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diff --git a/38791-h/38791-h.htm b/38791-h/38791-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f103681 --- /dev/null +++ b/38791-h/38791-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6517 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Bushranger's Secret, by Mrs. Henry Clarke +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +pre { margin-left: 10% } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.contents {text-indent: -3%; + margin-left: 5% } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight: bold; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center } + +img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bushranger's Secret, by Mrs. Henry Clarke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Bushranger's Secret + +Author: Mrs. Henry Clarke + +Illustrator: W. S. Stacey + +Release Date: February 8, 2012 [EBook #38791] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSHRANGER'S SECRET *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-cover"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover.jpg" alt="cover art" /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt=""SO YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME TO THE CROWS" Page 159" /> +<br /> +"SO YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME TO THE CROWS" <a href="#p159">Page 159</a> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h1> +<br /><br /> +The Bushranger's Secret +</h1> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY +</p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. HENRY CLARKE +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t4"> +Author of "The Ravensworth Scholarship"<br /> +"The Mystery of the Manor House" &c.<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>ILLUSTRATED BY W. S. STACEY</i> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED +<br /> +GLASGOW AND BOMBAY +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +<i>Printed and bound in Great Britain</i> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +BOOKS OF THIS SERIES<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>BOYS</i><br /> +</p> + +<pre> +The War of the Axe. J. Percy-Groves. +Hammond's Hard Lines. Skelton Kuppord. +The Bushranger's Secret. Mrs. Henry Clarke. +The Penang Pirate. John C. Hutcheson. +In the Hands of the Malays. G. A. Henty. +In the Hands of the Cave Dwellers. G. A. Henty. +Dick Chester. G. I. Whitham. +For the Old School. Florence Coombe. +Sturdy and Strong. G. A. Henty. +Marooned on Australia. E. Favenc. +In the Great White Land. Dr. Gordon Stables, R.N. +The Captured Cruiser. C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne. +Westward with Columbus. Dr. Gordon Stables, R.N. +Hal Hungerford. J. R. Hutchinson. +Dr. Jolliffe's Boys. Lewis Hough. +Olaf the Glorious. Robert Leighton. +</pre> + + +<p class="t3"> +<i>GIRLS</i><br /> +</p> + +<pre> +The Two Dorothys. Mrs. Herbert Martin. +Susan. Amy Walton. +The Hawthorns. Amy Walton. +Penelope and the Others. Amy Walton. +The Ravensworth Scholarship. Mrs. Henry Clarke. +The Eversley Secrets. Evelyn Everett-Green. +The Mystery of Kittle-Boy. Jennie Chappell. +A Soldier's Daughter. G. A. Henty. +Comrades from Canada. May Wynne. +An Unexpected Hero. Elizabeth J. Lysaght. +The Ferry House Girls. Bessie Marchant. +Meg's Friend. Alice Corkran. +</pre> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>BOYS AND GIRLS</i><br /> +</p> + +<pre> +Into the Haven. Annie S. Swan. +A Pair of Clogs, and other Stories. Amy Walton. +That Merry Crew. Florence Coombe. +Our Friend Jim. Geraldine Mockler. +The House of the Five Poplars. Lucy Crump. +Three Bears and Gwen. May Wynne. +Tony's Chums. May Wynne. +When Auntie Lil took Charge. May Wynne. +The Eagle's Nest. S. E. Cartwright. +Three's Company. May Wynne. +The Lady Isobel. Eliza F. Pollard. +</pre> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED<br /> +LONDON GLASGOW BOMBAY<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="contents"> +Chap. +<br /> +I. <a href="#chap01">A Fugitive</a><br /> +II. <a href="#chap02">Tempted!</a><br /> +III. <a href="#chap03">At Warrandilla</a><br /> +IV. <a href="#chap04">In Quest of Treasure</a><br /> +V. <a href="#chap05">Deadman's Gully</a><br /> +VI. <a href="#chap06">The Treasure Found</a><br /> +VII. <a href="#chap07">Deserted!</a><br /> +VIII. <a href="#chap08">Lost in the Bush</a><br /> +IX. <a href="#chap09">Facing Death</a><br /> +X. <a href="#chap10">A Grim Sort of Picnic</a><br /> +XI. <a href="#chap11">A Ruthless Villain</a><br /> +XII. <a href="#chap12">Under Green Boughs</a><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-front"> +"SO YOU HAVEN'T LEFT ME TO THE CROWS" . . . . . . <i>Frontispiece</i> +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-016"> +"HERE, GIVE IT ME BACK," SAID THE BUSHRANGER +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-088"> +THE MEETING IN "DEADMAN'S GULLY" +</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<a href="#img-176"> +A TREACHEROUS BLOW +</a> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<h2> +THE BUSHRANGER'S SECRET +</h2> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER I. +</h3> + +<h4> +A FUGITIVE. +</h4> + +<p> +Two men were sitting together in a small outlying hut on one of the +great grazing farms of South Australia. The hut was a comfortless +place. The floor was of beaten earth. Two bunks for sleeping were +fixed to the log wall. Above one of the bunks hung the framed +photograph of a comely woman, with two bright-faced lads leaning +against her. It was the only picture on the walls. A rough table +stood opposite the window, and behind the table was a wooden bench. +Above the bench there was a shelf, and a stand for guns. +</p> + +<p> +The men were sitting on the bench. They had not long returned from a +hard day's riding. The elder man was leaning back against the wall in +a heavy sleep. The other, a slender, dark-eyed fellow, hardly more +than a lad, was looking at him with a gloomy contemptuous irritation in +his glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Better asleep than awake, though," he muttered to himself, after a +moment. "What can he talk about but cattle and horses?" +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders, and got up from his seat and stretched +himself. The dog lying at the older man's feet, with its paw resting +on one of them, raised its head sharply at Gray's movement, but did not +attempt to get up even when Gray went to the door and opened it, +letting the light of their lamp flow out in a steady stream. +</p> + +<p> +All round the hut stretched the gray level grass-lands, rolling away in +vast monotony to a far horizon. A wide sky arched over them, in which +the stars were shining with a soft yet brilliant splendour. Gray +glanced carelessly up at that glorious sky. He believed himself to be +endowed with a keen sense of the beautiful. He prided himself on his +distaste for ugly surroundings. When he had earned the fortune he had +come to Australia to earn he meant to prove to the world how keen and +true his artistic tastes were. But he glanced carelessly up at the +shining stars. They had no message for him. +</p> + +<p> +After standing in the doorway a moment he turned back into the hut, +shutting the door behind him with a sudden bang that made Harding start +up, rubbing his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I must have been asleep!" he said with a surprised air. He drew +himself up to his full height, towering like a good-tempered giant over +Gray's slight figure. "I'm tired out, and that's a fact," he added +apologetically. "I think I'll turn in." Gray did not answer. He +flung himself down on the bench and began to pare his finger-nails, +looking at each finger critically as he finished it, and taking no +notice of Harding. The elder man regarded him doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"In a wax, old man?" he said in a deprecating voice. Gray flung him a +vicious look over his shoulder, and returned to his nails. Harding's +face had a very tender expression in it as he advanced a step and put +out his hand to touch the young man's shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"If it's anything I've done," he began in a shuffling, awkward, kindly +tone— +</p> + +<p> +Gray turned upon him with startling suddenness. +</p> + +<p> +"Anything you've done?" he demanded, squaring his arms on the table, +and fixing his dark glance on Harding. "You needn't flatter yourself +that I care a rap for what you do or don't do. Turn in, and leave me +to myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come, Gray, don't take a fellow like that. You're tired out; I +can see you're just tired out." +</p> + +<p> +"I <i>am</i> tired out," responded Gray grimly. "Tired of it all. Tired +and sick of you along with the rest of it. A pretty life this is to +live. A pretty companion you make, don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, things may better soon," said the other soothingly. "I +wish I was more book-learned for your sake, old fellow. But that's +past wishing for, ain't it? And you'll have to make the best of me for +a spell." +</p> + +<p> +"Best or worst, I can't endure this life any longer," returned Gray +impatiently. "I'll ride over to the station to-morrow and give it up; +or end it quicker than that perhaps;" and he glanced up with a dark +look at the loaded gun lying across the shelf. +</p> + +<p> +Harding knew Gray well enough to be able to disregard that look, but he +spoke very seriously. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll not be such a foolish lad as to throw up your berth in a fit of +temper. This won't last much longer. You will be called in to the +station in a week or two and given a better post; and it's your duty to +stick on here till you're called in, you see." +</p> + +<p> +"Duty!" Gray flung the word at him like a missile. +</p> + +<p> +Harding's mild eyes looked at him in gentle reproof. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a fine thing to do, my lad. No man can do more if he lived in a +king's palace. And a man who does his duty is greater than a king." +</p> + +<p> +"That's all rubbish, talk like that," returned Gray sharply. "You just +drop it, Harding." +</p> + +<p> +He got up, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, and leant against +the wall. His eyes went round the hut. +</p> + +<p> +"A king's palace!" he said with a hard laugh. "Verily it needs strong +imagination to think of such a place here. What a hole to live in! +But I'll not stand it much longer." +</p> + +<p> +Harding did not answer this time. He went up to his bunk and took from +under the pillow his little shabbily bound Bible and sat down to read +his evening chapter. +</p> + +<p> +Gray watched him moodily; but in a moment his attention was drawn off +by the strange behaviour of the dog, which, when Harding had sat down +on his bunk, had crawled under it. +</p> + +<p> +But it had come out again almost at once, and now stood in the middle +of the hut, with its head bent and its ears upraised in the attitude of +intent listening. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter with the dog?" said Gray. "He hears somebody." +</p> + +<p> +Harding looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"Nobody ever comes this way; it's out of the track. Come here, Watch. +You're dreaming, old fellow." +</p> + +<p> +The dog turned its head and looked at its master, gave a slow wag of +its tail to show that it heard his voice, and then with a dash it +sprang at the door, barking fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +Harding got up and flung back the door. His movement was so sudden, +that a man who had crept up to the hut and was now leaning against the +door had no time to recover himself, and staggered forward into the +hut. Watch retreated, still growling fiercely, but restrained from +attacking the stranger by a gesture of its master. Gray made a clutch +at the gun above his head, but the next moment withdrew his hand. That +pitiful, abject, trembling fugitive was not a man to take arms against. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger staggered across the hut and crouched down against the +opposite wall, breathing in short hurried pants. His face was +painfully thin, and as white as death. From a long jagged wound, half +hidden by his matted hair, blood was trickling in a dark slow stream. +The clothes he wore were torn to tatters. You could see his skin +through the rents. +</p> + +<p> +He crouched back against the wall, hugging his arms against his breast, +and looking from Gray to Harding with a wild agonized entreaty in his +eyes. It was the look of a hunted animal appealing for mercy rather +than the look of a man asking help of fellow-men. He was evidently +unable to speak. He tried to articulate something, but his baked, +blistered lips refused their office. +</p> + +<p> +"He's just done for," said Gray. Harding nodded, and going up to the +pannikin of cold tea on the shelf took out some in a cup and held it to +the stranger's lips. He drank it up greedily and then words came to +him. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't give me up," he cried out in a strange hoarse scream, and fell +along the floor huddled up in a dreadful heap. +</p> + +<p> +The two men looked at each other. +</p> + +<p> +"It's plain enough to see what he is," said Gray with a slight shrug of +the shoulders. "Shall we have to entertain the rest of the gang, do +you think?" +</p> + +<p> +"The police, more likely, lad. They're close on his track, I fancy." +</p> + +<p> +He bent over the man and straightened him out. Gray did not attempt to +help him; he stood looking down at the wretched fugitive with a cold +unsympathizing curiosity in his handsome face as he said: +</p> + +<p> +"He isn't dead, is he?" +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke the man opened his eyes and gazed up at them. Wild +gleaming dark eyes they were, looking all the darker for the haggard +pallor of his face. He raised himself on his elbow and made a clutch +at his breast. There was something hidden there, and he kept his hand +closed upon it. +</p> + +<p> +Harding put the cup with more tea to his lips again, and again he drank +greedily. Then he tried to raise himself into a sitting posture, but +sank back on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll cheat the beaks after all," he said hoarsely. A grim smile +flickered over his face. "I swore I'd never be caught." +</p> + +<p> +He looked from one man to the other. +</p> + +<p> +"They'll make no gallows-bird o' me," he added with a sort of hoarse +chuckle. He still kept his hand clutched upon his breast. Gray +noticed the action, and a vivid curiosity rose up in him to know what +the man kept so jealously hidden there. He must have shown this in his +face, for the man addressed him sharply. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you starin' at, eh? Do you think I've got the Kohinoor +hidden about me? Well, I ain't got it." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think anything about you, my man," replied Gray loftily. He +turned to Harding. "What are we going to do with him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Lend me a hand and we'll lift him on my bunk," said Harding. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll lie here," broke from the man. "You just leave me alone." He +pushed away the food Harding offered him. "I can't swallow. Just +leave me alone." +</p> + +<p> +Gray shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door. The man's eyes +followed him with a suspicious glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Thinks himself a fine gentleman, it's plain," he muttered. Then he +beckoned to Harding. "Do you know Princes Street, Adelaide, mate?" he +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Harding nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"No. 5 Princes Street, top floor. You give two knocks. Write that +down." +</p> + +<p> +Harding took out his worn pocket-book and wrote it down. The man lay +staring up at him, then with a sudden effort, as if his mind was at +last made up, he dragged a tattered scrap of yellow paper from his +breast and held it up to Harding. +</p> + +<p> +"Send it—<i>there</i>," and he feebly nodded at the pocket-book in +Harding's hand. +</p> + +<p> +Gray was still standing in the doorway, looking out over the level +pastures. He half expected to hear the gallop of well-trained horses, +the shout of authoritative voices; but all was still, the police had +missed the track. He shut the door and came back into the hut. +</p> + +<p> +"Make your mind easy, my friend," he said in a half-sneering tone. +"It's all quiet outside." +</p> + +<p> +The man gave him a dark look and raised himself towards Harding. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, give it me back," he said, with a hasty snatch at it. "Your +pal's no call to see it." +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-016"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-016.jpg" alt=""HERE, GIVE IT ME BACK," SAID THE BUSHRANGER" /> +<br /> +"HERE, GIVE IT ME BACK," SAID THE BUSHRANGER +</p> + +<p> +Harding had raised the paper towards the lamp-light, and was looking +scrutinizingly at it. It seemed to be a rough map. There was a wavy +line that evidently represented the course of a ravine or gully, and on +each side were jagged marks that betokened rising ground. Right across +the paper ran the words in large ill-formed characters: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Deadman's Gully.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +About the middle of the paper there was a sort of big blot, and +underneath in smaller words was written: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Big gum. Dig five feet due south from hole.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +Gray came leisurely up to Harding's side. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it?" he said, holding out his hand for the paper. +</p> + +<p> +A scowl came over the face of the man on the ground. He flung himself +upward and snatched the paper from Harding's hand with a violent oath. +The effort was too much for him, and he fell back groaning and +helpless. But he still kept the paper clutched in his right hand, and +his eyes fixed themselves on Gray with something of the look of a +trapped wild beast. +</p> + +<p> +"Keep off, can't you!" he gasped out. "A pretty gentleman you are, +pryin' and sneakin' like that." +</p> + +<p> +Gray stood over him, looking down upon him with a cold cynical regard +that seemed to madden the man. +</p> + +<p> +"Better step back and leave him to me," whispered Harding. +</p> + +<p> +Gray laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"All right! but play fair, old fellow." +</p> + +<p> +Harding's mild eyes looked their wonder at him, but Gray only laughed +again and went back to the table, where he sat with his head propped on +his hands watching the two. +</p> + +<p> +Harding dragged his box out from under his bunk and sat down on it. +The man lay still for a moment and then painfully raised himself into a +sitting posture against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here," he said. "Do you think I'm dyin'?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Harding briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"Before mornin'?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe you have many hours to live." +</p> + +<p> +"Right, that's what I think myself. I've cheated the beaks, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding was silent. The man looked sharply at him. +</p> + +<p> +"You've got that address written down?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but I can't send that paper." +</p> + +<p> +"You can't send it?" +</p> + +<p> +The words dropped slowly from the man's lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I can't," returned Harding. "You know that well enough." +</p> + +<p> +"You won't send it," repeated the man again, with a dull rage in his +voice. The paper was still clutched in his hand, and he looked at it +and then up at Harding. "There's a fortin in it," he whispered under +his breath. "Bill 'ull go shares. Here, you take it. You go to 5 +Princes Street, top floor, and ask for Bill Clay. He'll go shares, and +thankful." +</p> + +<p> +Harding made no attempt to take the paper. He merely said: +</p> + +<p> +"Tear it up if you like, but if you give it to me I shall hand it over +to the police." +</p> + +<p> +The man stared at him with a fierce incredulity in his gleaming dark +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"There's a fortin in it," he repeated, as if the words must convince +Harding of his foolishness—"a fortin, mate. And you carn't miss the +place. Bill, he knows Deadman's Gully." +</p> + +<p> +He held out the paper, but Harding shook his head and said: +</p> + +<p> +"You are wasting your words." +</p> + +<p> +"You won't send it? Look here, just look here." He stopped to moisten +his dry lips, and then went on: +</p> + +<p> +"You've heard of Tom Dearing?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding nodded. It was the name of a noted bushranger, whose last +crime had been a daring robbery of the chief bank of Adelaide. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm Tom Dearing. Now you know." +</p> + +<p> +Harding gazed silently at him. He could not get the right words to +speak, but it did not need words to make Dearing understand the intense +ardent desire to help him that was flooding Harding's soul. It +affected the man strangely. He forgot the buried treasure for a +moment. The paper fluttered out of his hand and fell on the floor as +he cried: +</p> + +<p> +"You're sorry for me; sorry for <i>me</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm dead sorry for you, lad," said Harding with slow fervent +utterance. "You've been spending your life in getting trash like +that"—he waved his hand toward the paper. "And now you've got to die, +and go before God. He'll be sorry for you too. If I'm sorry, a man +like me, what must God's sorrow be for such a life as yours has been! +Don't think about that hateful money, lad. Let it lie where you've +laid it if you like." +</p> + +<p> +Harding took the paper up and thrust it back into the man's fingers as +he said: +</p> + +<p> +"Tear it up. But you've got a chance to show you're ashamed for what +you've done. Give the money back to those you stole it from. 'Tis all +you can do now to make amends." +</p> + +<p> +The man gazed irresolutely at him. +</p> + +<p> +"You talk mighty fine, but what's to hinder you grabbin' the whole +blessed lot?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing." +</p> + +<p> +That single word said everything. Dearing stared fixedly at Harding +for a moment, and then thrust the paper into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, take it," he said. "And if there's anything good you've got to +say to me, let's hear it. I'll listen to you, old man. You act up to +what you talk of." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER II. +</h3> + +<h4> +TEMPTED! +</h4> + +<p> +Dearing died next day just after sunrise. They buried him down by the +creek, out of sight of the hut. +</p> + +<p> +"So that's the end of Mr. Tom Dearing," said Gray, as they turned away +and walked back towards the hut. "He didn't manage well, did he?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding gave him one of his pained, wondering looks. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't talk like that, dear lad," he said, "you don't mean it, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +Gray gave a laugh that had not much mirth in it +</p> + +<p> +"What a fellow you are, Harding! You insist on everybody being as +virtuous as yourself. But I mean exactly what I say. Why did Mr. Tom +Dearing take to robbing his neighbour unless he could insure himself +against being found out? It may be bad to be a rogue; it's +unpardonable to be known for one." +</p> + +<p> +"What difference does it make in the sin, lad?" said Harding, with a +sorrowful look at him. "And it's the sin we've got to think of." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I know that's your view," said Gray, with a scarcely concealed +sneer. "But it's a sadly old-fashioned one, my dear fellow." +</p> + +<p> +Harding was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"It's only the fear of being found out that keeps men honest," Gray +went on after a moment. "We're told, from our youth up, that 'Honesty +is the best policy,' and most of us are sensible enough to believe +it—and so we're honest." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you believe it, lad?" burst with emphasis from Harding; and not +even Gray's flippant rejoinder, "Not believe that 'Honesty is the best +policy?' you can't mean that?" was able to check his eagerness to +speak. He stopped in the path and laid his hand on Gray's arm, more +moved than Gray had ever seen him before. +</p> + +<p> +"You wouldn't talk like that if you'd seen that poor fellow die, Gray," +he said. "There's more difference between doing right and doing wrong +than just that you get punished for wrong-doing if you're found out. +Sin drags a man down, lad; it eats the manhood out of him. It makes a +ruin of what's best in him." +</p> + +<p> +The words fell on ears dull to their meaning. And Harding was quickly +silent; speech was always a difficult thing to him. He had never +spoken so earnestly to Gray before. +</p> + +<p> +When they came back to the hut Harding took out the tattered sheet of +yellow paper from his breast-pocket and placed it in the small desk +upon the shelf. +</p> + +<p> +"One of us must take that over to the station," he said. "The bank +authorities will be glad enough to get it." +</p> + +<p> +Gray had heard enough of the conversation between Harding and Dearing +to know what the paper was about, though Harding had not mentioned it +before. +</p> + +<p> +He stood at the door, swinging his heavy stock-whip in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to have a look at it," he said carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"So you shall, lad. And I think you'd better go over with it. But +we'll talk of that to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"What made him hide the money, do you know?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"He didn't say. The police were after him, I expect, and he hoped to +be able to get back sometime and dig it up." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if he had told any of his friends and acquaintances?" said +Gray, looking up at the desk where Harding had put the map. "If so, I +wouldn't give much for the bank's chance of getting the money." +</p> + +<p> +"He hadn't told a soul," was Harding's answer. "He wanted me to send +the map to some mate of his, but he thought better of that afterwards." +</p> + +<p> +"Better?" Gray lifted his dark eyebrows. "What does the bank want +with the money? It's rich enough to stand the loss. It isn't as if he +had robbed a poor man, you know. It's the best thing I've heard of +him, his wanting to send that map to his mate." +</p> + +<p> +"Stolen money does no good to anybody," said Harding rather shortly. +</p> + +<p> +"It didn't do any good to him at any rate," said Gray. He moved from +the door to let Harding pass. "I suppose we must start," he went on +with a yawn. "Another day of this hateful stock-riding! and another +day of it to-morrow, and the next day, and the next day! How am I +going to stand it, I wonder?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding had disappeared into the stable, and Gray said the last words +to himself. There was a heavy frown on his handsome young face, bitter +discontent in his dark eyes. When Harding brought his horse to him he +scarcely thanked him, and he rode away by his side in sullen silence. +</p> + +<p> +When they returned that night, Harding was too fagged out to talk of +anything. He went off into a heavy sleep directly after supper, and +Gray found it impossible to wake him sufficiently for rational +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +The desk in which he had placed the paper was not locked, and Gray took +out the paper and sat down by the lamp to study it. It was very easy +to understand. Anyone who knew Deadman's Gully could not fail to find +the treasure, Gray thought to himself. +</p> + +<p> +And his thoughts ran on something like this: +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose I had found this map, not knowing whose it was, and had gone +to dig in Deadman's Gully on the chance, what a wonderful and blessed +change it would have made in my life? No more hateful stock-riding; no +more dreary days spent with this dull-witted Harding; but a glad return +to civilized England, and a rich cultured life in congenial society. +If it only had happened so! Yet, even now—?" +</p> + +<p> +But there Gray's thoughts took pause. The secret was not his alone. +It was shared by Harding. Even if Harding would allow him to— But +Harding would not, and there was an end of it. +</p> + +<p> +They arranged at breakfast next morning that Gray should ride over to +the station the day after and carry the paper with him. From the +station it could be easily sent in to the inspector of police with the +report of Dearing's death. +</p> + +<p> +Gray got the paper down for another look at it. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I've heard you speak of Deadman's Gully, Harding." +</p> + +<p> +"That's most likely, old man. I know the place well. I was stationed +within a mile of it once. You know Rodwell's Peak?" +</p> + +<p> +"Haven't the honour," said Gray flippantly. He got up and put the +paper back in the desk. "Rodwell's Peak and Deadman's Gully! The +Australian mind isn't gifted with imagination in regard to names." +</p> + +<p> +"Deadman's Gully got its name rightly enough. It was the haunt of a +gang of bushrangers. A track runs right by the mouth of it, and they +buried the travellers there that they waylaid. That wasn't in my time, +but I've heard old Jebb speak of it. He went with the police there +once. A lonely dismal spot, he said, between high rocks, with a few +trees in the middle." +</p> + +<p> +"Our friend Dearing knew the spot well, it seems." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but he didn't belong to that lot. He used it as a hiding-place, +I fancy. He'd had a miserable life from what he told me." +</p> + +<p> +Gray was putting on his boots, and apparently paying but little +attention to Harding's remarks. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you could find it, though?" he said carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"Easily enough. You've just got to follow the track till Rodwell's +Peak is right in front of you. You've never been in the uplands, have +you, Gray?" Harding broke off to say. "It's grand scenery. You ought +to go there one day." +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose we go there now." +</p> + +<p> +Gray had finished putting on his boots, and was taking his whip down +from the nail. He said it laughingly, looking back at Harding over his +shoulder. Harding, who was washing the dishes at the table, returned +his laughing look with a wondering glance. +</p> + +<p> +"How could we? Who'd look after the stock?" +</p> + +<p> +"Leave them to take care of themselves, the ugly brutes," went on Gray +in the same laughing way. "Let us run up to Deadman's Gully and +appropriate that coin, Harding. What do you say to that plan, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding laughed, but half-sadly. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you'd make a joke of anything, lad. But don't joke about +that money. It don't seem right." +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't a joke the bank would appreciate at any rate," returned Gray, +with another laugh. +</p> + +<p> +He did not continue the subject +</p> + +<p> +"You get a talk with Mr. Morton, lad," said Harding to him, as they +stood outside the hut, ready to start for their day's work. "He'll +listen to you, I know. Tell him you're tired of the work here." +</p> + +<p> +"What's the good of telling him that?" returned Gray, with a shrug of +his shoulders. "I'm tired of work everywhere—tired and sick of this +horrible country, and everything and everybody in it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Morton might help you to a post in Adelaide," said Harding, who +had been much troubled by Gray's constant despondency of late. "You'd +have better company there. It's more like England, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"What post could he get me in Adelaide?" returned Gray, with a bitter +irony in his tone. "And do you think it would be any pleasure to me to +sit in an office and see the carriages driving by? I had enough of +that in England. No, I'd be off to the diamond fields if I'd the cash +for the journey. Do you think Morton would lend me that?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding shook his head sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I knew how I could help you, lad. I can't bear to see you like +this. I wish Polly was here. She'd know how to talk to you better +than I do." +</p> + +<p> +Gray cast a scornful look at his companion's troubled face. It rankled +in his heart that Harding should pity him. +</p> + +<p> +"Are we going to stand talking here all day?" he said irritably. +"Aren't you going to get the horses out?" +</p> + +<p> +They rode off in different directions that morning. +</p> + +<p> +Gray went on a long round. His ride took him to a distant part of the +run, from which he could get a glimpse of the far-off mountains. The +peak towering up in the blue air so far above its fellows was Rodwell's +Peak. Gray remembered now that Harding had pointed it out to him when +they had been together at this spot. He checked his horse and paused +for some time gazing at the peak. Close under it was Deadman's Gully! +Gray knew well enough how deceptive distance was in that clear air. He +knew how far off those hills really were; but the sight of Rodwell's +Peak seemed to bring the money close within his grasp, to give the +convict's story a reality it had wanted before. It was with a darker +face, and a heart overflowing with bitterness, that he left that spot +and turned his horse's head homewards. +</p> + +<p> +Harding was not at home when he returned. This was a new cause for +vexation, for Gray had to light the fire and prepare the tea, a task he +hated. It was with a muttered curse against Harding that he set about +it, and he was ready with a very unpleasant greeting for him when he +should at last appear. +</p> + +<p> +Gray was very slow and awkward over his unaccustomed work; but tea was +at last got ready. Gray finished his meal, and still Harding had not +come. +</p> + +<p> +It was getting dark now; the stars were coming out; the wide outlines +of the pastures were growing indistinct. Gray went outside the hut and +looked searchingly in the direction from which he expected Harding to +come. But there were no signs of him. +</p> + +<p> +Up to this point Gray had not even wondered at his lateness; he had +only felt annoyed at it. But now a wild thrill went over him. Had +something happened? Had Harding met with some accident? +</p> + +<p> +Gray caught hold of the top rail of the fence to steady himself as the +thought swept over him. It brought such a throbbing of wild hope with +it that Gray recoiled at his own feelings, but the feelings remained. +He could not crush them out. He knew—even while the knowledge +horrified him—he knew that if Harding did not return, if some dark +fate had overtaken him, that he would be glad—yes, glad! For then the +secret would be his alone. Then there would be nothing to prevent him +from taking possession of the buried treasure. +</p> + +<p> +But it was early yet. He and Harding, Gray reflected, had often been +out together as late; only, Harding had said so decidedly that he +should be back long before dusk. What could be keeping him? +</p> + +<p> +Gray left the hut and walked for some distance along the grassy plain, +but he could see nothing, hear nothing. He "coo'eed" once or twice, +but there was no answer. All was dark and still under the starry sky. +</p> + +<p> +He went back, and sat down in the hut and waited. Once or twice he +thought of taking his horse and riding out to search for Harding. But +that would be of no use, he reflected. Harding had had a wide stretch +of country to cover. It was a million chances to one that he could +find him. So Gray sat still and waited. +</p> + +<p> +Towards midnight he rose, drawn by a horrible sort of fascination, and +took the paper from Harding's desk. He spread it out on the table, and +sat down to study it. The more he looked at it the more easy it all +seemed to be. It was such an absolutely safe thing. No one could +possibly know the contents of that paper but himself and Harding. If +Harding never came back he would be the sole owner of the secret. +</p> + +<p> +Gray made his plans as he sat there with his eyes fixed on the faded, +dirty sheet. +</p> + +<p> +He would destroy the paper—he did not need to keep it now; he knew its +contents too well. Then he would give up his work at the first +opportunity, and after waiting a certain time would make his way to +Deadman's Gully, get the money, and be off to England. Then he would +begin to live his life in earnest. +</p> + +<p> +Dazzling visions of that new life began to rise before Gray. Not a +life of vulgar dissipation—Gray was not that sort of man; he loathed +coarseness and riot—but a life of cultured ease, of refined luxury, +rich in all the beautiful things that wealth could bring him. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden noise without brought him back with a shock to present +surroundings. He rose hurriedly and pushed the paper back in the desk. +He thought Harding had returned. But it was only his own horse moving +uneasily in the stable. It was missing its companion, and was restless +and unhappy. +</p> + +<p> +Gray soothed it as well as he could, and then went out once more to +look across the plain. But dark and silent the land lay beneath the +stars. No sound, no movement. +</p> + +<p> +Gray went back into the hut and sat down again; but he did not touch +the paper any more. The certainty that Harding would never return +began to grow upon him, and he was frightened at himself. It was as if +his half-formed wishes had brought about Harding's fate. +</p> + +<p> +The hours passed, and at last the dawn came—a clear, beautiful dawn, +with a fresh wind blowing over the grass and a rosy radiance flooding +the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Gray went out once more to look along the horizon. This time his +search was not in vain. Almost at once he discerned a small moving +object against the sky. It was moving slowly towards the hut. Gray +knew at once what it was. It was the dog, and Harding must be close +behind. +</p> + +<p> +The dog came slowly on, moving with heavy, dragging steps, very unlike +its usual joyous bounds; and it was quite alone. Gray could see no +other moving thing along the plains. The dog had come back, but not +its master. +</p> + +<p> +Gray hurried forward to meet it. He saw the dog leap up when it caught +sight of him, and make a dash forwards, but before it had gone a dozen +steps it slackened its pace again and began to drag itself slowly +forward as if utterly worn out. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pitiable object to look at. Its beautiful coat was matted +with blood and dust. One of its ears was almost torn away, and its +body was covered with wounds. But it dragged itself onward, moaning +now and then, until it got near Gray. Then it sank down on the grass +and lay there, faintly wagging its tail, and fixing its eyes on Gray +with a pathetic, supplicating glance. +</p> + +<p> +It was plain to see that the dog had been attacked and sorely wounded. +Gray surmised that one or more of the herd had turned savage, and in +conflict with them Watch had got his wounds. He bent over the dog and +unfastened its spiked collar. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor old fellow, what—?" +</p> + +<p> +He broke off suddenly. A scrap of paper fastened by a string to the +collar caught his eye. Some words were scrawled on it: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Badly hurt. Watch will show—</i>" +</p> + +<p> +There was an attempt at another word or two but they were illegible. +</p> + +<p> +Gray read the paper and let it flutter from his fingers to the ground. +The next moment he picked it up again, and crushed it between his +fingers. +</p> + +<p> +He had not made up his mind what to do; but the thought flashed through +him as he saw the paper lying on the ground, that it might be necessary +to destroy it, if— +</p> + +<p> +If what? Gray hardly dared finish the thought, even in the secrecy of +his own soul. +</p> + +<p> +The dog followed his actions with a dumb pathetic glance, and then +slowly struggled to its feet. It stood looking up at Gray, lifting one +paw towards him with an indescribable air of supplication in its whole +attitude. Then it turned, and began to move in the direction it had +come from, looking round at every painful step to see if Gray would +follow. +</p> + +<p> +A rush of pitiful feeling swept over Gray. He ran back towards the hut +with one thought uppermost in his mind, to get his horse and go with +the dog. Everything else was forgotten. When he had run a short +distance he looked round at Watch and whistled. The dog was lying on +the grass regarding him, but it refused to come at his whistle. +</p> + +<p> +Gray stood still, and began to argue with himself. It was absurd to +start at once. Watch would die on the way. It would be far better to +wait for some hours till the poor creature was rested. Harding, in all +probability, was already dead. Still he would go—of course he would +go; but not just yet. It would be the height of absurdity to start +just now. He would fetch Watch some water and food where it lay, if he +could not get the dog to go back to the hut. +</p> + +<p> +He whistled again, but Watch made no response. It lay with its head +between its paws, and its eyes still fixed on Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay there, then," muttered he impatiently, and went on towards the +hut. The dog was still lying in the same place when he brought the +food and water for it. It ate and drank greedily, and then rose and +shook itself with a glad, eager movement, and ran a few steps forward. +It was pitiful to see the change that went over the dog when on turning +its head it saw that Gray was walking steadily back towards the hut. +It lay down again, and gave a series of short barks and then a long +pitiful howl when it found that Gray still went steadily on. +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not turn round this time. He went into the hut, and sat down +to think the matter over. What was the use of going with the dog at +all? he began to say to himself. Would it not be better to go over to +the station at once? or, better still, go later on in the day, so as to +reach the station in the evening when the men would have come in from +their work? Yet—was not every moment precious? If he went at once +with the dog, might he not be in time? +</p> + +<p> +He sat thus, swaying to and fro between different decisions, till a +violent scratching at the door roused him. He got up and flung back +the door. Watch stood there with drooping tail, and eyes full of dumb +entreaty. Gray shut the door sharply on him. "Lie down, sir!" he +exclaimed imperatively. The sight of the dog filled him with rage. +Watch whined once or twice; but then came silence. +</p> + +<p> +Gray sat down again at the table. "I will not go," he said to himself. +And he put the thought of Harding from him, and tried to plan how he +would carry out his scheme. But suddenly, before he was aware, a wave +of remorseful shame came over him, and he sprang to his feet as one +awaking from some hideous dream. He grasped his whip and hurried to +the door; but,— +</p> + +<p> +The dog was gone. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER III. +</h3> + +<h4> +AT WARRANDILLA. +</h4> + +<p> +An hour after, Gray was riding swiftly across the plains on his way to +the station. He was urging on his horse with voice and hand and spur, +riding as if for dear life, yet even while he rode he was making up his +mind to keep back from Mr. Morton all knowledge of Dearing's map. Of +Dearing's death he was bound to tell him, but he would say nothing of +the map. If Harding was found it would be so easy to say he had +forgotten it in his anxiety; if Harding— Gray did not finish the +sentence to himself, but he determined to keep back the map. +</p> + +<p> +It was not much past noon when the plains began to give place to +undulating ground, richer in vegetation, and with great clumps of +dark-foliaged trees here and there; and it was soon after that that +Gray caught his first glimpse of the river, and saw the roofs of the +station gleaming in the sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Morton had spent the morning watching the men at work on the new +cottages he was building near his own house for his head shepherds and +stock-keepers. They were comfortable, roomy cottages, looking down on +the river, with gardens before them, which Mr. Morton intended to be as +well stocked and as pretty as his own. +</p> + +<p> +"They will be finished in another week," he said to his wife. He had +come back to the house across the garden, and found her sitting in the +shady verandah. "And I have made up my mind, Minnie, who's to have the +one we meant for Murray." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Morton put down her needle-work, and looked eagerly at her +husband. Murray had lately left them to start a run of his own, and +Mr. Morton had been undecided who should take his post. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall give it to Harding," he said. "I'll ride over and tell him so +to-morrow. You'll like having him on the station, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am very glad indeed," said little Mrs. Morton with energy. "And how +delighted he will be. He will be able to get everything ready before +his wife and boys get here. They don't leave England till next week. +He was telling me all about them when last he was over here." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I knew he was a great favourite of yours, my dear," said her +husband with a well-pleased look. "And if he isn't as sharp as some, +he is as true as steel. I thought it all over this morning, and I +believe he's my best man." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Morton was called into the house at that moment, and her husband +strolled into the garden to await his summons to the mid-day meal. He +had not been there many moments when his quick ear caught the sound of +rapid hoof-beats on the road below the house. A gate from the garden +led into the road, and Mr. Morton hurried towards it. Gray had +intended to ride up to the other side of the house, but when he saw Mr. +Morton at the gate he checked his horse and flung himself off. There +was no need for him to speak for Mr. Morton to know he brought bad +news. His whole frame was trembling as he stood steadying himself by +his horse; his lips were white as death. +</p> + +<p> +"Something has happened to Harding, is that it?" exclaimed Mr. Morton +when Gray had twice tried to make his voice audible and failed. +</p> + +<p> +"I fear so," Gray gasped out. "He has not come back. He started +yesterday morning for Big Creek, and he has not come back." +</p> + +<p> +Gray had determined beforehand what to say, but he had not known it +would be so difficult. His eyes fell before Mr. Morton's glance, as if +that glance could read his soul. But Mr. Morton had never felt so +warmly towards Gray as he did at that moment. He was a better fellow +than he had thought him, he said to himself, to feel Harding's +disappearance so keenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, my lad," he said kindly, "you go into the house and ask +Mrs. Morton to give you something to eat. You're just tired out, you +know, and won't be fit for anything till you've had a rest. Oh, you +shall go with us," he added as he saw Gray's hesitating look. "But we +can't start for another hour. I must send over to Billoora for a man +or two. Don't be so downhearted about it, Gray. We shall find him, +never fear." +</p> + +<p> +But Mr. Morton's cheerful prophecy was not destined to be verified. +The search for Harding was long and thorough—and fruitless. His horse +was found lying dead, with an ugly wound in its neck from the horn of a +bull; but Harding and his dog were gone. +</p> + +<p> +Gray grew very worn and haggard in those weeks of waiting. His youth +went from him. They attributed his changed looks at the station to his +grief for Harding. It was enough to unhinge any man, they said—that +mysterious loss of his mate. And in this explanation they were partly +right. At first, Gray's remorse was almost more than he could bear. +He was one of the most eager in the search-party. He rode day after +day across those barren wastes of back-country, and spared no effort to +find some sign of the missing man. But when the search was at last +given up as hopeless, when those on the station began to take Harding's +death for granted, and life began to flow on in the ordinary channel, +then Gray's mind went back to the map he had destroyed, and the +treasure hidden in Deadman's Gully. +</p> + +<p> +He was thinking of it one afternoon as he was riding across to Billoora +on an errand for Mr. Morton. It was a clear beautiful afternoon, and +the air on the grassy uplands was fresh and bracing. Gray might have +taken the river road, which was a mile or two nearer, but it would have +led him past the cottages, and he could not bear to look at them—the +remembrance that Harding was to have had one of them was too +exquisitely painful. But on the uplands there was nothing to remind +him of Harding—the richly-green rolling wooded pastures were +altogether unlike the gray plains round the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Gray gazed about him and thought of England. If he got that money he +would go back there; his mind was fully made up on that point. And +though he had not yet said so in so many words to himself, he knew he +intended to get the money. Only the day before he had refused a new +post offered to him by Mr. Morton, and said that he wished to leave the +station in a week or two. And this afternoon, for the first time since +Harding's disappearance, he allowed himself to dwell on the great and +wonderful change the finding of the treasure would make in his life. +</p> + +<p> +Absorbed in these thoughts he did not notice the approach of a man +along the grassy track. The man was walking slowly and painfully, +carrying a bundle over his shoulder. He was a small, wiry, +narrow-shouldered man, with a thin peaked face, from which a pair of +small eyes looked keenly out from under thick reddish eyebrows. He had +caught sight of Gray long before Gray saw him, and after walking some +distance towards him, he sat down on the bank and waited for him to +come up. Gray checked his horse to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"You look tired, my man." +</p> + +<p> +Gray's tone of cool superiority was not resented by the wayfarer. He +got up and came nearer. +</p> + +<p> +"I've had a longish tramp," he said in a thin, not unpleasant voice. +"I'm bound for Warrandilla, Mr. Morton's place. I've begun to fear as +how I've missed my road." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you're all right!" Gray returned indifferently; "the station is +just over the rise there. You'll see it in a mile or so." +</p> + +<p> +The man looked in the direction Gray pointed, and then turned his eyes +again on Gray's face. Curious, shifty, cunning eyes they were—eyes +that went well with the narrow, cruel mouth, and the sharply-pointed +chin. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you're Mr. Morton yourself, sir," he said ingratiatingly. +"You deserve to be, I'm sure." +</p> + +<p> +"No such luck," said Gray with a laugh, not ill pleased at the man's +suggestion. "But you'll find him at home if you go on. I've just left +him." +</p> + +<p> +Gray was about to ride on, when the man spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't detain you a minute, sir, but perhaps you can tell me if I've +got a chance of some work over there." +</p> + +<p> +"It depends on what you can do, and who you are, you know," said Gray, +with a brief comprehensive glance over the man's figure. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd better not try to play any tricks with Morton if you want him to +help you. That's a friendly bit of advice I'll give you." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir; I'll remember it," was the humbly-spoken answer, +though there was a sudden gleam in the pale blue eyes that Gray did not +see. "I've heard along the road what a good employer he is. They were +tellin' me at Billoora last night about the poor cove what was lost. I +suppose there's no chance that he'll ever be found now, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray felt the colour going out of his cheeks at the sudden reference to +Harding. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid not," he said hurriedly. "But I must go on. There's your +road straight in front of you. You can't miss it." +</p> + +<p> +The man had put his hand on the neck of the horse, and he still kept it +there. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry I spoke, sir. I can see as how you're a friend of his, and +I wish I'd held my tongue. But 'tis his mate I pities most. How's he +bearin' it now, sir? They was tellin' me he's nigh broken-hearted." +</p> + +<p> +Gray stared blankly at the man for a moment without answering. Then he +recovered himself and said with some haughtiness, "I would rather not +talk of it, my man. Just let my horse go, will you? I'm in a hurry." +</p> + +<p> +The man stepped back instantly with a word of apology, and Gray rode on +without looking back. If he had turned his head he would have seen his +late companion gazing after him with a satirical smile on his crafty +face. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll have some more talk afore long, my fine gentleman," he was +saying. "You didn't think, did you, that I knowed who you was? Them +men at Billoora aren't half-bad at a description." +</p> + +<p> +And with a laugh Mr. Lumley, as he chose to call himself at that +particular moment, went on his way. +</p> + +<p> +He was bent on staying at Warrandilla for a time, and would have tried +his hand at any work offered to him, but as it turned out the work he +could do best was just the work that was wanted, and he got regular +employment at once. Mrs. Morton was devoted to her garden, and Lumley +was really a clever gardener; so that, though she could not help +agreeing with her husband's verdict about the man, she was eager to +keep him. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley made no secret of his past "misfortunes." +</p> + +<p> +He had been shipped to the colony while it was still a convict station, +and his record was by no means a good one since his first term had been +worked out. +</p> + +<p> +"But I have never had a good chance before, madam," he said to Mrs. +Morton, trying to keep his shifty eyes fixed in a straightforward look +upon her face. "I've never had a good kind friend like you before. +Please God, I'll do well now." +</p> + +<p> +And though Mrs. Morton distrusted his professions of reform, she found +him a clever steady workman, and one most anxious to please. He became +one of the most frequent attendants at the religious services which Mr. +Morton held two or three times a week in the little chapel next his +house. +</p> + +<p> +If Mr. Morton had been a different sort of man the new gardener might +have gone on to worse hypocrisy still, but there was something in his +employer's strong keen face that kept him back from that. +</p> + +<p> +As Lumley put it to himself, "Shammin' religion is no go with him." +</p> + +<p> +It was about three weeks after Lumley's appearance at the station that +Gray's time for departure came. Everyone was very kind to him; their +kindness and sympathy cut him to the heart. They tried to comfort him +by telling him that no one could have shown more energy in the search +than he had, that nothing had been left undone, and that Harding +himself would have been the last to wish that his friends should grieve +too much. In some such strain Mr. Morton talked to him when he went to +the house to bid him good-bye. +</p> + +<p> +"You must cheer up, my lad," he said kindly. "You have done all you +could. No man can do more." +</p> + +<p> +Gray made no reply, nor did he raise his gloomy eyes to meet the +pleasant kindly glance of his employer. Mr. Morton went on: "So you +are thinking of going back to the old country, Gray. Well, there ought +to be room there for a man like you; and I don't wonder at your wanting +to get away from here after what's happened." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not sailing for a month or so," said Gray. He spoke hurriedly, +clearing his throat before he could articulate the words properly. "I +think of taking a trip into the mountains. I don't feel equal to the +voyage just now." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, take care of yourself; and let us know how you get along." He +took Gray's hand and pressed it warmly. "God bless you, my lad!" +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked up into his face with such a strange, wild, miserable +glance that Mr. Morton started. He put his hand on the young man's +shoulder and looked earnestly at him. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, Gray? There is something troubling you. Can I help you?" +</p> + +<p> +But Gray drew back. +</p> + +<p> +"There is nothing," he said coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"But there <i>is</i> something," Mr. Morton said to his wife that evening. +"Can Gray be keeping back something about Harding, Minnie? I confess I +am not altogether satisfied with the result of the search. Harding was +not a man to get lost in the Bush; he knew the country too well. And +yet—" +</p> + +<p> +"You don't suspect Harding of pretending to be lost?" said his little +wife with an amazed look. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no; Harding was not a man to do that sort of thing. I never +suspected anything till I saw Gray's face this afternoon. But there is +some mystery; and Gray knows more than he has told. I feel sure of +that." +</p> + +<p> +"What shall you do?" asked Mrs. Morton, with a startled look on her +pretty face. +</p> + +<p> +"What can I do?" +</p> + +<p> +"You don't think Gray—" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't put it into words, Minnie. I have no right to think anything. +But his face startled me. No man ever looked like that who hadn't got +some great trouble weighing on him. And he wasn't so devoted to +Harding as all that, you know. It surprised me to see how much he felt +it." +</p> + +<p> +"I always thought he patronized Harding; believed himself too good for +him." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I know you never liked Gray much," returned her husband, "Harding +liked him though. He must have something in him." +</p> + +<p> +To get back to his own quarters Gray had to cross the garden. It was +looking its loveliest this afternoon. The turf was as green if not as +smooth as the turf of an English lawn, and the glow of colour was more +brilliant than any English garden could show. Gray loved flowers. But +he passed through that beautiful garden without a glance right or left, +with his eyes bent upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Not far from the gate which he would have to pass through Lumley was +busy cutting the grass with a hand-machine. He had been working in +another part of the garden when Gray had gone up to the house, but had +caught sight of him as he crossed to the verandah steps. Soon after he +left the work he was about in order to cut the grass by the gate. +</p> + +<p> +It was a curious trait in his vicious character that he really loved +his gardening work. He had come to the station for a definite purpose, +a purpose nearly fulfilled—he was leaving the place at dawn next +morning—yet he was working busily still in the pleasant evening light, +anxious to leave the grass in perfect order. Mrs. Morton never had +such a good gardener again. He was not working too busily, however, to +be unmindful of Gray's approach. He watched him with a crafty sidelong +look as he came swinging down the path, and when he was quite close to +him he touched his cap as an English servant might have done in +respectful greeting. He had saluted Gray in the same manner before, +and Gray had been curiously pleased by it. +</p> + +<p> +"Good evening, my man," he said loftily and would have passed on. But +Lumley stepped out on the path. He had taken off his cap and he turned +it round and round in his hands as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Beggin' your pardon, sir," he said humbly, "But I was wantin' to speak +to you. I took the liberty of callin' on you this afternoon, but you +was out." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it you want?" said Gray. "I am leaving the station to-morrow, +you know." +</p> + +<p> +"That's the very reason, sir." He looked up suddenly from under his +bushy eyebrows. "I'm leavin' the station too. Perhaps you didn't know +that, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"I hadn't heard it," said Gray indifferently. "Aren't you comfortable +here, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't what I've been used to, sir. I've been a gentleman's +servant. Gentlemen as knows how to treat a servant. <i>Real</i> +gentlemen." Then came again the sudden crafty look. +</p> + +<p> +"That was in England, I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir, before my 'misfortunes' came upon me. I had many good +places; and that's the sort of work which suits me best. I'm goin' to +try to get a place again, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," said Gray, a little impatient at all this. +</p> + +<p> +"And when I heard as you'd come into a fortune, sir, I says to myself, +'Mr. Gray'll be wanting a servant, and if he would take me on how +blessed I should be!'" +</p> + +<p> +Gray's face had turned an ashy white. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you talking of?" he said sharply. He recovered himself with +an effort, and added in a milder tone: "I expect I'm poorer than you +are, Lumley. I've hardly enough to live on myself, let alone a +servant." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, sir! I'm very sorry, for if anybody would grace a fortune +'twould be you, sir." +</p> + +<p> +He turned his cloth cap round and round in his hands as he added: +</p> + +<p> +"Then you don't want a servant, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray laughed out. +</p> + +<p> +"Most decidedly not, my man. But I must go on, I'm busy." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley stood in his way and did not move. +</p> + +<p> +"If I didn't want any wages, sir? I'd like to go along with you, if +only for the journey down to Adelaide. I'd serve you faithfully, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"It's utterly impossible—out of the question," exclaimed Gray with a +wave of the hand. "Besides, I'm not going to Adelaide." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, sir!" +</p> + +<p> +It had been a slip of the tongue, which Gray repented at once. +</p> + +<p> +"It's altogether out of the question, my good fellow," he said. "You +must have been dreaming to think of it. Now, will you let me pass? I +have a great deal to do." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley stepped aside. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you humbly good-bye, sir, and good luck. There's riches in +your face, sir; I see 'em as plain as can be. You'll think of me when +the good times come." +</p> + +<p> +Gray turned a quivering face upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" he gasped, and then he stopped and gave an unsteady +smile. "I'll certainly think of you when my riches come, my man. It's +an easy promise to make." +</p> + +<p> +He waved his hand in hurried farewell and hastened along the path. +Lumley stood looking after him with an evil glance. +</p> + +<p> +"You will think of me, my fine gentleman, and no mistake." +</p> + +<p> +And he chuckled harshly to himself. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IV. +</h3> + +<h4> +IN QUEST OF TREASURE. +</h4> + +<p> +Gray's spirits rose when he had left the station behind him and found +himself riding along the well-worn track towards the hills, that showed +themselves in clear outline against the brightening morning sky. +</p> + +<p> +With a good horse under him and the fresh wind blowing on his face, he +found it easy to convince himself that it would not have made any +difference if he had gone back with the dog. He found it easy to look +forward instead of backward, to make resolutions about using the money +well, instead of indulging in vain repentance for the past. +</p> + +<p> +It was a clear beautiful morning. The country Gray was riding through +was very unlike the level pastures he had lived on for months. It was +undulating and richly wooded. Here and there a stream, full and strong +in this joyous spring-time, flashed white in the dawn. Westwards rose +the great hills, blue in the distance, the hills towards which Gray was +riding. It was a country to make glad the heart of man, where he might +richly enjoy the fruits of his labour. +</p> + +<p> +It was not thickly settled as yet. Gray passed but few houses in that +day's far ride, and it was long past dusk when he rode up to Mr. +Macquoid's, who owned the run next to Mr. Morton's, and where Mr. +Morton had advised him to stop that night. +</p> + +<p> +Gray received a warm welcome. Tea was brought for him into the +pleasant sitting-room, where Mr. Macquoid's wife and daughters were +eager to hear Gray's account of Harding's disappearance. Mr. Macquoid +had sent out a search-party on his own account, for he knew Harding +well. +</p> + +<p> +It irritated Gray savagely to find how warm and eager an interest they +all took in the lost man. He could have spent such a delightful +evening in that charming house, with those pretty girls. The piano was +open, and Gray was fond of music and could sing well. It would have +delighted him to prove to them his musical abilities. And the books in +the low book-cases, the etchings and engravings on the walls, the +periodicals and newspapers fresh from England, that lay heaped on the +round table by the window, showed that the Macquoids had a keen +cultured interest in literature and art. Gray could have talked to +them of so many things, showed them so easily how wide his knowledge +was, how correct his taste. +</p> + +<p> +But they would talk of nothing but Harding. They seemed to think it +was the only subject Gray could feel any interest in just then. He was +thankful when the evening was over. +</p> + +<p> +His next resting-place was a small station close under the shadow of +the hills. Here only vague rumours of Harding's loss had come, and +Gray found it easy to say nothing of his connection with the lost man. +</p> + +<p> +A strange thing happened to him that night. He was put to sleep in a +small room opening on the rough verandah that ran round the house. It +was a hot still night, and the window was left open. Gray lay awake +for the first part of the night. He was restless and excited and could +not sleep. But towards morning he fell into a heavy dreamless slumber, +from which he was roughly awakened by a sharp, sudden noise. +</p> + +<p> +He started up in bed and looked round the room. A man was standing +with his back to him in the act of picking up the chair he had just +thrown over. In the dim starlight Gray could just see him as he bent +over the chair. With a sharp exclamation Gray sprang out of bed and +made a dash at him. But the man was too quick. He wriggled out of +Gray's grasp as a snake might wriggle out of its captor's clutch, and +keeping his head well down, that Gray might not see his face, he dashed +out of the window and across the court-yard. Gray saw him disappear +over the fence, and run swiftly down the hollow. +</p> + +<p> +He struck a light and carefully examined the room. His purse was safe. +Everything in his pocket was left intact. +</p> + +<p> +Gray's story caused great excitement next morning. There had never +been an attempt at robbery in the station before. +</p> + +<p> +"It must have been a black fellow," Mr. Stuart said. But Gray was +certain it was no black man. If it had not been absurd to think of +such a thing, he would have said it was Lumley, the Mortons' gardener. +</p> + +<p> +But he dismissed that idea as absurd and impossible. +</p> + +<p> +His next day's ride took him into the heart of the hill-country. The +track was far less clearly marked here, and often difficult to follow. +It ran through deep lonely ravines walled in by precipitous heights of +dark rock, and along the sides of mighty hills from which glimpses +could be got of still higher hills, towering up into the still blue +sky. Some of the hills were darkly wooded, others were clothed in rich +grass and flowering shrubs almost to the summits; others again, and +these more numerous as Gray rode on, were bare of blade or leaf, heaped +with dark scarred rocks, waterless, desolate. +</p> + +<p> +Gray missed his road once or twice that day; and once he was unable to +cross a furious torrent which had swept down the frail bridge laid +across it, and was forced to make a long round. +</p> + +<p> +There was a small cottage in these parts kept by M'Pherson, an old +stock-keeper of Mr. Macquoid's. Gray had hoped to leave it far behind +him in this day's journey, but he was only too glad to see it when he +had at last regained the track just after sunset. He and his horse +were both tired out. +</p> + +<p> +The old man came to his cottage door as Gray clattered up the hilly +path. He looked at Gray, and then beyond him. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye're kindly welcome, lad. But hasna your mate come up wi' ye?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked involuntarily behind him. The path stretched away lonely +and desolate in the gathering darkness. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" he asked; turning a pale face on M'Pherson. "I am +quite alone." +</p> + +<p> +"Weel, weel; there was a callant here no' sae lang syne, speering after +ye. Aye, 'twas you he meant. A weel set-up, black-haired chap, he +said, riding a roan horse wi' a white blaze in front." +</p> + +<p> +Gray got off his horse and stood with his hand upon the bridle. +</p> + +<p> +"I know no one about here. You must be mistaken," he said. But he +said it falteringly, and a cold sweat broke out upon his brow. The +idea had flashed upon him that it might be Harding who was tracking his +footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +"What was he like?" he asked, as carelessly as he could. +</p> + +<p> +"A soft-spoken callant wi' reddish hair—a puir thin sort o' body wi' a +ferrety face. Sae ye didna luke for him? Weel, weel, maybe it's no a +maitter for greeting that ye havena come across him. I wadna hae gi'en +muckle for his honesty. But ye wull be wanting a meal, lad, and your +bonnie horse too. Yon's the stable. A gude man is gude to his +beastie, and ye'll no be wanting me to assist." +</p> + +<p> +He bustled into the house without waiting for Gray to speak. He would +have waited long, for Gray was too startled to speak. He began to +think it must be Lumley who was following him. He slowly led his horse +to the stable and made it comfortable, and then went back to the house. +He stopped at the door to look back into the dusk. +</p> + +<p> +The house was built in a green hollow carved out of the side of a steep +hill. The ground rose steeply behind the place, rising up into a +jagged ridge against the sky. In front there was a small flat meadow +immediately before the house; then the ground fell almost precipitously +and then rose again, with only a narrow ravine between. The opposite +hills were higher than the hill under which the cottage was built, and +frowned above it in heavy overhanging masses of rock. As Gray looked +up he could only distinguish the vague dark outlines of the gloomy +hills. A thousand men might have been hidden in the hollows and he +would have been none the wiser. He listened intently, but there was no +sound of human life. The wind had fallen, and the rush of the stream +at the bottom of the ravine was the only sound that struck his ear. +</p> + +<p> +M'Pherson had a comfortable meal prepared for him, late as it was. But +Gray could not eat. He was too excited and uneasy. He tried to get a +clear description of the man who had asked for him, but M'Pherson could +tell him little more. The man had come to the door about four in the +afternoon. He explained that he was expecting to come up with a friend +along that road, and wanted to know how far he was ahead. +</p> + +<p> +"He seemed verra oneasy when I told him I'd set eyes on naebody the day +lang. I tauld him ye must hae gone the ither road." +</p> + +<p> +"I missed my way." +</p> + +<p> +"Aye, 'twas that made ye sae late. And sae ye arena acquent wi' the +man? 'Tis verra strange." +</p> + +<p> +Yes, it was very strange. The more Gray thought of it the more +alarming it seemed. And then quite suddenly an explanation came to +him, which, while it did not remove the annoyance of the occurrence, +robbed it of all its more alarming elements. The explanation was +this:— +</p> + +<p> +Lumley had evidently conceived an absurd dog-like affection for him. +The fellow had not taken his refusal to have him as a servant as a +final one, and was following him in the hope that he might still be +taken on. He had not dared to come face to face with Gray. Perhaps +when he had entered the room at Mr. Stuart's (for Gray was now +convinced that it was Lumley he saw) he intended to make one more +appeal, but Gray's sudden wakening had startled him too much. +</p> + +<p> +Gray's face cleared as he forced himself to accept this explanation as +the true one. He stretched himself with the air of one who throws off +a burden. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll turn in," he said, yawning as he spoke. "But I'll have another +look at my horse first." +</p> + +<p> +"Aye, do, my lad. But ye needna feel oneasy aboot your horse. Sandy +here"—and he looked down at the old sheep-dog at his knee—"wull hear +ony step that comes near the house, be it e'er sae saft." +</p> + +<p> +Gray shuddered as his glance fell on the dog. He was looking up at his +master just as Watch used to look at Harding. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye arena that fond o' dogs," said the old man quickly. He had noticed +Gray's look. "But Sandy's nae common dog. I could tell you mony a +tale o' his cleverness." +</p> + +<p> +He patted the dog's head and looked across at Gray, who had resumed his +seat and was staring fixedly into the fire. He had turned deadly pale. +M'Pherson's shrewd kindly eyes dwelt on him for a moment. Gray was +conscious of the look and roused himself with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +"How far is it to Daintry's Corner?" he asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +Daintry's Corner was close to Rodwell's Peak, and Gray was making that +the apparent end of his journey. +</p> + +<p> +"Aboot a maitter o' twal mile or sae. Ye'll win it by mid-day the +morn." He paused a moment and then added: "Ye look ower pale, my lad, +for sic journeying amang the hills. Ye wad do weel to tak' a bit rest; +and it's lang since I've set een on a braw lad like you. A day or +twa's rest wi' me wad freshen you up." +</p> + +<p> +Gray hastily declined the invitation, and then, feeling he had been too +abrupt, he said: +</p> + +<p> +"I am sailing for England in a month, and I want to get a good idea of +your hill scenery. I've lived on the plains a great deal, and this is +my first opportunity." +</p> + +<p> +"Eh! I ken what the plains are. I lived nigh the allotted span o' +life upon them—saxty years I lived there. I cam from Scotland a bairn +o' seven, and I lived on the Macquoid estate till I cam up here." +</p> + +<p> +"Whatever made you leave your home for this lonely spot?" Gray asked, +glad to keep the old man talking about himself to prevent any more +curious inquiries about his own doings. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye wadna understand if ye werena born amang the hills, lad. The +gudewife, she kent how I felt, and when the Lord took her hame the +hills seemed to ca' more and more on me. It's no lonely here; there's +voices everywhere. Did ye ever think, my lad, o' the way the Bible +speaks of hills an' a' high places. 'The shadow o' a great rock in a +weary land.' Yon's a grand passage; but the fu' meaning naebody can +understand wha hasna kent the thirst and heat o' a waterless desert. +Were ye ever lost in the Bush, lad?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray stared across at him in angry bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +"Never," he said abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Ye may be thankful; 'tis a terrible place. The skies like brass abune +your head; the grund like parchment under your feet. I was a lost man +amang those deserts once. Four days I wandered through dry and thirsty +places. Eh, sirs, 'twas a terrible time! But the Lord brought me +through; thanks be to His holy name!" +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not speak. The old man's words had called up in clear vision +those endless deserts of scorched sand, where the very herbage was +hateful to look upon, and the blessed light became a consuming fire. +Had Harding, faint with his wounds, wandered helplessly there till he +fell to rise no more? +</p> + +<p> +M'Pherson got up and reached down the great Bible that lay by itself on +the shelf above his head. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis time for evening worship, my lad. I'll read ye a chapter." +</p> + +<p> +He sat down and placed the Bible on the table, and put on his +silver-rimmed spectacles. Gray leant back in his chair and folded his +arms, and prepared himself to listen. The old man looked at his face, +and then turned over the leaves of his Bible with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll read ye what has often been a comfort to me, my lad," he said. +</p> + +<p> +But Gray's eyes had fallen on the sheepdog, and he had seen it drag +itself up, with ears upraised and head pointed at the door, in the very +attitude of Watch that night the fugitive Dearing had been outside the +hut. +</p> + +<p> +"Look at the dog!" he stammered out to M'Pherson. "He hears someone +outside the house." +</p> + +<p> +"That's verra onlikely," said M'Pherson with a calmness that was +intensely irritating to Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"He isn't much use as a dog if he makes that fuss for nothing," Gray +returned. +</p> + +<p> +"Weel, weel, we are baith getting auld thegither." +</p> + +<p> +M'Pherson rose as he spoke and went to the door to open it. +</p> + +<p> +"You are not going out?" Gray cried. +</p> + +<p> +The old man turned a wondering face upon him. +</p> + +<p> +"Wad ye keep the door barred on sic a nicht as this, if there's onybody +outside i' the wind and rain? A braw laddie like you suld hae nae +fears: ye suld leave that to the women, puir feeble folk." +</p> + +<p> +Gray's face grew scarlet at the rebuke. He said no more, and M'Pherson +opened the door and peered out into the dark, stormy night. He shouted +once or twice, but there was no answer nor sound of footsteps. If the +dog had heard footsteps they had now ceased; and only the voices of +wind, and rain, and rushing torrent came up the glen. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER V. +</h3> + +<h4> +DEADMAN'S GULLY. +</h4> + +<p> +Gray reached Daintry's Corner before noon on the following day. For +some miles before reaching his destination his road had lain through a +deep narrow gorge, with gigantic walls on each side of almost +perpendicular rock. Much of the rock was bare, and of a sullen, +cheerless brown, but here and there trees sprang out of hollows and +showed green against the rock, and dark-leaved climbing plants flung +their long arms from crevice to crevice, and hung in gloomy wreaths +along the broken ground. +</p> + +<p> +The morning had come with sunshine and gentle breezes, but no sunshine +reached this frowning ravine, and the air there was damp, and heavy, +and close. +</p> + +<p> +The ravine had run in an almost straight line for some miles, and Gray +was beginning to weary for its end, when he suddenly checked his horse +with a start of amazement and dismay. Some few hundred yards before +him the ravine apparently came to a full stop. A great precipice rose +up before him closing up the end of the gorge—a precipice far too +steep for any track to run over it. +</p> + +<p> +Gray began to think he had come to a cul de sac, and that he should be +obliged to retrace his steps, but before doing so he determined to ride +on to the foot of the precipice before him and examine the ground +carefully. +</p> + +<p> +A new surprise awaited him there. He found that the gorge took a +sudden turn here, in fact, ran on at right angles to its former course, +though considerably narrower and closed in by walls of rock higher and +gloomier than ever. +</p> + +<p> +The bottom of this new part of the gorge was not open and grassy, but +studded thickly with enormous trees clad in dark heavy foliage. It was +a gloomy spot to enter, and Gray hesitated; yet it was evident the +track went this way. There was the mark of a horse's footstep just +before him, freshly made too! +</p> + +<p> +Gray's eyes fell on this as he was looking along the ground, and he +sprang off his horse to more closely examine it. Some one had +evidently passed here quite lately. As Gray looked he saw that the +footsteps ceased a short way up the glen, and that when they ceased the +ground was slightly broken away as if horse and rider had tried to +climb the cliff. With a rush of sudden, unexplainable terror, Gray +looked up the steep impassable wall of rock. Horse and rider had gone +that way! But how?—and for what purpose? He listened intently, but +no sound came to his ear that spoke of a living presence. An +oppressive silence reigned on every side. +</p> + +<p> +Gray was no coward, but the blood forsook his cheek and his knees +trembled under him. Who was it that was haunting him thus? He dared +not make any answer to himself. He dared not stay longer in that dark +and silent spot. Taking his horse by the bridle he led him hastily +onwards, picking his way with difficulty through the mighty tree-trunks +and among the wave-worn boulders that lay between them. The trees grew +so near together that it was impossible to see more than a yard or so +ahead. +</p> + +<p> +Gray was stumbling blindly on, with the belief growing in him that the +gorge was impassable, and that he would be forced to go back past that +spot in the cliffs which chilled him to think of; when suddenly the +light grew brighter through the trees, a keen breeze blew upon his +face; in a few steps, the trees ended, and the gorge ceased. Gray +found himself standing on a rocky platform commanding a glorious view. +There lay the hills, rising range after range before him, bathed in the +sunshine of early noon. It was a wonderful prospect—a sight to make +one's heart leap up; and Gray stood entranced, drinking in all its +beauty, forgetting himself and his errand. +</p> + +<p> +But not for long. He had soon to consider his path; and, as he looked +round him with that purpose in his mind, all the glory seemed to die +out of the scene, and his pleasure in it passed away. For this must be +Daintry's Corner, Gray concluded. He must be very near the end of his +journey. +</p> + +<p> +He looked keenly along the ranges of hills in front of him, but he +could not see the towering battlements of Rodwell's Peak. That must +lie behind him. M'Pherson had directed him to a small settlement some +miles beyond Daintry's Corner. Gray could see the roofs of the houses +over the slope of one of the lower hills to the right of him. He +determined he would spend the night there if he could reach it in time, +but his first business was to find Rodwell's Peak, and then to search +for Deadman's Gully. Once the exact spot was reached, he hoped soon to +find the treasure. Gray did not anticipate much difficulty in taking +it away. +</p> + +<p> +The robbery of the Bank at Adelaide by Dearing had made a great +sensation at the time. He had carried off more than £30,000 in gold +and notes; and he had managed to change much of the gold and all the +notes for Bank of England notes, whose numbers were not known. The +notes Gray could easily carry away and much of the gold. The remainder +he had determined to leave behind him safely buried. It was better to +lose a part than run the risk of discovery by weighting himself too +much. A few hours would suffice for this, he thought, then he +determined to go down to the settlement for the night, and make his way +to Adelaide by another route. Nothing should prevail upon him to go +back the same way: he had long ago decided that, and recent events had +made his determination more fixed than ever. +</p> + +<p> +But now to reach Rodwell's Peak! Gray carefully examined the ground, +and made up his mind that his road lay along the rocky platform or +terrace on which the gorge had ended, and which seemed to run along the +hills through which the gorge had cleft its way. He made a rough +calculation, and then decided to follow the terrace in its westerly +direction. He called his horse, which had begun to graze on the short +sweet grass that clothed the gentle slopes above the terrace, and set +off on the road he had chosen. +</p> + +<p> +If he had looked backwards down the gloomy ravine he had just left +behind him, he might have seen a face looking cautiously out through +the dark boughs of the trees—an evil sallow face with reddish slanting +eyebrows. But Gray did not look back. He was too excited at the near +fruition that awaited his hopes. All the fears that had assailed him, +all the remorse that had been growing up in him disappeared as mists +disappear before the morning sun. He mounted his horse and rode gaily +along the broad even platform, whistling as he went. The platform or +ledge continued for some time, sloping almost imperceptibly downwards +till it ended in a wide, grassy, meadow-like valley, with a giant +eucalyptus in the midst of it. Through the valley a stream went +singing—every ripple making a line of silver in the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +Gray crossed the valley, stopping to let his horse drink at the stream, +and to take a draught himself. The hills beyond the valley were strewn +in places with great boulders, but it was easy to find a path, and Gray +made good progress for a time. Then the way became rougher and more +precipitous, but Gray pushed hurriedly on; for over the shoulder of the +next hill rose the jagged crest of Rodwell's Peak. He knew the +knife-like edge of the lower summit, the towering outlines of the peak +itself. Now a well-defined track began to disclose itself running in +easy curves down the hill and along the rocky bottom. +</p> + +<p> +Gray rode more slowly, his heart beating wildly. This must be the +track Harding had spoken of, leading from the settlements below. He +kept a sharp look-out, but no sign of a gully disclosed itself, though +Rodwell's Peak rose well in front. +</p> + +<p> +The valley, at the bottom of which the track ran, had been wide at +first, with sloping shelving sides, richly covered with foliage. But +now it was narrowing fast; the sides were growing steeper and steeper, +and the vegetation less abundant Gray rode slowly, stopping every now +and then to examine the rocks for an opening between them. It could +not be far off. Looking down the valley the towering crest of +Rodwell's Peak was all that could be seen. It rose at the mouth of the +valley like a mighty sentinel guarding the fortress of the hills. But +though Gray carefully examined the rocks on either side, he could find +no trace of a gully running between them. +</p> + +<p> +He rode on until he reached the point where the valley ended, and the +land began to shelve upwards before him. He saw that the track ran +across the shoulder of Rodwell's Peak, but he did not follow it. It +was useless to do that. He felt certain that the opening into +Deadman's Gully lay in the valley behind him. +</p> + +<p> +He turned his horse and rode backwards. As he turned, a sharp sound +caught his ears, and he checked his horse to listen. It ceased +instantly, and though he stopped there for some moments listening +intently it did not recur. The sound had been like the beat of a +horse's hoofs against hard rock. But there was no sign of horse or +rider to be seen. The valley was silent, save for the hoarse cry of a +magpie among the trees and the rush of a stream in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +Gray rode slowly back, but he did not pursue his search with any +vigour; he had been too much startled by that sudden sound. He tried +to reason himself into believing that it was a mere hallucination of +hearing, that the fall of a stone down the steep hill had been mistaken +by him for the clatter of a horse's feet. But reason as he would the +conviction remained strong within him that it was a horse he had heard, +and he was looking more carefully, as he rode down the valley, for +other signs of a horseman's presence, than for the opening into +Deadman's Gully. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite accidentally that, about half-way down the valley, he +noticed a crevice in the rocks, on his left hand, thickly hung with +creepers. It was more a crack in the rock than a crevice, so narrow +was it, and only by looking some distance up could it be seen at all, +for its lower portion was entirely hidden by a curtain of hanging +foliage. But it was the only opening of any sort that Gray had +discovered, and he determined to examine it more closely, though it +seemed absurd to suppose that this could be the entrance he sought. +</p> + +<p> +He rode up to the bottom of the fissure and dragged aside the heavy +creepers. A wild thrill went through him as he discovered that the +crack widened towards the ground into an opening just large enough for +a man and horse to pass through. Gray could not see where the dark +passage before him led, for after a few yards it took a sudden turn to +the right, but he determined at once to make a thorough investigation. +</p> + +<p> +He got off his horse and cut away with some difficulty enough of the +curtaining foliage to allow an easy passage through. Then, with a long +fearful look up and down the lonely valley, he entered the cleft. His +entrance disturbed a vast number of bats, that flew shrieking out of +the damp hollows of the rocks and whirled wildly round him. Their +cries had an eerie sound well in keeping with the gloomy spot. But +Gray pushed doggedly on, soothing his good horse with voice and hand, +and becoming more and more convinced that he was on the right track. +</p> + +<p> +After some distance the passage widened, and he began to see broad +daylight ahead of him. A few yards more and he came out into a narrow +valley heaped with rocks. +</p> + +<p> +It was a gloomy, dreadful place, shut in by high, bare, precipitous +cliffs. The passage by which Gray had just entered seemed to be the +only mode of access: no human foot could scale those dark overhanging +cliffs. There was but little vegetation. Some coarse grass grew in +the hollows and on the ledges of the rocks, and a gray-leaved +repulsive-looking bramble spread its gnarled branches thickly along the +uneven bottom of the gully. +</p> + +<p> +But Gray looked in vain for the mighty tree he had expected to see, +towering up in the midst of the valley. There were no trees of any +kind in the place. Yet Gray felt sure that he had reached the right +spot, and a discovery he made after a brief survey supported his +opinion. This was a ruined hut built under the shelter of a shelving +piece of rock. It was a hut built of logs; the roof was partly off and +the roughly made door was lying rotting on the ground. This deserted, +ruinous hut only added a new touch of desolation to the dreary gully. +Gray involuntarily shivered as he stood before it and his horse tugged +restlessly at the bridle. +</p> + +<p> +He fastened the horse securely to the door-post and stepped into the +hut. The floor was of beaten earth. It was heaped up now with the +<i>débris</i> of the fallen roof, but Gray could see where the rude hearth +had been and where a half-smouldered log still lay. The walls were +intact. They were strongly built of heavy logs fastened securely +together. The hut might have been built for a miniature fortress, so +strong were its walls. +</p> + +<p> +Who had built the hut? Where had the logs come from that formed its +walls? Gray carefully considered these questions. He remembered now +that Harding had told him of some big trees that were in the gully when +a gang of bushrangers, who had made the place their home, had been +broken up. There were trees in the gully then. What had become of +them? +</p> + +<p> +Gray stepped hastily out and carefully examined the ground. It did not +take him long to find the scarred trunks of a few trees hidden by the +brambles. He cut away the brambles, and tried by measuring to decide +which had been the largest tree. But he could not decide. The trunks +were all about the same size. Either the trunk of the largest tree had +been taken away altogether, or it had not been much larger than the +trunks of the other trees. +</p> + +<p> +Wearied out by his search, Gray returned to the hut. He sat down on +one of the fallen rafters of the roof and considered what it was best +to do next. He was beginning to feel hopeless. The direction had +seemed so clear on Dearing's map. He had been so certain that he would +easily find the treasure if he once could reach the gully. Yet here he +was, apparently as far off as ever from the attainment of his hopes. +</p> + +<p> +Some hours had now passed since Gray entered the gully. The afternoon +was drawing to a close. There were only a few hours of daylight before +him. +</p> + +<p> +Gray had brought a little food with him, pressed upon him by the kindly +old Scotsman. He took down his knapsack and ate the food. It was no +matter of regret to him that he had only a sufficient store for one +meal. Nothing would have induced him to spend the night in the gully. +Even now, in the broad daylight, an unreasoning terror was taking hold +of him. Every little sound, the movement of his horse, the cry of a +bird as it flapped its way across the sky, the rustle of the long grass +in the hollows of the cliffs, even his own footsteps as he moved to and +fro, struck upon him with a sense of fear. He could have sworn once +that he had heard a footstep that was not his own, a slow and wary +footstep, among the brambles. So sure was he, that he sprang to the +door and looked out. There was nothing to be seen. And with a bitter +laugh at his own fears he went back and sat down. But he made up his +mind there and then that he would not stay much longer in the gully. +He would not have spent the night there for all the wealth the world +could offer him. +</p> + +<p> +He had now to consider what was best to do in the short period of +daylight that lay before him. It seemed a hopeless task to dig south +of each of the trunks in the gully, yet what else was there to be done? +It was best for him to set about it at once. He decided this, and yet +he sat still. He could not make up his mind to go out into the gully +again. The place was becoming a horror to him. +</p> + +<p> +As he sat thus on the broken rafter, thinking miserably of the task +before him, his eyes fixed themselves on the little window of the hut. +It was the only window and was very small. It was, in fact, a hole +drilled in one of the beams. +</p> + +<p> +With that strange power the mind has, of carrying on two trains of +thought at once, Gray found himself, in the midst of his weary thoughts +about the hidden treasure, wondering why the window had been made so +small and such an odd round shape. The explanation quickly occurred to +him. The hut had been built by men who were in daily fear of capture. +It had been built not so much as a shelter from the weather, for there +were deep caves in the rocks that would have served that purpose, but +as a means of defence. Safe inside the hut, with the door shut and +that small window guarded by a good rifle, one man might have defied a +score. +</p> + +<p> +Gray guessed, and guessed truly, that Dearing had built the hut. The +gang of bushrangers who had formerly used the gully for their +lurking-place had lived in the caves. The gully was an unknown place +then, and having once reached it all fear of detection was over. But +when once the place was discovered, some means of defence within it was +necessary, and Dearing had built this place. +</p> + +<p> +Gray remembered Dearing's face as he staggered into the hut, the look +of abject horrible fear upon it. What days and nights he must have +spent in this gully, watching, waiting, no rest, never safe for a +single moment! +</p> + +<p> +"Poor wretch!" Gray murmured to himself. "What a life to live!" And +his thoughts went back, by force of sudden contrast, to the life of +another lonely man. He remembered how M'Pherson had answered, with a +glad, deep peace in his old face, "It's no lonely here. There's voices +everywhere." +</p> + +<p> +Gray would not dwell on that. He rose, throwing back his head and +straightening himself with a quick proud gesture. He told himself he +had no part or lot with the fears of Dearing, any more than with that +strange faith that kept M'Pherson glad in his lonely old age. There +was no need for him, he said to himself, to have the fear of man before +his eyes; and if he need not fear man, what was there to fear? +Nothing. He repeated it to himself. Nothing. It was only women and +uneducated men who believed in the supernatural. +</p> + +<p> +Yet even as he said it his face turned an ashy white; the great +sweat-drops broke out upon his brow, his knees trembled under him. He +had heard again the sound of a cautious footstep and the rustle of the +brambles as if some hand was moving them. He rushed to the door of the +hut and looked round; but as before all was still and silent. He gave +a loud shout, but no answer came, save the echo from the rocks. He +waited there some moments, but he saw no sign of a human presence. +</p> + +<p> +Yet he was now absolutely certain he had heard a footstep. The very +hair began to rise on Gray's head, a freezing terror seized hold of +him. A moment before he had feigned to disbelieve in the supernatural, +but now, in an agony of mortal fear, he cried out to himself that it +was no living man who was dogging him thus. A living man he could have +faced, but not this mysterious visitant from the world beyond the grave. +</p> + +<p> +In a calmer moment Gray might have reasoned with himself, but he did +not stop to reason now. He felt he must escape from this horrible +place at once, or madness would come upon him. His horse was still +tied to the door-post, and was cropping the thin grass that grew up +between the crevices in the rocky platform on which the hut was built. +Gray hurriedly unfastened him and led him towards the entrance to the +gully. He had gone a short distance when he remembered he had left his +knapsack and pistol-case on the floor of the hut. All the money he +had, a scanty store, was in the knapsack. He could not leave it behind. +</p> + +<p> +Still holding the horse by the bridle he went hurriedly back. He flung +the rein over the door-post and made one step into the hut. Then he +fell back with a sharp and sudden exclamation. The hut was no longer +empty. Leaning in an easy attitude against the window with a revolver +in his hand stood Lumley, the ex-gardener of the Mortons. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-088"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-088.jpg" alt="THE MEETING IN "DEADMAN'S GULLY"" /> +<br /> +THE MEETING IN "DEADMAN'S GULLY" +</p> + +<p> +There was a sardonic grin on his thin peaked face. +</p> + +<p> +"So you have come back of your own accord, Mr. Gentleman Gray," he +said. "I was just about to order you back." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VI. +</h3> + +<h4> +THE TREASURE FOUND. +</h4> + +<p> +Gray's first feeling was one of intense, overpowering relief. That +dreadful terror which had beset him left him when he saw that it was +indeed Lumley who had followed him. He spoke sharply: +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean by following me up like this, and skulking in the +brambles? It was a dangerous game, mind you! I might have sent a shot +into them just now, you know." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley looked at him and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You're a pretty fellow to go bushranging. When did you look at your +pistols last, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray caught up his pistols and looked at them. The charges had been +tampered with. They were useless. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley stood regarding him with vicious amusement in his foxy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd best have stuck at an honest trade, mate," he said. "You're no +good at bushranging at all. It's been too easy to take you in. You +needn't look at 'em any more, you know. I made 'em safe enough at +Stuart's place." +</p> + +<p> +Gray dropped the pistols on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +"How dare you?" he began in a choked voice. Then he checked himself. +"I'll trouble you to tell me what you mean," he said. "And—" +</p> + +<p> +He made a dash to snatch the revolver from Lumley's hand, but Lumley +was too quick for him. He jumped back and levelled the weapon full at +Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Stand where you are or I'll fire," he said coolly. "Move a limb, and +you'll have a bullet into you." +</p> + +<p> +Gray stood still. A cold sweat broke out upon his brow. Lumley had +dropped all disguise now. The evil soul of the man looked out from his +face. +</p> + +<p> +"That's better," he said. "Just stand there, will you?" He seated +himself on some of the fallen <i>débris</i>, still keeping his revolver +pointed at Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Now we'll have a comfortable little talk together, mate," he said. +"You can sit down now if you like." +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked round and carefully chose a seat. The pallid look of +terror had gone from his face. He had recovered his calmness and his +power of thought. He saw clearly enough that he was in Lumley's power. +He guessed his reason for following him; and he had determined on his +course of action. If Lumley chose to insist upon it, he would tell him +Dearing's secret and leave him to get the money if he could; and he +would go straight to the nearest station and inform against him. Not +for all the money in the world, Gray declared to himself, would he put +his reputation into this man's keeping. +</p> + +<p> +"That's right, mate. Now we'll be comfortable," said Lumley, with a +grin, "and we'll talk about the business that's brought me here. You +know what it is well enough." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I can make a pretty good guess," Gray said, carefully selecting +a cigar and proceeding to light it. "But you'll have to tell me +plainly, you know, before going any further." +</p> + +<p> +The change in Gray's manner was too striking to escape Lumley. He +looked at him with a steady crafty look before answering. +</p> + +<p> +"There ain't no money hid here, I s'pose? You're on a pleasure toor, +ain't you? That pick in your knapsack is for ge'logical specimens, +ain't it?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray carefully flicked a little ash from the end of his cigar, and then +looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"You are quite wrong, Lumley. That pick is not meant for geological +specimens at all. It's meant to be used for digging up a large sum of +money hidden somewhere about here. Unfortunately I don't know where." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't?" +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps you know?" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley glared at him like a wild beast. +</p> + +<p> +"Was that why you were going away?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Tom Dearing didn't tell you where 'twas hid? Don't you try to deceive +me, man. I'll not stand it. I'll have that swag if I've got to swing +for it to-morrow. What made you go proddin' and pryin' round those old +trunks for, eh? You tell me that." +</p> + +<p> +"With all the pleasure in life, my man. But I should like to hear a +few things from you first. How did you get to know of this money? I +may not be far wrong in supposing you an accomplice of our good friend, +lately deceased, Mr. Tom Dearing?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'd wring your neck for tuppence," Lumley muttered savagely. +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked up at him with a pleasant smile. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you say?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray was beginning to feel thoroughly satisfied with himself again. He +felt himself very much more than a match for Mr. Lumley. +</p> + +<p> +That individual made no reply to his last inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +"So you want to know how I got on this job. I'll tell you quickly +enough. Dearing made a dying speech and confession, didn't he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Something of the kind." +</p> + +<p> +"He'd do that for sure and certain. That was his way. He was always +half-hearted, Tom was. P'r'aps he didn't mention a pal of his, Bill +Clay, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think he did, now I come to think of it. I suppose you are that +gentleman. Is Clay your real name, or one of your many aliases?" +</p> + +<p> +"You're right, mate. I'm Bill Clay, as you'll find out before you're +done with me," said Lumley, with a savage look. "I wasn't in that +business with the bank, but Tom told me he'd hidden the money; but he +didn't tell me where he'd hid it, d'you see. <i>You've</i> got to tell me +that, Mr. Gentleman Gray." +</p> + +<p> +Gray leisurely took his cigar from his mouth and said: +</p> + +<p> +"With pleasure, my man, if I knew it myself; but you see I don't." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley gave him a savage frown. +</p> + +<p> +"Think I'm going to believe that? Look here, I'm in a hurry, and +you've just got to tell me all you know. If you don't, I'll—" +</p> + +<p> +He lifted the revolver again with a significant gesture. +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not speak for a moment. His hand might have trembled slightly +as he stroked his moustache, but he showed no other sign of agitation. +Lumley watched him narrowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Ain't you goin' to tell me?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes I am," said Gray; "on one condition." +</p> + +<p> +"What's that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Unload that pretty little weapon of yours, and hand it over to me. I +don't trust you, you see, Mr. Lumley, alias Clay. You might find it +convenient to leave this place all by yourself. Dead men tell no +tales." +</p> + +<p> +"Good for you they don't, ain't it?" Lumley answered darkly. +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked sharply up. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean by that?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean anything. But you're a pretty fellow, ain't you, to crow +over me?" +</p> + +<p> +The taunt was more than Gray could bear. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" he exclaimed again, with sharper emphasis as he +leapt to his feet. "How dare you?" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley laughed out—a rough, coarse, jeering laugh, which filled Gray +with sickening, helpless rage. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you be afraid of me," he said; "a partner's always safe with me. +I don't set up to be a virtuous cove like you, but a partner's always +safe with me. We'll go shares, mate—share and share alike. That's a +fair offer, ain't it?" +</p> + +<p> +His manner was as coarse and offensive as he could make it. He seemed +to find delight in the sort of torture he was inflicting on Gray. +</p> + +<p> +Gray seated himself again and tried hard to recover his coolness. +After all, he told himself, he had but to bear Lumley's insults for a +time. He had but to wait till they reached a settlement for this +hideous partnership to be over. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems to me we are wasting good time, my man," he said, in the +lofty tone that so nettled Lumley. "I don't pretend to understand your +innuendoes, but let that pass. What you want is the money, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"What <i>I</i> want? You don't want it; no, of course not? You didn't come +here to get it?" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I certainly came here to get it. There's a considerable reward +offered for its recovery, as I daresay you know. I intended to claim +that reward." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley looked at him in silence for a moment, and then burst out into +another laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"You are a cove!" he said, when his mirth would let him speak. "So +that's your game, is it? Bah!" +</p> + +<p> +He spat on the ground in fierce derision, and then with a sudden change +of manner he came close up to Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Stow all that nonsense, lad. Tell me what Dearing said, and be quick +about it. We're goin' to be fond partners, share and share alike. +Come, shell out this minute!" +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked up at him; then he took out his note-book and rapidly +reproduced the map he had destroyed, and handed it to Clay without a +word. The light was fading, and he took it to the door to examine it. +Gray's eyes followed him with a savage concentrated hate in them. +</p> + +<p> +It was the man's coarse scorn of himself that was hardest to +bear—harder even than the knowledge that he had lost the money he had +sacrificed so much to gain. Gray had been accustomed to the admiration +of his fellow-men. He had been liked and respected wherever he had +been. It was horrible to him to be the object of this convict's coarse +taunts and sneers. He, who had so prided himself on his clean name and +unblemished record, had fallen low indeed. And he could not feel that +the taunts were undeserved. Slowly and grudgingly, just for a moment, +the curtain that hid his true self was lifted for Gray, and with a +shudder he confessed that Lumley did him no wrong in claiming +partnership with him. +</p> + +<p> +His gloomy thoughts were broken into by a chuckle from Clay. +</p> + +<p> +"I always said he was the 'cutest of us all," he declared in an +admiring tone, as he came back to Gray. "Too soft for me. We lost a +goodish pile once because he wouldn't use these little beauties," and +he touched the revolver in his hand. "But that 'cute he was; up to +every trick of the profession. You couldn't understand this, couldn't +you?" +</p> + +<p> +He did not wait for an answer, but went on in a quicker tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you couldn't; you'd have been searching here for a month of +Sundays if I hadn't kindly come to help you. '<i>Big Gum Tree</i>.' Ha! +ha! Tom was 'cute, to be sure." +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not speak; he did not even look up. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be down on your luck, my lad," said Clay jocosely; "there's +enough for both of us. It'll be more than the reward, any way," and he +chuckled with a cruel sort of mirth. "You've got a handy little pick +in that knapsack of yours; just fetch it, will you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Get it yourself!" +</p> + +<p> +Clay gave him a fierce threatening look. +</p> + +<p> +"None of your airs and graces here, young man. You do what I tell you, +or it'll be the worse for you." +</p> + +<p> +He sat down on the block of wood opposite Gray, folded his arms and +added: +</p> + +<p> +"You're the junior partner, and you'll just wait on me, my fine fellow. +You go and fetch me that pick to begin with." +</p> + +<p> +Gray ground his teeth with helpless rage, but he got up and took the +pick from his knapsack. It was a small slender tool, but very strong. +Clay looked at it approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, you dig up that hearth-stone, mate, and you'll see what you'll +see." +</p> + +<p> +"The hearth-stone?" +</p> + +<p> +"You do what I tell you," returned Lumley with a nod. "You go and dig +up that hearth-stone." +</p> + +<p> +Gray flung down the pick. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't do anything of the sort. I won't stand any more of this sort +of treatment. You may shoot me if you like"—for Lumley had raised his +revolver—"but do your bidding I won't." +</p> + +<p> +Gray fully expected, even half-wished for, a shot from the revolver +Lumley held up at him for a moment. But the convict changed his mind. +He put the weapon in his pocket and got coolly up. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if you won't I must," he said, and went over to the hearth-stone +that lay buried under a heap of earth and timber. +</p> + +<p> +Gray sank down on the fallen rafter and buried his face in his hands. +No man can look on death and bear an unchanged front, not even the +bravest and the most prepared, and Gray was not of these. For a brief +moment he had believed that death was close to him. It was to Lumley's +interest to kill him now that he knew where the gold was, and there had +been murder in his eyes as he had looked across at Gray. And Gray sat +with his hands clasped over his eyes, in sick, horrible fear at the +thought of himself lying cold and stiff, with eyes staring blindly up +at the sky; his soul gone—where? +</p> + +<p> +At the other end of the hut Clay was busy. He dashed away the heap of +rubbish on the hearth-stone, and digging the pick into the loose earth +round it, dragged it up without much difficulty. A cry of exultation +broke from him as he did so. Embedded in the ground below the +hearth-stone lay a small tin box, bound round and round with whipcord. +To drag up the box, cut the already decaying cord, and wrench open the +cover was the work of a moment. Two or three wrappings of thick brown +paper lay over the contents of the box. He tore these off, and +clutched at what lay beneath. +</p> + +<p> +"Come here, partner," he shouted; "what do you say to this, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray slowly rose and came towards him. How he had anticipated the +moment when this money should lie before him! There it was, and he +looked at it with a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley emptied the contents of the box on the floor before him, and +began eagerly to count over the notes and gold. +</p> + +<p> +"A prime catch, eh?" he remarked, as he caught up a handful of +sovereigns and let them fall back in a glittering heap. "We'll be able +to cut a dash on this, partner. Look at this nugget! And the flimsy +is all safe— Tom took care of that; there ain't one of the numbers +known." And he held up the banknotes to Gray with a grin. "Better +than the reward after all, my boy, even the half of it, though not +<i>quite</i> so good as the whole lot. You thought you were going to grab +it all, didn't you? You were a green un to think so. Why, I've +followed you up from the moment I heard of Tom's death. I knew he'd +leave some paper or other to tell where 'twas. Tom wasn't greedy, not +he." He went on with the examination of the treasure while he spoke; +counting the gold and notes, and putting the nuggets into a heap apart. +Presently he looked up with his cunning smile at Gray's dark face. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't ask me, partner, how I came to hit on the hearth-stone." +</p> + +<p> +"How was it?" said Gray indifferently. The gold might have been +withered leaves, the notes blank pieces of paper for all the interest +he could feel in them. +</p> + +<p> +"'Twas a good job for you I followed you," returned Lumley cheerfully. +"You might have prodded round till doomsday. I knew what Tom meant by +'<i>hole in Big Gum</i>,' d'you see. That big log there with the window was +from the biggest gum of the whole lot we cut down. And the window was +the hole. Ain't it plain as daylight now, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Plain enough." +</p> + +<p> +It was getting dusk outside, and Lumley got up and went to the door of +the hut. +</p> + +<p> +"We'd best be starting, partner," he said over his shoulder. "There's +nothing out against me that I know of, but I'd rather not be seen by +daylight with you just at present, as you'll understand." +</p> + +<p> +Gray hardly heard the words. He picked up his knapsack from the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll start this minute. I suppose you have got a horse?" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley came back to the money before he answered. He began to divide +it into two heaps. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I've got a horse, partner, a pretty good one too. We scared you +pretty well just now, eh? down along the track. My horse can climb +like a 'possum, and I didn't want you to see me then." +</p> + +<p> +The man's manner had changed again. It was smoother and more refined. +It was as if he had slipped on a mask, and Gray's loathing of him +increased as he marked the sudden easy transition. His coarseness was +almost better than this oily softness. It maddened Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't divide that money," he broke out in a sudden impulse of +miserable rage. "I'll have none of it. And if I leave this place +alive I'll give you over to the police. You mark my words!" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley looked up at him with a quiet smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Two of us can play at that game, my fine fellow!" Then his manner +changed quickly from softness to ferocity. "You young fool, you! +Don't you know the police are after you? They may be outside this, for +aught I know, this minute. Anyway, they're close upon your track." +</p> + +<p> +Gray stepped fiercely towards him. +</p> + +<p> +"You lie!" he gasped out. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd better ride down to Ford's to-night and find out," returned +Lumley in a sulky, indifferent tone; "you'll have a warm welcome!" +</p> + +<p> +"It's false!" Gray almost shouted the words. "They have no reason." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley looked up at him with a grin. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a pretty statement for you to make, partner. Anyway, there's a +warrant out against you. Not for this pretty stuff alone, mind +you—suspicion of <i>murder</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +His crafty, cruel eyes fixed themselves on Gray's pallid twitching face. +</p> + +<p> +"Murder of your mate, partner. 'Twas a pity you had to do it, for it's +a hanging matter; but he was an obstinate chap, I expect. Pious and +all that." +</p> + +<p> +"They believe I murdered Harding?" Gray gasped out. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't take on, partner," returned Clay cheerfully; "murder will out, +as they say. And the police haven't got you yet. You trust to me: I +know a track that'll take us out safe enough. I daresay you feel +queer, though. It's unpleasant to be tracked by the police. I'm used +to it, but I don't like it. I expect you wouldn't have done it if +you'd thought you'd have been found out; eh, partner?" +</p> + +<p> +It overwhelmed Gray to find that he could be suspected of a +cold-blooded treacherous murder. +</p> + +<p> +"You think—you dare to think—" he broke out, and then his voice +failed him. +</p> + +<p> +Had he not, in very purpose and act, been the murderer of his mate? +The words of angry defence faltered on his tongue. He stood +self-convicted, seeing for the first time all the horror of his +act—unable to say a word to clear himself of the charge Lumley brought +against him. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VII. +</h3> + +<h4> +DESERTED! +</h4> + +<p> +A vast sun-scorched plain stretching away in endless miles under a +blazing sky. A waterless desert, where the horses sunk fetlock-deep in +shifting sand, or were cruelly pricked by the thorny leafless shrub +which was the only living plant to be seen. No trees; no flowers; no +grass; no sparkle of water far or near. Such was the land Gray and +Lumley were riding through, four days after leaving Deadman's Gully. +</p> + +<p> +In dull despair Gray had submitted to Lumley's plan for escaping the +police. It had never occurred to him to disbelieve Lumley's statement. +There seemed no reason for the lie, and he remembered Mr. Morton's +sudden keen glance at him the night he left the station. If it had +leaked out that he had gone searching for Dearing's hidden treasure, +they might well suspect him of ridding himself of Harding. +</p> + +<p> +Gray's confidence in himself had altogether gone. Dull despair had +taken possession of him. The past he could not bear to think of. The +future made him shudder when he looked along the dreary years. What +was there left for him to live for? +</p> + +<p> +They had passed the hill-country on the second day, and were now +crossing a portion of that arid region which lies to the north-west of +the mountains. Clay had brought with him a stock of food sufficient +for a week or more. There was no danger of starvation. It was water +that failed them. +</p> + +<p> +A consuming thirst came upon Gray as the sun rode higher and higher in +the heavens. It was ten hours since he had tasted water, and his lips +and throat were becoming baked and painful. +</p> + +<p> +"You are sure you know the track?" he said to Lumley, checking his +horse to look round him. +</p> + +<p> +A light heat-mist was quivering over the plains. The air was intensely +hot and dry. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley stopped his horse too. +</p> + +<p> +"Thought you were never goin' to speak again," he said jeeringly. "I +know the track well enough. We shall see water in another twenty-four +hours, take my word for it." +</p> + +<p> +Gray marvelled within himself how it was possible to follow any track +in such a place as this. They had been riding for miles and miles +without seeing a tree or a hillock, or even a dry water-course. One +mile was exactly like any other mile. But he said nothing more to his +companion. Silence was a boon Gray craved almost as much as he longed +for water. At first Lumley had thrust his talk upon him, and found +pleasure in the misery he inflicted on Gray by his coarse jokes and +cruel jeers. But he had grown more silent lately, and for the last +hour or so had not spoken at all. +</p> + +<p> +He was riding now a little in advance of Gray, looking round him with +somewhat anxious eyes. He was looking for a group of cypress-trees. +He felt sure they were riding in the right direction, but he had a +strong reason for wishing to see them rise on the horizon before +another halt. When once he saw them his course would be clear and +easy. He would know his position exactly, and reach water in an hour +or two. +</p> + +<p> +Gray saw that his companion was looking for some landmark; but Lumley +said nothing of the object of his search. He had never mentioned the +cypress-trees to Gray. Gray had asked him once how he would guide +himself across the desert, and he had refused to answer. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd like to make off by yourself, wouldn't you?" he had said with a +jeering laugh; "stick a knife into me, and leave me for the flies to +feed on? No, no, partner; we'll jog on together. You sha'n't serve me +as you served your mate. Not if I know it." +</p> + +<p> +Gray had given up asserting his innocence of Harding's actual murder. +His words had not the slightest effect on Lumley. It was not that he +pretended to believe in Gray's guilt Gray saw, and saw truly, that his +companion actually believed that he had murdered Harding in cold blood +and buried him in some secret place. Clay had only laughed at his +declarations of innocence. +</p> + +<p> +"What's there to make such a fuss about, partner? I never did see such +a cove for making believe. But you can't take Bill Clay in, my lad. I +can tell a rogue directly I set eyes on him. By fellow-feeling, you +see." +</p> + +<p> +The day grew hotter and hotter. The air that blew against their faces +as they rode along was dry and scorching. It was like riding in a +heated furnace. Suddenly Lumley gave a shout. He had seen on the +horizon, through the quivering heat-mist, three cypresses pointing with +black fingers to the sky. He knew as he looked that it was but an +illusion, a mirage. But he knew, too, that the real cypresses, of +which he saw the shadows, were in that direction, and not so very far +off. +</p> + +<p> +Gray saw the cypresses in the same moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Trees!" he cried eagerly—for where trees grew water must be near. +</p> + +<p> +"You're a pretty fellow to go bush-riding," grumbled Lumley. "They +ain't trees—not real ones, so to speak. They're clouds." +</p> + +<p> +And Gray saw for himself how misty the dark outlines were; and even as +he looked he saw the mirage disappear. But he marked the point in the +horizon at which the mirage had appeared, and was astonished to see +Lumley suddenly turn his horse in a totally different direction. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely it would be better to go that way. There must be water near." +</p> + +<p> +"Go by yourself, then," snarled Lumley, over his shoulder; "and a good +riddance too." +</p> + +<p> +He rode sulkily on and Gray followed him. When they had gone a few +miles Clay's horse gave a stumble, and Clay sprang off. +</p> + +<p> +"He's dead beat," he said. "We'll rest here." +</p> + +<p> +"But—-" Gray began, and then he stopped. What was the use of +speaking? He was forced to trust to Lumley's guidance. +</p> + +<p> +They lay down on the baked scorched soil, hobbling their horses that +they might not wander far. Gray flung himself on the sand, face +downwards, careless of the hot sun that poured upon him. Lumley went a +few paces off to a bed of polygonum, the gloomy leafless bramble of the +wilderness. He scooped out a hollow in the sand below the bramble and +lay down there in the tiny oasis of shadow he had thus obtained. +Unseen of Gray he took a bottle he had secreted in his pocket and drank +the few drops remaining in it, then corked it and put it back. Then he +turned upon his side and slept. +</p> + +<p> +He was sleeping still when Gray roused himself from the heavy stupor of +despair that had come upon him and sat up. There lay the grim horrible +wilderness all about him. A short distance off the horses were +standing with drooping heads and panting sides. In the scanty shadow +of the bramble Lumley lay asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Gray got up and walked to Lumley's side, and stood looking down on the +evil face as if his eyes were drawn there by some horrible fascination. +The convict slept heavily, his face turned upwards to the sky. Gray +saw that his lips were wet. He had water, then! Gray had suspected +that he had, but he did not try to find out where it was hidden. He +turned away with a shudder and flung himself down upon the ground again. +</p> + +<p> +It was growing dusk when Lumley woke from that heavy sleep. He started +up wildly and looked round him. For days he had kept awake fearing +treachery from Gray if he let sleep overcome him. Now he had been +sleeping for many hours. The sun had been blazing in a clear sky when +he fell asleep; now the sky was covered with thick gray clouds, and +night was close at hand. He looked round him and saw at once the two +horses. A second glance showed him Gray lying with his face upon one +arm not far from him. Lumley approached, and saw that he was asleep. +</p> + +<p> +He bent over him to satisfy himself the sleep was not feigned, and then +turned towards the horses. It was not difficult to catch them, and he +had prepared to mount when an idea struck him. Taking a scrap from his +pocket, the page on which Gray had reproduced Dearing's map for him, he +scrawled a few words, putting the paper on his saddle to write. Then +he softly approached Gray, and stuck the paper into the sand by a +branch of bramble. When this was done he crept back again to the +horses. +</p> + +<p> +He remained looking at them reflectively for a moment. His own horse +stood with drooping head and panting sides, evidently nearly done for, +but Gray's horse had borne the long journey well. Lumley had already +fastened the bag containing the money and the pistols to his own +saddle, but now he shifted it to the other. Gray's horse turned an +uneasy glance on him as he did so; and Lumley had a little difficulty +in mounting it. But he got into the saddle at last, and taking the +bridle of his own horse in his hand he rode away, giving a backward +look now and then to the man he was deserting. +</p> + +<p> +Night came, a thick starless night with clouds hanging low over the +desert. A cool wind came with the clouds and blew on Gray, and he +slept. He was worn out, and he slept hour after hour. The dawn was +breaking when he at last awoke. His sleep had been so deep, so +dreamless, that in it he had forgotten all that had happened. But +memory came quickly back. He started up and looked round for Lumley +and the horses. +</p> + +<p> +All was still, with a stillness unknown save in desert lands. The +silence was profound. In the gray dawn he could see the plains with +perfect distinctness. He looked round him from horizon to horizon. +There was no living thing in sight. He was alone. +</p> + +<p> +He understood instantly what had happened. Lumley had deserted him. +His first feeling was one of absolute relief. He had escaped from that +hateful bondage. It was not for some moments that he realized the +hopelessness of his position. Ignorant of the track, alone, on foot, +without water or food, what hope was there for him of escaping from the +desert? Gray knew how little hope there was. As he had deserted +Harding, so he in turn had been deserted. As Harding had perished, so +he too would perish. He looked his fate in the face with the calmness +of despair. +</p> + +<p> +Before he had fallen asleep he had made up his mind to give himself up +to the police and meet the charge brought against him if once he +escaped from the wilds. It seemed to him now as if God had refused him +a chance of proving his repentance. He was to perish in the +wilderness, an outcast from God and man. +</p> + +<p> +He sank down on the ground again, and sat there with his elbows on his +knees, his head propped on his hands, staring steadily before him. In +the dawn the wide level spaces of the wilderness resembled the pastures +that had surrounded their hut. Gray found himself remembering his life +there with intense clearness. He saw Harding busy about the hut, ever +cheerful, ever ready. He saw him among the cattle, strong of hand, +alert of eye. He saw him riding home in the twilight, talking of his +wife and his little lads; turning in his stirrups to give a word of +cheer to Watch; or bearing Gray's grumbling talk with cheerful patience. +</p> + +<p> +What depths of steadfast affection there were in the heart of that +rough man! Once when Gray was ill he had tended him like a woman. He +had sat beside him night after night in unwearying affection. Gray +remembered how he had lifted him from bed to chair, as he might have +lifted a child. He seemed to feel the pressure of his hand on his +shoulder still as he stood over him, pressing him to eat some dainty he +had prepared, to see his rugged kindly face bending over him. What +would he not give for a sight of that kind face now, and a touch of +that strong honest hand? +</p> + +<p> +Gray's stony despair gave way; the hard, desperate look on his face +softened. He burst into bitter tears. His frame shook with the +strong, terrible crying of despairing grief. +</p> + +<p> +But the tears did him good; they cleared his brain, and made it +possible for him to think of what was best for him to do. He no longer +felt inclined to give up without a struggle for life. He got up from +the ground and looked round him with a new strength. It was then he +saw the note Lumley had stuck into the sand beside him. He picked it +up and read it. It was only a few scrawled words: +</p> + +<p> +"<i>The police ain't after you at all, Mr. Gentleman Gray, so you can +clear out of the Bush as soon as you like. I'll not split on you, and +you won't on me, I guess.</i> +</p> + +<p> +"<i>N.B. Dead men tell no tales.</i>" +</p> + +<p> +The words were perfectly clear in the pale morning light. Gray read +them and then threw the paper away with a shudder. He felt no anger +against Lumley, only a sick horror that made anger impossible. What +Lumley had done was what he himself had done. He deserved his fate. +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge that the police held no warrant against him, that the +story was but a trick of Lumley's to get him into the Bush, affected +him strangely little. He had made up his mind to tell the whole story +if ever he got back to the haunts of men again. The confession he had +to make would be a purely voluntary one now; that was his chief thought +as he read Lumley's letter. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII. +</h3> + +<h4> +LOST IN THE BUSH. +</h4> + +<p> +Gray lost no time in starting forwards. The choice of direction made +by him was determined by remembering the cypresses of which they had +seen the mirage. He believed that they had been a landmark to Clay, +and that his turning in another direction was but a feint. +</p> + +<p> +It was difficult for Gray to decide the exact direction. The sky was +heavy with clouds, and no sun could be seen behind them. But he +carefully calculated as well as he could whereabouts on the horizon the +trees had appeared, and turned towards that point. +</p> + +<p> +He knew enough of Bush stories to know the tendency of wanderers there +to travel in a circle; and in this sterile waste, where every mile was +like every other mile, Gray felt he might travel round and round and +never know it. To prevent this he dug shallow holes with his knife +here and there, and stuck boughs of the bramble in them, so that he +might recognize the spot if he came to it again. +</p> + +<p> +Towards noon the clouds gradually dispersed and the sun blazed down +upon him. This bettered his position in one way, as he could now be +sure of walking forward, but it increased the torment of thirst until +it became almost unendurable agony. He struggled on till past noonday, +but no dark cypresses lifted themselves on the sky-line. The desert +stretched round him in its blank, dreadful loneliness. The blazing sun +beat down upon him, making sight a torture. He could go no further. +He flung himself down on the unsheltered burning sand and hid his eyes +from the light. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening the clouds gathered again, and he rose and struggled +on. He walked many miles that night, and towards dawn lay down and +slept. The second day passed much as the first had done. The sky +cleared again, and the fury of the sun beat down upon him. He +struggled on for a time, and again gave up the struggle and lay down +and waited for evening. +</p> + +<p> +On the third day his agony of thirst had become unbearable. He knew +that in a few more hours death must end his sufferings if he could not +reach water. With grim determination he battled on that day through +the flaming sunshine and gave himself no rest. Every moment he +expected to see the cypresses rise on the horizon; and he was sweeping +it with his glance when his eye fell on a white object fluttering on +the wind from shrub to shrub. At first he could not discern what it +was—his bloodshot weary eyes refused their office—-but on approaching +nearer he saw it was a piece of paper. It fluttered across his path. +He picked it up with a horrible foreboding. It was Lumley's letter, +written on the back of the map he had drawn in the hut. +</p> + +<p> +It was just possible the wind had carried it onwards to cross his path. +Gray made an effort to think that this was so. But a few staggering +steps further on brought him to the shallow holes in which the brambles +stood upright. He had come back to the place from which he had +started! All hope died within him as he saw those hollows. He sank +down on the sand to wait for death. +</p> + +<p> +He was lying face downwards on the sand, with his arms flung out before +him, when a low distant sound suddenly broke the stillness. He started +up and looked wildly round. The twilight had fallen, and he could not +distinguish objects clearly; but as he strained his gaze from side to +side the sound came again to his ears—the sound of a horse galloping +at full speed across the desert. +</p> + +<p> +Gray could now distinguish from what direction the sound came, and he +hurried forward, hope once more rising up in him. Was it Lumley come +back to help him, repentant for his desertion? Or was it some lost +traveller like himself, seeking a way out of these dreadful wilds? Or +had Lumley sent a party to search for him from the nearest station, +while going onwards himself to safety? Gray asked himself these +questions as he hurried on through the gathering darkness. He still +could hear the galloping hoofs, and for a time they seemed to come +nearer and nearer. But suddenly he became aware that they were +receding from him—the sound was becoming fainter and fainter, it was +dying away in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +Gray stopped. A cry of despair broke from him, and then, summoning all +his strength, he raised a loud "Coo-ee!" +</p> + +<p> +The shrill shout died away upon the air and left profound stillness +behind it. Gray could no longer hear the faintest sound of the horse's +hoofs. Either the rider had stopped to listen to his call or had gone +on beyond hearing. Gray moistened his baked and blistered lips, and +then again shouted. The shout again died away, leaving intense +stillness behind it. But this time the stillness only lasted for a +moment. There came a faint answering cry, far-off and indistinct, but +unmistakably the cry of a human voice. +</p> + +<p> +Gray once more hurried forward. The ground was growing rougher; it was +broken up into hillocks, and his progress was less rapid. After a time +he stopped and called again, and again heard the answering call. He +was no longer alone in the wilderness; friendly help was near. +</p> + +<p> +The moon rose as Gray hurried on, rose in full splendour, making the +plain almost as light as day. Gray looked in vain for what he had +hoped to see—the outline of horse and rider against the pale silvery +glow of the sky. There was no horse anywhere to be seen; there was +nothing to be seen but the low bushes and the bunches of dry grass, and +the great circle of the desert against the horizon. But as Gray stared +round him, refusing to believe the evidence of his own eyes, the shout +came again—came with a mocking ring in it that made Gray's blood run +suddenly cold. He knew the voice now: it was Lumley's voice. But it +was as cruel and mocking as ever. Gray's dream of help from him +vanished like a breath as he heard it. +</p> + +<p> +He stumbled on across the sand hillocks, and presently could discern a +huddled figure on the ground, with its back propped up against a +hillock. The moonlight was full on the haggard blistered face that +looked up at Gray with twitching lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Welcome, partner," were Lumley's first words. "You didn't expect to +see me again, did you now?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray made no answer. He was too far gone in despair to have even a +flicker of curiosity as to how Lumley came to be lying there. But +Lumley proceeded to enlighten him. He thrust forward his foot, from +which he had cut away the boot, and Gray could see that it was +discoloured and badly swollen. +</p> + +<p> +"I owe that to your cursed horse," he said, in a sulky, vindictive +tone. "Just as I'd hit upon the track again, too." +</p> + +<p> +Gray cast a wide glance over the moonlit plains before he spoke. But +no horse was visible. +</p> + +<p> +"He flung you, I suppose?" he said, in a quiet, expressionless tone. +"I could have warned you not to play any tricks with him. Where is +your own horse?" +</p> + +<p> +The absence of vindictiveness from Gray's manner puzzled Lumley. He +stared up at him, wondering what it meant. +</p> + +<p> +"Dead," he said sulkily after a moment. "I'd better have stuck to you +after all, you see, mate. But I'd have sent after you the first chance +I had. I meant to do that all along." +</p> + +<p> +He had paused before adding the last sentence, and his manner had +suddenly altered, had become smooth and conciliating. +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not attempt to answer him. He moved away a few paces and +flung himself down on the ground, and sat with his head propped on his +hands, staring straight in front of him. Lumley watched him in +silence. His face showed none of the dull despair that had settled on +Gray's, but was alight with fierce excitement. And the glance he bent +on Gray was a strange one. There was hate in it, and longing, and a +torturing doubt. +</p> + +<p> +"You're pretty bad, ain't you, partner?" he said at last. "Had a bad +time since we parted, I daresay." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you expect me to have a good time?" Gray answered without looking +at him. +</p> + +<p> +"Missed the track? Been wanderin' round and round? Just what happened +to me, you see, though I thought I was dead sure of my way. But I got +my right bearings again—if it hadn't been for that horse of yours—" +</p> + +<p> +He was tearing up fiercely the scanty grass beside him as he spoke, and +there broke out a sudden fury in his face. But he thrust back the oath +that came to his lips, and spoke, after a pause, in the same +conciliating tone. +</p> + +<p> +"We've had bad luck, both on us, haven't we, partner? And my bad +luck's been yours; for I'd have sent back for you. I only meant to +frighten you a bit." +</p> + +<p> +"What's the good of talking about it?" Gray said wearily. "It'll soon +be over for both of us now. Another day must see the last of it." +</p> + +<p> +He just turned his head to speak, and then went back to his old +position, his eyes staring hopelessly across the silent waste. His +apathy seemed to rouse Lumley to a sort of frenzy again. With an +effort that forced a groan from him he dragged himself a pace forwards +and plucked Gray by the sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd not sit there long if you knew what I know, you fool," he burst +out. "Didn't I tell you I found my bearings again? Didn't you hear me +say it?" +</p> + +<p> +His excitement communicated itself to Gray. He turned round with a +wild questioning glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean—For God's sake tell me the truth! Do you know where we +are? Is that it?" +</p> + +<p> +He had not sprung up, but life and energy had come back to him. His +hands clenched, his shoulders straightened themselves. He had it in +him, he felt, to make a good fight for life yet. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley grew cool as he saw the hope leap into Gray's face. He let go +his sleeve and sank back against the hillock. +</p> + +<p> +"Suppose I do know," he said in the old mocking tone; "what then, +partner?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray stared at him without speaking, and Lumley repeated the question: +</p> + +<p> +"What then, partner?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray was silent. He had fixed his eyes on Lumley's face, as if his +glance could drag out the truth from him. Lumley gave him back glance +for glance. Then he suddenly bent down and drew a rough circle on the +sand. Gray drew close, bending towards the circle with intent eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"That's where we are, partner, d'ye see?" said Lumley, making a hole +with his finger in the middle of the circle; "and here's the moon," +making another mark. "You're follerin' me so far, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, go on," said Gray breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley gave him a quick look from under his bushy eyebrows, and then +bent over the plan again. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you remember them trees we saw just afore we parted?" he said, +looking on the ground as he spoke. "'Twas the sight of them made me +sure we was in the right road. I made tracks for them when we parted +company." +</p> + +<p> +He looked up furtively at Gray again. +</p> + +<p> +"You got that bit of a note I wrote you, partner?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray hardly heard the words. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind that. Go on, go on!" he hurried out with passionate +eagerness. +</p> + +<p> +He was sure now that Lumley knew in which direction the trees lay, knew +where water was to be obtained. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley looked into his face with a sardonic grin. He had grown cooler +and cooler as Gray's excitement rose. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the hurry, partner?" he said; "there's nobody as I knows on +who's likely to interrupt us. Well, as I was sayin', I made straight +for them trees, but somehow I missed the track. That cloudy weather +put me out, you see; and 'twasn't till near sundown last night I got +sight of them." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, gave a rapid glance round the horizon, and then bent over +the sand again. +</p> + +<p> +"They can't be far off then?" asked Gray, who had followed his glance +with breathless impatience. +</p> + +<p> +"Too far off for me anyways," Lumley answered, with a quick upward look +at him. "I'd tried that afore I answered your call, partner. Did you +think 'twas me, now, when you got an answer? I knew 'twas you in a +minute." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know; I forget. What's the good of wasting time like this?" +cried Gray, getting suddenly on his feet. "Tell me which way to go. I +can do it now, but in another hour or two it will be too late. Which +way? Be quick!" +</p> + +<p> +"It can't be more than half a dozen miles or so," returned Lumley in a +slow reflective tone that almost drove Gray out of his senses with +impatience. "You make a bee-line for the trees, and then strike off to +the left where the ridge is, and it's just over the ridge that there's +water. Yards of it, partner, all shining and sparkling in the +moonlight. Why, you could be close to it in an hour almost. And +there's no mistake about it; it isn't no salt-pan, but fresh water fit +for a king to drink. I've seen it afore me all the time I've been +lyin' here. Can't you see it, partner?" +</p> + +<p> +It was a maddening vision which Lumley's words had called up before +Gray. A cool stretch of limpid, shining water—there it lay before +him, close to him. He was kneeling down by it, plunging his fevered +face into it, slaking the thirst that was burning his life away. And +it meant life, that cool, delicious draught; it meant more than +life—it meant opportunity for atonement, for undoing, as far as in him +lay, the wrong he had done, for proving his repentance a real and +lasting one. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley was stooping over the sand, but his eyes were on Gray's face, +and he saw all the eagerness in it. He saw it, and interpreted it +according to his own nature. He broke into a harsh laugh, and with a +sweep of one hand on the sand, he destroyed the rough chart he had made. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd like to start this minute, wouldn't you, partner? and the crows +might make their meal off me. I saw a flock of them nigh here +yesterday; they're waiting for their feast. You wouldn't like to +disappoint them, would you?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not comprehend him in the least. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't waste time like this," he said imploringly; "let me be off at +once. I could be back to you by sunrise if I have good luck. And you +have a bottle about you, haven't you? Let me have it. And who +knows?—I may fall in with the horse." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +"So you may, partner, so you may. 'Twas the smell of the water that +drove him frantic, I believe. He made straight for it. And there's +the swag upon him, and the pistols, and the grub. You'll be well set +up if you come across the horse." +</p> + +<p> +A sudden terror had come upon Gray as he listened to this speech of +Lumley's, and looked down upon his sneering, evil face. +</p> + +<p> +"You are playing with me!" he burst out, and the cold sweat stood out +upon his brow as he said it. "You know nothing of the water!" +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER IX. +</h3> + +<h4> +FACING DEATH +</h4> + +<p> +Lumley paused a moment before answering that last speech of Gray's. +Then his tone was mild and smooth. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the good of talking like that, mate? But just look there." He +pointed to his foot again as he spoke. "Does it look as if 'twould +carry me half a dozen miles? Or a mile? Or a couple of yards? And +I've hurt my side as well. Broke a rib or two, maybe. I tried +crawlin' a while ago, but I couldn't even manage that. I'm no better +than a log—only fit for the crows, partner. What's the good of water +to me when I can't get at it?" +</p> + +<p> +His tone was so mild and reasonable that Gray felt no difficulty in +answering him. +</p> + +<p> +"But half a dozen miles is nothing to me. Give me that bottle. I'll +be back before sunrise." He paused a moment, and then as he saw the +expression in the other's face he added impetuously, "I swear it. Good +heavens, Lumley, you don't think I would desert you? You don't think +that?" +</p> + +<p> +The fury that had once or twice swept away Lumley's coolness had come +upon him again, and he no longer cared to restrain it. He lifted +himself, shaking one clenched fist towards Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think I'd trust you for a single minute, you smooth-tongued +hypocrite!" he screamed. "You'd be glad enough to leave me lyin' here, +wouldn't you? But you're not going to get the chance, Mr. Gentleman +Gray. We'll stick together, like partners should. The crows sha'n't +feast on me alone, I'll tell you that." +</p> + +<p> +Gray made no attempt to answer him just then. When Lumley stopped +speaking and sank back with a groan of pain on the sand, Gray turned +and walked away a few paces, and stood trying to get some mastery over +the trembling sick misery that seemed ready to overpower him. There +was no anger in his heart against the man whose deep, laboured breaths +he could still hear behind him. It was only natural, Gray said to +himself, that he should believe him capable of deserting him. He had +deserved to be thought willing to commit even such a baseness as that. +</p> + +<p> +Yet if he could not convince Lumley that he was to be trusted, there +was nothing but death for both of them. Gray had felt incapable of +reasoning with his companion for the moment, incapable even of speech. +He had felt ready to give up the struggle—to let it all end there. +But as he stood fighting manfully with his weakness, strength came to +him—power to will and act as a brave man should. The far-off +moon-clear skyline, the stars faintly shining in the upper blue, the +solemn moonlight, the rustle of the wind in the dry grasses, all seemed +to have a message for him—to whisper hope, to lift him out of himself, +to give him courage to make another fight for life. +</p> + +<p> +He went back to Lumley, and sat down again where he had sat before. +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to me a moment, Lumley," he said. "You say you know where +water is?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Say</i> I know? I <i>do</i> know, partner; you may lay your life to that," +responded Lumley harshly. +</p> + +<p> +He had been lying watching Gray, wondering what his next move would be. +Gray's quiet manner was a surprise to him. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, you do know. Now, I will tell you what I am going to do. +I shall wait a few moments for you to tell me where it lies—" +</p> + +<p> +"You may wait a hundred years if you like," broke in Lumley with a +savage look. +</p> + +<p> +"And then I mean to set off to try and find it for myself," went on +Gray, as if Lumley had not spoken. "You have told me too much if you +did not mean to tell me more. I shall walk six miles in one direction, +and if I do not get in sight of the trees, I shall walk back and try +again. I must hit upon them at last, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"You'd never do it," said Lumley scoffingly. "You're nigh beat +already. You'd die in your tracks." +</p> + +<p> +"You're wrong there," returned Gray, with a quiet confidence that had +its due effect on his companion. "I shall not be walking aimlessly, +you see, and in this moonlight there's no fear of going over the same +ground again. I am convinced I shall reach the water in time enough +for myself. It is you who will probably suffer for keeping back the +information you possess." +</p> + +<p> +"What d'ye mean by that?" broke from Lumley fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +"Just this," said Gray, keeping his glance steadily fixed upon him: "if +I could reach this water without delay I should be able to get back to +you with a supply; but if I wear out my strength in getting there, I +may not be able to get back to you in time. Surely you can see that?" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley glared at him like a trapped beast. +</p> + +<p> +"You're just the one to come back, ain't you?" he exclaimed. "A cove +what murdered his own mate for a bit of flimsy. You're one to be +trusted, ain't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"You must believe that if you will," said Gray calmly. His voice +faltered as he went on after a momentary pause. "I betrayed my +mate—the truest, best mate man ever had; but I'll be true to you, +Lumley, if you'll give me the chance. I am not the man I was." +</p> + +<p> +The only answer Lumley vouchsafed to that was a harsh mocking laugh. +Gray did not speak again, and they sat in silence for some moments, +while Lumley dragged up his injured foot and rubbed it, keeping a +furtive scrutiny on Gray's determined face. When he had first heard +Gray's call and answered it, he had not made up his mind as to whether +he should trust him or no, and through their first talk he had wavered +to and fro—now feeling ready to risk the chance that Gray would come +back to him, now savagely vowing within himself that they should both +die, almost within sight of the water that would be life to them, +rather than Gray should alone escape. At the last this savage mood had +conquered, and he had felt it impossible to trust Gray with his +precious secret. +</p> + +<p> +But now he began to see clearly enough that he had outwitted himself. +The trees were so near, and such a striking landmark, that Gray was +certain to find them if he had strength enough to persevere for some +hours in the search; and that he had strength enough, Lumley could not +but believe as he looked at his quiet resolute face. +</p> + +<p> +The silence continued for some moments. It was broken by Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I have given you time enough," he said, getting deliberately +on his feet. "Now, which is it to be, Lumley? I shall start in +another moment." +</p> + +<p> +A fierce oath escaped Lumley's lips. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll not be left to rot here," he snarled out. "I'll walk it somehow. +Give me your arm, partner." +</p> + +<p> +He made a clutch at it, and dragged himself slowly and painfully to his +feet. The agony of movement turned Lumley's face to the clammy hue of +death, but he would not give way to the pain. He essayed to walk +forward, but after the first step Gray stood still. +</p> + +<p> +"You can't do it, Lumley. It is madness to attempt it." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley glared at him for a moment, and then suddenly yielded. +</p> + +<p> +"You're right, partner; I'm beat. You've got the best of it this time. +Now help me back again, and I'll tell you all I know." +</p> + +<p> +Gray helped him back to the hillock, and put his foot in as comfortable +a position as possible. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be back to you before many hours are over, Lumley. I'll make all +the haste I can," he said, his tone softened by a sudden pity for the +disabled man. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley looked up at him with implacable eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Ill believe you when I see you, mate. But you've bested me all round, +and I've got to trust you, you see." +</p> + +<p> +He dragged out the flat bottle from his pocket, and held it up to Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Turn your back on the moon and walk straight on; and if I ever see you +again you're a bigger fool than I take you for." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall come back," Gray said briefly. +</p> + +<p> +He pocketed the bottle, and turned sharply away in the direction Lumley +had pointed out. +</p> + +<p> +He was hardly conscious of fatigue as he pressed across the sandy +waste. Even the torture of thirst had grown less since hope had come +to him. He hurried on with strong, eager footsteps, expecting every +moment to see the trees lift themselves against the sky. Once the +terrible thought came to him that Lumley had been deceiving him all the +time, and his story of the water was a lie; but as he remembered +Lumley's looks and words, and recalled the intensity of excitement in +his face when he had left him, he knew that there was indeed water +close at hand. Then, again, when he seemed to have been walking for a +long time, and the horizon still lay before him bare and unbroken, he +began to suspect that Lumley had wilfully misled him, and the water lay +in another direction. +</p> + +<p> +But it was almost immediately after this that his foot struck against a +shrub, and looking down he saw he had come upon a banksia, a sign, as +he was bushman enough to know, that better country was close ahead. +The green leaves of the pretty little shrub were a welcome sight, and +it was shortly after passing this that he saw the tops of the cypresses +begin to show themselves against the sky-line, as the mast of a ship +lifts first above the sea-line. +</p> + +<p> +Gray pushed on with renewed energy, and it was not long before he was +close to the gloomy trees. A cloud of birds, the crows Lumley had +spoken of, rose from the trees as Gray approached, and flew screaming +over his head. He listened to their harsh voices with a shudder, and +hastily struck away to the left, where a low ridge crossed the plain +and hid what lay beyond. +</p> + +<p> +It took him some time to reach and breast the ridge, and his strength +was nearly at an end when he at last gained the top and looked down on +the shallow valley below. He could not see the shining stretch of +water Lumley had spoken of, the valley was too thickly covered with +shrubby undergrowth for that. But even in the moonlight Gray could see +that this undergrowth was densely green, and that the trees that sprang +above it were full of life and vigour. +</p> + +<p> +And as he descended the ridge he came upon a faint track through the +underwood—a native track, Gray felt sure, and one that led to the +water. He hurried along it, piercing deeper and deeper into the dark +recesses of the wood. But the darkness had no terrors for Gray. He +felt the track under his feet, and pressed boldly onward, pushing away +the interlacing boughs with his hands as he went. And presently there +came a faint light through the trees ahead, and in a few more steps he +came out into a little open space, and saw the reflection of the +moonlight in a round, deeply-fringed pool close before him. +</p> + +<p> +For the moment he saw nothing but the glimmering sheen of that water. +He flung himself down with a cry, and plunged his face in it. It was +stagnant, it was thick with mud and floating weeds, but it was fresh, +and to Gray it was purest nectar. He had self-control enough left not +to drink too much at once, but he lay by the side of the pool with +hands and arms buried deep in it, utterly oblivious for the moment of +everything but the mere physical delight the water brought to him. +</p> + +<p> +How long he lay there he never knew. He could never recall that time +except as a vague memory. He could remember breaking out of the wood +and seeing the little moonlit pool before him, but after that it was +all confused. What brought him back to clear consciousness was a +movement somewhere on the other side of the pool, where the branches of +a tree cast a flickering shadow on the grass. Gray started up, dizzy +and trembling; but his first glance showed him what it was. His horse +had found its way to the water before him, drawn by some sure and +marvellous instinct, and now had drawn close again to the pool, gazing +across at its master with mild recognizing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Gray cautiously approached it, fearing it might start away; but it +showed no desire to escape. It arched its neck and whinnied joyfully +when Gray came close. It was evidently delighted to feel its master's +hand again. Gray stood by its side, patting it and speaking to it, +finding strange delight in its joyful welcome. The wallet containing +the money still hung at the saddle, with the rough bag in which Lumley +had carried the food. +</p> + +<p> +Gray, standing by the horse, took out some food and hurriedly ate it. +He would not trust himself to sit down again; he felt that sleep might +suddenly overcome him unawares. When he had eaten a few morsels—he +found it too difficult to swallow to be able to eat much—he carefully +filled the bottle he carried, and the larger bottle that was in the bag +with the food, drank a deep draught himself and allowed his horse to +drink, and then, holding the horse by the bridle, he began to pick his +way along the path by which he had come. +</p> + +<p> +The horse followed him quietly; it was only when they emerged from the +wood and began to ascend the slope of the ridge that it showed the +first signs of unwillingness. Gray had to encourage it by voice and +hand before he could prevail upon it to take the upward path. +</p> + +<p> +Gray was able to discern more clearly now how worn out the poor +creature was by all it had gone through. He felt an impulse once to +let it have its way, and let it remain in the valley, but he dismissed +the impulse at once. The horse was too useful, too necessary to be +dispensed with. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the brow of the ridge, and there Gray rested for a while. +He had not mounted the horse, he had determined to go on leading it for +some time longer at least. He doubted if it had strength left to carry +him. He stood beside the horse with the bridle in his hand, and looked +down upon the vast plain stretching away from the foot of the ridge. +</p> + +<p> +Up to that point Gray, since finding the horse, had acted +instinctively, almost as an automaton might act. He was so worn out, +so numb with privation and fatigue, that he had not gone in thought +beyond the present moment. But now it was as if a cloud had lifted +from his brain; he saw the whole position in a glance. What had been +his heart's dearest wish was fulfilled for him. All he had coveted, +all he had betrayed his mate Harding to get, was at last within his +grasp. He had but to turn his horse's head away from that silent, +secret-keeping bush, and the gold was safely his. +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not thrust the thought from him; he let his mind dwell upon +it, he regarded it steadily; for his eyes had been opened to see in +what the real happiness and worth of life consisted. Through suffering +and humiliation he had learnt to measure things at their right value. +In contact with a man who had deliberately chosen evil to be his good +he had been taught what evil meant. The temptation that had once been +too strong for him was no longer a temptation. He could see the full +baseness of it now. Better death, better open confession and a +dishonoured name, than life and honour bought by treachery and guile. +</p> + +<p> +The trees stood up dark and funereal against the cloudless sky. His +path lay beneath them, and on towards the moonlit east. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, we must start, old fellow," Gray said to the reluctant horse, +and he began to descend the slope of the ridge. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER X +</h3> + +<h4> +A GRIM SORT OF PICNIC. +</h4> + +<p> +The dawn was breaking when Gray approached the spot where Lumley lay. +He had walked the whole distance, for his horse was evidently too +dead-beat to carry him. He had had no difficulty in keeping to the +right track. Indeed he had calculated so well, that when he first +stopped and "coo-eed" to make sure he was going right, Lumley's answer +had come from a point straight ahead, and no considerable distance off. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley had seen him before that call. Though he had told himself again +and again that Gray would never come back, that it was too much in his +interest to leave him there to die, his eyes had anxiously watched the +western horizon. +</p> + +<p> +There had been something in Gray's look when he had spoken his last +words that had impressed Lumley powerfully, and so it was not +altogether a surprise to him when he at last could distinguish a dark, +moving object against the sky. The surprise came later when he was +able to discern that Gray was leading his horse with him. +</p> + +<p> +A strange change came over Lumley's face when he realized that; his +thin lips set themselves together, his brows contracted with a frown of +anxious thought, his eyes grew like the stealthy, waiting eyes of a +beast of prey which has not the strength to attack its victim in the +open, but lurks in ambush and springs upon it unawares. +</p> + +<p> +With that look on his face he watched Gray approaching him through the +clear rosy light of the sunrise, but it was gone before Gray came near +enough to see his face clearly. He made an effort at a smile of +grateful welcome. +</p> + +<p> +<a id="p159"></a> +"So you haven't left me to the crows, partner?" he said, raising +himself on his elbow as he spoke to grasp the bottle Gray held out to +him. "I'm glad enough to see you, I can tell you that." +</p> + +<p> +Gray nodded silently, and then went back to the horse and took the bags +from the saddle. He brought them to the spot where Lumley was lying, +and flung them down at his side. He saw that Lumley had done little +more than wet his lips from the bottle, but that he had torn some +strips from the lining of his coat, and was proceeding to pour water on +them with a careful hand. +</p> + +<p> +"You'd better let me do that for you," Gray said quietly. "And there +is more water, Lumley; take another pull. I can fill the bottles again +if they are empty before you can move." +</p> + +<p> +He had knelt down as he spoke, and taken the wet rags from Lumley's +hand to bind round his injured foot. +</p> + +<p> +"The horse will have to carry me," said Lumley after watching Gray's +bandaging for a moment. "You found him by the water, didn't you, +partner?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, close by it." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley eyed the horse with a quick furtive glance, and then looked at +Gray again. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you tramp it all the way, partner? I'd have let the horse save my +legs if I'd been you." +</p> + +<p> +"He's dead beat," Gray said briefly. "He had enough to carry." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley's eyes turned involuntarily to the bags at his side. He had +avoided looking at them since Gray had placed them by him. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a mercy we've got the grub all right, ain't it, partner?" he +said. "Though I'm blessed if I feel a bit peckish. 'Twas water I +wanted." +</p> + +<p> +He drank a little from the bottle and corked it again. Gray marvelled +at the self-control he showed in taking so little. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd finish that bottle right away if I were you, Lumley," he said. +"It's only a few mouthfuls after all. I sha'n't want any more for a +good time yet." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley took another sip and then put the bottle away from him. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tain't good to take too much at once, partner. And so you found it +pretty easy, eh? Now, how far should you reckon it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps eight or nine miles." +</p> + +<p> +Gray had finished his bandaging, and had opened the bag containing the +food. As he sat down on the ground near Lumley he pushed the wallet of +money from him with his elbow, but Lumley did not give it a glance. +Neither he nor Gray had yet referred to it. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's the other bottle of water," Gray said, taking it out and +sticking it in the sand. "And here's the damper." He took out some of +the dry uninviting scraps and laid them close to Lumley. "There's +nothing else," he added, looking into the bag. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley gave a quick glance at the bag. +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't I put the pistols there, mate? I haven't got 'em about me." +He spoke carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, they're here," Gray returned. "But that's all the food left. +Still, there's enough to last us for a day or two." +</p> + +<p> +"A kind of grim sort of picnic, isn't it?" said Lumley with a grin, as +he took up a bit of damper. He ate a few mouthfuls and then drew out +the bottle for another sip. "Here's to you, partner," he said with an +awkward nod at Gray, "and good luck to both on us." +</p> + +<p> +Gray returned his nod, but made no answer in words. Lumley put back +the bottle again, and watched him for a moment from beneath his heavy +brows. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't bear no malice, I hope, mate?" he said suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Gray raised his heavy eyes and looked at him inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +"I was pretty rough on you last night," went on Lumley in a persuasive, +apologetic tone; "but I was drove up in a corner, you see. I'd served +you so bad that I reckoned you'd be glad enough to pay me out. Though +I'd have sent back for you from the nearest station, partner. I meant +that all along." +</p> + +<p> +Gray did not believe him, but he did not think it worth while to tell +him so. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll let bygones be bygones, Lumley," he said in a friendly tone. +"We've both had a hard time of it, but it's nearly over now, I hope. +And you'll be able to trust me for the future." +</p> + +<p> +"So I shall, so I shall, partner," returned Lumley rapidly. "'Tisn't +many as would have come back—not after they'd got the horse and +everything. What a bit of luck 'twould have been for you if you'd come +back and found me dead. Didn't you hope you would, now?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Gray. He got slowly up and looked round for a hillock that +would give him a little shelter from the sun. "I must get a sleep," he +said. "I shall be fit for nothing till I've had that. I'm dizzy for +want of it." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley was staring up at him with sudden fierce suspicion in his +glance. A new thought had struck him. Ever since he had seen Gray +with the horse he had been wondering what had made him come back. Such +refusal of good fortune seemed inexplicable to him. +</p> + +<p> +"You didn't come across the police, did you?" he said. "You've not set +a trap for me?" +</p> + +<p> +But even as he said it he saw how unfounded his suspicion was, and the +sudden fierceness left his face, giving way to the anxious, apologetic +look it had worn all through his late talk with Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't seen anyone," Gray said indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +He moved away as he spoke, and Lumley watched him settle himself for a +sleep a little distance off. Gray lay down with his back to him, under +the scanty shade of a hillock, and drew his hat over his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley watched him intently till he had satisfied himself that he had +fallen into a deep sleep. Then he made a quick clutch at the wallet of +money, and drew it close to him. He hurriedly counted it over, giving +furtive looks at Gray the while. Once Gray moved, and he crushed the +notes he held back into the bag, and pushed the bag from him. But Gray +did not move again, and after a pause he resumed his counting. When he +had satisfied himself that the money was all there he replaced it in +the wallet, which he put back into its original position. +</p> + +<p> +He then, in the same cautious, hurried way, examined the pistols, and +replaced them in the bag. He left them there for a moment, then took +one out again, and thrust it into his pocket. But he changed his mind +after a short consideration, took out the pistol from his pocket and +replaced it in the bag. Then he poured some water on the rags Gray had +bound round his foot, took a sparing sip from the bottle, and having +corked it and pushed it back into the sand, turned himself round to get +a sleep; and almost at once sleep, heavy and dreamless, came to him. +</p> + +<p> +Many hours elapsed before either of the men awoke. It was Gray who +came back to consciousness first. He was roused by the glare of the +sun on his face, and sitting drowsily up he saw that it had travelled +right across the sky while he slept, and was now declining towards the +west. His next glance showed him the horse languidly cropping the dry +grass some few paces off, and Lumley asleep with one arm flung up above +his head. +</p> + +<p> +But almost at once, before his eyes had travelled away from him, Lumley +awoke. He raised himself quickly, looking round him with a wild +suspicious stare and thrusting out a hand to clutch the bag of money at +his side. +</p> + +<p> +Gray got up and slowly approached him. +</p> + +<p> +"How is your foot?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Bad," returned Lumley with a groan. +</p> + +<p> +He said no more, and Gray sat down by him in silence. Lumley drew up +his foot and began to wet the bandages again. +</p> + +<p> +"The pain's worse than ever," he muttered, without looking at Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"The water will do it good," replied Gray. +</p> + +<p> +He drew the bag of food towards him as he spoke. "I believe I can eat +something now," he said. "That sleep has done me any amount of good." +</p> + +<p> +"How long have you been awake?" asked Lumley, with one of his quick +glances. +</p> + +<p> +"Not more than two minutes. I must have slept pretty nearly all day by +the look of the sun." +</p> + +<p> +"That's just what you've done, partner," returned Lumley, without +saying he had done the same. He looked across at the horse. "What do +you think of him?" he asked, with a nod towards it. "Doesn't look up +to much in my opinion." +</p> + +<p> +"I think the sooner we can start the better," answered Gray. "The poor +old fellow can get nothing here. What do you think? Could you manage +to mount him?" +</p> + +<p> +Lumley shook his head in decided negative. +</p> + +<p> +"Let's see what my foot's like to-morrow, partner. I couldn't stand on +it to-day to save my life." +</p> + +<p> +"The sooner we get off the better," Gray returned. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley made no reply to this. +</p> + +<p> +"You found the water just as I said, didn't you?" he asked presently. +"'Tis years agone since I was in this part, but I was sure of it." +</p> + +<p> +"I expect the place is a good deal overgrown since then," replied Gray. +"You can't see any water from the ridge, but there's a track leading to +it. I had no difficulty." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley listened intently, but did not pursue the subject of the water. +</p> + +<p> +"There's a station not so far off. We'll have to get on there and rest +a bit," was his next remark. +</p> + +<p> +"You know the way I suppose?" asked Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"I know it well enough. You won't get lost again, I promise you." +</p> + +<p> +He was slowly rubbing his leg as he spoke, with his face turned from +Gray. +</p> + +<p> +"Couldn't I find it by myself?" said Gray after a moment. "They'd send +a wagon back for you." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley gave a curious sort of chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll see, partner, we'll see. We won't part company again unless +we're forced to. And while I think about it, there's a little point +we've got to settle." He stopped rubbing his leg, and turned his pale +blue eyes full on Gray. "What about this?" He touched the wallet of +money with his elbow. "Share and share alike, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray had been expecting a question of this sort. He returned Lumley's +glance as steadily as he could. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall tell the whole story to the first responsible person we meet, +and hand the money over to him for safe keeping." +</p> + +<p> +"Which story are you goin' to tell, if I may make so bold as to ask?" +said Lumley with an ugly smile. "You've forgot, maybe, about the +reward you meant to claim. You told me that was all you wanted when +first we met, you know, mate." +</p> + +<p> +"I told you a lie. I meant to steal the money just as much as you +did," returned Gray quietly. He waited a moment, and then went +nervously on. "I need not mention your name to the authorities, +Lumley, but I wish you could come to see as I do. When a man's been +face to face with death, as you and I have, he begins to learn the +truth about himself." +</p> + +<p> +Gray's voice faltered before he stopped speaking, and he did not say +all he had wished to say. Lumley's cold mocking glance was too hard to +bear. +</p> + +<p> +"You're as good as a parson, ain't you, partner? But you've always +took the virtuous line, ever since we've been together. Why, the first +time I set eyes on you you preached to me; and now you're at it again! +I never did see such a chap for sermons." +</p> + +<p> +Gray's face grew scarlet. +</p> + +<p> +"You can't think worse of me than I do of myself," he returned; "but I +mean what I say about the money, Lumley,—I mean every word of that." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you're master, I s'pose," the other returned with an odd look +that Gray remembered afterwards. "But no tricks, mind; no going in for +the reward when my back's turned, mate; though, p'r'aps, you'll not get +the chance." +</p> + +<p> +"I think I've proved to you whether or not you can trust me now," said +Gray, with just a touch of the old superiority in his tone. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley gave a short laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you'd best stick to the virtuous line, partner. You're not cut +out for any other; you're too soft-hearted and afraid. P'r'aps you +thought my ghost would haunt you unless you came back—but I don't +believe in ghosts, mate." +</p> + +<p> +Gray made some answer, he hardly knew what, and presently he got up and +moved away. +</p> + +<p> +A shiver went over him once or twice as he stood talking to his horse, +who had come up to him as he left Lumley. He had involuntarily +recalled Lumley's mocking, incredulous look when he had tried to speak +of the change his sufferings had wrought in him. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning Lumley complained that his foot was worse than ever, and +that it would be impossible for him to mount the horse that day. Gray +did his best to persuade him at least to try, but with no effect. And +Lumley positively declined to let Gray ride on to the station. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be able to start to-morrow," he declared; "and we can do all +right till then." +</p> + +<p> +There followed a day that Gray found very hard to bear. The moments +seemed to lengthen themselves out into hours, the hours into weeks—the +day seemed as if it would never end. It passed at last, and the night +came—a lovely moonlight night like the last. +</p> + +<p> +Gray had not slept during the day, and he hardly expected to sleep +during the night; he felt too feverishly eager for the morning. But +sometime after midnight he fell into a troubled, restless slumber. It +was still bright moonlight when he awoke; the east showed no sign of +dawn. +</p> + +<p> +He woke suddenly with a strange sense of terror upon him. He started +up, and looked suspiciously round. The horse was there, not far from +the spot where he had last seen it, but Lumley was no longer lying +against the hillock, and in his first hasty glance Gray failed to find +him. But a rough laugh broke on his ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't go off your head with fright, partner," called out Lumley, who +was crouching on the ground close beside the horse. "I've just been +tryin' my strength a bit. We can start at sunrise, if you like." +</p> + +<p> +Gray walked slowly across to him. +</p> + +<p> +"How did you manage to get here?" he said wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley had got hold of the bridle of the horse, but he let it go as +Gray approached. +</p> + +<p> +"Crawled on my hands and feet," he said. "And a pretty hard bit of +work it's been." +</p> + +<p> +Gray could see he was much exhausted. His face was deathly pale, and +there were great drops of sweat upon it, brought there by the pain he +had gone through. He had been trying to mount the horse by his unaided +efforts, and had given up the attempt in despair just before Gray woke. +But he did not tell Gray this, and Gray did not guess it. +</p> + +<p> +"You should have waited till I could help you," Gray said after a +moment. "I hardly understand how you can have got so far. Your foot +must be much better." +</p> + +<p> +He was still looking down on Lumley with a wondering look He saw that +he had fastened the wallet of money round his shoulders, and was half +lying upon it with one arm tightly grasping it. +</p> + +<p> +"P'r'aps you think I was tryin' to clear off?" said Lumley sulkily; +"what would be the good of tryin' that. You know the way now, don't +you? You'd be pretty soon on my tracks. And, besides, I'm not much +better than a log; I can't do without you yet, partner." +</p> + +<p> +Suspicion after suspicion flashed through Gray's mind, only to be +dismissed at once. +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible, he said to himself, that Lumley could be meditating +foul play against the man who had saved his life. And, besides, it was +as he said, he could not do without him. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley read his thoughts correctly enough. +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't stare at a cove like that," he said in the same sulky +tone. "You were so mighty anxious to get off I thought I'd try what I +could do. And we can start at sunrise, mate. You'll not have much +longer to spend in company with me; you'll be glad of that, won't you? +I'm not good enough for the likes of you." +</p> + +<p> +"Couldn't we start before sunrise?" Gray said quietly; "it's almost as +light as day now." +</p> + +<p> +"It'll be dark as pitch in another hour when the moon goes down. And I +want a rest," returned Lumley; "I'm not goin' to stir from here till +sunrise for anybody, Mr. Gentleman Gray." +</p> + +<p> +His sulky rage reassured Gray more than smooth language would have +done, as Lumley perhaps had guessed. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, at sunrise, then," he said, and turned away to lie down +again in his old place. +</p> + +<p> +The moon went down, and, as Lumley had said, there followed an hour of +darkness in which the stars shone forth with undimmed splendour. +</p> + +<p> +Gray lay on the ground staring up at them. A little way off Lumley was +stealthily watching him, wondering what his thoughts were. But Gray +had forgotten Lumley—he was thinking of Harding. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XI. +</h3> + +<h4> +A RUTHLESS VILLAIN. +</h4> + +<p> +It was just before sunrise that they started on their way; Lumley +riding the horse, and Gray walking by the horse's side. It was with +great difficulty that Gray had managed to get his companion on the +horse. Lumley had made it more difficult than it need have been. He +was anxious that Gray should believe his foot was much worse than it +really was. The night before he had found himself quite capable of +getting rapidly along on hands and feet, and even of standing for a +moment, holding on by the horse. +</p> + +<p> +"Goes like a lamb, don't he?" he said to Gray as they went across the +plain. "No fear of his kicking up his heels again, is there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not much," said Gray with a pitiful look at the poor worn-out creature. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he won't run off with anything this time," said Lumley with a +laugh; "I've taken care of that. But he'll go straight for the water +again, that's what he'll do, and carry me with him." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley spoke again after a moment +</p> + +<p> +"You might go after that wagon when we get to water, partner. What do +you think of that plan, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think it's the best plan." +</p> + +<p> +"And you could take the money with you, couldn't you? I suppose you +wouldn't leave it with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I had better take it," Gray answered heavily. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley darted a suspicious glance at him. +</p> + +<p> +"You're down in the mouth, ain't you, partner? You'd better be advised +by me." He stopped the horse. "Come, mate, let's strike a bargain. +Share and share alike. Half of it's a pretty pile for any cove. And +who'd be the wiser or the worse for it? You go off to England and live +like the gentleman you are. I'll not blow on you, and nobody else +knows a word about it. Come, there's a fair offer; and I mean it, mind +you." +</p> + +<p> +Gray looked steadily up at him. +</p> + +<p> +"It's no good, Lumley; nothing you could say would tempt me. You're +wasting your words." +</p> + +<p> +A sulky frown settled on Lumley's face. He jerked on the horse. +</p> + +<p> +"Wastin' my words, am I? I won't waste any more of 'em. You can do as +you like." +</p> + +<p> +They went on in silence for some time. Gray broke it. +</p> + +<p> +"There are the trees," he said. +</p> + +<p> +Lumley gave a sudden start, and Gray saw his face change colour. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't expect 'em so soon," he said huskily. He stared at them with +a gloomy troubled look, and then glanced at Gray, who was walking on a +pace or two ahead with his head sunk on his breast. Lumley's hand +stole to his pocket. There was a pistol there. He gripped it, then +let it go and dragged his hand away. +</p> + +<p> +"Look here, partner," he cried out hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +Gray turned round. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll leave us the reward? The bank will pay it in a jiffy, and glad +enough. You ain't goin' to be fool enough to lose us that?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray's face set in stern determination. +</p> + +<p> +"You are wasting your words, as I told you just now. What claim have +we to the reward? They don't reward thieves for returning what they +stole. I have told you what I mean to do. I shall do it." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley's hand had gone back to his pocket, and lay hidden there. He +did not speak again for some moments. They were full in sight of the +trees now, and to the left the low ridge had become visible. +</p> + +<p> +"We'd better strike off here, I think," said Gray. "It will be easier +for the horse a little lower down." +</p> + +<p> +They turned as he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"It's pretty close now, ain't it?" asked Lumley huskily. +</p> + +<p> +"Just over the ridge. The track was plain enough, even by moonlight, +We can't miss it." +</p> + +<p> +Lumley made no answer, but the moment after he came to a stand-still. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter with the horse?" he exclaimed. "It's dead lame." +</p> + +<p> +Gray turned round and looked at it +</p> + +<p> +"A stone in the hoof, perhaps," he said, bending down to take a look. +</p> + +<p> +The moment he stooped Lumley drew out his pistol and took aim at him. +Gray's life was saved by the horse. As he bent down and lifted up the +hoof it made a sudden, violent swerve away from him. It was at that +moment Lumley pulled the trigger. The bullet whistled past Gray's +head, and he sprang up, dazed and horrified, but quite unhurt, and made +a clutch at Lumley's arm. But the arm was already lifted with the +smoking pistol in it, and it descended with crushing force on Gray's +upturned brow. Lumley had no need to repeat the blow. Gray fell back +without a groan, and lay upon the earth as senseless and motionless as +one already dead. For the moment Lumley thought he was dead. +</p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-176"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-176.jpg" alt="A TREACHEROUS BLOW" /> +<br /> +A TREACHEROUS BLOW +</p> + +<p> +"He brought it on himself," he muttered, as he stared down at the still +figure. And then added, "I'll make sure; it's safest." +</p> + +<p> +He levelled his pistol again, but he did not fire. His arm fell by his +side. He could not fire. An oath at his own weakness broke from his +lips. He thrust from him the pity that had taken the strength from his +arm, and raised the pistol again. He meant to fire this time. But his +opportunity was gone. The horse had been straining at the reins ever +since he had fired, and now with a sudden jerk it got its head free and +bolted off at a wild gallop along the bottom of the ridge. Lumley +clutched at the reins again, but the horse was beyond control, and he +had the utmost difficulty in keeping his seat. He tried to turn the +horse up the ridge, but the frantic animal rushed blindly on. It was +mad with terror. +</p> + +<p> +The blow had badly stunned Gray, and it was some time before he +recovered consciousness. Even then he could not recall clearly what +had happened or where he was, but lay looking up at the sky, trying +vainly to get his confused thoughts clear. +</p> + +<p> +After a few moments he raised himself slowly and languidly on his arm, +and looked round him. The trees were close at hand. There were crows +sitting on them watching him, and on the sand not far off him two or +three more had stationed themselves. Quite near them there lay +something that Gray recognized with a thrill. It was the pistol Lumley +had dropped as the horse dashed away. +</p> + +<p> +Gray could remember it all now. He lived over again that terrible +moment when the bullet had sung past his ear, and he had leapt up to +clutch Lumley's murderous arm. But where was Lumley? +</p> + +<p> +Gray raised himself into a sitting posture as he asked himself that +question, and looked up the ridge, half expecting to see Lumley just +crossing it to the water below; but the ridge showed no signs of him or +of the horse. Yet as Gray looked and listened he could plainly hear +the sound of galloping hoofs, just as he had heard them two nights +before. +</p> + +<p> +He turned his head away from the ridge, and looked in the opposite +direction. And then with a cry he staggered to his feet. The horse +was coming rapidly towards him with Lumley clinging to it, his body +thrown forwards, his arms clutching the horse's neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Help me! Save me! Stop the horse!" broke in shrill cries from the +lips of the terrified man as he was whirled past Gray. +</p> + +<p> +Gray staggered forward and made a clutch at the hanging rein; but he +might as well have tried to stop a whirlwind. The horse dashed past +him along the ridge, in the path it had traversed before, and then, as +before, swerved aside and rushed away into the Bush. +</p> + +<p> +Gray sank back upon the ground, and covered his face with his hands. +He could do nothing. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before he heard the sound of the returning hoofs. He +struggled to his feet once more and looked. +</p> + +<p> +The horse was coming back on its path, swaying wildly from side to +side, with foaming mouth and staring eyeballs; and this time no +terrified, white-faced suppliant was clinging to its back shrieking out +to Gray for help. The horse was riderless! +</p> + +<p> +Riderless! But what was that dark lifeless weight hanging by the +stirrup, dragged across sand and bramble as the horse staggered on? A +sickening, paralysing fear took possession of Gray as he saw and knew. +He stood with his eyes fixed upon it unable to move. +</p> + +<p> +The horse staggered on, but not far. It suddenly gave a dreadful cry +and fell. There was a struggle, a moan, and then it lay still, as +still as the dead body by its side. +</p> + +<p> +Gray drew near, drew close. He looked down upon the face of the man +who had deserted him, and attempted to murder him. Then with +difficulty he dragged the body from under the horse and straightened it +out. The wallet containing the money fell from the shoulders of the +dead man as he did so, and opened, showing the gold and notes. Gray +did not even look at them. He laid the body out in decent fashion, and +covered the dreadful face. +</p> + +<p> +Then he stumbled away across the sands, caring not whither he went, +caring only to get away from the spot where the dead man lay. His eyes +were burning and throbbing, there was a great singing in his ears. He +sank down again. His limbs refused to carry him further. Then came a +sudden silence, a great darkness, and he knew no more. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> + +<h3> +CHAPTER XII. +</h3> + +<h4> +UNDER GREEN BOUGHS. +</h4> + +<p> +When Gray came to himself again he was lying on a bank of green herbage +under the shadow of a mighty tree. The boughs kept up a pleasant +murmuring. Bright-hued birds were flitting to and fro, now in the +shadow, now in the sunshine. Through the waving boughs Gray could see +a blue sky shining. +</p> + +<p> +It was all so beautiful, so unlike the scene on which his eyes had +closed, that he could not believe it to be real. It was a fevered +dream, he said to himself; and presently he would awake and see the +vast sun-baked plains stretching round him in their awful loneliness, +and <i>that thing</i> lying not far off beside the horse. +</p> + +<p> +But the dream lasted! He slept and woke again, and still the trees +waved above him and the birds fluttered to and fro. He could even hear +now the tinkling of bells not far off, such as oxen wear upon their +heads. He lifted himself on his elbow, for he was too weak to rise, +and looked round him. As he raised himself he saw a dog lying a few +feet off, with its head between its paws, gazing at him with brown +intelligent eyes. Gray fell back on the bank. The dog might have been +Harding's dog. The sight of him brought back the past again. He +remembered all he had done, and the wish rose in him that he had died +like Lumley, that— +</p> + +<p> +But the thought was never finished, for at that moment a hand was laid +upon his shoulder, a cheery voice sounded in his ears. Gray dropped +his hands and looked up with a wild glad cry. It was Harding's self +who stood at his side!—thinner, paler, with white streaks in his brown +hair that were new to Gray, but Harding's very self. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't speak, don't try to speak, my lad," he said, sitting down by +Gray and taking his hand. Gray held that rough brown hand tight, +putting his other hand over it, and looking into Harding's face with +eyes that could scarce believe the reality of the joy that had come to +him. But memory came to cloud the rapture of that first moment. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not fit to touch your hands, Harding," he said in a low voice. +But he did not attempt to let go his grasp, and Harding stretched out +his other hand and laid it on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"You mustn't talk, old fellow; you've been ill, you know. No, I won't +hear anything just now," he added, as Gray attempted to speak; "I'm +spokesman just now. Don't you want to know—" He made a sudden, +awkward stop, and then continued lamely: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm all right, you see. Got picked up by some friendly black fellows. +I'd hurt my leg, you see, and couldn't walk. They carried me with them +till I could tell them who I was. I had a touch of fever, and was out +of my head for a time; but they nursed me well. I was off my head a +while, you see, and they carried me along with 'em. We were crossing a +bit of the bush when I got myself again. And I found—" Harding +stopped and cast a hasty, commiserating glance at Gray. "Well, I found +that map you'd drawn, and the letter on t'other side. It didn't take +me long to put two and two together, you know." +</p> + +<p> +Gray had turned from him and hidden his face. Harding stretched out +his hand again and put it on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I got two of the trackers, clever fellows, and we hit upon your +trail; and found you, you see." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you—did you—" Gray could not finish. +</p> + +<p> +"We buried him," Harding said shortly. "And I've got the money in the +wagon. We sent over to Ford's for a wagon. You were close to water, +lad, if you'd only known it." +</p> + +<p> +"I knew it," said Gray; "we had water." +</p> + +<p> +Harding looked inquiringly at him. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a long story," said Gray. A shudder went over him, and he +hurried on. "He got out of the track when he left me, and I found him. +The horse had thrown him, and he had hurt his foot, but he knew where +the water was and I got it. And I found the horse by the water." +</p> + +<p> +Harding put his hand on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Did he give you that blow, lad?" +</p> + +<p> +Gray nodded, and Harding asked no more questions just then. +</p> + +<p> +Gray remained silent for a moment, then he turned his face to Harding. +</p> + +<p> +"I have got to tell you—" +</p> + +<p> +"I won't hear, lad. You've said a lot in your fever, and I won't hear +any more just now. I can see how it's all happened." +</p> + +<p> +Watch was lying at his master's feet, and here he looked up with a +short bark and a delighted wag of his tail. Harding pulled his ears. +"I don't know how Watch managed to live through it all; but he did—old +faithful fellow!" And then Harding's face turned scarlet. +</p> + +<p> +He would have got up to move away, but Gray held his hand fast. +</p> + +<p> +"The dog was faithful," he said in a low tone, "while I— No; you must +let me speak, Harding." +</p> + +<p> +"Not now, my lad; you are not fit for it." +</p> + +<p> +"I got your letter." +</p> + +<p> +Gray said the words firmly, almost roughly; then his voice faltered, +and he went brokenly on: +</p> + +<p> +"God has been merciful to me, a sinner. He sought me wandering, set me +right; He showed me what I'd done when—when I thought it was too +late." He stopped a moment, then his voice strengthened itself. "I +had made up my mind to confess everything if ever I got back. I little +thought I should be able to confess it to you. Do you understand me, +Harding? I got that letter." +</p> + +<p> +"My poor lad!" +</p> + +<p> +It was all Harding could say. +</p> + +<p> +"I did not deliberately say I would not go," went on Gray; "but it was +just the same. I put it off, and put it off; and then Watch +disappeared, and I was <i>glad</i>. You know why?" +</p> + +<p> +Harding nodded sadly. +</p> + +<p> +"It all seemed easy then. If I had been successful—I don't know—I +hope even then I might have found myself out; but I was sent into the +wilderness—I was brought face to face with the fruits of sin." Gray +shuddered as he spoke. "I saw myself as I was, Harding." +</p> + +<p> +"My poor lad!" said Harding again. +</p> + +<p> +There was silence between them for a while; then Gray spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean to live a different life, Harding. You will have to help me. +The first thing is to tell Mr. Morton everything." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, lad, except one thing. I won't have that told. No, I insist on +that, old fellow. Let's forget it. Promise me never to speak of it. +I never shall. You didn't mean to do it, you know." +</p> + +<p> +Gray shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"About the money," went on Harding quickly. "Well, you'd best tell Mr. +Morton; and the bank can have it all right. And we'll go back to the +run, Gray, until Polly and the lads come. Thank God, she had started +before a letter could reach her. She will have been spared this time +of suspense." +</p> + +<p> +"Morton won't have me back," said Gray under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he will. It's the best thing you can do, lad. If you go off by +yourself—" +</p> + +<p> +"If you will have me—if Morton will let me, it is what I most desire," +said Gray brokenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, that's all right," Harding said. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Bushranger's Secret, by Mrs. Henry Clarke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BUSHRANGER'S SECRET *** + +***** This file should be named 38791-h.htm or 38791-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/7/9/38791/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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