MAN AND HORSE LAY SIDE BY SIDE
There was some earnest conversation between Bellshaw and his overseer on
the way to Sydney.
"You'll do it," said Bellshaw. "Promise me you'll do it, and I'll give
you fifty pounds down."
"I'll manage it," said Wimpole.
"I shall be with the horse all the time, until he mounts, to see they
don't tamper with him," he added with a wink.
Bellshaw laughed. They had hatched a wicked plot against Glen Leigh, and
Wimpole was to carry it out.
"There'll be trouble if it's discovered," said Wimpole.
"You're not going to back down?"
"No, only if there's any danger of its being found out I shall bolt, and
it will take more money than you offer to get me out of the country in
comfort."
"How much do you want?" asked Bellshaw.
"I must have five hundred planked down before I do it," replied Wimpole.
"Too much," said Bellshaw, but after an angry altercation agreed to
Wimpole's terms.
"The risk's great. It will be a case of manslaughter right enough if
anything happens to Leigh, and it's discovered."
The announcement in huge placards and newspaper advertisements that Glen
Leigh was to ride an unbroken stallion from Mintaro for a quarter of an
hour, for a wager of two thousand a side, between Craig Bellshaw and
Nicholas Gerard, roused curiosity to its highest pitch, and there was a
prospect of an enormous attendance. Glen Leigh was confident Bellshaw
would be unable to find a horse that could unseat him. Bill Bigs did not
like the look of things; he thought of foul play. He did not trust
Bellshaw. He knew the squatter would give a good round sum to injure
Leigh.
Glen had been to Manley and seen Mrs. Prevost; he asked her to be his
wife, and she consented. When she alluded to the past he said it was
buried; he had no wish to unearth it. Clara Benny, as she was still
called, looked much better since she had been with Mrs. Prevost. There
was no doubt her health would be completely restored, but whether this
meant the recovery of her lost memory was uncertain. Mrs. Prevost tried
to persuade Glen not to ride in the match. She was sure he would be
injured, Bellshaw was such a vindictive man.
Glen laughed her fears away, and made her promise to come and see him
win the wager; he said Bellshaw would have no chance of using foul play
against him.
"You'll give up the show after this match?" she begged.
"I'll hand my share over to Jim Benny," he answered. "I'll only go into
the ring when you give me permission," he added smiling. He knew she
would consent when he asked her.
The excitement caused over the two thousand pound wager was intense, and
on Saturday night the building was crammed to suffocation.
Sam Wimpole had the horse in readiness, saddled and bridled, as it would
have been impossible to do this in the ring. The horse was in a savage
mood. Since morning he had gradually grown worse. Just before the
performance was to commence he was in a perfect fury, lashing out, and
biting at his tormentors.
Sam Wimpole watched him with a peculiar smile. When Craig Bellshaw came
to look at Lion, as they named him, Sam cautioned him not to go near.
"Have you done it?" asked Bellshaw in a whisper.
"Yes, gave him an injection an hour ago. He's had three. I'll give him
another before he goes into the ring; it will drive him almost mad. I
wouldn't mount him for a thousand pounds."
"I shouldn't like to try you," said Bellshaw.
"I wouldn't really. What's a thousand pounds against your life?"
"Is it as bad as that?"
"Quite."
Bellshaw's smile was ugly. In imagination he saw Glen Leigh stretched
out a crushed and battered mass.
The time drew nearer. A quarter of an hour before--the struggle was to
commence at nine--Sam Wimpole took out a small syringe from his
waistcoat pocket, crept up to the horse's side, and quickly made an
injection. Lion shivered, then gave a snort, and tried to grab Sam as he
nipped back into safety.
Sam wished to be rid of the syringe. It had done its work, but he dare
not throw it away, and he could not go outside; he placed it in his
trousers pocket for the time being.
Lion was led into the ring by two men who had long poles strapped on
each side of his bit. No one was to be in the ring when Leigh took the
bridle in his hand and the poles were loosened and taken away. There was
a breathless silence as the horse stood quivering; it was broken by a
deafening cheer as Glen Leigh came in. Lion reared and plunged at the
sound, but was held fast. Leigh came towards him, a heavy whip in his
hand. He walked straight up to the horse, looking him in the eyes; at
that moment he fancied there was something wrong with Lion, who seemed
frenzied. His eyes glowed like live coals, his breath was hot, steaming;
Glen felt it on his face. He undid the pole straps, made a signal to the
men, who hastily drew them away and ran out of the ring, and sprang into
the saddle before Lion was aware of his intention. Glen knew if he once
got safely seated half the battle would be won. Luck favoured him in
this respect.
The horse had never been mounted until this moment, and for a few
seconds he seemed paralysed with fright at the strange experience. This
did not last long. With a wicked bound he tried to get rid of his
strange burden. It was a vain hope. Glen stuck to the saddle like a
limpet to a rock. Lion was a far stronger horse than the Savage, and
Wimpole had given him a drug that would increase his strength and
endurance until the effect died away. Never had Glen Leigh been on such
a horse. He knew Lion possessed tremendous strength. The strain on his
arms was immense, also on the whole of his body.
Lion did not act like an ordinary buckjumper. He had his own plans of
getting rid of his burden; they were quite original because they had
been brought into play for the first time. He had a long reach, and
whenever he tried to bite Glen's thigh he had to pull his legs back
quickly. The horse showed no inclination to lie down, or to crush Glen
against the posts. Without the slightest warning he set off on a furious
gallop round and round the ring. After a dozen rounds he began bucking
as no horse ever bucked before. Up and down he went like a rocking
horse, then on all fours off the ground, his back arched to a point, all
the saddle gear strained to bursting.
Glen felt the perspiration pouring off him. It was the hardest struggle
of his life, but he intended winning. He would not be beaten.
Everybody in the vast audience watched the large clock as the fingers
crept slowly on, the large hand gradually drawing nearer to the
quarter-past. Bellshaw watched the struggle between man and horse with
absorbing interest. He knew what had been done, and that the horse
possessed demoniacal strength for the time being.
Mrs. Prevost, her face white, her hands clutching nervously, watched
every movement in the ring; how she prayed for his safety, and for the
clock to point to a quarter-past nine. Never had she undergone such an
ordeal. It would be in her memory for the rest of her life. Supposing he
were killed? The horse seemed like some evil beast possessed of devils.
She almost shrieked as a mad plunge nearly unseated Leigh for the first
time, but he was still there. By some marvellous power he stuck to the
saddle and the battle went on.
Glen Leigh knew the horse did not lose strength; rather had he gained it
during the last few minutes. It surprised him, but he had no time to
think.
Lion stood on his forelegs, his head almost touching the ground, his
hind quarters straight up in the air. In this horizontal position he
twisted like an eel, trying to wriggle Glen on to his neck. He leaned
right back until his body was level with the horse's, then changing his
whip quickly, he hit backwards, bringing the heavy knob hard on the root
of the tail. This was too much for Lion. He came down on all fours and
Glen shot bolt upright. There was a tremendous cheer. It was a wonderful
piece of riding.
"I've never seen such a devil of a horse," said Nick. "It seems to me
he's mad. I hope no harm will come to Glen."
Bill was nervous. It was the first time he had felt such a sensation. He
turned to the bookmaker and said in a low voice, "It's my belief
somebody's doped that horse--given him a drug. He'd never go on like
that if he hadn't had something."
"They'd hardly dare do that," answered Nick.
"You don't know Bellshaw. He's capable of doing anything," returned
Bill.
There was no time for more. Lion was at it again, fighting more
furiously during the last five minutes than he had done before. It was a
question of endurance. Would Glen Leigh last out? Once, twice, a third
time, he swayed in the saddle. A woman's cry echoed through the
building. It was Mrs. Prevost. She had to be held up in her seat. It was
only by exercising her will power to the uttermost that she recovered.
Bellshaw stared at the strugglers with his eyes bulging. He looked at
the clock--four minutes, and Glen Leigh was well nigh dead-beat. Not one
person in that vast crowd thought the horse would throw him, but they
dreaded lest he should fall off exhausted.
Three minutes and he still stuck on, but his grasp on the reins
loosened, and Lion, feeling this, redoubled his efforts. The fight was
terrific, too thrilling almost to witness. The horse possessed almost
miraculous strength.
Two minutes, and for the next sixty seconds Lion bucked like a clockwork
machine until every bone in Glen's body felt like cracking. Only one
minute to the quarter and still Glen kept his seat. Half a minute more;
a great gasp came from the crowd as Glen sank forward, clasping the
savage brute with both arms round the neck, but he was still in the
saddle. He was not thrown. The position was one of grave danger for Lion
could reach his arms with his mouth. The horse stopped, panting, his
nostrils blood red, his eyes shooting fire; they gleamed angrily.
"Get off," yelled Nick.
"Get off," yelled Bill, and hundreds of voices took up the cry. A
shudder of horror passed through the huge crowd. Women fainted. Strong
men shook. Hundreds hid their faces.
Lion, with a sudden swerve of his neck, got his teeth in Glen Leigh's
arm. The pain was terrible. The muscles burned like fire. He caught
sight of the clock. Only a second or two and he would win. Could he
stand it? Lion tore his arm, then tried to seize his leg, but Glen was
too quick for him.
"Time!"
A terrific shout.
"Time!" shouted the frantic crowd, and as Glen Leigh heard it he rolled
out of the saddle in a dead faint; before anyone could rush up Lion
planted his fore feet on his chest and bent his head towards his face.
"Shoot him! He'll tear his face," shouted Nick.
"You can't. He's my horse," yelled Bellshaw.
Bill rushed forward, an iron bar in his hand, and in the nick of time
brought it down on Lion's head with a mighty sweep. He dropped like a
log. Man and horse lay side by side in the ring.