FRED PHILAMORE.
When the following morning broke, the sky was dull and heavy and the
atmosphere close and oppressive. This did not seem to trouble the girls,
who packed up their swags, saddled their horses, and were away on the
road before the others were astir.
The boys were the next to move, and their surprise was great when they
found their new chum neighbours had disappeared.
"They're early risers, and no mistake," remarked Reg, rubbing his eyes.
"Yes. I wonder which way they've gone. However, that's easily settled,"
and he looked for hoof-marks, which he found, setting in the direction
of Chinchilla. But neither attached any importance to the matter.
"We'd better make for the buggy," said Hal. And they shouldered their
swags and made for the river once more.
Wyck, camped in Abrahams' van, found it difficult to sleep on account of
the owner's loud snoring. At day-break he lay looking out on the camp
through a crack in the cover. He saw the girls rise and depart, and the
boys follow them. Thinking it about time for them to be moving, he woke
Abrahams and went off to Joe's tent.
"Now then, Joe," he called out at that worthy's tent. "Get up, and let's
get off to Dalby. I've had enough of the bush."
"Hullo! where's the other coves?" asked Joe, in surprise, gazing round
the camp.
"Gone long ago."
"Which way did they go?"
"Along the river, I expect."
"Now then, boys, harness up. We must make Dalby to-night," said
Abrahams, appearing on the scene.
"Do you know what time the train goes?" asked Wyck.
"There's one early in the morning, I think," said Abrahams.
"I must catch that."
"I am just as anxious to get back as you are. I don't like the look of
the weather, and I should not be surprised if we had a big rain."
"You're right there, boss," chimed in Joe. "I've been thinking the
same."
After a hasty breakfast, they made a start and reached Dalby about seven
o'clock the same evening. On enquiry, Wyck found a train left at eight
and, making Abrahams a present of his turn-out, he left by that train,
feeling sure he had attracted no notice whatever. Before leaving, he
told Joe to wire him any news to "Grosvenor, Sydney," or "Gaiety,
Melbourne," under a false name; and Joe, who had lined his pocket
considerably during his acquaintanceship with his chum, promised to keep
a sharp look-out.
When the girls left the camp, they followed the tracks of the hawker's
waggon, and after a couple of hours' ride pulled up at a water-hole for
breakfast. The road was very rough, and they did not reach the station
until late. The manager gave them a cordial welcome, considering they
were strangers, but could afford no information about anyone resembling
Wyck. As they naturally did not care to accept the hospitality offered
them, that of the single men's hut, they turned their horses and rode
some way back, till they found a good camping-place for the night. The
next day looked even more threatening than the day before, and large
drops of rain fell before they started.
"I think we are in for a drenching, May," said Hil, looking anxiously
round.
"So do I. Let's clear to Dalby as fast as we can."
As they proceeded on their journey the rain fell steadily, and when they
reached Dalby, at a late hour, they were wet to the skin. They saw to
their horses, dried their clothes, and made themselves comfortable for
the night at the hotel.
"If this keeps on much longer we shall have a flood," said the landlord
to them.
Dalby presented a picturesque appearance the next morning, for the
Condamine was overflowing its banks and all the low-lying country was
flooded. As a wash-away seemed imminent, the railway people suspended
all traffic. Twelve inches was measured in twenty-four hours, and by the
evening of the second day the country for miles round was a sheet of
water. Many houses in Dalby were flooded, and several had been washed
away.
The girls were now locked up, for boats were plying in the streets. The
delay made them very wild, but nothing could be done but wait. They were
lucky, however, in comparison with the fate that befel the boys.
When the boys arrived at their camp, they found their man still asleep,
and waking him up they had a hasty breakfast and started on their
journey for Chinchilla. Dobbs, the tramp, said he knew a better road
than the one they were on, and they let him have his way. But Dobbs was
one of those gentlemen fond of experimenting at others' expense, as the
boys found out to their cost, for after hopelessly wandering Dobbs
acknowledged he was out of his reckoning. Fortune favoured them,
however, for they met a stockrider of the Nankin Run.
"Chinchilla? Why you are out of it altogether," said he, in answer to
enquiries. "You are a long way from Dalby, too, and if you take my
advice you'll follow me, for it looks like rain. When it rains here, it
does so with a vengeance. We've had none for twelve months, and it looks
like a flood."
The invitation was offered in a rough, genial way, and the boys were
only too glad to accept it. After an hour's drive they came to the
station. The boys had been puzzling themselves as to what position the
man held there, for he looked more like a shepherd than anything else,
in his greasy pants and shirt and dirty, old, cabbage-tree hat, but on
their arrival they found he was no less a person than the Honourable Mr.
Tomkins, owner, not only of that station, but many more.
"Now then, boys, make yourselves quite at home. We don't live in style
here, for I don't like it. I get enough of that in the cities, for, take
my word for it, no tea tastes so well as that brewed in a billy," said
he.
The next day the rain set in and, by Tomkins' advice, they did not
start, for all the creeks they would have had to cross were now swollen,
and on the following day they themselves were living on an island.
"You see, I took the precaution to build my place on high ground. But we
shall be kept busy with visitors now," Tomkins said, as a huge snake
crossed the floor.
Insects in great numbers and reptiles of the most venomous kind began
to make for the house as the waters rose, and all hands turned out to
build a wooden barrier round it, which was saturated with kerosene and
set on fire. This proved an effective barrier, but, nevertheless, they
were kept pretty busy, and their sleep was not of the most comfortable
kind. After six days of this kind of life, they were able to start on
their return journey, and once more arrived at Dalby.
There had been numerous cases of drowning during the flood, and the
first one to come to their ears was that of a young fellow whose body
was found at Campbell Creek crossing, and who had been identified by Joe
Brown as a young man who had accompanied him from Toowoomba, named
Wyckliffe.
Going to the Police Station to make enquiries, they found the facts as
stated. In addition to Joe Brown's identification, they had found a "W"
tattooed on his arm. The body had also, they said, been identified by
two young fellows who had left for Brisbane a day or two before.
"Then we are to be cheated after all," said Reg, savagely.
"Won't you forgive the fellow now?" asked Hal.
"I can't, old fellow. I can't. I feel some satisfaction in having his
stick, though. However, Hal, we've done our duty, and he has met his
fate. God knows, he deserved it."
They squared up their accounts, and took train direct to Sydney, with
the intention of hunting up the Goodchilds.
When the police reported that the body had been identified by Joe Brown
and two other men they stated the literal fact. A stock-driver crossing
the creek had seen the body floating there with the face battered beyond
recognition. He had pulled it out of the water, and rode into town to
report to the police, who brought it in. Joe Brown was one of the first
to hear of the discovery, and a brilliant idea struck him that he might
make a good thing out of Wyck by reporting the body to be his. As soon
as the girls heard it they reluctantly went, too. There was a decided
resemblance in the build of the dead man to Wyck, but the features were
too bruised for them to be certain. However, Joe swore positively to the
tattoo on the arm, and that settled the matter, and the corpse was
buried as that of Villiers Wyckliffe, a young Englishman out to gain
colonial experience.
The same evening the girls left for Brisbane, but not alone, for Hil was
taking the colt with her. Tom, the old groom at the hotel stables, had
taken a violent fancy to both horse and owner, that she decided to take
him with her to Sydney. At Brisbane they had to explain to him that his
master was a mistress, and they sailed without delay for Sydney, none
the worse for their experience, but feeling rather subdued at the tragic
disaster which had robbed them of the spoil after which they had
started.
When Wyck arrived at Toowoomba the first person he looked out for was
Bill Adams, whom he found in the yard of the "Royal."
"Hullo, boss, back again! I've got all your togs stowed away," said he,
as he led him to his room.
"I had a small black stick," said Wyck to him, after he had inspected
the contents of his portmanteau.
"That's all you had, governor," said Bill, with emphasis. And Wyck,
seeing it was useless to argue with him, had to accept the inevitable.
"All my luck will desert me now," he said to himself, when he was
safely in a train bound for Sydney. "I've lost my fetish."
At Tenterfield he bought a paper, and saw to his delight that heavy rain
had set in in the Western district, and that all the country was
flooded.
"I hope those two bloodhounds may be drowned too," he said, as he lay
down to sleep.
Nearing Sydney, the next morning, he heard the newsboy crying out
"_Herald_. Dreadful floods!" and jumping up, he bought a copy. Opening
it, he received a shock, for his eyes caught the broad head-lines:
HEAVY FLOODS IN QUEENSLAND.
27 LIVES LOST.
THOUSANDS OF STOCK DROWNED.
TERRIBLE SCENES.
DALBY COMPLETELY FLOODED.
RAILWAY LINE WASHED AWAY.
He eagerly read the detailed account of the flood from the beginning.
"Hallo, what's this?" he cried, jumping up. "By Jove! I'm drowned! I'm
dead," and he read the paragraph again.
"This afternoon a man rode in and reported that the body of a young
man was in the creek at Campbell Camp Crossing. The police were
informed, and they brought the corpse into the town, which was in a
terribly battered condition. It was immediately identified by a
shearer, named Brown, as the body of a young English gentleman,
named Villiers Wyckliffe, who was touring the back blocks and was
bound for Chinchilla station. The body was buried this morning."
"Joe Brown, you are a brick. I'll drink your health," said Wyck,
producing the flask. Then he sat down and read the paragraph again,
scarcely believing his eyes. Fortunately he was alone in the
compartment; otherwise, fellow-passengers might have thought him mad. He
paced the car, whistled, and sang, and called out over and over again:
"By Jove, I'm dead! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Then he sat down again and thought
it all out. At last he rose and unscrewing the cap of his flask, cried:
"Fred Philamore, I drink your health. Villiers Wyckliffe is dead, and
Fred Philamore, a young English gentleman, out for colonial experience,
arrives in Sydney. What a good job I shaved. No one will recognize me
now; at least they won't when I've done. I always had a fancy for red
hair, and mine will dye beautifully. I'll make the acquaintance of Mr.
Morris and his amiable friend, Winter, and if I don't have some fun,
it's a caution. I'll make it warm for you, Reg Morris, before I'm done.
I'll teach dirty colonials to hunt an English gentleman. Fortunately I
know friends of the different Governors. Fred Philamore will have no
difficulty in getting into Society: an Englishman is a welcome change to
the colonials--at least they always say so. Hurrah, Wyck! Good old Wyck,
you're dead, and good old Fred Philamore stands in your shoes."
With a lighter heart than he had known for many a day, Wyck stepped out
of the train at Sydney.