A STRANGE SITUATION
He could make nothing of what she said. It was a jumble of incoherent
sounds, with no meaning in them. He gathered no information as to how
she came there.
"She's ill--delirious. What can I do for her?" he muttered.
He was a soft-hearted man, where women were concerned, and distress,
although he had seen much of it, appealed to him. There were no doctors,
not even in Boonara. When folks were ill in those parts they had to
fight for life as best they could, with a few patent remedies to aid
them.
"Fever," he said, "there's no doubt about it, and she has no strength to
withstand it. I can't leave her alone. I wish to heaven Bigs, or
someone, would come."
He sat by her all night; sometimes he had to hold her down, as she
struggled like a bird in his strong grasp. He was very gentle with her.
Not one man in a hundred would have credited him with such tenderness.
When daylight sprang out suddenly, as it does in these climes, she
became quieter. He put his hand on her breast, humming softly. The touch
and the sound soothed her. With wonderful patience he remained in this
position hour after hour, proving himself a great man, greater than he
ever thought or reckoned himself to be. He was hungry, but he did not
move. Ping came to the door and wondered why his wants were left
unattended. It was unusual. He would have resented it had not the
downpour brought up small shoots of green, with marvellous suddenness.
He turned away and went nibbling the unaccustomed luxuries. Ping came to
the door instinctively. Grass was a thing he had not seen for months. He
didn't expect to find it, but as he sniffed its freshness he left the
hut contentedly, and Leigh was glad.
"He smells the grass," he thought, "There's more chance of her pulling
through now it's cooler." He mixed up the horse and the woman in his
thoughts continually. How long he sat there he did not know, but a sound
reached him which gave warning that something or someone was
approaching. Ping neighed. He knew if it was a rider he would call at
his hut. They always paid "ceremonial" visits; it was an event in their
lives. A sound of hoofs reached him. It was very welcome; he gave a sigh
of relief. He looked round, and saw a horse and rider pull up at his
door. It was Jim Benny. At any other time Benny would have been cursed
roundly for neglecting his work. Curses were the habitual mode of
forcibly expressing disapproval by the men of the fence. But never was
man more heartily welcome. Glen Leigh didn't even give a thought as to
why Jim Benny came to his hut. It was an uncommon occurrence but he had
no time to consider it.
Jim grinned as he put his head in at the door. He was about to speak
when he grasped the situation, as far as it was possible for him to so
do, lacking all knowledge of the facts.
He was much surprised, as Glen Leigh had been, when he found the woman
in his hut.
"Hush," said Glen softly, and Jim crept in on tiptoe.
He stood looking at the woman. His thoughts were much the same as
Glen's. The white wan face struck a chord in Jim Benny's nature that had
not twanged before. His eyes glistened, then moisture gathered.
Presently a couple of drops trickled down his sunburnt face. He put a
hand on Glen's shoulder, bent down, and whispered, "How did she come
here?"
Glen shook his head.
"She's bad?"
"Fever."
"Poor little thing," said Jim.
Glen lifted his hand from her bosom. She only stirred slightly, then
with a sigh became still again. He beckoned Jim to follow him outside.
They walked a few yards away, so that the sound of their voices would
not disturb her.
"Where the devil were you yesterday?" was Glen's question.
"My horse broke down. I had to bag another, and a pretty brute he is.
Look at him," replied Jim pointing to the wretched mass of skin and
bone.
"Why have you come here?" asked Glen.
"I thought I'd ride over and explain. I know what you are when you're in
a temper," replied Jim.
"That's not the reason."
"Perhaps it isn't. Anyhow, what about her?" and he pointed to the hut.
"Somebody must go to Billy's and get some good brandy for her. It's got
to be the best--none of his poison," said Glen.
"In that case you'd better go. It's no good me trying it. He'd think I
was lying, and there'd be no getting it out of him. I'll stay with her
if you go. Besides my horse is no good. Ping will do the journey in half
the time," Jim answered.
Glen looked at him. Jim's face did not move a muscle.
"It's lucky you came," Glen remarked. "Tell me what brought you here."
"Another time," replied Jim hesitatingly.
Glen shrugged his shoulders.
"As you please," he said.
"How did she get here?" asked Jim.
Glen told him how he found her, and Jim Benny was as helpless as himself
in solving the problem.
"It's very strange," said Jim. "We've never seen a woman round here
before. What are you going to do with her?"
"Keep her until she's pulled round. Then I can find out all about her,"
returned Glen.
A faint cry came from the hut which caused them to turn round quickly
and run back. A strange, weird sight met their eyes. The woman was
standing close to the bed. Her hair was down. They noticed it was a
beautiful nut-brown, and there was plenty of it. Her arms were stretched
out. Her eyes stared glassily. As Glen came in she tottered forward, and
he caught her in his arms.
A thrill went through him as he clasped her. Her face was close to his.
He felt her breath on his cheek. He drew her tightly towards him, and
held her for several minutes. Jim Benny watched him with a queer light
in his eyes.
Glen carried her, laying her on his rough bed. She was exhausted with
the exertion and remained quite still.
"You'd better go at once," said Jim, "she's bad, very bad."
Glen stood thinking for a few minutes, then asked, "You'll not leave her
while I'm gone?"
"No, I'll sit by her as I found you sitting. See?" and he sat on the
log, placing his hand on her breast. "That'll soothe her."
Without another word Glen Leigh left the hut.
He whistled Ping, and obediently the horse came to his call. Glen
saddled him, and rode off towards Boonara. Jim Benny sat looking at the
woman. He heard the hoof beats gradually dying away, then with a sudden
movement got up and kissed her on the lips. She moaned.
"I couldn't help it. I meant no harm. She reminded me of--never mind
names. I loved her, and she married him--that's all done with."
He remained quite still until Spotty, Glen's dog, half dingo, came
sniffing round. He had been on the prowl for a day or so, and returned
repentant. The predatory instinct was uppermost, which was not to be
wondered at considering the wild stock from which he descended, and he
made excursions to some land of which his master knew nothing.
The dog knew Jim, on the fence, but had not seen him in Glen's hut. Then
there was the woman. Spotty had never come across one. Jim knew the
nature of these dogs, their faithful savageness, and scented danger in
the air. He had seen the dog on the fence with Glen, but had always been
on horseback, and Spotty had never really scented him. He didn't even
know the dog's name.
Spotty eyed Jim, then looked at the woman on the bed. Here was something
he did not understand. He came forward, crouching, like a panther ready
to spring, and Jim set him with his eyes, not daring to move, on her
account.
Spotty sniffed at her dress, turned round, faced Jim and growled, a low
rumbling sound. Then he lay on the floor, paws outstretched, head erect,
watching.
Jim knew if he moved the dog would probably fly at his throat. It would
be hours before Leigh returned, and he must remain in this position the
whole time, on her account. Had he been alone he could have cowed
Spotty, or attempted it. He heard distant thunder. There was another
storm brewing, the promise of more welcome rain. The lightning flashed
through the hut, playing in and out at the doors. The crashing sounds
came nearer; then the rain burst in torrents.
Spotty did not move. He remained with his eyes on Jim, not even giving a
glance at the figure on the bed. The woman slept through it all. Jim
wondered at her strange stillness. Was she dead?
The thought made him start. He had not put his hand on her again after
he kissed her, and could not feel or hear her breath. Spotty saw him
move, and growled. He seemed about to spring, then crouched again.
It was a strange situation--the man, the woman, and the dog, in the hut,
the storm raging outside, and Glen Leigh riding on his mission to
Boonara.