"Wot I said about tacklin' that ground's true ernuff, anyways," replied
the stockman, with a smile. "But erbout this gold: we'll go shares, o'
course. We'll divide it up inter five equal lots when we get to
Bullaroi."
"No; that's not fair, Harry," said Sandy. "We must have a fair
division."
"Well, wot yer call a fair division, if that's not one?" said the man
shortly.
"If it was left to me to decide, I would give you half, to start with.
It was your show. You did most of the work. We were more like wages
men; so at the very least you should get half. Then I'd divide the
other half among the rest of us in equal shares."
"Sandy's right," broke in Joe. "As far as I'm concerned, Harry'll have
the lot. I'd like him to take my whack, anyway, because----"
"No, yer don't, Joe. I know wot yer goin' ter say. Think I'm mean
ernuff ter take pay fer shootin' a jolly shark?"
"Oh--I--didn't--mean--it--just----"
"Joe meant it as a mark of gratitude, Harry. I think my way's best.
Whatcher say?"
"Agreed!" chorus the four.
"Joe, me mahn," said Denny a little while later, as he and Blain were
riding together, "cud ye tell me phwat me quarter ov a half ov th'
gowld'll come to?"
"Lemme see, seventy ounces; half o' that, thirty-five; quarter of
thirty-five is eight an' three-quarter ounces: yes, your share is eight
an' three-quarters, Denny."
"Give it in pounds, plaase, Joe."
"Pounds! Oh, I say, you've got me there. Well, let's see. What was it
Harry said they'd give us per ounce at the bank?"
"Three sivinteen an' a tanner, Joe, me bhoy. Oi tuk note ov that."
"Yes, that was the price, I 'member. Eight and three-quarter times
three seventeen six--er--lemme see, that'd be--eight threes twenty-four,
twen--bother it, I mean eight times seventeen an' six, that's a hundred
an' ninety--no, _that's_ not it. Let me put it down in me mind--one,
seven, six; that's right! Well, multiply it by eight, an' leave the
quarters out for a bit. That's--why, it's three hundred an'--no, it
can't be that much, surely? Bust it, if I only had a pencil an' a bit
o' paper I'd soon tot it up. Try again. Eight into seventeen and six
is---- Blest if it isn't an interest sum, after all, Denny; an' they
always sew me up."
"It's th' troth, Joe; it's th' most interastin' sum Oi iver heerd tell
iv. Thry it agin, Marsther Joe; doan't let a little sum loike that
ba-ate ye. 'Twas two hondered pounds ye said larrst. Make her go a
little higher if yes can."
"What! two hundred pounds! Murder! 'tis shillin's I was reckoning."
"O-o-h!" exclaimed Denny, with a profound sigh. "Awaay goes me bright
dra-ames! Sure, thin, 'twas buyin' th' owld family carr-sthle Oi was
thinking ov, an makin' melyinaares o' me dear payrunts; maybe the Quaan
wud be makin' me farther Lord Kineavy!"
"Well, you are a cure, Denny. You'll have me addressin' you as the
Honourable Dennis next. Oh, I say, didn't Harry say he wouldn't be
surprised if the gold fetched four pounds an ounce, it was so rich?
Well, let's reckon it at four quid. Eight fours are thirty-two--that's
thirty-two pounds. The three-quarters of four pounds is three.
Thirty-two and three are thirty-five; thirty-five pounds. There you
are, ole boss, thirty-five."
"Thirty-foive pounds! Begorrah! it's a bloomin' capertillist Oi am!
Whoi, glory be! it'll do betther thin buyin' a rotten owld sthone
carr-sthle made ov brick an' thatch; it'll pay for bringin' out me
payrunts in th' emigrr-ashon ship. Be Saints Pathrick an' Michael, 'tis
a happy bhoy Oi am at this moment! Phwat wid me savin's, an' Norah's,
an' this haape ov gowld, Oi'll buy thim th' best cabin on th' boat, and
so Oi will!"
In due time the party arrived at the junction of the roads, and crossed
the ridge to the cave entrance. After placing their horses in the patch
of scrub near the road, they scrambled up to the opening. Lighting the
candle, Sandy led the way to the forage chamber, where the fish was
stored.
"You don't feel so creepy, Denny, as when you were here last," said Tom
to the Irish "boy, as they followed the others into the chamber.
"It's thrue for ye, Tom. Owld Ben's not thrubblin' me to-da-ay. 'Tis
only thinkin' ov me dear farther an' mauther comin' out on th' sa-ay Oi
am. As for th' 'ranger, he's as dead an' dhry by this toime as the
smoked fish yonder."
"Is he?" cried a loud voice from the rear.
"Howly Moses! 'tis th' 'ranger's ghost," cried the Irish boy, as a
bull's-eye flashed in his face, dazzling his eyes and confusing his
mind. Terror-possessed by this ghostly manifestation--for he saw naught
but a bright light, preceded by an awful voice--the boy bolted. He
rushed towards the chamber exit, which he barely reached ere the sharp
crack of a revolver sounded, what time the panic-stricken youth
staggered forward, falling with a dull thud upon the stone floor.
It need hardly be said that the other members of the group were startled
out of speech and action. Not ten seconds elapsed between the cry of
the man or ghost and the tragedy of the revolver shot and the fallen
boy.
The moment the boy fell the others ran towards him, but before they had
taken three steps the light flashed on them and a revolver covered them.
Behind the lantern came a voice that more than the lantern, or even
pistol, cowed them: "_Stop! Hands up!_"
*[Illustration: Behind the lantern came a voice that
more than the lantern, or even pistol, cowed them:
"*_*Stop! Hands up!*_*" (missing from book)]*
For the second time the hands of the boys went up at command. One thing
was made quite clear, at any rate: this was no ghostly visitant. Ghosts
didn't carry revolvers, nor was there long any mystery about this
personage.
"That young cove reckoned I was dead and dry as your smoked schnapper,
did he? The young fool'll smoke and dry fast enough in the place I've
sent him to. You infernal asses to come here! But you'll never live to
tell any one; make up your minds to that."
It was in truth the bushranger himself. Of that there could be no
doubt. The news of his death was either a make-up or a gross
exaggeration. Here he stood, in the flesh, in one of his most dangerous
moods. A black fit was on him. Under its influence he was capable of
almost any atrocity. The lads were horror-stricken. There, before them,
lay the body of their comrade, the gay, witty, affectionate Denny, who
but a few moments ago was in the seventh heaven of delight at the
thought of bringing out his parents with the proceeds of his share of
the gold; and now--it was too awful!
"Look 'ere, Ben Bolt!" exclaimed Harry, after a few seconds' silence,
"you've shot an innercent boy in cold blood. You've grossly belied your
reputation that you never laid a hand on woman or child. We came here
with no thought of spyin' upon yer, for we believed yer to be dead. In
five minits we wud 'ave gone away with our fish, none the wiser for your
presence. You've not the slightest justerfication fer takin' that life,
an' if yer shoots me the next minit fer it, I tell yer to yer face ye're
a blaggard an' coward, an' the pity is that the news of yer bein' shot
wasn't true."
Why Harry was not shot off-hand, it were hard to say. The bushranger was
convulsed with rage: thrice he levelled his revolver at the brave man,
and as often lowered it. At last, with a voice hoarse with passion, he
said, "I'll send you along the road I've driven your mate, curse you!
You think you're very game, but I'll take all that out of you before
I've done with you. You'll be longing for your end hours before it
comes....
"Here, boy," continued he, pointing to Tom. "Take that green-hide and
tie your mates as I tell you. Look sharp, or I'll lay you alongside
your mate yonder."
Thus dragooned, Tom securely tied his mates' hands behind their backs.
As soon as this was accomplished, the outlaw, sticking his revolver in
his belt, served Tom in the same way, and in addition trussed each
victim. Having set them in a row like a group, of mummies, he addressed
them--
"You'll lie here for the present. I'll deal with you later. I've got a
little job to do first. That fool Hennessey's coming out this way with
a couple of troopers to trap me. 'Twasn't enough that he winged my
mate, he's sworn to have me inside of the week. And I swear that I'll
have him inside of six hours. I'm going out now to have a look round.
If you coves try any of your tricks, I'll make hell for you. I shan't
be far off, you may bet."
So saying, the outlaw went out into the chamber where his horse was
stabled, and led him along the passage to the cave entrance.
"I say, Harry, it was Ben Bolt that we saw at ole Jago's this mornin'."
"True. I cud 'ave taken me oath a'most that the 'orse wus Samson, but I
didn't git a fair view of the bloke's face. Yes, 'twor Ben that we saw.
He must 'a' got 'is information erbout Hennessey from the ole man. It's
wunnerful 'ow they does git the news. I 'ope 'e don't git er charnse
ter draw er bead on Hennessey. He'll 'ave ter be mighty smart ter do
it. But, dear! dear! on'y ter think of poor Denny lyin' over
there--dead! I wish ter 'evven 'e'd 'a' shot me instead. Wot'll your
father an' mother say, Sandy? Poor Norah, too! It'll be the killin' of
'er."
"Whisht, boys, spaake low: Oi'm not kilt ontoirely; only knocked
spaachless. Oi'm betther nor tin dead Chinymen yit."
It was the sweetest sound that ever ravished the ears of the boys. Here
was the blissful fact--Denny was not dead; was very much alive. If the
lads did not immediately cry out with joy it was because their joy was
too deep for utterance.
"Don't spaake or sthir awhoile till Oi see if th' coast's clear."
Rising quietly to his feet, the Irish boy stole along the corridor that
led to the mouth of the cave. After a hasty but keen survey of the
immediate neighbourhood, he returned to his companions, knife in hand,
and in a few minutes had freed them.
"And are you not wounded, Denny? We never dreamed but that the villain
had shot you dead. You lay just like a corpse. He was under that
impression too, or he'd never have left you."
"Yez see 'twas this way: Oi was fair flabbergasted whin th' blazin'
light dazzled me oiyes. Oi made shure 'twas th' 'ranger's ghost. Oi
wud 'a' stood, but me ligs wuddn't. They sthreaked off loike a
paddy-melon goes for a hole in th' fince--carryin' me body wid thim.
Th' firsht thing Oi felt was a rock sthrikin' me fut, an' thin, begorra,
somethin' whistled past me ear as Oi tumbled forrard, hittin' th' flure
a nasty crack wid me head. Th' nixt thing Oi heard was owld Harry
tongue-bangin' th' rapscallion ov a murtherer fur killin' me. 'Be
jabers!' ses Oi to meself, 'he's kilt me ontoirely wid a shot from hes
pisthol, if phwat me bowld frind ses be th' thruth. Go it, me brave
bhoy! Tare an' ouns, but ye're givin' him th' coward's blow in foine
style!'
"Thin Oi sees him rope yez up loike dhrapery parr-sels, an', ses Oi,
'Jist wait till yez is gone, me hairr-y breasted sna-ake!' an' wid that
Oi comes to me ray-son an' knows that Oi was not dead at all, at all.
Oi was jist goin' to git up an' give him a bit iv me tongue, whin the
thought comes--'Lie still, ye gossoon, till he goes an' ye can liberaate
yer mates!' So now we'll be even wid th' omadhaun."
"The quicker we're outer this the better!" exclaimed Harry, as soon as
he was released. "There's no knowin' when the 'ranger'll return; if 'e
finds us loose, 'e'll shoot us to a cert. What a pity we left our guns
with the 'orses! 'Ope 'e won't find 'em. It'll be risky goin' out, as
we don't know where the feller is. 'E may be close by watchin' the
'ole. The bes' thing'll be for us ter make a dash ter the scrub as soon
as we're outer the cave."
"There's a much safer way than that," said Sandy. "We'll go out the way
we came in when we first discovered this place. Lucky we brought a
candle with us. Come along; every moment is precious."
So saying, Sandy strode in advance, the others following closely at his
heels. The party soon hit upon the passage leading to the cave opening
on the other side of the ridge. In twenty minutes or so they were in
the open.
Their first act was to plunge into the thick bush. This shielded them
from ordinary observation. After a short confab, they concluded that
the wisest thing to do was to creep along in the thickest part, in the
direction of the horses. They had hardly started when the sharp crack
of a rifle broke upon their ears. Stopping short, they listened
eagerly; with beating hearts, it must be confessed. Again and again,
shots were fired; at last they heard the pounding of hoofs, rapidly
nearing them.
"'Ssh--don't move--they're on the hard road," said Harry to the
nervously excited youths.
The road passed the caves about two hundred yards from where the party
lay. Presently, with increasing clatter, Ben Bolt rode furiously along,
and after a minute's interval, Sergeant Hennessey, accompanied by two
troopers, the Sergeant leading by about fifty yards. Just as he was in
the act of passing, the officer took a snap-shot at the 'ranger. In a
few minutes all sight and even sound of pursued and pursuers had gone.
"No fear of Ben Bolt trubblin' us now fer a spell. 'Ope Hennessey 'll
nab 'im sure this time. Let's moosey erlong, lads."
It didn't take the party long to pick up the steeds and load up the
packhorses with the fish. The sun had barely set ere they were well on
the last stage of the return journey.
The M'Intyres are just concluding the evening meal. The conversation
chiefly centres around the campers. Mrs. M'Intyre had given many a look
along the track during the afternoon, in the hope of sighting the lads.
The understanding when they left was that they were to return at the end
of the second week. It was now Saturday evening.
"I won't give them up till ten o'clock. I expect they have made a late
start. Yes, Maggie, I own that I am a bit fidgety now that I've heard
that Ben Bolt has been seen in the vicinity of the caves."
"Weel, ye can juist ease yure mind on that pint, my dear, for the
Sairgeant and a pairty o' troopers are patrolling in that direection, so
that there's no' the sma'est pairtical o' reesk."
"It was lucky for them, mummie, that they had started for their trip
before the revised version of the engagement between the police and the
bushrangers was published, for had you known of the mistake you would
never have let the boys go. What are they going to do with the youth
that Hennessey wounded? They say Ben Bolt's mad over it, and swears to
have Hennessey's life."
"The misguided lad wull be pit on his trial as sune as the wound on his
thigh permeets."
"Do you think they'll hang him, father?"
"Nae, nae, they'll no' hang the chiel; he has never ta'en life, nor is
he a hardened ruffian. He stairted this wild life 'for the fun o' it,'
like mony another silly laddie. The Sairgeant tells me that Jock Smith,
for that's his name, is gled to be captured. His eyes hae been opened
to the folly and sin that are compreehended in sic a life. Insteed o'
fun, he has encountered nought but hairdship and meesery. The misguided
laddie wull hae plenty o' time for repentance."
The evening calm is suddenly and noisily disturbed. The station dogs set
up a great babble of barking, and Jessie, who had gone out to the front
verandah, comes running in helter skelter and screaming--
"Father, mother, hear the dogs! It's the boys, I bet tuppence. Hurrah!
Hurrah!----"
"Jessie, Jessie! you are certainly developing very----"
Mrs. Mac is prosing without an audience, for the girls are flying along
the track to the slip-rails, accompanied by the barking dogs.
It was verging on midnight when the Bullaroi household broke up. The
adventures were told with a degree of modesty to an intensely interested
and at times breathless company. The spoils of the sea and the spoils
of the mine were displayed to the admiration of all. Mrs. M'Intyre gave
high praise to the pals for their success as fish-curers; while the gold
spoke for itself, needing no expert opinion.
Mr. M'Intyre had the last word.
"Ye've advanced a big step towards yure manhood, laddies, and I'm prood
o' ye the nicht. Yure conduc' under they perils by sea and land is more
precious by far that yon gleeterin' gowd. A guid name is raither to be
chosen than great riches. Thank the Lord for a' His mercies!
Guid-nicht, bairns."
"GOOD-NIGHT ALL."
_Printed by_ MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED, _Edinburgh_