"Good night, Mr. Bond," said Elsie.
"Good night," said Bond.
Alec heard her footsteps and the shutting of her door.
"Good night, Mr. McLean," said Bond.
McLean shook hands in silence, and both men went to their respective rooms.
Alec peeped out of his window, and saw a light in Elsie's room, which was only a few feet away. If he could have seen her at that moment, he would have perceived her lying on the bed, with her face buried in the pillow, and sobbing bitterly.
She had discovered she had treated Alec badly, and was afraid she had done irreparable mischief. She felt as if she could almost go down on her knees and ask his forgiveness. She saw what amistake she had made, but it was made on the impulse of the moment, and her pride would not allow her to acknowledge it, by word or look, until it was too late; but in the morning she would make amends for the temporary eclipse by shining all the brighter when she saw him, and, poor fellow! he had toothache too! She was so sorry! She had arranged everything in her own mind. There would be no more unhappiness between them. Then she went to bed and was soon fast asleep.
Alec saw that her light was out. "Heartless!" he said, "and here am I tossing undressed upon my bed, a prey to unrequited love, and torn by a thousand bitter thoughts, vainly regretting what might have been. It is all over. There is no more happiness for me in this world. Love is dead."
He lay for hours rolling from side to side, and felt as if sleep had fled for ever. He could not close his eyes, and he longed for daylight that he might get up and ride away from this now hateful spot. The sight of Bond would madden him; better they should never meet.
He could endure his thoughts no longer. Theywere fevering his blood, parching his tongue, and setting his brain on fire. He jumped up, put on his hat, and let himself out by the window, which was wide open, as he feared the door would make a noise if he attempted to leave by it.
He felt better now. The morning air cooled his cheek; the fresh breeze chased away his distempered fancies.
He went quietly to the stable. No dog barked, for they all knew who was moving so stealthily. A faint flush was tinting Pepper Hill. The rosy dawn would soon outline the picture, and colour hill and vale with a flowing brush.
He saddled his horse and led him out, then mounted, and rode slowly away.
The soft footfall of a horse awoke Elsie. She started up in alarm, and looked out. What she almost feared had come to pass. In the dim light she saw Alec riding away. She had mortally offended him. She would never see him again. The dream of love was ended. She dropped on the bed, and gave way to a paroxysm of weeping.
The sun was glinting in the tree-tops. A flock of yellow-crested cockatoos awoke the echoes with their chatter. Magpies scattered the dewdrops in the grass, and sang love songs to their mates. Bell-birds rang their morning chimes, and the whip-bird cracked its lash, as Alec rode up the hill with bent head and heavy heart. What a contrast to yesterday evening, when he had ridden down with the air of a conqueror! Now he was going up vanquished. Life is all ups and downs. To make the simile correct he ought to have been going down hill, but the physical map is not laid out always according to the fitness of things.
His horse had a weary climb to the top of the hill, grunting and groaning at every step, while his rider sighed like a north wind on a sultry day. At last the highest point on the track was reached,and the horse stood still to rest, as he gave a snort of satisfaction because the worst part of the road was over, and Glengo, with its cool stream and juicy grass, lay at the foot of the hill.
Alec turned round to take a last look at Borombyee homestead, but he could only see the top of the chimneys.
"Appropriate," he said; "all ended in smoke. Good-bye, Elsie. I shall never see you again."
He took off his hat, and let the breeze, which rustled up from the south, ripple through his hair. The cool air was refreshing, and he felt better. He wouldn't think of his troubles, but let them blow off and be carried away for ever. He felt soothed for a minute or two; but they would come back to roost, and brood, and hatch, in spite of all he could do.
"Confound Bond!"
He had just got the words out, when a snake glided across the track and caused his horse to shy. Alec made a savage cut with his stock-whip at the reptile, and left it writhing in the dust with a broken back.
"Wish it were Bond!" he said.
He dug his spur into the horse, and went cantering down the hill, with a flush on his face; for he was ashamed of his evil thoughts, and repented of his violence to the horse.
"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" he said, patting the beast's neck, "I am sorry."
He felt better now. The fit was going off. He hoped for the best, and trusted time would cure him of the distemper. If only Bond did not cross his path all would be well. He would be as a red rag to a bull, and he would shun him as a mad dog shuns water.
He arrived at Glengo about nine o'clock, glad to be home again. He tried to wear a smiling face, but could not succeed. His mother met him at the door, and threw up her hands.
"Why, Alec! You must have been early afoot. Are they all well at Borombyee? What's amiss that you are home so early? Has pleuro broken out among the cattle, or scab in the sheep, or is the country on fire?"
"They are all well at Borombyee. There is no pleuro, or scab, or fire."
"Thank goodness! I was afraid something hadhappened." She saw something was amiss—something lurking in his eyes. She guessed her guess, and made a cast with her sweep-net of questions and caught him in the meshes. She knew now; the secret was revealed; it lay in the depth of his eyes. There is not much that can be hid from a mother.
She watched him at breakfast, and kept the conversation going to cover his retreat within himself. He ate little, and said less. His father, good, easy man, listened to his wife's talk, which rippled and flowed like a brook in the sun. He had the gift of silence, like many bushmen who have been much alone—who have communed with the great mountains, the wide-spread plains, the quiet clouds, and the silent stars.
"I can't get a word in edgeways," he said, laughing.
"You've got one in flat, at last," she said, "but it will be a long time before you can coin another;" and she rattled on with her bright talk.
After breakfast Alec's father rode to the drafting-yards, where some fat sheep were on the point of starting for the Melbourne market. Alec strolleddown the creek on pretence of going to the killing-yard. He wanted to be alone. He would fill up the day somehow, by "topping up" a fence here, by straining a wire there, and by straightening a post anywhere.
He did not go home to luncheon; he was not hungry. The longer he kept from the search-light eyes of his mother the better it was for him. In the dusk, or lamplight, he would be all right. He could run in under the battery with lights out and masked fires.
At dinner he was more at ease. His mother did not appear to watch him, excepting in the most casual way. His father told him, in the briefest, jerkiest sentences, that he had drafted a flock of sheep for Melbourne, picked out four lame ones, skinned one that was smothered in the yard, and spliced a broken leg.
When Alec had gone to bed his mother had a long talk with her husband. She hinted that their son was not looking well. She thought the hard work of shearing-time had been too much for him, and that he required a change.
"Hoots! do I ever get a change, or need one?No. Alec's all right; right's a trivet. If a man thinks he wants a change, make him work. If he wants more change, give him more work. If he wants a spell after that, more work still. Work never killed a man. Work while it's day is scripture an' sense."
"Yes, John; but all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!"
"I say, all play and no work makes Jack as bad as a Turk!"
"Oh, John, you are the sweetest and best boy in the world, and the best worker; but every one is not like you. Besides, you know, you have had several changes. You went to Melbourne just before the fat sheep were sold. You went after shearing to see your agents, and Alec has not been in sight of the sea for years."
"Well, wife, you are about right, or as near's may be." Here he relapsed into silence. "I was just thinking," he resumed, "that Alec might get a bit o' a holiday, and do some business as well."
"Yes, John."
"What say ye to him goin' to Melbourne to see the flock o' fats sold at the Flemington Yards?"
"That is a very wise suggestion, John."
"It will do the laddie good; he's sharp enough. There's a lot of hanky-panky about horse dealers an' sheep buyers, I can tell ye. I wouldna trust a wheen butchers an' buyers. They hae what they ca' a 'knock-out' among themsel's—that's lettin' each other buy at their ain price, an' robbin' the seller."
"A good idea, John! It will give Alec some experience and insight into business. Also, you might give him some messages to the agents. The interest they charge you is too high. Ten per cent. is rather steep, as you say, sometimes. He might get money cheaper."
"A grand idea, wife! You've hit the right nail on the head a clapper."
"You might give Alec a letter to your friend the Hon. James McClure. He is a good man, and a leading light in the Kirk. I would not wonder but he would let you have the money at eight per cent."
Mr. Keryle spoke to his son next morning, and told him what he wished him to do in Melbourne. Alec jumped at the idea. It just suited himexactly. He only wanted a decent excuse to go away for a time. Besides, the visit to Melbourne would make Elsie believe that this was the cause of his hurried departure from Borombyee.
This unexpected turn of affairs put Alec in better spirits. The wheel of fortune favoured him. He was more like himself to-day. In a day or two he would turn his back on the country, which reminded him of Elsie, and lead a new life, not thinking of her any more.
When Elsie came to breakfast on the morning that Alec had so hurriedly left Borombyee, she was white as a sheet; all her vivacity was gone. Her father looked at her inquiringly.
"I have a headache, father, and could not sleep; that's all."
Maggie came flying in, with her hair tossing over her eyes. "What do you think?" she said; "Alec's horse is gone! he must have ridden away!"
"What! how's this?" said her father.
"I can only suppose," said Maggie, "that his toothache is worse, and he could not bear to stay to breakfast, so he went away."
Elsie looked into her plate, and said nothing; Maggie's words stabbed her like a knife, and cut her to the quick. She knew that Alec's pain was deeper seated than a tooth nerve. Her own feelingsat this moment told her how acutely he must have felt. She blamed herself entirely. She had not known what she was doing; she was mad to act as she had done; she had behaved abominably; her sin had found her out.
Bond was full of sympathy, and said he was sorry and hoped the headache would soon go. A cup of tea would do her good; then a rest in a dark room. He had never known what a headache was, but could feel for others, especially for Elsie. Yes, he was very sorry. Could he send her some smelling-salts, or anything else, from Mountfield. He would ride there and back in four hours. No, Elsie did not need anything; rest would do her good. She drank some tea, then went to her room and lay down.
She heard her father and Bond ride away; then she rose and went to the hut, where she found Pat.
"Pat, please get my horse in, saddle him, and bring him to the door."
"Sure, Miss Elsie! it's a gallop over the hills and far away that'll make the roses bloom on ye'r cheeks. Faix, Miss! ye're loike a wax image o' the Blessed Vargin."
"Thank you, Pat."
She went to her room, put on her riding habit, then found Maggie and told her she was going for a gallop, as she did not feel well.
"Let me go with you, Elsie. I'll be company for you. It is so lonely to go by yourself. I don't like you to go alone."
"No, Maggie, I will go alone, and see whether I cannot shake off my headache. I would be no company for you. I would make you miserable. Besides, if father comes home to lunch he would miss you; one of us must stay at home."
"Very well, Elsie; but do not stay long."
Maggie did not like to see her sister go away alone. She felt that the headache was an excuse, and that there was deeper trouble. She was so sorry for her, and wished she could help her. If she could only send a message to Alec and bring him back, all would be well. She knew instinctively that Elsie and Alec loved each other, but were at cross purposes somehow. A word on either side would set things right. But how was it to be said? She did not know.
Pat brought the horse to the end of the verandah,and Elsie jumped on, with the help of a block of wood, which stood there for the purpose. Maggie held her sister's hand caressingly, and said, with a tear in her eye, "Come back soon, Elsie; I shall be wearying for you till I see you."
Elsie went across the flat, over the bridge, and up the ranges. The breeze was cool and strong. She felt better already. The rapid motion banished thinking, but when she got to the steeper hills she fell back on her troubles again. Higher and higher she went, until she came to big boulders, fern-trees, and scrub. It was difficult to go up, but how would she get down again? She did not care. Up! up! away! as near the throne as she could, to pour out her soul to her Heavenly Father, and tell Him her trouble, and confess her fault.
At last, after the horse had scrambled and struggled by zigzag ways up some of the roughest hills of Victoria, he stopped, fairly exhausted, on a small tableland, surrounded by great rocks, some flat, some piled in huge fantastic shapes, like ancient ruins, with spaces left for doors and windows. To the south there was a gigantic valley, and all round the hillsides were massesof stone, which had evidently been carried there in icebergs in some forgotten age, and stranded on this high sea beach. Stunted shrubs and wild oats drew a scanty subsistence here. A dingo was playing with her cubs at the mouth of her lair, unconscious of human presence; a tiger-snake was sunning itself on a mossy stone; lizards were darting to and fro; an eagle was wheeling in mid-air over its nest of ragged sticks in a shattered tree that had braved many a storm; and white clouds came flying past like ships in full sail.
Elsie noted all these things as the horse stood motionless for ten minutes. She urged him to go on, but he refused to move. She coaxed and petted him, but he would not make a step forward.
"Poor fellow!" she said, "I have pushed you too hard; I was not thinking where we were going; a climb like this was too much for you; I'll give you a rest."
She jumped off his back, and tied the reins to the stirrups. He then began to nibble at the short, dry tufts of grass which shot up in hollow spots where drops of moisture had oozed out.
Elsie threw herself down on a flat rock, andburied her face in her hands, weeping bitterly, and reproaching herself for driving Alec away while she had loved him all the time so much and so deeply. She would give her life to be reconciled—just to be able to meet him face to face and say, "Alec, forgive me!" Then she would willingly die. But to have no chance of telling him, to have no opportunity of asking his forgiveness, was more than she could bear. Oh, the agony of it all! Oh, how she had been punished for her heartless conduct! "Oh!" she cried, "winds and clouds and birds, carry a message to him, and tell him to come back, because I love him!"
Then she prayed, as she had never prayed before, and asked to be led and guided. For answer, a great peace filled her soul, and she seemed to hear the words, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
She sank back exhausted, and fainted away. How long she lay thus she never knew, but when she came to consciousness she was content to doze, or dream, or sleep for hours. When she came to herself the stars were shining and the moon was climbing the hills. She jumped up in alarm, andtried to walk to where she had last seen the horse. She thought if she could only get on his back, he would be able to find his way home. She felt weak, and stumbled among the rocks with tottering, uncertain steps. She could not see the horse anywhere. He had evidently got tired of waiting for her, and had wandered away, or had gone to his accustomed paddock at the homestead.
When Elsie did not come back in the afternoon, Maggie began to get anxious. She scanned the hills with a field-glass, hoping to see her coming home. Sometimes she saw a moving object, far away, but it was only a sheep. Sometimes a stone, or stump of a tree, would attract her attention, and, unaccountably, for a moment, simulate Elsie exactly; but it was only a trick of the brain, a caprice of the imagination. As the shadows lengthened on the flats and the mists came out of the valley, Maggie could contain herself no longer, but ran out to Pat, and told him she was sure something had happened to her sister. She must have been thrown from her horse, and was perhaps lying up the hills, with broken bones; or had lost her way, or been carried off for a ransom by bushrangers.
"Och, Miss Maggie!" said Pat; "she'll have paid a visit to Strathmona, an' been kep' by the young people till the cool av the evenin'. Let me see; it'll take four hours to ride quietly from Strathmona. Sure! Miss Maggie, never fear! they'll come home wid her. They'll come ridin' up like lords an' ladies to the castle walls, an' there'll be a moighty gran' banquet, an' they'll fut it on the flure, dreshed in silks an' satins an' cloth av goold. Or mebbee a fairy prince has carried her away, an' married her beyant; an' they'll live happily ever afterwards."
"You need not laugh at me, Pat. I assure you I am very anxious. I am sure Elsie would never go by herself to Strathmona. I feel sure something has happened to her. Oh, I am so anxious! I wish father would come home!"
As she said these words a horse's hoofs were heard clattering over the little bridge.
"Here's father!" cried Maggie; and she set off running to meet him. She told him that Elsie had not come home, and, in a few words, explained in what direction she had gone.
Although McLean was slow of speech, he wasquick of action. What an active verb is in speech, he was among men.
"Maggie, send out every man at once. Tell them that's my order, and not to come home till she is found."
He turned his horse and galloped over the bridge and up the ranges as fast as he could make his steed go. In a few minutes his coo-ee was heard echoing among the hills.
Maggie called the men out of the hut and told them that her sister was lost, and that her father had ordered them to take their horses and scatter themselves over the north-western part of the run; "and be sure you don't come home till you find her," she said.
The horses were run into the yard in a few minutes. In the meantime four saddles were placed on the fence, and four men saddled-up and rode over the rail that Maggie had taken down.
She then went to the strangers' hut, and found two "sundowners," who had just come in as the sun was getting low.
"My sister is lost in the ranges," she said tothem; "and I want you to take letters to Mr. Keryle of Glengo, and Mr. Bond of Drumore, to ask them to come and help in the search. I want you to go at once."
"What, Miss! this minute? What'll ye give us?"
"Five shillings each as soon as you come back."
"Won't you give us a bit o' tucker first, an' a mossle o' baccer?"
"Yes."
She ran into the kitchen, and got a plate of bread and butter, which she took to the hut. Aggie followed with two pannikins of tea. Then Maggie went to her room, and hastily wrote two letters to Alec Keryle and Mr. Bond, telling them that Elsie was lost in the ranges, and asking them to come at once and help to search for her. Then she got two pieces of tobacco, and ran to the men.
"Here," she said to the nearest man, "is a letter for Mr. Keryle of Glengo. Give it into his own hand, and run every step of the way. Here is some tobacco." Then she gave a letter to the other man, addressed to Mr. Bond.
The men went on eating and drinking as if no life were at stake.
"Oh, go at once!" said Maggie; "there is no time to eat and drink."
"What, an' leave good wittals?" said the spokesman.
For answer she tore a newspaper in half, and wrapped some bread and butter in two parcels, which she thrust into the hands of the men, who took about two minutes to stand up. Each of them had his hand on his pannikin, lest it should be snatched from him. Then they slowly raised the tea to their lips, and drank it off at a draught. It was boiling hot, and left a red streak from the tip of the tongue all the way down.
"Oh!" they said; then rubbed their chests, rolled their eyes to the bark roof, swung their swags over their shoulders, and set off at a trot, one to the east, the other to the south.
"Be quick!" Maggie called after them.
"Now, Aggie, have plenty of hot water in the copper. Put the kettle on. Put a batch of bread in the oven, and make scones. Put threeor four joints to roast. I will send every man I can find to search, and when they come back they must be fed."
The two girls helped each other, and worked hard. In a short time their preparations were well forward. Every now and again a faint coo-ee was heard floating down the valley. The searchers were answering each other, and trying to let the lost girl know that she was being sought for. The cries came mournfully on the breeze, and made Maggie shudder. A coo-ee can be made joyful, hopeless, pathetic, funny—anything you please. It can say in a breath, "lost," "found!" And so the cries went on, in long drawn-out wails, until they died away altogether. Maggie did not recognise one hopeful note; they all sounded like a dirge.
The two girls had a weary, sorrowful time. They watched together, wept together, comforted each other, listened, and waited. The night passed away somehow. Morning broke at last. There was no sign of the search being successful. No man returned.
About eleven o'clock Mr. Bond and two mengalloped up. The "sundowner" had delivered the letter about eight o'clock. After getting such information as he required from Maggie, Bond and the two men went away to add to the search party.
In a short time after they had gone Elsie's horse came up to the kitchen door. Maggie ran out.
"Oh, Hector!" she cried, clasping the horse round his neck. "Where is Elsie? How could you leave her? How could you desert her?"
Hector hung his head, and looked ashamed of himself.
"Good boy," said Maggie. "If I get on your back, will you take me to her?" Hector brightened up, as if he understood what she was saying.
"Bring me my hat, Aggie. I am going to jump on Hector, and look for Elsie. I think he will take me to her. She must have got off him of her own accord. She was not thrown. The bridle is tied through the stirrup just in the way she always ties it. She must have got off to rest, and something startled him, and he must haverun away and left her. Thank God, she is alive! She must be making her way home. She may have sprained her foot, and is coming slowly. We'll see her soon, I feel sure."
Maggie jumped on the horse, and Aggie tied her hat so as to keep it from flying away.
"Take me to her, good Hector, and be off," said Maggie. He bounded away, and they were soon a dot in the distance.
She was barely out of sight when Alec Keryle rode up with four men. Their horses were in a lather of foam with hard riding.
"What news, Aggie?"
"None, Mr. Keryle. They've all been out searching since last night. Her horse has just come home. Miss Maggie has jumped on him, and has gone out too. She thinks the horse will take her to where Miss McLean was when he left her. Miss Maggie has only a minute ago passed through that gap in the ranges. If you ride fast you may overtake her."
He touched his horse with the spur, and galloped away in Maggie's track, his four men following as quickly as they could.
Maggie's horse went on steadily, and steered for the hill he had climbed the day before; but he avoided the steepest part, and went up an easy place which he had discovered when going home. He walked up and down the tableland as if looking for something. His rider was passive, and let him do as he pleased. He soon came to where Elsie had lain down, and he sniffed the ground. Maggie saw that the moss had been disturbed. "Good Hector, we are on the track," she said. Then the horse, with his nose held low, went on for half a mile, and suddenly stopped at a clump of bushes. Maggie gave a great cry, and jumped off. Her sister lay, pale as death, among the bushes. She breathed! her pulse beat! "Thank God, I have found her!"
Elsie muttered a few words, and Maggie stooped to listen. She distinctly heard her say, "Oh, Alec! I'm sorry. Why did you go away?"
Maggie stood up and filled her lungs, then gave a joyous and long-sustained coo-ee in a high soprano, which reverberated among the hills.
"Dod!" said McLean, "that's Maggie. She's found Elsie, God be praised!" And he rode offat breakneck speed in the direction whence the coo-ee came.
"Holy Moses! fwhat's that?" said Pat, who had been beating along at the foot of the hill on the other side. "Miss Elsie's found herself, bedad! an' here have I been sarchin' all noight, loike a shtuck pig, shquealin' out from toime to toime as if I wor hurt."
Pat gave a wild coo-ee, then whistled through his fingers with a shrill blast. Alec was the first to come up to Maggie, who was on her knees, chafing and rubbing her sister's hands. He knelt beside Elsie, pulled off her boots, and rubbed her feet till he felt a little glow come into them.
Her father then came. He took off his coat and wrapped it round her shoulders. In a short time, under their united efforts, a faint colour tinged her cheeks, and she soon opened her eyes; but only for a moment, for she saw Alec, and shut them. She thought she was dreaming.
She gradually regained her senses, and whispered, "Father! Maggie! Where am I? What is the matter? Am I hurt?"
"No, no, darling! you're not hurt. You arein the arms of your own Maggie, and father is here. See, he is holding you up!"
Bond now arrived, and pressed forward. He had studied medicine for two years, but had never passed an examination, so he abandoned his intention of becoming a doctor.
"I'm a bit of a doctor, you know," he said. "I'll soon tell you all about the case. Let me see—let me see. Pulse a little weak; heart ditto." He moved her arms and legs gently. "How's that?" he said to her. "No bones broken? Any pain anywhere? How are we now?"
"I feel better," she said. "I must have fainted."
Alec could not bear to see Bond bending over Elsie, and pulling her about; so he withdrew behind a clump of saplings, and wondered what he could do. He could make a litter. The very thing! He ran to his horse, and took a tomahawk which swung in a leather case at his saddle and some rope. He soon cut down some saplings, and strapped them together with cross pieces, and piled on heaps of soft fern fronds. He had soonmade a comfortable litter in which to carry Elsie home. He saw that she was so weak she would be unable to sit on a horse.
When he had nearly finished the litter Pat came, and looked on.
"Shure it's the most sinsabilest thing that cud be done. It's a foine headpiece you've got entoirely, Masther Keryle. It's as saft as a fither bed, an' as aisy as a rockin'-chair; fit for a princess av the blood, or a fairy queen, bedad!"
"You had better tell Mr. McLean, Pat, that this is the very thing to carry Miss McLean on. The best thing we can do is to take her home as quickly as possible."
"Faith, ye're about right, as ye mostly are, Masther Keryle."
Pat went away, whispered to McLean, and told him what Alec had prepared. McLean came and looked at the litter. "Bless ye, Alec!" he said.
The two men carried the litter and put it down beside Elsie; then, with the help of Bond and Maggie, they laid her gently on the soft bed of ferns. The poor girl was perfectly passive, andshut her eyes; but she was conscious that Alec was near, though she dared not look him in the face.
McLean and Alec went to the head of the litter, Bond and Pat to the foot, and they carried Elsie slowly and carefully to Borombyee.
Bond went to the bookcase and took down the "Family Doctor," and consulted its pages, but could find no reference to any such case as Elsie's. "Confound it!" he said. "You never can find what you want to know in these books. If it had been toothache, scarlet fever, nettle-rash, rheumatism, or even headache, there are full directions; but there is nothing here about a young lady lost in the bush, exposure to night air, fright, or shock to the system. Faugh! These doctors are fools; they never see a case of this kind. I'll fall back on first principles; order complete rest, mustard poultice to the chest, chicken broth, and a couple of Holloway's pills night and morning. I'll pull her through!"
He wrote full directions, and handed the paper on which they were written to McLean.
"I'll ride over to Mountfield, and bring Dr.Rammage. I would like to have a consultation with him. You see, I, who have studied medicine and know as much as most doctors, can tell him all the symptoms from the time Miss McLean was found."
McLean nodded, and gave Bond's hand a warm grip.
"Very well," said Bond; "I'm off as fast as my horse will carry me. Expect me by eight o'clock."
Meanwhile Elsie was undressed, and put to bed by Maggie's loving hands and Aggie's help; then she drank a cup of tea and ate a little bread and butter.
"I feel better already, Maggie. Put your ear to my mouth. Is Alec here?"
"Yes," said Maggie.
"Then don't let him go away."
"I'll take good care of that, Elsie."
Alec was informed by McLean that Elsie had gone to bed; that she seemed better; that the doctor had been sent for. He thought she only required rest.
"Then I'll say good-bye, for I am going toMelbourne to-morrow. My mother will send over every day to inquire how Miss McLean is. I hope she will be quite well in a day or two."
Maggie's quick ears heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and she started up in alarm, then ran out at the back door. Alec was just riding away.
"Alec!" she cried in an urgent voice.
He turned in his saddle, and looked at her earnest face for a moment; then he went to meet her. Putting her hand on the saddle, and looking up pitifully, with a tear in her eye, she said, "Alec, you mustn't go away! Do you want to kill Elsie?"
He put his hand to his forehead, while his heart thumped against his ribs.
"I do not understand," he said.
"I do, though! Elsie was so sorry when you went away angry with her. That's the cause of her illness. When I found her she was unconscious, but I heard her say, 'Oh, Alec! I'm sorry. Why did you go away?'"
"Maggie," he said, "you are my good angel come to help me. But for you I would have gone away wretched and miserable, and two lives wouldhave been wrecked. Now I am happy. Tell Elsie I shall not go away till she can see me."
"Oh, thank God! all is well," said Maggie.
She ran to her sister, and whispered something in her ear which made her blush. She kissed Maggie, and said, "You are the dearest, sweetest sister in the whole world!"
From that moment Elsie quickly recovered strength.
What is there more to tell?
Only this. Two happy people met in the afternoon. The misunderstanding was gone for ever. A wedding, which was the talk of the countryside, took place in a few months.
I joined the detective branch of the Victorian police in 1853, having just turned twenty-five at the time, standing five feet ten inches in my stockings, and without an ounce of superfluous flesh on my bones. Looking back, from a less height now, across the gulf of years, which has swallowed up many near and dear to me, I mentally see myself the beau-ideal of what a detective should be.
Our superintendent took stock of me, in his mind's eye, when he saw me first, and at once gave me some rough-and-tumble work to do (what I call rough-cast and rubble, having had some knowledge of the building trade); but when I tumbled I usually came out on the top, with a hard grip of the fellow below, who was only allowed to get up when I had decorated him with cuts and a pair of bracelets.
For some months I didn't get a word of praise from the superintendent. He expected a good deal from me, and I suppose got it. I had worked in Melbourne and in the country, on foot and on horseback, but I had still my spurs to win. My chance came through Governor La Trobe, who was a man, every inch of him.
There was a bushranger at this time who had been painting the country with blood, and who was more like the devil incarnate than any man I ever heard of. He was nicknamed "Thunder-and-Lightning"; why I never knew, but, I suppose, because there was a flash and roar from his Colt's revolver and his victim lay dead on the ground.
This man, or devil, had committed many murders with tigerish ferocity. He was the terror of more than one goldfield. Blood-curdling stories were told of him by the camp fire when the work of the day was done. He was execrated, and a reward of £500 was offered for his capture. The regular police did their best, I admit, but any man who was wanted gave them a wide berth when he saw their rig. They were a uniform failure. When they were about "Thunder-and-Lightning" tooka holiday, and played round the mountain-tops. Sometimes a splash or crack was seen or heard, when he was shooting in some almost inaccessible place, where rocks, trees, and scrub, in about equal proportions, hid him like a needle in a haystack.
When the police were as sick of him as the whale was of Jonah, they gave him up.
It was then the Governor took the matter in hand. He was a man who tried to manage all the Government departments with his own head and ten fingers, and did it well. Sir Charles heard of me, and said to our superintendent, when they were talking over the "Thunder-and-Lightning" case, "Try Wallace."
Now, my name happens to be Wallace, and I was christened William, after William Wallace the hero of Scotland; a long way after, I grant you, but there's something in a name, although we fought in different fields.
Next morning the superintendent rang his bell, and told the messenger he wanted me.
"Shure ye're wanted," said Pat Kineen, the messenger.
"What for?" says I.
"Maybe for robbing a church, or stalin' a purse, or worse, ye thafe o' the wurrld!"
"Do you know why there are no thieves in your country, Pat?"
"Faith it's becase ye're not there, Mister Wallace."
"No! it's because there's nothing to steal."
"Well!" said Pat, "I'll tell yees what the super wants yees for."
"What?"
"To go afther the biggest thafe of the wurrld. Set a thafe to catch a thafe. There's a glimmer o' sinse in the ould boy."
I hadn't an answer ready at the moment. I knew I was no match for Pat with the tongue, for his wit flashed out like summer lightning, and cut like a Damascus blade. I did not wait for anything further, but knocked at the superintendent's door and went in.
He took me by storm at once with his hook nose and eagle eyes, and expected me to quake in my shoes and turn white; but I raked him across the bows with my two black eyeballs, and he was glad to pull down his sky-scrapers pretty quick.
"His Excellency the Governor wants to see you, detective, at a quarter to eleven sharp. Good morning!"
This nearly took the wind out of my sails, but I managed to steady myself, and said, "Any complaint, sir?"
"No! a great compliment."
I shut the door very softly, and sailed away, feeling rather important, and never once looking at Pat, who was ready to open fire on me.
When I was outside I glanced at my watch, and found I had five minutes to spare, so I walked leisurely to the Government offices, which were then in William Street. Just as I reached the gate the Union Jack was hoisted, to show that the Governor had arrived.
I told the orderly that I had an appointment with His Excellency, and gave my name. I was ushered in at once. No red tape to speak of in those days, only in retail quantities, not wholesale, as now.
His Excellency received me very kindly, and, I believe, would have shaken hands with me if theaide-de-camphadn't fixed his glass eye onhim, as much as to say, "It isn't etiquette, you know."
Well, Sir Charles said he had been keeping his eye on me for some time, had made up his mind that I was the man for Galway, and that he wanted to entrust me with the most important case that had ever sprung up during his term of office.
I felt about six feet six for the moment, and expected him to say that he wanted me to carry secret despatches to Downing Street.
However, I soon learned the kind of despatches he meant. He wanted me to despatch "Thunder-and-Lightning" to Queer Street, or be despatched myself to the Golden Street of the New Jerusalem. It did not seem to me that he cared very much whether we were both despatched, so long as he made sure of "Thunder-and-Lightning."
I braced myself up when I had taken bearings, and looked steadily at the Governor. I declare, I thought I saw in one eye Nelson's motto, "England expects every man to do his duty," and in the other eye the words of Burns' song, "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled."
I felt equal to anything then, and said, "YourExcellency, I pledge you my solemn word I'll produce the body of 'Thunder-and-Lightning,' dead or alive, within three months."
"I am glad to hear you say so, detective," he said; "and what is more, I believe you."
He pulled out of his pocket a sheet of foolscap, which gave a full description, in his own writing, of the bushranger, his friends and haunts. Then he showed me the drawing of a house in Collingwood, which had been sent to him, with the information that it was the exact outline of a place "Thunder-and-Lightning" was coming to, out of bravado, in a few days.
I looked at the drawing believing I would recognise it, for I prided myself on knowing every house frequented by disreputable characters in Melbourne, and I had daguerreotyped them on my brain.
"I know this house!" I said.
"I see my confidence in you is not misplaced; good morning. The watchword is 'Down.'"
I saw I was dismissed, so I said, "Good morning, your Excellency," and went away.
I felt much elated thus to be singled out forsuch an important duty, and determined to do or die.
There was a rumour in the air that "Thunder-and-Lightning" was coming to Melbourne, in his dare-devil way, to give the citizens a taste of his quality. He had an overweening conceit of himself, and thought he was a match for all the police in the country.
I went down to the office and reported to the superintendent the duty I was entrusted with. He gave mecarte-blanche; then I went home to efface myself, which I effectually did by putting on a false beard, staining my eyebrows, and dressing myself like a digger.
When I had completed my disguise to my entire satisfaction, I felt my face flush like the red stripe in the French flag, then white like the next stripe, then I looked very blue indeed. I was a regular chameleon, and never felt like this before. The cause of all this was the sudden remembrance of the last words the Governor said to me, "The watchword is 'Down.'" It was a conundrum. I gave it up.
I happened to be lodging in the house of Mrs. Smith, an old widow, whom I had known in Scotland. I came and went just as I liked, having a key of the front door. I managed to keep my occupation very dark. When I was new to the trade I thought of telling the landlady who I was, for she was a discreet body; but I remembered just in time that women's tongues are hung on so fine a balance they cannot help wagging and flopping out any secret—being anxious to unload and take in fresh cargo. If they have no better listeners, they will whisper to a bird of the air, or the four winds. I come from too far north to trust a woman with a secret, so I did not tell Mrs. Smith I was a detective. There is only one woman I tell secrets to, and that is my wife. If I did not tell her, she would get them out of me, so I makea virtue of necessity. Confession is good for the soul.
It began to rain cats and dogs, or more like elephants and rhinoceroses, for it came down heavy. The street gutters ran like rivers, and joined each other in the middle of the road, shaking hands, bobbing, courtesying, and carrying all the floatable rubbish to the Yarra. The only living things I saw were half a dozen fowls of some sort, splashing themselves and ducking in the water. The windows were so blurred I could not make out what they were till I heard them say "Quack!" "A fine day," I said to myself, "for ducks, geese, and detectives." The wetter the day the surer you are of your game. It lies close on such days, and one may expect a feast of contentment when one knows it is spitted with a broad arrow on back, hip, or thigh, simmering in the jug—I mean gaol. Jugged hare, shall we say?
I determined to go out, so I put on an india-rubber coat and boots. I had never seen a detective with an umbrella, therefore I took one with me as an extra disguise and crept down stairs. The maid-of-all-work had stoppedhalfway, and had a pail in her hand when I came upon her unawares. She took a hasty glance at me, then fled two steps at a jump, dropping the pail at the bottom. Then she threw her apron over her head, and played blindman's-buff, till she lumbered into the kitchen and fell all of a heap.
I heard Mrs. Smith say, in a voice of alarm, "What is the matter, Mary Ann?"
There was a dead silence; Mary Ann had fainted.
I took steps—down the rest of the stairs—to make myself scarce before Mary Ann came to, so I shut the door quietly, and marched rapidly up the street, with my head buried in the umbrella. The wind nearly carried my beard away, but I held fast, and tacked to the lee side, where I made good progress. Then I walked up La Trobe Street, and made my way, across the open space, towards Collingwood.
In a quarter of an hour I was in the neighbourhood of the house I was looking for, so I called a council of war with myself, and came to a unanimous decision as to what I should do. Iran a parallel up to the place, took a flying survey through a little hole in the umbrella, and passed on; then I twirled the hole round, and took a squint at the other side of the street. Nearly opposite the house I had looked at was one with a bill in the window, on which was "House to Let." Just as Wellington took possession of the house ofLa Haye Sainteon the Field of Waterloo, so would I take possession of this empty domicile for strategic purposes. Two great minds may hit upon the same idea.
I turned into another street, and went down a right-of-way to the back of the empty house. Fortunately I found the gate open, so I went into the yard. It was a squalid place, full of water, dreary and wretched in the extreme. The door was locked, and the windows were latched. Should I get in at the door or window? As I usually travel by the shortest road, I thrust my hand through the glass, pulled the catch back, threw the sash up, put my leg over the sill, then jumped into the room, which was about twelve feet square. The floor was blotched and greasy, the walls damp and frowsy, with great strips ofpaper hanging down at the ceiling. I shut the window, but left it unfastened, then unlocked the door, and opened it a few inches to leave a way of retreat in case of need. If worsted by the enemy (which may happen to the best general), retreat in good order, like Sir John Moore at Corunna, who was covered with glory, a mantle, and Westminster Abbey; or if not by the latter, he ought to have been.
I explored the four rooms, baton in hand—there was not a soul in the place; then I stood at one of the front windows, a little way back, and reconnoitred. The rain had ceased. Black masses of cloud were hurrying up from the south, and clawing at the chimney-pots. The wind howled in thelum, and whistled through the keyhole. The weatherboard walls creaked and groaned like a ship's timbers in a gale. The front gate swung on its one hinge, and grated on the gravel path. Rank weeds filled the strip of garden, and the paling fence clattered like castanets, without tune, rhyme, or reason.
I had barely noted what I have set down, when the door of the opposite house was opened a fewinches, and a black eye, like a search-light, flashed to right and left. Evidently the coast was clear, and the sweep satisfactory, for the other eye hove in sight, accompanied by a face in perfect drawing and colouring, such as Sir John Millais or Marcus Stone loves to paint.
"Sold again!" I said to myself; "this is a lady and no mistake!" I was just about to beat a retreat, cover up my tracks, destroy my bridges, burn my boats, or whatever is the appropriate expression, under my crushing defeat. I ground my teeth with chagrin and hunger. It was nearly six o'clock, and in another hour it would be dark. I had no stomach for such work under the unforeseen circumstances that had developed.
The lady had a basket on her arm, which gave my thoughts a new direction. She must be on a charitable mission to the reprobate sweep who lived there, trying to whitewash him with tracts, and sweeten his life with sugar and tea. "This is the solution of the situation, no doubt," I thought. I must not desert my post, but watch. Putting my theory into practice, I glued my eyes on the lady to see what was her next move. Shecame out on the step, and furtively peered up and down the street with an anxious face. First impressions are not always best. I did not like her looks half so well as I did. She did not improve on closer inspection. However, everything suffers on a wet day. Beauty does not count for much, and classical features are nowhere muffled in a hood and dripping umbrella. Helen of Troy and Cleopatra did not show themselves on a rainy day.
She pulled a shawl over her head, and hid her face as well as she could, then shut the door, and walked up the street, glancing over her shoulder every second or two.
"You are no better than you ought to be," I thought. "Like a fair apple without, but with rottenness at the heart—a whited sepulchre, with foulness within. There is some secret here!"
I had changed my mind about her. She was better than her surroundings; her dress was costlier than the neighbourhood could buy. She was a false coin, which would not stand the test of a ring.
When she turned the corner of the street I letmyself out by the front door, and followed her, my umbrella acting as a screen. When I reached the corner of the street she had vanished. There was a public-house a hundred yards away, into which she might have gone, so I went to it, and glanced into the bar over the frosted half of the window. A man was sitting on a barrel, playing on an asthmatical accordion, so wheezy and broken-winded it could not get through more than three bars of a tune without a rest. Three men, with pewter pots before them, were thumping some knotty arguments into a table. The lady wasn't there, evidently, so I went on, but seeing the private door ajar, I pushed it open a few inches. A jar suggests a pot of something. I was about to go in when I pulled myself up, just in time, for the lady was at a little square hole in the wall which communicated with the bar, and at that moment was slipping a bottle into her basket. On second thoughts, after watching for an opportunity, I went into the passage, and then into the parlour as if I were walking between eggs. The plot was developing. It was hatching.
In a few minutes the lady had bought whatshe wanted and went away, with me at her heels. I nearly trod on her skirt, so eager was I to keep her in sight. She did not go in the direction of the house she had first left, but went farther from it, probably to make more purchases. When she was at a safe distance I followed. There she turned into a shop, which I knew was a grocer's when I saw some soap boxes on the pavement, and a swinging sign with a big T and a teapot on it, so that the lettered might read and the unlettered might see what was sold within. A grocer's shop is like a salmon basket, having only one way out. Not like a public-house, whose ways in and out are many and crooked. The lady must come out sometime, so I could wait. I went into a right-of-way, and showed about a hair-breadth of my right eye in the direction of the shop.
When my patience was nearly all jettisoned I heard the sharp ting of a bell, and the lady came out of the shop. She was coming my way. I suddenly became absorbed in searching for an imaginary copper, which any one might suppose I was groping for in the gutter; myback toward the mouth of the right-of-way, my big body sticking in its gullet, my head nearly touching the water, while my telescopic eyes watched between my ankles for the transit of Venus.
When the blood had all run to my head, and my heart was throbbing like a water-lifter, the lady made her appearance, and gave a start when she saw me in this extraordinary attitude. She stared and better stared, and would have looked me out of countenance if there had been more of it visible. I was in a downright dilemma. When she had satisfied her curiosity she went on, and I slowly became an upright detective, or as nearly so as the business will allow.
I reached the end of the right-of-way as quickly as I could, and looked down the street, expecting to see the woman (I drop the term lady, for I was beginning to take her down a peg), but did not see her. She could not have reached the corner at a walking pace. She must have run like the wind. Perhaps she thought I was a madman, and would chase her.
"All right," I said, "I can run as fast as you,"so I stretched myself, like a piece of india-rubber, and bounded along till I drew myself in at the corner. She was nowhere to be seen. There wasn't a figure in the landscape. She was rubbed out of the drawing—erased, by Jove!
I was done! Given away! Sold by a woman!
There was nothing for it now. If I were to stand here gazing about, perhaps she would be gloating over my defeat from some friendly window, so I walked away, passing the house I had been watching, and scanning each window closely. No living thing was visible. I did not stop a second, did not hesitate, but went straight to the back of the house I had entered so unceremoniously a short time before. I walked in, feeling metaphorically like a whipped hound, with ears down and tail between his legs. The house was now as gloomy as I was. I groped my way to the front window, and looked across the street.
Just at that moment a flash of lightning leaped out, and fell like a flaming sword; then a peal of thunder tore the clouds, with a deafening crash, as if they were made of sheet-iron. The fiend incarnate, in the shape of the woman who had slipped through my fingers, stood at the door of the opposite house, with a simper on her mouth, as if butterine wouldn't melt in it.
I had a big oath ready, and it nearly hissed out on the hob, hot and strong; but, as I had been brought up on porridge and the Shorter Catechism, I did not give rein to profanity, so just pulled up in time to prevent a moral smash. Besides, an oath to be effective must have two or three witnesses.
I believe that—blank woman knew I was looking at her, for she simpered and smiled like one o'clock on Christmas Day. I only saw her for a second, but the sight burned into my brain. If there is ever apost mortemon me, the scar will be found. After the sudden flash the blackness of darkness swallowed up house, woman, and everything. I never saw night put up the shutters so early for the time of year.
"'Thunder-and-Lightning' has been warned," said a voice close to my left shoulder.
"Angels and ministers of grace defend us!" I said under my breath. "Who's there?" I called in my loudest and boldest manner.
"Down," said the voice.
This was the watchword the Governor gave me. I had forgotten it. It seemed years since I heard it.
"Who speaks, and what is your news?" I said, feeling sure a friend was near.
"I am the Lieutenant-Governor. I came to tell you that 'Thunder-and-Lightning' has been warned, and that his movements are known. He is in Melbourne, but will shun the house as if it had the plague. The woman you saw just now is at the bottom of it all. I am afraid she has found out something."
I was never so much astonished in all my life. You might have knocked me down with a humming-bird's feather; but I quickly recovered possession of myself, and struck a match, which I held up in the face of the speaker. I did not know it. The match went out.
"Hold this dark-lantern for a moment, and look at me," said the man. "Now flash it on me."
He was the quintessence of conscientiousness. He had got some information, through an underground channel, and he had come in search of me. He had seen me when I ran after the woman, and had followed me cautiously. It was done in a masterly way, for I did not see a soul in the road. He was a born detective, which is the highest praise I could give. The Queen never had a better representative. Perhaps he tried to do too much. He wanted to bat, bowl, field, and keep wickets in every game. If he had been captain of a ship, he would have tried to do duty also as first, second, and third mate, steward, cook, carpenter, and able-bodied seaman.
When I had looked at him steadily for a minute, I dropped the lantern, and said, "I'm blowed!" The wind was taken out of my sails and no mistake! When I recovered myself a bit, I waited for His Excellency to speak, but he did not say a word. Feeling the silence awkward I spoke again.
"Has your Excellency anything further to say?"
There was no reply. I ventured to put out my hand to where he had been standing, and grasped a handful of air. I spoke again, and groped about, then held up the lantern. He wasn't in any of the rooms. He had gone as noiselessly as he had come. Chingahgook could not have vanished more silently. I was left to my own resources.
I wasn't going to stay any longer in this mouldy, rat-riddled, mouse-eaten house. I couldn't breathe or think, so I went into the open air, turned down the right-of-way, and into the street where the suspected house stood. As I passed it I flashed the lantern on the door, and saw a chalk mark like a streak of forked lightning. I perceived at a glance that this was a preconcerted sign for "Thunder-and-Lightning" to give the house a wide berth and vanish.
I thought I heard a laugh behind the window as I passed, but I suppose it was all imagination. The laugh was against me, of course. I was in no laughing mood. I went on, and hadn't reached the corner of the street, when I determined to haveanother look at the place. I had got half-way to it, when a moving mass of women's clothes passed me, and a voice came out of the bundle.
"Wallace, does your mother know you're out?"
This stung me to madness. I made a grab at the millinery, but it was gone. I heard a silvery laugh somewhere. It might have come from the middle of the road, an upstairs window, the top of a chimney, or other unlikely place, for anything I knew in the state of frenzy I was in. I made a dash down the road, but might as well have looked for a needle in a haystack. I found a big D—— between my teeth, but I swallowed the other three letters with a gulp, and cursed inwardly.
My mother didn't know I was out; but I did, and was sick of the business. I had been too confident. There was nothing more to be done that night, for the game had got wind of me somehow.
I slipped my baton up my sleeve, and turned to go home. The streets were deserted and dark, save for a faint patch of light under an oil-lamp, which flickered and glistened on the wet ground. In a short time I had left the houses behind, and walked across the open space between Collingwood and thegaol, striking into a narrow path which many feet had trodden hard; it wound here and there between pools of water. There was just width enough for two persons to walk abreast, and there was only sufficient light for me to see the grey strip of solid ground stretching in front. I had arrived a little to the west of the gaol walls, when the moon began to show herself in the rifts of the driving clouds.
A figure loomed up ahead of me, about a hundred feet away. It came nearer and nearer, when I saw it was a man. I prepared to go to the right so as to let him pass, when he suddenly presented a pistol at my head, and said, in a blood-red whisper, "Your money or your life!" I brought up my right hand, with the forefinger thrust out like the barrel of a pistol, while my other fingers were doubled up, and shouted, "I'll shoot you, you scoundrel!" At the same time I knocked the fellow's pistol-hand up with a rapid blow. A deafening report followed, and a ball grazed the top of my head. The moon shone out full on the man's face. He had blazing black eyes, a broken nose, and the scar of an old cut down his left cheek. As soon as he fired, he darted off with the speed of a deer atright angles to the path, and I heard him floundering in the water. I was in pursuit in a moment, although I thought my head was ploughed with the ball, and had got a top-dressing of bone dust, which would bring up a crop of troubles.
The moon withdrew herself. The landscape was a blank once more. I was to draw no prizes to-night apparently. The would-be murderer was swallowed up in the darkness. I went hither and thither searching for him, but soon found I had lost my bearings; so I retraced my steps as well as I could, till I struck La Trobe Street, then went to my lodgings, let myself in, and crept up to my room.
When I lit the candle a thought flashed into my brain with electric speed. I stood dazed; then brought my right hand down on the dressing-table with such terrific force as to ruin the whole box-and-dice in a moment; the legs snapped; there was a crash, and the looking-glass was smashed into a hundred pieces.
The man who fired at me was no other than "Thunder-and-Lightning." The Governor had described him exactly in the paper he had given me.
In another minute I was in the street, andrunning like a madman. Before midnight I had visited every police station in Melbourne, and had given a description of the man. At daylight fifty eyes were watching for him on the main exits from the town.