SAM MEETS WITH A RIVAL, AND HOW HE TREATED HIM.
That week one of those runs upon the Captain's hospitality took place
which are common enough in the bush, and, although causing a temporary
inconvenience, are generally as much enjoyed by the entertainer as
entertained. Everybody during this next week came to see them, and
nobody went back again. So by the end of the week there were a dozen or
fourteen guests assembled, all uninvited, and apparently bent on making
a good long stay of it.
Alice, who had expected to be rather put out, conducted everything with
such tact and dignity that Mrs. Buckley remarked to Mrs. Mayford, when
they were alone together, "that she had never seen such beauty and such
charming domestic grace combined, and that he would be a lucky young
fellow who got her for a wife."
"Well, yes, I should be inclined to say so too," answered Mrs. Mayford.
"Rather much of the boarding-school as yet, but that will wear off, I
dare say. I don't think the young lady will go very long without an
offer. Pray, have you remarked anything, my dear madam?"
Yes, Mrs. Buckley had remarked something on her arrival the day before
yesterday. She had remarked Sam and Alice come riding over the paddock,
and Sam, by way of giving a riding-lesson, holding the little white
hand in his, teaching it (the dog!) to hold the reins properly. And on
seeing Alice she had said to herself, "That will do." But all this was
not what Mrs. Mayford meant,--in fact, these two good ladies were at
cross-purposes.
"Well, I thought I did," replied Mrs. Buckley, referring to Sam. "But
one must not be premature. They are both very young, and may not know
their own minds."
"They seem as if they did," said Mrs. Mayford. "Look there!" Outside
the window they saw something which gave Mrs. Buckley a sort of pang,
and made Mrs. Mayford laugh.
There was no one in the garden visible but Cecil Mayford and Alice, and
she was at that moment busily engaged in pinning a rose into his
buttonhole. "The audacious girl!" thought Mrs. Buckley; "I am afraid
she will be a daughter of debate among us. I wish she had not come
home." While Mrs. Mayford continued,--
"I am far from saying, mind you, my dear Mrs. Buckley, that I don't
consider Cecil might do far better for himself. The girl is pretty,
very pretty, and will have money. But she is too decided, my dear.
Fancy a girl of her age expressing opinions! Why, if I had ventured to
express opinions at her age, I----I don't know what my father would
have said."
"Depend very much on what sort of opinions they were; wouldn't it?"
said Mrs. Buckley.
"No; I mean any opinions. Girls ought to have no opinions at all.
There, last night when the young men were talking all together, she
must needs get red in the face and bridle up, and say, 'She thought an
Englishman who wasn't proud of Oliver Cromwell was unworthy of the name
of an Englishman.' Her very words, I assure you. Why, if my daughter
Ellen had dared to express herself in that way about a murderous
Papist, I'd have slapped her face."
"I don't think Cromwell was a Papist; was he?" said Mrs. Buckley.
"A Dissenter, then, or something of that sort," said Mrs. Mayford. "But
that don't alter the matter. What I don't like to see is a young girl
thrusting her oar in in that way. However, I shall make no opposition,
I can assure you. Cecil is old enough to choose for himself, and a
mother's place is to submit. Oh, no; I assure you, whatever my opinions
may be, I shall offer no opposition."
"I shouldn't think you would," said Mrs. Buckley, as the other left the
room: "rather a piece of luck for your boy to marry the handsomest and
richest girl in the country. However, madam, if you think I am going to
play a game of chess with you for that girl, or any other girl, why,
you are mistaken."
And yet it was very provoking. Ever since she had begun to hear from
various sources how handsome and clever Alice was, she had made up her
mind that Sam should marry her, and now to be put out like this by
people whom they had actually introduced into the house! It would be a
great blow to Sam too. She wished he had never seen her. She would
sooner have lost a limb than caused his honest heart one single pang.
But, after all, it might be only a little flirtation between her and
Cecil. Girls would flirt; but then there would be Mrs. Mayford
manoeuvring and scheming her heart out, while she, Agnes Buckley, was
constrained by her principles only to look on and let things take their
natural course.
Now, there arose a coolness between Agnes Buckley and the Mayfords,
mother and son, which was never made up--never, oh, never! Not very
many months after this she would have given ten thousand pounds to have
been reconciled to the kind-hearted old busy-body; but then it was too
late.
But now, going out into the garden, she found the Doctor busy planting
some weeds he had found in the bush, in a quiet corner, with an air of
stealth, intending to privately ask the gardener to see after them till
he could fetch them away. The magpie, having seen from the window a
process of digging and burying going on, had attended in his official
capacity, standing behind the Doctor, and encouraging him every now and
then with a dance, or a few flute-like notes of music. I need hardly
mention that the moment the Doctor's back was turned the bird rooted up
every one of the plants, and buried them in some secret spot of his
own, where they lie, I believe, till this day.
To the Doctor she told the whole matter, omitting nothing, and then
asked his advice. "I suppose," she said, "you will only echo my own
determination of doing nothing at all?"
"Quite so, my dear madam. If she loves Sam, she will marry him; if she
don't, he is better without her."
"That is true," said Mrs. Buckley. "I hope she will have good taste
enough to choose my boy."
"I hope so too, I am sure," said the Doctor. "But we must not be very
furious if she don't. Little Cecil Mayford is both handsomer and
cleverer than Sam. We must not forget that, you know."
That evening was the first thoroughly unhappy evening, I think, that
Sam ever passed in his life. I am inclined to imagine that his
digestion was out of order. If any of my readers ever find themselves
in the same state of mind that he was in that night, let them be
comforted by considering that there is always a remedy at hand, before
which evil thoughts and evil tempers of all kinds fly like mist before
the morning sun. How many serious family quarrels, marriages out of
spite, alterations of wills, and secessions to the Church of Rome,
might have been prevented by a gentle dose of blue pill! What awful
instances of chronic dyspepsia are presented to our view by the
immortal bard in the characters of Hamlet and Othello! I look with awe
on the digestion of such a man as the present King of Naples. Banish
dyspepsia and spirituous liquors from society, and you would have no
crime, or at least so little that you would not consider it worth
mentioning.
However, to return to Sam. He, Halbert, Charles Hawker, and Jim had
been away riding down an emu, and had stayed out all day. But Cecil
Mayford, having made excuse to stay at home, had been making himself in
many ways agreeable to Alice, and at last had attended her on a ride,
and on his return had been rewarded with a rose, as we saw. The first
thing Sam caught sight of when he came home was Alice and Cecil walking
up and down the garden very comfortably together, talking and laughing.
He did not like to see this. He dreaded Cecil's powers of entertainment
too much, and it made him angry to hear how he was making Alice laugh.
Then, when the four came into the house, this offending couple took no
notice of them at all, but continued walking up and down in the garden,
till Jim, who, not being in love, did'nt care twopence whether his
sister came in or not, went out to the verandah, and called out "Hi!"
"What now?" said Alice, turning round.
"Why, we're come home," said Jim, "and I want you."
"Then you won't get me, impudence," said Alice, and began walking up
and down again. But not long after, having to come in, she just said,
"How do, Mr. Halbert?" and passed on, never speaking to Sam. Now there
was no reason why she should have spoken to him, but "Good evening, Mr.
Buckley," would not have hurt anybody. And now in came Cecil, with that
unlucky rose, and Jim immediately began,--
"Hallo, Cis, where did you get your flower?"
"Ah, that's a secret," said Cecil, with an affected look.
"No secret at all," said Alice, coming back. "I gave it to him. He had
the civility to stay and take me out for a ride, instead of going to
run down those poor pretty emus. And that is his reward. I pinned it
into his coat for him." And out she went again.
Sam was very sulky, but he couldn't exactly say with whom. With himself
more than anybody, I believe.
"Like Cecil's consummate impudence!" was his first thought; but after
he had gone to his room to dress, his better nature came to him, and
before dinner came on he was his old self again, unhappy still, but not
sulky, and determined to be just.
"What right have I to be angry, even suppose she does come to care more
for him than for me? What can be more likely? He is more courtly,
amusing, better-looking, they say, and certainly cleverer; oh,
decidedly cleverer. He might as well make me his enemy as I make him
mine. No; dash it all! He has been like a brother to me ever since he
was so high, and I'll be d----d if there shan't be fair play between us
two, though I should go into the army through it. But I'll watch, and
see how things go."
So he watched at dinner and afterwards, but saw little to comfort him.
Saw one thing, nay, two things, most clearly. One was, that Cecil
Mayford was madly in love with Alice; and the other was, that poor
Cecil was madly jealous of Sam. He treated him differently to what he
had ever done before, as though on that evening he had first found his
rival. Nay, he became almost rude, so that once Jim looked suddenly up,
casting his shrewd blue eyes first on one and then on the other, as
though to ask what the matter was. But Sam only said to himself, "Let
him go on. Let him say what he will. He is beside himself now, and some
day he will be sorry. He shall have fair play, come what will."
But it was hard for our lad to keep his temper sometimes. It was hard
to see another man sitting alongside of her all the evening, paying her
all those nameless little attentions which somehow, however
unreasonably, he had brought himself to think were his right, and no
one else's, to pay. Hard to wonder and wonder whether or no he had
angered her, and if so, how? Halbert, good heart! saw it all, and
sitting all the evening by Sam, made himself so agreeable, that for a
time even Alice herself was forgotten. But then, when he looked up, and
saw Cecil still beside her, and her laughing and talking so pleasantly,
while he was miserable and unhappy, the old chill came on his heart
again, and he thought--was the last happy week only a deceitful gleam
of sunshine, and should he ever take his old place beside her again?
Once or twice more during the evening Cecil was almost insolent to him,
but still his resolution was strong.
"If he is a fool, why should I be a fool? I will wait and see if he can
win her. If he does, why, there is India for me. If he does not, I will
try again. Only I will not quarrel with Cecil, because he is blinded.
Little Cecil, who used to bathe with me, and ride pickaback round the
garden! No; he shall have fair play. By Jove, he shall have fair play,
if I die for it."
And he had some little comfort in the evening. When they had all risen
to go to bed, and were standing about in confusion lighting candles, he
suddenly found Alice by his side, who said in a sweet, low, musical
tone,--
"Can you forgive me?"
"What have I to forgive, my dear young lady?" he said softly. "I was
thinking of asking your forgiveness for some unknown fault."
"I have behaved so ill to you to-day," she said, "the first of my new
friends! I was angry at your going out after our poor emus, and I was
cross to you when you came home. Do let us be friends again."
There was a chance for a reconciliation! But here was Cecil Mayford
thrusting between them with a lit candle just at the wrong moment; and
she gave him such a sweet smile, and such kind thanks, that Sam felt
nearly as miserable as ever.
And next morning everything went wrong again. Whether it was merely
coquetry, or whether she was angry at their hunting the emus, or
whether she for a time preferred Cecil's company, I know not; but she,
during the next week, neglected Sam altogether, and refused to sit
beside him, making a most tiresome show of being unable to get on
without Cecil Mayford, who squired her here, there, and everywhere, in
the most provoking fashion.
But it so happened that the Doctor and the Major sat up later than the
others that night, taking a glass of punch together before the fire,
and the Major said, abruptly,--
"There will be mischief among the young fellows about that girl. It is
a long while since I saw one man look at another as young Mayford did
at our Sam tonight. I wish she were out of the way. Sam and Mayford are
both desperately in love with her, and one must go to the wall. I wish
that boy of mine was keener; he stayed aloof from her all to-night."
"Don't you see his intention?" said the Doctor. "I am very much
mistaken if I do not. He is determined to leave the field clear for all
comers, unless she herself makes some sort of advances to him. 'If she
prefers Mayford,' says Sam to himself, 'in the way she appears to, why,
she is welcome to him, and I can go home as soon as I am assured of
it.' And go home he would, too, and never say one word of complaint to
any living soul."
"What a clear, brave, honest soul that lad has!" said the Major.
"Truly," said the Doctor, "I only know one man who is his equal."
"And who is he?"
"His father. Good night; good dreams!"
* * * * *
So Sam kept to his resolution of finding out whether or no Alice was
likely to prefer Cecil to him. And, for all his watching and puzzling,
he couldn't. He had never confided one word of all this to his mother,
and yet she knew it all as well as he.
Meanwhile, Cecil was quite changed. He almost hated Sam, and seldom
spoke to him, and at the same time hated himself for it. He grew pale,
too, and never could be persuaded to join any sport whatever; while
Sam, being content to receive only a few words in the day from My Lady,
worked harder than ever, both in the yards and riding. All day he and
Jim would be working like horses, with Halbert for their constant
companion, and, half an hour before dinner, would run whooping down to
the river for their bathe, and then come in clean, happy, hungry--so
full of life and youth, that in these sad days of deficient grinders,
indigestion, and liver, I can hardly realize that once I myself was as
full of blood and as active and hearty as any of them.
There was much to do the week that Alice and Sam had their little tiff.
The Captain was getting in the "scrubbers" cattle, which had been left,
under the not very careful rule of the Donovans, to run wild in the
mountains. These beasts had now to be got in, and put through such
processes as cattle are born to undergo. The Captain and the Major were
both fully stiff for working in the yards, but their places were well
supplied by Sam and Jim. The two fathers, with the assistance of the
stockman, and sometimes of the sons, used to get them into the yards,
and then the two young men would go to work in a style I have never
seen surpassed by any two of the same age. Halbert would sometimes go
into the yard and assist, or rather hinder; but he had to give up just
when he was beginning to be of some use, as the exertion was too
violent for an old wound he had.
Meanwhile Cecil despised all these things, and, though a capital hand
among cattle, was now grown completely effeminate, hanging about the
house all day, making, in fact, "rather a fool of himself about that
girl," as Halbert thought, and thought, besides, "What a confounded
fool she will make of herself if she takes that little dandy!--not that
he isn't a very gentlemanlike little fellow, but that Sam is worth five
hundred of him."
One day, it so happened that every one was out but Cecil and Alice; and
Alice, who had been listening to the noises at the stockyard a long
while, suddenly proposed to go there.
"I have never been," she said; "I should so like to go! I know I am not
allowed, but you need not betray me, and I am sure the others won't. I
should so like to see what they are about!"
"I assure you, Miss Brentwood, that it is not a fit place for a lady."
"Why not?"
Cecil blushed scarlet. If women only knew what awkward questions they
ask sometimes! In this instance he made an ass of himself, for he
hesitated and stammered.
"Come along!" said she; "you are going to say that it is
dangerous--(nothing was further from his thoughts); I must learn to
face a little danger, you know. Come along."
"I am afraid," said Cecil, "that Jim will be very angry with me;" which
was undoubtedly very likely.
"Never mind Jim," she said; "come along."
So they went, and in the rush and confusion of the beasts' feet got to
the yard unnoticed. Sam and Jim were inside, and Halbert was perched
upon the rails; she came close behind him and peeped through.
She was frightened. Close before her was Sam, hatless, in shirt and
breeches only, almost unrecognisable, grimed with sweat, dust, and
filth beyond description. He had been nearly horned that morning, and
his shirt was torn from his armpit downwards, showing rather more of a
lean muscular flank than would have been desirable in a drawing-room.
He stood there with his legs wide apart, and a stick about eight feet
long and as thick as one's wrist in his hand; while before him, crowded
into a corner of the yard, were a mob of infuriated, terrified cattle.
As she watched, one tried to push past him and get out of the yard; he
stepped aside and let it go. The next instant a lordly young bull tried
the same game, but he was "wanted;" so, just as he came nearly abreast
of Sam, he received a frightful blow on the nose from the stick, which
turned him.
But only for a moment. The maddened beast shaking his head with a roar
rushed upon Sam like a thunderbolt, driving him towards the side of the
yard. He stepped on one side rapidly, and then tumbled himself bodily
through the rails, and fell with his fine brown curls in the dust,
right at the feet of poor Alice, who would have screamed, but could not
find the voice.
Jim and Halbert roared with laughter, and Sam, picking himself up, was
beginning to join as loud as anybody, when he saw Alice looking very
white and pale, and went towards her.
"I hope you haven't been frightened by that evildisposed bull, Miss
Brentwood," he said pleasantly; "you must get used to that sort of
work."
"Hallo, sister!" shouted Jim; "what the deuce brings you here? I
thought you were at home at your worsted work. You should have seen
what we were at, Cecil, before you brought her up. Now, miss, just
mount that rail alongside of Halbert, and keep quiet."
"Oh, do let me go home, Jim dear; I am so frightened!"
"Then you must learn not to be frightened," he said. "Jump up now!"
But meanwhile the bull had the best of it, and had got out of the yard.
A long lithe lad, stationed outside on horseback, was in full chase,
and Jim, leaping on one of the horses tied to the rails, started off to
his assistance. The two chased the unhappy bull as a pair of greyhounds
chase a hare, with their whips cracking as rapidly and as loudly as you
would fire a revolver. After an excursion of about a mile into the
forest, the beast was turned and brought towards the yard. Twice he
turned and charged the lad, with the same success. The cunning old
stockhorse wheeled round or sprang aside, and the bull went blundering
into empty space with two fourteen-foot stock-whips playing on his
unlucky hide like rain. At length he was brought in again, and one by
one those entitled to freedom were passed out by Sam, and others
reserved unto a day of wrath--all but one cow with her calf.
All this time Alice had sat by Halbert. Cecil had given no assistance,
for Jim would have done anything rather than press a guest into the
service. Halbert asked her, what she thought of the sport?
"Oh, it is horrible," she said. "I should like to go home. I hope it is
all over."
"Nearly," said Halbert; "that cow and calf have got to go out. Don't
get frightened now; watch your brother and Buckley."
It was a sight worth watching; Sam and Jim advanced towards the
maddened beasts to try and get the cow to bolt. The cattle were huddled
up at the other end of the yard, and, having been so long in hand, were
getting dangerous. Once or twice young beasts had tried to pass, but
had been driven back by the young men, with a courage and dexterity
which the boldest matador in Spain could not have surpassed. Cecil
Mayford saw, with his well-accustomed eye, that matters were getting
perilous, and placed himself at the rails, holding one ready to slip if
the beasts should break. In a moment, how or why none could tell, they
made a sudden rush: Jim was borne back, dealing blows about him like a
Paladin, and Sam was down, rolled over and over in the dust, just at
Alice's feet.
Half-a-dozen passed right over him as he lay. Jim had made good his
retreat from the yard, and Cecil had quietly done just the right thing:
put up the rail he held, and saved the day's work. The cattle were
still safe, but Sam lay there in the dust, motionless.
Before any of them had appreciated what had happened, Alice was down,
and, seizing Sam by the shoulders, had dragged him to the fence.
Halbert, horrified to see her actually in the presence of the cattle,
leaped after her, put Sam through the rails, and lifted her up to her
old post on the top. In another instant the beasts swept furiously
round the yard, just over the place where they had been standing.
They gathered round Sam, and for an instant thought he was dead; but
just as Jim hurriedly knelt down, and raising his head began to untie
his handkerchief, Sam uprose, and, shaking himself and dusting his
clothes, said,--
"If it had been any other beast which knocked me down but that poley
heifer, I should have been hurt;" and then said that "it was
bathing-time, and they must look sharp to be in time for dinner:" three
undeniable facts, showing that, although he was a little unsteady on
his legs, his intellect had in nowise suffered.
And Halbert, glancing at Alice, saw something in her face that made him
laugh; and, dressing for dinner in Jim's room, he said to that young
gentleman,--
"Unless there are family reasons against it, Jim, which of course I
can't speak about, you know, I should say that you would have Sam for
your brother-in-law in a very short time."
"Do you really think so, now?" said Jim; "I rather fancied she had
taken up with Cecil. I like Sam's fist, mind you, better than Cecil's
whole body, though he is a good little fellow, too."
"She has been doing that, I think, rather to put Sam on his mettle; for
I think he was taking things too easy with her at first; but now, if
Cecil has any false hopes, he may give them up; the sooner the better.
No woman who was fancy free could stand seeing that noble head of Sam's
come rolling down in the dust at her feet; and what courage and skill
he exhibited, too! Talk of bull-fights! I have seen one. Bah! it is
like this nail-brush to a gold watch, to what I saw to-day. Sam, sir,
has won a wife by cattledrafting."
"If that is the case," said Jim, pensively brushing his hair, "I am
very glad that Cecil's care for his fine clothes prevented his coming
into the yard; for he is one of the bravest, coolest hands among
cattle, I know; he beats me."
"Then he beats a precious good fellow, Jim. A man who could make such
play as you did to-day, with a stick, ought to have nothing but a big
three-foot of blue steel in his hand, and Her Majesty's commission to
use it against her enemies."
"That will come," said Jim, "the day after Sam has got the right to
look after Alice; not before; the governor is too fond of his
logarithms."
When Sam came to dress for dinner he found that he was bruised all
over, and had to go to the Captain for "shin plaster," as he called it.
Captain Brentwood had lately been trying homeopathy, which in his case,
there being nothing the matter with him, was a decided success. He
doctored Sam with Arnica externally, and gave him the five-hundredth of
a grain of something to swallow; but what made Sam forget his bruises
quicker than these dangerous and violent remedies, was the delightful
change in Alice's behaviour. She was so agreeable that evening, that he
was in the seventh heaven; the only drawback to his happiness being
poor Cecil Mayford's utter distraction and misery. Next morning, too,
after a swim in the river, he handled such a singularly good knife and
fork, that Halbert told Jim privately, that if he, Sam, continued to
sport such a confoundedly good appetite, he would have to be carried
half-a-mile on a heifer's horns and left for dead, to keep up the
romantic effect of his tumble the day before.
They were sitting at breakfast, when the door opened, and there
appeared before the assembled company the lithe lad I spoke of
yesterday, who said,--
"Beg your pardon, sir; child lost, sir."
They all started up. "Whose child?" asked the Captain.
"James Grewer's child, sir, at the wattle hut."
"Oh!" said Alice, turning to Sam, "it is that pretty little boy up the
river that we were admiring so last week."
"When was he lost?" asked Major Buckley.
"Two days now, sir," said the lad.
"But the hut is on the plain side of the river," said the Major; "he
can't be lost on the plains."
"The river is very low, sir," said the lad; "hardly ancle deep just
there. He may have crossed."
"The black fellows may have found him," suggested Mrs. Buckley.
"They would have been here before now to tell us, if they had, I am
afraid," said Captain Brentwood. "Let us hope they may have got him;
however, we had better start at once. Two of us may search the river
between this and the hut, and two may follow it towards the Mayfords'.
Sam, you have the best horse; go down to the hut, and see if you can
find any trace across the river, on this side, and follow it up to the
ranges. Take some one with you, and, by-thebye, take your dog Rover."
They were all quickly on the alert. Sam was going to ask Jim to come
with him; but as he was putting the saddle on Widderin he felt a hand
on his arm, and, turning, saw Cecil Mayford.
"Sam Buckley," said Cecil, "let me ride with you; will you?"
"Who sooner, old friend?" answered Sam heartily: "let us come together
by all means, and if we are to go to the ranges, we had better take a
blanket a-piece, and a wedge of damper. So if you will get them from
the house, I will saddle your horse."