HARRY HARDY sought the seclusion of the bush, and there spent a very
miserable morning. He was forced to the conclusion that he had made a
fool of himself, and the thought that possibly that girl of Shine's was
now laughing with the rest rankled like a burn and impelled many of the
strange oaths that slipped between his clenched teeth. The more he
thought of his escapade the more ridiculous and theatrical it seemed. It
was born of an impulse, and would have been well enough had he carried
out his intention; but, oh the ignominy of that retreat from the side of
the grey-eyed, low-voiced girl under the gaze of the whole congregation!
It would not bear thinking of, so he thought of it for hours, and swung
his whip-lash against the log on which he sat, and quite convinced
himself that he was hating Shine's handsome daughter with all the
vehemence the occasion demanded.
In many respects Harry was a very ordinary young man; bush life is a
wonderful leveller, and he had known no other. His father had been a man
of education and talent, drawn from a profession in his earlier manhood
to the goldfields, who remained a miner and a poor man to the day of his
death. His wife was not able to induce their sons to aspire to anything
above the occupations of the class with which they had always associated,
so they were miners and stockmen with the rest. But the young men, even
as boys, noticed in their mother a refinement and a clearness of
intellect that were not characteristic of the women of Waddy; and out of
the love and veneration they bore her grew a sort of family pride--a
respect for their name that was quite a touch of old-worldly conceit in
this new land of devil-may-care, and gave them a certain distinction. It
was this that served largely to make the branding of Frank Hardy as a
thief a consuming shame to his brother. Harry thought of it less as a
wrong to Frank than as an outrage to his mother. It was this, too, that
made the young man burn to take the Sunday School superintendent by the
throat and lash him till he howled himself dumb in his own chapel.
Harry returned to his log in Wilson's back paddock again in the afternoon
to wrestle with his difficulties, and, with the gluttonous rosellas
swinging on the gum-boughs above, set himself to reconsider all that he
had heard of Frank's case and all the possibilities that had since
occurred to him. Here Dick Haddon discovered him at about four o'clock.
Dick was leading a select party at the time, with the intention of
reconnoitring old Jock Summers's orchard in view of a possible invasion
at an early date; but when he saw Harry in the distance he immediately
abandoned the business in hand. An infamous act of desertion like this
would have brought down contempt upon the head of another, and have
earned him some measure of personal chastisement; but Dick was a law unto
himself.
'So long, you fellows,' he said.
'Why, where yer goin'?' grunted Jacker Mack.
''Cross to Harry Hardy. He's down by that ole white gum.'
'Gosh! so he is. I say, we'll all go.'
'No, you won't. Youse go an' see 'bout them cherries. Harry Hardy don't
want a crowd round.'
'How d'yer know he wants you?'
'Find out. Me 'n him's mates.'
'Yo-ow?' This in derision.
''Sides, I got somethin' privit to say to him--somethin' privit 'n
important, see.'
This was more convincing, but it excited curiosity.
''Bout Tin ribs?' queried Peterson.
'Likely I'd tell you. Clear out, go on. You can be captain of the band if
you like, Jacker; 'n mind you don't give it away.'
Dick gained his point, as usual, and prepared for a quite casual descent
upon Harry, who had not yet seen the boys. The plan brought Dicky,
'shanghai' in hand, under the tree where Hardy sat. The boy was
apparently oblivious of everything but the parrots up aloft, and it was
not till after he had had his shot that he returned the young man's
salutation. Then he took a seat astride the log and offered some
commonplace information about a nest of joeys in a neighboring tree and a
tame magpie that had escaped, and was teaching all the other magpies in
Wilson's paddocks to whistle a jig and curse like a drover. But he got
down to his point rather suddenly after all.
'Say, Harry, was you goin' to lambaste Tinribs?'
Tinribs?
'Yes, old Shine--this mornin', you know.'
Harry looked into the boy's eye and lied, but Dick was not deceived.
''Twould a-served him good,' he said thoughtfully; 'but you oughter get
on to him when Miss Shine ain't about. She's terrible good an' all
that--better 'n Miss Keeley, don't you think?'
Miss Keeley was a golden-haired, high-complexioned, and frivolous young
lady who had enjoyed a brief but brilliant career as barmaid at the
Drovers' Arms. Harry had never seen her, but expressed an opinion
entirely in favour of Christina Shine.
'But her father,' continued Dick, with an eloquent grimace, 'he's dicky!
'What've you got against him?'
'I do' know. Look here, 'tain't the clean pertater, is it, for a
superintendent t' lay into a chap at Sunday School for things what he
done outside? S'pose I float Tinribs's puddlin' tub down the creek by
accident, with Doon's baby in it when I ain't thinkin', is it square fer
him to nab me in Sunday School, an' whack me fer it, pretendin' all the
time it's 'cause I stuck a mouse in the harmonium?'
Dick's contempt for the man who could so misuse his high office was very
fine indeed.
'That's the sorter thing Tinribs does,' said the boy. 'If I yell after
him on a Saturdee, he gammons t' catch me doin' somethin' in school on
Sundee, an' comes down on me with the corner of his bible, 'r screws me
ear.'
Harry considered such conduct despicable, and thought the man who would
take such unfair advantage of a poor boy might be capable of any infamy;
and Dick, encouraged, crept a little nearer.
'I say,' he whispered insinuatingly. 'You could get him any day on the
flat, when he comes over after searchin' the day shift.'
Harry shook his head, and slowly plucked at the dry bark.
'I don't mean to touch him,' he said.
Dick was amazed, and a little hurt, perhaps. His confidence had been
violated in some measure. He thought the matter over for almost a minute.
'Ain't you goin' to go fer him 'cause of her, eh?' he asked.
'Her? Who d'you mean?'
'Miss Chris.'
'It's nothin' to do with her.'
Dick deliberated again.
'Look here, she was cryin' after you went this mornin'. Saw her hidin'
her face by the harmonium, an' wipin' her eyes.'
Harry had not heard evidently; he was, it would appear, devoting his
whole attention to the antics of a blue grub. Dick approached still
closer, and assumed the tone of an arch-conspirator.
'Heard anything 'bout Mr. Frank?'
'Not a thing, Dick.'
'What yer goin' to do?'
'I can't say, my boy.'
'Well, I'll tell you. Know what Sagacious done?'
'Sagacious? Who is he?'
'Sam Sagacious--Sleuth-hound Sam.'
Harry looked puzzled.
'What, don't you know Sleuth-hound Sam? He's a great feller in a book,
what tracks down criminals. Listen here. One time a chap what was a mate
of his got put in gaol for stealin' money from a bank where he worked,
when it wasn't him at all. Sam, he went an' got a job at the same bank,
and that's how he found out the coves 'at done it.'
The young man turned upon Dick, and sat for a moment following up the
inference. Then he gripped the latter's hand.
'By thunder!' he cried excitedly, 'that's a better idea than I could hit
on in a week.'
Dick did not doubt it; he had but a poor opinion of the resourcefulness
of his elders when not figuring in the pages of romantic literature, but
he was gratified by Harry's ready recognition of his talent, and
proceeded to enlarge upon the peculiar qualities of Sleuth-hound Sam,
give instances of his methods, and relate some of his many successes.
At tea that evening Harry broached the subject of his visit to the
chapel. He knew his mother would hear of it, and thought it best she
should have the melancholy story from his lips.
'Do you see much of Shine's daughter, mother?' he asked.
'I do not see her often, but she has grown into a tall, handsome girl;
very different from the wild little thing you rescued from the cattle on
the common eight years ago.'
'Yes; I've seen her--saw her in the chapel this morning.'
'In the chapel,' said Mrs. Hardy, turning upon him with surprise; 'were
you in the chapel, Henry?'
Harry nodded rather shamefacedly.
'Yes, mother,' he said, 'I went to chapel, an' took my whip with me. I
meant to scruff Shine before the lot o' them, an' lash him black an'
blue.'
'That was shameful--shameful!
'Anyhow, I didn't do it. She came an' put me off, an' I sneaked out as if
I'd been licked myself. I couldn't have hammered the brute before her
eyes, but--but--'
'But you meant to; is that it? Henry, you almost make me despair. Have
you no more respect for yourself? Have you none for me?'
'I couldn't stand it. You've heard. It made me mad!'
'I have heard all, and I think Mr. Shine is a well intentioned man whose
faith, such as it is, is honest; but he is ignorant, coarse-fibred, and
narrow-minded. He is doing right according to his own poor, dim light,
and could not be convinced otherwise by any word or act of ours; but his
preachings can do me no injury. They do not irritate me in the
least--indeed, I am not sure that they do not amuse me.'
'Ah, mother, that's like you; you philosophise your way through a
difficulty, and I always want to fight my way out. It's so much easier.'
'Yes, dear; but do you get out? Do you know that Ephraim Shine is the
most litigious man in the township? He runs to the law with every little
trouble, whilst inviting his neighbours to carry all theirs to the Lord.
Had you beaten him he would have proceeded against you, and--Oh! my boy,
my boy! are you going to make my troubles greater? And I had such hopes.'
'Hush, mother. 'Pon my soul, I won't! I'm going to hold myself down tight
after this. An', look here, I've got an idea. I'm going to Pete Holden
to-morrow to ask him to put me on at the Stream, same shift as poor Frank
was on, if possible.'
'Put on the brother of the man who--'
'Yes, mother, the brother of the thief. But Holden is a good fellow; he
spoke up for Frank like a brick. Besides, d'you know what the men are
saying? That the gold-stealing is still going on. I'll tell Holden as
much, an' promise to watch, an' watch, like a cat, if he'll only send me
below.'
'Yes, yes; we can persuade him. I wonder we did not think of this
before.'
''Twas young Dick Haddon put me up to it, with some yarn of his about a
detective.'
'Bless the boy! he is unique--the worst and the best I have ever known.
Johnnie, how dare you?'
The last remark was addressed to Gable, who had been eating industriously
for the last quarter of an hour. The old man, finding himself ignored,
had smartly conveyed a large spoonful of jam from the pot to his mouth.
He choked over it now, and wriggled and blushed like a child taken
red-handed.
''Twas only a nut,' he said sulkily.
'You naughty boy! Will you never learn how to behave at table? Come here,
sir. Ah, I see; as I suspected. You did not shave this morning. Go
straight to bed after you have finished your tea. How dare you disobey
me, you wicked boy!'
Gable knuckled his eyes with vigour, and began to snivel. He hated to
have a beard on his chin, but would put off shaving longer than Mrs.
Hardy thought consistent with perfect neatness. The ability to shave
himself was the one manly accomplishment Gable had learned in a long
life.
This ludicrous incident had not served to draw Harry's thoughts from his
project. All his life he had seen his Uncle Jonnie treated as a child,
and there was nothing incongruous in the situation, even 'when the
grey-haired boy was rated for neglecting to shave or sent supperless to
bed for similar sins of omission or commission. To Mrs. Hardy also it was
a simple serious business of domestic government. Ever since she was ten
years old Uncle John, who was many years her senior, had been her baby
brother and her charge, and although gifted with a good sense of humour,
the necessity of admonishing him did not interfere with the gravity of
mind she had brought to bear on the former conversation.
'Mr. Holden was an old friend of your father's, Henry,' she said.
'I know,' Harry replied. 'They were mates at Buninyong and Bendigo. I'll
remind him of that.'
Harry Hardy found Manager Holden in his office at the Silver Stream when
he called on the following morning.
'Couldn't do it, my lad,' said the old miner; 'but I'll put in a word for
you with Hennessey at the White Crow.'
'I want a job here on the Stream--want it for a purpose,' said Harry.
'There'd be a row. The people at Yarraman would kick up, after the other
affair. I'd be glad to, Harry; but you'd best try somewhere else.'
'Mr. Holden,' said the young man, 'do you believe my brother guilty?'
The manager met his eager eyes steadily.
''Tisn't a fair question, lad,' he answered. 'I always found Frank
straight, an' he looked like an honest man; but that evidence would have
damned a saint.'
'Do you think the gold-stealing has stopped?'
The manager looked up sharply.
'Do you know anything?'
'I know what the men hint at; nothing more. If they could speak straight
they wouldn't do it.'
'Well, to tell you God's truth, Hardy, I believe we are still losing
gold.'
'Send me below, then, an' by Heaven I'll spot the true thieves if they're
not more cunning than the devil himself. You think Frank guilty, so do
most people; it's what we ought to expect, I s'pose.' Harry's hands were
clenched hard--it was a sore subject. 'We don't, Mr. Holden; we believe
his story, every word of it. Give me half a chance to prove it. You were
our father's mate; stand by us now. Put me on with the same shift as
Frank worked with.'
'Done!' said the manager, starting up. 'Come on at four. Go trucking;
it'll give you a better chance of moving round; and good luck, my boy!
But take a hint that's well meant: if the real thief is down there, see
he plays no tricks on you.'
'I've thought of that--trust me.'
Harry Hardy's appearance below with the afternoon shift at the Stream
occasioned a good deal of talk amongst the miners; but he heard none of
it. Shine was in the searching-shed when he came up at midnight, on his
knees amongst the men's discarded clothes, pawing them over with his
claw-like fingers.
The searcher rarely spoke to the men, never looked at them, and performed
his duties as if unconscious of their presence. Custom had made him
exceedingly cautious, for it was the delight of the men to play tricks
upon him, usually of an exceedingly painful nature. The searcher is no
man's friend. When putting on his dry clothes, Harry heard Joe Rogers,
the foreman, saying:
'D'yer know them's Harry Hardy's togs yer pawin', Brother Tinribs?'
Shine's mud-coloured eyes floated uneasily from one form to another, but
were raised no higher than the knees of the men, seemingly.
'Yes, search 'em carefully, Brother. I s'pose you'd like ter jug the
whole family. 'Taint agin yer Christian principles, is it, Mr.
Superintendent, to send innocent men to gaol? Quod's good fer morals,
ain't it? A gran' place to cultivate the spirit o' brotherly love, ain't
it--eh, what? Blast you fer a snivellin' hippercrit, Shine! If yer look
sidelong at me I'll belt you over--'
Rogers made an ugly movement towards the searcher; but Peterson and
another interposed, and he returned to the form, spitting venomous oaths
like an angry cat. Shine, kneeling on the floor, had gone on with his
work in his covert way, as if quite unconscious of the foreman's burst of
passion.