YESSLETT PREPARES TO ACT.
The lamps were lighted at Wandaroo, and all the people about the
station had come in for the night; the men had finished their tea, and
were sitting about the place smoking their short, black pipes, and the
horses were all turned out and were cropping the young, sweet grass of
the paddock. Man and brute alike were aware that work for the day was
ended, and in their different ways each was enjoying his well-earned
rest. The large general room of the house at the head station was
quiet, for tea was cleared away, and, the kerosine lamp having been
turned up, Mrs. Law and Margaret were sitting with their sewing in that
busy idleness which women find so restful after a long day's work.
Yesslett Dudley was in the room, quiet, too, for a wonder, for he was
making one more attempt to finish a long delayed and often interrupted
letter to his old home. Every now and then sounds of life could be
heard from the kitchen, and the work of the ladies made slight
rustlings as they moved it, but otherwise, except an occasional word
from Mrs. Law and Margaret, the room was quite quiet. Yesslett went on
with his writing steadily for five or ten minutes, an unprecedented
period of repose for him; the ladies could hear him dipping his pen
savagely into the ink-pot, and then he would go on writing again. At
last, between his impatience at the ink and his distaste to silence, he
had to speak.
"I say, Margaret, this beastly ink-pot has dried itself up again. I
never saw such a place for ink as Australia is. I believe the flies
drink it as well as bathe in it," said he, fishing out the body of a
drowned house-fly on the end of his pen.
"You must remember that it is more than a week since you last wrote,
Yess, and that you didn't put the top on the ink-pot when you left
off."
"Oh, how you do notice things, Maggie," said the boy, looking up with a
smile. "Is it a week really since I wrote this page?"
"Yes, it is, Mr. Restless, and if you don't go on it strikes me it will
be another week before you get that one done."
This speech of Margaret's was prophetic, for it was much more than a
week before Yesslett ended that letter.
"Why, what is the day of the month, Maggie? I never can remember since
I've been here; there is nothing to remind one."
"The 16th."
"Is it! By Jove, we shall have the boys back in a day or two. They said
that they should not be gone more than a month or five weeks at most."
"I wish they would come," said Mrs. Law, letting her hands fall on to
her lap; "I am beginning to get so anxious about them. Those horrid
_myall_ blacks in the north-east country are so cruel and savage."
"Oh, don't trouble about them, aunt," said Yess leaving his place and
sitting down on the edge of the table by the side of Mrs. Law, where he
instantly began what he called "arranging" her work-basket. "Both Alec
and Geordie are careful fellows, and they are well armed and well
mounted. And those two black chaps, Prince Tom and What's-his-name,
aren't bad fellows, and will look after them."
Ever since his cousins had gone away Yesslett had assumed the position
of the man of the house. He was Macleod's right hand man in the working
of the run, and had developed qualities of diligence and
trustworthiness that astonished those who had only known him as the
rollicking boy he had been aforetime. The two ladies grew to love him
very dearly in these anxious weeks, and began to place confidence in
him and rely upon him, as women will do, unconsciously perhaps, upon a
man, however young a one he may be, if only he show signs of
trustworthiness and steadiness. He was just the same gay, light-hearted
fellow that he had been before, but under this there was a budding
manliness of purpose and temper that spoke well for his future
character. Chief of all his functions was that of comforter to his
aunt, and right well did he fill it, for his heart was in the work. His
dead father had filled the boy's mind with generous thoughts of
deference and courtesy to women, and these good old-world notions of
kindness and chivalry, which none appreciate more keenly than women,
had gained Yesslett the name of Chevalier, with which the two ladies
had dubbed him.
"Yes, the boys can take care of themselves, and I trust they are all
well," said Mrs. Law, taking up her work again and resuming it with
that pathetic patience which women, forced to inactivity, often show.
"They may be safe, but I want my boys back again for more reasons than
one." Mrs. Law was referring to the debt on the run, which had to be
paid in less than two days from that time, or the mortgage would be
foreclosed by Crosby, and the run would pass out of their possession.
Knowing of what her mother was thinking, Margaret tried to divert her
thoughts to the business of the present hour, so she said--
"Where has Macleod gone to-day, mother?"
"To Bateman. He left soon after breakfast. He wants to find a man in
the place of that Keggs. I always disliked that man, and Macleod says
that he is sure he has been out all night several times lately, riding
one of the horses. He doesn't know what it means, but it looks
suspicious, and we want to get rid of him."
"I saw him leaving the bachelor's hut with a bridle on his arm as
though he were going to catch one of the horses, an hour or so ago,"
said Yesslett.
"Did you?" asked Mrs. Law. "I wonder what he is after. I wish the lads
were back."
"Surely, mother, you don't think that Keggs' going out with a bridle on
his arm is likely to do them any harm?" said Margaret.
"No. Oh, no, certainly not. But I should like them to be here, or else
I should like to be with them sharing their dangers," said Mrs. Law,
turning to Yesslett, a little flush mounting to her cheeks as she
spoke. "You did not think your old aunt had so much spirit, did you,
Chevalier mine?"
"I always thought you were everything that a brave lady should be,"
said Yess.
"Ah, you don't know mother yet," said Margaret. "Did you never hear
how, when father was away once, she defended Wandaroo from the
_myalls_, soon after she first came here, and when the station was
quite a tiny place?"
"No, I've not heard about that. You ought to have told me, aunt."
"It is so many years ago, before Margaret was born, and you know what
an old lady she is getting," said Mrs. Law with a smile, "that I begin
to forget all about it."
"But I don't," said Margaret. "Just you listen to this, Yess, and you
will hear how brave and calm a woman can be in the very midst of
danger."
Margaret had drawn her thread through her work, and was, in her
excitement at the memory of the story, holding it tightly stretched out
to its full limit. She looked very beautiful as she turned her brown
richly-coloured face towards Yesslett, with the bright lamp-light
falling on her shapely head with its regal coils of black hair, and
Mrs. Law, with that unselfish pride which mothers feel in their
daughters' beauty, was thinking more of her comeliness than of what she
was saying. Yess, too, noticed how the girl's fine eyes glowed with her
enthusiasm, and was a little surprised to find how strong and bold a
spirit burned in these two women, whom he had only seen when engaged in
the quiet round of their daily toils.
Perhaps he guessed then whence his own greater courage flowed. Daily in
the presence of these brave-souled ladies he had grown valorous and
more strong. Their intrepidity had slain the old nervousness he once
had felt. No man, or boy either, could live with two such women without
being raised to their high level, more especially when he felt that he
was their defender and protector, and was called upon to make every
effort on their behalf.
"The _myalls_ were very numerous and wild about here when mother first
came to Wandaroo, and once, when father had to leave her for two days
quite alone, they began collecting in large numbers about the head
station. The natives had not been dispersed in those days, and they
were----"
Here the girl's low voice suddenly ceased, and for a moment a startled
silence fell upon the room. The two windows were thrown wide open to
the night, and the cool odorous breeze just stirred the light curtains
that hung before them.
What was it they had heard?
From far away, from beyond, the end of the great paddock, there came
the sound of a single pistol shot. It was the shot that Starlight had
fired at Alec when Crosby had knocked up his arm. The noise of the two
barrels that Alec had emptied at Keggs had not reached the house. The
report was faint, but the night was so still that sound could travel
far. They all looked up. For a moment no one spoke.
"What was that?" said Mrs. Law, in a low, intense whisper, laying her
work down, and with the palm of her right hand unconsciously drawing
off the thimble from her finger, as though preparing for action.
In two silent strides Yesslett reached the window, and was leaning out
intently listening. Far away down the gully a morepork was calling.
Nothing more. Then came a muffled laugh from the kitchen, and the sound
of a chair pushed back. They had not heard it there.
Both the ladies had grown pale, but on neither face was seen the shadow
of a fear.
"It was a pistol shot, I'm sure," said Yess.
"It cannot be the boys," said Mrs. Law; "they would know it would alarm
us too much."
"What about Keggs?" said Margaret, making one of those intuitive leaps
at the truth which are so characteristically feminine. "You know that
Yess said he owed them a grudge."
And now had come Yesslett's time for action. He certainly felt one
pulsation of his old nervousness at his heart, but the new courage that
came of his new strength and spirit instantly repressed it, and he
himself was surprised to find how calm he felt. He was standing at the
window where the moonshine fell into the room and mingled with the
yellow lamp-light. His fair, fluffy hair, moved by the tiny breeze,
shone like a halo where the light glowed in it. One hand rested on the
low window-sill as he turned and said quickly, but in a quiet voice--
"They may be in danger. I feel sure it is the boys. I will go straight
on across the paddock. Margaret, you run round by the bachelor's hut
and tell any of the men that are there to follow me as quickly as
possible to 'the Dip,' just beyond the end of the paddock; that's where
the sound came from."
Without another word Yesslett leaped through the window, and dashing
across the garden scrambled over the fence into the yard; crossing that
at a run, he got into the paddock without losing time by going round to
the bachelor's hut. As he entered the paddock he saw Margaret's white
figure darting diagonally across the yard to the men's quarters. He
hurried along at a break-neck speed over the dewy grass, the startled
horses looking up and moving away as the boy dashed past. He had
travelled half-way across the paddock without slackening speed, for his
healthy out-door life in Australia had given him all the strength of
limb he wanted when he was in England, and he now was as long winded as
either of his two cousins. He was just on a level with a little patch
of wooded shade, called the "Gum clump" on the station, when he saw a
figure, a thin, black figure, running towards the house as swiftly as
he himself was from it.
It was useless for him to attempt to hide, for he had been seen; so he
stood where he was till the man came up. It was a black boy; but Yess
could not tell whether it was one from the blacks' camp or a _myall_;
he did not know Murri well enough to recognise him in the deceptive
moonlight. He was not left long in doubt, for the man rushed up to him
and said in the most excited voice and in so great a hurry that Yess
could hardly understand him--
"Make um great haste, Missa Yessley. Come along o' me. Plenty much
white fellow ride quick, cotch us. Um chewt Missa Law dead bong; um
take Alec along ob um."
All this was unintelligible to Yesslett, but it sounded very terrible,
and he could see that the man was in deadly earnest; so, without a
second's delay, he said that he was ready to go with him. He knew,
directly that the man began to speak, that he must be one of the two
black fellows that had gone with Alec and George, but he could not tell
which one.
Murri turned at once, and started again at a swift pace to run towards
"the Dip," as it was called, at the end of the paddock. Yesslett
managed with difficulty to keep up with him. They climbed over the
fence together, and, straight as an arrow to its mark, Murri led the
way to the charred tree trunk, across the roots of which George had
fallen. Murri had had the sense to move the boy's body from the awkward
position in which it had fallen, and to raise his head a little.
Yesslett darted to what seemed to be the lifeless body of his cousin.
Geordie's eyes were closed as though in a heavy sleep; his face was
deadly white, except where the blood that had poured from his nostrils,
when he was flung to the ground, had stained it with its awful stain.
At first Yesslett could detect no signs of life in the motionless body
before him, but slipping his hand beneath Geordie's open shirt, and
placing his hand above his heart, he thought he could detect a faint,
faint fluttering there. Yes; hurrah! there was a tiny movement, and
bending his cheek down to Geordie's pale lips he could just feel the
lightest breathing on it.
"You get um water?" he said, with excitement ringing in every tone of
his voice, as he turned to Murri.
"Bail water bong along o' this place," said Murri; shaking his head.
"All um water up at station." Then, as a sudden idea seemed to strike
him, he sprang up and said, "Mine go cotch um _yarroman_. Plenty much
water in um bockle."
When Alec had ridden up alongside of Pearson, and leaped from his horse
on to the bushranger's, Amber had turned, and getting out of the
_mêlée_ had joined the horse from which Murri had so quietly slipped at
the beginning of difficulties. The bushrangers had not stayed to catch
them, but had swept on to overtake Alec and Pearson, and the two
Wandaroo horses had stopped not very far from where Geordie lay, and
were quietly grazing as well as they could with their bits in their
mouths.
Murri succeeded in catching Amber without much difficulty, and brought
a tin bottle of water to Yesslett, who opened it and found that there
was a little water swilling about at the bottom of it. With this the
boy wetted George's lips and sprinkled his face, and he had the
satisfaction of seeing a faint look of life return to the face that
gleamed so white and ghastly in the moonlight. Fearing that the sight
of blood would alarm Margaret and his aunt when they got back to the
house, he washed it away with the rest of the water.
A few minutes afterwards Yesslett heard the welcome sound of voices and
hurrying footsteps, and in another moment three or four men from the
station and the white-clad figure of Margaret, who had managed to keep
pace with the men, her awful anxiety giving her strength, were with
him.
Margaret's great force of character stood her in good stead just then.
She turned deathly pale when she saw her brother lying there, but she
repressed all other expression of her emotion. The girl threw herself
down by the side of the senseless boy, and raising his head laid it
against the heart that was beating so strongly with love for him. She
chafed his hands, and lifting back the moist hair from his forehead
fanned him with a fold of her white skirt; but as his eyes remained
closed and he gave no further sign of life she turned to her cousin,
and in an agonised voice cried out--
"Oh, Yesslett, is he dead? Geordie, my poor Geordie!"
"No, he is not dead, I think he is only stunned. We must get him back
as quickly as possible to the house. Aunt will know best what to do. I
think he must have fallen from his horse, for I can find no sign of a
wound about him."
"Where is Alec? What does it all mean?" asked Margaret, who now seemed
to remember that her other brother was not present. "It is something
very terrible, I'm sure, for Alec would never leave Geordie in this
way. He must be dead, for as long as he drew breath he would never
desert his brother."
"We thinks it is rather terrible, Miss," said Balchin, one of the men
who had been questioning Murri whilst Margaret was attending to her
brother, "From what we can make out of this black chap, Miss--it's
Murri, Miss, as went with Mr. Alec and George--they've been set on by
them bushrangers. He says, Murri do, that there was 'plenty much' of
'em, and that Mr. Alec shot wone of 'em dead, he was that mad like at
seeing of Mr. George being throwed, and that then they ups--yes, Miss,
the bushranger fellers--and takes Mr. Alec off along with them. That
was the way he says they went, Miss," ended Balchin, pointing with a
rough, red hand to the south.
"Yew can see there's bin a many 'osses 'ereabouts, by the way the gress
is cut up," said one of the other men, pointing to the trampled turf.
"Yes," said Yesslett, "but we can't do anything in the matter of
following them till morning, and we must get George home as quickly as
possible."
As Yesslett spoke, two or three of the men stooped and picked up the
senseless boy. These great rough fellows showed the utmost gentleness
and care in the work, for they all were fond of the bright, cheery lad;
indeed, Balchin, who had been on the run for many years, and had known
him from the time he was a tiny child, could not make his voice steady
as he spoke, try as he might.
Just before they came to the boundary fence of the paddock, Margaret's
quick eyes saw something lying quite motionless, at some little
distance away, in the shade of the great green tree. She pointed it out
to Balchin, and fearing, she hardly knew what, she asked him to go and
see what it was that lay so strangely there.
"You stay here, Miss, don't you move," said the man, fearing that the
sight might be too awful a one for her to see; "I'll come back and tell
you, Miss."
He started off at the heavy, slouching trot that was peculiar to him,
which looked so slow and ungainly, but which covered the ground so
quickly. Two snarling dingoes started up and sneaked away from the body
as the man approached. He rolled the dead man over with his foot,
looked once at the face, and returned to where the little party waited
for him by the gleaming fence.
"It be that thief Keggs, Miss, he've got what he deserves; yes, sir,"
said he, turning to Yesslett to include him in his remarks, "a bullet
through the heart. He it were as brought them bushrangers here, I'll
swear."
Slowly and sadly the little procession moved on its way to the house.
Margaret was quite quiet; she walked along, dry-eyed, by the side of
her brother, holding in her warm one his cold and heavy hand. Yesslett
had dropped behind, and was trying to get every bit of information
about Alec's capture that he possibly could from Murri. The black boy
had not seen or understood all that had taken place, and his account of
what had happened to, and been done by, the elder Law was so confused
as to be of little assistance to them in forming plans for Alec's
rescue.
One of the men had caught Amber and the horse that Murri had been
riding, and had taken them to a place, a little way along the fence,
where there were slip-panels, and getting them into the paddock,
followed the rest of the party to the yard. Vaulty, Geordie's horse,
was found next day, by one of the men on the station, a mile or two
away from the place where his rider had been thrown.
The night was very calm, so calm that Mrs. Law, standing at the
entrance to the paddock from the yard, could hear the steps of the
horses and the low voices of the men before she could see the party
that was approaching her. She could not rest in the house, and had felt
compelled to come out of doors, though her limbs were trembling beneath
her to such an extent that she could not stand without support. She
could do nothing, for her agony of mind was not mitigated by activity
of body; all that she could do, poor soul, was to wait until the search
party came back, whilst all the time her mother's heart was torn and
racked with an agony of fear. The first words that she heard were
these--it was Margaret who spoke.
"Run on, Yesslett, and try to prepare poor mother."
Hearing those words she seemed to know the worst. She could not cry
out, her parched lips refused to move, but she grasped the top rail of
the fence with her icy hand to support herself. She could not get her
breath, and the warm air, that was heavy with the aromatic scent of the
gum trees, seemed to suffocate her. When Yesslett came upon her, as she
stood near the gate to the yard, she could not speak; she only lay her
trembling hand upon his shoulder and waited for him to begin.
"It is Geordie, aunt; he is not dead but badly hurt," stammered poor
Yess, who was quite unprepared for seeing his aunt so soon.
"Oh, thank Heaven for that," gasped the poor lady, bursting into tears,
natural tears, that relieved her from the strain of her suspense.
Yesslett let her sob for a moment, and then, knowing that the best way
to soothe her was to call for her assistance, he said--
"But it all depends upon you, aunt. You must be calm and tell us what
to do, for Geordie is insensible, and we don't know how to act for the
best."
"You are right, Chevalier. I am glad no one but you has seen me in my
weakness," said Mrs. Law resolutely, and making a determined effort she
became her own calm self again, and by the time the men carrying
Geordie arrived at the gate she was composed and gave her orders with a
steady voice.
In this way, senseless, powerless, and death-like, George Law returned
to the home he had left so full of life and brightness and hope only a
few short weeks before.