A TERRIBLE SAVAGE
It was over. Barellan had won, and Glen Leigh was the fortunate holder
of his number in the sweep. He had come into a fortune at one stroke. He
elbowed his way through the crowd hardly knowing what he was doing, and
went in search of his friends. It was not easy to find them in the great
crowd streaming towards Tattersalls and the paddock. As he pushed
through the ring he saw people gathering round bookmakers. Barellan must
have been well backed; hundreds were drawing money. He saw nothing of
Bill and Jim. He would go into the paddock. They might be there,
thinking he had gone to look at the winner.
Nicholl had weighed in and was standing talking to the trainer as Glen
appeared on the scene. They greeted him heartily, shaking his hand,
congratulating him on his good fortune.
"There's five hundred each for you," said Glen.
They thanked him; it was a generous gift.
"I never felt so queer in my life as I did when Barellan fell back just
after rounding the bend," declared Glen. "What happened?"
"I thought he was going to crack up," answered the jockey. "It must have
been his foot. I fancy he wanted to ease it as he came round the bend;
it probably pinched him."
"That's it," said Hadwin. "There's no doubt about it. What a run he made
up the straight. I never saw anything like it."
While they were talking Bellshaw came up, scowling. He did not look like
the owner of the Cup winner.
"You see I was right," said Hadwin. "He won a great race."
"Which Nicholl nearly threw away," retorted Bellshaw.
"You're mistaken," said the jockey. "If Barellan hadn't been one of the
gamest horses that ever looked through a bridle he would never have got
up and won."
"You ran him out wide at the bend when you had a good position on the
rails," said Bellshaw.
Nicholl explained, but the squatter was in no mood to listen to reason.
He had won the Melbourne Cup, but Glen Leigh had won first prize in the
sweep, and this made him rage. By all the rights of ownership he ought
at least to have five thousand laid him if his horse won. When he
thought how Leigh threatened him with exposure, he could have killed him
without compunction. There was no more dissatisfied man on the course
than the owner of the Cup winner. He had no pleasure in the victory. The
cheering he knew was not for him but for the horse and jockey.
Glen Leigh walked away to avoid him. He saw the man was in no mood to be
crossed and was almost beside himself with ill-feeling and
disappointment. It was not, however, Bellshaw's intention that Glen
should escape him. He wished to quarrel with somebody, and Leigh scented
his purpose. He walked after him and said, loud enough for those
standing near to hear, "You've won the sweep money by the aid of my
horse. Are you man enough to give me something out of it?"
Glen guessed by the way he spoke he meant mischief. There was menace in
his voice. He stopped, faced him, and answered, "I'm man enough to
refuse to give you a penny out of it."
Bellshaw swore, then stepping up to him said savagely, "I suppose you'll
try and get Rosa Prevost--buy her with the money you've won? You'll not
succeed. I'll outbid you. She's fond of money, besides she's been my
woman for several years. Perhaps you don't know that. I never intended
marrying her. She knew it, and was quite contented with my terms. She
will be so again. You stand no chance. I can easily convince her she
will be better off with me."
His insulting words made Glen Leigh's blood boil.
"Be careful what you say or it will be the worse for you," he said.
Bellshaw laughed.
"Can't you find another woman? Are you tied down to marry my mistress?"
By way of reply Glen Leigh raised his right arm, clenched his fist,
struck Bellshaw full in the mouth and knocked him down.
Ivor Hadwin, Bill Bigs and Jim Benny saw what happened; they hurried
through the crowd and gathered round them. "Get out of this, Glen," said
Bill, "or there'll be ructions."
Hadwin pulled Bellshaw away as he struggled to his feet.
"You can't fight here. They'll hustle you on the course if you do. A
nice thing to happen to the owner of the Cup winner."
Bill caught Glen by the arm, dragging him along. Bellshaw seemed in no
hurry to return the blow. He let the trainer lead him away. His mouth
was bleeding, his lip cut. The blow was severe; Glen had hard hitting
powers.
Bellshaw turned his attention to his trainer, calling him names, abusing
him generally, then suddenly turned sullen and walked away. Soon after
he left the course and went to his hotel.
He sat down and wrote a letter to Nick Gerard saying he would accept his
wager of two thousand pounds to find a horse Glen Leigh could not ride
for a quarter of an hour. The match must take place in Sydney the
following week, the Saturday night, and there must be no other acceptors
of the offer. He returned to Sydney by the mail train that night, and on
arriving there journeyed to Mintaro.
Glen Leigh received his cheque for the sweep money by the end of the
week. It amounted to twenty-four thousand, six hundred pounds. He knew
now what it was to possess money. He paid Luke Nicholl and Ivor Hadwin
five hundred each, and gave handsome gifts to Bill and Jim and to Jerry
Makeshift.
Nick Gerard showed Glen Bellshaw's letter, accepting his challenge, and
asked him what he thought about it.
"I'll ride anything he cares to put into the ring," replied Glen. "He's
got some horses at Mintaro that are terrible savages, almost mad, but
I'll try and win your money, Nick. I'd like to beat him."
"Very well, then I'll accept his offer and withdraw the notice. He'll
find you enough to do, I expect," said Nick smiling.
"He will, you can depend upon that. He's pretty certain he can find
something that will throw me, or he'd not have accepted," answered Glen.
"And will Saturday next week suit you?"
"Yes, the show goes back to Sydney on Monday."
"Capital; there'll be an exciting struggle. I suppose there's no doubt
Bellshaw will play fair?"
"I don't see how he can help it. He'll pick out a nasty brute for me to
ride, but that's part of the game," said Glen.
On all sides Glen was congratulated on winning first prize in the sweep.
He was inundated with letters from all sorts of people, anxious to
negotiate loans for the most part, others who wished to recommend safe
investments. Land agents offered him ideal residences, owners of horses
placed prices on their animals for him; charities solicited him, women
wrote saying they were quite willing to consider him as a husband if he
wanted a wife.
Glen laughed at them all. He placed his money in the bank and went on
his way contented.
When Bellshaw arrived at Mintaro unexpectedly he explained what he
wanted--the worst horse that could be found, a savage, quite ready to
kill and tear a man to pieces.
His new overseer, Sam Wimpole, he had appointed when Garry Backham left;
he was a man of his master's stamp, cruel, unscrupulous. Already the
hands hated him; more than one had threatened to do for him.
Bellshaw explained what he wanted, then added, "If you can find me a
horse that will throw him I'll give you a hundred pounds. I want to win
the wager. I want to see him injured for life, or better still, killed
outright. Do you understand?"
Wimpole grinned. He understood. He knew the sort of horse. There was one
at Five Rocks, ten times worse than The Savage. It would be risky
catching him and taking him to Sydney, but once there he'd bet any money
Leigh couldn't sit on him five minutes. It was more than likely the
brute would kill him. It was a big powerful brown stallion, as big as
old Tear'em, and worse tempered. He should say he was seven or eight
years old and had never been handled.
"The beast chased me five or six miles," he said. "If he'd caught me I
shouldn't be here to tell you about him."
This news put Bellshaw in a better humour. The idea of maiming Glen
Leigh was just to his mind. He ordered Wimpole to yard the horse no
matter at what danger, or risk, and to take him to Bourke and from there
to Sydney.
Next day Wimpole, taking the bulk of the hands with him, managed, after
much trouble, to yard the horse, among others, lasso him, and throw him
down, keeping him bound until he was exhausted with his struggles. On
the way to Mintaro the horse savaged two men, lamed three horses, and
had a tussle with Wimpole which almost caused the overseer to wish he'd
not told Bellshaw anything about him.
When the owner of Mintaro saw the great powerful, unbroken, fiery
stallion, and heard of the damage he had already done, he was satisfied.
He had no doubt he would win the wager, and that Glen Leigh would
probably be seriously injured.
"It's worth a hundred to take him to Bourke," said Wimpole.
"You shall have it when he's trained," returned Bellshaw. "You must go
in the same train with me."
"I'd best take a couple more hands with me," said Wimpole. "He's more
than a match for me."
To this Bellshaw assented. All he thought about was injuring Leigh.
It was an awful experience taking the horse to Bourke, but after a lot
of cruel treatment, which cowed him for a time, they succeeded. He was
put in an ordinary cattle truck and securely lashed back and front; a
band was also thrown round him and fastened to each side. Twice he broke
the stout ropes, but finally he was tied securely.
Bellshaw watched the operation with evident pleasure. He was thinking
what was in store for Glen Leigh. It made him smile grimly.
The station master asked Bellshaw what he was going to do with the horse
if he got him safely to his destination.
Bellshaw explained about the wager, and who was to ride the horse.
The station master made an ordinary remark, but when the train started
he muttered, as he looked after it, "Leigh'll be killed if he attempts
to ride that brute."