. ForJames Marston, who was married but a short while since to a Melbourneyoung lady of high personal attractions and the most winning amiability, great sympathy has been expressed by all classes. 

So much for the "Star". Everybody is sorry for you, old man, ' he says toJim. 'I shouldn't wonder if they'd make you a beak if you'd stayed therelong enough. I'm afraid Dick's dropping the policeman won't add to ourpopularity, though. '

'He's all right, ' I said. 'Hurrah! look here. I'm glad I didn't finishthe poor beggar. Listen to this, from the "Turon Banner":--

 'BUSH-RANGING REVIVED. 

'The good old days have apparently not passed away for ever, when mailrobberies and hand-to-hand conflicts with armed robbers were mattersof weekly occurrence. The comparative lull observable in such excitingoccurrences of late has been proved to be but the ominous hush of theelements that precedes the tempest. Within the last few days the miningcommunity has been startled by the discovery of the notorious gang ofbush-rangers, Starlight and the Marstons, domiciled in the very heartof the diggings, attired as ordinary miners, and--for their own purposespossibly--leading the laborious lives proper to the avocation. They havebeen fairly successful, and as miners, it is said, have shown themselvesto be manly and fair-dealing men. We are not among those who care tojudge their fellow-men harshly. It may be that they had resolved toforsake the criminal practices which had rendered them so unhappilycelebrated. James Marston had recently married a young person of mostrespectable family and prepossessing appearance. As far as may beinferred from this step and his subsequent conduct, he had cut loosefrom his former habitudes. He, with his brother, Richard Marston, workedan adjoining claim to the Arizona Sluicing Company, with the respectedshareholders of which they were on terms of intimacy. The well-knownStarlight, as Mr. Frank Haughton, became partner and tent-mate with theHon. Mr. Clifford and Mr. Hastings, an aristocratic society in which themanners and bearing of this extraordinary man permitted him to minglewithout suspicion of detection. 

'Suddenly information was furnished to the police respecting all threemen. We are not at present aware of the source from which the cluewas obtained. Suffice it to say that Sir Ferdinand Morringer promptlyarranged for the simultaneous action of three parties of police withthe hope of capturing all three outlaws. But in two cases the birds wereflown. Starlight's "ame damnee", a half-caste named Warrigal, had beenobserved on the field the day before. By him he was doubtless furnishedwith a warning, and the horse upon which he left his abode shortlybefore the arrival of Sir Ferdinand. The elder Marston had also eludedthe police. But James Marston, hindered possibly by domestic ties, wascaptured at his cottage at Specimen Gully. For him sympathy has beenuniversally expressed. He is regarded rather as a victim than as anactive agent in the many criminal offences chargeable to the account ofStarlight's gang. 

'Since writing the above we have been informed that trooper Walsh, whowith another constable was escorting James Marston to Bargo Gaol, hasbeen brought in badly wounded. The other trooper reports that he wasshot down and the party attacked by persons concealed in the thicktimber near Wild Horse Creek, at the edge of Bargo Brush. In theconfusion that ensued the prisoner escaped. It was at first thought thatWalsh was fatally injured, but our latest report gives good hope of hisrecovery. 

'We shall be agreeably surprised if this be the end and not thecommencement of a series of darker tragedies. '

Chapter 33

A month's loafing in the Hollow. Nothing doing and nothing to think ofexcept what was miserable enough, God knows. Then things began to shapethemselves, in a manner of speaking. We didn't talk much together; buteach man could see plain enough what the others was thinking of. Dadgrowled out a word now and then, and Warrigal would look at us from timeto time with a flash in his hawk's eyes that we'd seen once or twicebefore and knew the meaning of. As for Jim, we were bound to dosomething or other, if it was only to keep him from going melancholymad. I never seen any man changed more from what he used to be thanJim did. He that was the most careless, happy-go-lucky chap that everstepped, always in a good temper and full of his larks. At the end ofthe hottest day in summer on the plains, with no water handy, or themiddle of the coldest winter night in an ironbark forest, and we sittingon our horses waiting for daylight, with the rain pouring down ourbacks, not game to light a fire, and our hands that cold we could hardlyhold the reins, it was all one to Jim. Always jolly, always ready tomake little of it all. Always ready to laugh or chaff or go on withmonkey tricks like a boy. Now it was all the other way with him. He'dsit grizzling and smoking by himself all day long. No getting a word outof him. The only time he seemed to brighten up was once when he got aletter from Jeanie. He took it away into the bush and stayed hours andhours. 

From never thinking about anything or caring what came uppermost, heseemed to have changed all on the other tack and do nothing but think. I'd seen a chap in Berrima something like him for a month or two; oneday he manned the barber's razor and cut his throat. I began to beafraid Jim would go off his head and blow his brains out with his ownrevolver. Starlight himself got to be cranky and restless-like too. Onenight he broke out as we were standing smoking under a tree, a mile orso from the cave--

'By all the devils, Dick, I can't stand this sort of thing much longer. We shall go mad or drink ourselves to death'--(we'd all been pretty well'on' the night before)--'if we stick here till we're trapped or smokedout like a 'guana out of a tree spout. We must make a rise somehow, and try for blue water again. I've been fighting against the notion thewhole time we've been here, but the devil and your old dad (who's a nearrelative, I believe) have been too strong for us. Of course, you knowwhat it's bound to be?'

'I suppose so. I know when dad was away last week he saw that beggar andsome of his mates. They partly made it up awhile back, but didn't fancydoing it altogether by themselves. They've been waiting on the chance ofour standing in and your taking command. '

'Of course, the old story, ' he says, throwing his cigar away, and givinga half laugh--such a laugh it was, too. 'Captain Starlight again, Isuppose. The paltry vanity of leadership, and of being in the front ofmy fellow-men, has been the ruin of me ever since I could recollect. Ifmy people had let me go into the army, as I begged and prayed of them todo, it might have been all the other way. I recollect that day and hourwhen my old governor refused my boyish petition, laughed at me--sneeredat me. I took the wrong road then. I swear to you, Dick, I neverhad thought of evil till that cursed day which made me reckless andindifferent to everything. And this is the end--a wasted life, a felon'sdoom! Quite melodramatic, isn't it, Richard? Well, we'll play out thelast act with spirit. "Enter first robber, " and so on. Good-night. '

He walked away. I never heard him say so much about himself before. It set me thinking of what luck and chance there seemed to be in thisworld. How men were not let do what they knew was best for 'em--oftenand often--but something seemed to drive 'em farther and farther alongthe wrong road, like a lot of stray wild cattle that wants to make backto their own run, and a dog here, a fence the other way. A man on footor a flock of sheep always keeps frightening 'em farther and fartherfrom the old beat till they get back into a bit of back country ormallee scrub and stop there for good. Cattle and horses and men andwomen are awful like one another in their ways, and the more you watch'em the more it strikes you. 

Another day or two idling and card-playing, another headache after toomuch grog at night, brought us to a regular go in about business, andthen we fixed it for good. 

We were to stick up the next monthly gold escort. That was all. We knewit would be a heavy one and trusted to our luck to get clear offwith the gold, and then take a ship for Honolulu or San Francisco. Adesperate chance; but we were desperate men. We had tried to work hardand honest. We had done so for best part of a year. No one could say wehad taken the value of a halfpenny from any man. And yet we were not letstay right when we asked for nothing but to be let alone and live outthe rest of our lives like men. 

They wouldn't have us that way, and now they must take us across thegrain, and see what they would gain by that. So it happened we went outone day with Warrigal to show us the way, and after riding for hours andhours, we came to a thick scrub. We rode through it till we came to anold cattle track. We followed that till we came to a tumble-down slabhut with a stockyard beside it. The yard had been mended, and the railswere up. Seven or eight horses were inside, all in good condition. Asmany men were sitting or standing about smoking outside the old hut. 

When we rode up they all came forward and we had it out. We knew who wascoming, and were ready for 'em. There was Moran, of course, quiet andsavage-looking, just as like a black snake as ever twisting about withhis deadly glittering eyes, wanting to bite some one. There was Dalyand Burke, Wall and Hulbert, and two or three more--I won't say whothey were now--and if you please who should come out of the hut last butMaster Billy the Boy, as impudent as you like, with a pipe in his mouth, and a revolver in his belt, trying to copy Moran and Daly. I felt sorrywhen I see him, and thought what he'd gradually come to bit by bit, andwhere he'd most likely end, all along of the first money he had fromfather for telegraphing. But after all I've a notion that men and womengrow up as they are intended to from the beginning. All the same as atree from seed. You may twist it this road or that, make it a bit biggeror smaller according to the soil or the way it's pruned and cut downwhen it's young, but you won't alter the nature of that tree or thefruit that it bears. You won't turn a five-corner into a quince, or ageebung into an orange, twist and twine, and dig and water as you like. So whichever way Billy the Boy had been broken and named he'd havebolted and run off the course. Take a pet dingo now. He might look verytame, and follow them that feed him, and stand the chain; but as soonas anything passed close that he could kill, he'd have his teeth intoit and be lapping its blood before you could say knife, and the older hegot the worse he'd be. 

'Well, Dick, ' says this young limb of Satan, 'so you've took to theQueen's highway agin, as the chap says in the play. I thought you andJim was a-going to jine the Methodies or the Sons of Temperance atTuron, you both got to look so thunderin' square on it. Poor old Jimlooks dreadful down in the mouth, don't he, though?'

'It would be all the better for you if you'd joined some other body, youyoung scamp, ' I said. 'Who told you to come here? I've half a mind tobelt you home again to your mother;' and I walked towards him. 

'No, you won't, Dick Marston, don't you make any mistake, ' says theyoung bull-pup, looking nasty. 'I'm as good a man as you, with thislittle tool. ' Here he pulled out his revolver. 'I've as much right toturn out as you have. What odds is it to you what I do?'

I looked rather foolish at this, and Moran and Burke began to laugh. 

'You'd better set up a night-school, Dick, ' says Burke, 'and get Billyand some of the other flash kiddies to come. They might turn over a newleaf in time. '

'If you'll stand up, or Moran there, that's grinning behind you, I'llmake some of ye laugh on the wrong side, ' I said. 

'Come on, ' drawls Moran, taking off his coat, and walking up; 'I'd liketo have a smack at you before you go into the Church. '

We should have been at it hammer and tongs--we both hated one anotherlike poison--only the others interfered, and Billy said we ought to beashamed of ourselves for quarrelling like schoolboys. We were nice sortof chaps to stick up a gold escort. That made a laugh, and we knockedoff. 

Well, it looked as if no one wanted to speak. Then Hulbert, a very quietchap, says, 'I believe Ben Marston's the oldest man here; let's hearwhat he's got to say. '

Father gets up at once, and looks steady at the rest of 'em, takes hispipe out of his mouth, and shakes the baccy out. Then he says--

'All on ye knows without my telling what we've come here about, and whatthere's hangin' to it. It's good enough if it's done to rights; but makeno mistake, boys, it's a battle as must be fought game, and right backto the ropes, or not at all. If there's a bird here that won't stand thesteel he'd better be put in a bag and took home again. '

'Never mind about the steel, daddy, ' says one of the new men. 'We're allgood for a flutter when the wager's good. What'll it be worth a man, andwhere are we going to divide? We know your mob's got some crib up in themountains that no one knows about. We don't want the swag took there andplanted. It mightn't be found easy. '

'Did ever a one of ye heer tell o' me actin' crooked?' says father. 'Look here, Bill, I'm not as young as I was, but you stand up to me forthree rounds and I'll take some of the cheek out of yer. '

Bill laughed. 

'No fear, daddy, I'd sooner face Dick or Jim. But I only want what'sfair between man and man. It's a big touch, you know, and we can't takeit to the bank to divide, like diggers, or summons yer either. '

'What's the good of growlin' and snappin'?' says Burke. 'We're all goin'in regular, I suppose, share and share alike?' The men nodded. 'Well, there's only one way to make things shipshape, and that's to have acaptain. We'll pick one of ourselves, and whatever he says we'll bindourselves to do--life or death. Is that it, boys?'

'Yes, yes, that's the only way, ' came from all hands. 

'Now, the next thing to work is who we're to make captain of. There'sone here as we can all depend on, who knows more about road-work thanall the rest of us put together. You know who I mean; but I don't wantye to choose him or any man because I tell you. I propose Starlight forcaptain if he'll take it, and them that don't believe me let 'em find abetter man if they can. '

'I vote for Dan Moran, ' says another man, a youngish farmer-lookingchap. 'He's a bushman, like ourselves, and not a half-bred swell, that'sjust as likely to clear out when we want him most as do anything else. '

'You go back to the Springs and feed them pigs, Johnny, ' says father, walking towards the young chap. 'That's about what YOU'RE bred for;nobody'll take you for a swell, quarter-bred, or anything else. Howsoever, let's draw lots for it. Every man put his fancy down on a bitof paper, and put 'em into my old hat here. '

This was done after a bit, and the end of it was ten votes for Starlightand two or three for Moran, who looked savage and sulkier than ever. 

When this was over Starlight walked over from where he was standing, near me and Jim, and faced the crowd. He drew himself up a bit, andlooked round as haughty as he used to do when he walked up the big roomat the Prospectors' Arms in Turon--as if all the rest of us was dirtunder his feet. 

'Well, my lads, ' he said, 'you've done me the great honour to electme to be your captain. I'm willing to act, or I shouldn't be here. Ifyou're fools enough to risk your lives and liberties for a thousandounces of gold a man, I'm fool enough to show you the way. '

'Hurrah!' said half-a-dozen of them, flinging up their hats. 'We're on, Captain. Starlight for ever! You ride ahead and we'll back up. '

'That will do, ' he says, holding up his hand as if to stop a lot of dogsbarking; 'but listen to me. ' Here he spoke a few words in that othervoice of his that always sounded to me and Jim as if it was a differentman talking, or the devil in his likeness. 'Now mind this before wego: you don't quite know me; you will by and by, perhaps. When I takecommand of this gang, for this bit of work or any other, my word'slaw--do you hear? And if any man disputes it or disobeys my orders, by----, I'll shoot him like a dog. '

As he stood there looking down on the lot of 'em, as if he was theirking, with his eyes burning up at last with that slow fire that layat the bottom of 'em, and only showed out sometimes, I couldn't helpthinking of a pirate crew that I'd read of when I was a boy, and the waythe pirate captain ruled 'em. 

Chapter 34

We were desperate fidgety and anxious till the day came. While we weregetting ready two or three things went wrong, of course. Jim got aletter from Jeanie, all the way from Melbourne, where she'd gone. Itseems she'd got her money from the bank--Jim's share of the gold--allright. She was a saving, careful little woman, and she told him she'denough to keep them both well for four or five years, anyhow. What shewanted him to do was to promise that he'd never be mixed up in any moredishonest work, and to come away down to her at once. 

'It was the easiest thing in the world, ' she said, 'to get away fromMelbourne to England or America. Ships were going every day, and gladto take any man that was strong and willing to work his passage fornothing; they'd pay him besides. '

She'd met one or two friends down there as would do anything to help herand him. If he would only get down to Melbourne all would yet be well;but she begged and prayed him, if he loved her, and for the sake of thelife she hoped to live with him yet, to come away from his companionsand take his own Jeanie's advice, and try and do nothing wrong for thefuture. 

If Jim had got his letter before we made up matters, just at the lasthe'd have chucked up the sponge and cleared out for good and all. He asgood as said so; but he was one of them kind of men that once he'dmade a start never turned back. There'd been some chaff, to make thingsworse, between Moran and Daly and some of the other fellows about beinggame and what not, specially after what father said at the hut, so hewouldn't draw out of it now. 

I could see it fretted him worse than anything since we came back, buthe filled himself up with the idea that we'd be sure to get the goldall right, and clear out different ways to the coast, and then we'd havesomething worth while leaving off with. Another thing, we'd been allused to having what money we wanted lately, and we none of us fanciedliving like poor men again in America or anywhere else. We hadn't hadhardly a scrap from Aileen since we'd come back this last time. Itwasn't much odds. She was regular broken-hearted; you could see it inevery line. 

'She had been foolish enough to hope for better things, ' she said; 'nowshe expected nothing more in this world, and was contented to wearout her miserable life the best way she could. If it wasn't that herreligion told her it was wrong, and that mother depended on her, she'ddrown herself in the creek before the door. She couldn't think why somepeople were brought into this miserable world at all. Our family hadbeen marked out to evil, and the same fate would follow us to the end. She was sorry for Jim, and believed if he had been let take his own roadthat he would have been happy and prosperous to-day. It was a pity hecould not have got away safely to Melbourne with his wife before thatwicked woman, who deserved to be burnt alive, ruined everything. Evennow we might all escape, the country seemed in so much confusion withall the strangers and bad people' (bad people--well, every one thinkstheir own crow the blackest) 'that the goldfields had brought into it, that it wouldn't be hard to get away in a ship somehow. If nothing elsebad turned up perhaps it might come to pass yet. '

This was the only writing we'd had from poor Aileen. It began all miseryand bitterness, but got a little better at the end. If she and Graceycould have got hold of Kate Morrison there wouldn't have been much leftof her in a quarter of an hour, I could see that. 

Inside was a little bit of paper with one line, 'For my sake, ' thatwas all. I knew the writing; there was no more. I could see what Graceymeant, and wished over and over again that I had the chance of goingstraight, as I'd wished a thousand times before, but it was too late, too late! When the coach is running down hill and the break's off, it'sno use trying to turn. We had all our plan laid out and settled to thesmallest thing. We were to meet near Eugowra Rocks a good hour or twobefore the escort passed, so as to have everything ready. I remember theday as well as if it was yesterday. We were all in great buckle and veryfit, certainly. I don't think I ever felt better in my life. There mustbe something out-and-out spiriting in a real battle when a bit of ascrimmage like this sent our blood boiling through our veins; made usfeel as if we weren't plain Dick and Jim Marston, but regular grandfellows, in a manner of speaking. What fools men are when they'reyoung--and sometimes after that itself--to be sure. 

We started at daylight, and only stopped once on the road for a bitefor ourselves and to water the horses, so that we were in good time. Webrought a little corn with us, just to give the horses something; they'dbe tied up for hours and hours when we got to the place pitched on. Theywere all there before us; they hadn't as good horses by a long chalk aswe had, and two of their packers were poor enough. Jim and I were ridingahead with Starlight a little on the right of us. When the fellows sawRainbow they all came crowding round him as if he'd been a show. 

'By George!' says Burke, 'that's a horse worth calling a horse, Captain. I often heard tell of him, but never set eyes on him before. I've twominds to shake him and leave you my horse and a share of the gold toboot. I never saw his equal in my life, and I've seen some plums too. '

'Honour among--well--bush-rangers, eh, Burke?' says Starlight cheerily. 'He's the right sort, isn't he? We shall want good goers to-night. Arewe all here now? We'd better get to business. '

Yes, they were all there, a lot of well-built, upstanding chaps, youngand strong, and fit to do anything that a man could do in the way ofwork or play. It was a shame to see them there (and us too, for thematter of that), but there was no get away now. There will be foolsand rogues to the end of the world, I expect. Even Moran looked a bitbrighter than he did last time. He was one of those chaps that a bit ofreal danger smartens up. As for Burke, Daly, and Hulbert, they were likea lot of schoolboys, so full of their fun and larks. 

Starlight just spoke a word to them all; he didn't talk much, but lookedhard and stern about the face, as a captain ought to do. He rode up tothe gap and saw where the trees had been cut down to block up the road. It would be hard work getting the coach through there now--for a bit tocome. 

After that our horses and the two packers were left behind with Warrigaland father, close enough for hearing, but well out of the way forseeing; it was behind a thick belt of timber. They tied up some totrees and short-hobbled others, keeping them all so as to be ready at amoment's notice. Our men hid themselves behind rocks and stumps on thehigh side of the road so as they could see well, and had all the shadowon their side. Wall and Hulbert and their lot had their mob of horses, packers, and all planted away, and two young fellows belonging to theircrowd minding them. 

We'd been ready a good bit when a cove comes tearing up full bat. Wewere watching to see how he shaped, and whether he looked likely to layon the police, when I saw it was Billy the Boy. 

'Now I call this something like, ' says he, pulling up short: 'army inreadiness, the enemy not far off. My word, it is a fine thing to turnout, ain't it, Dick? Do you chaps feel shaky at all? Ain't yer galliedthe least little bit? They're a-comin'!'

'How long will they be?' Starlight said. 'Just remember that you're notskylarking at a pound-yard, my boy. '

'All right, Captain, ' he answered, quiet enough. 'I started on ahead themoment I saw 'em leave the camp. They're safe to be here in ten minutesnow. You can see 'em when they come into the flat. I'll clear out to theback for a bit. I want 'em to think I come up permiskus-like when it'sover. ' So the young rascal galloped away till the trees hid him, and ina quarter of an hour more we saw the leaders of the four-horse drag thatcarried the escort gold turn round on the forest road and show out intothe flat. 

It gave me a queer feeling just at first. We hadn't been used to firingon the Queen's servants, not in cold blood, anyhow, but it was them orus for it now. There was no time to think about it. They came along ata steady trot up the hill. We knew the Turon sergeant of police thatdrove, a tall man with a big black beard down to his chest. He had beenin an English dragoon regiment, and could handle the ribbons above abit. He had a trooper alongside him on the box with his rifle betweenhis knees. Two more were in the body of the drag. They had put theirrifles down and were talking and laughing, not expecting anythingsudden. Two more of the mounted men rode in front, but not far. Thecouple behind were a good way off. All of a sudden the men in front cameon the trees lying across the road. They pulled up short, and one ofthem jumped down and looked to see if anything could be done to movethem. The other man held his horse. The coach drove up close, so thatthey were bunched up pretty well together. 

'Who the devil has been doing that?' sung out the sergeant. 'Just asif the road isn't bad enough without these infernal lazy scoundrels ofbullock-drivers cutting down trees to make us go round. It's a beastlytrack here at the best of times. '

'I believe them trees have been fallen on purpose, ' says the trooperthat was down. 'There's been men, and horses too, about here to-day, bythe tracks. They're up to no good!'

'Fire!'

The order was given in Starlight's clear, bold voice. Just like a hornit sounded. You might have heard it twice as far off. A dozen shotsfollowed the next second, making as much row as fifty because of the waythe sound echoed among the rocks. 

I never saw a bigger surprise in my life, and wasn't likely to do, asthis was my first regular battle. We had plenty of time to take aim, andjust at first it looked as if the whole blessed lot of the police waskilled and wounded. 

The sergeant threw up his arms and fell off the box like a log, justunder the horses' feet. One of the troopers on ahead dropped, he thatwas holding the horses, and both horses started off at full gallop. Thetwo men in the body of the drag were both hit--one badly. So when thetwo troopers came up full gallop from the back they found us cuttingthe traces of the team, that was all plunging like mad, and letting thehorses go. 

We opened fire at them directly they showed themselves; of course theycouldn't do much in the face of a dozen men, all well armed and behindgood cover. They kept it up for a bit till one of their horses was hit, and then made tracks for Turon to report that the escort had been stuckup by twenty or thirty men at Eugowra Rocks--the others had come up withthe pack-horses by this time, along with Master Billy the Boy firinghis revolver and shouting enough for half-a-dozen; so we looked a bigcrowd--that all the men were shot dead, wounded, or taken prisoners, andthat a strong force had better be despatched at once to recapture thegold. 

A good deal of this was true, though not all. The only man killed wasthe sergeant. He was shot clean through the heart, and never stirredagain. Of the five other men, three were badly wounded and two slightly. We attended to them as well as we could, and tied the others so thatthey would not be able to give any bother for an hour or two at anyrate. 

Then the trouble began about dividing the gold. We opened the sort oflocker there was in the centre of the coach and took out the squareboxes of gold. They held canvas bags, all labelled and weighed to thegrain, of about 1000 oz. Each. There were fourteen boxes in all. Not abad haul. 

Some of the others couldn't read or write, and they wouldn't trust us, so they brought their friend with them, who was an educated man sureenough. We were a bit stunned to see him, holding the sort of positionhe did at the Turon. But there he was, and he did his work well enough. He brought a pair of scales with him and weighed the lot, and portionedit all out amongst us just the same as Mr. Scott, the banker, used todo for us at the Turon when we brought in our month's washing-up. We had5000 oz. Starlight had an extra share on account of being captain, andthe rest had somewhere about 8000 oz. Or 9000 oz. Among them. It wasn'tso bad. 

Dad wasn't long before he had our lot safely packed and on his twopack-horses. Warrigal and he cleared out at a trot, and went out ofsight in a jiffy. It was every man for himself now. We waited a bit tohelp them with their swag; it was awful heavy. We told them that theirpack-horses would never carry it if there was anything of a close runfor it. 

'Suppose you think you've got the only good horse in the country, DickMarston, ' says Daly. 'We'll find a horse to run anything you've got, barrin' Rainbow. I've got a little roan horse here as shall run ever ahorse ye own, for three mile, for a hundred notes, with twelve stone up. What do you think of that, now?'

'Don't take your shirt off, Patsey, ' I said. 'I know the roan's as goodas ever was foaled' (so he was; the police got him after Patsey was donefor, and kept him till he died of old age), 'but he's in no condition. I'm talking of the pack-horses; they're not up to much, as you'll findout. '

We didn't want to rush off at once, for fear the other fellows might saysomething afterwards if anything happened cross. So we saw them make afair start for a spot on Weddin Mountain, where they thought theywere right. We didn't think we could be caught once we made tracks inearnest. After a couple or three hours' riding we should be pretty safe, and daylight would see us at the Hollow. 

We stopped, besides, to do what we could for the wounded men. They werenone of them regularly done for, except the sergeant. One man was shotthrough the lungs, and was breathing out blood every now and then. Wegave them some brandy and water, and covered them all up and left themas comfortable as we could. Besides that, we sent Billy the Boy, whocouldn't be recognised, to the camp to have a doctor sent as soon aspossible. Then we cleared and started off, not the way we had to go, butso as we could turn into it. 

We couldn't ride very slow after such a turn as that, so we made thepace pretty hot for the first twenty miles or so. By Jove! it was agreat ride; the forest was middling open, and we went three parts speedwhen we could see before us. The horses seemed to go as if they knewthere was something up. I can see Rainbow now, swinging along with thatbeautiful bounding style of going he had, snorting now and then andsending out his legs as if one hundred miles, more or less, was nothing. His head up, his eye shining like a star, his nostrils open, and everynow and then, if anything got up, he'd give a snort as if he'd just comeup out of the bush. They'd had a longish day and a fast ride before theygot to Eugowra, just enough to eat to keep them from starving, witha drink of water. Now they were going the same style back, and they'dnever had the saddles off their backs. All the night through we rodebefore we got to the top of Nulla Mountain; very glad to see it we werethen. We took it easy for a few miles now and again, then we'd push onagain. We felt awful sleepy at times; we'd been up and at it sincethe morning before; long before daylight, too. The strangeness and thechance of being followed kept us up, else I believe we'd have droppedoff our horses' backs, regular dead beat. 

We lost ground now and then through Warrigal not being there to guideus, but Jim took the lead and he wasn't far out; besides, the horsesknew which way to steer for their grass at the Hollow. They wouldn't letus go much off the line if it was ever so dark. We gave 'em their headsmostly. The sun was just rising as we rode across the last tableland. We got off and stumbled along, horses and men, down the track to theHollow. Dad and Warrigal hadn't come back; of course they couldn't standthe pace we did. They'd have to camp for a bit, but they both knew ofplants and hiding holes, where all the police in the colony couldn'tfind them. We knew they'd turn up some time next day. So we let go ourhorses, and after a bit of supper laid down and slept till well on inthe afternoon. 

When I looked round I saw the dog sleeping at Jim's feet, old Crib. Henever left father very far, so of course the old man must be home, orpretty close up. I was that dead beat and tired out that I turned overand went to sleep for another couple of hours. When I next woke up I wasright and felt rested, so I put on my things, had a good wash, and wentout to speak to father. He was sitting by the fire outside smoking, justas if he'd never been away. 

Chapter 35

'We done that job to rights if we never done another, eh, lad?' saysfather, reaching out for a coal to put in his pipe. 

'Seems like it, ' I said. 'There'll be a deuce of a bobbery about it. Weshan't be able to move for a bit, let alone clear out. '

'We'll show 'em a trick or two yet, ' says dad. I could see he'd had atot, early as it was. 'I wonder how them chaps got on? But we'll hearsoon. '

'How shall we hear anything? Nobody'll be mad enough to show out of herefor a bit. '

'I could get word here, ' says father, 'if there was a police barrack onthe top of Nulla Mountain. I've done it afore, and I can do it again. '

'Well, I hope it won't be long, for I'm pretty full up of thisstaying-at-home business in the Hollow. It's well enough for a bit, butit's awful slow when you've too much of it. '

'It wouldn't be very slow if we was all grabbed and tried for our lives, Mr. Dick Marston. Would ye like that better for a change?' says the oldman, showing his teeth like a dog that's making up his mind to have yeand don't see where he's to get first bite. 'You leave the thing to themas knows more than you do, or you'll find yourself took in, and thatprecious sharp. '

'You'll find your pals, Burke and Moran, and their lot will have theirturn first, ' I said, and with that I walked off, for I saw the old manhad been drinking a bit after his night's work, and that always startedhis temper the wrong way. There was no doing anything with him then, as I knew by long experience. I was going to ask him where he'd put thegold, but thought it best to leave that for some other time. 

By and by, when we all turned out and had some breakfast, we took a bitof a walk by ourselves and talked it over. We could hardly think it wasall done and over. 

'The gold escort stuck up. Fourteen thousand ounces of gold taken. Sergeant Hawkins shot dead. The robbers safe off with their booty. '

This is the sort of thing that we were sure to see in all the papers. Itwould make a row and no mistake. It was the first time such a thing hadbeen thought of, much less carried out 'to rights', as father said, 'in any of the colonies. ' We had the five thousand ounces of gold, safeenough, too. That was something; whether we should be let enjoy it, orwhat chance we had of getting right away out of the country, was quiteanother matter. We were all sorry for Sergeant Hawkins, and would havebeen better pleased if he'd been only wounded like the others. But thesesorts of things couldn't be helped. It was the fortune of war; his luckthis time, ours next. We knew what we had to expect. Nothing would makemuch difference. 'As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. ' We were up toour necks in it now, and must fight our way out the best way we could. 

Bar any man betraying the secret of the Hollow we might be safe foryears to come, as long as we were not shot or taken in fair fight. Andwho was to let out the secret? No one but ourselves had the least notionof the track or where it led to, or of such a place as the Hollow beingin the colony. Only us five were in possession of the secret. We neverlet any of these other men come near, much less to it. We took good carenever to meet them within twenty miles of it. Father was a man that, even when he was drunk, never let out what he didn't want other peopleto know. Jim and I and Starlight were not likely to blab, and Warrigalwould have had his throat cut sooner than let on about anything thatmight be against Starlight, or that he told him not to do. 

We had good reason, then, to think ourselves safe as long as we had sucha place to make for whenever we were in danger or had done a stroke. We had enough in gold and cash to keep us comfortable in any othercountry--provided we could only get there. That was the rub. When we'dgot a glass or two in our heads we thought it was easy enough to getacross country, or to make away one by one at shearing time, disguisedas swagsmen, to the coast. But when we thought it over carefully in themornings, particularly when we were a bit nervous after the grog haddied out of us, it seemed a rather blue look-out. 

There was the whole countryside pretty thick with police stations, where every man, from the sergeant to the last-joined recruit, knewthe height, size, colour of hair, and so on of every one of us. If asuspicious-looking man was seen or heard of within miles the telegraphwires could be set to work. He could be met, stopped, searched, andoverhauled. What chance would any of us have then?

'Don't flatter yourselves, my boy, ' Starlight said, when we'd got thelength of thinking how it was to be done, 'that there's any littlebit of a chance, for a year or two at any rate, of getting away. Not akangaroo rat could hop across from one scrub to another if there wasthe least suspicion upon him without being blocked or run into. Jim, oldman, I'm sorry for you, but my belief is we're quartered here for a yearor two certain, and the sooner we make up our minds to it the better. '

Here poor old Jim groaned. 'Don't you think, ' he said, quite timid-like, 'that about shearing-time a man might take his chance, leading an oldhorse with a swag on, as if he wanted to get shearing in some of the bigdown-the-river sheds?'

'Not a bit of it, ' says Starlight. 'You're such a good-looking, upstanding chap that you're safe to be pulled up and made answer foryourself before you'd get fifty miles. If you rode a good horse they'dthink you were too smart-looking for a regular shearer, and nail you atonce. '

'But I'd take an old screw with a big leg, ' pleaded Jim. 'Haven't Ioften seen a cove walking and leading one just to carry his blankets andthings?'

'Then they'd know a chap like you, full of work and a native to boot, ought to have a better turn-out--if it wasn't a stall. So they'd haveyou for that. '

'But there's Isaac Lawson and Campbelltown. You've seen them. Isaac's aninch taller than me, and the same cut and make. Why shouldn't they shopthem when they're going shearing? They're square enough, and always was. And Campbelltown's a good deal like Dick, beard and all. '

'Well, I'll bet you a new meerschaum that both men are arrested onsuspicion before shearing. Of course they'll let them go again; but, you mark my words, they'll be stopped, as well as dozens of others. Thatwill show how close the search will be. '

'I don't care, ' says Jim, in his old, obstinate way, which he never puton except very seldom. 'I'll go in a month or two--police or no police. I'll make for Melbourne if there was an army of soldiers between me andJeanie. '

We had to settle where the gold was to be hid. After a lot of talk weagreed to keep one bag in a hole in the side of the wall of the cave, and bury the others in the place where we'd found old Mr. Devereux'sbox. His treasure had laid many a year safe and sound without anybodytouching it, and we thought ours might do the same. Besides, to find itthey must get into the Hollow first. So we packed it out bag by bag, andmade an ironbark coffin for it, and buried it away there, and put somecouch-grass turfs on it. We knew they'd soon grow up, and nobody couldtell that it hadn't always been covered up the same as the rest of theold garden. 

It felt pretty hard lines to think we shouldn't be able to get away fromthis lonely place after the life we'd led the last year; but Starlightwasn't often wrong, and we came to the same way of thinking ourselveswhen we looked at it all round, steady and quiet like. 

We'd been a week or ten days all by ourselves, horse-breaking, fishing, and shooting a bit, thinking how strange it was that we should have morethan 20, 000 Pounds in gold and money and not be able to do anything withit, when dad, sudden like, said he'd go out himself and get some of thenewspapers, and perhaps a letter or two if any came. 

Starlight laughed at him a bit for being foolhardy, and said we shouldhear of his being caught and committed for trial. 'Why, they'll knowthe dog, ' says he, 'and make him give evidence in court. I've known thatdone before now. Inspector Merlin nailed a chap through his dog. '

Father grinned. 'I know'd that case--a sheep-stealing one. They wantedto make out Brummy was the man as owned the dorg--a remarkable dorg hewas, too, and had been seen driving the sheep. '

'Well, what did the dog do? Identify the prisoner, didn't he?'

'Well, the dashed fool of a coolie did. Jumps up as soon as he wasbrought into court, and whines and scratches at the dock rails andbarks, and goes on tremenjus, trying to get at Brummy. '

'How did his master like it?'

'Oh! Brummy? He looked as black as the ace of spades. He'd have made ithot for that dorg if he could ha' got at him. But I suppose he forgivedhim when he came out. '

'Why should he?'

'Because the jury fetched him in guilty without leaving the box, and thejudge give him seven years. You wouldn't find this old varmint a-doin'no such foolishness as that. '

Here he looks at Crib, as was lyin' down a good way off, and not lettingon to know anything. He saw father's old mare brought up, though, andsaddled, and knowed quite well what that meant. He never rode her unlesshe was going out of the Hollow. 

'I believe that dog could stick up a man himself as well as some fellowswe know, ' says Starlight, 'and he'd do it, too, if your father gave himthe word. '

 . . . . . 

While we were taking it easy, and except for the loneliness of it assafe as if we had been out of the country altogether, Moran and theother fellows hadn't quite such a good time of it. They were hunted frompillar to post by the police, who were mad to do something to meetthe chaff that was always being cast up to them of having a lot ofbush-rangers robbing and shooting all over the country and not beingable to take them. There were some out-of-the-way places enough in theWeddin Mountains, but none like the Hollow, where they could lie quietand untroubled for weeks together, if they wanted. Besides, theyhad lost their gold by their own foolishness in not having betterpack-horses, and hadn't much to carry on with, and it's not a life thatcan be worked on the cheap, I can tell you, as we often found out. Moneycomes easy in our line, but it goes faster still, and a man must neverbe short of a pound or two to chuck about if he wants to keep hisinformation fresh, and to have people working for him night and day witha will. 

So they had some every-day sort of work cut out to keep themselvesgoing, and it took them all their time to get from one part of thecountry where they were known to some other place where they weren'texpected. Having out-and-out good hacks, and being all of them chapsthat had been born in the bush and knew it like a book, it was wonderfulhow they managed to rob people at one place one day, and then be at someplace a hundred miles off the next. Ever so many times they came off, and they'd call one another Starlight and Marston, and so on, till thepeople got regularly dumbfoundered, and couldn't tell which of the gangit was that seemed to be all over the country, and in two places at thesame time. We used to laugh ourselves sometimes, when we'd hear tellthat all the travellers passing Big Hill on a certain day were 'stuck upby Wall's gang and robbed. ' Every man Jack that came along for hourswas made to stand behind a clump of trees with two of the gang guardingthem, so as the others couldn't see them as they came up. They all hadto deliver up what they'd got about 'em, and no one was allowed to stirtill sundown, for fear they should send word to the police. Then thegang went off, telling them to stay where they were for an hour or elsethey'd come back and shoot them. 

This would be on the western road, perhaps. Next day a station on thesouthern road, a hundred and twenty miles off, would be robbed by thesame lot. Money and valuables taken away, and three or four of the besthorses. Their own they'd leave behind in such a state that any one couldsee how far and fast they'd been ridden. 

They often got stood to, when they were hard up for a mount, and it wasthis way. The squatters weren't alike, by any manner of means, in theirway of dealing with them. Many of them had lots of fine riding-horsesin their paddocks. These would be yarded some fine night, the best takenand ridden hard, perhaps returned next morning, perhaps in a day or two. 

It was pretty well known who had used them, but nothing was said; thebest policy, some think, is to hold a candle to the devil, especiallywhen the devil's camped close handy to your paddock, and might any timesack your house, burn down your woolshed and stacks, or even shoot atyour worshipful self if he didn't like the way you treated him and hisimps. 

These careful respectable people didn't show themselves too forwardeither in giving help or information to the police. Not by no means. They never encouraged them to stay when they came about the place, andweren't that over liberal in feeding their horses, or giving them a handin any way, that they'd come again in a hurry. If they were asked aboutthe bush-rangers, or when they'd been last seen, they were very careful, and said as little as possible. 

No one wonders at people like the Barnes's, or little farmers, or thevery small sort of settlers, people with one flock of sheep or a fewcows, doing this sort of thing; they have a lot to lose and nothingto get if they gain ill-will. But regular country gentlemen, with bigproperties, lots of money, and all the rest of it, they're there toshow a good example to the countryside, whether it paid for the time orwhether it didn't; and all us sort of chaps, on the cross or not, likethem all the better for it. 

When I say all of us, I don't mean Moran. A sulky, black-hearted, revengeful brute he always was--I don't think he'd any manly feelingabout him. He was a half-bred gipsy, they told us that knew where he wasreared, and Starlight said gipsy blood was a queer cross, for devilryand hardness it couldn't be beat; he didn't wonder a bit at Moran'sbeing the scoundrel he was. 

No doubt he 'had it in' for more than one of the people who helped thepolice to chevy Wall and his lot about. From what I knew of him I wassure he'd do some mischief one of these days, and make all the countryten times as hot against us as they were now. He had no mercy about him. He'd rather shoot a man any day than not; and he'd burn a house downjust for the pleasure of seeing how the owner looked when it waslighted. 

Starlight used to say he despised men that tried to save themselvescowardly-like more than he could say, and thought them worse than thebush-rangers themselves. Some of them were big people, too. 

But other country gentlemen, like Mr. Falkland, were quite of adifferent pattern. If they all acted like him I don't think we shouldany of us have reigned as long as we did. They helped and encouraged thepolice in every possible way. They sent them information whenever theyhad received any worth while. They lent them horses freely when theirown were tired out and beaten. More than that, when bush-rangers weresupposed to be in the neighbourhood they went out with them themselves, lying out and watching through the long cold nights, and taking theirchance of a shot as well as those that were paid for it. 

Now there was a Mr. Whitman that had never let go a chance from thestart of running their trail with the police, and had more than oncegiven them all they knew to get away. He was a native of the country, like themselves, a first-class horseman and tracker, a hardy, game sortof a chap that thought nothing of being twenty-four hours in the saddle, or sitting under a fence watching for the whole of a frosty night. 

Well, he was pretty close to Moran once, who had been out by himself;that close he ran him he made him drop his rifle and ride for his life. Moran never forgave him for this, and one day when they had all beendrinking pretty heavy he managed to persuade Wall, Hulbert, Burke, andDaly to come with him and stick up Whitman's house. 

'I sent word to him I'd pay him out one of these fine days, ' he drawledout, 'and he'll find that Dan Moran can keep his word. '

He picked a time when he knew Whitman was away at another station. Ialways thought Moran was not so game as he gave himself out to be. AndI think if he'd had Whitman's steady eyes looking at him, and seeing apistol in his hand, he wouldn't have shot as straight as he generallydid when he was practising at a gum tree. 

Anyhow, they laid it out all right, as they thought, to take the placeunawares. They'd been drinking at a flash kind of inn no great way off, and when they rode up to the house it seems they were all of 'emthree sheets in the wind, and fit for any kind of villainy that cameuppermost. As for Moran, he was a devil unchained. I know what he was. The people in the house that day trembled and shook when they heard thedogs bark and saw five strange horsemen ride through the back gate intothe yard. 

They'd have trembled a deal more if they'd known what was coming. 

Chapter 36

When we found that by making darts and playing hide and seek with thepolice in this way we could ride about the country more comfortablelike, we took matters easier. Once or twice we tried it on by night, andhad a bit of a lark at Jonathan's, which was a change after having tokeep dark so long. We'd rode up there after dark one night, and madeourselves pretty snug for the evening, when Bella Barnes asked us ifwe'd dropped across Moran and his mob that day. 

'No, ' says I. 'Didn't know they were about this part. Why, weren't theyat Monckton's the day before yesterday?'

'Ah! but they came back last night, passed the house to-day goingtowards Mr. Whitman's, at Darjallook. I don't know, but I expect they'regoing to play up a bit there, because of his following them up that timethe police nearly got Moran. '

'What makes you think that? They're only going for what they can get;perhaps the riding-horses and any loose cash that's knocking about. '

'Billy the Boy was here for a bit, ' says Maddie. 'I don't like thatyoung brat, he'll turn out bad, you take my word for it; but he saidMoran knew Mr. Whitman was away at the Castlereagh station, and wasgoing to make it a warning to them all. '

'Well, it's too bad, ' said Bella; 'there's no one there but Mrs. Whitmanand the young ladies. It's real cowardly, I call it, to frighten aparcel of women. But that Moran's a brute and hasn't the feelings of aman about him. '

'We must ride over, boys, ' says Starlight, yawning and stretchinghimself. 'I was looking forward to a pleasant evening here, but it seemsto me we ought to have a say in this matter. Whitman's gone a triflefast, and been hard on us; but he's a gentleman, and goes straight forwhat he considers his duty. I don't blame him. If these fellows are halfdrunk they'll burn the place down I shouldn't wonder, and play hell'sdelight. '

'And Miss Falkland's up there too, staying with the young ladies, 'says Maddie. 'Why, Jim, what's up with you? I thought you wasn't takingnotice. '

'Come along, Dick, ' says Jim, quite hoarse-like, making one jump tothe door. 'Dash it, man, what's the use of us wasting time jawing here?By----, if there's a hair of her head touched I'll break Moran's neck, and shoot the lot of them down like crows. '

'Good-bye, girls, ' I said, 'there's no time to lose. '

Starlight made a bow, polite to the last, and passed out. Jim was on hishorse as we got to the stable door. Warrigal fetched Starlight's, andin half a minute Jim and he were off together along the road full split, and I had as much as I could do to catch them up within the next mile. It wasn't twenty miles to Whitman's place, Darjallook, but the road wasgood, and we did it in an hour and twenty minutes, or thereabouts. Iknow Starlight lit a match and looked at his watch when we got near thefront gate. 

We could see nothing particular about the house. The lights shone out ofthe windows, and we heard the piano going. 

'Seems all right, ' says Starlight. 'Wonder if they came, after all?They'll think we want to stick the place up if we ride up to the halldoor. Get off and look out tracks, Warrigal. '

Warrigal dismounted, lit a couple of matches, and put his head downclose to the soft turf, as if he was going to smell it. 

'Where track?' says Starlight. 

'There!' says Warrigal, pointing to something we couldn't see if we'dlooked for a month. 'Bin gone that way. That one track Moran's horse. Iknow him; turn foot in likit cow. Four more track follow up. '

'Why, they're in the house now, the infernal scoundrels, ' saysStarlight. 'You stay here with the horses, Warrigal; we'll walk up. Ifyou hear shooting, tie them to the fence and run in. '

We walked up very quiet to the house--we'd all been there before, andknew where the front parlour was--over the lawn and two flower-beds, andthen up to the big bow-window. The others stood under an old whitecedar tree that shadowed all round. I looked in, and, by George! my faceburned, cold as it was. There was Moran lying back in an arm-chair, witha glass of grog in his hand, takin' it easy and makin' himself quite athome. Burke and Daly were sitting in two chairs near the table, lookinga long way from comfortable; but they had a couple of bottles of brandyon the table and glasses, and were filling up. So was Moran. They'd hadquite as much as was good for them. The eldest Miss Whitman wassitting at the piano, playing away tune after tune, while her eyes werewandering about and her lips trembling, and every now and then she'dflush up all over her face; then she'd turn as white as a sheet, andlook as if she'd fall off the stool. The youngest daughter was on herknees by her, on the other side, with her head in her lap. Every now andthen I could hear a sob come from her, but stifled-like, as if she triedto choke it back as much as she could. 

Burke and Daly had their pistols on the table, among the bottles--thoughwhat they wanted 'em there for I couldn't see--and Moran had stuck hison the back of the piano. That showed me he was close up drunk, for hewas a man as never hardly let go of his revolver. 

Mrs. Whitman was sitting crouched up in a chair behind her daughter, with a stony face, looking as if the end of the world was come. I hardlyknew her again. She was a very kind woman, too; many a glass of grogshe'd given me at shearing time, and medicine too, once I was sick therewith influenza. 

But Miss Falkland; I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She was sitting onthe sofa against the wall, quite upright, with her hands before her, and her eyes looking half proudly, half miserable, round the room. Youcouldn't hardly tell she was frightened except by a kind of twitching ofher neck and shoulders. 

Presently Moran, who was more than half boozed as it was, and kept ondrinking, calls out to Miss Whitman to sing a song. 

'Come, Miss Polly, ' says he, 'you can sing away fast enough for yourdashed old father and some o' them swells from Bathurst. By George, youmust tune your pipe a bit this time for Dan Moran. '

The poor girl said she couldn't sing just then, but she'd play as muchas he liked. 

'Yer'd better sing now, ' he drawls out, 'unless ye want me to come andmake you. I know you girls wants coaxing sometimes. '

Poor Miss Mary breaks out at once into some kind of a song--thepitifullest music ever you listened to. Only I wanted to wait a bit, so as to come in right once for all, I'd have gone at him, hammer andtongs, that very minute. 

All this time Burke and Daly were goin' in steady at the brandy, finished one bottle and tackled another. They began to get noisy andtalked a lot, and sung a kind of a chorus to Miss Mary's song. 

After the song was over, Moran swore he'd have another one. She'd neversing for him any more, he said, unless she took a fancy to him, and wentback to the Weddin Mountains with them. 

'It ain't a bad name for a mountain, is it, miss?' says he, grinning. Then, fixing his black snake's eyes on her, he poured out about half atumbler of brandy and drank it off. 

'By gum!' he says, 'I must have a dance; blest if I don't! First chopmusic--good room this--three gals and the missus--course we must. I'mregular shook on the polka. You play us a good 'un, Polly, or whateveryer name is. Dan Moran's goin' to enjoy himself this night if he neversees another. Come on, Burke. Patsey, stand up, yer blamed fool. Heregoes for my partner. '

'Come, Moran, ' says Burke, 'none of your larks; we're very jolly, andthe young ladies ain't on for a hop; are ye, miss?' and he looked overat the youngest Miss Whitman, who stared at him for a moment, and thenhid her face in her hands. 

'Are you a-goin' to play as I told yer?' says Moran. 'D'ye think yerknow when yer well off?'

The tone of voice he said this in and the look seemed to frighten thepoor girl so that she started an old-style polka there and then, whichmade him bang his heels on the floor and spin round as if he'd been ata dance-house. As soon as he'd done two or three turns he walks over tothe sofa and sits down close to Miss Falkland, and put his arm round herwaist. 

'Come, Fanny Falkland, ' says he, 'or whatever they call yer; you're sodashed proud yer won't speak to a bush cove at all. You can go home by'nby, and tell your father that you had a twirl-round with Dan Moran, and helped to make the evening pass pleasant at Darjallook afore it wasburned. '

Anything like the disgust, misery, and rage mixed up that came into MissFalkland's face all in a moment and together-like, I never saw. She madeno sound, but her face grew paler and paler; she turned white to thelips, as trembled and worked in spite of her. She struggled fierceand wild for nigh a solid minute to clear herself from him, while herbeautiful eyes moved about like I've seen a wild animal's caught in atrap. Then, when she felt her strength wasn't no account against his, she gave one piercing, terrible scream, so long and unnatural-like inthe tone of it that it curdled my very blood. 

I lifted up the window-sash quick, and jumped in; but before I made twosteps Jim sprang past me, and raised his pistol. 

'Drop her!' he shouts to Moran; 'you hound! Leave go Miss Falkland, orby the living God I'll blow your head off, Dan Moran, before you canlift your hand! How dare you touch her, you cowardly dog!'

Moran was that stunned at seeing us show up so sudden that he was a goodbit took off his guard, cool card as he was in a general way. Besides, he'd left his revolver on the piano close by the arm-chair, where hisgrog was. Burke and Daly were no better off. They found Starlight andWarrigal covering them with their pistols, so that they'd have been shotdown before they could so much as reach for their tools. 

But Jim couldn't wait; and just as Moran was rising on his feet, feelingfor the revolver that wasn't in his belt (and that I never heard ofhis being without but that once), he jumps at him like a wallaroo, and, catching him by the collar and waist-belt, lifts him clean off his feetas if he'd been a child, and brings him agen the corner of the wall withall his full strength. I thought his brains was knocked out, dashed ifI didn't. I heard Moran's head sound against the stone wall with a dullsort of thud; and on the floor he drops like a dead man--never made akick. By George! we all thought he had killed him. 

'Stash that, now, ' says Burke; 'don't touch him again, Jim Marston. He'sgot as much as 'll do him for a bit; and I don't say it don't serve himright. I don't hold with being rough to women. It ain't manly, and we'vegot wives and kids of our own. '

'Then why the devil didn't you stop it?' says Starlight. 'You deservethe same sauce, you and Daly, for sitting there like a couple ofchildren, and letting that ruffian torment these helpless ladies. If youfellows go on sticking up on your own account, and I hear a whisper ofyour behaving yourselves like brutes, I'll turn policeman myself for thepleasure of running you in. Now, mind that, you and Daly too. Where'sWall and Hulbert?'

'They went to yard the horses. '

'That's fair game, and all in the day's work. I don't care what you takeor whom you shoot for that matter, as long as it's all in fair fight;but I'll have none of this sort of work if I'm to be captain, and you'reall sworn to obey me, mind that. I'll have to shoot a man yet, I see, asI've done before now, before I can get attended to. That brute's comingto. Lift him up, and clear out of this place as soon as you can. I'llwait behind. '

They blundered out, taking Moran with them, who seemed quite stupidlike, and staggered as he walked. He wasn't himself for a week after, and longer too, and threatened a bit, but he soon saw he'd no show, asall the fellows, even to his own mates, told him he deserved all he got. 

Old Jim stood up by the fireplace after that, never stirring norspeaking, with his eyes fixed on Miss Falkland, who had got back hercolour, and though she panted a bit and looked raised like, she wasn'tmuch different from what we'd seen her before at the old place. The twoMisses Whitman, poor girls, were standing up with their arms round oneanother's necks, and the tears running down their faces like rain. Mrs. Whitman was lying back in her chair with her hands over her face cryin'to herself quiet and easy, and wringing her hands. 

Then Starlight moved forward and bowed to the ladies as if he was justcoming into a ballroom, like I saw him once at a swell ball they gavefor the hospital at Turon. 

'Permit me to apologise, Mrs. Whitman, and to you, my dear young ladies, for the rudeness of one of my men, whom I unhappily was not able torestrain. I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Whitman, and I hope youwill express my regret that I was not in time to save you from the greatannoyance to which you have been subjected. '

'Oh! I shall be grateful all my life to you, and so, I'm sure, will Mr. Whitman, when he returns; and oh! Sir Ferdinand, if you and these twogood young men, who, I suppose, are policemen in plain clothes, had notcome in, goodness only knows what would have become of us. '

'I am afraid you are labouring under some mistake, my dear madam. I havenot the honour to be Sir Ferdinand Morringer or any other baronet atpresent; but I assure you I feel the compliment intensely. I am sure mygood friends here, James and Richard Marston, do equally. '

Here the Misses Whitman, in spite of all their terror and anxiety, were so tickled by the idea of their mother mistaking Starlight and theMarstons for Sir Ferdinand and his troopers that they began to laugh, not but what they were sober enough in another minute. 

Miss Falkland got up then and walked forward, looking just the way herfather used to do. She spoke to Starlight first. 

'I have never seen you before, but I have often heard of you, CaptainStarlight, if you will allow me to address you by that title. Believeme when I say that by your conduct to-night you have won our deepestgratitude--more than that, our respect and regard. Whatever may be yourfuture career, whatever the fate that your wild life may end in, alwaysbelieve there are those who will think of you, pray for you, rejoicein your escapes, and sorrow sincerely for your doom. I can answer formyself, and I am sure for my cousins also. '

Here the Misses Whitman said--

'Yes, indeed, we will--to our life's end. '

Then she turned to Jim, who still stood there looking at her with hisbig gray eyes, that had got ever so much darker lately. 

'You, poor old Jim, ' she said, and she took hold of his brown hand andheld it in her own, 'I am more sorry than I can tell to hear all I havedone about you and Dick too. This is the second time you have saved me, and I am not the girl to forget it, if I could only show my gratitude. Is there any way?'

'There's Jeanie, ' just them two words he said. 

'Your wife? Oh yes, I heard about her, ' looking at him so kind andgentle-like. 'I saw it all in the papers. She's in Melbourne, isn't she?What is her address?'

'Esplanade Hotel, St. Kilda, ' says Jim, taking a small bit of a letterout of his pocket. 

'Very well, Jim, I have a friend who lives near it. She will find herout, and do all for her that can be done. But why don't you--why don'tall of you contrive to get away somehow from this hateful life, and notbring ruin and destruction on the heads of all who love you? Say youwill try for their sake--for my sake. '

'It's too late, Miss Falkland, ' I said. 'We're all thankful to you forthe way you've spoken. Jim and I would be proud to shed our blood foryou any time, or Mr. Falkland either. We'll do what we can, but we'llhave to fight it out to the end now, and take our chance of the bulletcoming before the rope. Good-night, Miss Falkland, and good luck to youalways. '

She shook hands heartily with me and Jim, but when she came to Starlighthe raised her hand quite respectful like and just touched it with hislips. Then he bowed low to them all and walked slowly out. 

When we got to the public-house, which wasn't far off, we found thatMoran and the other two had stayed there a bit till Wall and Hulbertcame; then they had a drink all round and rode away. The publican saidMoran was in an awful temper, and he was afraid he'd have shot somebodybefore the others got him started and clear of the place. 

'It's a mercy you went over, Captain, ' says he; 'there'd have been thedevil to pay else. He swore he'd burn the place down before he went fromhere. '

'He'll get caught one of these fine days, ' says Starlight. 'There's morerisk at one station than half-a-dozen road scrimmages, and that he'llfind, clever as he thinks himself. '

'Where's Mr. Whitman, Jack?' says I to the landlord (he wasn't a badsort, old Jack Jones). 'What made him leave his place to the mercy ofthe world, in a manner of speaking?'

'Well, it was this way. He heard that all the shepherds at the lowerstation had cut it to the diggings, ye see; so he thought he'd make adart up to the Castlereagh and rig'late the place a bit. He'll be backafore morning. '

'How d'ye know that?'

'Well, he's ridin' that famous roan pony o' his, and he always comesback from the station in one day, though he takes two to go; eighty-fivemiles every yard of it. It's a big day, but that pony's a rum un, andcan jump his own height easy. He'll be welcome home to-night. '

'I daresay he will, and no wonder. The missus must ha' been awfulfrightened, and the young ladies too. Good-night, Jack;' and we rattledoff. 

It wasn't so very late after all when we got back to Jonathan's; so, asthe horses wanted a bit of a rest and a feed, we roused up the girls andhad supper. A very jolly one it was, my word. 

They were full of curiosity, you bet, to know how we got on when theyheard Moran was there and the others. So bit by bit they picked it outof us. When they heard it all, Maddie got up and threw her arms roundJim's neck. 

'I may kiss you now you're married, ' she says, 'and I know there's onlyone woman in the world for you; but you deserve one from every woman inthe country for smashing that wretch Moran. It's a pity you didn't breakhis neck. Never mind, old man; Miss Falkland won't forget you for that, you take my word. I'm proud of you, that I am. '

Jim just sat there and let her talk to him. He smiled in a serious kindof way when she ran over to him first; but, instead of a good-lookinggirl, it might have been his grandmother for all he seemed to care. 

'You're a regular old image, Jim, ' says she. 'I hope none of my otherfriends 'll get married if it knocks all the go out of them, same asit has from you. However, you can stand up for a friend, can't you? Youwouldn't see me trod upon; d'ye think you would, now? I'd stand up foryou, I know, if you was bested anywhere. '

'My dear Maddie, ' says Starlight, 'James is in that particular stage ofinfatuation when a man only sees one woman in the whole world. I envyhim, I assure you. When your day comes you will understand much of whatpuzzles you at present. '

'I suppose so, ' said Maddie, going back to her seat with a wondering, queer kind of look. 'But it must be dreadful dull being shut in forweeks and weeks in one place, perhaps, and with only one man. '

'I have heard it asserted, ' he says, 'that a slight flavour of monotonyoccasionally assails the honeymoon. Variety is the salt of life, I beginto think. Some of these fine days, Maddie, we'll both get married andcompare notes. '

'You'll have to look out, then, ' says Bella. 'All the girls about hereare getting snapped up quick. There's such a lot of young bankers, Government officers, and swells of all sorts about the diggings now, notto reckon the golden-hole men, that we girls have double the pull wehad before the gold. Why, there was my old schoolmate, Clara Mason, was married last week to such a fine young chap, a surveyor. She'd onlyknown him six weeks. '

'Well, I'll come and dance at your wedding if you'll send me an invite, 'says Starlight. 

'Will you, though?' she said. 'Wouldn't it be fun? Unless Sir Ferdinandwas there. He's a great friend of mine, you know. '

'I'll come if his Satanic Majesty himself was present (he occasionallydoes attend a wedding, I've heard), and bring you a present, too, Bella;mind, it's a bargain. '

'There's my hand on it, ' says she. 'I wonder how you'll manage it, butI'll leave that to you. It mightn't be so long either. And now it's timefor us all to go to bed. Jim's asleep, I believe, this half hour. '

Chapter 37

This bit of a barney, of course, made bad blood betwixt us and Moran'smob, so for a spell Starlight and father thought it handier for us togo our own road and let them go theirs. We never could agree with chapslike them, and that was the long and short of it. They were a deal toorough and ready for Starlight; and as for Jim and me, though we werenone too good, we couldn't do some of the things these coves was up to, nor stand by and see 'em done, which was more. This time we made up ourmind to go back to the Hollow and drop out of notice altogether for abit, and take a rest like. 

We hadn't heard anything of Aileen and the old mother for weeks andweeks, so we fixed it that we should sneak over to Rocky Flat, one at atime, and see how things were going, and hearten 'em up a bit. Whenwe did get to the Hollow, instead of being able to take it easy, as weexpected, we found things had gone wrong as far as the devil could send'em that way if he tried his best. It seems father had taken a restlessfit himself, and after we were gone had crossed Nulla Mountain to someplace above Rocky Flat, to where he could see what went on with a strongglass. 

Before I go further I might as well tell you that, along with thewhacking big reward that was offered for all of us, a good many coves asfancied themselves a bit had turned amateur policemen, and had all kindsof plans and dodges for catching us dead or alive. Now, men that taketo the bush like us don't mind the regular paid force much, or bear themany malice. It's their duty to catch us or shoot us if we bolt, and oursto take all sorts of good care that they shan't do either if we can helpit. 

Well, as I was sayin', we don't have it in for the regulars in thepolice; it's all fair pulling, 'pull devil pull baker', some one hasto get the worst of it. Now it's us, now it's them, that gets took orrubbed out, and no more about it. 

But what us cross coves can't stand and are mostly sure to turn nastyon is the notion of fellows going into the manhunting trade, with us forgame, either for the fun of it or for the reward. That reward means themoney paid for our blood. WE DON'T LIKE IT. It may seem curious, but wedon't; and them as take up the line as a game to make money or fun outof, when they've no call to, find out their mistake, sometimes when it'sa deal too late. 

Now we'd heard that a party of four men--some of them had been gaolwarders and some hadn't--had made it up to follow us up and get us oneway or the other if it was to be done. They weren't in the police, butthey thought they knew quite as much as the police did; and, besides, the reward, 5000 Pounds, if they got our lot and any one of the others, was no foolish money. 

Well, nothing would knock it out of these chaps' heads but that we weresafe to be grabbed in the long run trying to make into the old home. This was what made them gammon to be surveyors when they first came, as we heard about, and go measuring and tape-lining about, when therewasn't a child over eight years old on the whole creek that couldn'thave told with half an eye they wasn't nothing of the sort. 

Well, as bad luck would have it, just as father was getting down towardsthe place he meets Moran and Daly, who were making over to the FishRiver on a cattle-duffing lay of their own. They were pretty hard up;and Moran after his rough and tumble with Jim, in which he had come offsecond best, was ready for anything--anything that was bad, that is. 

After he'd a long yarn with them about cattle and horses and what not, he offered them a ten-pound note each if they'd do what he told them. Dad always carried money about with him; he said it came in handy. Ifthe police didn't take him, they wouldn't get it; and if they did takehim, why, nothing would matter much and it might go with the rest. Itcame in handy enough this time, anyhow, though it helped what had beenfar better left undone. 

I remember what a blinded rage father got into when he first hadAileen's letter, and heard that these men were camped close to the oldhouse, poking about there all day long, and worrying and frighteningpoor Aileen and mother. 

Well, it seems on this particular day they'd been into the littletownship, and I suppose got an extra glass of grog. Anyhow, when theycame back they began to be more venturesome than they generally were. One chap came into the house and began talking to Aileen, and after abit mother goes into her bedroom, and Aileen comes out into the verandahand begins to wash some clothes in a tub, splashing the water prettywell about and making it a bit uncomfortable for any one to come nearher. 

What must this fool do but begin to talk about what white arms she'dgot--not that they were like that much, she'd done too much hard worklately to have her arms, or hands either, look very grand; and at lasthe began to be saucy, telling her as no Marston girl ought to think somuch of herself, considerin' who and what she was. Well, the end of itwas father heard a scream, and he looked out from where he was hiddenand saw Aileen running down the garden and the fellow after her. Hejumps out, and fires his revolver slapbang at the chap; it didn't hithim, but it went that close that he stopped dead and turned round to seewho it was. 

'Ben Marston, by all that's lucky, boys!' says he, as two of the otherchaps came running down at the shot. 'We've got the ould sarpint out ofhis hole at last. ' With that they all fires at father as quick as theycould draw; and Aileen gives one scream and starts running along thetrack up the hill that leads to George Storefield's place. 

Father drops; one of the bullets had hit him, but not so bad as hecouldn't run, so he ups again and starts running along the gully, withthe whole four of them shouting and swearin' after him, making sure theygot him to rights this time. 

'Two hundred a man, boys, ' the big fellow in the lead says; 'and maybewe'll take tay with the rest of 'em now. '

They didn't know the man they were after, or they'd have just as soonhave gone to 'take tea', as they called it, with a tiger. 

Father put on one of his old poacher dodges that he had borrowed fromthe lapwing in his own country, that he used to tell us about when wewere boys (our wild duck 'll do just the same), and made himself out adeal worse than he was. Father could run a bit, too; he'd been fast fora mile when he was young, and though he was old now he never carriedno flesh to signify, and was as hard as nails. So what with knowingthe ground, and they being flat-country men, he kept just out ofpistol-shot, and yet showed enough to keep 'em filled up with the notionthat they'd run him down after a bit. 

They fired a shot every now and then, thinking a chance one might winghim, but this only let Moran and Daly see that some one was after dad, and that the hunt was coming their way. 

They held steady where they had been told to stop, and looked out forthe men they'd been warned of by father. As he got near this place hekept lettin' 'em git a bit nearer and nearer to him, so as they'd followhim up just where he wanted. It gave them more chance of hitting him, but he didn't care about that, now his blood was up--not he. All hewanted was to get them. Dad was the coolest old cove, when shootingwas going on, ever I see. You'd think he minded bullets no more thanbottle-corks. 

Well, he goes stumbling and dragging himself like up the gully, andthey, cocksure of getting him, closing up and shooting quicker andquicker, when just as he jumps down the Black Gully steps a bullet didhit him in the shoulder under the right arm, and staggers him in goodearnest. He'd just time to cut down the bank and turn to the left alongthe creek channel, throwing himself down on his face among the bushes, when the whole four of 'em jumps down the bank after him. 

'Stand!' says Moran, and they looked up and saw him and Daly coveringthem with their revolvers. Before they'd time to draw, two of 'em rollsover as dead as door-nails. 

The other two were dumbfoundered and knocked all of a heap by suddenlyfinding themselves face to face with the very men they'd been huntingafter for weeks and weeks. They held up their pistols, but they didn'tseem to have much notion of using them--particularly when they foundfather had rounded on 'em too, and was standing a bit away on the sidelooking very ugly and with his revolver held straight at 'em. 

'Give in! Put down your irons, ' says Moran, 'or by----, we'll drop yewhere ye stand. '

'Come on, ' says one, and I think he intended to make a fight for it. 

He'd 'a been better off if he had. It couldn't have been worse for him;but the other one didn't see a chance, and so he says--

'Give in, what's the good? There's three to two. '

'All right, ' says the other chap, the big one; and they put down theirpistols. 

It was curious now as these two were both men that father and Moran hada down on. They'd better have fought it out as long as they could standup. There's no good got by givin' in that I ever seen. Men as does soalways drop in for it worse in the end. 

First thing, then, they tied 'em with their hands behind 'em, and let'em stand up near their mates that were down--dead enough, both of them, one shot through the heart and one through the head. 

Then Moran sits down and has a smoke, and looks over at 'em. 

'You don't remember me, Mr. Hagan?' says he, in his drawling way. 

'No, ' says the poor chap, 'I don't think I do. '

'But I remember you devilish well, ' says Moran; 'and so you'll findafore we leave this. ' Then he took another smoke. 'Weren't you warder inBerrima Gaol, ' says he, 'about seven year ago? Ah! now we're coming toit. You don't remember getting Daniel Moran--a prisoner serving a longsentence there--seven days' solitary on bread and water for what youcalled disobedience of orders and insolence?'

'Yes, I do remember now. I'd forgotten your face. I was only doing myduty, and I hope you won't bear any malice. '

'It was a little thing to you, maybe, ' says Moran; 'but if you'd had todo seven long days and long cold nights in that devil's den, you'd 'athought more about it. But you will now. My turn's come. '

'I didn't do it to you more than to the rest. I had to keep order in thegaol, and devilish hard work it was. '

'You're a liar, ' says Moran, striking him across the face with hisclenched hand. 'You had a down on me because I wouldn't knuckle downto you like some of them, and so you dropped it on to me every turn youcould get. I was a youngster then, and might have grown into a man ifI'd been let. But fellows like you are enough to turn any man into adevil if they've got him in their power. '

'Well, I'm in your power now, ' says he. 'Let's see how you'll shape. '

'I don't like ye any the worse for being cheeky, ' says Moran, 'andstanding up to me, but it's too late. The last punishment I got, whenI was kept in irons night and day for a month because I'd tried to getout, I swore I'd have your life if ever I came across ye. '

'You'll never shoot me in cold blood, ' says the poor devil, beginning tolook blue about the lips. 

'I don't know what old Ben's going to do with the man he found chevyinghis daughter, ' says Moran, looking at him with his deadly black-snakeeyes, 'but I'm a-goin' to shoot you as soon as I've smoked out thispipe, so don't you make any mistake. '

'I don't mind a shot or two, ' says Daly, 'but I'm dashed if I can standby and see men killed in cold blood. You coves have your own reasons, Isuppose, but I shall hook it over to the Fish River. You know where tofind me. ' And he walked away to where the horses were and rode off. 

 . . . . . 

We got fresh horses and rode over quick to Rocky Flat. We took Warrigalwith us, and followed our old track across Nulla Mountain till we gotwithin a couple of miles of the place. Warrigal picked up the old mare'stracks, so we knew father had made over that way, and there was no callfor us to lose time running his trail any longer. Better go straight onto the house and find out what had happened there. We sent Warrigal onahead, and waited with our horses in our hands till he come back to us. 

In about an hour he comes tearing back, with his eyes staring out of hishead. 

'I bin see old missis, ' he says. 'She yabber that one make-believeconstable bin there. Gammon-like it surveyor, and bimeby old man Bengon' alonga hut, and that one pleeceman fire at him and all about, andhim break back alonga gully. '

'Any of 'em come back?' says Jim. 

'Bale! me see um tent-dog tied up. Cake alonga fireplace, all burnto pieces. No come home last night. I b'lieve shot 'em old man longagully. '

'Come along, boys, ' says Starlight, jumping into his saddle. 'The oldman might have been hit. We must run the tracks and see what's come ofthe governor. Four to one's big odds. '

We skirted the hut and kept out wide till Warrigal cut the tracks, whichhe did easy enough. We couldn't see a blessed thing. Warrigal rode alongwith his head down, reading every tuft of grass, every little stoneturned up, every foot of sand, like a book. 

'Your old fader run likit Black Gully. Two fellow track here--bulletlonga this one tree. ' Here he pointed to a scratch on the side of a boxtree, in which the rough bark had been shivered. 'Bimeby two fellow morecome; 'nother one bullet; 'nother one here, too. This one blood droplonga white leaf. '

Here he picked up a dried gum leaf, which had on the upper side a darkred spot, slightly irregular. 

We had it all now. We came to a place where two horses had been tied toa tree. They had been stamping and pawing, as if they had been there agoodish while and had time to get pretty sick of it. 

'That near side one Moran's horse, pigeon-toes; me know 'em, ' saysWarrigal. 'Off side one Daly's roan horse, new shoes on. You see 'umhair, rub himself longa tree. '

'What the blazes were they doing hereabouts?' says Starlight. 'Thisbegins to look complicated. Whatever the row was, Daly and he were init. There's no one rich enough to rob hereabouts, is there? I don't likethe look of it. Ride on, boys. '

We said nothing to each other, but rode along as fast as Warrigal couldfollow the line. The sky, which was bright enough when we started, clouded over, and in less than ten minutes the wind rose and rain beganto pour down in buckets, with no end of thunder and lightning. Then itgot that cold we could hardly sit on our horses for trembling. The skygrew blacker and blacker. The wind began to whistle and cry till I couldalmost swear I heard some one singing out for help. Nulla Mountain wasas black as your hat, and a kind of curious feeling crept over me, Ihardly knew why, as if something was going to happen, I didn't knowwhat. 

I fully expected to find father dead; and, though he wasn't altogethera good father to us, we both felt bad at the notion of his lyin' therecold and stiff. I began to think of him as he used to be when we wereboys, and when he wasn't so out and out hard--and had a kind word forpoor mother and a kiss for little Aileen. 

But if he were shot or taken, why hadn't these other men come back? Wehad just ridden by their tents, and they looked as if they'd just beenleft for a bit by men who were coming back at night. The dog was howlingand looked hungry. Their blankets were all thrown about. Anyhow, therewas a kettle on the fire, which was gone out; and more than that, therewas the damper that Warrigal had seen lying in the ashes all burnt to acinder. 

Everything looked as if they'd gone off in a hurry, and never come backat night or since. One of their horses was tied with a tether rope closeto the tent poles, and he'd been walking round and trampling down thegrass, as if he'd been there all night. We couldn't make it out. 

We rode on, hardly looking at one another, but following Warrigal, whorattled on now, hardly looking at the ground at all, like a dog with aburning scent. All of a sudden he pulls up, and points to a dip into across gully, like an old river, which we all knew. 

'You see um crow? I b'leeve longa Black Gully. '

Sure enough, just above the drop down, where we used to gallop ourponies in old times and laugh to see 'em throw up their tails, therewere half-a-dozen crows and a couple of eagle-hawks high up in the sky, wheeling and circling over the same place. 

'By George! they've got the old man, ' says Jim. 'Come on, Dick. I neverthought poor old dad would be run down like this. '

'Or he's got them!' says Starlight, curling his lip in a way he had. 'Idon't believe your old governor's dead till I see him. The devil himselfcouldn't grab him on his own ground. '

Chapter 38

We all pulled up at the side of the gully or dry creek, whatever it was, and jumped off our horses, leaving Warrigal to look after them, and randown the rocky sides of it. 

'Great God!' Starlight cries out, 'what's that?' and he pointed to asmall sloping bit of grass just underneath the bank. 'Who are they? Canthey be asleep?'

They were asleep, never to wake. As we stood side by side by the deadmen, for there were four of them, we shook so, Jim and I, that we leanedagainst one another for support. We had never seen a sight before thatlike it. I never want to do so again. 

There they lay, four dead men. We didn't know them ourselves, butguessed they were Hagan and his lot. How else did they come there? andhow could dad have shot them all by himself, and laid them out there?Were Daly and Moran with him? This looked like Moran's damnable work. 

We looked and looked. I rubbed my eyes. Could it be real? The sky wasdark, and the daylight going fast. The mountain hung over us black anddreadful-looking. The wind whimpered up and down the hillside witha sort of cry in it. Everything was dark and dismal and almostunnatural-looking. 

All four men were lying on their backs side by side, with their eyesstaring up to the sky--staring--staring! When we got close beside themwe could see they had all been shot--one man through the head, the restthrough the body. The two nearest to me had had their hands tied; thebit of rope was lying by one and his wrist was chafed. 

One had been so close to the man that shot him that the powder had burnthis shirt. It wasn't for anything they had either, for every man's notes(and one had four fives and some ones) were pinned to them outside oftheir pockets, as if to show every one that those who killed them wantedtheir blood and not their money. 

'This is a terrible affair, boys, ' said Starlight; and his voice soundedstrange and hoarse. 'I never thought we should be mixed up with a deedlike this. I see how it was done. They have been led into a trap. Yourfather has made 'em think they could catch him; and had Daly and Moranwaiting for them--one on each side of this hole here. Warrigal'--for hehad tied up his horse and crept up--'how many bin here?'

Warrigal held up three fingers. 

'That one ran down here--one after one. I see 'em boot. Moran standhere. Patsey Daly lie down behind that ole log. All about boot-nailmark. Old man Ben he stand here. Dog bite'm this one. '

Here he stooped and touched a dead man's ankle. Sure enough there wasthe mark of Crib's teeth, with the front one missing, that had beenkicked down his throat by a wild mare. 

'Two fellow tumble down fust-like; then two fellow bimeby. One--two--three fellow track go along a flat that way. Then that one gettwo horses and ridem likit Fish River. Penty blood tumble down here. '

This was the ciphering up of the whole thing. It was clear enough now. Moran and Daly had waited for them here, and had shot down the two firstmen. Of the others, it was hard to say whether they died in fair fightor had been taken prisoners and shot afterwards. Either way it was badenough. What a noise it would make! The idea of four men, well knownto the Government, and engaged in hunting down outlaws on whose head aprice was set, to be deliberately shot--murdered in cold blood, as therewas some ground for thinking to be the case. What would be the end of itall?

We had done things that were bad enough, but a deliberate, cold-blooded, shameful piece of bloodshed like this had never been heard of in NewSouth Wales before. 

There was nothing more to be done. We couldn't stay any longer lookingat the dead men; it was no use burying them, even if we'd had the time. We hadn't done it, though we should be sure to be mixed up with itsomehow. 

'We must be moving, lads, ' said Starlight. 'As soon as this gets windthere'll be another rush out this way, and every policeman and newspaperreporter in the country will be up at Black Gully. When they're foundeverybody will see that they've been killed for vengeance and not forplunder. But the sooner they're found the better. '

'Best send word to Billy the Boy, ' I said; 'he'll manage to lay them onwithout hurting himself. '

'All right. Warrigal knows a way of communicating with him; I'll sendhim off at once. And now the sooner we're at the Hollow the better foreverybody. '

We rode all night. Anything was better than stopping still with suchthoughts as we were likely to have for companions. About daylight we gotto the Hollow. Not far from the cave we found father's old mare with thesaddle on and the reins trailing on the ground. There was a lot of bloodon the saddle too, and the reins were smeared all about with it; redthey were to the buckles, so was her mane. 

We knew then something was wrong, and that the old man was hard hit, orhe'd never have let her go loose like that. When we got to the cave thedog came out to meet us, and then walked back whining in a queer waytowards the log at the mouth, where we used to sit in the evenings. 

There was father, sure enough, lying on his face in a pool of blood, andto all appearances as dead as the men we'd just left. 

We lifted him up, and Starlight looked close and careful at him by thelight of the dawn, that was just showing up over the tree tops to theeast. 

'He's not dead; I can feel his heart beat, ' he said. 'Carry him in, boys, and we'll soon see what's the matter with him. '

We took his waistcoat and shirt off--a coat he never wore unless it wasraining. Hard work we had to do it, they was so stuck to his skin whenthe blood had dried. 

'By gum! he's been hit bad enough, ' says Jim. 'Look here, and here, poorold dad!'

'There's not much "poor" about it, Jim, ' says Starlight. 'Men that playat bowls must expect to get rubbers. They've come off second best inthis row, and I wish it had been different, for several reasons. '

Dad was hit right through the top of the left shoulder. The ball hadgone through the muscle and lodged somewhere. We couldn't see anythingof it. Another bullet had gone right through him, as far as we couldmake out, under the breast on the right-hand side. 

'That looks like a good-bye shot, ' says Starlight; 'see how the bloodcomes welling out still; but it hasn't touched the lungs. There's noblood on his lips, and his breathing is all right. What's this? Onlythrough the muscle of the right arm. That's nothing; and this graze onthe ribs, a mere scratch. Dash more water in his face, Jim. He's comingto. '

After a few minutes he did come to, sure enough, and looked round whenhe found himself in bed. 

'Where am I?' says he. 

'You're at home, ' I said, 'in the Hollow. '

'Dashed if I ever thought I'd get here, ' he says. 'I was that bad Inearly tumbled off the old mare miles away. She must have carried me inwhile I was unsensible. I don't remember nothing after we began to getdown the track into the Hollow. Where is she?'

'Oh! we found her near the cave, with the saddle and bridle on. '

'That's all right. Bring me a taste of grog, will ye; I'm a'most deadwith thirst. Where did I come from last, I wonder? Oh, I seem to knownow. Settling accounts with that----dog that insulted my gal. Moran gotsquare with t'other. That'll learn 'em to leave old Ben Marston alonewhen he's not meddling with them. '

'Never mind talking about that now, ' I said. 'You had a near shave ofit, and it will take you all your time to pull through now. '

'I wasn't hit bad till just as I was going to drop down into BlackGully, ' he said. 'I stood one minute, and that cursed wretch Hagan hada steady shot at me. I had one at him afterwards, though, with his handstied, too. '

'God forgive you!' says Jim, 'for shooting men in cold blood. I couldn'tdo it for all the gold in Turon, nor for no other reason. It'll bring usbad luck, too; see if it don't. '

'You're too soft, Jim, ' says the old man. 'You ain't a bad chap; but anyyoung fellow of ten years old can buy and sell you. Where's that brandyand water?'

'Here it is, ' says Jim; 'and then you lie down and take a sleep. You'llhave to be quiet and obey orders now--that is if a few more years'life's any good to you. '

The brandy and water fetched him to pretty well, but after that he beganto talk, and we couldn't stop him. Towards night he got worse and worseand his head got hotter, and he kept on with all kinds of nonsense, screeching out that he was going to be hung and they were waiting totake him away, but if he could get the old mare he'd be all right;besides a lot of mixed-up things about cattle and horses that we didn'tknow the right of. 

Starlight said he was delirious, and that if he hadn't some one to nursehim he'd die as sure as fate. We couldn't be always staying with him, and didn't understand what was to be done much. We didn't like to lethim lie there and die, so at long last we made up our minds to see if wecould get Aileen over to nurse him for a few weeks. 

Well, we scribbled a bit of a letter and sent Warrigal off with it. Wasn't it dangerous for him? Not a bit of it. He could go anywhere allover the whole country, and no trooper of them all could manage to putthe bracelets on him. The way he'd work it would be to leave his horsea good way the other side of George Storefield's, and to make up as aregular blackfellow. He could do that first-rate, and talk their lingo, too, just like one of themselves. Gin or blackfellow, it was allthe same to Warrigal. He could make himself as black as soot, andgo barefooted with a blanket or a 'possum rug round him and beg forsiccapence, and nobody'd ever bowl him out. He took us in once at thediggings; Jim chucked him a shilling, and told him to go away and notcome bothering near us. 

So away Warrigal went, and we knew he'd get through somehow. He was oneof those chaps that always does what they're told, and never comes backand says they can't do it, or they've lost their horse, or can't findthe way, or they'd changed their mind, or something. 

No; once he'd started there was no fear of him not scoring somehow orother. Whatever Starlight told him to do, day or night, foul weather orfair, afoot or on horseback, that thing was done if Warrigal was aliveto do it. 

What we'd written to Aileen was telling her that father was that badwe hardly thought he'd pull through, and that if she wanted to save hislife she must come to the Hollow and nurse him. 

How to get her over was not the easiest thing in the world, but shecould ride away on her old pony without anybody thinking but she wasgoing to fetch up the cows, and then cut straight up the gully to theold yard in the scrub on Nulla Mountain. One of us would meet her therewith a fresh horse and bring her safe into the Hollow. If all went wellshe would be there in the afternoon on a certain day; anyhow we'd bethere to meet her, come or no come. 

She wouldn't fail us, we were dead sure. She had suffered a lot by himand us too; but, like most women, the very moment anything happened toany of us, even to dad, everything flew out of her head, except thatwe were sick or sorry and wanted her help. Help, of course; wasn'tshe willing to give that, and her rest and comfort, health, even lifeitself, to wear herself out, hand and foot, for any one of her ownfamily?

So poor Aileen made her way up all alone to the old scrub stockyard. Jimand I had ridden up to it pretty early (he wouldn't stop behind) with anice, well-bred little horse that had shone a bit at country races forher to ride on. We waited there a goodish while, we lying down and ourhorses hung up not far off for fear we might be 'jumped' by the policeat any time. 

At last we sees the old pony's head coming bobbing along through thescrub along the worn-out cattle track, grown up as it was, and sureenough there was Aileen on him, with her gray riding skirt and an oldfelt hat on. She'd nothing with her; she was afraid to bring a ha'porthof clothes or anything for fear they should any of 'em tumble that shewas going a long way, and, perhaps, follow her up. So she had to handthat over to Warrigal, and trust to him to bring it on some way orother. We saw her before she saw us, and Jim gave a whistle just as heused to do when he was coming home late at night. She knew it at once, and a smile for a minute came over her pale face; such a sad sort of oneit was too, as if she was wondering at herself that she could feel thatpleased at anything. 

Whatever thoughts was in her mind, she roused up the old pony, and cametowards us quick as soon as she catches sight of us. In two secondsJim had lifted her down in his strong arms, and was holding her off theground and hugging her as if she'd been a child. How the tears ran downher cheeks, though all the time she was kissing him with her arms roundhis neck; and me too, when I came up, just as if we were boys and girlsagain. 

After a bit she wiped her eyes, and said--

'How's father?'

'Very bad, ' I said; 'off his head, and raving. It'll be a close thingwith him. Here's your horse now, and a good one too. We must let the oldpony go; he'll make home fast enough. '

She patted his neck and we turned him loose. He slued round and wentaway steady, picking a bit as he went. He'd be home next day easyenough, and nobody the wiser where he'd been to. 

We'd brought a bit to eat and a glass of wine for the girl in case shewas faint, but she wouldn't take anything but a crust of bread and adrink of water. There was a spring that ran all the year round near thecattle-yard; and off went we, old Lieutenant holding up his head andshowing himself off. He didn't get such a rider on his back every day. 

'What a dear horse, ' she said, as she pulled him together a bit like andsettled herself fair and square in the saddle. 'Oh, how I could enjoyall this if--if---- O my God! shall we ever know a moment's peace andhappiness in this world again? Are we always to be sunk in wretchednessand misery as long as we live?'

We didn't lose much time after that, you be sure. Up and down, thick andopen, rough or smooth, we made the pace good, and Aileen gave us all weknew to keep ahead of her. We had a good light when we got to the dropdown into the Hollow. The sun was just setting, and if we'd had time orthought to give to the looks of things, no doubt it was a grand sight. 

All the Hollow was lighted up, and looked like a green sea with islandsof trees in it. The rock towers on the other side of the range wereshining and glittering like as if they were made of crystallised quartzor diamonds--red and white. There was a sort of mist creeping up thevalley at the lower end under the mountain that began to soften the firecolours, and mix them up like. Even the mountain, that mostly lookedblack and dreary, frowning at our ways, was of purple and gold, withpale shadows of green and gray. 

Aileen pulled up as we did, and jumped off our horses. 

'So this is the Hollow, ' she said, half talking to herself, 'that I'veheard and thought so much about. What a lovely, lovely place! Surely itought to have a different effect on the people that lived there. '

'Better come off, Ailie, and lead your horse down here, ' says Jim, 'unless you want to ride down, like Starlight did, the first time we sawhim. '

'Starlight! is he here?' she said, in a surprised sort of way. 'I neverthought of that. '

'Of course he is; where else should he be? Why don't you lead on, Dick?'

'Won't you get off? It's not altogether safe, ' I said, 'thoughLieutenant's all right on his old pins. '

'Safe!' she said, with a bitter sort of laugh. 'What does it matter if aMarston girl does break her neck, or her heart either?'

She never said another word, but sat upright with a set face on her, asthe old horse picked his way down after ours, and except when he puthis foot on a rolling stone, never made a slip or a stumble all the waydown, though it was like going down the side of a house. 

When we got to the valley we put on a spurt to the cave, and foundWarrigal sitting on the log in front of us. He'd got home first, ofcourse, and there was Aileen's bundle, a biggish one too, alongsideof him. We could hear father raving and screaming out inside dreadful. Starlight wasn't nigh hand anywhere. He had walked off when Warrigalcame home, and left him to watch the old man. 

'He been like that all the time, Warrigal?'

'No! Captain say big one sleep. Him give him medicine like; then wake upand go on likit that. I believe him bad along a cobra. '

Aileen had jumped off her horse and gone in to the old man the moment wecame up and she heard his voice. 

All that long night we could hear him talking to himself, groaning, cursing, shouting, arguing. It was wonderful how a man who talked solittle as father could have had so many thoughts in his mind. But thenthey all are boxed up together in every man's heart. At a time like thisthey come racing and tumbling out like a flock of sheep out of a yardwhen the hurdle's down. What a dashed queer thing human nature is whenyou come to think of it. That a man should be able to keep his tonguequiet, and shut the door on all the sounds and images and wishes thatgoes racing about inside of his mind like wild horses in a paddock!

One day he'll be smiling and sensible, looking so honest all the time. Next day a knock on the head or a little vein goes crack in the brain(as the doctor told me); then the rails are down, and everything comesout with a rush into the light of day--right and wrong, foul and fair, station brands and clearskins, it don't make no difference. 

Father was always one of the closest men that ever lived. He never toldus much about his old life at home or after he came out here. Now he wasletting drop things here and there that helped us to a few secrets he'dnever told to no man. They made poor Aileen a bit more miserable thanshe'd been before, if that was possible; but it didn't matter much tous. We were pretty tired ourselves that night, and so we got Aileen allshe wanted, and left her alone with him. 

While we were away to meet her some one had taken the trouble to put upa bit of a partition, separating that part of the cave from the other;it was built up of stone--there was plenty about--and not so roughlydone either. It made Aileen feel a lot more comfortable. Of course therewas only one man who could have done it; and that was Starlight. 

Chapter 39

Towards morning father went into a heavy sleep; he didn't wake tillthe afternoon. Poor Aileen was able to get a doze and change herdress. After breakfast, while we were having a bit of a chat, in walksStarlight. He bowed to Aileen quite respectful, as he always did to awoman, and then shook hands with her. 

'Welcome to the Hollow, Miss Marston, ' he said. 'I can't say how charmedI am in one sense, though I regret the necessity which brought youhere. '

'I'm glad to come, and only for poor father's being so bad I coulddelight in the life here. '

'How do you find your father?'

'He is asleep now, and perhaps the rest will do him good. '

'He may awake free from fever, ' says Starlight. 'I took the risk ofgiving him an opiate before you came, and I think the result has beenfavourable. '

'Oh! I hope he will be better when he wakes, ' says Aileen, 'and that Ishall not have to watch through another dreadful night of raving. I canhardly bear it. '

'You must make your brothers take their share; it's not fair to you. '

'Thank you; but I feel as if I couldn't leave him to anybody but myself. He seems so weak now; a little neglect might kill him. '

'Pardon me, Miss Marston; you overrate the danger. Depend upon it, yourrespected parent will be quite a different man in a week, though it maybe a month or more before he is fully recovered. You don't know what aconstitution he has. '

'You have given me fresh hope, ' she said. 'I feel quite cheered up--thatis' (and she sighed) 'if I could be cheerful again about anything. '

Here she walked into the cave and sat down by father to watch tillhe awoke, and we all went out about our daily work, whatever itwas--nothing very wonderful, I daresay, but it kept us from thinking. 

Starlight was right. As luck would have it, father woke up a deal betterthan when he laid down. The fever had gone away, his head was rightagain, and he began to ask for something to eat--leastways to drink, first. But Aileen wouldn't give him any of that, and very little to eat. Starlight had told her what to do in case he wanted what wasn't good forhim, and as she was pretty middling obstinate, like himself, she tookher own ways. 

After this he began to get right; it wasn't easy to kill old dad. Heseemed to be put together with wire and whip-cord; not made of flesh andblood like other men. I don't wonder old England's done so much and goneso far with her soldiers and sailors if they was bred like him. It's mynotion if they was caught young, kept well under command, and led by menthey respected, a regiment or a man-of-war's crew like him would knocksmoke out of any other thousand men the world could put up. More's thepity there ain't some better way of keeping 'em straight than there is. 

He was weak for a bit--very weak; he'd lost a deal of blood; and, tryhow he would, he couldn't stand up long at a time, and had to give inand lie down in spite of himself. It fretted him a deal, of course; he'dnever been on his back before, and he couldn't put up with it. Then histemper began to show again, and Aileen had a deal to bear and put upwith. 

We'd got a few books, and there was the papers, of course, so she usedto read to him by the hour together. He was very fond of hearing aboutthings, and, like a good many men that can't read and write, he wasclever enough in his own way. When she'd done all the newspapers--theywere old ones (we took care not to get any fresh ones, for fear she'dsee about Hagan and the others)--she used to read about battles andsea-fights to him; he cared about them more than anything, and onenight, after her reading to him about the battle of Trafalgar, he turnedround to her and says, 'I ought to have been in that packet, Ailie, mygirl. I was near going for a sailor once, on board a man-o'-war, too. I tried twice to get away to sea, that was before I'd snared my firsthare, and something stopped me both times. Once I was fetched back andflogged, and pretty nigh starved. I never did no good afterwards. Butit's came acrost me many and many a time that I'd been a different sorto' chap if I'd had my will then. I was allays fond o' work, and therecouldn't be too much fightin' for me; so a man-o'-war in those dayswould have been just the thing to straighten me. That was the bestchance I ever had. Well, I don't say as I haven't had others--plenty inthis country, and good ones too; but it was too late--I'd got set. Whena man's young, that's the time he can be turned right way or wrong. It'snone so easy afterwards. '

He went to sleep then, and Aileen said that was the only time he everspoke to her in that way. We never heard him talk like that, nor nobodyelse, I expect. 

If we could have got some things out of our heads, that was thepleasantest time ever we spent in the Hollow. After father could beleft by himself for a few hours we got out the horses, and used to takeAileen out for long rides all over the place, from one end to the other. It did her good, and we went to every hole and corner in it. She wasnever tired of looking at the great rock towers, as we used to call 'em, where the sandstone walls hung over, just like the pictures of castles, till, Starlight said, in the evenings you could fancy you saw flagswaving and sentinels walking up and down on them. 

One afternoon we went out to the place where the old hermit had livedand died. We walked over his old garden, and talked about the box we'ddug up, and all the rest of it. Starlight came with us, and he persuadedAileen to ride Rainbow that day, and, my word, they made a splendidpair. 

She'd dressed herself up that afternoon just a little bit more thancommon, poor thing, and put a bit of pink ribbon on and trimmed up herhat, and looked as if she began to see a little more interest in things. It didn't take much to make her look nice, particularly on horseback. Her habit fitted her out and out, and she had the sort of figurethat, when a girl can ride well, and you see her swaying, graceful andeasy-like, to every motion of a spirited horse, makes you think herhandsomer than any woman can look on the ground. We rode pretty fastalways, and it brought a bit of colour to her face. The old horse gotpulling and prancing a bit, though he was that fine-tempered he'd carrya child almost, and Jim and I thought we hadn't seen her look likeherself before this for years past. 

It was a beautiful warm evening, though summer was over, and we weregetting into the cold nights and sharp mornings again, just before theregular winter weather. There was going to be a change, and there werea few clouds coming up from the north-west; but for all that it had beenquite like a spring day. The turf on all the flats in the Hollow wassplendid and sound. The grass had never been cut up with too heavystocking (which ruins half the country, I believe), and there was agood thick undergrowth underneath. We had two or three little creeksto cross, and they were pretty full, except at the crossing places, andrippled over the stones and sparkled in the sun like the brooks we'dheard tell of in the old country. Everything was so quiet, and brightand happy-looking, that we could hardly fancy we were the men we were;and that all this wild work had been going on outside of the valley thatlooked so peaceful and innocent. 

There was Starlight riding alongside of Aileen on his second-best horse, and he was no commoner either (though he didn't come up to Rainbow, norno other horse I ever saw), talking away in his pleasant, easy-goingway. You'd think he hadn't got a thing to trouble him in the world. She, for a wonder, was smiling, and seemed to be enjoying herself for once ina way, with the old horse arching his neck, and spinning along under heras light as a greyhound, and as smooth as oil. It was something like apleasant ride. I never forgot that evening, and I never shall. 

We rode up to the ruined hut of the solitary man who had lived there solong, and watched the sun go down so often behind the rock towers fromhis seat under the big peach tree. 

'What a wonderful thing to think of!' Aileen says, as she slipped downoff her side-saddle. 

We dismounted, too, and hung up our horses. 

'Only to think that he was living here before we were born, or fathercame to Rocky Flat. Oh! if we could have come here when we were littlehow we should have enjoyed it! It would have seemed fairyland to us. '

'It always astonishes me, ' said Starlight, 'how any human being canconsent to live, year after year, the same life in the same place. Ishould go mad half-a-dozen times over. Change and adventure are the verybreath of my nostrils. '

'He had the memory of his dead wife to keep him, ' said Aileen. 'Herspirit soothed the restless heart that would have wandered far into thewilds again. '

'It may be so, ' said Starlight dreamily. 'I have known no suchinfluences. An outlaw I, by forest laws, almost since the days of myboyhood, I shall be so till the day of my death, ' he added. 

'If I were a man I should go everywhere, ' said Aileen, her eyessparkling and her face regular lighted up. 'I have never been anywhereor seen anything, hardly so much as a church, a soldier, a shop-window, or the sea, begging his pardon for putting him last. But oh! what asplendid thing to be rich; no, not that altogether, but to be able to gowherever you liked, and have enough not to be troubled about money. '

'To be free, and have a mind at ease; it doesn't seem so much, ' saidStarlight, talking almost to himself; 'and yet how we fools and madmenshut ourselves out of it for ever, for ever, sometimes by a single actof folly, hardly crime. That comes after. '

'The sun is going down behind the great rock tower, ' Aileen says, asif she hadn't heard him. Perhaps she didn't. When people have a lot ontheir minds they're half their time thinking their own thoughts. 'Howall the lovely colours are fading away. Life seems so much like that--alittle brightness, then gray twilight, night and darkness so soonafter. '

'Now and then there's a star; you must admit that, Miss Marston, ' sayshe, cheerful and pleasant again; he was never down for long at a time. 'And there's that much-abused luminary, the moon; you'll see her beforewe get home. We're her sworn votaries and worshippers, you know. '

We had to ride a bit to get home with any kind of light, for we didn'twant father to be growling or kicking up a row with Warrigal that weleft to look after him. But a few miles didn't matter much on such aroad, and with horses in such buckle as ours. 

The stars came out after a while, and the sky was that clear, without acloud in it, that it was a better light to ride by than the moon throws. Jim and I sometimes rode on one side and sometimes the other; but therewas old Rainbow always in the lead, playing with his bit and arching hisneck, and going with Aileen's light weight on him as if he could go onall night at the same pace and think nothing of it; and I believe hecould. 

When we got home dad was grumpy, and wondered what we wanted ridingthe horses about when there was nothing to do and nothing to see. ButWarrigal had made him a pot of tea, and he was able to smoke now; so hewasn't so bad after all. We made ourselves pretty comfortable--Aileensaid she'd got a good appetite, for a wonder--and we sat chatting roundthe fire and talking away quite like old days till the moon was prettyhigh. 

Father didn't get well all at once. He went back twice because he wouldtry to do too much, and wouldn't be said by Starlight or Aileen eitherwhen he took a thing into his head; then he'd have to be nursed andlooked after day and night again just the same as ever. So it took neara month before he was regularly on his pins again, and going about ashe did before he was hit. His right arm was a bit stiff, too; it used topain and make him swear awful now and again. Anyhow, Aileen made us thatcomfortable and happy while she was there, we didn't care how long hetook getting well. 

Those were out and out the pleasantest days we ever spent in theHollow--the best time almost Jim and I had had since we were boys. Nearly every day we rode out in the afternoon, and there wasn't a holeor corner, a spring or a creek inside the walls of the old Hollow thatwe didn't show Aileen. She was that sort of girl she took an interestin everything; she began to know all the horses and cattle as well aswe did ourselves. Rainbow was regular given up to her, and the old horseafter a bit knew her as well as his master. I never seen a decent horsethat didn't like to have a woman on his back; that is, if she was youngand lissom and could ride a bit. They seem to know, in a sort of way. I've seen horses that were no chop for a man to ride, and that wouldn'tbe particular about bucking you off if the least thing started them, butwent as quiet as mice with a girl on their backs. 

So Aileen used to make Rainbow walk and amble his best, so that all therest of us, when she did it for fun, had to jog. Then she'd jump himover logs or the little trickling deep creeks that ran down to the mainwater; or she'd pretend to have a race and go off full gallop, ridinghim at his best for a quarter of a mile; then he'd pull up as easy as ifhe'd never gone out of a walk. 

'How strange all this is, ' she said one day; 'I feel as if I were livingon an island. It's quite like playing at "Robinson Crusoe", only there'sno sea. We don't seem to be able to get out all the same. It's a happy, peaceful life, too. Why can't we keep on for ever like this, and shutout the wicked, sorrowful world altogether?'

'Quite of your opinion, Miss Marston; why should we ever change?' saysStarlight, who was sitting down with the rest of us by the side of ourbiggest river. We had been fishing all the afternoon and done well. 'Letus go home no more; I am quite contented. But what about poor Jim? Helooks sadder every day. '

'He is fretting for his wife, poor fellow, and I don't wonder. You areone of those natures that never change, Jim; and if you don't get awaysoon, or see some chance of rejoining her, you will die. How you are todo it I don't know. '

'I am bound to make a try next month, ' says Jim. 'If I don't dosomething towards it I shall go mad. '

'You could not do a wiser thing, ' says Starlight, 'in one way, or morefoolish thing in another. Meantime, why should we not make the bestof the pleasant surroundings with which Nature provides us here--greenturf, sparkling water, good sport, and how bright a day! Could we bemore favoured by Fortune, slippery dame that she is? It is an AustralianDecameron without the naughty stories. '

'Do you know, sometimes I really think I am enjoying myself, ' saidAileen, half to herself, 'and then I feel that it must be a dream. Suchdreadful things are waiting for me--for us all. ' Then she shuddered andtrembled. 

She did not know the most dreadful thing of all yet. We had carefullykept it from her. We chanced its not reaching her ears until after shehad got home safe and had time to grieve over it all by herself. 

We had a kind of feeling somehow that us four might never meet againin the same way, or be able to enjoy one another's company for a month, without fear of interruption, again, as long as we lived. 

So we all made up our minds, in spite of the shadow of evil that wouldcrawl up now and then, to enjoy each other's company while it lasted, and make the best of it. 

Starlight for all that seemed altered like, and every now and then he'dgo off with Warrigal and stay away from daylight to dark. When he didcome he'd sit for hours with his hands before him and never say a wordto any one. I saw Aileen watch him when he looked like that, not thatshe ever said anything, but pretended to take it as a matter of course. 

Other times he'd be just as much the other way. He'd read to her, andhe had a good many books, poetry, and all kinds of things stowed awayin the part of the cave he called his own. And he'd talk about othercountries that he'd been in, and the strange people he'd seen, by thehour together, while she would sit listening and looking at him, hardlysaying a thing, and regular bound up in his words. And he could talkonce he was set agoing. I never saw a man that could come up to him. 

Aileen wasn't one of those sort of girls that took a fancy to anygood-looking sort of fellow that came across her. Quite the other way. She seemed to think so little about it that Jim and I always used to sayshe'd be an old maid, and never marry at all. And she used to say shedidn't think she ever would. She never seemed to trouble her head aboutthe thing at all, but I always knew that if ever she did set her fancyupon a man, and take a liking to him, it would not be for a year or two, but for ever. Though she'd mother's good heart and softness about her, she'd a dash of dad's obstinacy in her blood, and once she made up hermind about anything she wasn't easy turned. 

Jim and I could see clear enough that she was taking to Starlight; butthen so many women had done that, had fallen in love with him and hadto fall out again--as far as we could see. He used to treat them allalike--very kind and respectful, but like a lot of children. What wasthe use of a wife to him? 'No, ' he said, once or twice, 'I can bear myfate, because my blood does not run in the veins of a living soul inAustralia. If it were otherwise I could not bear my reflections. Asit is, the revolver has more than once nearly been asked to do me lastservice. '

Though both Aileen and he seemed to like each other, Jim and I neverthought there was anything in it, and let them talk and ride andwalk together just as they pleased. Aileen always had a good word forStarlight, and seemed to pity him so for having to lead such a life, andbecause he said he had no hope of ever getting free from it. Then, ofcourse, there was a mystery about him. Nobody knew who he'd been, oralmost where he had come from--next to nothing about him had ever comeout. He was an Englishman--that was certain--but he must have come youngto the colony. No one could look at him for a moment and see his pale, proud face, his dark eyes--half-scornful, half-gloomy, except whenhe was set up a bit (and then you didn't like to look at them atall)--without seeing that he was a gentleman to the tips of hisdelicate-looking fingers, no matter what he'd done, or where he'd been. 

He was rather over the middle size; because he was slight made, healways looked rather tall than not. He was tremendous strong, too, though he didn't look that, and as active as a cat, though he movedas if walking was too much trouble altogether, and running not to bethought of. 

We didn't expect it would do either of 'em much good. How could it, evenif they did fall in love with one another and make it up to get married?But they were both able to take care of themselves, and it was no useinterfering with 'em either. They weren't that sort. 

Starlight had plenty of money, besides his share of the gold. If wecould ever get away from this confounded rock-walled prison, good as itwas in some ways; and if he and Aileen and the rest of us could make aclean dart of it and get to America, we could live there free and happyyet, in spite of all that had come and gone. 

Aileen wasn't like to leave poor old mother as long as she wanted her, so it couldn't come off for a year or two at earliest, and many thingswere sure to happen in the meanwhile. So we let all the talking andwalking and riding out in the evening go on as much as they pleased, andnever said anything or seemed to take any notice at all about it. 

All this time mother was at George Storefield's. When Aileen ran overthat time, he said it wasn't fit for them to live at Rocky Flat bythemselves. So he went over that very day--like a good fellow, as hewas--and brought over the old woman, and made them both stay at hishouse, safe and comfortable. When Aileen said she had to go away tonurse dad he said he would take care of mother till she came back, andso she'd been there all the time. She knew Mrs. Storefield (George'smother) well in the old times; so they used to sit by the kitchen firewhen they wanted to be extra comfortable, and knit stockings and talkover the good old times to their hearts' content. 

If it hadn't been for old Mrs. Storefield I don't expect mother wouldhave contented herself there--the cottage was got so grand, Aileen toldus, and Gracey had to dress a bit now. George had kept on making moremoney in every way he tried it, and of course he began, bit by bit, tolive according to his means. 

He'd bought cattle-stations on the Lachlan just when the gold brokeout first, and everybody thought station property was never going tobe worth nothing again. Now, since cattle had risen and meat and all tosuch a price, he was making money hand over fist. More than that, as Isaid before, he'd been made a magistrate, and all the swells began totake notice of him--not altogether because he'd made money either; whatI call the real swells, as far as I see, won't do that. If they don'tcare for a man--no matter how much money he's made--they hold shy ofhim. But if he's a straight-going good sort of fellow, that has hishead screwed on the right way, and don't push himself forward too much, they'll meet him half-way, and a very good thing too. 

We could see George was going upwards and out of our lot, beginning tomix with different people and get different notions--not but what he wasalways kind and friendly in his way to Aileen and mother, and would havebeen to us if he'd ever seen us. But all his new friends were differentkind of people, and after a bit, Aileen said, we'd only be remembered aspeople he'd known when he was young, and soon, when the old lady died, we'd be asked into the kitchen and not into the parlour. Aileen used tolaugh when she talked like this, and say she'd come and see George whenhe'd married a lady, and what fun it would be to remind Gracey of thetime they threshed the oats out together at Rocky Flat. But still, laugh and all, I could see, though she talked that way, it made her feelwretched all the while, because she couldn't help thinking that we oughtto have done just as well as George, and might have been nigh-hand asfar forward if we'd kept straight. If we'd only kept straight! Ah, therewas where the whole mistake lay. 

It often seems to me as if men and women ought to have two lives--an oldone and a new one--one to repent of the other; the first one to showmen what they ought to keep clear of in the second. When you think howfoolish-like and childish man or woman commits their first fault, not sobad in itself, but enough often to shut them out from nearly all theirchances of good in this world, it does seem hardish that one life shouldend all under the sun. Of course, there's the other, and we don't knowwhat's coming, but there's so many different notions about that a chaplike me gets puzzled, and looks on it as out of his line altogether. 

We weren't sorry to have a little excuse to stop quiet at home for thismonth. We couldn't have done no good by mooching about, and ten to one, while the chase was so hot after all that were supposed to have had ahand in rubbing out Hagan and his lot, we should have been droppedupon. The whole country was alive with scouting parties, as well asthe regulars. You'd have thought the end of the world was come. Fathercouldn't have done a better thing for himself and all of us than get hitas he did. It kept him and us out of harm's way, and put them off thescent, while they hunted Moran and Burke and the rest of their lot fortheir lives. They could hardly get a bit of damper out of a shepherd'shut without it being known to the police, and many a time they got offby the skin of their teeth. 

Chapter 40

At last father got well, and said he didn't see what good Aileen coulddo stopping any longer in the Hollow, unless she meant to follow upbush-ranging for a living. She'd better go back and stay along with hermother. If George Storefield liked to have 'em there, well and good;things looked as if it wasn't safe now for a man's wife and daughter, and if he'd got into trouble, to live peaceable and quiet in their ownhouse. He didn't think they need be afraid of any one interfering withthem for the future, though. Here dad looked so dark that Aileen beganto think he was going to be ill again. We'd all start and go a bit ofthe way with her next day--to the old stockyard or a bit farther; shecould ride from there, and take the horse back with her and keep him ifshe liked. 

'You've been a good gal to me, ' he says to her; 'you always was one; andyour mother's been a good woman and a good wife; tell her I said so. I'dno call to have done the things I have, or left home because it wasn'ttidy and clean and a welcome always when I came back. It's been rough onher, and on you too, my gal; and if it'll do her any good, tell her I'mdashed sorry. You can take this trifle of money. You needn't boggle atit; it's honest got and earned, long before this other racket. Now youcan go. Kiss your old dad; like as not you won't see him again. '

We'd got the horses in. I lifted her up on to the saddle, and she rodeout. Her horse was all on the square, so there was no harm in her takinghim back with her, and off we went. Dad didn't go after all. We took iteasy out to the old stockyard. We meant to camp there for half-an-hour, and then to send her on, with Warrigal to keep with her and show her theway home. 

We didn't want to make the time too short. What a lovely day it was! Themountain sides were clogged up with mist for an hour after we started;still, any one that knew the climate would have said it was going to bea fine day. There wasn't a breath of air; everything was that still thatnot a leaf on any of the trees so much as stirred. 

When we came to the pass out of the valley, we none of us got off; itwas better going up than coming down, and it would have tired Aileenout at the start to walk up. So the horses had to do their climbing. Itdidn't matter much to them. We were all used to it, horses and riders. Jim and I went first, then Warrigal, then Aileen and Starlight. After wegot up to the top we all stopped and halted a bit to look round. 

Just then, as if he'd waited for us, the sun came out from behind themountain; the mists lifted and rolled away as if they had been graycurtains. Everything showed clear out like a playhouse, the same Jimand I used to see in Melbourne. From where we stood you could seeeverything, the green valley flats with the big old trees in clumps, some of 'em just the same as they'd been planted. The two littleriver-like silver threads winding away among the trees, and far on theopposite side the tall gray rock-towers shining among the forest edgesof the high green wall. Somehow the sun wasn't risen enough to lightup the mountain. It looked as black and dismal as if it was nightfallcoming on. 

'Good-bye, old Hollow!' Aileen called out, waving her hand. 'Everythinglooks bright and beautiful except the mountain. How gloomy it appears, as if it held some dreadful secret--doesn't it? Ah! what a pleasant timeit has been for me. Am I the same Aileen Marston that went in there afew weeks since? And now I suppose there will be more misery and anxietywaiting for all of us when I get back. Well, come what will, I have hada little happiness on this earth. In heaven there must be rest. '

We all rode on, but none of us seemed to care to say much. Every step wewent seemed to be taking us away from the place where we'd all been sohappy together. The next change was sure to be for the worse. What itwould be, or when it would come, we none of us could tell. 

Starlight and Aileen rode together most of the way, and talked a gooddeal, we could see. Before we got to the stockyard she rode over to Jimand cheered him up as much as she could about Jeanie. She said she'dwrite to her, and tell her all about him, and how happy we'd all beentogether lately; and tell her that Jim would find some way to get downto her this spring, if he could manage it any road. 

'If I'm above ground, tell her I'll be with her, ' says poor old Jim, 'before Christmas. If she don't see me then I'll be dead, and she mayput on black and make sure she's a widow. '

'Oh, come, you mustn't talk like that, Jim, and look to the bright sidea bit. There's a good chance yet, now the country's so full of diggersand foreigners. You try your luck, and you'll see your wife yet. '

Then she came to me, and talked away just like old times. 

'You're the eldest, Dick, ' she said, 'and so it's proper for me to saywhat I'm going to say. ' Then she told me all that was in her heart aboutStarlight. He and she had made it up that if he could get away to aforeign country she would join him there, and take mother with her. There was to be no marrying or love-making unless they could carry outthat plan. Then she told me that she had always had the same sort offeeling towards him. 'When I saw him first I thought I had never seena man before--never one that I could care for or think of marrying. Andnow he has told me that he loves me--loves me, a poor ignorant girl thatI am; and I will wait for him all my life, and follow him all round theworld. I feel as if I could die for him, or wear out my life in tryingto make him happy. And yet, and yet, ' she said, and all her face grewsad, and put on the old look that I knew so well, so hopeless, so fullof quiet bearing of pain, 'I have a kind of feeling at my heart that itwill never be. Something will happen to me or to him. We are all doomedto sorrow and misfortune, and nothing can save us from our fate. '

'Aileen, dear, ' I said, 'you are old enough to know what's best foryourself. I didn't think Starlight was on for marrying any woman, buthe's far and away the best man we've ever known, so you can pleaseyourself. But you know what the chances are. If he gets clear off, orany of us, after what's been done, you're right. But it's a hundred toone against it. '

'I'll take the odds, ' says she, holding up her head. 'I'm willing toput my life and happiness, what little there's left of it, on the wager. Things can't well be worse. '

'I don't know, ' I said. 'I ought to tell you--I must tell you somethingbefore we part, though I'd a deal rather not. But you'll bear it betternow than in a surprise. '

'Not more blood, more wickedness, ' she said, in a half-whisper, and thenshe looks up stern and angry-like. 'When is this list of horrible thingsto stop?'

'It was none of our doing. Moran and Daly were in it, and----'

'And none of you? Swear that, ' she said, so quick and pitiful-like. 

'None of us, ' I said again; 'nor yet Warrigal. '

'Then who did it? Tell me all. I'm not a child. I will know. '

'You remember the man that was rude to you at Rocky Flat, and father andhe fired at one another?'

'Of course I do, cowardly wretch that he was. Then Moran was waiting forthem up the gully? I wondered that they did not come back next day. '

'They never came back, ' I said. 

'Why, you don't mean to tell me that they are all dead, all four?--thosestrong men! Oh, surely not, Dick?' and she caught hold of my arm, andlooked up into my face. 

'Yes, Aileen, all. We came after and followed up dad, when we got home;it's a wonder he did it by himself. But we saw them all four lyingstretched out. '

She put down her head and never spoke more till we parted. 

 . . . . . 

We turned back, miserable enough all of us, God knows. After havingAileen to make the place bright and pleasant and cheer us all up losingher was just as if all the little pleasure we had in our lives wasdropped out of them--like the sun going out of the sky, and thewind rising; like the moon clouding over, and a fog burying upeverything--dark and damp, the same as we'd had it many a timecattle-driving by night. We hardly spoke a word to one another all theway home, and no wonder. 

Next day we all sat about, looking more down on our luck, dad said, thanany day since we'd 'turned out'. Then Starlight told him about him andAileen, how they'd made it up to be married some day or other. Notyet, of course; but if he could get away by Melbourne to some of theseplaces--the islands on the Pacific coast, where vessels were alwayssailing for--he didn't see why his luck shouldn't change. 'I have alwaysthought your daughter, ' he says to father, 'one of the grandest women Iever met, in any degree, gentle or simple. She has had the imprudenceto care for me; so, unless you have some well-grounded objection--and Idon't say you haven't, mind you, I should if I were in your place--youmay as well say you're contented, and wish us luck!'

Father was a long time before he said anything. He sat there, lookingvery sullen and set-like, while Starlight lit a cigar and walked quietlyup and down a few paces off. 

Dad answers at last. 'I don't say but what other lads would have suitedbetter if they'd come off, but most things goes contrary in this world. The only thing as I'm doubtful of, Captain, is your luck. If that's bad, all the trying and crying won't set it right. And it's great odds asyou'll be caught or shot afore the year's out. For that matter, everyone of us is working for Government on the same road. But the gal's agood gal, and if she's set her fancy on you I won't block her. You're apair of dashed fools, that's all, botherin' your heads with the like ata time like this, when you boys are all more likely to have a rope roundyour necks than any gal's arms, good or bad. Have your own way. Youalways managed to get it, somehow or other, ever since I knowed ye. '

After this father lit his pipe and went into the cave. 

By and by he comes out again and catches the old mare. 

'I ain't been out of this blessed hole, ' he says, 'for a month ofSundays. I'm dead tired of seeing nothin' and doin' nothin'. I'll crawlover to old Davy's for our letters and papers. We ain't heard nothingfor a year, seems to me. '

Dad was strong enough to get about in the saddle again, and we weren'tsorry to get shut of him for a bit. He was that cranky at times therewas no living with him. As for ourselves, we were regular wild for somesort of get away for a bit of a change; so we hadn't talked it over verylong before we made up our minds to take a run over to Jonathan Barnes'sand have a bit of fun, just to take the taste out of our mouths ofAileen's going away. 

We had to dress ourselves very quiet and get fresh horses--nags that hadnothing particular about them to make people look, at the same time witha bit of go in them in case we were pushed at any time. 

No sooner said than done. We went to work and got everything ready, andby three o'clock we were off--all three of us, and never in better heartin our lives--for a bit of fun or devilment; it didn't matter which camefirst. 

When we got to Jonathan's it was latish, but that didn't matter to us orto the girls neither; they were always ready for a bit of fun, night orday. However, just at first they pretended to be rather high and mightyabout this business of Hagan's. 

'Oh! it's you, is it?' says Bella, after we walked in. 'I don't know asit's safe for us to be knowing such dangerous characters. There's a newlaw against harbouring, father says. He's pretty frightened, I can tellyou, and for two pins we'd be told to shut the door in your faces. '

'You can do that if you like now, ' says I; 'we shan't want tellingtwice, I daresay. But what makes you so stiff to-night?'

'Why, Hagan's business, of course, ' says Maddie; 'four men killed incold blood. Only I know you couldn't and wouldn't be in it I'd not knowany of ye from a crow. There now. '

'Quite right, most beauteous Madeline, ' says Starlight; 'it was a verydreadful affair, though I believe there was some reason for old Benbeing angry. Of course, you know we weren't within miles of the placewhen it was done. You remember the night we were here last?'

'Of course we do, Captain, quite well. Weren't you going to dance atBella's wedding and all? You'll have to do that sooner than we expected, though. '

'Glad to hear it, but listen to me, my dear; I want you to know thetruth. We rode straight back to the--to where we lived--and, of course, found the old man gone away from the place. We tracked him right enough, but came up when it was all over. Daly and Moran were the chief actorsin that tragedy. '

'Oh, we said it was Moran's work from the first, didn't we, Bill? It'sjust the line he's cut out for. I always think he ought to have a bowland dagger. He looks like the villain on the stage. '

'On or off the stage he can support the principal part in that line mostnaturally, ' says Starlight; 'but I prophesy he will be cut off in themidst of his glorious career. He's beastly cunning, but he'll be trappedyet. '

'It's a pity Jim can't stay a few days with us, ' says Maddie; 'I believewe'd find a way of passing him on to Victoria. I've known more than oneor two, or half-a-dozen either, that has been put through the same way. '

'For God's sake, Mad, lay me on!' says poor Jim, 'and I'll go on myknees to you. '

'Oh! I daresay, ' says Maddie, looking saucy, 'but I like a man to befond of some woman in a proper way, even if it isn't me; so I'll do whatI can to help you to your wife and pickaninny. '

'We must get you into the police force, Maddie, ' says Starlight, 'or make you a sort of inspector, unattached, if you're so clever atmanaging these little affairs. But what's the idea?'

'Well, ' says she, settling herself in a chair, spreading out her dress, and looking very knowing, 'there's an old gentleman being driven all theway overland in a sort of light Yankee trap, and the young fellow that'sdriving has to find horses and feed 'em, and get so much for the trip. '

'Who is it?' says I. 

'Oh! you know him, ' says Maddie, looking down, 'he's a great friendof mine, a steady-going, good-conducted chap, and he's a little--youunderstand--well, shook on me. I could persuade him a bit, that is----'

'I don't doubt that at all, ' says I. 

'Oh! you know him a little. He says he saw you at the Turon; he wasworking with some Americans. His name's Joe Moreton. '

'I remember him well enough; he used to wear a moustache and a chinbeard, and talk Yankee. Only for that he was a good deal like Jim; wealways said so. '

'Do you see anything now, Dick, you that's so sharp?' says Maddie. 

'Bless my soul, ' says Starlight, 'of course, it is as clear as yourbeautiful eyes. Jim is to shave his beard, talk like a Yankee, and go inJoe Moreton's place. I see it all. Maddie persuading Joe to consent tothe exchange of duties. '

'But what will his employer say?'

'Oh! he's as bad as bad can be with the sandy blight, ' says Maddie, 'wears green goggles, poor old gentleman. He'll never know nothing, andhe'll be able to swear up for Jim if the police pull him anywhere thisside of the Murray. '

We'd told Maddie that money needn't stand in the way, so she was topromise Joe the full sum that he was to get for his contract would bepaid to him in cash that night--Jim to pay his own expenses as he went, the same as he was to do himself. Of course she could get the money fromold Jonathan. A word from us then was worth a deal more than that'd cometo. Money wasn't the worst thing we had to care about. 

They would have to change clothes, and he'd tell Jim about the horses, the stages, and how to answer the old cove, and what to do to humour himas they went along. If he'd had his full eyesight he might have noticedsome difference, but as it was, it was as much as the poor old chap, she believed, could see there was a driver at all. His eyes was bound upmostly; he had a big shade over 'em, and was half the night swabbing andpoulticing, and putting lotion into 'em. He'd got sandy blight that badit would take months to get right. Once you get a touch like that it'sa terror, I can tell you. I've had it that bad myself I had to be ledabout. 

After a lot of talking, that Jim was to try his luck as the Rev. Mr. Watson's coachman, he was mad to get away somehow, and such anotherchance might never turn up in a month of Sundays. He would have plentyof time to shave his beard and make himself look as like as ever hecould to Joe Moreton. Maddie said she'd see after that, and it wouldbe as good as a play. Lucky for old Jim we'd all taken a fancy at theTuron, for once in a way, to talk like Arizona Bill and his mates, justfor the fun of the thing. There were so many Americans there at first, and they were such swells, with their silk sashes, bowie knives, andbroad-leafed 'full-share' hats, that lots of the young native fellowstook a pride in copying them, and could walk and talk and guess andcalculate wonderful well considering. Besides, most of the natives havea sort of slow, sleepy way of talking, so it partly came natural to thischap, Joe Moreton, and Jim. There couldn't be a better chance, so wethought we'd stay a day and give Jim a send off all square and regular. It wasn't no ways too safe, but we wanted a bit of a jollification andwe thought we'd chance it. 

That night we had a regular good ball. The girls got some of the youngfellows from round about to come over, and a couple or two other girls, and we had no end of fun. There was plenty of champagne, and even Jimpicked up a bit; and what with being grateful to Maddie for giving himthis lift, and better in spirits on the chance of seeing Jeanie again, he was more like his own self. Maddie said he looked so handsome she hadhalf a mind to throw over Joe Moreton after all. 

Joe came rather latish, and the old gentleman had a cup of tea and wentto bed at once, leaving word for Joe that he wanted to start almostbefore daylight, or as soon as he could see to drive, so as to gethalf-way on their stage before the sun was hot. 

After Joe had seen to his horses and put the trap away he came into thehouse and had a glass or two, and wired in with the rest of us like agood 'un. After a bit we see Maddie corner him off and have a long talk, very serious too. After that they went for a walk in the garden and wasaway a good while. When she came back she looked over at Jim and nodded, as much as to say, 'It's all right, ' and I saw poor old Jim's facebrighten up as if a light had passed over it. 

By and by she came over and told us all about it. She'd had a hardmatter to manage it, for Joe was a square sort of fellow, that had aplace of his own, and at first didn't like the notion of being mixed upwith our crowd at all. But he was regular shook on Maddie, and she wentat him as only a woman can, and I daresay, though she didn't tell us, made it part of the bargain, if she was to marry him, to help Jim inthis particular way. He was to be well paid for this journey by old Mr. Watson, and he wanted a bit of money before harvest or he wouldn't havetaken the job at all. 

The end of it was that Jim and Joe sat up ever so late, pretty wellon to daylight, smoking and yarning, and Joe practising Jim in all thethings he was to do and say, giving him a kind of chart of the stages, and telling him the sort of answers he was to give to the old chap. Itwas just before daylight when they knocked off, and then Joe goes andpeels off his duds and hands 'em over to Jim, rough great-coat andall--up to his chin and down to his toes. 

Joe takes Jim's togs. They fitted him all to pieces, and Jim hands himover his horse, saddle, revolver, and spurs, and tells him the old horseis a real plum, and he hopes he'll be good to him. Then Jim shakes handswith us all round. Blessed if the girls wasn't up too, and had somecoffee smoking hot for us. 'We can sleep when you're all gone, ' saysMaddie, 'and perhaps we shan't see old Jim any more' (this was said whenJoe was out of the room), 'so here's good luck; and when you've got yourwife and child again don't forget Maddie Barnes. ' Then she shook handswith him, and made a quick bolt to her own room. Queer things women are, my word. 

When old Jim drove round to the front with the pair of horses, settingup square with his big coat and Joe's 'full-share' hat on him, we allbursted out laughing. He'd first of all gone to the old gentleman's roomand sung out, 'All aboard, sir, time's up, ' just to liven him up a bit. Joe kept away down at the stable. 

Well, presently out comes the old chap, with a veil on and his greengoggles, winkin' and blinkin' as if he couldn't see a door from awindow. He drinks off a cup of coffee and takes a munch of bread andbutter, makes a kind of bow to Bella, and shuffles into his carriage. Jim touches up the horses and away they go. We rose a bit of a cheer. Maddie waved her handkerchief out of the window. Jim looked round andraised his whip. That was the last sight any of us had of him for many aday. Poor old Jim!

Chapter 41

We hadn't been long at home, just enough to get tired of doing nothing, when we got a letter from Bella Barnes, telling us that she was going toget married the day after the Turon races, and reminding Starlight thathe had promised to come to her wedding. If he didn't think it was toorisky, she hoped he'd come. There was going to be a race ball, and itwas sure to be good fun. It would be a good wind-up, and Maddie wascoming out a great swell. Sir Ferdinand would be there, but there'd besuch a crowd anybody would pass muster, and so on. 

 'Yours sincerely, 'Isabella Barnes. 

'P. S. --There was a big handicap, with 500 added; hadn't we a good horseenough?'

'Well done, Bella!' says Starlight. 'I vote we go, Dick. I never went toa hop with a price on my head before. A thousand pounds too! Quite anew sensation. It settles the question. And we'll enter Rainbow forthe handicap. He ought to be good enough for anything they're likely tohave. '

'Captain Starlight's Rainbow, 9 st. 8 lb. , ' I said, 'with Dick Marstonto lead him up to the judge's box. How will that wash? And what are thepolice going to be about all the time? Bella's gone out of her sensesabout her marriage and thinks we are too. '

'You're a good fellow, Richard, and stanch, but you're like yourfather--you haven't any imagination. I see half-a-dozen ways of doingthe whole thing. Besides, our honour's concerned. I never made a promiseyet, for good or for evil, that I didn't carry out, and some have costme dearly enough, God knows. Fancy running our horses and going to theball under the noses of the police--the idea is delicious!'

'I daresay you're about tired of your life, ' I said. 'I'm pretty sure Iam; but why we should ride straight into the lion's mouth, to pleasea silly girl, I can't see. I haven't over much sense, I know, or Ishouldn't be here; but I'm not such a dashed fool as all that comes to. '

'My mind is made up, Richard--I have decided irrevocably. Of course, youneedn't come, if you see objections; but I'll bet you my Dean and Adamsrevolver and the Navy Colt against your repeating rifle that I do allI've said, and clear out safe. '

'Done!' I said. 'I've no doubt you'll try; but you might as well tryto pull down the walls of Berrima Gaol with a hay-rake. You'll make SirFerdinand's fortune, that's all. He always said he'd die happy if hecould only bag you and the Marstons. He'll be made Inspector-General ofPolice. '

Starlight smiled in his queer, quiet way. 

'If he doesn't rise to the top of the tree until he takes me--alive, Imean--he'll die a sub-inspector. But we'd better sleep on it. This is anenterprise of great pith and moment, and requires no end of thought. Wemust get your sister to come over. That will crown all. '

'Good-night, ' I said, rather hasty. 'We'd better turn the Hollow intoTarban Creek, and advertise for boarders. '

Next morning I expected he'd think better of it--we'd had a glass or twoof grog; but no, he was more set on it than ever, and full of dodgesto work it to rights. He certainly was wonderful clever in all sorts ofways when there was any devilment to be carried out. Half as much inthe straight way would have made a man of him. But that's the way of theworld all over. He ain't the only one. 

As for father, he was like me, and looked on the notion as rankfoolishness. He swore straight on end for about twenty minutes, and thensaid he expected Starlight would have his own way as usual; but he'dplay at that game once too often. He supposed he'd be left in the Hollowall by himself, with Warrigal and the dog for company. 

'Warrigal goes with me--might want him, ' says Starlight. 'You're losingyour nerve, governor. Perhaps you'd like to go to the ball too?'

Father gave a sort of growl, and lit his pipe and wouldn't say no more. Starlight and I regular talked it out, and, after I'd heard all he hadto say, it didn't look quite so impossible as it did at first. We wereto work apart. He was to get in with some of the betting men or sportingpeople that always came to country races, and I was to find out someof our old digger mates and box up with them. Warrigal would shift forhimself and look after the horses, and have them ready in case we had toclear at short notice. 

'And who was to enter Rainbow and look after him?'

'Couldn't we get old Jacob Benton; he's the best trainer I've seen sinceI left home? Billy the Boy told us the other day he was out of a job, and was groom at Jonathan's; had been sacked for getting drunk, and soon. He'll be all the more likely to keep sober for a month. '

'The very man, ' I said. 'He can ride the weight, and train too. But wecan't have him here, surely!'

'No; but I can send the horse to him at Jonathan's, and he can get himfit there as well as anywhere. There's nearly a month yet; he's prettyhard, and he's been regularly exercised lately. '

Jacob Benton was a wizened, dried-up old Yorkshireman. He'd been headman in a good racing stable, but drink had been the ruin of him--losthim his place, and sent him out here. He could be trusted to go rightthrough with a job like ours, for all that. Like many men that drinkhard, he was as sober as a judge between one burst and another. And oncehe took over a horse in training he touched nothing but water till therace was run and the horse back in his box. Then he most times went inan awful perisher--took a month to it, and was never sober day or nightthe whole time. When he'd spent all his money he'd crawl out of thetownship and get away into the country more dead than alive, and takethe first job that offered. But he was fonder of training a good horsethan anything else in the world; and if he'd got a regular flyer, andwas treated liberal, he'd hardly allow himself sleep or time to eat hismeals till he'd got him near the mark. He could ride, too, and was anout-and-out judge of pace. 

When we'd regular chalked it out about entering Rainbow for the GrandTuron Handicap, we sent Warrigal over to Billy the Boy, and got him tolook up old Jacob. He agreed to take the old horse, the week beforethe races, and give him a last bit of French-polish if we'd keep him insteady work till then. From what he was told of the horse he expected hewould carry any weight he was handicapped for and pull it off easy. Hewas to enter him in his own name, the proper time before the races. Ifhe won he was to have ten per cent on winnings; if he lost, a ten-poundnote would do him. He could ride the weight with some lead in hissaddle, and he'd never wet his lips with grog till the race was over. 

So that part of the work was chalked out. The real risky business was tocome. I never expected we should get through all straight. But the moreI hung back the more shook on it Starlight seemed to be. He was like aboy home from school sometimes--mad for any kind of fun with a spice ofdevilment in it. 

About a week before the races we all cleared out, leaving father athome, and pretty sulky too. Warrigal led Rainbow; he was to take him toJonathan Barnes's, and meet old Jacob there. He was to keep him untilit was time to go to Turon. We didn't show there ourselves this time; wewere afraid of drawing suspicion on the place. 

We rode right into Turon, taking care to be well after dark. A realpleasure it was to see the old place again. The crooked streets, thelighted-up shops, the crowd of jolly diggers walking about smoking, orcrowding round the public-house bars, the row of the stampers in thequartz-crushing machines going night and day. It all reminded me of thepleasant year Jim and I had spent here. I wished we'd never had to leaveit. We parted just outside the township for fear of accidents. I wentto a little place I knew, where I put up my horse--could be quiet there, and asked no questions. Starlight, as usual, went to the best hotel, where he ordered everybody about and was as big a swell as ever. He hadbeen out in the north-west country, and was going to Sydney to close fora couple of stations that had been offered to him. 

That night he went to the barber, had his hair cut and his beard shaved, only leaving his moustache and a bit of whisker like a ribbon. He put ona suit of tweed, all one colour, and ordered a lot more clothes, whichhe paid for, and were to be left at the hotel till he returned fromSydney. 

Next day he starts for Sydney; what he was going to do there he didn'tsay, and I didn't ask him. He'd be back the day before the races, andin good time for all the fun, and Bella's wedding into the bargain. Imanaged to find out that night that Kate Mullockson had left Turon. Sheand her husband had sold their place and gone to another diggings justopened. I was glad enough of this, for I knew that her eyes were sharpenough to spy me out whatever disguise I had on; and even if she didn'tI should always have expected to find her eyes fixed upon me. I breathedfreer after I heard this bit of news. 

The gold was better even than when we were there. A lot of men who werepoor enough when we were there had made fortunes. The field never lookedbetter, and the hard-driving, well-paid, jolly mining life was goingon just the same as ever; every one making money fast--spending itfaster--and no one troubling themselves about anything except how muchthe washdirt went to the load, and whether the sinking was through thefalse bottom or not. 

When I first came I had a notion of mating in with some diggers, butwhen I saw how quiet everybody took it, and what thousands of strangersthere were all over the place, I gave myself out for a speculator inmining shares from Melbourne. So I shaved off most of my beard, had myhair cut short, and put on a tall hat. I thought that would shift anysort of likeness there might be to my old self, and, though it wasbeastly uncomfortable, I stuck to it all the time. 

I walked about among the stables and had a good look at all the horsesthat were in training. Two or three good ones, as usual, and a lotof duffers. If Rainbow wasn't beat on his condition, he had pace andweight-carrying for the best of them. I hardly thought he could loseit, or a bigger stake in better company. I was that fond of the horse Ithought he was good enough for an English Derby. 

Well, I kept dark, you be sure, and mooned about, buying a share ata low price now and then just to let 'em see I had money and meantsomething. My name was Mr. Bromford, and I lived at Petersham, nearSydney. 

The day before the races there was a lot of excitement in the town. Strangers kept pouring in from everywhere round about, and all thehotels were crammed full. Just as I was wondering whether Starlight wasgoing to turn up till next day I saw a four-in-hand drag rattle downthe street to the principal inn, and a crowd gather round it as threegentlemen got out and went into the inn. 

'You'll see after all our luggage, will you, ostler?' says one of themto the groom, 'and whatever you do don't forget my umbwella!'

Some of the diggers laughed. 

'Know those coves?' I said to a man that stopped at the same house as Idid. 

'Don't you know? Them's the two Mr. Dawsons, of Wideview, great sportingmen, natives, and ever so rich. They've some horses to run to-morrow. That's a new chum from England that's come up with 'em. '

I hardly knew him at first. His own mother wouldn't, I believe. He'daltered himself that wonderful as I could hardly even now think it wasStarlight; and yet he wasn't a bit like the young Englishman he gammonedto be last year, or the Hon. Frank Haughton either. He had an eyeglassthis time, and was a swell from top to toe. How and when he'd pickedup with the Mr. Dawsons I couldn't tell; but he'd got a knack of makingpeople like him--especially when they didn't know him. Not that it wasworse when they did. It wasn't for that. He was always the same. Thewhitest man I ever knew, or ever shall--that I say and stick to--but ofcourse people can't be expected to associate with men that have 'donetime'. Well, next day was the races. I never saw such a turn-out in thecolony before. Every digger on the field had dropped work for the day;all the farmers, and squatters, and country people had come in for milesround on all sides. The Commissioner and all the police were out in fulluniform, and from the first moment the hotels were opened in the morningtill breakfast time all the bars were full, and the streets crowded withminers and strangers and people that seemed to have come from the endsof the earth. When I saw the mob there was I didn't see so much tobe jerran about, as it was fifty to one in favour of any one that waswanted, in the middle of such a muster of queer cattle as was going onat Turon that day. 

About eleven o'clock every one went out to the course. It wasn't morethan a mile from town. The first race wasn't to be run till twelve; butlong before that time the road was covered with horsemen, traps of everykind and sort, every horse and mare in the whole district. 

Most of the miners went in four-horse coaches and 'buses that wereplying all day long from the town and back; very few walked. The countrypeople mostly drove in spring-carts, or rode on horseback. Any youngfellows that had a good horse liked to show him off, of course; thegirls in habits of their own make, perhaps, and now and then a top hat, though they looked very well too. They could ride, some of them, above abit, and it made me think of the old days when Jim and I and Aileen usedto ride into Bargo races together, and how proud we were of her, evenwhen she was a little thing, and we used to groom up the old pony tillwe nearly scrubbed the hide off him. 

It was no use thinking of that kind of thing, and I began to wonder howStarlight was getting on with his friends, when I saw the Dawsons' dragcome up the straight, with four upstanding ripping bay horses in topcondition, and well matched. There was Starlight on the box seat, alongside of Jack Dawson, the eldest brother, who could handle theribbons in style, and was a man every inch of him, only a bit too fast;didn't care about anything but horses and dogs, and lived every day ofhis life. The other brother was standing up behind, leaning overand talking to Starlight, who was 'in great form', as he used to sayhimself, and looked as if he'd just come out of a bandbox. 

He had on a silk coat buttoned round him, a white top hat with a bluesilk veil. His eyeglass was stuck in his eye all the time, and he hadkid gloves on that fitted his hands like wax. I really couldn't hardlytake my oath he was the same man, and no wonder nobody else couldn't. Iwas wondering why Sir Ferdinand wasn't swelling about, bowing to allthe ladies, and making that thoroughbred of his dance and arch his neck, when I heard some one say that he'd got news that Moran and the rest of'em had stuck up a place about forty miles off, towards Forbes, andSir Ferdinand had sworn at his luck for having to miss the races; butstarted off just as he was, and taken all the troopers but two with him. 

'Who brought the news?'

'Oh! a youngster called William Jones--said he lived out there. A blackboy came with him that couldn't hardly speak English; he went with 'emto show the way. '

'Well, but how did they know it was true?' says I. 'It might have beenonly a stall. '

'Oh, the young fellow brought a letter from the overseer, saying theymight hold out for a few hours, if the police came along quick. '

'It's a good thing they started at once, ' says I. 'Them boys are veryuseful sometimes, and blackfellows too. '

I went off then, and had a laugh to myself. I was pretty middlingcertain it was Billy the Boy and Warrigal. Starlight had wrote the notebefore we started, only I didn't think they'd be game to deliver itthemselves. 

Now the police was away, all but a couple of young fellows--I went andhad a look to make sure--that didn't know any of us by sight, I thoughtwe might enjoy ourselves for once in a way without watching every onethat came nigh us. And we did enjoy ourselves. I did, I know; thoughyou'd think, as we carried our lives in our hands, in a manner ofspeaking, the fun couldn't have been much. But it's a queer world!Men like us, that don't know what's to happen to them from one day toanother, if they can only see their way for a week ahead, often havemore real pleasure in the bit of time they have to themselves than manya man has in a year that has no call to care about time or money or beafraid of anybody. 

As for Starlight, if he'd been going to be hung next week it would havebeen all one to him. He'd have put off thinking about it until about anhour before, and then would have made all his arrangements and done thewhole business quietly and respectably, without humbug, but withoutany flashness either. You couldn't put him wrong, or make him do or sayanything that was out of place. 

However, this time nobody was going to be hung or took or anything else. We'd as good as got a free pardon for the time being, now the policewas away; no one else would have meddled with us if we'd had our namesprinted on our hats. So we made the most of it, I expect. Starlightcarried on all sorts of high ropes. He was introduced to all the nobs, and I saw him in the grand stand and the saddling-paddock, taking theodds in tens and fifties from the ringmen--he'd brought a stiffish rollof notes with him--and backing the Dawson stable right out. 

It turned out afterwards that he'd met them at an inn on the mountains, and helped them to doctor one of their leaders that had been griped. Sothey took a fancy to him, and, being free-hearted sort of fellows, askedhim to keep them company in the drag, and let one of the grooms ride hishorse. Once he started he kept them alive, you may be sure, and by thetime they got to Turon they were ready to go round the world with him, and swore they'd never met such a man in their lives--very likely theyhadn't, either. He was introduced to the judge and the stewards and theCommissioner and the police magistrate, and as much fuss made over himas if he was the Governor's son. It was as good as a play. I got up asnear as I dared once or twice, and I couldn't hardly keep from burstingout laughing when I saw how grave he talked and drawled and put up hiseyeglass, and every now and then made 'em all laugh, or said somethingreminded him of India, where he'd last come from. 

Well, that was a regular fizzer of a spree, if we never had another. Theracing was very fair, and, as luck would have it, the Dawson horses wonall the big money, and, as they started at longish odds, they must havemade a pot of money, and Starlight too, as he'd gone in a docker fortheir stable. This made them better friends than ever, and it was Dawsonhere and Lascelles there all over the course. 

Well, the day went over at last, and all of them that liked a littlefun and dancing better than heavy drinking made it up to go to the raceball. It was a subscription affair--guinea tickets, just to keep out theregular roughs, and the proceeds to go to the Turon Jockey Club Fund. All the swells had to go, of course, and, though they knew it would bea crush and pretty mixed, as I heard Starlight say, the room was large, the band was good, and they expected to get a fair share of dancingafter an hour or so. 

Starlight and the Dawsons dined at the camp, and were made a good dealof--their health drunk and what not--and Starlight told us afterwardshe returned thanks for the strangers and visitors; said he'd been toldAustralia was a rough place, but he never expected to find so muchgenuine kindness and hospitality and, he might add, so much refinementand gentlemanly feeling. Speaking for himself, he had never expected, considering his being a total stranger, to be welcomed so cordiallyand entertained so handsomely, more particularly at the mess of herMajesty's goldfields officials, whose attention on this occasion theymight be assured he would never forget. He would repeat, the events ofthis particular day would never be effaced from his memory. (Tremendouscheering. )

After dinner, and when the champagne had gone round pretty reasonable, the Commissioner proposed they should all adjourn to the ball, when, ifMr. Lascelles cared about dancing, he ventured to think a partner ortwo could be found for him. So they all got up and went away down to thehall of the Mechanics' Institute--a tremendous big room that had beenbuilt to use as a theatre, and to give lectures and concerts in. Thesesort of things are very popular at diggings. Miners like to be amused, and have plenty of money to spend when times are good. There was hardlya week passed without some kind of show being on when we went there. 

I walked down quietly an hour or so before most of the people, so asto be in the way to see if Aileen came. We'd asked her to come on thechance of meeting us there, but we hadn't got any word, and didn't knowwhether she could manage it nor whether George would bring her. I hada sort of half-and-half notion that perhaps Gracey might come, but Ididn't like to think of it for fear of being disappointed, and tried tomake believe I didn't expect her. 

I gave in my ticket and walked in about eight o'clock, and sat downpretty close to the door so that I could see the people as they came in. I didn't feel much up to dancing myself, but I'd have ridden a thousandmiles to have had the chance of seeing those two girls that night. 

I waited and waited while one after another came in, till the big hallwas pretty near filled, and at nine o'clock or so the music struck up, and the first dance began. That left the seats pretty bare, and betweenlistening to the music and looking at the people, and thinking I wasback again at the old claim and passing half-an-hour at a dance-house, I didn't mind the door so much till I heard somebody give a sort ofsigh not very far off, and I looked towards the door and saw two womensitting between me and it. 

They were Aileen and Gracey sure enough. My head almost turned round, and I felt my heart beat--beat in a way it never did when the bulletswere singing and whistling all about. It was the suddenness of it, Iexpect. I looked at them for a bit. They didn't see me, and were justlooking about them as I did. They were dressed very quiet, but Graceyhad a little more ornament on her, and a necklace or something round herneck. Aileen was very pale, but her beautiful dark hair was dressed up abit with one rosebud in it, and her eyes looked bigger and brighter thanthey used to do. She looked sad enough, but every now and then Graceysaid something that made her smile a bit, and then I thought she was thehandsomest girl in the room. Gracey had just the same steady, serious, kind face as ever; she'd hardly changed a bit, and seemed pleased, justlike a child at the play, with all that was going on round about. 

There was hardly anybody near the corner where they were, so I got upand went over. They both looked at me for a minute as if they'd neverseen me before, and then Aileen turned as pale as death, and Gracey gotaltogether as red, and both held out their hands. I sat down by the sideof Aileen, and we all began to talk. Not much at first, and very quiet, for fear notice might be taken, but I managed to let them know that thepolice had all been called off in another direction, and that we shouldbe most likely safe till to-morrow or next day. 

'Oh dear!' says Gracey, 'wasn't it awfully rash of you to come here andrun all this risk just to come to Bella Barnes's wedding? I believe Iought to be jealous of that girl. '

'All Starlight's fault, ' I said; 'but anyhow, it's through him we've hadthis meeting here. I was dead against coming all the time, and I neverexpected things to turn out so lucky as they have done. '

'Will he be here to-night?' Aileen says, very soft and timid like. 'Ialmost wished I'd stayed away, but Gracey here would come. Young CyrusWilliams brought us. He wanted to show his wife the races, and take herto the ball. There they are, dancing together. George is away at theraces. '

'You will see Starlight about ten or eleven o'clock, I expect, ' I said. 'He's dining with the Commissioner and the camp officers. They'll allcome together, most likely. '

'Dining at the camp!' says Aileen, looking regularly perished. 'Youdon't mean to say they've taken him?'

'I mean what I say. He's here with the Mr. Dawsons, of Wideview, and hasbeen hand-and-glove with all the swells. I hardly think you'll know him. It's as much as I did. '

Poor Aileen gave another sigh. 

'Do you think he'll know me?' she says. 'Oh! what a foolish girl I wasto think for a moment that he could care about a girl like me. Oh! Iwish I had never come. '

'Nonsense, ' says Gracey, who looked a deal brighter on it. 'Why, if he'sthe man you say he is, this will only bring him out a bit. What do youthink, Di--I mean Mr. Jones?'

'That's right, Miss Storefield, ' says I. 'Keep to the company mannersto-night. We don't know who may be listening; but I'm not much afraid ofbeing bowled out this particular night. Somehow I feel ready to chanceeverything for an hour's happiness like this. '

Gracey said nothing, but looked down, and Aileen kept turning towardsthe door as if she half hoped and was half afraid of seeing him come in. By and by we heard some one say, 'Here comes the Commissioner; all thecamp will be here now, ' and there was a bit of a move to look at them asthey came in. 

Chapter 42

A good many gentlemen and ladies that lived in the town and in thediggings, or near it, had come before this and had been dancing away andenjoying themselves, though the room was pretty full of diggers and allsorts of people. But as everybody was quiet and well behaved, it didn'tmake much odds who was there. 

But, of course, the Commissioner was the great man of the whole place, and the principal visitors, like the Mr. Dawsons and some others, werebound to come along with him. Then there were the other Governmentofficers, the bankers and surveyors, lawyers and doctors, and so on. Allof them took care to come a little late with their wives and families soas to be in the room at the same time as the swell lot. 

Bella Barnes was going to marry a surveyor, a wildish young fellow, but a good one to work as ever was. She was going to chance his comingstraight afterwards. He was a likely man to rise in his office, andshe thought she'd find a way to keep him out of debt and drinking andgambling too. 

Well, in comes the Commissioner and his friends, very grand indeed, alldressed like swells always do in the evening, I believe, black all over, white tie, shining boots, white kid gloves, flower in their buttonhole, all regular. People may laugh, but they did look different from theothers--showed more blood like. I don't care what they say, there issuch a thing. 

Close by the Commissioner, laughing and talking, was the two Mr. Dawsons; and--I saw Aileen give a start--who should come next, cheekby jowl with the police magistrate, whom he'd been making laugh withsomething he'd said as they came in, but Starlight himself, looking likea regular prince--their pictures anyhow--and togged out to the nineslike all the rest of 'em. Aileen kept looking at him as he lounged upthe ballroom, and I thought she'd fall down in a faint or bring herselfto people's notice by the wild, earnest, sad way she looked at him. However he'd got his clothes and the rest of it that fitted him like asif they'd been grown for him, I couldn't think. But of course he'd madeall that right when he went to Sydney, and had 'em sent up with hisluggage in Mr. Dawson's drag. 

Though he didn't seem to notice anything, I saw that he knew us. Helooked round for a moment, and smiled at Aileen. 

'That's a pretty girl, ' he said to one of the young fellows; 'evidentlyfrom the country. I must get introduced to her. '

'Oh, we'll introduce you, ' says the other man. 'They're not half badfun, these bush girls, some of them. '

Well, a new dance was struck up by the band just after they'd got up tothe top of the room, and we saw Starlight taken up and introduced to agrand lady, the wife of the head banker. The Commissioner and some ofthe other big wigs danced in the same quadrille. We all moved a bithigher to get a good look at him. His make-up was wonderful. We couldhardly believe our eyes. His hair was a deal shorter than he ever woreit (except in one place), and he'd shaved nearly all but his moustache. That was dark brown and heavy. You couldn't see his mouth except whenhe smiled, and then his teeth were as white as Warrigal's nearly and asregular. There was a softness, too, about his eyes when he was in a goodtemper and enjoying himself that I hardly ever saw in a man's face. Icould see Aileen watching him when he talked to this lady and that, andsometimes she looked as if she didn't enjoy it. 

He was only waiting his chance, though, for after he'd had a dance ortwo we saw him go up to one of the stewards. They had big rosettes on, and presently they walked round to us, and the steward asked the favourof Aileen's name, and then begged, by virtue of his office, to presentLieutenant Lascelles, a gentleman lately from India, who had expresseda wish to be introduced to her. Such a bow Starlight made, too. We couldhardly help staring. Poor Aileen hardly knew whether to laugh or to crywhen he sat down beside her and asked for the pleasure of a dance. 

She wouldn't do that. She only came there to see him, she said, and me;but he persuaded her to walk round the room, and then they slipped intoone of the supper-rooms, where they were able to talk without beingdisturbed, and say what they had in their hearts. I got Gracey to takea turn with me, and we were able to have our little say. She was, likeAileen, miserable enough and afraid to think of our ever having thechance of getting married and living happy like other people, but shetold me she would wait and remain faithful to me--if it was to herlife's end--and that as soon as I could get away from the country andpromise her to leave our wild lives behind she was ready to join us andfollow me all over the world. Over and over again she tried to persuademe to get away like Jim, and said how happy he was now, and how muchbetter it was than stopping where we were, and running terrible risksevery day and every hour. It was the old story over again; but I feltbetter for it, and really meant to try and cut loose from all this crosswork. We hadn't too much time. Aileen was fetched back to her seat, andthen Starlight went off to his friends at the other end of the room, and was chaffed for flirting with a regular currency lass by one of theDawsons. 

'I admire his taste, ' says the Commissioner. 'I really think she's theprettiest girl in the room if she was well dressed and had a little moreanimation. I wonder who she is? What's her name, Lascelles? I supposeyou know all about her by this time. '

'Her name is Martin, or Marston, or some such name, ' answered Starlight, quite cool and pleasant. 'Deuced nice, sensible girl, painfully quiet, though. Wouldn't dance, though, at all, and talked very little. '

'By Jove! I know who she is, ' says one of the young chaps. 'That'sAileen Marston, sister to Dick and Jim. No wonder she isn't over lively. Why, she has two brothers bush-rangers, regular out-and-outers. There'sa thousand on each of their heads. '

'Good gad!' says Starlight, 'you don't say so! Poor girl! What a mostextraordinary country! You meet with surpwises every day, don't you?'

'It's a pity Sir Ferdinand isn't here, ' said the Commissioner. 'Ibelieve she's an acquaintance of his. I've always heard she was asplendid girl, though, poor thing, frets to death about her family. Ithink you seem to have cheered her up, though, Lascelles. She doesn'tlook half so miserable as she did an hour ago. '

'Naturally, my dear fellow, ' says Starlight, pulling his moustache;'even in this savage country--beg your pardon--one's old form seems tobe appreciated. Pardon me, I must regain my partner; I am engaged forthis dance. '

'You seem disposed to make the most of your opportunities, ' says theCommissioner. 'Dawson, you'll have to look after your friend. Who's theenslaver now?'

'I didn't quite catch her name, ' says Starlight lazily; 'but it's thattall girl near the pillar, with the pale face and dark eyes. '

'You're not a bad judge for a new chum, ' says one of the goldfieldsubs. 'Why, that's Maddie Barnes. I think she's the pick of all thedown-the-river girls, and the best dancer here, out-and-out. Hersister's to be married to-morrow, and we're all going to see her turnedoff. '

'Really, now?' says Starlight, putting up his eyeglass. 'I begin tothink I must write a book. I'm falling upon adventures hourly. Oh, the"Morgen-blatter". What a treat! Can she valse, do you think?'

'You try her, ' says the young fellow. 'She's a regular stunner. '

It was a fine, large room, and the band, mostly Germans, struck up someoutlandish queer sort of tune that I'd never heard anything like before;whatever it was it seemed to suit most of the dancing people, for thefloor was pretty soon full up, and everybody twisting round and roundas if they were never going to stop. But, to my mind, there was not acouple there that was a patch on Maddie and Starlight. He seemed tomove round twice as light and easy as any one else; he looked somehowdifferent from all the others. As for Maddie, wherever she picked it upshe went like a bird, with a free, springy sort of sliding step, and allin time to the music, anybody could see. After a bit some of the peoplesat down, and I could hear them passing their remarks and admiringboth of 'em till the music stopped. I couldn't make out whether Aileenaltogether liked it or not; anyhow she didn't say anything. 

About an hour afterwards the camp party left the room, and tookStarlight with them. Some one said there was a little loo and hazard atthe Commissioner's rooms. Cyrus Williams was not in a hurry to go home, or his young wife either, so I stayed and walked about with the twogirls, and we had ever so much talk together, and enjoyed ourselvesfor once in a quiet way. A good crowd was sure to be at Bella Barnes'swedding next day. It was fixed for two o'clock, so as not to interferewith the races. The big handicap was to be run at three, so we should beable to be at the church when Bella was turned off, and see Rainbow gofor the great race of the day afterwards. When that was run we intendedto clear. It would be time for us to go then. Things were middlingstraight, but it mightn't last. 

Next day was the great excitement of the meeting. The 'big money' wasall in the handicap, and there was a big field, with two or three cracksup from Sydney, and a very good local horse that all the diggers weresweet on. It was an open race, and every man that had a note or a fiverlaid it out on one horse or another. 

Rainbow had been entered in proper time and all regular by old Jacob, under the name of Darkie, which suited in all ways. He was a darkhorse, sure enough; dark in colour, and dark enough as to hisperformances--nobody knew much about them. We weren't going to enter himin his right name, of course. 

Old Jacob was a queer old fellow in all his ways and notions, so wecouldn't stable him in any of the stables in Turon, for fear of hisbeing 'got at', or something. So when I wanted to see him the daybefore, the old fellow grinned, and took me away about a mile from thecourse; and there was old Rainbow, snug enough--in a tent, above allplaces!--but as fine as a star, and as fit as ever a horse was broughtto the post. 

'What's the fun of having him under canvas?' I said. 'Who ever heardof a horse being trained in a tent before?--not but what he looksfirst-chop. '

'I've seen horses trained in more ways than one, ' says he, 'and I canwind 'em up, in the stable and out of it, as mighty few in this countrycan--that is, when I put the muzzle on. There's a deal in knowing theway horses is brought up. Now this here's an excitable hoss in a crowd. '

'Is he?' I said. 'Why, he's as cool and steady as an old trooperwhen----'

'When powder's burning and bullets is flying, ' says the old chap, grinning again; 'but this here's a different crowd. When he's got atraining saddle and seven or eight stone up, and there's two or threehundred horses rattling about this side on him and that, it brings outthe old racehorse feeling that's in his blood, and never had a chance toshow itself afore. '

'I see, and so you want to keep him quiet till the last minute?'

'That's just it, ' says he; 'I've got the time to a second'--here hepulls out a big old turnip of a silver watch--'and I'll have him up justready to be weighed out last. I never was late in my life. '

'All right, ' I said, 'but don't draw it too fine. Have you got yourweight all right?'

'Right to a hounce, ' says he, 'nine stun four they've put on him, andhim an untried horse. I told 'em it was weighting him out of the race, but they laughed at me. Never you mind, though, he can carry weight andstay too. My ten per cent's as safe as the bank. He'll put the stuns onall them nobs, too, that think a racehorse must always come out of oneof their training stables. '

'Well, good-bye, old man, ' says I, 'and good luck. One of us will comeand lead you into the weighing yard, if you pull it off, and chance theodds, if Sir Ferdinand himself was at the gate. '

'All right, ' says he, 'I'll look out for you, ' and off he goes. I wentback and told Aileen and Gracey, and we settled that they were to driveout to the course with Cyrus Williams and his wife. I rode, thinkingmyself safer on horseback, for fear of accidents. Starlight, of course, went in the Dawsons' drag, and was going to enjoy himself to the lastminute. He had his horse ready at a moment's notice, and Warrigal wasnot far off to give warning, or to bring up his horse if we had to ridefor it. 

Well, the first part of the day went well enough, and then abouthalf-past one we all went down to the church. The young fellow thatwas to marry Bella Barnes was known on the field and well liked by theminers, so a good many of them made it up to go and see the wedding. They'd heard of Bella and Maddie, and wanted to see what they lookedlike. 

The church was on the side of the town next the racecourse, so theyhadn't far to go. By and by, as the crowd moved that way, Starlight saysto the Commissioner--

'Where are all these good folks making for?'

'Why, the fact is there's to be a wedding, ' he says, 'and it excites agood deal of attention as the young people are well known on the fieldand popular. Bella Barnes and her sister are very fine girls in theirway. Suppose we go and look on too! There won't be anything now beforethe big race. '

'By Jove! a first-rate ideah, ' says Starlight. 'I should like to see anAustralian wedding above all things. '

'This will be the real thing, then, ' says Mr. Jack Dawson. 'Let'sdrive up to our hotel, put up the horses, have a devil and a glass ofchampagne, and we can be back easy in time for the race. ' So away theywent. Cyrus drove the girls and his wife in his dogcart, so we werethere all ready to see the bride come up. 

It looked a regular grand affair, my word. The church was that crammedthere was hardly a place to sit or stand in. Every woman, young andold, in the countryside was there, besides hundreds of diggers who satpatiently waiting as if some wonderful show were going to take place. Aileen and Gracey had come in early and got a pew next to the topalmost. I stood outside. There was hardly a chance for any one else toget in. 

By and by up comes old Jonathan, driving a respectable-looking carriage, with his wife and Bella and Maddie all in white silk and satin, andlooking splendid. Out he gets, and takes Bella to walk up the middle ofthe church. When he went in with Bella, Maddie had one look in, and itseemed so crammed full of people that she looked frightened and drewback. Just then up comes the Mr. Dawsons and Starlight, with theCommissioner and a few more. 

Directly he sees Maddie draw back, Starlight takes the whole thing in, and walked forward. 

'My dear young lady, ' says he, 'will you permit me to escort you up theaisle? The bride appears to have preceded you. '

He offered her his arm, and, if you'll believe me, the girl didn't knowhim a bit in the world, and stared at him like a perfect stranger. 

'It's all right, Miss Maddie, ' says the Commissioner. He had a wayof knowing all the girls, as far as a laugh or a bit of chaff went, especially if they were good-looking. 'Mr. Lascelles is an Englishgentleman, newly arrived, and a friend of mine. He's anxious to learnAustralian ways. '

She took his arm then and walked on, never looking at him, but quiteshy-like, till he whispered a word in her ear which brought more colourinto her face than any one had seen there before for a year. 

'My word, Lascelles knows how to talk to 'em, ' says Jack Dawson. 'He'sgiven that girl a whip that makes her brighten up. What a chap he is;you can't lick him. '

'Pretty fair all round, I should say, ' says the other brother, Bill. 'Hullo! are we to go on the platform with the parson and the rest of'em?'

The reason was that as we went up the church all together, all in aheap, with the Barneses and the bride, they thought we must be relatedto 'em; and the church being choke-full they shunted us on to the placeinside the rails, where we found ourselves drafted into the small yardwith the bridegroom, the bride, the parson, and all that mob. 

There wasn't much time to spare, what with the racing and the generalbustle of the day. The miners gave a sort of buzz of admiration as Bellaand Maddie and the others came up the aisle. They looked very well, there's no manner of doubt. They were both tallish girls, slight, butwell put together, and had straight features and big bright eyes, withplenty of fun and meaning in 'em. All they wanted was a little morecolour like, and between the hurry for time and Bella getting married, a day's work that don't come often in any one's life, and having abouta thousand people to look at 'em, both the girls were flushed up a gooddeal. It set them off first-rate. I never saw either of them look sohandsome before. Old Barnes had come down well for once, and they weredressed in real good style--hadn't overdone it neither. 

When the tying-up fakement was over everything went off first-rate. Thebridegroom was a hardy-looking, upstanding young chap that looked asif work was no trouble to him. Next to a squatter I think a Governmentsurveyor's the best billet going. He can change about from one end ofthe district to another. He has a good part of his time the regular freebush life, with his camp and his men, and the harder he works the moremoney he makes. Then when he comes back to town he can enjoy himselfand no mistake. He is not tied to regular hours like other men in theservice, and can go and come when he likes pretty well. Old Barnes wouldbe able to give Bella and her sister a tidy bit of money some day, andif they took care they'd be comfortable enough off after a few years. He might have looked higher, but Bella would make any man she took to aslashing good wife, and so she did him. So the parson buckles themto, and the last words were said. Starlight steps forward and says, 'Ibelieve it's the custom in all circles to salute the bride, which Inow do, ' and he gave Bella a kiss before every one in the most high andmighty and respectful manner, just as if he was a prince of the blood. At the same time he says, 'I wish her every happiness and good fortunein her married life, and I beg of her to accept this trifling gift asa souvenir of the happy occasion. ' Then he pulls off a ring from hislittle finger and slips it on hers. The sun glittered on it for amoment. We could see the stones shine. It was a diamond ring, every onecould see. Then the Commissioner steps forward and begs to be permittedthe same privilege, which made Bella laugh and blush a bit. Directlyafter Mr. Chanewood, who had stood quiet enough alongside of his wife, tucked her arm inside of his and walked away down the church, as if hethought this kind of thing was well enough in its way, but couldn't beallowed to last all day. 

When they got into the carriage and drove off the whole churchwas cleared, and they got such a cheer as you might have heard atTambaroora. The parson was the only living soul left near the buildingin five minutes. Everybody was in such a hurry to get back to the courseand see the big race of the meeting. 

Starlight slipped away in the crowd from his two friends, and managed toget a quiet few minutes with me and Gracey and Aileen; she was scoldinghim between jest and earnest for the kissing business, and said shethought he was going to leave off these sort of attentions to othergirls. 

'Not that she knew you at first, a bit in the world, ' Aileen said. 'Iwatched her face pretty close, and I'm sure she thought you were somegrand gentleman, a friend of the Commissioner's and the Mr. Dawsons. '

'My dearest girl, ' said he, 'it was a promise I made months since that Ishould attend Bella's wedding, and I never break my word, as I hopeyou will find. These girls have been good friends and true to us in ourneed. We all owe them much. I don't suppose we shall cross each other'spath again. '

There wasn't much more time. We both had to move off. He had just timeto catch his drag, and I had to get my horse. The Dawsons bullied hima bit for keeping them waiting, and swore he had stayed behind to flirtwith some of the girls in the church after the wedding was over. 

'You're not to be trusted when there's temptation going, ' Jack Dawsonsaid. 'Saw you talking to that Marston girl. If you don't mind you'llhave your head knocked off. They're a rum lot to deal with, I can tellyou. '

'I must take care of myself, ' he said, laughing. 'I have done so inother lands, and I suppose yours is no exception. '

'This is a dashed queer country in some ways, and with deuced strangepeople in it, too, as you'll find by the time you've had your colonialexperience, ' says Bill Dawson; 'but there goes the saddling-bell!'

The course had 20, 000 people on it now if there was one. About a dozenhorses stood stripped for the race, and the betting men were yelling outthe odds as we got close enough to the stand to hear them. We had a goodlook at the lot. Three or four good-looking ones among them, and one ortwo flyers that had got in light as usual. Rainbow was nowhere about. Darkie was on the card, but no one seemed to know where he was oranything about him. We expected he'd start at 20 to 1, but somehow itleaked out that he was entered by old Jacob Benton, and that acted asa damper on the layers of the odds. 'Old Jake's generally there orthereabouts. If he's a duffer, it's the first one he's brought to thepost. Why don't the old varmint show up?'

This was what I heard about and round, and we began to get uneasyourselves, for fear that something might have happened to him or thehorse. About 8 or 9 to 1 was all we could get, and that we took over andover again. 

As the horses came up the straight, one after the other, having theirpipe-openers, you'd have thought no race had been run that week, to seethe interest all the people took in it. My word, Australia is a horseycountry, and no mistake. With the exception of Arabia, perhaps, as theytell us about, I can't think as there's a country on the face of theearth where the people's fonder of horses. From the time they're able towalk, boys and girls, they're able to ride, and ride well. See the girlsjump on bare-backed, with nothing but a gunny-bag under 'em, and rideover logs and stones, through scrub and forest, down gullies, or alongthe side of a mountain. And a horse race, don't they love it? Wouldn'tthey give their souls almost--and they do often enough--for a realflyer, a thoroughbred, able to run away from everything in a countryrace. The horse is a fatal animal to us natives, and many a man's ruinstarts from a bit of horse-flesh not honestly come by. 

But our racing ain't going forward, and the day's passing fast. As Isaid, everybody was looking at the horses--coming along with the rushof the thoroughbred when he's 'on his top' for condition; his coat likesatin, and his legs like iron. There were lots of the bush girls onhorseback, and among them I soon picked out Maddie Barnes. She wasdressed in a handsome habit and hat. How she'd had time to put them onsince the wedding I couldn't make out, but women manage to dress fastersome times than others. She'd wasted no time anyhow. 

She was mounted on a fine, tall, upstanding chestnut, and Joe Moretonwas riding alongside of her on a good-looking bay, togged out verysuperior also. Maddie was in one of her larking humours, and gave Joequite enough to do to keep time with her. 

'I don't see my horse here yet, ' she says to Joe, loud enough for me tohear; but she knew enough not to talk to me or pretend to know me. 'Iwant to back him for a fiver. I hope that old Jacob hasn't gone wrong. '

'What do you call your horse?' says Joe. 'I didn't know your father hadone in this race. '

'No fear, ' says Maddie; 'only this horse was exercised for a bit nearour place. He's a regular beauty, and there isn't a horse in this lotfit to see the way he goes. '

'Who does he belong to?' says Joe. 

'That's a secret at present, ' says she; 'but you'll know some day, whenyou're a bit older, if you behave yourself. He's Mr. Jacob Benton'sDarkie now, and you bet on him to the coat on your back. '

'I'll see what I think of him first, ' says Joe, who didn't fancy havinga horse rammed down his throat like that. 

'If you don't like him you don't like me, ' says Maddie. 'So mind that, Joe Moreton. '

Just as she spoke there was a stir in the crowd, and old Jacob camealong across the course leading a horse with a sheet on, just aseasy-going as if he'd a day to spare. One of the stewards rode up tohim, and asked him what he meant by being so late. 

The old chap pulls out his watch. 'You'll stick to your advertised time, won't you? I've time to weigh, time to pull off this here sheet and myovercoat, time to mount, and a minute to spare. I never was late in mylife, governor. '

Most of the riding mob was down with the racehorses, a distance orso from the stand, where they was to start, the course being over twomiles. So the weighing yard and stand was pretty well empty, which wasjust what old Jacob expected. 

The old man walks over to the scales and has himself weighed allregular, declaring a pound overweight for fear of accidents. He getsdown as quiet and easy as possible to the starting point, and justin time to walk up steadily with the other horses, when down goes thestarter's flag, and 'Off' was the word. Starlight and the Dawsons weredown there waiting for him. As they went away one of the ringmen says, 'Ten to one against Darkie. I lay Darkie. ' 'Done, ' says Starlight; 'willyou do it in tens?' 'All right, ' says the 'book'. 'I'll take you, ' saysboth the Dawsons, and he entered their names. 

They'd taken all they could get the night before at the hotel; and asno one knew anything about Darkie, and he had top weight, he hadn't manybackers. 

Chapter 43

Mr. Dawson drove pretty near the stand then, and they all stood up inthe drag. I went back to Aileen and Gracey Storefield. We were close bythe winning post when they came past; they had to go another time round. 

The Sydney horses were first and second, the diggers' favourite third;but old Rainbow, lying well up, was coming through the ruck hard heldand looking full of running. They passed close by us. What a sight it isto see a dozen blood horses in top condition come past you like aflash of lightning! How their hoofs thunder on the level turf! How thejockeys' silk jackets rustle in the wind they make! How muscle andsinew strain as they pretty near fly through the air! No wonder us youngfellows, and the girls too, feel it's worth a year of their lives togo to a good race. Yes, and will to the world's end. 'O you darlingRainbow!' I heard Aileen say. 'Are you going to win this race andtriumph over all these grand horses? What a sight it will be! I didn'tthink I could have cared for a race so much. '

It didn't seem hardly any time before they were half-way round again, and the struggle was on, in good downright earnest. One of the Sydneyhorses began to shake his tail. The other still kept the lead. Then theTuron favourite--a real game pebble of a little horse--began to show up. 

'Hotspur, Hotspur! No. Bronzewing has it--Bronzewing. It's Bronzewing'srace. Turon for ever!' the crowd kept yelling. 

'Oh! look at Rainbow!' says Aileen. And just then, at the turn, oldJacob sat down on him. The old horse challenged Bronzewing, passedhim, and collared Hotspur. 'Darkie! Darkie!' shouts everybody. 'No!Hotspur--Darkie's coming--Darkie--Darkie! I tell yer Darkie. ' And asold Jacob made one last effort, and landed him a winner by a clear head, there was a roar went up from the whole crowd that might have been heardat Nulla Mountain. 

Starlight jumps off the drag and leads the old horse into the weighingyard. The steward says 'Dismount. ' No fear of old Jacob getting downbefore he heard that. He takes his saddle in his lap and gets into thescales. 'Weight, ' says the clerk. Then the old fellow mounts and ridespast the judge's box. 'I declare Mr. Benton's horse Darkie to be thewinner of the Turon Grand Handicap, Bronzewing second horse, Hotspurthird, ' says he. 

Well, there was great cheering and hollering, though none knew exactlywhose horse he was or anything about him; but an Australian crowd alwayslikes to see the best horse win--and they like fair play--so Darkie wascheered over and over again, and old Jacob too. 

Aileen stroked and petted him and patted his neck and rubbed his nose, and you'd raly thought the old horse knew her, he seemed so gentle-like. Then the Commissioner came down and said Mrs. Hautley, the policemagistrate's wife, and some other ladies wanted to see the horse thathad won the race. So he was taken over there and admired and strokedtill old Jacob got quite crusty. 

'It's an odd thing, Dawson, ' says the Commissioner, 'nobody here knowsthis horse, where he was bred, or anything about him. Such a grandanimal as he is, too! I wish Morringer could have seen him; he's alwaysraving about horses. How savage he'll be to have missed all the fun!'

'He's a horse you don't see every day, ' says Bill Dawson. 'I'll give acouple of hundred for him right off. '

'Not for sale at present, ' says old Jacob, looking like a cast-ironimage. 'I'll send ye word when he is. '

'All right, ' says Mr. Dawson. 'What a shoulder, what legs, what loins hehas! Ah! well, he'll be weighted out now, and you will be glad to sellhim soon. '

'Our heads won't ache then, ' says Jacob, as he turns round and ridesaway. 

'Very neat animal, shows form, ' drawls Starlight. 'Worth three hundredin the shires for a hunter; if he can jump, perhaps more; but depends onhis manners--must have manners in the hunting-field, Dawson, you know. '

'Manners or not, ' says Bill Dawson, 'it's my opinion he could have wonthat race in a canter. I must find out more about him and buy him if Ican. '

'I'll go you halves if you like, ' says Starlight. 'I weally believe himto be a good animal. '

Just then up rides Warrigal. He looks at the old horse as if he hadnever seen him before, nor us neither. He rides close by the heads ofMr. Dawson's team, and as he does so his hat falls off, by mistake, ofcourse. He jumps off and picks it up, and rides slowly down towards thetent. 

It was the signal to clear. Something was up. 

I rode back to town with Aileen and Gracey; said good-bye--a hard matterit was, too--and sloped off to where my horse was, and was out of sightof Turon in twenty minutes. 

Starlight hails a cabby (he told me this afterwards) and gets him todrive him over to the inn where he was staying, telling the Dawsons he'dhave the wine put in ice for the dinner, that he wanted to send off aletter to Sydney by the post, and he'd be back on the course in an hourin good time for the last race. 

In about half-an-hour back comes the same cabman and puts a note intoBill Dawson's hand. He looks at it, stares, swears a bit, and thencrumples it up and puts it into his pocket. 

Just as it was getting dark, and the last race just run, back comesSir Ferdinand and all the police. They'd ridden hard, as their horsesshowed, and Sir Ferdinand (they say) didn't look half as good-natured ashe generally did. 

'You've lost a great meeting, Morringer, ' says the Commissioner. 'Greatpity you had to be off just when you did. But that's just like theseinfernal scoundrels of bush-rangers. They always play up at the mostinconvenient time. How did you get on with them?'

'Get on with them?' roars Sir Ferdinand, almost making a hole in hismanners--he was that tired out and done he could hardly sit on hishorse--'why, we've been sold as clean as a whistle. I believe some ofthe brutes have been here all the time. '

'That's impossible, ' says the Commissioner. 'There's been no one herethat the police are acquainted with; not that I suppose Jackson andMurphy know many of the cross boys. '

'No strange men nor horses, no disguises?' says Sir Ferdinand. Here hebrings out a crumpled bit of paper, written on--

 If sur firdnand makes haist back heel be in time to see Starlite's Raneboe win the handy capp. BILLY THE BOY. 

'I firmly believe that young scoundrel, who will be hanged yet, strungus on after Moran ever so far down south, just to leave the coast clearfor the Marstons, and then sent me this, too late to be of any use. '

'Quite likely. But the Marstons couldn't be here, let alone Starlight, unless--by Jove! but that's impossible. Impossible! Whew! Here, JackDawson, where's your Indian friend?'

'Gone back to the inn. Couldn't stand the course after the handicap. You're to dine with us, Commissioner; you too, Scott; kept a place, SirFerdinand, for you on the chance. '

'One moment, pardon me. Who's your friend?'

'Name Lascelles. Just from home--came by India. Splendid fellow! BackedDarkie for the handicap--we did too--won a pot of money. '

'What sort of a horse is this Darkie?'

'Very grand animal. Old fellow had him in a tent, about a mile down thecreek; dark bay, star in forehead. Haven't seen such a horse for years. Like the old Emigrant lot. '

Sir Ferdinand beckoned to a senior constable. 

'There's a tent down there near the creek, I think you said, Dawson. Bring up the racehorse you find there, and any one in charge. '

'And now I think I'll drive in with you, Dawson' (dismounting, andhanding his horse to a trooper). 'I suppose a decent dinner will pickme up, though I feel just as much inclined to hang myself as do anythingelse at present. I should like to meet this travelled friend of yours;strangers are most agreeable. '

Sir Ferdinand was right in thinking it was hardly worth while goingthrough the form of seeing whether we had waited for him. LieutenantLascelles, on leave from his regiment in India, had taken French leave. When inquiry was made at the hotel, where dinner had been ordered byMr. Dawson and covers laid for a dozen, he had just stepped out. No oneseemed to know exactly where to find him. The hotel people thought hewas with the Mr. Dawsons, and they thought he was at the hotel. Whenthey surrounded the tent, and then rushed it, all that it contained wasthe body of old Jacob Benton, lying dead drunk on the floor. A horse-rugwas over him, his racing saddle under his head, and his pockets stuffedwith five-pound notes. He had won his race and got his money, so he wasnot bound in honour to keep sober a minute longer. 

Rainbow was gone, and there was nothing to be got out of him as to whohad taken him or which way he had gone. Nobody seemed to have 'dropped'to me. I might have stayed at Turon longer if I'd liked. But it wasn'tgood enough by a long way. 

We rode away straight home, and didn't lose time on the road, you bet. Not out-and-out fast, either; there was no need for that. We had aclear two hours' start of the police, and their horses were pretty wellknocked up by the pace they'd come home at, so they weren't likely tooverhaul us easy. 

It was a grand night, and, though we didn't feel up to much in the wayof talking, it wasn't bad in its way. Starlight rode Rainbow, of course;and the old horse sailed away as if a hundred miles or a thousand madeno odds to him. 

Warrigal led the way in front. He always went as straight as a line, just the same as if he'd had a compass in his forehead. We never had anybother about the road when he led the way. 

'There's nothing like adventure, ' says Starlight, at last. 'As some onesays, who would have thought we should have come out so well? Fortunefavours the brave, in a general way, there's no doubt. By George! whata comfort it was to feel one's self a gentleman again and to associatewith one's equals. Ha! ha! how savage Sir Ferdinand is by this time, andthe Commissioner! As for the Dawsons, they'll make a joke of it. Fancymy dining at the camp! It's about the best practical joke I ever carriedout, and I've been in a good many. '

'The luckiest turn we've ever had, ' says I. 'I never expected to seeGracey and Aileen there, much less to go to a ball with them and no oneto say no. It beats the world. '

'It makes it all the rougher going back, that's the worst of it, ' sayshe. 'Good God! what fools, idiots, raving lunatics, we've all been!Why, but for our own infernal folly, should we be forced to shun ourfellow-men, and hide from the light like beasts of prey? What are webetter? Better?--nay, a hundred times worse. Some day I shall shootmyself, I know I shall. What a muff Sir Ferdinand must be, he's missedme twice already. '

Here he rode on, and never opened his mouth again till we began to risethe slope at the foot of Nulla Mountain. When the dark fit was on himit was no use talking to him. He'd either not seem to hear you, or elsehe'd say something which made you sorry for opening your mouth at all. It gave us all we could do to keep along with him. He never seemed tolook where he was going, and rode as if he had a spare neck at any rate. When we got near the pass to the mountain, I called out to him that he'dbetter pull up and get off. Do you think he'd stop or make a sign heheard me? Not a bit of it. He just started the old horse down whenhe came to the path in the cliff as if it was the easiest road in theworld. He kept staring straight before him while the horse put down hisfeet, as if it was regular good fun treading up rugged sharp rocks androlling stones, and turf wasn't worth going over. It seemed to me as ifhe wanted to kill himself for some reason or other. It would have beeneasy enough with some horses, but you could have ridden Rainbow down theroof of a house and jumped him into the front balcony, I firmly believe. You couldn't throw him down; if he'd dropped into a well he'd have gonein straight and landed on his legs. 

Dad was glad enough to see us; he was almost civil, and when he heardthat Rainbow had won the 'big money' he laughed till I thought he'd dohimself mischief, not being used to it. He made us tell him over againabout Starlight and I going to the ball, and our seeing Aileen andGracey there; and when he came to the part where Starlight made thebride a present of a diamond ring I thought he never would have donechuckling to himself. Even old Crib looked at me as if he didn't use tothink me much of a fellow, but after this racket had changed his mind. 

'Won't there be a jolly row in the papers when they get all thesedifferent characters played by one chap, and that man the Captain?' sayshe. 'I knew he was clever enough for anything; but this beats all. Idon't believe now, Captain, you'll ever be took. '

'Not alive!' says Starlight, rather grim and gloomy-looking; then hewalks off by himself. 

We stabled Rainbow, of course, for a week or two after this--being intraining it wouldn't do to turn him out straight at once. Hardy as hewas, no horse could stand that altogether; so we kept him under shelterin a roughish kind of a loose box we had knocked up, and fed him onbush hay. We had a small stack of that in case we wanted to keep a horsein--which we did sometimes. In the daytime he was loose in the yard. After a bit, when he was used to the weather, he was turned out againwith his old mob, and was never a hair the worse of it. We took it easyourselves, and sent out Warrigal for the letters and papers. We expectedto knock a good bit of fun out of them when they came. 

Sure enough, there was the deuce and all to pay when the big Sydneypapers got hold of it, as well as the little 'Turon Star' and the'Banner'. 

Was it true that the police had again been hoodwinked, justice derided, and the law set at defiance by a gang of ruffians who would have beenrun down in a fortnight had the police force been equal to the taskentrusted to them? Was the moral sentiment of the country population soperverted, so obliterated, that robbers and murderers could find safeharbourage, trustworthy friends, and secret intelligence? Could theyopenly show themselves in places of public resort, mingle in amusements, and frequent the company of unblemished and distinguished citizens; andyet more, after this flagrant insult to the Government of the land, toevery sacred principle of law and order, they could disappear at will, apparently invisible and invulnerable to the officers of the peace andthe guardians of the public safety? It was incredible, it was monstrous, degrading, nay, intolerable, and a remedy would have to be foundeither in the reorganisation of an inefficient police force or in theresignation of an incapable Ministry. 

'Good for the "Sydney Monitor", ' says Starlight; 'that reporter knowshow to double-shot his guns, and winds up with a broadside. Let us seewhat the "Star" says. I had a bet with the editor, and paid it, as ithappened. Perhaps he'll temper justice with mercy. Now for a start:--

That we have had strong casts from time to time and excitingperformances at our local theatres, no one will deny; but perhaps theinhabitants of Turon never witnessed a more enthralling melodramathan was played during the first two days of our race meeting before acrowded and critical audience, and never, we can state from a somewhatextended experience of matters dramatic, did they gaze on a morefinished actor than the gentleman who performed the leading part. Celebrated personages have ere now graced our provincial boards. On theoccasion of the burning of the Theatre Royal in Sydney, we were favouredwith the presence in our midst of artists who rarely, if ever before, had quitted the metropolitan stage. But our "jeune premier" in one sensehas eclipsed every darling of the tragic or the comic muse. 

Where is there a member of the profession who could have sustained hispart with faultless ease and self-possession, being the whole time awareof the fact that he smiled and conversed, danced and diced, dined andslept (ye gods! did he sleep?), with a price upon his head--with theterrible doom of dishonour and inevitable death hanging over him, consequent upon a detection which might occur at any moment?

Yet was there a stranger guest among us who did all this and more withunblenching brow, unruffled self-possession, unequalled courtesy, who, if discovered, would have been arrested and consigned to a lock-up, onlyto be exchanged for the gloom and the manacles of the condemned cell. He, indeed, after taking a prominent part in all the humours of thevast social gathering by which the Turon miners celebrated their annualgames, disappeared with the almost magical mystery which has alreadymarked his proceedings. 

Whom could we possibly allude to but the celebrated, the illustrious, we grieve to be compelled to add, the notorious Starlight, the hero of ahundred legends, the Australian Claude Duval?

Yes, almost incredible as it may seem to our readers and persons ata distance imperfectly acquainted with exceptional phases of coloniallife, the robber chief (and, for all we know, more than one of hisaides-de-camp) was among us, foremost among the betting men, theobserved of all observers in the grand stand, where, with those popularcountry gentlemen, the Messrs. Dawson, he cheered the winners in the twogreat races, both of which, with demoniac luck, he had backed heavily. 

We narrate as a plain, unvarnished truth that this accomplished andsemi-historical personage raced a horse of his own, which turns out nowto have been the famous Rainbow, an animal of such marvellous speed, courage, and endurance that as many legends are current about him asof Dick Turpin's well-known steed. He attended the marriage, in St. Matthew's Church, of Miss Isabel Barnes, the daughter of our respectedneighbour, Mr. Jonathan Barnes, when he presented the bride with acostly and beautiful diamond ring, completing the round of his vagariesby dining on invitation with the Commissioner at the camp mess, and, with that high official, honouring our race ball with his presence, andsunning himself in the smiles of our fairest maidens. 

We are afraid that we shall have exhausted the fund of human credulity, and added a fresh and original chapter to those tales of mysteryand imagination of which the late Edgar Allan Poe was so masterly adelineator. 

More familiarly rendered, it seems that the fascinating CaptainStarlight--"as mild a mannered man" (like Lambre) "as ever scuttleda ship or cut a throat, " presented himself opportunely at one of themountain hostelries, to the notice of our good-hearted squires ofWideview, Messrs. William and John Dawson. One of their wheelers lay atthe point of death--a horse of great value--when the agreeable strangersuggested a remedy which effected a sudden cure. 

With all their generous instincts stirred, the Messrs. Dawson invitedthe gentleman to take a seat in their well-appointed drag. He introducedhimself as Mr. Lascelles, holding a commission in an Indian regiment ofIrregular Horse, and now on leave, travelling chiefly for health. 

Just sufficiently sunburned, perfect in manner, full of information, humorous and original in conversation, and with all the "prestige" ofthe unknown, small wonder that "The Captain" was regarded as a prize, socially considered, and introduced right and left. Ha! ha! What amost excellent jest, albeit rather keen, as far as Sir Ferdinand isconcerned! We shall never, never cease to recall the humorous side ofthe whole affair. Why, we ourselves, our august editorial self, actuallyhad a bet in the stand with the audacious pretender, and won it, too. Did he pay up? Of course he did. A "pony", to wit, and on the nail. Hedoes nothing by halves, "notre capitaine". We have been less promptlyreimbursed, indeed, not paid at all, by gentlemen boasting a fairerrecord. How graciously he smiled and bowed as, with his primrose kidgloves, he disengaged the two tenners and a five-pound note from hiswell-filled receptacle. 

The last time we had seen him was in the dock at Nomah, being tried inthe great cattle case, that "cause celebre". To do him justice, he wasquite as cool and unconcerned there, and looked as if he was doing theamateur casual business without ulterior liabilities. 

Adieu! fare thee well, Starlight, bold Rover of the Waste; we feelinclined to echo the lament of the ancient Lord Douglas--

 "'Tis pity of him, too, " he cried; "Bold can he speak, and fairly ride; I warrant him a warrior tried. "

It is in the interests of justice, doubtless, that thou be hunted down, and expiate by death-doom the crimes which thou and thy myrmidons havecommitted against society in the sight of God and man. But we cannot, for the life of us, take a keen interest in thy capture. We owe theemuch, Starlight; many a slashing leader, many a spicy paragraph, many astately reflection on contemporary morals hast thou furnished us with. Shall we haste to the slaughter of the rarest bird--golden ovaried? Wetrow not. Get thee to the wilderness, and repent thee of thy sins. Whyshould we judge thee? Thou hast, if such dubious donation may avail, aneditor's blessing. Depart, and "stick up" no more. 

Well done, the "Turon Star"!' says Starlight, after he read it all out. 'I call that very fair. There's a flavour of good feeling underneathmuch of that nonsense, as well as of porter and oysters. It does afellow a deal more good than slanging him to believe that he's humanafter all, and that men think so. '

'Do you reckon that chap was sober when he wrote that?' says father. 'Blest if I can make head or tail of it. Half what them fellows putsdown is regular rot. Why couldn't he have cut it a bit shorter, too?'

Chapter 44

'The "Banner" comes next, ' says Starlight, tearing it open. 'We shallhave something short and sweet after the "Star". How's this?

 STARLIGHT AGAIN. 

This mercurial brigand, it would appear, has paid Turon another visit, but, with the exception of what may be considered the legalised robberyof the betting ring, has not levied contributions. Rather the other way, indeed. A hasty note for Mr. Dawson, whom he had tricked into temporaryassociation by adopting one of the disguises he can so wonderfullyassume, requested that gentleman to receive the Handicap Stakes, won byhis horse, Darkie, alias Rainbow, and to hand them over to the treasurerof the Turon Hospital, which was accordingly done. 

Sir Ferdinand and the police had been decoyed away previously nearly100 miles by false intelligence as to Moran and his gang. Our town andtreasure were thus left undefended for forty-eight hours, while a daringcriminal and his associates mingled unsuspected with all classes. Wehave always regarded the present system--facetiously called policeprotection--as a farce. This latter fiasco will probably confirm theidea with the public at large. We, unlike a contemporary, have no morbidsympathy with crime--embroidered or otherwise; our wishes, as loyalsubjects, are confined to a short shrift and a high gallows for all whodare to obstruct the Queen's highway. '

'That's easy to understand, barrin' a word here and there, ' says father, taking his pipe out of his mouth and laying it down; 'that's the waythey used to talk to us in the old days. Dashed if I don't think it'sthe best way after all. You know where you are. The rest's flummery. Allon us as takes to the cross does it with our eyes open, and deserves allwe gets. '

'I'm afraid you're right, governor; but why didn't these moral ideasoccur to you, for instance, and others earlier in life?'

'Why?' says father, getting up and glaring with his eyes, 'because Iwas a blind, ignorant dog when I was young, as had never been taughtnothing, and knowed nothing, not so much as him there' (pointing toCrib), 'for he knows what his business is, and I didn't. I was thrashedand starved, locked up in a gaol, chained and flogged after that, andhalf the time for doing what I didn't know was wrong, and couldn't knowmore than one of them four-year-old colts out there that knocks his headagin the yard when he's roped, and falls backards and breaks his neck ifhe ain't watched. Whose business was it to have learned me better? ThatI can't rightly say, but it seemed it was the business of the Governmentpeople to gaol me, and iron me, and flog me. Was that justice? Any man'ssense 'll tell him it wasn't. It's been them and me for it since I gotmy liberty, and if I had had a dozen lives they'd all have gone the sameroad!'

We none of us felt in the humour to say much after that. Father had gotinto one of his tantrums, and when he did he was fit to be tied; onlyI'd not have took the contract for something. Whatever it was that hadhappened to him in the old times when he was a Government man he didn'ttalk about. Only every now and then he'd let out just as he did now, asif nothing could ever set him straight again, or keep him from fightingagainst them, as he called the swells and the Government, and everybodyalmost that was straightgoing and honest. He'd been at it a good manyyears, one way and another, and any one that knew him didn't think itlikely he'd change. 

The next dust we got into was all along of a Mr. Knightley, who lived agood way down to the south, and it was one of the worst things we everwere mixed up in. After the Turon races and all that shine, somehow orother we found that things had been made hotter for us than ever sincewe first turned out. Go where we would, we found the police always quickon our trail, and we had two or three very close shaves of it. It lookedas if our luck was dead out, and we began to think our chance of gettingacross the border to Queensland, and clear out of the colony that way, looked worse every day. 

Dad kept foraging about to get information, and we sent Warrigal andBilly the Boy all over the country to find out how it was things wereturning out so contrary. 

Sir Ferdinand was always on the move, but we knew he couldn't do it allhimself unless he got the office from some one who knew the ropes betterthan he did. 

Last of all we dropped on to it. 

There was one of the goldfields commissioners, a Mr. Knightley, a verykeen, cool hand; he was a great sporting man, and a dead shot, like Mr. Hamilton. Well, this gentleman took it into his head to put on extrasteam and try and run us down. He'd lost some gold by us in the escortrobbery, and not forgotten it; so it seems he'd been trying his best tofit us ever since. Just at first he wasn't able for much, but later onhe managed to get information about us and our beat, whenever we leftthe Hollow, and he put two and two together, and very nearly dropped onus, as I said before, two or three times. We heard, too, that he shouldsay he'd never rest till he had Starlight and the Marstons, and thatif he could get picked police he'd bring us in within a month, dead oralive. 

We didn't care much about blowing of this sort in a general way; butone of dad's telegraphs sent word in that Mr. Knightley had a couple ofthousand pounds worth of gold from a new diggings lodged at his privateresidence for a few days till he could get the escort to call for it;that there was only him and a German doctor, a great scholar he was, named Schiller, in the house. 

Moran and Daly knew about this, and they were dead on for sticking upthe place and getting hold of the gold. Besides that, we felt savageabout his trying to run us in. Of course, it was his duty and that ofall magistrates and commissioners in a general way. But he wasn't anofficer of police, and we thought he was going outside of his line. So when all came to all, we made up our minds to learn him a lesson tostick to his own work; besides, a thousand ounces of gold was no foolishtouch, and we could kill two birds with one stone. Moran, Daly, andJoe Wall were to be in it besides. We didn't like working with them. Starlight and I were dead against it. But we knew they'd tackle it bythemselves if we backed out. So we agreed to make one thing of it. We were to meet at a place about ten miles off and ride over theretogether. 

Just about ten o'clock we closed in on the place, and left Billy the Boyand Warrigal with the horses, while we sneaked up. We couldn't get near, though, without his knowing it, for he always had a lot of sportingdogs--pointers, retrievers, kangaroo dogs, no end. They kicked up adeuce of a row, and barked and howled enough to raise the dead, beforewe got within a quarter of a mile from the house. 

Of course he was on his guard then, and before long the bullets began tofly pretty thick among us, and we had to take cover to return fire andkeep as dark as we could. No doubt this Dr. Schiller loaded the guns andhanded them to him, else he couldn't have made such play as he did. 

We blazed away too, and as there was no stable at the back we surroundedthe house and tried hard to find an opening. Devil a chance there seemedto be; none of us dared show. So sure as we did we could hear one ofthose Winchester rifle bullets sing through the air, almost on the topof us. We all had a close shave more than once for being too fast. 

For more than half the night he kept cannonading away, and we didn'tseem able to get any nearer the place. At last we drew lots which shouldtry and get up close to the place, so as to make a rush while we pouredin our broadside and open a door to let us in. 

The lot fell upon Patsey Daly. 'Good-bye, all, ' he said. 'I'm dashed ifI don't think Knightley will bag me. I don't half like charging him, andthat's God's truth. Anyhow I'll try for that barrel there; and if I getbehind it I can fire from short range and make him come out. '

He made a rush, half on his hands and knees, and managed to get behindthis barrel, where he was safe from being hit as long as he kept wellbehind it. Then he peppered away, right and left. 

On the left of the verandah there was a door stood partly open, and after a bit a man in a light overcoat and a white hat, like Mr. Knightley always wore, showed himself for a second. Daly raps away atthis, and the man staggers and falls. Patsey shows himself for a momentfrom behind the cask, thinking to make a rush forward; that minute Mr. Knightley, who was watching him from a window (the other was only animage), lets drive at him, cool and steady, and poor Patsey drops like acock, and never raised his head again. He was shot through the body. Helingered a bit; but in less than an hour he was a dead man. 

We began to think at last that we had got in for a hot thing, andthat we should have to drop it like Moran's mob at Kadombla. However, Starlight was one of those men that won't be beat, and he kept gettingmore and more determined to score. He crept away to the back of thebuilding, where he could see to fire at a top window close by where thedoctor and Mr. Knightley had been potting at us. 

He had the repeating rifle he'd won from me; he never let it goafterwards, and he could make wonderful shooting with it. He kept itgoing so lively that they began to be hard pressed inside, and had tofire away twice as much ammunition as they otherwise would. It alwaysbeat me how they contrived to defend so many points at once. We triedback and front, doors and windows. Twenty times we tried a rush, butthey were always ready--so it seemed--and their fire was too hot for usto stand up to, unless we wanted to lose every second man. 

The shooting was very close. Nearly every one of us had ascratch--Starlight rather the worst, as he was more in the front andshowed himself more. His left arm was bleeding pretty free, but he tieda handkerchief over it and went on as if nothing had happened, only Icould see that his face had that set look he only got now and then, andhis eyes began to show out a fierce light. 

At last we began to see that the return fire was slacking off, whileours was as brisk as ever. 

'Hurrah!' says Starlight, 'I believe they'll give in soon. If they hadany cartridges they would have had every man of us in that last rush. Let's try another dodge. Here goes for a battering-ram, Dick!'

He pointed to a long, heavy sapling which had been fetched in for asleeper or something of that sort. We picked it up, and, taking a runback, brought it with all its weight against the front door. In itwent like a sheet of bark; we almost fell as we ran forward and foundourselves in a big, dark hall. It seemed very queer and strange, everything was so silent and quiet. 

We half expected another volley. But nothing came. We could only standand wait. The others had gone round the side of the house. 

'Get to a corner, Dick; they're always the safest places. We must mindit isn't an ambush. What the devil's the matter? Are they going tosuicide, like the people in the round tower of Jhansi?'

'There are no women here, ' I said. 'There's no saying what Mr. Knightleymight do if his wife had been here. '

'Thank God, she's away at Bathurst, ' said Starlight. 'I hate seeingwomen put out. Besides, everybody bows down to Mrs. Knightley. She's asgood as she's handsome, I believe, and that's saying a great deal. '

Just then Moran and Wall managed to find their way into the other sideof the house, and they came tearing into the hall like a pair of colts. They looked rather queer when they saw us three and no one else. 

'What in thunder's up?' says Moran. 'Are they all gone to bed, and leftus the spare rooms? Poor Patsey won't want one, anyhow. '

'Better make some search upstairs, ' says Starlight. 'Who'll go first?You make a start, Moran; you like fighting people. '

'Couldn't think of going before the Captain, ' says Moran, with a grin. 'I'll follow where you lead. '

'All right!' says Starlight; 'here goes, ' and he started to walkupstairs, when all of a sudden he stopped and looked up as if somethinghad surprised him above a bit. Then he stepped back and waited. Inoticed he took off his hat and leaned against the wall. 

It was an old-fashioned house for that part of the world, built a goodmany years ago by a rich settler, who was once the owner of all thatside of the country. The staircase was all stone, ornamented every wayit could be. Three or four people could walk abreast easy enough. 

Just about half-way up was a broad landing, and on this, all of asudden, appeared four people, inclined by their ways to come down towhere we were, while we were all wondering, for a reason you'll seeafterwards. 

It was Mr. Knightley who took the lady's arm--it was his wife, and shehad been there all the time, firing at us as like as not, or at anyrate helping. The others followed, and they all walked quite solemn andsteady-like down the stairs together. 

It was a strange sight. There we were standing and leaning about thedark hall, staring and wondering, and these people walking down to meetus like ghosts, without speaking or anything else. 

Mr. Knightley was a tall, handsome man, with a grand black beard thatcame down to his chest. He walked like a lord, and had that kind ofmanner with him that comes to people that have always been used to bewaited on and have everything found for them in this world. As forhis wife, she was given in to be the handsomest woman in the wholecountryside--tall and graceful, with a beautiful smile, and soft fairhair. Everybody liked and respected her, gentle and simple--everybodyhad a good word for her. You couldn't have got any one to say differentfor a hundred pounds. There are some people, here and there, like thisamong the gentlefolk, and, say what you like, it does more to make coveslike us look a little closer at things and keep away from what's wrongand bad than all the parsons' talk twice over. Mrs. Knightley was theonly woman that ever put me in mind of Miss Falkland, and I can't saymore than that. 

So, as I said before, it was quite a picture to see them walk slowly andproudly down and sweep into the hall as if they'd been marching into aballroom. We had both seen them at the ball at the Turon, and everybodyagreed they were the handsomest couple there. 

Now they were entering their own hall in a different way. But youcouldn't have told much of what they felt by their faces. He was a proudman, and felt bitterly enough that he had to surrender to a gang ofmen that he hated and despised, that he'd boasted he could run down andcapture in a month. Now the tables were turned. He and his beautifulwife were in our power, and, to make matters worse, one of our band laydead, beside the inner wall, killed by his hand. 

What was to be his doom? And who could say how such a play might end?

I looked at our men. As they stepped on to the floor of the hall andlooked round Mrs. Knightley smiled. She looked to me like an angel fromheaven that had come by chance into the other place and hadn't foundout her mistake. I saw Starlight start as he looked at her. He was stillleaning against the wall, and there was a soft, sorrowful look in hiseyes, like I remember noticing once before while he was talking toAileen about his early days, a thing he never did but once. Part of herhair had straggled down, and hung in a sort of ringlet by her face. Itwas pale, but clear and bright-looking, and there was a thin streakof blood across her forehead that showed as she came underneath thelamp-light from the landing above. 

I looked over at Moran. He and Wall sat in a corner, looking as grimand savage as possible, while his deadly black eyes had a kind of gloomyfire in them that made him look like a wild beast in a cage. 

Mr. Knightley was a man that always had the first word in everything, and generally the best of an argument--putting down anybody who differedfrom him in a quiet, superior sort of way. 

He began now. 'Well, my men, I have come down to surrender, and I'msorry to be obliged to do so. But we have fired our last cartridge--thedoctor thought we had a thousand left--in which case, I may as well tellyou, you'd never have had this pleasure. Captain Starlight, I surrendermy sword--or should do so if I had one. We trust to receive honourabletreatment at your hands. '

'I'm sure the Captain will never permit any harm to come to me, ' saysMrs. Knightley, with a look in her eyes that, in spite of herself, saida deal more than words. 'Why, I danced "vis-a-vis" to him in a quadrilleat the Turon ball. '

'I shall never forget the honour, ' says Starlight, walking forward andbowing low. 'Permit me to offer you a chair, madam; you look faint. '

As he did so she sank down in it, and really looked as if she wouldfaint away. It wouldn't have been much wonder if she had after whatshe'd gone through that night. 

Then Mr. Knightley began again. He wanted to know how he stood. Hedidn't like the look of Moran and Wall--they were a deal too quiet forhim, and he could read men's faces like a book. The other two prisonerswere the German Dr. Schiller--a plucky old chap, who'd been a rebel anda conspirator and I don't know what all in his own country. He'd seentoo much of that kind of thing to trouble himself over much about atrifle of this kind. The old woman was a family servant, who had beenwith them for years and years. She was a kind of worshipper of theirs, and was ready to live or die with her mistress. 

Chapter 45

So Mr. Knightley stood up and faced them all like a man. He was oneof those chaps that makes up their mind pretty quick about the sort ofpeople they've got to deal with, and if there's anything to be saidor done lets 'em have it 'straight from the shoulder'. As he stoodthere--straight and square--with his head thrown back, and hiseyes--very bright and sharp they were--looking every man's face over asif he was reading a notice and had no time to spare, you couldn't havetold, from his look, or voice, or manner, whether he was afraid thatthings would go wrong, or whether he was dead sure they'd go right. Some men are like that. Others you can tell every thought that's passingthrough their minds just as if it was printed in big letters on theirbreasts, like a handbill: '200 Pounds reward, ' and so on. 

Well, Mr. Knightley wasn't one of that sort, though I saw him keep hiseye a trifle longer on Moran than the rest of 'em. 

'Now then, boys, ' he says, 'we've had our flutter out. I've done mybest, and you've done yours. I've bagged one of your lot, and you'vedone your best to pot me. See here, ' and he lifts up the collar of hiscoat and shows a hole through it, touches his head on the side, andbrings away a red mark; and takes out his watch with the case allbattered in by a revolver bullet. 'You can't say I hadn't cause toshow fight, ' and he points to his wife. 'Where's the man among you thatwouldn't have done the same? An Englishman's house is his castle. Whatam I to expect?'

He looked over at Starlight, but he didn't take no notice, and made nosign. I saw Mrs. Knightley look over at him too. It was the first timeI ever seen him look hard when there was a woman in the case, and such aone! But he kept his face set and stern-like. 

Then Moran breaks in--

'Expect, be blowed! What the----do you expect now we've got yer torights; are we going to let you off after knocking over Daly? No dashedfear, mister, we'll serve you the same way as you served him, as soonas we've had some grub and another glass or two of your grog. You've gotsome fairish stuff here. '

'Why, Moran, ' says Mr. Knightley, still making believe to joke--and, by George! if he could laugh then, he could sing a song with abullet through him--'you're getting bad-tempered since you used to behorsebreaking for Mr. Lowe. Don't you remember that chestnut Sir Henrycolt that no one else could ride, and I backed you not to get thrown, and won a fiver? But I'm a man of the world and know how to play alosing game at billiards as well as most men. Look here now! Daly'sdead. We can't bring him to life again, can we? If you shoot me, you'llbe nothing to the good, and have every spare man in the three coloniesat your heels. This is a game of brag, though the stakes are high. I'llplay a card. Listen. You shall have a hundred fivers--500 Pounds innotes--by to-morrow at four o'clock, if you'll let Mrs. Knightley andthe doctor ride to Bathurst for the money. What do you say?'

'D--n you and your money too, ' growled Moran. 'We'll have your blood, and nothing else. D'ye hear that? You're a dead man now; if you're notburied by this time to-morrow, it won't be because you're not as readyfor it as Patsey is. '

I saw Mrs. Knightley turn round and clasp her hands; her face grew aswhite as death, but she said nothing, only looked over at Starlight, andher eyes grew bigger and bigger, while her mouth trembled just the leastbit. 

'You're off your head, Moran, ' says Mr. Knightley, pulling out a cigarand lighting it. 'But I suppose you're the chief man, and all the restmust do as you tell them. '

'Suppose we talk it over, ' says Starlight, very quiet, but I knew bythe first word that he spoke something was coming. 'Daly dropped, andit can't be helped. Accidents will happen. If you play at bowls you musttake rubbers. It has been a fair fight; no one can say otherwise. Letus put it to the vote. I propose that Mr. Knightley's offer be accepted. Not that I intend to take a shilling of the money. '

'Nor me either, ' says I. 'So you three chaps will have it to sharebetween you. I don't see that we can do better. A fight's a fight, andif Patsey got his gruel it might have happened to Mr. Knightley himself. As for shooting in cold blood, I'm not on, and so I tell you. '

'I suppose you think you and Starlight's going to boss the lot of us, because you've been doing it fine at the Turon races along with a lot ofblasted swells as 'ud scrag us if they had the chance, and we're to takeso much a head for our dashed lives, because we're only working chaps. Not if Dan Moran knows it. What we want is satisfaction--blood forblood--and we're a-goin' to have it, eh, mates?'

Wall and Hulbert hadn't said anything before this. They were not badchaps underneath, but Moran was such a devil when he was raisedthat they didn't like to cross him. Besides, they had a down on Mr. Knightley, and wanted to sheet it home to him somehow. They had got tothe brandy too, and it didn't make matters any better, you take my wordfor it. 

Starlight didn't speak for a minute or two. I couldn't think what he wasat. If Jim had been there we should have been right, three to three. Nowwe were two to three. I knew Starlight had a good card to play, and wasready to play it, but he was waiting on the deal. Mr. Knightley musthave had some sort of notion of the hand; he was wonderful quick atpicking up the points of the game. 

He said nothing, and looked as cool as you please, smoking his cigaras if he had nothing on his mind and wanted a rest. The lady sat quitestill and pale, but her beautiful eyes kept wandering round from one toanother, like some pretty creature caught in a trap. Dr. Schiller foundit hard lines on him to keep quiet all this time--he couldn't hold it inno longer. 

'Good heafens!' he says, 'are you men, and will not say nodings when youhaf such an ovver as dis? Subbose you shood us all, what then? Will notthe whole coundry rice and hund you down like mat docks?'

'That won't make it any better for you, mate, ' says Moran, with a grin. 'When you and he's lying under that old tree outside, it'll make no oddsto yer whether our rope's a long or a short 'un. '

'Quite right, Moran, ' says Mr. Knightley. 'Doctor, he has you there. '

Starlight moved a step or two over towards him, as if he was uncertainin his mind. Then he says to Wall and Hulbert--

'See here, men; you've heard what Moran says, and what I think. Whichare you going to do? To help in a brutal, cowardly murder, and neverbe able to look a man in the face again, or to take this moneyto-morrow?--a hundred and seventy each in notes, mind, and get awayquietly--or are you going to be led by Moran, and told what you are todo like children?'

'Oh come, Dan, let's take the stuff, ' says Wall. 'I think it's goodenough. What's the use of being contrary? I think the Captain's right. He knows a dashed sight more than us. '

'He be hanged!' says Moran, with eyes glaring and the whole of his faceworking like a man in a fit. 'He's no Captain of mine, and never was. I'll never stir from here till I have payment in blood for Daly's life. We may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I've sworn to have thatman's life to-night, and have it I will. '

'You'll have ours first, you bloodthirsty, murdering dog, ' saysStarlight; and, as he spoke, he slipped his revolver into Mr. Knightley's hand, who covered Moran that moment. I drew mine, too, andhad Wall under aim. Starlight's repeating rifle was up like lightning. 

Mrs. Knightley covered her eyes, the old woman screamed, and the doctorsat down on a chair and puffed away at his meerschaum pipe. 

'We're three to three, now, ' says Starlight; 'you've only to move afinger and you're a dead man. Wall and Hulbert can have a hand in itif they haven't had shooting enough for one evening. Do your worst, youblack-hearted brute! I've two minds to take you and run you in myself, if it's only to give you a lesson in manners. '

Moran's face grew as black as an ironbark tree after a bush fire. Heraised his revolver, and in one second we should have been in the middleof a desperate hand-to-hand fight; and God knows how it might have endedhadn't Hulbert struck up his arm, and spoke out like a man. 

'It's no use, Dan, we won't stand it. You're a dashed fool and want tospoil everything for a bit of temper. We'll take the notes and let Mrs. Knightley and the doctor clear out for Bathurst if you'll say honourbright that you'll be at the Black Stump by to-morrow evening at five, and won't give the police the office. '

Moran, slow and sulkily, put down his hand and glared round like a dingowith the dogs round him--as if he didn't know which to snap at first. Then he looked at Mr. Knightley with a look of hellish rage and spitethat ten devils couldn't have improved upon, and, throwing himself downon a chair, drank off half a tumbler of brandy. 

'Settle it amongst yourselves, and be----to you, ' he said. 'You're allagin me now; but, by----, I'll be square with some of ye yet. '

It was all over now. Mr. Knightley took a match out of the silvermatch-box at his watch-chain, and lit another cigar. I saw the tearstrickling through Mrs. Knightley's fingers. Then she turned away herhead, and after a minute or two was as calm and quiet as ever. 

'You know your way about the place, Wall, ' says Mr. Knightley, as ifhe was in his own house, just the same as usual; 'run up the horses, there's a good fellow; they're in the little horse paddock. Mrs. Knightley's is a gray, and the doctor's is a mouse-coloured mare witha short tail; you can't mistake them. The sooner they're off the sooneryou'll handle the cash. '

Wall looked rather amused, but went out, and we heard him rattle offto go round the paddock. The doctor went upstairs, and buckled on along-necked pair of old-fashioned spurs, and Mrs. Knightley walked awaylike a woman in a dream to her own room, and soon afterwards returned inher riding-habit and hat. 

I foraged about and found the side-saddle and bridle in theharness-room. Everything was in tip-top order there--glass sides forkeeping the dust off the four-in-hand harness and all that kind ofthing. All the bits and stirrup-irons like silver. There wasn't muchtime lost in saddling-up, you bet!

We watched pretty close lest Moran should take a new fancy into hishead, but he stuck to the brandy bottle, and very soon put himself fromfighting or anything else. I wasn't sorry to see it. I was well aware hewas as treacherous as a dingo, and could sham dead or anything else togain his ends and throw people off their guards. 

Well, the horses were brought out, and when Mr. Knightley lifted hiswife up on to her saddle on the high-crested gray thoroughbred with adash of Arab blood from an old Satellite strain, I guess he was neverbetter pleased with anything in the world. They looked in each other'seyes for a minute, and then the old horse started off along the roadto Bathurst with his fast, springy walk. Starlight took off his hatand bowed low in the most respectful way. Mrs. Knightley turned in hersaddle and tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come--shecould only wave her hand--and then her head went down nearly to hersaddle. The doctor scrambled on to his horse's back, and trotted offafter her. The gray moved off, shaking his head, at a beautiful, easy, springy canter. We raised a cheer, and they swept round a corner of theroad and out of sight. 

'You'll find these rather good, Captain, ' says Mr. Knightley, handingStarlight his cigar-case. 'There's a box upstairs in my dressing-room. If you'll allow me I'll order in dinner. There ought to be somethingdecent if my old cook hasn't been frightened out of his life, butI think he has seen too much to be put out of his way by a littleshooting. '

'Now I think of it, ' says Starlight, 'I do really feel disposed forrefreshment. I say, Wall, see if you can't get that ferocious friendof yours into a room where he can sleep off his liquor. I really mustapologise for his bad manners; but you see how the case stands. '

'Perfectly, my dear fellow, ' says Mr. Knightley. 'Don't mention it. Ishall always feel personally indebted to you for far more than I canexpress. But let that pass for the present. What shall we do to pass theevening? You play picquet and hazard, of course?'

'Do I not, ' says Starlight, his eyes lighting up in a way I didn'tremember. 'It's many a day since I've met with any one near my oldform. '

'Then suppose we have a game or two, ' says Mr. Knightley, 'after dinneror supper, whichever we choose to call it. I have cards; they luckilycame up the other day. In the meantime you will find the claret veryfair, and this cold wild turkey--I shot a brace last Thursday--is not tobe despised. '

We had a rattling good feed, and no mistake, whatever it was. The turkeywas a grand bird, and weighed 21 lb. , he told us. The cook had sent insome hot potatoes, and chaps like us that had been riding, walking, andfighting for twenty hours right on end had just the sort of appetitethat a bird of that kind deserved. He was as fat as butter, too. Theyfeed on dandelion seeds at that time of the year. It gives 'em a sort ofgamy flavour such as no other bird, wild or tame, has. To my likingthe wild turkey beats the black duck even. He's the best game bird thatflies in the bush. 

Mr. Knightley, too, now his wife was safe on her way to Bathurst, andthings seemed going well, was full of fun, and kept us all going. Hehelped everybody twice over, and wouldn't hear of any one keepingthe bottle standing. The night was close rather, and we were all thatthirsty it went down like mother's milk. Wall and Hulbert got pleasantenough and joined in, now that Moran was out of the way. He was snoringin a back room, and, like a man in the deadhouse of a bush shanty, notlikely to wake before sunrise. Mr. Knightley told us some out-and-outgood yarns, and Hulbert and Wall swore that if they'd known he was sucha good sort they'd never have thought of sticking up the place. He saidhe had been quite mistaken about them, and that another time he shouldknow better than to volunteer for work that was not part of his duty. By that time the claret had gone round pretty often; and without beingscrewed we'd all had our tongues loosened a bit. 

After that we lit our pipes, and we three began to play all-fours andeuchre, sometimes one pair, sometimes another. As for Mr. Knightley andStarlight, they got out a curious filigree sort of a little card-tableand began to play some outlandish game that I didn't know, and to lookvery serious over it. 

They had notes for counters, and I could see, as I looked over everynow and then, that each man was doing all he knew to best the other. Sometimes one had the show; sometimes the other. We got tired and hadanother smoke and turned in. The beds were snug and comfortable. Mr. Knightley showed us where to go, and we wanted a good night's rest badenough. 

Just before I turned in I went up to the table. They looked as keenat it as if they'd just began, and I heard Starlight say, 'I owe youa hundred now. I'll play you double or quits. ' So I left them to it. Icould see they were not on for bed just then. Both men were cool enough, but I could see that Starlight (and I'd never known him to touch a cardbefore) was one of those men that would never rise from the table aslong as he had a shilling left, and would stake everything he had in theworld upon the turn of a card. 

We all slept sound, but most of us were up at sunrise. It doesn't do forchaps in our line to be caught napping, and the police might have gotwind where we were at work. We had our horses to look to, and to give alook round in a general way to see if things were right. 

Starlight and Mr. Knightley didn't turn out, they took it easy, perhapsthey'd been up later than us; anyhow, they didn't show till breakfast, when they both made pretty fair time over the eatables. 

My word! it was a breakfast, though we'd got a bit tired waiting for it. The old cook had hashed up the turkey; it was stunning, almost betterthan the day before. Then bacon and eggs, grilled steak, fresh bread andbutter, coffee and tea, watercresses. Really, I thought we never shouldstop. It was lucky the police didn't come, or we shouldn't have donemuch in the fighting line, or the runaway either. As it turned out, SirFerdinand wasn't so very far off the line, but he took another road. He never had any luck somehow in following us up, though he had somefirst-rate chances. Moran was off his feed, and wouldn't come in. Hetook a nip and walked down to the creek. We were all glad enough to getshut of him. 

After breakfast and a turn round the stables, blest if Starlight and Mr. Knightley didn't have out the cards again, and at it they went as freshand keen as ever. We didn't know what in the world to do with ourselvestill it was time to start to ride out to the Black Stump, where we wereto meet the doctor and collar the 500 Pounds. They didn't waste a minuteof their time, till about half-past twelve Starlight puts down his cardsvery gently, and says he--

'I'm afraid we have no more time to spare. I've enjoyed the play morethan I have done anything for years. I leave you 100 Pounds now innotes, and you must take my I O U for the balance. What bank shall I payit into?'

'The Australian, ' says Mr. Knightley. 'At your convenience, of course. '

'Within a month, ' says Starlight, bowing. 'And now a glass of wine and abiscuit, it's time to be off. '

We had something as good, nearer the mark than that, and Moran sat downtoo, and played a good knife and fork. He'd come to, after his booze, and was ready for any fresh villainy, as usual. He didn't let on tobe nasty, but he looked sulky enough, and I saw his eye fixed on Mr. Knightley and Starlight now and then as if he'd have given a good dealto have had them where they hadn't so many at their backs. 

Chapter 46

We ate well and drank better still at the lunch, although we had such aregular tuck-out at breakfast time. Mr. Knightley wouldn't hear of anyof us shirking our liquor, and by the time we'd done all hands werepretty well on. Moran himself began to look pleasant, or as good asample of it as I'd ever seen in him. Mr. Knightley could get round thedevil himself, I believe. I never saw his equals at that business; andthis particular time he was in great feather, seeing that he was likelyto get out of an ugly business all right. He was as sure of the 500Pounds in notes being there at the appointed hour as he was of the sunsetting that particular evening. 

'I think it's a fair thing, ' says Starlight at last, looking at hiswatch. Mr. Knightley wasn't the first to speak, no fear. 'Take us allour time to get to the Black Stump. We shall have to ride, too. ' Moranand Wall got up and fetched their horses. Mr. Knightley's was led up byone of his men. He was a big handsome roan, in top condition, and theman was riding a black horse with a tan muzzle that looked a triflebetter, if anything. Mr. Knightley turned out in boots and breeches, with a gold fox's head on his scarf, swell hunting fashion, as they doit at home, Starlight said. 

When Starlight's horse came up he was as lame as a tree, couldn't puthis foot to the ground; got a kick or a strain, or trod on a glassbottle or something. Anyhow he had only three legs that he could rise amove out of. Starlight looked rather glum. He wasn't his second best orhis third best either. All the same, a horse is a horse, and I never sawthe man yet that a lame horse didn't put out a bit. 

'Confound it, ' says he, 'what a nuisance! It's just the way with theseinfernal half-bred brutes; they always let me down at the wrong time. '

'Look here, old fellow, ' says Mr. Knightley, 'leave him behind and takethis black horse the boy's on; he's one of the finest hacks you evercrossed. I refused sixty guineas for him the other day from Morringer. '

'Thanks, very much, ' says Starlight, brightening up a bit; 'but I hardlylike to deprive you of him. Won't you want him yourself?'

'Oh, I can manage without him, ' says Mr. Knightley. 'I'll let you havehim for fifty and allow you ten pounds for your screw. You can add it onto your I O U, and pay it in with the other. '

We all laughed at this, and Moran said if he was dealing with Mr. Knightley he'd get him a pound or two cheaper. But Starlight said, veryserious-like, that the arrangement would suit him very well. So he hadhis saddle shifted, and the groom led back the bay and turned him loosein the paddock. 

We mounted then, and it looked as if we were all matched for a race tothe Black Stump. Moran had a good horse, and when he set him going inthe first bit of thick timber we came to, it took a man, I tell you, tokeep him in sight. Starlight made the black horse hit out in a way thatmust have been a trifle strange to him unless he'd been in traininglately. As for Mr. Knightley, he took it easy and sailed away on oneside with Joe Wall and me. He played it out cool to the last, and wasn'tgoing to hurry himself for anybody. 

Half-an-hour before sundown we rode up to the Black Stump. It was arum-looking spot, but everybody knew it for miles round. There wasnothing like it anywhere handy. It was within a reasonable distance ofBathurst, and not so far from a place we could make to, where there wasgood shelter and hiding too, if we were pushed. 

There were two or three roads led up to it, and crossed there--one fromBathurst, one to Turon, and another straight into the forest country, which led range by range to Nulla Mountain. We could see on a good wayahead, and, though there was no one at the tree when we came, a singlehorseman was riding along the road for Bathurst. We all drew rein roundthe stump. It had been a tremendous big old ironbark tree--nobody knewhow old, but it had had its top blown off in a thunderstorm, and thecarriers had lighted so many fires against the roots of it that it hadbeen killed at last, and the sides were as black as a steamer's funnel. After a bit we could make out the doctor's short-tailed, mousy mare andhim powdering along at a sort of hand gallop. 

When he came up close, he took off his hat and made a bow. 'Chentlemenof the roat, I salude you, ' he says. 'You haf kebt your bromise tothe letter, and you will fint that Albert von Schiller has kept his. Hauptman!' says he to Starlight, 'I delifer to you the ransom of dieswothy chentleman and his most excellend and hoch-besahltes laty, who hasmuch recovered from her fadigues, and I demant his freetom. '

'Well done, most trust-repaying and not-ever-to-be-entirely-forgottenherald, ' says Starlight. 'I hand over to these worthy free companionsthe frank-geld; isn't that the term?--and when they have counted it (forthey won't take your word or mine), the Graf here--most high-bornand high-beseeming, but uncommonly-near-ending his glorious careermagnate--will be restored to you. Very pleasant company we've found him. I should like to have my revenge at picquet, that's all. '

While this was going on Starlight had collared the bundle of notes fromthe doctor, and chucked it over quite careless-like to Moran. 'There itis for you, ' says he. 'You can divide it between you. Dick and I standout this time; and you can't say you've done badly. '

Moran didn't say anything, but he and Wall got off their horses and satdown on their heels--native fashion. Then they turned to, counting outthe notes one by one. They were all fivers--so it took some time--asthey neither of 'em weren't very smart at figures, and after they'd gotout twenty or thirty they'd get boxed, like a new hand counting sheep, and have to begin all over again. It must have been aggravating to Mr. Knightley, and he was waiting to be let go, in a manner of speaking. Henever showed it, but kept smoking and yarning with Starlight, pointingout how grand the sun was just a-setting on the Bulga Mountains--justfor all the world as if he'd given a picnic, and was making himselfpleasant to the people that stayed longest. 

At long last they'd got to the end of the conning, and divided thenotes. Moran tied his up in a bunch, and rolled 'em in his poncho; butWall crammed his into his pocket and made 'em all stick out like aboy that's been stealing apples. When they mounted their horses, Mr. Knightley shook hands with me and Starlight. Then he turns round toMoran and Wall--'We're parting good friends after all's said and done, 'he says. 'Just as well matters have been settled this way. Come, now, incool blood, ain't you rather glad, Moran?'

'Dashed if I know, ' growls he. 'All I know is, you're deuced well out ofit; your luck mayn't be so good another time. '

'Nor yours either, my friend, ' says Mr. Knightley, drawing up hisbridle-rein. 'I had only a snap-shot at you when that bullet wentthrough your poncho, or you'd be lying alongside of Daly. However, Ineedn't waste my breath talking to that brute, ' he says to Starlight. 'Iknow well all I owe to you and Dick Marston here. Some day I may repayit. '

'You mean what I owe you, ' says Starlight, turning it off with a laugh. 'Never fear, you'll find that paid to your credit in the bank. Wehave agents in all sorts of places. Good-bye, and a safe ride home. Myrespectful compliments to Mrs. Knightley. Perhaps you'd better followthe doctor now. ' The old gentleman had got tired waiting, and ridden onslow and easy. 

Two or three weeks after, Starlight and I were taking a ride towards theBogan Road, not that we was on for anything particular, but just havinga turn round for want of something else to do, when we saw a big mob ofcattle coming along, with three or four stock-riders behind 'em. Thenwe met a loaded dray and team in front, that had rations and swags anda tent. The driver asked us if we knew a good place to camp. He was atalking sort of chap, and we yarned away with him for a bit. He toldus how the boss was behind in a dogcart and tandem, with two led horsesbesides. The cattle were going to take up a new run he'd bought on theLower Bogan, an out-and-out wild place; but he'd got the country cheap, and thought it would pay in the end. He was going ahead after a stage ortwo, but just now he was camping with them. 

'My word, he's well in, is the cove, ' says the horse-driver; 'he's gothalf-a-dozen stations besides this one. He'll be one of the richest menin Australia yet. '

After we saw the cattle (about a thousand head) we thought it would be amiddling day's work to 'stick up' the cove and put him through. Going toform a new station, he'd very like have cash about, as he'd have to payfor a lot of things on the nail just at first. If he was such a swelltoo, he'd have a gold watch and perhaps a few more trifles. Anyhow, hewas good for the day's expenses, and we thought we'd try it on. 

So we passed the cattle and rode quietly along the road till we saw hisdogcart coming; then we stopped inside a yarran scrub, just as he cameby--a square-built man he seemed to be, muffled up in a big rough coat. It was a cool morning. We rode up sharpish, and showed our revolvers, singing out to him to 'bail up'. He pulled up quick and stared at us. Sowe did at him. Then the three of us burst out laughing--regular roaredagain. 

Who should it be but old George Storefield. 

'Well, this is a prime joke, ' says he. 'I knew you were out somewhere onthis road; but I never thought I should live to be stuck up by you, DickMarston. '

I looked foolish. It was rather a stunner when you come to think of it. 

'I beg a thousand pardons, ' says Starlight. 'Ridiculous mistake. Wantof something to occupy our time. "For Satan finds some mischief still, "etc. Isn't that the way the hymn runs? Wonderfully true, isn't it?You'll accept our apologies, Mr. Storefield, I trust. Poor Dick herewill never get over it. '

'How was I to know? Why, George, old man, we thought it was the Governorturned squatter, or old Billy Wentworth himself. Your trade pays betterthan ours, let alone being on the square. Well, shake hands; we'll beoff. You won't tell the girls, there's a good fellow, will you?'

'I can't promise, ' says old George; 'it's too good a joke. ' Here helaughed a good one. 'It isn't often a man gets stuck up by his friendslike this. Tell you what; come and have some lunch, and we'll talk itover. '

His man rode up then with the spare horse. Luckily, he was a good waybehind, as fellows will keep when they're following a trap, so that theycan't be any good when they're wanted. In this case it was just as well. He hadn't seen anything. 

'Hobble the horses out and put on their nose-bags, Williams, ' says he, 'and then get out the lunch. Put the things under that tree. '

They took out the horses, and the chap got out a basket with cold beefand bread and half a tongue and a bottle of good whisky and water-bag. 

We sat down on the grass, and as we'd been riding since sunrise we didpretty well in the feed line, and had a regular good bit of fun. I neverthought old George had so much go in him; but good times had made himtwice the man he used to be. 

After a bit he sends the groom down to the Cowall to water the horses, and, says he--

'Captain, you'd better come and manage Willaroon down there, with Dickfor stockman. There's a fortune in it, and it's a good way off yet. Nobody would think of looking for you there. You're a new chum, just outfrom home, you know. Plenty of spare country. I'll send you some cattleto start you on a new run after a bit. '

'If we could throw our past behind us, I'd do it, and thank God on myknees, ' said Starlight. 'It would make me almost a happy man again. Butwhy think of that or any other honest life in this colony now? We'vedebarred ourselves from it now and for ever. Our only hope is in anotherland--America--if we can get away. We shan't be long here now; we'reboth sick of this accursed work. '

'The sooner the better, ' says George, taking his hand and giving ita hearty grip. 'And, look here, you work your way quietly down toWillaroon. That's my place, and I'll give you a line across to theQueensland border. From there you can get over to Townsville, and it'seasy to sail from there to the islands or any port out of reach of harmfrom here. '

'We'll tackle it next month if we're alive, ' says I. So we parted. 

Not long after this we got a letter from Jim. He'd heard all about theway to do it from a man he'd met in Melbourne that had worked his waydown overland from the North. He said once you were there, or nearthere, there was little or no chance of being interfered with. Jeaniewas always in a fright every day Jim went away lest he might be takenand not let come back. So she was always keeping him up to the mark, making him inquire here and look out there until he got a bit ofinformation which told him what he wanted. 

This man that worked in the store with him was a fast sort of card, who had been mate of a brig cruising all about and back to Sydney withsandalwood, beche-de-mer, and what they call island trade. 

Well, the captain of the craft, who was part owner, had settled inhis mind that he'd trade regular with San Francisco now, and touch atHonolulu going and coming. He was to be back at Gladstone in about threemonths, and then start for California straight away. 

This was the very thing, just made to suit us all to pieces. If we couldmake out to one of the Queensland northern ports it would be easy enoughto ship under different names. Once in America, we'd be in a new world, and there'd be nothing to stop us from leading a new life. 

Chapter 47

When we got the notion into our heads, we set to work to carry it out. We didn't want to leave Aileen and mother behind. So it was settled thatI was to go over and see them, and try and persuade them to go down toMelbourne and stop with Jeanie after Jim had started. 

Then, if we all got safe over to San Francisco, Jeanie and they couldcome over by the first ship that sailed. There was no down upon them, so they could do anything they liked. The main thing was to get Jim offsafe and me and Starlight. After that the rest might come along whenthey pleased. As for dad, he was to take his own road; to go and stay ashe chose. It wasn't much use trying to make him do anything else. But hewas more like to stop at the old Hollow than anywhere else. It wouldn'thave seemed home to him anywhere else, even where he was born, Ibelieve. 

The first thing of all was to go to the old place and see mother andAileen. They were both back at the old cottage, and were a bit morecomfortable now. George Storefield had married a lady--a real lady, asAileen said--and, though she was a nice, good-tempered young woman asever was, Aileen, of course, wouldn't stay there any longer. She thoughthome was the best place after all. 

We took a couple of days figuring it out at the Hollow. Starlight hada map, and we plotted it out, and marked all the stages which could besafely made--went over all the back tracks and cross-country lines; somewe had travelled before, and others of which we knew pretty well fromhearsay. 

After we'd got all this cut and dry, I started away one beautifulsunshiny morning to ride over to Rocky Flat. I remember the day as wellas yesterday, because I took notice of it at the time, and had bettercause to remember it before all was over. Everything looked so lovely asI began to clear the foot hills of Nulla Mountain. The birds seemed tochirp and whistle gayer than they ever did before. The dewdrops on thegrass and all the twigs and shoots of the trees looked as if it wascovered with diamonds and rubies as the sun began to shine and melt someof them. My horse stepped along limber and free. 'O Lord, ' I saysto myself out aloud, 'what a happy cove I might be if I could startfresh--knowing what I know--and not having all these things against me!'

When I got on to the tableland above Rocky Flat I took a good look atthe whole place. Everything was as quiet and peaceful as if nothing hadever happened within miles of it--as if I hadn't had Goring's handcuffson me--as if Jim hadn't had the bullets whistling round him, and riskedhis life on an unbridled horse--as if the four dead men had not lainstaring up to the sky in the gully up yonder for days before they werefound and buried. 

But now it looked as if only two or three people had ever been therefrom the beginning of the world. The wild ducks swam and splashed in thelittle waterhole above the house. Two or three of the cows were walkingdown to the creek, as quiet and peaceable as you please. There was somepoultry at the back, and the little garden was done up that nicely as ithadn't been for many a day. 

After I'd pretty well settled in my own mind that there was no one anextor anigh the old place, I drew up by degrees, bit by bit, and sneakedacross the creek. I was just making for the barn when I saw two horsemenpop up sudden round the back of the house and ride towards the frontgate. I saw with half an eye they were Sir Ferdinand Morringer and atrooper. 

Lucky for me they were looking up the gully instead of my way, and, though my heart nearly stood still, I rode as hard as I could lick forthe gate of the barn, which was betwixt me and them. They never lookedround. They were too much taken up with watching the spot where Haganand his lot were found. I had just time to chevy straight into thebarn and pull off my saddle and bridle and hide under the hay when theyshifted full towards where I'd been and then hung up their horses. Thetrooper tied his to a dead branch of a tree, and then went moving about. I was mortally afraid of his stumbling against something and spoilingthe whole affair. 

It seems Sir Ferdinand had never given up the notion of our turning upat Rocky Flat some day or other; so he used to take a turn himself thatway every now and again on the chance, and a very good chance it nearlyturned out to be. Besides this, it seems since he'd heard of her beingat the ball at Turon he'd taken a great fancy to Aileen, and usedto talk to her as much as she'd let him, when she was at GeorgeStorefield's and any other place where he met her. He wouldn't havehad much chance of saying the second word, only he was a good-natured, amusing sort, and always as respectful to her as if she'd been a lady. Besides, Aileen had a kind of fancy that it might make things no worsefor us if she was civil to him. Any way, she thought, as women will do, that she might get something out of him perhaps once in a way that wouldbe of use to us. I don't believe as it would make a scrap of differenceone way or the other. And, like people who try to be too clever, she waspretty near being caught in her own trap this time. Not that I blame thepoor thing, she did all for the best, and would have given the eyes outof her head, I believe, to have done us real good, and seen us clear ofall our troubles. 

Well, she brings a chair out on the verandah, and Sir Ferdinand he satdown on a bench there for half-an-hour, talking away and laughing, justas gentlemen will to pretty girls, no matter who they are. And I couldsee Aileen look up and laugh now and then, pleased like. She couldn'thelp it. And there was I stuck in the confounded barn among the strawall the time looking out through one of the cracks and wondering if hewas ever going to clear out. Sometimes I thought the trooper, who wasgetting tired of dodging about doing nothing, couldn't be off seeing myhorse's tracks leading slap into the barn door. But he was thinking ofsomething else, or else wasn't much in the tracking line. Some men wouldsee a whole army of fresh tracks, as plain as print, right under theirnoses and wouldn't drop down to anything. 

However, last of all I saw him unhitch his horse and take the bridle onhis arm, and then Aileen put on her hat and walked up to the top of theridge along the stony track with him. Then I saw him mount and startoff at a rattling good bat along the road to Turon and the trooper afterhim. I felt all right again then, and watched Aileen come slowly downthe road again with her head down, quite thoughtful like, very differentfrom the way she went up. She didn't stop at the house, but walkedstraight down to the barn and came in at the door. I wondered what shewould do when she saw my horse. But she didn't start, only said--

'You may come out now, Dick; I knew you were here. I saw you ride injust as Sir Ferdinand and the trooper came up. '

'So that's why you were making yourself so pleasant, ' says I laughingly. 'I mustn't tell Starlight, I suppose, or we shall be having a new yarnin the newspapers--"Duel between Sir Ferdinand Morringer and CaptainStarlight. "'

She laughed too, and then looked sad and serious like again. 

'I wonder if we shall ever have an end to this wretched hide-and-seekwork. God knows I would do anything that an honest girl could do for youboys and him, but it sometimes looks dark enough, and I have dreadfulfears that all will be in vain, and that we are fated to death and ruinat the end. '

'Come, come, don't break down before the time, ' I said. 'It's been aclose shave, though; but Sir Ferdinand won't be back for a bit, so wemay as well take it easy. I've got a lot to say to you. '

'He said he wouldn't be back this way till Friday week, ' says she. 'Hehas an escort to see to then, and he expected to be at Stony Creek in acouple of hours from this. He'll have to ride for it. '

We walked over to the house. Neither of us said anything for a bit. Mother was sitting in her old chair by the fire knitting. Many a goodpair of woollen socks she'd sent us, and many's the time we'd had callto bless her and her knitting--as we sat our horses, night after night, in a perishing frost, or when the rain set in that run of wet winters wehad, when we'd hardly a dry stitch on us by the week together, whenwe had enough of them and the neck wrappers, I expect plenty of othersround about were glad to get 'em. It was partly for good nature, formother was always a kind-hearted poor soul as ever was, and would giveaway the shoes off her feet--like most Irish people I've met--to any onethat wanted them worse than herself, and partly for the ease it gaveher mind to be always doing something steady like. Mother hadn'tbook-learning, and didn't always understand the things Aileen read toher. She was getting too old to do much in the house now. But her eyeswere wonderful good still, and this knitting was about the greatestpleasure she had left in the world. If anything had happened to stop herfrom going on with that, I don't believe she would have lived a month. 

Her poor old face brightened up when she seen me, and for a few minutesyou'd have said no thought of trouble could come anigh her. Then thetears rolled down her cheeks, and I could see her lips moving, thoughshe did not speak the words. I knew what she was doing, and if thatcould have kept us right we'd never have gone wrong in the world. But itwas to be, I suppose. 

Mother was a deal older-looking, and couldn't move about as well as shedid. Aileen said she'd often sit out in the sun for an hour together andwatch her walking up the garden, or putting up the calves, and carryingin the water from the creek, and say nothing. Sometimes she thought hermind was going a bit, and then again she'd seem as sensible as ever shewas. To-day, after a bit, she came round and talked more and asked aboutthe neighbours, seemed more curious like, than she'd done, Aileen said, for many a long day. 

'You must have something to eat, Dick, ' says Aileen; 'it's a long ridefrom--from where we know--and what with one thing and another I daresayyou've an appetite. Let me see what there is. Mrs. Storefield sent usover a quarter of veal from the farm yesterday, and we've plenty ofbacon of our own. Mother and I live half our time on it and the eggs. I'm making quite a fortune by the butter lately. These diggings arewonderful places to send up the price of everything we can grow. '

So she got out the frying-pan, and she and I and mother had some vealchops, with a slice or two of bacon to give it a flavour. My word! theywere good after a forty-mile ride, and we'd had nothing but corned beefin the Hollow lately. Fresh butter and milk too; it was a treat. We hadcows enough at the Hollow, but we didn't bother ourselves milking; breadand beef and tea, with a glass of grog now and then, was the general runof our grub. 

We had a talk about the merry time at the Turon races, and Aileenlaughed in spite of herself at the thought of Starlight walking down theballroom to be introduced to her, and being taken up to all the swellpeople of the place. 'He looked grander than any of them, to my fancy, 'said she; 'and oh! what a cruel shame it seems that he should ever havedone what keeps him from going among his equals as he was born to do. Then I should never have seen him, I suppose, and a thousand timesbetter too. I'd give up every hope of seeing him again in this world, God knows how cheerfully, if it would serve him or help his escape. '

'I'm down here now to see you about the same escape, ' I said; and thenI told her about Jim's letter, and what he said about the mate of theship. She listened for a good while patiently, with her hand in mine, like we used to sit in old days, when we were young and happy andalive--alive, not dead men and women walking about and making believeto live. So I told her how we made it up to meet somewhere near theQueensland border. Jim to come up the Murray from Melbourne, and so onto the Darling, and we to make across for the Lower Bogan. If we couldcarry this out all right--and it looked pretty likely--the rest of thegame would be easy; and once on blue water--O my God, what new creatureswe should all be!

Aileen threw her arms round my neck and sobbed and cried like a child;she couldn't speak for a bit, and when she looked up her eyes seemed tohave a different kind of look in them--a far-away, dreamy sort of lightfrom what I'd ever noticed in them. 

'It may come about, ' she said, 'Dick. I've prayed whole nights throughand vowed my life to the Blessed Virgin. She may accept the service ofmy years that are to come. It may be permitted after all the sins of ourpeople. '

After this she dried her eyes and went to her room for a bit, while Ihad a quiet, easy sort of talk with mother, she saying a word or twonow and then, and looking at me most of the time, as if that was enoughwithout talking. 

Then Aileen came out of her room with her habit and hat on. 'Run upmy horse, Dick, ' she says, 'and I'll take you over to see GeorgeStorefield's new place. A ride will do me good, and I daresay you're nottired. '

I caught her horse and saddled him for her, and off we went down the oldtrack we knew so well all our lives. 

I told her all about our lark with old George, and how good he'd beenthrough it all; besides promising to give us a lift through his countrywhen we made the grand start. She said it was just like him--that hewas the kindest soul in the world, and the most thoughtful. The new Mrs. Storefield had been very civil and friendly to her, and told her sheknew George's feeling towards her, and respected it. But Aileen nevercould feel at home in the grand new house now, and only would go to seeold Mrs. Storefield, who still lived in the family cottage, and foundit the best suited to her. So we yarned away till we got in sight of theplace. When I saw the new two-story stone house I was regular struck allof a heap. 

Old George had got on in the world and no mistake. He'd worked early andlate, always been as steady as a rock, and had looked ahead insteadof taking his pleasure straight off when he got the first few hundredpounds together. He'd seen fat cattle must be dear and scarce for yearsto come. Noticed, too, that however cheap a far-away bit of country washeld, sometimes bought for 200 or 300 Pounds, it always rose in valueyear by year. So with store cattle. Now and again they'd fall tonothing. Then he'd buy a whole lot of poor milkers' calves aboutBurrangong, or some of those thick places where they never fattened, for1 Pound a head or less, and send them away to his runs in the Lachlan. In six months you wouldn't know 'em. They'd come down well-grown fatcattle in a year or two, and be worth their 6 or 8 Pounds a head. 

The same way with land; he bought up all the little bits ofallotments with cottages on them round Paramatta and Windsor way andCampbelltown--all them old-fashioned sleepy old places near Sydney, forcash, and cheap enough. The people that had them, and had lived a pokeylife in them for many a year, wanted the money to go to the diggingswith, and quite right too. Still, and all this land was rising in value, and George's children, if he had any, would be among the richest peoplein the colony. 

After he'd married Miss Oldham--they were Hawkesbury people, hergrandfather, old Captain Oldham, was one of the officers in the firstregiment that came out--he didn't see why he shouldn't have as good ahouse as any one else. So he had a gentleman up from Sydney that drewplans, and he had a real stone house built, with rooms upstairs, andfurniture to match, a new garden, and a glass house at the side, for allthe world like some of them grand places in Darling Point, near Sydney. 

Aileen wouldn't go in, and you may be sure I didn't want to, but werode all round the place, a little way off, and had a real good lookat everything. There wasn't a gentleman in the country had betteroutbuildings of all sorts. It was a real tip-top place, good enoughfor the Governor himself if he came to live up the country. All the oldfencing had been knocked down, and new railings and everything put up. Some of the scraggy trees had been cleared away, and all the dead woodburned. I never thought the old place could have showed out the wayit did. But money can do a lot. It ain't everything in this world. Butthere's precious little it won't get you, and things must be very bad itwon't mend. A man must have very little sense if he don't see as hegets older that character and money are the two things he's got to becarefullest of in this world. If he's not particular to a shade abouteither or both of 'em, he'll find his mistake. 

After we'd had a good look round and seen the good well-bred stock inthe paddocks, the growing crops all looking first-rate, everything wellfed and hearty, showing there was no stint of grub for anything, man orbeast, we rode away from the big house entrance and came opposite theslip-rails on the flat that led to the old cottage. 

'Wouldn't you like to go in just for a minute, Dick?' says Aileen. 

I knew what she was thinking of. 

I was half a mind not, but then something seemed to draw me, and I wasoff my horse and had the slip-rail down before I knew where I was. 

We rode up to the porch just outside the verandah where George's fatherhad planted the creeping roses; big clusters of bloom they used to haveon 'em when I was a boy. He showed 'em to me, I remember, and saidwhat fine climbers they were. Now they were all over the porch, and theverandah, and the roof of the cottage, all among the shingles. But Mrs. Storefield wouldn't have 'em cut because her old man had planted 'em. She came out to see us. 

'Well, Ailie, child, ' says she, 'come along in, don't sit there on yourhorse. Who's this you've got with you? Oh! it's you, Dick, is it? Myeyes ain't as good as they were. Well, come along in too. You're on thewrong road, and worse 'll come of it. But come along in, I'm not goingto be the one to hunt you. I remember old times when you were a littletoddling chap, as bold as a lion, and no one dreamt you'd grow up tobe the wild chap you are. Gracey's inside, I think. She's as big a foolabout ye as ever. '

I very near broke down at this. I could stand hard usage, and send backas good as I got; but this good old woman, that had no call to thinkanything of me, but that I'd spoiled her daughter's chance of marryingwell and respectably--when she talked to me this way, I came close up tomaking a fool of myself. 

We walked in. Gracey was sewing away in the little parlour, where therealways used to be a nosegay when I was a boy, and it was that clean andneat I was afraid to go into it, and never easy till I got out again. There she sat as sober-looking and steady as if she'd been there forfive years, and meant to be for five years more. She wasn't thinking ofanybody coming, but when she looked up and saw me her face changed allof a sudden, and she jumped up and dropped her work on the floor. 

'Why, whatever brings you here, Dick?' she said. 'Don't you know it'sterribly dangerous? Sir Ferdinand is always about here now. He stayed atGeorge's new house last night. Wasn't he at Rocky Flat to-day?'

'Yes, but he won't be back for a week. He told Aileen here he wouldn't. 'Here I looked at them both. 

'Aileen's carrying on quite a flirtation with Sir Ferdinand, 'says Gracey. 'I don't know what some one else would say if he saweverything. '

'Doesn't he talk to any one when he comes here, or make himselfpleasant?' I said. 'Perhaps there's more than one in the game. '

'Perhaps there is, ' says Gracey; 'but he thinks, I believe, that he canget something out of us girls about you and your goings on, and whereyou plant; and we think we're quite as clever as he is, and might learnsomething useful too. So that's how the matter lies at present. Are yougoing to be jealous?'

'Not a bit in the world, ' I said, 'even if I had the right. I'll backyou two, as simple as you look, against any inspector of police fromhere to South Australia. '

After this we began to talk about other things, and I told Gracey allabout our plans and intentions. She listened very quiet and steady to itall, and then she said she thought something might come of it. Anyhow, she would go whenever I sent for her to come, no matter where. 

'What I've said to you, Dick, I've said for good and all. It may be in amonth or two, or it may be years and years. But whenever the time comes, and we have a chance, a reasonable chance, of living peaceably andhappily, you may depend upon my keeping my word if I'm alive. '

We three had a little more talk together, and Aileen and I mounted androde home. 

It was getting on dusk when we started. They wanted us to stop, but Idaren't do it. It was none too safe as it was, and it didn't do to throwa chance away. Besides, I didn't want to be seen hanging about George'splace. There was nobody likely to know about Aileen and me riding uptogether and stopping half-an-hour; but if it came to spending theevening, there was no saying who might have ears and eyes open. At homeI could have my horse ready at a minute's warning, and be off like ashot at the first whisper of danger. 

So off we went. We didn't ride very fast back. It was many a day sincewe had ridden over that ground together side by side. It might be manya day, years perhaps, before we did the same thing again. Perhaps never!Who was to know? In the risks of a life like mine, I might never comeback--never set eyes again upon the sister that would have given herlife for mine! Never watch the stars glitter through the forest-oakbranches, or hear the little creek ripple over the slate bar as it didto-night. 

Chapter 48

We rode along the old track very quiet, talking about old times--ormostly saying nothing, thinking our own thoughts. Something seemed toput it into my head to watch every turn in the track--every tree andbush by the roadside--every sound in the air--every star in the sky. Aileen rode along at last with her head drooped down as if she hadn'tthe heart to hold it up. How hard it must have seemed to her to thinkshe didn't dare even to ride with her own brother in the light of daywithout starting at every bush that stirred--at every footstep, horse orman, that fell on her ear!

There wasn't a breath of air that night. Not a leaf stirred--not a boughmoved of all the trees in the forest that we rode through. A 'possummight chatter or a night-owl cry out, but there wasn't any other sound, except the ripple of the creek over the stones, that got louder andclearer as we got nearer Rocky Flat. There was nothing like a cloud inthe sky even. It wasn't an over light night, but the stars shone outlike so many fireballs, and it was that silent any one could almost havefancied they heard the people talking in the house we left, though itwas miles away. 

'I sometimes wonder, ' Aileen says, at last, raising up her head, 'if Ihad been a man whether I should have done the same things you and Jimhave, or whether I should have lived honestly and worked steadily likeGeorge over there. I think I should have done so, I really do; thatnothing would have tempted me to take what was not my own--or to--to--doother things. I don't think it is in my nature somehow. '

'I don't say as you would, Ailie, ' I put in; 'but there's many thingsto be thought of when you come to reckon what a boy sees, and how he'sbrought up in the bush. It's different with girls--though I've knownsome of them that were no great shakes either, and middling handy amongthe clearskins too. '

'It's hard to say, ' she went on, more as if she was talking to herselfthan to me; 'I feel that. Bad example--love of pleasure--strongtemptation--evil company--all these are heavy weights to drag down men'ssouls to hell. Who knows whether I should have been better than thethousands, the millions, that have fallen, that have taken the broadroad that leads to destruction. Oh! how dreadful it seems to think thatwhen once a man has sinned in some ways in this world there's no turningback--no hope--no mercy--only long bitter years of prison life--worsethan death; or, if anything can be worse, a felon's death; a doom darkand terrible, dishonouring to those that die and to those that live. Oh that my prayers may avail--not my prayers only, but my life'sservice--my life's service. '

Next morning I was about at daybreak and had my horse fed and saddledup with the bridle on his neck, ready all but slipping the bit into hismouth, in case of a quick start. I went and helped Aileen to milk hercows, nine or ten of them there were, a fairish morning's work for onegirl; mothering the calves, bailing up, leg-roping, and all the rest ofit. We could milk well, all three of us, and mother too, when she wasyounger. Women are used to cattle in Ireland, and England too. The mendon't milk there, I hear tell. That wouldn't work here. Women are scarcein the regular bush, and though they'll milk for their own good and ontheir own farms, you'll not get a girl to milk, when she's at service, for anybody else. 

One of the young cows was a bit strange with me, so I had to shake astick at her and sing out 'Bail up' pretty rough before she'd put herhead in. Aileen smiled something like her old self for a minute, andsaid--

'That comes natural to you now, Dick, doesn't it?'

I stared for a bit, and then burst out laughing. It was a rum go, wasn'tit? The same talk for cows and Christians. That's how things get stuckinto the talk in a new country. Some old hand like father, as had beenassigned to a dairy settler, and spent all his mornings in the cowyard, had taken to the bush and tried his hand at sticking up people. Whenthey came near enough of course he'd pop out from behind a tree in arock, with his old musket or a pair of pistols, and when he wanted'em to stop 'Bail up, d----yer, ' would come a deal quicker and morenatural-like to his tongue than 'Stand. ' So 'bail up' it was from thatday to this, and there'll have to be a deal of change in the ways of thecolonies and them as come from 'em before anything else takes its place, between the man that's got the arms and the man that's got the money. 

After we'd turned out the cows we put the milk into the little dairy. How proud Jim and I used to be because we dug out the cellar part, andbuilt the sod wall round the slabs! Father put on the thatch; then itwas as cool and clean as ever. Many a good drink of cold milk we hadthere in the summers that had passed away. Well, well, it's no usethinking of those sort of things. They're dead and gone, like a lot ofother things and people--like I shall be before long, if it comes tothat. 

We had breakfast pretty comfortable and cheerful. Mother looked pleasedand glad to see me once more, and Aileen had got on her old face again, and was partly come round to her old ways. 

After breakfast Aileen and I went into the garden and had a long talkover the plan we had chalked out for getting away to Queensland. I gotout a map Starlight had made and showed her the way we were going tohead, and why he thought it more likely to work than he had done before. I was to make my way down the Macquarie and across by Duck Creek, George's station, Willaroon; start from there with a mob of cattle toQueensland as drover or anything that would suit my book. 

Jim was to get on to one of the Murray River boats at Swan Hill, andstick to her till he got a chance to go up the Darling with an Adelaideboat to Bourke. He could get across from there by Cunnamulla towardsRockhampton, and from there we were safe to find plenty of vessels boundfor the islands or San Francisco. We had hardly cared where, as far asthat goes, as long as we got clear away from our own country. 

As soon as Jeanie got a word from Jim that he'd sailed and was clear ofAustralia, she'd write up to Aileen, who was to go down to Melbourne, and take mother with her. They could stop with Jeanie until they got amessage from San Francisco to say he'd safely arrived there. After thatthey could start by the first steamer. They'd have money enough to taketheir passages and something handsome in cash when they got to land. 

Aileen agreed to it all, but in a curious sort of way. 'It looked well, 'she said, 'and might be carried out, particularly as we were all goingto work cautiously and with such a lot of preparation. ' Everything thatshe could do would be done, we might be sure; but though she had prayedand sought aid from the Blessed Virgin and the saints--fasting and onher bare knees, night after night--she had not been able to get onegleam of consolation. Everything looked very dark, and she had aterrible feeling of anxiety and dread about the carrying it out. But shedidn't want to shake my courage, I could see; so she listened and smiledand cheered me up a bit at the end, and I rode away, thinking there wasa good show for us after all. 

I got back to the Hollow right enough, and for once in a way it seemedas if the luck was on our side. Maybe it was going to turn--who was toknow? There had been men who had been as deep in it as any of us thathad got clean away to other countries and lived safe and comfortable tothe day of their death--didn't die so soon either--lived to a good roundage, and had wives and children round them that never knew but whatthey'd been as good as the best. That wouldn't be our case; but stillif we once were able to put the sea between us and our old life the oddswould be all in our favour instead of being a hundred to one that weweren't placed and no takers. 

Starlight was glad enough to see me back, and like everything hetackled, had been squaring it all for our getting away with head andhand. We wanted to take everything with us that could do us any good, naturally. Father and he had made it right with some one they knew atTuron to take the gold and give them a price for it--not all it wasworth, but something over three-fourths value. The rest he was to keepfor his share, for trouble and risk. There was some risk, no doubt, indealing with us, but all the gold that was bought in them days wasn'tsquare, not by a lot. But there was no way of swearing to it. Gold wasgold, and once it was in the banks it was lumped up with the rest. Therewas a lot of things to be thought of before we regularly made a move forgood and all; but when you make up your mind for a dart, it's wonderfulhow things shape. We hadn't much trouble dividing the gold, and whatcash there was we could whack easy enough. There was the live stock thatwas running in the Hollow, of course. We couldn't well take them withus, except a few of the horses. We made a deal at last with father forthem. He took my share and Starlight's, and paid us in cash out of hisshare of the notes. All we wanted was a couple of horses each, one tocarry a pack, one to ride. 

As for dad, he told us out, plump and plain, that he wasn't going toshift. The Hollow was good enough for him, and there he was going tostop. If Jim and I and Starlight chose to try and make blank emigrantsof ourselves, well and good. He didn't see as they'd have such a rosytime getting over to these new townships on the other side. We might gettook in, and wish we was back again before all was said and done. Butsome people could never let well alone. Here we had everything that anyman in his senses could wish for, and we wasn't contented. Every one wasgoing to cut away and leave him; he'd be all by himself, with no onebut the dog for company, and be as miserable as a bandicoot; but no onecared a blank brass farden about that. 

'Come with us, governor, ' says Starlight, 'have a cruise round theworld, and smell salt water again. You've not been boxed up in the bushall your life, though you've been a goodish while there. Make a start, and bring old Crib too. '

'I'm too old and getting stiff in the j'ints, ' says dad, brightening upa bit, 'or I don't say as I wouldn't. Don't mind my growling. But I'mbound to be a bit lonely like when you are all drawed off the camp. No!take your own way and I'll take mine. '

'Next Monday ought to see us off, ' says Starlight. 'We have got the goldand cash part all right. I've had that money paid to Knightley's creditin the Australian Bank I promised him, and got a receipt for it. '

'That's just like yer, ' says father, 'and a rank soft thing for a manas has seen the world to drop into. Losin' yer share of the five hundredquid, and then dropping a couple of hundred notes at one gamble, besidesbuying a horse yer could have took for nothing. He'll never bring twentypound again, neither. '

'Always pay my play debts, ' says Starlight. 'Always did, and alwayswill. As for the horse--a bargain, a bargain. '

'And a dashed bad bargain too. Why didn't ye turn parson instead oftaking to the bush?' says father, with a grin. 'Dashed if I ain'tseen some parsons that could give you odds and walk round ye athorse-dealin'. '

'You take your own way, Ben, and I'll take mine, ' says Starlight ratherfierce, and then father left off and went to do something or other, while us two took our horses and rode out. We hadn't a long time to bein the old Hollow now. It had been a good friend to us in time of need, and we was sorry in a kind of way to leave it. We were going to play fora big stake, and if we lost we shouldn't have another throw in. 

Our horses were in great buckle now; they hadn't been doing much lately. I had the one I'd brought with me, and a thoroughbred brown horse thathad been broken in the first season we came there. 

Starlight was to ride Rainbow, of course, and he had great pickingbefore he made up his mind what to choose for second horse. At last hepitched upon a thoroughbred bay mare named Locket that had been stolenfrom a mining township the other side of the country. She was thefastest mare they'd ever bred--sound, and a weight-carrier too. 

'I think I'll take Locket after all, ' says he, after thinking about itbest part of an hour. 'She's very fast and a stayer. Good-tempered too, and the old horse has taken up with her. It will be company for him. '

'Take your own way, ' I said, 'but I wouldn't chance her. She's knownto a lot of jockey-boys and hangers-on. They could swear to that whitepatch on her neck among a thousand. '

'If you come to that, Rainbow is not an every-day horse, and I can'tleave him behind, can I? I'll ship him, if I can, that's more. But itwon't matter much, for we'll have to take back tracks all the way. Youdidn't suppose we were to ride along the mail road, did you?'

'I didn't suppose anything, ' says I, 'but that we were going to clearout the safest way we could. If we're to do the swell business we'dbetter do it apart, or else put an advertisement into the "Turon Star"that Starlight, Marston, and Co. Are giving up business and going toleave the district, all accounts owing to be sent in by a certain date. '

'A first-rate idea, ' says he. 'I'm dashed if I don't do it. There'snothing like making one's exit in good form. How savage Morringer willbe! Thank you for the hint, Dick. '

There was no use talking to him when he got into this sort of humour. Hewas the most mad, reckless character I ever came across, and any kind ofchecking only seemed to make him worse. So I left him alone, for fear heshould want to do something more venturesome still, and went on with mypacking and getting ready for the road. 

We fixed up to start on the Monday, and get as far away the first coupleof days as we could manage. We expected to get a good start by making agreat push the first day or two, and, as the police would be thrown offthe scent in a way we settled--and a good dodge it was--we should haveall the more time to be clear of New South Wales before they regularlydropped that we were giving them leg bail for it. 

The Sunday before Starlight started away by himself, taking a coupleof good horses with him--one he led, and a spare saddle too. He tooknothing but his revolver, and didn't say where he was going, but Ipretty well guessed to say good-bye to Aileen. Just as he started helooked back and says--

'I'm going for a longish ride to-day, Dick, but I shall be here late ifI'm back at all. If anything happens to me my share of what there is Igive to her, if she will take it. If not, do the best you can with itfor her benefit. '

He didn't take Warrigal with him, which I was sorry for, as thehalf-caste and I didn't hit it well together, and when we were byourselves he generally managed to do or say something he knew I didn'tlike. I kept my hands off him on account of Starlight, but there wasmany a time my fingers itched to be at him, and I could hardly keep fromknocking some of the sulkiness out of him. This day, somehow, I was notin the best of tempers myself. I had a good lot on my mind. Startingaway seems always a troublesome, bothering sort of thing, and if a man'sat all inclined to be cranky it'll come out then. 

Next day we were going to start on a long voyage, in a manner ofspeaking, and whether we should have a fair wind or the vessel of ourfortune would be wrecked and we go down with it no one could say. Thisis how it happened. One of the horses was bad to catch, and took alittle trouble in the yard. Most times Warrigal was quiet enough with'em, but when he got regular into a rage he'd skin a horse alive, Ireally believe. Anyhow, he began to hammer the colt with a roping-pole, and as the yard was that high that no beast could jump it he had him athis mercy. I wouldn't have minded a lick or two, but he went on and on, nearly knocking the poor brute down every time, till I could stand it nolonger, and told him to drop it. 

He gave me some saucy answer, until at last I told him I'd make him. Hedared me, and I rushed at him. I believe he'd have killed me that minuteif he'd had the chance, and he made a deuced good offer at it. 

He stuck to his roping-stick--a good, heavy-ended gum sapling, six orseven feet long--and as I came at him he struck at my head with suchvengeance that, if it had caught me fair, I should never have kicked. I made a spring to one side, and it hit me a crack on the shoulder thatwasn't a good thing in itself. I was in at him before he could raise hishands, and let him have it right and left. 

Down he went and the stick atop of him. He was up again like a wildcat, and at me hammer and tongs--but he hadn't the weight, though he wasquick and smart with his hands. I drew off and knocked him clean off hispins. Then he saw it wasn't good enough, and gave it best. 

'Never mind, Dick Marston, ' says he, as he walked off; and he fixed hiseyes on me that savage and deadly-looking, with the blood running downhis face, that I couldn't help shivering a bit, 'you'll pay for this. Iowe it you and Jim, one a piece. '

'Confound you, ' I said, 'it's all your own fault. Why couldn't you stopill-using the horse? You don't like being hit yourself. How do you thinkhe likes it?'

'What business that of yours?' he said. 'You mind your work and I'llmind mine. This is the worst day's work you've done this year, and so Itell you. '

He went away to his gunyah then, and except doing one or two things forStarlight would not lift his hand for any one that day. 

I was sorry for it when I came to think. I daresay I might have got himround with a little patience and humbugging. It's always a mistake tolose your temper and make enemies; there's no knowing what harm they maydo ye. People like us oughtn't to throw away a chance, even with a chaplike Warrigal. Besides, I knew it would vex Starlight, and for his sakeI would have given a trifle it hadn't happened. However, I didn't seehow Warrigal could do me or Jim any harm without hurting him, and I knewhe'd have cut off his hand rather than any harm should come to Starlightthat he could help. 

So I got ready. Dad and I had our tea together pretty comfortable, andhad a longish talk. The old man was rather down in the mouth for him. He said he somehow didn't expect the fakement to turn out well. 'You'regoing away, ' he said, 'from where you're safe, and there's a many thingsgoes against a man in our line, once he's away from his own beat. Younever know how you may be given away. The Captain's all right here, whenhe's me to look after him, though he does swear at me sometimes; but hewas took last time. He was out on his own hook, and it's my belief he'llbe took this time if he isn't very careful. He's a good man to fightthrough things when once he's in the thick of 'em, but he ain't carefulenough to keep dark and close when the play isn't good. You draw alongsteady by yourself till you meet Jim--that's my advice to ye. '

'I mean to do that. I shall work my way down to old George's place, andget on with stock or something till we all meet at Cunnamulla. Afterthat there ain't much chance of these police here grabbing us. '

'Unless you're followed up, ' says the old man. 'I've known chaps to goa deuce of a way, once they got on the track, and there's getting somesmart fellows among 'em now--native-born chaps as'll be as good atpicking up the tracks as you and Jim. '

'Well, we must take our chance. I'm sorry, for one thing, that I hadthat barney with Warrigal. It was all his fault. But I had to give hima hardish crack or two. He'd turn dog on me and Jim, and in a minute, ifhe saw his way without hurting Starlight. '

'He can't do it, ' says dad; 'it's sink or swim with the lot of you. And he dursn't either, not he, ' says father, beginning to growl out hiswords. 'If I ever heard he'd given away any one in the lot I'd have hislife, if I had to poleaxe him in George Street. He knows me too. '

We sat yarning away pretty late. The old man didn't say it, but I madeout that he was sorry enough for that part of his life which had turnedout so bad for us boys, and for mother and Aileen. Bad enough he was ina kind of way, old dad, but he wasn't all bad, and I believe if he couldhave begun again and thought of what misery he was going to bring on thelot of us he would never have gone on the cross. It was too late, toolate now, though, to think of that. 

Towards morning I heard the old dog growl, and then the tramp of ahorse's feet. Starlight rode up to the fire and let his horse go, thenwalked straight into his corner and threw himself down without speaking. He had had a precious long ride, and a fast one by the look of hishorse. The other one he had let go as soon as he came into the Hollow;but none of the three would be a bit the worse after a few hours' rest. The horses, of course, were spare ones, and not wanted again for a bit. 

Next morning it was 'sharp's the word', and no mistake. I felt a dealsmarter on it than yesterday. When you've fairly started for the roadhalf the journey's done. It's the thinking of this and forgetting that, and wondering whether you haven't left behind the t'other thing, that'sthe miserablest part of going a journey; when you're once away, nomatter what's left behind, you can get on some way or other. 

We didn't start so over and above early, though Starlight was up asfresh as paint at sunrise, you'd thought he hadn't ridden a yard the daybefore. Even at the very last there's a lot of things to do and to get. But we all looked slippy and didn't talk much, so that we got throughwhat we had to do, and had all the horses saddled and packed by abouteight o'clock. Even Warrigal had partly got over his temper. Of courseI told Starlight about it. He gave him a good rowing, and told him hedeserved another hammering, which he had a good mind to give him, if wehadn't been starting for a journey. Warrigal didn't say a word to him. He never did. Starlight told me on the quiet, though, he was sorry ithappened, 'though it's the rascal's own fault, and served him right. But he's a revengeful beggar, ' he says, 'and that he would play you somedog's trick if he wasn't afraid of me, you may depend your life on. '

'Now, ' says he, 'we must make our little arrangements. I shall besomewhere about Cunnamulla by the end of this month' (it was only thefirst week). 'Jim knows that we are to meet there, and if we manage thatall right I think the greatest part of the danger will be over. Ishall get right across by Dandaloo to the back blocks of the WestBogan country, between it and the Lachlan. There are tracks through theendless mallee scrub, only known to the tribes in the neighbourhood, anda few half-castes like Warrigal, that have been stock-riding about them. Sir Ferdinand and his troopers might just as well hunt for a stray Arabin the deserts of the Euphrates. If I'm alive--mind you, alive--I'll beat Cunnamulla on the day I mean. And now, good-bye, old fellow. Whatevermy sins have been, I've been true to you and your people in the past, and if Aileen and I meet across the seas, as I hope, the new life maypartly atone for the old one. '

Chapter 49

He shook hands with me and dad, threw his leg over Rainbow, tookLocket's bridle as if he was going for an easy day's ride, and canteredoff. 

Warrigal nodded to both of us, then brought his pack-horse up level, andfollowed up. 

'There goes the Captain, ' says father. 'It's hard to say if we'll eversee him again. I shan't, anyhow, nor you either, maybe. Somehow I'vehad a notion coming over me this good while as my time ain't going to belong. It don't make no odds, neither. Life ain't no great chop to a manlike me, not when he gets the wrong side o' sixty, anyhow. Mine ain'tbeen such a bad innings, and I don't owe much to any man. I mean as I'vemostly been square with them that's done me a bad turn. No man can sayBen Marston was ever back'ard in that way; and never will be, that'smore. No! them as trod on me felt my teeth some day or other. Eh, oldman?' Crib growled. He understood things regular like a Christian, thatold dog did. 'And now you're a-goin' off and Jim's gone--seems onlyt'other day as you and he was little toddlin' chaps, runnin' to meet mewhen I come home from work, clearin' that fust paddock, and telling memammy had the tea ready. Perhaps I'd better ha' stuck to the grubbin'and clearin' after all. It looked slow work, but it paid better thanthis here in the long run. ' Father turns away from me then, and walksback a step or two. Then he faces me. 'Dash it, boy, what are ye waitin'for? Shake hands, and tell Jim the old man han't forgot him yet. '

It was many a day since I'd felt father's hand in kindness; he didn'tdo them sort of things. I held out mine and his fingers closed on it oneminute, like a vice--blest if I didn't expect to feel the bones grateagin one another; he was that strong he hardly knew his own strength, Ibelieve. Then he sits down on the log by the fire. He took out his pipe, but somehow it wouldn't light. 'Good-bye, Crib, ' says I. The old doglooked at me for a bit, wagged his tail, and then went and sat betweendad's knees. I took my horse and rode away slowish. I felt all dead andalive like when I got near the turn in the track. I looked back and seenthe dog and him just the same. I started both horses then. I never seteyes on him again. Poor old dad!

I wasn't very gay for a bit, but I had a good horse under me, anotheralongside, a smartish lot of cash in notes and gold, some bank depositstoo, and all the world before me. My dart now was to make my way toWillaroon and look sharp about it. My chance of getting through was nonetoo good, but I settled to ride a deal at night and camp by day. I beganto pick up my spirits after I got on the road that led up the mountain, and to look ahead to the time when I might call myself my own man again. 

Next day after that I was at Willaroon. I could have got thereovernight, but it looked better to camp near the place and come nextmorning. There I was all right. The overseer was a reasonable sort ofman, and I found old George had been as good as his word, and left wordif a couple of men like me and Starlight came up we were to be put onwith the next mob of cattle that were going to Queensland. He did astore cattle trade with the far-out squatters that were stocking up newcountry in Queensland, and it paid him very well, as nearly everythingdid that he touched. We were to find our own horses and be paid so mucha week--three pounds, I think--and so on. 

As luck would have it, there was a biggish mob to start in a week, androad hands being scarce in that part the overseer was disappointed thatmy mate, as he called him, hadn't come on, but I said he'd gone anothertrack. 

'Well, he'll hardly get such wages at any other job, ' says he, 'and if Iwas Mr. Storefield I wouldn't hire him again, not if he wanted a billetever so bad. '

'I don't suppose he will, ' says I, 'and serves him quite right too. '

I put my horses in the paddock--there was wild oats and crowsfootknee-high in it--and helped the overseer to muster and draft. He gave mea fresh horse, of course. When he saw how handy I was in the yard he gotquite shook on me, and, says he--

'By George, you're just the chap the boss wants to send out to some newcountry he's going to take up in Queensland. What's your name? Now Ithink of it he didn't tell me. '

'William Turner, ' says I. 

'Very well, William, ' says he, 'you're a dashed good man, I can see, andI wish I could pick up a few more like you. Blessed if I ever saw such alot of duffers in my life as there are on this side. I've hardly seen aman come by that's worth his grub. You couldn't stop till the next mobstarts, I suppose? I'd make it worth your while. '

'I couldn't well this time, ' says I; 'my mate's got a friend out northjust from home, and we're tied to time to meet him. But if I come backthis way I'll put in a year with you. '

'Well, an offer's an offer, ' says he. 'I can't say more, but I thinkyou'll do better by stopping on here. '

I got away with the cattle all right, and the drover in charge was toldto do all he could for me. The overseer said I was as good as two men, and it was 'Bill' here and 'William' there all the time till we wereoff. I wasn't sorry to be clear away, for of course any day a troopermight have ridden up and asked questions about the horses, that were alittle too good for a working drover. 

Besides, I'd had a look at the papers, and I saw that Starlight had beenas good as his word, in the matter of the advertisement. Sure enough, the 'Turon Star' and a lot of other papers had, on the same day, received the same advertisement, with a pound note enclosed, andinstructions to insert it four times. 

 NOTICE. 

 To all whom it may concern. 

 The Messrs. Marston Brothers and Co. , being about to leave the district, request that all accounts against them may be sent to the Police Camp, Turon, addressed to the care of Sir Ferdinand Morringer, whose receipt will be a sufficient discharge. For the firm, Starlight. 

I couldn't have believed at first that he'd be so mad. But after a bit Isaw that, like a lot of his reckless doings, it wasn't so far out afterall. 

All the papers had taken it up as usual, and though some of them werepretty wild at the insult offered to the Government and so on, I couldsee they'd most of them come to think it was a blind of some sort, meantto cover a regular big touch that we were going in for, close by home, and wanting to throw the police off the scent once more. If we'd reallywanted to make tracks, they said, this would be the last thing we'dthink of doing. Bit by bit it was put about as there should be acarefully laid plot to stick up all the banks in Turon on the same day, and make a sweep of all the gold and cash. 

I laughed when I saw this, because I knew that it was agreed uponbetween Aileen and Gracey that, about the time we were fairly started, whichever of them saw Sir Ferdinand first should allow it to befished out of her, as a great secret, that we were working up to sometremendous big affair of this sort, and which was to put the crown onall our other doings. To make dead sure, we had sent word to Billy theBoy (and some money too) to raise a sham kind of sticking-up racket onthe other side of the Turon, towards Bathurst way. He was to frighten afew small people that would be safe to talk about it, and make out thatall the bush-rangers in the country were camped about there. This wasthe sort of work that the young villain regularly went in for and tooka pleasure in, and by the way the papers put it in he had managed tofrighten a lot of travellers and roadside publicans out of their sensesmost. 

As luck would have it, Wall and Hulbert and Moran had been working uptowards Mudgee lately and stuck up the mail, and as Master Billy thoughtit a great lark to ride about with them with a black mask on, peoplebegan to think the gangs had joined again and that some big thing, they didn't know what, was really on the cards. So a lot of police weretelegraphed for, and the Bathurst superintendent came down, all in ahurry, to the Turon, and in the papers nothing went down but telegramsand yarns about bush-rangers. They didn't know what the country wascoming to; all the sober going people wishing they'd never got an ounceof gold in Australia, and every little storekeeper along the line thathad 100 Pounds in his cash-box hiding it every night and afraid ofseeing us ride up every time the dogs barked. 

All the time we were heading for Cunnamulla, and leaving New South Walesbehind us hand over hand. 

The cattle, of course, couldn't travel very fast; ten or twelve miles aday was enough for them. I could have drowned myself in the creeks aswe went crawling along sometimes, and I that impatient to get forward. Eighty miles it was from Cunnamulla to the Queensland border. Once wewere over that we'd have to be arrested on warrant, and there were lotsof chaps, like us, that were 'wanted', on the far-out north stations. Once we sighted the waters of the Warrego we should feel ourselves morethan half free. 

Then there was Jim, poor old Jim! He wrote to say he was just startingfor Melbourne, and very queer he felt about leaving his wife and boy. Such a fine little chap as he'd grown too. He'd just got his headdown, he said, and taken to the pulling (he meant working) like our oldnear-side poler, and he was as happy as a king, going home to Jeanie atnight, and having his three pounds every Saturday. Now he was going awayever so far by land and sea, and God knows when he might see either of'em again. If it wasn't for the fear he had of being pitched upon bythe police any day, and the long sentence he was sure to get, he'd staywhere he was. He wasn't sure whether he wouldn't do so now. 

After that Aileen had a letter, a short one, from Jeanie. Jim had gone. She had persuaded him for the sake of the boy, though both their heartswere nearly broken. She didn't know whether she'd done right. Perhapsshe never might see him again. The poor fellow had forfeited his coachfare once, and come back to stay another day with her. When he did go helooked the picture of misery, and something told her it was their lastparting. 

Well, we struck the river about ten miles this side of Cunnamulla, wherethere was a roadside inn, a small, miserable kind of place, just oneof those half-shanties, half-public-houses, fit for nothing but to trapbushmen, and where the bad grog kills more men in a year than a middlingbreak-out of fever. 

Somewhere about here I expected to hear of the other two. We'd settledto meet a few miles one side or the other of the township. It didn'tmuch matter which. So I began to look about in case I might get word ofeither of 'em, even if they didn't turn up to the time. 

Somewhere about dinner time (twelve o'clock) we got the cattle on to theriver and let 'em spread over the flat. Then the man in charge rode upto the inn, the Traveller's Rest, a pretty long rest for some of 'em (asa grave here and there with four panels of shickery two-rail fence roundit showed), and shouted nobblers round for us. 

While we was standing up at the bar, waiting for the cove to serve itout, a flash-looking card he was, and didn't hurry himself, up ridesa tall man to the door, hangs up his horse, and walks in. He had on aregular town rig--watch and chain, leather valise, round felt hat, likea chap going to take charge of a store or something. I didn't know himat first, but directly our eyes met I saw it was old Jim. We didn'ttalk--no fear, and my boss asked him to join us, like any otherstranger. Just then in comes the landlady to sharpen up the man at thebar. 

'Haven't you served those drinks yet, Bob?' she sings out. 'Why, the gentlemen called for them half-an-hour ago. I never saw such aslow-going crawler as you are. You'd never have done for the Turonboys. '

We all looked at her--not a bad-looking woman she'd been once, thoughyou could see she'd come down in the world and been knocked about a bit. Surely I knew her voice! I'd seen her before--why, of course--

She was quicker than I was. 

'Well, Dick!' says she, pouring out all the drinks, taking the note, andrattling down the change on the counter, all in a minute, same as I'doften seen her do before, 'this is a rough shop to meet old friends in, isn't it? So you didn't know me, eh? We're both changed a bit. You lookpretty fresh on it. A woman loses her looks sooner than a man when shegoes to the bad. And Jim too, ' she goes on; 'only to fancy poor oldJim turning up here too! One would think you'd put it up to meet at thetownship on some plant of that sort. '

It was Kate, sure enough! How in the world did ever she get here? I knewshe'd left the Turon, and that old Mullockson had dropped a lot ofhis money in a big mining company he'd helped to float, and that neverturned out gold enough to pay for the quicksilver in the first crushing. We'd heard afterwards that he'd died and she'd married again; but Inever expected to see her brought down so low as this--not but what we'dknown many a woman that started on the diggings with silks and satinsand a big house and plate-glass windows brought down to a cotton gownand a bark shanty before half-a-dozen years were over. 

Jim and I both looked queer. The men began to laugh. Any one could seewe were both in a fix. Jim spoke first. 

'Are you sure you're not making a mistake, missis?' says he, looking ather very quiet-like. 'Take care what you say. '

He'd better have held his tongue. I don't know whether she reallyintended to give us away. I don't think she did altogether; but withthem kind of women it's a regular toss up whether they'll behavereasonable or not. When they're once started, 'specially if they thinkthey've not been treated on the square, they can't stop themselves. 

'Take care what I say!' she breaks out, rising her voice to a scream, and looking as if she'd jump over the bar-counter and tear the eyes outof me. 'Why should I take care? It's you, Dick Marston, you double-facedtreacherous dog that you are, that's got a thousand pounds on your head, that has cause to care, and you, Jim Marston, that's in the same reward, and both of you know it. Not that I've anything against you, Jim. You'rea man, and always was. I'll say that for you. '

'And you're a woman, ' groans out poor Jim. 'That's the reason you can'thold your infernal tongue, I suppose. '

Kate had let the cat out of the bag now and no mistake. You should haveseen the drover and his men look at us when they found they had thefamous bush-rangers among them that they'd all heard so much about thisyears past. Some looked pretty serious and some laughed. The droverspoke first. 

'Bush-ranger here or bush-ranger there, ' he says, 'I'm going to lose adashed good man among cattle; and if this chattering fool of a woman hadheld her tongue the pair of ye might have come on with the cattle tillthey were delivered. Now I'm a man short, and haven't one as I can truston a pinch. I don't think any more of you, missis, ' he says, 'for beingso dashed ready to give away your friends, supposing they had been onthe cross. '

But Kate didn't hear. She had fallen down in a kind of fit, and herhusband, coming in to see what the row was about, picked her up, andstood looking at us with his mouth open. 

'Look here, my man, ' says I, 'your wife's taken me and this gentleman, 'pointing to Jim, 'for some people she knew before on the diggings, andseems to have got rather excited over it. If it was worth our while tostay here, we'd make her prove it. You'd better get her to lie down, andadvise her, when she comes to, to hold her tongue, or you might be madeto suffer by it. '

'She's a terror when she's put out, and that's God's truth, ' says thechap; and starting to drag her over to one of the bits of back bedrooms. 'It's all right, I daresay. She will keep meddling with what don'tconsarn her. I don't care who yer are or what yer are. If you knowedher afore, I expect ye'll think it best to clear while she's unsensiblelike. '

'Here's a shout all round for these men here, ' says I, throwing a noteon the bar. 'Never mind the change. Good-bye, chaps. This gentleman andI have some business together, and there's no bush-ranging in it, youmay take my word. '

We all left then. The men went back to their cattle. Jim rode quietlyalong the road to Cunnamulla just like any other traveller. I went downand saddled up my horse. I'd got everything I wanted in my swag, so I'dleft the other horse at Willaroon. 

'Never mind the settlement, ' says I to the drover. 'I'll be coming backto the station after I've finished my business in Queensland, and we canmake up the account then. '

The overseer looked rather doubtful. 

'This seems rather mixed, ' says he. 'Blest if I understand it. Thatwoman at the pub seems half off her head to me. I can't think twoquiet-looking chaps like you can be the Marstons. You've been athundering good road hand anyhow, and I wish you luck. '

He shook hands with me. I rode off and kept going along the road till Iovertook Jim. 

When I'd gone a mile or two there was Jim riding steadily along theroad, looking very dull and down-like, just the way he used to do whenhe was studying how to get round a job of work as he wasn't used to. Hebrightens up a bit when he sees me, and we both jumped off, and had agood shake-hands and a yarn. I told him about mother and Aileen, and howI'd left dad all by himself. He said Jeanie and the boy were all right, but of course he'd never heard of 'em since, and couldn't help feelingdubersome about meeting her again, particular now this blessed woman haddropped across us, and wouldn't keep her mouth shut. 

'As sure as we've had anything to do with her, bad luck's followed up, 'says Jim; 'I'd rather have faced a trooper than seen her face again. '

'She can't do much now, ' says I. 'We're across the border. I wonderwhere Starlight is--whether he's in the township or not? As soon as wemeet him we can make straight for the ship. '

'He's there now, ' says Jim. 'He was at Kate's last night. '

'How do you know that?'

'I heard her mutter something about it just when she went into that fit, or whatever it was. Devilment, I think. I never saw such a woman; and tothink she's my Jeanie's sister!'

'Never mind that, Jim. These things can't be helped. But what did shesay?'

'Something like this: "He thought I didn't know him, passing himself offas a gentleman. Warrigal, too. Kate Morrison's eyes are too sharp forthat, as he'll find out. "'

'Think she'll give us away again, Jim?'

'God only knows. She mightn't this time, unless she wants to smother youaltogether, and don't mind who she hurts along with you. '

'There's one good thing in it, ' says I; 'there's no police nearer thanTrielgerat, and it's a long day's ride to them. We made it all rightbefore we left the Turon. All the police in the country is looking forus on the wrong road, and will be for a week or two yet. '

Then I told him about Aileen putting Sir Ferdinand on the wrong lay, andhe said what a clever girl she was, and had as much pluck and sense astwo or three men. 'A deal more than we've ever showed, Dick, ' says he, 'and that's not saying much either. '

He laughed in his quiet way when he heard about Starlight'sadvertisement in the 'Turon Star', and said it was just like him. 

'He's a wonderful clever fellow, the Captain. I've often thought whenI've been by myself in Melbourne, sitting quiet, smoking at night, andturning all these things over, that it's a wonder he don't shoot himselfwhen he thinks of what he is and the man he ought to be. '

'He's head enough to take us safe out of this dashed old Sydney side, 'says I, 'and land us in another country, where we'll be free and happyin spite of all that's come and gone. If he does that, we've no call tothrow anything up to him. '

'Let him do that, ' says Jim, 'and I'll be his servant to the day of mydeath. But I'm afeard it isn't to be any more than going to heaven rightoff. It's too good, somehow, to come true; and yet what a thing it isto be leading a working honest life and be afraid of no man! I was verynear like that in Melbourne, Dick, ' he says; 'you've no notion what agrand thing it was--when I'd done my week's work, and used to walk aboutwith Jeanie and her boy on Sundays, and pass the time of day with decentsquare coves that I knew, and never dreamed I was different; then thegoing home peaceful and contented to our own little cottage; I tell you, Dick, it was heaven on earth. No wonder it regular broke my heart toleave it. '

'We're close up to the township now, ' says I. 'This wire fence and thepainted gate ain't more than a couple of miles off, that chap said atthe inn. I wish there was a fire-stick in it, and I'd never gone insidea door of it. However, that says nothing. We've got to meet Starlightsomehow, and there's no use in riding in together. You go in first, andI'll take a wheel outside the house and meet you in the road a mile ortwo ahead. Where's your pistol? I must have a look at mine. I had toroll it up in my swag, and it wants loading. '

'Mine's a good tool, ' says Jim, bringing out a splendid-lookingrevolver--one of these new Dean and Adams's. 'I can make prime shootingat fifty yards; but I hope to God I shan't want to use it. '

'There's no fear yet a bit, ' says I; 'but it's as well to be ready. I'llload before we go any farther. '

I loaded and put her back in the belt. We were just going to push onwhen we heard the sound of galloping, and round a patch of scrub comesa horseman at full speed. When he sees us he cuts off the road and comestowards us. 

There was only one horse that carried himself like that, even whenhe was pulling double. We spotted him the same second. Rainbow andStarlight on him! What in thunder makes him ride like that?

When he came closer we saw by his face that something was up. His eyeshad the gloomy, dull fire in them that put me in mind of the first timeI saw him when he came back wounded and half dead to the Hollow. 

'Don't stop to talk, boys, ' he sings out, without stopping, 'but ridelike the devil. Head to the left. That infernal Warrigal has laid thepolice on your track, Dick. They were seen at Willaroon; may be up atany minute. '

'Where's Warrigal now?' I said, as we all took our horses by the headand made for a patch of dark timber we could see far out on the plain. 

'He dropped when I fired at him, ' says Starlight; 'but whether the poorbeggar's dead or not I can't say. It isn't my fault if he betrays anyone again. '

'How did it come out?'

'I was tired of waiting at that confounded hotel--not a soul to speakto. I rode back as far as Kate's, just to see if you had passed. Shedidn't know me a bit. '

'The deuce she didn't! Why, she broke out on me and Jim. Said somethingabout you and Warrigal too. '

'Wonderful creatures, women, ' says he, thoughtful-like; 'and yet I usedto think I understood them. No time to do anything, though. '

'No; the nearest police station's a day off. I'd give a trifle to knowwho's after us. How did you find out Warrigal's doubling on me? not thatit matters now; d--n him!'

'When I talked about going back he was in a terrible fright, and raisedso many objections that I saw he had some reason for it; so I made himconfess. '

'How did he do it?'

'After we'd passed Dandaloo, and well inside the West Bogan scrubs, hepicked up a blackfellow that had once been a tracker; gave him apound to let them know at the police camp that you were making out byWillaroon. '

'I knew he had it in for me, ' said I; 'but I depended on his not doinganything for fear of hurting you. '

'So I thought, too; but he expected you'd be trapped at Willaroon beforethere would be time for you to catch me up. If he hadn't met that JemmyWardell, I daresay he wouldn't have thought of it. When he told me I wasin such an infernal rage that I fired point blank at him; didn't waitto see whether he was dead or alive, and rode straight back here to warnyou. I was just in time--eh, Jim, old man? Why, you look so respectablethey'd never have known you. Why didn't you stay where you were, James?'

'I wish to God I had!' says poor old Jim. 'It's too late to think ofthat now. '

We hadn't over much time for talking, and had to range up close to do itat all at the pace we were going. We did our best, and must have riddenmany a mile before dark. Then we kept going through the night. Starlightwas pilot, and by the compass he carried we were keeping something in aline with the road. But we missed Warrigal in the night work, and morethan once I suspected we were going round and not keeping a straightcourse. 

We didn't do badly after all, for we struck the main road at daylightand made out that we were thirty miles the other side of Cunnamulla, and in the right direction. The worst of it was, like all short cutsand night riding, we'd taken about twice as much out of our horses as weneed have done if we'd been certain of our line. 

'This ought to be Murrynebone Creek, ' says Starlight, 'by the look ofit, ' when we came to a goodish broad bit of water. 'The crossing placeis boggy, so they told me at the hotel. We may as well pull up for aspell. We're in Queensland now, that's one comfort. '

It took us all we knew to get over; it was a regular quicksand. Rainbownever got flustered if he was up to his neck in a bog, but my horse gotfrightened and plunged, so that I had to jump off. Jim's horse was atrifle better, but he hadn't much to spare. We weren't sorry to take thebridles out of their mouths and let them pick a bit on the flat when wegot safe over. 

We didn't unsaddle our horses--no fear; we never did that only at night;not always then. We took the bits out of their mouths, and let them pickfeed round about, with the bridle under their feet, stockhorse fashion. They were all used to it, and you'd see 'em put their foot on a rein, and take it off again, regular as if they knew all about it. We couldrun full pelt and catch 'em all three in a minute's notice; old Rainbowwould hold up his head when he saw Starlight coming, and wait for him tomount if there was a hundred horses galloping past. Lucky for him, he'ddone it scores of times; once on his back there was no fear of anyother horse overhauling him, any more than a coolie dog or a flying doekangaroo. 

Pretty well settled it came to be amongst us that we should be well intoQueensland before the police were handy. Starlight and Jim were having apitch about the best way to get aboard one of these pearling craft, andhow jolly it would be. The captains didn't care two straws what sortof passengers they took aboard so long as they had the cash and werewilling to give a hand when they were wanted. 

We were just walking towards the horses to make a fresh start, whenStarlight puts up his hand. We all listened. There was no mistaking thesound we heard--horses at speed, and mounted men at that. We were in asort of angle. We couldn't make back over the infernal boggy creek we'djust passed, and they seemed to be coming on two sides at once. 

'By----! they're on us, ' says Starlight; and he cocks his rifle, and walks over quite cool to the old horse. 'Our chance, boys, is toexchange shots, and ride for it. Keep cool, don't waste your fire, andif we can drop a couple of them we may slip them yet. '

We hadn't barely time to get to our horses, when out of the timber theycame--in two lots--three on each side. Police, sure enough; and meetingus. That shook us a bit. How the devil did they get ahead of us afterthe pace we'd ridden the last twenty-four hours, too? When they cameclose we could see how it was, Sir Ferdinand and three troopers on oneside; Inspector Goring, with two more, on the left; while outside, notfar from the lead, rode Sir Watkin, the Braidwood black tracker--thebest hand at that work in the three colonies, if you could keep himsober. 

Now we could see why they took us in front. He had kept out wide when hesaw the tracks were getting hot, so as to come in on the road ahead ofus, and meet us full in the teeth. 

He had hit it off well this time, blast him! We couldn't make back onaccount of the creek, and we had double our number to fight, and goodmen too, before we could break through, if we could do that. 

Our time was come if we hadn't the devil's own luck; but we had come outof as tight a place before, and might do it again. 

When they were within fifty yards Sir Ferdinand calls out, 'Surrender!It's no use, men, ' says he; 'I don't want to shoot you down, but youmust see you're outnumbered. There's no disgrace in yielding now. '

'Come on!' says Starlight; 'don't waste your breath! There's no man herewill be taken alive. '

With that, Goring lets drive and sends a bullet that close by my head Iput my hand up to feel the place. All the rest bangs away, black trackerand all. I didn't see Sir Ferdinand's pistol smoke. He and Starlightseemed to wait. Then Jim and I fires steady. One trooper drops badlyhit, and my man's horse fell like a log and penned his rider under him, which was pretty nigh as good. 

'Steady does it, ' says Starlight, and he makes a snap shot at thetracker, and breaks his right arm. 

'Three men spoiled, ' says he; 'one more to the good and we may charge. '

Just as he said this the trooper that was underneath the dead horsecrawls from under him, the off side, and rests his rifle on his wither. Starlight had just mounted when every rifle and pistol in the twoparties was fired at one volley. We had drawn closer to one another, andno one seemed to think of cover. 

Rainbow rears up, gives one spring, and falls backward with a crash. Ithought Starlight was crushed underneath him, shot through the neck andflank as he was, but he saved himself somehow, and stood with his handon Rainbow's mane, when the old horse rose again all right, head andtail well up, and as steady as a rock. The blood was pouring out of hisneck, but he didn't seem to care two straws about it. You could see hisnostril spread out and his eye looking twice as big and fiery. 

Starlight rests his rifle a minute on the old horse's shoulder, and theman that had fired the shot fell over with a kick. Something hits me inthe ribs like a stone, and another on the right arm, which drops downjust as I was aiming at a young fellow with light hair that had riddenpretty close up, under a myall tree. 

Jim and Sir Ferdinand let drive straight at one another the same minute. They both meant it this time. Sir Ferdinand's hat turned part round onhis head, but poor old Jim drops forward on his face and tears up thegrass with his hands. I knew what that sign meant. 

Goring rides straight at Starlight and calls on him to surrender. He hadhis rifle on his hip, but he never moved. There he stood, with his handon the mane of the old horse. 'Keep back if you're wise, Goring, ' sayshe, as quiet and steady as if he'd been cattle-drafting. 'I don't wantto have your blood on my head; but if you must----'

Goring had taken so many men in his day that he was got overconfident-like. He thought Starlight would give in at the last moment ormiss him in the rush. My right arm was broken, and now that Jim wasdown we might both be took, which would be a great crow for the police. Anyhow, he was a man that didn't know what fear was, and he chanced it. 

Two of the other troopers fired point blank at Starlight as Goring rodeat him, and both shots told. He never moved, but just lifted his rifleas the other came up at the gallop. Goring threw up his arms, and rolledoff his horse a dying man. 

Starlight looked at him for a minute. 

'We're quits, ' he says; 'it's not once or twice either you've pulledtrigger on me. I knew this day would come. '

Then he sinks down slowly by the side of the old horse and leans againsthis fore leg, Rainbow standing quite steady, only tossing his head upand down the old way. I could see, by the stain on Starlight's mouth andthe blood on his breast, he'd been shot through the lungs. 

I was badly hit too, and going in the head, though I didn't feel it somuch at the time. I began to hear voices like in a dream; then my eyesdarkened, and I fell like a log. 

When I came to, all the men was off their horses, some round Goring--himthey lifted up and propped against a tree; but he was stone dead, anyone could see. Sir Ferdinand was on his knees beside Starlight, talkingto him, and the other saying a word now and then, quite composed andquiet-like. 

'Close thing, Morringer, wasn't it?' I heard him say. 'You were tooquick for us; another day and we'd been out of reach. '

'True enough. Horses all dead beat; couldn't raise a remount for love ormoney. '

'Well, the game's up now, isn't it? I've held some good cards too, butthey never told, somehow. I'm more sorry for Jim--and--that poor girl, Aileen, than I am for myself. '

'Don't fret--there's a good fellow. Fortune of war, you know. Anythingelse?'

Here he closed his eyes, and seemed gone; but he wakes up again, andbegins in a dreamy way. His words came slowly, but his voice neveraltered one bit. 

'I'm sorry I fired at poor Warrigal now. No dog ever was more faithfulthan he has been to me all through till now; but I was vexed at hishaving sold Dick and poor Jim. '

'We knew we should find you here or hereabouts without that, ' says SirFerdinand. 

'How was that?'

'Two jockey-boys met you one night at Calga gate; one of them recognisedLocket by the white patch on her neck. He wired to us at the nextstation. '

'So you were right, after all, Dick. It was a mistake to take that mare. I've always been confoundedly obstinate; I admit that. Too late to thinkof it now, isn't it?'

'Anything else I can do?' says Sir Ferdinand. 

'Give her this ring, ' he pulls it off his finger, 'and you'll see MaddieBarnes gets the old horse, won't you? Poor old Rainbow! I know she'lltake care of him; and a promise is a promise. '

'All right. He's the property of the Government now, you know; but I'llsquare it somehow. The General won't object under the circumstances. '

Then he shuts his eyes for a bit. After a while he calls out--

'Dick! Dick Marston. '

'I'm here, ' says I. 

'If you ever leave this, tell Aileen that her name was the last word Ispoke--the very last. She foresaw this day; she told me so. I've hada queer feeling too, this week back. Well, it's over now. I don't knowthat I'm sorry, except for others. I say, Morringer, do you remember thelast pigeon match you and I shot in, at Hurlingham?'

'Why, good God!' says Sir Ferdinand, bending down, and looking into hisface. 'It can't be; yes, by Jove, it is----'

He spoke some name I couldn't catch, but Starlight put a finger on hislips, and whispers--

'You won't tell, will you? Say you won't?'

The other nodded. 

He smiled just like his old self. 

'Poor Aileen!' he says, quite faint. His head fell back. Starlight wasdead!

Chapter 50

The breath was hardly out of him when a horse comes tearing through thescrub on to the little plain, with a man on his back that seemed hurtbad or drunk, he rolled in his saddle so. The head of him was bound upwith a white cloth, and what you could see of it was dark-looking, withbloodstains on it. I knew the figure and the seat on a horse, though Icouldn't see his face. He didn't seem to have much strength, but he wasone of those sort of riders that can't fall off a horse, that is unlessthey're dead. Even then you'd have to pull him down. I believe he'd hangon somehow like a dead 'possum on a branch. 

It was Warrigal!

They all knew him when he came close up, but none of the troopers raisedtheir pieces or thought of stopping him. If a dead man had rode rightinto the middle of us he'd have looked like that. He stopped his horse, and slipped off on his feet somehow. 

He'd had a dreadful wound, any one could see. There was blood on therags that bound his head all up, and being round his forehead and overhis chin it made him look more and more like a corpse. Not much youcould see, only his eyes, that were burning bright like two coals offire. 

Up to Starlight's body he goes and sits himself down by it. He takesthe dead man's head into his lap, looks down at the face, and bursts outinto the awfullest sort of crying and lamenting I ever heard of a livingman. I've seen the native women mourning for their dead with the bloodand tears running down their faces together. I've known them sit fordays and nights without stirring from round a corpse, not taking a biteor sup the whole time. I've seen white people that's lost an only childthat had, maybe, been all life and spirits an hour before. But in allmy life I have never seen no man, nor woman neither, show such regularright-down grief as Warrigal did for his master--the only human creaturehe loved in the wide world, and him lying stiff on the ground beforehim. 

He lifts up the dead face and wipes the blood from the lips so careful;talks to it in his own language (or leastways his mother's) like a womanover a child. Then he sobbed and groaned and shook all over as if thevery life was going out of him. At last he lays the head very soft andgentle down on the ground and looks round. Sir Ferdinand gives him hishandkerchief, and he lays it over the face. Then he turns away from themen that stood round, and got up looking that despairing and wretchedthat I couldn't help pitying him, though he was the cause of the wholething as far as we could see. 

Sudden as a flash of powder he pulls out a small revolver--aDerringer--Starlight gave him once, and holds it out to me, butt-endfirst. 

'You shoot me, Dick Marston; you shoot me quick, ' he says. 'It's all myfault. I killed him--I killed the Captain. I want to die and go with himto the never-never country parson tell us about--up there!'

One of the troopers knocked his hand up. Sir Ferdinand gave a nod, and apair of handcuffs were slipped over his wrists. 

'You told the police the way I went?' says I. 'It's all come out ofthat. '

'Thought they'd grab you at Willaroon, ' says he, looking at me quitesorrowful with his dark eyes, like a child. 'If you hadn't knocked medown that last time, Dick Marston, I'd never have done nothing to younor Jim. I forgot about the old down. That brought it all back again. I couldn't help it, and when I see Jimmy Wardell I thought they'd catchyou and no one else. '

'Well, you've made a clean sweep of the lot of us, Warrigal, ' says I, 'poor Jim and all. Don't you ever show yourself to the old man or goback to the Hollow, if you get out of this. '

'He's dead now. I'll never hear him speak again, ' says he, looking overto the figure on the grass. 'What's the odds about me?'

 . . . . . 

I didn't hear any more; I must have fainted away again. Things came intomy head about being taken in a cart back to Cunnamulla, with Jimlying dead on one side of me and Starlight on the other. I was onlyhalf-sensible, I expect. Sometimes I thought we were alive, and anothertime that the three of us were dead and going to be buried. 

What makes it worse I've seen that sight so often since--the fight onthe plain and the end of it all. Just like a picture it comes back to meover and over again, sometimes in broad day, as I sit in my cell, in thedarkest midnight, in the early dawn. 

It rises before my eyes--the bare plain, and the dead men lying wherethey fell; Sir Ferdinand on his horse, with the troopers standing round;and the half-caste sitting with Starlight's head in his lap, rockinghimself to and fro, and crying and moaning like a woman that's lost herchild. 

I can see Jim, too--lying on his face with his hat rolled off and botharms spread out wide. He never moved after. And to think that only theday before he had thought he might see his wife and child again! Poorold Jim! If I shut my eyes they won't go away. It will be the last sightI shall see in this world before--before I'm----

The coroner of the district held an inquest, and the jury found averdict of 'justifiable homicide by Sir Ferdinand Morringer and othermembers of the police force of New South Wales in the case of one JamesMarston, charged with robbery under arms, and of a man habitually knownas "Starlight", but of whose real name there was no evidence before thejury. ' As for the police, it was wilful murder against us. Warrigal andI were remanded to Turon Court for further evidence, and as soon as wewere patched up a bit by the doctor--for both of us looked like making adie of it for two or three weeks--we were started on horseback with fourtroopers overland all the way back. We went easy stages--we couldn'tride any way fast--both of us handcuffed, and our horses led. 

One day, about a fortnight after, as we were crossing a river, Warrigal's horse stopped to drink. It was a swim in the middle of thestream, and the trooper, who was a young chap just from the depot, letgo his leading rein for a bit. Warrigal had been as quiet as a lamb allthe time, and they hadn't a thought of his playing up. I heard a splash, and looked round; his horse's head was turned to the bank, and, beforethe trooper could get out of the river, he was into the river scrub andaway as fast as his horse could carry him. Both the troopers went afterhim, and we waited half-an-hour, and then went on to the next policestation to stop till they came back. 

Next day, late, they rode in with their horses regularly done andknocked up, leading his horse, but no Warrigal. He had got clear awayfrom them in the scrub, jumped off his horse when they were out ofsight, taken off his boots and made a straight track for the West Boganscrub. There was about as much chance of running him down there as abrumbie with a day's start or a wallaroo that was seen on a mountainside the week before last. I didn't trouble my head that much to thinkwhether I was glad or sorry. What did it matter? What did anythingmatter now? The only two men I loved in the world were dead; the twowomen I loved best left forsaken and disgraced; and I--well, I was on myway to be hanged!

I was taken along to Turon and put into the gaol, there to await mytrial. They didn't give me much of a chance to bolt, and I wouldn't havetaken it if they had. I was dead tired of my life, and wouldn't havetaken my liberty then and there if they'd given it me. All I wanted wasto have the whole thing done and over without any more bother. 

It all passed like a dream. The court was crowded till there wasn'tstanding room, every one wanting to get a look at Dick Marston, thefamous bush-ranger. The evidence didn't take so very long. I was provedto have been seen with the rest the day the escort was robbed; thetime the four troopers were shot. I was suspected of being concerned inHagan's party's death, and half-a-dozen other things. Last of all, whenSub-Inspector Goring was killed, and a trooper, besides two others badlywounded. 

I was sworn to as being one of the men that fired on the police. Ididn't hear a great deal of it, but 'livened up when the judge put onhis black cap and made a speech, not a very long one, telling aboutthe way the law was set at naught by men who had dared to infest thehighways of the land and rob peaceful citizens with arms and violence. In the pursuit of gain by such atrocious means, blood had been shed, andmurder, wilful murder, had been committed. He would not further alludeto the deeds of blood with which the prisoner at the bar stood charged. The only redeeming feature in his career had been brought out by theevidence tendered in his favour by the learned counsel who defended him. He had fought fairly when opposed by the police force, and he hadon more than one occasion acted in concert with the robber known asStarlight, and the brother James Marston, both of whom had fallen in arecent encounter, to protect from violence women who were helplessand in the power of his evil companions. Then the judge pronounced thesentence that I, Richard Marston, was to be taken from the place whenceI came, and there hanged by the neck until I was dead. 'And might Godhave mercy upon my soul!'

My lawyer had beforehand argued that although I had been seen in thecompany of persons who had doubtless compassed the unlawfully slayingof the Queen's lieges and peace officers, yet no proof had been broughtbefore the court that day that I had wilfully killed any one. 'He wasnot aware, ' would his Honour remark, 'that any one had seen me fire atany man, whether since dead or alive. He would freely admit that. I hadbeen seen in bad company, but that fact would not suffice to hang a manunder British rule. It was therefore incumbent on the jury to bring in averdict for his client of "not guilty". '

But that cock wouldn't fight. I was found guilty by the jury andsentenced to death by the judge. I expect I was taken back withoutseeing or hearing to the gaol, and I found myself alone in the condemnedcell, with heavy leg-irons--worn for the first time in my life. Therough and tumble of a bush-ranger's life was over at last, and this wasthe finish up. 

For the first week or two I didn't feel anything particular. I washardly awake. Sometimes I thought I must be dreaming--that this man, sitting in a cell, quiet and dull-looking, with heavy irons on hislimbs, could never be Dick Marston, the shearer, the stock-rider, thegold-miner, the bush-ranger. 

This was the end--the end--the end! I used to call it out sometimeslouder and louder, till the warder would come in to see if I had gonemad. 

Bit by bit I came to my right senses. I almost think I felt sharper andclearer in my head than I had done for ever so long. Then I was able torealise the misery I had come down to after all our blowing and roving. This was the crush-yard and no gateway. I was safe to be hanged in sixweeks, or thereabouts--hanged like a dog! Nothing could alter that, andI didn't want it if it could. 

And how did the others get on, those that had their lives bound up withours, so that we couldn't be hurt without their bleeding, almost intheir hearts?--that is, mother's bled to death, at any rate; when sheheard of Jim's death and my being taken it broke her heart clean; shenever held her head up after. Aileen told me in her letter she used tonurse his baby and cry over him all day, talking about her dear boy Jim. She was laid in the burying-ground at St. Kilda. As to Aileen, she hadlong vowed herself to the service of the Virgin. She knew that she wascommitting sin in pledging herself to an earthly love. She had beenpunished for her sin by the death of him she loved, and she had settledin her mind to go into the convent at Soubiaca, where she should be ableto wear out her life in prayer for those of her blood who still lived, as well as for the souls of those who lay in the little burying-groundon the banks of the far Warrego. 

Jeanie settled to stop in Melbourne. She had money enough to keep hercomfortable, and her boy would be brought up in a different style fromhis father. 

As for Gracey, she sent me a letter in which she said she was like thebird that could only sing one song. She would remain true to me in lifeand death. George was very kind, and would never allow any one to speakharshly of his former friends. We must wait and make the best of it. 

So I was able, you see, to get bits of news even in a condemned cell, from time to time, about the outside world. I learned that Wall andHulbert and Moran and another fellow were still at large, and followingup their old game. Their time, like ours, was drawing short, though. 

 . . . . . 

Well, this has been a thundering long yarn, hasn't it? All my whole lifeI seem to have lived over again. It didn't take so long in the telling;it's a month to-day since I began. And this life itself has reeled awayso quick, it hardly seems a dozen years instead of seven-and-twentysince it began. It won't last much longer. Another week and it willbe over. There's a fellow to be strung up before me, for murdering hiswife. The scoundrel, I wonder how he feels?

I've had visitors too; some I never thought to see inside this gaolwall. One day who should come in but Mr. Falkland and his daughter. There was a young gentleman with them that they told me was an Englishlord, a baronet, or something of that sort, and was to be married toMiss Falkland. She stood and looked at me with her big innocent eyes, sopitiful and kind-like. I could have thrown myself down at her feet. Mr. Falkland talked away, and asked me about this and that. He seemedgreatly interested. When I told him about the last fight, and of poorJim being shot dead, and Starlight dying alongside the old horse, thetears came into Miss Falkland's eyes, and she cried for a bit, quitefeeling and natural. 

Mr. Falkland asked me all about the robbery at Mr. Knightley's, and tookdown a lot of things in his pocket-book. I wondered what he did thatfor. 

When they said good-bye Mr. Falkland shook hands with me, and said 'hehoped to be able to do some good for me, but not to build anything onthe strength of it. '

Then Miss Falkland came forward and held out her beautiful hand tome--to me, as sure as you live--like a regular thoroughbred angel, asshe always was. It very nigh cooked me. I felt so queer and strange, Icouldn't have spoken a word to save my life. 

Sir George, or whatever his name was, didn't seem to fancy it over much, for he said--

'You colonists are strange people. Our friend here may think himselfhighly favoured. '

Miss Falkland turned towards him and held up her head, looking like aqueen, as she was, and says she--

'If you had met me in the last place where I saw this man and hisbrother, you would not wonder at my avowing my gratitude to both ofthem. I should despise myself if I did not. Poor Jim saved my life onone occasion, and on another, but far more dreadful day, he--butwords, mere words, can never express my deep thankfulness for his nobleconduct, and were he here now I would tell him so, and give him my hand, if all the world stood by. '

Sir George didn't say anything after that, and she swept out of thecell, followed by Mr. Falkland and him. It was just as well for him tokeep a quiet tongue in his head. I expect she was a great heiress aswell as a great beauty, and people of that sort, I've found, mostly getlistened to when they speak. When the door shut I felt as if I'd seenthe wings of an angel flit through it, and the prison grew darker anddarker like the place of lost souls. 

Chapter 51

One day I was told that a lady wanted to see me. When the door of thecell opened who should walk in but Aileen! I didn't look to have seenher. I didn't bother my head about who was coming. What did it matter, as I kept thinking, who came or who went for the week or two that was topass before the day? Yes, the day, that Thursday, when poor Dick Marstonwould walk over the threshold of his cell, and never walk over oneagain. 

The warder--him that stopped with me day and night--every man in thecondemned cell has to be watched like that--stepped outside the door andleft us together. We both looked at one another. She was dressed all inblack, and her face was that pale I hardly knew her at first. Then shesaid, 'Oh, Dick--my poor Dick! is this the way we meet?' and flingsherself into my arms. How she cried and sobbed, to be sure. The tearsran down her cheeks like rain, and every time the leg-irons rattled sheshook and trembled as if her heart was breaking. 

I tried to comfort her; it was no use. 

'Let me cry on, Dick, ' she said; 'I have not shed a tear since I firstheard the news--the miserable truth that has crushed all our vain hopesand fancies; my heart has nearly burst for want of relief. This will dome good. To think--to think that this should be the end of all! Butit is just! I cannot dare to doubt Heaven's mercy. What else couldwe expect, living as we all did--in sin--in mortal sin? I am punishedrightly. '

She told me all about poor mother's death. She never held up her headafter she heard of Jim's death. She never said a hard word about anyone. It was God's will, she thought, and only for His mercy thingsmight have gone worse. The only pleasure she had in her last days wasin petting Jim's boy. He was a fine little chap, and had eyes like hisfather, poor old Jim! Then Aileen broke down altogether, and it was awhile before she could speak again. 

Jeanie was the same as she had been from the first, only so quiet theycould hardly know how much she felt. She wouldn't leave the littlecottage where she had been so happy with Jim, and liked to work inthe chair opposite to where Jim used to sit and smoke his pipe in theevenings. Most of her friends lived in Melbourne, and she reckoned tostay there for the rest of her life. 

As to father, they had never heard a word from him--hardly knew whetherhe was dead or alive. There was some kind of report that Warrigalhad been seen making towards Nulla Mountain, looking very weak andmiserable, on a knocked-up horse; but they did not know whether it wastrue or false. 

Poor Aileen stopped till we were all locked up for the night. She seemedas if she couldn't bear to leave me. She had no more hope or tie inlife, she said. I was the only one of her people she was likely to seeagain, and this was the last time--the last time. 

'Oh, Dick! oh, my poor lost brother, ' she said, 'how clearly I seem tosee all things now. Why could we not do so before? I have had my sinfulworldly dream of happiness, and death has ended it. When I heard of hisdeath and Jim's my heart turned to stone. All the strength I have shallbe given to religion from this out. I can ease my heart and mortify theflesh for the good of my soul. To God--to the Holy Virgin--who hearsthe sorrows of such as me, I can pray day and night for their souls'welfare--for mine, for yours. And oh, Dick! think when that day, thatdreadful day, comes that Aileen is praying for you--will pray for youtill her own miserable life ends. And now good-bye; we shall meet onthis earth no more. Pray--say that you will pray--pray now that we maymeet in heaven. '

She half drew me to my knees. She knelt down herself on the cold stonefloor of the cell; and I--well--I seemed to remember the old days whenwe were both children and used to kneel down by mother's bed, the threeof us, Aileen in the middle and one of us boys on each side. The oldtime came back to me, and I cried like a child. 

I wasn't ashamed of it; and when she stood up and said, 'Good-bye--good-bye, Dick, ' I felt a sort of rushing of the blood to myhead, and all my wounds seemed as if they would break out again. I verynear fell down, what with one thing and another. I sat myself down on mybed, and I hid my face in my hands. When I looked up she was gone. 

 . . . . . 

After that, day after day went on and I scarcely kept count, untilsomehow I found out it was the last week. They partly told me on theSunday. The parson--a good, straight, manly man he was--he had me toldfor fear I should go too close up to it, and not have time to prepare. 

Prepare! How was a man like me to prepare? I'd done everything I'd amind to for years and years. Some good things--some bad--mostly bad. How was I to repent? Just to say I was sorry for them. I wasn't thatparticular sorry either--that was the worst of it. A deal of the oldlife was dashed good fun, and I'd not say, if I had the chance, that Iwouldn't do just the same over again. 

Sometimes I felt as if I ought to understand what the parson tried tohammer into my head; but I couldn't do anything but make a jumble ofit. It came natural to me to do some things, and I did them. If I hadstopped dead and bucked at father's wanting me and Jim to help duffthose weaners, I really believe all might have come right. Jim saidafterwards he'd made up his mind to have another try at getting me tojoin with George Storefield in that fencing job. After that we couldhave gone into the outside station work with him--just the thing thatwould have suited the pair of us; and what a grand finish we might havemade of it if we ran a waiting race; and where were we now?--Jim dead, Aileen dead to the world, and me to be hanged on Thursday, poor motherdead and broken-hearted before her time. We couldn't have done worse. Wemight, we must have, done better. 

I did repent in that sort of way of all we'd done since that first wrongturn. It's the wrong turn-off that makes a man lose his way; but as forthe rest I had only a dull, heavy feeling that my time was come, and Imust make the best of it, and meet it like a man. 

So the day came. The last day! What a queer feeling it was when I laydown that night, that I should never want to sleep again, or try to doit. That I had seen the sun set--leastways the day grow dark--for thelast time; the very last time. 

Somehow I wasn't that much in fear of it as you might think; it wasstrange like, but made one pull himself together a bit. Thousands andmillions of people had died in all sorts of ways and shapes since thebeginning of the world. Why shouldn't I be able to go through with itlike another?

I was a long time lying and thinking before I thought of sleeping. Allthe small, teeny bits of a man's life, as well as the big, seemed tocome up before me as I lay there--the first things I could recollectat Rocky Flat; then the pony; mother a youngish woman; father alwayshard-looking, but so different from what he came to be afterwards. Aileen a little girl, with her dark hair falling over her shoulders;then a grown woman, riding her own horse, and full of smiles and fun;then a pale, weeping woman all in black, looking like a mourner at afuneral. Jim too, and Starlight--now galloping along through the forestat night--laughing, drinking, enjoying themselves at Jonathan Barnes's, with the bright eyes of Bella and Maddie shining with fun and devilment. 

Then both of them lying dead at the flat by Murrynebone Creek--Starlightwith the half-caste making his wild moan over him; Jim, quiet in deathas in life, lying in the grass, looking as if he had slid off his horsein that hot weather to take a banje; and now, no get away, the rope--thehangman!

I must have gone to sleep, after all, for the sun was shining into thecell when I stirred, and I could see the chains on my ankles that I hadworn all these weary weeks. How could I sleep? but I had, for all that. It was daylight; more than that--sunrise. I listened, and, sure enough, I heard two or three of the bush-birds calling. It reminded me of beinga boy again, and listening to the birds at dawn just before it was timeto get up. When I was a boy!--was I ever a boy? How long was it ago--andnow--O my God, my God! That ever it should have come to this! What amI waiting for to hear now? The tread of men; the smith that knocksthe irons off the limbs that are so soon to be as cold as the janglingchains. Yes! at last I hear their footsteps--here they come!

The warder, the blacksmith, the parson, the head gaoler, just as Iexpected. The smith begins to cut the rivets. Somehow they none of themlook so solemn as I expected. Surely when a man is to be killed by law, choked to death in cold blood, people might look a bit serious. Mindyou, I believe men ought to be hanged. I don't hold with any of that rotthat them as commits murder shouldn't pay for it with their own lives. It's the only way they can pay for it, and make sure they don't do itagain. Some men can stand anything but the rope. Prison walls don'tfrighten them; but Jack Ketch does. They can't gammon him. 

'Knock off his irons quick, ' says Mr. Fairleigh, the parson; 'he willnot want them again just yet. '

'I didn't think you would make a joke of that sort, sir, ' says I. 'It'sa little hard on a man, ain't it? But we may as well take it cheerful, too. '

'Tell him all, Mr. Strickland, ' he says to the head gaoler. 'I see hecan bear it now. '

'Prisoner Richard Marston, ' says the gaoler, standing up before me, 'itbecomes my duty to inform you that, owing to representations made inyour favour by the Hon. Mr. Falkland, the Hon. Mr. Storefield, and othergentlemen who have interested themselves in your case, setting forththe facts that, although mixed up with criminals and known to be presentwhen the escort and various other cases of robbery under arms have takenplace, wherein life has been taken, there is no distinct evidenceof your having personally taken life. On the other hand, in severalinstances, yourself, with the late James Marston and the deceased personknown as Starlight, have aided in the protection of life and property. The Governor and the Executive Council have therefore graciously beenpleased to commute your sentence of death to that of fifteen years'imprisonment. '

 . . . . . 

When I came to I was lying on my blankets in a different cell, as Icould see by the shape of it. The irons didn't rattle when I moved. Iwas surprised when I looked and saw they were took off. Bit by bit itall came back to me. I was not to be hanged. My life was saved, if itwas worth saving, by the two or three good things we'd done in our time, and almost, I thought, more for poor old Jim's sake than my own. 

Was I glad or sorry now it was all over? I hardly knew. For a week ortwo I felt as if they'd better have finished me off when I was ready andha' done with me, but after a while I began to feel different. Then thegaoler talked to me a bit. He never said much to prisoners, and what hesaid he meant. 

'Prisoner Marston, ' says he, 'you'd better think over your situationand don't mope. Make up your mind like a man. You may have friends thatyou'd like to live for. Pull yourself together and face your sentencelike a man. You're a young man now, and you won't be an old one whenyou're let out. If your conduct is uniformly good you'll be out intwelve years. Settle yourself to serve that--and you're a lucky man tohave no more--and you may have some comfort in your life yet. '

Then he went out. He didn't wait to see what effect it had on me. IfI wasn't a fool, he thought to himself, I must take it in; if I was, nothing would do me any good. 

I took his advice, and settled myself down to think it over. It was agood while--a weary lot of years to wait, year by year--but, still, if Igot out in twelve years I should not be so out and out broke down afterall--not much over forty, and there's a deal of life for a man sometimesafter that. 

And then I knew that there would be one that would be true to me anyhow, that would wait for me when I went out, and that would not be too proudto join in her life with mine, for all that had come and gone. Well, this might give me strength. I don't think anything else could, and fromthat hour I made up my mind to tackle it steady and patient, to do thebest I could, and to work out my sentence, thankful for the mercy thathad been showed me, and, if ever a man was in this world, resolved tokeep clear of all cross ways for the future. 

So I began to steady myself and tried to bear it the best way I could. Other men were in for long sentences, and they seemed to be able to keepalive, so why shouldn't I? Just at the first I wasn't sure whether Icould. Year after year to be shut up there, with the grass growin' andthe trees wavin' outside, and the world full of people, free to walk orride, to work or play, people that had wives and children, and friendsand relations--it seemed awful. That I should be condemned to live inthis shut-up tomb all those long, weary years, and there was nothingelse for it. I couldn't eat or sleep at first, and kept starting up atnight, thinking they was coming for me to carry me off to the gallows. Then I'd dream that Jim and Starlight was alive, and that we'd all gotout of gaol and were riding through the bush at night to the Hollowagain. Then I'd wake up and know they were dead and I was here. Timeafter time I've done that, and I was that broken down and low that Iburst out crying like a child. 

Chapter 52

The months went on till I began to think it was a long time sinceanything had been heard of father. I didn't expect to have a letter oranything, but I knew he must take a run outside now and again; and sosure as he did it would come to my ears somehow. 

One day I had a newspaper passed in to me. It was against theregulations, but I did get it for all that, and this was the first thingI saw:--

 STRANGE DISCOVERY IN THE TURON DISTRICT. 

A remarkable natural formation, leading to curious results, was lastweek accidentally hit upon by a party of prospectors, and by them madeknown to the police of the district. It may tend to solve the doubtswhich for the last few years have troubled the public at largewith respect to the periodical disappearance of a certain gang ofbush-rangers now broken up. 

Accident led the gold miners, who were anxious to find a practicabletrack to the gullies at the foot of Nulla Mountain, to observe a narrowwinding way apparently leading over the brow of the precipice on itswestern face. To their surprise, half hidden by a fallen tree, theydiscovered a difficult but practicable track down a gully which finallyopened out into a broad well-grassed valley of considerable extent, inwhich cattle and horses were grazing. 

No signs of human habitation were at first visible, but after a patientsearch a cave in the eastern angle of the range was discovered. Fireshad been lighted habitually near the mouth, and near a log two saddlesand bridles--long unused--lay in the tall grass. Hard by was stretchedthe body of a man of swarthy complexion. Upon examination the skull wasfound to be fractured, as if by some blunt instrument. A revolver ofsmall size lay on his right side. 

Proceeding to the interior of the cave, which had evidently been usedas a dwelling for many years past, they came upon the corpse of anotherman, in a sitting posture, propped up against the wall. One arm restedupon an empty spirit-keg, beside which were a tin pannikin and a fewrude cooking utensils. At his feet lay the skeleton of a dog. The wholegroup had evidently been dead for a considerable time. Further searchrevealed large supplies of clothes, saddlery, arms, and ammunition--allplaced in recesses of the cave--besides other articles which wouldappear to have been deposited in that secure receptacle many yearssince. 

As may be imagined, a large amount of interest, and even excitement, was caused when the circumstances, as reported to the police, becamegenerally known. A number of our leading citizens, together with manyof the adjoining station holders, at once repaired to the spot. Nodifficulty was felt in identifying the bodies as those of Ben Marston, the father of the two bush-rangers of that name, and of Warrigal, thehalf-caste follower always seen in attendance upon the chief of thegang, the celebrated Starlight. 

How the last members of this well-known, long-dreaded gang offreebooters had actually perished can only be conjectured, but takingthe surrounding circumstances into consideration, and the generalimpression abroad that Warrigal was the means of putting the police uponthe track of Richard Marston, which led indirectly to the death of hismaster and of James Marston, the most probable solution would seem tobe that, after a deep carouse, the old man had taxed Warrigal with histreachery and brained him with the American axe found close to the body. He had apparently then shot himself to avoid a lingering death, thebullet found in his body having been probably fired by the half-caste ashe was advancing upon him axe in hand. 

The dog, well known by the name of Crib, was the property and constantcompanion of Ben Marston, the innocent accomplice in many of his mostdaring stock-raids. Faithful unto the end, with the deep, uncalculatinglove which shames so often that of man, the dumb follower had apparentlyrefused to procure food for himself, and pined to death at the feet ofhis dead master. Though the philanthropist may regret the untimelyand violent end of men whose courage and energy fitted them for betterthings, it cannot be denied that the gain to society far exceeds theloss. 

When the recesses of the Hollow were fully explored, traces of rude butapparently successful gold workings were found in the creeks whichrun through this romantic valley--long as invisible as the fabled goldcities of Mexico. 

We may venture to assert that no great time will be suffered to elapseere the whole of the alluvial will be taken up, and the Terrible Hollow, which some of the older settlers assert to be its real name, willre-echo with the sound of pick and shovel; perhaps to be the meansof swelling those escorts which its former inhabitants so materiallylessened. 

With regard to the stock pasturing in the valley, a puzzling problempresented itself when they came to be gathered up and yarded. Theadjoining settlers who had suffered from the depredations of thedenizens of the Hollow were gladly expectant of the recovery of animalsof great value. To their great disappointment, only a small numberof the very aged bore any brand which could be sworn to and legallyclaimed. The more valuable cattle and horses, evidently of the choicestquality and the highest breeding, resembled very closely individuals ofthe same breed stolen from the various proprietors. But they were eitherunbranded or branded with a letter and numbers to which no stock-ownersin the district could lay claim. 

Provoking, as well as perplexing, was this unique state ofmatters--wholly without precedent. For instance, Mr. Rouncival and hisstud-groom could almost have sworn to the big slashing brown mare, theimage of the long-lost celebrity Termagant, with the same crooked blazedown the face, the same legs, the same high croup and peculiar way ofcarrying her head. She corresponded exactly in age to the date on whichthe grand thoroughbred mare, just about to bring forth, had disappearedfrom Buntagong. No reasonable doubt existed as to the identity of thisvaluable animal, followed as she was by several of her progeny, equallyaristocratic in appearance. Still, as these interesting individuals hadnever been seen by their rightful owners, it was impossible to prove alegal title. 

The same presumptive certainty and legal incompleteness existedconcerning Mr. Bowe's short-horns (as he averred) and Mr. Dawson'sDevons. 

 'Thou art so near and yet so far, '

as a provoking stock-rider hummed. Finally, it was decided by theofficials in charge to send the whole collection to the public pound, when each proprietor might become possessed of his own, with a good andlawful title in addition--for 'a consideration'--and to the materialbenefit of the Government coffers. 

So it was this way the poor old Hollow was dropped on to, and thewell-hidden secret blown for ever and ever. Well, it had been a goodplant for us and them as had it before our time. I don't expect there'llever be such a place again, take it all round. 

And that was the end of father! Poor old dad! game to the last. And thedog, too!--wouldn't touch bit or sup after the old man dropped. Justlike Crib that was! Often and often I used to wonder what he saw infather to be so fond of him. He was about the only creature in the wideworld that was fond of dad--except mother, perhaps, when she was young. She'd rather got wore out of her feelings for him, too. But Crib stuckto him to his end--faithful till death, as some of them writing covessays. 

And Warrigal! I could see it all, sticking out as plain as a fresh trackafter rain. He'd come back to the Hollow, like a fool--in spite of mewarning him--or because he had nowhere else to go. And the first timedad had an extra glass in his head he tackled him about giving me awayand being the means of the other two's death. Then he'd got real mad andrun at him with the axe. Warrigal had fired as he came up, and hit himtoo; but couldn't stop him in the rush. Dad got in at him, and knockedhis brains out there and then. Afterwards, he'd sat down and drankhimself pretty well blind; and then, finding the pains coming onhim, and knowing he couldn't live, finished himself off with his ownrevolver. 

It was just the way I expected he would make an ending. He couldn't domuch all alone in his line. The reward was a big one, and there would bealways some one ready to earn it. Jim and Starlight were gone, and Iwas as good as dead. There wasn't much of a call for him to keep alive. Anyhow, he died game, and paid up all scores, as he said himself. 

 . . . . . 

I don't know that there's much more for me to say. Here I am boxed up, like a scrubber in a pound, year after year--and years after that--for Idon't know how long. However, O my God! how ever shall I stand it? HereI lie, half my time in a place where the sun never shines, locked up atfive o'clock in my cell, and the same door with never a move in it tillsix o'clock next morning. A few hours' walk in a prison yard, witha warder on the wall with a gun in his hand overhead. Then locked upagain, Sundays and week-days, no difference. Sometimes I think they'dbetter have hanged me right off. If I feel all these things now I'veonly been a few months doing my sentence, how about next year, and theyear after that, and so on, and so on? Why, it seems as if it wouldmount up to more than a man's life--to ten lives--and then to think howeasy it might all have been saved. 

There's only one thing keeps me alive; only for that I'd have starved todeath for want of having the heart to eat or drink either, or else haveknocked my brains out against the wall when one of them low fits cameover me. That one thing's the thought of Gracey Storefield. 

She couldn't come to me, she wrote, just yet, but she'd come within themonth, and I wasn't to fret about her, because whether it was ten yearsor twenty years if she was alive she'd meet me the day after I was free, let who will see her. I must be brave and keep up my spirits for hersake and Aileen's, who, though she was dead to the world, would hear ofmy being out, and would always put my name in her prayers. Neithershe nor I would be so very old, and we might have many years of lifereasonably happy yet in spite of all that had happened. So the less Igave way and made myself miserable, the younger I should look and feelwhen I came out. She was sure I repented truly of what I had done wrongin the past; and she for one, and George--good, old, kind George--hadsaid he would go bail that I would be one of the squarest men in thewhole colony for the future. So I was to live on, and hope and pray Godto lighten our lot for her sake. 

 . . . . . 

It must be years and years since that time as I last wrote about. Awfullong and miserable the time went at first; now it don't go so slowsomehow. I seemed to have turned a corner. How long is it? It must be ahundred years. I have had different sorts of feelings. Sometimes I feelashamed to be alive. I think the man that knocked his head against thewall of his cell the day he was sentenced and beat his brains out inthis very gaol had the best of it. Other times I take things quite easy, and feel as if I could wait quite comfortable and patient-like tillthe day came. But--will it? Can it ever come that I shall be a free managain?

People have come to see me a many times, most of them the first yearor two I was in. After that they seemed to forget me, and get tired ofcoming. It didn't make much odds. 

But one visitor I had regular after the first month or two. Gracey, poorGracey, used to come and see me twice a year. She said it wouldn't doher or me any good to come oftener, and George didn't want her to. Butthem two times she always comes, and, if it wasn't for that, I don'tthink I'd ever have got through with it. The worst of it was, I used tobe that low and miserable after she went, for days and days after, thatit was much as I could do to keep from giving in altogether. After amonth was past I'd begin to look forward to the next time. 

When I'd done over eleven years--eleven years! how did I ever do it? butthe time passed, and passed somehow--I got word that they that I knewof was making a try to see if I couldn't be let out when I'd done twelveyears. My regular sentence was fifteen, and little enough too. Anyhow, they knock off a year or two from most of the long-sentence men's time, if they've behaved themselves well in gaol, and can show a good conductticket right through. 

Well, I could do that. I was too low and miserable to fight much whenI went in; besides, I never could see the pull of kicking up rows andgiving trouble in a place like that. They've got you there fast enough, and any man that won't be at peace himself, or let others be, is prettysure to get the worst of it. I'd seen others try it, and never seen nogood come of it. It's like a dog on the chain that growls and bites atall that comes near him. A man can take a sapling and half kill him, and the dog never gets a show unless he breaks his chain, and that don'thappen often. 

Well, I'd learned carpentering and had a turn at mat-making and a wholelot of other things. They kept me from thinking, as I said before, andthe neater I did 'em and the more careful I worked the better it wentwith me. As for my mats, I came quite to be talked about on account of'em. I drew a regular good picture of Rainbow, and worked it out on amat with different coloured thrums, and the number of people who came tosee that mat, and the notice they took of it, would surprise any one. 

When my twelve years was within a couple of months or so of being up Ibegan to hear that there was a deal of in-and-out sort of work about mygetting my freedom. Old George Storefield and Mr. Falkland--both of 'emin the Upper House--and one or two more people that had some say withthe Government, was working back and edge for me. There was a party onthe other side that wasn't willing as I should lose a day or an hour ofmy sentence, and that made out I ought to have been hanged 'right away', as old Arizona Bill would have said, when I was first taken. Well, I don't blame any of 'em for that; but if they could have known thefeelings of a man that's done a matter of twelve years, and thinks hemight--yes, might--smell the fresh air and feel the grass under his feetin a week or two--well, they'd perhaps consider a bit. 

Whatever way it came out I couldn't say, but the big man of theGovernment people at that time--the Minister that had his say in allthese sort of things--took it into his head that I'd had about enough ofit, if I was to be let out at all; that the steel had been pretty welltaken out of me, and that, from what he knew of my people and so on, Iwasn't likely to trouble the Government again. And he was right. All Iwanted was to be let out a pardoned man, that had done bad things, andhelped in worse; but had paid--and paid dear, God knows--for every poundhe'd got crooked and every day he'd wasted in cross work. If I'd beensent back for them three years, I do r'aly believe something of dad'sold savage blood would have come uppermost in me, and I'd have turnedreckless and revengeful like to my life's end. 

Anyhow, as I said before, the Minister--he'd been into the gaol and hada look once or twice--made up his mind to back me right out; and he putit so before the Governor that he gave an order for my pardon to be madeout, or for me to be discharged the day my twelve years was up, and tolet off the other three, along of my good behaviour in the gaol, and allthe rest of it. 

This leaked out somehow, and there was the deuce's own barney over it. When some of the Parliament men and them sort of coves in the countrythat never forgives anybody heard of it they began to buck, and nomistake. You'd have thought every bush-ranger that ever had been shoppedin New South Wales had been hanged or kept in gaol till he died; nothingbut petitions and letters to the papers; no end of bobbery. The onlypaper that had a word to say on the side of a poor devil like me wasthe 'Turon Star'. He said that 'Dick Marston and his brother Jim, not tomention Starlight (who paid his debts at any rate, unlike some peoplehe could name who had signed their names to this petition), hadworked manly and true at the Turon diggings for over a year. They wererespected by all who knew them, and had they not been betrayed by arevengeful woman might have lived thenceforth a life of industry andhonourable dealing. He, for one, upheld the decision of the ChiefSecretary. Thousands of the Turon miners, men of worth and intelligence, would do the same. '

The Governor hadn't been very long in the colony, and they tried iton all roads to get him to go back on his promise to me. They beganbullying, and flattering, and preaching at him if such a notoriouscriminal as Richard Marston was to be allowed to go forth with afree pardon after a comparatively short--short, think of that, short!--imprisonment, what a bad example it will be to the risinggeneration, and so on. 

They managed to put the thing back for a week or two till I was nearlydrove mad with fretting, and being doubtful which way it would go. 

Lucky for me it was, and for some other people as well, the Governor wasone of those men that takes a bit of trouble and considers over a thingbefore he says yes or no. When he says a thing he sticks to it. Whenhe goes forward a step he puts his foot down, and all the blowing, andcackle, and yelping in the world won't shift him. 

Whether the Chief Secretary would have taken my side if he'd knownwhat a dust the thing would have raised, and how near his Ministers--orwhatever they call 'em--was to going out along with poor Dick Marston, I can't tell. Some people say he wouldn't. Anyhow, he stuck to his word;and the Governor just said he'd given his decision about the matter, and he hadn't the least intention of altering it--which showed heknew something of the world, as well as intended to be true to his ownopinions. The whole thing blew over after a bit, and the people of thecountry soon found out that there wasn't such another Governor (barrin'one) as the Queen had the sending out of. 

The day it was all settled the head gaoler comes to me, and says he, 'Richard Marston, the Governor and Council has been graciously pleasedto order that you be discharged from her Majesty's gaol upon thecompletion of twelve years of imprisonment; the term of three years'further imprisonment being remitted on account of your uniform goodconduct while in the said gaol. You are now free!'

I heard it all as if it had been the parson reading out of a book aboutsome other man. The words went into my ears and out again. I hardlyheard them, only the last word, free--free--free! What a blessed word itis! I couldn't say anything, or make a try to walk out. I sat down on myblankets on the floor, and wondered if I was going mad. The head gaolerwalked over to me, and put his hand on my shoulder. He was a kind enoughman, but, from being 'took in' so often, he was cautious. 'Come, Dick, 'he says, 'pull yourself together. It's a shake for you, I daresay, butyou'll be all right in a day or so. I believe you'll be another man whenyou get out, and give the lie to these fellows that say you'll be up toyour old tricks in a month. I'll back you to go straight; if you don't, you're not the man I take you for. '

I got up and steadied myself. 'I thank you with all my heart, Mr. ----, 'I said. 'I'm not much of a talker, but you'll see, you'll see; that'sthe best proof. The fools, do they think I want to come back here? Iwish some of them had a year of it. '

As soon as there was a chance of my going out, I had been allowed to'grow', as they call it in there. That is, to leave off having my facescraped every morning by the prison barber with his razor, that wassometimes sharp and more times rough enough to rasp the skin off you, particularly if it was a cold morning. My hair was let alone, too. Myclothes--the suit I was taken in twelve years ago--had been washed andcleaned and folded up, and put away and numbered in a room with a lot ofothers. I remember I'd got 'em new just before I started away from theHollow. They was brought to me, and very well they looked, too. I neverhad a suit that lasted that long before. 

That minds me of a yarn I heard at Jonathan Barnes's one day. There wasa young chap that they used to call 'Liverpool Jack' about then. He wasa free kind of fellow, and good-looking, and they all took to him. Hewent away rather sudden, and they heard nothing of him for about threeyears. Then he came back, and as it was the busy season old Jonathan puthim on, and gave him work. It was low water with him, and he seemed gladto get a job. 

When the old man came in he says, 'Who do you think came up the roadto-day?--Liverpool Jack. He looked rather down on his luck, so I gavehim a job to mend up the barn. He's a handy fellow. I wonder he doesn'tsave more money. He's a careful chap, too. '

'Careful, ' says Maddie. 'How do ye make that out?'

'Why, ' says Jonathan, 'I'm dashed if he ain't got the same suit ofclothes on he had when he was here three years ago. '

The old man didn't tumble, but both the girls burst out laughing. He'dbeen in the jug all the time!

I dressed myself in my own clothes--how strange it seemed--even to theboots, and then I looked in the glass. I hadn't done that lately. Iregularly started back; I didn't know myself; I came into prison a big, stout, brown-haired chap, full of life, and able to jump over a dray andbullocks almost. I did once jump clean over a pair of polers for a lark. 

And how was I going out? A man with a set kind of face, neither onething nor the other, as if he couldn't be glad or sorry, with a fixedstaring look about the eyes, a half-yellowish skin, with a lot ofwrinkles in it, particularly about the eyes, and gray hair. Bigstreaks of gray in the hair of the head, and as for my beard it waswhite--white. I looked like an old man, and walked like one. What wasthe use of my going out at all?

When I went outside the walls by a small gate the head gaoler shookhands with me. 'You're a free man now, Dick, ' he says, 'and rememberthis--no man can touch you. No man has the right to pull you up or laya finger on you. You're as independent as the best gentleman in theland so long as you keep straight. Remember that. I see there's a friendwaiting for you. '

Sure enough there was a man that I knew, and that lived near Rocky Flat. He was a quiet, steady-going sort of farmer, and never would have notruck with us in our flash times. He was driving a springcart, with agood sort of horse in it. 

'Come along with me, Dick, ' says he. 'I'm going your way, and I promisedGeorge Storefield I'd call and give you a lift home. I'm glad to see youout again, and there's a few more round Rocky Flat that's the same. '

We had a long drive--many a mile to go before we were near home. Icouldn't talk; I didn't know what to say, for one thing. I could onlyfeel as if I was being driven along the road to heaven after coming fromthe other place. I couldn't help wondering whether it was possible thatI was a free man going back to life and friends and happiness. Was itpossible? Could I ever be happy again? Surely it must be a dream thatwould all melt away, and I'd wake up as I'd done hundreds of times andfind myself on the floor of the cell, with the bare walls all round me. 

When we got nearer the old place I began to feel that queer and strangethat I didn't know which way to look. It was coming on for spring, andthere'd been a middling drop of rain, seemingly, that had made the grassgreen and everything look grand. What a time had passed over since Ithought whether it was spring, or summer, or winter! It didn't make muchodds to me in there, only to drive me wild now and again with thinkin'of what was goin' on outside, and how I was caged up and like to be formonths and years. 

Things began little by little to look the way they used to do long andlong ago. Now it was an old overhanging limb that had arched over theroad since we were boys; then there was a rock with a big kurrajong treegrowing near it. When we came to the turn off where we could see NullaMountain everything came back to me. I seemed to have had two lives; theold one--then a time when I was dead, or next door to it--now this newlife. I felt as if I was just born. 

'We'll get down here now, ' I said, when we came near the dividing fence;'it ain't far to walk. That's your road. '

'I'll run you up to the door, ' says he, 'it isn't far; you ain't used towalking much. '

He let out his horse and we trotted through the paddock up to the oldhut. 

'The garden don't look bad, ' says he. 'Them peaches always used to bearwell in the old man's time, and the apples and quinces too. Some one'shad it took care on and tidied up a bit. There, you've got a friend ortwo left, old man. And I'm one, too, ' says he, putting out his hand andgiving mine a shake. 'There ain't any one in these parts as 'll cast itup to you as long as you keep straight. You can look 'em all in the facenow, and bygones 'll be bygones. '

Then he touched up his horse and rattled off before I could so much assay 'Thank ye. '

I walked through the garden and sat down in the verandah on one of theold benches. There was the old place, mighty little altered considering. The hut had been mended up from time to time--now a slab and then asheet of bark--else it would have been down long enough ago. The gardenhad been dug up, and the trees trimmed year by year. A hinge had beenput on the old gate, and a couple of slip-rails at the paddock. Thepotato patch at the bottom of the garden was sown, and there werevegetables coming on in the old beds. Some one had looked after theplace; of course, I knew who it was. 

It began to get coldish, and I pulled the latch--it was there just thesame--and went into the old room. I almost expected to see mother in herchair, and father on the stool near the fireplace, where he used to sitand smoke his pipe. Aileen's was a little low chair near mother's. Jimand I used to be mostly in the verandah, unless it was very cold, andthen we used to lie down in front of the fire--that is, if dad was away, as he mostly was. 

The room felt cold and dark as I looked in. So dreadful lonely, too. Ialmost wished I was back in the gaol. 

When I looked round again I could see things had been left ready for me, so as I wasn't to find myself bad off the first night. The fire was allmade up ready to light, and matches on the table ready. The kettlewas filled, and a basket close handy with a leg of mutton, and bread, butter, eggs, and a lot of things--enough to last me a week. The bedroomhad been settled up too, and there was a good, comfortable bed ready forany tired man to turn into. Better than all, there was a letter, signed'Your own Gracey, ' that made me think I might have some life left worthliving yet. 

I lit the fire, and after a bit made shift to boil some tea; and afterI'd finished what little I could eat I felt better, and sat down beforethe fire to consider over things. It was late enough--midnight--beforeI turned in. I couldn't sleep then; but at last I must have dropped off, because the sun was shining into the room, through the old window withthe broken shutter, when I awoke. 

At first I didn't think of getting up. Then I knew, all of a sudden, that I could open the door and go out. I was in the garden in threeseconds, listening to the birds and watching the clouds rising overNulla Mountain. 

 . . . . . 

That morning, after breakfast, I saw two people, a man and a woman, comeriding up to the garden gate. I knew who it was as far as I could see'em--George Storefield and Gracey. He lifted her down, and they walkedup through the garden. I went a step or two to meet them. She ranforward and threw herself into my arms. George turned away for a bit. Then I put her by, and told her to sit down on the verandah while I hada talk with George. He shook hands with me, and said he was glad to seeme a free man again. 'I've worked a bit, and got others to work too, 'says he; 'mostly for her, and partly for your own sake, Dick. I can'tforget old times. Now you're your own man again, and I won't insult youby saying I hope you'll keep so; I know it, as sure as we stand here. '

'Look here, George, ' I said, 'as there's a God in heaven, no man shallever be able to say a word against me again. I think more of what you'vedone for me almost than of poor Gracey's holding fast. It came naturalto her. Once a woman takes to a man, it don't matter to her what he is. But if you'd thrown me off I'd have not blamed you. What's left of DickMarston's life belongs to her and you. '

 . . . . . 

That day week Gracey and I were married, very quiet and private. Wethought we'd have no one at the little church at Bargo but George andhis wife, the old woman, and the chap as drove me home. Just as wewere going into the church who should come rattling up on horsebackbut Maddie Barnes and her husband--Mrs. Moreton, as she was now, with abright-looking boy of ten or eleven on a pony. She jumps off and givesthe bridle to him. She looked just the same as ever, a trifle stouter, but the same saucy look about the eyes. 'Well, Dick Marston, ' says she, 'how are you? Glad to see you, old man. You've got him safe at last, Gracey, and I wish you joy. You came to Bella's wedding, Dick, and so Ithought I'd come to yours, though you kept it so awful quiet. How d'yethink the old horse looks?'

'Why, it's never Rainbow?' says I. 'It's twelve years and over since Isaw him last. '

'I didn't care if it was twenty, ' said she. 'Here he is, and goes assound as a bell. His poor old teeth are getting done, but he ain't theonly one that way, is he, Joe? He'll never die if I can keep him alive. I have to give him corn-meal, though, so as he can grind it easy. '

'I believe she thinks more of that old moke than me and the children allput together, ' says Joe Moreton. 

'And why shouldn't I?' says Maddie, facing round at him just the oldway. 'Isn't he the finest horse that ever stood on legs, and didn't hebelong to the finest gentleman that you or any one else looked at? Don'tsay a word against him, for I can't stand it. I believe if you was tolay a whip across that old horse in anger I'd go away and leave you, Joe Moreton, just as if you was a regular black stranger. Poor Rainbow!Isn't he a darling?' Here she stroked the old horse's neck. He wasrolling fat, and had a coat like satin. His legs were just as clean asever, and he stood there as if he heard everything, moving his old headup and down the way he always did--never still a moment. It broughtback old times, and I felt soft enough, I tell you. Maddie's lips weretrembling again, too, and her eyes like two coals of fire. As for Joe, he said nothing more, and the best thing too. The boy led Rainbow overto the fence, and old George walked us all into the church, and thatsettled things. 

After the words were said we all went back to George's together, andMaddie and her husband drank a glass of wine to our health, and wishedus luck. They rode as far as the turn off to Rocky Flat with us, andthen took the Turon road. 

'Good-bye, Dick, ' says Maddie, bending down over the old horse's neck. 'You've got a stunning good wife now, if ever any man had in the wholeworld. Mind you're an A1 husband, or we'll all round on you, and yourlife won't be worth having; and I've got the best horse in the country, haven't I? See where the bullet went through his poor neck. There's nolady in the land got one that's a patch on him. Steady, now, Rainbow, we'll be off in a minute. You shall see my little Jim there take himover a hurdle yard. He can ride a bit, as young as he is. Pity poor oldJim ain't here to-day, isn't it, Dick? Think of him being cold in hisgrave now, and we here. Well, it's no use crying, is it?'

And off went Maddie at a pace that gave Joe and the boy all they knew tocatch her. 

 . . . . . 

We're to live here for a month or two till I get used to outdoor workand the regular old bush life again. There's no life like it, to myfancy. Then we start, bag and baggage, for one of George's Queenslandstations, right away up on the Barcoo, that I'm to manage and have ashare in. 

It freshens me up to think of making a start in a new country. It's along way from where we were born and brought up; but all the better forthat. Of course they'll know about me; but in any part of Australia, once a chap shows that he's given up cross doings and means to gostraight for the future, the people of the country will always lend hima helping hand, particularly if he's married to such a wife as Gracey. I'm not afraid of any of my troubles in the old days being cast up tome; and men are so scarce and hard to get west of the Barcoo that no onethat once had Dick Marston's help at a muster is likely to remind him ofsuch an old story as that of 'Robbery Under Arms'. 

 THE END

 Notes on the text:

 General:

 The original serial of this story had roughly 29, 000 more words than the version given here, but it should be noted that this version is the standard text that has been widely available since then. 

 The combination of this story being a serial, with cuts from the original which may not have been perfectly executed, has led to a few discrepancies. Thus, in Chapter 2 it is mentioned that Patsey Daly was hanged, but in Chapter 44 the same character is shot to death. In Chapter 42, Starlight (as Mr. Lascelles) dances with Maddie Barnes one night, and the next day (in the same disguise) she does not recognise him. And then there are some gaps: In Chapter 24, the story line suddenly jumps from a scene where the characters are riding to the Hollow, to a discussion about selling horses. In Chapter 31, Dick Marston says "I did live to do her [Maddie Barnes] a good turn back. .. " but there seems to be nothing later in the story worth mentioning in this line. In Chapter 35, a reference is made to "old Mr. Devereux's box", which was apparently discovered in Chapter 22 or 23, but cut out from this edition. 

 The story is still quite readable and enjoyable despite these things, but they are mentioned so that the interested reader may look further (if they desire) into obtaining an edition which includes the complete text in the original Newspaper serial; and to give a general idea what sort of things might have been cut. 

 "Captain Starlight" was the name used by a real bushranger, Frank Pearson (1837-99), but Boldrewood claimed that his "Starlight" was a composite based in part on "Captain Midnight" and Harry Redford (ca. 1842 to 1901), the latter of which stole a herd of cattle in a similar manner to that described in the book. The factual events that contributed to the story took place in the late 1860's and other periods; but Boldrewood set his story in the 1850's. The name "Starlight" is also used in Adam Lindsay Gordon's famous poem, "The Sick Stockrider". 

 "Warrigal", the name of the half-caste character, is also an Australian term for the Dingo, or native dog. 

 A couple other famous highwaymen are alluded to in the story. 

 Dick Turpin, who is mentioned twice, was an English highwayman, 1706-39. There is apparently a legendary ride from London to York that is popularly attributed to him, the idea being that he established an alibi by covering the distance so swiftly after a robbery. 

 Claude Duval was famous for being gallant to women. Born in France, he came to England with the Duke of Richmond about 1660 (the Restoration), and turned out shortly afterwards. 

 Terms: -----

 There are a number of Australian terms in the text, which may not be listed in non-Australian dictionaries--even unabridged ones. Here are a few:

 bail up: To stick up. According to Boldrewood, from the term used with cows, where "bail up" means to secure a cow's head in a bail, a type of frame, before milking. 

 bunyip: (pronounced bun-yup) A large mythological creature, said by the Aborigines to inhabit watery places. There may be some relation to an actual creature that is now extinct. 

 dinkum: Now means honest or genuine, but used by Boldrewood in its obsolete sense, work, or an amount of work. (In fact, one major Australian dictionary quotes this very book for an example of this obsolete sense. )

 forester: The eastern gray kangaroo. 

 gin: An Aboriginal woman--from an aboriginal word for "woman" or "wife". (Considered derogatory in current usage. )

 jerran: Afraid. From an aboriginal language. Now obsolete. 

 mallee scrubber: "Mallee", a variety of Eucalyptus, or a remote, wild area (like "bush"); "Scrubber", a farm animal that has gone wild; hence, "mallee scrubber", a wild farm animal in this environment. 

 shout: To buy drinks for a group, or the act of buying drinks. 

 store cattle: Cattle that are not ready for market, but need to be fattened first. Hence, they are "in store" for future use, or for use as stock. 

 skillion: A lean-to or outbuilding. 

 turkey: Probably Eupodotis (Otis) australis, the Australian Bustard. (Also "native turkey", "wild turkey". )

 Corrections: -----------

 The following errors were corrected from the original text:

 Chapter 8:

 "I flung down my note, and Jim did his, and told them that we owed to to take" changed to "owed to take". 

 Chapter 19:

 "and the look of a free man gone out of his face for over--" changed to "out of his face for ever--". 

 Chapter 28: (1st paragraph)

 "But that's neither here not there. " changed to "But that's neither here nor there. "

 Chapter 52:

 "'right away', as old Arizona Bill would have said when I was first taken. " changed to "'right away', as old Arizona Bill would have said, when I was first taken. "

 Technical: ---------

 Chapter headings have been changed from Roman to Arabic numerals, for ease of use. 

 Due to the limitations of ASCII, the British "Pounds" symbol, a crossed L, where it comes before a figure, has been replaced by "Pound(s)" after the figure(s). When this substitution has been made, the word "Pound" is always capitalised. Examples: "L1" is "1 Pound"; "L6 or L8" is "6 or 8 Pounds". 

 This text was transcribed from the Second Edition, which was first printed in June of 1889. 

 A few foreign words had accents in the original edition. The most common was "depo^t", which has since become standardized in English as "depot". The others are "ame damnee" for "ame damne\e"; "cause celebre" for "cause ce/le\bre"; and "vis-a-vis" for "vis-a\-vis". In the advertisements listed below, "Athenaeum" was originally "Athen(ae)um". 

 From the original advertisements:

 POPULAR NOVELS BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

 THE MINER'S RIGHT. A Tale of the Australian Gold-Fields. 

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 World--"Full of good passages, passages abounding in vivacity, in the colour and play of life. .. . The pith of the book lies in its singularly fresh and vivid pictures of the humours of the gold-fields, --tragic humours enough they are, too, here and again. .. . "

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 THE SQUATTER'S DREAM. 

 Saturday Review--"It is not often that stories of colonial life are so interesting as Mr. Boldrewood's 'Squatter's Dream'. There is enough story in the book to give connected interest to the various incidents, and these are all told with considerable spirit and at times picturesqueness. "

 Field--"The details are filled in by a hand evidently well conversant with his subject, and everything is 'ben trovato', if not actually true. A perusal of these cheerfully-written pages will probably give a better idea of realities of Australian life than could be obtained from many more pretentious works. "

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 A COLONIAL REFORMER. 

 Athenaeum--"A series of natural and entertaining pictures of Australian life, which are, above all things, readable. "

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 Saturday Review--"Mr. Boldrewood can tell what he knows with great point and vigour, and there is no better reading than the adventurous parts of his books. "