A REGULAR SAVAGE
For days and weeks there had been no rain at Wanabeen or in the Swamp
Creek district. Jim Dennis was not a rich man, far from it, and he had
to depend upon his small station for his living. Everything depended
upon the weather. Without rain the land became a mere barren waste, and
the stock perished. There were no artesian bores then, no artificial or
scientific means of drawing supplies of water from under the ground,
although Jim had a shrewd suspicion, from observations he had made, that
underground rivers existed. He wished such rivers above instead of
beneath the surface, or that he could find some means to tap them.
Owing to his boy's illness he had not been on his run for several days,
quite an unusual occurrence with him. He could not leave the lad while
in danger. He would have lost everything sooner than do so. But now he
was on the high road to recovery, he went about his ordinary duties as
usual.
The low rumbling still continued, and he went outside the house to look
at the sky and watch the signs of the approach of the welcome storm. In
the distance he saw black masses of clouds, but they were a long way
off, and he was fearful that, after all, the storm might not reach
Wanabeen.
The cattle and horses already recognised the coming rain, and sniffed
the air and looked around with eager anticipation.
'I'll saddle up and have a look round,' he said to himself. 'Willie will
be all right.'
He stepped inside and found his son asleep. He beckoned to Sal and told
her to look after him and that he would not be long gone.
He saddled his horse, a fine bay about six years old, and one he had
bred himself. There was a certain amount of comradeship between Jim
Dennis and his horses. They seemed to understand him as well as he did
them. He rode out at the gate and went in the direction of the storm.
It was with a glad heart he heard the rumbling of the thunder, and from
the various signs around him he knew the rain was near at hand. As far
as he could see there was a peculiar haze in the atmosphere, dense, like
falling rain.
The brown, bare earth, with here and there a scanty tuft of green,
seemed to lie gasping for water. Big cracks appeared in the ground where
it had been unable to stand the constant baking any longer, and so had
given way. The trees were gaunt and well-nigh leafless.
He rode along keeping his eyes fixed on the clouds ahead. With
surprising suddenness he felt a cool breeze commence to blow. It fanned
his face and refreshed him, and his horse snorted and tossed his head as
though he would say, 'This is a pleasant change. There will be a chance
of a good feed soon.'
He reined in and waited; there was no occasion to ride on, for the storm
was coming towards him fast. It was a thing to be welcomed, not avoided.
A few drops of rain fell, and he turned round to ride home. He had gone
out to greet it and give it the welcome due to such a guest.
A dozen horses came galloping towards him, and he saw one of them was a
strange animal and did not belong to him.
Jim Dennis knew there were lawless characters in the district who would
be only too glad to get him into trouble. He was a straight goer and
would have nothing to do with them, although he was credited with being
hand and glove with the gang. The mounted police, too, had a 'down' on
Jim, with one exception, Constable Doonan, who was his staunch friend.
It was over the sticking up of the mail at Potter's Shanty and the
robbery of the bank agent, that the police were strong against him. At
that time Doonan was not in the district, but he had heard all about it,
and when he came to know Jim Dennis he refused to believe he had a hand
in it.
Sergeant Machinson, however, and the men who were engaged with him in
investigating the robbery, wished to lay the blame upon Jim Dennis, and
they, no doubt, honestly thought him the guilty party, or one of it.
Jim, however, was too many for them, and, managed to keep out of their
clutches.
Sergeant Machinson had been called over the coals for not capturing the
thieves, and he was wroth over the affair accordingly.
'That fellow Dennis was at the bottom of it, I'll be sworn,' he said to
the other constables; 'or how did he come by the five-pound note? We
must have him yet, my lads, but he'll take some catching. He's a smart
fellow, but those very clever men often do some foolish act and it gives
them away.'
As the bad characters in any district generally know what is going on,
they soon discovered Sergeant Machinson and the bulk of his men had a
'set' against Jim Dennis. This helped them considerably in their
dealings with the owner of Wanabeen.
Fortunately, however, for Jim Dennis, Constable Doonan was stationed at
Swamp Creek, and looked after the district around Wanabeen.
Sergeant Machinson was quartered at Barragong, about ten miles away, and
was in charge of a large tract of country. He had several men under him,
amongst them Doonan. He would have removed Doonan elsewhere, as he knew
he was partial to Jim Dennis, but had no ostensible reason for such a
step.
When Jim Dennis saw the strange horse running with his own, his first
thought was that some evil-disposed person had put it on his run in
order to get him into trouble. Such things were often done out of spite
or revenge, in fact Jim had narrowly escaped getting into trouble from
this cause.
The rain was now coming down fast and the thunder crashed overhead with
loud, startling cracks. The vivid lightning frightened the mob of
horses, and they galloped at headlong speed in the direction of the
homestead.
The strange horse was a splendid mover and soon headed the others.
Jim saw he was a thoroughbred, or nearly so, and thought to himself:
'By Jove! he can gallop. Mine are a fast lot, but he has given them the
go-by. He's a stallion too. Wonder whose he is? I must make inquiries.
This is no put-up job to get me into trouble. Abe Dalton and his gang
never have horses like that to handle!'
He galloped after them and as he neared home saw the yard gates stood
wide open.
'They'll go in,' said Jim to himself; 'and I must get up in time to shut
them in.'
Faster and faster came the rain, and the hot ground steamed under the
grateful cooling shower. In a few days the whole aspect of the country
would be changed, and nature appear in a different form. Instead of the
dull, dry brown would come a bright, refreshing green. The grass grows
with remarkable rapidity in such regions and the scene changes as though
by magic. The horses had gone under the sheds for shelter, and Jim,
dismounting, closed the gates. Having unsaddled his horse, and peeped
inside to see how Willie fared, he went to look at the stranger amongst
his mob.
Already there was a fight on and the stallion was trying to savage his
nearest neighbour. A battle royal seemed imminent, but Jim Dennis meant
to stop that.
He went for a stock whip, and quickly gave the combatants to understand
he was acting as referee and that he had called time.
Crack came the lash and caught the stallion on his flank. He jumped as
though he had been shot, and stood still quivering. Crack came the whip
again, and the other combatant galloped round the yard.
The strange horse stood looking at him with a fiery light in his eyes.
He evidently did not understand this unceremonious treatment, and
resented the lash of the whip.
'You try it on. Just you try it on. You'll savage me, will you? My boy,
you don't know Jim Dennis.'
Jim stood bareheaded, with the rain pouring down upon him, and he
revelled in the glorious shower bath. He had on a rough shirt, such as
stockmen wear, a dullish red, it having seen some service, and his
breeches fitted neatly into his riding boots. He was rather particular
about such things for a bushman, and he may be called such without it
being a misnomer.
The horse eyed Jim, and Jim kept his eyes steadily fixed on the horse.
There was a moment or two of uncertainty, and then, before the animal
had time to plunge forward towards him, Jim Dennis whirled his whip
round, and the lash came down on the horse's neck and curled.
With a jerk Jim had it freed again, and then the horse rushed at him.
He sprang on one side and escaped the furious attack. Quick as
lightning, before the animal could turn, he had brought the lash down
again on his back, and this time the horse did not turn, but galloped to
the far side of the yard.
But the struggle was not ended.
The stranger again made an attack on the horse nearest him, and there
was a general uproar and stamping of hoofs amongst the mob.
Jim returned to the attack and separated them. In doing so he became
wedged in a corner against the fence, and the stallion came straight at
him.
He had no time to use the lash, so, seizing it short in his hand, he
twisted it round and raised the stock.
He struck the now infuriated horse a blow on the forehead, which dazed
him for a moment but did not daunt him. The horse stood on his hind legs
and commenced to strike at Jim with his fore feet.
Jim Dennis knew he had never been in such a tight fix before, and he
commenced to wonder what would happen.
He struck the horse's fore legs again and again with the stock of his
whip, but could not beat him off.
He heard the gate opened, but did not see who was there. Presently the
stallion was attacked in the rear, and a vigorous lashing from a strong
arm made him alter his tactics. He came down on all fours and then
kicked furiously. Jim Dennis dodged round him, and, standing back to
give himself more room, again plied his lash with effect.
The horse was now beaten, and took his defeat sullenly. He retreated,
and received a parting whack as he went.
Jim Dennis then saw it was Constable Doonan who had so timely come to
the rescue.
'You were in a tight corner, Jim. I came just in time. That's a brute of
a horse. Where did you get him?'
'I didn't get him, he came of his own accord. He doesn't belong to me. I
found him with my mob when I was out on the run. The storm gave them a
fright, and they galloped into the yard. He commenced to savage my
horses, so I had to separate them. We have had a toughish struggle.'
'Curious,' said Doonan. 'I wonder to whom he belongs. Looks like a
thoroughbred. I have heard nothing about a horse being lost. He must
have broken loose. Can you keep him here until I make inquiries?'
'If we can box him he'll be all right. Perhaps they were bringing him
from Sydney or somewhere, and he managed to get away. Come inside, Fred,
you are wet through.'
'It will do me good,' laughed Doonan. 'It is a long time since we had
such a soaking. What a difference it will make to your place. By the
way, how's the young un? I heard from Dr Sheridan he had been very ill.'
'He has had a narrow squeak, but he's pulled through, thanks to Dr Tom.
Come in and see him. Willie is very fond of you,' said Jim.
'Oh, did you hear Rodney Shaw has come back from England?' said Doonan,
as they went indoors.
'Has he?' said Jim. 'Why, he must have been away six or seven years.'