What a different feel from prison air the fresh night breeze had as we
swept along a lonely outside track! The stars were out, though the sky
was cloudy now and then, and the big forest trees looked strange in
the broken light. It was so long since I'd seen any. I felt as if I was
going to a new world. None of us spoke for a bit. Jim pulled up at a
small hut by the roadside; it looked like a farm, but there was not much
show of crops or anything about the place. There was a tumble-down
old barn, with a strong door to it, and a padlock; it seemed the only
building that there was any care taken about. A man opened the door of
the hut and looked out.
'Look sharp,' says Jim. 'Is the horse all right and fit?'
'Fit enough to go for the Hawkesbury Guineas. I was up and fed him three
hours ago. He's----'
'Bring him out, and be hanged to you,' says Jim; 'we've no time for
chat.'
The man went straight to the barn, and after a minute or two brought out
a horse--the same I'd ridden from Gippsland, saddled and bridled, and
ready to jump out of his skin. Jim leaned forward and put something into
his hand, which pleased him, for he held my rein and stirrup, and then
said--
'Good luck and a long reign to you,' as we rode away.
All this time Starlight had sat on his horse in the shade of a tree a
good bit away. When we started he rode alongside of us. We were soon in
a pretty fair hand-gallop, and we kept it up. All our horses were good,
and we bowled along as if we were going to ride for a week without
stopping.
What a ride it was! It was a grand night, anyway I thought so. I blessed
the stars, I know. Mile after mile, and still the horses seemed to go
all the fresher the farther they went. I felt I could ride on that way
for ever. As the horses pulled and snorted and snatched at their bridles
I felt as happy as ever I did in my life. Mile after mile it was all the
same; we could hear Rainbow snorting from time to time and see his star
move as he tossed up his head. We had many a night ride after together,
but that was the best. We had laid it out to make for a place we knew
not so far from home. We dursn't go there straight, of course, but nigh
enough to make a dart to it whenever we had word that the coast was
clear.
We knew directly we were missed the whole countryside would be turned
out looking for us, and that every trooper within a hundred miles would
be hoping for promotion in case he was lucky enough to drop on either of
the Marstons or the notorious Starlight. His name had been pretty well
in every one's mouth before, and would be a little more before they were
done with him.
It was too far to ride to the Hollow in a day, but Jim had got a place
ready for us to keep dark in for a bit, in case we got clear off.
There's never any great trouble in us chaps finding a home for a week
or two, and somebody to help us on our way as long as we've the notes to
chuck about. All the worse in the long run. We rode hardish (some people
would have called it a hand-gallop) most of the way; up hill and down,
across the rocky creeks, through thick timber. More than one river we
had to swim. It was mountain water, and Starlight cursed and swore, and
said he would catch his death of cold. Then we all laughed; it was the
first time we'd done that since we were out. My heart was too full to
talk, much less laugh, with the thought of being out of that cursed
prison and on my own horse again, with the free bush breeze filling my
breast, and the free forest I'd lived in all my life once more around
me. I felt like a king, and as for what might come afterwards I had
no more thought than a schoolboy has of his next year's lessons at the
beginning of his holidays. It might come now. As I took the old horse by
the head and raced him down the mountain side, I felt I was living again
and might call myself a man once more.
The sun was just rising, the morning was misty and drizzling; the long
sour-grass, the branches of the scrubby trees, everything we touched and
saw was dripping with the night dew, as we rode up a 'gap' between
two stiffish hills. We had been riding all night from track to track,
sometimes steering by guesswork. Jim seemed to know the country in a
general way, and he told us father and he had been about there a good
deal lately, cattle-dealing and so on. For the last hour or so we had
been on a pretty fair beaten road, though there wasn't much traffic
on it. It was one of the old mail tracks once, but new coach lines had
knocked away all the traffic. Some of the old inns had been good big
houses, well kept and looked after then. Now lots of them were empty,
with broken windows and everything in ruins; others were just good
enough to let to people who would live in them, and make a living by
cultivating a bit and selling grog on the sly. Where we pulled up was
one of these places, and the people were just what you might expect.
First of all there was the man of the house, Jonathan Barnes, a tall,
slouching, flash-looking native; he'd been a little in the horse-racing
line, a little in the prize-fighting line--enough to have his nose
broken, and was fond of talking about 'pugs' as he'd known intimate--a
little in the farming and carrying line, a little in every line that
meant a good deal of gassing, drinking, and idling, and mighty little
hard work. He'd a decent, industrious little wife, about forty times too
good for him, and the girls, Bella and Maddie, worked well, or else he'd
have been walking about the country with a swag on his back. They kept
him and the house too, like many another man, and he took all the credit
of it, and ordered them about as if he'd been the best and straightest
man in the land. If he made a few pounds now and then he'd drop it on a
horse-race before he'd had it a week. They were glad enough to see us,
anyhow, and made us comfortable, after a fashion. Jim had brought fresh
clothes, and both of us had stopped on the road and rigged ourselves
out, so that we didn't look so queer as men just out of the jug mostly
do, with their close-shaved faces, cropped heads, and prison clothes.
Starlight had brought a false moustache with him, which he stuck on, so
that he looked as much like a swell as ever. Warrigal had handed him a
small parcel, which he brought with him, just as we started; and, with
a ring on his finger, some notes and gold in his pocket, he ate his
breakfast, and chatted away with the girls as if he'd only ridden out
for a day to have a look at the country.
Our horses were put in the stable and well looked to, you may be
sure. The man that straps a cross cove's horse don't go short of his
half-crown--two or three of them, maybe. We made a first-rate breakfast
of it; what with the cold and the wet and not being used to riding
lately, we were pretty hungry, and tired too. We intended to camp there
that day, and be off again as soon as it was dark.
Of course we ran a bit of a risk, but not as bad as we should by riding
in broad daylight. The hills on the south were wild and rangy enough,
but there were all sorts of people about on their business in the
daytime; and of course any of them would know with one look that three
men, all on well-bred horses, riding right across country and not
stopping to speak or make free with any one, were likely to be 'on the
cross'--all the more if the police were making particular inquiries
about them. We were all armed, too, now. Jim had seen to that. If we
were caught, we intended to have a flutter for it. We were not going
back to Berrima if we knew it.
So we turned in, and slept as if we were never going to wake again. We'd
had a glass of grog or two, nothing to hurt, though; and the food and
one thing and another made us sleep like tops. Jim was to keep a good
look-out, and we didn't take off our clothes. Our horses were kept
saddled, too, with the bridles on their heads, and only the bits out
of their mouths--we could have managed without the bits at a
pinch--everything ready to be out of the house in one minute, and in
saddle and off full-split the next. We were learned that trick pretty
well before things came to an end.
Besides that, Jonathan kept a good look-out, too, for strangers of the
wrong sort. It wasn't a bad place in that way. There was a long stony
track coming down to the house, and you could see a horseman or a
carriage of any kind nearly a mile off. Then, in the old times, the
timber had been cleared pretty nigh all round the place, so there was
no chance of any one sneaking up unknown to people. There couldn't have
been a better harbour for our sort, and many a jolly spree we had there
afterwards. Many a queer sight that old table in the little parlour saw
years after, and the notes and gold and watches and rings and things
I've seen the girls handling would have stunned you. But that was all to
come.
Well, about an hour before dark Jim wakes us up, and we both felt as
right as the bank. It took a good deal to knock either of us out of time
in those days. I looked round for a bit and then burst out laughing.
'What's that about, Dick?' says Jim, rather serious.
'Blest if I didn't think I was in the thundering old cell again,' I
said. 'I could have sworn I heard the bolt snap as your foot sounded in
the room.'
'Well, I hope we shan't, any of us, be shopped again for a while,' says
he, rather slow like. 'It's bad work, I'm afraid, and worse to come; but
we're in it up to our neck and must see it out. We'll have another feed
and be off at sundown. We've the devil's own ride before daylight.'
'Anybody called?' says Starlight, sauntering in, washed and dressed and
comfortable-looking. 'You told them we were not at home, Jim, I hope.'
Jim smiled in spite of himself, though he wasn't in a very gay humour.
Poor old Jim was looking ahead a bit, I expect, and didn't see anything
much to be proud of.
We had a scrumptious feed that night, beefsteaks and eggs, fresh butter
and milk, things we hadn't smelt for months. Then the girls waited
on us; a good-looking pair they was too, full of larks and fun of all
kinds, and not very particular what sort of jokes they laughed at. They
knew well enough, of course, where we'd come from, and what we laid by
all day and travelled at night for; they thought none the worse of us
for that, not they. They'd been bred up where they'd heard all kinds of
rough talk ever since they was little kiddies, and you couldn't well put
them out.
They were a bit afraid of Starlight at first, though, because they seen
at once that he was a swell. Jim they knew a little of; he and father
had called there a good deal the last season, and had done a little in
the stock line through Jonathan Barnes. They could see I was something
in the same line as Jim. So I suppose they had made it up to have a bit
of fun with us that evening before we started. They came down into the
parlour where our tea was, dressed out in their best and looking very
grand, as I thought, particularly as we hadn't seen the sight of so much
as a woman's bonnet and shawl for months and months.
'Well, Mr. Marston,' says the eldest girl, Bella, to Jim, 'we didn't
expect you'd travel this way with friends so soon. Why didn't you tell
us, and we'd have had everything comfortable?'
'Wasn't sure about it,' says Jim, 'and when you ain't it's safest to
hold your tongue. There's a good many things we all do that don't want
talking about.'
'I feel certain, Jim,' says Starlight, with his soft voice and pleasant
smile, which no woman as I ever saw could fight against long, 'that any
man's secret would be safe with Miss Bella. I would trust her with my
life freely--not that it's worth a great deal.'
'Oh! Captain,' says poor Bella, and she began to blush quite innocent
like, 'you needn't fear; there ain't a girl from Shoalhaven to Albury
that would let on which way you were heading, if they were to offer her
all the money in the country.'
'Not even a diamond necklace and earrings? Think of a lovely pendant, a
cross all brilliants, and a brooch to match, my dear girl.'
'I wouldn't “come it”, unless I could get that lovely horse of yours,'
says the youngest one, Maddie; 'but I'd do anything in the world to have
him. He's the greatest darling I ever saw. Wouldn't he look stunning
with a side-saddle? I've a great mind to “duff” him myself one of these
days.'
'You shall have a ride on Rainbow next time we come,' says Starlight.
'I've sworn never to give him away or sell him, that is as long as
I'm alive; but I'll tell you what I'll do--I'll leave him to you in my
will.'
'How do you mean?' says she, quite excited like.
'Why, if I drop one of these fine days--and it's on the cards any
time--you shall have Rainbow; but, mind now, you're to promise me'--here
he looked very grave--'that you'll neither sell him, nor lend him, nor
give him away as long as you live.'
'Oh! you don't mean it,' says the girl, jumping up and clapping her
hands; 'I'd sooner have him than anything I ever saw in the world. Oh!
I'll take such care of him. I'll feed him and rub him over myself; only
I forgot, I'm not to have him before you're dead. It's rather rough on
you, isn't it?'
'Not a bit,' says Starlight; 'we must all go when our time comes. If
anything happens to me soon he'll be young enough to carry you for years
yet. And you'll win all the ladies' hackney prizes at the shows.'
'Oh! I couldn't take him.'
'But you must now. I've promised him to you, and though I am a--well--an
indifferent character, I never go back on my word.'
'Haven't you anything to give me, Captain?' says Bella; 'you're in such
a generous mind.'
'I must bring you something,' says he, 'next time we call. What shall it
be? Now's the time to ask. I'm like the fellow in the “Arabian Nights”,
the slave of the ring--your ring.' Here he took the girl's hand, and
pretending to look at a ring she wore took it up and kissed it. It
wasn't a very ugly one neither. 'What will you have, Bella?'
'I'd like a watch and chain,' she said, pretending to look a little
offended. 'I suppose I may as well ask for a good thing at once.'
Starlight pulled out a pocket-book, and, quite solemn and regular, made
a note of it.
'It's yours,' he said, 'within a month. If I cannot conveniently call
and present it in person, I'll send it by a sure hand, as they used to
say; and now, Jim, boot and saddle.'
The horses were out by this time; the groom was walking Rainbow up and
down; he'd put a regular French-polish on his coat, and the old horse
was arching his neck and chawing his bit as if he thought he was going
to start for the Bargo Town Plate. Jonathan himself was holding our two
horses, but looking at him.
'My word!' he said, 'that's a real picture of a horse; he's too good for
a--well--these roads; he ought to be in Sydney carrying some swell about
and never knowing what a day's hardship feels like. Isn't he a regular
out-and-outer to look at? And they tell me his looks is about the worst
of him. Well--here's luck!' Starlight had called for drinks all round
before we started. 'Here's luck to roads and coaches, and them as lives
by 'em. They'll miss the old coaching system some day--mark my word.
I don't hold with these railways they're talkin' about--all steam and
hurry-scurry; it starves the country.'
'Quite right, Jonathan,' says Starlight, throwing his leg over Rainbow,
and chucking the old groom a sovereign. 'The times have never been half
as good as in the old coaching days, before we ever smelt a funnel in
New South Wales. But there's a coach or two left yet, isn't there? and
sometimes they're worth attending to.'
He bowed and smiled to the girls, and Rainbow sailed off with his
beautiful easy, springy stride. He always put me in mind of the deer I
once saw at Mulgoa, near Penrith; I'd never seen any before. My word!
how one of them sailed over a farmer's wheat paddock fence. He'd been in
there all night, and when he saw us coming he just up and made for the
fence, and flew it like a bird. I never saw any horse have the same
action, only Rainbow. You couldn't tire him, and he was just the
same the end of the day as the beginning. If he hadn't fallen into
Starlight's hands as a colt he'd have been a second-class racehorse, and
wore out his life among touts and ringmen. He was better where he was.
Off we went; what a ride we had that night! Just as well we'd fed and
rested before we started, else we should never have held out. All
that night long we had to go, and keep going. A deal of the road was
rough--near the Shoalhaven country, across awful deep gullies with
a regular climb-up the other side, like the side of a house. Through
dismal ironbark forests that looked as black by night as if all the
tree-trunks were cast-iron and the leaves gun-metal. The night wasn't as
dark as it might have been, but now and again there was a storm, and the
whole sky turned as black as a wolf's throat, as father used to say. We
got a few knocks and scrapes against the trees, but, partly through the
horses being pretty clever in their kind of way, and having sharpish
eyesight of our own, we pulled through. It's no use talking, sometimes
I thought Jim must lose his way. Starlight told us he'd made up his mind
that we were going round and round, and would fetch up about where we'd
started from, and find the Moss Vale police waiting there for us.
'All right, Captain,' says Jim; 'don't you flurry yourself. I've been
along this track pretty often this last few months, and I can steer by
the stars. Look at the Southern Cross there; you keep him somewhere on
the right shoulder, and you'll pull up not so very far off that black
range above old Rocky Flat.'
'You're not going to be so mad as to call at your own place, Jim, are
you?' says he. 'Goring's sure to have a greyhound or two ready to slip
in case the hare makes for her old form.'
'Trust old dad for that,' says Jim; 'he knows Dick and you are on the
grass again. He'll meet us before we get to the place and have fresh
horses. I'll bet he's got a chap or two that he can trust to smell out
the traps if they are close handy the old spot. They'll be mighty clever
if they get on the blind side of father.'
'Well, we must chance it, I suppose,' I said; 'but we were sold once,
and I've not much fancy for going back again.'
'They're all looking for you the other way this blessed minute, I'll go
bail,' says Jim. 'Most of the coves that bolt from Berrima takes down
the southern road to get across the border into Port Philip as soon as
they can work it. They always fancy they are safer there.'
'So they are in some ways; I wouldn't mind if we were back there again,'
I said. 'There's worse places than Melbourne; but once we get to the
Hollow, and that'll be some time to-day, we may take it easy and spell
for a week or two. How they'll wonder what the deuce has become of us.'
The night was long, and that cold that Jim's beard was froze as stiff
as a board; but I sat on my horse, I declare to heaven, and never felt
anything but pleasure and comfort to think I was loose again. You've
seen a dog that's been chained up. Well, when he's let loose, don't he
go chevying and racing about over everything and into everything that's
next or anigh him? He'll jump into water or over a fence, and turn aside
for nothing. He's mad with joy and the feeling of being off the chain;
he can't hardly keep from barking till he's hoarse, and rushing through
and over everything till he's winded and done up. Then he lies down with
his tongue out and considers it all over.
Well a man's just like that when he's been on the chain. He mayn't
jump about so much, though I've seen foreign fellows do that when their
collar was unbuckled; but he feels the very same things in his heart as
that dog does, you take my word for it.
So, as I said, though I was sitting on a horse all that long cold
winter's night through, and had to mind my eye a bit for the road and
the rocks and the hanging branches, I felt my heart swell that much and
my courage rise that I didn't care whether the night was going to turn
into a snowstorm like we'd been in Kiandra way, or whether we'd have
a dozen rivers to swim, like the head-waters of the M'Alister, in
Gippsland, as nearly drowned the pair of us. There I sat in my saddle
like a man in a dream, lettin' my horse follow Jim's up hill and down
dale, and half the time lettin' go his head and givin' him his own road.
Everything, too, I seemed to notice and to be pleased with somehow.
Sometimes it was a rock wallaby out on the feed that we'd come close
on before we saw one another, and it would jump away almost under the
horse's neck, taking two or three awful long springs and lighting square
and level among the rocks after a drop-leap of a dozen feet, like a cat
jumping out of a window. But the cat's got four legs to balance on and
the kangaroo only two. How they manage it and measure the distance
so well, God only knows. Then an old 'possum would sing out, or a
black-furred flying squirrel--pongos, the blacks call 'em--would come
sailing down from the top of an ironbark tree, with all his stern sails
spread, as the sailors say, and into the branches of another, looking
as big as an eagle-hawk. And then we'd come round the corner of a little
creek flat and be into the middle of a mob of wild horses that had come
down from the mountain to feed at night. How they'd scurry off through
the scrub and up the range, where it was like the side of a house, and
that full of slate-bars all upon edge that you could smell the hoofs of
the brumbies as the sharp stones rasped and tore and struck sparks out
of them like you do the parings in a blacksmith's shop.
Then, just as I thought daybreak was near, a great mopoke flits close
over our heads without any rustling or noise, like the ghost of a
bird, and begins to hoot in a big, bare, hollow tree just ahead of us.
Hoo-hoo! hoo-hoo! The last time I heard it, it made me shiver a bit. Now
I didn't care. I was a desperate man that had done bad things, and was
likely to do worse. But I was free of the forest again, and had a good
horse under me; so I laughed at the bird and rode on.