With considerable difficulty Betty Bevan succeeded in deciphering the
tremulous scrawl which Tom Brixton had written on the piece of
birch-bark. It ran somewhat as follows:--
"This is probably the last letter that I, Tom Brixton, shall ever write.
(I put down my name now, in case I never finish it.) O dearest mother!
what would I not now give to unsay all the hard things I have ever said
to you, and to undo all the evil I have done. But this cannot be.
`Twice bought!' It is strange how these words run in my mind. I was
condemned to death at the gold-fields--my comrades bought me off.
Fred--dear Fred--who has been true and faithful to the last--reminded me
that I had previously been bought with the blood of Jesus--that I have
been _twice bought_! I think he put it in this way to fix my obstinate
spirit on the idea, and he has succeeded. The thought has been burned
in upon my soul as with fire. I am very, _very_ weak--dying, I fear, in
the forest, and alone! How my mind seems to wander! I have slept since
writing the last sentence, and dreamed of food! Curious mixing of
ideas! I also dreamed of Betty Bevan. Ah, sweet girl! if this ever
meets your eye, believe that I loved you sincerely. It is well that I
should die, perhaps, for I have been a thief, and would not ask your
hand now even if I might. I would not sully it with a touch of mine,
and I could not expect you to believe in me after I tell you that I not
only robbed Gashford, but also Fred--my chum Fred--and gambled it all
away, and drank away my reason almost at the same time... I have slept
again, and dreamed of water this time--bright, pure, crystal water--
sparkling and gushing in the sunshine. O God! how I despised it once,
and how I long for it now! I am too weak and wandering, mother, to
think about religion now. But why should I? Your teaching has not been
altogether thrown away; it comes back like a great flood while I lie
here dreaming and trying to write. The thoughts are confused, but the
sense comes home. All is easily summed up in the words you once taught
me, `I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all, but Jesus Christ is all in
all.' Not sure that I quote rightly. No matter, the sense is there
also. And yet it seems--it is--such a mean thing to sin away one's life
and ask for pardon only at the end--the very end! But the thief on the
cross did it; why not I? Sleep--_is_ it sleep? may it not be
slowly-approaching death?--has overpowered me again. I have been
attempting to read this. I seem to have mixed things somehow. It is
sadly confused--or my mind is. A burning thirst consumes me--and--I
_think_ I hear water running! I will--"
Here the letter ended abruptly.
"No doubt," murmured Betty, as she let the piece of bark fall on the
table and clasped her hands over her eyes, "he rose and tried to reach
the water. Praise God that there is hope!"
She sat for a few seconds in profound silence, which was broken by Paul
and his friends re-entering the tent.
"It's all arranged, Betty," he said, taking down an old rifle which hung
above the door; "old Larkins has agreed to look arter my claim and take
care of you, lass, while we're away."
"I shall need no one to take care of me."
"Ah! so you think, for you're as brave as you're good; but--I think
otherwise. So he'll look arter you."
"Indeed he won't, father!" returned Betty, smiling, "because I intend
that _you_ shall look after me."
"Impossible, girl! I'm going to sarch for Tom Brixton, you see, along
with Mister Fred an' Flinders, so I can't stop here with you."
"But I am going too, father!"
"But--but we can't wait for you, my good girl," returned Paul, with a
perplexed look; "we're all ready to start, an' there ain't a hoss for
you except the poor critters that Tolly Trevor brought wi' him, an', you
know, they need rest very badly."
"Well, well, go off, father; I won't delay you," said Betty; "and don't
disturb Tolly, let him sleep, he needs it, poor boy. I will take care
of him and his horses."
That Tolly required rest was very obvious, for he lay sprawling on the
deer-skin couch just as he had flung himself down, buried in the
profoundest sleep he perhaps ever experienced since his career in the
wilderness began.
After the men had gone off, Betty Bevan--who was by that time better
known, at least among those young diggers whose souls were poetical, as
the Rose of Oregon, and among the matter-of-fact ones as the Beautiful
Nugget--conducted herself in a manner that would have increased the
admiration of her admirers, if they had seen her, and awakened their
curiosity also. First of all she went out to the half-ruined log-hut
that served her father for a stable, and watered, fed, and rubbed down
the horse and pony which Tolly had brought, in a manner that would have
done credit to a regular groom. Then, returning to the tent, she
arranged and packed a couple of saddle-bags with certain articles of
clothing, as well as biscuits, dried meat, and other provisions. Next
she cleaned and put in order a couple of revolvers, a bowie-knife, and a
small hatchet; and ultimately, having made sundry other mysterious
preparations, she lifted the curtain which divided the tent into two
parts, and entered her own private apartment. There, after reading her
nightly portion of God's Word and committing herself, and those who were
out searching in the wilderness for the lost man, to His care, she lay
down with her clothes on, and almost instantly fell into a slumber as
profound as that which had already overwhelmed Tolly. As for that
exhausted little fellow, he did not move during the whole night, save
once, when an adventurous insect of the earwig type walked across his
ruddy cheek and upper lip and looked up his nose. There are sensitive
portions of the human frame which may not be touched with impunity. The
sleeper sneezed, blew the earwig out of existence, rolled over on his
back, flung his arms wide open, and, with his mouth in the same
condition, spent the remainder of the night in motionless repose.
The sun was well up next morning, and the miners of Simpson's Gully were
all busy, up to their knees in mud and gold, when Betty Bevan awoke,
sprang up, ran into the outer apartment of her tent, and gazed
admiringly at Tolly's face. A band of audacious and early flies were
tickling it, and causing the features to twitch, but they could not
waken the sleeper. Betty gazed only for a moment with an amused
expression, and then shook the boy somewhat vigorously.
"Come, Tolly, rise!"
"Oh! d-on't b-borrer."
"But I must bother. Wake up, I say. Fire!"
At the last word the boy sat up and gazed idiotically.
"Hallo! Betty--my dear Nugget--is that you? Why, where am I?"
"Your body is here," said Betty, laughing. "When your mind comes to the
same place I'll talk to you."
"I'm _all_ here now, Betty; so go ahead," said the boy, with a hearty
yawn as he arose and stretched himself. "Oh! I remember now all about
it. Where is your father?"
"I will tell you presently, but first let me know what you mean by
calling me Nugget."
"Why, don't you know? It's the name the men give you everywhere--one of
the names at least--the Beautiful Nugget."
"Indeed!" exclaimed the Nugget with a laugh and blush; "very impudent of
the men; and, pray, if this is one of the names, what may the others
be?"
"There's only one other that I know of--the Rose of Oregon. But come,
it's not fair of you to screw my secrets out o' me when I'm only half
awake; and you haven't yet told me where Paul Bevan is."
"I'll tell you that when I see you busy with this pork pie," returned
the Rose. "I made it myself, so you ought to find it good. Be quick,
for I have work for you to do, and there is no time to lose. Content
yourself with a cold breakfast for once."
"Humph! as if I hadn't contented myself with a cold breakfast at any
time. Well, it _is_ a good pie. Now--about Paul?"
"He has gone away with Mr Westly and Flinders to search for Mr
Brixton."
"What! without _me_?" exclaimed Tolly, overturning his chair as he
started up and pushed his plate from him.
"Yes, without you, Tolly; I advised him not to awake you."
"It's the unkindest thing you've ever done to me," returned the boy,
scarcely able to restrain his tears at the disappointment. "How can
they know where to search for him without me to guide them? Why didn't
you let them waken me!"
"You forget, Tolly, that my father knows every inch of these woods and
plains for at least fifty miles round the old house they have blown up;
and, as to waking you, it would have been next to impossible to have
done so, you were so tired, and you would have been quite unable to keep
your eyes open. Besides, I had a little plan of my own which I want you
to help me to carry out. Go on with your breakfast and I'll explain."
The boy sat down to his meal again without speaking, but with a look of
much curiosity on his expressive face.
"You know, without my telling you," continued Betty, "that I, like my
father, have a considerable knowledge of this part of the country, and
of the ways of Indians and miners, and from what you have told me,
coupled with what father has said, I think it likely that the Indians
have carried poor T---Mr Brixton, I mean--through the Long Gap rather
than by the plains--"
"So _I_ would have said, had they consulted _me_," interrupted the boy,
with an offended air.
"Well, but," continued Betty, "they would neither have consulted you nor
me, for father has a very decided will, you know, and a belief in his
own judgment--which is quite right of course, only I cannot help
differing from him on this occasion--"
"No more can I," growled Tolly, thrusting his fork into the pie at a
tempting piece of pork.
"So, you see, I'm going to take the big horse you brought here and ride
round by the Long Gap to see if I'm right, and I want you to go with me
on the pony and take care of me."
Tolly Trevor felt his heart swell with gratification at the idea of his
being the chosen protector of the Rose of Oregon--the Beautiful Nugget;
selected by herself, too. Nevertheless his good sense partially subdued
his vanity on the point.
"But, I say," he remarked, looking up with a half-serious expression,
"d'you think that you and I are a sufficient party to make a good fight
if we are attacked by Redskins? You know your father will hold me
responsible, for carrying you off into the midst of danger in this
fashion."
"I don't mean to fight at all," returned Betty, with a pleasant laugh,
"and I will free you from all responsibility; so, have done, now, and
come along."
"It's _so_ good," said Tolly, looking as though he were loath to quit
the pork pie; "but, come, I'm your man! Only don't you think it would
be as well to get up a good fighting party among the young miners to go
with us? They'd only be too happy to take service under the Beautiful
Nugget, you know."
"Tolly," exclaimed the Nugget, with more than her wonted firmness, "if
you are to take service under _me_ you must learn to obey without
question. Now, go and saddle the horses. The big one for me, the pony
for yourself. Put the saddle-bags on the horse, and be quick."
There was a tone and manner about the usually quiet and gentle girl
which surprised and quite overawed little Trevor, so that he was reduced
at once to an obedient and willing slave. Indeed he was rather glad
than otherwise that Betty had declined to listen to his suggestion about
the army of young diggers--which an honest doubt as to his own capacity
to fight and conquer all who might chance to come in his way had induced
him to make--while he was by no means unwilling to undertake,
singlehanded, any duties his fair conductor should require of him.
In a few minutes, therefore, the steeds were brought round to the door
of the tent, where Betty already stood equipped for the journey.
Our fair readers will not, we trust, be prejudiced against the Rose of
Oregon when we inform them that she had adopted man's attitude in
riding. Her costume was arranged very much after the pattern of the
Indian women's dress--namely, a close-fitting body, a short woollen
skirt reaching a little below the knees, and blue cloth leggings in
continuation. These latter were elegantly wrought with coloured silk
thread, and the pair of moccasins which covered her small feet were
similarly ornamented. A little cloth cap, in shape resembling that of a
cavalry foraging cap, but without ornaments, graced her head, from
beneath which her wavy hair tumbled in luxuriant curls on her shoulders,
and, as Tolly was wont to remark, looked after itself anyhow. Such a
costume was well adapted to the masculine position on horseback, as well
as to the conditions of a land in which no roads, but much underwood,
existed.
Bevan's tent having been pitched near the outskirts of Simpson's Camp,
the maiden and her gallant protector had no difficulty in quitting it
unobserved. Riding slowly at first, to avoid attracting attention as
well as to pick their steps more easily over the somewhat rugged ground
near the camp, they soon reached the edge of an extensive plain, at the
extremity of which a thin purple line indicated a range of hills. Here
Tolly Trevor, unable to restrain his joy at the prospect of adventure
before him, uttered a war-whoop, brought his switch down smartly on the
pony's flank, and shot away over the plain like a wild creature. The
air was bracing, the prospect was fair, the sunshine was bright. No
wonder that the obedient pony, forgetting for the moment the fatigues of
the past, and strong in the enjoyment of the previous night's rest and
supper, went over the ground at a pace that harmonised with its young
rider's excitement; and no wonder that the obstinate horse was inclined
to emulate the pony, and stretched its long legs into a wild gallop,
encouraged thereto by the Rose on its back.
The gallop was ere long pressed to racing speed, and there is no saying
when the young pair would have pulled up--had they not met with a sudden
check by the pony putting his foot into a badger-hole. The result was
frightful to witness, though trifling in result. The pony went heels
over head upon the plain like a rolling wheel, and its rider shot into
the air like a stone from a catapult. Describing a magnificent curve,
and coming down head foremost, Tolly would then and there have ended his
career if he had not fortunately dropped into a thick bush, which broke
his fall instead of his neck, and saved him. Indeed, excepting several
ugly scratches, he was none the worse for the misadventure.
Poor horrified Betty attempted to pull up, but the obstinate horse had
got the bit in his teeth and declined, so that when Tolly had scrambled
out of the bush she was barely visible in the far distance, heading
towards the blue hills.
"Hallo!" was her protector's anxious remark as he gazed at the flying
fair one. Then, without another word, he leaped on the pony and went
after her at full speed, quite regardless of recent experience.
The blue hills had become green hills, and the Long Gap was almost
reached, before the obstinate horse suffered itself to be reined in--
probably because it was getting tired. Soon afterwards the pony came
panting up.
"You're not hurt, I hope?" said Betty, anxiously, as Tolly came
alongside.
"Oh no. All right," replied the boy; "but I say what a run you have
given me! Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Ask that of the horse, Tolly."
"What! Did he bolt with you?"
"Truly he did. I never before rode such a stubborn brute. My efforts
to check it were useless, as it had the bit in its teeth, and I did my
best, for I was terribly anxious about you, and cannot imagine how you
escaped a broken neck after such a flight."
"It was the bush that saved me, Betty. But, I say, we seem to be
nearing a wildish sort of place."
"Yes; this is the Long Gap," returned the girl, flinging back her curls
and looking round. "It cuts right through the range here, and becomes
much wilder and more difficult to traverse on horseback farther on."
"And what d'ye mean to do, Betty?" inquired the boy as they rode at a
foot-pace towards the opening, which seemed like a dark portal to the
hills. "Suppose you discover that the Redskins _have_ carried Tom
Brixton off in this direction, what then? You and I won't be able to
rescue him, you know."
"True, Tolly. If I find that they have taken him this way I will ride
straight to father's encampment--he told me before starting where he
intends to sleep to-night, so I shall easily find him--tell him what we
have discovered and lead him back here."
"And suppose you don't find that the Redskins have come this way,"
rejoined Tolly, after a doubtful shake of his head, "what then?"
"Why, then, I shall return to our tent and leave father and Mr Westly
to hunt them down."
"And suppose," continued Tolly--but Tolly never finished the
supposition, for at that moment two painted Indians sprang from the
bushes on either side of the narrow track, and, almost before the riders
could realise what had happened, the boy found himself on his back with
a savage hand at his throat and the girl found herself on the ground
with the hand of a grinning savage on her shoulder.
Tolly Trevor struggled manfully, but alas! also boyishly, for though his
spirit was strong his bodily strength was small--at least, as compared
with that of the savage who held him. Yes, Tolly struggled like a hero.
He beheld the Rose of Oregon taken captive, and his blood boiled! He
bit, he kicked, he scratched, and he hissed with indignation--but it
would not do.
"Oh, if you'd only let me up and give me _one_ chance!" he gasped.
But the red man did not consent--indeed, he did not understand.
Nevertheless, it was obvious that the savage was not vindictive, for
although Tolly's teeth and fists and toes and nails had wrought him some
damage, he neither stabbed nor scalped the boy. He only choked him into
a state of semi-unconsciousness, and then, turning him on his face, tied
his hands behind his back with a deerskin thong.
Meanwhile the other savage busied himself in examining the saddle-bags
of the obstinate horse. He did not appear to think it worth while to
tie the hands of Betty! During the short scuffle between his comrade
and the boy he had held her fast, because she manifested an intention to
run to the rescue. When that was ended he relieved her of the weapons
she carried and let her go, satisfied, no doubt that, if she attempted
to run away, he could easily overtake her, and if she were to attempt
anything else he could restrain her.
When, however, Betty saw that Tolly's antagonist meant no harm, she
wisely attempted nothing, but sat down on a fallen tree to await the
issue. The savages did not keep her long in suspense. Tolly's foe,
having bound him, lifted him on the back of the pony, and then, taking
the bridle, quietly led it away. At the same time the other savage
assisted Betty to remount the horse, and, grasping the bridle of that
obstinate creature, followed his comrade. The whole thing was so
sudden, so violent, and the result so decisive, that the boy looked back
at Betty and burst into a half-hysterical fit of laughter, but the girl
did not respond.
"It's a serious business, Tolly!" she said.
"So it is, Betty," he replied.
Then, pursing his little mouth, and gathering his eyebrows into a frown,
he gave himself up to meditation, while the Indians conducted them into
the dark recesses of the Long Gap.