CHAPTER XVI
IN THE MIDST OF DEATH
The candle-ends had burnt out in the store; the moon no longer shone inthrough the skylight; but the latter was taking new shape, and a harderoutline filled with an iron-gray that whitened imperceptibly, like aman's hair. The strange trio within sat still and silent, watching eachother grow out of the gloom like figures on a sensitive film. The packetof meat and bread was reduced to a piece of paper and a few crumbs; thelittle flask was empty, and the water-bag half its former size; but nowthat all was over, the horror of the night lay heavier upon them thanduring the night itself. It was Naomi who broke the long silence atlast.
"They have evidently gone," she said. "Don't you think we might venturenow?"
"It is for you to decide," said Engelhardt.
"What do you think, Mrs. Potter?"
"If you ask me, Miss Naomi, I think it's beneath us to sit here anotherminute for a couple of rascals who will be ten miles away by this time."
"Then let us go. I will take the Winchester, and if they are still aboutwe must just slip in again quicker than we came out. But I think it'sgood enough to chance."
"So do I," said the piano-tuner, "most decidedly."
"Then down with the props. They have served us very well, and nomistake! You must keep them in your kitchen, Mrs. Potter, as a trophyfor all time."
The old woman made no reply. Of what she was thinking none ever knew.Her life had run in a narrow, uneventful groove. Its sole adventure wasprobably the one now so nearly at an end. Ten years ago she had beenear-witness of a somewhat similar incident. And now she had played apart, and no small part, in another and a worse. At her age she mighthave come out shaken and shattered to the verge of imbecility, aftersuch a night. Or she might have felt inordinately proud of her share inthe bushrangers' repulse. But when at last the battered door stood wideopen, and the keen morning air chilled their faces, and the red morningsky met their eyes, the old woman looked merely sad and thoughtful, andyears older since the day before. Her expression touched Naomi. Oncemore she threw her young arms about the wrinkled neck, and left kissesupon the rough cheek, and words of grateful praise in the old ears.Meanwhile Engelhardt had pushed past them both and marched into themiddle of the yard.
"It's all right, I think," said he, standing purposely between the womenand the hideous corpse by the well-palings. "Yes, the coast is clear.But there's the horse you rode, Mrs. Potter, and Bill's horse, too,apparently, tied side by side to the fence."
"May God forgive them all," said Mrs. Potter, gravely, as she walkedacross the yard at Naomi's side.
They were the last words she ever uttered. As she spoke, the crack of arifle, with the snap of a pistol before and after, cut the earlystillness as lightning cuts the sky. Naomi wheeled round and levelledher Winchester at the two men who were running with bent backs from apuff of smoke to a couple of horses tethered among the pines beyondkitchen and wood-heap. She sighted the foremost runner, but never fired.A heavy fall at her side made her drop the Winchester and turn sharplyround. It was Mrs. Potter. She was lying like a log, with her brave oldeyes wide open to the sky, and a bullet in her heart.
"Take me away," said the girl, faintly, as she got up from her knees. "Ican bear no more."
"There are the horses," answered the piano-tuner, pointing to the twothat were tied up to the fence. "I should dearly like to give chase!"
"No, no, no!" cried Naomi, in an agony. "Hasn't there been enoughbloodshed for one night? We will ride straight to the shed. They havetaken the very opposite direction. Let us start at once!"
"In an instant," he said, and ran indoors for something to throw overthe dead woman. The girl was again kneeling beside her, when he cameback with a table-cloth. And she was crying bitterly when, a minutelater, he slipped his left hand under her foot and helped her into thesaddle.
They never drew rein until the long, low wool-shed was well in sight.The sun was up. It was six o'clock. They could see the shearers swarmingto the shed like bees to a hive. The morning air was pungent as spicedwine. Some color had come back to Naomi's cheeks, and it was she whofirst pulled up, forcing Engelhardt to do the same.
"Friday morning!" she said, walking her horse. "Can you realize that youonly came last Saturday night?"
"I cannot."
"No more can I! We have been through so much----"
"Together."
"Together and otherwise. I think you must have gone through more than Ican guess, when you were lost in Top Scrubby, and when you fell in withthose fiends. Will you tell me all about it some time or other?"
"I'm afraid there will be no opportunity," said Engelhardt, speakingwith unnatural distinctness. "I must be off to-day."
"To-day!"
Her blank tone thrilled him to the soul.
"Of course," he said, less steadily. "Why not? I did my best to get awaythe night before last. Thank God I didn't succeed in that!"
"Why did you go like that?"
"You know why."
"I know why! What do you mean? How can I know anything?"
"Very easily," he bitterly replied, staring rigidly ahead with hisburning face. "Very easily indeed, when I left you that letter!"
"What letter, Mr. Engelhardt?"
"The awful nonsense I was idiot enough to slip into your book!"
"The book I was reading?"
"Yes."
"Then I have never had your letter. I haven't opened that book since theday before yesterday, though more than once I have taken it up with theintention of doing so."
"Well, thank Heaven for that!"
"But why?"
"Because I said----"
"Well, what _did_ you say?"
She caught his bridle, and, by stopping both horses, forced him to faceher at last.
"Surely you can guess? I had just got to know about Tom Chester, and Ifelt there was no hope for me, so I thought----"
"Stop! what had you got to know about Tom Chester, please?"
"That he cared for you."
"Indeed! To me that's a piece of news. Mind, I care for him very much asa friend--as a hand."
"Then you don't----"
"No, indeed I don't."
"Oh, Naomi, what am I to say? In that letter I said it all--when I hadno hope in my heart. And now----"
"And now you have called that letter awful nonsense, and yourself anidiot for writing it!"
She was smiling at him--her old, teasing smile--across the gap betweentheir horses. But his eyes were full of tears.
"Oh, Naomi, you know what I meant!"
"And I suppose it has never occurred to you what I mean?"
He stared at her open-eyed.
"Will you marry me?" he blurted out.
"We'll see about that," said Naomi, as he took her hand and they rodeonward with clasped fingers. "But I'll tell you what I _am_ on to do.I'm on to put Taroomba in the market this very day, and to back you forall that it fetches. After that there's Europe--your mother--Milan--andanything you like, my dear fellow, for the rest of our two lives."
The Boss of Taroomba Page 16