CHAPTER IX
NO HOPE FOR HIM
"I'm afraid I have interrupted a very interesting conversation?" saidGilroy, showing his teeth through his beard.
Naomi smiled coolly.
"What if I say that you have, Monty?"
"Then I'm sorry, but it can't be helped," replied the manager, jumpingoff his horse, and hanging the bridle over a hook on one of theveranda-posts.
"Ah, I thought as much," said Naomi, dryly. She held out her hand,however, as she spoke.
But Gilroy had stopped before setting foot in the veranda. He stoodglaring at Engelhardt, who was not looking at him, but at the fadingsky-line away beyond the sand and scrub, and with a dazed expressionupon his pale, eager face. The piano-tuner had not risen; he had merelyturned round where he sat, at the sound of Gilroy's voice.
Now, however, he seemed neither to see nor to heed the manager, thoughthe latter was towering over him, white with mortification.
"Now then, Mr. Piano-tuner, jump up and clear; I've ridden over to seeMiss Pryse on urgent business----"
"Leaving your manners behind you, evidently," observed that young lady,"or I think you would hardly be ordering my visitors out of my veranda_and_ my presence!"
"Then will you speak to the fellow?" said Gilroy, sulkily. "He seemsdeaf, and I haven't ridden in for my own amusement. I tell you it's animportant matter, Naomi."
"Mr. Engelhardt!" said Naomi, gently. He turned at once. "Mr. Gilroy,"she went on to explain, "has come from the shed to see me aboutsomething or other. Will you leave us for a little while?"
"Certainly, Miss Pryse." He rose in sudden confusion. "I--I beg yourpardon. I was thinking of something else."
It was only Naomi's pardon that he begged. He had not looked twice atGilroy; but as he rounded the corner of the building, he glanced sharplyover his shoulder. He could not help it. He felt instinctively that aglimpse of their lovers' greeting would do something toward his cure.All that he saw, however, was Naomi with her back to the wall, and herhands laid firmly upon the wicker chair-back where her head had resteda moment before. Across this barrier Gilroy had opened so vehement afire upon her that Engelhardt thought twice about leaving them alonetogether. As he hesitated, however, the girl shot him a glance whichcommanded him to be gone, while it as plainly intimated her perfectability to take care of herself.
Once out of her sight, the piano-tuner turned a resolute back upon thehomestead, determining to get right away from it for the time being--toget away and to think. He did not, however, plunge into the plantationof pines, in which Naomi and he had often wandered during these last fewdays, that seemed a happy lifetime to him now that he felt they wereover. He took the broad, sandy way which led past the stables to themen's hut on the left, and to the stock-yards on the right. Behind theyards the sun was setting, the platform for the pithing of bullocks, andthe windlass for raising their carcasses, standing out sharp and blackagainst the flaming sky; and still farther to the right, where therewere sheep-yards also, a small yellow cloud rose against the pink like apillar of sand. Engelhardt knew little enough of station life, but hesaw that somebody was yarding-up a mob of sheep for the night. He wenton to have a look at the job, which was over, however, before he reachedthe spot. Three horses were trotting off in the direction of thehorse-paddock, while, coming away from the yard, carrying their saddlesand bridles, were two of the station hands and the overseer, TomChester.
"Hulloa, Engelhardt, still here?" said the latter, cheerily, as theymet. "How goes the arm?"
"First-rate, thanks. I'm off to-morrow."
"Yes? Come on back to the homestead, and help me shave and brush up.I've been mustering seventeen miles from the shed. We've run the mobinto these yards for the night, and I'm roosting in the barracks."
"So is Mr. Gilroy, I fancy."
"The devil he is! Has he come in from the shed, then?"
"Yes; within the last ten minutes."
Chester looked black.
"You didn't hear what for, I suppose?"
"To speak to Miss Pryse about some important matter; that's all I know."
"I should have thought they'd had enough to say to each other yesterday,to last Gilroy for a bit. I'm mustering, you know; but I heard allabout it when I got back to the shed last night. Some of the men came tome in a sort of deputation. They hate Gilroy about as much as I do, andthey want him out of that. If he's a sensible man he's come in to chuckup the sponge himself."
Tom Chester flung his saddle and bridle over the rail as they passed thestable, and walked on to the station-yard, and across it to the littlewhite barracks, without another word. Engelhardt followed him into hisroom and sat down on the bed. He felt that they understood one another.That was what made him say, while Chester was stropping his razor:
"You don't love Gilroy, I imagine."
"No, I don't," replied Tom Chester, after a pause.
"But Miss Pryse does!" Engelhardt exclaimed, bitterly.
The other made a longer pause. He was lathering his chin. "Not she,"said Tom, coolly, at length.
"Not! But she's engaged to him, I hear!"
"There's a sort of understanding."
"Only an understanding?"
"Well, she doesn't wear a ring, for one thing."
"I wish you would tell me just how it stands," said Engelhardt,inquisitively. His heart was beating, nevertheless.
"Tell you?" said Tom Chester, looking only into the glass as heflourished his razor. "Why, certainly. I don't wonder at your wanting toknow how a fine girl like that could go and engage herself to aGod-forsaken image like Gilroy. _I_ don't know, mind you. I wasn't herein Mr. Pryse's time; but everyone says he was a good sort, and that theworse thing he ever did was to take on Gilroy, just because he was somesort of relation of his dead wife's. He's second cousin to Miss Pryse,that's what Gilroy is; but he was overseer here when the boss was hisown manager, and when he died Gilroy got the management, naturally.Well, and then he got the girl, too--the Lord knows how. She knew thather father thought well of the skunk, and no doubt she herself felt itwas the easiest way out of her responsibilities and difficulties. Ay,she was a year or two younger then than she is now, and he got thepromise of her; but I'll bet you an even dollar he never gets her tokeep."
The piano-tuner had with difficulty sat still upon the bed, as helistened to this seemingly impartial version of the engagement which hadnumbed his spirit from the moment he heard of it. Tom Chester had spokenwith many pauses, filled by the tinkle of his razor against a healthybeard three days old. When he offered to bet the dollar, he was alreadyputting the razor away in its case.
"I won't take you," said Engelhardt. "You don't think she'll marry him,then?" he added, anxiously.
"Tar here on the brisket," remarked Chester, in the shearer's formula,as he dabbed at a cut that he had discovered under his right jaw."What's that! Marry him? No; of course she won't."
Engelhardt waited while the overseer performed elaborate ablutions andchanged his clothes. Then they crossed over together to the frontveranda, which was empty; but as they went round to the back the soundof voices came fast enough to their ears. The owner and her manager werestill talking in the back veranda, which was now in darkness, and theirvoices were still raised. It was Tom Chester's smile, however, thathelped Engelhardt to grasp the full significance of the words that mettheir ears. Gilroy was speaking.
"All right, Naomi! You know best, no doubt. You mean to paddle your owncanoe, you say, and that's all very well; but if Tom Chester remains onat the shed there'll be a row, I tell you straight."
"Between whom?" Naomi inquired.
"Between Tom Chester and me. I tell you he's stirring up the men againstme! You yourself did mischief enough yesterday; but when he came in hemade bad worse. It may be an undignified thing to do, for the boss ofthe shed; but I can't help that, I shall have to fight him."
"Fight whom?" said Chester, in a tone of interest, as he and Engelhardtcame upon the scene together.
"You
," replied Naomi, promptly. "You have arrived in the nick of time,Mr. Chester. I am sorry to hear that you two don't hit it off togetherat the shed."
"So that's it, is it?" said Tom Chester, quietly, glancing from the girlto Gilroy, who had not opened his mouth. "And you're prepared to hit itoff somewhere else, are you? I'm quite ready. I have been wanting to hitit off with you, Gilroy, ever since I've known you."
His meaning was as plain as an italicised joke. They all waited for themanager's reply.
"Indeed!" said he, at length, out of the kindly dark that hid the colorof his face. "So you expect me to answer you before Miss Pryse, do you?"
"On the contrary, I'd far rather you came down to the stables andanswered me there. But you might repeat before Miss Pryse whatever it isyou were telling her about me behind my back."
"I shall do nothing of the sort."
"Then I must do it for you," said Naomi, firmly.
"Do," said Gilroy. And diving his hands deep into his cross-pockets, heswaggered off the scene with his horse at his heels and his arm throughthe reins.
"I think I can guess the kind of thing, Miss Pryse," Tom Chester waitedto say; "you needn't trouble to tell me, thank you." A moment later hehad followed the manager, and the piano-tuner was following Tom; butNaomi Pryse remained where she was. She had not lifted a finger toprevent the fight which, as she saw for herself, was a good deal moreimminent than he had imagined who warned her of it five minutes before.
"Will you take off your coat?" said Chester, as he caught up to Gilroybetween homestead and stables.
"Is it likely?" queried Gilroy, without looking round.
"That depends whether you're a man. The light's the same for both. Thereare lanterns in the stables, whether or no. Will you take off your coatwhen we get there?"
"To you? Manager and overseer? Don't be a fool, Tom."
"I'll show you who's the fool in a brace of shakes," said Tom Chester,following Gilroy with a swelling chest. "I never thought you had muchpluck, but, by God, I don't believe you've got the pluck of a louse!"
Gilroy led on his horse without answering.
"Have you got the pluck of a louse?" the overseer sang into his ear.Gilroy was trembling, but he turned as they reached the stable.
"Take off your coat, then," said he, doggedly; "I'll leave mine inside."
Gilroy led his horse into the stable. Instead of taking off his coat,however, Tom Chester stood waiting with his arms akimbo and his eyesupon the open stable-door.
"Aren't you going to take it off?" said an eager yet nervous voice athis side. "Don't you mean to fight him after all?"
It was the piano-tuner, whose desire to see the manager soundly thrashedwas at war with his innate dread of anything approaching a violentscene. He could be violent himself when his blood was up, but in hisnormal state the mere sound of high words made him miserable.
"Hulloa! I didn't see that you were there," remarked Chester, with aglance at the queer little figure beside him. "Lord, yes; I'll fight himif he's game, but I won't believe that till I see it, so we'll let himstrip first. The fellow hasn't got the pluck of---- I knew he hadn't!That's just what I should have expected of him!"
Before Engelhardt could realize what was happening, a horse had emergedfrom the shadow of the stable-door, a man's head and wide-awake hadrisen behind its ears as they cleared the lintel, and Gilroy, with asmack of his whip on the horse's flank and a cut and a curse at TomChester, was disappearing in the dusk at a gallop. Chester had sprungforward, but he was not quick enough. When the cut had fallen short ofhim, he gathered himself together for one moment, as though to givechase on foot; then stood at ease and watched the rider out of sight.
"Next time, my friend," said he, "you won't get the option of standingup to me. No; by the Lord, I'll take him by the scruff of his dirtyneck, and I'll take the very whip he's got in his hand now, and I'llhide him within an inch of his miserable life. That's the way we treatcurs in these parts, d'ye see? Come on, Engelhardt. No, we'll stop andsee which road he takes when he gets to the gate. I can just see himopening it now. I might have caught him up there if I'd thought. Ah!he's shaking his fist at us; he shall smell mine before he's a dayolder! And he's taken the township track; he'll come back to the shed asdrunk as a fool, and if the men don't dip him in the dam I shall be verymuch surprised."
"And Miss Pryse is going to marry a creature like that," criedEngelhardt, as they walked back to the house.
"Not she," said Chester, confidently.
"Yet there's a sort of engagement."
"There is; but it would be broken off to-morrow if I were to tell MissPryse to-night of the mess he's making of everything out at the shed.The men do what they like with him, and he goes dropping upon theharmless inoffensive ones, and fining them and running their sheep;whereas he daren't have said a word to that fellow Simons, not to savehis life. I tell you there'd have been a strike last night if it hadn'tbeen for me. The men appealed to me, and I said what I thought. So hisnibs sends me mustering again, about as far off as he can, while hecomes in to get Miss Pryse to give me the sack. Of course that's whathe's been after. That's the kind of man he is. But here's Miss Pryseherself in the veranda, and we'll drop the subject, d'ye see?"
Naomi herself never mentioned it. Possibly from the veranda she had seenand heard enough to enable her to guess the rest pretty accurately.However that may be, the name of Monty Gilroy never passed her lips,either now in the interval before dinner, or at that meal, during whichshe conversed very merrily with the two young men who faced one anotheron either side of her. She insisted on carving for them both, despitethe protests of the more talkative of the two. She rattled on to themincessantly--if anything, to Engelhardt more than to the overseer. Butthere could be no question as to which of these two talked most to her.Engelhardt was even more shy and awkward than at his first meal atTaroomba, when Naomi had not been present. He disappeared immediatelyafter dinner, and Naomi had to content herself with Tom Chester'scompany for the rest of the evening.
That, however, was very good company at all times, while on the presentoccasion Miss Pryse had matters for discussion with her overseer whichrendered a private interview quite necessary. So Engelhardt was notwanted for at least an hour; but he did not come back at all. WhenChester went whistling to the barracks at eleven o'clock he found thepiano-tuner lying upon his bed in all his clothes.
"Hulloa, my son, are you sick?" said Tom, entering the room. The risenmoon was shining in on all sides of the looking-glass.
"No, I'm well enough, thanks. I felt rather sleepy."
"You don't sound sleepy! Miss Pryse was wondering what could be thematter. She told me to tell you that you might at least have saidgood-night to her."
"I'll go and say it now," cried Engelhardt, bounding from the bed.
"Ah, now you're too late, you see," said Chester, laughing a littleunkindly as he barred the doorway. "You didn't suppose I'd come awaybefore I was obliged, did you? Come into my room, and I'll tell you abit of news."
The two rooms were close together; they were divided by the narrowpassage that led without step or outer door into the station-yard. Itwas a lined, set face that the candle lighted up when Tom Chester put amatch to it; but that was only the piano-tuner's face, and Tom stoodlooking at his own, and the smile in the glass was peculiar andcharacteristic. It was not conceited; it was merely confident. Theoverseer of Taroomba was one of the smartest, most resolute, andconfident young men in the back-blocks of New South Wales.
"The news," he said, turning away from the glass and undoing hisnecktie, "may surprise you, but I've expected it all along. Didn't Itell you before dinner that Miss Pryse would be breaking off her rottenengagement one of these days! Well, then, she's been and done it thisvery afternoon."
"Thank God!" cried Engelhardt.
"Amen," echoed Chester, with a laugh. He had paid no attention to thepiano-tuner's tone and look. He was winding a keyless watch.
"And is he going on here as manager?" Engelh
ardt asked, presently.
"No, that's the point. Naomi seems to have told him pretty straight thatshe could get along without him, and on second thoughts he's taken herat her word. She got a note an hour ago to say she would never see himagain. He'd sent a chap with it all the way from the township."
"Do you mean to say he isn't coming back?"
"That's the idea. You bet he had it when he shook his fist at us as heopened that gate. He was shaking his fist at the station and all handson the place, particularly including the boss. She's to send his thingsand his check after him to the township, where they'll find him drunk,you mark my words. Good riddance to the cur! Of course he was going tomarry her for her money; but she's tumbled to him in time, and a miss isas good as a mile any day in the week."
He finished speaking and winding his watch at the same moment. It was agold watch, and he set it down carelessly on the dressing-table, wherethe candle shone upon the monogram on its back.
"He has nothing of his own?" queried Engelhardt, with jealous eyes uponthe watch.
"Not a red cent," said Tom Chester, contemptuously. "He lived upon theold boss, and of course he meant to live upon his daughter after him. Hewas as poor as a church-mouse."
So indeed was the piano-tuner. He did not say as much, however, thoughthe words had risen to his lips. He said no more until the overseer wasactually in bed. Then a flash of inspiration caused him to ask,abruptly,
"Are you anything to do with Chester, Wilkinson, & Killick, the bigwool-people down in Melbourne?"
"To do with 'em?" repeated Tom, with a smile. "Well, yes; at least, I'mChester's son."
"I've heard that you own more Riverina stations than any other firm orcompany?"
"Yes; this is about the only one around here that we haven't got afinger in. That's why I came here, by the way, for a bit of experience."
"Then _you_ don't want to marry her for her money. You'll have more thanshe ever will! Isn't that so?"
"What the blue blazes do you mean, Engelhardt?"
Chester had sat bolt upright in his bed. The piano-tuner was still onthe foot of it, and all the fire in his being had gone into his eyes.
"Mean?" he cried. "Who cares what _I_ mean! I tell you that she thinksmore of you than ever she thought of Gilroy. She has said so to me in asmany words. I tell you to go in and win!"
He was holding out his left hand.
"I intend to," said Tom Chester, taking it good-naturedly enough."That's exactly my game, and everybody must know it, for I've beenplaying it fair and square in the light of day. I may lose; but I hopeto win. Good-night, Engelhardt. Shall I look you up in the morning? Wemake a very early start, mind."
"Then you needn't trouble. But I do wish you luck!"
"Thanks, my boy. I wish myself luck, too."
The Boss of Taroomba Page 9