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Settling Day
_By the same Author_
=SPORTING SKETCHES=
Some Press Opinions
'We are inclined to regard this volume as the best work he, Mr
Gould, has yet done.'--_The Field._
'These vivid, varied and altogether delightful
sketches.'--_Glasgow Herald._
* * * * *
=A RACECOURSE TRAGEDY=
Some Press Opinions
'Most of the characters are delightful, and the love scenes
towards the close--in which two of Mr Gould's best-depicted
characters are the actors--furnish an extremely pleasant ending
to an exciting and well-told story.'--_Scotsman._
'A good example of a plain, straightforward story, without any
mystery, yet strong in human interest.'--_Nottingham Guardian._
* * * * *
=WARNED OFF=
Some Press Opinions
'Nat Gould's stories are so lively and full of "go" that they
never drag for a moment, and the topics of the Turf are sure to be
found discussed by the characters in the typical style. "Warned
Off," the latest of the series, is a capital story of a gentleman
rider who suffers an unjust Turf sentence.'--_Leeds Mercury._
'The plot affords plenty of scope for the style of writing in
which Mr Gould indulges, and the book comes out at an appropriate
time, inasmuch as some of the most exciting incidents take place at
Epsom.'--_The Field._
* * * * *
For further List of Authors please refer to end of book.
SETTLING DAY
BY
NAT GOULD
AUTHOR OF
'THE DOUBLE EVENT,' 'A RACECOURSE TRAGEDY,'
'WARNED OFF,' ETC., ETC.
LONDON
R.A. EVERETT & CO.
42 ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C.
[_All Rights reserved._]
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. The Little Chap 1
II. Black Sal 10
III. Potter's Shanty 17
IV. Jim's Trouble 25
V. A Regular Savage 34
VI. Rodney Shaw 43
VII. Outwitted 53
VIII. At Cudgegong Station 62
IX. The Sort of Man Dr Tom is 71
X. A Frightened Scoundrel 80
XI. 'Try Willie' 89
XII. Mainly Concerning a Dog 97
XIII. Speculation 106
XIV. The Half-Caste's Warning 115
XV. A Cowardly Assault 123
XVI. The Morning of the Race 132
XVII. At the Post 141
XVIII. His First Race 149
XIX. Sal at Work 158
XX. Danger at Hand 168
XXI. A Clever Escape 177
XXII. Determined Men 187
XXIII. The Attack on Barker's Creek 196
XXIV. A Fierce Fight 205
XXV. A Stricken Woman 214
XXVI. Settling Day 223
XXVII. Neptune's Son 232
XXVIII. Grey Bird is Admired 240
XXIX. A Glorious Victory 249
XXX. In the Days of Prosperity 258
SETTLING DAY
CHAPTER I
THE LITTLE CHAP
He was riding hard and fast, the thud of his horse's hoofs resounded
from the sun-baked ground. He rode for a life, the life of his child, a
little chap six years old. As he urged on his mare he fancied in every
moan of the wind he heard a cry of pain. His face was set and his eyes
were tearless, but his heart throbbed painfully, and each pulsation
seemed to increase his dread of what might happen in the homestead
during his absence. In the Australian bush doctors are few and far
between, and many miles have to be covered before assistance in case of
sickness can be obtained.
Jim Dennis's had not been a happy life. He was practically an outcast
from society, a solitary man, living in a lonely spot in the wilds of
New South Wales. He had been grievously wronged, and knew it, but others
did not, and the world's judgment upon him had been harsh and unjust.
He hated the world, so he said, and thought he meant, it; but there was
one connecting link with the past that softened his heart, and that was
the little chap who lay fighting for life while he rode at a mad pace to
fetch aid so necessary to save him; and the mare, with that unerring
instinct which horses possess, knew she was set no ordinary task. The
sun was glowing down upon man and beast, and the ground felt like hot
bricks. There was no grass, for the wretched substitute in the dried
shrivelled blades that nodded faintly in the wind could scarcely be
designated as such.
No trees afforded a cool shade, and a stagnant water-hole or two was no
temptation to drink.
Jim Dennis had several miles to go before he reached Swamp Creek, the
nearest township to his lonely station.
He urged the mare on, and faster and faster she went, taxing her
strength to the uttermost, and yet never faltering, her courage still
high, her spirit undaunted. Her nostrils were extended and fiery red, a
few faint traces of foam were on the bit, but her mouth was dry and
parched as the ground she galloped over.
Her breath came in short, quick sobs, and Jim Dennis knew she would be
well-nigh spent in another hour. He was not a cruel man, and he had
great affection for all animals. It was mankind that he warred against,
not the brute creation.
'Poor old lass,' he murmured as he patted her hot neck. 'Poor old Bess.
This is a hard day's work for you old girl; but don't think me cruel.
You must save his life--my little chap's life. He's dying, Bess. Do you
hear--? he's dying!' He almost shouted the last words in a long wail of
agony.
The mare pricked her ears at the sound, and, noble beast that she was,
stretched out in a final effort.
She almost flew over the ground and even Jim Dennis, who knew her so
well, was surprised.
'She knows,' he thought. 'Good old Bess! She's never gone like this
before.'
There was a singing in his ears, and a monotonous, wailing cry hovered
around him.
If the little chap died he knew there was nothing left for him to live
for. That small life breathed hope into him, and if it were extinguished
the last flicker would go out of his heart.
In the far distance he saw a small cluster of houses, shanties would
perhaps be the proper word. It was the dim outline of Swamp Creek, a
miserable little place, but to Jim it seemed a haven of rest and hope.
The local doctor was a curious compound of self-conceit and good nature.
He had been a ship's surgeon for many years, and if he was somewhat
addicted to drink, no better hearted fellow could be found for a hundred
miles round.
He was stranded in Sydney, but through the aid of a brother medico of
repute he managed to establish himself at Swamp Creek, where in his
bachelor state he eked out an existence.
Dr Thomas Sheridan, or, as he was familiarly known in Swamp Creek
district, Dr Tom, was simply idolised by the inhabitants, and this
adoration was not undeserved, for it often stood in lieu of medical
fees.
Dr Tom, even when in his cups, was never known to refuse to undertake
any journey, no matter how far, or in what weather, or how remote the
chance of payment.
Although he did not look it, Dr Tom was by no means unskilful, and he
had an iron nerve which no amount of bad, fiery liquor, could shake.
It was to Dr Tom that Jim Dennis was riding, and he felt every
confidence in his being able to pull the little chap through if he could
only get him there in time.
That was the all-important question: Would Dr Tom arrive in time?
Nearer and nearer the mare galloped towards the township, and the
doctor, whose house stood at the edge of the village, saw them coming.
He was in a good humour. That morning he had completed a difficult
operation to his entire satisfaction, although the patient had alluded
to him as a 'blundering old idiot,' and wondered why such men were
permitted to 'adorn' the medical profession.
Dr Tom was used to strong language, Swamp Creek was famous for it, in
fact the Creek had almost a language of its own. The atmosphere probably
had something to do with the warmth of the expressions used by the
inhabitants.
Dr Tom looked at the mare and her rider, and said to himself:
'That's Jim Dennis. Wonder what the devil he's up to, tearing about the
country like a madman in this heat. He's on a "jag," I guess. Well,
he'll get no assistance here, I can do with all the "jag mixture"
myself.'
Jim Dennis pulled the exhausted mare up with a jerk, and, springing out
of the saddle, rushed up the steps of the doctor's house.
'He's dying, Dr Tom, the little chap's dying. Come at once. For God's
sake man hurry! We haven't a moment to lose. You must save him. You can
save him. You _will_ save him! He's all I have in the world.'
'What, little Willie!' exclaimed Dr Tom. 'What's got hold of him?'
'Fever, or something. He's raving. Don't stand talking. Hurry up! Get
out your buggy and horses. Never mind if you drive 'em to death. I'll
pay for 'em. Only get there in time.'
'I'll be ready in a crack, Jim,' said Dr Tom, as he went inside, and, in
a very short space of time, the buggy, with a decent pair of horses
hitched to it, was at the door.
'Leave your mare here, she's dead beat,' said Dr Tom.
Away they went at full gallop, and as the doctor's buggy dashed out of
the township, people looked after it and thought it must be a desperate
case for him to drive his cattle at such a pace.
'Keep calm, man; keep calm, or you'll be ill yourself,' said Dr Tom.
'I can't do it, doc, the little chap may be dead,' and Jim Dennis
groaned.
'Cheer up, mate, you never know what a youngster can pull through;
they'll beat a man hollow. Many's the child I have seen live when a man
would have died,' said Dr Tom.
There was a gleam of hope in Jim Dennis's eyes, but it quickly faded,
and he said,--
'Bad luck has dogged me all my life. There's a curse upon me, and now
it's fallen on the little chap.'
Dr Tom looked at him. He did not know the history of this man's life but
he guessed some of it. He was a shrewd judge of character, and in his
heart he believed that Jim Dennis was more sinned against than sinning.
He had heard strange stories of this lonely man, and he had more than
once had a stand-up fight on his account. He liked Jim more than anyone
about Swamp Creek, and he was very fond of the little chap, as Willie
was called.
He meant to save the child if possible, and he had fought many a fight
with grim Death and beaten him. Nothing gave Dr Tom more satisfaction
than to rescue a patient from danger. It was not so much that he loved
his profession as that he desired to overcome obstacles.
'Get up!' said the doctor, and laid the lash across the backs of his
horses. 'It will ruin my pair, but I don't mind that. They are not
accustomed to this pace.'
'You can take the best pair I have,' said Jim.
'I know that. You are not like the bulk of my patients. Cross words is
the most I get from some of them,' said the doctor.
Jim Dennis smiled faintly. He knew Dr Tom did not exaggerate.
The buggy swayed from side to side and bumped up and down in a manner
suggestive of an early turn over.
It was a rough country and there was only a track, made by the mail
coach, which ran past Jim Dennis's place twice a week.
The doctor's buggy, however, was made to bear plenty of wear and tear,
and, although it looked anything but elegant, it could stand a lot of
knocking about. The last time it had been washed the Swamp Creek folk
were so surprised that they turned out _en masse_ to look at the
unfamiliar operation. Dr Tom, who said he disliked publicity, had not
since repeated the operation. The harness had several suspicions of bits
of rope about it, and the horses were accustomed to do most of their
own grooming by rolling in the stable yard. Altogether the turnout was
not one to inspire confidence, but it was, nevertheless, a welcome sight
to many a sufferer round Swamp Creek.
'We'll be there soon, Jim. Cheer up, old man. Don't let the little chap
see you with a downcast face. Whom have you left with him?'
'Sal!'
'What! the half-caste?'
'Yes. She's a good sort.'
'Humph!' said the doctor.
'Who else could I leave?'
'No one, of course,' and Dr Tom applied the whip vigorously.
A cloud of dust rose around the buggy and they came to a stop; the
sudden jerk nearly threw them out.
One of the horses was down. With a muttered curse, Jim Dennis jumped out
and urged the animal to rise. The tired horse struggled to his feet and,
as Jim sprang into the buggy, moved on again.
'Dead beat,' said Dr Tom; 'but he'll last to your place.'
In half an hour they saw Dennis's homestead in the distance, and again
the lash came down on the horses' backs, wielded by Dr Tom's vigorous
arm.
It was a moment of terrible suspense to Jim Dennis when the buggy pulled
up, and Dr Tom, springing out with more activity than might have been
expected, hurried into the cottage.
Jim was almost afraid to follow him.
If the little chap was dead he felt he could not bear the blow.
The minute or two he stood outside waiting seemed an eternity.
Then came a relief that was well-nigh as insupportable. It was Dr Tom
who called out,--
'Come in, Jim, the little chap's alive. I'll pull him through. He's not
so bad after all.'
'Thank God!' said Jim Dennis, whose prayers had been few and far
between.