SCOTTIE was sitting on the verandah enjoying an after-breakfast smoke,
while Ess was busy inside washing up.
It was wonderfully quiet and still, and the hills lay drowsing in the
heat, though, back on the Ridge there, a pleasant breath of wind sighed
soft and cool.
The rapid tat-at-at tat-at-at of a horse at a hard canter and the clash
of iron-shod hoofs on the rocky track made Scottie look up sharply. It
was early for any of the men to be back from the township he knew, and
this man was riding hard. He glanced quickly inside the room at the
girl, rose quietly and slipped off the verandah, and walked with long
unhurried strides towards the gate. The clatter rose sharply as the
horseman cleared the crest and rode down for the gate. Scottie saw it
was Steve Knight, and as he came nearer saw too that his horse was
black with sweat and had been ridden cruelly hard. Steve took the rails
at a leap, pulled his horse up hard, and slid to the ground, while the
horse stood with legs propped apart, his head hanging, and his sides
working like a bellows.
“If it’s bad news lat’s have it afore Ess comes oot,” said Scottie,
quietly.
“It’s bad for me only, Scottie,” said Steve. “The pol—” he checked
himself, and looked hard at Scottie for an instant.
“The less I say the better perhaps, Scottie,” he said slowly. “Then if
you’re asked questions you can’t answer them, and you can’t be blamed
for not—er—persuading me to stay. Do you understand, Scottie? I want
some tucker, and a waterbag and billy, and a fresh horse, and I’m just
going for a little bit of a canter by myself. And I want to start
without wasting any time, Scottie, though I’d like ten words with Miss
Ess if I might.”
“That’s enough, laddie,” said Scottie. “Leave that saddle on, and I’ll
go’n run the rest o’ the horses up. Go to Ess and tell her what you
think fit, an’ ask her to make ye a cup o’ tea and put some tucker up
for ye. Are ye like to be gone long? No, never min’ that, never min’,”
he said hastily.
He turned and hurried back to the house as Ess walked to the door.
“My stockwhip, quick, lass,” he said. “Here’s Steve comin’ tae tak tea
wi’ ye—in the quickest kind o’ hurry. Ask me naething”—and as he came
out again with the whip, “hark this, lass—ask him naething—d’ye
understan’—_naething_.”
He hurried off, and Steve walked slowly to the verandah steps. “Good
morning,” he said. “May I....”
“Come in,” she said brightly. “I have my orders. Tea—in a hurry, and
you’re to sit down and rest a minute while I get it.”
He walked in and sat down, while she bustled about to spread a cloth
and put food on the table. Steve sat back in his chair and watched her,
and the strained look on his face relaxed a shade.
When she had poured the water on the tea and put the pot on the table,
Steve sat up. “Thank you,” he said. “And now while I eat you might—your
uncle said I was to ask you if you’d please put me up some food.”
“Yes,” she said, “if you’ll tell me just what you want——”
“A few handfuls of tea, a loaf, any meat you have—a piece of corned
beef or a chunk of bacon.”
Scottie rode into the yard with the horses careering before him as she
got the things. “Anything more?” she asked. “Sugar?”
“No, I can do without. Flour, though—not too much. I’m travelling
light—forced marches again, you see,” and a smile flickered on his lips.
She brought little calico bags of her uncle’s and put the things in.
“You should have been a soldier’s daughter, Miss Ess,” he said.
“Prompt, obedient, and unquestioning. I hardly thought a girl could
fill the essentials so well.” He was eating as he spoke, and drinking
eagerly at the tea.
Scottie tramped in. “I’ve saddled Vulcan,” he said. “He’s the best
barrin’ yer own. An’ I’ve strapped a blanket an’ a billy on. Is there
aught else?”
“Nothing,” said Steve. “Miss Ess has kindly seen to the rest.
Unless—have you any money by you? Can you lend me any?”
Scottie went to a chest in the corner and pulled out a worn pocket
book. He put a few notes on the table and some pieces of silver. “I’m
sorry there’s no more in the house, Steve,” he said.
“I have a couple of sovereigns,” said Ess, quickly. “Might I lend you
those?”
“No, no,” said Steve, hastily, then more slowly, “But I don’t know.
Yes, I think I will, and thank you.”
“I’ve a few pounds in the bank, Steve,” said Scottie. “I’ll gie ye a
blank cheque if ye’re going by the township again.”
Steve shook his head. “I’ll not be going by the township just yet a
bit,” he said.
On the hillside outside a loose stone suddenly fell rattling down the
slope. Steve leaped to his feet and was at the door with a bound, his
eyes fixed on the track and his ears strained to listen.
Scottie watched him beneath bent brows, and the girl stood startled
gazing at him.
They saw him draw a breath of relief, and his attitude relax. “It’s
nothing,” he said, and then as his eye caught their arrested looks of
expectancy he laughed shamefacedly. “I’m sorry,” he said; “I’m afraid I
scared you. Nice thing for Steve Knight to be boasting of a set of
nerves.” He lowered his voice and turned to Scottie. “But you might
slip over to the bunk-house, and you’ll find a revolver and a box of
cartridges in my kit there. I’ll say good-bye to Miss Ess, and then I
must be off.”
“I’ll bring them,” said Scottie, “and then I might just tak a climb tae
the top o’ the Ridge. I can see a piece o’ the track a mile off from
there, and if I saw anybody comin’ I could gie a bit coo-ee.”
Steve stepped to the door with him. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.
“That’ll give me some more time.” He hesitated, and then spoke slowly,
picking his words carefully. “I’m going to tell Miss Ess something of
my trouble if I may. And she can tell you after I’m gone. And thanks
for all you’ve done, and for making it easy as possible for me,
Scottie, without asking any questions.”
“Hoot, lad,” said Scottie. “I’ll fasten the things tae yer saddle. It’s
no that it maks a grain o’ difference tae me, Stevie, an’ I’m no just
curious, but I micht be better able tae help. Is’t onything vera bad,
an’ can I dae onything?”
“It’s the worst,” said Steve, briefly. Scottie held out his hand, and
when Steve took it, wrung it with the grip of a vice.
“Man,” he said, “I’m sair sorry for’t. But good luck tae ye, lad.”
He turned to go, but Steve stopped him. “It looks black for me,
Scottie, but maybe you’ll take my word for it. They’re wrong—I’m
innocent as you are.”
Scottie gripped and wrung his hand again. “Man, man, I’m glad ye tell’t
me that,” he said. “No that it maks ony difference, but just that—I’m
glad o’t.”
He hurried off without further word.
Steve walked into the house again. “Miss Ess,” he said, “I couldn’t
tell your uncle, as it might have made it awkward for him to answer the
questions that are sure to be put to him, but I want to tell you
something of this business.”
“Is it necessary for me to know?” she asked. “I can guess at a good
deal, of course, but——”
“I’d like to tell you,” he said, “You’ll hear a good deal of it, and
I’d like you to have my word on it. The police are after me—I just got
away by seconds, and they’ll be hard on my tracks now. I’m wanted
for—murder.”
He watched her closely, and saw the blood ebb from her face, but she
made no sign of shrinking from him.
“I did not do it,” he continued. “I know nothing whatever of it.” He
saw relief flash across her face. “But it seems to look black against
me. Dan Mulcahy tried to arrest me, and when I rode for it he shot at
me. Dan’s a friend of mine, and he wouldn’t have done that if it hadn’t
looked clear against me. I had fought with the man half an hour before;
we’d all been drinking through the night, and there was some wild work,
and this man said—something that angered me. I fought with him, and
when they separated us I threatened to kill him. He went off, and
shortly after I left to get my horse. I brought him back to the hotel
and saddled him, and in the interval the man was found dead beside his
own door, and that’s next door to the horse paddock I’d just left. You
see, it all fits in. I’d have gone with Dan, but he wanted to handcuff
me—I couldn’t stand that. It was foolish, maybe, and it made it look
worse if possible for me to bolt. But I was hot with anger at the
thought of Dan refusing my word to go quiet, and—well, we’d all been
drinking heavy, and maybe I wasn’t as able to think clear as I am now.
Anyhow, I ran for it, and—here I am.”
“Is it too late—couldn’t you go back and give yourself up?” asked Ess.
He laughed bitterly. “No,” he said, “I’ve chosen, and I’m not fond of
going back on things. And innocent men have swung before now. I won’t
risk that. So I’m for the hills and away; and this is good-bye. Maybe,
a last good-bye.”
“I hope not, Steve,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. “The guilty one
may be found, and that will clear you, and you can come back. I’ll hope
to see you again—here or elsewhere.”
“You don’t doubt me—you take my word?” said Steve.
“That of course,” she said simply.
“Thank you for that—Ess,” he said, and his voice quavered in spite of
himself. “And I hope you’ll make some excuse for anything you hear of
me. I shouldn’t have fought as I did I know, but I was a wild beast at
the time....”
“Steve,” she said, suddenly, a cold fear clutching at her heart, “you
weren’t—you remember everything that happened—you couldn’t have——”
“No,” he said, “I had been drinking—put it I was drunk if you like, but
drink doesn’t drown my senses, though it might affect my reasoning
powers. I can remember and go over every minute, every incident of last
night, to the last detail. And I did not touch or see the man after he
left me with the others.”
She sighed with relief. “I was afraid for the minute,” she said. “Not
that it would make me think different of you, although it ought to with
a girl perhaps. But I’m glad you are sure. And I’m so sorry, Steve, so
sorry.”
“Sorry?” he burst out passionately. “Ess, if you knew what it means to
me. If you knew what I feel to know that I’m going to be hunted like a
wild dingo with a price on his scalp; to know that you’ll have to
listen to all sorts of tales and speculation and gossip about me. And
this smashes everything for me, everything I’ve been gradually building
to myself day by day lately, and hugging to my heart. I was going to
make you love me, girl—love me as already I love you. I was going to
marry you and settle down—” he broke off and laughed harshly. “Settle
down—and instead of that I’ll be slinking about the hills till I can
get away, if I ever do; and skulking about under another name, and
running like a hare put up from her form every time I think the hue and
cry comes nearer. Yesterday morning my heart was singing aloud with
hope and happiness and love, and now—and now I am despising myself for
even telling you what I’ve less right than ever to tell you.”
Her face was white now, although the colour had flooded it full tide at
his first words.
“It’s only my right to know,” she said. “And I thank you for telling
me. And although I can’t say now—” her voice faltered and broke—“I
don’t know—my heart is brimming with pity, and I can’t tell if....”
He leaned over and took her hands in his own, that shook under the
strain he put on himself.
“No need to say more, girl,” he said. “If I get clear away I’ll write
to you—if it’s safe. And I’ll—but it isn’t fair of me to try to mix you
up in my life if it’s going to be one of a constant flight from the
law. I won’t let you do that, Ess.”
“But you’ll come back, Steve, if you can?”
“Do you want me back, Ess?” he said steadily. “Think before you answer
me. If you say yes, I’ll take it to mean that you do care something for
me. I’ll take it that you’re willing to listen to love talk from me,
and for me to strive to the limit of my heart to make you love me. I’ll
understand I have a chance, that you won’t hold it hopelessly against
me that I’ve been many things I oughtn’t, and that I have the name of
loving many and leaving them lightly....”
“I don’t believe that, even now,” she interrupted. “Not that you ever
loved them—really loved them. And letting you take it to mean all
you’ve said, I can still ask you to come back if ever you can. And I
wish I could tell you now that I loved you. But you mustn’t count it
against me, Steve, that I can’t—that I don’t know. I would tell you if
I could, and you’ll believe that this crime they’ve charged against you
counts as nothing, and less than nothing, with me.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.
“And we’ll work for you here, Steve, while you’re away. You have good
friends you can trust for that.”
“I’ve good friends,” he said brokenly; “God knows, I’ve good friends if
ever a man had. I wouldn’t be here else. Hark, Ess——” They moved to the
door and stood listening, and from high up the Ridge a faint coo-ee
floated down to them.
“I must go, Ess. Good-bye,” and he kissed her hand again and leaped
from the verandah.
But before he had gone three strides a choking cry turned him back. She
was standing with her hands pressed to her face.
“Steve, Steve—I said I didn’t know,” she wailed. “But I do know—I know
now.”
He was back beside her with one leap, and in an instant was straining
her to his breast....
Three minutes later another, a louder and more imperative coo-ee, made
them start, and they saw the figure of Scottie running down the slope,
his arm and hat waving a signal to go.
She thrust him from her.
“Go, Stevie, go,” she panted. “Go quickly, or they may take you under
my eyes—I should go mad now if....”
“Never fear, girl,” he cried exultingly. “They’ll never take me
now—never alive. And I’ll come back for you, or send for you.”
“Yes,” she said hurriedly. “But go now, if you love me, Steve.”
He kissed her again and turned and ran to his horse. He plucked the
revolver from the strap under which it was thrust and slid it into his
pocket, and swung himself to the saddle.
Ess saw the action. “You won’t use it if you can help, Steve?” she
cried. “You’ll not—but, yes, you must.” She stamped her foot fiercely.
“Shoot them, kill them, do anything. What should I care if only you win
free? Now ride, and remember you take the heart of me with you.”
He stooped to her as she stood beside the horse and slid his hands
under her arms, and lifted her till her face was level with his, and
kissed her full on the lips.
Then he let her slip down, and speaking no word, struck spurs to his
horse, and was gone in a whirl of dust and scattering gravel.
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