Pals: Young Australians in Sport and Adventure

by Carol Norton

  *CHAPTER XXVII*

  *A RESPITE*

  "Ah! those were the days of youth's perfect spring, When each wandering wind had a song to sing, When the touch of care and the shade of woe Were but empty words we could never know, As we rode 'neath the gum and the box trees high, And our idle laughter went floating by." GEORGE ESSEX EVANS.

  Joe little thought when making the melancholy statement, "measly schoolopens to-morrow," how prophetic the utterance was.

  The first words that greeted the party on their return to the homesteadwere: "School won't open for another three weeks; the town's full ofmeasles."

  The pals tried hard to look sober and concerned as Mrs. M'Intyre dilatedupon the nature of the epidemic. It was a vain attempt. To their creditbe it said, they were very poor hypocrites. Whatever sorrow they mightfeel on account of their friends who were in the grip of the disease wasmore than counterbalanced by the blissful intimation that, owing to theepidemic which had unexpectedly broken out, the school authorities hadresolved, for at least three weeks, to keep the school closed.

  "There's no going home at present, boys. I wouldn't dream of lettingyou return. I'll just write to your mothers to say I intend keeping youhere, unless they want you particularly. I feel sure they will bethankful for your absence at such a time. So you'll have to make thebest of it, boys. Are you sorry?"

  "Well--er--of course--I'm a----"

  "Yes--a--of course--you're--a--shedding tears at the thought of stayinghere another fortnight or so--aren't you, Joe? You and Tom do look asmiserable as moulting fowls in wet weather at the bare thought ofholiday extension."

  The lads burst out laughing at Jessie's sally, and declared that it wasthe crummiest news they had received during the holidays.

  "That's a' very weel, and ye needna fash, laddies, that you'll ootwearyour welcome. But here's some news that may no' be so pleasant," saidthe squatter, who had been busy with his mail. "Here's a letter fraeInspector Garvie to say that Ben Bolt and his mate are in the deestric'again. He stuck up Dirrilbandie Station three days ago, drivin' a' thehands aboot the homesteed, along wi' Wilson and his faimily, into ane o'the men's huts, in which they were held by his youthfu' confederatewhile he ransacked the place."

  "Oh! the poor Wilsons! Did he hurt any of them? and did he get much?"

  In reply to a fusillade of questions from the excited household,M'Intyre stated that though Ben Bolt was in one of his black humours,was in fact on the point of shooting one of the men for cheeking hismate, and was only dissuaded from this atrocity by the pleading of Mrs.Wilson, no one was injured. He had taken a considerable amount of loot,however, in the shape of jewellery; also a pair of new improvedrevolvers, as well as three horses, one of them being Wilson's handsomechestnut gelding, the finest hack in the district, and for which he hada short time previously refused seventy pounds from the policeauthorities.

  There had been an outcry against the Government for not having provideda better class of mount for the troopers. Again and again the schemesof the police to capture the bushrangers in various parts of the colonyfailed, chiefly because they were out-classed in horse-flesh. A tardyGovernment, aroused at last to action by the clamour of the people, wasdoing its best to remedy this unequal condition.

  "I suppose, sir, the police are in full chase of the desperadoes?"

  "They're doin' their best, ye may be sure, Mr. Neville. Garvie has twopairties oot scoorin' the country, and is holdin' himsel' in readinessto move to ony pint at a moment's notice. As the scoondrels hae cut theWalcha telegraph line, the presumption is they will be raidin' theplace, and Sergeant Hennessey is following up with the utmost speed.The Sub wants the loan o' Jacky or Willy, or both, as trackers, and tolet him ken at aince should there be ony signs o' them on Bullaroi,'specially aboot the caves."

  "Are you goin' to lend him the boys, father?"

  "Weel, it's very awkward, but I'll hae to assist the coorse o' juisticewhen ca'd upon. We maun dae oor pairt to catch the rascals."

  "Suppose you _had_ tumbled across the 'rangers in the caves, boys?"

  "Well! an' s'p'osin' we had, Miss Jessie?" replied Tom, whose answer intone and query suggested unspeakably bad things for the outlaws had theybeen unfortunate enough to meet the cave heroes.

  "Let me pit ye a sum in arithmeetic, Thomas, ma laddie; juist a sma' sumin proportion. If twa stock wheep hondles, pinted at fowr caveexplorers, each wi' a lighted candle in his hand, would cause the saidcandles to drop to the flure and fowr pair o' hands to go up like a toyacrobat when ye pu' the strings, what attitudes would the aforesaidexplorers strike if a pair o' rale loaded peestols had been presented?"

  "Tom is always a duffer at proportion," interjected Joe laughingly. "Hehas a trick of givin' answers that make Simpson sit up. To tell you thetruth, sir, I don't think that the real article could have given us agreater shock. Speaking for myself, I confess that I've never had sobad an attack of the shakes before. My skin went goosey in a moment,an' my hair stood up like a hedgehog's spikes. I couldn't 'a' said aword for a hatful of sovereigns. You see, sir, _it was all very real tous for the moment_, and none of the others felt any better than myself,I bet tuppence."

  "Joe's quite right, sir. I had a most dreadful feeling as we stoodthere in the black darkness. It seemed as if a vast abyss had suddenlyengulfed us and we were sinking to fathomless depths."

  "I'll back up Joe and Mr. Neville, dad. My word, when you spoke, it wasas if some one had suddenly pulled me out of a dreadful nightmare."

  The pals went to bed early, as they were tired out after the unwontedexertions of the day, but not to sleep. They were too excited for that.

  "I say, chaps," exclaimed Sandy, jumping out of bed after he had tossedabout for a few minutes, dragging his stretcher alongside the biggerbed, "let's settle what we're goin' to do."

  "Was just thinking of doin' a sleep, Master M'Intyre, when you commencedto drag the jolly stretcher with enough noise to wake the sevensleepers. An' as for ole Tom, I fancied I heard a snore comin' througha hole in his pumpkin----"

  "Pumpkin yourself, Blain. I'm as wide awake as you, or that grinnin'ape Sandy."

  "How d'yer know I'm grinnin'?"

  "'Cause I can see your jolly teeth shinin' in the dark. But I say, olechap, I'm on for a confab. Ouch! my legs _are_ stiff. Wish I'd takenthat hot bath your mother advised. Whatcher got in your ole noddle?"

  "Something big, mates, but the difficulty will be with mother. You see,now ole Ben's prowlin' about, mother'll be hard to persuade."

  "Well, tell us what's up your sleeve; we can discuss ways an' meansafter."

  "It's this: go on a campin' trip to the Bay, where there's grandfishin'; then go out to the gold-diggin's, an' put in a couple o' dayswith the fossikers."

  "Jemima! that'd be no end of a prime lark! It'd top off our stay here,wouldn't it, Tom?"

  "Susan Jane! it would that, Joe. My word, it'd be a scrumptious finish!but what charnce would we have of carrying it out?"

  "I don't think that either your Jemima or Susan Jane'll have much to dowith it. Mother'll be the chief obstacle."

  "What about a tent, Sandy? We'd have to get one, wouldn't we?"

  "There'll be no trouble about that part of the business. There's a bigdrover's tent in the harness-room; 'sides, Harry has a small one he'dlend if necessary. Lemme see: what _would_ we want? First an'foremost, a tent or tents, an' a packhorse to carry 'em an' the otherthings. Then plenty o' prog, o' course: fishing lines--there's tip-topschnapper-fishin' down the Bay, to say nothin' of jew, bream, an'whitin'. Then, the guns--we ought to get some good shootin'; both furan' feather."

  "A fryin'-pan and a camp-oven 'ud come in handy, pannikins too, and sometin plates."

  "Yes, yes, we'll need those; at any rate, the fryin'-pan for the fish.Don't think there'll be any need to bother about a camp-oven: it's aplaguey thing to carry; we wouldn't use it 'cept for bread, a
n' we canmake plenty of damper in the ashes. But I'll tell you what we musthave, an' that's a couple o' small barrels an' a good few pounds o'salt."

  "Why, what for?"

  "Fish. We'll be down at the Bay pretty near a week, I reckon; an' aswe'll catch whips o' fish, it'd be a fine chance to dry some, an' saltsome as well. Mother's got two good barrels that hold abouthalf-a-hundred-weight each; they're salmon casks. The salmon's allused, an' I reckon schnapper is as good as salmon any day. That remindsme we'll want three or four sheath-knives; they'll come in handy forscalin' an' splittin' the fish."

  "I say, Sandy, when'll we start?"

  "Start! Ah--well--we'll talk about that when we get leave--which, letme tell you, is pretty doubtful. 'Twouldn't take long to get ready oncewe have permission: a day at most. I declare I'm gettin' sleepy.Good-night, chaps."

  The boys opened at short range during the breakfast hour the nextmorning. In other words, they pled most vigorously for permission tocamp out for a week or so, according to the programme concocted thenight previously. The chief objection lay in the reappearance of BenBolt in the district. It was all in vain that the boys insisted thateven were the redoubtable 'ranger to visit their camp, which was mostunlikely--he would not harm them: would, in fact, have no interest inbailing up a parcel of boys. Mr. M'Intyre showed palpable signs ofyielding, and had it been left to him would have granted a reluctantpermission. The insurmountable barrier, as indeed the boys knewbeforehand, lay in Mrs. Mac's excessive fear. She held the fort, so tospeak, against all comers.

  "I'm more sorry than I can tell you, boys, to say no, but nothing youcould say would alter my mind. Neither Joe's mother nor Tom's woulddream of letting them go camping out while those dreadful men areabout."

  The pals felt the reasonableness of the refusal, and showed not aflicker of resentment, though of course their disappointment was keen.

  "I say, chaps, let's put in the mornin' fishin'," suggested Joe.

  The vote was unanimous, and in a few minutes, armed with rods and linesand a tomahawk--the latter for use in cutting grubs out of thehoneysuckle trees--the boys were _en route_ to some of the deep pools inthe creek. They had a really good time with some giant perch. Thedangling grubs formed an irresistible lure to these voracious denizensof the water-holes, and the fishermen had no reason to grumble at theresult. On their return home to lunch they were dumbfounded with thenews shouted out by Denny as soon as they were within speaking distance,"Owld Ben's dead!--shot by the p'lice in th' ranges."

  The whole household was greatly excited by the news, which had beenbrought by a stockman from Captain White's station. There seemed noreason to doubt the intelligence, which had come via the "bushtelegraph." Hennessey's lot had picked up the 'rangers' tracks andpartly surprised them in the mountains. The outlaws promptly but barelysucceeded in getting away. They gradually drew away, however, from allsave the Sergeant, who was on a new mount--one of the Tocal notedbreed--which proved to be a "ringer."

  The leader and his companion, who was a light weight, tried every dodgeto shake off the pursuit, and in this they were past masters; but theyhad to reckon with Hennessey, who was one of the finest troopers in theforce--as dare-devil a rider as Ben Bolt himself.

  After some marvellous riding among the ravines and tangled mountainscrub--during which a few long-range shots had been exchanged--Hennesseybegan to draw upon the outlaws. Even that equine magician, Samson, wasreaching his limits. The capture of this illusive freebooter seemed nowa certainty, could the Sergeant hold out another ten minutes.

  He was now within a hundred yards of his man. He lagged a little behindhis youthful mate, who was riding the chestnut gelding looted fromWilson's station. Had he wished he could have shot the 'ranger down;but being extremely anxious to capture him alive for the bigger reward,he refrained. The only advantage Ben Bolt possessed was an intimateknowledge of the ground, by which he often gained a bit. They were nowracing up a steep ravine which presently terminated abruptly at aprecipice. Down this the outlaws apparently flung themselves; or so itappeared to Hennessey.

  Arriving at the spot a few seconds later, the trooper perceived awinding, narrow pass. He was a stranger to the precipitous track, butboth the bushrangers and their horses were familiar with it, for theyslithered and scrambled down at breakneck speed: a single stumble, andman and horse would inevitably be dashed to pieces. In vain did thegallant Sergeant spur his steed towards the pass. His horse resolutelyrefused to face it. His chances of capture are fast diminishing to avanishing point, as in a few minutes his prize will have escaped.

  The outlaws have now reached the comparatively even ground below,distant about five hundred yards from where the trooper stood gnashinghis teeth in rage, and praying that they might break their necks beforethey reach the bottom. Fortune favoured them, however, and they mighthave made good their escape without further trouble. But, instead ofgalloping off to safe cover, they reined up their steeds, while BenBolt, standing in his stirrups, shouted at the top of his voice aninsulting message for the Sub-Inspector, making at the same time anironical bow.

  While this little piece of comedy was being enacted, and just as thebushranger was in the act of bowing, the Sergeant had dismounted.Swiftly throwing his rifle to his shoulder and adjusting his sights inan eye wink, he made a hasty but true shot. The outlaw had not finishedhis bow ere he toppled from his steed and lay prone, shot through theheart.

  Such was the news brought by the stockman, and accepted by the stationfolk.

  "Weel, it was bound to come sooner or later. It's what happens to a'law-breakers--simply the choice of bullet or rope. It's no' for us toca' the unfortunate and misguided mon names. If a's true, he suffered agrave injuistice at the hands o' the police when but a youth, whichembittered his whole life an' gave a moral twist to his actions. Wemaun leave him to Ane above wha mak's nae mis-judgments."