HOW I FIRST LEARNED MY LOVE FOR SHEILAH
It was the morning of my eighteenth birthday, and, to celebrate it,
Sheilah and I had long before made up our minds to ride to, and spend
the day at, the Blackfellow's Cave--a large natural cavern in the
mountains, some fifteen or sixteen miles distant from the township. It
was one of our favourite jaunts, and according to custom we arranged to
start early.
For this reason, as soon as light was in the sky, I was astir, took a
plunge in the creek, and then ran down to the paddock and caught the
horse I intended riding that day--a fine, well set-up thoroughbred of
our own breeding. And, by the same token, there were no horses like ours
in the district, either for looks, pace, stamina, or pedigree. What my
father did not know about horse and cattle breeding no man in the length
and breadth of Australia could teach him. And a good bushman he was
too, for all his scholarly ways and habits, a first-class rider, and
second to none in his work among the beasts in the stockyard. All I know
myself I learnt from him, and I should be less than grateful if I were
above owning it. But that has nothing to do with my story. Having caught
my horse, I took him up to the stable and put a first-class polish on
him with the brush, then, fastening him up to the bough-shade to be
ready when I wanted him, hurried in to my breakfast. When I entered the
room my father was already seated at the table. He received me after his
usual fashion, which was to look me up and down, smile in a way that was
quite his own, and then, with a heavy sigh, return to his reading as if
it were a matter of pain to him to have anything at all to do with me.
When we were half through the meal he glanced up from his book, and
said,--
'As soon as you've done your breakfast, you'd better be off and muster
Kidgeree paddock. If you come across Bates's bull bring him in with you
and let him remain in the yard until I see him.'
This was not at all what I had looked forward to on my birthday, so I
said,--
'I can't muster to-day. It's my birthday, and I'm going out.'
He stared at me for nearly a minute without speaking, and then said with
a sneer,--
'I'm sure I very much regret that I should have inadvertently interfered
with your arrangements. Miss McLeod accompanies you, of course!'
'I am going out with Sheilah! Yes!'
Again he was silent for a few moments--then he looked up once more.
'As it is your birthday of course you consider you have an excuse for
laziness. Well, I suppose you must go, but if you should chance to
honour the father with your society you might point out to him that, on
two occasions this week, his sheep have been on my frontage.'
'It's our own fault; we should mend our boundary.'
'Indeed! And pray how long have you been clear-headed enough to see
that?'
'Anyone could see it. It's not fair to blame Mr McLeod for what is not
his fault.'
'Dear me! This perspicuity is really most pleasing. An unexpected Daniel
come to judgment, I declare. Well, at anyrate, I'll give you a note to
take to the snuffling old hound and in it I'll tell him that the next
beast of his I catch on my property I'll shoot. That's a fair warning.
You can come in for it when you are starting.'
'I shall not take it.'
'Indeed! I am sorry to hear that. Your civility is evidently on a par
with your industry.'
Then, seeing that I had risen, he bowed ironically, and wished me a
'very good morning.'
I did not answer, but marched out of the room, my cheeks flushed with
passion. Nothing, I knew, gave him greater pleasure than to let him see
that he had hurt me, and yet, do what I would, I could not prevent
myself from showing it.
Having passed through the house, I went into the kitchen to obtain from
Betty, who still constituted the female element of our household, some
provender for the day. This obtained, I saddled my horse, strapped a
quart pot on to my saddle, mounted, and rode off. As I passed the front
of the house I heard my father call to me to stop, but I did not heed
him, and rode on down the track to the ford, thence, through the
township, to McLeod's selection.
And now a few words about the latter's homestead--the house which has
played such a prominent part in my life's drama. I think I have already
told you that it stood on the top of a small rise about a quarter of a
mile above the river and looked right up the valley over the township
roofs, just in the opposite direction to ours. In the twelve years that
McLeod had lived there he had added considerably to it--a room here and
there--till it had grown into a rambling, disconnected, but charming,
old place, overgrown with creepers, and nestling in a perfect jungle of
peppermint trees, gums, oranges and bamboos. The stockyard, for the
selection carried about five hundred cattle and a couple of thousand
sheep, was located at the back, with the stables and Sheilah's
poultry-yard; and it had always been one of my greatest pleasures to be
allowed to go down and give the old man a hand with his mustering or
branding; to help Sheilah run up the milkers, or to hunt for eggs in the
scrub with her when the hens escaped and laid outside.
Reaching the slip panels I jumped off and tied my horse to the fence;
then went up the shady path towards the house. Bless me! how the memory
of that morning comes back as I sit talking now. The hot sun, for it was
the middle of summer, was streaming through the foliage and dancing on
the path; there was the creeper-covered verandah, with its chairs and
old-fashioned sofa inviting one to make oneself at home, and, last but
not least, there was Sheilah standing waiting for me, dressed in her
dark green habit and wearing a big straw hat upon her pretty head.
'You're late, Jim,' she said, for, however much she might spoil me,
Sheilah always made a point of telling me my faults, 'I've been waiting
for you nearly half-an-hour.'
'I'm sorry, Sheilah,' I answered. 'I could not get away as soon as I
expected.'
I did not tell her what had really made me so late; for somehow, even if
I did think badly of my father myself, I had no wish that other people
should do so too.
'But I am forgetting,' she continued, 'I ought first to have wished you
many happy returns of the day, dear old Jim, and have scolded you
afterwards.'
'Somehow I never seem to take offence however much you scold, Sheilah,'
I said, as we left the verandah and went round by the neat path to the
stables.
'Then it's not much use my trying to do you any good, is it?' she
answered with a little laugh.
We found her pretty bay pony standing waiting at the rails, and when
she was ready I swung her up into the saddle like a bird. Then mounting
my own horse, off we went down the track, through the wattle scrub,
across the little bubbling creek that joined the big river a bit below
the township, and finally away through the Mulga towards the mountains
and the Blackfellow's Cave.
It was a breathless morning--the beginning of a typical Australian
summer day. In the trees overhead the cicadas chirped, parroquets and
wood pigeons flew swiftly across our path; now and again we almost rode
over a big silly kangaroo, who went blundering away at what looked a
slow enough pace, but was in reality one that would have made a good
horse do all he knew to keep up with him. Our animals were in splendid
trim and, in spite of the heat, we swung easily along, side by side,
laughing and chattering, as if we had never known a care in our lives.
Indeed, I don't know that we had then. At least not as I understand
cares now.
About ten o'clock we halted for half-an-hour in the shadow of a big gum,
and alongside a pretty water-hole. Then, continuing our ride, we reached
the Blackfellow's Cave about mid-day.
How the cave received its name must remain a mystery; personally, I
never remember to have seen a black fellow within half-a-dozen miles of
it. In fact, I believe they invariably avoided it, being afraid of
meeting 'debil-debils' in its dark and gloomy interior.
On arrival, we hobbled our horses out, lit a fire, and, as soon as we
had procured water from a pool hard by, set our quart pot on to boil.
This done, we made tea, ate our lunch, and then marched in to explore
the cavern. It was a queer enough place in all conscience, cave leading
from cave and passage from passage, and for each we had our own
particular name--the church, the drawing-room, the coach-house, and a
dozen others. Some were pitch dark, and necessitated our lighting the
candle Sheilah had brought with her, others were open at the top,
enabling us, through the aperture, to see the bright blue sky overhead.
From one to another we wandered, trying the echoes, and making each
resound with the noises of our voices. The effects produced were most
weird, and I could not help thinking that any black fellow who might
have penetrated inside would soon have collected material for
'debil-debil' yarns sufficient to last him and his tribe for
generations.
At last, having thoroughly explored everything we made our way out into
the open air once more. By this time it was nearly three o'clock and a
terribly hot afternoon. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves, while
the parched earth seemed to throw back the sun's scorching rays with all
the fierceness of a burning-glass. It was too hot even for the birds,
and though we could hear the monotonous cawing of crows in the distance,
and the occasional chatter of the parakeets, not one was visible;
indeed, when an old-man kangaroo hopped on to the little plateau before
the cave's mouth, and saw us, it was nearly half-a-minute before he
could find sufficient energy to hop away again. The cicadas were still
busy in the trees, and in the dead atmosphere their chirrup seemed to
echo half across the world.
When it was time for us to think of returning home, we crossed to where
our horses were standing idly whisking their tails under a big gum, and
having saddled them, mounted and started on our journey. We had not,
however, proceeded more than five miles before thick clouds rose in the
sky, driven by a strong wind that rustled the dry twigs and grass, and
sent the dust flying about our ears like so much small shot.
Suddenly Sheilah brought her pony to a standstill and began to sniff
the wind.
'What is it?' I asked, stopping my horse and looking round at her. 'What
do you smell?'
'Burning grass,' she answered. And as she spoke I got a distinct whiff
of it myself.
'There's a fire somewhere,' she said; 'I hope it's not coming our way.'
'It is probably on the top of the ranges,' I answered. 'And the wind's
funnelling it down to us.'
For some time we rode on in silence, the smell growing stronger and
stronger as we progressed. Overhead, dense smoke was floating towards
us, while the air was becoming momentarily hotter.
'It is a fire, and a big one,' I said, pulling my horse up again and
signing to Sheilah to do the same. 'The question is whether we are wise
in going on, without first finding out which way it is coming.
'It's somewhere in the gully ahead of us,' said Sheilah. 'Let us proceed
as far as we can.'
Accordingly we rode on, the smoke getting every moment thicker, and the
heat more powerful. Presently we reached a slight eminence, from which
we knew we should be able to command a good view of the gully we were
about to enter. As we ascended the little rise, however, something
caught my eye, and I turned and shouted to Sheilah--
'Round--round, and ride for your life!'
As I spoke I wheeled my horse and she followed my example--but not
before we had both seen a thin line of fire run through the dry grass
not fifty yards from where we stood. Next moment there was an awful
blaze behind us, and our terrified horses were dashing down the gully,
as fast as they could lay their legs to the ground. It was perilous
going, over rocks and logs, across rain chasms and between trees, but
heedless of anything we rode on at breakneck speed, knowing that we were
racing for our very lives. And the flames came after us with the fury
and noise of an express train. When we had gone about a hundred yards I
looked at Sheilah. She was sitting back in her saddle, her mouth firmly
set, steering her terrified and almost unmanageable pony with all the
skill and dexterity of which she was mistress.
As we turned the corner I looked back and saw that the fire had
stretched high up the hills on either side, while it was also sweeping
down the valley behind us with terrifying rapidity. Fast as we were
going, the flames were overtaking us. What were we to do to escape? The
heat was so intense that it was sapping every atom of strength out of
the horses, and one crash into a tree, one stumble in a hole, one little
mistake and the result would be an awful and agonising death. On all
sides were terrified animals--cattle, horses, sheep, kangaroo, emu,
wallabies, dingoes even, all like ourselves flying for their lives,
while overhead thousands of birds flew screeching before the hot blast.
I endeavoured to keep my horse by the side of Sheilah's in order to be
ready to help her in case of accident, but it was almost an
impossibility. Seeing that we might be separated I called to her.
'Steer to your left, and if possible try to reach the cave.'
She nodded to let me see that she understood, and then on we went as
before. Strong man as I was, the heat behind, the choking smoke and the
awful glare all round were almost more than I could bear, and I dared
not think of their effect on Sheilah. But whatever her sufferings may
have been, she was riding as carefully as if nothing out of the common
were occurring.
Leaving a little bit of open ground we plunged into the scrub again,
but had not gone twenty paces in it before an awful thing happened.
Sheilah's pony, who for the last hundred yards had been going very
heavily, now put his foot into a hole and went down with a crash,
throwing the girl over his head a dozen feet or more. With a cry of
terror I pulled my horse to a standstill, and jumped off, but Sheilah
lay as if she were dead, her legs curled up under her and her head
curiously twisted round. The pony was screaming with agony where he had
fallen. What was to be done? There was not an instant to be lost.
Dragging my own frightened horse over to where she lay, I picked her up.
She was unconscious and for a moment I thought the fall had broken her
neck. Then I turned to her poor pony, who by this time had struggled to
his feet. One glance told me the worst. He had broken his off fore leg
and it was useless counting further on him for assistance. Here was a
terrible position. As far as I could see only one thing was to be done.
The flames were drawing closer and closer--there was scarcely time for
thought. A large log lay near at hand. I backed my horse against it, and
then lifting poor Sheilah in my arms, placed her on his wither and
climbed into the saddle. Being only a youngster and very high-spirited,
he did not take very kindly to this curious proceeding, but I forced him
to it with a strength and determination I did not know that I possessed,
and then, holding Sheilah in my arms, off we went again, leaving her own
pony to meet his fate from the on-rushing flames.
If my ride had been difficult before, I will leave you to imagine how
much more perilous it was now that I had not only to guide my horse in
order to escape low hanging branches and other dangers, but at the same
time to hold Sheilah in her place. She lay with her pretty head hanging
over my arm, as white and still as death.
On--on we dashed for our very lives. The pace had been fast before--now,
even with the additional burden my animal had to bear, it was terrific.
But I knew we could not be more than a couple of miles at furthest from
the cave. If he only could keep it up till then, it was just possible we
might be saved.
But even as this thought passed through my brain I felt his powers begin
to fail. The old elasticity was quite gone, and I had to rouse him with
my voice and heel. Oh, how awful seemed my utter helplessness--my life,
Sheilah's life, her father's happiness, all depending on the strength,
pluck and endurance of an uncomprehending animal. I called him by name;
in an ecstasy of fear I even promised him perpetual ease for the rest of
his equine existence if only he would carry me as far as the cave. And
then it was, in that moment of despair, when death seemed inevitable for
both of us, that I discovered that I loved Sheilah with something more
than the brotherly affection I had always supposed myself to entertain
for her. Yes! I was a man and she was a woman, and with all the
certainty of a man's knowledge, I knew that I loved her then. On, on
brave horse and give that love a chance of ripening. On, on, though the
clammy sweat of death bedews and paralyses thy nostrils, on, on, for on
thy courage and endurance depends the happiness of two human lives.
By this time the wind had risen to the strength of a hurricane and this
could only mean that the flames would travel proportionately faster.
They could not be more than half a mile behind us now at the greatest
calculation, and the cave was, perhaps, half that distance ahead. It was
a race for life with the odds against us, but at all hazards, even if I
had to lay down my own to do it, I knew that Sheilah must be saved.
Looking back on it now I can truthfully say that that was my one and
only thought. On and on we went--the horse lurching in his stride, his
powers failing him with every step; and yet we dared not dismount, for I
knew that I could not run fast enough with Sheilah in my arms to stand
any possible chance of saving her.
At last we turned the corner of the gully, and could see before us,
scarcely more than a hundred yards distant, the black entrance to the
cave. I looked round, and as I did so saw a narrow tongue of fire lick
out and seize upon the grass scarcely fifty yards behind us. Great beads
of sweat rose upon my forehead; blisters, caused by the intense heat,
were forming on my neck; my hat was gone, and my horse's strength was
failing him with every stride. God help us, for we were in desperate
straits. And only a hundred yards lay between us and safety. Then I felt
the animal under me pause, and give a shiver--he struggled on for a few
yards, and then down in a heap he went without more ado, throwing us
gently from him in his fall. Death was surely only a matter of a few
moments now. However, I was not going to die without a struggle.
Springing up I again took Sheilah in my arms, and set off with her as
fast as I could run towards the cave. Short distance though it was, it
seemed an eternity before I had toiled to the top of the little hill,
crossed the plateau, and was laying my precious burden upon the ground
inside the cave. Then I fell beside her, too much exhausted to care very
much what became of me. As I did so, I heard the fire catch great trees
outside, and presently little flames came licking up almost to the
entrance of the cave where we lay. Still Sheilah remained unconscious,
and for some few moments I was but little better. As soon, however, as
my strength returned to me, I picked her up again and bore her through
the first cave into the second, where it was comparatively light and
cool. Leaving her alone here for a minute I picked my way into the third
cave, where there was a small pool of spring water. From this I took a
deep draught, and then, wetting my handkerchief thoroughly, hurried back
to Sheilah's side. Thereupon I set to work to bathe her hands and face,
but for some time without any satisfactory result. Then her eyes
opened, and she looked about her. At first she seemed scarcely to
comprehend where she was, or what had happened, but her memory soon came
back to her, and as she heard the roar of the fire outside and felt the
hot blast sweeping into the cave, a great shudder swept over her.
'Ah! I remember now!' she said. 'I had a fall. What has become of poor
Rorie?'
'We had to leave him behind.'
She put her little hands up to her eyes, as if to shut out the dreadful
picture my words had conjured up.
'But how did you get me here?' she asked.
'I carried you on my saddle before me till my own horse dropped,' I
said, 'and then I brought you the rest of the distance in my arms.'
She closed her eyes and was silent for a minute or so, then she opened
them again and turned to me with a womanliness I had never before
remarked in her.
'Jim,' she said, laying her little hand upon my arm, 'you have saved my
life! As long as I live I will never forget what you have done for me
to-day!'
From that moment she was no longer Sheilah, my old playfellow and
almost sister. She was Sheilah, the goddess--the one woman to be loved
by me for the remainder of my life.
I took her hand and kissed it. Then everything seemed to swim round
me--a great darkness descended upon me, and I fell back in a dead faint.
When I recovered myself and was able to move, I left her and went into
the outer cave. The fire had passed, and was sweeping on its way down
the gully, leaving behind it a waste of blackened earth, and in many
cases still flaring timber. But prudence told me that the ground was
still far too hot to be safe for walking on. So I went back to Sheilah,
and we sat talking about our narrow escape until nightfall.
Then just as we were wondering how, since we had no horses, we could
best make our way home, a shout echoed in the outer cave, and we ran
there to be confronted by McLeod, my father and half-a-dozen other
township men who had come out in search of us. Sheilah flew to her
father's arms, while I looked anxiously, I must confess, at mine. But,
whether he felt any emotion or not, he allowed no sign to escape him. He
only held out his hand, and said dryly,--
'This, you see, is the outcome of your obstinacy.'
Then he turned and called to a black boy, who stood outside holding a
horse. The lad brought the animal up, and my father signed to me to
mount, which I did, and presently we were all making our way home.
At the entrance to the township, where we were to separate, I stopped
the animal I was riding and turned to Sheilah to say good-bye. She drew
the horse her father had brought for her up alongside mine, and said
softly,--
'Good-bye, and God bless you, Jim! Whatever may happen in the future, I
shall never forget what you have done for me to-day.'
Then old McLeod, who had heard from Sheilah all about our ride for life,
came up and thanked me in his old-fashioned way for having saved his
daughter's life, and after that we rode home, my father and I, silently,
side by side. As soon as supper was over, I went to bed, thoroughly worn
out, but the stirring events of the day had been too much for me, and so
hour after hour I lay tossing about, unable to sleep. At last I dozed
off, only to be wakened a short while later by a curious sound coming
from my father's room. Not knowing what it might be, I sprang from my
bed and went into the verandah, where I had a clear view into his
apartment. And a curious sight it was that I saw.
My father was kneeling at his bedside, his head hidden in his hands,
praying as if his whole life depended on it. His hands were white with
the tenacity of their grip on each other, and his whole figure quivered
under the influence of his emotion. When he raised his head I saw that
his face was stained with tears and that others were still coursing down
his cheeks. But the reason of it all was more than I could tell.
Having satisfied my curiosity, and feeling somehow rather ashamed of
myself for having watched him, I went back to bed and fell fast asleep,
not to wake next morning till the sun was high in the sky.