The Signal-Tree.
"I jest walked in," said Dolphin, "an' I says, 'About thisyer
gold-escort: when does it start?' I says. The shrivelled party with the
whiskers looks at me acrost the counter, an' e' says, 'What business
is that of yours, my man?' 'None,' I says, ''xcept me an' my mate is
nervous of swaggin' our gold to town ourselves.' 'Don't you bother about
that,' 'e says. 'All you've got to do is to sell your gold to our agent
on the field, and leave the rest to him.' The escort will leave reg'lar,
accordin' to time-table; so we can stick it up, sure as Gawd made little
apples."
"And what about goin' through the Bank?" asked Sweet William.
"Now I ask you," said Dolphin, "what's the use of messing with the Bank,
when we can clean out the gold-escort, an' no one the wiser?"
"Same here. My opinion," said Gentleman Carnac.
"I'm slick agin letting the Bank orf," growled Garstang. "Why not let
the escort get its gold to the Bank, and then nab everything in the
show. The original plan's the best."
"I gave you credit for more sense, Garstang." The leader of the gang
looked darkly at his subordinate. "I gave you credit for knowing more of
your trade."
"More credit, eh?" asked the man with the crooked mouth. "For why?"
The four rascals were in the cottage where they had met before, and the
room reeked with the smoke of bad tobacco.
"Why?" replied Dolphin. "Because you're the oldest hand of the lot, an'
you've been in the business all your life."
"Jes' so," said Garstang, with an evil smile. "'Xcept when I've bin the
guest of the Widow."
"Which has been pretty frequent," interjected Sweet William.
"To clean the Bank out is easy enough," said Dolphin: "the trouble is
to get away with the stuff. You ought to see that with half an eye. To
stick up the escort requires a little skill, a little pluck; but as for
gettin' away with the gold afterwards, that's child's play."
"Dead men don't tell no tales," remarked Sweet William.
"But their carcases do," objected Garstang.
"You beat everything!" exclaimed the leader, growing almost angry.
"Ain't there such a thing as a shovel? No wonder you were copped pretty
often by the traps, Garstang."
"You two men wrangle like old women," said Carnac. "Drop it. Tell us
what's the first thing to do."
"To go an' look at the country," answered Dolphin.
"That's it.... Go it.... Dolphin controls the whole push.... Jest do as
'e tells." Garstang was evidently annoyed that the leadership of the
murderous gang, which had once been his, had passed out of his hands.
Dolphin took no notice of the remarks. "We shall have plenty time to get
to work, 'cause the Bank can't bring the gold to town till it's bought
it, and it can't begin to buy it till the agent reaches the field, an'
he only started to-day."
"Every blessed thing's ready," chimed in Sweet William, who was
evidently backing the new leader strongly. "Carny an' me's bin through
the guns, an' they're all clean an' took to bits ready for putting in
the swags. When they're packed, not a trap in the country but wouldn't
take us for the garden variety of diggers, 2 dwts. to the dish, or even
less. Quite mild, not to say harmless, gruel-fed, strictly vegetarian--a
very useful an' respectable body of men."
Dolphin smiled at the young man's witticism. "It doesn't need for more
than two to go," he said. "There's no use in making a public show of
ourselves, like a bloomin' pack-train. Two's plenty."
"I'll stop at 'ome," growled Garstang. "It's your faik, Dolphin--you
planned it. Let's see you carry it out."
"I'll go," volunteered William. "Carny can stop behind an' help keep
Garstang's temper sweet." In his hilarity he smacked the sinister-faced
man on the back.
"Keep your hands t' yerself," snarled Garstang, with an oath. "You're
grown too funny, these days--a man'd think you ran the show."
"Lord, what a mug!" Young William grimaced at Garstang's sour face. "But
it'll sweeten up, ole man, when the gold's divided."
"We're wasting time," broke in Dolphin. "We must be getting along. Pack
your swag, William: mine's at The Bushman's Tavern."
"Matilda is ready," exclaimed the youthful member of the gang, picking
up his swag from the floor, and hitching it on to his shoulders. "Gimme
that long-handled shovel, Carny--it'll look honest, though it weighs
half a ton. Well, so-long."
He shook the bad-tempered Garstang, slapped Carnac on the back, and
followed Dolphin from the cottage.
While this ominous meeting was being held, Jake Ruggles might have been
observed to be acting in a most extraordinary manner in the back-garden
of Tresco's shop. In the middle of a patch of ill-nourished cabbages
which struggled for existence amid weeds and rubbish, he had planted a
kitchen chair. On the back of this he had rested a long telescope, which
usually adorned the big glass case which stood against the wall behind
the shop-counter. This formidable instrument he had focussed upon the
pinnacle of a wooded height, which stood conspicuous behind the line of
foot-hills, and, as he peered at the distant mountain-top, he gave vent
to a string of ejaculations, expressive of interest and astonishment.
Upon the top of the wooded mountain a large tree, which he could
distinguish with the naked eye, stood conspicuous; a tree which spread
its branches high above its fellows, and silhouetted its gigantic shape
against the sky-line. Directing his telescope upon this remarkable giant
of the forest, by aid of its powerful lenses he could see, projecting
from the topmost branch, a flag, which upon further observation proved
to be nothing less than the red ensign employed on merchant ships; and
it was this emblem of the mercantile marine which so amazed and
interested the youthful Ruggles.
"The ole beggar's got his pennant out," he exclaimed, as he smacked his
lean shanks and again applied his eye to the telescope. "That means a
spree for Benjamin. The crafty ole rascal'll be comin' in to-night. It
means his tucker supply's given out, an' I must fly round for bacon,
tea, sugar, bread, flour; an' I think I'll put in a tin or two of jam,
by way of a treat."
He took a long look at the signal, and then shut up the telescope.
"It's quite plain," he soliloquised: "the old un's comin' in. I must
shut up shop, and forage. Then, after dark, I'll take the tucker to the
ford."
But, as though a sudden inspiration had seized him, he readjusted his
instrument and once more examined the conspicuous tree.
"Why, he's there himself, sittin' in a forked bough, an' watchin' me
through his glass." Placing the telescope gently on the ground, Jake
turned himself into a human semaphore, and gesticulated frantically with
his arms. "That ought to fetch 'im," and he again placed his eye to the
telescope. "Yes, he sees. He's wavin' his 'at. Good old Ben. It's better
than a play. Comic opera ain't in it with this sort o' game. He's fair
rampin' with joy 'cause I seen 'im." Shutting up his instrument, Jake
gave a last exhibition of mad gesticulations, danced a mimic war-dance,
and then, with the big telescope under his arm, he went into the house.
It was a long stretch of tangled forest from the big tree to Tresco's
cave, but the goldsmith was now an expert bushman, versed in the ways of
the wilderness, active if not agile, enduring if still short of breath.
His once ponderous form had lost weight, his once well-filled garments
hung in creases on him, but a look of robust health shone in his eye and
a wholesome tan adorned his cheek. He strode down the mountain as though
he had been born on its arboreous slopes. Without pause, without so much
as a false step, he traversed those wild gullies, wet where the dew
still lay under the leafy screen of boughs, watered by streams which
gurgled over mighty boulders--a wilderness where banks of ferns grew in
the dank shade and the thick tangle of undergrowth blocked the
traveller's way.
But well on into the afternoon Tresco had reached the neighbourhood of
his cave, where his recluse life dragged out its weary days. His route
lay for a brief mile along the track which led to the diggings. Reaching
this cleared path, where locomotion was easier, the goldsmith quickened
his pace, when suddenly, as he turned a corner, he came upon two men
walking towards him from Timber Town.
In a moment he had taken cover in the thick underscrub which lined each
side of the track, and quickly passing a little way in the direction
from which he had come, he hid himself behind a dense thicket, and
waited for the wayfarers to pass by.
They came along slowly, being heavy laden.
"I tell yer I seen the bloke on the track, Dolly, just about here," said
the younger man of the two. "One moment he was here, next 'e was gone.
Didn't you see 'm?"
"I must ha' bin lookin' t'other way, up the track," said the other. "I
was thinkin' o' somethin'. I was thinkin' that this place, just here,
was made a-purpose for our business. Now, look at this rock."
He led his companion to the inner edge of the track, where a big rock
abutted upon the acute angle which the path made in circumventing the
forest-clad hill-side. Placing their "swags" on the path the two men
clambered up behind the rock, and Tresco could hear their conversation
as he lay behind the thick scrub opposite them.
"See?" said Dolphin, as he pointed up the track in the direction of
Timber Town. "From here you can command the track for a half-a-mile."
Sweet William looked, and said, "That's so--you can."
"Now, look this way," Dolphin pointed down the track in the direction of
the diggings. "How far can you see, this way?"
"Near a mile," replied William.
"Very good. We plant two men behind this rock, and two over there in the
bush, on the opposite side, and we can bail up a dozen men. Eh?"
"It's the place, the identical spot, Dolly; but I should put the other
two men a little way up the track--we don't want to shoot each other."
"Just so. It would be like this: we have 'em in view, a long while
before they arrive; they're coming up hill, tired, and goin' slow; we're
behind perfect cover."
"I don't see how we can beat it, unless it is to put a tree across the
road, just round the corner on the Timber Town side."
"No, no. That'd give the show away. That'd identify the spot. There're
a hundred reasons against it. A tree across the track might stop the
diggers as well, and the first party that come along would axe it
through, and where would our log be then? It would never do. But let's
get down, and have a drink. Thank Gawd, there's a bottle or two left in
my swag."
Tresco saw them clamber down from the rock, and drink beer by the
wayside. Only too quickly did he recognise these men, who looked like
diggers but behaved so strangely; but the sight of the liquor was almost
more than he could bear, yet not daring to stir a finger lest he should
be discovered he was forced to see them drink it.
Indeed, they made quite a meal; eating bread and cheese, which they
washed down with their favourite beverage. When the bottles were empty,
Dolphin flung them into the bushes opposite to him, and the missiles,
shivering into hundreds of pieces, sprinkled the goldsmith with broken
glass.
He stifled a wordy protest which rose to his lips, and lay still; and
shortly afterwards he had the pleasure of seeing the undesirable
strangers hump their "swags" and retrace their steps towards Timber
Town.
When they had disappeared, Tresco came from his hiding-place. He looked
up and down the track. "Just so," he soliloquised, "half-a-mile this
way, a mile that. Good cover.... Commanding position. What's their
little game? It seems to me that there are bigger rascals than Benjamin
in Timber Town." And with this salve applied to his conscience, the
goldsmith pursued his way towards his dismal cavern.