The Shadow's Great Effort
The grinding rush of the wheels in the sand had scarcely died away when
the Shadow appeared ready for his journey. He carried a water-bag in his
hand, and his meagre commissariat outfit was tied up in a glazed cloth
slung over his shoulder. He was not impeded by a superabundance of
garments; a torn shirt flung open at the neck, a much frayed soft hat
turned down all around the brim to keep the scorching sun from his eyes,
and a light pair of much-worn khaki pants, held in position by a narrow
belt, completed his sartorial glory. His sockless feet were thrust
loosely into shoes that had, by their appearance, seen considerable
service; he had chosen them because of their once heavy soles being
ground down to comparative lightness. He waited impatiently while Mackay
drew out a rough sketch of the mines and their position, which was to
give the Warden the necessary information for registration.
"And mind, Shadow," said Mackay, handing him the paper amid an
impressive silence, "ye must steer in by the south; it will mean a
longer journey, but if you don't go wide o' Macguire to the extent o'
five miles or so, he's bound to see you, and you could never hope to get
in afore him then."
The Shadow tucked the note carefully away in a lurking corner of his
flowing shirt.
"You leave the circus to me, an' don't worry," he said, with a grin.
"Ta, ta, boys, I'm off. How's this for the Flying Dutchman?" He set his
face to the west and dashed away into the desert at an odd uneven trot.
"He can't keep that up, surely?" said Bob, watching the runner in
astonishment.
"I'll bet he jig-jogs like that all day," said Emu Bill. "He's got the
real bushman's style o' gettin' over ground, he has."
Mackay watched the fleeing figure doubtfully for a time, then a
satisfied look lit up his face as he noted the unerring course the
Shadow was making.
"He'll hit the township straight as a die," said he. "That ugly sinner,
Macguire, was heading too far to north'ard or I'm very much mistaken."
Macguire's associates at the end of the Flat were now observed to be in
a state of considerable confusion. They could not fail to realize that
the mission had been dispatched for one purpose, and they glared after
the disappearing messenger with anger and dismay on their hardened
countenances.
"Keep an eye on them, boys," warned Mackay. "We'll soon know whether we
were richt in our ideas."
He walked back to the tent with Bob, and when they arrived there two of
the suspected gang approached apparently in deep sorrow.
"Why didn't you give your message to Hawkins?" said one. "Though he's
driving Macguire, he'd have done anything you wanted in the township. We
doesn't bear no grudge, we don't."
"The fact is, we don't trust you worth a cent," answered Mackay,
shortly.
At this stage Emu Bill hurried up in a state of some perturbation.
Wholly ignoring the presence of the innocent twain, he burst out--
"There's wan o' them cusses just dodged into the bush carrying a saddle
an' bridle!"
At this the protesting pair seemed to realize that their cunning ruse
was up.
"An' ye can bet," cried the one who had not yet spoken, "that Harkins'll
catch up on the boss afore sundown, an' they'll be in Kalgoorlie by
mornin'. He's goin' to ride Macguire's Furious, he is," he snarled
triumphantly.
He hopped out of the way just in time to avoid being gripped in the
clutches of the man he so wholesomely dreaded; but his neighbour was not
quite so alert, and, as he turned to run, a well-directed kick lent
impetus to his flight.
"I suppose the skunks'll beat us, after all," said Mackay, grimly,
"Their horse bells are sounding quite close. Where's Jack?"
Emu Bill grinned. "I think the young'un anticipated you, Mac," said he.
"He vanished into the bush when he noticed the cuss walking off wi' the
saddle."
"If he can unhitch the bells and drive the horses north a bit, it'll
take friend Harkins a day to find them," grunted Mackay, in great good
humour.
"You can rely on Jack," said Bob, decisively; and just then a confused
jangling of the horse bells rang out, followed by an absolute stillness.
A few moments later the crackling of the bush in the far distance, and
the thudding of many hoofs in the sand, intimated that Jack knew his
work to the letter.
"By thunder!" roared Emu Bill, excitedly. "The youngster has taken off
their hobbles."
So it turned out. Jack had grasped the situation at once when he saw the
man slink off with saddle and bridle in the direction of the horses. His
intuitive powers were wonderfully bright, and his actions followed
quickly on his thoughts.
"I've got to get there first," he muttered to himself, as he dashed
impetuously through the bush.
He found the horses clustered together under the shade of a coolibah
tree. Poor animals, their owners had hobbled their forefeet very tightly
in order to keep them from straying far, and after vainly trying to find
some edible substance amid the inhospitable sands, they huddled together
in a piteous group, and bit nervously at the parched eucalyptus twigs
over their heads. It was a country for camels only--these wiry brutes
can eat anything; but for horses it was a barren wilderness. Jack had no
difficulty in approaching them, and he quickly undid their bell straps
and flung the noisy tell-tales on the ground, but when he attempted to
drive the tired creatures they simply would not move, their hobble
straps were too closely fixed to allow of them even making much of an
effort. There was little time for delay, already the confident whistle
of Harkins sounded perilously near. Jack would have no half measures,
unhesitatingly he undid the binding thongs, and at once the entire mob
with wild neighs galloped off.
"As Mackay would say, it won't be judicious for me to wait here long,"
the wily youth soliloquized. "Let me see, the sun was on my right hand
when I left camp; that means I've got to keep it on my left now." And
he vanished speedily, missing Harkins, the horse hunter, by but a few
yards. His welcome when he returned was hearty in the extreme.
Nuggety Dick laughed uproariously. "Why, look at the brutes," said he,
pointing westward across the plain where the still galloping horses were
visible. "They're right off home, they are. Blow me tight, Jack, I'll
give you one of my best nuggets for that when the battery comes along."
Mackay's tribute was characteristic. "Your power o' observation is
developing real well, my laddie," he said, "an' your calculative
propensities are grand. It's a great thing to hae the gift o'
initiative, Jack. You see, if you had waited to tell me about your plan,
it would hae been too late to act on it. I'll gie ye a tootle on the
flute for that the nicht, I will." And Jack felt more than amply repaid
for his adventure.
Ere long the weary Harkins returned to his associates, still carrying
the saddle and bridle, and feeling very wroth indeed. The disgust and
chagrin of the checkmated crew was full and deep, and they sulked in
their tent all day, nor once again ventured to approach their smiling
neighbours.
And all this time the happy-go-lucky Shadow was plugging along over the
thirsty desert sands, looking neither to the right nor left, yet
instinctively steering a straight course for his goal beyond the distant
horizon. Mile after mile he traversed with dogged determination, nor did
he once falter in his peculiar ambling gait. And the sun rose high in
the heavens, and the burning rays smote fiercely on the crown of the
Shadow's dilapidated hat, while the roasting sands scorched through his
flimsy shoes. Yet still he never halted.
"I'll show them what I kin do," he repeated to himself as he ran, with
savage joy. "I'll show them that the knockabout, hard-up,
down-on-his-uppers Shadow can keep his end up wi' any one." Then the
finer trait would show itself in his musings. "It's Mackay's last rise.
I knows he is all broke up since Bentley went under, an' he's been good
to me. Hang it! I must get in before that cross-eyed, lop-eared bully,"
and his lithe body would spring forward with renewed energy. A long pull
at the water-bag, and a hasty bite at the unpalatable damper he carried
in his little wallet, delayed him scarce five minutes. But when,
crossing a dry gully, a long sand snake wriggled across his path, he
could not resist the temptation of slaying it. "There's two things I
never sees use for in this world," he ruminated, as he set down to work
again, "an' these is snakes an' muskitties. I wonder what old Noah meant
by putting them in the ark.... I must have covered 'bout thirty miles by
now. I wonder if I kin keep it up all night, an'--an' I wonder if my
boots'll hold out."
At sundown he halted to fix his bearings afresh. "I'm afraid I is
gettin' too far north," said he, "an' Mackay warned me to keep to
south'ard. I'd better wait till the Cross gets up. I feel sort o' bushed
without the sun, an' them hanged little stars never seem to be in the
same place. No, I'd be safer to sit tight an' wait for the Cross." He
had another drink from the water-bag, and munched contentedly at his
hard damper for a while; then his head began to nod drowsily, and in a
few moments the Shadow was fast asleep in the sand, his face upturned
to the myriad stars which now began to twinkle in the sky.
How long he slept he knew not, but he awoke with a start, vaguely
conscious of some disturbing element in the air. The Southern Cross
shone radiantly far over the horizon, and the constellation of Orion
glittered placidly in the eastern sky. "I ought to be kicked," said the
Shadow, in intense disgust with himself. "I calc'late it must be after
midnight now, an' I has lost four hours; bother my sleepy old hide." He
arose wearily, and gripped the precious water-bag, but he was no sooner
on his feet than he dropped again with alacrity, and lay flat on the
sand, the muffled sound of hoof-beats had reached his ear, and coming in
his direction.
"I'm a gone coon if they see me," he murmured. "Why in blazes didn't I
keep further to the south?" The Shadow did not doubt for a moment that
it was Macguire and his buggy which was approaching. "The miserable
sweep must have camped to give the horses a spell," he reasoned with
sinking heart. Nearer and nearer came the ghost-like echoes, then
suddenly they stopped, and a plaintive whinny rang out through the
night. It was answered by another, and yet another, but no sound of
voices came to the eager listener's ears. "That is mighty strange,"
thought he. "Macguire should be cursing like a bullock-driver by now. I
wonder what's happened?" He raised himself cautiously on hands and knees
and peered into the eerie gloom, and as he gazed, half a dozen or so
riderless horses came forward at a gentle trot. "Brumbies!" grunted the
Shadow. "Wo-ah, my beauties!" To his surprise they halted, and whinnied
feebly, and the Shadow continued addressing endearing words to them
while he cautiously struggled to his feet. They were not brumbies, that
was certain, or they would have shied off in affright at once; but the
weary youth was not long in discovering what they were, and a chuckle of
huge delight issued from his lips as he at last got his hand on the mane
of one of his midnight visitors, and patted its trembling nostrils.
Indeed he could scarcely contain himself, so deep was the joy he felt;
he wanted to roll over in the sand and howl in his ecstasy, but he could
not very well do that and still keep a grip of his charger's mane, so he
contented himself by indulging in a running commentary on his
extraordinary luck while he quickly unslipped the thin belt from his
waist and deftly insinuated the same into the wondering animal's mouth.
"I wonder how they managed to break their hobbles," said he. Then a
light seemed to dawn on him. "I'll swear Mackay had something to do wi'
it. Or Jack--Jack's got some savvy, he has. The animals was goin'
straight home, they was. Well, I reckon Macguire's Furious will carry
the poor weary blown-out Shadow, whether he wants to or no."
To his annoyance his improvised bridle proved too short to join over the
high arched neck of the commandeered steed, and with a rueful sigh the
resourceful lad proceeded to rip off the sleeves of his shirt and cut
them into ribbons. This operation was conducted under great
difficulties, for Furious now seemed to regret his former weakness, and
was making strenuous efforts to justify its name. He plunged and reared
and kicked viciously, with the result that he startled the other horses
into flight. Then ensued a tug of war; in vain the frantic horse strove
to follow its neighbours; the Shadow's grip on the leathern thongs was
vice-like in its tenacity. Round and round they struggled, but the odd
bridle held fast, and at length the fiery steed was brought to a
standstill. In a trice a thick stranded cord of shirt ribbons was added
to the novel reins, then with a whoop of triumph the daring youngster
leaped to Furious's back and clutched like a limpet.
To ride an intractable horse, bareback, is at no time a very easy
matter, and to ride a noted buckjumper like Furious with a makeshift
bridle and no saddle was a feat which few of the finest horsemen in
Australia would have cared to attempt. But lightly recked the Shadow of
disaster. Born and brought up on a far back station in Victoria, he had
been accustomed to horses since his childhood, and no more daring rider
could be found throughout the length and breadth of the land. Down went
Furious's head between his knees, and his high back curved convulsively,
as he strove by all his fiery tactics to rid himself of his encumbrance.
But the Shadow rocked easily in his perch throughout it all; then,
suddenly asserting the mastery, he took his battered hat from his head,
and with it smote the beast lightly across the ears. For a moment the
infuriated animal stood stock still, trembling in every fibre, then,
with a snort of rage, he stretched out his long neck and, like an arrow
from the bow, darted off across the desert, taking the interposing
gullies at a leap, and crashing through narrow timber belts like a thing
possessed. The Shadow did not once attempt to break its headlong pace,
he knew the weakness of his bridle too well for that; gently,
insidiously, he tightened the pressure on the off rein and brought his
charger round on to the course he wished to go.
"Now I reckon I'm on the rails all right," he said at length, when the
Southern Cross shone brightly on his left, and slightly behind; "but
blow me for a cross-eyed jackass if I haven't forgotten the water-bag!"
His annoyance at this neglect was keen, though he did not seem to
consider that he could not have carried it with him in any case, both of
his hands having been very much occupied at the start in controlling his
unwilling mount. They had cleared the softer desert country now, and had
entered upon the hard-baked, ironshot plains which frequently intervene
in these latitudes, and now Furious showed signs of failing in his
stride, his unshod hoofs were ill able to bear the pressing contact of
the rounded diorite pebbles. Then for the first time the Shadow tested
the strength of the doubtful reins, and pulled steadily and strongly.
They held firm, and the weary steed slowed down to an easy canter, and
finally to a walk.
"Whew!" ejaculated the reckless rider, mopping his damp brow. "I reckon
this one-man circus is a bit trying on the nerves. If the hanged brute
had tripped on a stump, or dived into a snag hole, it would have been
'Good-bye, Shadow, and the crows will weep for ye in the morning.' But
it's a jolly long sight better'n walkin'. Hillo, hillo! what has we
struck now? Wo-ah, my pet lamb, wo-ah."
Out of the darkness, almost straight ahead, the red glow of hot ashes
had become visible. While he watched the gentle night breezes fanned the
dying embers into feeble momentary flame, and there, silhouetted against
the blackness, was the buggy which had left Golden Flat immediately in
advance of the Shadow. The two horses were dimly observable standing
motionless and asleep among the sparse scrub some little way off, while,
wrapped in their blankets beside the fire lay the huddled figures of
Macguire and Hawkins evidently also in deep slumber. The watcher
whistled softly to himself.
"By smoke," he murmured, "them beggars must have covered fifty miles
yesterday. The howlin' sneak has been skeert o' some one comin' after.
Gee whiz! What a be-eautiful shock he'll get----"
His reflections were arrested by a sudden movement of one of the
reclining men, and the harsh voice of Macguire reached his ears as he
strove to awaken his associate.
"Get up, ye dreamin' idiot, an' see if the horses are keepin' handy. I
want to get in when the Warden's office opens in the mornin'."
A drowsy protesting murmur was all the Shadow could hear of the reply.
Then Macguire's unmusical accents were raised in angry abuse.
"Ye doesn't think we can do it?" he snarled. "But I say we shall, though
the horses drop dead when we get there. I'll show that infernal Scotsman
what it means to run up agin Macguire. We'll get a move on by sunrise,
that'll give us three hours to get in by nine o'clock."
He arose painfully to throw some brushwood on the fire, while Hawkins,
grumbling heartily, went in search of the horses. Silently the Shadow
swung Furious's head round, and made a wide detour.
"I reckon ye'll get left this time, ye yelping baboons," he muttered,
when he considered himself well out of range of the now spreading
firelight. "Ye'll move out by sunrise, will ye? I wonder what time it is
now." He surveyed the heavens intently; then his gaze rested on a star
of exceeding brilliance which had made its appearance just over the
horizon. "I calc'late that there shiner is the star Mackay called
Canopus," he said, "an' that means I've just an hour afore the old sun
pops his head up. Now, old thunder and lightning, ye bold bad quadruped,
ye hustled along fur yer own pleasure, I reckon ye can do a bit of a
spurt for mine." He leaned forward and dug his heels into Furious's
flanks; with a bound the noble animal started forward, and once again
the twain proceeded on their headlong course.
The stars one by one vanished from the sky, and a wonderful rosy glow
gradually enveloped the silent bushland; it heralded the approach of
dawn. And now far in the western sky the watchful rider began to
perceive the smoke of the ever active smelters near the township, and
soon the white-roofed houses of the settlement were plainly visible.
Sure enough the Shadow had steered an unerring course. He slowed down to
a walk, and looked cautiously all round. Nothing in the shape of man or
beast was observable in the near distance, but far off in the township
the little street was crowded with miners coming from and going to their
work in the shafts.
"Shadow," murmured the contemplative youth, "I reckon ye'd better get
off an' walk if ye doesn't want to get collared for horse stealing."
He prepared to slide down from his perch, but just then Furious, having
recognized his own stable so comparatively close at hand, felt imbued
with fresh energy. He pricked up his ears, gathered his feet together
for one ferocious buck, and was off like the wind. The Shadow sat in the
sand where he had been unceremoniously deposited, still gripping fast
the broken ribbons of the bridle which had served him so well, and gazed
reproachfully at the departing steed.
"Ye're a mean, ungrateful hoss," he cried after it, severely. "After me
takin' ye back to your own stable, too, an'--an' I didn't think there
was a kick left in you." Words failed him, and he gathered himself up,
and weary and sore and stiff walked slowly into the township.
It was about eight o'clock when he entered the main street which was
still an hour before the Warden's office opened; but the Shadow had no
intention of delaying his mission an instant longer than he could help.
A lively memory of Macguire's emphatically spoken resolve to arrive at
nine compelled him to adopt unusual tactics. Heedless of the strange
glances cast at him by the ultra respectable gold-mining fraternity, he
made his way to the Exchange Hotel, where, as every one knew, the Warden
was in the habit of breakfasting, and hesitating not an instant, he
entered the doorway and turned into the fashionable room reserved for
the cream of the goldfields' aristocracy.
But his dilapidated attire and general aspect was too much for the
proprietor of the establishment, for it must be remembered that the
Shadow's shirt had already been largely used in the manufacture of
bridle reins. His toes, too, were peeping from sundry crevices in his
boots, and from head to foot he was covered with the grime and dust of
his long desert journey.
"What do ye want in here, ye young scarecrow?" demanded that important
personage, laying an unfriendly grasp on his visitor's shoulder.
The Shadow sidled round, leaving another part of his unfortunate garment
in the hands of the spoiler.
"I want to see the Warden," he cried loudly, his temper considerably
ruffled, "an' I'll flatten ye out if ye try to stop me.... It's a
matter o' life an' death," he added impressively.
"I am the Warden, my lad," spoke a kindly voice from the end of the
room, "but I'm not a doctor. Let the boy come up, Jackson"--this to the
proprietor. "Good honest sand won't hurt any one, and you know water is
scarce in this drought-stricken country. Why, the man's hurt!" The
kindly official was gazing at a nasty gash on his visitor's bare arm
from which the blood was slowly trickling.
The Shadow looked and noticed his wound for the first time.
"It must have been that buster I got that did it," he reflected quickly;
"but I can't very well bring the horse into this here conversation."
Aloud he said, "Oh, that's nothin'; I tripped on a stump in the dark,
that's all."
The Warden examined the rent again closely and smiled incredulously.
"All right, young man," said he; "now fire along with your story, for I
must be over at the office in half an hour."
There was no one else in the room at the moment, so pulling Mackay's
sketch plan of the mines from its hiding-place and putting it on the
table before the Warden, he reeled off the story of the finding of
Golden Flat and the attempted jumping of the mines by Macguire and his
party. The Warden listened patiently through it all, nor did he once
interrupt the narrator.
"So that's where the redoubtable Macguire went the other day," he
commented, when the Shadow had finished. "And Mackay dished him at his
own game, did he? I tell you what, young fellow, I'd have given a fiver
to see that fight, I would."
"An' it would hiv been worth it," agreed the Shadow, complacently. "But
say, is ye goin' to make the claims right for the boys at Golden Flat?
Macguire'll be along in a minute----"
"Stop right there, my lad. You've done your mates a great service by
getting in first, for if Macguire had seen me before you I would have
had no option but to make out the leases in his name. But when you come
to me from men like Mackay, Emu Bill, and Nuggety Dick, pioneers every
one, and tell me the story you have done, I feel that my language won't
be full enough to express my feelings when I see that scoundrelly
trickster, Macguire. But come, tell me how you managed to get in ahead
of him. You know I can scarcely swallow that yarn about walking all the
way. Why, it must be close on an eighty-mile trail!"
Then the Shadow unburdened himself. "I was a bit skeert o' bein' boosted
up for horse stealin'," he explained finally, "so I climbed off the
savage critter 'bout half a mile back, an' blow me, if he didn't do a
buck at the last minute an' landed me on my back instead o' my feet. I
reckon that's how I got this here scratch."
The Warden rang a small handbell on the table, and in due course the
landlord appeared.
"Jackson, let this young man have breakfast. He's come a long way, and I
guess he needs it." Then, when the man departed, "How were you to know
they weren't brumbies?" said he, quizzically.
A noisy demonstration in the street now attracted their attention, and
looking out through the window, behold, there was Macguire's buggy
proceeding past at a walk, though the lather of foam on the horses'
heaving flanks showed at what pace they had been driven. Round the
slowly moving conveyance several men were clustered, and to them
Macguire was talking eagerly, and apparently much to their satisfaction,
for at intervals they broke into lusty cheers.
"These are some more of the loafers and deadbeats of the place," said
the Warden. "Macguire will be telling them of his new discovery. Well,
it's nearly nine o'clock, I must be off. Just sign your name across this
plan of yours; yes, that's right. Now I'll just scribble a line
underneath." He took a blue pencil from his pocket and wrote hastily,
"Handed to me, the Warden of the Eastern Goldfields District, duly
certified, at 8 a.m., August --th, 1899." This he signed. "Now, I guess
that's all right," he said cheerily, reaching for his hat, "and I don't
suppose I need tell you, young man, that some one may be thirsting for
your gore before long."
The Shadow grinned. "Let him thirst," said he. "I reckon I kin bounce
any man o' the crowd exceptin' the boss bruiser hissel', and I calc'late
Mackay's fixed him safe enough for a day or so."
The Warden departed, and the light-hearted youth attacked the breakfast
which was brought to him with the ardour borne of a long fast and an
extremely hearty appetite.
While he was thus engaged, his erstwhile enemy, in the shape of Jackson
the hotel proprietor, came in and sat down beside him.
"I say, young 'un," he began in amiable tones, "did I hear you say you
were one of Mackay's party?"
"You didn't, unless you were listening at the door," came the quick
response.
Jackson's brows contracted; but he laughed not unpleasantly.
"There's no call for you to be so mighty slick wi' your speech," he
said. "I was in the passage way, and heard you mention the name of an
old friend of mine, but I was not listening at the door. Why, Mackay
stayed with me a night when he passed through about a month or so ago.
He and I were mates in the good old roaring days."
The Shadow's face assumed an expression of grave concern.
"I climbs down, boss," said he, contritely. "I thought you might have
been trying to pump me for Macguire's benefit."
Jackson uttered an expression of deep disgust. "Why, that skunk! I
wouldn't be seen dead alongside o' him. He's the meanest, rottenest----"
The Shadow bolted the final portion of his breakfast in a hurry, and
held out a grimy paw. "Shake, boss," he said laconically. They shook;
and the now refreshed youth went once more into the history of Golden
Flat, retailing with gusto the wonderful encounter between Macguire and
Mackay. "His silly old bones cracked like pipe shanks," he concluded,
with reminiscent accurateness.
"By thunder!" ejaculated the appreciative listener, aroused to a sudden
sense of duty. "That broken-ribbed bruiser will have your life if he
sees you now. How do you mean to get back?"
"Walk," answered the Shadow, shortly.
"Walk be hanged. I'll lend you a horse; but you must look slippy an'
get away. I will come out myself an' see if I can get a decent claim
before the whole population rushes you; I can fetch the horse back when
I come." He arose hurriedly, evidently intent on seeking out a steed
right away, but at the door he stopped and looked back. "What was that
life-and-death racquet you worked on my tender feelings?" he asked
sternly.
"Dead sure thing," returned the Shadow, unabashed. "If Macguire had got
ahead o' me, Mackay would have squelched the life outen him first
chance. See?"
Jackson evidently saw, for he departed on his quest, laughing heartily.
Left to himself the Shadow carelessly walked out into the street, and as
luck would have it blundered right into the trouble his friends had been
so anxious for him to avoid. Returning from the Warden's office came
Macguire and his aide-de-camp driving furiously, and the roar of pent-up
anger which burst from the bully's lips on seeing the imperturbable
Shadow step forth from the hotel would have done credit to a full-grown
grizzly bear that had just been cheated of its supper. The buggy stopped
with a jerk, and as if by magic a motley throng crowded round.
"That's him! that's the young demon!" howled the discomfited man in a
perfect paroxysm of rage. "He stole my horse, he--he--get out and kill
the young cub, Hawkins. Get out I say!"
"If I were you I reckon I'd sit tight," advised the Shadow, serenely. "I
could pretty well squash you in one act, I could."
And Hawkins was evidently of the same opinion, for he absolutely refused
to make any movement. With a baleful glitter in his bloodshot eyes,
Macguire himself stepped down; had the great hulking brute but known
it, he was at that moment no match for his lithe and muscular adversary,
who, in his conscious strength, stood his ground unafraid. But there
came a sudden interruption from the outside of the interested crowd.
"None of that, Macguire, or I'll be forced to explain some things you
won't like."
It was a sharp authoritative warning, and it issued from the Warden who
now pushed his way to the front.
"He stole my horse," began the baulked ruffian in a voice hoarse with
suppressed passion.
"That's too thin, sir. From what I have heard, all your horses returned
home of their own accord this morning. In any case, if you have a
complaint to make, the public street is not a court house."
A suppressed cheer broke from some of the bystanders, who had no cause
to love Macguire. He scowled fiercely at them as he climbed back to his
seat.
"I'll get even with you, you young thief, when there are no interferin'
Wardens about," he cried as he drove away, glaring with impotent rage at
the object of his exceeding wrath.
The Shadow smilingly waved him a polite adieu.