Another day, it seemed as if Sorrel felt with his master, and took him
straight to a fresh part of the great sheep run, near where the vast
gorge was fenced at its edge with mighty trees, beneath one of which
Leather was seated, looking hard and stern.
Nic was very thoughtful that day. There was something he wanted to ask
the convict, but he always shrank from satisfying his curiosity; and
this time he showed that he had something upon his mind so plainly, that
Leather after their abrupt salutations had passed, said:
"Not well, sir?"
"Yes, quite well. Why?"
"Looked queer, sir."
"Oh, nothing," said Nic hastily, for he had made up his mind to question
the man, and now the opportunity had come he felt that he could not
speak.
"I was thinking about you a little while ago, sir."
"About me? Why?"
"You were saying the other day that you had seen so few snakes. I've
seen four this morning. Two of them are poisonous; you may as well have
a shot at them."
"How do you know that they are poisonous?"
"Partly from the bad character they have, sir, partly from the shape of
the head."
"Let's see, I've heard something about that before: poisonous snakes
have a spade-shaped head, haven't they?"
"That's what they call it, sir. It is really a great swelling at the
back of the jaws on either side of the neck. This swelling is made by
the poison bags which communicate with their hollow fangs. You'll see
if you shoot the big gentleman I saw crawling back into his hole this
morning. I dare say he's out again now, to be in the hot sun. Why,
what's the matter, Master Nic?"
"Matter?"
"Yes, sir; you keep going off in a dreamy way, and not listening."
Nic frowned and was silent.
"I beg your pardon, sir; it is like my impertinence to ask you. I
forget sometimes, when you are ready to treat me like a human being,
that I am only a convict."
"Don't take it like that," said Nic hurriedly. "It was only because I
was thinking, Leather."
"Yes, sir, I see: some little trouble at home."
"Oh, no!" cried Nic, ready to blurt out everything now. "You see I like
you, Leather."
The man's eyes flashed and then softened for a moment, while his lips
quivered; but his hard, cynical, bitter aspect and tones came back--the
manner born of years of misery and degradation, and he cried mockingly:
"Why? Because I behaved like a brute to you, and made believe to throw
you down into that gully?"
"Don't bring that up," cried Nic angrily; "and don't talk in that way,
Leather. It isn't you. It's only put on."
"Indeed," said the man bitterly. "Well, I didn't put it on, sir. It
was fate."
"There, I didn't like to speak to you," continued Nic; "but I must now.
I've long wanted to, for of course I can't help seeing how different you
are from Brookes and old Sam. You are always showing me that you are a
man of good education, and what a deal you know. It makes me ashamed
sometimes."
"Why?" said Leather sternly.
"To ask you to do all kinds of rough work when I feel that you are
better educated than I am--that you must have been quite a gentleman."
"Ah, don't, boy!" cried Leather passionately, and with his face
convulsed. "For Heaven's sake hold your tongue."
"I can't now," cried Nic, as excitedly. "I feel as if I must know. I
do like you, Leather--I do really; and it worries me. I think of it at
night when I go to bed, and it makes me wild to hear Brookes talk to you
as he does."
"Brookes is an honest man, sir; I'm a convict," said Leather bitterly.
"There you are, going back to your old way!" cried Nic; "and it isn't
fair, after I've told you I liked you."
The convict caught the boy's hand, and his eyes softened again; but he
dropped the hand and drew back, sending a pang through Nic, who felt
that he must have been guilty of some terrible crime, and they stood
looking in each other's eyes for some little time. Then the boy spoke
in a husky whisper--for he said to himself, "Poor chap, he must be very
sorry for it now,"--"What was it you did, Leather?"
"Nothing."
"Then why were you sent out here?"
Nic started, and repented having spoken, for the convict drew himself
up, with his eyes flashing and his face convulsed by rage, scorn, and
indignation.
"Why was I sent out here, boy?" he raged: "because a jury of my
fellow-countrymen said I was guilty, and the judge told me that I
deserved the greater punishment because I--a man of education, holding
so high and responsible a position, and who ought to have known better--
was worse than a common ignorant thief; and that he must make an example
of me, that the world might see how government servants found no favour
when they sinned. He said I had had a fair trial, that my countrymen
condemned me, and that he quite agreed with their verdict; and he
sentenced me to twenty-one years' transportation,--he might as well have
said for life."
Nic stood looking at him in pain and misery, and the convict began
pacing up and down in the agony evoked by this dragging up of the past.
"I'm sorry I spoke," faltered Nic.
"No, no: I'm glad. It is like stabbing me, but if I bleed, boy, it is a
relief. Transportation for twenty-one years, and to what a life of
horror, misery, and despair! Companion to the greatest scoundrels and
wretches that ever breathed; loathed and hated by them, because I was
not what they, called their sort. Then, when sent out for good
behaviour as an assigned servant, hated and scorned and trampled upon by
every honest man. You have seen--you know. The convict from the chain
gang, a branded felon. Nic, boy!--I beg your pardon, sir," he cried
bitterly--"Master, your slave wonders sometimes that he is alive. I
tell you I've prayed night after night for death, but it would not come:
no spear, no blinding stroke from the sun, no goring by the half-wild
bullocks which have chased me; no fall when I have desperately climbed
down the side of that gorge. No! spite of all risk I have grown
stronger, healthier, as you see--healthier in body, but more and more
diseased in mind."
He stopped and threw himself down upon his breast, to bury his face in
his hands; and just then there came a low, chuckling sound, as of
laughter, from one of the great grey kingfishers in the tree above them,
followed by a wild, dissonant, shrieking chorus from a flock of parrots,
as if in defiance at the cruel laugh.
"I don't mind your speaking to me as you did, Leather," said Nic at
last, as he turned his head aside to hide his emotion, and he sat down
to watch his beautiful horse quietly cropping the grass, thinking how
much happier the dumb beast was. "I only mind when you talk in your
bitter way.--I'm sorry for you."
"God bless you, my lad!" said the convict, in smothered tones: "I know
it. You've shown it to me a score of times. My life has not been the
same since you came here."
"And I can't help seeing that you are sorry too. How could you have
done so bad a thing?"
"I? Did that!" cried Leather, springing up on one arm. "I tell you I
am innocent as a child. Dominic Braydon, mine was a high position, and
large sums of money passed through my hands. There came a day when a
heavy amount was missing. It was gone, I could not explain how.
Everything seemed against me. My explanations were ridiculed, and until
I had been out here a couple of years I could not see the light. It
came one day, though, like a flash--when it was too late."
Nic looked at him inquiringly.
"My subordinate was the guilty man: the meek, amiable wretch who broke
down in the witness-box and wept at being forced to tell all he knew.
Even I believed and liked him at the time--poor weak fool that I was!
If it imposed on me, who listened to every word he spoke, seeking for
some way of escape, how could I wonder that judge, jury, and counsel
were deceived? But it was too late when I read the truth, and that to
save himself he sacrificed me--me who had helped him in every way."
"Then you really did not take this money?" cried Nic.
"Not one penny. I? But, there, why did you drag this all from me, boy?
You made me speak. I do not say it to excite your sympathy. It is my
fate, and I have tried to bear it like a man. I have borne it like a
man, boy, though it has made me hard, callous, and brutal. Dead to all
who knew and loved me, I have still lived, thinking that perhaps some
day the truth may rise like the sun and throw its light around. Then I
know it will be time to join the only one who believed me what I am."
"And who was that?" said Nic hoarsely.
"She who was to have been my wife. It was her death."
There was the hot stillness of the Australian midday around them, and
for some time neither spoke.
Then all at once Leather sprang to his feet.
"There, sir," he said, "you are the first who has heard my tale. The
law has branded me a convict, and I can only say `Please let all this be
as if it had never been said.' And yet I don't know," he continued,
with his eyes softening; "it has done me good. Still I don't ask you to
believe me, sir. There is plenty of deceit out here, and I have met
some clever actors of innocent parts in the different gangs."
"But I do believe you," cried Nic earnestly--"every word. Oh, I felt
that you could not have been so bad."
"Thank you, my lad," said the convict, smiling; and Nic thought what a
fine, handsome, manly fellow he was when his face lit up. "No: I cannot
shake hands. Some day, perhaps. I should like to help you, not drag
you down. It is master and servant, you know. Yes," he added, after a
pause, as he gazed earnestly in Nic's eyes, "you do believe me. There,
I shall work more easily now, for life is brighter than it was."
He sprang to his feet now, and moved to go, but came back.
"We were forgetting the execution of the poisonous snake, sir," he said,
with a little laugh. "This way."
"No," said Nic quietly; "let it live another day."
He walked to his horse, lifted the rein and threw it over the animal's
neck, then sprang upon its back.
"Master Nic!"
"Yes."
"This is our secret, sir, and you must keep your place."
"Secret? Why shouldn't I tell my mother and father that you were
condemned for that which you did not do?"
"I'll tell you, sir," cried Leather. "Because they cannot listen with
your ears, nor see me with your eyes."
"My father is everything that is just," said Nic proudly, "and my mother
all that is gentle and true."
"God bless her! yes, my boy," said the convict softly; "but if you
speak, Mrs Braydon, knowing me for what I am, will say, `This man has
wormed himself into my son's confidence--he has obtained an influence
over him that is not healthy--he had better go,' and I should be
exchanged, Master Nic, as they would exchange a horse or bullock. Don't
speak, sir, and have me sent away!"
Nic looked in the pleading eyes, and saw that the man's lips were
quivering from the strong emotion which animated him.
"Our secret, then," he said; and at a touch of the heel the horse
bounded away, with its rider feeling that every word the convict had
spoken must be the truth.