diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/5642-h.htm.2020-12-08 | 5799 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/hhgan10.txt | 4856 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/hhgan10.zip | bin | 90025 -> 0 bytes |
3 files changed, 0 insertions, 10655 deletions
diff --git a/old/5642-h.htm.2020-12-08 b/old/5642-h.htm.2020-12-08 deleted file mode 100644 index 5253fcd..0000000 --- a/old/5642-h.htm.2020-12-08 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5799 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> - <head> - <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> - <title> - Harry Heathcote of Gangoi by Anthony Trollope - </title> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} -</style> - </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, by Anthony -Trollope - - -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: Harry Heathcote of Gangoil - A Tale of Australian Bush-Life - - -Author: Anthony Trollope - - - -Release Date: August 3, 2002 [eBook #5642] -[Last updated: December 7, 2020] - - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARRY HEATHCOTE OF GANGOIL*** - - -E-text prepared by Nicole Apostola, Charles Franks, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team - -HTML file produced by David Widger - - - - -</pre> - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - HARRY HEATHCOTE OF GANGOIA - </h1> - <h3> - Tale of Australian Bush-Life - </h3> - <h2> - By Anthony Trollope - </h2> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>HARRY HEATHCOTE</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — GANGOIL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — A NIGHT’S RIDE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — MEDLICOT’S MILL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — HARRY HEATHCOTE’S - APPEAL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — BOSCOBEL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — THE BROWNBIES OF BOOLABONG. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — “I WISH YOU’D - LIKE ME.” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — “I DO WISH HE WOULD - COME!” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — THE BUSH FIGHT. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — HARRY HEATHCOTE RETURNS IN - TRIUMPH. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — SERGEANT FORREST. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — CONCLUSION. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - HARRY HEATHCOTE - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. — GANGOIL. - </h2> - <p> - Just a fortnight before Christmas, 1871, a young man, twenty-four years of - age, returned home to his dinner about eight o’clock in the evening. - He was married, and with him and his wife lived his wife’s sister. - At that somewhat late hour he walked in among the two young women, and - another much older woman who was preparing the table for dinner. The wife - and the wife’s sister each had a child in her lap, the elder having - seen some fifteen months of its existence, and the younger three months. - “He has been out since seven, and I don’t think he’s had - a mouthful,” the wife had just said. “Oh, Harry, you must be - half starved,” she exclaimed, jumping up to greet him, and throwing - her arm round his bare neck. - </p> - <p> - “I’m about whole melted,” he said, as he kissed her. - “In the name of charity give me a nobbler. I did get a bit of damper - and a pannikin of tea up at the German’s hut; but I never was so hot - or so thirsty in my life. We’re going to have it in earnest this - time. Old Bates says that when the gum leaves crackle, as they do now, - before Christmas, there won’t be a blade of grass by the end of - February.” - </p> - <p> - “I hate Old Bates,” said the wife. “He always prophesies - evil, and complains about his rations.” - </p> - <p> - “He knows more about sheep than any man this side of the Mary,” - said her husband. From all this I trust the reader will understand that - the Christmas to which he is introduced is not the Christmas with which he - is intimate on this side of the equator—a Christmas of blazing fires - in-doors, and of sleet amid snow and frost outside—but the Christmas - of Australia, in which happy land the Christmas fires are apt to be - lighted—or to light themselves—when they are by no means - needed. - </p> - <p> - The young man who had just returned home had on a flannel shirt, a pair of - mole-skin trowsers, and an old straw hat, battered nearly out of all - shape. He had no coat, no waistcoat, no braces, and nothing round his - neck. Round his waist there was a strap or belt, from the front of which - hung a small pouch, and, behind, a knife in a case. And stuck into a loop - in the belt, made for the purpose, there was a small brier-wood pipe. As - he dashed his hat off, wiped his brow, and threw himself into a - rocking-chair, he certainly was rough to look at, but by all who - understood Australian life he would have been taken to be a gentleman. He - was a young squatter, well known west of the Mary River, in Queensland. - Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, who owned 30,000 sheep of his own, was a - magistrate in those parts, and able to hold his own among his neighbors, - whether rough or gentle; and some neighbors he had, very rough, who made - it almost necessary that a man should be able to be rough also, on - occasions, if he desired to live among them without injury. Heathcote of - Gangoil could do all that. Men said of him that he was too imperious, too - masterful, too much inclined to think that all things should be made to go - as he would have them. Young as he was, he had been altogether his own - master since he was of age—and not only his own master, but the - master also of all with whom he was brought into contact from day to day. - In his life he conversed but seldom with any but those who were dependent - on him, nor had he done so for the last three years. At an age at which - young men at home are still subject to pastors and masters, he had sprung - at once into patriarchal power, and, being a man determined to thrive, had - become laborious and thoughtful beyond his years. - </p> - <p> - Harry Heathcote had been left an orphan, with a small fortune in money, - when he was fourteen. For two years after that he had consented to remain - quietly at school, but at sixteen he declared his purpose of emigrating. - Boys less than himself in stature got above him at school, and he had not - liked it. For a twelvemonth he was opposed by his guardian; but at the end - of the year he was fitted forth for the colony. The guardian was not sorry - to be quit of him, but prophesied that he would be home again before a - year was over. The lad had not returned, and it was now a settled - conviction among all who knew him that he would make or mar his fortune in - the new land that he had chosen. - </p> - <p> - He was a tall, well-made young fellow, with fair hair and a good-humored - smile, but ever carrying in his countenance marks of what his enemies - called pig-headedness, his acquaintances obstinacy, and those who loved - him firmness. His acquaintances were, perhaps, right, for he certainly was - obstinate. He would take no man’s advice, he would submit himself to - no man, and in the conduct of his own business preferred to trust to his - own insight than to the experience of others. It would sometimes occur - that he had to pay heavily for his obstinacy. But, on the other hand, the - lessons which he learned he learned thoroughly. And he was kept right in - his trade by his own indefatigable industry. That trade was the growth of - wool. He was a breeder of sheep on a Queensland sheep-run, and his flocks - ran far afield over a vast territory of which he was the only lord. His - house was near the river Mary, and beyond the river his domain did not - extend; but around him on his own side of the river he could ride for ten - miles in each direction without getting off his own pastures. He was - master, as far as his mastership went, of 120,000 acres—almost an - English county—and it was the pride of his heart to put his foot off - his own territory as seldom as possible. He sent his wool annually down to - Brisbane, and received his stores, tea and sugar, flour and brandy, boots, - clothes, tobacco, etc., once or twice a year from thence. But the traffic - did not require his own presence at the city. So self-contained was the - working of the establishment that he was never called away by his - business, unless he went to see some lot of highly bred sheep which he - might feel disposed to buy; and as for pleasure, it had come to be - altogether beyond the purpose of his life to go in quest of that. When the - work of the day was over, he would lie at his length upon rugs in the - veranda, with a pipe in his mouth, while his wife sat over him reading a - play of Shakspeare or the last novel that had come to them from England. - </p> - <p> - He had married a fair girl, the orphan daughter of a bankrupt squatter - whom he had met in Sydney, and had brought her and her sister into the - Queensland bush with him. His wife idolized him. His sister-in-law, Kate - Daly, loved him dearly—as she had cause to do, for he had proved - himself to be a very brother to her; but she feared him also somewhat. The - people about the Mary said that she was fairer and sweeter to look at even - than the elder sister. Mrs. Heathcote was the taller of the two, and the - larger-featured. She certainly was the higher in intellect, and the - fittest to be the mistress of such an establishment as that at Gangoil. - </p> - <p> - When he had washed his hands and face, and had swallowed the very copious - but weak allowance of brandy-and-water which his wife mixed for him, he - took the eldest boy on his lap and fondled him. “By George!” - he said, “old fellow, you sha’n’t be a squatter.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not, Harry?” asked his wife. - </p> - <p> - “Because I don’t want him to break his heart every day of his - life.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you always breaking yours? I thought your heart was pretty well - hardened now.” - </p> - <p> - “When a man talks of his heart, you and Kate are thinking of loves - and doves, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “I wasn’t thinking of loves and doves, Harry,” said - Kate. “I was thinking how very hot it must have been to-day. We - could only bear it in the veranda by keeping the blinds always wet. I don’t - wonder that you were troubled.” - </p> - <p> - “That comes from heaven or Providence, or from something that one - knows to be unassailable, and therefore one can put up with it. Even if - one gets a sun-stroke one does not complain. The sun has a right to be - there, and is no interloper, like a free-selector. I can’t - understand why free-selectors and mosquitoes should have been introduced - into the arrangements of the world.” - </p> - <p> - “I s’pose the poor must live somewheres, and ‘squiters - too,” said Mrs. Growler, the old maid-servant, as she put a boiled - leg of mutton on the table. “Now, Mr. Harry, if you’re - hungered, there’s something for you to eat in spite of the - free-selectors.” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Growler,” said the master, “excuse me for saying - that you jump to conclusions.” - </p> - <p> - “My jumping is pretty well-nigh done,” said the old woman. - </p> - <p> - “By no means. I find that old people can jump quite as briskly as - young. You have rebuked me under the impression that I was grudging - something to the poor. Let me explain to you that a free-selector may be, - and very often is, a rich man. He whom I had in my mind is not a poor man, - though I won’t swear but what he will be before a year is over.” - </p> - <p> - “I know who you mean, Mr. Harry; you mean the Medlicots. A very nice - gentleman is Mr. Medlicot, and a very nice old lady is Mrs. Medlicot. And - a deal of good they’re going to do, by all accounts.” - </p> - <p> - “Now, Mrs. Growler, that will do,” said the wife. - </p> - <p> - The dinner consisted of a boiled leg of mutton, a large piece of roast - beef, potatoes, onions, and an immense pot of tea. No glasses were even - put upon the table. The two ladies had dressed for dinner, and were bright - and pretty as they would have been in a country house at home; but Harry - Heathcote had sat down just as he had entered the room. - </p> - <p> - “I know you are tired to death,” said his wife, “when I - see you eat your dinner like that.” - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t being tired, Mary; I’m not particularly tired. - But I must be off again in about an hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Out again to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “On horseback?” - </p> - <p> - “How else? Old Bates and Mickey are in their saddles still. I don’t - want to have my fences burned as soon as they’re put up. It’s - a ticklish thing to think that a spark of fire any where about the place - might ruin me, and to know at the same time that every man about the run - and every swagsman that passes along have matches in their pocket. There - isn’t a pipe lighted on Gangoil this time of the year that mightn’t - make a beggar of you and me. That’s another reason why I wouldn’t - have the young un a squatter.” - </p> - <p> - “—I declare I think that squatters have more trouble than any - people in the world,” said Kate Daly. - </p> - <p> - “—Free-selectors have their own troubles too, Kate,” - said he. - </p> - <p> - It must be explained as we go on that Heathcote felt that he had received - a great and peculiar grievance from the hands of one Medlicot, a stranger - who had lately settled near him, and that this last remark referred to a - somewhat favorable opinion which had been expressed about this stranger by - the two ladies. It was a little unfair, as having been addressed specially - to Kate, intending as it did to imply that Kate had better consider the - matter well before she allowed her opinion of the stranger to become - dangerously favorable; for in truth she had said no more than her sister. - </p> - <p> - “The Medlicots’ troubles will never trouble me, Harry,” - she said. - </p> - <p> - “I hope not, Kate; nor mine either more than we can help.” - </p> - <p> - “But they do,” said Mary. “They trouble me, and her too, - very much.” - </p> - <p> - “A man’s back should be broad enough to bear all that for - himself,” said Harry. “I get ashamed of myself when I grumble, - and yet one seems to be surly if one doesn’t say what one’s - thinking.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope you’ll always tell me what you’re thinking, - dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I suppose I shall—till this fellow is old enough to be - talked to, and to be made to bear the burden of his father’s care.” - </p> - <p> - “By that time, Harry, you will have got rich, and we shall all be in - England, sha’n’t we?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know about being rich, but we shall have been - free-selected off Gangoil.—Now, Mrs. Growler, we’ve done - dinner, and I’ll have a pipe before I make another start. Is Jacko - in the kitchen? Send him through to me on to the veranda.” - </p> - <p> - Gangoil was decidedly in the bush—according to common Australian - parlance, all sheep stations are in the bush, even though there should not - be a tree or shrub within sight. They who live away from the towns live a - “bush life.” Small towns, as they grow up, are called bush - towns, as we talk of country towns. The “bush,” indeed, is the - country generally. But the Heathcotes lived absolutely and actually in the - bush. There are Australian pastures which consist of plains on which not a - tree is to be seen for miles; but others are forests, so far extending - that their limits are almost unknown. Gangoil was surrounded by forest, in - some places so close as to be impervious to men and almost to animals in - which the undergrowth was thick and tortuous and almost platted, through - which no path could be made without an axe, but of which the greater - portions were open, without any under-wood, between which the sheep could - wander at their will, and men could ride, with a sparse surface of coarse - grass, which after rain would be luxuriant, but in hot weather would be - scorched down to the ground. At such times—and those times were by - far the more common—a stranger would wonder where the sheep would - find their feed. Immediately round the house, or station, as it was - called, about one hundred acres had been cleared, or nearly cleared, with - a few trees left here and there for ornament or shade. Further afield, but - still round the home quarters, the trees had been destroyed, the run of - the sap having been stopped by “ringing” the bark; but they - still stood like troops of skeletons, and would stand, very ugly to look - at, till they fell, in the course of nature, by reason of their own - rottenness. There was a man always at work about the place—Boscobel - he was called—whose sole business was to destroy the timber after - this fashion, so that the air might get through to the grasses, and that - the soil might be relieved from the burden of nurturing the forest trees. - </p> - <p> - For miles around the domain was divided into paddocks, as they were there - called; but these were so large that a stranger might wander in one of - them for a day and never discover that he was inclosed. There were five or - six paddocks on the Gangoil run, each of which comprised over ten thousand - acres, and as all the land was undulating, and as the timber was around - you every where, one paddock was exactly like another. The scenery in - itself was fine, for the trees were often large, and here and there rocky - knolls would crop up, and there were broken crevices in the ground; but it - was all alike. A stranger would wonder that any one straying from the - house should find his way back to it. There were sundry bush houses here - and there, and the so-called road to the coast from the wide pastoral - districts further west passed across the run; but these roads and tracks - would travel hither and thither, new tracks being opened from time to time - by the heavy wool drays and store wagons, as in wet weather the ruts on - the old tracks would become insurmountable. - </p> - <p> - The station itself was certainly very pretty. It consisted of a cluster of - cottages, each of which possessed a ground-floor only. No such luxury as - stairs was known at Gangoil. It stood about half a mile from the Mary - River, on the edge of a creek which ran into it. The principal edifice, - that in which the Heathcotes lived, contained only one sitting-room, and a - bedroom on each side of it; but in truth there was another room, very - spacious, in which the family really passed their time; and this was the - veranda which ran along the front and two ends of the house. It was twelve - feet broad, and, of course, of great length. Here was clustered the - rocking-chairs, and sofas, and work-tables, and very often the cradle of - the family. Here stood Mrs. Heathcote’s sewing-machine, and here the - master would sprawl at his length, while his wife, or his wife’s - sister, read to him. It was here, in fact, that they lived, having a - parlor simply for their meals. Behind the main edifice there stood, each - apart, various buildings, forming an irregular quadrangle. The kitchen - came first, with a small adjacent chamber in which slept the Chinese - man-cook, Sing Sing, as he had come to be called; then the cottage, - consisting also of three rooms and a small veranda, in which lived Harry’s - superintendent, commonly known as Old Bates, a man who had been a squatter - once himself, and having lost his all in bad times, now worked for a small - salary. In the cottage two of the rooms were devoted to hospitality when, - as was not unusual, guests, known or unknown, came that way; and here - Harry himself would sleep, if the entertainment of other ladies crowded - the best apartments. Then at the back of the quadrangle was the store, - perhaps of all the buildings the most important. In here was kept a kind - of shop, which was supposed, according to an obsolete rule, to be open for - custom for half a day twice a week. The exigencies of the station did not - allow of this regularity; but after some fashion the shop was maintained. - Tea was to be bought there, and sugar, tobacco, and pickles, jam, nails, - boots, hats, flannel shirrs, and mole-skin trowsers. Any body who came - might buy, but the intention was to provide the station hands, who would - otherwise have had to go or send thirty miles for the supply of their - wants. Very little money was taken here, generally none. But the quantity - of pickles, jam, and tobacco sold was great. The men would consume large - quantities of these bush delicacies, and the cost would be deducted from - their wages. The tea and sugar, and flour also, were given out weekly, as - rations—so much a week—and meat was supplied to them after the - same fashion. For it was the duty of this young autocratic patriarch to - find provisions for all who were employed around him. For such luxuries as - jam and tobacco the men paid themselves. - </p> - <p> - On the fourth side of the quadrangle was a rough coach-house, and rougher - stables. The carriage part of the establishment consisted of two “buggies”—so - called always in the bush—open carriages on four wheels, one of - which was intended to hold two and the other four sitters. A Londoner - looking at them would have declared them to be hopeless ruins; but Harry - Heathcote still made wonderful journeys in them, taking care generally - that the wheels were sound, and using ropes for the repair of - dilapidations. The stables were almost unnecessary, as the horses, of - which the supply at Gangoil was very large, roamed in the horse paddock, a - comparatively small inclosure containing not above three or four hundred - acres, and were driven up as they were wanted. One horse was always kept - close at home with which to catch the others; but this horse, for - handiness, was generally hitched to a post outside the kitchen door. Harry - was proud of his horses, and was sometimes heard to say that few men in - England had a lot of thirty at hand as he had, out of which so many would - be able to carry a man eighty miles in eight hours at a moment’s - notice. But his stable arrangements would not have commanded respect in - the “Shires.” The animals were never groomed, never fed, and - many of them never shod. They lived upon grass, and, Harry always said, - “cut their own bread-and-butter for themselves.” - </p> - <p> - Gangoil was certainly very pretty. The veranda was covered in with striped - blinds, so that when the sun shone hot, or when the rains fell heavily, or - when the mosquitoes were more than usually troublesome, there might be - something of the protection of an inclosed room. Up all the posts there - were flowering creepers, which covered the front with greenery even when - the flowers were wanting. From the front of the house down to the creek - there was a pleasant failing garden—heart-breaking, indeed, in - regard to vegetables, for the opossums always came first, and they who - followed the opossums got but little. But the garden gave a pleasant - home-like look to the place, and was very dear to Harry, who was, perhaps, - indifferent in regard to pease and tomatoes. Harry Heathcote was very - proud of the place, for he had made it all himself, having pulled down a - wretched barrack that he had found there. But he was far prouder of his - wool-shed, which he had also built, and which he regarded as first and - foremost among wool-sheds in those parts. By-and-by we shall be called on - to visit the wool-shed. Though Heathcote had done all this for Gangoil, it - must be understood that the vast extent of territory over which his sheep - ran was by no means his own property. He was simply the tenant of the - Crown, paying a rent computed at so much a sheep. He had, indeed, - purchased the ground on which his house stood, but this he had done simply - to guard himself against other purchasers. These other purchasers were the - bane of his existence, the one great sorrow which, as he said, broke his - heart. - </p> - <p> - While he was speaking, a rough-looking lad, about sixteen years of age, - came through the parlor to the veranda, dressed very much like his master, - but unwashed, uncombed, and with that wild look which falls upon those who - wander about the Australian plains, living a nomad life. This was Jacko—so - called, and no one knew him by any other name—a lad whom Heathcote - had picked up about six months since, and who had become a favorite. - “The old woman says as you was wanting me?” suggested Jacko. - “Going to be fine to-night, Jacko?” - </p> - <p> - Jacko went to the edge of the veranda and looked up to the sky. “My - word! little squall a-coming,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I wish it would come from ten thousand buckets,” said the - master. - </p> - <p> - “No buckets at all,” said Jacko. “Want the horses, - master?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course. I want the horses, and I want you to come with me. There - are two horses saddled there; I’ll ride Hamlet.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. — A NIGHT’S RIDE. - </h2> - <p> - Harry jumped from the ground, kissed his wife, called her “old girl,” - and told her to be happy, and got on his horse at the garden gate. Both - the ladies came off the veranda to see him start. “It’s as - dark as pitch,” said Kate Daly. - </p> - <p> - “That’s because you have just come out of the light.” - </p> - <p> - “But it is dark—quite dark. You won’t be late, will you?” - said the wife. - </p> - <p> - “I can’t be very early, as it’s near ten now. I shall be - back about twelve.” So saying, he broke at once into a gallop, and - vanished into the night, his young groom scampering after him. - </p> - <p> - “Why should he go out now?” Kate said to her sister. - </p> - <p> - “He is afraid of fire.” - </p> - <p> - “But he can’t prevent the fires by riding about in the dark. I - suppose the fires come from the heat.” - </p> - <p> - “He thinks they come from enemies, and he has heard something. One - wretched man may do so much when every thing is dried to tinder. I do so - wish it would rain.” - </p> - <p> - The night, in truth, was very dark. It was now midsummer, at which time - with us the days are so long that the coming of the one almost catches the - departure of its predecessor. But Gangoil was not far outside the tropics, - and there were no long summer nights. The heat was intense; but there was - a low soughing wind which seemed to moan among the trees without moving - them. As they crossed the little home inclosure and the horse paddock, the - track was just visible, the trees being dead and the spaces open. About - half a mile from the house, while they were still in the horse paddock, - Harry turned from the track, and Jacko, of course, turned with him. - “You can sit your horse jumping, Jacko?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “My word! jump like glory,” answered Jacko. He was soon tried. - Harry rode at the bush fence—which was not, indeed, much of a fence, - made of logs lengthways and crossways, about three feet and a half high—and - went over it. Jacko followed him, rushing his horse at the leap, losing - his seat and almost falling over the animal’s shoulders as he came - to the ground. “My word!” said Jacko, just saving himself by a - scramble; “who ever saw the like of that?” - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you sit in your saddle, you stupid young duffer?” - </p> - <p> - “Sit in my saddle! Why don’t he jump proper? Well, you go on. - I don’t know that I’m a duffer. Duffer, indeed! My word!” - Heathcote had turned to the left, leaving the track, which was, indeed, - the main road toward the nearest town and the coast, and was now pushing - on through the forest with no pathway at all to guide him. To ordinary - eyes the attempt to steer any course would have been hopeless. But an - Australian squatter, if he have any well-grounded claim to the character - of a bushman, has eyes which are not ordinary, and he has, probably, - nurtured within himself, unconsciously, topographical instincts which are - unintelligible to the inhabitants of cities. Harry, too, was near his own - home, and went forward through the thick gloom without a doubt, Jacko - following him faithfully. In about half an hour they came to another - fence, but now it was too absolutely dark for jumping. Harry had not seen - it till he was close to it, and then he pulled up his horse. “My - word! why don’t you jump away, Mr. Harry? Who’s a duffer now?” - </p> - <p> - “Hold your tongue, or I’ll put my whip across your back. Get - down and help me pull a log away. The horses couldn’t see where to - put their feet.” Jacko did as he was bid, and worked hard, but still - grumbled at having been called a duffer. The animals were quickly led - over, the logs were replaced, and the two were again galloping through the - forest. - </p> - <p> - “I thought you were making for the wool-shed,” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - “We’re eight miles beyond the wool-shed,” said Harry. - They had now crossed another paddock, and had come to the extreme fence on - the run. The Gangoil pastures extended much further, but in that direction - had not as yet been inclosed. Here they both got off their horses and - walked along the fence till they came to an opening, with a slip panel, or - movable bars, which had been Heathcote’s intended destination. - “Hold the horses, Jacko, till I come back,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Jacko, when alone, nothing daunted by the darkness or solitude, seated - himself on the top rail, took out a pipe, and struck a match. When the - tobacco was ignited he dropped the match on the dry grass at his feet, and - a little flame instantly sprang up. The boy waited a few seconds till the - flames began to run, and then putting his feet together on the ground - stamped out the incipient fire. “My word!” said Jacko to - himself, “it’s easy done, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - Harry went on to the left for about half a mile, and then stood leaning - against the fence. It was very dark, but he was now looking over into an - inclosure which had been altogether cleared of trees, and which, as he - knew well, had been cultivated and was covered with sugar-canes. Where he - stood he was not distant above a quarter of a mile from the river, and the - field before him ran down to the banks. This was the selected land of - Giles Medlicot—two years since a portion of his own run, which had - now been purchased from the government—for the loss of which he had - received and was entitled to receive no compensation. And the matter was - made worse for him by the fact that the interloper had come between him - and the river. But he was not standing here near midnight merely to - exercise his wrath by straining his eyes through the darkness at his - neighbor’s crops. He put his finger into his mouth to wet it, and - then held it up that he might discover which way the light breath of wind - was coming. There was still the low moan to be heard continually through - the forest, and yet not a leaf seemed to be moved. After a while he - thought he caught a sound, and put his ear down to the ground. He - distinctly heard a footstep, and rising up, walked quickly toward the spot - whence the noise came. - </p> - <p> - “Who’s that?” he said, as he saw the figure of a man - standing on his side of the fence, and leaning against it, with a pipe in - his month. - </p> - <p> - “Who are you?” replied the man on the fence. “My name is - Medlicot.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mr. Medlicot, is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Is that Mr. Heathcote? Good-night, Mr. Heathcote. You are going - about at a late hour of the night.” - </p> - <p> - “I have to go about early and late; but I ain’t later than - you.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m close at home,” said Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “I am, at any rate, on my own run,” said Harry. - </p> - <p> - “You mean to say that I am trespassing?” said the other; - “because I can very soon jump back over the fence.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t mean that at all, Mr. Medlicot; any body is welcome - on my run, night or day, who knows how to behave himself.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope I’m included in that list.” - </p> - <p> - “Just so; of course. Considering the state that every thing is in, - and all the damage that a fire would do, I rather wish that people would - be a little more careful about smoking.” - </p> - <p> - “My canes, Mr. Heathcote, would burn quite as quickly as your grass.” - </p> - <p> - “It is not only the grass. I’ve a hundred miles of fencing on - the run which is as dry as tinder, not to talk of the station and the - wool-shed.” - </p> - <p> - “They sha’n’t suffer from my neglect, Mr. Heathcote.” - </p> - <p> - “You have men about who mayn’t be so careful. The wind, such - as it is, is coming right across from your place. If there were light - enough, I could show you three or four patches where there has been fire - within half a mile of this spot. There was a log burning there for two or - three days, not long ago, which was lighted by one of our men.” - </p> - <p> - “That was a fortnight since. There was no heat then, and the men - were boiling their kettle. I spoke about it.” - </p> - <p> - “A log like that, Mr. Medlicot, will burn for weeks sometimes. I’ll - tell you fairly what I’m afraid of. There’s a man with you - whom I turned out of the shed last shearing, and I think he might put a - match down—not by accident.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean Nokes. As far as I know, he’s a decent man. You - wouldn’t have me not employ a man just because you had dismissed - him?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly not; that is, I shouldn’t think of dictating to you - about such a thing.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, no, Mr. Heathcote, I suppose not. Nokes has got to earn his - bread, though you did dismiss him. I don’t know that he’s not - as honest a man as you or I.” - </p> - <p> - “If so, there’s three of us very bad; that’s all, Mr. - Medlicot. Good-night; and if you’ll trouble yourself to look after - the ash of your tobacco it might be the saving of me and all I have.” - So saying, he turned round, and made his way back to the horses. - </p> - <p> - Medlicot had placed himself on the fence during the interview, and he - still kept his seat. Of course he was now thinking of the man who had just - left him, whom he declared to himself to be an ignorant, prejudiced, - ill-constituted cur. “I believe in his heart he thinks that I’m - going to set fire to his run,” he said, almost aloud. “And - because he grows wool he thinks himself above every body in the colony. He - occupies thousands of acres, and employs three or four men. I till about - two hundred, and maintain thirty families. But he is such a pig that he - can’t understand all that; and he thinks that I must be something - low because I’ve bought with my own money a bit of land which never - belonged to him, and which he couldn’t use.” Such was the - nature of Giles Medlicot’s soliloquy as he sat swinging his legs, - and still smoking his pipe, on the fence which divided his sugar-cane from - the other young man’s run. - </p> - <p> - And Harry Heathcote uttered his soliloquy also. “I wouldn’t - swear that he wouldn’t do it himself, after all;” meaning that - he almost suspected that Medlicot himself would be an incendiary. To him, - in his way of thinking, a man who would take advantage of the law to buy a - bit of another man’s land—or become a free-selector, as the - term goes—was a public enemy, and might be presumed capable of any - iniquity. It was all very well for the girls—meaning his wife and - sister-in-law—to tell him that Medlicot had the manners of a - gentleman and had come of decent people. Women were always soft enough to - be taken by soft hands, a good-looking face, and a decent coat. This - Medlicot went about dressed like a man in the towns, exhibiting, as Harry - thought, a contemptible, unmanly finery. Of what use was it to tell him - that Medlicot was a gentleman? What Harry knew was that since Medlicot had - come he had lost his sheep, that the heads of three or four had been found - buried on Medlicot’s side of his run, and that if he dismissed - “a hand,” Medlicot employed him—a proceeding which, in - Harry Heathcote’s aristocratic and patriarchal views of life, was - altogether ungentleman-like. How were the “hands” to be kept - in their place if one employer of labor did not back up another? - </p> - <p> - He had been warned to be on his guard against fire. The warnings had - hardly been implicit, but yet had come in a shape which made him unable to - ignore them. Old Bates, whom he trusted implicitly, and who was a man of - very few words, had told him to be on his guard. The German, at whose hut - he had been in the morning, Karl Bender by name, and a servant of his own, - had told him that there would be fire about before long. - </p> - <p> - “Why should any one want to ruin me?” Harry had asked. “Did - I ever wrong a man of a shilling?” - </p> - <p> - The German had learned to know his young master, had made his way through - the crust of his master’s character, and was prepared to be faithful - at all points—though he too could have quarreled and have avenged - himself had it not chanced that he had come to the point of loving instead - of hating his employer. - </p> - <p> - “You like too much to be governor over all,” said the German, - as he stooped over the fire in his own hut in his anxiety to boil the - water for Heathcote’s tea. - </p> - <p> - “Somebody must be governor, or every thing would go to the devil,” - said Harry. - </p> - <p> - “Dat’s true—only fellows don’t like be made feel - it,” said the German, “Nokes, he was made feel it when you put - him over de gate.” - </p> - <p> - But neither would Bates nor the German express absolute suspicion of any - man. That Medlicot’s “hands” at the sugar-mill were - stealing his sheep Harry thought that he knew; but that was comparatively - a small affair, and he would not have pressed it, as he was without - absolute evidence. And even he had a feeling that it would be unwise to - increase the anger felt against himself—at any rate, during the - present heats. - </p> - <p> - Jacko had his pipe still alight when Heathcote returned. “You young - monkey,” said he, “have you been using matches?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not, Mr. Harry? Don’t the grass burn ready, Mr. Harry? My - word!” Then Jacko stooped down, lit another match, and showed - Heathcote the burned patch. - </p> - <p> - “Was it so when we came?” Harry asked, with emotion. Jacko, - still kneeling on the ground, and holding the lighted match in his hand, - shook his head and tapped his breast, indicating that he had burned the - grass. “You dropped the match by accident?” - </p> - <p> - “My word! no. Did it o’ purpose to see. It’s all just - one as gunpowder, Mr. Harry.” - </p> - <p> - Harry got on his horse without a word, and rode away through the forest, - taking a direction different from that by which he had come, and the boy - followed him. He was by no means certain that this young fellow might not - turn against him; but it had been a part of his theory to make no - difference to any man because of such fears. If he could make the men - around him respect him, then they would treat him well; but they could - never be brought to respect him by flattery. He was very nearly right in - his views of men, and would have been right altogether could he have seen - accurately what justice demanded for others as well as for himself. As far - as the intention went, he was minded to be just to every man. - </p> - <p> - It seemed, as they were riding, that the heat grew fiercer and fiercer. - Though there was still the same moaning sound, there was not a breath of - air. They had now got upon a track very well known to Heathcote, which led - up from the river to the wool-shed, and so on to the station, and they had - turned homeward. When they were near the wool-shed, suddenly there fell a - heavy drop or two of rain. Harry stopped and turned his face upward, when, - in a moment, the whole heavens above them and the forest around were - illumined by a flash of lightning so near them that it made each of them - start in his saddle, and made the horses shudder in every limb. Then came - the roll of thunder immediately over their heads, and with the thunder - rain so thick and fast that Harry’s “ten thousand buckets” - seemed to be emptied directly over their heads. - </p> - <p> - “God A’mighty has put out the fires now,” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - Harry paused for a moment, feeling the rain through to his bones—for - he had nothing on over his shirt—and rejoicing in it. “Yes,” - he said; “we may go to bed for a week, and let the grass grow, and - the creeks fill, and the earth cool. Half an hour like this over the whole - run, and there won’t be a dry stick on it.” - </p> - <p> - As they went on, the horses splashed through the water. It seemed as - though a deluge were falling, and that already the ground beneath their - feet were becoming a lake. - </p> - <p> - “We might have too much of this, Jacko.” - </p> - <p> - “My word! yes.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want to have the Mary flooded again.” - </p> - <p> - “My word! no.” - </p> - <p> - But by the time they reached the wool-shed it was over. From the first - drop to the last, there had hardly been a space of twenty minutes. But - there was a noise of waters as the little streams washed hither and - thither to their destined courses and still the horses splashed, and still - there was the feeling of an incipient deluge. When they reached the - wool-shed, Harry again got off his horse, and Jacko, dismounting also, - hitched the two animals to the post and followed his master into the - building. Harry struck a wax match, and holding it up, strove to look - round the building by the feeble light which it shed. It was a remarkable - edifice, built in the shape of a great T, open at the sides, with a - sharp-pitched timber roof covered with felt, which came down within four - feet of the ground. It was calculated to hold about four hundred sheep at - a time, and was divided into pens of various sizes, partitioned off for - various purposes. If Harry Heathcote was sure of any thing, he was sure - that his wool-shed was the best that had ever been built in this district. - </p> - <p> - “By Jimini! what’s that?” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - “Did you hear any thing?” - </p> - <p> - Jacko pointed with his finger down the centre walk of the shed, and Harry, - striking another match as he went, rushed forward. But the match was out - as soon as ignited, and gave no glimmer of light. Nevertheless he saw, or - thought that he saw, the figure of a man escaping out of the open end of - the shed. The place itself was black as midnight, but the space beyond was - clear of trees, and the darkness outside being a few shades lighter than - within the building, allowed something of the outline of a figure to be - visible. And as the man escaped, the sounds of his footsteps were audible - enough. Harry called to him, but of course received no answer. Had he - pursued him, he would have been obliged to cross sundry rails, which would - have so delayed him as to give him no chance of success. - </p> - <p> - “I knew there was a fellow about,” he said; “one of our - own men would not have run like that.” - </p> - <p> - Jacko shook his head, but did not speak. - </p> - <p> - “He has got in here for shelter out of the rain, but he was doing no - good about the place.” - </p> - <p> - Jacko again shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder who he was?” - </p> - <p> - Jacko came up and whispered in his ear, “Bill Nokes.” - </p> - <p> - “You couldn’t see him.” - </p> - <p> - “Seed the drag of his leg.” Now it was well known that the man - Nokes had injured some of his muscles, and habitually dragged one foot - after another. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think you could have been sure of him by such a - glimpse as that.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe not,” said the boy, “only I’m sure as sure.” - </p> - <p> - Harry Heathcote said not another word, but getting again upon his horse, - galloped home. It was past one when he reached the station, but the two - girls were waiting up for him, and at once began to condole with him - because he was wet. “Wet!” said Harry; “if you could - only know how much I prefer things being wet to dry just at present! But - give Jacko some supper. I must keep that young fellow in good humor if I - can.” - </p> - <p> - So Jacko had half a loaf of bread, and a small pot of jam, and a large jug - of cold tea provided for him, in the enjoyment of which luxuries he did - not seem to be in the least impeded by the fact that he was wet through to - the skin. Harry Heathcote had another nobbler—being only the second - in the day—and then went to bed. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. — MEDLICOT’S MILL. - </h2> - <p> - As Harry said, they might all now lie in bed for a day or two. The rain - had set aside for the time the necessity for that urgent watchfulness - which kept all hands on the station hard at work during the great heat. - There was not, generally, much rest during the year at Gangoil. Lambing in - April and May, washing and shearing in September, October, and November, - with the fear of fires and the necessary precautions in December and - January, did not leave more than sufficient intervals for looking after - the water-dams, making and mending fences, procuring stores, and attending - to the ailments of the flocks. No man worked harder than the young - squatter. But now there had suddenly come a day or two of rest—rest - from work which was not of itself productive, but only remedial, and - which, therefore, was not begrudged. - </p> - <p> - But it soon was apparent that the rest could be only for a day or two. The - rain had fallen as from ten thousand buckets, but it had fallen only for a - space of minutes. On the following morning the thirsty earth had - apparently swallowed all the flood. The water in the creek beneath the - house stood two feet higher than it had done, and Harry, when he visited - the dams round the run, found that they were fall to overflowing, and the - grasses were already springing, so quick is the all but tropical growth of - the country. They might be safe, perhaps, for eight-and-forty hours. Fire - would run only when the ground was absolutely dry, and when every twig or - leaf was a combustible. But during those eight-and-forty hours there might - be comparative ease at Gangoil. - </p> - <p> - On the day following the night of the ride Mrs. Heathcote suggested to her - husband that she and Kate should ride over to Medlicot’s Mill, as - the place was already named, and call on Mrs. Medlicot. “It isn’t - Christian,” she said, “for people living out in the bush as we - are to quarrel with their neighbors just because they are neighbors.” - </p> - <p> - “Neighbors!” said Harry; “I don’t know any word - that there’s so much humbug about. The Samaritan was the best - neighbor I ever heard of, and he lived a long way off, I take it. Anyway, - he wasn’t a free-selector.” - </p> - <p> - “Harry, that’s profane.” - </p> - <p> - “Every thing I say is wicked. You can go, of course, if you like it. - I don’t want to quarrel with any body.” - </p> - <p> - “Quarreling is so uncomfortable,” said his wife. - </p> - <p> - “That’s a matter of taste. There are people whom I find it - very comfortable to quarrel with. I shouldn’t at all like not to - quarrel with the Brownbies, and I’m not at all sure it mayn’t - come to be the same with Mr. Giles Medlicot.” - </p> - <p> - “The Brownbies live by sheep-stealing and horse-stealing.” - </p> - <p> - “And Medlicot means to live by employing sheep-stealers and - horse-stealers. You can go if you like it. You won’t want me to go - with you. Will you have the baggy?” - </p> - <p> - But the ladies said that they would ride. The air was cooler now than it - had been, and they would like the exercise. They would take Jacko with - them to open the slip-rails, and they would be back by seven for dinner. - So they started, taking the track by the wool-shed. The wool-shed was - about two miles from the station, and Medlicot’s Mill was seven - miles farther, on the bank of the river. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Giles Medlicot, though at Gangoil he was still spoken of as a - new-comer, had already been located for nearly two years on the land which - he had purchased immediately on his coming to the colony. He had come out - direct from England with the intention of growing sugar, and, whether - successful or not in making money, had certainly succeeded in growing - crops of sugar-canes and in erecting a mill for crushing them. It probably - takes more than two years for a man himself to discover whether he can - achieve ultimate success in such an enterprise; and Medlicot was certainly - not a man likely to talk much to others of his private concerns. The mill - had just been built, and he had lived there himself as soon as a - water-tight room had been constructed. It was only within the last three - months that he had completed a small cottage residence, and had brought - his mother to live with him. Hitherto he had hardly made himself popular. - He was not either fish or fowl. The squatters regarded him as an - interloper, and as a man holding opinions directly averse to their own - interests—in which they were right. And the small free-selectors, - who lived on the labor of their own hands—or, as was said of many of - them, by stealing sheep and cattle—knew well that he was not of - their class. But Medlicot had gone his way steadfastly, if not happily, - and complained aloud to no one in the midst of his difficulties. He had - not, perhaps, found the Paradise which he had expected in Queensland, but - he had found that he could grow sugar; and having begun the work, he was - determined to go on with it. - </p> - <p> - Heathcote was his nearest neighbor, and the only man in his own rank of - life who lived within twenty miles of him. When he had started his - enterprise he had hoped to make this man his friend, not comprehending at - first how great a cause for hostility was created by the very purchase of - the land. He had been a new-comer from the old country, and, being alone, - had desired friendship. He was Harry Heathcote’s equal in education, - intelligence, and fortune, if not in birth—which surely, in the - Australian bush, need not count for much. He had assumed, when first - meeting the squatter, that good-fellowship between them, on equal terms, - would be acceptable to both; but his overtures had been coldly received. - Then he, too, had drawn himself up, had declared that Heathcote was an - ignorant ass, and had unconsciously made up his mind to commence - hostilities. It was in this spirit that he had taken Nokes into his mill, - of whose character, had he inquired about it, he would certainly have - heard no good. He had now brought his mother to Medlicot’s Mill. She - and the Gangoil ladies had met each other on neutral ground, and it was - almost necessary that they should either be friends or absolute enemies. - Mrs. Heathcote had been aware of this, and had declared that enmity was - horrible. - </p> - <p> - “Upon my word,” said Harry, “I sometimes think that - friendship is more so. I suppose I’m fitted for bush life, for I - want to see no one from year’s end to year’s end but my own - family and my own people.” And yet this young patriarch in the - wilderness was only twenty-four years old, and had been educated at an - English school! - </p> - <p> - Medlicot’s cottage was about a hundred and fifty yards from the - mill, looking down upon the Mary, the banks of which at this spot were - almost precipitous. The site for the plantation had been chosen because - the river afforded the means of carriage down to the sea, and the mill had - been so constructed that the sugar hogsheads could be lowered from the - buildings into the river boats. Here Mrs. Heathcote and Kate Daly found - the old lady sitting at work, all alone, in the veranda. She was a - handsome old woman, with gray hair, seventy years of age, with wrinkled - face, and a toothless mouth, but with bright eyes, and with no signs of - the infirmity of age. - </p> - <p> - “This is gay kind of you to run so far to see an auld woman,” - she said. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Heathcote declared that they were used to the heat, and that after - the rain the air was pleasant. - </p> - <p> - “You’re two bright lassies, and you’re hearty,” - she said. “I’m auld, and just out of Cumberland, and I find it’s - hot enough—and I’m no guid at horseback at all. I dinna know - how I’m to get aboot.” - </p> - <p> - Then Mrs. Heathcote explained that there was an excellent track for a - buggy all the way to Gangoil. - </p> - <p> - “Giles is aye telling me that I’m to gang aboot in a bouggey, - but I dinna feel sure of thae bouggeys.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Heathcote, of course, praised the country carriages, and the country - roads, and the country generally. Tea was brought in, and the old lady was - delighted with her guests. Since she had been at the mill, week had - followed week, and she had seen no woman’s face but that of the - uncouth girl who waited upon her. “Did ye ever see rain like that!” - she said, putting up her hands. “I thought the Lord was sending his - clouds down upon us in a lump like.” Then she told them that some of - the men had declared that if it went on like that for two hours the Mary - would rise and take the cottage away. Giles, however, had declared that to - be trash, as the cottage was twenty feet above the ordinary course of the - river. - </p> - <p> - They were just rising to take their leave, when Giles Medlicot himself - came in out of the mill. He was a man of good presence, dark, and tall - like Heathcote, but stoutly made, with a strongly marked face, given to - frowning much when he was eager; bright-eyed, with a broad forehead—certainly - a man to be observed as far as his appearance was concerned. He was - dressed much as a gentleman dresses in the country at home, and was - therefore accounted to be a fop by Harry Heathcote, who was rarely seen - abroad in other garb than that which has been described. Harry was an - aristocrat, and hated such innovations in the bush as cloth coats and - tweed trowsers and neck-hand-kerchiefs. - </p> - <p> - Medlicot had been full of wrath against his neighbor all the morning. - There had been a tone in Heathcote’s voice when he gave his parting - warning as to the fire in Medlicot’s pipe which the sugar grower had - felt to be intentionally insolent. Nothing had been said which could be - openly resented, but offense had surely been intended; and then he had - remembered that his mother had been already some months at the mill, and - that no mark of neighborly courtesy had been shown to her. The Heathcotes - had, he thought, chosen to assume themselves to be superior to him and - his, and to treat him as though he had been some laboring man who had - saved money enough to purchase a bit of land for himself. He was, - therefore, astonished to find the two young ladies sitting with his mother - on the very day after such an interview as that of the preceding night. - </p> - <p> - “The leddies from Gangoil, Giles, have been guid enough to ride over - and see me,” said his mother. - </p> - <p> - Medlicot, of course, shook hands with them, and expressed his sense of - their kindness, but he did it awkwardly. He soon, however, declared his - purpose of riding part of the way back with them. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Heathcote must have been very wet last night,” he said, - when they were on horse-back, addressing himself to Kate Daly rather than - to her sister. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed he was—wet to the skin. Were you not?” - </p> - <p> - “I saw him at about eleven, before the rain began. I was close home, - and just escaped. He must have been under it all. Does he often go about - the run in that way at night?” - </p> - <p> - “Only when he’s afraid of fires,” said Kate. - </p> - <p> - “Is there much to be afraid of? I don’t suppose that any body - can be so wicked as to wish to burn the grass.” Then the ladies took - upon themselves to explain. “The fires might be caused from - negligence or trifling accidents, or might possibly come from the unaided - heat of the sun; or there might be enemies.” - </p> - <p> - “My word! yes; enemies, rather!” said Jacko, who was riding - close behind, and who had no idea of being kept out of the conversation - merely because he was a servant. Medlicot, turning round, looked at the - lad, and asked who were the enemies. - </p> - <p> - “Free-selectors,” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - “I’m a free-selector,” said Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “Did not jist mean you,” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - “Jacko, you’d better hold your tongue,” said Mrs. - Heathcote. - </p> - <p> - “Hold my tongue! My word! Well, you go on.” - </p> - <p> - Medlicot came as far as the wool-shed, and then said that he would return. - He had thoroughly enjoyed his ride. Kate Daly was bright and pretty and - winning; and in the bush, when a man has not seen a lady perhaps for - months, brightness and prettiness and winning ways have a double charm. To - ride with fair women over turf, through a forest, with a woman who may - perhaps some day be wooed, can be a matter of indifference only to a very - lethargic man. Giles Medlicot was by no means lethargic. He owned to - himself that though Heathcote was a pig-headed ass, the ladies were very - nice, and he thought that the pig-headed ass in choosing one of them for - himself had by no means taken the nicest. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll never find your way back,” said Kate, “if - you’ve not been here before.” - </p> - <p> - “I never was here before, and I suppose I must find my way back.” - Then he was urged to come on and dine at Gangoil, with a promise that - Jacko should return with him in the evening. But this he would not do. - Heathcote was a pig-headed ass, who possibly regarded him as an incendiary - simply because he had bought some land. This boy of Heathcote’s, - whose services had been offered to him, had not scrupled to tell him to - his face that he was to be regarded as an enemy. Much as he liked the - company of Kate Daly, he could not go to the house of that stupid, - arrogant, pig-headed young squatter. “I’m not such a bad - bushman but what I can find my way to the river,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Find it blindful,” said Jacko, who did not relish the idea of - going back to Medlicot’s Mill as guide to another man. There was a - weakness in the idea that such aid could be necessary, which was revolting - to Jacko’s sense of bush independence. - </p> - <p> - They were standing on their horses at the entrance to the wool-shed as - they discussed the point, when suddenly Harry himself appeared out of the - building. He came up and shook hands with Medlicot, with sufficient - courtesy, but hardly with cordiality, and then asked his wife as to her - ride. “We have been very jolly, haven’t we, Kate? Of course it - has been hot, but every thing is not so frightfully parched as it was - before the rain. As Mr. Medlicot has come back so far with us, we want him - to come on and dine.” - </p> - <p> - “Pray do, Mr. Medlicot,” said Harry. But again the tone of his - voice was not sufficiently hearty to satisfy the man who was invited. - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, no: I think I’ll hardly do that.—Good-night, - Mrs. Heathcote; good-night. Miss Daly;” and the two ladies - immediately perceived that his voice, which had hitherto been pleasant in - their ears, had ceased to be cordial. - </p> - <p> - “I am very glad he has gone back,” said Heathcote. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you say so, Harry? You are not given to be inhospitable, and - why should you grudge me and Kate the rare pleasure of seeing a strange - face?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you why. It’s not about him at this moment; - but I’ve been disturbed.—Jacko, go on to the station, and say - we’re coming. Do you hear me? Go on at once.” Then Jacko, - somewhat unwillingly, galloped off toward the house. “Get off your - horses, and come in.” - </p> - <p> - He helped the two ladies from their saddles, and they all went into the - wool-shed, Harry leading the way. In one of the side pens, immediately - under the roof, there was a large heap of leaves, the outside portion of - which was at present damp, for the rain had beaten in upon it, but which - had been as dry as tinder when collected; and there was a row or ridge of - mixed brush-wood and leaves so constructed as to form a line from the - grass outside on to the heap. “The fellow who did that was an ass,” - said Harry; “a greater ass than I should have taken him to be, not - to have known that if he could have gotten the grass to burn outside, the - wool-shed must have gone without all that preparation. But there isn’t - much difficulty now in seeing what the fellow has intended.” - </p> - <p> - “Was it for a fire?” asked Kate. - </p> - <p> - “Of course it was. He wouldn’t have been contented with the - grass and fences, but wanted to make sure of the shed also. He’d - have come to the house and burned us in our beds, only a fellow like that - is too much of a coward to run the risk of being seen.” - </p> - <p> - “But, Harry, why didn’t he light it when he’d done it?” - said Mrs. Heathcote. - </p> - <p> - “Because the Almighty sent the rain at the very moment,” said - Harry, striking the top rail of one of the pens with his fist. “I’m - not much given to talk about Providence, but this looks like it, does it - not?” - </p> - <p> - “He might have put a match in at the moment?” - </p> - <p> - “Rain or no rain? Yes, he might. But he was interrupted by more than - the rain. I got into the shed myself just at the moment—I and Jacko. - It was last night, when the rain was pouring. I heard the man, and dark as - was the night, I saw his figure as he fled away.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn’t know him?” said Miss Daly. - </p> - <p> - “But that boy, who has the eyes of a cat, he knew him.” - </p> - <p> - “Jacko?” - </p> - <p> - “Jacko knew him by his gait. I should have hardly wanted any one to - tell me who it was. I could have named the man at once, but for the fear - of doing an injustice.” - </p> - <p> - “And who was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Our friend Medlicot’s prime favorite and new factotum, Mr. - William Nokes. Mr. William Nokes is the gentleman who intends to burn us - all out of house and home, and Mr. Medlicot is the gentleman whose - pleasure it is to keep Mr. Nokes in the neighborhood.” - </p> - <p> - The two women stood awe-struck for a moment, but a sense of justice - prevailed upon the wife to speak. “That may be all true,” she - said. “Perhaps it is as you say about that man. But you would not - therefore think that Mr. Medlicot knows any thing about it?” - </p> - <p> - “It would be impossible,” said Kate. - </p> - <p> - “I have not accused him,” said Harry; “but he knows that - the man was dismissed, and yet keeps him about the place. Of course he is - responsible.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. — HARRY HEATHCOTE’S APPEAL. - </h2> - <p> - For the first mile between the wool-shed and the house Heathcote and the - two ladies rode without saying a word. There was something so terrible in - the reality of the danger which encompassed them that they hardly felt - inclined to discuss it. Harry’s dislike to Medlicot was quite a - thing apart. That some one had intended to burn down the wool-shed, and - had made preparation for doing so, was as apparent to the women as to him. - And the man who had been balked by a shower of rain in his first attempt - might soon find an opportunity for a second. Harry was well aware that - even Jacko’s assertion could not be taken as evidence against the - man whom he suspected. In all probability no further attempt would be made - upon the wool-shed; but a fire on some distant part of the run would be - much more injurious to him than the mere burning of a building. The fire - that might ruin him would be one which should get ahead before it was - seen, and scour across the ground, consuming the grass down to the very - roots over thousands of acres, and destroying fencing over many miles. - Such fires pass on, leaving the standing trees unscathed, avoiding even - the scrub, which is too moist with the sap of life for consumption, but - licking up with fearful rapidity every thing that the sun has dried. He - could watch the wool-shed and house, but with no possible care could he so - watch the whole run as to justify him in feeling security. There need be - no preparation of leaves. A match thrown loosely on the ground would do - it. And in regard to a match so thrown, it would be impossible to prove a - guilty intention. - </p> - <p> - “Ought we not to have dispersed the heap?” said Mrs. Heathcote - at last. The minds of all of them were full of the matter, but these were - the first words spoken. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll leave it as it is,” said Harry, giving no reason - for his decision. He was too full of thought, too heavily laden with - anxiety, to speak much. “Come, let’s get on; you’ll want - your dinner, and it’s getting dark.” So they cantered on, and - got off their horses at the gate, without another word. And not another - word was spoken on the subject that night. Harry was very silent, walking - up and down the veranda with his pipe in his mouth—not lying on the - ground in idle enjoyment—and there was no reading. The two sisters - looked at him from time to time with wistful, anxious-eyes, half afraid to - disturb him by speech. - </p> - <p> - As for him, he felt that the weight was all on his own shoulders. He had - worked hard, and was on the way to be rich. I do not know that he thought - much about money, but he thought very much of success. And he was by - nature anxious, sanguine, and impulsive. There might be before him, within - the next week, such desolation as would break his heart. He knew men who - had been ruined, and had borne their ruin almost without a wail—who - had seemed contented to descend to security and mere absence from want. - There was his own superintendent, Old Bates, who, though he grumbled at - every thing else, never bewailed his own fate. But he knew of himself that - any such blow would nearly kill him—such a blow, that is, as might - drive him from Gangoil, and force him to be the servant instead of the - master of men. Not to be master of all around him seemed to him to be - misery. The merchants at Brisbane who took his wool and supplied him with - stores had advanced money when he first bought his run, and he still owed - them some thousands of pounds. The injury which a great fire would do him - would bring him to such a condition that the merchants would demand to - have their money repaid. He understood it all, and knew well that it was - after this fashion that many a squatter before him had been ruined. - </p> - <p> - “Speak a word to me about it,” his wife said to him, - imploringly, when they were alone together that night. - </p> - <p> - “My darling, if there were a word to say, I would say it. I must be - on the watch, and do the best I can. At present the earth is too damp for - mischief.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh that it would rain again!” - </p> - <p> - “There will be heat enough before the summer is over; we need not - doubt that. But I will tell you of every thing as we go on. I will - endeavor to have the man watched. God bless you! Go to sleep, and try to - get it out of your thoughts.” - </p> - <p> - On the following morning he breakfasted early, and mounted his horse - without saying a word as to the purport of his journey. This was in - accordance with the habit of his life, and would not excite observation; - but there was something in his manner which made both the ladies feel that - he was intent on some special object. When he intended simply to ride - round his fences or to visit the hut of some distant servant, a few - minutes signified nothing. He would stand under the veranda and talk, and - the women would endeavor to keep him from the saddle. But now there was no - loitering, and but little talking. He said a word to Jacko, who brought - the horse for him, and then started at a gallop toward the wool-shed. - </p> - <p> - He did not stop a moment at the shed, not even entering it to see whether - the heap of leaves had been displaced during the night, but went on - straight to Medlicot’s Mill. He rode the nine miles in an hour, and - at once entered the building in which the canes were crushed. The first - man he met was Nokes, who acted as overseer, having a gang of Polynesian - laborers under him—sleek, swarthy fellows from the South Sea - Islands, with linen trowsers on and nothing else—who crept silently - among the vats and machinery, shifting the sugar as it was made. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Nokes,” said Harry, “how are you getting on? Is - Mr. Medlicot here?” - </p> - <p> - Nokes was a big fellow, with a broad, solid face, which would not have - condemned him among physiognomists but for a bad eye, which could not look - you in the face. He had been a boundary rider for Heathcote, and on an - occasion had been impertinent, refusing to leave the yard behind the house - unless something was done which those about the place refused to do for - him. During the discussion Harry had come in. The man had been drinking, - and was still insolent, and Harry had ejected him violently, thrusting him - over a gate. The man had returned the next morning, and had then been sent - about his business. He had been employed at Medlicot’s Mill, but - from the day of his dismissal to this he and Harry had never met each - other face to face. - </p> - <p> - “I’m pretty well, thank ye, Mr. Heathcote. I hope you’re - the same, and the ladies. The master’s about somewhere, I take it.—Picky, - go and find the master.” Picky was one of the Polynesians, who at - once started on his errand. - </p> - <p> - “Have you been over to Gangoil since you left it?” said Harry, - looking the man full in the face. - </p> - <p> - “Not I, Mr. Heathcote. I never go where I’ve had words. And, - to tell you the truth, sugar is better than sheep. I’m very - comfortable here, and I never liked your work.” - </p> - <p> - “You haven’t been at the wool-shed?” - </p> - <p> - “What, the Gangoil shed! What the blazes ‘d I go there for? It’s - a matter of ten miles from here.” - </p> - <p> - “Seven, Nokes.” - </p> - <p> - “Seven, is it? It is a longish seven miles, Mr. Heathcote. How could - I get that distance? I ain’t so good at walking as I was before I - was hurt. You should have remembered that, Mr. Heathcote, when you laid - hands on me the other day.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re not much the worse for what I did; nor yet for the - accident, I take it. At any rate, you’ve not been at Gangoil - wool-shed?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I’ve not,” said the man, roughly. “What the - mischief should I be doing at your shed at night-time?” - </p> - <p> - “I said nothing about night-time.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m here all day, ain’t I? If you’re going to - palm off any story against me, Mr. Heathcote, you’ll find yourself - in the wrong box. What I does I does on the square.” - </p> - <p> - Heathcote was now quite sure that Jacko had been right. He had not doubted - much before, but now he did not doubt at all but that the man with whom he - was speaking was the wretch who was endeavoring to ruin him. And he felt - certain, also, that Jacko was true to him. He knew, too, that he had - plainly declared his suspicion to the man himself. But he had resolved - upon doing this. He could in no way assist himself in circumventing the - man’s villainy by keeping his suspense to himself. The man might be - frightened, and in spite of all that had passed between him and Medlicot, - he still thought it possible that he might induce the sugar grower to - co-operate with him in driving Nokes from the neighborhood. He had spent - the night in thinking over it all, and this was the resolution to which he - had come. - </p> - <p> - “There’s the master,” said Nokes. “If you’ve - got any thing to say about any thing, you’d better say it to him.” - </p> - <p> - Harry had never before set his foot upon Medlicot’s land since it - had been bought away from his own run, and had felt that he would almost - demean himself by doing so. He had often looked at the canes from over his - own fence, as he had done on the night of the rain; but he had stood - always on his own land. Now he was in the sugar-mill, never before having - seen such a building. “You’ve a deal of machinery here, Mr. - Medlicot,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a small affair, after all,” said the other. - “I hope to get a good plant before I’ve done.” - </p> - <p> - “Can I speak a word with you?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly. Will you come into the office, or will you go across to - the house?” - </p> - <p> - Harry said that the office would do, and followed Medlicot into a little - box-like inclosure which contained a desk and two stools. - </p> - <p> - “Not much of an office, is it? What can I do for you, Mr. Heathcote?” - </p> - <p> - Then Harry began his story, which he told at considerable length. He - apologized for troubling his neighbor at all on the subject, and - endeavored to explain, somewhat awkwardly, that as Mr. Medlicot was a - new-comer, he probably might not understand the kind of treatment to which - employers in the bush were occasionally subject from their men. On this - matter he said much, which, had he been a better tactician, he might - probably have left unspoken. He then went on to the story of his own - quarrel with Nokes, who had, in truth, been grossly impudent to the women - about the house, but who had been punished by instant and violent - dismissal from his employment. It was evidently Harry’s idea that a - man who had so sinned against his master should be allowed to find no - other master—at any rate in that district; an idea with which the - other man, who had lately come out from the old country, did not at all - sympathize. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want me to dismiss him?” said Medlicot, in a tone - which implied that that would be the last thing he would think of doing. - </p> - <p> - “You haven’t heard me yet.” Then Harry went on and told - of the fires in the heat of summer, and of their terrible effects—of - the easy manner of revenge which they supplied to angry, unscrupulous men, - and of his own fears at the present moment. - </p> - <p> - “I can believe it all,” said Medlicot, “and am very - sorry that it should be so. But I can not see the justice of punishing a - man on the merest, vaguest suspicion. Your only ground for imputing this - crime to him is that your own conduct to him may have given him a motive.” - </p> - <p> - Harry had schooled himself vigorously during the ride as to his own - demeanor, and had resolved that he would be cool. “I was going on to - tell you,” he said, “what occurred that night after I saw you - up by the fence.” Then he described how he and his boy had entered - the shed, and had both seen and heard a man as he escaped from it; how the - boy had at once declared that the man was Nokes; how the following day he - had discovered the leaves, which Nokes no doubt had deposited there just - before the rain, intending to burn the place at once; and how Nokes’s - manner to him within the last half hour had corroborated his suspicions. - </p> - <p> - “Is he the boy you call Jacko?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s the name he goes by.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t know his real name?” - </p> - <p> - “I have never heard any other name.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor any thing about him?” Harry owned, in answer to half a - dozen such questions, that Jacko had come to Gangoil about six months ago—he - did not know whence—had been kept for a week’s job, and had - then been allowed to remain about the place without any regular wages. - “You admit it was quite dark,” continued Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - Harry did not at all like the cross-examination, and his resolution to be - cool was quickly fading. “I told you that I saw myself the figure of - a man.” - </p> - <p> - “But that you barely saw a figure. You did not form any opinion of - your own as to the man’s identity.” - </p> - <p> - Harry Heathcote was as honest as the sun. Much as he disliked being - cross-examined, he found himself compelled not only to say the exact - truth, but the whole truth. “Certainly not. I barely saw a glimpse - of a figure, and, till I spoke to Nokes just now, I almost doubted whether - the lad could have distinguished him. I am sure he was right now.” - </p> - <p> - “Really, Mr. Heathcote, I can’t go along with you. You are - accusing a man of committing an offense, which I believe is capital, on - the evidence of a boy of whom you know nothing, who may have his own - reasons for spiting the man, and whom you yourself did not believe till - you had looked this man in the face. I think you allow yourself to be - guided too much by your own power of intuition.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don’t,” said Harry, who hated his neighbor’s - methodical argument. - </p> - <p> - “At any rate, I can’t consent to take a man’s bread out - of his mouth, and to send him away tainted as he would be with this - suspicion, either because Jacko thought that he saw him in the dark, or - because—” - </p> - <p> - “I have never asked you to send him away.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it you want, then?” - </p> - <p> - “I want to have him watched, so that he may feel that if he attempts - to destroy my property his guilt will be detected.” - </p> - <p> - “Who is to watch him?” - </p> - <p> - “He is in your employment.” - </p> - <p> - “He lives in the hut down beyond the gate. Am I to keep a sentry - there all night, and every night?” - </p> - <p> - “I will pay for it.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Mr. Heathcote. I don’t pretend to know this country yet, - but I’ll encourage no such espionage as that. At any rate, it is not - English. I dare say the man misbehaved himself in your employment. You say - he was drunk. I do not doubt it. But he is not a drunkard, for he never - drinks here. A man is not to starve forever because he once got drunk and - was impertinent. Nor is he to have a spy at his heels because a boy whom - nobody knows chooses to denounce him. I am sorry that you should be in - trouble, but I do not know that I can help you.” - </p> - <p> - Harry’s passion was now very high, and his resolution to be cool was - almost thrown to the winds. Medlicot had said many things which were - odious to him. In the first place, there had been a tone of insufferable - superiority, so Harry thought, and that, too, when he himself had divested - himself of all the superiority naturally attached to his position, and had - frankly appealed to Medlicot as a neighbor. And then this new-fangled - sugar grower had told him that he was not English, and had said grand - words, and had altogether made himself objectionable. What did this man - know of the Australian bush, that he should dare to talk of this or that - as being wrong because it was un-English! In England there were police to - guard men’s property. Here, out in the Australian forests, a man - must guard his own, or lose it. But perhaps it was the indifference to the - ruin of the women belonging to him that Harry Heathcote felt the - strongest. The stranger cared nothing for the utter desolation which one - unscrupulous ruffian might produce, felt no horror at the idea of a vast - devastating fire, but could be indignant in his mock philanthropy because - it was proposed to watch the doings of a scoundrel! - </p> - <p> - “Good-morning,” said Harry, turning round and leaving the - office brusquely. Medlicot followed him, but Harry went so quickly that - not another word was spoken. To him the idea of a neighbor in the bush - refusing such assistance as he had asked was as terrible as to us is the - thought of a ship at sea leaving another ship in distress. He unhitched - his horse from the fence, and galloped home as fast as the animal would - carry him. - </p> - <p> - Medlicot, when he was left alone, took two or three turns about the mill, - as though inspecting the work, but at every turn fixed his eyes for a few - moments on Noke’s face. The man was standing under a huge caldron - regulating the escape of the boiling juice into the different vats by - raising and lowering a trap, and giving directions to the Polynesians as - he did so. He was evidently conscious that he was being regarded, and, as - is usual in such a condition, manifestly failed in his struggle to appear - unconscious. Medlicot acknowledged to himself that the man could not look - even him in the face. Was it possible that he had been wrong, and that - Heathcote, though he had expressed himself badly, was entitled to some - sympathy in his fear of what might be done to him by an enemy? Medlicot - also desired to be just, being more rational, more logical, and less - impulsive than the other, being also somewhat too conscious of his own - superior intelligence. He knew that Heathcote had gone away in great - dudgeon, and he almost feared that he had been harsh and unneighborly. - After a while he stood opposite Nokes and addressed him. - </p> - <p> - “Do the squatters suffer much from fires?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Heathcote has been talking to you about that,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “Can’t you say Mr. Heathcote when you speak of a gentleman - whose bread you have eaten?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Heathcote, if you like it. We ain’t particular to a shade - out here as you are at home. He has been telling you about fires, has he?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he has.” - </p> - <p> - “And talking of me, I suppose?” - </p> - <p> - “You were talking of having a turn at mining some day. How would it - be with you if you were to be off to Gympie?” - </p> - <p> - “You mean to say I’m to go, Mr. Medlicot?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t say that at all.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Mr. Medlicot. My going or staying won’t make any - difference to Heathcote. There’s a lot of ’em about here hates - him that much that he is never to be allowed to rest in peace. I tell you - that fairly. It ain’t any thing as I shall do. Them’s not my - ways, Mr. Medlicot. But he has enemies here as’ll never let him - rest.” - </p> - <p> - “Who are they?” - </p> - <p> - “Pretty nigh every body round. He has carried himself that high they - won’t stand him. Who’s Heathcote?” - </p> - <p> - “Name some who are his enemies.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s the Brownbies.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the Brownbies. Well, it’s a bad thing to have enemies.” - After that he left the sugar-house and went across to the cottage. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. — BOSCOBEL. - </h2> - <p> - Two days and two nights passed without fear of fire, and then Harry - Heathcote was again on the alert. The earth was parched as though no drop - of rain had fallen. The fences were dry as tinder, and the ground was - strewed with broken atoms of timber from the trees, each of which a spark - would ignite. Two nights Harry slept in his bed, but on the third he was - on horseback about the run, watching, thinking, endeavoring to make - provision, directing others, and hoping to make it believed that his eyes - were every where. In this way an entire week was passed, and now it wanted - but four days to Christmas. He would come home to breakfast about seven in - the morning, very tired, but never owning that he was tired, and then - sleep heavily for an hour or two in a chair. After that he would go out - again on the run, would sleep perhaps for another hour after dinner, and - then would start for his night’s patrol. During this week he saw - nothing of Medlicot, and never mentioned his name but once. On that - occasion his wife told him that during his absence Medlicot had been at - the station. - </p> - <p> - “What brought him here?” Harry asked, fiercely. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Heathcote explained that he had called in a friendly way, and had - said that if there were any fear of fire he would be happy himself to lend - assistance. - </p> - <p> - Then the young squatter forgot himself in his wrath. “Confound his - hypocrisy!” said Harry, aloud. “I don’t think he’s - a hypocrite,” said the wife. - </p> - <p> - “I’m sure he’s not,” said Kate Daly. - </p> - <p> - Not a word more was spoken, and Harry immediately left the house. The two - women did not as usual go to the gate to see him mount his horse, not - refraining from doing so in any anger, or as wishing to exhibit - displeasure at Harry’s violence, but because they were afraid of - him. They had found themselves compelled to differ from him, but were - oppressed at finding themselves in opposition to him. - </p> - <p> - The feeling that his wife should in any way take part against him added - greatly to Heathcote’s trouble. It produced in his mind a terrible - feeling of loneliness in his sorrow. He bore a brave outside to all his - men, and to any stranger whom in these days he met about the run—to - his wife and sister also, and to the old woman at home. He forced upon - them all an idea that he was not only autocratic, but self-sufficient also—that - he wanted neither help nor sympathy. He never cried out in his pain, being - heartily ashamed even of the appeal which he had made to Medlicot. He - spoke aloud and laughed with the men, and never acknowledged that his - trials were almost too much for him. But he was painfully conscious of his - own weakness. He sometimes felt, when alone in the bush, that he would - fain get off his horse, and lie upon the ground and weep till he slept. It - was not that he trusted no one. He suspected no one with a positive - suspicion, except Nokes, and Medlicot as the supporter of Nokes. But he - had no one with whom he could converse freely—none whom he had not - been accustomed to treat as the mere ministers of his will—except - his wife and his wife’s sister; and now he was disjoined from them - by their sympathy with Medlicot! He had chosen to manage every thing - himself without contradiction and almost without counsel; but, like other - such imperious masters, he now found that when trouble came the privilege - of dictatorship brought with it an almost unsupportable burden. - </p> - <p> - Old Bates was an excellent man, of whose fidelity the young squatter was - quite assured. No one understood foot-rot better than Old Bates, or was - less sparing of himself in curing it. He was a second mother to all the - lambs, and when shearing came watched with the eyes of Argus to see that - the sheep were not wounded by the shearers, or the wool left on their - backs. But he had no conversation, none of that imagination which in such - a time as this might have assisted in devising safeguards, and but little - enthusiasm. Shepherds, so called, Harry kept none upon the run; and would - have felt himself insulted had any one suggested that he was so backward - in his ways as to employ men of that denomination. He had fenced his run, - and dispensed with shepherds and shepherding as old-fashioned and - unprofitable. He had two mounted men, whom he called boundary riders, one - an Irishman and the other a German—and them he trusted fully, the - German altogether, and the Irishman equally as regarded his honesty. But - he could not explain to them the thoughts that loaded his brain. He could - instigate them to eagerness; but he could not condescend to tell Karl - Bender, the German, that if his fences were destroyed neither his means - nor his credit would be sufficient to put them up again, and that if the - scanty herbage were burned off any large proportion of his run, he must - sell his flocks at a great sacrifice. Nor could he explain to Mickey O’Dowd, - the Irishman, that his peace of mind was destroyed by his fear of one man. - He had to bear it all alone. And there was heavy on him also the great - misery of feeling that every thing might depend on own exertions, and that - yet he did not know how or where to exert himself. When he had ridden - about all night and discovered nothing, he might just as well have been in - bed. And he was continually riding about all night and discovering - nothing. - </p> - <p> - After leaving the station on the evening of the day on which he had - expressed himself to the women so vehemently respecting Medlicot, he met - Bates coming home from his day’s work. It was then past eight o’clock, - and the old man was sitting wearily on his horse, with his head low down - between his shoulders, and the reins hardly held within his grasp. - </p> - <p> - “You’re late, Mr. Bates,” said Harry; “you take - too much out of yourself this hot weather.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got to move slower, Mr. Heathcote, as I grow older. That’s - about it. And the beast I’m on is not much good.” Now Mr. - Bates was always complaining of his horse, and yet was allowed to choose - any on the run for his own use. - </p> - <p> - “If you don’t like him, why don’t you take another?” - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t much difference in ’em, Mr. Heathcote. - Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. It’s - getting uncommon close shaving for them wethers in the new paddock. They’re - down upon the roots pretty well already.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s grass along the bush on the north side.” - </p> - <p> - “They won’t go there; it’s rank and sour. They won’t - feed up there as long as they can live lower down and nearer the water. - Weather like this, they’d sooner die near the water than travel to - fill their bellies. It’s about the hottest day we’ve had, and - the nights a’most hotter. Are you going to be out, Mr. Heathcote?” - </p> - <p> - “I think so.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s the good of it, Mr. Heathcote? There is no use in it. - Lord love you, what can yon do? You can’t be every side at once.” - </p> - <p> - “Fire can only travel with the wind, Mr. Bates.” - </p> - <p> - “And there isn’t any wind, and so there can’t be any - fire. I never did think, and I don’t think now, there ever was any - use in a man fashing himself as you fash yourself. You can’t alter - things, Mr. Heathcote.” - </p> - <p> - “But that’s just what I can do—what a man has to do. If - a match were thrown there at your feet, and the grass was aflame, couldn’t - you alter that by putting your foot on it? If you find a ewe on her back, - can’t you alter that by putting her on her legs?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I can do that, I suppose.” - </p> - <p> - “What does a man live for except to alter things? When a man clears - the forest and sows corn, does he not alter things?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s not your line, Mr. Heathcote,” said the cunning - old man. - </p> - <p> - “If I send wool to market, I alter things.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll excuse me, Mr. Heathcote. Of course I’m old, but - I just give you my experience.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m much obliged to you; though we can’t always agree, - you know. Good-night. Go in and say a word to my wife, and tell them you - saw me all right.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll have a crack with ’em, Mr. Heathcote, before I - turn in.” - </p> - <p> - “And tell Mary I sent my love.” - </p> - <p> - “I will, Mr. Heathcote; I will.” - </p> - <p> - He was thinking always of his wife during his solitary rides, and of her - fear and deep anxiety. It was for her sake and for the children that he - was so care-worn, not for his own. Had he been alone in the world he would - not have fretted himself in this fashion because of the malice of any man. - But how would it be with her should he be forced to move her from Gangoil? - And yet, with all his love, they had parted almost in anger. Surely she - would understand the tenderness of the message he had just sent her. - </p> - <p> - Of a sudden, as he was riding, he stopped his horse and listened - attentively. From a great distance there fell upon his accustomed ear a - sound which he recognized, though he was aware that the place from whence - it came was at least two miles distant. It was the thud of an axe against - a tree. He listened still, and was sure that it was so, and turned at once - toward the sound, though in doing so he left his course at a right angle. - He had been going directly away from the river, with his back to the - wool-shed; but now he changed his course, riding in the direction of the - spot at which Jacko had nearly fallen in jumping over the fence. As he - continued on, the sounds became plainer, till at last, reining in his - horse, he could see the form of the woodman, who was still at work ringing - the trees. This was a job which the man did by contract, receiving so much - an acre for the depopulation of the timber. It was now bright moonlight, - almost as clear as day—a very different night, indeed, from that on - which the rain had come—and Harry could see at a glance that it was - the man called Boscobel still at work. Now there were, as he thought, very - good reasons why Boscobel at the present moment should not be so employed. - Boscobel was receiving wages for work of another kind. - </p> - <p> - “Bos,” said the squatter, riding up, and addressing the man by - the customary abbreviation of his nickname, “I thought you were - watching at Brownbie’s boundary?” Boscobel lowered his axe, - and stood for a while contemplating the proposition made to him. “You - are drawing three shillings a night for watching; isn’t that so?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that’s so. Anyways, I shall draw it.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why ain’t you watching?” - </p> - <p> - “There’s nothing to watch that I knows on—not just now.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why should I pay you for it? I’m to pay you for ringing - these trees, ain’t I?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, Mr. Heathcote.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you’re to make double use of your time, and sell it - twice over, are you? Don’t try to look like a fool, as though you - didn’t understand. You know that what you’re doing isn’t - honest.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody ever said as I wasn’t honest before.” - </p> - <p> - “I tell you so now. You’re robbing me of the time you’ve - sold to me, and for which I’m to pay you.” - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t nothing to watch while the wind’s as it is - now, and that chap ain’t any where about to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “What chap?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I know. I’m all right. What’s the use of dawdling - about up there in the broad moonlight, and the wind like this?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s for me to judge. If you engage to do my work and take - my money, you’re swindling me when you go about another job as you - are now. You needn’t scratch your head. You understand it all as - well as I do.” - </p> - <p> - “I never was told I swindled before, and I ain’t a-going to - put up with it. You may ring your own trees, and watch your own fences, - and the whole place may be burned for me. I ain’t a-going to do - another turn in Gangoil. Swindle, indeed!” So Boscobel shouldered - his axe, and marched off through the forest, visible in the moonlight till - the trees hid him. - </p> - <p> - There was another enemy made! He had never felt quite sure of this man, - but had been glad to have him about the place as being thoroughly - efficient in his own business. It was only during the last ten days that - he had agreed to pay him for night-watching, leaving the man to do as much - additional day-work as he pleased—for which, of course, he would be - paid at the regular contract price. There was a double purpose intended in - this watching—as was well understood by all the hands employed: - first, that of preventing incendiary fire by the mere presence of the - watchers; and secondly, that of being at hand to extinguish fire in case - of need. Now a man ringing trees five or six miles away from the beat on - which he was stationed could not serve either of these purposes. Boscobel - therefore had been fraudulently at work for his own dishonest purposes, - and knew well that his employment was of that nature. All this was quite - clear to Heathcote; and it was clear to him, also, that when he detected - fraud he was bound to expose it. Had the man acknowledged his fault and - been submissive, there would have been an end of the matter. Heathcote - would have said no word about it to any one, and would not have stopped a - farthing from the week’s unearned wages. That he had to encounter a - certain amount of ill usage from the rough men about him, and to forgive - it, he could understand; but it could not be his duty, either as a man or - a master, to pass over dishonesty without noticing it. No; that he would - not do, though Gangoil should burn from end to end. He did not much mind - being robbed. He knew that to a certain extent he must endure to be - cheated. He would endure it. But he would never teach his men to think - that he passed over such matters because he was afraid of them, or that - dishonesty on their part was indifferent to him. - </p> - <p> - But now he had made another enemy—an enemy of a man who had declared - to him that he knew the movements of “that chap,” meaning - Nokes! How hard the world was! It seemed that all around were trouble to - him. He turned his horse back, and made again for the spot which was his - original destination. As he cantered on among the trees, twisting here and - there, and regulating his way by the stars, he asked himself whether it - would not be better for him to go home and lay himself down by his wife - and sleep, and await the worst that these men could do to him. This idea - was so strong upon him that at one spot he made his horse stop till he had - thought it all out. No one encouraged him in his work. Every one about the - place, friend or foe, Bates, his wife, Medlicot, and this Boscobel, spoke - to him as though he were fussy and fidgety in his anxiety. “If fires - must come, they will come; and if they are not to come, you are simply - losing your labor.” This was the upshot of all they said to him. Why - should he be wiser than they? If the ruin came, let it come. Old Bates had - been ruined, but still had enough to eat and drink, and clothes to wear, - and did not work half as hard as his employer. He thought that if he could - only find some one person who would sympathize with him and support him, - he would not mind. But the mental loneliness of his position almost broke - his heart. - </p> - <p> - Then there came across his mind the dim remembrance of certain old school - words, and he touched his horse with his spur and hurried onward: “Let - there be no steps backward.” A thought as to the manliness of - persevering, of the want of manliness in yielding to depression, came to - his rescue. Let him, at any rate, have the comfort of thinking that he had - done his best according to his lights. After some dim fashion, he did come - to recognize it as a fact that nothing could really support him but - self-approbation. Though he fell from his horse in utter weariness, he - would persevere. - </p> - <p> - As the night wore on he came to the German’s hut, and finding it - empty, as he expected, rode on to the outside fence of his run. When he - reached this he got off his horse, and taking a key out of his pocket, - whistled upon it loudly. A few minutes afterward the German came up to - him. - </p> - <p> - “There’s been no one about, I suppose?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Not a one,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve been across on Brownbie’s run?” - </p> - <p> - “We’re on it now, Mr. ‘Eathcote.” They were both - on the side of the fence away from Gangoil station. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know how that is, Karl. I think Gangoil goes a - quarter of a mile beyond this. But we did not quite strike the boundary - when we put up the fence.” - </p> - <p> - “Brownbie’s cattle is allays here, Mr. ‘Eathcote, and is - knocking down the fence every day. Brownbie is a rascal, and ‘is - cattle as bad as ‘isself.” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind that, Karl, now. When we’ve got through the heats, - we’ll put a mile or two of better fencing along here. You know - Boscobel?” - </p> - <p> - “In course I know Bos.” - </p> - <p> - “What sort of a fellow is he?” Then Harry told his German - dependent exactly what had taken place between him and the other man. - </p> - <p> - “He’s in and in wid all them young Brownbies,” said - Karl. - </p> - <p> - “The Brownbies are a bad lot, but I don’t think they’d - do any thing of this kind,” said Harry, whose mind was still - dwelling on the dangers of fire. - </p> - <p> - “They likes muttons, Mr. ‘Eathcote.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose they do take a sheep or two now and then. They wouldn’t - do worse than that, would they?” - </p> - <p> - “Not’ing too ‘ot for ’em; not’ing too - ‘eavy,” said Karl, smoking his pipe. “The vind, vat - there is, comes just here, Mr. ‘Eathcote.” And the man lifted - up his arm, and pointed across in the direction of Brownbie’s run. - </p> - <p> - “And you don’t think much of Boscobel?” - </p> - <p> - Karl Bender shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “He was always well treated here,” said Harry, “and has - had plenty of work, and earned large wages. The man will be a fool to - quarrel with me.” - </p> - <p> - Karl again shook his head. With Karl Bender, Harry was quite sure of his - man, but not on that account need he be quite sure of the correctness of - the man’s opinion. - </p> - <p> - Thence he went on till he met his other lieutenant, O’Dowd, and so, - having completed his work, he made his way home, reaching the station at - sunrise. - </p> - <p> - “Did Bates tell you he’d met me?” he asked his wife. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Harry; kiss me, Harry. I was so glad you sent a word. Promise - me, Harry, not to think that I don’t agree with you in every thing.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. — THE BROWNBIES OF BOOLABONG. - </h2> - <p> - Old Brownbie, as he was usually called, was a squatter also, but a - squatter of a class very different from that to which Heathcote belonged. - He had begun his life in the colonies a little under a cloud, having been - sent out from home after the perpetration of some peccadillo of which the - law had disapproved. - </p> - <p> - In colonial phrase, he was a “lag”—having been - transported; but this was many years ago, when he was quite young; and he - had now been a free man for more than thirty years. It must be owned on - his behalf that he had worked hard, had endeavored to rise, and had risen. - But there still stuck to him the savor of his old life. Every one knew - that he had been a convict; and even had he become a man of high principle—a - condition which he certainly never achieved—he could hardly have - escaped altogether from the thralldom of his degradation. He had been a - butcher, a drover, part owner of stock, and had at last become possessed - of a share of a cattle-run, and then of the entire property, such as it - was. He had four or five sons, uneducated, ill-conditioned, drunken - fellows, who had all their father’s faults without his energy, some - of whom had been in prison, and all of whom were known as pests to the - colony. Their place was called Boolabong, and was a cattle-run, as - distinguished from a sheep-run; but it was a poor place, was sometimes - altogether unstocked, and was supposed to be not unfrequently used as a - receptable for stolen cattle. - </p> - <p> - The tricks which the Brownbies played with cattle were notorious - throughout Queensland and New South Wales, and by a certain class of men - were much admired. They would drive a few head of cattle, perhaps forty or - fifty, for miles around the country, across one station and another, - traveling many hundreds of miles, and here and there, as they passed - along, they would sweep into their own herd the bullocks of the victims - whose lands they passed. If detected on the spot, they gave up their prey. - They were in the right in moving their own cattle, and were not - responsible for the erratic tendencies of other animals. If successful, - they either sold their stolen beasts to butchers on the road, or got them - home to Boolabong. There were dangers, of course, and occasional - penalties. But there was much success. It was supposed, also, that though - they did not own sheep, they preferred mutton for their daily uses, and - that they supplied themselves at a very cheap rate. - </p> - <p> - It may be imagined how such a family would be hated by the respectable - squatters on whom they preyed. Still there were men, old stagers, who had - know Moreton Bay before it was a colony—in the old days when - convicts were common—who almost regarded the Brownbies as a part of - the common order of things, and who were indisposed to persecute them. Men - must live; and what were a few sheep? Of some such it might be said, that - though they were above the arts by which the Brownbies lived, they were - not very scrupulous themselves; and it perhaps served them to have within - their ken neighbours whose morality was lower even than their own. But to - such a one as Harry Heathcote the Brownbies were utterly abominable. He - was for the law and justice at any cost. To his thinking, the Colonial - Government was grossly at fault, because it did not weed out and extirpate - not only the identical Brownbies, but all Brownbieism wherever it might be - found. A dishonest workman was a great evil, but, to his thinking, a - dishonest man in the position of master was the incarnation of evil. As to - the difficulties of evidence, and obstacles of that nature, Harry - Heathcote knew nothing. The Brownbies were rascals, and should therefore - be exterminated. - </p> - <p> - And the Brownbies knew well the estimation in which their neighbour held - them. Harry had made himself altogether disagreeable to them. They were - squatters as well as he—or at least so they termed themselves; and - though they would not have expected to be admitted to home intimacies, - they thought that when they were met out-of-doors or in public places, - they should be treated with some respect. On such occasions Harry treated - them as though they were dirt beneath his feet. The Brownbies would be - found, whenever a little money came among them, at the public - billiard-rooms and race-courses within one hundred and fifty miles of - Boolabong. At such places Harry Heathcote was never seen. It would have - been as easy to seduce the Bishop of Brisbane into a bet as Harry - Heathcote. He had never even drank a nobbler with one of the Brownbies. To - their thinking, he was a proud, stuck-up, unsocial young cub, whom to rob - was a pleasure, and to ruin would be a delight. - </p> - <p> - The old man at Boolabong was now almost obsolete. Property, that he could - keep in his grasp, there was in truth none. He was the tenant of the run - under the Crown, and his sons would not turn him out of the house. The - cattle, when there were cattle, belonged to them. They were in no respect - subject to his orders, and he would have had a bad life among them were it - not that they quarreled among themselves, and that in such quarrels he - could belong to one party or to the other. The house itself was a wretched - place—out of order, with doors and windows and floors shattered, - broken, and decayed. There were none of womankind belonging to the family, - and in such a house a decent woman-servant would have been out of her - place. Sometimes there was one hag there and sometimes another, and - sometimes feminine aid less respectable than that of the hags. There had - been six sons. One had disappeared utterly, so that nothing was known of - him. One had been absolutely expelled by the brethren, and was now a - vagabond in the country, turning up now and then at Boolabong and - demanding food. Of the whole lot Georgie Brownbie, the vagabond, was the - worst. The eldest son was at this time in prison at Brisbane, having on - some late occasion been less successful than usual in regard to some - acquired bullocks. The three youngest were at home—Jerry, Jack, and - Joe. Tom, who was in prison, was the only stanch friend to the father, who - consequently at this time was in a more than usually depressed condition. - </p> - <p> - Christmas-day would fall on a Tuesday, and on the Monday before it Jerry - Brownbie, the eldest of those now at home, was sitting, with a pipe in his - mouth, on a broken-down stool on the broken-down veranda of the house, and - the old man was seated on a stuffy, worn-out sofa with three legs, which - was propped against the wall of the house, and had not been moved for - years. Old Brownbie was a man of gigantic frame, and had possessed immense - personal power—a man, too, of will and energy; but he was now worn - out and dropsical, and could not move beyond the confines of the home - station. The veranda was attached to a big room which ran nearly the whole - length of the house, and which was now used for all purposes. There was an - exterior kitchen, in which certain processes were carried on—such as - salting stolen mutton and boiling huge masses of meat, when such work was - needed. But the cookery was generally done in the big room. And here also - two or three of the sons slept on beds made upon stretchers along the - wall. They were not probably very particular as to which owned each bed, - enjoying a fraternal communism in that respect. At the end of this chamber - the old man had a room of his own. Boolabong was certainly a miserable - place; and yet, such as it was, it was frequented by many guests. The - vagabondism of the colonies is proverbial. Vagabonds are taken in almost - every where throughout the bush. But the welcome given to them varies. - Sometimes they are made to work before they are fed—to their - infinite disgust. But no such cruelty was exercised at Boolabong. - Boolabong was a very Paradise for vagabonds. There was always flour and - meat to be had, generally tobacco, and sometimes even the luxury of a - nobbler. The Brownbies were wise enough to have learned that it was - necessary for their very existence that they should have friends in the - land. On the Sunday the father and Jerry Brownbie were sitting out in the - veranda at about noon, and the other two sons, Jack and Joe, were lying - asleep on the beds within. - </p> - <p> - The heat of the day was intense. There was a wind blowing, but it was that - which is called there the hot wind, which comes dry, scorching, sometimes - almost intolerable, over the burning central plain of the country. No one - can understand without feeling it how much a wind can add to the - sufferings inflicted by heat. The old man had on a dirty, wretched remnant - of a dressing-gown, but Jerry was clothed simply in trowsers and an old - shirt. Only that the mosquitoes would have flayed him, he would have - dispensed probably with these. He had been quarreling with his father - respecting a certain horse which he had sold, of the price of which the - father demanded a share. Jerry had unblushingly declared that he himself - had “shaken” the horse—Anglice, had stolen him—twelve - months since on Darnley Downs, and was therefore clearly entitled to the - entire plunder. The father had rejoined with animation that unless “half - a quid”—or ten shillings—were given him as his - contribution to the keep of the animal, he would inform against his son to - the squatter on the Darnley Downs, and had shown him that he knew the very - run from which the horse had been taken. Then the sons within had - interfered from their beds, swearing that their father was the noisiest - old “cuss” unhung, they having had their necessary slumbers - disturbed. - </p> - <p> - At this moment the debate was interrupted by the appearance of a man - outside the veranda. “Well, Mr. Jerry, how goes it?” asked the - stranger. “What, Bos, is that you? What brings you up to Boolabong? - I thought you was ringing trees for that young scut at Gangoil? I’ll - be even with him some of these days! He had the impudence to send a man of - his up here last week looking for sheep-skins.” - </p> - <p> - “He wasn’t that soft, Mr. Jerry, was he? Well, I’ve - dropped working for him.—How are you, Mr. Brownbie? I hope I see you - finely, Sir. It’s stiffish sort of weather, Mr. Brownbie, ain’t - it, Sir?” - </p> - <p> - The old man grunted out some reply, and then asked Boscobel what he - wanted. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll just hang about for the day, Mr. Brownbie, and get a - little grub. You never begrudged a working-man that yet.” - </p> - <p> - Old Brownbie again grunted, but said no word of welcome. That, however, - was to be taken for granted, without much expression of opinion. - </p> - <p> - “No, Mr. Jerry,” continued Boscobel, “I’ve done - with that fellow.” - </p> - <p> - “And so has Nokes done with him.” - </p> - <p> - “Nokes is at work on Medlicot’s Mill. That sugar business - wouldn’t suit me.” - </p> - <p> - “An axe in your hand is what you’re fit for, Bos.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s a many things I can turn my hand to, Mr. Jerry. You - couldn’t give a fellow such a thing as a nobbler, Mr. Jerry, could - you? I’d offer money for it, only I know it would be taken amiss. It’s - that hot that a fellow’s very in’ards get parched up.” - </p> - <p> - Upon this Jerry slowly rose, and going to a cupboard, brought forth a - modicum of spirits, which he called Battle-Axe, but which was supposed to - be brandy. This Boscobel swallowed at a gulp, and then washed it down with - a little water. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Jerry,” said the old man, somewhat relenting in his - wrath, “you might as well give us a drop, as it’s going about.” - The two brothers, who had now been thoroughly aroused from their sleep, - and who had heard the enticing sound of the spirit bottle, joined the - party, and so they drank all round. - </p> - <p> - “Heathcote’s in an awful state about them fires, ain’t - he?” asked Jerry. - </p> - <p> - Boscobel, who had squatted down on the veranda, and was now lighting his - pipe, bobbed his head. - </p> - <p> - “I wish he was clean burned out—over head and ears,” - said Jerry. - </p> - <p> - Boscobel bobbed his head again, sucking with great energy at the closely - staffed pipe. - </p> - <p> - “If he treated me like he does you fellows,” continued Jerry, - “he shouldn’t have a yard of fencing or a blade of grass left—nor - a ewe, nor a lamb, nor a hogget. I do hate fellows who come here and want - to be better than any one about ’em—young chaps especially. - Sending up here to look for sheep-skins, cuss his impudence! I sent that - German fellow of his away with a flea in his ear.” - </p> - <p> - “Karl Bender?” - </p> - <p> - “It’s some such name as that.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s all in all with the young squire,” said Boscobel. - “And there’s a chap there called Jacko—he’s - another. He gets ’em down there to Gangoil, and the ladies talks to - ’em, and then they’d go through fire and water for him. There’s - Mickey—he’s another, jist the same way. I don’t like - them ways, myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Too much of master and man about it, ain’t there, Bos?” - </p> - <p> - “Just that, Mr. Jerry. That ain’t my idea of a free country. I - can work as well as another, but I ain’t going to be told that I’m - a swindler because I’m making the most of my time.” - </p> - <p> - “He turned Nokes out by the scruff of his neck?” said Jerry. - Boscobel again bobbed his head. “I didn’t think Nokes was the - sort of fellow to stand that.” - </p> - <p> - “No more he ain’t,” said Boscobel. - </p> - <p> - “Heathcote’s a good plucked un all the same,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “It’s like you to speak up for such a fellow is that,” - said Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “I say he’s a good plucked un. I’m not standing up for - him. Nokes is half a stone heavier than him, and ought to have knocked him - over. That’s what you’d’ve done, wouldn’t you, - Bos? I know I would.” - </p> - <p> - “He’d ‘ve had my axe at his head,” said Boscobel. - </p> - <p> - “We all know Joe’s game to the backbone,” said Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “I’m game enough for you, anyway,” said the brother. - “And you can try it out any time you like.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s right; fight like dogs, do,” said the old man. - </p> - <p> - The quarrel at this point was interrupted by the arrival of another man, - who crept up round the corner on to the veranda exactly as Boscobel had - done. This was Nokes, of whom they had that moment been speaking. There - was silence for a few moments among them, as though they feared that he - might have heard them, and Nokes stood hanging his head as though half - ashamed of himself. Then they gave him the same kind of greeting as the - other men had received. Nobody told him that he was welcome, but the - spirit jar was again brought into use, Jerry measuring out the liquor, and - it was understood that Nokes was to stay there and get his food. He too - gave some account of himself, which was supposed to suffice, but which - they all knew to be false. It was Sunday, and they were off work at the - sugar-mill. He had come across Gangoil run, intending to take back with - him things of his own which he had left as Bender’s hut, and having - come so far, had thought that he would come on and get his dinner at - Boolabong. As this was being told, a good deal was said of Harry - Heathcote. Nokes declared that he had come right across Gangoil, and - explained that he would not have been at all sorry to meet Master - Heathcote in the bush. Master Heathcote had had his own way up at the - station when he was backed by a lot of his own hands; but a good time was - coming, perhaps. Then Nokes gave it to be understood very plainly that it - was the settled practice of his life to give Harry Heathcote a thrashing. - During all this there was an immense amount of bad language, and a large - portion of the art which in the colony is called “blowing.” - Jerry, Boscobel, and Nokes all boasted, each that on the first occasion he - would give Harry Heathcote such a beating that a whole bone should hardly - be left in the man’s skin. - </p> - <p> - “There isn’t one of you man enough to touch him,” said - Joe, who was known as the freest fighter of the Brownbie family. - </p> - <p> - “And you’d eat him, I suppose,” said Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “He’s not likely to come in my way,” said Joe; “but - if he does, he’ll get as good as he brings. That’s all.” - </p> - <p> - This was unpleasant to the visitors, who, of course, felt themselves to be - snubbed. Boscobel affected to hear the slight put upon his courage with - good humor, but Nokes laid himself down in a corner and sulked. They were - soon all asleep, and remained dozing, snoring, changing their - uncomfortable positions, and cursing the mosquitoes, till about four in - the afternoon, when Boscobel got up, shook himself, and made some - observation about “grub.” The meal of the day was then - prepared. A certain quantity of flour and raw meat, ample for their - immediate wants, was given to the two strangers, with which they retired - into the outer kitchen, prepared it for themselves, and there ate their - dinner, and each of the brothers did the same for himself in the big room—Joe, - the fighting brother, providing for his father’s wants as well as - his own. One of them had half a leg of cold mutton, so that he was saved - the trouble of cooking, but he did not offer to share this comfort with - the others. An enormous kettle of tea was made, and that was common among - them. While this was being consumed, Boscobel put his head into the room, - and suggested that he and his mate wanted a drink. Whereupon Jerry, - without a word, pointed to the kettle, and Boscobel was allowed to fill - two pannikins. Such was the welcome which was always accorded to strangers - in Boolabong. - </p> - <p> - After their meal the men came back on to the veranda, and there were more - smoking and sleeping, more boasting and snarling. Different allusions were - made to the spirit jar, especially by the old man; but they were made in - vain. The “Battle-Axe” was Jerry’s own property, and he - felt that he had already been almost foolishly liberal. But he had an - object in view. He was quite sure that Boscobel and Nokes had not come to - Boolabong on the same Sunday by any chance coincidence. The men had - something to propose, and in their own way they would make the proposition - before they left, and would make it probably to him. Boscobel intended to - sleep at Boolabong, but Nokes had explained that it was his purpose to - return that night to Medlicot’s Mill. The proposition no doubt would - be made soon—a little after seven, when the day was preparing to - give way suddenly to night. Nokes first walked off, sloping out from the - veranda in a half-shy, half-cunning manner, looking nowhither, and saying - a word to no one. Quickly after him Boscobel jumped up suddenly, hitched - up his trowsers, and followed the first man. At about a similar interval - Jerry passed out through the big room to the yard at the back, and from - the yard to a shed that was used as a shambles. Here he found the other - two men, and no doubt the proposition was made. - </p> - <p> - “There’s something up,” said the old man, as soon as - Jerry was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Of course there’s something up,” said Joe. “Those - fellows didn’t come all the way to Boolabong for nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s something about young Heathcote,” suggested the - father. - </p> - <p> - “If it is,” said Jack, “what’s that to you?” - </p> - <p> - “They’ll get themselves hanged, that’s all about it.” - </p> - <p> - “That be blowed,” said Jack; “you go easy and hold your - tongue. If you know nothing, nobody can hurt you.” - </p> - <p> - “I know nothing,” said Joe, “and don’t mean. If I - had scores to quit with a fellow like Harry Heathcote, I should do it - after my own fashion. I shouldn’t get Boscobel to help me, nor yet - such a fellow as Nokes. But it’s no business of mine. Heathcote’s - made the place too hot to hold him. That’s all about it.” - There was no more said, and in an hour’s time Jerry returned, to the - family. Neither the father nor brother asked him any questions, nor did he - volunteer any information. - </p> - <p> - Boolabong was about fourteen miles from Medlicot’s Mill. Nokes had - walked this distance in the morning, and now retraced it at night—not - going right across Gangoil, as he had falsely boasted of doing early in - the day, but skirting it, and keeping on the outside of the fence nearly - the whole distance. At about two in the morning he reached his cottage - outside the mill on the river-bank; but he was unable to skulk in unheard. - Some dogs made a noise, and presently he heard a voice calling him from - the house. “Is that you, Nokes, at this time of night?” asked - Mr. Medlicot. Nokes grunted out some reply, intending to avoid any further - question. But his master came up to the hut door and asked him where he - had been. - </p> - <p> - “Just amusing myself,” said Nokes. - </p> - <p> - “It’s very late.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s not later for me than for you, Mr. Medlicot.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s true. I’ve just ridden home from - </p> - <p> - “From Gangoil? I didn’t know you were so friendly there, Mr. - Medlicot.” - </p> - <p> - “And where have you been?” - </p> - <p> - “Not to Gangoil, anyway. Good-night, Mr. Medlicot.” Then the - man took himself into his hut, and was safe from further questioning that - night. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. — “I WISH YOU’D LIKE ME.” - </h2> - <p> - All the Saturday night Heathcote had been on the run, and he did not - return home to bed till nearly dawn on the Sunday morning. At about noon - prayers were read out on the veranda, the congregation consisting of Mrs. - Heathcote and her sister, Mrs. Growler, and Jacko. Harry himself was - rather averse to this performance, intimating that Mrs. Growler, if she - were so minded, could read the prayers for herself in the kitchen, and - that, as regarded Jacko, they would be altogether thrown away. But his - wife had made a point of maintaining the practice, and he had of course - yielded. The service was not long, and when it was over Harry got into a - chair and was soon asleep. He had been in the saddle during sixteen hours - of the previous day and night, and was entitled to be fatigued. His wife - sat beside him, every now and again protecting him from the flies, while - Kate Daly sat by with her Bible in her hand. But she, too, from time to - time, was watching her brother-in-law. The trouble of his spirits and the - work that he felt himself bound to do touched them with a strong feeling, - and taught them to regard him for the time as a young hero. - </p> - <p> - “How quietly he sleeps!” Kate said. “The fatigue of the - last week must have been terrible.” - </p> - <p> - “He is quite, quite knocked up,” said the wife. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t knocked up a bit,” said Harry, jumping up from - his chair. “What should knock me up? I wasn’t asleep, was I?” - </p> - <p> - “Just dozing, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, well; there isn’t any thing to do, and it’s too hot - to get out. I wonder Old Bates didn’t come in for prayers.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think he cares much for prayers,” said Mrs. - Heathcote. - </p> - <p> - “But he likes an excuse for a nobbler as well as any one. Did I tell - you that they had fires over at Jackson’s yesterday—at - Goolaroo?” - </p> - <p> - “Was there any harm done?” - </p> - <p> - “A deal of grass burned, and they had to drive the sheep, which won’t - serve them this kind of weather. I don’t know which I fear most—the - grass, the fences, or the sheep. As for the buildings, I don’t think - they’ll try that again.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not, Harry?” - </p> - <p> - “The risk of being seen is too great. I can hardly understand that a - man like Nokes should have been such a fool as he was.” - </p> - <p> - “You think it was Nokes?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, certainly. In the first place, Jacko is as true as steel. I - don’t mean to swear by the boy, though I think he is a good boy. But - I’m sure he’s true in this. And then the man’s manner to - myself was conclusive. I can not understand a man in Medlicot’s - position supporting a fellow like that. By Heavens! it nearly drives me - mad to think of it. Thousands and thousands of pounds are at stake. All - that a man has in the world is exposed to the malice of a scoundrel like - Nokes! And then a man who calls himself a gentleman will talk about it - being un-English to look after him. He’s a ‘new chum;’ I - suppose that’s his excuse.” - </p> - <p> - “If it’s a sufficient excuse, you should excuse him,” - said Kate, with good feminine logic. - </p> - <p> - “That’s just like you all over. He’s good-looking, and - therefore it’s all right. He ought to have learned better. He ought, - at any rate, to believe that men who have been here much longer than he - has must know the ways of the country a great deal better.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s Christmas-time, Harry,” said his wife, “and - you should endeavor to forgive your neighbors.” - </p> - <p> - “What sort of a Christmas will it be if you and I, and these young - fellows here, and Kate, are all burned out of Gangoil? Here’s Bates.—Well, - Mr. Bates, how goes it?” - </p> - <p> - “Tremendous hot, Sir.” - </p> - <p> - “We’ve found that out already. You haven’t heard where - that fellow Boscobel has gone?” - </p> - <p> - “No; I haven’t heard. But he’ll be over with some of - those Brownbie lads. They say Georgie Brownbie’s about the country - somewhere. If so, there’ll be a row among ’em.” - </p> - <p> - “When thieves fall out, Mr. Bates, honest men come by their own.” - </p> - <p> - “So they say, Mr. Heathcote. All the same, I shouldn’t care - how far Georgie was away from any place I had to do with.” Then the - young master and his old superintendent sauntered out to his back premises - to talk about sheep and fires, and plans for putting out fires. And no - doubt Mr. Bates had the glass of brandy-and-water which he had come to - regard as one of his Sunday luxuries. From the back premises they went - down to the creek to gauge the water. Then they sauntered on, keeping - always in the shade, sitting down here to smoke, and standing up there to - discuss the pedigree of some particular ram, till it was past six. - </p> - <p> - “You may as well come in and dine with us, Mr. Bates,” Harry - suggested, as they returned toward the station. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Bates said that he thought that he would. As the same invitation was - given on almost every Sunday throughout the year, and was invariably - answered in the same way, there was not much excitement in this. But Mr. - Bates would not have dreamed of going in to dinner without being asked. - </p> - <p> - “That’s Medlicot’s trap,” said Mr. Bates, as they - entered the yard. “I heard wheels when they were in the horse - paddock.” - </p> - <p> - Harry looked at the trap, and then went quickly into the house. - </p> - <p> - He walked with a rapid step onto the veranda, and there he found the sugar - grower and his mother. Mrs. Heathcote looked at her husband almost - timidly. She knew from the very sound of his feet that he was perturbed in - spirit. Under his own roof-tree he would certainly be courteous; but there - is a constrained courtesy very hard to be borne, of which she knew him to - be capable. He first went up to the old lady, and to her his greeting was - pleasant enough. Harry Heathcote, though he had assumed the bush mode of - dressing, still retained the manners of a high-bred gentleman in his - intercourse with women. Then, turning sharply round, he gave his hand to - Mr. Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “I am glad to see you at Gangoil,” he said; “I was not - fortunate enough to be at home when you called the other day. Mrs. - Medlicot must have found the drive very hot, I fear.” - </p> - <p> - His wife was still looking into his face, and was reading there, as in a - book, the mingled pride and disdain with which her husband exercising - civility to his enemy. Harry’s countenance wore a look not difficult - of perusal, and Medlicot could read the lines almost as distinctly as - Harry’s wife. - </p> - <p> - “I have asked Mrs. Medlicot to stay and dine with us,” she - said, “so that she may have it cool for the drive back.” - </p> - <p> - “I am almost afraid of the bush at night,” said the old woman. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll have a full moon,” said Harry; “it will be - as light as day.” So that was settled. Heathcote thought it odd that - the man whom he regarded as his enemy, whom he had left at their last - meeting in positive hostility, should consent to accept a dinner under his - roof; but that was Medlicot’s affair, not his. - </p> - <p> - They dined at seven, and after dinner strolled out into the horse paddock, - and down to the creek. As they started, the three men went first, and the - ladies followed them; but Bates soon dropped behind. It was his rest day, - and he had already moved quite as much as was usual with him on a Sunday. - </p> - <p> - “I think I was a little hard with you the other day,” said - Medlicot, when they were alone together. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose we hardly understand each other’s ideas,” - said Harry. He spoke with a constrained voice, and with an almost savage - manner, engendered by a determination to hold his own. He would forgive - any offense for which an apology was made, but no apology had been made as - yet; and, to tell the truth, he was a little afraid that if they got into - an argument on the matter Medlicot would have the best of it. And there - was, too, almost a claim to superiority in Medlicot’s use of the - word “hard.” When one man says that he has been hard to - another, he almost boasts that, on that occasion, he got the better of - him. - </p> - <p> - “That’s just it,” said Medlicot; “we do not quite - understand each other. But we might believe in each other all the same, - and then the understanding would come. But it isn’t just that which - I want to say; such talking rarely does any good.” - </p> - <p> - “What is it, then?” - </p> - <p> - “You may perhaps be right about that man Nokes.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt I may. I know I’m right. When I asked him whether he’d - been at my shed, what made him say that he hadn’t been there at - night-time? I said nothing about night-time. But the man was there at - night-time, or he wouldn’t have used the word.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m not sure that that is evidence.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps not in England, Mr. Medlicot, but it’s good enough - evidence for the bush. And what made him pretend he didn’t know the - distances? And why can’t he look a man in the face? And why should - the boy have said it was he if it wasn’t? Of course, if you think - well of him you’re right to keep him. But you may take it as a rule - out here that when a man has been dismissed it hasn’t been done for - nothing. Men treated that way should travel out of the country. It’s - better for all parties. It isn’t here as it is at home, where people - live so thick together that nothing is thought of a man being dismissed. I - was obliged to discharge him, and now he’s my enemy.” - </p> - <p> - “A man may be your enemy without being a felon.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course he may. I’m his enemy in a way, but I wouldn’t - hurt a hair of his head unjustly. When I see the attempts made to burn me - out, of course I know that an enemy has been at work.” - </p> - <p> - “Is there no one else has got a grudge against you?” - </p> - <p> - Harry was silent for a moment. What right had this man to cross-examine - him about his enmities—the man whose own position in the place had - been one of hostility to him, whom he had almost suspected of harboring - Nokes at the mill simply because Nokes had been dismissed from Gangoil? - That suspicion was, indeed, fading away. There was something in Medlicot’s - voice and manner which made it impossible to attribute such motives to - him. Nevertheless the man was a free-selector, and had taken a bit of the - Gangoil run after a fashion which to Heathcote was objectionable - politically, morally, and socially. Let Medlicot in regard to character be - what he might, he was a free-selector, and a squatter’s enemy, and - had clinched his hostility by employing a servant dismissed from the very - run out of which he had bought his land. “It is hard to say,” - he replied at length, “who have grudges, as against whom, or why. I - suppose I have a great grudge against you, if the truth is to be known; - but I sha’n’t burn down your mill.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m sure you won’t.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor yet say worse of you behind your back than I will to your face.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want you to think that you have occasion to speak ill - of me, either one way or the other. What I mean is this—I don’t - quite think that the evidence against Nokes is strong enough to justify me - in sending him away; but I’ll keep an eye on him as well as I can. - It seems that he left our place early this morning; but the men are not - supposed to be there on Sundays, and of course he does as he pleases with - himself.” - </p> - <p> - The conversation then dropped, and in a little time Harry made some excuse - for leaving them, and returned to the house alone, promising, however, - that he would not start for his night’s ride till after the party - had come back to the station. “There is no hurry at all,” he - said; “I shan’t stir for two hours yet, but Mickey will be - waiting there for stores for himself and the German.” - </p> - <p> - “That means a nobbler for Mickey,” said Kate. “Either of - those men would think it a treat to ride ten miles in and ten miles back, - with a horse-load of sugar and tea and flour, for the sake of a glass of - brandy-and-water.” - </p> - <p> - “And so would you,” said Harry, “if you lived in a hut - by yourself for a fortnight, with nothing to drink but tea without milk.” - </p> - <p> - The old lady and Mrs. Heathcote were soon seated on the grass, while - Medlicot and Kate Daly roamed on together. Kate was a pretty, modest girl, - timid withal and shy, unused to society, and therefore awkward, but with - the natural instincts and aptitudes of her sex. What the glass of - brandy-and-water was to Mickey O’Dowd after a fortnight’s - solitude in a bush hut, with tea, dampers, and lumps of mutton, a young - man in the guise of a gentleman was to poor Kate Daly. A brother-in-law, - let him be ever so good, is after all no better than tea without milk. No - doubt Mickey O’Dowd often thought about a nobbler in his thirsty - solitude, and so did Kate speculate on what might possibly be the - attractions of a lover. Medlicot probably indulged in no such - speculations; but the nobbler, when brought close to his lips, was - grateful to him as to others. That Kate Daly was very pretty no man could - doubt. - </p> - <p> - “Isn’t it sad that he should have to ride about all night like - that?” said Kate, to whom, as was proper, Harry Heathcote at the - present moment was of more importance than any other human being. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose he likes it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh no, Mr. Medlicot; how can he like it? It is not the hard work he - minds, but the constant dread of coming evil.” - </p> - <p> - “The excitement keeps him alive.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s plenty on a station to keep a man alive in that way - at all times.” - </p> - <p> - “And plenty to keep ladies alive too?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, ladies! I don’t know that ladies have any business in the - bush. Harry’s trouble is all about my sister and the children and - me. He wouldn’t care a straw for himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you think he’d be better without a wife?” - </p> - <p> - Kate hesitated for a moment. “Well, no. I suppose it would be very - rough without Mary; and he’d be so lonely when he came in.” - </p> - <p> - “And nobody to make his tea.” - </p> - <p> - “Or to look after his things,” said Kate, earnestly. “I - know it was very rough before we came here. He says that himself. There - were no regular meals, but just food in a cupboard when he chose to get - it.” - </p> - <p> - “That is not comfortable, certainly.” - </p> - <p> - “Horrid, I should think. I suppose it is better for him to be - married. You’ve got your mother, Mr. Medlicot.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes: I’ve got my mother.” - </p> - <p> - “That makes a difference, does it not?” - </p> - <p> - “A very great difference. She’ll save me from having to go to - a cupboard for my bread and meat.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose having a woman about is better for a man. They haven’t - got any thing else to do, and therefore they can look to things.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you help to look to things?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose I do something. I often feel ashamed to think how very - little it is. As for that, I’m not wanted at all.” - </p> - <p> - “So that you’re free to go elsewhere?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t mean that, Mr. Medlicot; only I know I’m not - of much use.” - </p> - <p> - “But if you had a house of your own?” - </p> - <p> - “Gangoil is my home just as much as it is Mary’s; and I - sometimes feel that Harry is just as good to me as he is to Mary.” - </p> - <p> - “Your sister will never leave Gangoil.” - </p> - <p> - “Not unless Harry gets another station.” - </p> - <p> - “But you will have to be transplanted some day.” - </p> - <p> - Kate merely chucked up her head and pouted her lips, as though to show - that the proposition was one which did not deserve an answer. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll marry a squatter, of course, Miss Daly?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t suppose I shall ever marry any body, Mr. Medlicot.” - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn’t marry any one but a squatter? I can quite - understand that. The squatters here are what the lords and the country - gentlemen are at home.” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t even picture to myself what sort of life people live - at home.” Both Medlicot and Kate Daly meant England when they spoke - of home. - </p> - <p> - “There isn’t so much difference as people think. Classes hang - together just in the same way; only I think there’s a little more - exclusiveness here than there was there.” - </p> - <p> - In answer to this, Kate asserted with innocent eagerness that she was not - at all exclusive, and that if ever she married any one she’d marry - the man she liked. - </p> - <p> - “I wish you’d like me,” said Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “That’s nonsense,” said Kate, in a low, timid whisper, - hurrying away to rejoin the other ladies. She could speculate on the - delights of the beverage as would Mickey O’Dowd in his hut; but when - it was first brought to her lips she could only fly away from it. In this - respect Mickey O’Dowd was the more sensible of the two. No other - word was spoken that night between them, but Kate lay awake till morning - thinking of the one word that had been spoken. But the secret was kept - sacredly within her own bosom. - </p> - <p> - Before the Medlicots started that night the old lady made a proposition - that the Heathcotes and Miss Daly should eat the Christmas dinner at - Medlicot’s Mill. Mrs. Heathcote, thinking perhaps of her sister, - thoroughly liking what she herself had seen of the Medlicots, looked - anxiously into Harry’s face. If he would consent to this, an - intimacy would follow, and probably a real friendship be made. - </p> - <p> - “It’s out of the question,” he said. The very firmness, - however, with which he spoke gave a certain cordiality even to his - refusal. “I must be at home, so that the men may know where to find - me till I go out for the night.” Then, after a pause, he continued, - “As we can’t go to you, why should you not come to us?” - </p> - <p> - So it was at last decided, much to Harry’s own astonishment, much to - his wife’s delight. Kate, therefore, when she lay awake, thinking of - the one word that had been spoken, knew that there would be an opportunity - for another word. - </p> - <p> - Medlicot drove his mother home safely, and, after he had taken her into - the house, encountered Nokes on his return from Boolabong, as has been - told at the close of the last chapter. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. — “I DO WISH HE WOULD COME!” - </h2> - <p> - On the Monday morning Harry came home as usual, and, as usual, went to bed - after his breakfast. “I wouldn’t care about the heat if it - were not for the wind,” he said to his wife, as he threw himself - down. - </p> - <p> - “The wind carries it so, I suppose.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; and it comes from just the wrong side—from the - northwest. There have been half a dozen fires about to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “During the night, you mean.” - </p> - <p> - “No; yesterday—Sunday. I can not make out whether they come by - themselves. They certainly are not all made by incendiaries.” - </p> - <p> - “Accidents, perhaps.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, yes. Somebody drops a match, and the sun ignites it. But the - chances are much against a fire like that spreading. Care is wanted to - make it spread. As far as I can learn, the worst fires have not been just - after midday, when, of course, the heat is greater, but in the early - night, before the dews have come. All the same, I feel that I know nothing - about it—nothing at all. Don’t let me sleep long.” - </p> - <p> - In spite of this injunction, Mrs. Heathcote determined that he should - sleep all day if he would. Even the nights were fearfully hot and sultry, - and on this Monday morning he had come home much fatigued. He would be out - again at sunset, and now he should have what rest nature would allow him. - But in this resolve she was opposed by Jacko, who came in at eleven, and - requested to see the master. Jacko had been over with the German; and, as - he explained to Mrs. Heathcote, they two had been in and out, sometimes - sleeping and sometimes watching. But now he wanted to see the master, and - under no persuasion would impart his information to the mistress. The poor - wife, anxious as she was that her husband should sleep, did not dare in - these perilous times to ignore Jacko and his information, and therefore - gently woke the sleeper. In a few minutes Jacko was standing by the young - squatter’s bedside, and Harry Heathcote, quite awake, was sitting up - and listening. “George Brownbie’s at Boolabong.” That at - first was the gravamen of Jacko’s news. - </p> - <p> - “I know that already, Jacko.” - </p> - <p> - “My word!” exclaimed Jacko. In those parts Georgie Brownbie - was regarded almost as the Evil One himself, and Jacko, knowing what - mischief was, as it were, in the word, thought that he was entitled to - bread and jam, if not to a nobbler itself, in bringing such tidings to - Gangoil. - </p> - <p> - “Is that all?” asked Heathcote. - </p> - <p> - “And Bos is at Boolabong, and Bill Nokes was there all Sunday, and - Jerry Brownbie’s been out with Bos and Georgie.” - </p> - <p> - “The old man wouldn’t say any thing of that kind, Jacko.” - </p> - <p> - “The old man! He knows nothing about it. My word! they don’t - tell him about nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “Or Tom?” - </p> - <p> - “Tom’s away in prison. They always cotches the best when they - want to send ’em to prison. If they’d lock up Jerry and - Georgie and Jack! My word! yes.” - </p> - <p> - “You think they’re arranging it all at Boolabong?” - </p> - <p> - “In course they are.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t see why Boscobel shouldn’t be at Boolabong - without intending me any harm. Of course he’d go there when he left - Gangoil. That’s where they all go.” - </p> - <p> - “And Bill Nokes, Mr. Harry?” - </p> - <p> - “And Bill Nokes too. Though why he should travel so far from his - work this weather I can’t say.” - </p> - <p> - “My word! no, Mr. Harry.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you see any fires about your way last night?” - </p> - <p> - Jacko shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “You go into the kitchen and get something to eat, and wait for me. - I shall be out before long now.” - </p> - <p> - Though Heathcote had made light of the assemblage of evil spirits at - Boolabong which had seemed so important to Jacko, he by no means did - regard the news as unessential. Of Nokes’s villany he was convinced. - Of Boscobel he had imprudently made a second enemy at a most inauspicious - time. Georgie Brownbie had long been his bitter foe. He had prosecuted - and, perhaps, persecuted Georgie for various offenses; but as Georgie was - supposed to be as much at war with his own brethren as with the rest of - the world at large, Heathcote had not thought much of that miscreant in - the present emergency. But if the miscreant were in truth at Boolabong, - and if evil things were being plotted against Gangoil, Georgie would - certainly be among the conspirators. - </p> - <p> - Soon after noon Harry was on horseback and Jacko was at his heels. The - heat was more intense than ever. Mrs. Heathcote had twisted round Harry’s - hat a long white scarf, called a puggeree, though we are by no means sure - of our spelling. Jacko had spread a very dirty fragment of an old white - handkerchief on his head, and wore his hat over it. Mrs. Heathcote had - begged Harry to take a large cotton parasol, and he had nearly consented, - being unable at last to reconcile himself to the idea of riding with such - an accoutrement even in the bush. “The heat’s a bore,” - he said, “but I’m not a bit afraid of it as long as I keep - moving. Yes, I’ll be back to dinner, though I won’t say when, - and I won’t say for how long. It will be the same thing all day - to-morrow. I wish with all my heart those people were not coming.” - </p> - <p> - He rode straight away to the German’s hut, which was on the - northwestern extremity of his further paddock in that direction. From - thence the western fence ran in a southerly direction, nearly straight to - the river. Beyond the fence was a strip of land, in some parts over a mile - broad, in others not much over a quarter of a mile, which he claimed as - belonging to Gangoil, but over which the Brownbies had driven their cattle - since the fence had been made, under the pretense that the fence marked - the boundary of two runs. Against this assumption Heathcote had - remonstrated frequently, had driven the cattle back, and had exercised the - ownership of a Crown tenant in such fashion as the nature of his - occupation allowed. Beyond this strip was Boolabong; the house at - Boolabong being not above three miles distant from the fence, and not - above four miles from the German’s hut. So that the Brownbies were - in truth much nearer neighbors to the German than was Heathcote and his - family. But between the German and the Brownbies there raged an - internecine feud. No doubt Harry Heathcote, in his heart, liked the German - all the better on this account; but it behooved him both as a master and a - magistrate to regard reports against Boolabong coming from the German with - something of suspicion. Now Jacko had been introduced to Gangoil under - German auspices, and had soon come to a decision that it would be a good - thing and a just to lock up all the Brownbies in the great jail of the - colony at Brisbane. He probably knew nothing of law or justice in the - abstract, but he greatly valued law when exercised against those he hated. - The western fence of which mention has been made ran down to the Mary - River, hitting it about four miles west of Medlicot’s Mill; so that - there was a considerable portion of the Gangoil run having a frontage to - the water. As has been before said, Medlicot’s plantation was about - fourteen miles distant from the house at Boolabong, and the distance from - the Gangoil house to that of the Brownbies was about the same. - </p> - <p> - The oppressiveness of the day was owing more to the hot wind than to the - sun itself. This wind, coming from the arid plains of the interior, - brought with it a dry, suffocating heat. On this occasion it was odious to - Harry Heathcote, not so much on account of its own intrinsic abominations, - as because it might cause a fire to sweep across his run from its western - boundary. Just beyond the boundary there lay Boolabong, and there were - collected his enemies. A fire that should have passed for a mile or so - across the pastures outside and beyond his own farm would be altogether - unextinguishable by the time that it had reached his paddock. The - Brownbies, as he knew well, would care nothing for burning a patch of - their own grass. Their stock, if they had any at the present moment, were - much too few in number to be affected by such a loss. The Brownbies had - not a yard of fencing to be burned; and a fire, if once it got a hold on - the edge of their run, would pass on away from them, right across Harry’s - pastures and Harry’s fences. If such were the case, he would have - quite enough to do to drive his sheep from the fire, and it might be that - many of them also would perish in the flames. The catastrophe might even - be so bad, so frightful, that the shed and station and all should go; - though, in thinking of all the fires of which he had heard, he could - remember none that had spread with fatality such as that. - </p> - <p> - He found Karl Bender in his hut asleep. The man was soon up, apologizing - for his somnolence, and preparing tea for his master’s - entertainment. “It is not Christmas like at home at all; is it, Mr. - ‘Eathcote? Dear, no! Them red divils is there ready to give us a Christmas - roasting.” Then he told how he had boldly ridden up to Boolabong - that morning, and had seen Georgie and Boscobel with his own eyes. When - asked what they had said to him, he replied that he did not wait till any - thing had been said, but had hurried away as fast as his horse could carry - him. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll go up to Boolabong myself,” said Harry. - </p> - <p> - “My word! They’ll just about knock your head off,” - suggested Jacko. - </p> - <p> - Karl Bender also thought that the making of such a visit would be a source - of danger. But Heathcote explained that any personal attack was not to be - apprehended from these men. “That’s not their game,” he - said, arguing that men who premeditated a secret outrage would not - probably be tempted into personal violence. The horror of the position lay - in this—that though a fire should rise up almost under the feet of - men who were known to be hostile to him, and whose characters were - acknowledged to be bad, still would there be no evidence against them. It - was known to all men that, at periods of heat such as that which was now - raging, fires were common. Every day the pastures were in flames, here, - there, and every where. It was said, indeed, that there existed no - evidence of fires in the bush till men had come with their flocks. But - then there had been no smoking, no boiling of pots, no camping out, till - men had come, and no matches. Every one around might be sure that some - particular fire had been the work of an incendiary, might be able to name - the culprit who had done the deed; and yet no jury could convict the - miscreant. Watchfulness was the best security, watchfulness day and night - till rain should come; and Heathcote calculated that it would be better - for him that his enemies should know that he was watchful. He would go up - among them and show them that he was not ashamed to speak to them of his - anxiety. They could hear nothing by his coming which they did not already - know. They were well aware that he was on the watch, and it might be well - that they should know also how close his watch was kept. He took the - German and Jacko with him, but left them with their horses about a mile on - the Boolabong side of his own fence, nigh to the extreme boundary of the - Debatable Land. They knew his whistle, and were to ride to him at once - should he call them. - </p> - <p> - He had left the house about noon, saying that he would be home to dinner—which, - however, on such occasions, was held to be a feast movable over a wide - space of time. But on this occasion the women expected him to come early, - as it was his intention to be out again as soon as it should be dark. Mrs. - Growler was asked to have the dinner ready at six. During the day Mrs. - Heathcote was backward and forward in the kitchen. Then was something - wrong she knew, but could not quite discern the evil. Sing Sing, the cook, - was more than ordinarily alert; but Sing Sing, the cook, was not much - trusted. Mrs. Growler was “as good as the Bank,” as far as - that went, having lived with old Mr. Daly when he was prosperous; but she - was apt to be downhearted, and on the present occasion was more than - usually low in spirits. Whenever Mrs. Heathcote spoke, she wept. At six o’clock - she came into the parlor with a budget of news. Sing Sing, the cook, had - been gone for the last half hour, leaving the leg of mutton at the fire. - It soon became clear to them that he had altogether absconded. - </p> - <p> - “Them rats always does leave a falling house,” said Mrs. - Growler. - </p> - <p> - At seven o’clock the sun was down, though the gloom of the tropical - evening had not yet come. The two ladies went out to the gate, which was - but a few yards from the veranda, and there stood listening for the sound - of Harry’s horse. The low moaning of the wind through the trees - could be heard, but it was so gentle, continuous, and unaltered that it - seemed to be no more than a vehicle for other sounds, and was as - death-like as silence itself. The gate of the horse paddock through which - Heathcote must pass on his way home was nearly a mile distant; but the - road there was hard, and they knew that they could hear from there the - fall of his horse’s feet. There they stood from seven to nearly - eight, whispering a word now and then to each other, listening always, but - in vain. Looking away to the west every now and then, they fancied that - they could see the sky glow with flames, and then they would tell each - other that it was fancy. The evening grew darker and still darker, but no - sound was heard through the moaning wind. From time to time Mrs. Growler - came out to them, declaring her fears in no measured terms. “Well, - marm, I do declare I think we’d better go away out of this.” - </p> - <p> - “Go away, Mrs. Growler! What nonsense! Where can we go to?” - </p> - <p> - “The mill would be nearest, ma’am, and we should be safe - there. I’m sure Mrs. Medlicot would take us in.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should you not be safe here?” said Kate. - </p> - <p> - “That wretched Chinese hasn’t gone and left us for nothing, - miss, and what would we three lone women do here if all them Brownbies - came down upon us? Why don’t master come back? He ought to come - back; oughtn’t he, ma’am? He never do think what lone women - are.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Heathcote took her husband’s part very strongly, and gave Mrs. - Growler as hard a scolding as she knew how to pronounce. But her own - courage was giving way much as Mrs. Growler’s had done. “We - are bound to stay here,” she said; “and if the worst comes, we - must bear it as others have done before us.” Then Mrs. Growler was - very sulky, and, retreating to the kitchen, sobbed there in solitude. - “Oh, Kate, I do wish he would come,” said the elder sister. - </p> - <p> - “Are you afraid?” - </p> - <p> - “It is so desolate, and he may be so far off, and we couldn’t - get to him if any thing happened, and we shouldn’t know.” - </p> - <p> - Then they were again silent, and remained without exchanging more than a - word or two for nearly half an hour. They took hold of each other, and - every now and then went to the kitchen door that the old woman might be - comforted by their presence, but they had no consolation to offer each - other. The silence of the bush, and the feeling of great distances, and - the dread of calamity almost crushed them. At last there was a distant - sound of horse’s feet. “I hear him,” said Mrs. - Heathcote, rushing forward toward the outer gate of the horse paddock, - followed by her sister. - </p> - <p> - Her ears were true, but she was doomed to disappointment. The horseman was - only a messenger from her husband—Mickey O’Dowd, the Irish - boundary rider. - </p> - <p> - He had great tidings to tell, and was so long telling them that we will - not attempt to give them in his own words. The purport of his story was as - follows: Harry had been to Boolabong House, but had found there no one but - the old man. Returning home thence toward his own fence, he had smelled - the smoke of fire, and had found within a furlong of his path a long ridge - of burning grass. According to Mickey’s account, it could not have - been lighted above a few minutes before Heathcote’s presence on the - spot. As it was, it had got too much ahead for him to put it out - single-handed; a few yards he might have managed, but—so Mickey - said, probably exaggerating the matter—there was half a quarter of a - mile of flame. He had therefore ridden on before the fire, had called his - own two men to him, and had at once lighted the grass himself some two - hundred yards in front, making a second fire, but so keeping it down that - it should be always under control. Before the hinder flames had caught - him, Bender and Jacko had been with him, and they had thus managed to - consume the fuel which, had it remained there, would have fed the fire - which was too strong to be mastered. By watching the extremities of the - line of fire, they overpowered it, and so the damage was for the moment at - an end. - </p> - <p> - The method of dealing with the enemy was so well known in the bush, and - had been so often canvassed in the hearing of the two sisters, that it was - clearly intelligible to them. The evil had been met in the proper way, and - the remedy had been effective. But why did not Harry come home? - </p> - <p> - Mickey O’Dowd, after his fashion, explained that too. The ladies - were not to wait dinner. The master felt himself obliged to remain out at - night, and had gotten food at the German’s hut. He, Mickey, was - commissioned to return with a flask full of brandy, as it would be - necessary that Harry, with all the men whom he could trust, should be - “on the rampage” all night. This small body was to consist of - Harry himself, of the German, of Jacko, and, according to the story as at - present told, especially of Mickey O’Dowd. Much as she would have - wished to have kept the man at the station for protection, she did not - think of disobeying her husband’s orders. So Mickey was fed, and - then sent back with the flask—with tidings also as to the desertion - of that wretched cook, Sing Sing. - </p> - <p> - “I shall sit here all night,” said Mrs. Heathcote to her - sister. “As things are, I shall not think of going to bed.” - </p> - <p> - Kate declared that she would also sit in the veranda all night; and, as a - matter of course, they were joined by Mrs. Growler. They had been so - seated about an hour when Kate Daly declared that the heavens were on - fire. The two young women jumped up, flew to the gate, and found that the - whole western horizon was lurid with a dark red light. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. — THE BUSH FIGHT. - </h2> - <p> - Harry Heathcote had on this occasion entertained no doubt whatever that - the fire had been intentional and premeditated. A lighted torch must have - been dragged along the grass, so as to ignite a line many yards long all - at the same time. He had been luckily near enough to the spot to see - almost the commencement of the burning, and was therefore aware of its - form and circumstances. He almost wondered that he had not seen the figure - of the man who had drawn the torch, or at any rate heard his steps. - Pursuit would have been out of the question, as his work was wanted at the - moment to extinguish the flames. The miscreant probably had remembered - this, and had known that he might escape stealthily without the noise of a - rapid retreat. - </p> - <p> - When the work was over, when he had put out the fire he had himself - lighted, and had exterminated the lingering remnants of that which had - been intended to destroy him, he stood still a while almost in despair. - His condition seemed to be hopeless. What could he do against such a band - of enemies, knowing as he did that, had he been backed even by a score of - trusty followers, one foe might still suffice to ruin him? At the present - moment he was very hot with the work he had done, as were also Jacko and - the German. O’Dowd had also come up as they were completing their - work. Their mode of extinguishing the flames had been to beat them down - with branches of gum-tree loaded with leaves. By sweeping these along the - burning ground the low flames would be scattered and expelled. But the - work was very hard and hot. The boughs they used were heavy, and the air - around them, sultry enough from its own properties, was made almost - unbearable by the added heat of the fires. - </p> - <p> - The work had been so far done, but it might be begun again at any moment, - either near or at a distance. No doubt the attempt would be made elsewhere - along the boundary between Gangoil and Boolabong—was very probably - being made at this moment. The two men whom he could trust and Jacko were - now with him. They were wiping their brows with their arms and panting - with their work. - </p> - <p> - He first resolved on sending Mickey O’Dowd to the house. The - distance was great, and the man’s assistance might be essential. But - he could not bear to leave his wife without news from him. Then, after - considering a while, he made up his mind to go back toward his own fence, - making his way as he went southerly down toward the river. They who were - determined to injure him would, he thought, repeat their attempt in that - direction. He hardly said a word to his two followers, but rode at a - foot-pace to the spot at his fence which he had selected as the site of - his bivouac for the night. - </p> - <p> - “It won’t be very cheery, Bender,” he said to the - German; “but we shall have to make a night of it till they disturb - us again.” - </p> - <p> - The German made a motion with his arms intended to signify his utter - indifference. One place was the same as another to him. Jacko uttered his - usual ejaculation, and then, having hitched his horse to the fence, threw - himself on his back upon the grass. - </p> - <p> - No doubt they all slept, but they slept as watchers sleep, with one eye - open. It was Harry who first saw the light which a few minutes later made - itself visible to the ladies at the home station. “Karl,” he - exclaimed, jumping up, “they’re at it again—look there.” - </p> - <p> - In less than half a minute, and without speaking another word, they were - all on their horses and riding in the direction of the light. It came from - a part of the Boolabong run somewhat nearer to the river than the place at - which they had stationed themselves, where the strip of ground between - Harry’s fence and the acknowledged boundary of Brownbie’s run - was the narrowest. As they approached the fire, they became aware that it - had been lighted on Boolabong. On this occasion Harry did not ride on up - to the flames, knowing that the use or loss of a few minutes might save or - destroy his property. He hardly spoke a word as he proceeded on his - business, feeling that they upon whom he had to depend were sufficiently - instructed, if only they would be sufficiently energetic. - </p> - <p> - “Keep it well under, but let it run,” was all he said, as, - lighting a dried bush with a match, he ran the fire along the ground in - front of the coming flames. - </p> - <p> - A stranger seeing it all would have felt sure that the remedy would have - been as bad as the disease, for the fire which Harry himself made every - now and again seemed to get the better of those who were endeavoring to - control it. There might perhaps be a quarter of a mile between the front - of the advancing fire and the line at which Harry had commenced to destroy - the food which would have fed the coming flames. He himself, as quickly as - he lighted the grass, which in itself was the work but of a moment, would - strain himself to the utmost at the much harder task of controlling his - own fire, so that it should not run away from him, and get, as it were, - out of his hands, and be as bad to him as that which he was thus seeking - to circumvent. The German and Jacko worked like heroes, probably with - intense enjoyment of the excitement, and, after a while, found a fourth - figure among the flames, for Mickey had now returned. - </p> - <p> - “You saw them,” Harry said, panting with his work. - </p> - <p> - “They’s all right,” said Mickey, flopping away with a - great bough; “but that tarnation Chinese has gone off.” - </p> - <p> - “My word! Sing Sing. Find him at Boolabong,” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - The German, whose gum-tree bough was a very big one, and whose every - thought was intent on letting the fire run while he still held it in hand, - had not breath for a syllable. - </p> - <p> - But the back fire was extending itself, so as to get round them. Every now - and then Harry extended his own line, moving always forward toward Gangoil - as he did so, though he and his men were always on Brownbie’s - territory. He had no doubt but that where he could succeed in destroying - the grass for a breadth of forty or fifty yards he would starve out the - inimical flames. The trees and bushes without the herbage would not enable - it to travel a yard. Wherever the grass was burned down black to the soil, - the fire would stop. But should they, who were at work, once allow - themselves to be outflanked, their exertions would be all in vain. And - then those wretches might light a dozen fires. The work was so hard, so - hot, and often so hopeless, that the unhappy young squatter was more than - once tempted to bid his men desist and to return to his homestead. The - flames would not follow him there. He could, at any rate, make that safe. - And then, when he had repudiated this feeling as unworthy of him, he began - to consider within himself whether he would not do better for his property - by taking his men with him on to his run, and endeavoring to drive his - sheep out of danger. But as he thought of all this, he still worked, still - fired the grass, and still controlled the flames. Presently he became - aware of what seemed to him at first to be a third fire. Through the - trees, in the direction of the river, he could see the glimmering of low - flames and the figures of men. But it was soon apparent to him that these - men were working in his cause, and that they, too, were burning the grass - that would have fed the advancing flames. At first he could not spare the - minute which would be necessary to find out who was his friend, but, as - they drew nearer, he knew the man. It was the sugar planter from the mill - and with him his foreman. - </p> - <p> - “We’ve been doing our best,” said Medlicot, “but - we’ve been terribly afraid that the fire would slip away from us.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the only thing,” said Harry, too much excited at - the moment to ask questions as to the cause of Medlicot’s presence - so far from his home at that time of the evening. “It’s - getting round us, I’m afraid, all the same.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know but it is. It’s almost impossible to - distinguish. How hot the fire makes it!” - </p> - <p> - “Hot, indeed!” said Harry. “It’s killing work for - men, and then all for no good! To think that men, creatures that call - themselves men, should do such a thing as this! It breaks one’s - heart.” He had paused as he spoke, leaning on the great battered - bough which he held, but in an instant was at work with it again. “Do - you stay here, Mr. Medlicot, with the men, and I’ll go on beyond - where you began. If I find the fire growing down, I’ll shout, and - they can come to me.” So saying, he rushed on with a lighted bush - torch in his band. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly he found himself confronted in the bush by a man on horseback, - whom he at once recognized as Georgie Brownbie. He forgot for a moment - where he was and began to question the reprobate as to his presence at - that spot. - </p> - <p> - “That’s like your impudence,” said Georgie. “You’re - not only trespassing, but you’re destroying our property willfully, - and you ask me what business I have here. You’re a nice sort of - young man.” - </p> - <p> - Harry, checked for a moment by the remembrance that he was in truth upon - Boolabong run, did not at once answer. - </p> - <p> - “Put that bush down, and don’t burn our grass,” - continued Georgie, “or you shall have to answer for it. What right - have you to fire our grass?” - </p> - <p> - “Who fired it first?” - </p> - <p> - “It lighted itself. That’s no rule why you should light it - more. You give over, or I punch your head for you.” - </p> - <p> - Harry’s men and Medlicot were advancing toward him, trampling out - their own embers as they came; and Georgie Brownbie, who was alone, when - he saw that there were four or five men against him, turned round and rode - back. - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever see impudence like that?” said Harry. “He’s - probably the very man who set the match, and yet he comes and brazens it - out with me.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think he’s the man who set the match,” - said Medlicot, quietly; “at any rate there was another.” - </p> - <p> - “Who was it?” - </p> - <p> - “My man, Nokes. I saw him with the torch in his hand.” - </p> - <p> - “Heaven and earth!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Mr. Heathcote. I saw him put it down. You were about right, - you see, and I was about wrong.” - </p> - <p> - Harry had not a word to say, unless it were tell the man that he loved him - for the frankness of his confession. But the moment was hardly auspicious - for such a declaration. There was no excuse for them to pause in their - work, for the fire was still crackling at their back, and they did no more - than pause. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” said Harry, “there it goes; we shall be done at - last.” For he saw that he was being outflanked by the advancing - flames. But still they worked, drawing lines of fire here and there, and - still they hoped that there might be ground for hope. Nokes had been seen; - but, pregnant as the theme might be with words, it was almost impossible - to talk. Questions could not be asked and answered without stopping in - their toil. There were questions which Harry longed to ask. Could Medlicot - swear to the man? Did the man know that he had been seen? If he knew that - he had been watched while he lit the grass, he would soon be far away from - Medlicot’s Mill and Gangoil. Harry felt that it would be a - consolation to him in his trouble if he could get hold of this man, and - keep him, and prosecute him—and have him hung. Even in the tumult of - the moment he was able to reflect about it, and to think that he - remembered that the crime of arson was capital in the colony of - Queensland. He had endeavored to be good to the men with whom he had - dealings. He had not stinted their food, or cut them short in their wages, - or been hard in exacting work from them. And this was his return! Ideas as - to the excellence of absolute dominion and power flitted across his brain—such - power as Abraham, no doubt, exercised. In Abraham’s time the people - were submissive, and the world was happy. Harry Heathcote, at least, had - never heard that it was not happy. But as he thought of all this he worked - away with his bush and his matches, extinguishing the flames here and - lighting them there, striving to make a cordon of black bare ground - between Boolabong and Gangoil. Surely Abraham had never been called on to - work like this! - </p> - <p> - He and his men were in a line covering something above a quarter of a mile - of ground, of which line he was himself the nearest to the river, and - Medlicot and his foreman the farthest from it. The German and O’Dowd - were in the middle, and Jacko was working with his master. If Harry had - just cause for anger and sorrow in regard to Nokes and Boscobel, he - certainly had equal cause to be proud of the stanchness of his remaining - satellites. The men worked with a will, as though the whole run had been - the personal property of each of them. Nokes and Boscobel would probably - have done the same had the fires come before they had quarreled with their - master. It is a small and narrow point that turns the rushing train to the - right or to the left. The rushing man is often turned off by a point as - small and narrow. - </p> - <p> - “My word!” said Jacko, on a sudden, “here they are, all - o’ horseback!” And as he spoke, there was the sound of half a - dozen horsemen galloping up to them through the bush. “Why, there’s - Bos, his own self,” said Jacko. - </p> - <p> - The two leading men were Joe and Jerry Brownbie, who, for this night only, - had composed their quarrels, and close to them was Boscobel. There were - others behind, also mounted—Jack Brownbie and Georgie, and Nokes - himself; but they, though their figures were seen, could not be - distinguished in the gloom of the night. Nor, indeed, did Harry at first - discern of how many the party consisted. It seemed that there was a whole - troop of horsemen, whose purpose it was to interrupt him in his work, so - that the flames should certainly go ahead. And it was evident that the men - thought that they could do so without subjecting themselves to legal - penalties. As far as Harry Heathcote could see, they were correct in their - view. He could have no right to burn the grass on Boolabong. He had no - claim even to be there. It was true that he could plead that he was - stopping the fire which they had purposely made; but they could prove his - handiwork, whereas it would be almost impossible that he should prove - theirs. - </p> - <p> - The whole forest was not red, but lurid, with the fires, and the air was - laden with both the smell and the heat of the conflagration. The horsemen - were dressed, as was Harry himself, in trowsers and shirts, with old - slouch hats, and each of them had a cudgel in his hand. As they came - galloping up through the trees they were as uncanny and unwelcome a set of - visitors as any man was ever called on to receive. Harry necessarily - stayed his work, and stood still to bear the brunt of the coming attack; - but Jacko went on with his employment faster than ever, as though a troop - of men in the dark were nothing to him. - </p> - <p> - Jerry Brownbie was the first to speak. “What’s this you’re - up to, Heathcote? Firing our grass? It’s arson. You shall swing for - this.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll take my chance of that,” said Harry, turning to - his work again. - </p> - <p> - “No, I’m blessed if you do. Ride over him, Bos, while I stop - these other fellows.” - </p> - <p> - The Brownbies had been aware that Harry’s two boundary riders were - with him, but had not heard of the arrival of Medlicot and the other man. - Nokes was aware that some one on horseback had been near him when he was - firing the grass, but had thought that it was one of the party from - Gangoil. By the time that Jerry Brownbie had reached the German, Medlicot - was there also. - </p> - <p> - “Who the deuce are you?” asked Jerry. - </p> - <p> - “What business is that of yours?” said Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “No business of mine, and you firing our grass! I’ll let you - know my business pretty quickly.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s that fellow, Medlicot, from the sugar-mill,” said - Joe; “the man that Nokes is with.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought you was a horse of another color,” continued Jerry, - who had been given to understand that Medlicot was Heathcote’s - enemy. “Anyway, I won’t have my grass fired. If God A’mighty - chooses to send fires, we can’t help it. But I’m not going to - have incendiaries here as well. You’re a new chum, and don’t - understand what you’re about, but you must stop this.” - </p> - <p> - As Medlicot still went on putting out the fire, Jerry attempted to ride - him down. Medlicot caught the horse by the rein, and violently backed the - brute in among the embers. The animal plunged and reared, getting his head - loose, and at last came down, he and his rider together. In the mean time - Joe Brownbie, seeing this, rode up behind the sugar planter, and struck - him violently with his cudgel over the shoulder. Medlicot sank nearly to - the ground, but at once recovered himself. He knew that some bone on the - left side of his body was broken; but he could still fight with his right - hand, and he did fight. - </p> - <p> - Boscobel and Georgie Brownbie both attempted to ride over Harry together, - and might have succeeded had not Jacko ingeniously inserted the burning - branch of gum-tree with which he had been working under the belly of the - horse on which Boscobel was riding. The animal jumped immediately from the - ground, bucking into the air, and Boscobel was thrown far over his head. - Georgie Brownbie then turned upon Jacko, but Jacko was far too nimble to - be caught, and escaped among the trees. - </p> - <p> - For a few minutes the fight was general, but the footmen had the best of - it, in spite of the injury done to Medlicot. Jerry was bruised and burned - about the face by his fall among the ashes, and did not much relish the - work afterward. Boscobel was stunned for a few moments, and was quite - ready to retreat when he came to himself. Nokes during the whole time did - not show himself, alleging as a reason afterward the presence of his - employer Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “I’m blessed if your cowardice sha’n’t hang you,” - said Joe Brownbie to him on their way home. “Do you think we’re - going to fight the battles of a fellow like you, who hasn’t pluck to - come forward himself?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve as much pluck as you,” answered Nokes, “and - am ready to fight you any day. But I know when a man is to come forward - and when he’s not. Hang me! I’m not so near hanging as some - folks at Boolabong.” We may imagine, therefore, that the night was - not spent pleasantly among the Brownbies after these adventures. - </p> - <p> - There were, of course, very much cursing and swearing, and very many - threats, before the party from Boolabong did retreat. Their great point - was, of coarse, this—that Heathcote was willfully firing the grass, - and was, therefore, no better than an incendiary. Of course they stoutly - denied that the original fire had been intentional, and denied as stoutly - that the original fire could be stopped by fires. But at last they went, - leaving Heathcote and his party masters of the battle-field. Jerry was - taken away in a sad condition; and, in subsequent accounts of the - transaction given from Boolabong, his fall was put forward as the reason - of their flight, he having been the general on the occasion. And Boscobel - had certainly lost all stomach for immediate fighting. Immediately behind - the battle-field they come across Nokes, and Sing Sing, the runaway cook - from Gangoil. The poor Chinaman had made the mistake of joining the party - which was not successful. - </p> - <p> - But Harry, though the victory was with him, was hardly in a mood for - triumph. He soon found that Medlicot’s collar-bone was broken, and - it would be necessary, therefore, that he should return with the wounded - man to the station. And the flames, as he feared, had altogether got ahead - of him during the fight. As far as they had gone, they had stopped the - fire, having made a black wilderness a mile and a half in length, which, - during the whole distance, ceased suddenly at the line at which the - subsidiary fire had been extinguished. But while the attack was being made - upon them the flames had crept on to the southward, and had now got beyond - their reach. It had seemed, however, that the mass of fire which had got - away from them was small, and already the damp of the night was on the - grass; and Harry felt himself justified in hoping not that there might be - no loss, but that the loss might not be ruinous. - </p> - <p> - Medlicot consented to be taken back to Gangoil instead of to the mill. - Perhaps he thought that Kate Daly might be a better nurse than his mother, - or that the quiet of the sheep station might be better for him than the - clatter of his own mill-wheels. It was midnight, and they had a ride of - fourteen miles, which was hard enough upon a man with a broken collarbone. - The whole party also was thoroughly fatigued. The work they had been doing - was about as hard as could fall to a man’s lot, and they had now - been many hours without food. Before they started Mickey produced his - flask, the contents of which were divided equally among them all, - including Jacko. - </p> - <p> - As they were preparing to start home Medlicot explained that it had struck - him by degrees that Heathcote might be right in regard to Nokes, and that - he had determined to watch the man himself whenever he should leave the - mill. On that Monday he had given up work somewhat earlier than usual, - saying that, as the following day was Christmas, he should not come to the - mill. From that time Medlicot and his foreman had watched him. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said he, in answer to a question from Heathcote, - “I can swear that I saw him with the lighted torch in his hand, and - that he placed it among the grass. There were two others from Boolabong - with him, and they must have seen him too.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. — HARRY HEATHCOTE RETURNS IN TRIUMPH. - </h2> - <p> - When the fight was quite over, and Heathcote’s party had returned to - their horses, Medlicot for a few minutes was faint and sick, but he - revived after a while, and declared himself able to sit on his horse. - There was a difficulty in getting him up, but when there he made no - further complaint. “This,” said he, as he settled himself in - his saddle, “is my first Christmas-day in Australia. I landed early - in January, and last year I was on my way home to fetch my mother.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s not much like an English Christmas,” said Harry. - </p> - <p> - “Nor yet as in Hanover,” said the German. - </p> - <p> - “It’s Cork you should go to, or Galway, bedad, if you want to - see Christmas kep’ after the ould fashion,” said Mickey. - </p> - <p> - “I think we used to do it pretty well in Cumberland,” said - Medlicot. “There are things which can’t be transplanted. They - may have roast beef, and all that, but you should have cold weather to - make you feel that it is Christmas indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “We do it as well as we can,” Harry pleaded. “I’ve - seen a great pudding come into the room all afire—just to remind one - of the old country—when it has been so hot that one could hardly - bear a shirt on one’s shoulders. But yet there’s something in - it. One likes to think of the old place, though one is so far away. How do - you feel now? Does the jolting hurt you much? If your horse is rough, - change with me. This fellow goes as smooth as a lady.” Medlicot - declared that the pain did not trouble him much. “They’d have - ridden over us, only for you,” continued Harry. - </p> - <p> - “My word! wouldn’t they?” said Jacko, who was very proud - of his own part in the battle. “I say, Mr. Medlicot, did you see Bos - and his horse part company? You did, Mr. Harry. Didn’t he fly like a - bird, all in among the bushes! I owed Bos one; I did, my word! And now I’ve - paid him.” - </p> - <p> - “I saw it,” said Harry. “He was riding at me as hard as - he could come. I can’t understand Boscobel. Nokes is a sly, bad, - slinking follow, whom I never liked. But I was always good to Bos; and - when he cheated me, as he did, about his time, I never even threatened to - stop his money.” - </p> - <p> - “You told him of it too plain,” said the German. - </p> - <p> - “I did tell him—of course—as I should you. It has come - to that now, that if a man robs you—your own man—you are not - to dare to tell him of it! What would you think of me, Karl, if I were to - find you out, and was to be afraid of speaking to you, lest you should - turn against me and burn my fences?” Karl Bender shrugged his - shoulders, holding his reins up to his eyes. “I know what you ought - to think! And I wish that every man about Gangoil should be sure that I - will always say what I think right. I don’t know that I ever was - hard upon any man. I try not to be.” - </p> - <p> - “Thrue for you, Mr. Harry,” said the Irishman. - </p> - <p> - “I’m not going to pick my words because men like Nokes and - Boscobel have the power of injuring me. I’m not going to truckle to - rascals because I’m afraid of them. I’d sooner be burned out - of house and home, and go and work on the wharves in Brisbane, than that.” - </p> - <p> - “My word! yes,” said Jacko, “and I too.” - </p> - <p> - “If the devil is to get ahead, he must, but I won’t hold a - candle to him. You fellows may tell every man about the place what I say. - As long as I’m master of Gangoil I’ll be master; and when I - come across a swindle I’ll tell the man who does it he’s a - swindler. I told Bos to his face; but I didn’t tell any body else, - and I shouldn’t if he’d taken it right and mended his ways.” - </p> - <p> - They all understood him very well—the German, the Irishman, Medlicot’s - foreman, Medlicot himself, and even Jacko; and though, no doubt, there was - a feeling within the hearts of the men that Harry Heathcote was imperious, - still they respected him, and they believed him. - </p> - <p> - “The masther should be the masther, no doubt,” said the - Irishman. - </p> - <p> - “A man that is a man vill not sell hisself body and soul,” - said the German, slowly. - </p> - <p> - “Do I want dominion over your soul, Karl Bender?” asked the - squatter, with energy. “You know I don’t, nor over your body, - except so far as it suits you to sell your services. What you sell you - part with readily—like a man; and it’s not likely that you and - I shall quarrel. But all this row about nothing can’t be very - pleasant to a man with a broken shoulder.” - </p> - <p> - “I like to hear you,” said Medlicot. “I’m always a - good listener when men have something really to say.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then, I’ve something to say,” cried Harry. - “There never was a man came to my house whom I’d sooner see as - a Christmas guest than yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “Thankee, Sir.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s more than I could have said yesterday with truth.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s more than you did say.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, by George! But you’ve beat me now. When you’re - hard pressed for hands down yonder, you send for me, and see if I won’t - turn the mill for you, or hoe canes either.” - </p> - <p> - “So ‘ll I; my word! yes. Just for my rations.” - </p> - <p> - They had by this time reacted the Gangoil fence, having taken the - directest route for the house. But Harry, in doing this, had not been - unmindful of the fire. Had Medlicot not been wounded, he would have taken - the party somewhat out of the way, down southward, following the flames; - but Medlicot’s condition had made him feel that he would not be - justified in doing so. Now, however, it occurred to him that he might as - well ride a mile or two down the fence, and see what injury had been done. - The escort of the men would be sufficient to take Medlicot to the station, - and he would reach the place as soon as they. If the flames were still - running ahead, he knew that he could not now stop then, but he could at - least learn how the matter stood with him. If the worst came to the worst, - he would not now lose more than three or four miles of fencing, and the - grass off a corner of his run. Nevertheless, tired as he was, he could not - bear the idea of going home without knowing the whole story. So he made - his proposal. Medlicot, of course, made no objection. Each of the men - offered to go with him, but he declined their services. “There is - nothing to do,” said he, “and nobody to catch; and if the fire - is burning, it must burn.” So he went alone. - </p> - <p> - The words that he had uttered among his men had not been lightly spoken. - He had begun to perceive that life would be very hard to him in his - present position, or perhaps altogether impossible, as long as he was at - enmity with all those around him. Old squatters whom he knew, respectable - men who had been in the colony before he was born, had advised him to be - on good terms with the Brownbies. “You needn’t ask them to - your house, or go to them, but just soft-sawder them when yon meet,” - an old gentleman had said to him. He certainly hadn’t taken the old - gentleman’s advice, thinking that to “soft-sawder” so - great a reprobate as Jerry Brownbie would be holding a candle to the - devil. But his own plan had hardly answered. Well, he was sure, at any - rate, of this—that he could do no good now by endeavoring to be - civil to the Brownbies. He soon came to the place where the fire had - reached his fence, and found that it had burned its way through, and that - the flames were still continuing their onward course. The fence to the - north, or rather to the northwestward—the point whence the wind was - coming—stood firm at the spot at which the fire had struck it. Dry - as the wood was, the flames had not traveled upward against the wind. But - to the south the fire was traveling down the fence. To stop this he rode - half a mile along the burning barrier till he had headed the flames, and - then he pulled the bushes down and rolled away the logs, so as to stop the - destruction. As regarded his fence, there was less than a mile of it - destroyed, and that he could now leave in security, as the wind was - blowing away from it. As for his grass, that must now take its chance. He - could see the dark light of the low running fire; but there was no longer - a mighty blaze, and he knew that the dew of the night was acting as his - protector. The harm that had been as yet done was trifling, if only he - could protect himself from further harm. After leaving the fire, he had - still a ride of seven or eight miles through the gloom of the forest—all - alone. Not only was he weary, but his horse was so tired that he could - hardly get him to canter for a furlong. He regretted that he had not - brought the boy with him, knowing well the service of companionship to a - tired beast. He was used to such troubles, and could always tell himself - that his back was broad enough to bear them; but his desolation among - enemies oppressed him. Medlicot, however, was no longer an enemy. Then - there came across his mind for the first time an idea that Medlicot might - marry his sister-in-law, and become his fast friend. If he could have but - one true friend, he thought that he could bear the enmity of all the - Brownbies. Hitherto he had been entirely alone in his anxiety. It was - between three and four when he reached Gangoil, and he found that the - party of horsemen had just entered the yard before him. The sugar planter - was so weak that he could hardly get off his horse. - </p> - <p> - The two ladies were still watching when the cavalcade arrived, though it - was then between three and four in the morning. It was Harry’s - custom on such occasions to ride up to the little gate close to the - veranda, and there to hang his bridle till some one should take his horse - away; but on this occasion he and the others rode into the yard. Seeing - this, Mrs. Heathcote and her sister went through the house, and soon - learned how things were. Mr. Medlicot, from the mill, had come with a bone - broken, and it was their duty to nurse him till a doctor could be procured - from Maryborough. Now Maryborough was thirty miles distant. Some one must - be dispatched at once. Jacko volunteered, but in such a service Jacko was - hardly to be trusted. He might fall asleep on his horse, and continue his - slumbers on the ground. Mickey and the German both offered; but the men - were so beaten by their work that Heathcote did not dare to take their - offer. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you what it is, Mary,” he said to his wife, - “there is nothing for it but for me to go for Jackson.” - Jackson was the doctor. “And I can see the police at the same time.” - </p> - <p> - “You sha’n’t go, Harry. Yon are so tired already you can - hardly stand this moment.” - </p> - <p> - “Get me some strong coffee—at once. You don’t know what - that man has done for us. I’ll tell you all another time. I owe him - more than a ride into Maryborough. I’ll make the men get Yorkie up”—Yorkie - was a favorite horse he had—“while you make the coffee; and I’ll - lead Colonel”—Colonel was another horse, well esteemed at - Gangoil. “Jackson will come quicker on him than on any animal he can - get at Maryborough.” And so it was arranged, in spite of the wife’s - tears and entreaties. Harry had his coffee and some food, and started, - with his two horses, for the doctor. - </p> - <p> - Nature is so good to us that we are sometimes disposed to think we might - have dispensed with art. In the bush, where doctors can not be had, bones - will set themselves; and when doctors do come, but come slowly, the broken - bones suit themselves to such tardiness. Medlicot was brought in and put - to bed. Let the reader not be shocked to hear that Kate Daly’s room - was given up to him, as being best suited for a sick man’s comfort, - and the two ladies took it in turn to watch him. Mrs. Heathcote was, of - course, the first, and remained with him till dawn. Then Kate crept to the - door and asked whether she should relieve her sister. Medlicot was asleep, - and it was agreed that Kate should remain in the veranda, and look in from - time to time to see whether the wounded man required aught at her hands. - She looked in very often, and then, at last, he was awake. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Daly,” he said, “I feel so ashamed of the trouble - I’m giving.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t speak of it. It is nothing. In the bush every body, of - course, does any thing for every body.” When the words were spoken - she felt that they were not as complimentary as she would have wished. - “You were to have come to-day, you know, but we did not think you’d - come like this, did we?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know why I didn’t go home instead of coming - here.” - </p> - <p> - “The doctor will reach Gangoil sooner than he could the mill. You - are better here, and we will send for Mrs. Medlicot as soon as the men - have had a rest. How was it all, Mr. Medlicot? Harry says that there was a - fight, and that you came in just at the nick of time, and that but for you - all the run would have been burned.” - </p> - <p> - “Not that at all.” - </p> - <p> - “He said so; only he went off so quickly, and was so busy with - things, that we hardly understood him. Is it not dreadful that there - should be such fighting? And then these horrid fires! You were in the - middle of the fire, were you not?” It suited Kate’s feelings - that Medlicot should be the hero of this occasion. - </p> - <p> - “We were lighting them in front to put them out behind.” - </p> - <p> - “And then, while you were at work, these men from Boolabong came - upon you. Oh, Mr. Medlicot, we shall be so very, very wretched if you are - much hurt. My sister is so unhappy about it.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s only my collar-bone, Miss Daly.” - </p> - <p> - “But that is so dreadful.” She was still thinking of the one - word he had spoken when he had—well, not asked her for her love, but - said that which between a young man and a young woman ought to mean the - same thing. Perhaps it had meant nothing! She had heard that young men do - say things which mean nothing. But to her, living in the solitude of - Gangoil, the one word had been so much! Her heart had melted with absolute - acknowledged love when the man had been brought through into the house - with all the added attraction of a broken bone. While her sister had - watched, she had retired—to rest, as Mary had said, but in truth to - think of the chance which had brought her in this guise into familiar - contact with the man she loved. And then, when she had crept up to take - her place in watching him, she had almost felt that shame should restrain - her. But was her duty; and, of course, a man with a collar-bone broken - would not speak of love. - </p> - <p> - “It will make your Christmas so sad for you,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, as for that, we mind nothing about it—for ourselves. We - are never very gay here.” - </p> - <p> - “But you are happy?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes, quite happy, except when Harry is disturbed by these - troubles. I don’t think any body has so many troubles as a squatter. - It sometimes seems that all the world is against him.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall be allies now, at any rate.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I do so hope we shall,” said Kate, putting her hands - together in her energy, and then retreating from her energy with sad - awkwardness when she remembered the personal application of her wish. - “That is, I mean you and Harry,” she added, in a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Why not I and others besides Harry?” - </p> - <p> - “It is so much to him to have a real friend. Things concern us, of - course, only just as they concern him. Women are never of very much - account, I think. Harry has to do every thing, and every thing ought to be - done for him.” - </p> - <p> - “I think you spoil Harry among you.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you say so to Mary, or she will be fierce.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder whether I shall ever have a wife to stand up for me in - that way?” - </p> - <p> - Kate had no answer to make, but she thought that it would be his own fault - if he did not have a wife to stand up for him thoroughly. - </p> - <p> - “He has been very lucky in his wife.” - </p> - <p> - “I think he has, Mr. Medlicot; but you are moving about, and you - ought to lie still. There! I hear the horses; that’s the doctor. I - do so hope he won’t say that any thing very bad is the matter.” - </p> - <p> - She jumped up from her chair, which was close to his bed, and as she did - so just touched his hand with hers. It was involuntary on her part, having - come of instinct rather than will, and she withdrew herself instantly. The - hand she had touched belonged to the arm that was not hurt, and he put it - out after her, and caught her by the sleeve as she was retreating. “Oh, - Mr. Medlicot, you must not do that; you will hurt yourself if you move in - that way.” - </p> - <p> - And so she escaped, and left the room, and did not see him again till the - doctor had gone from Gangoil. - </p> - <p> - The bone had been broken simply as other bones are broken; it was now set, - and the sufferer was, of course, told that he must rest. He had suggested - that he should be taken home, and the Heathcotes had concurred with the - doctor in asserting that no proposition could be more absurd. He had - intended to eat his Christmas dinner at Gangoil, and he must now pass his - entire Christmas there. - </p> - <p> - “The sugar can go on very well for ten days,” Harry had said. - “I’ll go over myself and see about the men, and I’ll - fetch your mother over.” - </p> - <p> - To this, however, Mrs. Heathcote had demurred successfully. “You’ll - kill yourself, Harry, if you go on like this,” she said. - </p> - <p> - Bender, therefore, was sent in the buggy for the old lady, and at last - Harry Heathcote consented to go to bed. - </p> - <p> - “My belief is, I shall sleep for a week,” he said, as he - turned in. But he didn’t begin his sleep quite at once. “I am - very glad I went into Maryborough,” he said to his wife, rising up - from his pillow. “I’ve sworn an information against Nokes and - two of the Brownbies, and the police will be after them this afternoon. - They won’t catch Nokes, and they can’t convict the other - fellows. But it will be something to clear the country of such a fellow, - and something also to let them know that detection is possible.” - </p> - <p> - “Do sleep now, dear.” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I will; I mean to. But look here, Mary; if any of the police - should come here, mind you wake me at once. And, Mary, look here; do you - know I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if that fellow was to be making - up to Kate.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Heathcote, with some little inward chuckle at her husband’s - assumed quickness of apprehension, reminded herself that the same idea had - occurred to her some time ago. Mrs. Heathcote gave her husband full credit - for more than ordinary intelligence in reference to affairs appertaining - to the breeding of sheep and the growing of wool, but she did not think - highly of his discernment in such an affair as this. She herself had been - much quicker. When she first saw Mr. Medlicot, she had felt it a godsend - that such a man, with the look of a gentleman, and unmarried, should come - into the neighborhood; and, in so feeling, her heart had been entirely - with her sister. For herself it mattered nothing who came or did not come, - or whether a man were a bachelor, or possessed of a wife and a dozen - children. All that a girl had a right to want was a good husband. She was - quite satisfied with her own lot in that respect, but she was anxious - enough on behalf of Kate. And when a young man did come, who might make - matters so pleasant for them, Harry quarreled with him because he was a - free-selector. “A free fiddle-stick!” she had once said to - Kate—not, however, communicating to her innocent sister the ambition - which was already filling her own bosom. “Harry does take things up - so—as though people weren’t to live, some in one way and some - in another! As far as I can see, Mr. Medlicot is a very nice fellow.” - Kate had remarked that he was “all very well,” and nothing - more had been said. - </p> - <p> - But Mrs. Heathcote, in spite of Harry’s aversion, had formed her - little project—a project which, if then declared, would have filled - Harry with dismay. And now the young aristocrat, as he turned himself in - his bed, made the suggestion to his wife as though it were all his own! - </p> - <p> - “I never like to think much of these things beforehand,” she - said, innocently. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know about thinking,” said Harry; “but a - girl might do worse. If it should come up, don’t set yourself - against it.” - </p> - <p> - “Kate, of course, will please herself,” said Mrs. Heathcote. - “Now do lie down and rest yourself.” - </p> - <p> - His rest, however, was not of long duration. As he had himself suggested, - two policemen reached Gangoil at about three in the afternoon, on their - way from Maryborough to Boolabong, in order that they might take Mr. - Medlicot’s deposition. After Heathcote’s departure it had - occurred to Sergeant Forrest of the police—and the suggestion, - having been transferred from the sergeant to the stipendiary magistrate, - was now produced with magisterial sanction—that, after all, there - was no evidence against the Brownbies. They had simply interfered to - prevent the burning of the grass on their own run, and who could say that - they had committed any crime by doing so? If Medlicot had seen Nokes with - a lighted branch in his hand, the matter might be different with him; and - therefore Medlicot’s deposition was taken. He had sworn that he had - seen Nokes drag his lighted torch along the ground; he had also seen other - horsemen—two or three, as he thought—but could not identify - them. Jacko’s deposition was also taken as to the man who had been - heard and seen in the wool-shed at night. Jacko was ready to swear - point-blank that the man was Nokes. The policemen suggested that, as the - night was dark, Jacko might as well allow a shade of doubt to appear, - thinking that the shade of doubt would add strength to the evidence. But - Jacko was not going to be taught what sort of oath he should swear. - </p> - <p> - “My word!” he said. “Didn’t I see his leg move? - You go away.” - </p> - <p> - Armed with these depositions, the two constables went on to Boolabong in - search of Nokes, and of Nokes only, much to the chagrin of Harry, who - declared that the police would never really bestir themselves in a - squatter’s cause. “As for Nokes, he’ll be out of - Queensland by this time to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. — SERGEANT FORREST. - </h2> - <p> - The Brownbie party returned, after their midnight raid, in great - discomfiture to Boolabong. Their leader, Jerry, was burned about his hands - and face in a disagreeable and unsightly manner. Joe had hardly made good - that character for “fighting it out to the end” for which he - was apt to claim credit. Boscobel was altogether disconcerted by his fall. - And Nokes, who had certainly shown no aptitude for the fray, was abused by - them all as having caused their retreat by his cowardice; while Sing Sing, - the runaway cook, who knew that he had forfeited his wages at Gangoil, was - forced to turn over in his heathenish mind the ill effects of joining the - losing side. “You big fool, Bos,” he said more than once to - his friend the woodsman, who had lured him away from the comforts of - Gangoil. “I’ll punch your head, John, if you don’t hold - your row,” Boscobel would reply. But Sing Sing went on with his - reproaches, and, before they had reached Boolabong, Boscobel had punched - the Chinaman’s head. - </p> - <p> - “You’re not coming in here,” Jerry said to Nokes, when - they reached the yard gate. - </p> - <p> - “Who wants to come in? I suppose you’re not going to send a - fellow on without a bit of grub after such a night’s work?” - </p> - <p> - “Give him some bread and meat, Jack, and let him go on. There’ll - be somebody here after him before long. He can’t hurt us; but I don’t - want people to think that we are so fond of him that we can’t do - without harboring him here. Georgie, you’ll go too, if you take my - advice. That young cur will send the police here as sure as my name is - Brownbie, and, if they once get hold of you, they’ll have a great - many things to talk to you about.” - </p> - <p> - Georgie grumbled when he heard this, but he knew that the advice given him - was good, and he did not attempt to enter the house. So Nokes and he - vanished, away into the bush together—as such men do vanish—wandering - forth to live as the wild beasts live. It was still a dark night when they - went, and the remainder of the party took themselves to their beds. - </p> - <p> - On the following afternoon they were lying about the house, sometimes - sleeping, and sometimes waking up to smoke, when the two policemen, who - had already been at Gangoil, appeared in the yard. These men were dressed - in flat caps, with short blue jackets, hunting breeches, and long black - boots—very unlike any policemen in the old country, and much more - picturesque. They leisurely tied their horses up, as though they had been - in the habit of making weekly visits to the place, and walked round to the - veranda. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Mr. Brownbie, and how are you?” said the sergeant to - the old man. - </p> - <p> - The head of the family was gracious, and declared himself to be pretty - well, considering all things. He called the sergeant by his name, and - asked the men whether they’d take a bit of something to eat. Joe - also was courteous, and, after a little delay in getting a key from his - brother, brought out the jar of spirits, which, in the bush, is regarded - as the best sign known of thorough good-breeding. The sergeant said that - he didn’t mind if he did; and the other man, of course, followed his - officer’s example. - </p> - <p> - So far every thing was comfortable, and the constables seemed in no hurry - to allude to disagreeable subjects. They condescended to eat a bit of cold - meat before they proceeded to business. And at last the matter to be - discussed was first introduced by one of the Brownbie family. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose you’ve heard that there was a scrimmage here last - night,” said Joe. The Brownbie party present consisted of the old - man, Joe and Jack Brownbie, and Boscobel, Jerry keeping himself in the - background because of his disfigurement. The sergeant, as he swallowed his - food, acknowledged that he had heard something about it. “And that’s - what brings you here,” continued Joe. - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t nothing wrong here,” said old Brownbie. - </p> - <p> - “I hope not, Mr. Brownbie,” said the sergeant. “I hope - not. We haven’t got any thing against you, at any rate.” - Sergeant Forrest was a graduate of Oxford, the son of an English - clergyman, who, having his way to make in the world, had thought that an - early fortune would be found in the colonies. He had come out, had failed, - had suffered some very hard things, and now, at the age of thirty-five, - enjoyed life thoroughly as a sergeant of the colonial police. - </p> - <p> - “You haven’t got any thing against anybody here, I should - think?” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “If you want to get them as begun it,” said Jack, “and - them as ought to be took up, you’ll go to Gangoil.” - </p> - <p> - “Hold your tongue, Jack,” said his brother. “Sergeant - Forrest knows where to go better than you can tell him.” - </p> - <p> - Then the sergeant asked a string of questions as to the nature of the - fight; who had been hurt; and how badly had any body been hurt; and what - other harm had been done. The answers to all these questions were given - with a fair amount of truth, except that the little circumstance of the - origin of the fire was not explained. Both Boscobel and Joe had seen the - torch put down, but it could hardly have been expected that they should - have been explicit as to such a detail as that. Nor did they mention the - names of either their brother George or Nokes. - </p> - <p> - “And who was there in the matter?” asked the sergeant. - </p> - <p> - “There was young Heathcote, and a boy he has got there, and the two - chaps as he calls boundary rulers, and Medlicot, the sugar fellow from the - mill, and a chap of Medlicot’s I never set eyes on before. They must - have expected something to be up, or Heathcote would not have been going - about at night with a tribe of men like that.” - </p> - <p> - “And who were your party?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there were just ourselves, four of us, for Georgie was here, - and this fellow Boscobel. Georgie never stays long, and he wouldn’t - be welcome if he did. He turned up just by chance like, and now he’s - off again.” - </p> - <p> - “That was all, eh?” - </p> - <p> - Of course they all knew that the sergeant knew that Nokes had been with - them. “Well, then, that wasn’t all,” said old Brownbie. - “Bill Nokes was here, whom Heathcote dismissed ever so long ago, and - that Chinese cook of his. He dismissed him too, I suppose. And he - dismissed Boscobel here.” - </p> - <p> - “No one can live at Gangoil any time,” said Jack. “Every - body knows that. He wants to be lord a’mighty over every thing. But - he ain’t going to be lord a’mighty at Boolabong.” - </p> - <p> - “And he ain’t going to burn our grass either,” said Joe. - “It’s like his impudence coming on to our ran and burning - every thing before him. He calls hisself a magistrate, but he’s not - to do just as he pleases because he’s a magistrate. I suppose we can - swear against him for lighting our grass, sergeant? There isn’t one - of us that didn’t see him do it.” - </p> - <p> - “And where is Nokes?” asked the sergeant, paying no attention - to the application made by Mr. Brownbie, junior, for redress to himself. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Joe, “Nokes isn’t any where about - Boolabong.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s away with your brother George?” - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Joe. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a serious matter lighting a fire, you know,” said - the sergeant. “A man would have to swing for it.” - </p> - <p> - “Then why isn’t young Heathcote to swing?” demanded - Jack. - </p> - <p> - “There is such a thing as intent, you know. When Heathcote lighted - the fire, where would the fire have gone if he hadn’t kept putting - it out as fast as he kept lighting it? On to his own run, not to yours. - And where would the other fire have gone which somebody lit, and which - nobody put out, if he hadn’t been there to stop it? The less you say - against Heathcote the better. So Nokes is off, is he?” - </p> - <p> - “He ain’t here, anyways,” said Joe. “When the row - was over, we wouldn’t let him in. We didn’t want him about - here.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say not,” said the sergeant. “Now let me go and - see the spot where the fight was.” So the two policemen, with the - two young Brownbies, rode away, leaving Boscobel with the old man. - </p> - <p> - “He knows every thing about it,” said old Brownbie. - </p> - <p> - “If he do,” said Boscobel, “it ain’t no odds.” - </p> - <p> - “Not a ha’porth of odds,” said Jerry, coming out of his - hiding-place. “Who cares what he knows? A man may do what he pleases - on his own run, I suppose.” - </p> - <p> - “He mayn’t light a fire as ‘ll spread,” said the - old man. - </p> - <p> - “Bother! Who’s to prove what’s in a man’s mind? If - I’d been Nokes, I’d have staid and seen it out. I’d - never be driven about the colony by such a fellow as Heathcote, with all - the police in the world to back him.” - </p> - <p> - Sergeant Forrest inspected the ground on which the fire had raged, and the - spot on which the men had met; but nothing came of his inspection, and he - had not expected that any thing would come of it. He could see exactly - where the fire had commenced, and could trace the efforts that had been - made to stop it. He did not in the least doubt the way in which it had - been lit. But he did very much doubt whether a jury could find Nokes - guilty, even if he could catch Nokes. Jacko’s evidence was worth - nothing, and Mr. Medlicot might be easily mistaken as to what he had seen - at a distance in the middle of the night. - </p> - <p> - All this happened on Christmas-day. At about nine o’clock the same - evening the two constables re-appeared at Gangoil, and asked for - hospitality for the night. This was a matter of course, and also the - reproduction of the Christmas dinner. Mrs. Medlicot was now there, and her - son, with his collar-bone set, had been allowed to come out on to the - veranda. The house had already been supposed to be full, but room, as a - matter of course, was made for Sergeant Forrest and his man. “It’s - a queer sort of Christmas we’ve all been having, Mr. Heathcote,” - said the sergeant, as the remnant of a real English plum-pudding was put - between him and his man by Mrs. Growler. - </p> - <p> - “A little hotter than it is at home, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed it is. You must have had it hot last night, Sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Very hot, sergeant. We had to work uncommonly hard to do it as well - as we did.” - </p> - <p> - “It was not a nice Christmas game, Sir, was it?” - </p> - <p> - “Eh, me!” said Mrs. Medlicot. “There’s nae - Christmas games or ony games here at all, except just worrying and - harrying, like sae many dogs at each other’s throats.” - </p> - <p> - “And you think nothing more can be done?” Harry asked. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think we shall catch the men. When they get out - backward, it’s very hard to trace them. He’s got a horse of - his own with him, and he’ll be beyond reach of the police by this - time to-morrow. Indeed, he’s beyond their reach now. However, you’ll - have got rid of him.” - </p> - <p> - “But there are others as bad as he left behind. I wouldn’t - trust that fellow Boscobel a yard.” - </p> - <p> - “He won’t stir, Sir. He belongs to this country, and does not - want to leave it. And when a thing has been tried like that and has - failed, the fellows don’t try it again. They are cowed like by their - own failure. I don’t think you need fear fire from the Boolabong - side again this summer.” - </p> - <p> - After this the sergeant and his man discreetly allowed themselves to be - put to bed in the back cottage; for in truth, when they arrived, things - had come to such a pass at Gangoil that the two additional visitors were - hardly welcome. But hospitality in the bush can be stayed by no such - considerations as that. Let their employments or enjoyments on hand be - what they may, every thing must yield to the entertainment of strangers. - The two constables were in want of their Christmas dinner, and it was - given to them with no grudging hand. - </p> - <p> - As to Nokes, we may say that he has never since appeared in the - neighborhood of Gangoil, and that none thereabouts ever knew what was his - fate. Men such as he wander away from one colony into the next, passing - from one station to another, or sleeping on the ground, till they become - as desolate and savage as solitary animals. And at last they die in the - bush, creeping, we may suppose, into hidden nooks, as the beasts do when - the hour of death comes on them. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. — CONCLUSION. - </h2> - <p> - The constables had started from Gangoil, on their way to Boolabong, a - little after four, and from that time till he was made to get out of bed - for his dinner Harry Heathcote was allowed to sleep. He had richly earned - his rest by his work, and he lay motionless, without a sound, in the broad - daylight, with his arm under his head, dreaming, no doubt, of some happy - squatting land, in which there were no free-selectors, no fires, no - rebellious servants, no floods, no droughts, no wild dogs to worry the - lambs, no grass seeds to get into the fleeces, and in which the price of - wool stood steady at two shillings and sixpence a pound. His wife from - time to time came into the room, shading the light from his eyes, - protecting him from the flies, and administering in her soft way to what - she thought might be his comforts. His sleep was of the kind which no - light, nor even flies, can interrupt. Once or twice she stooped down and - kissed his brow, but he was altogether unconscious of her caress. - </p> - <p> - During this time old Mrs. Medlicot arrived; but her coming did not awake - the sleeper, though it was by no means made in silence. The old woman - sobbed and cried over her son, at the same time expressing her - thankfulness that he should have turned up in the forest so exactly at the - proper moment, evidently taking part in the conviction that her Giles had - saved Gangoil and all its sheep. And then there were all the necessary - arrangements to be made for the night, in accordance with which almost - every body had to give up his or her bed and sleep somewhere else. But - nothing disturbed Harry. For the present he was allowed to occupy his own - room, and he enjoyed the privilege. - </p> - <p> - Kate Daly during this time was much disturbed in mind. The reader may - remember—Kate, at any rate, remembered well—that, just as the - doctor had arrived to set his broken bone, Mr. Medlicot, disabled as he - was, had attempted to take her by the arm. He had certainly chosen an odd - time for a declaration of love, just the moment in which he ought to have - been preparing himself for the manipulation of his fractured limb; but, - unless he had meant a declaration of love, surely he would not have seized - her by the arm. It was a matter to her of great moment. Oh, of what vital - importance! The English girl living in a town, or even in what we call the - country, has no need to think of any special man till some special man - thinks of her. Men are fairly plentiful, and if one man does not come, - another will. And there have probably been men coming and going in some - sort since the girl left her school-room and became a young lady. But in - the bush the thing is very different. It may be that there is no young man - available within fifty miles—no possible lover or future husband, - unless Heaven should interfere almost with a miracle. To those to whom - lovers are as plentiful as blackberries it may seem indelicate to surmise - that the thought of such a want should ever enter a girl’s head. I - doubt whether the defined idea of any want had ever entered poor Kate’s - head. But now that the possible lover was there—not only possible, - but very probable—and so eligible in many respects, living so close, - with a house over his head and a good business; and then so handsome, and, - as Kate thought, so complete a gentleman! Of course she turned it much in - her mind. She was very happy with Harry Heathcote. There never was a - brother-in-law so good! But, after all, what is a brother-in-law, though - he be the very best? Kate had already begun to fancy that a house of her - own and a husband of her own would be essential to her happiness. But then - a man can not be expected to make an offer with a broken collar-bone—certainly - can not do so just when the doctor has arrived to set the bone. - </p> - <p> - Late on in the day, when the doctor had gone, and Medlicot was, according - to instructions, sitting out on the veranda in an armchair, and his mother - was with him, and while Harry was sleeping as though he never meant to be - awake again, Kate managed to say a few words to her sister. It will be - understood that the ladies’ hands were by no means empty. The - Christmas dinner was in course of preparation, and Sing Sing, that - villainous Chinese cook, had absconded. Mrs. Growler, no doubt, did her - best; but Mrs. Growler was old and slow, and the house was full of guests. - It was by no means an idle time; but still Kate found an opportunity to - say a word to her sister in the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - “What do you think of him, Mary?” - </p> - <p> - To the married sister “him” would naturally mean Harry - Heathcote, of whom, as he lay asleep, the young wife thought that he was - the very perfection of patriarchal pastoral manliness; but she knew enough - of human nature to be aware that the “him” of the moment to - her sister was no longer her own husband. “I think he has got his - arm broken fighting for Harry, and that we are bound to do the best we can - for him.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh yes; that’s of course. I’m sure Harry will feel - that. He used, you know, to—to—that is, not just to like him, - because he is a free-selector.” - </p> - <p> - “They’ll drop all that now. Of course they could not be - expected to know each other at the first starting. I shouldn’t - wonder if they became regular friends.” - </p> - <p> - “That would be nice! After all, though you may be so happy at home, - it is better to have something like a neighbor. Don’t you think so?” - </p> - <p> - “It depends on who the neighbors are. I don’t care much for - the Brownbies.” - </p> - <p> - “They are quite different, Mary.” - </p> - <p> - “I like the Medlicots very much.” - </p> - <p> - “I consider he’s quite a gentleman,” said Kate. - </p> - <p> - “Of course he’s a gentleman. Look here, Kate—I shall be - ready to welcome Mr. Medlicot as a brother-in-law, if things should turn - out that way.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t mean that, Mary.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you not? Well, you can mean it if you please, as far as I am - concerned. Has he said any thing to you, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - “Not a word?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know what you call a word; not a word of that kind.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought, perhaps—” - </p> - <p> - “I think he meant it once—this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say he meant it. And if he meant it this morning, he won’t - have forgotten his meaning to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s no reason why he should mean it, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “None in the least, Kate; is there?” - </p> - <p> - “Now you’re laughing at me, Mary. I never used to laugh at you - when Harry was coming. I was so glad, and I did every thing I could.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you went away and left us in the Botanical Gardens. I - remember. But, you see, there are no Botanical Gardens here; and the poor - man couldn’t walk about if there were.” - </p> - <p> - “I wonder what Harry would say if it were to be so.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course he’d be glad—for your sake.” - </p> - <p> - “But he does so despise free-selectors! And then he used to think - that Mr. Medlicot was quite as bad as the Brownbies. I wouldn’t - marry any one to be despised by you and Harry.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s all gone by, my dear,” said the wife, feeling - that she had to apologize for her husband’s prejudices. “Of - course one has to find out what people are before one takes them to one’s - bosom. Mr. Medlicot has acted in the most friendly way about these fires, - and I’m sure Harry will never despise him any more.” - </p> - <p> - “He couldn’t have done more for a real brother than have his - arm broken.” - </p> - <p> - “But you must remember one thing, Kate, Mr. Medlicot is very nice, - and like a gentleman, and all that. Bat you never can be quite certain - about any man till he speaks out plainly. Don’t set your heart upon - him till you are quite sure that he has set his upon you.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh no,” said Kate, giving her maidenly assurance when it was - so much too late! Just at this moment Mrs. Growler came into the kitchen, - and Kate’s promises and her sister’s cautions were for the - moment silenced. - </p> - <p> - “How we’re to manage to get the dinner on the table, I for one - don’t know at all,” said Mrs. Growler. “There’s - Mr. Bates’ll be here; that will be six of ’em; and that Mr. - Medlicot will want somebody to do every thing for him, because he’s - been and got hisself smashed. And there’s the old lady has just come - out from home, and is as particular as any thing. And Mr. Harry himself - never thinks of things at all. One pair of hands, and them very old, can’t - do every thing for every body.” All of which was very well - understood to mean nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - Household deficiencies—and, indeed, all deficiencies—are - considerable or insignificant in accordance with the aspirations of those - concerned. When a man has a regiment of servants in his dining-room, with - beautifully cut glass, a forest of flowers, and an iceberg in the middle - of his table if the weather be hot, his guests will think themselves ill - used and badly fed if aught in the banquet be astray. There must not be a - rose leaf ruffled; a failure in the attendance, a falling off in a dish, - or a fault in the wine is a crime. But the same guests shall be merry as - the evening is long with a leg of mutton and whisky toddy, and will change - their own plates, and clear their own table, and think nothing wrong, if - from the beginning such has been the intention of the giver of the feast. - In spite of Mrs. Growler’s prognostications, though the cook had - absconded, and the chief guest of the occasion could not cut up his own - meat, that Christmas dinner at Gangoil was eaten with great satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - Harry had been so far triumphant. He had stopped the fire that was - intended to ruin him, he had beaten off his enemies on their own ground, - and he was no longer oppressed by that sense of desolation which had - almost overpowered him. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll give one toast, Mrs. Medlicot,” he said, when - Mrs. Growler and Kate between them had taken away the relics of the - plum-pudding. “Our friends at home!” - </p> - <p> - The poor lady drank the toast with a sob. “That’s vera weel - for you, Mr. Heathcote. You’re young, and will win your way hame, - and see auld friends again, nae doubt; but I’ll never see ane of - them mair, except those I have here.” Nevertheless, the old lady ate - her dinner and drank her toddy, and made much of the occasion, going in - and out to her son upon the veranda. - </p> - <p> - Soon after dinner Heathcote, as was his wont, strayed out with his prime - minister Bates to consult on the dangers which might be supposed still to - threaten his kingdom, and Mrs. Heathcote, with her youngest boy in her - lap, sat talking to Mrs. Medlicot in the parlor. Such was not her custom - in weather such as this. Kate had been sent out on to the veranda, with - special commands to attend to the wants of the sufferer, and Mrs. - Heathcote would have followed her had she not remembered her sister’s - appeal, “I did every thing I could for you.” - </p> - <p> - In those happy days Kate had been very good, and certainly deserved - requital for her services. And therefore, when the men had gone out, Mrs. - Heathcote, with her guest, remained in the warm room, and went so far as - to suggest that at that period of the day the room was preferable to the - veranda. Poor Mrs. Medlicot was new to the ways of the bush, and fell into - the trap; thus Kate Daly was left alone with her wounded hero. - </p> - <p> - When told to take him out his glass of wine, and when conscious that no - one followed her, she felt herself to have been guilty of some great sin, - and was almost tempted to escape. She had asked her sister for help; and - this was the help that was forth-coming—help so palpable, so - manifest, as to be almost indelicate! Would he think that plans were being - made to catch him, now that he was a captive and impotent? The thought - that it was possible that such an idea might occur to him was terrible to - her. She would rather lose him altogether than feel the stain of such a - suggestion on her own conscience. She put the glass of wine down on the - little table by his side, and then attempted to withdraw. - </p> - <p> - “Stay a moment with me,” he said. “Where are they all?” - </p> - <p> - “Mary and your mother are inside. Harry and Mr. Bates have gone - across to look at the horses.” - </p> - <p> - “I almost feel as though I could walk, too.” - </p> - <p> - “You must not think of it yet, Mr. Medlicot. It seems almost a - wonder that you shouldn’t have to be in bed, and you with your - collar-bone broken only last night! I don’t know how you can bear it - as you do.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall be so glad I broke it, if one thing will come about.” - </p> - <p> - “What thing?” asked Kate, blushing. - </p> - <p> - “Kate—may I call you Kate?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “You know I love you, do you not? You must know it. Dearest Kate, - can you love me and be my wife?” His left arm was bound up, and was - in a sling, but he put out his right hand to take hers, if she would give - it to him. Kate Daly had never had a lover before, and felt the occasion - to be trying. She had no doubt about the matter. If it were only proper - for her to declare herself, she could swear with a safe conscience that - she loved him better than all the world. - </p> - <p> - “Put your hand here, Kate,” he said. - </p> - <p> - As the request was not exactly for the gift of her hand, she placed it in - his. - </p> - <p> - “May I keep it now?” - </p> - <p> - She could only whisper something which was quite inaudible, even to him. - </p> - <p> - “I shall keep it, and think that you are all my own. Stoop down, - Kate, and kiss me, if you love me.” - </p> - <p> - She hesitated for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. She did love - him, and was his own; still, to stoop and kiss a man who, if such a thing - were to be allowed at all, ought certainly to kiss her! She did not think - she could do that. But then she was bound to protect him, wounded and - broken as he was, from his own imprudence; and if she did not stoop to - him, he would rise to her. She was still in doubt, still standing with her - hand in his, half bending over him, but yet half resisting as she bent, - when, all suddenly, Harry Heathcote was on the veranda, followed by the - two policemen, who had just returned from Boolabong. She was sure that - Harry had seen her, and was by no means sure that she had been quick - enough in escaping from her lover’s hand to have been unnoticed by - the policemen also. She fled away as though guilty, and could hardly - recover herself sufficiently to assist Mrs. Growler in producing the - additional dinner which was required. - </p> - <p> - The two men were quickly sent to their rest, as has been told before; and - Harry, who had in truth seen how close to his friend his sister-in-law had - been standing, would, had it been possible, have restored the lovers to - their old positions; but they were all now on the veranda, and it was - impossible. Kate hung back, half in and half out of the sitting-room, and - old Mrs. Medlicot had seated herself close to her son. Harry was lying at - full length on a rug, and his wife was sitting over him. Then Giles - Medlicot, who was not quite contented with the present condition of - affairs, made a little speech. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Heathcote,” he said, “I have asked your sister to - marry me.” - </p> - <p> - “Dearie me, Giles,” said Mrs. Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - Kate remained no longer half in and half out of the parlor, but retreated - altogether and hid herself. Harry turned himself over on the rug, and - looked up at his wife, claiming infinite credit in that he had foreseen - that such a thing might happen. - </p> - <p> - “And what answer has she given you?” said Mrs. Heathcote. - </p> - <p> - “She hasn’t given me any answer yet. I wonder what you and - Heathcote would say about it?” - </p> - <p> - “What Kate has to say is much more important,” replied the - discreet sister. - </p> - <p> - “I should like it of all things,” said Harry, jumping up. - “It’s always best to be open about these things. When you - first came here, I didn’t like you. You took a bit of my river - frontage—not that it does me any great harm—and then I was - angry about that scoundrel Nokes.” - </p> - <p> - “I was wrong about Nokes,” said Medlicot, “and have, - therefore, had my collar-bone broken. As to the land, you’ll forgive - my having it if Kate will come and live there?” - </p> - <p> - “By George! I should think so.—Kate, why don’t you come - out? Come along, my girl. Medlicot has spoken out openly, and you should - answer him in the same fashion.” So saying, he dragged her forth, - and I fear that, as far as she was concerned, something of the sweetness - of her courtship was lost by the publicity with which she was forced to - confess her love. “Will you go, Kate, and make sugar down at the - mill? I have often thought how bad it would be for Mary and me when you - were taken away; but we sha’n’t mind it so much if we knew - that you are to be near us.” - </p> - <p> - “Speak to him, Kate,” said Mrs. Heathcote, with her arm round - her sister’s waist. - </p> - <p> - “I think she’s minded to have him,” said Mrs. Medlicot. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me, Kate—shall it be so?” pleaded the lover. - </p> - <p> - She came up to him and leaned over him, and whispered one word which - nobody else heard. But they all knew what the word was. And before they - separated for the night she was left alone with him, and he got the kiss - for which he was asking when the policemen interrupted them. - </p> - <p> - “That’s what I call a happy Christmas,” said Harry, as - the party finally parted for the night. - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARRY HEATHCOTE OF GANGOIL*** - - -******* This file should be named 5642-h.htm or 5642-h.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/6/4/5642 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -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 - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: -http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - - -</pre> - </body> -</html> diff --git a/old/hhgan10.txt b/old/hhgan10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c6fcfbe..0000000 --- a/old/hhgan10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4856 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, by Anthony Trollope -(#37 in our series by Anthony Trollope) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** - - -Title: Harry Heathcote of Gangoil - -Author: Anthony Trollope - -Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5642] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on August 3, 2002] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HARRY HEATHCOTE OF GANGOIL *** - - - - -This eBook was produced by Nicole Apostola, Charles Franks and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team. - - - -HARRY HEATHCOTE OF GANGOIL - -A Tale of Australian Bush-Life. - - -BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE, - - -AUTHOR OF - -"THE WARDEN", "BARCHESTER TOWERS," "ORLEY FARM," "THE SMALL HOUSE AT -ARLINGTON", "THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS," &c., &c - - -ILLUSTRATED. - - - - -HARRY HEATHCOTE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -GANGOIL. - - -Just a fortnight before Christmas, 1871, a young man, twenty-four -years of age, returned home to his dinner about eight o'clock in the -evening. He was married, and with him and his wife lived his wife's -sister. At that somewhat late hour he walked in among the two young -women, and another much older woman who was preparing the table for -dinner. The wife and the wife's sister each had a child in her lap, -the elder having seen some fifteen months of its existence, and the -younger three months. "He has been out since seven, and I don't think -he's had a mouthful," the wife had just said. "Oh, Harry, you must be -half starved," she exclaimed, jumping up to greet him, and throwing -her arm round his bare neck. - -"I'm about whole melted," he said, as he kissed her. "In the name of -charity give me a nobbler. I did get a bit of damper and a pannikin -of tea up at the German's hut; but I never was so hot or so thirsty -in my life. We're going to have it in earnest this time. Old Bates -says that when the gum leaves crackle, as they do now, before -Christmas, there won't be a blade of grass by the end of February." - -"I hate Old Bates," said the wife. "He always prophesies evil, and -complains about his rations." - -"He knows more about sheep than any man this side of the Mary," said -her husband. From all this I trust the reader will understand that -the Christmas to which he is introduced is not the Christmas with -which he is intimate on this side of the equator--a Christmas of -blazing fires in-doors, and of sleet arid snow and frost outside--but -the Christmas of Australia, in which happy land the Christmas fires -are apt to be lighted--or to light themselves--when they are by no -means needed. - -The young man who had just returned home had on a flannel shirt, a -pair of mole-skin trowsers, and an old straw hat, battered nearly out -of all shape. He had no coat, no waistcoat, no braces, and nothing -round his neck. Round his waist there was a strap or belt, from the -front of which hung a small pouch, and, behind, a knife in a case. -And stuck into a loop in the belt, made for the purpose, there was a -small brier-wood pipe. As he dashed his hat off, wiped his brow, and -threw himself into a rocking-chair, he certainly was rough to look -at, but by all who understood Australian life he would have been -taken to be a gentleman. He was a young squatter, well known west of -the Mary River, in Queensland. Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, who owned -30,000 sheep of his own, was a magistrate in those parts, and able to -hold his own among his neighbors, whether rough or gentle; and some -neighbors he had, very rough, who made it almost necessary that a man -should be able to be rough also, on occasions, if he desired to live -among them without injury. Heathcote of Gangoil could do all that. -Men said of him that he was too imperious, too masterful, too much -inclined to think that all things should be made to go as he would -have them. Young as he was, he had been altogether his own master -since he was of age--and not only his own master, but the master also -of all with whom he was brought into contact from day to day. In his -life he conversed but seldom with any but those who were dependent on -him, nor had he done so for the last three years. At an age at which -young men at home are still subject to pastors and masters, he had -sprung at once into patriarchal power, and, being a man determined to -thrive, had become laborious and thoughtful beyond his years. - -Harry Heathcote had been left an orphan, with a small fortune in -money, when he was fourteen. For two years after that he had -consented to remain quietly at school, but at sixteen he declared his -purpose of emigrating. Boys less than himself in stature got above -him at school, and he had not liked it. For a twelvemonth he was -opposed by his guardian; but at the end of the year he was fitted -forth for the colony. The guardian was not sorry to be quit of him, -but prophesied that he would be home again before a year was over. -The lad had not returned, and it was now a settled conviction among -all who knew him that he would make or mar his fortune in the new -land that he had chosen. - -He was a tall, well-made young fellow, with fair hair and a good- -humored smile, but ever carrying in his countenance marks of what his -enemies called pig-headedness, his acquaintances obstinacy, and those -who loved him firmness. His acquaintances were, perhaps, right, for -he certainly was obstinate. He would take no man's advice, he would -submit himself to no man, and in the conduct of his own business -preferred to trust to his own insight than to the experience of -others. It would sometimes occur that he had to pay heavily for his -obstinacy. But, on the other hand, the lessons which he learned he -learned thoroughly. And he was kept right in his trade by his own -indefatigable industry. That trade was the growth of wool. He was a -breeder of sheep on a Queensland sheep-run, and his flocks ran far -afield over a vast territory of which he was the only lord. His house -was near the river Mary, and beyond the river his domain did not -extend; but around him on his own side of the river he could ride for -ten miles in each direction without getting off his own pastures. He -was master, as far as his mastership went, of 120,000 acres--almost -an English county--and it was the pride of his heart to put his foot -off his own territory as seldom as possible. He sent his wool -annually down to Brisbane, and received his stores, tea and sugar, -flour and brandy, boots, clothes, tobacco, etc., once or twice a year -from thence. But the traffic did not require his own presence at the -city. So self-contained was the working of the establishment that he -was never called away by his business, unless he went to see some lot -of highly bred sheep which he might feel disposed to buy; and as for -pleasure, it had come to be altogether beyond the purpose of his life -to go in quest of that. When the work of the day was over, he would -lie at his length upon rugs in the veranda, with a pipe in his mouth, -while his wife sat over him reading a play of Shakspeare or the last -novel that had come to them from England. - -He had married a fair girl, the orphan daughter of a bankrupt -squatter whom be had met in Sydney, and had brought her and her -sister into the Queensland bush with him. His wife idolized him. His -sister-in-law, Kate Daly, loved him dearly--as she had cause to do, -for he had proved himself to be a very brother to her; but she feared -him also somewhat. The people about the Mary said that she was fairer -and sweeter to look at even than the elder sister. Mrs. Heathcote was -the taller of the two, and the larger-featured. She certainly was the -higher in intellect, and the fittest to be the mistress of such an -establishment as that at Gangoil. - -When he had washed his hands and face, and had swallowed the very -copious but weak allowance of brandy-and-water which his wife mixed -for him, he took the eldest boy on his lap and fondled him. "By -George!" he said, "old fellow, you sha'n't be a squatter." - -"Why not, Harry?" asked his wife. - -"Because I don't want him to break his heart every day of his life." - -"Are you always breaking yours? I thought your heart was pretty well -hardened now." - -"When a man talks of his heart, you and Kate are thinking of loves -and doves, of course." - -"I wasn't thinking of loves and doves, Harry," said Kate." I was -thinking how very hot it must have been to-day. We could only bear it -in the veranda by keeping the blinds always wet. I don't wonder that -you were troubled." - -"That comes from heaven or Providence, or from something that one -knows to be unassailable, and therefore one can put up with it. Even -if one gets a sun-stroke one does not complain. The sun has a right -to be there, and is no interloper, like a free-selector. I can't -understand why free-selectors and mosquitoes should have been -introduced into the arrangements of the world." - -"I s'pose the poor must live somewheres, and 'squiters too," said -Mrs. Growler, the old maid-servant, as she put a boiled leg of mutton -on the table. "Now, Mr. Harry, if you're hungered, there's something -for you to eat in spite of the free-selectors." - -"Mrs. Growler," said the master, "excuse me for saying that you jump -to conclusions." - -"My jumping is pretty well-nigh done," said the old woman. - -"By no means. I find that old people can jump quite as briskly as -young. You have rebuked me under the impression that I was grudging -something to the poor. Let me explain to you that a free-selector may -be, and very often is, a rich man. He whom I had in my mind is not a -poor man. though I won't swear but what he will be before a year is -over." - -"I know who you mean, Mr. Harry; you mean the Medlicots. A very nice -gentleman is Mr. Medlicot, and a very nice old lady is Mrs. Medlicot. -And a deal of good they're going to do, by all accounts." - -"Now, Mrs. Growler, that will do," said the wife. - -The dinner consisted of a boiled leg of mutton, a large piece of -roast beef, potatoes, onions, and an immense pot of tea. No glasses -were even put upon the table. The two ladies had dressed for dinner, -and were bright and pretty as they would have been in a country house -at home; but Harry Heathcote had sat down just as he had entered the -room. - -"I know you are tired to death," said his wife, "when I see you eat -your dinner like that." - -"It isn't being tired, Mary; I'm not particularly tired. But I must -be off again in about an hour." - -"Out again to-night?" - -"Yes, indeed." - -"On horseback?" - -"How else? Old Bates and Mickey are in their saddles still. I don't -want to have my fences burned as soon as they're put up. It's a -ticklish thing to think that a spark of fire any where about the -place might ruin me, and to know at the same time that every man -about the run and every swagsman that passes along have matches in -their pocket. There isn't a pipe lighted on Gangoil this time of the -year that mightn't make a beggar of you and me. That's another reason -why I wouldn't have the young un a squatter." - -"--I declare I think that squatters have more trouble than any people -in the world," said Kate Daly. - -"--Free-selectors have their own troubles too, Kate," said he. - -It must be explained as we go on that Heathcote felt that he had -received a great and peculiar grievance from the hands of one -Medlicot, a stranger who had lately settled near him, and that this -last remark referred to a somewhat favorable opinion which had been -expressed about this stranger by the two ladies. It was a little -unfair, as having been addressed specially to Kate, intending as it -did to imply that Kate had better consider the matter well before she -allowed her opinion of the stranger to become dangerously favorable; -for in truth she had said no more than her sister. - -"The Medlicots' troubles will never trouble me, Harry," she said. - -"I hope not, Kate; nor mine either more than we can help." - -"But they do," said Mary. "They trouble me, and her too, very much." - -"A man's back should be broad enough to bear all that for himself," -said Harry. "I get ashamed of myself when I grumble, and yet one -seems to be surly if one doesn't say what one's thinking." - -"I hope you'll always tell me what you're thinking, dear." - -"Well, I suppose I shall--till this fellow is old enough to be talked -to, and to be made to bear the burden of his father's care." - -"By that time, Harry, you will have got rich, and we shall all be in -England, sha'n't we?" - -"I don't know about being rich, but we shall have been free-selected -off Gangoil.--Now, Mrs. Growler, we've done dinner, and I'll have a -pipe before I make another start. Is Jacko in the kitchen? Send him -through to me on to the veranda." - -Gangoil was decidedly in the bush--according to common Australian -parlance, all sheep stations are in the bush, even though there -should not be a tree or shrub within sight. They who live away from -the towns live a "bush life." Small towns, as they grow up, are -called bush towns, as we talk of country towns. The "bush," indeed, -is the country generally. But the Heathcotes lived absolutely and -actually in the bush. There are Australian pastures which consist of -plains on which not a tree is to be seen for miles; but others are -forests, so far extending that their limits are almost unknown. -Gangoil was surrounded by forest, in some places so close as to be -impervious to men and almost to animals in which the undergrowth was -thick and tortuous and almost platted, through which no path could be -made without an axe, but of which the greater portions were open, -without any under-wood, between which the sheep could wander at their -will, and men could ride, with a sparse surface of coarse grass, -which after rain would be luxuriant, but in hot weather would be -scorched down to the ground. At such times--and those times were by -far the more common--a stranger would wonder where the sheep would -find their feed. Immediately round the house, or station, as it was -called, about one hundred acres had been cleared, or nearly cleared, -with a few trees left here and there for ornament or shade. Further -afield, but still round the home quarters, the trees had been -destroyed, the run of the sap having been stopped by "ringing" the -bark; but they still stood like troops of skeletons, and would stand, -very ugly to look at, till they fell, in the course of nature, by -reason of their own rottenness. There was a man always at work about -the place--Boscobel he was called--whose sole business was to destroy -the timber after this fashion, so that the air might get through to -the grasses, and that the soil might be relieved from the burden of -nurturing the forest trees. - -For miles around the domain was divided into paddocks, as they were -there called; but these were so large that a stranger might wander in -one of them for a day and never discover that he was inclosed. There -were five or six paddocks on the Gangoil run, each of which comprised -over ten thousand acres, and as all the land was undulating, and as -the timber was around you every where, one paddock was exactly like -another. The scenery in itself was fine, for the trees were often -large, and here and there rocky knolls would crop up, and there were -broken crevices in the ground; but it was all alike. A stranger would -wonder that any one straying from the house should find his way back -to it. There were sundry bush houses here and there, and the so- -called road to the coast from the wide pastoral districts further -west passed across the run; but these roads and tracks would travel -hither and thither, new tracks being opened from time to time by the -heavy wool drays and store wagons, as in wet weather the ruts on the -old tracks would become insurmountable. - -The station itself was certainly very pretty. It consisted of a -cluster of cottages, each of which possessed a ground-floor only. No -such luxury as stairs was known at Gangoil. It stood about half a -mile from the Mary River, on the edge of a creek which ran into it. -The principal edifice, that in which the Heathcotes lived, contained -only one sitting-room, and a bedroom on each side of it; but in truth -there was another room, very spacious, in which the family really -passed their time; and this was the veranda which ran along the front -and two ends of the house. It was twelve feet broad, and, of course, -of great length. Here was clustered the rocking-chairs, and sofas, -and work-tables, and very often the cradle of the family. Here stood -Mrs. Heathcote's sewing-machine, and here the master would sprawl at -his length, while his wife, or his wife's sister, read to him. It was -here, in fact, that they lived, having a parlor simply for their -meals. Behind the main edifice there stood, each apart, various -buildings, forming an irregular quadrangle. The kitchen came first, -with a small adjacent chamber in which slept the Chinese man-cook, -Sing Sing, as he had come to be called; then the cottage, consisting -also of three rooms and a small veranda, in which lived Harry's -superintendent, commonly known as Old Bates, a man who had been a -squatter once himself, and having lost his all in bad times, now -worked for a small salary. In the cottage two of the rooms were -devoted to hospitality when, as was not unusual, guests, known or -unknown, came that way; and here Harry himself would sleep, if the -entertainment of other ladies crowded the best apartments. Then at -the back of the quadrangle was the store, perhaps of all the -buildings the most important. In here was kept a kind of shop, which -was supposed, according to an obsolete rule, to be open for custom -for half a day twice a week. The exigencies of the station did not -allow of this regularity; but after some fashion the shop was -maintained. Tea was to be bought there, and sugar, tobacco, and -pickles, jam, nails, boots, hats, flannel shirrs, and mole-skin -trowsers. Any body who came might buy, but the intention was to -provide the station hands, who would otherwise have had to go or send -thirty miles for the supply of their wants. Very little money was -taken here, generally none. But the quantity of pickles, jam, and -tobacco sold was great. The men would consume large quantities of -these bush delicacies, and the cost would be deducted from their -wages. The tea and sugar, and flour also, were given out weekly, as -rations--so much a week--and meat was supplied to them after the same -fashion. For it was the duty of this young autocratic patriarch to -find provisions for all who were employed around him. For such -luxuries as jam and tobacco the men paid themselves. - -On the fourth side of the quadrangle was a rough coach-house, and -rougher stables. The carriage part of the establishment consisted of -two "buggies"--so called always in the bush--open carriages on four -wheels, one of which was intended to hold two and the other four -sitters. A Londoner looking at them would have declared them to be -hopeless ruins; but Harry Heathcote still made wonderful journeys in -them, taking care generally that the wheels were sound, and using -ropes for the repair of dilapidations. The stables were almost -unnecessary, as the horses, of which the supply at Gangoil was very -large, roamed in the horse paddock, a comparatively small inclosure -containing not above three or four hundred acres, and were driven up -as they were wanted. One horse was always kept close at home with -which to catch the others; but this horse, for handiness, was -generally hitched to a post outside the kitchen door. Harry was proud -of his horses, and was sometimes heard to say that few men in England -had a lot of thirty at hand as he had, out of which so many would be -able to carry a man eighty miles in eight hours at a moment's notice. -But his stable arrangements would not have commanded respect in the -"Shires." The animals were never groomed, never fed, and many of them -never shod. They lived upon grass, and, Harry always said, "cut their -own bread-and-butter for themselves." - -Gangoil was certainly very pretty. The veranda was covered in with -striped blinds, so that when the sun shone hot, or when the rains -fell heavily, or when the mosquitoes were more than usually -troublesome, there might be something of the protection of an -inclosed room. Up all the posts there were flowering creepers, which -covered the front with greenery even when the flowers were wanting. -From the front of the house down to the creek there was a pleasant -failing garden--heart-breaking, indeed, in regard to vegetables, for -the opossums always came first, and they who followed the opossums -got but little. But the garden gave a pleasant home-like look to the -place, and was very dear to Harry, who was, perhaps, indifferent in -regard to pease and tomatoes. Harry Heathcote was very proud of the -place, for he had made it all himself, having pulled down a wretched -barrack that he had found there. But he was far prouder of his wool- -shed, which he had also built, and which he regarded as first and -foremost among wool-sheds in those parts. By-and-by we shall be -called on to visit the wool-shed. Though Heathcote had done all this -for Gangoil, it must be understood that the vast extent of territory -over which his sheep ran was by no means his own property. He was -simply the tenant of the Crown, paying a rent computed at so much a -sheep. He had, indeed, purchased the ground on which his house stood, -but this he had done simply to guard himself against other -purchasers. These other purchasers were the bane of his existence, -the one great sorrow which, as he said, broke his heart. - -While he was speaking, a rough-looking lad, about sixteen years of -age, came through the parlor to the veranda, dressed very much like -his master, but unwashed, uncombed, and with that wild look which -falls upon those who wander about the Australian plains, living a -nomad life. This was Jacko--so called, and no one knew him by any -other name--a lad whom Heathcote had picked up about six months -since, and who had become a favorite. "The old woman says as you was -wanting me?" suggested Jacko. "Going to be fine to-night, Jacko?" - -Jacko went to the edge of the veranda and looked up to the sky. "My -word! little squall a-coming," he said. - -"I wish it would come from ten thousand buckets," said the master. - -"No buckets at all," said Jacko. "Want the horses, master?" - -"Of course. I want the horses, and I want you to come with me. There -are two horses saddled there; I'll ride Hamlet." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -A NIGHT'S RIDE. - - -Harry jumped from the ground, kissed his wife, called her "old girl," -and told her to be happy, and got on his horse at the garden gate. -Both the ladies came off the veranda to see him start. "It's as dark -as pitch," said Kate Daly. - -"That's because you have just come out of the light." - -"But it is dark--quite dark. You won't be late, will you?" said the -wife. - -"I can't be very early, as it's near ten now. I shall be back about -twelve." So saying, he broke at once into a gallop, and vanished into -the night, his young groom scampering after him. - -"Why should he go out now?" Kate said to her sister. - -"He is afraid of fire." - -"But he can't prevent the fires by riding about in the dark. I -suppose the fires come from the heat." - -"He thinks they come from enemies, and he has heard something. One -wretched man may do so much when every thing is dried to tinder. I do -so wish it would rain." - -The night, in truth, was very dark. It was now midsummer, at which -time with us the days are so long that the coming of the one almost -catches the departure of its predecessor. But Gangoil was not far -outside the tropics, and there were no long summer nights. The heat -was intense; but there was a low soughing wind which seemed to moan -among the trees without moving them. As they crossed the little home -inclosure and the horse paddock, the track was just visible, the -trees being dead and the spaces open. About half a mile from the -house, while they were still in the horse paddock, Harry turned from -the track, and Jacko, of course, turned with him. "You can sit your -horse jumping, Jacko?" he asked. - -"My word! jump like glory," answered Jacko. He was soon tried. Harry -rode at the bush fence--which was not, indeed, much of a fence, made -of logs lengthways and crossways, about three feet and a half high-- -and went over it. Jacko followed him, rushing his horse at the leap, -losing his seat and almost falling over the animal's shoulders as he -came to the ground. "My word!" said Jacko, just saving himself by a -scramble; "who ever saw the like of that?" - -"Why don't you sit in your saddle, you stupid young duffer?" - -"Sit in my saddle! Why don't he jump proper? Well, you go on. I don't -know that I'm a duffer. Duffer, indeed! My word!" Heathcote had -turned to the left, leaving the track, which was, indeed, the main -road toward the nearest town and the coast, and was now pushing on -through the forest with no pathway at all to guide him. To ordinary -eyes the attempt to steer any course would have been hopeless. But an -Australian squatter, if he have any well-grounded claim to the -character of a bushman, has eyes which are not ordinary, and he has, -probably, nurtured within himself, unconsciously, topographical -instincts which are unintelligible to the inhabitants of cities. -Harry, too, was near his own home, and went forward through the thick -gloom without a doubt, Jacko following him faithfully. In about half -an hour they came to another fence, but now it was too absolutely -dark for jumping. Harry had not seen it till he was close to it, and -then he pulled up his horse. "My word! why don't you jump away, Mr. -Harry? Who's a duffer now?" - -"Hold your tongue, or I'll put my whip across your back. Get down and -help me pull a log away. The horses couldn't see where to put their -feet." Jacko did as he was bid, and worked hard, but still grumbled -at having been called a duffer. The animals were quickly led over, -the logs were replaced, and the two were again galloping through the -forest. - -"I thought you were making for the wool-shed," said Jacko. - -"We're eight miles beyond the wool-shed," said Harry. They had now -crossed another paddock, and had come to the extreme fence on the -run. The Gangoil pastures extended much further, but in that -direction had not as yet been inclosed. Here they both got off their -horses and walked along the fence till they came to an opening, with -a slip panel, or movable bars, which had been Heathcote's intended -destination. "Hold the horses, Jacko, till I come back," he said. - -Jacko, when alone, nothing daunted by the darkness or solitude, -seated himself on the top rail, took out a pipe, and struck a match. -When the tobacco was ignited he dropped the match on the dry grass at -his feet, and a little flame instantly sprang up. The boy waited a -few seconds till the flames began to run, and then putting his feet -together on the ground stamped out the incipient fire. "My word!" -said Jacko to himself, "it's easy done, anyway." - -Harry went on to the left for about half a mile, and then stood -leaning against the fence. It was very dark, but he was now looking -over into an inclosure which had been altogether cleared of trees, -and which, as he knew well, had been cultivated and was covered with -sugar-canes. Where he stood he was not distant above a quarter of a -mile from the river, and the field before him ran down to the banks. -This was the selected land of Giles Medlicot--two years since a -portion of his own run, which had now been purchased from the -government--for the loss of which he had received and was entitled to -receive no compensation. And the matter was made worse for him by the -fact that the interloper had come between him and the river. But he -was not standing here near midnight merely to exercise his wrath by -straining his eyes through the darkness at his neighbor's crops. He -put his finger into his mouth to wet it, and then held it up that he -might discover which way the light breath of wind was coming. There -was still the low moan to be heard continually through the forest, -and yet not a leaf seemed to be moved. After a while he thought he -caught a sound, and put his ear down to the ground. He distinctly -heard a footstep, and rising up, walked quickly toward the spot -whence the noise came. - -"Who's that?" he said, as he saw the figure of a man standing on his -side of the fence, and leaning against it, with a pipe in his month. - -"Who are you?" replied the man on the fence. "My name is Medlicot." - -"Oh, Mr. Medlicot, is it?" - -"Is that Mr. Heathcote? Good-night, Mr. Heathcote. You are going -about at a late hour of the night." - -"I have to go about early and late; but I ain't later than you." - -"I'm close at home," said Medlicot. - -"I am, at any rate, on my own run," said Harry. - -"You mean to say that I am trespassing?" said the other; "because I -can very soon jump back over the fence." - -"I didn't mean that at all, Mr. Medlicot; any body is welcome on my -run, night or day, who knows how to behave himself." - -"I hope I'm included in that list." - -"Just so; of course. Considering the state that every thing is in, -and all the damage that a fire would do, I rather wish that people -would be a little more careful about smoking." - -"My canes, Mr. Heathcote, would burn quite as quickly as your grass." - -"It is not only the grass. I've a hundred miles of fencing on the run -which is as dry as tinder, not to talk of the station and the wool- -shed." - -"They sha'n't suffer from my neglect, Mr. Heathcote." - -"You have men about who mayn't be so careful. The wind, such as it -is, is coming right across from your place. If there were light -enough, I could show you three or four patches where there has been -fire within half a mile of this spot. There was a log burning there -for two or three days, not long ago, which was lighted by one of our -men." - -"That was a fortnight since. There was no heat then, and the men were -boiling their kettle. I spoke about it." - -"A log like that, Mr. Medlicot, will burn for weeks sometimes. I'll -tell you fairly what I'm afraid of. There's a man with you whom I -turned out of the shed last shearing, and I think he might put a -match down--not by accident." - -"You mean Nokes. As far as I know, he's a decent man. You wouldn't -have me not employ a man just because you had dismissed him?" - -"Certainly not; that is, I shouldn't think of dictating to you about -such a thing." - -"Well, no, Mr. Heathcote, I suppose not. Nokes has got to earn his -bread, though you did dismiss him. I don't know that he's not as -honest a man as you or I." - -"If so, there's three of us very bad; that's all, Mr. Medlicot. Good- -night; and if you'll trouble yourself to look after the ash of your -tobacco it might be the saving of me and all I have." So saying, he -turned round, and made his way back to the horses. - -Medlicot had placed himself on the fence during the interview, and he -still kept his seat. Of course he was now thinking of the man who had -just left him, whom he declared to himself to be an ignorant, -prejudiced, ill-constituted cur. "I believe in his heart he thinks -that I'm going to set fire to his run," he said, almost aloud. "And -because he grows wool he thinks himself above every body in the -colony. He occupies thousands of acres, and employs three or four -men. I till about two hundred, and maintain thirty families. But he -is such a pig that he can't understand all that; and he thinks that I -must be something low because I've bought with my own money a bit of -land which never belonged to him, and which he couldn't use." Such -was the nature of Giles Medlicot's soliloquy as he sat swinging his -legs, and still smoking his pipe, on the fence which divided his -sugar-cane from the other young man's run. - -And Harry Heathcote uttered his soliloquy also. "I wouldn't swear -that he wouldn't do it himself, after all;" meaning that he almost -suspected that Medlicot himself would be an incendiary. To him, in -his way of thinking, a man who would take advantage of the law to buy -a bit of another man's land--or become a free-selector, as the term -goes--was a public enemy, and might be presumed capable of any -iniquity. It was all very well for the girls--meaning his wife and -sister-in-law--to tell him that Medlicot had the manners of a -gentleman and had come of decent people. Women were always soft -enough to be taken by soft hands, a good-looking face, and a decent -coat. This Medlicot went about dressed like a man in the towns, -exhibiting, as Harry thought, a contemptible, unmanly finery. Of what -use was it to tell him that Medlicot was a gentleman? What Harry knew -was that since Medlicot had come he had lost his sheep, that the -heads of three or four had been found buried on Medlicot's side of -his run, and that if he dismissed "a hand," Medlicot employed him--a -proceeding which, in Harry Heathcote's aristocratic and patriarchal -views of life, was altogether ungentleman-like. How were the "hands" -to be kept in their place if one employer of labor did not back up -another? - -He had been warned to be on his guard against fire. The warnings had -hardly been implicit, but yet had come in a shape which made him -unable to ignore them. Old Bates, whom he trusted implicitly, and who -was a man of very few words, had told him to be on his guard. The -German, at whose hut he had been in the morning, Karl Bender by name, -and a servant of his own, had told him that there would be fire about -before long. - -"Why should any one want to ruin me?" Harry had asked. "Did I ever -wrong a man of a shilling?" - -The German had learned to know his young master, had made his way -through the crust of his master's character, and was prepared to be -faithful at all points--though he too could have quarreled and have -avenged himself had it not chanced that he had come to the point of -loving instead of hating his employer. - -"You like too much to be governor over all," said the German, as he -stooped over the fire in his own hut in his anxiety to boil the water -for Heathcote's tea. - -"Somebody must be governor, or every thing would go to the devil," -said Harry. - -"Dat's true--only fellows don't like be made feel it," said the -German, "Nokes, he was made feel it when you put him over de gate." - -But neither would Bates nor the German express absolute suspicion of -any man. That Medlicot's "hands" at the sugar-mill were stealing his -sheep Harry thought that he knew; but that was comparatively a small -affair, and he would not have pressed it, as he was without absolute -evidence. And even he had a feeling that it would be unwise to -increase the anger felt against himself--at any rate, during the -present heats. - -Jacko had his pipe still alight when Heathcote returned. "You young -monkey," said he, "have you been using matches?" - -"Why not, Mr. Harry? Don't the grass burn ready, Mr. Harry? My word!" -Then Jacko stooped down, lit another match, and showed Heathcote the -burned patch. - -"Was it so when we came?" Harry asked, with emotion. Jacko, still -kneeling on the ground, and holding the lighted match in his hand, -shook his head and tapped his breast, indicating that he had burned -the grass. "You dropped the match by accident?" - -"My word! no. Did it o' purpose to see. It's all just one as -gunpowder, Mr. Harry." - -Harry got on his horse without a word, and rode away through the -forest, taking a direction different from that by which he had come, -and the boy followed him. He was by no means certain that this young -fellow might not turn against him; but it had been a part of his -theory to make no difference to any man because of such fears. If he -could make the men around him respect him, then they would treat him -well; but they could never be brought to respect him by flattery. He -was very nearly right in his views of men, and would have been right -altogether could he have seen accurately what justice demanded for -others as well as for himself. As far as the intention went, he was -minded to be just to every man. - -It seemed, as they were riding, that the heat grew fiercer and -fiercer. Though there was still the same moaning sound, there was not -a breath of air. They had now got upon a track very well known to -Heathcote, which led up from the river to the wool-shed, and so on to -the station, and they had turned homeward. When they were near the -wool-shed, suddenly there fell a heavy drop or two of rain. Harry -stopped and turned his face upward, when, in a moment, the whole -heavens above them and the forest around were illumined by a flash of -lightning so near them that it made each of them start in his saddle, -and made the horses shudder in every limb. Then came the roll of -thunder immediately over their heads, and with the thunder rain so -thick and fast that Harry's "ten thousand buckets" seemed to be -emptied directly over their heads. - -"God A'mighty has put out the fires now," said Jacko. - -Harry paused for a moment, feeling the rain through to his bones--for -he had nothing on over his shirt--and rejoicing in it. "Yes," he -said; "we may go to bed for a week, and let the grass grow, and the -creeks fill, and the earth cool. Half an hour like this over the -whole run, and there won't be a dry stick on it." - -As they went on, the horses splashed through the water. It seemed as -though a deluge were falling, and that already the ground beneath -their feet were becoming a lake. - -"We might have too much of this, Jacko." - -"My word! yes." - -"I don't want to have the Mary flooded again." - -"My word! no." - -But by the time they reached the wool-shed it was over. From the -first drop to the last, there had hardly been a space of twenty -minutes. But there was a noise of waters as the little streams washed -hither and thither to their destined courses and still the horses -splashed, and still there was the feeling of an incipient deluge. -When they reached the wool-shed, Harry again got off his horse, and -Jacko, dismounting also, hitched the two animals to the post and -followed his master into the building. Harry struck a wax match, and -holding it up, strove to look round the building by the feeble light -which it shed. It was a remarkable edifice, built in the shape of a -great T, open at the sides, with a sharp-pitched timber roof covered -with felt, which came down within four feet of the ground. It was -calculated to hold about four hundred sheep at a time, and was -divided into pens of various sizes, partitioned off for various -purposes. If Harry Heathcote was sure of any thing, he was sure that -his wool-shed was the best that had ever been built in this district. - -"By Jimini! what's that?" said Jacko. - -"Did you hear any thing?" - -Jacko pointed with his finger down the centre walk of the shed, and -Harry, striking another match as he went, rushed forward. But the -match was out as soon as ignited, and gave no glimmer of light. -Nevertheless he saw, or thought that he saw, the figure of a man -escaping out of the open end of the shed. The place itself was black -as midnight, but the space beyond was clear of trees, and the -darkness outside being a few shades lighter than within the building, -allowed something of the outline of a figure to be visible. And as -the man escaped, the sounds of his footsteps were audible enough. -Harry called to him, but of course received no answer. Had he pursued -him, he would have been obliged to cross sundry rails, which would -have so delayed him as to give him no chance of success. - -"I knew there was a fellow about," he said; "one of our own men would -not have run like that." - -Jacko shook his head, but did not speak. - -"He has got in here for shelter out of the rain, but he was doing no -good about the place." - -Jacko again shook his head. - -"I wonder who he was?" - -Jacko came up and whispered in his ear, "Bill Nokes." - -"You couldn't see him." - -"Seed the drag of his leg." Now it was well known that the man Nokes -had injured some of his muscles, and habitually dragged one foot -after another. - -"I don't think you could have been sure of him by such a glimpse as -that." - -"Maybe not," said the boy, "only I'm sure as sure." - -Harry Heathcote said not another word, but getting again upon his -horse, galloped home. It was past one when he reached the station, -but the two girls were waiting up for him, and at once began to -condole with him because he was wet. "Wet!" said Harry; "if you could -only know how much I prefer things being wet to dry just at present! -But give Jacko some supper. I must keep that young fellow in good -humor if I can." - -So Jacko had half a loaf of bread, and a small pot of jam, and a -large jug of cold tea provided for him, in the enjoyment of which -luxuries he did not seem to be in the least impeded by the fact that -he was wet through to the skin. Harry Heathcote had another nobbler-- -being only the second in the day--and then went to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -MEDLICOT'S MILL. - - -As Harry said, they might all now lie in bed for a day or two. The -rain had set aside for the time the necessity for that urgent -watchfulness which kept all hands on the station hard at work during -the great heat. There was not, generally, much rest during the year -at Gangoil. Lambing in April and May, washing and shearing in -September, October, and November, with the fear of fires and the -necessary precautions in December and January, did not leave more -than sufficient intervals for looking after the water-dams, making -and mending fences, procuring stores, and attending to the ailments -of the flocks. No man worked harder than the young squatter. But now -there had suddenly come a day or two of rest--rest from work which -was not of itself productive, but only remedial, and which, -therefore, was not begrudged. - -But it soon was apparent that the rest could be only for a day or -two. The rain had fallen as from ten thousand buckets, but it had -fallen only for a space of minutes. On the following morning the -thirsty earth had apparently swallowed all the flood. The water in -the creek beneath the house stood two feet higher than it had done, -and Harry, when he visited the dams round the run, found that they -were fall to overflowing, and the grasses were already springing, so -quick is the all but tropical growth of the country. They might be -safe, perhaps, for eight-and-forty hours. Fire would run only when -the ground was absolutely dry, and when every twig or leaf was a -combustible. But during those eight-and-forty hours there might be -comparative ease at Gangoil. - -On the day following the night of the ride Mrs. Heathcote suggested -to her husband that she and Kate should ride over to Medlicot's Mill, -as the place was already named, and call on Mrs. Medlicot. "It isn't -Christian," she said, "for people living out in the bush as we are to -quarrel with their neighbors just because they are neighbors." - -"Neighbors!" said Harry; "I don't know any word that there's so much -humbug about. The Samaritan was the best neighbor I ever heard of, -and he lived a long way off, I take it. Anyway, he wasn't a free- -selector." - -"Harry, that's profane." - -"Every thing I say is wicked. You can go, of course, if you like it. -I don't want to quarrel with any body." - -"Quarreling is so uncomfortable," said his wife. - -"That's a matter of taste. There are people whom I find it very -comfortable to quarrel with. I shouldn't at all like not to quarrel -with the Brownbies, and I'm not at all sure it mayn't come to be the -same with Mr. Giles Medlicot." - -"The Brownbies live by sheep-stealing and horse-stealing." - -"And Medlicot means to live by employing sheep-stealers and horse- -stealers. You can go if you like it. You won't want me to go with -you. Will you have the baggy?" - -But the ladies said that they would ride. The air was cooler now than -it had been, and they would like the exercise. They would take Jacko -with them to open the slip-rails, and they would be back by seven for -dinner. So they started, taking the track by the wool-shed. The wool- -shed was about two miles from the station, and Medlicot's Mill was -seven miles farther, on the bank of the river. - -Mr. Giles Medlicot, though at Gangoil he was still spoken of as a -new-comer, had already been located for nearly two years on the land -which he had purchased immediately on his coming to the colony. He -had come out direct from England with the intention of growing sugar, -and, whether successful or not in making money, had certainly -succeeded in growing crops of sugar-canes and in erecting a mill for -crushing them. It probably takes more than two years for a man -himself to discover whether he can achieve ultimate success in such -an enterprise; and Medlicot was certainly not a man likely to talk -much to others of his private concerns. The mill had just been built, -and he had lived there himself as soon as a water-tight room had been -constructed. It was only within the last three months that he had -completed a small cottage residence, and had brought his mother to -live with him. Hitherto he had hardly made himself popular. He was -not either fish or fowl. The squatters regarded him as an interloper, -and as a man holding opinions directly averse to their own interests- --in which they were right. And the small free-selectors, who lived on -the labor of their own hands--or, as was said of many of them, by -stealing sheep and cattle--knew well that he was not of their class. -But Medlicot had gone his way steadfastly, if not happily, and -complained aloud to no one in the midst of his difficulties. He had -not, perhaps, found the Paradise which he had expected in Queensland, -but he had found that he could grow sugar; and having begun the work, -he was determined to go on with it. - -Heathcote was his nearest neighbor, and the only man in his own rank -of life who lived within twenty miles of him. When he had started his -enterprise he had hoped to make this man his friend, not -comprehending at first how great a cause for hostility was created by -the very purchase of the land. He had been a new-comer from the old -country, and, being alone, had desired friendship. He was Harry -Heathcote's equal in education, intelligence, and fortune, if not in -birth--which surely, in the Australian bush, need not count for much. -He had assumed, when first meeting the squatter, that good-fellowship -between them, on equal terms, would be acceptable to both; but his -overtures had been coldly received. Then he, too, had drawn himself -up, had declared that Heathcote was an ignorant ass, and had -unconsciously made up his mind to commence hostilities. It was in -this spirit that he had taken Nokes into his mill, of whose -character, had he inquired about it, he would certainly have heard no -good. He had now brought his mother to Medlicot's Mill. She and the -Gangoil ladies had met each other on neutral ground, and it was -almost necessary that they should either be friends or absolute -enemies. Mrs. Heathcote had been aware of this, and bad declared that -enmity was horrible. - -"Upon my word," said Harry, "I sometimes think that friendship is -more so. I suppose I'm fitted for bush life, for I want to see no one -from year's end to year's end but my own family and my own people." -And yet this young patriarch in the wilderness was only twenty-four -years old, and had been educated at an English school! - -Medlicot's cottage was about a hundred and fifty yards from the mill, -looking down upon the Mary, the banks of which at this spot were -almost precipitous. The site for the plantation had been chosen -because the river afforded the means of carriage down to the sea, and -the mill had been so constructed that the sugar hogsheads could be -lowered from the buildings into the river boats. Here Mrs. Heathcote -and Kate Daly found the old lady sitting at work, all alone, in the -veranda. She was a handsome old woman, with gray hair, seventy years -of age, with wrinkled face, and a toothless mouth, but with bright -eyes, and with no signs of the infirmity of age. - -"This is gey kind of you to run so far to see an auld woman," she -said. - -Mrs. Heathcote declared that they were used to the heat, and that -after the rain the air was pleasant. - -"You're two bright lassies, and you're hearty," she said. "I'm auld, -and just out of Cumberland, and I find it's hot enough--and I'm no -guid at horseback at all. I dinna know how I'm to get aboot." - -Then Mrs. Heathcote explained that there was an excellent track for a -buggy all the way to Gangoil. - -"Giles is aye telling me that I'm to gang aboot in a bouggey, but I -dinna feel sure of thae bouggeys." - -Mrs. Heathcote, of course, praised the country carriages, and the -country roads, and the country generally. Tea was brought in, and the -old lady was delighted with her guests. Since she had been at the -mill, week had followed week, and she had seen no woman's face but -that of the uncouth girl who waited upon her. "Did ye ever see rain -like that!" she said, putting up her hands. "I thought the Lord was -sending his clouds down upon us in a lump like." Then she told them -that some of the men had declared that if it went on like that for -two hours the Mary would rise and take the cottage away. Giles, -however, had declared that to be trash, as the cottage was twenty -feet above the ordinary course of the river. - -They were just rising to take their leave, when Giles Medlicot -himself came in out of the mill. He was a man of good presence, dark, -and tall like Heathcote, but stoutly made, with a strongly marked -face, given to frowning much when he was eager; bright-eyed, with a -broad forehead--certainly a man to be observed as far as his -appearance was concerned. He was dressed much as a gentleman dresses -in the country at home, and was therefore accounted to be a fop by -Harry Heathcote, who was rarely seen abroad in other garb than that -which has been described. Harry was an aristocrat, and hated such -innovations in the bush as cloth coats and tweed trowsers and neck- -hand-kerchiefs. - -Medlicot had been full of wrath against his neighbor all the morning. -There had been a tone in Heathcote's voice when he gave his parting -warning as to the fire in Medlicot's pipe which the sugar grower had -felt to be intentionally insolent. Nothing had been said which could -be openly resented, but offense had surely been intended; and then he -had remembered that his mother had been already some months at the -mill, and that no mark of neighborly courtesy had been shown to her. -The Heathcotes had, he thought, chosen to assume themselves to be -superior to him and his, and to treat him as though he had been some -laboring man who had saved money enough to purchase a bit of land for -himself. He was, therefore, astonished to find the two young ladies -sitting with his mother on the very day after such an interview as -that of the preceding night. - -"The leddies from Gangoil, Giles, have been guid enough to ride over -and see me," said his mother. - -Medlicot, of course, shook hands with them, and expressed his sense -of their kindness, but he did it awkwardly. He soon, however, -declared his purpose of riding part of the way back with them. - -"Mr. Heathcote must have been very wet last night," he said, when -they were on horse-back, addressing himself to Kate Daly rather than -to her sister. - -"Indeed he was--wet to the skin. Were you not?" - -"I saw him at about eleven, before the rain began. I was close home, -and just escaped. He must have been under it all. Does he often go -about the run in that way at night?" - -"Only when he's afraid of fires," said Kate. - -"Is there much to be afraid of? I don't suppose that any body can be -so wicked as to wish to burn the grass." Then the ladies took upon -themselves to explain. "The fires might be caused from negligence or -trifling accidents, or might possibly come from the unaided heat of -the sun; or there might be enemies." - -"My word! yes; enemies, rather!" said Jacko, who was riding close -behind, and who had no idea of being kept out of the conversation -merely because he was a servant. Medlicot, turning round, looked at -the lad, and asked who were the enemies. - -"Free-selectors," said Jacko. - -"I'm a free-selector," said Medlicot. - -"Did not jist mean you," said Jacko. - -"Jacko, you'd better hold your tongue," said Mrs. Heathcote. - -"Hold my tongue! My word! Well, you go on." - -Medlicot came as far as the wool-shed, and then said that he would -return. He had thoroughly enjoyed his ride. Kate Daly was bright and -pretty and winning; and in the bush, when a man has not seen a lady -perhaps for months, brightness and prettiness and winning ways have a -double charm. To ride with fair women over turf, through a forest, -with a woman who may perhaps some day be wooed, can be a matter of -indifference only to a very lethargic man. Giles Medlicot was by no -means lethargic. He owned to himself that though Heathcote was a pig- -headed ass, the ladies were very nice, and he thought that the pig- -headed ass in choosing one of them for himself had by no means taken -the nicest. - -"You'll never find your way back," said Kate, "if you've not been -here before." - -"I never was here before, and I suppose I must find my way back." -Then he was urged to come on and dine at Gangoil, with a promise that -Jacko should return with him in the evening. But this he would not -do. Heathcote was a pig-headed ass, who possibly regarded him as an -incendiary simply because he had bought some land. This boy of -Heathcote's, whose services had been offered to him, had not scrupled -to tell him to his face that he was to be regarded as an enemy. Much -as he liked the company of Kate Daly, he could not go to the house of -that stupid, arrogant, pig-headed young squatter. "I'm not such a bad -bushman but what I can find my way to the river," he said. - -"Find it blindful," said Jacko, who did not relish the idea of going -back to Medlicot's Mill as guide to another man. There was a weakness -in the idea that such aid could be necessary, which was revolting to -Jacko's sense of bush independence. - -They were standing on their horses at the entrance to the wool-shed -as they discussed the point, when suddenly Harry himself appeared out -of the building. He came up and shook hands with Medlicot, with -sufficient courtesy, but hardly with cordiality, and then asked his -wife as to her ride. "We have been very jolly, haven't we, Kate? Of -course it has been hot, but every thing is not so frightfully parched -as it was before the rain. As Mr. Medlicot has come back so far with -us, we want him to come on and dine." - -"Pray do, Mr. Medlicot," said Harry. But again the tone of his voice -was not sufficiently hearty to satisfy the man who was invited. - -"Thanks, no: I think I'll hardly do that.--Good-night, Mrs. -Heathcote; good-night. Miss Daly;" and the two ladies immediately -perceived that his voice, which had hitherto been pleasant in their -ears, had ceased to be cordial. - -"I am very glad he has gone back," said Heathcote. - -"Why do you say so, Harry? You are not given to be inhospitable, and -why should you grudge me and Kate the rare pleasure of seeing a -strange face?" - -"I'll tell you why. It's not about him at this moment; but I've been -disturbed.--Jacko, go on to the station, and say we're coming. Do you -hear me? Go on at once." Then Jacko, somewhat unwillingly, galloped -off toward the house. "Get off your horses, and come in." - -He helped the two ladies from their saddles, and they all went into -the wool-shed, Harry leading the way. In one of the side pens, -immediately under the roof, there was a large heap of leaves, the -outside portion of which was at present damp, for the rain had beaten -in upon it, but which had been as dry as tinder when collected; and -there was a row or ridge of mixed brush-wood and leaves so -constructed as to form a line from the grass outside on to the heap. -"The fellow who did that was an ass," said Harry; "a greater ass than -I should have taken him to be, not to have known that if he could -have gotten the grass to burn outside, the wool-shed must have gone -without all that preparation. But there isn't much difficulty now in -seeing what the fellow has intended." - -"Was it for a fire?" asked Kate. - -"Of course it was. He wouldn't have been contented with the grass and -fences, but wanted to make sure of the shed also. He'd have come to -the house and burned us in our beds, only a fellow like that is too -much of a coward to run the risk of being seen." - -"But, Harry, why didn't he light it when he'd done it?" said Mrs. -Heathcote. - -"Because the Almighty sent the rain at the very moment," said Harry, -striking the top rail of one of the pens with his fist. "I'm not much -given to talk about Providence, but this looks like it, does it not?" - -"He might have put a match in at the moment?" - -"Rain or no rain? Yes, he might. But he was interrupted by more than -the rain. I got into the shed myself just at the moment--I and Jacko. -It was last night, when the rain was pouring. I heard the man, and -dark as was the night, I saw his figure as he fled away." - -"You didn't know him?" said Miss Daly. - -"But that boy, who has the eyes of a cat, he knew him." - -"Jacko?" - -"Jacko knew him by his gait. I should have hardly wanted any one to -tell me who it was. I could have named the man at once, but for the -fear of doing an injustice." - -"And who was it?" - -"Our friend Medlicot's prime favorite and new factotum, Mr. William -Nokes. Mr. William Stokes is the gentleman who intends to burn us all -out of house and home, and Mr. Medlicot is the gentleman whose -pleasure it is to keep Mr. Nokes in the neighborhood." - -The two women stood awe-struck for a moment, but a sense of justice -prevailed upon the wife to speak. "That may be all true," she said. -"Perhaps it is as you say about that man. But you would not therefore -think that Mr. Medlicot knows any thing about it?" - -"It would be impossible," said Kate. - -"I have not accused him," said Harry; "but he knows that the man was -dismissed, and yet keeps him about the place. Of course he is -responsible." - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -HARRY HEATHCOTE'S APPEAL. - - -For the first mile between the wool-shed and the house Heathcote and -the two ladies rode without saying a word. There was something so -terrible in the reality of the danger which encompassed them that -they hardly felt inclined to discuss it. Harry's dislike to Medlicot -was quite a thing apart. That some one had intended to burn down the -wool-shed, and had made preparation for doing so, was as apparent to -the women as to him. And the man who had been balked by a shower of -rain in his first attempt might soon find an opportunity for a -second. Harry was well aware that even Jacko's assertion could not be -taken as evidence against the man whom he suspected. In all -probability no further attempt would be made upon the wool-shed; but -a fire on some distant part of the run would be much more injurious -to him than the mere burning of a building. The fire that might ruin -him would be one which should get ahead before it was seen, and scour -across the ground, consuming the grass down to the very roots over -thousands of acres, and destroying fencing over many miles. Such -fires pass on, leaving the standing trees unscathed, avoiding even -the scrub, which is too moist with the sap of life for consumption, -but licking up with fearful rapidity every thing that the sun has -dried. He could watch the wool-shed and house, but with no possible -care could he so watch the whole run as to justify him in feeling -security. There need be no preparation of leaves. A match thrown -loosely on the ground would do it. And in regard to a match so -thrown, it would be impossible to prove a guilty intention. - -"Ought we not to have dispersed the heap?" said Mrs. Heathcote at -last. The minds of all of them were full of the matter, but these -were the first words spoken. - -"I'll leave it as it is," said Harry, giving no reason for his -decision. He was too full of thought, too heavily laden with anxiety, -to speak much. "Come, let's get on; you'll want your dinner, and it's -getting dark." So they cantered on, and got off their horses at the -gate, without another word. And not another word was spoken on the -subject that night. Harry was very silent, walking up and down the -veranda with his pipe in his mouth--not lying on the ground in idle -enjoyment--and there was no reading. The two sisters looked at him -from time to time with wistful, anxious-eyes, half afraid to disturb -him by speech. - -As for him, he felt that the weight was all on his own shoulders. He -had worked hard, and was on the way to be rich. I do not know that he -thought much about money, but he thought very much of success. And he -was by nature anxious, sanguine, and impulsive. There might be before -him, within the next week, such desolation as would break his heart. -He knew men who had been ruined, and had borne their ruin almost -without a wail--who had seemed contented to descend to security and -mere absence from want. There was his own superintendent, Old Bates, -who, though he grumbled at every thing else, never bewailed his own -fate. But he knew of himself that any such blow would nearly kill -him--such a blow, that is, as might drive him from Gangoil, and force -him to be the servant instead of the master of men. Not to be master -of all around him seemed to him to be misery. The merchants at -Brisbane who took his wool and supplied him with stores had advanced -money when he first bought his run, and he still owed them some -thousands of pounds. The injury which a great fire would do him would -bring him to such a condition that the merchants would demand to have -their money repaid. He understood it all, and knew well that it was -after this fashion that many a squatter before him had been ruined. - -"Speak a word to me about it," his wife said to him, imploringly, -when they were alone together that night. - -"My darling, if there were a word to say, I would say it. I must be -on the watch, and do the best I can. At present the earth is too damp -for mischief." - -"Oh that it would rain again!" - -"There will be heat enough before the summer is over; we need not -doubt that. But I will tell you of every thing as we go on. I will -endeavor to have the man watched. God bless you! Go to sleep, and try -to get it out of your thoughts." - -On the following morning he breakfasted early, and mounted his horse -without saying a word as to the purport of his journey. This was in -accordance with the habit of his life, and would not excite -observation; but there was something in his manner which made both -the ladies feel that he was intent on some special object. When he -intended simply to ride round his fences or to visit the hut of some -distant servant, a few minutes signified nothing. He would stand -under the veranda and talk, and the women would endeavor to keep him -from the saddle. But now there was no loitering, and but little -talking. He said a word to Jacko, who brought the horse for him, and -then started at a gallop toward the wool-shed. - -He did not stop a moment at the shed, not even entering it to see -whether the heap of leaves had been displaced during the night, but -went on straight to Medlicot's Mill. He rode the nine miles in an -hour, and at once entered the building in which the canes were -crushed. The first man he met was Nokes, who acted as overseer, -having a gang of Polynesian laborers under him--sleek, swarthy -fellows from the South Sea Islands, with linen trowsers on and -nothing else--who crept silently among the vats and machinery, -shifting the sugar as it was made. - -"Well, Nokes," said Harry, "how are you getting on? Is Mr. Medlicot -here?" - -Nokes was a big fellow, with a broad, solid face, which would not -have condemned him among physiognomists but for a bad eye, which -could not look you in the face. He had been a boundary rider for -Heathcote, and on an occasion had been impertinent, refusing to leave -the yard behind the house unless something was done which those about -the place refused to do for him. During the discussion Harry had come -in. The man had been drinking, and was still insolent, and Harry had -ejected him violently, thrusting him over a gate. The man had -returned the next morning, and had then been sent about his business. -He had been employed at Medlicot's Mill, but from the day of his -dismissal to this he and Harry had never met each other face to face. - -"I'm pretty well, thank ye, Mr. Heathcote. I hope you're the same, -and the ladies. The master's about somewhere, I take it.--Picky, go -and find the master." Picky was one of the Polynesians, who at once -started on his errand. - -"Have you been over to Gangoil since you left it?" said Harry, -looking the man full in the face. - -"Not I, Mr. Heathcote. I never go where I've had words. And, to tell -you the truth, sugar is better than sheep. I'm very comfortable here, -and I never liked your work." - -"You haven't been at the wool-shed?" - -"What, the Gangoil shed! What the blazes 'd I go there for? It's a -matter of ten miles from here." - -"Seven, Nokes." - -"Seven, is it? It is a longish seven miles, Mr. Heathcote. How could -I get that distance? I ain't so good at walking as I was before I was -hurt. You should have remembered that, Mr. Heathcote, when you laid -hands on me the other day." - -"You're not much the worse for what I did; nor yet for the accident, -I take it. At any rate, you've not been at Gangoil wool-shed?" - -"No, I've not," said the man, roughly. "What the mischief should I be -doing at your shed at night-time?" - -"I said nothing about night-time." - -"I'm here all day, ain't I? If you're going to palm off any story -against me, Mr. Heathcote, you'll find yourself in the wrong box. -What I does I does on the square." - -Heathcote was now quite sure that Jacko had been right. He had not -doubted much before, but now he did not doubt at all but that the man -with whom he was speaking was the wretch who was endeavoring to ruin -him. And he felt certain, also, that Jacko was true to him. He knew, -too, that he had plainly declared his suspicion to the man himself. -But he had resolved upon doing this. He could in no way assist -himself in circumventing the man's villainy by keeping his suspense -to himself. The man might be frightened, and in spite of all that had -passed between him and Medlicot, he still thought it possible that he -might induce the sugar grower to co-operate with him in driving Nokes -from the neighborhood. He had spent the night in thinking over it -all, and this was the resolution to which he had come. - -"There's the master," said Nokes. "If you've got any thing to say -about any thing, you'd better say it to him." - -Harry had never before set his foot upon Medlicot's land since it had -been bought away from his own run, and had felt that he would almost -demean himself by doing so. He had often looked at the canes from -over his own fence, as he had done on the night of the rain; but he -had stood always on his own land. Now he was in the sugar-mill, never -before having seen such a building. "You've a deal of machinery here, -Mr. Medlicot," he said. - -"It's a small affair, after all," said the other. "I hope to get a -good plant before I've done." - -"Can I speak a word with you?" - -"Certainly. Will you come into the office, or will you go across to -the house?" - -Harry said that the office would do, and followed Medlicot into a -little box-like inclosure which contained a desk and two stools. - -"Not much of an office, is it? What can I do for you, Mr. Heathcote?" - -Then Harry began his story, which he told at considerable length. He -apologized for troubling his neighbor at all on the subject, and -endeavored to explain, somewhat awkwardly, that as Mr. Medlicot was a -new-comer, he probably might not understand the kind of treatment to -which employers in the bush were occasionally subject from their men. -On this matter he said much, which, had he been a better tactician, -he might probably have left unspoken. He then went on to the story of -his own quarrel with Nokes, who had, in truth, been grossly impudent -to the women about the house, but who had been punished by instant -and violent dismissal from his employment. It was evidently Harry's -idea that a man who had so sinned against his master should be -allowed to find no other master--at any rate in that district; an -idea with which the other man, who had lately come out from the old -country, did not at all sympathize. - -"Do you want me to dismiss him?" said Medlicot, in a tone which -implied that that would be the last thing he would think of doing. - -"You haven't heard me yet." Then Harry went on and told of the fires -in the heat of summer, and of their terrible effects--of the easy -manner of revenge which they supplied to angry, unscrupulous men, and -of his own fears at the present moment. - -"I can believe it all," said Medlicot, "and am very sorry that it -should be so. But I can not see the justice of punishing a man on the -merest, vaguest suspicion. Your only ground for imputing this crime -to him is that your own conduct to him may have given him a motive." - -Harry had schooled himself vigorously during the ride as to his own -demeanor, and had resolved that he would be cool. "I was going on to -tell you," he said, "what occurred that night after I saw you up by -the fence." Then he described how he and his boy had entered the -shed, and had both seen and heard a man as he escaped from it; how -the boy had at once declared that the man was Nokes; how the -following day he had discovered the leaves, which Nokes no doubt had -deposited there just before the rain, intending to burn the place at -once; and how Nokes's manner to him within the last half hour had -corroborated his suspicions. - -"Is he the boy you call Jacko?" - -"That's the name he goes by." - -"You don't know his real name?" - -"I have never heard any other name." - -"Nor any thing about him?" Harry owned, in answer to half a dozen -such questions, that Jacko had come to Gangoil about six months ago-- -he did not know whence--had been kept for a week's job, and had then -been allowed to remain about the place without any regular wages. -"You admit it was quite dark," continued Medlicot. - -Harry did not at all like the cross-examination, and his resolution -to be cool was quickly fading. "I told you that I saw myself the -figure of a man." - -"But that you barely saw a figure. You did not form any opinion of -your own as to the man's identity." - -Harry Heathcote was as honest as the sun. Much as he disliked being -cross-examined, he found himself compelled not only to say the exact -truth, but the whole truth. "Certainly not. I barely saw a glimpse of -a figure, and, till I spoke to Nokes just now, I almost doubted -whether the lad could have distinguished him. I am sure he was right -now." - -"Really, Mr. Heathcote, I can't go along with you. You are accusing a -man of committing an offense, which I believe is capital, on the -evidence of a boy of whom you know nothing, who may have his own -reasons for spiting the man, and whom you yourself did not believe -till you had looked this man in the face. I think you allow yourself -to be guided too much by your own power of intuition." - -"No, I don't," said Harry, who hated his neighbor's methodical -argument. - -"At any rate, I can't consent to take a man's bread out of his mouth, -and to send him away tainted as he would be with this suspicion, -either because Jacko thought that he saw him in the dark, or because- --" - -"I have never asked you to send him away." - -"What is it you want, then?" - -"I want to have him watched, so that he may feel that if he attempts -to destroy my property his guilt will be detected." - -"Who is to watch him?" - -"He is in your employment." - -"He lives in the hut down beyond the gate. Am I to keep a sentry -there all night, and every night?" - -"I will pay for it." - -"No, Mr. Heathcote. I don't pretend to know this country yet, but -I'll encourage no such espionage as that. At any rate, it is not -English. I dare say the man misbehaved himself in your employment. -You say he was drunk. I do not doubt it. But he is not a drunkard, -for he never drinks here. A man is not to starve forever because he -once got drunk and was impertinent. Nor is he to have a spy at his -heels because a boy whom nobody knows chooses to denounce him. I am -sorry that you should be in trouble, but I do not know that I can -help you." - -Harry's passion was now very high, and his resolution to be cool was -almost thrown to the winds. Medlicot had said many things which were -odious to him. In the first place, there had been a tone of -insufferable superiority, so Harry thought, and that, too, when he -himself had divested himself of all the superiority naturally -attached to his position, and had frankly appealed to Medlicot as a -neighbor. And then this new-fangled sugar grower had told him that he -was not English, and had said grand words, and had altogether made -himself objectionable. What did this man know of the Australian bush, -that he should dare to talk of this or that as being wrong because it -was un-English! In England there were police to guard men's property. -Here, out in the Australian forests, a man must guard his own, or -lose it. But perhaps it was the indifference to the ruin of the women -belonging to him that Harry Heathcote felt the strongest. The -stranger cared nothing for the utter desolation which one -unscrupulous ruffian might produce, felt no horror at the idea of a -vast devastating fire, but could be indignant in his mock -philanthropy because it was proposed to watch the doings of a -scoundrel! - -"Good-morning," said Harry, turning round and leaving the office -brusquely. Medlicot followed him, but Harry went so quickly that not -another word was spoken. To him the idea of a neighbor in the bush -refusing such assistance as he had asked was as terrible as to us is -the thought of a ship at sea leaving another ship in distress. He -unhitched his horse from the fence, and galloped home as fast as the -animal would carry him. - -Medlicot, when he was left alone, took two or three turns about the -mill, as though inspecting the work, but at every turn fixed his eyes -for a few moments on Noke's face. The man was standing under a huge -caldron regulating the escape of the boiling juice into the different -vats by raising and lowering a trap, and giving directions to the -Polynesians as he did so. He was evidently conscious that he was -being regarded, and, as is usual in such a condition, manifestly -failed in his struggle to appear unconscious. Medlicot acknowledged -to himself that the man could not look even him in the face. Was it -possible that he had been wrong, and that Heathcote, though he had -expressed himself badly, was entitled to some sympathy in his fear of -what might be done to him by an enemy? Medlicot also desired to be -just, being more rational, more logical, and less impulsive than the -other, being also somewhat too conscious of his own superior -intelligence. He knew that Heathcote had gone away in great dudgeon, -and he almost feared that he had been harsh and unneighborly. After a -while he stood opposite Nokes and addressed him. - -"Do the squatters suffer much from fires?" he said. - -"Heathcote has been talking to you about that," said the man. - -"Can't you say Mr. Heathcote when you speak of a gentleman whose -bread you have eaten?" - -"Mr. Heathcote, if you like it. We ain't particular to a shade out -here as you are at home. He has been telling you about fires, has -he?" - -"Well, he has." - -"And talking of me, I suppose?" - -"You were talking of having a turn at mining some day. How would it -be with you if you were to be off to Gympie?" - -"You mean to say I'm to go, Mr. Medlicot?" - -"I don't say that at all." - -"Look here, Mr. Medlicot. My going or staying won't make any -difference to Heathcote. There's a lot of 'em about here hates him -that much that he is never to be allowed to rest in peace. I tell you -that fairly. It ain't any thing as I shall do. Them's not my ways, -Mr. Medlicot. But he has enemies here as'll never let him rest." - -"Who are they?" - -"Pretty nigh every body round. He has carried himself that high they -won't stand him. Who's Heathcote?" - -"Name some who are his enemies." - -"There's the Brownbies." - -"Oh, the Brownbies. Well, it's a bad thing to have enemies." After -that he left the sugar-house and went across to the cottage. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -BOSCOBEL. - - -Two days and two nights passed without fear of fire, and then Harry -Heathcote was again on the alert. The earth was parched as though no -drop of rain had fallen. The fences were dry as tinder, and the -ground was strewed with broken atoms of timber from the trees, each -of which a spark would ignite. Two nights Harry slept in his bed, but -on the third he was on horseback about the run, watching, thinking, -endeavoring to make provision, directing others, and hoping to make -it believed that his eyes were every where. In this way an entire -week was passed, and now it wanted but four days to Christmas. He -would come home to breakfast about seven in the morning, very tired, -but never owning that he was tired, and then sleep heavily for an -hour or two in a chair. After that he would go out again on the run, -would sleep perhaps for another hour after dinner, and then would -start for his night's patrol. During this week he saw nothing of -Medlicot, and never mentioned his name but once. On that occasion his -wife told him that during his absence Medlicot had been at the -station. - -"What brought him here?" Harry asked, fiercely. - -Mrs. Heathcote explained that he had called in a friendly way, and -had said that if there were any fear of fire he would be happy -himself to lend assistance. - -Then the young squatter forgot himself in his wrath. "Confound his -hypocrisy!" said Harry, aloud. "I don't think he's a hypocrite," said -the wife. - -"I'm sure he's not," said Kate Daly. - -Not a word more was spoken, and Harry immediately left the house. The -two women did not as usual go to the gate to see him mount his horse, -not refraining from doing so in any anger, or as wishing to exhibit -displeasure at Harry's violence, but because they were afraid of him. -They had found themselves compelled to differ from him, but were -oppressed at finding themselves in opposition to him. - -The feeling that his wife should in any way take part against him -added greatly to Heathcote's trouble. It produced in his mind a -terrible feeling of loneliness in his sorrow. He bore a brave outside -to all his men, and to any stranger whom in these days he met about -the run--to his wife and sister also, and to the old woman at home. -He forced upon them all an idea that he was not only autocratic, but -self-sufficient also--that he wanted neither help nor sympathy. He -never cried out in his pain, being heartily ashamed even of the -appeal which he had made to Medlicot. He spoke aloud and laughed with -the men, and never acknowledged that his trials were almost too much -for him. But he was painfully conscious of his own weakness. He -sometimes felt, when alone in the bush, that he would fain get off -his horse, and lie upon the ground and weep till he slept. It was not -that he trusted no one. He suspected no one with a positive -suspicion, except Nokes, and Medlicot as the supporter of Nokes. But -he had no one with whom he could converse freely--none whom he had -not been accustomed to treat as the mere ministers of his will-- -except his wife and his wife's sister; and now he was disjoined from -them by their sympathy with Medlicot! He had chosen to manage every -thing himself without contradiction and almost without counsel; but, -like other such imperious masters, he now found that when trouble -came the privilege of dictatorship brought with it an almost -unsupportable burden. - -Old Bates was an excellent man, of whose fidelity the young squatter -was quite assured. No one understood foot-rot better than Old Bates, -or was less sparing of himself in curing it. He was a second mother -to all the lambs, and when shearing came watched with the eyes of -Argus to see that the sheep were not wounded by the shearers, or the -wool left on their backs. But he had no conversation, none of that -imagination which in such a time as this might have assisted in -devising safeguards, and but little enthusiasm. Shepherds, so called, -Harry kept none upon the run; and would have felt himself insulted -had any one suggested that he was so backward in his ways as to -employ men of that denomination. He had fenced his run, and dispensed -with shepherds and shepherding as old-fashioned and unprofitable. He -had two mounted men, whom he called boundary riders, one an Irishman -and the other a German--and them he trusted fully, the German -altogether, and the Irishman equally as regarded his honesty. But he -could not explain to them the thoughts that loaded his brain. He -could instigate them to eagerness; but he could not condescend to -tell Karl Bender, the German, that if his fences were destroyed -neither his means nor his credit would be sufficient to put them up -again, and that if the scanty herbage were burned off any large -proportion of his run, he must sell his flocks at a great sacrifice. -Nor could he explain to Mickey O'Dowd, the Irishman, that his peace -of mind was destroyed by his fear of one man. He had to bear it all -alone. And there was heavy on him also the great misery of feeling -that every thing might depend on own exertions, and that yet he did -not know how or where to exert himself. When he had ridden about all -night and discovered nothing, he might just as well have been in bed. -And he was continually riding about all night and discovering -nothing. - -After leaving the station on the evening of the day on which he had -expressed himself to the women so vehemently respecting Medlicot, he -met Bates coming home from his day's work. It was then past eight -o'clock, and the old man was sitting wearily on his horse, with his -head low down between his shoulders, and the reins hardly held within -his grasp. - -"You're late, Mr. Bates," said Harry; "you take too much out of -yourself this hot weather." - -"I've got to move slower, Mr. Heathcote, as I grow older. That's -about it. And the beast I'm on is not much good." Now Mr. Bates was -always complaining of his horse, and yet was allowed to choose any on -the run for his own use. - -"If you don't like him, why don't you take another?" - -"There ain't much difference in 'em, Mr. Heathcote. Better the devil -you know than the devil you don't. It's getting uncommon close -shaving for them wethers in the new paddock. They're down upon the -roots pretty well already." - -"There's grass along the bush on the north side." - -"They won't go there; it's rank and sour. They won't feed up there as -long as they can live lower down and nearer the water. Weather like -this, they'd sooner die near the water than travel to fill their -bellies. It's about the hottest day we've had, and the nights a'most -hotter. Are you going to be out, Mr. Heathcote?" - -"I think so." - -"What's the good of it, Mr. Heathcote? There is no use in it. Lord -love you, what can yon do? You can't be every side at once." - -"Fire can only travel with the wind, Mr. Bates." - -"And there isn't any wind, and so there can't be any fire. I never -did think, and I don't think now, there ever was any use in a man -fashing himself as you fash yourself. You can't alter things, Mr. -Heathcote." - -"But that's just what I can do--what a man has to do. If a match were -thrown there at your feet, and the grass was aflame, couldn't you -alter that by putting your foot on it? If you find a ewe on her back, -can't you alter that by putting her on her legs?" - -"Yes, I can do that, I suppose." - -"What does a man live for except to alter things? When a man clears -the forest and sows corn, does he not alter things?" - -"That's not your line, Mr. Heathcote," said the cunning old man. - -"If I send wool to market, I alter things." - -"You'll excuse me, Mr. Heathcote. Of course I'm old, but I just give -you my experience." - -"I'm much obliged to you; though we can't always agree, you know. -Good-night. Go in and say a word to my wife, and tell them you saw me -all right." - -"I'll have a crack with 'em, Mr. Heathcote, before I turn in." - -"And tell Mary I sent my love." - -"I will, Mr. Heathcote; I will." - -He was thinking always of his wife during his solitary rides, and of -her fear and deep anxiety. It was for her sake and for the children -that he was so care-worn, not for his own. Had he been alone in the -world he would not have fretted himself in this fashion because of -the malice of any man. But how would it be with her should he be -forced to move her from Gangoil? And yet, with all his love, they had -parted almost in anger. Surely she would understand the tenderness of -the message he had just sent her. - -Of a sudden, as he was riding, he stopped his horse and listened -attentively. From a great distance there fell upon his accustomed ear -a sound which he recognized, though he was aware that the place from -whence it came was at least two miles distant. It was the thud of an -axe against a tree. He listened still, and was sure that it was so, -and turned at once toward the sound, though in doing so he left his -course at a right angle. He had been going directly away from the -river, with his back to the wool-shed; but now he changed his -course, riding in the direction of the spot at which Jacko had nearly -fallen in jumping over the fence. As he continued on, the sounds -became plainer, till at last, reining in his horse, he could see the -form of the woodman, who was still at work ringing the trees. This -was a job which the man did by contract, receiving so much an acre -for the depopulation of the timber. It was now bright moonlight, -almost as clear as day--a very different night, indeed, from that on -which the rain had come--and Harry could see at a glance that it was -the man called Boscobel still at work. Now there were, as he thought, -very good reasons why Boscobel at the present moment should not be so -employed. Boscobel was receiving wages for work of another kind. - -"Bos," said the squatter, riding up, and addressing the man by the -customary abbreviation of his nickname, "I thought you were watching -at Brownbie's boundary?" Boscobel lowered his axe, and stood for a -while contemplating the proposition made to him. "You are drawing -three shillings a night for watching; isn't that so?" - -"Yes, that's so. Anyways, I shall draw it." - -"Then why ain't you watching?" - -"There's nothing to watch that I knows on--not just now." - -"Then why should I pay you for it? I'm to pay you for ringing these -trees, ain't I?" - -"Certainly, Mr. Heathcote." - -"Then you're to make double use of your time, and sell it twice over, -are you? Don't try to look like a fool, as though you didn't -understand. You know that what you're doing isn't honest." - -"Nobody ever said as I wasn't honest before." - -"I tell you so now. You're robbing me of the time you've sold to me, -and for which I'm to pay you." - -"There ain't nothing to watch while the wind's as it is now, and that -chap ain't any where about to-night." - -"What chap?" - -"Oh, I know. I'm all right. What's the use of dawdling about up there -in the broad moonlight, and the wind like this?" - -"That's for me to judge. If you engage to do my work and take my -money, you're swindling me when you go about another job as you are -now. You needn't scratch your head. You understand it all as well as -I do." - -"I never was told I swindled before, and I ain't a-going to put up -with it. You may ring your own trees, and watch your own fences, and -the whole place may be burned for me. I ain't a-going to do another -turn in Gangoil. Swindle, indeed!" So Boscobel shouldered his axe, -and marched off through the forest, visible in the moonlight till the -trees hid him. - -There was another enemy made! He had never felt quite sure of this -man, but had been glad to have him about the place as being -thoroughly efficient in his own business. It was only during the last -ten days that he had agreed to pay him for night-watching, leaving -the man to do as much additional day-work as he pleased--for which, -of course, he would be paid at the regular contract price. There was -a double purpose intended in this watching--as was well understood by -all the hands employed: first, that of preventing incendiary fire by -the mere presence of the watchers; and secondly, that of being at -hand to extinguish fire in case of need. Now a man ringing trees five -or six miles away from the beat on which he was stationed could not -serve either of these purposes. Boscobel therefore had been -fraudulently at work for his own dishonest purposes, and knew well -that his employment was of that nature. All this was quite clear to -Heathcote; and it was clear to him, also, that when he detected fraud -he was bound to expose it. Had the man acknowledged his fault and -been submissive, there would have been an end of the matter. -Heathcote would have said no word about it to any one, and would not -have stopped a farthing from the week's unearned wages. That he had -to encounter a certain amount of ill usage from the rough men about -him, and to forgive it, he could understand; but it could not be his -duty, either as a man or a master, to pass over dishonesty without -noticing it. No; that he would not do, though Gangoil should burn -from end to end. He did not much mind being robbed. He knew that to a -certain extent he must endure to be cheated. He would endure it. But -he would never teach his men to think that he passed over such -matters because he was afraid of them, or that dishonesty on their -part was indifferent to him. - -But now he had made another enemy--an enemy of a man who had declared -to him that he knew the movements of "that chap," meaning Nokes! How -hard the world was! It seemed that all around were trouble to him. He -turned his horse back, and made again for the spot which was his -original destination. As he cantered on among the trees, twisting -here and there, and regulating his way by the stars, he asked himself -whether it would not be better for him to go home and lay himself -down by his wife and sleep, and await the worst that these men could -do to him. This idea was so strong upon him that at one spot he made -his horse stop till he had thought it all out. No one encouraged him -in his work. Every one about the place, friend or foe, Bates, his -wife, Medlicot, and this Boscobel, spoke to him as though he were -fussy and fidgety in his anxiety. "If fires must come, they will -come; and if they are not to come, you are simply losing your labor." -This was the upshot of all they said to him. Why should he be wiser -than they? If the ruin came, let it come. Old Bates had been ruined, -but still had enough to eat and drink, and clothes to wear, and did -not work half as hard as his employer. He thought that if he could -only find some one person who would sympathize with him and support -him, he would not mind. But the mental loneliness of his position -almost broke his heart. - -Then there came across his mind the dim remembrance of certain old -school words, and he touched his horse with his spur and hurried -onward: "Let there be no steps backward." A thought as to the -manliness of persevering, of the want of manliness in yielding to -depression, came to his rescue. Let him, at any rate, have the -comfort of thinking that he had done his best according to his -lights. After some dim fashion, he did come to recognize it as a fact -that nothing could really support him but self-approbation. Though he -fell from his horse in utter weariness, he would persevere. - -As the night wore on he came to the German's hut, and finding it -empty, as he expected, rode on to the outside fence of his run. When -he reached this he got off his horse, and taking a key out of his -pocket, whistled upon it loudly. A few minutes afterward the German -came up to him. - -"There's been no one about, I suppose?" he asked. - -"Not a one," said the man. - -"You've been across on Brownbie's run?" - -"We're on it now, Mr. 'Eathcote." They were both on the side of the -fence away from Gangoil station. - -"I don't know how that is, Karl. I think Gangoil goes a quarter of a -mile beyond this. But we did not quite strike the boundary when we -put up the fence." - -"Brownbie's cattle is allays here, Mr. 'Eathcote, and is knocking -down the fence every day. Brownbie is a rascal, and 'is cattle as bad -as 'isself." - -"Never mind that, Karl, now. When we've got through the heats, we'll -put a mile or two of better fencing along here. You know Boscobel?" - -"In course I know Bos." - -"What sort of a fellow is he?" Then Harry told his German dependent -exactly what had taken place between him and the other man. - -"He's in and in wid all them young Brownbies," said Karl. - -"The Brownbies are a bad lot, but I don't think they'd do any thing -of this kind," said Harry, whose mind was still dwelling on the -dangers of fire. - -"They likes muttons, Mr. 'Eathcote." - -"I suppose they do take a sheep or two now and then. They wouldn't do -worse than that, would they?" - -"Not'ing too 'ot for 'em; not'ing too 'eavy," said Karl, smoking his -pipe. "The vind, vat there is, comes just here, Mr. 'Eathcote." And -the man lifted up his arm, and pointed across in the direction of -Brownbie's run. - -"And you don't think much of Boscobel?" - -Karl Bender shook his head. - -"He was always well treated here," said Harry, "and has had plenty of -work, and earned large wages. The man will be a fool to quarrel with -me." - -Karl again shook his head. With Karl Bender, Harry was quite sure of -his man, but not on that account need he be quite sure of the -correctness of the man's opinion. - -Thence he went on till he met his other lieutenant, O'Dowd, and so, -having completed his work, he made his way home, reaching the station -at sunrise. - -"Did Bates tell you he'd met me?" he asked his wife. - -"Yes, Harry; kiss me, Harry. I was so glad you sent a word. Promise -me, Harry, not to think that I don't agree with you in every thing." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE BROWNBIES OF BOOLABONG. - - -Old Brownbie, as he was usually called, was a squatter also, but a -squatter of a class very different from that to which Heathcote -belonged. He had begun his life in the colonies a little under a -cloud, having been sent out from home after the perpetration of some -peccadillo of which the law had disapproved. - -In colonial phrase, he was a "lag"--having been transported; but this -was many years ago, when he was quite young; and he had now been a -free man for more than thirty years. It must be owned on his behalf -that he had worked hard, had endeavored to rise, and had risen. But -there still stuck to him the savor of his old life. Every one knew -that he had been a convict; and even had he become a man of high -principle--a condition which he certainly never achieved--he could -hardly have escaped altogether from the thralldom of his degradation. -He had been a butcher, a drover, part owner of stock, and had at last -become possessed of a share of a cattle-run, and then of the entire -property, such as it was. He had four or five sons, uneducated, ill- -conditioned, drunken fellows, who had all their father's faults -without his energy, some of whom had been in prison, and all of whom -were known as pests to the colony. Their place was called Boolabong, -and was a cattle-run, as distinguished from a sheep-run; but it was a -poor place, was sometimes altogether unstocked, and was supposed to -be not unfrequently used as a receptable for stolen cattle. - -The tricks which the Brownbies played with cattle were notorious -throughout Queensland and New South Wales, and by a certain class of -men were much admired. They would drive a few head of cattle, perhaps -forty or fifty, for miles around the country, across one station and -another, traveling many hundreds of miles, and here and there, as -they passed along, they would sweep into their own herd the bullocks -of the victims whose lands they passed. If detected on the spot, they -gave up their prey. They were in the right in moving their own -cattle, and were not responsible for the erratic tendencies of other -animals. If successful, they either sold their stolen beasts to -butchers on the road, or got them home to Boolabong. There were -dangers, of course, and occasional penalties. But there was much -success. It was supposed, also, that though they did not own sheep, -they preferred mutton for their daily uses, and that they supplied -themselves at a very cheap rate. - -It may be imagined how such a family would be hated by the -respectable squatters on whom they preyed. Still there were men, old -stagers, who had know Moreton Bay before it was a colony--in the old -days when convicts were common--who almost regarded the Brownbies as -a part of the common order of things, and who were indisposed to -persecute them. Men must live; and what were a few sheep? Of some -such it might be said, that though they were above the arts by which -the Brownbies lived, they were not very scrupulous themselves; and it -perhaps served them to have within their ken neighbours whose -morality was lower even than their own. But to such a one as Harry -Heathcote the Brownbies were utterly abominable. He was for the law -and justice at any cost. To his thinking, the Colonial Government was -grossly at fault, because it did not weed out and extirpate not only -the identical Brownbies, but all Brownbieism wherever it might be -found. A dishonest workman was a great evil, but, to his thinking, a -dishonest man in the position of master was the incarnation of evil. -As to the difficulties of evidence, and obstacles of that nature, -Harry Heathcote knew nothing. The Brownbies were rascals, and should -therefore be exterminated. - -And the Brownbies knew well the estimation in which their neighbour -held them. Harry had made himself altogether disagreeable to them. -They were squatters as well as he--or at least so they termed -themselves; and though they would not have expected to be admitted to -home intimacies, they thought that when they were met out-of-doors or -in public places, they should be treated with some respect. On such -occasions Harry treated them as though they were dirt beneath his -feet. The Brownbies would be found, whenever a little money came -among them, at the public billiard-rooms and race-courses within one -hundred and fifty miles of Boolabong. At such places Harry Heathcote -was never seen. It would have been as easy to seduce the Bishop of -Brisbane into a bet as Harry Heathcote. He had never even drank a -nobbler with one of the Brownbies. To their thinking, he was a proud, -stuck-up, unsocial young cub, whom to rob was a pleasure, and to ruin -would be a delight. - -The old man at Boolabong was now almost obsolete. Property, that he -could keep in his grasp, there was in truth none. He was the tenant -of the run under the Crown, and his sons would not turn him out of -the house. The cattle, when there were cattle, belonged to them. They -were in no respect subject to his orders, and he would have had a bad -life among them were it not that they quarreled among themselves, and -that in such quarrels he could belong to one party or to the other. -The house itself was a wretched place--out of order, with doors and -windows and floors shattered, broken, and decayed. There were none of -womankind belonging to the family, and in such a house a decent -woman-servant would have been out of her place. Sometimes there was -one hag there and sometimes another, and sometimes feminine aid less -respectable than that of the hags. There had been six sons. One had -disappeared utterly, so that nothing was known of him. One had been -absolutely expelled by the brethren, and was now a vagabond in the -country, turning up now and then at Boolabong and demanding food. Of -the whole lot Georgie Brownbie, the vagabond, was the worst. The -eldest son was at this time in prison at Brisbane, having on some -late occasion been less successful than usual in regard to some -acquired bullocks. The three youngest were at home--Jerry, Jack, and -Joe. Tom, who was in prison, was the only stanch friend to the -father, who consequently at this time was in a more than usually -depressed condition. - -Christmas-day would fall on a Tuesday, and on the Monday before it -Jerry Brownbie, the eldest of those now at home, was sitting, with a -pipe in his mouth, on a broken-down stool on the broken-down veranda -of the house, and the old man was seated on a stuffy, worn-out sofa -with three legs, which was propped against the wall of the house, and -had not been moved for years. Old Brownbie was a man of gigantic -frame, and had possessed immense personal power--a man, too, of will -and energy; but he was now worn out and dropsical, and could not move -beyond the confines of the home station. The veranda was attached to -a big room which ran nearly the whole length of the house, and which -was now used for all purposes. There was an exterior kitchen, in -which certain processes were carried on--such as salting stolen -mutton and boiling huge masses of meat, when such work was needed. -But the cookery was generally done in the big room. And here also two -or three of the sons slept on beds made upon stretchers along the -wall. They were not probably very particular as to which owned each -bed, enjoying a fraternal communism in that respect. At the end of -this chamber the old man had a room of his own. Boolabong was -certainly a miserable place; and yet, such as it was, it was -frequented by many guests. The vagabondism of the colonies is -proverbial. Vagabonds are taken in almost every where throughout the -bush. But the welcome given to them varies. Sometimes they are made -to work before they are fed--to their infinite disgust. But no such -cruelty was exercised at Boolabong. Boolabong was a very Paradise for -vagabonds. There was always flour and meat to be had, generally -tobacco, and sometimes even the luxury of a nobbler. The Brownbies -were wise enough to have learned that it was necessary for their very -existence that they should have friends in the land. On the Sunday -the father and Jerry Brownbie were sitting out in the veranda at -about noon, and the other two sons, Jack and Joe, were lying asleep -on the beds within. - -The heat of the day was intense. There was a wind blowing, but it was -that which is called there the hot wind, which comes dry, scorching, -sometimes almost intolerable, over the burning central plain of the -country. No one can understand without feeling it how much a wind can -add to the sufferings inflicted by heat. The old man had on a dirty, -wretched remnant of a dressing-gown, but Jerry was clothed simply in -trowsers and an old shirt. Only that the mosquitoes would have flayed -him, he would have dispensed probably with these. He had been -quarreling with his father respecting a certain horse which he had -sold, of the price of which the father demanded a share. Jerry had -unblushingly declared that he himself had "shaken" the horse-- -Anglice, had stolen him--twelve months since on Darnley Downs, and -was therefore clearly entitled to the entire plunder. The father had -rejoined with animation that unless "half a quid"--or ten shillings-- -were given him as his contribution to the keep of the animal, he -would inform against his son to the squatter on the Darnley Downs, -and had shown him that he knew the very run from which the horse had -been taken. Then the sons within had interfered from their beds, -swearing that their father was the noisiest old "cuss" unhung, they -having had their necessary slumbers disturbed. - -At this moment the debate was interrupted by the appearance of a man -outside the veranda. "Well, Mr. Jerry, how goes it?" asked the -stranger. "What, Bos, is that you? What brings you up to Boolabong? I -thought you was ringing trees for that young scut at Gangoil? I'll be -even with him some of these days! He had the impudence to send a man -of his up here last week looking for sheep-skins." - -"He wasn't that soft, Mr. Jerry, was he? Well, I've dropped working -for him.--How are you, Mr. Brownbie? I hope I see you finely, Sir. -It's stiffish sort of weather, Mr. Brownbie, ain't it, Sir?" - -The old man grunted out some reply, and then asked Boscobel what he -wanted. - -"I'll just hang about for the day, Mr. Brownbie, and get a little -grub. You never begrudged a working-man that yet." - -Old Brownbie again grunted, but said no word of welcome. That, -however, was to be taken for granted, without much expression of -opinion. - -"No, Mr. Jerry," continued Boscobel, "I've done with that fellow." - -"And so has Nokes done with him." - -"Nokes is at work on Medlicot's Mill. That sugar business wouldn't -suit me." - -"An axe in your hand is what you're fit for, Bos." - -"There's a many things I can turn my hand to, Mr. Jerry. You couldn't -give a fellow such a thing as a nobbler, Mr. Jerry, could you? I'd -offer money for it, only I know it would be taken amiss. It's that -hot that a fellow's very in'ards get parched up." - -Upon this Jerry slowly rose, and going to a cupboard, brought forth a -modicum of spirits, which he called Battle-Axe, but which was -supposed to be brandy. This Boscobel swallowed at a gulp, and then -washed it down with a little water. - -"Come, Jerry," said the old man, somewhat relenting in his wrath, -"you might as well give us a drop, as it's going about." The two -brothers, who had now been thoroughly aroused from their sleep, and -who had heard the enticing sound of the spirit bottle, joined the -party, and so they drank all round. - -"Heathcote's in an awful state about them fires, ain't he?" asked -Jerry. - -Boscobel, who had squatted down on the veranda, and was now lighting -his pipe, bobbed his head. - -"I wish he was clean burned out--over head and ears," said Jerry. - -Boscobel bobbed his head again, sucking with great energy at the -closely staffed pipe. - -"If he treated me like he does you fellows," continued Jerry, "he -shouldn't have a yard of fencing or a blade of grass left--nor a ewe, -nor a lamb, nor a hogget. I do hate fellows who come here and want to -be better than any one about 'em--young chaps especially. Sending up -here to look for sheep-skins, cuss his impudence! I sent that German -fellow of his away with a flea in his ear." - -"Karl Bender?" - -"It's some such name as that." - -"He's all in all with the young squire," said Boscobel. "And there's -a chap there called Jacko--he's another. He gets 'em down there to -Gangoil, and the ladies talks to 'em, and then they'd go through fire -and water for him. There's Mickey--he's another, jist the same way. I -don't like them ways, myself." - -"Too much of master and man about it, ain't there, Bos?" - -"Just that, Mr. Jerry. That ain't my idea of a free country. I can -work as well as another, but I ain't going to be told that I'm a -swindler because I'm making the most of my time." - -"He turned Nokes out by the scruff of his neck?" said Jerry. Boscobel -again bobbed his head. "I didn't think Nokes was the sort of fellow -to stand that." - -"No more he ain't," said Boscobel. - -"Heathcote's a good plucked un all the same," said Joe. - -"It's like you to speak up for such a fellow is that," said Jerry. - -"I say he's a good plucked un. I'm not standing up for him. Nokes is -half a stone heavier than him, and ought to have knocked him over. -That's what you'd've done, wouldn't you, Bos? I know I would." - -"He'd 've had my axe at his head," said Boscobel. - -"We all know Joe's game to the backbone," said Jerry. - -"I'm game enough for you, anyway," said the brother. "And you can try -it out any time you like." - -"That's right; fight like dogs, do," said the old man. - -The quarrel at this point was interrupted by the arrival of another -man, who crept up round the corner on to the veranda exactly as -Boscobel had done. This was Nokes, of whom they had that moment been -speaking. There was silence for a few moments among them, as though -they feared that he might have heard them, and Nokes stood hanging -his head as though half ashamed of himself. Then they gave him the -same kind of greeting as the other men had received. Nobody told him -that he was welcome, but the spirit jar was again brought into use, -Jerry measuring out the liquor, and it was understood that Nokes was -to stay there and get his food. He too gave some account of himself, -which was supposed to suffice, but which they all knew to be false. -It was Sunday, and they were off work at the sugar-mill. He had come -across Gangoil run, intending to take back with him things of his own -which he had left as Bender's hut, and having come so far, had -thought that he would come on and get his dinner at Boolabong. As -this was being told, a good deal was said of Harry Heathcote. Nokes -declared that he had come right across Gangoil, and explained that he -would not have been at all sorry to meet Master Heathcote in the -bush. Master Heathcote had had his own way up at the station when he -was backed by a lot of his own hands; but a good time was coming, -perhaps. Then Nokes gave it to be understood very plainly that it was -the settled practice of his life to give Harry Heathcote a thrashing. -During all this there was an immense amount of bad language, and a -large portion of the art which in the colony is called "blowing." -Jerry, Boscobel, and Nokes all boasted, each that on the first -occasion he would give Harry Heathcote such a beating that a whole -bone should hardly be left in the man's skin. - -"There isn't one of you man enough to touch him," said Joe, who was -known as the freest fighter of the Brownbie family. - -"And you'd eat him, I suppose," said Jerry. - -"He's not likely to come in my way," said Joe; "but if he does, he'll -get as good as he brings. That's all." - -This was unpleasant to the visitors, who, of course, felt themselves -to be snubbed. Boscobel affected to hear the slight put upon his -courage with good humor, but Nokes laid himself down in a corner and -sulked. They were soon all asleep, and remained dozing, snoring, -changing their uncomfortable positions, and cursing the mosquitoes, -till about four in the afternoon, when Boscobel got up, shook -himself, and made some observation about "grub." The meal of the day -was then prepared. A certain quantity of flour and raw meat, ample -for their immediate wants, was given to the two strangers, with which -they retired into the outer kitchen, prepared it for themselves, and -there ate their dinner, and each of the brothers did the same for -himself in the big room--Joe, the fighting brother, providing for his -father's wants as well as his own. One of them had half a leg of cold -mutton, so that he was saved the trouble of cooking, but he did not -offer to share this comfort with the others. An enormous kettle of -tea was made, and that was common among them. While this was being -consumed, Boscobel put his head into the room, and suggested that he -and his mate wanted a drink. Whereupon Jerry, without a word, pointed -to the kettle, and Boscobel was allowed to fill two pannikins. Such -was the welcome which was always accorded to strangers in Boolabong. - -After their meal the men came back on to the veranda, and there were -more smoking and sleeping, more boasting and snarling. Different -allusions were made to the spirit jar, especially by the old man; but -they were made in vain. The "Battle-Axe" was Jerry's own property, -and he felt that he had already been almost foolishly liberal. But he -had an object in view. He was quite sure that Boscobel and Nokes had -not come to Boolabong on the same Sunday by any chance coincidence. -The men had something to propose, and in their own way they would -make the proposition before they left, and would make it probably to -him. Boscobel intended to sleep at Boolabong, but Nokes had explained -that it was his purpose to return that night to Medlicot's Mill. The -proposition no doubt would be made soon--a little after seven, when -the day was preparing to give way suddenly to night. Nokes first -walked off, sloping out from the veranda in a half-shy, half-cunning -manner, looking nowhither, and saying a word to no one. Quickly after -him Boscobel jumped up suddenly, hitched up his trowsers, and -followed the first man. At about a similar interval Jerry passed out -through the big room to the yard at the back, and from the yard to a -shed that was used as a shambles. Here he found the other two men, -and no doubt the proposition was made. - -"There's something up," said the old man, as soon as Jerry was gone. - -"Of course there's something up," said Joe. "Those fellows didn't -come all the way to Boolabong for nothing." - -"It's something about young Heathcote," suggested the father. - -"If it is," said Jack, "what's that to you?" - -"They'll get themselves hanged, that's all about it." - -"That be blowed," said Jack; "you go easy and hold your tongue. If -you know nothing, nobody can hurt you." - -"I know nothing," said Joe, "and don't mean. If I had scores to quit -with a fellow like Harry Heathcote, I should do it after my own -fashion. I shouldn't get Boscobel to help me, nor yet such a fellow -as Nokes. But it's no business of mine. Heathcote's made the place -too hot to hold him. That's all about it." There was no more said, -and in an hour's time Jerry returned, to the family. Neither the -father nor brother asked him any questions, nor did he volunteer any -information. - -Boolabong was about fourteen miles from Medlicot's Mill. Nokes had -walked this distance in the morning, and now retraced it at night-- -not going right across Gangoil, as he had falsely boasted of doing -early in the day, but skirting it, and keeping on the outside of the -fence nearly the whole distance. At about two in the morning he -reached his cottage outside the mill on the river-bank; but he was -unable to skulk in unheard. Some dogs made a noise, and presently he -heard a voice calling him from the house. "Is that you, Nokes, at -this time of night?" asked Mr. Medlicot. Nokes grunted out some -reply, intending to avoid any further question. But his master came -up to the hut door and asked him where he had been. - -"Just amusing myself," said Nokes. - -"It's very late." - -"It's not later for me than for you, Mr. Medlicot." - -"That's true. I've just ridden home from - -"From Gangoil? I didn't know you were so friendly there, Mr. -Medlicot." - -"And where have you been?" - -"Not to Gangoil, anyway. Good-night, Mr. Medlicot." Then the man took -himself into his hut, and was safe from further questioning that -night. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -"I WISH YOU'D LIKE ME." - - -All the Saturday night Heathcote had been on the run, and he did not -return home to bed till nearly dawn on the Sunday morning. At about -noon prayers were read out on the veranda, the congregation -consisting of Mrs. Heathcote and her sister, Mrs. Growler, and Jacko. -Harry himself was rather averse to this performance, intimating that -Mrs. Growler, if she were so minded, could read the prayers for -herself in the kitchen, and that, as regarded Jacko, they would be -altogether thrown away. But his wife had made a point of maintaining -the practice, and he had of course yielded. The service was not long, -and when it was over Harry got into a chair and was soon asleep. He -had been in the saddle during sixteen hours of the previous day and -night, and was entitled to be fatigued. His wife sat beside him, -every now and again protecting him from the flies, while Kate Daly -sat by with her Bible in her hand. But she, too, from time to time, -was watching her brother-in-law. The trouble of his spirits and the -work that he felt himself bound to do touched them with a strong -feeling, and taught them to regard him for the time as a young hero. - -"How quietly he sleeps!" Kate said. "The fatigue of the last week -must have been terrible." - -"He is quite, quite knocked up," said the wife. - -"I ain't knocked up a bit," said Harry, jumping up from his chair. -"What should knock me up? I wasn't asleep, was I?" - -"Just dozing, dear." - -"Ah, well; there isn't any thing to do, and it's too hot to get out. -I wonder Old Bates didn't come in for prayers." - -"I don't think he cares much for prayers," said Mrs. Heathcote. - -"But he likes an excuse for a nobbler as well as any one. Did I tell -you that they had fires over at Jackson's yesterday--at Goolaroo?" - -"Was there any harm done?" - -"A deal of grass burned, and they had to drive the sheep, which won't -serve them this kind of weather. I don't know which I fear most--the -grass, the fences, or the sheep. As for the buildings, I don't think -they'll try that again." - -"Why not, Harry?" - -"The risk of being seen is too great. I can hardly understand that a -man like Nokes should have been such a fool as he was." - -"You think it was Nokes?" - -"Oh yes, certainly. In the first place, Jacko is as true as steel. I -don't mean to swear by the boy, though I think he is a good boy. But -I'm sure he's true in this. And then the man's manner to myself was -conclusive. I can not understand a man in Medlicot's position -supporting a fellow like that. By Heavens! it nearly drives me mad to -think of it. Thousands and thousands of pounds are at stake. All that -a man has in the world is exposed to the malice of a scoundrel like -Nokes! And then a man who calls himself a gentleman will talk about -it being un-English to look after him. He's a 'new chum;' I suppose -that's his excuse." - -"If it's a sufficient excuse, you should excuse him," said Kate, with -good feminine logic. - -"That's just like you all over. He's good-looking, and therefore it's -all right. He ought to have learned better. He ought, at any rate, to -believe that men who have been here much longer than he has must know -the ways of the country a great deal better." - -"It's Christmas-time, Harry," said his wife, "and you should endeavor -to forgive your neighbors." - -"What sort of a Christmas will it be if you and I, and these young -fellows here, and Kate, are all burned out of Gangoil? Here's Bates.- --Well, Mr. Bates, how goes it? - -"Tremendous hot, Sir." - -"We've found that out already. You haven't heard where that fellow -Boscobel has gone?" - -"No; I haven't heard. But he'll be over with some of those Brownbie -lads. They say Georgie Brownbie's about the country somewhere. If so, -there'll be a row among 'em." - -"When thieves fall out, Mr. Bates, honest men come by their own." - -"So they say, Mr. Heathcote. All the same, I shouldn't care how far -Georgie was away from any place I had to do with." Then the young -master and his old superintendent sauntered out to his back premises -to talk about sheep and fires, and plans for putting out fires. And -no doubt Mr. Bates had the glass of brandy-and-water which he had -come to regard as one of his Sunday luxuries. From the back premises -they went down to the creek to gauge the water. Then they sauntered -on, keeping always in the shade, sitting down here to smoke, and -standing up there to discuss the pedigree of some particular ram, -till it was past six. - -"You may as well come in and dine with us, Mr. Bates," Harry -suggested, as they returned toward the station. - -Mr. Bates said that he thought that he would. As the same invitation -was given on almost every Sunday throughout the year, and was -invariably answered in the same way, there was not much excitement in -this. But Mr. Bates would not have dreamed of going in to dinner -without being asked. - -"That's Medlicot's trap," said Mr. Bates, as they entered the yard. -"I heard wheels when they were in the horse paddock." - -Harry looked at the trap, and then went quickly into the house. - -He walked with a rapid step onto the veranda, and there he found the -sugar grower and his mother. Mrs. Heathcote looked at her husband -almost timidly. She knew from the very sound of his feet that he was -perturbed in spirit. Under his own roof-tree he would certainly be -courteous; but there is a constrained courtesy very hard to be borne, -of which she knew him to be capable. He first went up to the old -lady, and to her his greeting was pleasant enough. Harry Heathcote, -though he had assumed the bush mode of dressing, still retained the -manners of a high-bred gentleman in his intercourse with women. Then, -turning sharply round, he gave his hand to Mr. Medlicot. - -"I am glad to see you at Gangoil," he said; "I was not fortunate -enough to be at home when you called the other day. Mrs. Medlicot -must have found the drive very hot, I fear." - -His wife was still looking into his face, and was reading there, as -in a book, the mingled pride and disdain with which her husband -exercising civility to his enemy. Harry's countenance wore a look not -difficult of perusal, and Medlicot could read the lines almost as -distinctly as Harry's wife. - -"I have asked Mrs. Medlicot to stay and dine with us," she said, "so -that she may have it cool for the drive back." - -"I am almost afraid of the bush at night," said the old woman. - -"You'll have a full moon," said Harry; "it will be as light as day." -So that was settled. Heathcote thought it odd that the man whom he -regarded as his enemy, whom he had left at their last meeting in -positive hostility, should consent to accept a dinner under his roof; -but that was Medlicot's affair, not his. - -They dined at seven, and after dinner strolled out into the horse -paddock, and down to the creek. As they started, the three men went -first, and the ladies followed them; but Bates soon dropped behind. -It was his rest day, and he had already moved quite as much as was -usual with him on a Sunday. - -"I think I was a little hard with you the other day," said Medlicot, -when they were alone together. - -"I suppose we hardly understand each other's ideas," said Harry. He -spoke with a constrained voice, and with an almost savage manner, -engendered by a determination to hold his own. He would forgive any -offense for which an apology was made, but no apology had been made -as yet; and, to tell the truth, he was a little afraid that if they -got into an argument on the matter Medlicot would have the best of -it. And there was, too, almost a claim to superiority in Medlicot's -use of the word "hard." When one man says that he has been hard to -another, he almost boasts that, on that occasion, he got the better -of him. - -"That's just it," said Medlicot; "we do not quite understand each -other. But we might believe in each other all the same, and then the -understanding would come. But it isn't just that which I want to say; -such talking rarely does any good." - -"What is it, then?" - -"You may perhaps be right about that man Nokes." - -"No doubt I may. I know I'm right. When I asked him whether he'd been -at my shed, what made him say that he hadn't been there at night- -time? I said nothing about night-time. But the man was there at -night-time, or he wouldn't have used the word." - -"I'm not sure that that is evidence." - -"Perhaps not in England, Mr. Medlicot, but it's good enough evidence -for the bush. And what made him pretend he didn't know the distances? -And why can't he look a man in the face? And why should the boy have -said it was he if it wasn't? Of course, if you think well of him -you're right to keep him. But you may take it as a rule out here that -when a man has been dismissed it hasn't been done for nothing. Men -treated that way should travel out of the country. It's better for -all parties. It isn't here as it is at home, where people live so -thick together that nothing is thought of a man being dismissed. I -was obliged to discharge him, and now he's my enemy." - -"A man may be your enemy without being a felon." - -"Of course he may. I'm his enemy in a way, but I wouldn't hurt a hair -of his head unjustly. When I see the attempts made to burn me out, of -course I know that an enemy has been at work." - -"Is there no one else has got a grudge against you?" - -Harry was silent for a moment. What right had this man to cross- -examine him about his enmities--the man whose own position in the -place had been one of hostility to him, whom he had almost suspected -of harboring Nokes at the mill simply because Nokes had been -dismissed from Gangoil? That suspicion was, indeed, fading away. -There was something in Medlicot's voice and manner which made it -impossible to attribute such motives to him. Nevertheless the man was -a free-selector, and had taken a bit of the Gangoil run after a -fashion which to Heathcote was objectionable politically, morally, -and socially. Let Medlicot in regard to character be what he might, -he was a free-selector, and a squatter's enemy, and had clinched his -hostility by employing a servant dismissed from the very run out of -which he had bought his land. "It is hard to say," he replied at -length, "who have grudges, as against whom, or why. I suppose I have -a great grudge against you, if the truth is to be known; but I -sha'n't burn down your mill." - -"I'm sure you won't." - -"Nor yet say worse of you behind your back than I will to your face." - -"I don't want you to think that you have occasion to speak ill of me, -either one way or the other. What I mean is this--I don't quite think -that the evidence against Nokes is strong enough to justify me in -sending him away; but I'll keep an eye on him as well as I can. It -seems that he left our place early this morning; but the men are not -supposed to be there on Sundays, and of course he does as he pleases -with himself." - -The conversation then dropped, and in a little time Harry made some -excuse for leaving them, and returned to the house alone, promising, -however, that he would not start for his night's ride till after the -party had come back to the station. "There is no hurry at all," he -said; "I shan't stir for two hours yet, but Mickey will be waiting -there for stores for himself and the German." - -"That means a nobbler for Mickey," said Kate. "Either of those men -would think it a treat to ride ten miles in and ten miles back, with -a horse-load of sugar and tea and flour, for the sake of a glass of -brandy-and-water." - -"And so would you," said Harry, "if you lived in a hut by yourself -for a fortnight, with nothing to drink but tea without milk." - -The old lady and Mrs. Heathcote were soon seated on the grass, while -Medlicot and Kate Daly roamed on together. Kate was a pretty, modest -girl, timid withal and shy, unused to society, and therefore awkward, -but with the natural instincts and aptitudes of her sex. What the -glass of brandy-and-water was to Mickey O'Dowd after a fortnight's -solitude in a bush hut, with tea, dampers, and lumps of mutton, a -young man in the guise of a gentleman was to poor Kate Daly. A -brother-in-law, let him be ever so good, is after all no better than -tea without milk. No doubt Mickey O'Dowd often thought about a -nobbler in his thirsty solitude, and so did Kate speculate on what -might possibly be the attractions of a lover. Medlicot probably -indulged in no such speculations; but the nobbler, when brought close -to his lips, was grateful to him as to others. That Kate Daly was -very pretty no man could doubt. - -"Isn't it sad that he should have to ride about all night like that?" -said Kate, to whom, as was proper, Harry Heathcote at the present -moment was of more importance than any other human being. - -"I suppose he likes it." - -"Oh no, Mr. Medlicot; how can he like it? It is not the hard work he -minds, but the constant dread of coming evil." - -"The excitement keeps him alive." - -"There's plenty on a station to keep a man alive in that way at all -times." - -"And plenty to keep ladies alive too?" - -"Oh, ladies! I don't know that ladies have any business in the bush. -Harry's trouble is all about my sister and the children and me. He -wouldn't care a straw for himself." - -"Do you think he'd be better without a wife?" - -Kate hesitated for a moment. "Well, no. I suppose it would be very -rough without Mary; and he'd be so lonely when he came in." - -"And nobody to make his tea." - -"Or to look after his things," said Kate, earnestly. "I know it was -very rough before we came here. He says that himself. There were no -regular meals, but just food in a cupboard when he chose to get it." - -"That is not comfortable, certainly." - -"Horrid, I should think. I suppose it is better for him to be -married. You've got your mother, Mr. Medlicot." - -"Yes: I've got my mother." - -"That makes a difference, does it not?" - -"A very great difference. She'll save me from having to go to a -cupboard for my bread and meat." - -"I suppose having a woman about is better for a man. They haven't got -any thing else to do, and therefore they can look to things." - -"Do you help to look to things?" - -"I suppose I do something. I often feel ashamed to think how very -little it is. As for that, I'm not wanted at all." - -"So that you're free to go elsewhere?" - -"I didn't mean that, Mr. Medlicot; only I know I'm not of much use." - -"But if you had a house of your own?" - -"Gangoil is my home just as much as it is Mary's; and I sometimes -feel that Harry is just as good to me as he is to Mary." - -"Your sister will never leave Gangoil." - -"Not unless Harry gets another station." - -"But you will have to be transplanted some day." - -Kate merely chucked up her head and pouted her lips, as though to -show that the proposition was one which did not deserve an answer. - -"You'll marry a squatter, of course, Miss Daly?" - -"I don't suppose I shall ever marry any body, Mr. Medlicot." - -"You wouldn't marry any one but a squatter? I can quite understand -that. The squatters here are what the lords and the country -gentlement are at home." - -"I can't even picture to myself what sort of life people live at -home." Both Medlicot and Kate Daly meant England when they spoke of -home. - -"There isn't so much difference as people think. Classes hang -together just in the same way; only I think there's a little more -exclusiveness here than there was there." - -In answer to this, Kate asserted with innocent eagerness that she was -not at all exclusive, and that if ever she married any one she'd -marry the man she liked. - -"I wish you'd like me," said Medlicot. - -"That's nonsense," said Kate, in a low, timid whisper, hurrying away -to rejoin the other ladies. She could speculate on the delights of -the beverage as would Mickey O'Dowd in his hut; but when it was first -brought to her lips she could only fly away from it. In this respect -Mickey O'Dowd was the more sensible of the two. No other word was -spoken that night between them, but Kate lay awake till morning -thinking of the one word that had been spoken. But the secret was -kept sacredly within her own bosom. - -Before the Medlicots started that night the old lady made a -proposition that the Heathcotes and Miss Daly should eat the -Christmas dinner at Medlicot's Mill. Mrs. Heathcote, thinking perhaps -of her sister, thoroughly liking what she herself had seen of the -Medlicots, looked anxiously into Harry's face. If he would consent to -this, an intimacy would follow, and probably a real friendship be -made. - -"It's out of the question," he said. The very firmness, however, with -which he spoke gave a certain cordiality even to his refusal. "I must -be at home, so that the men may know where to find me till I go out -for the night." Then, after a pause, he continued, "As we can't go to -you, why should you not come to us?" - -So it was at last decided, much to Harry's own astonishment, much to -his wife's delight. Kate, therefore, when she lay awake, thinking of -the one word that had been spoken, knew that there would be an -opportunity for another word. - -Medlicot drove his mother home safely, and, after he had taken her -into the house, encountered Nokes on his return from Boolabong, as -has been told at the close of the last chapter. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -"I DO WISH HE WOULD COME!" - - -On the Monday morning Harry came home as usual, and, as usual, went -to bed after his breakfast. "I wouldn't care about the heat if it -were not for the wind," he said to his wife, as he threw himself -down. - -"The wind carries it so, I suppose." - -"Yes; and it comes from just the wrong side--from the northwest. -There have been half a dozen fires about to-day." - -"During the night, you mean." - -"No; yesterday--Sunday. I can not make out whether they come by -themselves. They certainly are not all made by incendiaries." - -"Accidents, perhaps." - -"Well, yes. Somebody drops a match, and the sun ignites it. But the -chances are much against a fire like that spreading. Care is wanted -to make it spread. As far as I can learn, the worst fires have not -been just after midday, when, of course, the heat is greater, but in -the early night, before the dews have come. All the same, I feel that -I know nothing about it--nothing at all. Don't let me sleep long." - -In spite of this injunction, Mrs. Heathcote determined that he should -sleep all day if he would. Even the nights were fearfully hot and -sultry, and on this Monday morning he had come home much fatigued. He -would be out again at sunset, and now he should have what rest nature -would allow him. But in this resolve she was opposed by Jacko, who -came in at eleven, and requested to see the master. Jacko had been -over with the German; and, as he explained to Mrs. Heathcote, they -two had been in and out, sometimes sleeping and sometimes watching. -But now he wanted to see the master, and under no persuasion would -impart his information to the mistress. The poor wife, anxious as she -was that her husband should sleep, did not dare in these perilous -times to ignore Jacko and his information, and therefore gently woke -the sleeper. In a few minutes Jacko was standing by the young -squatter's bedside, and Harry Heathcote, quite awake, was sitting up -and listening. "George Brownbie's at Boolabong." That at first was -the gravamen of Jacko's news. - -"I know that already, Jacko." - -"My word!" exclaimed Jacko. In those parts Georgie Brownbie was -regarded almost as the Evil One himself, and Jacko, knowing what -mischief was, as it were, in the word, thought that he was entitled -to bread and jam, if not to a nobbler itself, in bringing such -tidings to Gangoil. - -"Is that all?" asked Heathcote. - -"And Bos is at Boolabong, and Bill Nokes was there all Sunday, and -Jerry Brownbie's been out with Bos and Georgie." - -"The old man wouldn't say any thing of that kind, Jacko." - -"The old man! He knows nothing about it. My word! they don't tell him -about nothing." - -"Or Tom?" - -"Tom's away in prison. They always cotches the best when they want to -send 'em to prison. If they'd lock up Jerry and Georgie and Jack! My -word! yes." - -"You think they're arranging it all at Boolabong?" - -"In course they are." - -"I don't see why Boscobel shouldn't be at Boolabong without intending -me any harm. Of course he'd go there when he left Gangoil. That's -where they all go." - -"And Bill Nokes, Mr. Harry?" - -"And Bill Nokes too. Though why he should travel so far from his work -this weather I can't say." - -"My word! no, Mr. Harry." - -"Did you see any fires about your way last night?" - -Jacko shook his head. - -"You go into the kitchen and get something to eat, and wait for me. I -shall be out before long now." - -Though Heathcote had made light of the assemblage of evil spirits at -Boolabong which had seemed so important to Jacko, he by no means did -regard the news as unessential. Of Nokes's villany he was convinced. -Of Boscobel he had imprudently made a second enemy at a most -inauspicious time. Georgie Brownbie had long been his bitter foe. He -had prosecuted and, perhaps, persecuted Georgie for various offenses; -but as Georgie was supposed to be as much at war with his own -brethren as with the rest of the world at large, Heathcote had not -thought much of that miscreant in the present emergency. But if the -miscreant were in truth at Boolabong, and if evil things were being -plotted against Gangoil, Georgie would certainly be among the -conspirators. - -Soon after noon Harry was on horseback and Jacko was at his heels. -The heat was more intense than ever. Mrs. Heathcote had twisted round -Harry's hat a long white scarf, called a puggeree, though we are by -no means sure of our spelling. Jacko had spread a very dirty fragment -of an old white handkerchief on his head, and wore his hat over it. -Mrs. Heathcote had begged Harry to take a large cotton parasol, and -he had nearly consented, being unable at last to reconcile himself to -the idea of riding with such an accoutrement even in the bush. "The -heat's a bore," he said, "but I'm not a bit afraid of it as long as I -keep moving. Yes, I'll be back to dinner, though I won't say when, -and I won't say for how long. It will be the same thing all day to- -morrow. I wish with all my heart those people were not coming." - -He rode straight away to the German's hut, which was on the -northwestern extremity of his further paddock in that direction. From -thence the western fence ran in a southerly direction, nearly -straight to the river. Beyond the fence was a strip of land, in some -parts over a mile broad, in others not much over a quarter of a mile, -which he claimed as belonging to Gangoil, but over which the -Brownbies had driven their cattle since the fence had been made, -under the pretense that the fence marked the boundary of two runs. -Against this assumption Heathcote had remonstrated frequently, had -driven the cattle back, and had exercised the ownership of a Crown -tenant in such fashion as the nature of his occupation allowed. -Beyond this strip was Boolabong; the house at Boolabong being not -above three miles distant from the fence, and not above four miles -from the German's hut. So that the Brownbies were in truth much -nearer neighbors to the German than was Heathcote and his family. But -between the German and the Brownbies there raged an internecine feud. -No doubt Harry Heathcote, in his heart, liked the German all the -better on this account; but it behooved him both as a master and a -magistrate to regard reports against Boolabong coming from the German -with something of suspicion. Now Jacko had been introduced to Gangoil -under German auspices, and had soon come to a decision that it would -be a good thing and a just to lock up all the Brownbies in the great -jail of the colony at Brisbane. He probably knew nothing of law or -justice in the abstract, but he greatly valued law when exercised -against those he hated. The western fence of which mention has been -made ran down to the Mary River, hitting it about four miles west of -Medlicot's Mill; so that there was a considerable portion of the -Gangoil run having a frontage to the water. As has been before said, -Medlicot's plantation was about fourteen miles distant from the house -at Boolabong, and the distance from the Gangoil house to that of the -Brownbies was about the same. - -The oppressiveness of the day was owing more to the hot wind than to -the sun itself. This wind, coming from the arid plains of the -interior, brought with it a dry, suffocating heat. On this occasion -it was odious to Harry Heathcote, not so much on account of its own -intrinsic abominations, as because it might cause a fire to sweep -across his run from its western boundary. Just beyond the boundary -there lay Boolabong, and there were collected his enemies. A fire -that should have passed for a mile or so across the pastures outside -and beyond his own farm would be altogether unextinguishable by the -time that it had reached his paddock. The Brownbies, as he knew well, -would care nothing for burning a patch of their own grass. Their -stock, if they had any at the present moment, were much too few in -number to be affected by such a loss. The Brownbies had not a yard of -fencing to be burned; and a fire, if once it got a hold on the edge -of their run, would pass on away from them, right across Harry's -pastures and Harry's fences. If such were the case, he would have -quite enough to do to drive his sheep from the fire, and it might be -that many of them also would perish in the flames. The catastrophe -might even be so bad, so frightful, that the shed and station and all -should go; though, in thinking of all the fires of which he had -heard, he could remember none that had spread with fatality such as -that. - -He found Karl Bender in his hut asleep. The man was soon up, -apologizing for his somnolence, and preparing tea for his master's -entertainment. "It is not Christmas like at home at all; is it, Mr. -'Eathcote? Dear, no! Them red divils is there ready to give us a -Christmas roasting." Then he told how he had boldly ridden up to -Boolabong that morning, and had seen Georgie and Boscobel with his -own eyes. When asked what they had said to him, he replied that he -did not wait till any thing had been said, but had hurried away as -fast as his horse could carry him. - -"I'll go up to Boolabong myself," said Harry. - -"My word! They'll just about knock your head off," suggested Jacko. - -Karl Bender also thought that the making of such a visit would be a -source of danger. But Heathcote explained that any personal attack -was not to be apprehended from these men. "That's not their game," he -said, arguing that men who premeditated a secret outrage would not -probably be tempted into personal violence. The horror of the -position lay in this--that though a fire should rise up almost under -the feet of men who were known to be hostile to him, and whose -characters were acknowledged to be bad, still would there be no -evidence against them. It was known to all men that, at periods of -heat such as that which was now raging, fires were common. Every day -the pastures were in flames, here, there, and every where. It was -said, indeed, that there existed no evidence of fires in the bush -till men had come with their flocks. But then there had been no -smoking, no boiling of pots, no camping out, till men had come, and -no matches. Every one around might be sure that some particular fire -had been the work of an incendiary, might be able to name the culprit -who had done the deed; and yet no jury could convict the miscreant. -Watchfulness was the best security, watchfulness day and night till -rain should come; and Heathcote calculated that it would be better -for him that his enemies should know that he was watchful. He would -go up among them and show them that he was not ashamed to speak to -them of his anxiety. They could hear nothing by his coming which they -did not already know. They were well aware that he was on the watch, -and it might be well that they should know also how close his watch -was kept. He took the German and Jacko with him, but left them with -their horses about a mile on the Boolabong side of his own fence, -nigh to the extreme boundary of the Debatable Land. They knew his -whistle, and were to ride to him at once should he call them. - -He had left the house about noon, saying that he would be home to -dinner--which, however, on such occasions, was held to be a feast -movable over a wide space of time. But on this occasion the women -expected him to come early, as it was his intention to be out again -as soon as it should be dark. Mrs. Growler was asked to have the -dinner ready at six. During the day Mrs. Heathcote was backward and -forward in the kitchen. Then was something wrong she knew, but could -not quite discern the evil. Sing Sing, the cook, was more than -ordinarily alert; but Sing Sing, the cook, was not much trusted. Mrs. -Growler was "as good as the Bank," as far as that went, having lived -with old Mr. Daly when he was prosperous; but she was apt to be -downhearted, and on the present occasion was more than usually low in -spirits. Whenever Mrs. Heathcote spoke, she wept. At six o'clock she -came into the parlor with a budget of news. Sing Sing, the cook, had -been gone for the last half hour, leaving the leg of mutton at the -fire. It soon became clear to them that he had altogether absconded. - -"Them rats always does leave a falling house," said Mrs. Growler. - -At seven o'clock the sun was down, though the gloom of the tropical -evening had not yet come. The two ladies went out to the gate, which -was but a few yards from the veranda, and there stood listening for -the sound of Harry's horse. The low moaning of the wind through the -trees could be heard, but it was so gentle, continuous, and unaltered -that it seemed to be no more than a vehicle for other sounds, and was -as death-like as silence itself. The gate of the horse paddock -through which Heathcote must pass on his way home was nearly a mile -distant; but the road there was hard, and they knew that they could -hear from there the fall of his horse's feet. There they stood from -seven to nearly eight, whispering a word now and then to each other, -listening always, but in vain. Looking away to the west every now and -then, they fancied that they could see the sky glow with flames, and -then they would tell each other that it was fancy. The evening grew -darker and still darker, but no sound was heard through the moaning -wind. From time to time Mrs. Growler came out to them, declaring her -fears in no measured terms. "Well, marm, I do declare I think we'd -better go away out of this." - -"Go away, Mrs. Growler! What nonsense! Where can we go to?" - -"The mill would be nearest, ma'am, and we should be safe there. I'm -sure Mrs. Medlicot would take us in." - -"Why should you not be safe here?" said Kate. - -"That wretched Chinese hasn't gone and left us for nothing, miss, and -what would we three lone women do here if all them Brownbies came -down upon us? Why don't master come back? He ought to come back; -oughtn't he, ma'am? He never do think what lone women are." - -Mrs. Heathcote took her husband's part very strongly, and gave Mrs. -Growler as hard a scolding as she knew how to pronounce. But her own -courage was giving way much as Mrs. Growler's had done. "We are bound -to stay here," she said; "and if the worst comes, we must bear it as -others have done before us." Then Mrs. Growler was very sulky, and, -retreating to the kitchen, sobbed there in solitude. "Oh, Kate, I do -wish he would come," said the elder sister. - -"Are you afraid?" - -"It is so desolate, and he may be so far off, and we couldn't get to -him if any thing happened, and we shouldn't know." - -Then they were again silent, and remained without exchanging more -than a word or two for nearly half an hour. They took hold of each -other, and every now and then went to the kitchen door that the old -woman might be comforted by their presence, but they had no -consolation to offer each other. The silence of the bush, and the -feeling of great distances, and the dread of calamity almost crushed -them. At last there was a distant sound of horse's feet. "I hear -him," said Mrs. Heathcote, rushing forward toward the outer gate of -the horse paddock, followed by her sister. - -Her ears were true, but she was doomed to disappointment. The -horseman was only a messenger from her husband--Mickey O'Dowd, the -Irish boundary rider. - -He had great tidings to tell, and was so long telling them that we -will not attempt to give them in his own words. The purport of his -story was as follows: Harry had been to Boolabong House, but had -found there no one but the old man. Returning home thence toward his -own fence, he had smelled the smoke of fire, and had found within a -furlong of his path a long ridge of burning grass. According to -Mickey's account, it could not have been lighted above a few minutes -before Heathcote's presence on the spot. As it was, it had got too -much ahead for him to put it out single-handed; a few yards he might -have managed, but--so Mickey said, probably exaggerating the matter-- -there was half a quarter of a mile of flame. He had therefore ridden -on before the fire, had called his own two men to him, and had at -once lighted the grass himself some two hundred yards in front, -making a second fire, but so keeping it down that it should be always -under control. Before the hinder flames had caught him, Bender and -Jacko had been with him, and they had thus managed to consume the -fuel which, had it remained there, would have fed the fire which was -too strong to be mastered. By watching the extremities of the line of -fire, they overpowered it, and so the damage was for the moment at an -end. - -The method of dealing with the enemy was so well known in the bush, -and had been so often canvassed in the hearing of the two sisters, -that it was clearly intelligible to them. The evil had been met in -the proper way, and the remedy had been effective. But why did not -Harry come home? - -Mickey O'Dowd, after his fashion, explained that too. The ladies were -not to wait dinner. The master felt himself obliged to remain out at -night, and had gotten food at the German's hut. He, Mickey, was -commissioned to return with a flask full of brandy, as it would be -necessary that Harry, with all the men whom he could trust, should be -"on the rampage" all night. This small body was to consist of Harry -himself, of the German, of Jacko, and, according to the story as at -present told, especially of Mickey O'Dowd. Much as she would have -wished to have kept the man at the station for protection, she did -not think of disobeying her husband's orders. So Mickey was fed, and -then sent back with the flask--with tidings also as to the desertion -of that wretched cook, Sing Sing. - -"I shall sit here all night," said Mrs. Heathcote to her sister. "As -things are, I shall not think of going to bed." - -Kate declared that she would also sit in the veranda all night; and, -as a matter of course, they were joined by Mrs. Growler. They had -been so seated about an hour when Kate Daly declared that the heavens -were on fire. The two young women jumped up, flew to the gate, and -found that the whole western horizon was lurid with a dark red light. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE BUSH FIGHT. - - -Harry Heathcote had on this occasion entertained no doubt whatever -that the fire had been intentional and premeditated. A lighted torch -must have been dragged along the grass, so as to ignite a line many -yards long all at the same time. He had been luckily near enough to -the spot to see almost the commencement of the burning, and was -therefore aware of its form and circumstances. He almost wondered -that he had not seen the figure of the man who had drawn the torch, -or at any rate heard his steps. Pursuit would have been out of the -question, as his work was wanted at the moment to extinguish the -flames. The miscreant probably had remembered this, and had known -that he might escape stealthily without the noise of a rapid retreat. - -When the work was over, when he had put out the fire he had himself -lighted, and had exterminated the lingering remnants of that which -had been intended to destroy him, he stood still a while almost in -despair. His condition seemed to be hopeless. What could he do -against such a band of enemies, knowing as he did that, had he been -backed even by a score of trusty followers, one foe might still -suffice to ruin him? At the present moment he was very hot with the -work he had done, as were also Jacko and the German. O'Dowd had also -come up as they were completing their work. Their mode of -extinguishing the flames had been to beat them down with branches of -gum-tree loaded with leaves. By sweeping these along the burning -ground the low flames would be scattered and expelled. But the work -was very hard and hot. The boughs they used were heavy, and the air -around them, sultry enough from its own properties, was made almost -unbearable by the added heat of the fires. - -The work had been so far done, but it might be begun again at any -moment, either near or at a distance. No doubt the attempt would be -made elsewhere along the boundary between Gangoil and Boolabong--was -very probably being made at this moment. The two men whom he could -trust and Jacko were now with him. They were wiping their brows with -their arms and panting with their work. - -He first resolved on sending Mickey O'Dowd to the house. The distance -was great, and the man's assistance might be essential. But he could -not bear to leave his wife without news from him. Then, after -considering a while, he made up his mind to go back toward his own -fence, making his way as he went southerly down toward the river. -They who were determined to injure him would, he thought, repeat -their attempt in that direction. He hardly said a word to his two -followers, but rode at a foot-pace to the spot at his fence which he -had selected as the site of his bivouac for the night. - -"It won't be very cheery, Bender," he said to the German; "but we -shall have to make a night of it till they disturb us again." - -The German made a motion with his arms intended to signify his utter -indifference. One place was the same as another to him. Jacko uttered -his usual ejaculation, and then, having hitched his horse to the -fence, threw himself on his back upon the grass. - -No doubt they all slept, but they slept as watchers sleep, with one -eye open. It was Harry who first saw the light which a few minutes -later made itself visible to the ladies at the home station. "Karl," -he exclaimed, jumping up, "they're at it again--look there." - -In less than half a minute, and without speaking another word, they -were all on their horses and riding in the direction of the light. It -came from a part of the Boolabong run somewhat nearer to the river -than the place at which they had stationed themselves, where the -strip of ground between Harry's fence and the acknowledged boundary -of Brownbie's run was the narrowest. As they approached the fire, -they became aware that it had been lighted on Boolabong. On this -occasion Harry did not ride on up to the flames, knowing that the use -or loss of a few minutes might save or destroy his property. He -hardly spoke a word as he proceeded on his business, feeling that -they upon whom he had to depend were sufficiently instructed, if only -they would be sufficiently energetic. - -"Keep it well under, but let it run," was all he said, as, lighting a -dried bush with a match, he ran the fire along the ground in front of -the coming flames. - -A stranger seeing it all would have felt sure that the remedy would -have been as bad as the disease, for the fire which Harry himself -made every now and again seemed to get the better of those who were -endeavoring to control it. There might perhaps be a quarter of a mile -between the front of the advancing fire and the line at which Harry -had commenced to destroy the food which would have fed the coming -flames. He himself, as quickly as he lighted the grass, which in -itself was the work but of a moment, would strain himself to the -utmost at the much harder task of controlling his own fire, so that -it should not run away from him, and get, as it were, out of his -hands, and be as bad to him as that which he was thus seeking to -circumvent. The German and Jacko worked like heroes, probably with -intense enjoyment of the excitement, and, after a while, found a -fourth figure among the flames, for Mickey had now returned. - -"You saw them," Harry said, panting with his work. - -"They's all right," said Mickey, flopping away with a great bough; -"but that tarnation Chinese has gone off." - -"My word! Sing Sing. Find him at Boolabong," said Jacko. - -The German, whose gum-tree bough was a very big one, and whose every -thought was intent on letting the fire run while he still held it in -hand, had not breath for a syllable. - -But the back fire was extending itself, so as to get round them. -Every now and then Harry extended his own line, moving always forward -toward Gangoil as he did so, though he and his men were always on -Brownbie's territory. He had no doubt but that where he could succeed -in destroying the grass for a breadth of forty or fifty yards he -would starve out the inimical flames. The trees and bushes without -the herbage would not enable it to travel a yard. Wherever the grass -was burned down black to the soil, the fire would stop. But should -they, who were at work, once allow themselves to be outflanked, their -exertions would be all in vain. And then those wretches might light a -dozen fires. The work was so hard, so hot, and often so hopeless, -that the unhappy young squatter was more than once tempted to bid his -men desist and to return to his homestead. The flames would not -follow him there. He could, at any rate, make that safe. And then, -when he had repudiated this feeling as unworthy of him, he began to -consider within himself whether he would not do better for his -property by taking his men with him on to his run, and endeavoring to -drive his sheep out of danger. But as he thought of all this, he -still worked, still fired the grass, and still controlled the flames. -Presently he became aware of what seemed to him at first to be a -third fire. Through the trees, in the direction of the river, he -could see the glimmering of low flames and the figures of men. But it -was soon apparent to him that these men were working in his cause, -and that they, too, were burning the grass that would have fed the -advancing flames. At first he could not spare the minute which would -be necessary to find out who was his friend, but, as they drew -nearer, he knew the man. It was the sugar planter from the mill and -with him his foreman. - -"We've been doing our best," said Medlicot, "but we've been terribly -afraid that the fire would slip away from us." - -"It's the only thing," said Harry, too much excited at the moment to -ask questions as to the cause of Medlicot's presence so far from his -home at that time of the evening. "It's getting round us, I'm afraid, -all the same." - -"I don't know but it is. It's almost impossible to distinguish. How -hot the fire makes it!" - -"Hot, indeed!" said Harry. "It's killing work for men, and then all -for no good! To think that men, creatures that call themselves men, -should do such a thing as this! It breaks one's heart." He had paused -as he spoke, leaning on the great battered bough which he held, but -in an instant was at work with it again. "Do you stay here, Mr. -Medlicot, with the men, and I'll go on beyond where you began. If I -find the fire growing down, I'll shout, and they can come to me." So -saying, he rushed on with a lighted bush torch in his band. - -Suddenly he found himself confronted in the bush by a man on -horseback, whom he at once recognized as Georgie Brownbie. He forgot -for a moment where he was. and began to question the reprobate as to -his presence at that spot. - -"That's like your impudence," said Georgie. "You're not only -trespassing, but you're destroying our property willfully, and you -ask me what business I have here. You're a nice sort of young man." - -Harry, checked for a moment by the remembrance that he was in truth -upon Boolabong run, did not at once answer. - -"Put that bush down, and don't burn our grass," continued Georgie, -"or you shall have to answer for it. What right have you to fire our -grass?" - -"Who fired it first?" - -"It lighted itself. That's no rule why you should light it more. You -give over, or I punch your head for you." - -Harry's men and Medlicot were advancing toward him, trampling out -their own embers as they came; and Georgie Brownbie, who was alone, -when he saw that there were four or five men against him, turned -round and rode back. - -"Did you ever see impudence like that?" said Harry. "He's probably -the very man who set the match, and yet he comes and brazens it out -with me." - -"I don't think he's the man who set the match," said Medlicot, -quietly; "at any rate there was another." - -"Who was it?" - -"My man, Nokes. I saw him with the torch in his hand." - -"Heaven and earth!" - -"Yes, Mr. Heathcote. I saw him put it down. You were about right, you -see, and I was about wrong." - -Harry had not a word to say, unless it were tell the man that he -loved him for the frankness of his confession. But the moment was -hardly auspicious for such a declaration. There was no excuse for -them to pause in their work, for the fire was still crackling at -their back, and they did no more than pause. - -"Ah!" said Harry, "there it goes; we shall be done at last." For he -saw that he was being outflanked by the advancing flames. But still -they worked, drawing lines of fire here and there, and still they -hoped that there might be ground for hope. Nokes had been seen; but, -pregnant as the theme might be with words, it was almost impossible -to talk. Questions could not be asked and answered without stopping -in their toil. There were questions which Harry longed to ask. Could -Medlicot swear to the man? Did the man know that he had been seen? If -he knew that he had been watched while he lit the grass, he would -soon be far away from Medlicot's Mill and Gangoil. Harry felt that it -would be a consolation to him in his trouble if he could get hold of -this man, and keep him, and prosecute him--and have him hung. Even in -the tumult of the moment he was able to reflect about it, and to -think that be remembered that the crime of arson was capital in the -colony of Queensland. He had endeavored to be good to the men with -whom he had dealings. He had not stinted their food, or cut them -short in their wages, or been hard in exacting work from them. And -this was his return! Ideas as to the excellence of absolute dominion -and power flitted across his brain--such power as Abraham, no doubt, -exercised. In Abraham's time the people were submissive, and the -world was happy. Harry Heathcote, at least, had never heard that it -was not happy. But as he thought of all this he worked away with his -bush and his matches, extinguishing the flames here and lighting them -there, striving to make a cordon of black bare ground between -Boolabong and Gangoil. Surely Abraham had never been called on to -work like this! - -He and his men were in a line covering something above a quarter of a -mile of ground, of which line he was himself the nearest to the -river, and Medlicot and his foreman the farthest from it. The German -and O'Dowd were in the middle, and Jacko was working with his master. -If Harry had just cause for anger and sorrow in regard to Nokes and -Boscobel, he certainly had equal cause to be proud of the stanchness -of his remaining satellites. The men worked with a will, as though -the whole run had been the personal property of each of them. Nokes -and Boscobel would probably have done the same had the fires come -before they had quarreled with their master. It is a small and narrow -point that turns the rushing train to the right or to the left. The -rushing man is often turned off by a point as small and narrow. - -"My word!" said Jacko, on a sudden, "here they are, all o' -horseback!" And as he spoke, there was the sound of half a dozen -horsemen galloping up to them through the bush. "Why, there's Bos, -his own self," said Jacko. - -The two leading men were Joe and Jerry Brownbie, who, for this night -only, had composed their quarrels, and close to them was Boscobel. -There were others behind, also mounted--Jack Brownbie and Georgie, -and Nokes himself; but they, though their figures were seen, could -not be distinguished in the gloom of the night. Nor, indeed, did -Harry at first discern of how many the party consisted. It seemed -that there was a whole troop of horsemen, whose purpose it was to -interrupt him in his work, so that the flames should certainly go -ahead. And it was evident that the men thought that they could do so -without subjecting themselves to legal penalties. As far as Harry -Heathcote could see, they were correct in their view. He could have -no right to burn the grass on Boolabong. He had no claim even to be -there. It was true that he could plead that he was stopping the fire -which they had purposely made; but they could prove his handiwork, -whereas it would be almost impossible that he should prove theirs. - -The whole forest was not red, but lurid, with the fires, and the air -was laden with both the smell and the heat of the conflagration. The -horsemen were dressed, as was Harry himself, in trowsers and shirts, -with old slouch hats, and each of them had a cudgel in his hand. As -they came galloping up through the trees they were as uncanny and -unwelcome a set of visitors as any man was ever called on to receive. -Harry necessarily stayed his work, and stood still to bear the brunt -of the coming attack; but Jacko went on with his employment faster -than ever, as though a troop of men in the dark were nothing to him. - -Jerry Brownbie was the first to speak. "What's this you're up to, -Heathcote? Firing our grass? It's arson. You shall swing for this." - -"I'll take my chance of that," said Harry, turning to his work again. - -"No, I'm blessed if you do. Ride over him, Bos, while I stop these -other fellows." - -The Brownbies had been aware that Harry's two boundary riders were -with him, but had not heard of the arrival of Medlicot and the other -man. Nokes was aware that some one on horseback had been near him -when he was firing the grass, but had thought that it was one of the -party from Gangoil. By the time that Jerry Brownbie had reached the -German, Medlicot was there also. - -"Who the deuce are you?" asked Jerry. - -"What business is that of yours?" said Medlicot. - -"No business of mine, and you firing our grass! I'll let you know my -business pretty quickly." - -"It's that fellow, Medlicot, from the sugar-mill," said Joe; "the man -that Nokes is with." - -"I thought you was a horse of another color," continued Jerry, who -had been given to understand that Medlicot was Heathcote's enemy. -"Anyway, I won't have my grass fired. If God A'mighty chooses to send -fires, we can't help it. But I'm not going to have incendiaries here -as well. You're a new chum, and don't understand what you're about, -but you must stop this." - -As Medlicot still went on putting out the fire, Jerry attempted to -ride him down. Medlicot caught the horse by the rein, and violently -backed the brute in among the embers. The animal plunged and reared, -getting his head loose, and at last came down, he and his rider -together. In the mean time Joe Brownbie, seeing this, rode up behind -the sugar planter, and struck him violently with his cudgel over the -shoulder. Medlicot sank nearly to the ground, but at once recovered -himself. He knew that some bone on the left side of his body was -broken; but he could still fight with his right hand, and he did -fight. - -Boscobel and Georgie Brownbie both attempted to ride over Harry -together, and might have succeeded had not Jacko ingeniously inserted -the burning branch of gum-tree with which he had been working under -the belly of the horse on which Boscobel was riding. The animal -jumped immediately from the ground, bucking into the air, and -Boscobel was thrown far over his head. Georgie Brownbie then turned -upon Jacko, but Jacko was far too nimble to be caught, and escaped -among the trees. - -For a few minutes the fight was general, but the footmen had the best -of it, in spite of the injury done to Medlicot. Jerry was bruised and -burned about the face by his fall among the ashes, and did not much -relish the work afterward. Boscobel was stunned for a few moments, -and was quite ready to retreat when he came to himself. Nokes during -the whole time did not show himself, alleging as a reason afterward -the presence of his employer Medlicot. - -"I'm blessed if your cowardice sha'n't hang you," said Joe Brownbie -to him on their way home. "Do you think we're going to fight the -battles of a fellow like you, who hasn't pluck to come forward -himself?" - -"I've as much pluck as you," answered Nokes, "and am ready to fight -you any day. But I know when a man is to come forward and when he's -not. Hang me! I'm not so near hanging as some folks at Boolabong." We -may imagine, therefore, that the night was not spent pleasantly among -the Brownbies after these adventures. - -There were, of course, very much cursing and swearing, and very many -threats, before the party from Boolabong did retreat. Their great -point was, of coarse, this--that Heathcote was willfully firing the -grass, and was, therefore, no better than an incendiary. Of course -they stoutly denied that the original fire had been intentional, and -denied as stoutly that the original fire could be stopped by fires. -But at last they went, leaving Heathcote and his party masters of the -battle-field. Jerry was taken away in a sad condition; and, in -subsequent accounts of the transaction given from Boolabong, his fall -was put forward as the reason of their flight, he having been the -general on the occasion. And Boscobel had certainly lost all stomach -for immediate fighting. Immediately behind the battle-field they come -across Nokes, and Sing Sing, the runaway cook from Gangoil. The poor -Chinaman had made the mistake of joining the party which was not -successful. - -But Harry, though the victory was with him, was hardly in a mood for -triumph. He soon found that Medlicot's collar-bone was broken, and it -would be necessary, therefore, that he should return with the wounded -man to the station. And the flames, as he feared, had altogether got -ahead of him during the fight. As far as they had gone, they had -stopped the fire, having made a black wilderness a mile and a half in -length, which, during the whole distance, ceased suddenly at the line -at which the subsidiary fire had been extinguished. But while the -attack was being made upon them the flames had crept on to the -southward, and had now got beyond their reach. It had seemed, -however, that the mass of fire which had got away from them was -small, and already the damp of the night was on the grass; and Harry -felt himself justified in hoping not that there might be no loss, but -that the loss might not be ruinous. - -Medlicot consented to be taken back to Gangoil instead of to the -mill. Perhaps he thought that Kate Daly might be a better nurse than -his mother, or that the quiet of the sheep station might be better -for him than the clatter of his own mill-wheels. It was midnight, and -they had a ride of fourteen miles, which was hard enough upon a man -with a broken collarbone. The whole party also was thoroughly -fatigued. The work they had been doing was about as hard as could -fall to a man's lot, and they had now been many hours without food. -Before they started Mickey produced his flask, the contents of which -were divided equally among them all, including Jacko. - -As they were preparing to start home Medlicot explained that it had -struck him by degrees that Heathcote might be right in regard to -Nokes, and that he had determined to watch the man himself whenever -he should leave the mill. On that Monday he had given up work -somewhat earlier than usual, saying that, as the following day was -Christmas, he should not come to the mill. From that time Medlicot -and his foreman had watched him. - -"Yes," said he, in answer to a question from Heathcote, "I can swear -that I saw him with the lighted torch in his hand, and that he placed -it among the grass. There were two others from Boolabong with him, -and they must have seen him too." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -HARRY HEATHCOTE RETURNS IN TRIUMPH. - - -When the fight was quite over, and Heathcote's party had returned to -their horses, Medlicot for a few minutes was faint and sick, but he -revived after a while, and declared himself able to sit on his horse. -There was a difficulty in getting him up, but when there he made no -further complaint. "This," said he, as he settled himself in his -saddle, "is my first Christmas-day in Australia. I landed early in -January, and last year I was on my way home to fetch my mother." - -"It's not much like an English Christmas," said Harry. - -"Nor yet as in Hanover," said the German. - -"It's Cork you should go to, or Galway, bedad, if you want to see -Christmas kep' after the ould fashion," said Mickey. - -"I think we used to do it pretty well in Cumberland," said Medlicot. -"There are things which can't be transplanted. They may have roast -beef, and all that, but you should have cold weather to make you feel -that it is Christmas indeed." - -"We do it as well as we can," Harry pleaded. "I've seen a great -pudding come into the room all afire--just to remind one of the old -country--when it has been so hot that one could hardly bear a shirt -on one's shoulders. But yet there's something in it. One likes to -think of the old place, though one is so far away. How do you feel -now? Does the jolting hurt you much? If your horse is rough, change -with me. This fellow goes as smooth as a lady." Medlicot declared -that the pain did not trouble him much. "They'd have ridden over us, -only for you," continued Harry. - -"My word! wouldn't they?" said Jacko, who was very proud of his own -part in the battle. "I say, Mr. Medlicot, did you see Bos and his -horse part company? You did, Mr. Harry. Didn't he fly like a bird, -all in among the bushes! I owed Bos one; I did, my word! And now I've -paid him." - -"I saw it," said Harry. "He was riding at me as hard as he could -come. I can't understand Boscobel. Nokes is a sly, bad, slinking -follow, whom I never liked. But I was always good to Bos; and when he -cheated me, as he did, about his time, I never even threatened to -stop his money." - -"You told him of it too plain," said the German. - -"I did tell him--of course--as I should you. It has come to that now, -that if a man robs you--your own man--you are not to dare to tell him -of it! What would you think of me, Karl, if I were to find you out, -and was to be afraid of speaking to you, lest you should turn against -me and burn my fences?" Karl Bender shrugged his shoulders, holding -his reins up to his eyes. "I know what you ought to think! And I wish -that every man about Gangoil should be sure that I will always say -what I think right. I don't know that I ever was hard upon any man. I -try not to be." - -"Thrue for you, Mr. Harry," said the Irishman. - -"I'm not going to pick my words because men like Nokes and Boscobel -have the power of injuring me. I'm not going to truckle to rascals -because I'm afraid of them. I'd sooner be burned out of house and -home, and go and work on the wharves in Brisbane, than that." - -"My word! yes," said Jacko, "and I too." - -"If the devil is to get ahead, he must, but I won't hold a candle to -him. You fellows may tell every man about the place what I say. As -long as I'm master of Gangoil I'll be master; and when I come across -a swindle I'll tell the man who does it he's a swindler. I told Bos -to his face; but I didn't tell any body else, and I shouldn't if he'd -taken it right and mended his ways." - -They all understood him very well--the German, the Irishman, -Medlicot's foreman, Medlicot himself, and even Jacko; and though, no -doubt, there was a feeling within the hearts of the men that Harry -Heathcote was imperious, still they respected him, and they believed -him. - -"The masther should be the masther, no doubt," said the Irishman. - -"A man that is a man vill not sell hisself body and soul," said the -German, slowly. - -"Do I want dominion over your soul, Karl Bender?" asked the squatter, -with energy. "You know I don't, nor over your body, except so far as -it suits you to sell your services. What you sell you part with -readily--like a man; and it's not likely that you and I shall -quarrel. But all this row about nothing can't be very pleasant to a -man with a broken shoulder." - -"I like to hear you," said Medlicot. "I'm always a good listener when -men have something really to say." - -"Well, then, I've something to say," cried Harry. "There never was a -man came to my house whom I'd sooner see as a Christmas guest than -yourself." - -"Thankee, Sir." - -"It's more than I could have said yesterday with truth." - -"It's more than you did say." - -"Yes, by George! But you've beat me now. When you're hard pressed for -hands down yonder, you send for me, and see if I won't turn the mill -for you, or hoe canes either." - -"So 'll I; my word! yes. Just for my rations." - -They had by this time reacted the Gangoil fence, having taken the -directest route for the house. But Harry, in doing this, had not been -unmindful of the fire. Had Medlicot not been wounded, he would have -taken the party somewhat out of the way, down southward, following -the flames; but Medlicot's condition had made him feel that he would -not be justified in doing so. Now, however, it occurred to him that -he might as well ride a mile or two down the fence, and see what -injury had been done. The escort of the men would be sufficient to -take Medlicot to the station, and he would reach the place as soon as -they. If the flames were still running ahead, he knew that he could -not now stop then, but he could at least learn how the matter stood -with him. If the worst came to the worst, he would not now lose more -than three or four miles of fencing, and the grass off a corner of -his run. Nevertheless, tired as he was, he could not bear the idea of -going home without knowing the whole story. So he made his proposal. -Medlicot, of course, made no objection. Each of the men offered to go -with him, but he declined their services. "There is nothing to do," -said he, "and nobody to catch; and if the fire is burning, it must -burn." So he went alone. - -The words that he had uttered among his men had not been lightly -spoken. He had begun to perceive that life would be very hard to him -in his present position, or perhaps altogether impossible, as long as -he was at enmity with all those around him. Old squatters whom he -knew, respectable men who had been in the colony before he was born, -had advised him to be on good terms with the Brownbies. "You needn't -ask them to your house, or go to them, but just soft-sawder them when -yon meet," an old gentleman had said to him. He certainly hadn't -taken the old gentleman's advice, thinking that to "soft-sawder" so -great a reprobate as Jerry Brownbie would be holding a candle to the -devil. But his own plan had hardly answered. Well, he was sure, at -any rate, of this--that he could do no good now by endeavoring to be -civil to the Brownbies. He soon came to the place where the fire had -reached his fence, and found that it had burned its way through, and -that the flames were still continuing their onward course. The fence -to the north, or rather to the northwestward--the point whence the -wind was coming--stood firm at the spot at which the fire had struck -it. Dry as the wood was, the flames had not traveled upward against -the wind. But to the south the fire was traveling down the fence. To -stop this he rode half a mile along the burning barrier till he had -headed the flames, and then he pulled the bushes down and rolled away -the logs, so as to stop the destruction. As regarded his fence, there -was less than a mile of it destroyed, and that he could now leave in -security, as the wind was blowing away from it. As for his grass, -that must now take its chance. He could see the dark light of the low -running fire; but there was no longer a mighty blaze, and he knew -that the dew of the night was acting as his protector. The harm that -had been as yet done was trifling, if only he could protect himself -from further harm. After leaving the fire, he had still a ride of -seven or eight miles through the gloom of the forest--all alone. Not -only was he weary, but his horse was so tired that he could hardly -get him to canter for a furlong. He regretted that he had not brought -the boy with him, knowing well the service of companionship to a -tired beast. He was used to such troubles, and could always tell -himself that his back was broad enough to bear them; but his -desolation among enemies oppressed him. Medlicot, however, was no -longer an enemy. Then there came across his mind for the first time -an idea that Medlicot might marry his sister-in-law, and become his -fast friend. If he could have but one true friend, he thought that he -could bear the enmity of all the Brownbies. Hitherto he had been -entirely alone in his anxiety. It was between three and four when he -reached Gangoil, and he found that the party of horsemen had just -entered the yard before him. The sugar planter was so weak that he -could hardly get off his horse. - -The two ladies were still watching when the cavalcade arrived, though -it was then between three and four in the morning. It was Harry's -custom on such occasions to ride up to the little gate close to the -veranda, and there to hang his bridle till some one should take his -horse away; but on this occasion he and the others rode into the -yard. Seeing this, Mrs. Heathcote and her sister went through the -house, and soon learned how things were. Mr. Medlicot, from the mill, -had come with a bone broken, and it was their duty to nurse him till -a doctor could be procured from Maryborough. Now Maryborough was -thirty miles distant. Some one must be dispatched at once. Jacko -volunteered, but in such a service Jacko was hardly to be trusted. He -might fall asleep on his horse, and continue his slumbers on the -ground. Mickey and the German both offered; but the men were so -beaten by their work that Heathcote did not dare to take their offer. - -"I'll tell you what it is, Mary," he said to his wife, "there is -nothing for it but for me to go for Jackson." Jackson was the doctor. -"And I can see the police at the same time." - -"You sha'n't go, Harry. Yon are so tired already you can hardly stand -this moment." - -"Get me some strong coffee--at once. You don't know what that man has -done for us. I'll tell you all another time. I owe him more than a -ride into Maryborough. I'll make the men get Yorkie up"--Yorkie was a -favorite horse he had--"while you make the coffee; and I'll lead -Colonel"--Colonel was another horse, well esteemed at Gangoil. -"Jackson will come quicker on him than on any animal he can get at -Maryborough." And so it was arranged, in spite of the wife's tears -and entreaties. Harry had his coffee and some food, and started, with -his two horses, for the doctor. - -Nature is so good to us that we are sometimes disposed to think we -might have dispensed with art. In the bush, where doctors can not be -had, bones will set themselves; and when doctors do come, but come -slowly, the broken bones suit themselves to such tardiness. Medlicot -was brought in and put to bed. Let the reader not be shocked to hear -that Kate Daly's room was given up to him, as being best suited for a -sick man's comfort, and the two ladies took it in turn to watch him. -Mrs. Heathcote was, of course, the first, and remained with him till -dawn. Then Kate crept to the door and asked whether she should -relieve her sister. Medlicot was asleep, and it was agreed that Kate -should remain in the veranda, and look in from time to time to see -whether the wounded man required aught at her hands. She looked in -very often, and then, at last, he was awake. - -"Miss Daly," he said, "I feel so ashamed of the trouble I'm giving." - -"Don't speak of it. It is nothing. In the bush every body, of course, -does any thing for every body." When the words were spoken she felt -that they were not as complimentary as she would have wished. "You -were to have come to-day, you know, but we did not think you'd come -like this, did we?" - -"I don't know why I didn't go home instead of coming here." - -"The doctor will reach Gangoil sooner than he could the mill. You are -better here, and we will send for Mrs. Medlicot as soon as the men -have had a rest. How was it all, Mr. Medlicot? Harry says that there -was a fight, and that you came in just at the nick of time, and that -but for you all the run would have been burned." - -"Not that at all." - -"He said so; only he went off so quickly, and was so busy with -things, that we hardly understood him. Is it not dreadful that there -should be such fighting? And then these horrid fires! You were in the -middle of the fire, were you not?" It suited Kate's feelings that -Medlicot should be the hero of this occasion. - -"We were lighting them in front to put them out behind." - -"And then, while you were at work, these men from Boolabong came upon -you. Oh, Mr. Medlicot, we shall be so very, very wretched if you are -much hurt. My sister is so unhappy about it." - -"It's only my collar-bone, Miss Daly." - -"But that is so dreadful." She was still thinking of the one word he -had spoken when he had--well, not asked her for her love, but said -that which between a young man and a young woman ought to mean the -same thing. Perhaps it had meant nothing! She had heard that young -men do say things which mean nothing. But to her, living in the -solitude of Gangoil, the one word had been so much! Her heart had -melted with absolute acknowledged love when the man had been brought -through into the house with all the added attraction of a broken -bone. While her sister had watched, she had retired--to rest, as Mary -had said, but in truth to think of the chance which had brought her -in this guise into familiar contact with the man she loved. And then, -when she had crept up to take her place in watching him, she had -almost felt that shame should restrain her. But was her duty; and, of -course, a man with a collar-bone broken would not speak of love. - -"It will make your Christmas so sad for you," he said. - -"Oh, as for that, we mind nothing about it--for ourselves. We are -never very gay here." - -"But you are happy?" - -"Oh yes, quite happy, except when Harry is disturbed by these -troubles. I don't think any body has so many troubles as a squatter. -It sometimes seems that all the world is against him." - -"We shall be allies now, at any rate." - -"Oh, I do so hope we shall," said Kate, putting her hands together in -her energy, and then retreating from her energy with sad awkwardness -when she remembered the personal application of her wish. "That is, I -mean you and Harry," she added, in a whisper. - -"Why not I and others besides Harry?" - -"It is so much to him to have a real friend. Things concern us, of -course, only just as they concern him. Women are never of very much -account, I think. Harry has to do every thing, and every thing ought -to be done for him." - -"I think you spoil Harry among you." - -"Don't you say so to Mary, or she will be fierce." - -"I wonder whether I shall ever have a wife to stand up for me in that -way?" - -Kate had no answer to make, but she thought that it would be his own -fault if he did not have a wife to stand up for him thoroughly. - -"He has been very lucky in his wife." - -"I think he has, Mr. Medlicot; but you are moving about, and you -ought to lie still. There! I hear the horses; that's the doctor. I do -so hope he won't say that any thing very bad is the matter." - -She jumped up from her chair, which was close to his bed, and as she -did so just touched his hand with hers. It was involuntary on her -part, having come of instinct rather than will, and she withdrew -herself instantly. The hand she had touched belonged to the arm that -was not hurt, and he put it out after her, and caught her by the -sleeve as she was retreating. "Oh, Mr. Medlicot, you must not do -that; you will hurt yourself if you move in that way." - -And so she escaped, and left the room, and did not see him again till -the doctor had gone from Gangoil. - -The bone had been broken simply as other bones are broken; it was now -set, and the sufferer was, of course, told that he must rest. He had -suggested that he should be taken home, and the Heathcotes had -concurred with the doctor in asserting that no proposition could be -more absurd. He had intended to eat his Christmas dinner at Gangoil, -and he must now pass his entire Christmas there. - -"The sugar can go on very well for ten days," Harry had said. "I'll -go over myself and see about the men, and I'll fetch your mother -over." - -To this, however, Mrs. Heathcote had demurred successfully. "You'll -kill yourself, Harry, if you go on like this," she said. - -Bender, therefore, was sent in the buggy for the old lady, and at -last Harry Heathcote consented to go to bed. - -"My belief is, I shall sleep for a week," he said, as he turned in. -But he didn't begin his sleep quite at once. "I am very glad I went -into Maryborough," he said to his wife, rising up from his pillow. -"I've sworn an information against Nokes and two of the Brownbies, -and the police will be after them this afternoon. They won't catch -Nokes, and they can't convict the other fellows. But it will be -something to clear the country of such a fellow, and something also -to let them know that detection is possible." - -"Do sleep now, dear." she said. - -"Yes, I will; I mean to. But look here, Mary; if any of the police -should come here, mind you wake me at once. And, Mary, look here; do -you know I shouldn't be a bit surprised if that fellow was to be -making up to Kate." - -Mrs. Heathcote, with some little inward chuckle at her husband's -assumed quickness of apprehension, reminded herself that the same -idea had occurred to her some time ago. Mrs. Heathcote gave her -husband full credit for more than ordinary intelligence in reference -to affairs appertaining to the breeding of sheep and the growing of -wool, but she did not think highly of his discernment in such an -affair as this. She herself had been much quicker. When she first saw -Mr. Medlicot, she had felt it a godsend that such a man, with the -look of a gentleman, and unmarried, should come into the -neighborhood; and, in so feeling, her heart had been entirely with -her sister. For herself it mattered nothing who came or did not come, -or whether a man were a bachelor, or possessed of a wife and a dozen -children. All that a girl had a right to want was a good husband. She -was quite satisfied with her own lot in that respect, but she was -anxious enough on behalf of Kate. And when a young man did come, who -might make matters so pleasant for them, Harry quarreled with him -because he was a free-selector. "A free fiddle-stick!" she had once -said to Kate--not, however, communicating to her innocent sister the -ambition which was already filling her own bosom. "Harry does take -things up so--as though people weren't to live, some in one way and -some in another! As far as I can see, Mr. Medlicot is a very nice -fellow." Kate had remarked that he was "all very well," and nothing -more had been said. - -But Mrs. Heathcote, in spite of Harry's aversion, had formed her -little project--a project which, if then declared, would have filled -Harry with dismay. And now the young aristocrat, as he turned himself -in his bed, made the suggestion to his wife as though it were all his -own! - -"I never like to think much of these things beforehand," she said, -innocently. - -"I don't know about thinking," said Harry; "but a girl might do -worse. If it should come up, don't set yourself against it." - -"Kate, of course, will please herself," said Mrs. Heathcote. "Now do -lie down and rest yourself." - -His rest, however, was not of long duration. As he had himself -suggested, two policemen reached Gangoil at about three in the -afternoon, on their way from Maryborough to Boolabong, in order that -they might take Mr. Medlicot's deposition. After Heathcote's -departure it had occurred to Sergeant Forrest of the police--and the -suggestion, having been transferred from the sergeant to the -stipendiary magistrate, was now produced with magisterial sanction-- -that, after all, there was no evidence against the Brownbies. They -had simply interfered to prevent the burning of the grass on their -own run, and who could say that they had committed any crime by doing -so? If Medlicot had seen Nokes with a lighted branch in his hand, the -matter might be different with him; and therefore Medlicot's -deposition was taken. He had sworn that he had seen Nokes drag his -lighted torch along the ground; he had also seen other horsemen--two -or three, as he thought--but could not identify them. Jacko's -deposition was also taken as to the man who had been heard and seen -in the wool-shed at night. Jacko was ready to swear point-blank that -the man was Nokes. The policemen suggested that, as the night was -dark, Jacko might as well allow a shade of doubt to appear, thinking -that the shade of doubt would add strength to the evidence. But Jacko -was not going to be taught what sort of oath he should swear. - -"My word!" he said. "Didn't I see his leg move? You go away." - -Armed with these depositions, the two constables went on to Boolabong -in search of Nokes, and of Nokes only, much to the chagrin of Harry, -who declared that the police would never really bestir themselves in -a squatter's cause. "As for Nokes, he'll be out of Queensland by this -time to-morrow." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -SERGEANT FORREST. - - -The Brownbie party returned, after their midnight raid, in great -discomfiture to Boolabong. Their leader, Jerry, was burned about his -hands and face in a disagreeable and unsightly manner. Joe had hardly -made good that character for "fighting it out to the end" for which -he was apt to claim credit. Boscobel was altogether disconcerted by -his fall. And Nokes, who had certainly shown no aptitude for the -fray, was abused by them all as having caused their retreat by his -cowardice; while Sing Sing, the runaway cook, who knew that he had -forfeited his wages at Gangoil, was forced to turn over in his -heathenish mind the ill effects of joining the losing side. "You big -fool, Bos," he said more than once to his friend the woodsman, who -had lured him away from the comforts of Gangoil. "I'll punch your -head, John, if you don't hold your row," Boscobel would reply. But -Sing Sing went on with his reproaches, and, before they had reached -Boolabong, Boscobel had punched the Chinaman's head. - -"You're not coming in here," Jerry said to Nokes, when they reached -the yard gate. - -"Who wants to come in? I suppose you're not going to send a fellow on -without a bit of grub after such a night's work?" - -"Give him some bread and meat, Jack, and let him go on. There'll be -somebody here after him before long. He can't hurt us; but I don't -want people to think that we are so fond of him that we can't do -without harboring him here. Georgie, you'll go too, if you take my -advice. That young cur will send the police here as sure as my name -is Brownbie, and, if they once get hold of you, they'll have a great -many things to talk to you about." - -Georgie grumbled when he heard this, but he knew that the advice -given him was good, and he did not attempt to enter the house. So -Nokes and he vanished, away into the bush together--as such men do -vanish--wandering forth to live as the wild beasts live. It was still -a dark night when they went, and the remainder of the party took -themselves to their beds. - -On the following afternoon they were lying about the house, sometimes -sleeping, and sometimes waking up to smoke, when the two policemen, -who had already been at Gangoil, appeared in the yard. These men were -dressed in flat caps, with short blue jackets, hunting breeches, and -long black boots--very unlike any policemen in the old country, and -much more picturesque. They leisurely tied their horses up, as though -they had been in the habit of making weekly visits to the place, and -walked round to the veranda. - -"Well, Mr. Brownbie, and how are you?" said the sergeant to the old -man. - -The head of the family was gracious, and declared himself to be -pretty well, considering all things. He called the sergeant by his -name, and asked the men whether they'd take a bit of something to -eat. Joe also was courteous, and, after a little delay in getting a -key from his brother, brought out the jar of spirits, which, in the -bush, is regarded as the best sign known of thorough good-breeding. -The sergeant said that he didn't mind if he did; and the other man, -of course, followed his officer's example. - -So far every thing was comfortable, and the constables seemed in no -hurry to allude to disagreeable subjects. They condescended to eat a -bit of cold meat before they proceeded to business. And at last the -matter to be discussed was first introduced by one of the Brownbie -family. - -"I suppose you've heard that there was a scrimmage here last night," -said Joe. The Brownbie party present consisted of the old man, Joe -and Jack Brownbie, and Boscobel, Jerry keeping himself in the -background because of his disfigurement. The sergeant, as he -swallowed his food, acknowledged that he had heard something about -it. "And that's what brings you here," continued Joe. - -"There ain't nothing wrong here," said old Brownbie. - -"I hope not, Mr. Brownbie," said the sergeant. "I hope not. We -haven't got any thing against you, at any rate." Sergeant Forrest was -a graduate of Oxford, the son of an English clergyman, who, having -his way to make in the world, had thought that an early fortune would -be found in the colonies. He had come out, had failed, had suffered -some very hard things, and now, at the age of thirty-five, enjoyed -life thoroughly as a sergeant of the colonial police. - -"You haven't got any thing against anybody here, I should think?" -said Joe. - -"If you want to get them as begun it," said Jack, "and them as ought -to be took up, you'll go to Gangoil." - -"Hold your tongue, Jack," said his brother. "Sergeant Forrest knows -where to go better than you can tell him." - -Then the sergeant asked a string of questions as to the nature of the -fight; who had been hurt; and how badly had any body been hurt; and -what other harm had been done. The answers to all these questions -were given with a fair amount of truth, except that the little -circumstance of the origin of the fire was not explained. Both -Boscobel and Joe had seen the torch put down, but it could hardly -have been expected that they should have been explicit as to such a -detail as that. Nor did they mention the names of either their -brother George or Nokes. - -"And who was there in the matter?" asked the sergeant. - -"There was young Heathcote, and a boy he has got there, and the two -chaps as he calls boundary rulers, and Medlicot, the sugar fellow -from the mill, and a chap of Medlicot's I never set eyes on before. -They must have expected something to be up, or Heathcote would not -have been going about at night with a tribe of men like that." - -"And who were your party?" - -"Well, there were just ourselves, four of us, for Georgie was here, -and this fellow Boscobel. Georgie never stays long, and he wouldn't -be welcome if he did. He turned up just by chance like, and now he's -off again." - -"That was all, eh?" - -Of course they all knew that the sergeant knew that Nokes had been -with them. "Well, then, that wasn't all," said old Brownbie. "Bill -Nokes was here, whom Heathcote dismissed ever so long ago, and that -Chinese cook of his. He dismissed him too, I suppose. And he -dismissed Boscobel here." - -"No one can live at Gangoil any time," said Jack. "Every body knows -that. He wants to be lord a'mighty over every thing. But he ain't -going to be lord a'mighty at Boolabong." - -"And he ain't going to burn our grass either," said Joe. "It's like -his impudence coming on to our ran and burning every thing before -him. He calls hisself a magistrate, but he's not to do just as he -pleases because he's a magistrate. I suppose we can swear against him -for lighting our grass, sergeant? There isn't one of us that didn't -see him do it." - -"And where is Nokes?" asked the sergeant, paying no attention to the -application made by Mr. Brownbie, junior, for redress to himself. - -"Well," said Joe, "Nokes isn't any where about Boolabong." - -"He's away with your brother George?" - -"I shouldn't wonder," said Joe. - -"It's a serious matter lighting a fire, you know," said the sergeant. -"A man would have to swing for it." - -"Then why isn't young Heathcote to swing?" demanded Jack. - -"There is such a thing as intent, you know. When Heathcote lighted -the fire, where would the fire have gone if he hadn't kept putting it -out as fast as he kept lighting it? On to his own run, not to yours. -And where would the other fire have gone which somebody lit, and -which nobody put out, if he hadn't been there to stop it? The less -you say against Heathcote the better. So Nokes is off, is he?" - -"He ain't here, anyways," said Joe. "When the row was over, we -wouldn't let him in. We didn't want him about here." - -"I dare say not," said the sergeant. "Now let me go and see the spot -where the fight was." So the two policemen, with the two young -Brownbies, rode away, leaving Boscobel with the old man. - -"He knows every thing about it," said old Brownbie. - -"If he do," said Boscobel, "it ain't no odds." - -"Not a ha'porth of odds," said Jerry, coming out of his hiding-place. -"Who cares what he knows? A man may do what he pleases on his own -run, I suppose." - -"He mayn't light a fire as 'll spread," said the old man. - -"Bother! Who's to prove what's in a man's mind? If I'd been Nokes, -I'd have staid and seen it out. I'd never be driven about the colony -by such a fellow as Heathcote, with all the police in the world to -back him." - -Sergeant Forrest inspected the ground on which the fire had raged, -and the spot on which the men had met; but nothing came of his -inspection, and he had not expected that any thing would come of it. -He could see exactly where the fire had commenced, and could trace -the efforts that had been made to stop it. He did not in the least -doubt the way in which it had been lit. But he did very much doubt -whether a jury could find Nokes guilty, even if he could catch Nokes. -Jacko's evidence was worth nothing, and Mr. Medlicot might be easily -mistaken as to what he had seen at a distance in the middle of the -night. - -All this happened on Christmas-day. At about nine o'clock the same -evening the two constables re-appeared at Gangoil, and asked for -hospitality for the night. This was a matter of course, and also the -reproduction of the Christmas dinner. Mrs. Medlicot was now there, -and her son, with his collar-bone set, had been allowed to come out -on to the veranda. The house had already been supposed to be full, -but room, as a matter of course, was made for Sergeant Forrest and -his man. "It's a queer sort of Christmas we've all been having, Mr. -Heathcote," said the sergeant, as the remnant of a real English plum- -pudding was put between him and his man by Mrs. Growler. - -"A little hotter than it is at home, eh?" - -"Indeed it is. You must have had it hot last night, Sir." - -"Very hot, sergeant. We had to work uncommonly hard to do it as well -as we did." - -"It was not a nice Christmas game, Sir, was it?" - -"Eh, me!" said Mrs. Medlicot. "There's nae Christmas games or ony -games here at all, except just worrying and harrying, like sae many -dogs at each other's throats." - -"And you think nothing more can be done?" Harry asked. - -"I don't think we shall catch the men. When they get out backward, -it's very hard to trace them. He's got a horse of his own with him, -and he'll be beyond reach of the police by this time to-morrow. -Indeed, he's beyond their reach now. However, you'll have got rid of -him." - -"But there are others as bad as he left behind. I wouldn't trust that -fellow Boscobel a yard." - -"He won't stir, Sir. He belongs to this country, and does not want to -leave it. And when a thing has been tried like that and has failed, -the fellows don't try it again. They are cowed like by their own -failure. I don't think you need fear fire from the Boolabong side -again this summer." - -After this the sergeant and his man discreetly allowed themselves to -be put to bed in the back cottage; for in truth, when they arrived, -things had come to such a pass at Gangoil that the two additional -visitors were hardly welcome. But hospitality in the bush can be -stayed by no such considerations as that. Let their employments or -enjoyments on hand be what they may, every thing must yield to the -entertainment of strangers. The two constables were in want of their -Christmas dinner, and it was given to them with no grudging hand. - -As to Nokes, we may say that he has never since appeared in the -neighborhood of Gangoil, and that none thereabouts ever knew what was -his fate. Men such as he wander away from one colony into the next, -passing from one station to another, or sleeping on the ground, till -they become as desolate and savage as solitary animals. And at last -they die in the bush, creeping, we may suppose, into hidden nooks, as -the beasts do when the hour of death comes on them. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -CONCLUSION. - - -The constables had started from Gangoil, on their way to Boolabong, a -little after four, and from that time till he was made to get out of -bed for his dinner Harry Heathcote was allowed to sleep. He had -richly earned his rest by his work, and he lay motionless, without a -sound, in the broad daylight, with his arm under his head, dreaming, -no doubt, of some happy squatting land, in which there were no free- -selectors, no fires, no rebellious servants, no floods, no droughts, -no wild dogs to worry the lambs, no grass seeds to get into the -fleeces, and in which the price of wool stood steady at two shillings -and sixpence a pound. His wife from time to time came into the room, -shading the light from his eyes, protecting him from the flies, and -administering in her soft way to what she thought might be his -comforts. His sleep was of the kind which no light, nor even flies, -can interrupt. Once or twice she stooped down and kissed his brow, -but he was altogether unconscious of her caress. - -During this time old Mrs. Medlicot arrived; but her coming did not -awake the sleeper, though it was by no means made in silence. The old -woman sobbed and cried over her son, at the same time expressing her -thankfulness that he should have turned up in the forest so exactly -at the proper moment, evidently taking part in the conviction that -her Giles had saved Gangoil and all its sheep. And then there were -all the necessary arrangements to be made for the night, in -accordance with which almost every body had to give up his or her bed -and sleep somewhere else. But nothing disturbed Harry. For the -present he was allowed to occupy his own room, and he enjoyed the -privilege. - -Kate Daly during this time was much disturbed in mind. The reader may -remember--Kate, at any rate, remembered well--that, just as the -doctor had arrived to set his broken bone, Mr. Medlicot, disabled as -he was, had attempted to take her by the arm. He had certainly chosen -an odd time for a declaration of love, just the moment in which he -ought to have been preparing himself for the manipulation of his -fractured limb; but, unless he had meant a declaration of love, -surely he would not have seized her by the arm. It was a matter to -her of great moment. Oh, of what vital importance! The English girl -living in a town, or even in what we call the country, has no need to -think of any special man till some special man thinks of her. Men are -fairly plentiful, and if one man does not come, another will. And -there have probably been men coming and going in some sort since the -girl left her school-room and became a young lady. But in the bush -the thing is very different. It may be that there is no young man -available within fifty miles--no possible lover or future husband, -unless Heaven should interfere almost with a miracle. To those to -whom lovers are as plentiful as blackberries it may seem indelicate -to surmise that the thought of such a want should ever enter a girl's -head. I doubt whether the defined idea of any want had ever entered -poor Kate's head. But now that the possible lover was there--not only -possible, but very probable--and so eligible in many respects, living -so close, with a house over his head and a good business; and then so -handsome, and, as Kate thought, so complete a gentleman! Of course -she turned it much in her mind. She was very happy with Harry -Heathcote. There never was a brother-in-law so good! But, after all, -what is a brother-in-law, though he be the very best? Kate had -already begun to fancy that a house of her own and a husband of her -own would be essential to her happiness. But then a man can not be -expected to make an offer with a broken collar-bone--certainly can -not do so just when the doctor has arrived to set the bone. - -Late on in the day, when the doctor had gone, and Medlicot was, -according to instructions, sitting out on the veranda in an armchair, -and his mother was with him, and while Harry was sleeping as though -he never meant to be awake again, Kate managed to say a few words to -her sister. It will be understood that the ladies' hands were by no -means empty. The Christmas dinner was in course of preparation, and -Sing Sing, that villainous Chinese cook, had absconded. Mrs. Growler, -no doubt, did her best; but Mrs. Growler was old and slow, and the -house was full of guests. It was by no means an idle time; but still -Kate found an opportunity to say a word to her sister in the kitchen. - -"What do you think of him, Mary?" - -To the married sister "him" would naturally mean Harry Heathcote, of -whom, as he lay asleep, the young wife thought that he was the very -perfection of patriarchal pastoral manliness; but she knew enough of -human nature to be aware that the "him" of the moment to her sister -was no longer her own husband. "I think he has got his arm broken -fighting for Harry, and that we are bound to do the best we can for -him." - -"Oh yes; that's of course. I'm sure Harry will feel that. He used, -you know, to--to--that is, not just to like him, because he is a -free-selector." - -"They'll drop all that now. Of course they could not be expected to -know each other at the first starting. I shouldn't wonder if they -became regular friends." - -"That would be nice! After all, though you may be so happy at home, -it is better to have something like a neighbor. Don't you think so?" - -"It depends on who the neighbors are. I don't care much for the -Brownbies." - -"They are quite different, Mary." - -"I like the Medlicots very much." - -"I consider he's quite a gentleman," said Kate. - -"Of course he's a gentleman. Look here, Kate--I shall be ready to -welcome Mr. Medlicot as a brother-in-law, if things should turn out -that way." - -"I didn't mean that, Mary." - -"Did you not? Well, you can mean it if you please, as far as I am -concerned. Has he said any thing to you, dear?" - -"No." - -"Not a word?" - -"I don't know what you call a word; not a word of that kind." - -"I thought, perhaps--" - -"I think he meant it once--this morning." - -"I dare say he meant it. And if he meant it this morning, he won't -have forgotten his meaning to-morrow." - -"There's no reason why he should mean it, you know." - -"None in the least, Kate; is there?" - -"Now you're laughing at me, Mary. I never used to laugh at you when -Harry was coming. I was so glad, and I did every thing I could." - -"Yes, you went away and left us in the Botanical Gardens. I remember. -But, you see, there are no Botanical Gardens here; and the poor man -couldn't walk about if there were." - -"I wonder what Harry would say if it were to be so." - -"Of course he'd be glad--for your sake." - -"But he does so despise free-selectors! And then he used to think -that Mr. Medlicot was quite as bad as the Brownbies. I wouldn't marry -any one to be despised by you and Harry." - -"That's all gone by, my dear," said the wife, feeling that she had to -apologize for her husband's prejudices. "Of course one has to find -out what people are before one takes them to one's bosom. Mr. -Medlicot has acted in the most friendly way about these fires, and -I'm sure Harry will never despise him any more." - -"He couldn't have done more for a real brother than have his arm -broken." - -"But you must remember one thing, Kate, Mr. Medlicot is very nice, -and like a gentleman, and all that. Bat you never can be quite -certain about any man till he speaks out plainly. Don't set your -heart upon him till you are quite sure that he has set his upon you." - -"Oh no," said Kate, giving her maidenly assurance when it was so much -too late! Just at this moment Mrs. Growler came into the kitchen, and -Kate's promises and her sister's cautions were for the moment -silenced. - -"How we're to manage to get the dinner on the table, I for one don't -know at all," said Mrs. Growler. "There's Mr. Bates'll be here; that -will be six of 'em; and that Mr. Medlicot will want somebody to do -every thing for him, because he's been and got hisself smashed. And -there's the old lady has just come out from home, and is as -particular as any thing. And Mr. Harry himself never thinks of things -at all. One pair of hands, and them very old, can't do every thing -for every body." All of which was very well understood to mean -nothing at all. - -Household deficiencies--and, indeed, all deficiencies--are -considerable or insignificant in accordance with the aspirations of -those concerned. When a man has a regiment of servants in his dining- -room, with beautifully cut glass, a forest of flowers, and an iceberg -in the middle of his table if the weather be hot, his guests will -think themselves ill used and badly fed if aught in the banquet be -astray. There must not be a rose leaf ruffled; a failure in the -attendance, a falling off in a dish, or a fault in the wine is a -crime. But the same guests shall be merry as the evening is long with -a leg of mutton and whisky toddy, and will change their own plates, -and clear their own table, and think nothing wrong, if from the -beginning such has been the intention of the giver of the feast. In -spite of Mrs. Growler's prognostications, though the cook had -absconded, and the chief guest of the occasion could not cut up his -own meat, that Christmas dinner at Gangoil was eaten with great -satisfaction. - -Harry had been so far triumphant. He had stopped the fire that was -intended to ruin him, he had beaten off his enemies on their own -ground, and he was no longer oppressed by that sense of desolation -which had almost overpowered him. - -"We'll give one toast, Mrs. Medlicot," he said, when Mrs. Growler and -Kate between them had taken away the relics of the plum-pudding. "Our -friends at home!" - -The poor lady drank the toast with a sob. "That's vera weel for you, -Mr. Heathcote. You're young, and will win your way hame, and see auld -friends again, nae doubt; but I'll never see ane of them mair, except -those I have here." Nevertheless, the old lady ate her dinner and -drank her toddy, and made much of the occasion, going in and out to -her son upon the veranda. - -Soon after dinner Heathcote, as was his wont, strayed out with his -prime minister Bates to consult on the dangers which might be -supposed still to threaten his kingdom, and Mrs. Heathcote, with her -youngest boy in her lap, sat talking to Mrs. Medlicot in the parlor. -Such was not her custom in weather such as this. Kate had been sent -out on to the veranda, with special commands to attend to the wants -of the sufferer, and Mrs. Heathcote would have followed her had she -not remembered her sister's appeal, "I did every thing I could for -you." - -In those happy days Kate had been very good, and certainly deserved -requital for her services. And therefore, when the men had gone out, -Mrs. Heathcote, with her guest, remained in the warm room, and went -so far as to suggest that at that period of the day the room was -preferable to the veranda. Poor Mrs. Medlicot was new to the ways of -the bush, and fell into the trap; thus Kate Daly was left alone with -her wounded hero. - -When told to take him out his glass of wine, and when conscious that -no one followed her, she felt herself to have been guilty of some -great sin, and was almost tempted to escape. She had asked her sister -for help; and this was the help that was forth-coming--help so -palpable, so manifest, as to be almost indelicate! Would he think -that plans were being made to catch him, now that he was a captive -and impotent? The thought that it was possible that such an idea -might occur to him was terrible to her. She would rather lose him -altogether than feel the stain of such a suggestion on her own -conscience. She put the glass of wine down on the little table by his -side, and then attempted to withdraw. - -"Stay a moment with me," he said. "Where are they all?" - -"Mary and your mother are inside. Harry and Mr. Bates have gone -across to look at the horses." - -"I almost feel as though I could walk, too." - -"You must not think of it yet, Mr. Medlicot. It seems almost a wonder -that you shouldn't have to be in bed, and you with your collar-bone -broken only last night! I don't know how you can bear it as you do." - -"I shall be so glad I broke it, if one thing will come about." - -"What thing?" asked Kate, blushing. - -"Kate--may I call you Kate?" - -"I don't know," she said. - -"You know I love you, do you not? You must know it. Dearest Kate, can -you love me and be my wife?" His left arm was bound up, and was in a -sling, but he put out his right hand to take hers, if she would give -it to him. Kate Daly had never had a lover before, and felt the -occasion to be trying. She had no doubt about the matter. If it were -only proper for her to declare herself, she could swear with a safe -conscience that she loved him better than all the world. - -"Put your hand here, Kate," he said. - -As the request was not exactly for the gift of her hand, she placed -it in his. - -"May I keep it now?" - -She could only whisper something which was quite inaudible, even to -him. - -"I shall keep it, and think that you are all my own. Stoop down, -Kate, and kiss me, if you love me." - -She hesitated for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. She did -love him, and was his own; still, to stoop and kiss a man who, if -such a thing were to be allowed at all, ought certainly to kiss her! -She did not think she could do that. But then she was bound to -protect him, wounded and broken as he was, from his own imprudence; -and if she did not stoop to him, he would rise to her. She was still -in doubt, still standing with her hand in his, half bending over him, -but yet half resisting as she bent, when, all suddenly, Harry -Heathcote was on the veranda, followed by the two policemen, who had -just returned from Boolabong. She was sure that Harry had seen her, -and was by no means sure that she had been quick enough in escaping -from her lover's hand to have been unnoticed by the policemen also. -She fled away as though guilty, and could hardly recover herself -sufficiently to assist Mrs. Growler in producing the additional -dinner which was required. - -The two men were quickly sent to their rest, as has been told before; -and Harry, who had in truth seen how close to his friend his sister- -in-law had been standing, would, had it been possible, have restored -the lovers to their old positions; but they were all now on the -veranda, and it was impossible. Kate hung back, half in and half out -of the sitting-room, and old Mrs. Medlicot had seated herself close -to her son. Harry was lying at full length on a rug, and his wife was -sitting over him. Then Giles Medlicot, who was not quite contented -with the present condition of affairs, made a little speech. - -"Mrs. Heathcote," he said, "I have asked your sister to marry me." - -"Dearie me, Giles," said Mrs. Medlicot. - -Kate remained no longer half in and half out of the parlor, but -retreated altogether and hid herself. Harry turned himself over on -the rug, and looked up at his wife, claiming infinite credit in that -be had foreseen that such a thing might happen. - -"And what answer has she given you?" said Mrs. Heathcote. - -"She hasn't given me any answer yet. I wonder what you and Heathcote -would say about it?" - -"What Kate has to say is much more important," replied the discreet -sister. - -"I should like it of all things," said Harry, jumping up. "It's -always best to be open about these things. When you first came here, -I didn't like you. You took a bit of my river frontage--not that it -does me any great harm--and then I was angry about that scoundrel -Nokes." - -"I was wrong about Nokes," said Medlicot, "and have, therefore, had -my collar-bone broken. As to the land, you'll forgive my having it if -Kate will come and live there?" - -"By George! I should think so.--Kate, why don't you come out? Come -along, my girl. Medlicot has spoken out openly, and you should answer -him in the same fashion." So saying, he dragged her forth, and I fear -that, as far as she was concerned, something of the sweetness of her -courtship was lost by the publicity with which she was forced to -confess her love. "Will you go, Kate, and make sugar down at the -mill? I have often thought how bad it would be for Mary and me when -you were taken away; but we sha'n't mind it so much if we knew that -you are to be near us." - -"Speak to him, Kate," said Mrs. Heathcote, with her arm round her -sister's waist. - -"I think she's minded to have him," said Mrs. Medlicot. - -"Tell me, Kate--shall it be so?" pleaded the lover. - -She came up to him and leaned over him, and whispered one word which -nobody else heard. But they all knew what the word was. And before -they separated for the night she was left alone with him, and he got -the kiss for which he was asking when the policemen interrupted them. - -"That's what I call a happy Christmas," said Harry, as the party -finally parted for the night. - -THE END. - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HARRY HEATHCOTE OF GANGOIL *** - -This file should be named hhgan10.txt or hhgan10.zip -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, hhgan11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hhgan10a.txt - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance -of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. -Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, -even years after the official publication date. - -Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til -midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. -The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at -Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A -preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment -and editing by those who wish to do so. - -Most people start at our Web sites at: -http://gutenberg.net or -http://promo.net/pg - -These Web sites include award-winning information about Project -Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new -eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). - - -Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement -can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is -also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the -indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an -announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. - -http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04 or -ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext04 - -Or /etext03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 - -Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, -as it appears in our Newsletters. - - -Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) - -We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The -time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours -to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright -searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our -projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value -per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 -million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text -files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ -We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 -If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total -will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. - -The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! -This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, -which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. - -Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): - -eBooks Year Month - - 1 1971 July - 10 1991 January - 100 1994 January - 1000 1997 August - 1500 1998 October - 2000 1999 December - 2500 2000 December - 3000 2001 November - 4000 2001 October/November - 6000 2002 December* - 9000 2003 November* -10000 2004 January* - - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created -to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. - -We need your donations more than ever! - -As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people -and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, -Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, -Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, -Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New -Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, -Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South -Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West -Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. - -We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones -that have responded. - -As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list -will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. -Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. - -In answer to various questions we have received on this: - -We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally -request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and -you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, -just ask. - -While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are -not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting -donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to -donate. - -International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about -how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made -deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are -ways. - -Donations by check or money order may be sent to: - -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -PMB 113 -1739 University Ave. -Oxford, MS 38655-4109 - -Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment -method other than by check or money order. - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by -the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN -[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are -tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising -requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be -made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. - -We need your donations more than ever! - -You can get up to date donation information online at: - -http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html - - -*** - -If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, -you can always email directly to: - -Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> - -Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. - -We would prefer to send you information by email. - - -**The Legal Small Print** - - -(Three Pages) - -***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** -Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. -They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with -your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from -someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our -fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement -disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how -you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. - -*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK -By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept -this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive -a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by -sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person -you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical -medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. - -ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS -This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, -is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart -through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). -Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright -on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and -distribute it in the United States without permission and -without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth -below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook -under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. - -Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market -any commercial products without permission. - -To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable -efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain -works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any -medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other -things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged -disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer -codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. - -LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES -But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, -[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may -receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims -all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including -legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR -UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, -INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE -OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE -POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. - -If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of -receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) -you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that -time to the person you received it from. If you received it -on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and -such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement -copy. If you received it electronically, such person may -choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to -receive it electronically. - -THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS -TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A -PARTICULAR PURPOSE. - -Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or -the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the -above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you -may have other legal rights. - -INDEMNITY -You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, -and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated -with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including -legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the -following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, -[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, -or [3] any Defect. - -DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" -You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by -disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this -"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, -or: - -[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this - requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the - eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, - if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable - binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, - including any form resulting from conversion by word - processing or hypertext software, but only so long as - *EITHER*: - - [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and - does *not* contain characters other than those - intended by the author of the work, although tilde - (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may - be used to convey punctuation intended by the - author, and additional characters may be used to - indicate hypertext links; OR - - [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at - no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent - form by the program that displays the eBook (as is - the case, for instance, with most word processors); - OR - - [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at - no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the - eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC - or other equivalent proprietary form). - -[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this - "Small Print!" statement. - -[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the - gross profits you derive calculated using the method you - already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you - don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are - payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" - the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were - legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent - periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to - let us know your plans and to work out the details. - -WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? -Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of -public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed -in machine readable form. - -The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, -public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. -Money should be paid to the: -"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or -software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: -hart@pobox.com - -[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only -when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by -Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be -used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be -they hardware or software or any other related product without -express permission.] - -*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* - diff --git a/old/hhgan10.zip b/old/hhgan10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 508b2b0..0000000 --- a/old/hhgan10.zip +++ /dev/null |