“How do you do, Mr Gerrard?” he said, as with outstretched hand he
met his visitor at the door. “I am glad to meet Ted Westonley's
brother-in-law at last. How is he?”
“Very well, indeed, when I last saw him,” replied Gerrard, as he sat
down, and Lacey rang the bell.
“I have not seen him for ten years,” said the editor. “Ah, here you are,
M illy! What will you take, Mr Gerrard? You must excuse my rig” (he
was in his pyjamas); “but it's so infernally hot that I always get into
these the minute I'm back in my room. When did you arrive?”
“Only an hour ago, in the _Tinonee_.”
“Going back to your station, I suppose? By the way, aren't you--or is it
Jardine?--who is the 'furthest north' cattle man?”
“Jardine; but his station is on the east side. I'm on the west; the Gulf
side, between the Batavia River and Duyfhen Point.”
Lacey looked admiringly at the well-knit figure and handsome, tanned
face of his visitor. “Well, the climate up there can't be as bad as it
is painted. I never saw a man look better than you do.”
“Oh! the climate doesn't hurt me now. I've had my share of fever
of course; so has everyone on Ocho Rios. The niggers are our chief
trouble.”
“Ah! no doubt. By the way, Aulain, of the Black Police is down here on
sick leave. He'll be glad to see you.”
“And I him. He's a fine fellow, isn't he?”
“A whiter man--or a better gentleman--never put foot in a stirrup. I've
got to like him very much. And he thinks no end of you. Says you're the
best scrub rider he ever saw.”
Gerrard laughed. “'Praise from him is praise indeed.' All I can say is
that I have never seen anyone who can go through scrub or thick timber
like Randolph Aulain. Where is he staying?”
“Here--at the Queen's. He's had a terrible time with fever, and can't do
more than sit up. We'll go and see him presently.”
“Oh, yes! But I want to speak to you on a matter of some importance
first. That is why I have ventured to come to your hotel. I did go to
the _Clarion_ office, but just missed you.”
“I'm only too delighted to see you, even if you were not Westonley's
brother-in-law. You know that he and I were at Rugby together, and
then at Oxford? But, before I say anything else, when does your steamer
leave?”
“This afternoon at four o'clock; but I am not going on in her. I'm in
somewhat of a hole, and I felt sure you would assist me.”
“Indeed I will. I'm not flush. This blessed rag of mine doesn't pay, but
I can raise a hundred from the bank here.”
Gerrard laughed. “No, not that, Mr Lacey. I'm not 'broke,' and it is
not money I want. At the same time I appreciate your generosity. Ted has
often told me you would do any mortal thing for a friend in need.” He
paused, and then began, “Mr Lacey----”
“Drop the 'Mr' please.”
“Well, then, Lacey, I want your advice and assistance. Do you know any
decent family here who would take care of a boy of eleven years of age
for about a fortnight?”
The editor of the _Clarion_ tugged thoughtfully at his long, white
moustache for a few moments. “Yes, I think I do know of such a family.
I used to board with them when I first came to this infernal hole.
Their name is Woodfall. The father is a dairyman here, and a very decent
hard-working man. His wife is a thoroughly, good honest woman, and they
have no children. I think they would be suitable people; and I'm sure
would look after the boy very well. Where is he?”
“On board the steamer, just now, waiting for me. I'll tell you how I'm
fixed. The youngster is an orphan who was living with my brother-in-law
at Marumbah. I took a great fancy to him, and as my sister did not care
much for the young 'un, though Ted did, I persuaded Ted to let me have
him to 'father.' I should have liked to have had my poor sister Mary's
little girl--you know that my sister died soon after her husband and my
father and mother all went together in the _Cassowary_--but, of course,
I couldn't bring her away from civilisation--there's no white woman
within two hundred miles of Ocho Rios.” Then he went on telling his host
the history of Jim, from the time Westonley had brought him away from
Newcastle to the present. Lacey listened with interest.
“Well, a few weeks ago in Sydney I met a Mrs Tallis, a widow. Her
husband was a squatter, and died a few months ago in Sydney.”
“I knew him. His station is called Kaburie--it is between here and
Mackay--and is a rattling good cattle run.”
“Yes. She wants to sell it. I suppose the poor little woman doesn't like
going back to the place now. However now I'm coming to the point I've an
idea that it might suit me as a breeding station, and told her I would
stop at Bowen, and go and look at it. Now it would suit me very well
if I could leave my _protégé_ here for a couple of weeks, as the young
scamp has managed to sprain his wrist on board, and so can't very well
come with me, though I should like to take him very much.”
“The Woodfalls will take him, I'm sure. And I will look after him as
well. Now, will you come and see Aulain for a few minutes? Then I'll
take you up to Mrs Woodfall.”
Aulain, a strikingly handsome, slightly-built, olive-faced man, with
jet-black beard and moustache, was delighted to see Gerrard.
“Hallo! old 'Tom-and-Jerry,' I'm glad to see you again. Sit down and
tell me o' the wondrous sights o' Sydney and Melbourne. Heavens, man, I
wish I could get away down South for six months.”
They remained talking for half an hour, during which time Gerrard told
Aulain the reason of his stopping at Bowen.
“By Jove! old fellow, I shall be glad if you buy Kaburie, for you'll
have to put in some of your time there, of course, and I've applied for
a removal from the Cape York District to Port Denison. I'm sick to death
of nigger chasing in the Far North, and want to be somewhere where I can
feel I'm not entirely an outcast from the world, with no one to talk to
but my own black troopers, any one of whom would put a bullet into my
back if I turned rusty.”
“Oh, well, I think it is pretty certain I shall buy Mrs Tallis's
station. I like Ocho Rios very well, but now, since this last trip of
mine South, I feel as you do--I want to be a little less out of the
world. I might, perhaps, sell Ocho Rios, and fix myself at Kaburie. If I
don't, I'll put a manager there, and keep the place going, for I have
a great belief that there will be some rich gold discoveries in the
Batavia River country before long--and thousands of meat-hungry diggers
means pots of money to a cattleman.”
“I'm certain, too, that there will be some big fields opened up that way
soon,” said Aulain. “In that valise of mine, there under the bed, are
three or four ounces of alluvial gold which my troopers and I washed out
in one day at the head of a little creek running into the Batavia.”
“Place with a hunking big boulder standing up in the middle of a deep
pool, with a lot of fish in it?” queried Gerrard.
“Yes; but how the deuce did you come across it? I've never seen a beast
of yours within fifty miles of it--the country is too rough even for
cattle--and I thought that my troopers and I were the first that ever
saw the place.”
“When were you there?”
“About a month after you left Ocho Rios for Sydney.”
“Well, my dear little laddie, I was there a year ago, camped there for a
couple of days, and did a little washing out--with two quart billy cans
for a dish.”
“Get anything?”
“Seven ounces, sonny; mostly in coarse gold too.”
Aulain whistled. “And you never went back there?”
“No! I never had the time for one thing; another reason was that it
would not have paid me to have left my station for the sake of a few
hundred pounds' worth of gold, and thirdly, although I know a little
about alluvial mining, I don't know anything about reefing--wouldn't
know a gold-bearing reef from a rank duffer, unless I saw the gold
sticking up in it in lumps. And there are several parties of prospectors
up in Cape York Peninsula now, and some of them are sure to make their
way to the Batavia River country in the course of time. If any come to
my place I'll give them all the help I can. I'd like to see a really
good gold-field discovered near Ocho Rios; it would mean thousands of
pounds to me.”
“Of course it would. But, I say, Gerry, old fellow,” and here Aulain
paused. “Will you do me a favour? Oh, no, hang it!” and he stopped
suddenly.
“What is it, Aulain?”
The Inspector's sallow face flushed. “I don't think it is fair to ask
you, as it will perhaps affect your interests.”
“Don't be an ass! What is it?”
Lacey rose, thinking that Aulain hesitated to speak on account of him
being present, but Aulain begged him to stay, and then said:
“Well, I'll tell you what it is, Gerry. Will you keep it dark about that
little creek up there; for six months anyway.”
“Certainly, I will.”
“You see, Gerry, it's this way. I'm sick to death of life in the Black
Police, and as soon as I get over this fever, I think I'll resign
and try my luck at mining. I can't live on my salary, and I have no
backstair's influence in Brisbane to get me anything better in the
Government service; and only this morning I was thinking of that very
place where we both got gold. There are reefs all about the head of that
creek, and every one of them carries payable gold. And so if you
will keep it dark I stand a good chance of not only getting the usual
Government reward of five thousand pounds for the discovery of a payable
gold-field, but can peg out my reward claim beforehand.”
“My dear old chap, I shall be only too pleased. And, look here, why not
send in your resignation right away, and then after I've finished this
business at Kaburie, come away with me. There will be a steamer here in
a fortnight, which will take us to Somerset, and from there we can get
to Ocho Rios in one of the pearling luggers. We shall find plenty of
them lying up at Somerset at this time of the year, and it will be a
better and easier way of getting to my place than having to buy horses
at Somerset, and travelling a hundred and fifty miles across the
peninsula.”
Aulain shook his head. “It is a very tempting offer, Gerry; but I
can't accept it. I am obliged to wait six months after sending in my
resignation before I can leave the service; it is a hard and fast rule.”
“I'm awfully sorry, Aulain,” said Gerrard; “however, when you do come,
you will, of course, make my place your headquarters. Don't buy any
horses when you get to Somerset; I can lend you all you want. Now I must
be off with Lacey. I'll see you when I get back from Kaburie in a week
or ten days, and we'll have long yarns together, as I shall remain in
Bowen until the next steamer for Somerset calls.”
“Right! Oh, by-the-way, Gerry, on your way to Kaburie you will have to
pass a little mining camp called Fraser's Gully. Will you leave a
letter there for me? I'll have it written by the time you come back from
Woodfalls.”
As soon as Lacey and Gerrard were out in the street, the latter returned
to his companion with a smile. “So you are to play Mercury for Aulain?”
“Am I? Who is she?”
“A Miss Kate Fraser. Her father is a friend of mine, and Aulain and
she are engaged--at least I think so. But I have heard that there is a
parson in the running, and I don't wonder--for she is a splendid girl.”
A walk of a mile brought them to Wood fall's house. Both Woodfall and
his wife were at home, and Lacey at once entered into the subject of
Jim.
“Certainly, Mr Gerrard, we'll take the boy and be glad to have him. But
we won't take payment,” said Mrs Woodfall, a big-shouldered woman with a
pleasant, sunburnt face. “Joe, get the buggy, and I'll drive down to the
steamer at once with Mr Gerrard.”
Two hours later, Jim was installed at the Woodfall's, and Gerrard was on
his way to Kaburie.