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diff --git a/41658-8.txt b/41658-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d7303b2..0000000 --- a/41658-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6726 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boss of Taroomba, by E. W. Hornung - -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 Boss of Taroomba - -Author: E. W. Hornung - -Release Date: December 19, 2012 [EBook #41658] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOSS OF TAROOMBA *** - - - - -Produced by Suzanne Shell, Martin Pettit and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from scanned images of public domain -material from the Google Print project.) - - - - - - -THE IVORY SERIES - -_Each, 16mo, gilt top, 75 cents_ - - -AMOS JUDD. By J. A. Mitchell, Editor of "Life" -IA. A Love Story. By Q. [Arthur T. Quiller-Couch] -THE SUICIDE CLUB. By Robert Louis Stevenson -IRRALIE'S BUSHRANGER. By E. W. Hornung -A MASTER SPIRIT. By Harriet Prescott Spofford -MADAME DELPHINE. By George W. Cable -ONE OF THE VISCONTI. By Eva Wilder Brodhead -A BOOK OF MARTYRS. By Cornelia Atwood Pratt -A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH. By E. W. Hornung -THE MAN WHO WINS. By Robert Herrick -AN INHERITANCE. By Harriet Prescott Spofford -THE OLD GENTLEMAN OF THE BLACK STOCK. - By Thomas Nelson Page -LITERARY LOVE LETTERS AND OTHER STORIES. - By Robert Herrick -A ROMANCE IN TRANSIT. By Francis Lynde -IN OLD NARRAGANSETT. By Alice Morse Earle -SEVEN MONTHS A PRISONER. By J. V. Hadley -"IF I WERE A MAN." By Harrison Robertson -SWEETHEARTS AND WIVES. By Anna A. Rogers -A CIVILIAN ATTACHÉ. By Helen Dawes Brown -THE BOSS OF TAROOMBA. By E. W. Hornung - -_Other volumes to be announced_ - - - - -THE BOSS OF TAROOMBA - -BY - -E. W. HORNUNG - -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS -NEW YORK 1900 - - - - -CONTENTS - - -CHAPTER I - PAGE -THE LITTLE MUSICIAN 1 - - -CHAPTER II - -A FRIEND INDEED 13 - - -CHAPTER III - -"HARD TIMES" 25 - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE TREASURE IN THE STORE 41 - - -CHAPTER V - -MASTERLESS MEN 55 - - -CHAPTER VI - -£500 71 - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE RINGER OF THE SHED 83 - - -CHAPTER VIII - -"THREE SHADOWS" 102 - - -CHAPTER IX - -NO HOPE FOR HIM 120 - - -CHAPTER X - -MISSING 138 - - -CHAPTER XI - -LOST IN THE BUSH 152 - - -CHAPTER XII - -FALLEN AMONG THIEVES 162 - - -CHAPTER XIII - -A SMOKING CONCERT 179 - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE RAID ON THE STATION 194 - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE NIGHT ATTACK 210 - - -CHAPTER XVI - -IN THE MIDST OF DEATH 232 - - - - -THE BOSS OF TAROOMBA - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE LITTLE MUSICIAN - - -They were terribly sentimental words, but the fellow sang them as though -he meant every syllable. Altogether, the song was not the kind of thing -to go down with a back-block audience, any more than the singer was the -class of man. - -He was a little bit of a fellow, with long dark hair and dark glowing -eyes, and he swayed on the music-stool, as he played and sang, in a -manner most new to the young men of Taroomba. He had not much voice, but -the sensitive lips took such pains with each word, and the long, nervous -fingers fell so lightly upon the old piano, that every one of the -egregious lines travelled whole and unmistakable to the farthest corner -of the room. And that was an additional pity, because the piano was so -placed that the performer was forced to turn his back upon his -audience; and behind it the young men of Taroomba were making great game -of him all the time. - -In the moderate light of two kerosene lamps, the room seemed full of -cord breeches and leather belts and flannel collars and sunburnt -throats. It was not a large room, however, and there were only four men -present, not counting the singer. They were young fellows, in the main, -though the one leaning his elbow on the piano had a bushy red beard, and -his yellow hair was beginning to thin. Another was reading _The -Australasian_ on the sofa; and a sort of twist to his mustache, a -certain rigor about his unshaven chin, if they betrayed no sympathy with -the singer, suggested a measure of contempt for the dumb clownery going -on behind the singer's back. Over his very head, indeed, the red-bearded -man was signalling maliciously to a youth who with coarse fat face and -hands was mimicking the performer in the middle of the room; while the -youngest man of the lot, who wore spectacles and a Home-bred look, -giggled in a half-ashamed, half-anxious way, as though not a little -concerned lest they should all be caught. And when the song ended, and -the singer spun round on the stool, they had certainly a narrow escape. - -"Great song!" cried the mimic, pulling himself together in an instant, -and clapping out a brutal burlesque of applause. - -"Shut up, Sandy," said the man with the beard, dropping a yellow-fringed -eyelid over a very blue eye. "Don't you mind Mr. Sanderson, sir," he -added to the musician; "he's not a bad chap, only he thinks he's funny. -We'll show him what funniment really is in a minute or two. I've just -found the very song! But what's the price of the last pretty thing?" - -"Of 'Love Flees before the Dawn?'" said the musician, simply. - -"Yes." - -"It's the same as all the rest; you see----" - -Here the mimic broke in with a bright, congenial joke. - -"Love how much?" cried he, winking with his whole heavy face. "I don't, -chaps, do you?" - -The sally was greeted with a roar, in which the musician joined timidly, -while the man on the sofa smiled faintly without looking up from his -paper. - -"Never mind him," said the red-bearded man, who was for keeping up the -fun as long as possible; "he's too witty to live. What did you say the -price was?" - -"Most of the songs are half a crown." - -"Come, I say, that's a stiffish price, isn't it?" - -"Plucky stiff for fleas!" exclaimed the wit. - -The musician flushed, but tossed back his head of hair, and held out his -hand for the song. - -"I can't help it, gentlemen. I can't afford to charge less. Every one of -these songs has been sent out from Home, and I get them from a man in -Melbourne, who makes _me_ pay for them. You're five hundred miles up -country, where you can't expect town prices." - -"Keep your hair on, old man!" said the wit, soothingly. - -"My what? My hair is my own business!" - -The little musician had turned upon his tormentor like a knife. His dark -eyes were glaring indignantly, and his nervous fingers had twitched -themselves into a pair of absurdly unserviceable white fists. But now a -freckled hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the man with the beard was -saying, "Come, come, my good fellow, you've made a mistake; my friend -Sanderson meant nothing personal. It's our way up here, you know, to -chi-ak each other and our visitors too." - -"Then I don't like your way," said the little man, stoutly. - -"Well, Sandy meant no offence, I'll swear to that." - -"Of course I didn't," said Sanderson. - -The musician looked from one to the other, and the anger went out of -him, making way for shame. - -"Then the offence is on my side," said he, awkwardly, "and I beg your -pardon." - -He took a pile of new music from the piano, and was about to go. - -"No, no, we're not going to let you off so easily," said the bearded -man, laughing. - -"You'll have to sing us one more song to show there's no ill feeling," -put in Sanderson. - -"And here's the song," added the other. "The very thing. I found it just -now. There you are--'The World's Creation!'" - -"Not that thing!" said the musician. - -"Why not?" - -"It's a comic song." - -"The very thing we want." - -"We'll buy up your whole stock of comic songs," said Sanderson. - -"Hear, hear," cried the silent youth who wore spectacles. - -"I wish you would," the musician said, smiling. - -"But we must hear them first." - -"I hate singing them." - -"Well, give us this one as a favor! Only this one. Do." - -The musician wavered. He was a very sensitive young man, with a -constitutional desire to please, and an acute horror of making a fool of -himself. Now the whole soul of him was aching with the conviction that -he had done this already, in showing his teeth at what had evidently -been meant as harmless and inoffensive badinage. And it was this feeling -that engendered the desperate desire at once to expiate his late display -of temper, and to win the good opinion of these men by fairly amusing -them after all. Certainly the song in demand did not amuse himself, but -then it was equally certain that his taste in humor differed from -theirs. He could not decide in his mind. He longed to make these men -laugh. To get on with older and rougher men was his great difficulty, -and one of his ambitions. - -"We must have this," said the man with the beard, who had been looking -over the song. "The words are first chop!" - -"I can't stand them," the musician confessed. - -"Why, are they too profane?" - -"They are too silly." - -"Well, they ain't for us. Climb down to our level, and fire away." - -With a sigh and a smile, and a full complement of those misgivings which -were a part of his temperament, the little visitor sat down and played -with much vivacity a banjo accompaniment which sounded far better than -anything else had done on the antiquated, weather-beaten bush piano. The -jingle struck fire with the audience, and the performer knew it, as he -went on to describe himself as "straight from Old Virginia," with his -head "stuffed full of knowledge," in spite of the fact that he had -"never been to 'Frisco or any other college;" the entertaining -information that "this world it was created in the twinkling of two -cracks" bringing the first verse to a conclusion. Then came the -chorus--of which there can scarcely be two opinions. The young men -caught it up with a howl, with the exception of the reader on the sofa, -who put his fingers in his ears. This is how it went: - - - Oh, walk up, Mr. Pompey, oh, walk up while I say, - Will you walk into the banjo and hear the parlor play? - Will you walk into the parlor and hear the banjo ring? - Oh, listen to de darkies how merrily dey sing! - - -The chorus ended with a whoop which assured the soloist that he was -amusing his men; and having himself one of those susceptible, excitable -natures which can enter into almost anything, given the fair wind of -appreciation to fill their sails, the little musician began actually to -enjoy the nonsense himself. His long fingers rang out the tinkling -accompaniment with a crisp, confident touch. He sang the second verse, -which built up the universe in numbers calculated to shock a religious -or even a reasonably cultivated order of mind, as though he were by no -means ashamed of it. And so far as culture and religion were concerned -he was tolerably safe--each fresh peal of laughter reassured him of -this. That the laugh was with him he never doubted until the end of the -third verse. Then it was that the roars of merriment rose louder than -ever, and that their note suddenly struck the musician's trained ear as -false. He sang through the next verse with an overwhelming sense of its -inanity, and with the life gone out of his voice and fingers alike. -Still they roared with laughter, but he who made them knew now that the -laugh was at his expense. He turned hot all over, then cold, then hotter -than ever. A shadow was dancing on the music in front of him; he could -hear a suppressed titter at the back of the boisterous laughter; -something brushed against his hair, and he could bear it all no longer. -Snatching his fingers from the keys, he wheeled round on the music-stool -in time to catch the heavy youth Sanderson in the mimic act of braining -him with a chair; his tongue was out like a brat's, his eyes shone with -a baleful mirth, while the red-bearded man was rolling about the room in -an ecstasy of malicious merriment. - -The singer sprang to his feet in a palsy of indignation. His dark eyes -glared with the dumb rage of a wounded animal; then they ranged round -the room for something with which to strike, and before Sanderson had -time to drop the chair he had been brandishing over the other's head, -the musician had snatched up the kerosene lamp from the top of the -piano, and was poising it in the air with murderous intent. Yet his -anger had not blinded him utterly. His flashing eyes were fixed upon the -fat mocking face which he longed to mark for life, but he could also see -beyond it, and what he saw made him put down the lamp without a word. - -At the other side of the room was a door leading out upon the veranda; -it had been open all the evening, and now it was the frame of an -unlooked-for picture, for a tall, strong girl was standing upon the -threshold. - -"Well, I never!" said she, calmly, as she came into their midst with a -slow, commanding stride. "So this is the way you play when I'm away, is -it? What poor little mice they are, to be sure!" - -Sanderson had put down the chair, and was looking indescribably foolish. -The boy in the spectacles, though he had been a merely passive party to -the late proceedings, seemed only a little less uncomfortable. The man -on the sofa and the little trembling musician were devouring the girl -with their eyes. It was the personage with the beard who swaggered -forward into the breach. - -"Good-evening, Naomi," said he, holding out a hand which she refused to -see. "This is Mr. Engelhardt, who has come to tune your piano for you. -Mr. Engelhardt--Miss Pryse." - -The hand which had been refused to the man who was in a position to -address Miss Pryse as Naomi, was held out frankly to the stranger. It -was a firm, cool hand, which left him a stronger and a saner man for its -touch. - -"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Engelhardt. I congratulate you on your -songs, and on your spirit, too. It was about time that Mr. Sanderson met -somebody who objected to his peculiar form of fun. He has been spoiling -for this ever since I have known him!" - -"Come, I say, Naomi," said the man who was on familiar terms with her, -"it was all meant in good part, you know. You're rather rough upon poor -Sandy." - -"Not so rough as both you and he have been upon a visitor. I am ashamed -of you all!" - -Her scornful eyes looked black in the lamplight; her eyebrows _were_ -black. This with her splendid coloring was all the musician could be -sure of; though his gaze never shifted from her face. Now she turned to -him and said, kindly: - -"I have been enjoying your songs immensely--especially the comic one. I -came in some time ago, and have been listening to everything. You sing -splendidly." - -"These gentlemen will hardly agree with you." - -"These gentlemen," said Miss Pryse, laying an unpleasant stress on the -word, "disagree with me horribly at times. They make me ill. What a lot -of songs you have brought!" - -"I brought them to sell," said the young fellow, blushing. "I have just -started business--set up shop at Deniliquin--a music-shop, you know. I -am making a round to tune the pianos at the stations." - -"What a capital idea! You will find ours in a terrible state, I'm -afraid." - -"Yes, it is rather bad; I was talking about it to the boss before I -started to make a fool of myself." - -"To the boss, do you say?" - -"Yes." - -"And pray which is he?" - -The piano-tuner pointed to the bushy red beard. - -"Why, bless your life," cried Naomi Pryse, as the red beard split -across and showed its teeth, "_he's_ not the boss! Don't you believe it. -If you've anything to say to the boss, you'd better come outside and say -it." - -"But which is he, Miss Pryse?" - -"He's a she, and you're talking to her now, Mr. Engelhardt!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - -A FRIEND INDEED - - -"Do you mean to say that you have never heard of the female boss of -Taroomba?" said Naomi Pryse, as she led the piano-tuner across the -veranda and out into the station-yard. The moon was gleaming upon the -galvanized-iron roofs of the various buildings, and it picked out the -girl's smile as she turned to question her companion. - -"No, I never heard of you before," replied the piano-tuner, stolidly. -For the moment the girl and the moonlight stupefied him. The scene in -the room was still before his eyes and in his ears. - -"Well, that's one for me! What station have you come from to-day?" - -"Kerulijah." - -"And you never heard of me there! Ah, well, I'm very seldom up here. -I've only come for the shearing. Still, the whole place is mine, and I'm -not exactly a cipher in the business either; I rather thought I was the -talk of the back-blocks. At one time I know I was. I'm very vain, you -see." - -"You have something to be vain about," said the piano-tuner, looking at -her frankly. - -She made him a courtesy in the moonlit yard. - -"Thank you kindly. But I'm not satisfied yet; I understand that you -arrived in time for supper; didn't you hear of me at table?" - -"I just heard your name." - -"Who mentioned it?" - -"The fellow with the beard." - -"Prettily?" - -"I think so. He was wondering where you were. He seems to know you very -well?" - -"He has known me all my life. He is a sort of connection. He was -overseer here when my father died a year or two ago. He is the manager -now." - -"But you are the boss?" - -"I am so! His name, by the way, is Gilroy--my mother was a Gilroy, too. -See? That's why he calls me Naomi; I call him Monty when I am not wroth -with him. I am disgusted with them all to-night! But you mustn't mind -them; it's only their way. Did you speak to the overseer, Tom Chester?" - -"Which was he?" - -"The one on the sofa." - -"No, he hardly spoke to me." - -"Well, he's a very good sort; you would like him if you got to know him. -The new chum with the eye-glasses is all right, too. I don't believe -those two were to blame. As for Mr. Sanderson, I wouldn't think any more -about him if I were you; he really isn't worth it." - -"I forgive him," said the musician, simply; "but I shall never forgive -myself for playing the fool and losing my temper!" - -"Nonsense! It did them good, and they'll think all the more of you. -Still, I must say I'm glad you didn't dash the kerosene lamp in Mr. -Sanderson's face!" - -"The what?" cried Engelhardt, in horror. - -"The lamp; you were brandishing it over your head when I came in." - -"The lamp! To think that I caught up the lamp! I can't have known what -I was doing!" - -He stood still and aghast in the sandy yard; they had wandered to the -far side of it, where the kitchen and the laundry stood cheek-by-jowl -with the wood-heap between them, and their back-walls to the six-wire -fence dividing the yard from the plantation of young pines which -bordered it upon three sides. - -"You were in a passion," said Miss Pryse, smiling gravely. "There's -nothing in this world that I admire more than a passion--it's so -uncommon. So are you! There, I owed you a pretty speech, you know! Do -you mind giving me your arm, Mr. Engelhardt?" - -But Engelhardt was gazing absently at the girl, and the road between ear -and mind was choked with a multitude of new sensations. Her sudden -request made no impression upon him, until he saw her stamping her foot -in the sand. Then, and awkwardly enough, he held out his arm to her, and -her firm hand caught in it impatiently. - -"How slow you are to assist a lady! Yet I feel sure that you come from -the old country?" - -"I do; but I have never had much to do with ladies." - -The piano-tuner sighed. - -"Well, it's all right; only I wanted you to take my arm for Monty -Gilroy's benefit. He's just come out on to the veranda. Don't look -round. This will rile him more than anything." - -"But why?" - -"Why? Oh, because he showed you the hoof; and when a person does that, -he never likes to see another person being civil to the same person. -See? Then if you don't, you'd better stand here and work it out while I -run into the kitchen to speak to Mrs. Potter about your room." - -"But I'm not going to stay!" the piano-tuner cried, excitedly. - -"Now what are you giving us, Mr. Engelhardt? Of course you are going to -stay. You're going to stay and tune my poor old piano. Why, your horse -was run out hours ago!" - -"But I can't face those men again----" - -"What rubbish!" - -"After the way I made a fool of myself this evening!" - -"It was they who made fools of themselves. They'll annoy you no more, I -promise you. In any case, they all go back to the shed to-morrow -evening; it's seven miles away, and they only come in for Sunday. You -needn't start on the piano before Monday, if you don't like." - -"Oh, no, I'll do it to-morrow," Engelhardt said, moodily. He now felt -bitterly certain that he should never make friends with the young men of -Taroomba, and shamefully thankful to think that there would be a set -occupation to keep him out of their way for the whole of the morrow. - -"Very well, then; wait where you are for two twos." - -Engelhardt waited. The kitchen-door had closed upon Miss Naomi Pryse; -there was no sense in watching that any longer. So the piano-tuner's -eyes climbed over the waterspout, scaled the steep corrugated roof, and -from the wide wooden chimney leapt up to the moon. It was at the full. -The white clear light hit the young man between his expressive eyes, and -still he chose to face it. It gave to the delicate eager face an almost -ethereal pallor; and as he gazed on without flinching, the raised head -was proudly carried, and the little man looked tall. To one whom he did -not hear when she lifted the kitchen-latch and opened the door, he -seemed a different being; she watched him for some moments before she -spoke. - -"Well, Mr. Engelhardt?" - -"Well," said he, coming down from the moon with an absent smile, and -slowly. - -"I have been watching you for quite a minute. I believe it would have -been an hour if I hadn't spoken. I wish I hadn't! We're going to put you -in that little building over there--we call it the 'barracks.' You'll be -next door to Tom Chester, and he'll take care of you. There's no -occasion to thank me; you can tell me what you've been thinking about -instead." - -"I wasn't thinking at all." - -"Now, Mr. Engelhardt!" said Naomi, holding up her finger reprovingly. -"If you weren't thinking, I should like to know what you were doing?" - -"I was waiting for you." - -"I know you were. It was very good of you. But you were smiling, too, -and I want to know the joke." - -"Was I really smiling?" - -"Haven't I told you so? Have you signed the pledge against smiles? You -look glum enough for anything now." - -"Yes?" - -"Very much yes! I wish to goodness you'd smile again." - -"Oh, I'll do anything you like." He forced up the corners of his mouth, -but it was not a smile; his eyes ran into hers like bayonets. - -"Then give me your arm again," she said, "and let me tell you that I'm -very much surprised at you for requiring to be told that twice." - -"I'm not accustomed to ladies," Engelhardt explained once more. - -"That's all right. I'm not one, you know. I'm going to negotiate this -fence. Will you have the goodness to turn your back?" - -Engelhardt did so, and saw afar off in the moonlit veranda the lowering -solitary figure of the manager, Gilroy. - -"Yes, he sees us all right," Miss Pryse remarked from the other side of -the fence. "It'll do him good. Come you over, and we'll make his beard -curl!" - -The piano-tuner looked at her doubtfully, but only for one moment. The -next he also was over the fence and by her side, and she was leading him -into the heart of the pines, her strong kind hand within his arm. - -"We'll just have a little mouch round," she said, confidentially. "You -needn't be frightened." - -"Frightened!" he echoed, defiantly. The hosts of darkness could not have -frightened such a voice. - -"You see, I'm the boss, and I'm obliged to show it sometimes." - -"I see." - -"And you have given me an opportunity of showing it pretty plainly." - -"Oh!" - -"Consequently, I'm very much obliged to you; and I do hope you don't -mind helping me to shock Monty Gilroy?" - -"I am proud." - -But the kick had gone out of his voice, and to her hand his arm was -suddenly as a log of wood. She mused a space. Then-- - -"It isn't everyone I would ask to help me in such--in such a delicate -matter," she said, in a troubled tone. "You see I am a woman at the -mercy of men. They're all very kind and loyal in their own way, but -their way _is_ their own, as _you_ know. I thought as I had given you a -hand with them--well, I thought you would be in sympathy." - -"I am, I am--Heaven knows!" - -The log had become exceedingly alive. - -"Then let us skirt in and out, on the edge of the plantation, so that -Mr. Gilroy may have the pleasure of seeing my frock from time to time." - -"I'm your man." - -"No, not that way--this. There, I'm sure he must have seen me then." - -"He must." - -"It's time we went back; but this will have done him all the good in the -world," said Naomi. - -"It's a pity you haven't a manager whom you can respect and like," the -piano-tuner remarked. - -Naomi started. She also stopped to lace up her shoe, which necessitated -the withdrawal of her hand from the piano-tuner's arm; and she did not -replace it. - -"Oh, but I do like him, Mr. Engelhardt," she explained as she stooped. -"I like Mr. Gilroy very much; I have known him all my life, you know. -However, that's just where the disadvantage comes in--he's too much -inclined to domineer. But don't you run away with the idea that I -dislike him; that would never do at all." - -The piano-tuner felt too small to apologize. He had made a deadly -mistake--so bad a one that she would take his arm no more. He looked up -at the moon with miserable eyes, and his brain teemed with bitter -self-upbraiding thoughts. His bitterness was egregiously beyond the -mark; but that was this young man's weakness. He would condemn himself -to execution for the pettiest sin. So ashamed was he now that he dared -not even offer her his hand when they got back to the veranda, and she -consigned him to the boy in spectacles, who then showed him his room in -the barracks. And his mistake kept him awake more than half that night; -it was only in the gray morning he found consolation in recollecting -that although she had declared so many times that she liked Monty -Gilroy, she had never once said she respected him. - -Had he heard a conversation which took place in the station-yard later -that night, but only a little later, and while the full moon was in much -the same place, the piano-tuner might have gone to sleep instead of -lying awake to flagellate his own meek spirit; though it is more likely -that he would have lain quietly awake for very joy. The conversation in -question was between Naomi Pryse and Montague Gilroy, her manager, and -it would scarcely repay a detailed report; but this is how it -culminated: - -"I tell you that I found you bullying him abominably, and whenever I -find you bullying anybody I'll make it up to that body in my own way. -And I won't have my way criticised by you." - -"Very good, Naomi. Very good indeed! But if you want to guard against -all chance of the same thing happening next week, I should recommend you -to be in for supper next Saturday, instead of gallivanting about the run -by yourself and coming in at ten o'clock at night." - -"The run is mine, and I'll do what I like while I'm here." - -"Well, if you won't listen to reason, you might at least remember our -engagement." - -"You mean _your_ engagement? I remember the terms perfectly. I have only -to write you a check for the next six months' salary any time I like, to -put an end to it. And upon my word, Monty, you seem to want me to do so -to-night!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - -"HARD TIMES" - - -It was the middle of the Sunday afternoon, when the young men of -Taroomba were for the most part sound asleep upon their beds. They were -wise young men enough, in ways, and to punctuate the weeks of hard labor -at the wool-shed with thoroughly slack Sundays at the home station was a -practice of the plainest common-sense. To do otherwise would have been -to fly in the face of nature. Yet just because Naomi Pryse chose to -settle herself in the veranda outside the sitting-room door with a book, -the young man who had worked harder than any of the others during the -week must needs be the one to spend the afternoon of rest at her feet, -and with nothing but a lean veranda-post to shelter his broad back from -the sun. - -This was Tom Chester, of whom Naomi had spoken highly to her _protégé_, -the piano-tuner. Tom was newly and beautifully shaved, and he had -further observed the Sabbath by putting on a white shirt and collar, and -a suit of clothes in which a man might have walked down Collins Street; -but he seemed quite content to sit in them on the dirty veranda boards, -for the sake of watching Naomi as she read. She had not a great deal to -say to him, but she had commanded him to light his pipe, and as often as -she dropped the book into her lap to make a remark, she could reckon -upon a sympathetic answer, preceded by a puff of the tobacco-smoke she -loved. - -"It is a dreadful noise, though, isn't it?" Naomi had observed more than -once. - -"It is so," Tom Chester would answer, with a smile and another puff. - -"He made such a point of setting to work this morning, you know, and -it's so good of him to work on Sunday. I don't see how we can stop him." - -Then Naomi would sit silent, but not reading, and would presently -announce that she had counted the striking of that note twenty-nine -times in succession. Once she made it sixty-six; but the piano-tuner -behind the closed door had broken his own record, and seemed in a fair -way of hammering out the same note a hundred times running, when Monty -Gilroy came tramping along the veranda with blinking yellow eyelashes, -and his red face pale with temper. Miss Pryse was keeping tally aloud -when the manager blundered upon the scene. - -"I say, Naomi, how long is this to go on?" exclaimed Gilroy, in a tone -that was half-complaining, half-injured, but wholly different from that -which he had employed toward her the night before. - -"Eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five," counted Naomi, giving him a -nod and a smile. - -"I hadn't been asleep ten minutes when he awoke me with his infernal -din." - -"Ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three----" - -"It's no joke when a man has been over the board the whole week," said -Gilroy, trying to smile nevertheless. - -"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight--well, I'll be jiggered!" - -"Ninety-eight it is," said Tom Chester. - -"Yes, he's changed the note. He might have given it a couple more! -Still, it's the record. Now, Monty, please forgive us; we're trying to -make the best of a bad job, as you see." - -"It is a bad job," assented Gilroy, whose rueful countenance concealed -(but not from the girl) a vile temper smouldering. "It's pretty rough, I -think, on us chaps who've been working like Kanakas all the week." - -"Well, but you were pretty rough upon poor Mr. Engelhardt last night; so -don't you think that it serves you quite right?" - -"Poor Mr. Engelhardt!" echoed Gilroy, savagely. "So it serves us right, -does it?" He forced a laugh. "What do you say, Tom?" - -"_I_ think it serves you right, too," answered Tom Chester, coolly. - -Gilroy laughed again. - -"So you're crackin', old chap," said he, genially. He generally was -genial with Tom Chester, for whom he entertained a hatred enhanced by -fear. "But I say, Naomi, need this sort of thing go on all the -afternoon?" - -"If it doesn't he will have to stay till to-morrow." - -"Ah! I see." - -"I thought you would. The piano was in a bad way, and he said there was -a long day's work in it; but he seems anxious to get away this evening, -that's why he began before breakfast." - -"Then let him stick to it, by all means, and we'll all clear out -together. I'll see that his horse is run up--I'll go now." - -He went. - -"That's the most jealous gentleman in this colony," said Naomi to her -companion. "He'd rather suffer anything than leave this little -piano-tuner and me alone together!" - -"Poor little chap," said Chester of the musician; he had nothing to say -about Gilroy, who was still in view from the veranda, a swaggering -figure in the strong sunlight, with his hands in his cross-cut breeches' -pockets, his elbows sticking out, and the strut of a cock on its own -midden. Tom Chester watched him with a hard light in his clear eye, and -a moistening of the palms of his hands. Tom was pretty good with his -fists, and for many a weary month he had been spoiling for a fight with -Monty Gilroy, who very likely was not the only jealous gentleman on -Taroomba. - -All this time the piano-tuner was at his fiendish work behind the closed -door, over which Naomi Pryse had purposely mounted guard. Distracting -repetitions of one note were varied only by depressing octaves and -irritating thirds. Occasionally a chord or two promised a trial trip -over the keys, but such promises were never fulfilled. At last Naomi -shut her book, with a hopeless smile at Tom Chester, who was ready for -her with an answering grin. - -"Really, I can't stand it any longer, Mr. Chester." - -"You have borne it like a man, Miss Pryse." - -"I wanted to make sure that nobody bothered him. Do you think we may -safely leave him now?" - -"Quite safely. Gilroy is up at the yards, and Sanderson only plays the -fool to an audience. Let me pull you out of your chair." - -"Thanks. That's it. Let us stroll up to the horse-paddock gate and back; -then it will be time for tea; and let's hope our little tuner will have -finished his work at last." - -"I believe he has finished now," Tom Chester said, as they turned their -backs on the homestead. "He's never run up and down the board like -_that_ before." - -"The board!" said Miss Pryse, laughing. "No, don't you believe it; he -won't finish for another hour." - -Tom Chester was right, however. As Naomi and he passed out of earshot, -the piano-tuner faced about on the music-stool, and peered wistfully -through the empty room at the closed door, straining his ear for their -voices. Of course he heard nothing; but the talking on the veranda had -never been continuous, so that did not surprise him. It gladdened him, -rather. She was reading. She might be alone; his heart beat quicker for -the thought. She had sat there all day, of her own kind will, enduring -his melancholy performance; now she should have her reward. His eyes -glistened as he searched in his memory for some restful, dreamy melody, -which should at once soothe and charm her ears aching from his crude -unmusical monotonies. Suddenly he rubbed his hands, and then stretching -them out and leaning backward on the stool he let his fingers fall with -their lightest and daintiest touch upon Naomi's old piano. - -He had chosen a very simple, well-known piece; but it need not be so -well known in the bush. Miss Pryse might never have heard it before, in -which case she could not fail to be enchanted. It was the -"Schlummerlied" of Schumann, and the piano-tuner played it with all the -very considerable feeling and refinement of which he was capable, and -with a smile all the time for its exceeding appropriateness. What could -chime more truly with the lazy stillness of the Sunday afternoon than -this sweet, bewitching lullaby? Engelhardt had always loved it; but -never in his life had he played it half so well. As he finished--softly, -but not so softly as to risk a single note dropping short of the -veranda--he wheeled round again with a sudden self-conscious movement. -It was as though he expected to find the door open and Naomi entranced -upon the threshold. It is a fact that he sat watching the door-handle to -see it turn, first with eagerness, and at last with acute -disappointment. His disappointment was no greater when he opened the -door himself and saw the book lying in the empty chair. That, indeed, -was a relief. To find her sitting there unmoved was what his soul had -dreaded. - -But now that his work was done, the piano-tuner felt very lonely and -unhappy. To escape from these men with whom he could not get on was his -strongest desire but one; the other was to stay and see more of the -glorious girl who had befriended him; and he was torn between the two, -because his longing for love was scarcely more innate than his shrinking -from ridicule and scorn. He knew this, too, and had as profound a scorn -for himself as any he was likely to meet with from another. His saving -grace was the moral courage which enabled him to run counter to his own -craven inclinations. - -Thus in the early morning he had apologized to Sanderson, the -store-keeper, for the loss of his temper overnight; after lying awake -for hours chewing the bitterness of this humiliating move, he had -determined upon it in the end. But determination was what he had--it -takes not a little to bring you to apologize in cold blood to a rougher -man than yourself. Engelhardt had done this, and more. At breakfast and -at dinner he had made heroic efforts to be affable and at ease with the -men who despised him; though each attempt touched a fresh nerve in his -sensitive, self-conscious soul. And now, because from the veranda he -could descry Gilroy and Sanderson up at the stock-yards, and because -these men were the very two whose society he most dreaded, his will was -that he must join them then and there. - -He was a man himself; and if he could not get on with other men, that -was his own lookout. No doubt, too, it was his own fault. It was a fault -of which he swore an oath that he would either cure himself or suffer -the consequences like a man. He may even have taken a private pride in -being game against the grain. There is no fathoming the thoughts that -generate action in egotistical, but noble, natures, whose worst enemy is -their own inner consciousness. - -Gilroy and Sanderson were in the horse-yard, leaning backward against -the heavy white rails. Their pipes were in their mouths, and they were -watching Sam Rowntree stalk a wiry bay horse that took some catching. -Sam was the groom, and he had just run up all the horses out of the -horse-paddock. The yard was full of them. Gilroy hauled a freckled hand -out of a cross pocket to point at the piano-tuner's nag. - -"Poor-looking devil," said he. - -"Yes, the kind you see when you're out without a gun," remarked the wit. -"Quite good enough for a thing like him, though." Some association of -ideas caused him to glance round toward the homestead through the rails. -"By the hokey, here's the thing itself!" he cried. - -The pair watched Engelhardt approach. - -"I'd like to break his beastly head for him," muttered the manager. "The -cheek of him, spoiling our spell with that cursed row!" - -The piano-tuner came up with a pleasant smile that was an effort to him, -and pretended not to notice Sanderson's stock remark, that "queer -things come out after the rain." - -"You'll be glad to hear, gentlemen, that I've finished my job," said he, -airily. - -"Thank God," growled Gilroy. - -"I know it's been a great infliction----" - -"Oh, no, not at all," said Sanderson, winking desperately. "We liked it. -It's just what we _do_ like. You bet!" - -The wiry bay horse had been caught by this time, and Sam Rowntree was -saddling it, by degrees, for the animal was obviously fresh and touchy. -Engelhardt watched the performance with a bitter feeling of envy for all -Australian men, and of contempt for himself because they contemned him. -The fault was his, not theirs. He was of a different order from these -rough, light-hearted men--of an altogether inferior order, as it seemed -to his self-criticising mind. But that was no excuse for his not getting -on with them, and as a rider puts his horse at a fence again and again, -so Engelhardt spurred himself on to one more effort to do so. - -"That's your horse, Mr. Gilroy?" - -"Yes." - -"I saw the 'G' on the left shoulder." - -"You mean the near shoulder; a horse hasn't a left." - -"No? I'm not well up in horses. What's his name?" - -"Hard Times." - -"That's good! I like his looks, too--not that I know anything about -horses." - -Here Sanderson whispered something to Gilroy, who said carelessly to -Engelhardt: - -"Can you ride?" - -"I can ride my own moke." - -"Like a turn on Hard Times?" - -"Yes! I should." - -This was said in a manner that was all the more decided for the moments -of deliberation which preceded it. The piano-tuner was paler even than -usual, but all at once his jaw had grown hard and strong, and there was -a keen light in his eyes. The others looked at him, unable to determine -whether it was a good rider they were dealing with or a born fool. - -"Fetch him out of the yard, Sam," said Gilroy to the groom. "This -gentleman here is going to draw first blood." - -Sam Rowntree stared. - -"You'd better not, mister," said he, looking doubtfully at the musician. -"He's fresh off the grass--hasn't had the saddle on him for two months." - -"Get away, Sam. The gentleman means to take some of the cussedness out -of him. Isn't that it, Engelhardt?" - -"I mean to try," said Engelhardt, quietly. - -A lanky middle-aged bushman, who had loafed across from the men's hut, -here spat into the sand without removing the pipe from his teeth, and -put in his word. - -"Becod, then ye're a brave man! He bucks like beggary. He's bucked me as -high as a blessed house!" - -"We'll see how high he can buck me," said Engelhardt. - -Gilroy was losing interest in the proceedings. The little fool could -ride after all; instead of being scored off, he was going to score. The -manager thrust his hands deep in his cross pockets, and watched -sullenly, with his yellow eyelashes drooping over his blue eyes. -Suddenly he strode forward, crying: - -"What the blazes are you up to, you idiot?" - -Engelhardt had shown signs of mounting on the off-side, but was smiling -as though he had done it on purpose. - -"He's all right," said the long stockman with the pipe. "He knows a -thing or two, _my_ word." - -But his style of mounting in the end hardly tallied with this theory. -The piano-tuner scrambled into the saddle, and kicked about awkwardly -before finding his stirrups; and the next thing he did was to job the -horse's mouth with the wanton recklessness of pure innocence. The -watchers held their breath. As for Hard Times, he seemed to know that he -was bestridden by an unworthy foeman, to appreciate the humor of the -situation, and to make up his evil mind to treat it humorously as it -deserved. Away he went, along the broad road between homestead and -yards, at the sweetest and most guileless canter. The rider was sitting -awkwardly enough, but evidently as tight as he knew how. And he needed -all the grip within the power of his loins and knees. Half-way to the -house, without a single premonitory symptom, the wiry bay leapt clean -into the air, with all its legs gathered up under its body, its head -tucked between its knees, and its back arched like a bent bow. Down it -came, with a thud, then up again like a ball, again and again, and yet -again. - -At the first buck Engelhardt stuck nobly; he evidently had been prepared -for the worst. The second displayed a triangle of blue sky between his -legs and the saddle; he had lost his stirrups and the reins, but was -clinging to the mane with all ten fingers, and to the saddle with knees -and shins. - -"Sit tight!" roared Gilroy. "Stick to him!" yelled Sanderson. "Slide off -as he comes down!" shouted the groom. - -But if Engelhardt heard them he did not understand. He only knew that -for the first time in his life he was on a buck-jumper, and that he -meant to stay there as long as the Lord would let him. A wild -exhilaration swamped every other sensation. The blue sky fell before him -like a curtain at each buck; at the fifth his body was seen against it -like a burst balloon; and after that, Hard Times was left to the more -difficult but less exciting task of bucking himself out of an empty -saddle. - -They carried Engelhardt toward the house. But Naomi came running out and -met them half-way, and Tom Chester was at her back. From the veranda the -two had seen it happen. And in all that was done during the next minutes -Naomi was prime mover. - -"You call yourselves men. Men indeed! There's more manhood lying here -than ever there was or will be in the two of you put together!" - -"Hear, hear!" - -The voices were those of Miss Pryse and Tom Chester. They were the -first that Engelhardt heard when his senses came back to him. But the -first thing that was said to him when he opened his eyes was said by -Gilroy: - -"Why the devil didn't you tell us you couldn't ride?" - -He did not answer, but Tom Chester said coolly before them all: - -"He can ride a jolly sight better than you can, Gilroy. You sit five -bucks and I'll give you five notes." - -There was bad blood in the air. The piano-tuner could not help it. His -head was all wrong, and his right arm felt red-hot from wrist to elbow; -he discovered that it was bare, and in the hands of Miss Pryse. He felt -ashamed, it was such a thin arm. But Miss Pryse smiled at him kindly, -and he smiled faintly back at her; he just saw Tom Chester tearing the -yellow backs off a novel, and handing them to the kneeling girl; then -once more he closed his eyes. - -"He's off again," said Naomi. "Thank God I can set a joint. There's -nothing to watch, all of you! Sam, you may as well turn out this -gentleman's horse again. If anybody thought of getting rid of him -to-night, they've gone the wrong way about it, for now he shall stay -here till he's able to go on tuning pianos." - -And as she spoke Naomi looked up, and sent her manager to the rightabout -with a single stare of contempt and defiance. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE TREASURE IN THE STORE - - -When Engelhardt regained consciousness he found himself spread out on -his bed in the barracks, with Tom Chester rather gingerly pulling off -his clothes for him as he lay. The first thing he saw was his own -heavily splintered arm stretched stiffly across his chest. For the -moment this puzzled him. His mind was slow to own so much lumber as a -part of his person. Then he remembered, and let his lids fall back -without speaking. His head ached abominably, but it was rapidly -clearing, both as to what had happened and what was happening now. With -slight, instinctive movements, first of one limb, then another, he -immediately lightened Tom Chester's task. Presently he realized that he -was between the sheets and on the point of being left to himself. This -put some life in him for perhaps the space of a minute. - -"Thank you," he said, opening his eyes again. "That was awfully good of -you." - -"What was?" asked the other, in some astonishment. "I thought you were -stunned." - -"No, not this last minute or two; but my head's splitting; I want to -sleep it off." - -"Poor chap! I'll leave you now. But what induced you to tackle Hard -Times, when you weren't a rider, sweet Heaven only knows!" - -"I was a fool," said Engelhardt, wearily. - -"You leave that for us to say," returned the other. "You've got some -pluck, whatever you are, and that's about all you want in the bush. So -long." - -He went straight to Naomi, who was awaiting him outside with -considerable anxiety. They hovered near the barracks, talking all things -over for some time longer. Then Naomi herself stole with soft, bold -steps to the piano-tuner's door. There she hesitated, one hand on the -latch, the other at her ear. It ended in her entering his room on -tiptoe. A moment later she was back in the yard, her fine face shining -with relief. - -"He's sleeping like a baby," she said to Chester. "I think we may -perhaps make our minds easy about him now--don't you? I was terribly -frightened of concussion; but that's all right, or he wouldn't be -breathing as he is now. We'll let him be for an hour or two, and then -send Mrs. Potter to him with some toast and tea. Perhaps you'll look him -up last thing, Mr. Chester, and give him a hand in the morning if he -feels well enough to get up?" - -"Certainly I would, Miss Pryse, if I were here; but we were all going -out to the shed to-night, as usual, so as to make an early start----" - -"I know; I know. And very glad I shall be to get quit of the others; but -I have this poor young man on my mind, and you at least must stop till -morning to see me through. I shall mention it myself to Mr. Gilroy." - -"Very well," said Chester, who was only too charmed with the plan. "I'll -stop, with all my heart, and be very glad to do anything that I can." - -With Chester it was certainly two for himself and one for the unlucky -Engelhardt. He made the most of his evening with Naomi all to himself. -It was not a very long evening, for Gilroy delayed his departure to the -last limit, and then drove off in a sullen fury, spitting oaths right -and left and lashing his horses like a madman. This mood of the -manager's left Chester in higher spirits than ever; he had the -satisfaction of feeling himself partly responsible for it. Moreover, he -had given Gilroy, whom he frankly detested, the most excellent -provocation to abuse him to his face before starting; but, as usual, the -opening had been declined. Such were the manager of Taroomba and his -subordinate the overseer; the case was sufficiently characteristic of -them both. As for Chester, he made entertaining talk with Naomi as long -as she would sit up, and left her with an assurance that he would attend -to the piano-tuner like a mother. Nor was he much worse than his word; -though the patient knew nothing until awakened next morning by the -clatter and jingle of boots and spurs at his bedside. - -"What is it?" he cried, struggling to sit up. - -"Me," said Chester. "Lie perfectly tight. I only came to tell you that -your breakfast's coming in directly, and to see how you are. How are -you? Had some sleep?" - -"Any quantity," said Engelhardt, with a laugh that slipped into a yawn. -"I feel another man." - -"How's the arm?" - -"I don't feel to have one. I suppose it's broken, is it?" - -"No, my boy, only dislocated. So Miss Pryse said when she fixed it up, -and she knows all about that sort of thing. How's the head?" - -"Right as the bank!" - -"I don't believe you. You're the color of candles. If you feel fit to -get up, after you've had something to eat, I'm to give you a hand; but -if I were you I'd lie in." - -"Die first," cried the piano-tuner, laughing heartily with his white -face. - -"Well, we'll see. Here comes Mother Potter with your breakfast. I'll be -back in half an hour, and we'll see about it then." - -Chester came back to find the piano-tuner half dressed with his one -hand. He was stripped and dripping to the waist, and he raised his head -so vigorously from the cold water, at the overseer's entrance, that the -latter was well splashed. - -"Dry me," he cried. - -The overseer did his best. - -"I feel as fit as a Strad," panted Engelhardt. - -"What may that be?" - -"A fiddle and a half." - -"Then you don't look it." - -"But I soon shall. What's a dislocated arm? Steady on, I say, though. -Easy over the stones!" - -Chester was nonplussed. - -"My dear fellow, you're bruised all over. It'd be cruel to touch you -with a towel of cotton-wool." - -"Go on," said Engelhardt. "I must be dried and dressed. Dry away! I can -stand it." - -The other exercised the very greatest care; but ribs and shoulders on -the same side as the injured arm were fairly dappled with bruises, and -it was perfectly impossible not to hurt. Once he caught Engelhardt -wincing. He was busy at his back, and only saw it in the mirror. - -"I am hurting you!" he cried. - -"Not a bit, sir. Fire away!" - -The white face in the mirror was still racked with pain. - -"Where did you get your pluck?" asked Chester, casually, when all was -over. - -"From my mother," was the prompt reply; "such as I possess." - -"My boy," said Chester, "you've as much as most!" And, without -thinking, he slapped the other only too heartily on the bruised -shoulder. Next moment he was sufficiently horrified at what he had done, -for this time the pain was more than the sufferer could conceal. In an -instant, however, he was laughing off his friend's apologies with no -less tact than self-control. - -"You're about the pluckiest little devil I've ever seen," said the -overseer at last. "I thought so yesterday--I know so to-day." - -The piano-tuner beamed with joy. "What rot," however, was all he said. - -"Not it, my boy! You're a good sort. You've got as much pluck in one -hair of your head--though they _are_ long 'uns, mind--as that fellow -Gilroy has in his whole composition. Now I must be off to the shed. I -should stroll about in the air, if I were you, but keep out of the sun. -If you care to smoke, you'll find a tin of cut-up on the corner bracket -in my room, and Miss Pryse'll give you a new pipe out of the store if -you want one. You'll see her about pretty soon, I should say. Oh, yes, -she had breakfast with me. She means to keep you by main force till -you're up to piano-tuning again. Serve Gilroy jolly well right, the -brute! So we'll meet again this week-end; meanwhile, good-by, old chap, -and more power to the arm." - -Engelhardt watched the overseer out of sight, with a mingled warmth and -lightness of heart which for the moment were making an unusually happy -young man of him. This Chester was the very incarnation of a type that -commonly treated him, as he was too ready to fancy, with contempt; and -yet that was the type of all others whose friendship and admiration he -coveted most. All his life he had been so shy and so sensitive that the -good in him, the very best of him, was an unknown quantity to all save -those who by accident or intimacy struck home to his inner nature. The -latter was true as steel, and brave, patient, and enduring to an -unsuspected degree; but a cluster of small faults hid this from the -ordinary eye. The man was a little too anxious to please--to do the -right thing--to be liked or loved by those with whom he mixed. As a -natural consequence, his anxiety defeated his design. Again, he was a -little too apt to be either proud or ashamed of himself--one or the -other--he never could let himself alone. Wherefore appreciation was -inordinately sweet to his soul, and the reverse proportionately bitter. -Mere indifference hurt him no less than active disdain; indeed, where -there was the former, he was in the bad habit of supposing the latter; -and thus the normal current of his life was never clear of little -unnecessary griefs of which he was ashamed to speak, but which he only -magnified by keeping them to himself. Perhaps he had his compensating -joys. Certainly he was as often in exceedingly high spirits as in the -dumps, and it is just possible that the former are worth the latter. In -any case he was in the best of spirits this morning; nor by any means -ashamed of his slung arm, but rather the reverse, if the whole truth be -told. And yet, with a fine girl like Naomi, and a smart bushman like Tom -Chester, both thinking well of him together, there surely was for once -some slight excuse for an attack of self-satisfaction. It was transitory -enough, and rare enough, too, Heaven knows. - -In this humor, at all events, he wandered about the yard for some time, -watching the veranda incessantly with jealous eyes. His saunterings led -him past the rather elaborate well, in the centre of the open space, to -the store on the farther side. This was a solid isolated building, very -strongly built, with an outer coating of cement, and a corrugated roof -broken on the foremost slope by a large-sized skylight. A shallow -veranda ran in front, but was neither continued at the ends nor renewed -at the back of the building. Nor were there any windows; the piano-tuner -walked right round to see, and on coming back to the door (a remarkably -strong one) there was Naomi fitting in her key. She was wearing an old -black dress, an obvious item of her cast-off mourning, and over it, from -her bosom to her toes, a brilliantly white apron, which struck -Engelhardt as the most charming garment he had ever seen. - -"Good business!" she cried at sight of him. "I know how you are from Mr. -Chester. Just hold these things while I take both hands to this key; it -always is so stiff." - -The things in question, which she reached out to him with her left hand, -consisted of a box of plate-powder, a piece of chamois leather, a -tooth-brush, and a small bottle of methylated spirits; the lot lying -huddled together in a saucer. - -"That does it," continued Naomi as the lock shot back with a bang and -the door flew open. "Now come on in. You can lend me your only hand. I -never thought of that." - -Engelhardt followed her into the store. Inside it was one big room, -filled with a good but subdued light (for as yet the sun was beating -upon the hinder slope of corrugated iron), and with those motley -necessaries of station life which are to be seen in every station store. -Sides of bacon, empty ration-bags, horse-collars and hames, bridles and -reins, hung promiscuously from the beams. Australian saddles kept their -balance on stout pegs jutting out from the walls. The latter were barely -lined with shelves, like book-cases, but laden with tinned provisions of -every possible description, sauces and patent medicines in bottles, -whiskey and ink in stone jars, cases of tea, tobacco, raisins, and figs. -Engelhardt noticed a great green safe, with a couple of shot-guns and a -repeating-rifle in a rack beside it, and two or three pairs of rusty -hand-cuffs on a nail hard by. The floor was fairly open, but for a few -sacks of flour in a far corner. It was cut up, however, by a raised desk -with a high office-stool to it, and by the permanent, solid-looking -counter which faced the door. A pair of scales, of considerable size and -capacity, was the one encumbrance on the counter. Naomi at once -proceeded to remove it, first tossing the weights onto the flour bags, -one after the other, and then lifting down the scales before Engelhardt -had time to help her. Thereafter she slapped the counter with her flat -hand, and stood looking quizzically at her guest. - -"You don't know what's under this counter," she said at last, announcing -an obvious fact with extraordinary unction. - -"I don't, indeed," said the piano-tuner, shaking his head. - -"Nor does your friend Mr. Sanderson, though he's the store-keeper. He's -out at the shed during shearing-time, branding bales and seeing to the -loading of the drays. But all the rest of the year he keeps the books at -that desk or serves out rations across this counter; and yet he little -dreams what's underneath it." - -"You interest me immensely, Miss Pryse." - -"I wonder if I dare interest you any more?" - -"You had better not trust me with a secret." - -"Why not? Do you mean that you couldn't keep one?" - -"I don't say that; but I have no right----" - -"Right be bothered," cried Naomi, crisply; "there's no question of -right." - -Engelhardt colored up. - -"I was only going to say that I had no right to get in your way and -perhaps make you feel it was better to tell me things than to turn me -out," he explained, humbly. "I shall turn myself out, since you are too -kind to do it for me. I meant in any case to take a walk in the pines." - -"Did I invite you to come in here, or did I not?" inquired Miss Pryse. - -"Well, only to carry these things. Here they are." - -He held them out to her, but she refused to look at them. - -"When I tell you I don't want you, then it will be time for you to go," -she said. "Since you don't live here, there's not the least reason why -you shouldn't know what no man on the place knows, except Mr. Gilroy. -Besides, you can really help me. So now will you be good?" - -"I'll try," said Engelhardt, catching her smile. - -"Then I forgive everything. Now listen to me. My dear father was the -best and kindest man in all the world; but he had his fair share of -eccentricity. I have mine, too; and you most certainly have yours; but -that's neither here nor there. My father came of a pretty good old -Welsh family. In case you think I'm swaggering about it, let me tell you -I'd like to take that family and drop the whole crew in the well -outside--yes, and heat up the water to boil 'em before they'd time to -drown! I owe them nothing nice, don't you believe it. They treated my -father shamefully; but he was the eldest son, and when the old savage, -_his_ father, had the good taste to die, mine went home and collared his -dues. He didn't get much beyond the family plate; but sure enough he -came back with that. And didn't the family sit up, that's all! However, -his eccentricity came in then. He must needs bring that plate up here. -It's here still. I'm sitting on it now!" - -Indeed, she had perched herself on the counter while speaking; and now, -spinning round where she sat, she was down on the other side and -fumbling at a padlock before her companion could open his mouth. - -"Isn't it very dangerous?" he said at length, as Naomi stood up and set -the padlock on the desk. - -"Hardly that. Mr. Gilroy is absolutely the only person who knows that it -is here. Still, the bank would be best, of course, and I mean to have it -all taken there one of these days. Meanwhile, I clean my silver -whenever I come up here. It's a splendid opportunity when my young men -are all out at the shed. I did a lot last week, and I expect to finish -off this morning." - -As she spoke the top of the counter answered to the effort of her two -strong arms, and came up with a jerk. She raised it until it caught, -when Engelhardt could just get his chin over the rim, and see a huge, -heavily clamped plate-chest lying like a kernel in its shell. There were -more locks to undo. Then the baize-lined lid of the chest was raised in -its turn. And in a very few minutes the Taroomba store presented a scene -which it would have been more than difficult to match throughout the -length and breadth of the Australian bush. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MASTERLESS MEN - - -Naomi had seated herself on the tall stool at the bookkeeper's desk, on -which she had placed in array the silver that was still unclean. This -included a fine old epergne, of quaint design and exceedingly solid -proportions; a pair of candlesticks, in the familiar form of the -Corinthian column--more modern, but equally handsome in their way; a -silver coffee-pot with an ivory handle; and a number of ancient skewers. -She tackled the candlesticks first. They were less tarnished than might -have been expected, and in Naomi's energetic hands they soon regained -their pristine purity and lustre. As she worked she talked freely of her -father, and his family in Wales, to Engelhardt, for whose benefit she -had unpacked many of the things which she had already cleaned, and set -them out upon the counter after shutting it down as before. He, too, was -seated, on the counter's farther edge, with his back half-turned to the -door. And the revelation of so much treasure in that wild place made him -more and more uneasy. - -"I should have thought you'd be frightened to have this sort of thing on -the premises," he could not help saying. - -"Frightened of what?" - -"Well--bushrangers." - -"They don't exist. They're as extinct as the dodo. But that reminds me!" - -She broke off abruptly, and sat staring thoughtfully at the door, which -was standing ajar. She even gave the steps of her Corinthian column a -rest from tooth-brush and plate-powder. - -"That reminds you?" - -"Yes--of bushrangers. We once had some here, before they became -extinct." - -"Since you've had the plate?" - -"Yes; it was the plate they were after. How they got wind of it no one -ever knew." - -"Is it many years ago?" - -"Well, I was quite a little girl at the time. But I never shall forget -it! I woke in the night, hearing shots, and I ran into the veranda in my -night-dress. There was my father behind one of the veranda posts, with a -revolver in each hand, roaring and laughing as though it were the -greatest joke in the world; and there were two men in the store veranda, -just outside this door. They were shooting at father, all they knew, but -they couldn't hit him, though they hit the post nearly every time. I'll -show you the marks when we go over to lunch. My father kept laughing and -shooting at them the whole time. It was just the sort of game he liked. -But at last one of the men fell in a heap outside the door, and then the -other bolted for his horse. He got away, too; but he left something -behind him that he'll never replace in this world or the next." - -"What was that?" asked Engelhardt with a long breath. - -"His little finger. My father amputated it with one of his shots. It was -picked up between this and the place where he mounted his horse. Father -got him on the wing!" said Naomi, proudly. - -"Was he caught?" - -"No, he was never heard of again." - -"And the man who was shot?" - -"He was as dead as sardines. And who do you suppose he turned out to -be?" - -Engelhardt shook his head. - -"Tigerskin the bushranger! No less! It was a dirty burgling business for -a decent bushranger to lose his life in, now wasn't it? For they never -stuck up the station, mind you; they were caught trying to burst into -the store. Luckily, they didn't succeed. The best of it was that at the -inquest, and all that, it never came out what it was they really wanted -in our store. Soon afterward my father had the windows blocked up and -the whole place cemented over, as you see it now." - -Naomi was done. Back went the tooth-brush to work on the Corinthian -column, and Engelhardt saw more of the pretty hair, but less of the -sweet face, as she bent to her task with redoubled vigor. Sweet she most -certainly was in his sight, and yet she could sit there, and tell him of -blood spilt and life lost before her own soft eyes, as calmly as though -such sights were a natural part of a young girl's education. For a space -he so marvelled at her that there was room in his soul for no other -sensation. Then the towering sun struck down through the skylight, -setting light to the silver, and brushing the girl's hair as she leant -forward, so that it shone like spun copper. From that moment the -piano-tuner could only and slavishly admire; but he was not allowed much -time for this slightly perilous recreation. Abruptly, impulsively, as -she did most things, Naomi raised her face and gave him a nod. - -"Now, Mr. Engelhardt, it's your turn to talk. I've done my share. Who -are you, where do you come from, and what's your ambition in life? It -really is time I knew something more about you." - -The poor fellow was so taken aback, and showed it so plainly, that Naomi -simplified her question without loss of time. - -"It doesn't matter who you are, since you're a very nice young -man--which is the main thing. And I know that you hail from old -England, which is all I have any business to know. But come! you must -have some ambitions. I like all young men to have their ambitions. I -distrust them when they have none. So what's yours? Out with it quick!" - -She discerned delight behind his blushes. - -"Come on, I can't wait! What is it?" - -"I suppose it's music." - -"I knew it. Oh, but that's such a splendid ambition!" - -"Do you really think so?" - -"It's grand! But what do you aspire to do? Mephistopheles or Faust in -the opera? Or sentimental songs in your dress-suit, with a tea-rose in -your button-hole and a signet-ring plain as a pike-staff to the back -row? Somehow or other I don't think you're sleek enough for a tenor or -coarse enough for a bass. Certainly I know nothing at all about it." - -"Oh, Miss Pryse, I can't sing a bit!" - -"My dear young man, I've heard you." - -"I only tried because they made me--and to sell my wretched songs." - -"Then is it to be solos on the piano?" - -"I'm not good enough to earn my rations at that." - -"The organ--and a monkey? Burnt cork and the bones?" - -"Oh, Miss Pryse!" - -"Well, then, what?" - -"How can I say it? I should like, above everything else--if only I ever -could!--to write music--to compose." He said it shyly enough, with -downcast eyes, and more of his blushes. - -"And why not?" - -"Well, I don't know why not--one of these days." - -His tone had changed. He had tossed up his head erect. She had not -laughed at him after all! - -"I should say that you would compose very well indeed," remarked Naomi, -naïvely. - -"I don't know that; but some day or other I mean to try." - -"Then why waste your time tuning pianos?" - -"To keep myself alive meanwhile. I don't say that I shall ever do any -good as a composer. Only that's what you'd call my ambition. In any -case, I don't know enough to try yet, except to amuse myself when I'm -alone. I have no technique. I know only the rudiments of harmony. I do -get ideas; but they're no use to me. I haven't enough knowledge--of -treatment--of composition--to turn them to any account. But I shall have -some day! Miss Pryse, do you know why I'm out here? To make enough money -to go back again and study--and learn my trade--with plenty of time and -pains--which all trades require and demand. I mean all artistic trades. -And I'm not doing so very badly, seeing I've only been out three years. -I really am beginning to make a little. It was my mother's idea, my -coming out at all. I wasn't twenty-three at the time. It was a splendid -idea, like everything she does or says or thinks! How I wish you knew my -mother! She is the best and cleverest woman in all the world, though she -is so poor, and has lived in a cottage all her life. My father was a -German. He was clever, too, but he wasn't practical. So he never -succeeded. But my mother is everything! One day I shall go back to her -with my little pile. Then we shall go abroad together--perhaps to -Milan--and I shall study hard-all, and we'll soon find out whether -there's anything in me or not. If there isn't, back I come to the -colonies to tune pianos and sell music; but my mother shall come with me -next time." - -"You will find that there is something in you," said Naomi. "I can see -it." - -Indeed, it was not unreasonable to suppose that there was something -behind that broad, high forehead and those enthusiastic and yet -intelligent eyes. The mouth, too, was the delicate, mobile mouth of the -born artist; the nostrils were as sensitive as those of a thoroughbred -racehorse; and as he spoke the young man's face went white-hot with -sheer enthusiasm. Clearly there was reason in what Naomi thought and -said, though she knew little about music and cared less. He beamed at -her without answering, and she spoke again. - -"Certainly you have ambition," she said; "and honestly, there's nothing -I admire so much in a young man. Please understand that I for one am -with you heart and soul in all you undertake or attempt. I feel quite -sure that I shall live to see you famous. Oh, isn't it splendid to be a -man and aim so high?" - -"It is," he answered, simply, out of the frankness of his heart. - -"Even if you never succeed, it is fine to try!" - -"Thank Heaven for that. Even if you never succeed!" - -"But you are going to----" - -"Or going to know the reason why!" - -To a sympathetic young woman who believes in him, and thus stimulates -his belief in himself; who is ready with a nod and a smile when his mind -outstrips his tongue; who understands his incoherences, and is with him -in his wildest nights; to such a listener the ordinary young man with -enthusiasm can talk by the hour together, and does. Naomi was one such; -she was eminently understanding. Engelhardt had enthusiasm. He had more -than it is good for a man to carry about in his own breast. And there is -no doubt that he would have spent the entire morning in putting his -burden, bit by bit, upon Naomi as she sat and worked and listened, had -no interruption occurred. As it was, however, she interrupted him -herself, and that in the middle of a fresh tirade, by suddenly holding -up her finger and sharply enjoining silence. - -"Don't you hear voices?" she said. - -He listened. - -"Yes, I do." - -"Do you mind seeing who it is?" - -He went to the door. "There are two men hanging about the station -veranda," he said. "Stay! Now they have seen me, and are coming this -way." - -Naomi said not one word, but she managed to fetch over the office-stool -in the haste with which she sprang to the ground. At a run she rounded -the counter, and reached the door just as the men came up. She pushed -Engelhardt out first, and then followed him herself, locking the door -and putting the key in her pocket before turning to the men. Last of -all, but in her most amiable manner, she asked them what they wanted. - -"Travellers' rations," said one. - -"Especially meat," added the other. - -"Very good," said Naomi, "go to the kitchen and get the meat first. Mr. -Engelhardt, you may not know the station custom of giving rations to -travellers. We don't give meat here as a rule; so will you take these -men over to the kitchen, and tell Mrs. Potter I wish them each to have a -good helping of cold mutton? Then bring them back to the store." - -"We don't seek no favors," growled the man who had spoken first. - -"No?" said Naomi, with a charming smile. "But I'm sure you need some -meat. What's more, I mean you to have some!" - -"Suppose we take the tea and flour first, now we are at the store!" - -"Ah, I can't attend to you for a few minutes," said the girl, casually. -As she spoke she turned and left them, and Engelhardt gathered her -unconcern from the snatch of a song as she entered the main building. -The men accompanied him to the kitchen in a moody silence. As for -himself, he already felt an extraordinary aversion for them both. - -And indeed their looks were against them. The one who had spoken -offensively about the meat was a stout, thick-set, middle-aged man, who -gave an impression of considerable activity in spite of his great girth. -Half his face was covered with short gray bristles, like steel spikes. -Though his hands were never out of his pockets, he carried his head like -a man of character; but the full force of a bold, insolent, vindictive -expression was split and spoilt by the most villanous of squints. -Nevertheless the force was there. It was not so conspicuous in his -companion, who was, however, almost equally untoward-looking in his own -way. He was of the medium size, all bone and gristle like a hawk, and -with no sign upon his skin of a drop of red blood underneath. The hands -were brown and furry as an ape's, with the nails all crooked and broken -by hard work. The face was as brown, and very weather-beaten, with a -pair of small black eyes twinkling out of the ruts and puckers like -pools in the sun upon a muddy road. This one rolled as he walked, and -wore brass rings in his ears; and Engelhardt, who had come out from -England in a sailing ship, saw in a moment that he was as salt as junk -all through. Decidedly he was the best of the two, though his eyes were -never still, nor the hang of his head free and honest. And on the whole -the piano-tuner was thankful when his share of the trouble with these -men was at an end, and they all came back to the store. - -Rather to his surprise, Naomi was there before them, and busy weighing -out the traveller's quantum of sugar, tea, and flour, for each man. What -was really amazing, however, was the apparent miracle that had put every -trace of the silver out of sight. - -"No work for us on the station?" said the stout man, before they finally -sheered off, and in a tone far from civil, to Engelhardt's thinking. - -"None, I'm afraid," said Naomi, again with a smile. - -"Nor yet at the shed?" inquired the other, civilly enough. - -"Nor yet at the shed, I am sorry to say." - -"So long, then," said the fat man, in his impudent manner. "Mayhap we -shall be coming to see you again, miss, one o' these fine days or -nights. My dear, you look out for us! You keep your spare-room in -readiness! A feather-bed for me----" - -"Stow it, mate," said the other tramp, as he hitched his swag across his -shoulders. "Can't you hump your bluey and come away decent?" - -"If you don't," cried Engelhardt, putting in his little word in a -gigantic voice, "it will be the worse for you!" - -The big fellow laughed and swore. - -"Will it, my little man?" said he. "Are _you_ going to make it the -worse? I've a blessed good mind to take and crumple you up for manure, I -have. And a blessed bad barrerful you'd make! See here, my son, I reckon -you've got one broke bone about you already; mind out that I don't leave -a few pals to keep it company. A bit more of your cheek, and I'll make -you so as your own sweetheart--a fine girl she is, as ought to be above -the likes of you; but I suppose you're better than nothing--I tell you -I'll make you so as your sweetheart----" - -It was the man's own mate who put a stop to this. - -"Can't you shut it and come on?" he cried, with a kind of half-amused -anger. "Wot good is this going to do either me or you, or any blessed -body else?" - -"It'll do somebody some harm," returned the other, "if he opens his -mouth again. Yes, I'll clear out before I smash 'im! Good-by, my dear, -and a bigger size to you in sweethearts. So long, little man. You may -thank your broke arm that your 'ead's not broke as well!" - -They were gone at last. Naomi and Engelhardt watched them out of sight -from the veranda, the latter heaving with rage and indignation. He was -not one to forget this degradation in a hurry. Naomi, on the other hand, -who had more to complain of, being a woman, was in her usual spirits in -five minutes. She took him by the arm, and told him to cheer up. He made -bitter answer that he could never forgive himself for having stood by -and heard her spoken to as she had been spoken to that morning. She -pointed to his useless arm, and laughed heartily. - -"As long as they didn't see the silver," said she, "I care very little -what they said." - -"But I care!" - -"Then you are not to. Do you think they saw the silver?" - -"No; I'm pretty sure they didn't. How quickly you must have bundled it -in again!" - -"There was occasion for quickness. We must put it to rights after lunch. -Meanwhile come along and look here." - -She had led the way along the veranda, and now stood fingering one of -the whitewashed posts. It was pocked about the middle with ancient -bullet-marks. - -"This was the post my father stood behind. Not much of a shelter, was -it?" - -Engelhardt seemed interested and yet distrait. He made no answer. - -"Why don't you speak?" cried Naomi. "What has struck you?" - -"Nothing much," he replied. "Only when you heard the voices, and I went -to the door, the big brute was showing the little brute this very -veranda-post!" - -Naomi considered. - -"There's not much in that," she said at last. "It's the custom for -travellers to wait about a veranda; and what more natural than their -spotting these holes and having a look at them? As long as they didn't -spot my silver! Do you know why I came over to the house before putting -it away?" - -"No." - -"To get this," said Naomi, pulling something from her pocket. She was -laughing rather shyly. It was a small revolver. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -£500 - - -"And what is your other name, Mr. Engelhardt?" - -"Hermann." - -"Hermann Engelhardt! That's a lovely name. How well it will look in the -newspapers!" - -The piano-tuner shook his head. - -"It will never get into them now," said he, sadly. - -"What nonsense!" exclaimed the girl. "When you have told me of all the -big things you dream of doing one day! You'll do them every one when you -go home to England again; I'll put my bottom dollar on you." - -"Ah, but the point is whether I shall ever go back at all." - -"Of course you will." - -"I have a presentiment that I never shall." - -"Since when?" inquired Naomi, with a kindly sarcasm. - -"Oh, I always have it, more or less." - -"You had it very much less this morning, when you were telling me how -you'd go home and study at Milan and I don't know where-all, once you'd -made the money." - -"But I don't suppose I ever shall make it." - -"Bless the man!" cried Naomi, giving him up, for the moment in despair. -She continued to gaze at him, however, as he leant back in his wicker -chair, with hopeless dark eyes fixed absently upon the distant clumps of -pale green trees that came between glaring plain and cloudless sky. They -were sitting on the veranda which did not face the station-yard, because -it was the shady one in the afternoon. The silver had all been properly -put away, and locked up as carefully as before. As for the morning's -visitors, Naomi was herself disposed to think no more of them or their -impudence; it is therefore sad to relate that her present companion -would allow her to forget neither. With him the incident rankled -characteristically; it had left him solely occupied by an extravagantly -poor opinion of himself. For the time being, this discolored his entire -existence and prospects, draining his self-confidence to the last drop. -Accordingly, he harped upon the late annoyance, and his own inglorious -share in it, to an extent which in another would have tried Naomi very -sorely indeed; but in him she rather liked it. She had a book in her -lap, but it did not interest her nearly so much as the human volume in -the wicker chair at her side. She was exceedingly frank about the -matter. - -"You're the most interesting man I ever met in my life," was her very -next remark. - -"I can't think that!" - -He had hauled in his eyes some miles to see whether she meant it. - -"Nevertheless, it's the case. Do you know why you're so interesting?" - -"No, that I don't!" - -"Because you're never the same for two seconds together." - -His face fell. - -"Among other reasons," added Naomi, nodding kindly. - -But Engelhardt had promptly put himself upon the spit. He was always -doing this. - -"Yes, I know I'm a terribly up-and-down kind of chap," said he, -miserably; "there's no happy medium about _me_." - -"When you are good you are very good indeed, and when you are bad you -are horrid! That's just what I like. I can't stand your always-the-same -people. They bore me beyond words; they drill me through and through! -Still, you were very good indeed this morning, you know. It is too -absurd of you to give a second thought to a couple of tramps and their -insolence!" - -"I can't help it. I'm built that way. To think that I should have stood -still to hear you insulted like that!" - -"But you didn't stand still." - -"Oh, yes, I did." - -"Well, I wish you wouldn't bother about it. I wish you wouldn't bother -about yourself." - -"When I am bad I am horrid," he said, with a wry smile, "and that's -now." - -"No, I tell you I like it. I never know where I've got you. That's one -reason why you're so interesting." - -His face glowed, and he clasped her with his glance. - -"How kind you are!" he said, softly. "How you make the best of one, even -at one's worst! But oh, how bitterly you make me wish that I were -different!" - -"I'm very glad that you're not," said Naomi; "everybody else is -different." - -"But I would give my head to be like everybody else--to be hail-fellow -with those men out at the shed, for instance. _They_ wouldn't have stood -still this morning." - -"Wouldn't you as soon be hail-fellow with me?" asked the girl, ignoring -his last sentence. - -"A million times sooner, of course! But surely you understand?" - -"I think I do." - -"I know you do; you understand everything. I never knew anyone like you, -never!" - -"Then we're quits," said Naomi, as though the game were over. And she -closed her eyes. But it was she who began it again; it always was. - -"You have one great fault," she said, maternally. - -"I have a thousand and one." - -"There you are. You think too much about them. You take too much notice -of yourself; that's your great fault." - -"Yet I didn't think I was conceited." - -"Not half enough. That's just it. Yet you _are_ egotistical." - -He looked terribly crestfallen. "I suppose I am," he said, dolefully. -"In fact, I am." - -"Then you're not, so there!" - -"Which do you mean?" - -"I only said it to tease you. Do you suppose I'd have said such a thing -if I'd really thought it?" - -"I shouldn't mind what you said. If you really do think me egotistical, -pray say so frankly." - -"Of course I don't think anything of the kind!" - -"Is that the truth?" - -"The real truth." - -(It was not.) - -"If it's egotistical to think absolutely nothing of yourself," continued -Naomi, "and to blame yourself and not other people for every little -thing that goes wrong, then I should call you a twenty-two-carat -egotist. But even then your aims and ambitions would be rather lofty for -the billet." - -"They never seemed so to me," he whispered, "until you sympathized with -them." - -"Of course I sympathize," said Naomi, laughing at him. It was necessary -to laugh at him now and then. It kept him on his feet; this time it led -him from the abstract to the concrete. - -"If only I could make enough money to go home and study, to study even -in London for one year," murmured Engelhardt, as his eyes drifted out -across the plains. "Then I should know whether my dreams ever were worth -dreaming. But I have taken root out here, I am beginning to do well, -better than ever I could have hoped. At our village in the old country I -was glad enough to play the organ in church for twelve pounds a year. -Down in Victoria they gave me fifty without a murmur, and I made a -little more out of teaching. Oh! didn't I tell you I started life out -here as an organist? That's how it was I was able to buy this business, -and I am doing very well indeed. Two pounds for tuning a piano! They -wouldn't credit it in the old country." - -"The man before you used to charge three. A piano-tuner in the bush is -an immensely welcome visitor, mind. I don't think I should have lowered -my terms at all, especially when you have no intention of doing this -sort of thing all your days." - -"Ah, well, I shall never dare to throw it up." - -"Never's not a word I like to hear you use, Mr. Engelhardt. Remember -that you've only been out here three years, and that you are not yet -twenty-six. You told me so yourself this morning." - -"It's perfectly true," said Engelhardt. "But there's one's mother to -consider. I told you about her. I am beginning to send her so much money -now. It would be frightful to give that up, just because there are tunes -in my head now and then, and I can't put them together in proper -harmony." - -"I should say that your mother would rather have you than your money, -Mr. Engelhardt." - -"Perhaps so, but not if I were on her hands composing things that nobody -would publish." - -"That couldn't be. You would succeed. Something tells me that you would. -I see it in your face; I did this morning. I know nothing about music, -yet I feel so certain about you. The very fact that you should have -these ambitions when you are beginning to do well out here, that in -itself is enough for me." - -He shook his head, without turning it to thank her by so much as a look. -The girl was glad of that. Though he had so little confidence in -himself, she knew that the dreams of which he had spoken more freely and -more hopefully in the morning were thick upon him then, as he sat in the -wicker chair and looked out over the plains, with parted lips and such -wistful eyes that Naomi's mind went to work at the promptings of the -heart in her which he touched. It was a nimble, practical mind, and the -warm heart beneath it was the home of noble impulses, which broke forth -continually in kind words and generous acts. Naomi wore that heart upon -her sweet frank face, it shone with a clear light out of the fearless -eyes that were fixed now so long and so steadily upon the piano-tuner's -eager profile. She watched him while the shadow of the building grew -broader and broader under his eyes, until all at once it lost its edges, -and there were no more sunlit patches on the plain. Still he neither -moved nor looked at her. At last she touched him on the arm. She was -sitting on his right, and she laid her fingers lightly upon the splints -and bandages which were her own handiwork. - -"Well, Mr. Engelhardt?" - -He started round, and she was smiling at him in the gloaming, with her -sweet warm face closer to his than it had ever been before. - -"I have been very rude," he stammered. - -"I am going to be much ruder." - -"Now you are laughing at me." - -"No, I am not. I was never farther from laughing in my life, for I fear -that I shall offend you, though I do hope not." - -He saw that something was upon her mind. - -"You couldn't do it if you tried," he said, simply. - -"Then I want to know how much money you think you ought to have to go -home to England with a clear conscience, and to give yourself heart and -soul to music for a year certain? I _am_ so inquisitive about it all." - -She was employing, indeed, and successfully, a tone of pure and -indefensible curiosity. He thought for some moments before answering. -Then he said, quite innocently: - -"Five hundred pounds. That would leave me enough to come back and start -all over again out here if I failed. I wouldn't tackle it on less." - -"But you wouldn't fail. I know nothing about it, but I have my -instincts, and I see success in your face. I see it there! And I want to -bet on you. I have more money than is good for any girl, and I want to -back you for five hundred pounds." - -"It is very kind of you," he said, "but you would lose your money." He -did not see her meaning. The southern night had set in all at once; he -could not even see her strenuous eyes. - -"How dense you are," she said, softly, and with a little nervous laugh. -"Can't you see that I want to _lend_ you the money?" - -"To lend it to me!" - -"Why not?" - -"Five hundred pounds!" - -"My dear young man, I'm ashamed to say that I should never feel it. It's -a sporting offer merely. Of course I'd charge interest--you'd dedicate -all your nice songs to me. Why don't you answer? I don't like to see you -in the bush, it isn't at all the place for you; and I do want to send -you home to your mother. You might let me, for her sake. Have you lost -your tongue?" - -Her hand had remained upon the splints and bandages; indeed, she had -forgotten that there was a living arm inside them, but now something -trivial occurred that made her withdraw it, and also get up from her -chair. - -"Are you on, or are you not?" - -"Oh, how can I thank you? What can I say?" - -"Yes or no," replied Naomi, promptly. - -"No, then. I can't--I can't----" - -"Then don't. Now not another word! No, there's no offence on either -side, unless it's I that have offended you. It was great cheek of me, -after all. Yes, it was! Well, then, if it wasn't, will you have the -goodness to lend me your ears on an entirely different matter?" - -"Very well; with all my heart; yet if only I could ever thank you----" - -"If only you would be quiet and listen to me! How are the bruises -behaving? That's all I want to hear now." - -"The bruises? Oh, they're all right; I'd quite forgotten I had any." - -"You can lean back without hurting?" - -"Rather! If I put my weight on the left side it doesn't hurt a bit." - -"Think you could stand seven miles in a buggy to-morrow morning?" - -"Couldn't I!" - -"Then I thought of driving over to the shed in the morning; and you -shall come with me if you're good." - -For an instant he looked radiant. Then his face clouded over as he -thought again of her goodness and his own ingratitude. - -"Miss Pryse," he began--and stuck--but his tone spoke volumes of -remorse and self-abasement. - -Evidently she was getting to know that tone, for she caught him up with -a look of distinct displeasure. - -"Only if you're good, mind!" she told him, sharply. "Not on any account -unless!" - -And Engelhardt said no more. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE RINGER OF THE SHED - - -A sweet breeze and a flawless sky rendered it an exquisite morning when -Naomi and her piano-tuner took their seats behind the kind of pair which -the girl loved best to handle. They were youngsters both, the one a -filly as fresh as paint, the other a chestnut colt, better broken, -perhaps, but sufficiently ready to be led astray. The very start was -lively. Engelhardt found himself holding on with his only hand as if his -life depended on it, instead of on the firm gloved fingers and the taut -white-sleeved arm at his side. He looked from the pair of young ones to -that arm and those fingers, and back again at the pair. They were -pulling alarmingly, especially the filly. Engelhardt took an anxious -look at the driver's face. He was prepared to find it resolute but pale. -He found it transfigured with the purest exultation. After all, this was -the daughter of the man who had returned the bushranger's fire with -laughter as loud as his shots; she was her father's child; and from this -moment onward the piano-tuner felt it a new honor to be sitting at her -side. - -"How do you like it?" she found time to ask him when the worst seemed -over. - -"First-rate," he replied. - -"Not in a funk?" - -"Not with you." - -"That's a blessing. The filly needs watching--little demon! But she -sha'n't smash your other arm for you, Mr. Engelhardt, if I can prevent -it. No screws loose, Sam, I hope?" - -"Not if I knows it, miss!" - -Sam Rowntree had jumped on behind to come as far as the first gate, to -open it. Already they were there, and as Sam ran in front of the -impatient pair the filly shied violently at a blue silk fly-veil which -fluttered from his wide-awake. - -"That nice youth is the dandy of the men's hut," explained Naomi, as -they tore through the gates, leaving Sam and his fly-veil astern in a -twinkling. "I daren't say much to him, because he's the only man the hut -contains just at present. The rest spend most nights out at the shed, so -I should be pretty badly off if I offended Sam. I wasn't too pleased -with the state of the buggy, as a matter of fact. It's the old Shanghai -my father used to fancy, and somehow it's fallen on idle days; but it -runs lighter than anything else we've got, and it's sweetly swung. -That's why I chose it for this little trip of ours. You'll find it like -a feather-bed for your bruises and bones and things--if only Sam -Rowntree used his screw-hammer properly. Feeling happy so far?" - -Engelhardt declared that he had never been happier in his life. There -was more truth in the assertion than Naomi suspected. She also was -happy, but in a different way. A tight rein, an aching arm, a clear -course across a five-mile paddock, and her beloved Riverina breeze -between her teeth, would have made her happy at any time and in any -circumstances. The piano-tuner's company added no sensible zest to a -performance which she thoroughly enjoyed for its own sake; but with him -the exact opposite was the case. She was not thinking of him. He was -thinking only of her. She had her young bloods to watch. His eyes spent -half their time upon her grand strong hand and arm. Suddenly these gave -a tug and a jerk, both together. But he was in too deep a dream either -to see what was wrong or to understand his companion's exclamation. - -"He didn't!" she had cried. - -"Didn't what?" said Engelhardt. "And who, Miss Pryse?" - -"Sam Rowntree didn't use his screw-hammer properly. Wretch! The near -swingle-tree's down and trailing." - -It took Engelhardt some moments to grasp exactly what she meant. Then he -saw. The near swingle-tree was bumping along the ground at the filly's -heels, dragged by the traces. Already the filly had shown herself the -one to shy as well as to pull, and it now appeared highly probable that -she would give a further exhibition of her powers by kicking the -Shanghai to matchwood. Luckily, the present pace was too fast for that. -The filly had set the pace herself. The filly was keeping it up. As for -the chestnut, it was contentedly playing second fiddle with traces -drooping like festoons. Thus the buggy was practically being drawn by a -single rein with the filly's mouth at one end of it and Naomi's hand at -the other. - -"Once let the bar tickle her hoofs, and she'll hack us to smithereens," -said the latter, cheerfully. "We'll euchre her yet by keeping this up!" -And she took her whip and flogged the chestnut. - -But this did not ease the strain on her left hand and arm, for the -chestnut's pace was nothing to the filly's, so that even with the will -he had not the power to tighten his traces and perform his part. -Engelhardt saw the veins swelling in the section of wrist between the -white sleeve and the dogskin glove. He reached across and tried to help -her with his left hand; but she bade him sit quiet, or he would -certainly tumble out and be run over; and with her command she sent a -roar of laughter into his ear, though the veins were swelling on her -forehead, too. Truly she was a chip of the old block, and the grain was -as good as ever. - -It came to an end at last. - -"Hurray!" said Naomi. "I see the fence." - -Engelhardt saw it soon after, and in another minute the horses stood -smoking, and the buggy panting on its delicate springs, before a -six-bar gate which even the filly was disinclined to tackle just then. - -"Do you think you can drive through with your one hand, and hold them -tight on t'other side?" said Naomi. "Clap your foot on the break and -try." - -He nodded and managed creditably; but before opening the gate Naomi made -a temporary fixture of the swingle-tree by means of a strap; and this -proved the last of their troubles. The shed was now plainly in sight, -with its long regular roof, and at one end three huts parallel with it -and with each other. To the left of the shed, as they drove up, Naomi -pointed out the drafting yards. A dense yellow cloud overhung them like -a lump of London fog. - -"They're drafting now," said Naomi. "I expect Mr. Gilroy is drafting -himself. If so, let's hope he's too busy to see us. It would be a pity, -you know, to take him away from his work," she added next instant; but -Engelhardt was not deceived. - -They drove down the length of the shed, which had small pens attached on -either side, with a kind of port-hole opening into each. Out of these -port-holes there kept issuing shorn sheep, which ran down little sloping -boards, and thus filled the pens. At one of the latter Naomi pulled up. -It contained twice as many sheep as any other pen, and a good half of -them were cut and bleeding. The pens were all numbered, and this one was -number nineteen. - -"Bear that in mind," said Naomi. "Nineteen!" - -Engelhardt looked at her. Her face was flushed and her voice unusually -quiet and hard. But she drove on without another word, save of general -explanation. - -"Each man has his pen," she said, "and shears his sheep just inside -those holes. Then the boss of the shed comes round with his note-book, -counts out the pens, and enters the number of sheep to the number of -each pen. If a shearer cuts his sheep about much, or leaves a lot of -wool on, he just runs that man's pen--doesn't count 'em at all. At -least, he ought to. It seems he doesn't always do it." - -Again her tone was a singular mixture of hard and soft. - -"Mr. Gilroy is over the shed, isn't he?" said Engelhardt, a little -injudiciously. - -"He is," returned Naomi, and that was all. - -They alighted from the buggy at the farther end of the shed, where huge -doors stood open, showing a confused stack of wool-bales within, and -Sanderson, the store-keeper, engaged in branding them with stencil and -tar-brush. He took off his wide-awake to Naomi, and winked at the -piano-tuner. The near-sighted youth was also there, and he came out to -take charge of the pair, while Engelhardt entered the shed at Naomi's -skirts. - -Beyond the bales was the machine which turned them out. Here the two -wool-pressers were hard at work and streaming with perspiration. Naomi -paused to see a bale pressed down and sewn up. Then she led her -companion on to where the wool-pickers were busy at side tables, and the -wool-sorter at another table which stood across the shed in a commanding -position, with a long line of shearers at work to right and left, and an -equally long pen full of unshorn sheep between them. The wool-sorter's -seemed the softest job in the shed. Boys brought him fleeces--perhaps a -dozen a minute--flung them out upon the table, and rolled them up again -into neat bundles swiftly tied with string. These bundles the -wool-sorter merely tossed over his shoulder into one or other of the -five or six bins at his back. - -"He gets a pound a thousand fleeces," Naomi whispered, "and we shear -something over eighty thousand sheep. He will take away a check of -eighty odd pounds for his six weeks' work." - -"And what about the shearers?" - -"A pound a hundred. Some of them will go away with forty or fifty -pounds." - -"It beats piano-tuning," said Engelhardt, with a laugh. They crossed an -open space, mounted a few steps, and began threading their way down the -left-hand aisle, between the shearers and the pen from which they had to -help themselves to woolly sheep. The air was heavy with the smell of -fleeces, and not unmusical with the constant swish and chink of forty -pairs of shears. - -"Well, Harry?" said Naomi, to the second man they came to. "Harry is an -old friend of mine, Mr. Engelhardt--he was here in the old days. Mr. -Engelhardt is a new friend, Harry, but a very good one, for all that. -How are you getting on? What's your top-score?" - -"Ninety-one, miss--I shore ninety-one yesterday." - -"And a very good top-score, too, Harry. I'd rather spend three months -over the shearing than have sheep cut about and wool left on. What was -that number I asked you to keep in mind, Mr. Engelhardt?" - -"Nineteen, Miss Pryse." - -"Ah, yes! Who's number nineteen, Harry?" - -Harry grinned. - -"They call him the ringer of the shed, miss." - -"Oh, indeed. That means the fastest shearer, Mr. Engelhardt--the man who -runs rings round the rest, eh, Harry? What's _his_ top-score, do you -suppose?" - -"Something over two hundred." - -"I thought as much. And his name?" - -"Simons, miss." - -"Point him out, Harry." - -"Why, there he is; that big chap now helping himself to a woolly." - -They turned and saw a huge fellow drag out an unshorn sheep by the leg, -and fling it against his moleskins with a clearly unnecessary violence -and cruelty. - -"Come on, Mr. Engelhardt," said Naomi, in her driest tones; "I have a -word to say to the ringer of the shed. I rather think he won't ring much -longer." - -They walked on and watched the long man at his work. It was the work of -a ruffian. The shearer next him had started on a new sheep -simultaneously, and was on farther than the brisket when the ringer had -reached the buttocks. On the brisket of the ringer's sheep a slit of -livid blue had already filled with blood, and blood started from other -places as he went slashing on. He was either too intent or too insolent -to take the least heed of the lady and the young man watching him. The -young man's heart was going like a clock in the night, and he was -sufficiently ashamed of it. As for Naomi, she was visibly boiling over, -but she held her tongue until the sheep rose bleeding from its fleece. -Then, as the man was about to let the poor thing go, she darted between -it and the hole. - -"Tar here on the brisket!" she called down the board. - -A boy came at a run and dabbed the wounds. - -"Why didn't you call him yourself?" she then asked sternly of the man, -still detaining his sheep. - -"What business is that of yours?" he returned, impudently. - -"That you will see presently. How many sheep did you shear yesterday?" - -"Two hundred and two." - -"And the day before?" - -"Two hundred and five." - -"That will do. It's too much, my man, you can't do it properly. I've had -a look at your sheep, and I mean to run your pen. What's more, if you -don't intend to go slower and do better, you may throw down your shears -this minute!" - -The man had slowly lifted himself to something like his full height, -which was enormous. So were his rounded shoulders and his long hairy -arms and hands. So was his face, with its huge hook-nose and its -mouthful of yellow teeth. These were showing in an insolent yet savage -grin, when a good thing happened at a very good time. - -A bell sounded, and someone sang out, "Smoke-oh!" - -Instantly many pairs of shears were dropped; in the ensuing two minutes -the rest followed, as each man finished the sheep he was engaged on when -the bell rang. Thus the swish and tinkle of the shears changed swiftly -to a hum of conversation mingled with deep-drawn sighs. And this stopped -suddenly, miraculously, as the shed opened its eyes and ears to the -scene going forward between its notorious ringer and Naomi Pryse, the -owner of the run. - -In another moment men with pipes in their hands and sweat on their -brows were edging toward the pair from right and left. - -"Your name, I think, is Simons?" Naomi was saying, coolly, but so that -all who had a mind might hear her. "I have no more to say to you, -Simons, except that you will shear properly or go where they like their -sheep to have lumps of flesh taken out and lumps of wool left on." - -"Since when have you been over the board, miss?" asked Simons, a little -more civilly under the eyes of his mates. - -"I am not over the board," said Naomi, hotly, "but I am over the man who -is." - -She received instant cause to regret this speech. - -"We wish you was!" cried two or three. "_You_ wouldn't make a blooming -mull of things, you wouldn't!" - -"I'll take my orders from Mr. Gilroy, and from nobody else," said -Simons, defiantly. - -"Well, you may take fair warning from me." - -"That's as I like." - -"It's as _I_ like," said Naomi. "And look here, I won't waste more words -upon you and I won't stand your impertinence. Better throw down your -shears now--for I've done with you--before I call upon your mates to -take them from you." - -"We don't need calling, miss, not we!" - -Half a dozen fine fellows had stepped forward, with Harry at their head, -and the affair was over. Simons had flung his shears on the floor with a -clatter and a curse, and was striding out of the shed amid the hisses -and imprecations of his comrades. - -Naomi would have got away, too, for she had had more than enough of the -whole business, but this was not so easy. Someone raised three cheers -for her. They were given with a roar that shook the iron roof like -thunder. And to cap all this a gray old shearer planted himself in her -path. - -"It's just this way, miss," said he. "We liked Simons little enough, -but, begging your pardon, we like Mr. Gilroy less. He doesn't know how -to treat us at all. He has no idea of bossing a shed like this. And mark -my words, miss, unless you remove that man, and give us some smarter -gentleman like, say, young Mr. Chester----" - -"Ay, Chester'll do!" - -"He knows his business!" - -"He's a man, he is----" - -"And the man for us!" - -"Unless you give us someone more to our fancy, like young Mr. Chester," -concluded the old man, doing his best to pacify his mates with look and -gesture, "there'll be further trouble. This is only the beginning. -There'll be trouble, and maybe worse, until you make a change." - -Naomi felt inexpressibly uncomfortable. - -"Mr. Gilroy is the manager of this station," said she, for once with a -slight tremor in her voice. "Any difference that you have with him, you -must fight it out between you. I am quite sure that he means to be just. -I, at any rate, must interfere no more. I am sorry I interfered at all." - -So they let her go at last, the piano-tuner following close upon her -heels. He had stuck to her all the time with shut mouth and twitching -fingers, ready for anything, as he was ready still. And the first person -these two encountered in the open air was Gilroy himself, with so white -a face and such busy lips that they hardly required him to tell them he -had heard all. - -"I am very sorry, Monty," said the girl, in a distressed tone which -highly surprised her companion; "but I simply couldn't help it. You -can't stand by and see a sheep cut to pieces without opening your -mouth. Yet I know I was at fault." - -"It's not much good knowing it now," returned Gilroy, ungraciously, as -he rolled along at her side; "you should have thought of that first. As -it is, you've given me away to the shed, and made a tough job twice as -tough as it was before." - -"I really am very sorry, Monty. I know I oughtn't to have interfered at -all. At the same time, the man deserved sending away, and I am sure you -would have been the first to send him had you seen what I saw. I know I -should have waited and spoken to you; but I shall keep away from the -shed in future." - -"That won't undo this morning's mischief. I heard what the brutes said -to you!" - -"Then you must have heard what I said to them. Don't try to make me out -worse than I am, Monty." - -She laid her hand upon his arm, and Engelhardt, to his horror, saw tears -on her lashes. Gilroy, however, would not look at her. Instead, he -hailed the store-keeper, who had passed them on his way to the huts. - -"Make out Simons's account, Sandy," he shouted at the top of his voice, -"and give him his check. Miss Pryse has thought fit to sack him over my -head!" - -Instantly her penitence froze to scorn. - -"That was unnecessary," she said, in the same quiet tone she had -employed toward the shearer, but dropping her arm and halting dead as -she spoke. "If this is the way you treat the men, no wonder you can't -manage them. Come, Mr. Engelhardt!" - -And with this they turned their back on the manager, but not on the -shed; that was not Naomi's way at all. She was pre-eminently one to be -led, not driven, and she remained upon the scene, showing Engelhardt -everything, and explaining the minutest details for his benefit, much -longer than she would have dreamt of staying in the ordinary course of -affairs. This involved luncheon in the manager's hut, at which meal -Naomi appeared in the highest spirits, cracking jokes with Sanderson, -chaffing the boy in spectacles, and clinking pannikins with everyone but -the manager himself. The latter left early, after steadily sulking -behind his plate, with his beard in his waistcoat and his yellow head -presented like a bull's. Tom Chester was not there at all. Engelhardt -was sorry, though the others treated him well enough to-day--Sanderson -even cutting up his meat for him. It was three o'clock before Naomi and -he started homeward in the old Shanghai. - -With the wool-shed left a mile behind, they overtook a huge horseman -leading a spare horse. - -"That's our friend Simons," said Naomi. "I wonder what sort of a -greeting he'll give me. None at all, I should imagine." - -She was wrong. The shearer reined up on one side of the track, and gave -her a low bow, wide-awake in hand, and with it a kind of a glaring grin -that made his teeth stand out like brass-headed nails in the afternoon -sunshine. Naomi laughed as they drove on. - -"Pretty, wasn't it? That man loves me to distraction, I should say. On -the whole we may claim to have had a rather lively day. First came that -young lady on the near side, who's behaving herself so angelically now; -and then the swingle-tree, which they've fixed up well enough to see us -through this afternoon at any rate. Next there was our friend Simons; -and after him, poor dear Monty Gilroy--who had cause to complain, mind -you, Mr. Engelhardt. We mustn't forget that I had no sort of right to -interfere. And now, unless I'm very much mistaken, we're on the point -of meeting two more of our particular friends." - -In fact, a couple of tramps were approaching, swag on back, with the -slow swinging stride of their kind. Engelhardt colored hotly as he -recognized the ruffians of the day before. They were walking on opposite -sides of the track, and as the buggy cut between them the fat man -unpocketed one hand and saluted them as they passed. - -"Not got a larger size yet?" he shouted out. "Why, that ain't a man at -all!" - -The poor piano-tuner felt red to his toes, and held his tongue with -exceeding difficulty. But, as usual, Naomi and her laugh came to his -rescue. - -"How polite our friends are, to be sure! A bow here and a salute there! -Birds of a feather, too, if ever I saw any; you might look round, Mr. -Engelhardt, and see if they're flocking together." - -"They are," said he, next minute. - -Then Naomi looked for herself. They were descending a slight incline, -and, sure enough, on top of the ridge stood the two tramps and the -mounted shearer. Stamped clean against the sky, it looked much as though -horses and men had been carved out of a single slab of ebony. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -"THREE SHADOWS" - - -That night the piano-tuner came out in quite a new character, and with -immediate success. He began repeating poetry in the moonlit veranda, and -Naomi let him go on for an hour and a half; indeed, she made him; for -she was in secret tribulation over one or two things that had happened -during the day, and only too thankful, therefore, to be taken out of -herself and made to think on other matters. Engelhardt did all this for -her, and in so doing furthered his own advantage, too, almost as much as -his own pleasure. At all events, Naomi took to her room a livelier -interest in the piano-tuner than she had felt hitherto, while her own -troubles were left, with her boots, outside the door. - -It was true she had been interested in him from the beginning. He had so -very soon revealed to her what she had never come in contact with -before--a highly sensitized specimen of the artistic temperament. She -did not know it by this name, or by any name at all; but she was not the -less alive to his little group of interesting peculiarities, because of -her inability to label the lot with one phrase. They interested her the -more for that very reason; just as her instinct as to the possibilities -that were in him was all the stronger for her incapacity to reason out -her conviction in a satisfactory manner. Her intellectual experience was -limited to a degree; but she had seen success in his face; and she now -heard it in his voice when he quoted verses to her, so beautifully that -she was delighted to listen whether she followed him or not. Her faith -in him was sweetly unreasonable, but it was immensely strong. She was -ready and even eager to back him heavily; and there are those who would -rather have one brave girl do that on instinct, than win the votes of a -hundred clear heads, basing their support upon a logical calculation. - -For reasons of her own, however, Naomi decided overnight to take her -visitor a little less seriously to his face. She had been too -confidential with him concerning station affairs past and present; that -she must drop, and at the same time discourage him from opening his -heart to her, as he was beginning to do, on the slightest provocation. -These resolutions would impose a taboo on nearly all the subjects they -had found in common. She quite saw that, and she thought it just as -well. Too much sympathy with this young man might be bad for him. Naomi -realized this somewhat suddenly in the night, and it kept her awake -rather longer than she liked. But she rose next morning fully resolved -to eschew conversation of too sympathetic a character, and to encourage -her young friend in quotations from the poets instead. Obviously this -was quite as great a pleasure to him, while it was a much safer one--or -so Naomi thought in her innocence. But then it was a very genuine -pleasure to her, too, because the poetry was entirely new to her, and -her many-sided young man knew so much and repeated it so charmingly. - -It was incredible, indeed, what a number of the poets of all ages he had -at his finger-ends, and how justly he rendered their choicest numbers. -Their very names were mostly new to Naomi. There was consequently an -aboriginal barbarity about many of her comments and criticisms, and more -than once the piano-tuner found it impossible to sit still and hear her -out. This was notably the case at their second poetical séance, when -Naomi had got over her private depression on the one hand, and was full -of her new intentions toward the piano-tuner on the other. He would jump -out of his chair, and fume up and down the veranda, running his five -available fingers through his hair until the black shock stood on end. -It was at these moments that Naomi liked him best. - -He had been giving her "Tears, idle tears" (because she had "heard of -Tennyson," she said) on the Wednesday morning in the veranda facing the -station-yard. He had recited the great verses with a force and feeling -all his own. Over one of them in particular his voice had quivered with -emotion. It was the dear emotion of an æsthetic soul touched to the -quick by the sheer beauty of the idea and its words. And Naomi said: - -"That's jolly; but you don't call it poetry, do you?" - -His eyes dried in an instant. Then they opened as wide as they would go. -He was speechless. - -"It doesn't rhyme, you know," Naomi explained, cheerfully. - -"No," said Engelhardt, gazing at her severely. "It isn't meant to; it's -blank verse." - -"It's blank _bad_ verse, if you ask me," said Naomi Pryse, with a nod -that was meant to finish him; but it only lifted him out of his chair. - -"Well, upon my word," said the piano-tuner, striding noisily up and -down, as Naomi laughed. "Upon my word!" - -"Please make me understand," pleaded the girl, with a humility that -meant mischief, if he had only been listening; but he was still -wrestling with his exasperation. "I can't help being ignorant, you -know," she added, as though hurt. - -"You can help it--that's just it!" he answered, bitterly. "I've been -telling you one of the most beautiful things that Tennyson himself ever -wrote, and you say it isn't verse. Verse, forsooth! It's poetry--it's -gorgeous poetry!" - -"It may be gorgeous, but I don't call it poetry unless it rhymes," said -Naomi, stoutly. "Gordon always does." - -Gordon, the Australian poet, she was forever throwing at his head, as -the equal of any of his English bards. They had already had a heated -argument about Gordon. Therefore Engelhardt said merely: - -"You're joking, of course?" - -"I am doing nothing of the sort." - -"Then pray what do you call Shakespeare"--pausing in front of her with -his hand in his pocket--"poetry or prose?" - -"Prose, of course." - -"Because it doesn't rhyme?" - -"Exactly." - -"And why do you suppose it's chopped up into lines?" - -"Oh, _I_ don't know--to moisten it perhaps." - -"I beg your pardon?" - -"To make it less dry." - -"Ah! Then it doesn't occur to you that there might be some law which -decreed the end of a line after a certain number of beats, or -notes--exactly like the end of a bar of music, in fact?" - -"Certainly not," said Naomi. There was a touch of indignation in this -denial. He shrugged his shoulders and then turned them upon the girl, -and stood glowering out upon the yard. Behind his back Naomi went into -fits of silent laughter, which luckily she had overcome before he -wheeled round suddenly with a face full of eager determination. His -heart now appeared set upon convincing her that verse might be blank. -And for half an hour he stood beating his left hand in the air, and -declaiming, in feet, certain orations of Hamlet, until Mrs. Potter, the -cook-laundress, came out of the kitchen to protect her young mistress if -necessary. It was not necessary. The broken-armed gentleman was standing -over her, shaking his fist and talking at the top of his voice; but Miss -Pryse was all smiles and apparent contentment; and, indeed, she behaved -much better for awhile, and did her best to understand. But presently -she began to complain of the "quotations" (for he was operating on the -famous soliloquy), and to profane the whole subject. And the question of -blank verse was discussed between them no more. - -She could be so good, too, when she liked, so appreciative, so -sympathetic, so understanding. But she never liked very long. He had a -tendency to run to love-poems, and after listening to five or six with -every sign of approval and delight, Naomi would suddenly become flippant -at the sixth or seventh. On one occasion, when she had turned him on by -her own act aforethought, and been given a taste of several past-masters -of the lyric, from Waller to Locker, and including a poem of Browning's -which she allowed herself to be made to understand, she inquired of -Engelhardt whether he had ever read anything by "a man called Swinton." - -"Swinburne," suggested Engelhardt. - -"Are you sure?" said Naomi, jealously. "I believe it's Swinton. I'm -prepared to bet you that it is!" - -"Where have you come across his name?" the piano-tuner said, smiling as -he shook his head. - -"In the preface to Gordon's poems." - -Engelhardt groaned. - -"It mentions Swinton--what are you laughing at? All right! I'll get the -book and settle it!" - -She came back laughing herself. - -"Well?" said Engelhardt. - -"You know too much! Not that I should accept anything that preface says -as conclusive. It has the cheek to say that Gordon was under his -influence. You give me something of his, and we'll soon see." - -"Something of Swinburne's?" - -"Oh, you needn't put on side because you happen to be right according to -a preface. I'll write and ask _The Australasian_! Yes, of course I mean -something of his." - -Engelhardt reflected. "There's a poem called 'A Leave-taking,'" said he, -tentatively, at length. - -"Then trot it out," said Naomi; and she set herself to listen with so -unsympathetic an expression on her pretty face, that he was obliged to -look the other way before he could begin. The contrary was usually the -case. However, he managed to get under way: - - - "Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear. - Let us go hence together without fear; - Keep silence now, for singing-time is over, - And over all old things and all things dear. - She loves not you nor me as all we love her. - Yea, though we sang as angels in her ear, - She would not hear. - - "Let us rise up and part; she will not know. - Let us go seaward as the great winds go, - Full of blown sand and foam; what help is there? - There is no help, for all these things are so, - And all the world is bitter as a tear. - And how these things are, though ye strove to show - She would not know. - - "Let us go home and hence; she will not weep----" - - -"Stop a moment," said Naomi, "I'm in a difficulty. I can't go on -listening until I know something." - -"Until you know what?" said Engelhardt, who did not like being -interrupted. - -"Who it's all about--who _she_ is!" cried Naomi, inquisitively. - -"Who--she--is," repeated the piano-tuner, talking aloud to himself. - -"Yes, exactly; who _is_ she?" - -"As if it mattered!" Engelhardt went on in the same aside. "However, who -do _you_ say she is?" - -"I? She may be his grandmother for all I know. I'm asking you." - -"I know you are. I was prepared for you to ask me anything else." - -"Were you? Then why is she such an obstinate old party, anyway? She -won't hear and she won't know. What will she do? Now it seems that you -can't even make her cry! 'She will not weep' was where you'd got to. As -you seem unable to answer my questions, you'd better go on till she -does." - -"I'm so likely to go on," said Engelhardt, getting up. - -Naomi relented a little. - -"Forgive me, Mr. Engelhardt; I've been behaving horribly. I'm sorry I -spoke at all, only I did so want to know who she was." - -"I don't know myself." - -"I was sure you didn't!" - -"What's more, I don't care. What _has_ it got to do with the merits of -the poem?" - -"I won't presume to say. I only know that it makes all the difference to -my interest in the poem." - -"But why?" - -"Because I want to know what she was like." - -"But surely to goodness," cried Engelhardt, "you can imagine her, can't -you? You're meant to fill her in to your own fancy. You pays your money -and you takes your choice." - -"I get precious little for my money," remarked Naomi, pertinently, "if I -have to do the filling in for myself!" - -Engelhardt had been striding to and fro. Now he stopped pityingly in -front of the chair in which this sweet Philistine was sitting unashamed. - -"Do you mean to say that you like to have every little thing told you in -black and white?" - -"Of course I do. The more the better." - -"And absolutely nothing left to your own imagination?" - -"Certainly not. The idea!" - -He turned away from her with a shrug of his shoulders, and quickened his -stride up and down the veranda. He was visibly annoyed. She watched him -with eyes full of glee. - -"I do love to make you lose your wool!" she informed him in a minute or -two, with a sudden attack of candor. "I like you best when you give me -up and wash your hands of me!" - -This cleared his brow instantaneously, and brought him back to her chair -with a smile. - -"Why so, Miss Pryse?" - -"Must I tell you?" - -"Please." - -"Then it's because you forget yourself, and me, too, when I rile you; -and you're delightful whenever you do that, Mr. Engelhardt." - -Naomi regretted her words next moment; but it was too late to unsay -them. He went on smiling, it is true, but his smile was no longer naïve -and unconsidered; no more were his recitations during the next few -hours. His audience did her worst to provoke him out of himself, but she -could not manage it. Then she tried the other extreme, and became more -enthusiastic than himself over this and that, but he would not be with -her; he had retired into the lair of his own self-consciousness, and -there was no tempting him out any more. When he did come out of -himself, it was neither by his own will nor her management, and the -moment was a startling one for them both. - -It was late in the afternoon of that same Wednesday. They were sitting, -as usual, in the veranda which overlooked not the station-yard but the -boundless plains, and they were sitting in silence and wide apart. They -had not quarrelled; but Engelhardt had made up his mind to decamp. He -had reasoned the whole thing out in a spirit of mere common-sense; yet -he was reasoning with himself still, as he sat in the quiet veranda; he -thought it probable that he should go on with his reasoning--with the -same piece of reasoning--until his dying hour. He looked worried. He was -certainly worrying Naomi, and annoying her considerably. She had given -up trying to take him out of himself, but she knew that he liked to hear -himself saying poetry, and she felt perfectly ready to listen if it -would do him any good. Of course she was not herself anxious to hear -him. It was entirely for his sake that she put down the book she was -reading, and broached the subject at last. - -"Have you quite exhausted the poetry that you know by heart, Mr. -Engelhardt?" - -"Quite, I'm afraid, Miss Pryse; and I'm sure you must be thankful to -hear it." - -"Now you're fishing," said Naomi, with a smile (not one of her -sweetest); "we've quarrelled about all your precious poets, it's true, -but that's why I want you to trot out another. I'm dying for another -quarrel, don't you see? Out with somebody fresh, and let me have shies -at him!" - -"But I don't know them all off by heart--I'm not a walking Golden -Treasury, you know." - -"Think!" commanded Naomi. When she did this there was no disobeying her. -He had found out that already. - -"Have you ever heard of Rossetti--Dante Gabriel?" - -"Kill whose cat?" cried Naomi. - -He repeated the poet's name in full. She shook her head. She was smiling -now, and kindly, for she had got her way. - -"There is one little thing of his--but a beauty--that I once learnt," -Engelhardt said, doubtfully. "Mind, I'm not sure that I can remember it, -and I won't spoil it if I can't; no more must you spoil it, if I can." - -"Is there some sacred association, then?" - -He laughed. "No, indeed! There's more of a sacrilegious association, for -I once swore that the first song I composed should be a setting for -these words." - -"Remember, you've got to dedicate it to me! What's the name of the -thing?" - -"'Three Shadows.'" - -"Let's have them, then." - -"Very well. But I love it! You must promise not to laugh." - -"Begin," she said, sternly, and he began: - - - "I looked and saw your eyes - In the shadow of your hair, - As the traveller sees the stream - In the shadow of the wood; - And I said, 'My faint heart sighs - Ah me! to linger there, - To drink deep and to dream - In that sweet solitude.'" - - -"Go on," said Naomi, with approval. "I hope you _don't_ see all that; -but please go on." - -He had got thus far with his face raised steadfastly to hers, for he had -left his chair and seated himself on the edge of the veranda, at her -feet, before beginning. He went on without wincing or lowering his eyes: - - - "I looked and saw your heart - In the shadow of your eyes, - As a seeker sees the gold - In the shadow of the stream; - And I said, 'Ah me! what art - Should win the immortal prize, - Whose want must make life cold - And heaven a hollow dream?'" - - -"Surely not as bad as all that?" said Naomi, laughing. He had never -recited anything so feelingly, so slowly, with such a look in his eyes. -There was occasion to laugh, obviously. - -"Am I to go on," said Engelhardt, in desperate earnest, "or am I not?" - -"Go on, of course! I am most anxious to know what else you saw." - -But the temptation to lower the eyes was now hers; his look was so hard -to face, his voice was grown so soft. - - - "I looked and saw your love - In the shadow of your heart, - As a diver sees the pearl - In the shadow of the sea; - And I murmured, not above - My breath, but all apart----" - - -Here he stopped. Her eyes were shining. He could not see this, because -his own were dim. - -"Go on," she said, nodding violently, "do go on!" - -"That's all I remember." - -"Nonsense! What did you murmur?" - -"I forget." - -"You do no such thing." - -"I've said all I mean to say." - -"But not all I mean you to. I _will_ have the lot." - -And, after all, his were the eyes to fall; but in a moment they had -leapt up again to her face with a sudden reckless flash. - -"There are only two more lines," he said; "you had much better not know -them." - -"I must," said she. "What are they?" - - - "Ah! you can love, true girl, - And is your love for me?" - - -"No, I'm afraid not," said Naomi, at last. - -"I thought not." - -"Nor for anybody else--nor for anybody else!" - -She was leaning over him, and one of her hands had fallen upon his -neck--so kindly--so naturally--like a mother's upon her child. - -"Then you are not in love with anybody else!" he cried, joyously. "You -are not engaged!" - -"Yes," she answered, sadly. "I am engaged." - -Then Naomi learnt how it feels to quench the fire in joyous eyes, and -to wrinkle a hopeful young face with the lines of anguish and despair. -She could not bear it. She took the head of untidy hair between her two -soft hands, and pressed it down upon the open book on her knees until -the haunting eyes looked into hers no more. And as a mother soothes her -child, so she stroked him, and patted him, and murmured over him, until -he could speak to her calmly. - -"Who is he?" whispered Engelhardt, drawing away from her at last, and -gazing up into her face with a firm lip. "What is he? Where is he? I -want to know everything!" - -"Then look over your shoulder, and you will see him for yourself." - -A horseman had indeed ridden round the corner of the house, noiselessly -in the heavy sand. Monty Gilroy sat frowning at them both from his -saddle. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -NO HOPE FOR HIM - - -"I'm afraid I have interrupted a very interesting conversation?" said -Gilroy, showing his teeth through his beard. - -Naomi smiled coolly. - -"What if I say that you have, Monty?" - -"Then I'm sorry, but it can't be helped," replied the manager, jumping -off his horse, and hanging the bridle over a hook on one of the -veranda-posts. - -"Ah, I thought as much," said Naomi, dryly. She held out her hand, -however, as she spoke. - -But Gilroy had stopped before setting foot in the veranda. He stood -glaring at Engelhardt, who was not looking at him, but at the fading -sky-line away beyond the sand and scrub, and with a dazed expression -upon his pale, eager face. The piano-tuner had not risen; he had merely -turned round where he sat, at the sound of Gilroy's voice. - -Now, however, he seemed neither to see nor to heed the manager, though -the latter was towering over him, white with mortification. - -"Now then, Mr. Piano-tuner, jump up and clear; I've ridden over to see -Miss Pryse on urgent business----" - -"Leaving your manners behind you, evidently," observed that young lady, -"or I think you would hardly be ordering my visitors out of my veranda -_and_ my presence!" - -"Then will you speak to the fellow?" said Gilroy, sulkily. "He seems -deaf, and I haven't ridden in for my own amusement. I tell you it's an -important matter, Naomi." - -"Mr. Engelhardt!" said Naomi, gently. He turned at once. "Mr. Gilroy," -she went on to explain, "has come from the shed to see me about -something or other. Will you leave us for a little while?" - -"Certainly, Miss Pryse." He rose in sudden confusion. "I--I beg your -pardon. I was thinking of something else." - -It was only Naomi's pardon that he begged. He had not looked twice at -Gilroy; but as he rounded the corner of the building, he glanced sharply -over his shoulder. He could not help it. He felt instinctively that a -glimpse of their lovers' greeting would do something toward his cure. -All that he saw, however, was Naomi with her back to the wall, and her -hands laid firmly upon the wicker chair-back where her head had rested -a moment before. Across this barrier Gilroy had opened so vehement a -fire upon her that Engelhardt thought twice about leaving them alone -together. As he hesitated, however, the girl shot him a glance which -commanded him to be gone, while it as plainly intimated her perfect -ability to take care of herself. - -Once out of her sight, the piano-tuner turned a resolute back upon the -homestead, determining to get right away from it for the time being--to -get away and to think. He did not, however, plunge into the plantation -of pines, in which Naomi and he had often wandered during these last few -days, that seemed a happy lifetime to him now that he felt they were -over. He took the broad, sandy way which led past the stables to the -men's hut on the left, and to the stock-yards on the right. Behind the -yards the sun was setting, the platform for the pithing of bullocks, and -the windlass for raising their carcasses, standing out sharp and black -against the flaming sky; and still farther to the right, where there -were sheep-yards also, a small yellow cloud rose against the pink like a -pillar of sand. Engelhardt knew little enough of station life, but he -saw that somebody was yarding-up a mob of sheep for the night. He went -on to have a look at the job, which was over, however, before he reached -the spot. Three horses were trotting off in the direction of the -horse-paddock, while, coming away from the yard, carrying their saddles -and bridles, were two of the station hands and the overseer, Tom -Chester. - -"Hulloa, Engelhardt, still here?" said the latter, cheerily, as they -met. "How goes the arm?" - -"First-rate, thanks. I'm off to-morrow." - -"Yes? Come on back to the homestead, and help me shave and brush up. -I've been mustering seventeen miles from the shed. We've run the mob -into these yards for the night, and I'm roosting in the barracks." - -"So is Mr. Gilroy, I fancy." - -"The devil he is! Has he come in from the shed, then?" - -"Yes; within the last ten minutes." - -Chester looked black. - -"You didn't hear what for, I suppose?" - -"To speak to Miss Pryse about some important matter; that's all I know." - -"I should have thought they'd had enough to say to each other yesterday, -to last Gilroy for a bit. I'm mustering, you know; but I heard all -about it when I got back to the shed last night. Some of the men came to -me in a sort of deputation. They hate Gilroy about as much as I do, and -they want him out of that. If he's a sensible man he's come in to chuck -up the sponge himself." - -Tom Chester flung his saddle and bridle over the rail as they passed the -stable, and walked on to the station-yard, and across it to the little -white barracks, without another word. Engelhardt followed him into his -room and sat down on the bed. He felt that they understood one another. -That was what made him say, while Chester was stropping his razor: - -"You don't love Gilroy, I imagine." - -"No, I don't," replied Tom Chester, after a pause. - -"But Miss Pryse does!" Engelhardt exclaimed, bitterly. - -The other made a longer pause. He was lathering his chin. "Not she," -said Tom, coolly, at length. - -"Not! But she's engaged to him, I hear!" - -"There's a sort of understanding." - -"Only an understanding?" - -"Well, she doesn't wear a ring, for one thing." - -"I wish you would tell me just how it stands," said Engelhardt, -inquisitively. His heart was beating, nevertheless. - -"Tell you?" said Tom Chester, looking only into the glass as he -flourished his razor. "Why, certainly. I don't wonder at your wanting to -know how a fine girl like that could go and engage herself to a -God-forsaken image like Gilroy. _I_ don't know, mind you. I wasn't here -in Mr. Pryse's time; but everyone says he was a good sort, and that the -worse thing he ever did was to take on Gilroy, just because he was some -sort of relation of his dead wife's. He's second cousin to Miss Pryse, -that's what Gilroy is; but he was overseer here when the boss was his -own manager, and when he died Gilroy got the management, naturally. -Well, and then he got the girl, too--the Lord knows how. She knew that -her father thought well of the skunk, and no doubt she herself felt it -was the easiest way out of her responsibilities and difficulties. Ay, -she was a year or two younger then than she is now, and he got the -promise of her; but I'll bet you an even dollar he never gets her to -keep." - -The piano-tuner had with difficulty sat still upon the bed, as he -listened to this seemingly impartial version of the engagement which had -numbed his spirit from the moment he heard of it. Tom Chester had spoken -with many pauses, filled by the tinkle of his razor against a healthy -beard three days old. When he offered to bet the dollar, he was already -putting the razor away in its case. - -"I won't take you," said Engelhardt. "You don't think she'll marry him, -then?" he added, anxiously. - -"Tar here on the brisket," remarked Chester, in the shearer's formula, -as he dabbed at a cut that he had discovered under his right jaw. -"What's that! Marry him? No; of course she won't." - -Engelhardt waited while the overseer performed elaborate ablutions and -changed his clothes. Then they crossed over together to the front -veranda, which was empty; but as they went round to the back the sound -of voices came fast enough to their ears. The owner and her manager were -still talking in the back veranda, which was now in darkness, and their -voices were still raised. It was Tom Chester's smile, however, that -helped Engelhardt to grasp the full significance of the words that met -their ears. Gilroy was speaking. - -"All right, Naomi! You know best, no doubt. You mean to paddle your own -canoe, you say, and that's all very well; but if Tom Chester remains on -at the shed there'll be a row, I tell you straight." - -"Between whom?" Naomi inquired. - -"Between Tom Chester and me. I tell you he's stirring up the men against -me! You yourself did mischief enough yesterday; but when he came in he -made bad worse. It may be an undignified thing to do, for the boss of -the shed; but I can't help that, I shall have to fight him." - -"Fight whom?" said Chester, in a tone of interest, as he and Engelhardt -came upon the scene together. - -"You," replied Naomi, promptly. "You have arrived in the nick of time, -Mr. Chester. I am sorry to hear that you two don't hit it off together -at the shed." - -"So that's it, is it?" said Tom Chester, quietly, glancing from the girl -to Gilroy, who had not opened his mouth. "And you're prepared to hit it -off somewhere else, are you? I'm quite ready. I have been wanting to hit -it off with you, Gilroy, ever since I've known you." - -His meaning was as plain as an italicised joke. They all waited for the -manager's reply. - -"Indeed!" said he, at length, out of the kindly dark that hid the color -of his face. "So you expect me to answer you before Miss Pryse, do you?" - -"On the contrary, I'd far rather you came down to the stables and -answered me there. But you might repeat before Miss Pryse whatever it is -you were telling her about me behind my back." - -"I shall do nothing of the sort." - -"Then I must do it for you," said Naomi, firmly. - -"Do," said Gilroy. And diving his hands deep into his cross-pockets, he -swaggered off the scene with his horse at his heels and his arm through -the reins. - -"I think I can guess the kind of thing, Miss Pryse," Tom Chester waited -to say; "you needn't trouble to tell me, thank you." A moment later he -had followed the manager, and the piano-tuner was following Tom; but -Naomi Pryse remained where she was. She had not lifted a finger to -prevent the fight which, as she saw for herself, was a good deal more -imminent than he had imagined who warned her of it five minutes before. - -"Will you take off your coat?" said Chester, as he caught up to Gilroy -between homestead and stables. - -"Is it likely?" queried Gilroy, without looking round. - -"That depends whether you're a man. The light's the same for both. There -are lanterns in the stables, whether or no. Will you take off your coat -when we get there?" - -"To you? Manager and overseer? Don't be a fool, Tom." - -"I'll show you who's the fool in a brace of shakes," said Tom Chester, -following Gilroy with a swelling chest. "I never thought you had much -pluck, but, by God, I don't believe you've got the pluck of a louse!" - -Gilroy led on his horse without answering. - -"Have you got the pluck of a louse?" the overseer sang into his ear. -Gilroy was trembling, but he turned as they reached the stable. - -"Take off your coat, then," said he, doggedly; "I'll leave mine inside." - -Gilroy led his horse into the stable. Instead of taking off his coat, -however, Tom Chester stood waiting with his arms akimbo and his eyes -upon the open stable-door. - -"Aren't you going to take it off?" said an eager yet nervous voice at -his side. "Don't you mean to fight him after all?" - -It was the piano-tuner, whose desire to see the manager soundly thrashed -was at war with his innate dread of anything approaching a violent -scene. He could be violent himself when his blood was up, but in his -normal state the mere sound of high words made him miserable. - -"Hulloa! I didn't see that you were there," remarked Chester, with a -glance at the queer little figure beside him. "Lord, yes; I'll fight him -if he's game, but I won't believe that till I see it, so we'll let him -strip first. The fellow hasn't got the pluck of---- I knew he hadn't! -That's just what I should have expected of him!" - -Before Engelhardt could realize what was happening, a horse had emerged -from the shadow of the stable-door, a man's head and wide-awake had -risen behind its ears as they cleared the lintel, and Gilroy, with a -smack of his whip on the horse's flank and a cut and a curse at Tom -Chester, was disappearing in the dusk at a gallop. Chester had sprung -forward, but he was not quick enough. When the cut had fallen short of -him, he gathered himself together for one moment, as though to give -chase on foot; then stood at ease and watched the rider out of sight. - -"Next time, my friend," said he, "you won't get the option of standing -up to me. No; by the Lord, I'll take him by the scruff of his dirty -neck, and I'll take the very whip he's got in his hand now, and I'll -hide him within an inch of his miserable life. That's the way we treat -curs in these parts, d'ye see? Come on, Engelhardt. No, we'll stop and -see which road he takes when he gets to the gate. I can just see him -opening it now. I might have caught him up there if I'd thought. Ah! -he's shaking his fist at us; he shall smell mine before he's a day -older! And he's taken the township track; he'll come back to the shed as -drunk as a fool, and if the men don't dip him in the dam I shall be very -much surprised." - -"And Miss Pryse is going to marry a creature like that," cried -Engelhardt, as they walked back to the house. - -"Not she," said Chester, confidently. - -"Yet there's a sort of engagement." - -"There is; but it would be broken off to-morrow if I were to tell Miss -Pryse to-night of the mess he's making of everything out at the shed. -The men do what they like with him, and he goes dropping upon the -harmless inoffensive ones, and fining them and running their sheep; -whereas he daren't have said a word to that fellow Simons, not to save -his life. I tell you there'd have been a strike last night if it hadn't -been for me. The men appealed to me, and I said what I thought. So his -nibs sends me mustering again, about as far off as he can, while he -comes in to get Miss Pryse to give me the sack. Of course that's what -he's been after. That's the kind of man he is. But here's Miss Pryse -herself in the veranda, and we'll drop the subject, d'ye see?" - -Naomi herself never mentioned it. Possibly from the veranda she had seen -and heard enough to enable her to guess the rest pretty accurately. -However that may be, the name of Monty Gilroy never passed her lips, -either now in the interval before dinner, or at that meal, during which -she conversed very merrily with the two young men who faced one another -on either side of her. She insisted on carving for them both, despite -the protests of the more talkative of the two. She rattled on to them -incessantly--if anything, to Engelhardt more than to the overseer. But -there could be no question as to which of these two talked most to her. -Engelhardt was even more shy and awkward than at his first meal at -Taroomba, when Naomi had not been present. He disappeared immediately -after dinner, and Naomi had to content herself with Tom Chester's -company for the rest of the evening. - -That, however, was very good company at all times, while on the present -occasion Miss Pryse had matters for discussion with her overseer which -rendered a private interview quite necessary. So Engelhardt was not -wanted for at least an hour; but he did not come back at all. When -Chester went whistling to the barracks at eleven o'clock he found the -piano-tuner lying upon his bed in all his clothes. - -"Hulloa, my son, are you sick?" said Tom, entering the room. The risen -moon was shining in on all sides of the looking-glass. - -"No, I'm well enough, thanks. I felt rather sleepy." - -"You don't sound sleepy! Miss Pryse was wondering what could be the -matter. She told me to tell you that you might at least have said -good-night to her." - -"I'll go and say it now," cried Engelhardt, bounding from the bed. - -"Ah, now you're too late, you see," said Chester, laughing a little -unkindly as he barred the doorway. "You didn't suppose I'd come away -before I was obliged, did you? Come into my room, and I'll tell you a -bit of news." - -The two rooms were close together; they were divided by the narrow -passage that led without step or outer door into the station-yard. It -was a lined, set face that the candle lighted up when Tom Chester put a -match to it; but that was only the piano-tuner's face, and Tom stood -looking at his own, and the smile in the glass was peculiar and -characteristic. It was not conceited; it was merely confident. The -overseer of Taroomba was one of the smartest, most resolute, and -confident young men in the back-blocks of New South Wales. - -"The news," he said, turning away from the glass and undoing his -necktie, "may surprise you, but I've expected it all along. Didn't I -tell you before dinner that Miss Pryse would be breaking off her rotten -engagement one of these days! Well, then, she's been and done it this -very afternoon." - -"Thank God!" cried Engelhardt. - -"Amen," echoed Chester, with a laugh. He had paid no attention to the -piano-tuner's tone and look. He was winding a keyless watch. - -"And is he going on here as manager?" Engelhardt asked, presently. - -"No, that's the point. Naomi seems to have told him pretty straight that -she could get along without him, and on second thoughts he's taken her -at her word. She got a note an hour ago to say she would never see him -again. He'd sent a chap with it all the way from the township." - -"Do you mean to say he isn't coming back?" - -"That's the idea. You bet he had it when he shook his fist at us as he -opened that gate. He was shaking his fist at the station and all hands -on the place, particularly including the boss. She's to send his things -and his check after him to the township, where they'll find him drunk, -you mark my words. Good riddance to the cur! Of course he was going to -marry her for her money; but she's tumbled to him in time, and a miss is -as good as a mile any day in the week." - -He finished speaking and winding his watch at the same moment. It was a -gold watch, and he set it down carelessly on the dressing-table, where -the candle shone upon the monogram on its back. - -"He has nothing of his own?" queried Engelhardt, with jealous eyes upon -the watch. - -"Not a red cent," said Tom Chester, contemptuously. "He lived upon the -old boss, and of course he meant to live upon his daughter after him. He -was as poor as a church-mouse." - -So indeed was the piano-tuner. He did not say as much, however, though -the words had risen to his lips. He said no more until the overseer was -actually in bed. Then a flash of inspiration caused him to ask, -abruptly, - -"Are you anything to do with Chester, Wilkinson, & Killick, the big -wool-people down in Melbourne?" - -"To do with 'em?" repeated Tom, with a smile. "Well, yes; at least, I'm -Chester's son." - -"I've heard that you own more Riverina stations than any other firm or -company?" - -"Yes; this is about the only one around here that we haven't got a -finger in. That's why I came here, by the way, for a bit of experience." - -"Then _you_ don't want to marry her for her money. You'll have more than -she ever will! Isn't that so?" - -"What the blue blazes do you mean, Engelhardt?" - -Chester had sat bolt upright in his bed. The piano-tuner was still on -the foot of it, and all the fire in his being had gone into his eyes. - -"Mean?" he cried. "Who cares what _I_ mean! I tell you that she thinks -more of you than ever she thought of Gilroy. She has said so to me in as -many words. I tell you to go in and win!" - -He was holding out his left hand. - -"I intend to," said Tom Chester, taking it good-naturedly enough. -"That's exactly my game, and everybody must know it, for I've been -playing it fair and square in the light of day. I may lose; but I hope -to win. Good-night, Engelhardt. Shall I look you up in the morning? We -make a very early start, mind." - -"Then you needn't trouble. But I do wish you luck!" - -"Thanks, my boy. I wish myself luck, too." - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MISSING - - -Naomi's room opened upon the back veranda, and in quitting it next -morning it was not unnatural that she should pause to contemplate the -place where so many things had lately happened, which, she felt, must -leave their mark upon her life for good or evil. It was here that she -might have seen the danger of unreserved sympathy with so sensitive and -enthusiastic a nature as that of the piano-tuner. Indeed, she had seen -it, and made suitable resolutions on the spot; but these she had broken, -and wilfully shut her eyes to that danger until the young man had told -her, quite plainly enough, that he loved her. Nay, she had made him tell -her that, and until he did so she had purposely withheld from him the -knowledge that she was already engaged. That was the cruel part of it, -the part of which she was now most sincerely ashamed. Yet some power -stronger than her own will had compelled her to act as she had done, and -certainly she had determined beforehand to take the first opportunity of -severing all ties still existing between herself and Monty Gilroy. And -it was here that she had actually broken off her engagement with him -within a few minutes of her announcement of it to Hermann Engelhardt. -Still she was by no means pleased with herself as she stepped out into -the flood of sunshine that filled the back veranda of a morning, and saw -everything as it had been overnight, even to the book she had laid aside -open when Gilroy rode up. It was lying shut in the self-same spot. This -little difference was the only one. - -She went round to the front of the house, looking out rather nervously -for Engelhardt on the way. Generally he met her in the front veranda, -but this morning he was not there. Mrs. Potter was laying the -breakfast-table, but she had not seen him either. She looked searchingly -at her young mistress as she answered her question. - -"Are you quite well, miss?" she asked at length, without preamble. "You -look as though you hadn't slep' a wink all night." - -"No more I have," said Naomi, calmly. - -"Good gracious, miss!" cried Mrs. Potter, clapping down the plate-basket -with a jingle. "Whatever has been the matter? That nasty toothache, I'll -be bound!" - -"No, it wasn't a tooth this time. I may as well tell you what it was," -added Naomi, "since you're bound to know sooner or later. Well, then, -Mr. Gilroy has left the station for good, and I am not ever going to -marry him. That's all." - -"And I'm thankful----" - -Mrs. Potter checked herself with a gulp. - -"So am I," said her mistress, dryly; "but it's a little exciting, and I -let it keep me awake. You are to pack up his boxes, please, so that I -may send them to the township in the spring-cart. But now make haste -with the tea, for I need a cup badly, and I'll go and sing out to Mr. -Engelhardt. Did you call him, by the way?" - -"Yes, miss, I called him as usual." - -Naomi left the breakfast-room, and was absent some three or four -minutes. She came back looking somewhat scared. - -"I've called him, too," she said, "at the top of my voice. But there's -no making him hear anything. I've hammered at his door and at his -window, too; both are shut, as if he wasn't up. I do wish that you would -come and see whether he is." - -A moment later Mrs. Potter was crossing the sandy yard, with Naomi -almost treading on her ample skirts until they reached the barracks, -which the elderly woman entered alone. No sooner, however, had she -opened Engelhardt's door than she called her mistress to the spot. The -room was empty. It was clear at a glance that the bed had not been slept -in. - -"If he hasn't gone away and left us without a word!" cried Mrs. Potter, -indignantly. - -"I am looking for his valise," said Naomi. "Where has he generally kept -it?" - -"Just there, underneath the dressing-table. He has taken it with him. -There's nothing belonging to him in the room!" - -"Except that half-crown under the tumbler, which is evidently meant for -you. No, Mrs. Potter, I'm afraid you're right. The half-crown settles -it. I should take it if I were you. And now I'll have my breakfast, if -you please." - -"But, miss, I can't understand----" - -"No more can I. Make the tea at once, please. A little toast is all that -I require with it." - -And Naomi went slowly back toward the house, but stopped half way, with -bent head and attentive eyes, and then went slower still. She had -discovered in the sand the print of feet in stockings only. These -tracks led up to the veranda, where they ended opposite the sitting-room -door, which Naomi pushed open next moment. The room wore its ordinary -appearance, but the pile of music which Engelhardt had brought with him -for sale had been removed from the top of the piano to the music-stool; -and lying conspicuously across the music, Naomi was mortified to find a -silk handkerchief of her own, which the piano-tuner had worn all the -week as a sling for his arm. She caught it up with an angry exclamation, -and in doing so caught sight of some obviously left-handed writing on -the topmost song of the pile. She stooped and read: - - - "_These songs for Miss Pryse, with deep gratitude for all her - kindness to Hermann Engelhardt._" - - -It was a pale, set face that Mrs. Potter found awaiting her in the -breakfast-room when the toast was ready and the tea made. Very little of -the toast was eaten, and Mrs. Potter saw no more of her young mistress -until the mid-day meal, to which Naomi sat down in her riding-habit. - -"Just wait, Mrs. Potter," said she, hastily helping herself to a chop. -"Take a chair yourself. I want to speak to you." - -"Very good, miss," said the old lady, sitting down. - -"I want to know when you last set eyes on Sam Rowntree." - -"Let me see, miss. Oh, yes, I remember; it was about this time -yesterday. He came to the kitchen, and told me he was going to run up a -fresh mob of killing-sheep out of Top Scrubby, and how much meat could I -do with? I said half a sheep, at the outside, and that was the last I -saw of him." - -"He never came near you last night?" - -"That he didn't, miss. I was looking out for him. I wanted----" - -"You didn't see him in the distance, or hear him whistling?" - -"No, indeed I didn't." - -"Well, he seems to have vanished into space," said Naomi, pushing away -her plate and pouring out a cup of tea. - -"It's too bad," said Mrs. Potter, with sympathy and indignation in equal -parts. "I can't think what he means--to go and leave us alone like -this." - -"I can't think what Mr. Chester meant by not telling me that he was -gone," remarked Naomi, hotly. - -"I 'xpect he knew nothing about it, miss. He went off before daylight, -him and the two men that come in with the sheep they was to take on to -the shed." - -"How can you know that?" inquired Naomi, with a touch of irritation. Her -tea was very hot, and she was evidently in a desperate hurry. - -"Because Mr. Chester asked me to put his breakfast ready for him -overnight; and I did, too, and when I got up at six he'd had it and gone -long ago. The teapot was cold. The men had gone, too, for I gave 'em -their suppers last night, and they asked for a snack to take before -their early start this morning. They must all have got away by five. -They wouldn't hardly try to disturb Sam so early as all that; so they -weren't to know he wasn't there." - -"Well, he wasn't," said Naomi, "and it's disgraceful, that's what it is! -Here we are without a man on the place, and there are nearly a hundred -at the shed! I have had to catch a horse, and saddle it for myself." As -she spoke Naomi made a last gulp at her hot tea, and then jumped up from -the table. - -"You are going to the shed, miss?" - -"No; to the township." - -"Ah, that's where you'll find him!" - -"I hope I may," said Naomi, softly, and her eyes were far away. She was -in the veranda, buttoning her gloves. - -"I meant Sam Rowntree, miss." - -Naomi blushed. - -"I meant Mr. Engelhardt," said she, stoutly. "They are probably both -there; but I have no doubt at all about Mr. Engelhardt. I am going to -fetch the mail, but I hope I shall see that young gentleman, too, so -that I may have an opportunity of telling him what I think of him." - -"I should, miss, I should that!" cried Mrs. Potter, with virtuous wrath. -"I should give him a piece of my mind about his way of treating them -that's good and kind to him. I'm sure, miss, the notice you took of that -young man----" - -"Come, I don't think he's treated _you_ so badly," interrupted Naomi, -tartly. "Moreover, I am quite sure that he must have had some reason for -going off so suddenly. I am curious to know what it was, and also what -he expects me to do with his horse. If he had waited till this morning I -would have sent him in with the buggy, and saved him a good old tramp. -However, you don't mind being left in charge for an hour or so--eh, Mrs. -Potter? No one ever troubles the homestead during shearing, you know." - -"Oh, I shall be all right, miss, thank you," Mrs. Potter said, -cheerfully; and she followed Naomi out into the yard, and watched her, -in the distance, drag a box out of the saddle-room, mount from it, and -set off at a canter toward the horse-paddock gate. - -But Naomi did not canter all the way. She performed the greater part of -her ride at a quiet amble, leaning forward in her saddle most of the -time, and deciding what she should say to the piano-tuner, while she -searched the ground narrowly for his tracks. She had the eagle eye for -the trail of man or beast, which is the natural inheritance of all -children of the bush. Before saddling the night-horse, she had made it -her business to discover every print of a stocking sole that had been -left about the premises during the night; and there were so many that -she had now a pretty definite idea of the movements of her visitor prior -to his final departure from the station. He had spent some time in -aimless wandering about the moonlit yard. Then he had stood outside the -kitchen, just where she had left him standing on the night of his -arrival; and afterward had crossed the fence, just where they had -crossed it together, and steered the very same course through the pines -which she had led him that first evening. Still in his stockings, -carrying his boots in his one hand and his valise under that arm (for -she came to a place where he had dropped one boot, and, in picking it -up, the valise also), he had worked round to the back veranda, and sat -long on the edge, with his two feet in the soft sand, staring out over -the scrub-covered, moonlit plain, just as he had sat staring many a time -in broad daylight. Of all this Naomi was as certain as though she had -seen it, because it was child's play to her to follow up the trail of -his stockinged feet and to sort them out from all other tracks. But it -ought to have been almost as easy to trace him in his boots on the -well-beaten road to the township, and it was not. - -The girl grew uncomfortable as she rode on and on without ever striking -the trail; and the cutting sentences which she had prepared for the -piano-tuner escaped her mind long before she reached the township, and -found, as she now expected, that nobody answering to his description had -been seen in the vicinity. - -Naomi was not the one to waste time in a superfluity of inquiries. She -saw in a moment that Engelhardt had not been near the place, and a -similar fact was even more easily ascertained in the matter of Sam -Rowntree. The township people knew him well. His blue fly-veil had not -enlivened their hotel verandas for a whole week. So Naomi received her -mail-bag and rode off without dismounting. A glimpse which she had -caught of a red beard, at the other side of the broad sandy road, and -the sound of a well-known voice shouting thickly, added to her haste. -And on this journey she never once drew rein until her horse cantered -into the long and sharp-cut shadows of the Taroomba stables. - -As Naomi dismounted, Mrs. Potter emerged from the homestead veranda. The -good woman had grown not a little nervous in her loneliness. Her looks -as she came up were in striking contrast to those of her mistress. The -one was visibly relieved; the other had come back ten times more anxious -than she had gone away. - -"No one been near you, Mrs. Potter?" - -"Not a soul, miss. Oh, but it's good to see you back! I thought the -afternoon was never coming to an end." - -"They are neither of them at the township," said Naomi, with a miserable -sigh. - -"Nor have they been there at all--neither Mr. Engelhardt nor Sam -Rowntree!" - -Mrs. Potter cudgelled her poor brains for some--for any--kind of -explanation. - -"Sam did tell me"--she had begun, when she was promptly shut up. - -"Who cares about Sam?" cried Naomi. "He's a good bushman; he can take -care of himself. Besides, wherever he is, Sam isn't bushed. But anything -may have happened to Mr. Engelhardt!" - -"What do you think has happened?" the old lady asked, inanely. - -"How am I to know?" was the wild answer. "I have nothing to go on. I -know no more than you do." - -Yet she stood thinking hard, with her horse still bridled and the reins -between her fingers. She had taken off the saddle. Suddenly she slipped -the reins over a hook and disappeared into the saddle-room. And in a few -moments she was back, with a blanched face, and in her arms a packed -valise. - -"Is this Mr. Engelhardt's?" - -Mrs. Potter took one look at it. - -"It is," she said. "Yes, it is his!" - -"Take it, then," said Naomi, mastering her voice with difficulty, "while -I hunt up his saddle and bridle. If they are gone, all the better. Then -I shall know he has his horse; and with a horse nothing much can happen -to one." - -She disappeared again, and was gone a little longer; but this time she -came back desperately self-possessed. - -"I have found his saddle. His bridle is not there at all. I know it's -his saddle, because it's a pretty good one, and all our decent saddles -are in use; besides, they all have the station brand upon them. This one -has no brand at all. It must be Mr. Engelhardt's; and now I know exactly -what he has done. Shall I tell you?" - -Mrs. Potter clasped her hands. - -"He has taken his bridle," said Naomi, still in a deadly calm, "and he -has set out to catch his horse. How he could do such a thing I can't -conceive! He knows the run of our horse-paddock no more than you do. He -has failed to find his horse, tried to come back, and got over the fence -into Top Scrubby. You don't know what that means! Top Scrubby's the -worst paddock we have. It's half-full of mallee, it's six miles -whichever way you take it, and the only drop of water in it is the tank -at the township corner. Or he may be in the horse-paddock all the time. -People who don't know the bush may walk round and round in a single -square mile all day long, and until they drop. But it's no good our -talking here; wherever he is, I mean to find him." - -As she spoke she caught her saddle from the rail across which she had -placed it, and was for flinging it on to her horse again, when Mrs. -Potter interposed. The girl was trembling with excitement. The sun was -fast sinking into the sand and scrub away west. In half an hour it would -be dark. - -"And no moon till ten or eleven," said Mrs. Potter, with sudden -foresight and firmness. "You mustn't think of it, miss; you mustn't, -indeed!" - -"How can you say that? Why should you stop me? Do you mean me to leave -the poor fellow to perish for want of water?" - -"My dear, you could do no good in the dark," said Mrs. Potter, speaking -as she had not spoken to Naomi since the latter was a little girl. -"Besides, neither you nor the horse is fit for anything more until -you've both had something to eat and drink." - -"It's true!" - -Naomi said this in helpless tones and with hopeless looks. As she spoke, -however, her eyes fastened themselves upon the crimson ball just clear -of the horizon, and all at once they filled with tears. Hardly conscious -of what she did or said, she lifted up her arms and her voice to the -sunset. - -"Oh, my poor fellow! My poor boy! If only I knew where you were--if only -I could see you now!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -LOST IN THE BUSH - - -Had Naomi seen him then she would have found some difficulty in -recognizing Hermann Engelhardt, the little piano-tuner whom already she -seemed to have known all her life. Yet she had made a singularly shrewd -guess at his whereabouts. Top Scrubby held him fast enough. And when -Naomi stretched her arms toward the sunset, it is a strange fact that -she also stretched them toward the lost young man, who was lying between -it and her, not three miles from the spot on which she stood. - -Within a mile of him ran the horse-paddock fence, which he had crossed -by mistake at three o'clock that morning. He had never seen it again. -All day he had wandered without striking track, or fence, or water. -Once indeed his heart had danced at the sudden revelation of footprints -under his very nose. They were crisp and clean and obviously recent. All -at once they took a fatally familiar appearance. Slowly he lifted his -right foot and compared the mark of it with the marks he had discovered. -They were identical. To put the matter beyond a doubt he got both his -feet into a couple of the old footprints. They fitted like pipes in a -case. And then he knew that he was walking in circles, after the manner -of lost men, and that he stood precisely where he had been three hours -before. - -That was a bitter moment. There were others and worse before sundown. -The worst of all was about the time when Naomi flung out her arms and -cried aloud in her trouble. - -His staggering steps had brought him at last, near sundown, within sight -of a ridge of pines which he seemed to know. The nearer he came to them -the surer did he become that they were the station pines themselves. -Footsore and faint and parched as he was, he plucked up all his -remaining strength to reach those pines alive. If he were to drop down -now it would be shameful, and he deserved to die. So he did not drop -until he gained the ridge, and found the pines merely the outer ranks of -a regular phalanx of mallee scrub. There was no mallee among the station -pines. Nor would it have been possible to get so near to the homestead -without squeezing through the wires of two fences at least. He had made -a hideous and yet a fatuous mistake, and, when he realized it, he flung -himself on his face in the shade of a hop-bush and burst into tears. To -think that he must perish miserably after all, when, not five minutes -since, he had felt the bottle-neck of the water-bag against his -teeth--the smell of the wet canvas in his nostrils--the shrinking and -lightening of the bag between his palms as the deep draught of cold -water brought his dead throat to life. - -It was all over now. He turned his face to the sand, and waited sullenly -for the end. And presently a crow flew down from a pine, and hopped -nearer and nearer to the prostrate body, with many a cautious pause, its -wise black head now on one side, now on the other. Was it a dead body or -a man asleep? There would have been no immediate knowing had not the -crow been advancing between the setting sun and the man. Its shadow was -a yard long when it came between Engelhardt's eyes, which were wide -open, and the patch of sand that was warm with his breath. An instant -later the crow was away with a hoarse scream, and Engelhardt was sitting -up with a still hoarser oath upon his lips; indeed, he was inarticulate -even to his own ears; but he found himself shaking his only fist at the -crow, now a mere smut upon the evening sky, and next moment he was -tottering to his feet. - -He could hardly stand. His eyes were burning, his tongue swollen, his -lips cracking like earth in a drought. He was aching, too, from head to -foot, but he was not yet food for the crows. He set his teeth, and shook -his head once or twice. Not yet--not yet. - -The setting sun made a lane of light through the pines and mallee. The -piano-tuner looked right and left along this lane, wondering which way -to turn. He had no prejudice in the matter. All day he had been making -calculations, and all day his calculations had been working out wrong. -Like the struggles of a fly in a spider's web, each new effort left him -more hopelessly entangled than the last. So now, without thinking, for -thought was of no avail, he turned his face to the sunset, and, after -half an hour's painful stumbling, was a mile farther from the station, -and a mile deeper in the maze of Top Scrubby. - -Night had fallen now, and the air was cool and sweet. This slightly -refreshed him, and the continual chewing of leaves also did him some -little good, as indeed it had done all day. But he was becoming troubled -with a growing giddiness in addition to his other sufferings, and he -well knew that the sands of his endurance were almost run. When the -stars came out he once more altered his course, taking a new line by the -Southern Cross; but it could not be for long, he was losing strength -with every step. About this time it occurred to him to cut a branch for -a staff, but when he took out his knife he was too weak to open the -blade. A fatal lassitude was creeping over him. He could no longer think -or even worry. Nothing mattered any more! Naomi--his mother--the plans -and aspirations of his own life--they were all one to him now, and of -little account even in the bulk. It had not been so a few hours earlier, -but body and mind were failing together, and with no more hope there was -but little more regret. His head and his heart grew light together, and -when at last he determined to sit down and be done with it all, his -greatest care was the choice of a soft and sandy place. It was as though -he had been going to lie down for the night instead of for all time. And -yet it was this, the mere fad of a wandering mind, that saved him; for -before he had found what he wanted, suddenly--as by a miracle--he saw a -light. - -In a flash the man was alive and electrified. All the nerves in his body -tightened like harp-strings, and the breath of life swept over them, -leaving his heart singing of Naomi and his mother and the deeds to be -done in this world. And the thrill remained; for the light was no -phantom of a rocking brain, but a glorious reality that showed brighter -and lighter every moment. - -Yet it was a very long way off. He might never reach it at all. But he -rushed on with never a look right or left, or up or down, as if his one -chance of life lay in keeping his grip of that light steadfast and -unrelaxed. His headlong course brought him twice to his knees with a -thud that shook him to the very marrow. Once he ran his face into a -tangle of small branches, and felt a hot stream flowing over his lips -and chin; he sucked at it as it leapt his lips, and reeled on, thanking -heaven that he could still see out of his eyes. The light had grown into -a camp-fire, and he could hear men's voices around it. Their faces he -could not see--only the leaping, crackling fire. He tried to coo-ee, but -no sound would come. The thought crossed him that even now, within sight -and ear-shot of his fellow-men, he might drop for good. His heart kept -throbbing against his ribs like an egg boiling in a pan, and his every -breath was as a man's last gasp. He passed some horses tethered among -the trees. Then before the fire there stood a stout figure with shaded -eyes and pistols in his belt; another joined him; then a third, with a -rifle; and the three loomed larger with every stride, until Engelhardt -fell sprawling and panting in their midst, his hat gone, his long hair -matted upon his forehead, and the white face beneath all streaming with -sweat and blood. - -"By God, he's dying!" said one of the men, flinging away his fire-arm. -"Yank us the water-bag, mate, and give the cuss a chance." - -Engelhardt looked up, and saw one of his two enemies, the swagmen, -reaching out his hand for the bag. It was the smaller and quieter of the -pair--the man with the weather-beaten face and the twinkling eye--and -as Engelhardt looked further he saw none other than Simons, the -discharged shearer, handing the dripping bag across. But a third hand -stretched over and snatched it away with a bellowing curse. - -"What a blessed soft pair you are! Can't you see who 'e is? It's 'is -bloomin' little nibs with the broke arm, and not a damned drop does he -get from me!" - -"Come on, Bill," said the other tramp. "Why not?" - -"He knows why not," said Bill, who, of course, was the stout scoundrel -with the squint. "Don't you, sonny?" And he kicked Engelhardt in the -side with his flat foot. - -"Easy, mate, easy. The beggar's dying!" - -"All the better! If he don't look slippy about it I'll take an' slit his -throat for him!" - -"Well, give him a drop o' water first." - -"Ay, give 'im a drink, whether or no," put in Simons. "No tortures, -mate! The plain thing's good enough for me." - -"And me, too!" - -"Why, Bo's'n," cried Bill, "you've got no more spunk than a blessed old -ewe! You sailors and shearers are plucky fine chaps to go mates with in -a job like ours! You wouldn't have done for poor old Tigerskin!" - -"To hell with Tigerskin," said Simons, savagely. "We've heard more than -enough of him. Give the beggar a drink, or, by cripes, I'm off it!" - -"All right, boys, all right. You needn't get so scotty about it, matey. -But he sha'n't drink more than's good for 'im, and he sha'n't drink much -at a time, or 'e'll burst 'is skin!" - -As he spoke Bill uncorked the water-bag, hollowed a filthy palm, flooded -it, and held it out to the piano-tuner, who all this time had been -sitting still and listening without a word. - -"Drink out o' my hand," said he, "or not at all." - -But Engelhardt could only stare at the great hairy paw thrust under his -nose. It had no little finger. He was trying to remember what this -meant. - -"Drink out o' that, you swine," thundered Bill, "and be damned to you!" - -Human nature could endure no more. Instead of drinking, Engelhardt -knocked the man's hand up, and made a sudden grab at the water-bag. He -got it, too, and had swallowed a mouthful before it was plucked away -from him. The oaths came pouring out of Bill's mouth like sheep racing -through a gate. But the piano-tuner had tasted what was more to him than -blood, and he made a second dash at the bag, which resulted in a -quantity of water being spilled; so without struggling any more, he fell -upon his face with his lips to the wet sand. - -"Let the joker suck," said Bill; "I'll back the sand!" - -But Engelhardt rolled over on his left side and moved no more. - -Simons knelt over him. - -"He's a stiff 'un, mates. My blessed oath he is! That's number two, an' -both on 'em yours, Bill." - -Bill laughed. - -"That'll be all right," said he. "Where's my pipe got to? I'm weakenin' -for a smoke." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -FALLEN AMONG THIEVES - - -There was life in Engelhardt yet, though for some time he lay as good as -dead. The thing that revived him was the name of Naomi Pryse on the lips -of the late ringer of the Taroomba shed. The piano-tuner listened for -more without daring to open his eyes or to move a muscle. And more came -with a horrifying flow of foul words. - -"She had the lip to sack me! But I'll be even with her before the -night's out. Yes, by cripes, by sunrise she'll wish she'd never been -born!" - -"It's not the girl we're after," said Bill's voice, with a pause and a -spit. "It's the silver." And Engelhardt could hear him puffing at his -pipe. - -"It's gold and silver. She's the gold." - -"I didn't dislike her," said the sailor-man. "I'd leave her be." - -"She didn't sack you from the shed. Twelve pound a week it meant, with -that image over the board!" - -"Bo's'n'd let the whole thing be, I do believe," said Bill, "if we give -'im 'alf a chance." - -"Not me," said Bo's'n. "I'll stick to my messmates. But we've stiffened -two people already. It's two too many." - -"What about your skipper down at Sandridge?" - -"Well, I reckon he's a stiff 'un, too." - -"Then none o' your skite, mate," said Bill, knocking out a clay pipe -against his heel. "Look ye here, lads; it's a blessed Providence that's -raked us together, us three. Here's me, straight out o' quod, coming -back like a bird to the place where there's a good thing on. Here's -Bo's'n, he's bashed in his skipper's skull and cut and run for it. We -meet and we pal on. The likeliest pair in the Colony! And here's old -Simons, knocked cock-eye by this 'ere gal, and swearing revenge by all -that's bloody. He has a couple of horses, too--just the very thing we -wanted--so he's our man. Is he on? He is. Do we join hands an' cuss an' -swear to see each other through? We do--all three. Don't we go to the -township for a few little necessaries an' have a drink on the whole -thing? We do. Stop a bit! Doesn't a chap and a horse come our way, first -shot off? Don't we want another horse, an' take it, too, ay and cook -that chap's hash in fit an' proper style? Of course we do. Then what's -the good o' talking? Tigerskin used to say, 'We'll swing together, -matey, or by God we'll drive together in a coach-and-four with yeller -panels and half-a-dozen beggars in gold lace and powdered wigs.' So -that's what I say to you. There's that silver. We'll have it and clear -out with it at any blessed price. We've let out some blood already. A -four-hundred-gallon tankful more or less can make no difference now. We -can only swing once. So drink up, boys, and make your rotten lives happy -while you have 'em. There's only one thing to settle: whether do we -start at eleven, or twelve, or one in the morning?" - -Engelhardt heard a pannikin passed round and sucked at by all three. -Then a match was struck and a pipe lit. His veins were frozen; he was -past a tremor. - -"Eleven's too early," said Simons; "it's getting on for ten already. I'm -for a spell before we start; there's nothing like a spell to steady your -nerve." - -"I'd make it eight bells--if not seven," argued the Bo's'n. "The moon'll -be up directly. The lower she is when we start, the better for us. You -said the station lay due east, didn't you, Bill? Then it'll be easy -steering with a low moon." - -The other two laughed. - -"These 'ere sailors," said Bill, "they're a blessed treat. Always in -such an almighty funk of getting bushed. I've known dozens, and they're -all alike." - -"There's no fun in it," said the Bo's'n. "Look at this poor devil." - -Engelhardt held his breath. - -"I suppose he _is_ corpsed?" said Bill. - -"Dead as junk." - -"Well, he's saved us the trouble. I'd have stuck the beggar as soon as -I'd stick a sheep. There's only one more point, lads. Do we knock up her -ladyship, and make her let us into the store----" - -"Lug her out by her hair," suggested Simons. "I'll do that part." - -"Or do we smash into it for ourselves? That's the game Tigerskin an' me -tried, ten years ago. It wasn't good enough. You know how it panned out. -Still, we ain't got old Pryse to reckon with now. He was a terror, he -was! So what do you say, boys? Show hands for sticking-up--and now for -breaking in. Then that settles it." - -Engelhardt never knew which way it was settled. - -"The she-devil!" said Simons. "The little snake! I can see her now, -when she come along the board and sang out for the tar-boy all on her -own account. That little deader, there, he was with her. By cripes, if -she isn't dead herself by morning she'll wish she was! I wonder how -she'll look to-night? Not that way, by cripes, that's one thing sure! -You leave her to me, mates! I shall enjoy that part. She sha'n't die, -because that's what she'd like best; but she shall apologize to me under -my own conditions--you wait and see what they are. They'll make you -smile. The little devil! Twelve pound a week! By cripes, but I'll make -her wish she was as dead as her friend here. I'll teach her----" - -"Stiffen me purple," roared Bill, "if the joker's not alive after all!" - -The rogues were sitting round their fire in a triangle, Simons with his -back to the supposed corpse; when he looked over his shoulder, there was -his dead man glaring at him with eyes like blots of ink on blood-stained -paper. - -Engelhardt, in fact, had been physically unable to lie still any longer -and hear Naomi so foully threatened and abused. But the moment he sat up -he saw his folly, and tried, quick as thought, to balance it by gaping -repeatedly in Simons's face. - -"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said he, in the civilest manner. "I'd -been asleep, and couldn't think where I was. I assure you I hadn't the -least intention of interrupting you." - -His voice was still terribly husky. Bill seized the water-bag and stuck -it ostentatiously between his knees. Simons only scowled. - -"Please go on with what you were saying," said Engelhardt, crawling to -the fire and sitting down between these two worthies. "All I ask is a -drink and a crust. I've been out all day without bite or sup. Yes, and -all last night as well! That's all I ask. I am dead tired. I'd sleep -like a stone." - -No one spoke, but presently, without a word, Bill took a pannikin, -filled it from the water-bag, and sullenly handed it to the piano-tuner. -Then he knifed a great wedge from a damper and tossed it across. -Engelhardt could scarcely believe his eyes, so silently, so unexpectedly -was it done. He thanked the fellow with unnecessary warmth, but no sort -of notice was taken of his remarks. He was half afraid to touch without -express permission the water which he needed so sorely. He even -hesitated, pannikin in hand, as he looked from one man to the other; but -the villanous trio merely stared at him with fixed eyeballs, and at last -he raised it to his lips and swallowed a pint at one draught. - -Even the mouthful he had fought for earlier in the evening--even that -drop had sent a fresh stream of vitality swimming through his veins. But -this generous draught made a new man of him in ten seconds. He wanted -more, it is true; but the need was now a mere desire; and then there was -the damper under his eyes. He never knew how hungry he was until he had -quenched his thirst and started to eat. Until he had finished the slice -of damper, he took no more heed of his companions than a dog with a -bone. Bill threw him a second wedge, and this also he devoured without -looking up. But his great thirst had never been properly slaked, and the -treatment he was now receiving emboldened him to hold out the pannikin -for more water. Even this was granted him, but still without a word. -Since he had arisen and joined them by the fire, not one of the men had -addressed a single remark to him, and his own timid expressions of -thanks and attempts at affability had been received all alike in -impenetrable silence. Nor were the ruffians talking among themselves. -They just sat round the fire, their rough faces reddened by the glow, -their weapons scintillating in the light, and stared fixedly at the -little man who had stumbled among them. Their steady taciturnity soon -became as bad to bear as the conversation he had overheard while -feigning insensibility. There was a kind of sinister contemplation in -their looks which was vague, intangible, terrifying. Then their vile -plot ringing in his ears, with dark allusions to a crime already -committed, made the piano-tuner's position sickening, intolerable. He -spoke again, and again received no answer. He announced that he was -extremely grateful to them for saving his life, but that he must now -push on to the township. They said nothing to this. He wished them -good-night; they said nothing to that. Then he got to his feet, and -found himself on the ground again quicker than he had risen. Bill had -grabbed him by the ankle, still without a syllable. When Engelhardt -looked at him, however, the heavy face and squinting eyes met him with a -series of grimaces, so grotesque, so obscene, that he was driven to bury -his face in his one free hand, and patiently to await his captors' -will. He heard the Bo's'n chuckling; but for hours, as it seemed to him, -that was all. - -"Who _is_ the joker?" said Bill, at last. "What does he do for his -rations?" - -"They say as 'e tunes pianners," said Simons. - -"Then he don't hang out on Taroomba?" - -"No; 'e only come the other day, an' goes an' breaks his arm off a -buck-jumper. So they were saying at the shed." - -"Well, he enjoyed his supper, didn't he? It's good to see 'em enjoying -theirselves when their time is near. Boys, you was right; it would have -been a sin to send 'im to 'ell with an empty belly an' a sandy throat. -If ever I come to swing, I'll swing with a warm meal in my innards, my -oath!" - -Engelhardt held up his head. - -"So you mean to kill me, do you?" said he, very calmly, but with a kind -of scornful indignation. Bill gave him a horrible leer, but no answer. - -"I suppose there's nothink else for it," said Simons, half-regretfully; -"though mark you, mates, I'm none so keen on the kind o' game." - -"No more ain't I," cried the Bo's'n, with vigor. "I'd give the cove a -chance, Bill." - -"How?" said Bill. - -"I'd lash the beggar to a tree and leave him to snuff out for hisself." - -Engelhardt laughed aloud in mock gratitude. - -"Oh, I ain't partickler as to ways," said Bill. "One way's as good as -another for me. There's no bloomin' 'urry, any'ow. The moon ain't up -yet, and before we go this beggar's got to tell us things. He heard what -we was saying, mates. I seen it in his eye. Didn't you, you swine?" - -Engelhardt took no kind of notice. - -"Didn't you--you son of a mangy bandicoot?" - -Still Engelhardt would have held his tongue; but Bill started kicking -him on one side, and Simons on the other; and the pain evoked an answer -in a note of shrill defiance. - -"I did!" he cried. "I heard every word." - -"We're after that silver." - -"I know you are." - -"You've seen it?" - -"I have." - -"Tell us all about it." - -"Not I!" - -For this he got a kick on each side. - -"Is it in the store yet?" - -No answer. - -"Is the chest easy to find?" - -No answer. - -"Is it covered up?" - -"Or underground?" - -"Or made to look like something else?" - -Each man contributed a question; none elicited a word; no more did their -boots; it was no use kicking him. - -There was a long pause. Then Bill said: - -"You've lost your hat. You need another. Here you are." - -He had blundered to his feet, stepped aside out of the ring of light, -and spun a wide-awake into Engelhardt's lap. He started. It was adorned -with a blue silk fly-veil. - -"Recognize it?" - -He had recognized it at once; it was Sam Rowntree's; and Sam Rowntree -had been missing, yesterday, before Engelhardt himself said his secret -farewell to the homestead. - -He looked for more. No more was said. The villains had relapsed into -that silence which was more eloquent of horror than all their threats. -But Bill now flung fresh branches on the fire; the wood crackled; the -flames spurted starward; and in the trebled light, Engelhardt, peering -among the trees for some further sign of Sam, saw that which set the -pores pringling all over his skin. - -It was the glint of firelight upon a pair of spurs that hung motionless -in the scrub--not a yard from the ground--not ten paces from the fire. - -He looked again; the spurs were fixed to a pair of sidespring boots; the -boots hung out of a pair of moleskins, with a few inches of worsted sock -in between. All were steady, immovable as the stars above. He could see -no higher than the knees; but that was enough; a hoarse cry escaped him, -as he pointed with a quivering finger, and turned his white face from -man to man. - -Neither Simons nor the Bo's'n would meet his look; but Bill gripped his -arm, with a loud laugh, and dragged him to his feet. - -"Come and have a look at him," he said. "He isn't pretty, but he'll do -you good." - -Next instant Engelhardt stood close to the suspended body of the -unfortunate Rowntree. Both hands were tied behind his back, his hair was -in his eyes, and the chin drooped forward upon his chest like that of a -man lost in thought. - -"See what you'll come to," said Bill, giving the body a push that set it -swinging like a pendulum, while the branch creaked horribly overhead. -"See what you'll come to if you don't speak out! It was a good ten -minutes before he stopped kicking and jingling his spurs; you're -lighter, and it'd take you longer. Quarter of an hour, I guess, or -twenty minutes." - -Engelhardt had reeled, and would have fallen, but the Bo's'n jumped up -and caught him in his arms. - -He did more. - -"Listen to reason, messmate," said the sailor, with a touch of rude -friendliness in his lowered tone. "There ain't no sense in keeping mum -with us. If you won't speak, you'll swing at the yard-arm along with -t'other cove in a brace of shakes; if you will, you'll get a chance -whether or no. Besides, what good do you think you can do? We know all -that's worth knowing. Anything you tell us'll make less trouble in at -the homestead--not more." - -"All right," said Engelhardt, faintly. "Let me sit down; I'll tell you -anything you like." - -"That's more like. Take my place, then you'll be stern-on to that poor -devil. Now then, Bill, fire away. The little man's hisself again." - -"Good for him," growled Bill. "Look at me, you stuck pig, and answer -questions. Where's that chest?" - -"In the store." - -"Didn't I say so! Never been shifted! Whereabouts in the store?" - -"Inside the counter." - -"Much of a chest to bust into?" - -"Two locks, and clamps all over." - -"Where's the keys?" - -"I don't know. Miss Pryse keeps them." - -"She won't keep 'em long. See here, you devil, if you look at me again -like that I'll plug your eyes into your mouth! You seem to know a fat -lot about this silver. Have you seen it, or haven't you?" - -"I have." - -"What is there?" - -"Not much. A couple of candlesticks; a few spoons; some old skewers; a -biscuit-box; a coffee-pot--but it's half ivory; an epergne----" - -"What the 'ells that? None o' your Greek, you swine!" - -"It's a thing for flowers." - -"Why didn't you say so, then? What else?" - -"Let me see----" - -"You'd best look slippy!" - -"Well, there's not much more. A cake-basket, some napkin-rings, and a -pair of nut-crackers. And that's about all. It's all _I_ saw, anyhow." - -"All silver?" - -"I shouldn't think it." - -"You liar! You plucky well know it is. And not a bad lot neither, even -if it _was_ the lot. By the Lord, I've a good mind to strip and sit you -on that fire for not telling me the truth!" - -"Easy, mate, easy!" remonstrated the Bo's'n. "That sounds near enough." - -"By cripes," cried Simons, "it's near enough for me. 'Tain't the silver -I want. It's the gold, and that's the girl!" - -"You won't get her," said Engelhardt. - -"Why not?" - -"She'll put a bullet through you." - -"Can she shoot straight?" - -"As straight as her father, I should say. I never saw him. But I've seen -her." - -"What do?" - -"Stand in the veranda and knock a crow off the well fence--with her own -revolver." - -"By cripes, _that's_ a lie." - -(It was.) - -"I'm not so blooming sure," said Bill. "I recollect how the old man -dropped Tigerskin at nigh twenty yards. She was with him, too, at the -time--a kid out of bed. I took a shot at her and missed. She'd be as -likely as not to knock a hole through one or other of us, lads, if you -hadn't got me to see you through. You trust to Bill for ideas! He's got -one now, but it'll keep. See here, you swine, you! When was it you saw -all what you pretend to have seen, eh?" - -Engelhardt laughed. His answer could do no harm, and it gave him a -thrill of satisfaction to score even so paltry a point against his -bestial antagonist. - -"It was the day you two came around the station." - -"That morning?" - -"Yes." - -"Where did you see it?" - -"In the store." - -"Before we came?" - -"While you were there. When Miss Pryse locked the door, it was all over -the place. While we were in the kitchen she got it swept out of sight." - -"Good God!" screamed Bill; "if only I'd known. You little devil, if only -I'd guessed it!" - -His vile face was convulsed and distorted with greed and rage; his -hairy, four-fingered fist shaking savagely in Engelhardt's face. Bo's'n -remonstrated again. - -"What's the sense o' that, messmate? For God's sake shut it! A fat lot -we could ha' done without a horse between us." - -"We could have rushed the store, stretched 'em stiff----" - -"And carried a hundredweight o' silver away in our bluies! No, no, my -hearty; it's a darn sight better as it is. What do you say, Simons?" - -"I'm glad you waited, but I'm bleedin' dry." - -"An' me, too," said Bill, sulkily, as he uncorked a black bottle. "Give -us that pannikin, you spawn!" - -Engelhardt handed it over unmoved. He was past caring what was said or -done to him personally. Bill drank first. - -"Here's fun!" said he, saluting the other two simultaneously with a -single cross-eyed leer. - -"'An' they say so--an' we hope so!'" chanted the Bo's'n, who came next. -"Anyway, here's to the moon, for there she spouts!" - -As he raised his pannikin, he pointed it over Engelhardt's shoulder, and -the latter involuntarily turned his head. He brought it back next -moment, with a jerk and a shudder. Far away, behind the scrub, on the -edge of the earth, lay the moon, with a silvery pathway leading up to -her, and a million twigs and branches furrowing her face. But against -the top of the great white disc there fell those horrible boots and -spurs, in grisly silhouette, and still swaying a little to the mournful -accompaniment of the groaning bough above. Surely the works of God and -man were never in ghastlier contrast than when Engelhardt turned his -head without thinking and twitched it back with a shudder. And yet to -him this was not the worst; he was now in time to catch that which made -the blood run colder still in all his veins. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -A SMOKING CONCERT - - -Simons was toasting Naomi Pryse. It took Engelhardt some moments to -realize this. The language he could stand; but no sooner did he grasp -its incredible application than his self-control boiled over on the -spot. - -"Stop it!" he shrieked at the shearer. "How dare you speak of her like -that? How dare you?" - -The foul mouth fell open, and the camp-fire flames licked the yellow -teeth within. Engelhardt was within a few inches of them, with a doubled -fist and reckless eyes. To his amazement, the man burst out laughing in -his face. - -"The little cuss has spunk," said he. "I like to see a cove stick up for -'is gal, by cripes I do!" - -"So do I," said Bo's'n. "Brayvo, little man, brayvo!" - -"My oath," said Bill, "I'd have cut 'is stinkin' throat for 'alf as much -if I'd been you, matey!" - -"Not me," said Simons. "I'll give 'im a drink for 'is spunk. 'Ere, -kiddy, you wish us luck!" - -He held out the pannikin. Engelhardt shook his head. He was, in fact, a -teetotaler, who had made a covenant with himself, when sailing from old -England, to let no stimulant pass his lips until his feet should touch -her shores again. The covenant was absolutely private and informal, as -between a man and his own body, but no power on earth would have made -him break it. - -"Come on," said Simons. "By cripes, we take no refusals here!" - -"I must ask you to take mine, nevertheless." - -"Why?" - -"Because I don't drink." - -"Well, you've got to!" - -"I shall not!" - -Simons seemed bent upon it. Perhaps he had taken a drop too much -himself; indeed, none of the three were entirely above such a suspicion; -but it immediately appeared that this small point was to create more -trouble than everything that had gone before. Small as it was, neither -man would budge an inch. Engelhardt said again that he would not drink. -Simons swore that he should either drink or die. The piano-tuner -cheerfully replied that he expected to die in any case, but he wasn't -going to touch whiskey for anybody; so he gave Simons leave to do what -he liked and get it over--the sooner the better. The shearer promptly -seized him by his uninjured wrist, twisted it violently behind his back, -and held out his hand to Bo's'n for the pannikin. Engelhardt was now -helpless, his left arm a prisoner and in torture, his right lying -useless in a sling. Bo's'n, however, came to his rescue once more, by -refusing to see good grog wasted when there was little enough left. - -"What's the use?" said he. "If the silly devil won't drink, we'll make -him sing us a song. He says he tunes pianners. Let him tune up now!" - -"That's better," assented Bill. "The joker shall give us a song before -we let his gas out; and I'll drink his grog. Give it here, Bo's'n." - -The worst of a gang of three is the strong working majority always -obtainable against one or other of them. Simons gave in with a curse, -and sent Engelhardt sprawling with a heavy kick. As he picked himself -up, they called upon him to sing. He savagely refused. - -"All right," said Bill, "we'll string him up an' be done with him. I'm -fairly sick o' the swine--I am so!" - -"By cripes, so am I." - -"Then up he goes." - -"The other beggar's got the rope," said Bo's'n. - -"Then cut him down. He won't improve by hanging any longer. We ain't -a-going to eat him, are we? Cut him down, and sling this one up. It's -your job, Bo's'n." - -Bo's'n was disposed to grumble. Bill cut him short. - -"All right," said he, getting clumsily to his feet, "I'll do it myself. -You call yourself a bloomin' man! I'd make a better bloomin' man than -you with bloomin' baccy-ash. Out of the light, you cripple, an' the -thing'll be done in half the time you take talking about it!" - -Engelhardt was left sitting between Simons and the ill-used Bo's'n. The -latter had his grumble out, but Bill took no more account of him. As for -the shearer, the ferocity of his attitude toward the doomed youth was -now second to none. He sat very close to him, with a hellish scowl and a -great hand held ready to blast any attempt at escape. But none was made. -The piano-tuner stuck his thumbs into his ears, covered his closed eyes -with his palms, and tried both to think and to pray. He could not think; -vague visions of Naomi crowded his mind, but they formed no thought. Nor -could he pray for anything but courage to meet his fate. Within a few -yards of him was the body of a dead man murdered by these thieves among -whom he himself had fallen. He could not but doubt that they were about -to murder him too. His last hour had come. He wanted courage. That was -all he asked for as he sat with plugged ears and tight-shut eyes. - -He was aroused by a smart kick in the ribs. As he got up to go to his -doom, Bill seized him by the shoulders and pushed him roughly toward the -hanging rope; it hung so low, it bisected the rising moon. - -"Let me alone," he cried, wriggling fiercely. "I can get there without -your help." - -"Well, we'll see." - -He got there fast enough. A little deeper in the scrub he could see a -shapeless mass of moleskin and Crimean shirting, with a spurred boot -half covered by a stiff hand. He was thankful to turn his face to the -blazing camp-fire, even though the noose went round his neck as he did -so. - -"Now then," said Bill, hauling the rope taut, "will you give us a song -or won't you?" - -He could not speak. - -"If you sing us a song we may give you another hour," said the Bo's'n -from the ground. Simons and he had been whispering together. Bill shook -his head at them. - -"That rests with me," said he to Engelhardt. "Don't you make any -mistake." - -"Another hour!" cried the young man, bitterly, as he found his voice. -"What's another hour? If you're men at all, put an end to me now and be -done with it." - -"How's that?" said Bill, hauling him upon tip-toe. "No, no, sonny, we -want our song first," he added, as he let the rope fall slack again. - -"Sing up, and there's no saying what'll happen," cried the Bo's'n, -cheerily. - -"What shall I sing?" - -"Anything you like." - -"Something funny to cheer us up." - -"Ay, ay, a comic song!" - -Engelhardt wavered--as once before under the eyes and ears of a male -audience. "I'll do my best," he said at last. And Bo's'n clapped. - -A minute later the bushrangers' camp was the scene of as queer a -performance as ever was given. A very young man, with a pallid, -blood-stained face, and a rope round his neck, was singing a "comic" -song to a parcel of cut-throats who were presently to hang him, as they -had hanged already the corpse at his heels. Meanwhile they surrendered -themselves like simple innocents to a thorough enjoyment of the fine fun -provided. The replenished camp-fire lit their villanous faces with a -rich red glow. They grinned, they laughed, they displayed their pleasure -and satisfaction each after his own fashion. The fat man shook in his -fat; the long man showed his grinning teeth; the sailor-man slapped his -thighs and rolled on the ground in paroxysms of spirituous mirth. It -must have been the humor of the situation, rather than that of the song, -which so powerfully appealed to them. The former had the piquant charm -of being entirely their own creation. The latter was that poetic -paraphrase of the early chapters of the Book of Genesis which the singer -had tried upon another back-block audience but a few nights before. Of -the two, this audience, as such, was decidedly the better. At any rate -they let him get to the end. And when that came, and Bo's'n clapped -again, even the other two joined in the applause. - -"By cripes," said Simons, "that's not so bad!" - -"Bad?" cried the enthusiastic Bo's'n. "It's as good as fifty plays. -We'll have some more, and I'll give you a song myself." - -"Right!" said Bill. "The night's still young. Stiffin me purple if we -haven't forgot them weeds we laid in at the township! Out with 'em, -mateys, an' pass round the grog; we'll make a smokin' concert of it. A -bloomin' smoker, so help me never!" - -The cigars were unearthed from the pockets of Bill himself. He and -Simons at once put two of them in full blast. Meantime, Bo's'n was -trying his voice. - -"Any of you know any sailors' chanties?" said he. - -A pause, and then-- - -"Yes, I do." - -The voice was none other than Engelhardt's. - -"_You?_ The devil you do! How's that, then?" - -"I came out in a sailing ship." - -"What do you know?" - -"Some of the choruses." - -"'Blow the land down?'" - -"Yes--best of all." - -"Then we'll have that! Messmates you join his nibs in the chorus. I sing -yarn and chorus too. Ready? Steady! Here goes!" - -And in a rich, rolling voice, that had been heard above many a gale on -the high seas, he began with the familiar words: - - - Oh, where are you going to, my pretty maid?-- - _Yo-ho, blow the land down!_ - Oh, where are you going to, my pretty maid?-- - _And give us some time to blow the land down!_ - - -The words were not long familiar. They quickly became detestable. The -farther they went, of course, the more they appealed to Simons, Bill, -and the singer himself. As for Engelhardt, obviously he was in no -position to protest; nor could mere vileness add at all to his -discomfort, with that noose still round his neck, and the rope-end still -tight in Bill's clutch. Then the refrain for every other line was no bad -thing in itself; at all events, he joined in throughout, and at the -close stood at least as well with his persecutors as before. - -It now appeared, however, that sailors' chanties were the Bo's'n's -weakness. He insisted on singing two more, with topical and impromptu -verses of his own. As, for instance: - - - The proud Miss Pryse may toss 'er 'ead-- - _An' they say so--an' we hope so_-- - The proud Miss Pryse will soon be dead-- - _The poor--old--gal!_ - - -Or again, and as bad: - - - Oh, they call me Hanging Johnny-- - _Hurray! Pull away!_ - An' I'll soon hang you, my sonny-- - _Hang--boys--hang!_ - - -These are but opening verses. There were many more in each case, and -they were bad enough in all respects. And yet Engelhardt chimed in at -his own expense--even at Naomi's--because it might be that his life and -hers depended upon it. He was beginning to have his hopes, partly from -the delay, partly from looks and winks which he had seen exchanged; and -his hopes led to ideas, because his brain had never been clearer and -busier than it was now become. He was devoutly thankful not to have been -twice forced to sing. The second time, however, was still to come. It -was announced by a jerk of the rope that went near to dislocating his -neck. - -"This image is doing nothink for 'is living, an' yet we're letting 'im -live!" cried Bill, in a tone of injured and abused magnanimity. "Sing, -you swine, or swing! One o' the two." - -"What sort will you have this time?" asked Engelhardt, meekly. His -meekness was largely put on, however. The black bottle had been going -round pretty freely; in fact, it was quite empty. Another had been -broached, and the men were both visibly and audibly in their cups. - -"Another comic!" cried Simons and the Bo's'n in one breath. - -"No, something serious this trip," Bill said, contradictiously. "You -know warri mean, you lubber--somethin' soothin' for a -night-cap--somethin' Christy-mental. Go ahead an' be damned to ye!" - -Engelhardt had no time to consider, to reflect, to choose. The signal to -start instantly was given by a series of sharp, throttling jerks at the -rope. Almost before he was himself aware of it, he was giving them the -well-known "Swannee River." It was the first "Christy-mental" song that -had risen to his mind and lips. Moreover, he gave it with all the pathos -and expression of which he was capable, and that, as we know, was not -inconsiderable. They did not join in the chorus. This made it the -easier. He tried to forget that these men were there, and, throwing his -gaze aloft, sung softly--even sweetly--to the stars. Doubtless it was -all acting, and by a cunning instinct that he went so slow in the final -chorus: - - - Oh, my heart is sad and weary, - Everywhere I roam; - Oh, darkies, but my heart is weary, - Far from the old folks at home. - - -And yet one knows that it is possible to act and to feel at one and the -same time; and, incredible as it may seem in the circumstances, -Engelhardt found it so just then. He _did_ think of the dear old woman -at home; and being an artist to his boots, he gave his emotions their -head, and sang to these blackguards as he would have sung to Naomi -herself. And the effect was extraordinary--if in part due to the -whiskey. When the young man lowered his eyes there was the maudlin -Bo's'n snivelling like a babe, and the other two sucking their cigars to -life with faces as long as lanterns. - -"Lads," said Bill, "the night's still young. What matter does it make -when we tackle the station? It'll keep. We on'y got to get there before -mornin'. 'Tain't midnight yet." His voice was thickish. - -"If the moon gets much higher," hiccoughed the Bo's'n, "we'll never get -there at all. We'll never find it!" And he dried his eyes on his sleeve. - -Bill took no notice of this. But he shook up his companions, linked arms -between the two, and halted them in front of Engelhardt. They all three -swayed a little as they stood, yet all three were still dangerously -sober; and the second bottle was empty now; and there was no third. -Engelhardt confronted them with hope, but not confidence, and listened, -more eagerly than he dared to show, to Bill's harangue. - -"Young man," said he, "you're not such a cussed swine's I thought. Sing -or swing, says I. You sings like a man. So you sha'n't swing at all--not -yet. No saying what we'll do in an hour or two. P'r'aps we're going to -take you along with us to the station, to show us things, an' p'r'aps we -ain't. You make your miseral life happy, to go on with. You bloomin' -beggar, you, we respite you! Bo's'n, take the same rope an' lash the -joker to that tree." - -Bill stopped to see it done. He was quite sober enough to be -sufficiently particular in this matter; as was Bo's'n, to perform his -part in sailor-like fashion. In five minutes the thing was done. - -"What do you think of that?" cried the seaman, with a certain honest -sort of deep-sea pride. - -"It'll do, matey." - -"By cripes, he'll never get out of that!" - -In fact, from his chin to his knees, the poor piano-tuner was encased in -a straight-waistcoat of rope--the rope that had been round his neck for -the last half-hour. Even the injured arm was inside. Nor could he move -his feet, for they were tied separately at the ankles. Otherwise there -was only one knot in what was indeed a masterpiece of its kind. - -"I hope you'll be comfortable," said the Bo's'n, with a quaint touch of -remorse, "for split me if you didn't sing like a blessed cock-angel! And -never you fear," he added, under his breath, "for we ain't agoin' to -hang you. Not us! And if there's anything we can do for you afore we -take our spell, say the word, messmate, say the word." - -The piano-tuner shook his head. - -"Then so long and----" - -"Stop! you might give us a cigar." - -It was given readily. - -"Thanks; and now you might light it." - -This also was done, with a brand from the dying fire. - -"Good-night," said Bo's'n. - -"And thank you," added Engelhardt. - -The sailor stopped to give a last admiring glance at his handiwork; then -he joined his companions, who were already spread out upon the broad of -their backs; and Engelhardt was left to himself at last--unable to move -hand or foot--with a corpse at hand and the murderers under his -eyes--with the risen moon shining full upon his face, and the vilest of -vile cigars held tight between his teeth. - -And he was no smoker; tobacco made him sick. - -Nevertheless, he kept that bad weed alight, and very carefully alight, -for ten minutes by guess-work. Then he depressed his chin, knocked off -an inch of ash against the top-most coil, applied the red end to the -rope, and sucked and puffed for his life and Naomi's. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE RAID ON THE STATION - - -Those same dark hours of this eventful night were also the slowest and -the dreariest on record in the mind of Naomi Pryse. She too had waited -for the moon. At sundown she had stabled her horse, and left it with a -fine feed of chaff and oats as priming for the further work she had in -view. This done, she had consented, under protest, to eat something -herself; but had jumped up early to fill with her own hands a water-bag -and a flask of which she could have no need for hours. It made no -matter. She must be up and doing this or that; it was intolerable -sitting still even to eat and drink. Besides, how could she eat, how -could she drink, when he who should have shared her meal was perhaps -perishing of hunger and thirst in Top Scrubby? It was much more -comforting to cut substantial slices of mutton and bread, to put them up -in a neat packet, and to set this in readiness alongside the flask and -the water-bag. Then came the trouble. There was nothing more to be done. - -It was barely eight o'clock, and no moon for two hours and a half. - -Naomi went round to the back veranda, picked up the book she had been -reading the day before, and marched about with it under her arm. She had -not the heart to sit down and read. Her restless feet took her many -times to the kitchen and Mrs. Potter, who shook her good gray head and -remonstrated with increasing candor and asperity. - -"Go to look for him?" she cried at last. "When the time comes for that, -you'll be too dead tired to sit in your saddle, miss. If you start -before the moon's well up, there'll be no telling a hoof-mark from a -foot-print without getting off every time. You've said so yourself, Miss -Naomi. Then why not go straight to your bed and lie down for two or -three hours? I'll bring you a cup of tea at half-past eleven, and you -can be away by twelve." - -Naomi sighed. - -"It is so long to wait--doing nothing! He may be dying, poor fellow; and -yet what can one do in the dark?" - -"Lie down and rest," said Mrs. Potter, dryly. - -"Well, I will try, but not on my bed--on the sitting-room sofa, I think. -Will you light the lamp there, please? And bring the tea at eleven; I'll -start at half-past." - -Naomi took a short stroll among the darkling pines--the way that she had -taken the piano-tuner in the first moments of their swift -friendship--the way that he had taken alone last night. She reached the -sitting-room with moist, wistful eyes, which startled themselves as she -confronted the mirror over the chimney-piece whereon stood the lamp. She -stood for a little, however, looking at -herself--steadfastly--inquisitively--as though to search out the secrets -of her own heart. She gave it up in the end, and turned wearily away. -What was the use of peering into her own heart now, when so often -aforetime she had seemed to know it, and had not? There was no use; and -as it happened, no need. For the first thing her eyes fell upon, as she -turned, was the pile of music lying yet where Engelhardt had placed it, -on the stool. The next was his little inscription on the uppermost song. -She knelt to read it again; when she had done so the two uncertain, -left-handed, pencilled lines were wet and blotched with her tears, and -she rose up knowing what she had never known before. - -At eleven-thirty--she had set her heart upon that extra half hour if let -alone--Mrs. Potter rattled the tea-tray against the sitting-room door -and entered next moment. She found her mistress on the sofa certainly, -but lying on her back and staring straight at the ceiling. Her face was -very white and still, but she moved it a little as the door opened. She -had not slept? Not a wink. Her book was lying in her lap; it had never -been opened. Mrs. Potter was not slow to exhibit her disappointment, not -to say her disgust. But Naomi sprang up with every sign of energy, and -finished her tea in five minutes. In ten she had her horse saddled. In -twelve she had cantered back to the veranda, and was receiving from Mrs. -Potter the water-bag, the flask, and the packet of bread and meat. - -"Have his room nice and ready for him," said the girl, excitedly, "and -the kettle boiling, so that we may both have breakfast the instant we -get in. It will be a pretty early breakfast, you'll see! Do you think -you can do without sleep as long as I can?" - -"Well, I know I sha'n't lie down while you're gone, miss." - -"Then I'll be tremendously quick, I will indeed. I only wish I'd started -long ago. The moon is splendid now. You can see miles----" - -"Then look there, Miss Naomi!" - -"Where?" - -"Past the stables--across the paddock--toward the fence." - -Naomi looked. A black figure was running toward them in the moonlight. - -"Who can it be, Mrs. Potter? Not Mr. Engelhardt----" - -"Who else?" - -"But he is reeling and staggering! Could it be some drunken roustabout? -And yet that's just his height--it must be--it _is_--thank God!" - -Her curiosity first, and then her amazement, kept Naomi seated immovable -in her saddle. She wondered later why she had not cantered to meet him. -She did not stir even when his stertorous breathing came painfully to -her ears. It was only when the quivering, spent, and speechless young -man threw his arms across the withers of her horse, and his white face -fell forward upon the mane, that Naomi silently detached the water-bag -which she had strapped to her saddle, and held it to his lips with a -trembling hand. At first he shook his head. Then he raised his wild eyes -to hers with a piteously anxious expression. - -"You have heard--that they are coming?" - -"No--who?" - -"You have heard, or why are you on horseback?" - -"To look for you. I was on the point of starting. I made sure you must -be bushed." - -"I was. But I got to a camp. They looked after me; I am all right. And -now they are coming in here--they're probably on their way!" Each little -sentence came in a fresh gasp from his parched throat. - -"But who?" - -"Those two tramps who came the other day, and Simons, the ringer of the -shed. Villains--villains every one!" - -"Ah! And what do they want?" - -"Can't you guess? The silver! The silver! That fat brute who insulted -you so, who do you suppose he is? Tigerskin's mate--just out of -prison--the man whose finger your father shot off ten years ago! You -remember how he kept his hands in his pockets the other day? Well, that -was the reason. Now there isn't a moment to lose. I listened to their -plans. Half an hour ago--or it may be an hour--they lay down for a -spell. They were drunk, but not very. They only meant to rest for a bit; -then they're coming straight here. They left me tied up--they were going -to bring me with them--I'll tell you afterward how I got loose. I -daren't stop a moment, even to cut adrift their horses. I just bolted -for the moon--I'd heard them say the station lay due east--and here I -am. Thank God I've found you up and mounted! It couldn't have been -better; it's providential. Now you mustn't get off at all; you must just -ride right on to the shed." - -"Must I?" said Naomi, with a tight lip and a keen eye, but a touch of -the old banter in her tone. - -"We could follow on foot. Meanwhile you would rouse them out at the -shed----" - -"And my silver?" - -Engelhardt was silent. The girl leant forward in her saddle, and laid a -hand upon his shoulder. - -"No, no, Mr. Engelhardt! Captains don't quit their ships in such a -hurry as all that. I'm captain here, and I'll stick to mine. It isn't -only the silver. Still my father smelt powder for that silver, and the -least I can do is to follow his lead." - -She slid to the ground as she spoke. - -"You will barricade yourself in the store?" said Engelhardt. - -"Exactly. It was fixed up for this very kind of thing, after the first -fuss with Tigerskin. They'll never get in." - -"And you mean to stick to your guns inside?" - -"To such as I have--most certainly." - -"Then I mean to stick to you." - -"Very well." - -"But think--think before it's too late! They are devils, Miss -Pryse--beasts! I have seen them and heard them. Better a hundred times -be dead than at their mercy. For God's sake, take the horse before they -are upon us!" - -"I stop here," said Naomi, decidedly. - -"Yet Mrs. Potter and I could hold the store as easily as you could. They -shall not get your silver while I'm alive." - -"My mind is made up," said the girl, in a voice which silenced his -remonstrances; "but I agree with you that somebody ought to start off -for the shed. I think that you should, Mr. Engelhardt, if you feel equal -to it." - -"Equal to it! It's so likely I would ride off and leave two women to the -mercy of those brutes! If it really must be so, then I think the sooner -we all three get into the store----" - -It was Mrs. Potter who here put in her amazing word. While the young -people stood and argued, her eyes had travelled over every point of the -saddled horse. And now she proposed that she should be the one to ride -to the shed for help. - -"You!" the two cried in one breath, as they gazed at her ample figure. - -"And why not?" said the hardy woman. "Wasn't I born and bred in the -bush? Couldn't I ride--bareback, too--before either of you was born? I'm -not so light as I used to be, and I haven't the nerve either; but what I -have is all there in the hour of need, Miss Naomi. Let me go now. I'm -ready this minute." - -Naomi had seemed lost in thought. - -"Very well!" cried she, whipping her eyes from the ground. "But you -don't know the way to the shed, and I must make your directions pretty -plain. Run to the back of the kitchen, Mr. Engelhardt, you'll see a lot -of clothes-props. Bring as many as you can to the store veranda." - -Engelhardt darted off upon his errand. Already they had wasted too many -minutes in words. His brain was ablaze with lurid visions of the -loathsome crew in Top Scrubby; of the murderous irruption imminent at -any moment; of the unspeakable treatment to be suffered at those -blood-stained hands--not only by himself--that mattered little--but by a -woman--by Naomi of all women in the world. God help them both if the -gang arrived before they were safe inside the store! But until the worst -happened she need not know, nor should she guess, how bad that worst -might be. Poor Rowntree's fate, and even his own ill-usage by those -masterless men, were things which Engelhardt was not the man to tell to -women in the hour of alarm. He was clear enough as to that; and having -done up to this point all that a man could do, he jumped at the simple -task imposed by Naomi, and threw himself into it with immense vigor and -a lightened heart. As he dropped his first clothes-prop in the store -veranda, Naomi and the housekeeper were still talking, though the -latter was already huddled up in the saddle. When he got back with a -second, both women were gone; with a third, Naomi was unlocking the -store door; with the fourth and last, she had lit a candle inside, and -was sawing one of the other props in two. - -"That'll do," she said, as her saw ran through the wood. "Now hold this -one up for me." - -She pointed to another of the stout poles. She made him hold it with one -end inside, and the other protruding through the opening. Then she made -a mark on the prop at the level of the door, sawed it through at her -mark, and cut down the other two in the same fashion. In less than five -minutes the four poles had become eight, which cumbered the floor -within. Then Naomi rose from her knees, flung the saw back into the -tool-box, and made a final survey with the candle. A few flakes of -sawdust lay about the shallow veranda. She fetched a broom from a corner -of the store and whisked them away. Then she removed the key to the -inside, and was about to lock the door upon herself and Engelhardt when -he suddenly stopped her. - -"Hold on!" he cried. "I want your boots." - -"My boots?" - -"Yes, those you've got on--with the dust on 'em, just as they are. They -must be left outside your door, and your door must be locked; you must -keep the key." - -Naomi gave him a grateful, an admiring smile. - -"That _is_ a happy thought. I'll get it myself. While I'm gone you might -fetch in the axe from the wood-heap; I'd almost forgotten it." - -They ran off in different directions. Next minute they were both back in -the store, Engelhardt with the axe. Naomi took it from him, and set it -aside without a word. Her face was blanched. - -"I heard something," she whispered. "I heard a cry. Oh, if they've seen -me!" - -"We'll lock the door as quietly as possible." - -This was done. - -"Now the props," said Naomi. - -Engelhardt had guessed what they were for. He helped her to fix them, -with one wedged between floor and counter, and the other pressing the -heavy woodwork of the door. It now appeared how craftily Naomi had cut -her timbers. They met the door, two at the top, two at the bottom, and -four about the centre. Still the brave engineer was distressed. - -"I meant to hammer them down," she murmured. "Now I daren't." - -"We'll put all our weight on them instead," said Engelhardt. They did so -with a will, until each prop had creaked in turn. Then they listened. - -"Out with the light," said Naomi. "There are no windows to give us -away--but still!" - -He blew it out. As yet his own ears had heard nothing, and he was -beginning to wonder whether Naomi had been deceived. They listened a -little longer. Then she said: - -"We're provisioned for a siege. Did you see the flask and things on the -counter?" - -"I did. How in the world did you find time to get them ready?" - -"I had them ready before you came. They were for you." - -The two were crouching close together between the props. It was a -natural though not a necessary attitude. The moon was shining through -the skylight upon one of the walls; the multifarious tins and bottles on -the shelves made the most of the white light; and faint reflections -reached the faces of Naomi and the piano-tuner--so close to each other, -so pale, so determined, and withal so wistful as their eyes met. -Engelhardt first looked his thanks, and then stammered them out in a -broken whisper. Even as he did so the girl raised a finger to her lips. - -"Hark! There they are." - -"Yes, I hear them. They won't hear us yet a bit." - -"They mustn't hear us at all; but off with your boots--we may have to -move about." - -She had already kicked off her shoes, and now, because he had only one -of his own, she pulled off his boots with her two hands. - -"You should not have done that!" - -"Why not?" - -"It's dreadful! Just as though you were my servant." - -"Mr. Engelhardt, we must be everything to each other----" - -She shot up her hand and ceased. The voices without were now -distinguishable. - -"To-night!" he muttered, bitterly, before heeding them. - -Naomi, on the other hand, was at the last pitch of attention; but not to -him. She inclined her head as she knelt to hear the better. The voices -were approaching from one side. - -"Ay, that's where he dropped--just there!" said one. It was Tigerskin's -mate, Bill. - -"Take the key from the door!" Engelhardt whispered to Naomi, who was the -nearer it. They had forgotten to do this. For one wild moment the girl -hesitated, then she cautiously reached out her hand and withdrew the key -without a scratch. - -"So this is the crib!" they heard Bo's'n say. - -"The same old crib," said Bill. "Same as it was ten years ago, only -plastered up a bit. I suppose it _is_ locked, mate?" - -The handle was tried. The door shook ever so little. The two inside -gazed at the props and held their breath. If one of them should be -shaken down! - -"Ay, it's locked all right; and I reckon it's true enough about the girl -sleeping with the key under her pillow, and all." - -"Blast your reckonings!" said Bill. "Make sure the key ain't in the door -on t'other side." - -The thimbleful of starlit sky which Naomi had been watching for the last -minute and a half was suddenly wiped away. She heard Bo's'n breathing -hard as he stooped and peered. The key grew colder in her hand. - -"No, there ain't no key, Bill." - -"That's all right. They're both in their beds then, and that little -suck-o'-my-thumb hasn't got here yet. When he does, God 'elp him!" - -The voices were those of Bill and Bo's'n. For the moment these two -seemed to be alone together. - -"Ay, ay, we'd string the beggar up fast enough another time!" - -"String him up? Yes, by his heels, and shoot holes through him while he -dangled." - -"Beginning where you don't kill. Holy smoke! but I wish he'd turn up -now." - -"So do I--the swine! But here comes the ringer. What cheer, matey?" - -"It's right," said Simons. "The little devil's locked her door; but -there are her boots outside, same as if she was stoppin' at a blessed -'otel. A fat lot she cared whether her precious pal was bushed or -whether he wasn't! We thought you was telling us lies, mother, but, by -cripes, you wasn't!" - -"I should think not!" said a fourth voice. "She wouldn't believe he was -lost, but I knew he was; so I just saddled the night-horse after she -was in bed and asleep, and was going straight to the shed to raise a -search-party!" - -The pair within were staring at each other in dumb horror. That fourth -voice was but too well known to them both. It was Mrs. Potter's. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE NIGHT ATTACK - - -"See here, mother!" said Bill. "There's one or two things we want to -know. Spit out the truth, and that'll be all right. Tell us one lie, and -there'll be an end of _you_. Understand?" - -"I ought to." - -"Right you are, then; now you know. What about this key?" - -"She keeps it in her room." - -"Under her pillow, eh?" - -"That I can't say; but she will tell you." - -"So we reckon. Now look here. Will you take your oath there's not -another soul on the premises but you and her?" - -The pair within again held their breath. They must be discovered; but -the longer they could postpone it the shorter would be their danger. -Mrs. Potter's heart was stout, however, and her tongue ready. - -"I swear it," she cried, heartily. - -"What makes you so cussed sure?" - -"Why, it stands to reason. By rights there ought to be four of us. -That's with Sam Rowntree and Mr. Engelhardt. Sam's gone off on his own -hook somewhere"--Bill chuckled--"but nobody knows where. Mr. -Engelhardt's lost, as I told you. So there's nobody left but mistress -and me. How could there be?" - -"I don't know or care a curse how there could be. I only know that if -there _is_, you'll have a pill to take without opening your mouth for -it. About this chap that's lost; you'll take your oath he didn't turn up -before you left the station just now?" - -"I told you he hadn't, as soon as ever you overtook me." - -"You've got to swear it!" said Bill, savagely. - -"I swore it then." - -"So she did," said Simons, who had been grumbling openly during this -cross-examination. "What's the good of going over the same track twice, -mate? Let her give us the feed she promised, and then let's get to -work." - -"And so say I!" cried the Bo's'n. - -"You shall have your supper in five minutes," said Mrs. Potter, "if -you'll let me get it." - -"All right, missus," said Bill, after a pause. "Only mind, if we catch -you in any hanky-panky, by God I'll screw your neck till I put your face -where your back-hair ought to be. Don't you dare get on the cross with -us, or there'll be trouble! Come on, chaps. You show the way to the -dining-room, mother, and light up; then we'll...." - -The rest sounded indistinct in the store. The low crunching of the -foot-falls in the sandy yard changed to a crisp clatter upon the -homestead veranda. Naomi waited for that sign; then with a white face -and eager hands she began to tear down, prop by prop, the barricade on -which their very lives depended. - -"She shall not suffer for this, whoever else does," she muttered. "At -least she sha'n't suffer alone." - -"You mean to open the door?" - -"Yes, and catch her as she passes. To get to the kitchen she must pass -close to the store. We'll open the door, and if she's wise she'll pass -three or four times without turning her head; she'll wait till they're -well at work; then she'll come back for something else--and slip in." - -As she spoke Naomi went round to the gun-rack, took down the Winchester -repeating-rifle, loaded it and came back to the front of the store. Then -she directed Engelhardt to unlock the door, she helping him to be gentle -with the key. The lock was let back by degrees. A moment later the door -was wide open, with Naomi standing as in a frame, the Winchester in her -hands. - -The station-yard lay bathed and purified in the sweet moonlight. The -well-palings opposite, and the barracks beyond, were as though newly -painted white. The main building Naomi could not see without putting out -her head, for it ran at right angles with the store, and she was -standing well inside. But the night wind that blew freshly in her face -bore upon it the noise of oaths and laughter from the dining-room, and -presently that of footsteps, too. At this Naomi laid a finger on the -trigger and stood like a rock, with the piano-tuner, like its shadow, at -her side. But it was only Mrs. Potter who stepped into the moonlight. So -far all was as Naomi had hoped and calculated. - -But no further. When the poor soul saw the open door she stopped dead, -hesitated half a second, and then ran like a heavy doe for it and Naomi. -The latter had made adverse signals in vain. She drew aside to let the -woman in, and was also in time to prevent Engelhardt from slamming the -door. She shut it gently, turned the key with as much care as before, -and with a sternly whispered "hush!" kept still to listen. The other two -stood as silent, though Mrs. Potter, in the moment of safety and of -reaction, was heaving and quivering all over, shedding tears like rain, -and swaying perilously where she stood. But she kept her feet bravely -during that critical minute; it was but one; the next, a shout of -laughter from the distance made it clear that by a miracle the incident -had passed unobserved and unsuspected. - -"We may think ourselves lucky," said Naomi, severely. Next moment she -had thrown her arms round the old woman's neck, and was covering her -honest wrinkled face with her tears and kisses. - -The practical Engelhardt was busily engaged in replacing the props -against the door. His one hand made him slow at the work. Naomi was -herself again in time to help him, and now there was sturdy Mrs. Potter -to lend her weight. The supports were soon firmer than ever, with -gimlets and bradawls driven into the door above those at the greatest -slant, which were thus in most danger of being forced out of place. Then -came a minute's breathing-space. - -"I had just got through the first gate," Mrs. Potter was saying, "when I -heard a galloping, and they were on me. Nay, Miss Naomi, it isn't -anything to be proud of. I just said the first things that came into my -head about you both; there was no time to think. It's only a mercy it's -turned out so well." - -"It was presence of mind," said Naomi. "We have scored an hour through -it, and may another if they are long in missing you. If we can hold out -till morning, someone may ride in from the shed. Don't you hear them -talking still?" - -"Yes; they're more patient than I thought they'd be." - -"They think you're busy in the kitchen. When they find you're not, -they'll waste their time looking all over the place for you--everywhere -but here." - -"Ay, but they'll come here in the end, and then may the Lord have mercy -on our souls!" - -"Come, come. They're not going to get in as easily as all that. And if -they do, what with the Winchester----" - -"Hush!" said Engelhardt. He was kneeling among the props, with his ear -close to the bottom of the door. - -All three listened. The voices were louder and more distinct. The men -had come outside. - -"I don't believe she's there at all," said one. "I see no light." - -"Go you and have a look, Bo's'n. Prick the old squaw up with the p'int -o' your knife. But if you find her trying to hide, or up to any o' them -games, I'd slit her throat and save the barney." - -"By cripes, so would I!" - -"Ay, ay, messmates, but we'll see--we'll see." - -All the voices were nearer now. Naomi had taken Mrs. Potter's hand, and -was squeezing it white. For some moments they could make out nothing -more. Bo's'n had evidently gone over to the kitchen. The other two were -talking in low tones somewhere near the well-palings. Suddenly a muffled -shout from the kitchen reached every ear. - -"She's not here at all." - -"Not there!" - -"Come and look for yourselves." - -"By gock," cried Bill, "let me just get my grip on her fat neck!" - -A moment later the three could be heard ransacking the kitchen, and -calling upon the fugitive to come out, with threats and imprecations -most horrible to hear even in the distance; but as they drew nearer, -working swiftly from out-building to out-building, like ferrets in a -rabbit-warren, the ferocity of their language rose to such a pitch that -the hunted woman within fell back faint and trembling upon the counter. -Naomi was quick as thought with the flask; but her own cool hand and -steady eyes were as useful as the brandy, and the fit passed as swiftly -as it had come. While it lasted, however, the only one to follow every -move outside was the assiduous Engelhardt. He had not yet risen from his -knees; but he raised himself a little as Mrs. Potter stood upright -again, supported by Naomi. - -"It's all right," he whispered. "They've no idea where you are. Simons -has had a look in the barracks, and Bo's'n in the pines. But they've -given you up now. They're holding a council of war within five yards of -us!" - -"Let's listen," said Naomi. "Their language won't kill us." - -They had quite given up Mrs. Potter. This was evident from the tail-end -of a speech in which Bill bitterly repented not having "stiffened" both -her and Engelhardt at sight. - -"As for getting to the shed," said Simons, who was the obvious authority -on this point, "that'll take her a good hour and a half on foot. It'd be -a waste of time and trouble to ride after her, though I'd like to see -Bill at work on her--I should so! If she had her horse, it'd be another -thing." - -"Ay, ay," cried the Bo's'n. "Let the old gal rip." - -Bill had been of the same opinion a moment before; but this indecent -readiness to be beaten by an old woman was more than he could share or -bear. He told his mate so in highly abusive terms. They retorted that he -was beaten by that same old woman himself. Bill was not so sure of that; -what about the bedroom with the boots outside? Nobody had looked in -there. - -A brisk debate ensued, in which the voice of Simons rose loudest. Bill, -on the other hand, spoke in a much lower tone than usual; his words did -not penetrate into the store; it was as though they were meant not to. -And yet it was Bill who presently cried aloud: - -"Then that's agreed. We all three go together to rouse her up anyhow, -whether the old gal's there or whether she isn't. Come on!" - -Apparently they went then and there. - -"Nice for me!" whispered Naomi. "Nice for us both, Mrs. Potter, if we -weren't safe----" - -A bovine roar seemed to burst from their very midst. It was Bill outside -the door. - -"Tricked 'em, by God!" he yelled. "Here they are. Never mind that room. -I tell you they're here--both of 'em; I heard 'em whispering." - -"Bill, you're a treat," said the Bo's'n, running up. "I never saw such a -man----" - -"Where's Simons?" - -"He was bound to have a look for hisself. Here he comes. Well, messmate, -where is she?" - -"Not there," cried Simons, with an oath. "The room's as empty as we are. -There's been no one in it all night." - -Bill laughed. - -"I knew that, matey. You might have saved yourself the trouble when I -sang out. She's--in--here." And he kicked the store door three times -with all his might. - -"Who is?" said Simons. - -"Both on 'em. What did I tell you? They started whisperin' the moment -they thought we'd sheered off." - -"They're not whisperin' now," said Simons, at the keyhole. "By cripes, -let's burst the door in!" - -"Hold on," said Bill. "If they're not born fools they'll listen to -reason. Out o' the light, matey. See here, ladies, if you walk out now -you may live to spin the yarn, but if you don't--" He broke away into -nameless blasphemies. - -The cruel voice came hoarse and hot through the keyhole. Engelhardt -opened his mouth to reply, but Naomi clapped a warm palm upon it, and -with the other hand signalled silence to Mrs. Potter. - -"We've given 'em their chance," said Bill, after a pause. "Come on, -chaps. One, two, all together--now!" - -There was a stampede of feet in the shallow veranda, and then a thud and -a crash, as the three men hurled themselves against the door. But for -their oaths outside, in the store it was as though nothing had -happened. Not a timber had given, not a prop was out of place. Naomi's -white face wore a smile, which, however, was instantly struck out by a -loud report and a flash through the keyhole. - -Engelhardt crouched lower, picked something from the floor, and passed -it up to Naomi in his open hand. - -She carried it into the moonlight. It was a wisp of the musician's long -hair, snipped out by the bullet. - -They stood aside from the keyhole. More bullets came through, but all at -the same angle. The women caught up a sack of flour, rolled it over the -counter, and with Engelhardt's help jammed it between the props, so that -the top just covered the keyhole. Next moment there was a rush against -the door, and for the second time all the harm was done to the -besiegers, not the besieged. - -"We'll be black and blue before we've anything to show for it!" they -heard the Bo's'n groaning. - -"There's more than women in this," said Bill. "There's that spawn that I -should have strung up if it hadn't been for you two white-feathers. It's -yourselves you've got to thank for this. I might have known it the -moment I caught sight o' that lump o' lard on horseback. The swine's -been in here all the time!" - -"He has!" shouted Engelhardt at the top of his excited voice; "and it's -where you'll never get, not a man of you! You take that from me!" - -For a short space there was a hush outside. Then arose such a storm of -curses and foul threats that the women within put their fingers in their -ears. When they withdrew them, all was silence once more, and this time -it lasted. - -"They must have gone for something!" exclaimed Naomi. - -"They have," said the piano-tuner, coolly. "A battering-ram!" - -"Then now's our time," cried the girl. "It's absurd to think of our -being cooped up here with any quantity of fire-arms, and no chance of -using one of them! First we must light up. Chop that candle in two, Mrs. -Potter. It'll see us through to daybreak, and there's nothing to keep -dark any longer, so the more light now the better. Ah, here's the -tool-box, and yes! here's the brace and bits. Now this is my little -plan." - -She took the brace, fitted it with the largest bit, and was making for -the door. - -"What are you going to do?" said Engelhardt. - -"Make a loop-hole to fire through." - -"And for them to fire through, too!" - -"Well, that can't be helped." - -"Excuse me, I think it can. I've been puzzling the thing out for the -last hour. I've a better plan than that!" - -"Let me hear it." - -"A tomahawk!" - -She gave him one from the tool-box. - -"May I hack the roofing a bit?" - -"As much as ever you like." - -"Now a pile of boxes--here--just at the left of the door--and four feet -high." - -The women had it ready in a twinkling. They then helped him to clamber -to the top--no easy matter with an arm that was not only useless, but an -impediment at every turn. When he stood at his full height his head -touched the corrugated iron some twenty inches from the obtuse angle -between roof and wall. - -He reached out his hand for the tomahawk, and at the height of his eyes -he hacked a slit in the iron, prising the lower lip downward until he -could see well out into the yard. Then, a handbreadth above the angle, -he made a round hole with the sipke of the tomahawk, and called for a -revolver. Naomi produced a pair. He took one, and worked the barrel in -the round hole until it fitted loosely enough to permit of training. -Then he looked down. There was no sign of the thieves. - -"Have you plenty of cartridges, Miss Pryse?" - -"Any amount." - -"Well, I don't expect to spill much blood with them; but, on the other -hand, I'm not likely to lose any myself." The work and the danger had -combined to draw his somewhat melancholy spirit out of itself. Or -perhaps it was not the danger itself, but the fact that he shared it -with Naomi Pryse. Whatever the cause, the young man was more -light-hearted than was his wont. "They'll fire at the spot I fire from," -he explained, with a touch of pride; "they'll never think of my eyes -being two feet higher up, and their bullets must strike the roof at such -an angle that no charge on earth would send them through. Mind, it'll be -the greatest fluke if I hit them; but they aren't to know that; and at -any rate I may keep them out of worse mischief for a time." - -"You may and you will," said Naomi, enthusiastically. "But still we -shall want my loop-hole!" - -"Why so?" - -"The veranda!" - -For some moments Engelhardt said nothing. When at last he found his -voice it was to abuse himself and his works with such unnecessary -violence that again that soft warm palm lay for an instant across his -lips. His pride in his own ingenuity had been cruelly humbled, for he -had to confess that he had entirely forgotten to reckon with the -store-veranda, a perfect shelter against even the deadliest fusillade -from his position. - -"Very well," he cried at last. "We'll drill a hole through the door, but -we must drill it near the top, and at an angle, so that they can't put a -bullet through it at a distance." - -"Then let me do it," said Naomi. She sprang upon the flour-bag, and the -hole was quickly made. Still the men did not return. "Lucky thing I -remembered the axe in time!" she continued, remaining where she was. -"They would have hacked in the door in no time with that. I say, Mr. -Engelhardt, this is my post. I mean to stick here." - -"Never!" he cried. - -"But you can't work both revolvers." - -"Well, then, let us change places. You'll probably shoot straighter than -I should. I'll stand on the flour-bag with the barrel of the other -revolver through the hole you've made. If any one of them gets in a line -with it----well, there'll be a villain less!" - -"And Mrs. Potter shall load for us," cried Naomi. "Do you know how?" - -"Can't say I do, miss." - -"Then I'll show you." - -This was the work of a moment. The old bush-woman was handy enough, and -cool enough too, now that she was getting used to the situation. It was -her own idea to bring round the storekeeper's tall stool, to plant it -among the props, within reach of Naomi on the boxes and of Engelhardt on -the flour-bag, and to perch herself on its leather top with the box of -cartridges in her lap. Thus prepared and equipped, this strange garrison -waited for the next assault. - -"Here they come," cried Naomi at last, with a sudden catch in her voice. -"They're carrying a great log they must have fished out from the very -bottom of the wood-heap. All the top part of the heap was small wood, -and I guess they've wasted some more time in hunting for the axe. But -here they are!" She pushed her revolver through the slit in the roof, -and the sharp report rang through the store. - -"Hit anybody?" said Engelhardt next moment. - -"No. They're stopping to fire back. Ah, you were right." - -As she spoke there was a single report, followed by three smart raps on -the sloping roof. The bullet had ricochetted like a flat stone flung -upon a pond. Another and another did the same, and Naomi answered every -shot. - -"For God's sake take care!" cried the piano-tuner. - -"I am doing so." - -"Hit any one yet?" - -"Not yet; it's impossible to aim; and they've never come nearer than the -well-palings. Ah!" - -"What now?" - -"They're charging with the log." - -Engelhardt slipped his revolver into his pocket, and grasped the shelf -that jutted out over the lintel. He felt that the shock would be severe, -and so it was. It came with a rush of feet and a volley of loud oaths--a -crash that smashed the lock and brought three of the clothes-props -clattering to the ground. But those secured by gimlet and bradawl still -held; and though the lower part of the door had given an inch the upper -fitted as close as before, and the hinges were as yet uninjured. - -"One more does it!" cried Bill. "One more little rush like the last, and -then, by God, if we don't make the three of you wish you was well dead, -send me to quod again for ten year! Aha, you devil with the pistol! Very -nice you'd got it arranged, but it don't cover us here. No, no, we've -got the bulge on you now, you swine you! And you can't hit us, neither! -We're going to give you one chance more when we've got our breath--just -one, and then----" - -By holding on to the shelf when the crash came Engelhardt had managed to -stand firm on the flour-bag. Seeing that the door still held, though -badly battered, he had put his eye to the loop-hole bored by Naomi, and -it had fallen full on Bill. A more bestial sight he had never seen, not -even in the earlier hours of that night. The bloated face was swimming -with sweat, and yet afire with rage and the lust for blood. The -cross-eyes were turned toward the holes in the roof, hidden from them by -the veranda, and the hairy fist with the four fingers was being -savagely shaken in the same direction. The man was standing but a foot -from the door, and when Engelhardt removed his eye and slipped his -pistol-barrel in the place, he knew that it covered his midriff, though -all that he could see through the half-filled hole was a fragment of the -obscene, perspiring face. It was enough to show him the ludicrous change -of expression which followed upon a sudden lowering of the eyes and a -first glimpse of the protruding barrel. Without a moment's hesitation -Engelhardt pressed the trigger while Bill was stupidly repeating: - -"And then--and then----" - -A flash cut him short, and as the smoke and the noise died away, -Engelhardt, removing the pistol once more and applying his eye, saw the -wounded brute go reeling and squealing into the moonshine with his hand -to his middle and the blood running over it. To the well-palings he -reeled, dropping on his knees when he got there, but struggling to his -feet and running up and down and round and round like a mad bull, still -screaming and blaspheming at the top of his voice, and with the blood -bubbling over both his hands, which never ceased to hug his wound. His -mates rushed up to him, but he beat them off, cursing them, spitting at -them, and covering them with blood as he struck at them with his soaking -fists. It was their fault. They should have let him have his way. He -would have done for that hell-begotten swine who had now done for him. -It was they who had killed him--his own mates--and he told them so with -shrieks and curses, varied with sobs and tears, and yet again with wild -shots from a revolver which he plucked from his belt. But he dropped the -pistol after madly discharging it twice, and clapping his hand to his -middle, as though he could only live by pressing the wound with all his -force, he rushed after them, foaming at the mouth and squirting blood at -every stride. At last he seemed to trip, and he fell forward in a heap, -but turned on one side, his knees coming up with a jerk, his feet -treading the air as though running still. And for some seconds they so -continued, like the screws of a foundering steamer; then he rolled over -heavily; his two companions came up at a walk; one of them touched him -with his foot; and Engelhardt stepped down from the flour-bag with a -mouth that had never relaxed, and a frown that had never gone. - -Naomi was no longer standing on the boxes; but she was sitting on them, -with her face in her hands; and in the light of the two candle-ends, -Mrs. Potter was watching her with a white dazed face. - -"Cheer up!" said Engelhardt. "The worst is over now." - -"Is he dead?" said Naomi, uncovering her face. - -"As dead as a man can be." - -"And you shot him?" - -She knew that he had; but the thing seemed incredible as she sat and -looked at him; and by the time it came fully home to her, the little -musician was inches taller in her eyes. - -"Yes, I shot the brute; and I'll shoot that shearer, too, if I get half -a chance." - -Naomi felt nervous about it, and sufficiently shocked. She was dubiously -remarking that they had not committed murder, when she was roughly -interrupted. - -"Haven't they!" - -"Whom have they murdered?" - -"You'll see." - -"I know!" cried Mrs. Potter, with sudden inspiration; but even as they -looked at her, a voice was heard shouting from a respectful distance -outside. - -"We're going," it cried. "We've had enough of this, me and Simons have. -Only when they find that chap in the paddock, recollect it was Bill that -hung him. But for us he'd have hung you, too!" - -They listened very closely, but they heard no more. Then Naomi stood up -to look through the slit in the roof. - -"The yard is empty," she cried. "Their horses are gone! Oh, Mr. -Engelhardt--Mr. Engelhardt--we are saved!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -IN THE MIDST OF DEATH - - -The candle-ends had burnt out in the store; the moon no longer shone in -through the skylight; but the latter was taking new shape, and a harder -outline filled with an iron-gray that whitened imperceptibly, like a -man's hair. The strange trio within sat still and silent, watching each -other grow out of the gloom like figures on a sensitive film. The packet -of meat and bread was reduced to a piece of paper and a few crumbs; the -little flask was empty, and the water-bag half its former size; but now -that all was over, the horror of the night lay heavier upon them than -during the night itself. It was Naomi who broke the long silence at -last. - -"They have evidently gone," she said. "Don't you think we might venture -now?" - -"It is for you to decide," said Engelhardt. - -"What do you think, Mrs. Potter?" - -"If you ask me, Miss Naomi, I think it's beneath us to sit here another -minute for a couple of rascals who will be ten miles away by this time." - -"Then let us go. I will take the Winchester, and if they are still about -we must just slip in again quicker than we came out. But I think it's -good enough to chance." - -"So do I," said the piano-tuner, "most decidedly." - -"Then down with the props. They have served us very well, and no -mistake! You must keep them in your kitchen, Mrs. Potter, as a trophy -for all time." - -The old woman made no reply. Of what she was thinking none ever knew. -Her life had run in a narrow, uneventful groove. Its sole adventure was -probably the one now so nearly at an end. Ten years ago she had been -ear-witness of a somewhat similar incident. And now she had played a -part, and no small part, in another and a worse. At her age she might -have come out shaken and shattered to the verge of imbecility, after -such a night. Or she might have felt inordinately proud of her share in -the bushrangers' repulse. But when at last the battered door stood wide -open, and the keen morning air chilled their faces, and the red morning -sky met their eyes, the old woman looked merely sad and thoughtful, and -years older since the day before. Her expression touched Naomi. Once -more she threw her young arms about the wrinkled neck, and left kisses -upon the rough cheek, and words of grateful praise in the old ears. -Meanwhile Engelhardt had pushed past them both and marched into the -middle of the yard. - -"It's all right, I think," said he, standing purposely between the women -and the hideous corpse by the well-palings. "Yes, the coast is clear. -But there's the horse you rode, Mrs. Potter, and Bill's horse, too, -apparently, tied side by side to the fence." - -"May God forgive them all," said Mrs. Potter, gravely, as she walked -across the yard at Naomi's side. - -They were the last words she ever uttered. As she spoke, the crack of a -rifle, with the snap of a pistol before and after, cut the early -stillness as lightning cuts the sky. Naomi wheeled round and levelled -her Winchester at the two men who were running with bent backs from a -puff of smoke to a couple of horses tethered among the pines beyond -kitchen and wood-heap. She sighted the foremost runner, but never fired. -A heavy fall at her side made her drop the Winchester and turn sharply -round. It was Mrs. Potter. She was lying like a log, with her brave old -eyes wide open to the sky, and a bullet in her heart. - - -"Take me away," said the girl, faintly, as she got up from her knees. "I -can bear no more." - -"There are the horses," answered the piano-tuner, pointing to the two -that were tied up to the fence. "I should dearly like to give chase!" - -"No, no, no!" cried Naomi, in an agony. "Hasn't there been enough -bloodshed for one night? We will ride straight to the shed. They have -taken the very opposite direction. Let us start at once!" - -"In an instant," he said, and ran indoors for something to throw over -the dead woman. The girl was again kneeling beside her, when he came -back with a table-cloth. And she was crying bitterly when, a minute -later, he slipped his left hand under her foot and helped her into the -saddle. - - -They never drew rein until the long, low wool-shed was well in sight. -The sun was up. It was six o'clock. They could see the shearers swarming -to the shed like bees to a hive. The morning air was pungent as spiced -wine. Some color had come back to Naomi's cheeks, and it was she who -first pulled up, forcing Engelhardt to do the same. - -"Friday morning!" she said, walking her horse. "Can you realize that you -only came last Saturday night?" - -"I cannot." - -"No more can I! We have been through so much----" - -"Together." - -"Together and otherwise. I think you must have gone through more than I -can guess, when you were lost in Top Scrubby, and when you fell in with -those fiends. Will you tell me all about it some time or other?" - -"I'm afraid there will be no opportunity," said Engelhardt, speaking -with unnatural distinctness. "I must be off to-day." - -"To-day!" - -Her blank tone thrilled him to the soul. - -"Of course," he said, less steadily. "Why not? I did my best to get away -the night before last. Thank God I didn't succeed in that!" - -"Why did you go like that?" - -"You know why." - -"I know why! What do you mean? How can I know anything?" - -"Very easily," he bitterly replied, staring rigidly ahead with his -burning face. "Very easily indeed, when I left you that letter!" - -"What letter, Mr. Engelhardt?" - -"The awful nonsense I was idiot enough to slip into your book!" - -"The book I was reading?" - -"Yes." - -"Then I have never had your letter. I haven't opened that book since the -day before yesterday, though more than once I have taken it up with the -intention of doing so." - -"Well, thank Heaven for that!" - -"But why?" - -"Because I said----" - -"Well, what _did_ you say?" - -She caught his bridle, and, by stopping both horses, forced him to face -her at last. - -"Surely you can guess? I had just got to know about Tom Chester, and I -felt there was no hope for me, so I thought----" - -"Stop! what had you got to know about Tom Chester, please?" - -"That he cared for you." - -"Indeed! To me that's a piece of news. Mind, I care for him very much as -a friend--as a hand." - -"Then you don't----" - -"No, indeed I don't." - -"Oh, Naomi, what am I to say? In that letter I said it all--when I had -no hope in my heart. And now----" - -"And now you have called that letter awful nonsense, and yourself an -idiot for writing it!" - -She was smiling at him--her old, teasing smile--across the gap between -their horses. But his eyes were full of tears. - -"Oh, Naomi, you know what I meant!" - -"And I suppose it has never occurred to you what I mean?" - -He stared at her open-eyed. - -"Will you marry me?" he blurted out. - -"We'll see about that," said Naomi, as he took her hand and they rode -onward with clasped fingers. "But I'll tell you what I _am_ on to do. -I'm on to put Taroomba in the market this very day, and to back you for -all that it fetches. After that there's Europe--your mother--Milan--and -anything you like, my dear fellow, for the rest of our two lives." - - - - -ADVERTISEMENTS - - -"_A series which has given us nothing but good_" - -The Ivory Series - -Each volume bound in green and white with gilt top, 16mo, 75 cents - -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, PUBLISHERS - - -_JUST PUBLISHED_ - - -The Boss of Taroomba - -By E. W. HORNUNG - -A charming love-story of the Australian bush by the author of "Irralie's -Bushranger" and the "Amateur Cracksman." - - -_PREVIOUS VOLUMES_ - - -Sweethearts and Wives - -Stories of Life in the Navy. By ANNA A. ROGERS. - -Various episodes, romantic, sentimental, humorous and even tragic, in -the lives of the wives and sweethearts of naval officers, form the -subjects of this group of stories, several of which have met with -approval in the magazines. - - -If I Were a Man - -The Story of a New-Southerner. By HARRISON ROBERTSON. - -This is the first novel from the pen of a writer already known to a -considerable audience as the managing editor of _The Louisville -Courier-Journal_, and as a story-teller of exceptional ability. - - -Amos Judd - -By J. A. MITCHELL, Editor of "Life." - -"This is an excellent story, well told, and with a plot that deserved -the care bestowed upon its elaboration."--_The Critic._ - - -Ia; a Love Story - -By "Q" (ARTHUR T. QUILLER-COUCH). - -"No story was ever more fearlessly and more thoughtfully aimed at the -very heart of life."--_The Bookman._ - - -The Suicide Club - -By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. - -"There is a great deal of grim humor in the 'Suicide Club,' and no lack -of subtle irony, while as an example of plot weaving and invention it -compares favorably with some of Stevenson's later work."--New York -_Times_. - - -Irralie's Bushranger - -A Story of Australian Adventure. By E. W. HORNUNG. - -"The incidents, just improbable enough to be real, are original and -cleverly combined, and there is no flagging in the press and stir of the -story."--_The Nation._ - - -A Master Spirit - -By HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. - -"The theme is the old one of how it takes a great loss, a great grief, a -great disappointment to make a really great singer; and this theme Mrs. -Spofford has developed with a rare grace and charm."--Boston -_Advertiser_. - - -Madame Delphine - -By GEORGE W. CABLE. - -"There are few living American writers who can reproduce for us more -perfectly than Mr. Cable does the speech, the manners, the whole social -atmosphere of a remote time and a peculiar people."--New York _Tribune_. - - -One of the Visconti - -By EVA WILDER BRODHEAD. - -"The author has succeeded uncommonly well in combining descriptions of -actual scenes, as in a book of travel, with the action of a romantic -tale."--Boston _Transcript_. - - -A Book of Martyrs - -By CORNELIA ATWOOD PRATT. - -"Miss Pratt shows a strength and insight into character that have -enabled her, without resorting to the morbid or the ultra-sensational, -to produce a volume of short stories of which each is a model of its -kind."--New York _Sun_. - - -A Bride from the Bush - -By E. W. HORNUNG. - -"The story is prettily told, and is particularly bright in its glimpses -of Bush life. Mr. Hornung has certainly earned the right to be called -the Bret Harte of Australia."--Boston _Herald_. - - -The Man Who Wins - -By ROBERT HERRICK. - -"It is written with admirable restraint, and without affectations of -style, in the clearest English. It is a pleasure to welcome Mr. Herrick -into the small company of serious literary workers."--_Chap-Book._ - - -An Inheritance - -By HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD. - -"Mrs. Spofford has done nothing better than this daintily written story, -if, indeed, anything quite so good."--Philadelphia _Press_. - - -The Old Gentleman of the Black Stock - -By THOMAS NELSON PAGE. - -"There could hardly be a more appropriate addition to the Scribners' -dainty Ivory Series than the little volume before us, with its moral -that, after all, love is best."--_The Critic._ - - -Literary Love Letters - -And Other Stories. By ROBERT HERRICK. - -"It shows literary elegance and skill, to say nothing of the daintiest -of touches."--Chicago _Times-Herald_. - - -A Romance in Transit - -By FRANCIS LYNDE. - -"I was surprised at the way he handled the engine, and it was all so -natural, for I have been there. It is not only a good railroad story, -but a delightful love story."--_Cy Warman._ - - -In Old Narragansett - -Romances and Realities. By ALICE MORSE EARLE. - -"Told with all the art of a practiced writer of fiction. Mrs. Earle has -accurate and delightful knowledge of old-time ways in -Narragansett."--_The Outlook._ - - -Seven Months a Prisoner - -By Judge J. V. HADLEY. - -"The book is a very interesting account of a very rare experience."--New -York _Times_. - - -CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS -153-157 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boss of Taroomba, by E. W. 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