'So Machinson fleeces your leader, does he?' said Dr Tom. 'A nice scandal that is, but no one would believe you fellows.'
'We can prove it,' came from two or three of them.
'Can you, indeed?' said Dr Tom. 'A nice lot of beauties you are to give evidence. No sane man would hang a dog on your evidence.'
They growled at him and used powerful language, but he laughed in their faces.
He left them to attend to Abe Dalton, whom he found still asleep.
Dr Tom remained at Barker's Creek all night, and the next day still saw him there.
He did not leave Abe Dalton until he was out of danger, and even that arrant scoundrel could not help feeling grateful for the attention shown him, although gratitude was a stranger to his nature.
A few years quickly pass by, and very little change is noticeable in such places as Swamp Creek and on stations like Wanabeen and Cudgegong. The life there was monotonous enough, but there was a kind of fascination about it, and Jim Dennis would not have changed places with any man.
When he had thoroughly recovered from his illness Willie Dennis rapidly became strong, and now at twelve years of age was a fine, healthy lad.
Like his father, he was a good horseman, and already, even at this early age, he could ride any horse on the station. He had, as it were, been born and bred in the saddle, for ever since he could remember he was accustomed to ride about with his father.
It was the lad's ambition to be a jockey, and win a good race for his father. He did not mean to ride for everyone, there was no occasion for that; all he wanted was to be on the back of his father's horses when they ran in races.
Jim went in for breeding blood stock during the past few years, and had several promisingyoungsters by Seahorse, and Rodney Shaw was rather jealous at Dennis's stock turning out better than his own.
'I was a fool to allow him to mate those mares with Seahorse. I ought to have kept the blood for myself, especially after the trouble it cost me to procure it.' He forgot that, had it not been for Jim Dennis, he would probably have lost the horse altogether.
Rodney Shaw had been to Wanabeen several times, and of late his visits had been more frequent. He was an unprincipled man, and once he coveted anything he tried all in his power to possess it.
Of one thing he envied Jim Dennis, and that was his possession of the half-caste woman Sal. Rodney Shaw laughed at the idea of this woman living under Dennis's protection and being sacred to him. He had been assured such was the case by people who knew the life the owner of Wanabeen led, but he laughed at the assurance and said he knew better than that.
On one occasion he had, in a roundabout way, asked Jim Dennis if he would part with her, and hinted at a consideration. The look Dennis gave him made him quail, and he stammered out a lame excuse that he meant no offence, and that, of course, a black woman could not be regarded in the same light as a white.
'Black Sal has been more faithful to me than the white woman, and for no recompense. She has been a mother to my boy ever since my wife left me.'
Rodney Shaw started, and looked uneasily at the speaker. He had heard but little of Jim Dennis's past life, and the owner of Wanabeen seldom alluded to his troubled matrimonial experiences.
'I did not know you had been married,' he said.
'Yes,' replied Jim, bitterly, and then unburdened himself of his wretched story. It did him good to talk about it sometimes, relieved his feelings and revived his desire for vengeance on the man who had wronged him.
'It would go hard with that man if you came across him?' said Rodney Shaw.
'Yes, it would go hard with him.'
'Perhaps he did not know she was a wife—your wife. She may have deceived him, as she did you.'
'Make no excuses for him,' said Jim Dennis. 'Wife or no wife, he must have wronged her, because he could not marry her. That is enough for me. Only let me come across him, anywhere, and at any time.'
Rodney Shaw was glad he was not that man.
Young Willie Dennis had ridden over to Cudgegong many times, and Rodney Shaw made him welcome. He seemed to like the lad, and enjoyed his prattle. He learned a good deal of the life they led at Wanabeen from him, and gathered that black Sal was indeed a mother to the lad.
In his heart, however, he wished to possess her, and wondered how best to accomplish his end. It would be difficult to attain, but he had in his lifeovercome many such difficulties, and his victims rued the day they met him.
Country race meetings in those days were carried on with an amount of enthusiasm the ordinary phlegmatic race-goer of to-day would fail to understand.
The whole district for miles round was roused, and there was earnest rivalry between owners of horses to win events for which only a few pounds, or a cup of small value, were given as a stake.
It was mainly through the exertions of Jim Dennis, backed by Dr Tom Sheridan, who acted as secretary, that the Swamp Creek races had become so popular and successful. Two meetings were held during the year, and five events decided on each occasion. The chief interest, however, centred in the Swamp Creek Cup, and this year it was to be of the value of two hundred pounds, and a silver cup.
Rodney Shaw had increased his popularity by giving half this stake, and it had been a comparatively easy matter for the enthusiastic Dr Tom to collect the money necessary to provide for the other event. Jim Dennis had a laudable desire to win this cup, and he had a horse he thought possessed a first-rate chance, if properly and carefully trained.
The difficulty at these meetings was to obtain a good rider, and Jim Dennis wished his son had been a year or two older, and had more experience, so that he might have the mount on Neptune, the horse he thought might win.
Neptune was by Seahorse, and his dam, La Perouse,was one of Jim's best mares. He was a grey, a beautiful colour, and uncommon in race-horses.
'There are not many good greys,' said Jim; 'but once you do get a good one that colour he is generally an out and outer.'
He thought this description applied to Neptune, whose fault was that he inherited a good deal of the temper his sire displayed on a memorable occasion at Wanabeen.
The grey stood sixteen hands high, or a shade over, and was powerfully built, and no fault could be found with his shape in any respect. He was fast as the wind, and, moreover, could stay, and was sound in wind and limb.
If carefully handled he seldom displayed much temper, but it was in him all the same, and great caution had to be exercised to keep it in check.
Neptune had taken a great fancy to Willie, and the lad could do almost anything with him.
It gladdened Jim Dennis's heart to see his boy perched on the grey's back, and he watched them with pride as Neptune went a long, striding gallop with his light burden.
'If I could only persuade myself Willie would not lose his head in the race, I would let him ride the horse, but it is too much to expect a lad of his age to keep cool in the midst of so much excitement. If I put Ben Madsley up, he's as likely as not to ruffle the horse's temper, and then farewell to all chance of winning. I have a good mind toput Willie up and risk it, although I shall be laughed at and called a fool. If he won, the laugh would be on my side, I reckon.'
It wanted a month to the day of the races, and Neptune was doing splendid work, being ridden each day by Willie Dennis.
Jim rode over to Swamp Creek to consult Dr Tom. That worthy man of many occupations was, as usual, glad to see Jim. Since the day he saved Abe Dalton from death, the leader of the gang had kept his word, and Jim Dennis and his belongings had not been molested.
Jim was surprised at this, because he knew how Dalton would feel about him in the matter of rescuing Rodney Shaw's horse from his clutches. He did not know he owed this immunity to Dr Tom, and the doctor took good care he should not learn it from him.
'Well, Jim, and what's the news? How does Neptune fare, and is Willie all right?' said Dr Tom.
'Everything is going on splendidly,' said Jim. 'The horse could not be doing better, and Willie's as fit as a fiddle. I'm in a bit of a fix, though.'
'Not short of money surely?' said Dr Tom.
'No, not that,' laughed Jim. 'There is not much chance of throwing money about freely at Wanabeen.'
'I suppose not,' replied the doctor. 'In Swamp Creek there would not appear to be much chance ofspending to the casual outsider's vision, but it's wonderful how the money goes even here. I'm always hard up, and blessed if I know how it happens. What do you think Alf Sniggers asked me this morning?'
'I don't know, could not even make a guess at it,' said Jim. 'He's a funny chap is Sniggers.'
'He owes me an account, and he wanted to know if I'd take a bullock in payment. Now what the deuce is the good of a bullock to me? I couldn't sell it—everyone round here wants to sell, not to buy. There's no chance of eating it, and, being of the wrong sex, there's no milk to be got out of it, and, in fact, it would be on my hands and a perfect nuisance. I explained these little facts to Sniggers, and what do you think he said?'
'Out with it,' laughed Jim.
'The beggar said that any doctor who wouldn't swop a few dirty drugs for a real live bullock must be a fool, and he "wouldn't have nothing more to say to him." Upon my word, Jim, he went away in a high state of indignation, for all the world as though I had done him an injury.'
'Did he settle the account?' asked Jim, laughing.
'Not he. I have put it down in my third volume of bad debts,' said Dr Tom, mournfully. 'But what's your trouble? I was forgetting about that.'
'It's not exactly a trouble, it's a difficulty,' said Jim. 'I don't know who to put up on Neptune in the race. Madsley will ride for me, but he's got a queer temper, and a rider with a nasty temper and a horse with a nasty temper generally have differences. If Madsley and Neptune happened to differ in the race, or just before it, and commenced to argue the matter, there would be no cup or two hundred sovs. for me.'
Dr Tom looked thoughtful, and shook his head.
'I don't think I'd risk putting Madsley up.'
'But who the deuce am I to put up?'
'Willie. Try Willie. Give the little chap a chance. By Jove, Jim, he'll win it, I feel it right here,' and he banged his chest with his fist.
'It's asking too much of the lad,' said Jim Dennis, in reply to the doctor's suggestion to 'Put Willie up.' 'He's only twelve, and you can't expect him to have the head of a man.'
'But that is just what he has when he is on a horse,' commented Dr Tom. 'The little chap is a splendid rider, and as cool as his dad, which is saying a lot. He'll take a pride in riding Neptune, and Ashworth himself would not frighten the little chap. No, Jim, you can take my word for it, he has an old head on his young shoulders, and if you put him up he will do both himself and the horse justice.'
The doctor's argument coincided with Jim's inclinations, and he did not require much persuading.
'Ride back with me to Wanabeen,' said Jim, 'and we'll break it gently to him. It will be great news for him. He'll not believe it at first.'
'Oh, yes, he will,' said Dr Tom. 'Not believe it! He'll be only too proud to believe it. There's only one thing I envy you of, Jim, and that is the possession of such a lad as Willie. I'm not a marryingman, but I would give a good deal to possess a little chap like him.'
'Shocking, doctor. You ought to know better. Consider your morals,' laughed Jim.
'Oh, you dry up. You know exactly what I mean. I want a companion, such as the lad is to you. I sit and talk for hours at a stretch at my medicine bottles and old Baalim down there,' and he pointed to a sleepy-looking old dog snoring in a corner, half-dingo, half-kangaroo dog, and a dash of other breeds thrown in.
'I'll find you a better dog than that,' said Jim, with a quiet smile, knowing that any reflection cast upon Baalim's character would be indignantly repudiated by his owner.
'Find me a better dog!' exclaimed Dr Tom. 'Where is there a better dog? I wouldn't part with Baalim, not for money down to the extent of volume one of my bad debts library. That dog, let me tell you, Jim Dennis, is a marvel of intelligence. He's a humorous dog. He's about the only dog I ever knew who appreciated my violin playing. I have never known him howl when I am manipulating that instrument.'
'He must be extraordinarily patient,' said Jim. 'Perhaps he has no ear for music.'
'I have no wish to quarrel with you, Jim Dennis,' said Dr Tom, with a lordly air. 'Perhaps you have not heard my latest composition,' and he went off in the direction of his violin-case.
'I am afraid I must be going,' said Jim, innocently.
Dr Tom turned round sharply and said,—
'I'm sure you will like it.'
'I'll take it for granted,' said Jim. 'Please don't rob Baalim of his legitimate amusement. If that dog can stand your violin playing, Dr Tom, I'd never part with him; no other member of the canine race would ever put up with it.'
'I have composed an "Ode to Spring,"' said Dr Tom.
'I should have thought you were owed quite enough without piling up additional debts,' said Jim.
'Seize him, Baalim,' shouted the doctor.
Baalim raised his head, yawned, licked his fore paws one by one, turned over and snarled.
'How long have you had that dog?' questioned Jim, anxious to keep the doctor away from the violin-case.
'Several years. He arrived here one morning casually, on his own account. I shall never forget the inquiring look on his face as he came up those steps. It was the sort of look which conveyed the impression that he was thinking, "I wonder what kind of boots he wears and if he kicks hard?" It was not exactly a frightened look, but the glance of a dog that had seen a good deal of the slings and arrows, I think—the arrows of outrageous fortune. He didn't ask to remain, but he demanded his breakfast in such an appealing manner that I fed him. From that day to this he has never left me. Heis a faithful companion, and his breed may be defined as "various." Moreover, he is an ass of a dog, that's why I call him Baalim.'
'Has he many good qualities?' asked Jim.
'He's full of good qualities, but he's a fool to himself. Instead of seeking repose on his mat, he circulates round the Creek on knight-errant adventures. He has fought every dog in Swamp Creek singly and in batches. He not only gets himself into trouble, but he drags me into it along with him. The number of excuses I have made for that dog's behaviour would surprise you. I believe he is grateful. Baalim, are you grateful?'
The dog slowly rose from his recumbent position and waddled up to Dr Tom. He placed his big, shaggy head on the doctor's knee, and looked up into his face. If ever a dog wished to express gratitude in a canine way it was Baalim at that moment.
'What an ugly beggar he is,' said Jim; 'but he looks a real good dog.'
Baalim was ugly, and he seemed to glory in it. He was unlike all other dogs. He had a dirty, yellowish-brown coat, his hair was uneven, it seemed to stick out of him in shreds and patches. His body was long and his legs were short, stumpy, and out of proportion. His tail was useful for whipping off flies, and it resembled the thick part of a stock whip lash. His head was wolfish in shape, and when he smiled, as dogs will smile atstrangers, his teeth were ominous. His eyes were the best part of him. They were expressive, and he talked to Dr Tom with them, or, to be more correct, through them, in a most interesting way.
Baalim was a shrewd dog, and he was a bit of a diplomatist. He was an adept at the art of creating quarrels and of patching them up. In his perambulations round the Creek with Dr Tom he found much to interest and amuse him.
When the doctor was attending a patient, Baalim attended to the patient's dog, and these attentions generally ended in a dispute.
He was a particular dog, and after the doctor he bestowed his affections upon Jim Dennis and Constable Doonan.
When Baalim was left in charge of Dr Tom's sanctum no man dare enter it. Any attempt to do so would have been followed by serious consequences.
'Ride back with me, and ask Baalim to attend us,' said Jim.
'He wants a run; it will do him good. Take some of the fat off him.'
'Then you'll return with me?' asked Jim.
'Yes, and take the dog with me. He'll amuse Willie for an hour or two.'
'And to pass the time he can have a battle royal with Towser in the back yard,' said Jim.
Dr Tom shouted for his boy to saddle his horse, and the black fellow soon brought it round to the front.
They were not long before starting, and in due course arrived at Wanabeen.
Willie was out somewhere, and Sal went in search of him. She was not long in finding him, and when the lad heard Dr Tom was there he was overjoyed.
The doctor was as pleased to see him as Willie was to greet him.
'There's some good news for you, Willie,' said Dr Tom.
'What is it?' asked the boy, eagerly.
'How would you like to ride in a race, a real race, not a helter-skelter race with your dad? A dozen horses or more, my lad, and the colours up, and the people shouting and cheering and yelling themselves hoarse.'
'That would be grand,' he replied; 'but it's too good to be true.'
'Not a bit of it; ask your father,' said Dr Tom.
Willie looked at Jim Dennis, and his father said,—
'How would you like to ride Neptune in the cup? Do you think you could manage him?'
The lad clapped his hands.
'Manage him!' he cried. 'Why, I can do anything with Neptune. Will you let me ride him?'
'Yes, my lad, you shall ride him, win or lose. I'll risk it, although you are only a youngster.'
Willie capered with delight and ran outside, followed by the doctor's dog.
'Come along, Baalim,' shouted Willie. 'We'll have a rare romp over this.'
Away they went towards Neptune's box, the dog scampering after him in his usual clumsy fashion.
'Bless the lad, how full of life he is!' said Dr Tom. 'I take quite a fatherly interest in him. I guess he's half mine, because I saved his life.'
'Do you think I shall ever forget it?' asked Jim.
'No, old pal, I don't think you will; but there are people who regard a doctor as a mere instrument, a thing to play upon and tune to their own fancy. If he cures, well and good, and he doesn't get any credit for it, and sometimes no pay. If he fails—well, if it hadn't been for that clumsy, blundering fool of a doctor—you know the rest, Jim.'
'You are a clever fellow, and you are wasting the best years of your life in a hole like Swamp Creek,' said Jim.
'I'm not a clever fellow. I might have been. I had every chance. I drifted, old man, just drifted. Do you know my besetting sin?'
'Didn't know you had any sins,' said Jim.
'I have, and the worst of the lot is a constant "it isn't-worth-the-bother" sort of feeling. If it had not been for that I might have got on. As a medical student I was quick at learning, too quick. Things came so easily to me that I never bothered about 'em. That's not the way to get on. It's the plodders beat all chaps like me.'
'Nonsense!' said Jim. 'You never value yourself at your true worth.'
'I believe you are right, although I'm not conceited enough to let the world think so. By gad, Jim, I'd like a chance, a big chance. Something with danger in it. Something I might risk my life in to benefit my fellow-creatures. Do you know, Jim Dennis, I'm always hovering on the verge of a grand discovery, and it never comes off. When I have it all fixed up nicely, and think this is the thing, the whole blessed fabric topples over, and I am buried in the ruins of my own fancies.'
'But you manage to scramble out of thedébris,' said Jim.
'That's just it. I scramble out of thedébrisand commence to pick up the best part of the breakages. It's the piecing 'em together again, Jim, that troubles a fellow. They never seem to fit in, or to stick together when they are fixed up,' said Dr Tom, dreamily.
Jim Dennis knew Tom Sheridan had grit in him. He knew that no man had a braver heart or nobler courage, if put to the test, but it would be an uncommonly hard test, to bring out those qualities to their fullest extent.
A disappointed man Dr Tom Sheridan certainly was not, nor was he an unhappy man. He was too good for Swamp Creek, and yet it was good for the Creek for him to be there.
'Look at that youngster,' said Dr Tom, suddenly.
Jim Dennis turned round and saw his son leading Neptune out of his box, and the doctor's dog following at his heels.
The horse seemed to place implicit confidence in his young guide, and walked sedately and quietly.
'You would never think Neptune had such a deuce of a temper to look at him now,' said Jim.
Never had there been such excitement over the Swamp Creek Cup. The stake was good, as country stakes go, and in addition to this a splendid entry had been obtained, and Dr Tom prophesied that at least fourteen or fifteen runners would face him when he held the flag, for in addition to being secretary, stake holder and general manager, the doctor was also the starter.
It spoke well for his reputation for fairness that he gave universal satisfaction in these various departments, and had he been able to get back from the starting post in time, he would undoubtedly have been appointed judge.
The local bookmaker at Swamp Creek had already commenced operations, and a horse from Bourke named First Class was favourite. This worthy penciller owned the Gum Tree Hotel, and his name was Aaron Hyam. He was of the persuasion indicated by his Christian name, and as his eldest son and clerk was called Moses, there was no reason to doubt it when he said if ever hehad a daughter, or rather his wife had, he should call her Rachel.
Aaron Hyam was a well-to-do man. Old Ned Glenn, the coach driver, said Aaron had made his money mainly through his good offices, because he invariably persuaded passengers to stop at the Gum Tree Hotel.
'The money I have put into that man's pocket would keep me comfortably for life,' he growled; 'and the mean son of Jerusalem has never had the decency to tip me more than a fiver.'
Aaron Hyam's hotel was the resort of the Swamp Creek folk and the whole of the better-class people for many miles around. It was quite a different place from Potter's Shanty, and for a country hotel was respectably kept even in those rough and often lawless times.
The astute Aaron worked his cards well and was in good odour even with such men as Dalton's gang. He likewise kept well in with the police, and Sergeant Machinson was a supporter of his.
A fortnight before the race for the Swamp Creek Cup, two or three bookmakers from Bathurst, Bourke and Orange arrived in the place and put up at Hyam's hotel.
Aaron would have preferred to have the manipulating of the market to himself, but as he could not very well do this, he had to remain contented with fleecing the visitors to his hotel as best he might.
One of these bookmakers was a friend of theowner of First Class, and he remonstrated with Aaron for making that animal favourite.
'He's never done much, only won a bit of a handicap at Bathurst,' said Price James, the friend of the owner. 'What do you make him favourite for?'
'That's my business,' said Aaron. 'If you care to lay longer odds, do so. Four to one is quite enough for me to lay against a horse like First Class amongst our lot. Why, his name gives him away at once! Had you called him Third Class, or No Class, it would have been different, but First Class—well, four to one is a very fair price against a horse with such a name.'
Rodney Shaw had two horses entered, both by Seahorse. They were named Seaweed and Distant Shore, and he fancied one of them would win.
When Ben Madsley heard from Jim Dennis that he was going to let his son Willie ride Neptune he laughed, and thought to himself,—
'I'll frighten the life out of the youngster before the flag falls.'
Rodney Shaw engaged the jockey to ride the better of his pair, and gave him his choice.
After a trial at Cudgegong, Ben Madsley selected Distant Shore as his mount, and the horse certainly galloped remarkably well.
No sooner did it become known that Jim Dennis had decided to put his son up, when long odds, comparatively speaking, were offered against Neptune in the betting.
Aaron Hyam thought this was a particularly good chance of making a bit without much risk, and when anyone wished to back Neptune he was always ready to lay a fair price.
In the meantime Jim Dennis was taking every care to have his horse fit and thoroughly wound up to go two miles. There was no pampering about Jim's method of treatment. Plenty of fresh air and exercise was his motto, and he trusted more to nature than art.
Neptune was given plenty of long, strong, steady work. He was not galloped at racing speed over a mile one day and then cantered for the next two or three days.
Willie Dennis rode the horse two-mile gallops at an even pace, and the work Neptune did suited him. As for Willie, he never felt happier or more elated than when he was on the back of his father's horse. Jim Dennis was proud of the lad, and gave him every encouragement. Day by day he saw the horse become better and better, and he knew that on the eventful date Neptune would be as hard as nails.
Rodney Shaw was very anxious to win the race, and now he had secured the services of Madsley he was sanguine of success. At the same time, he had a wholesome dread of Neptune, but consoled himself with the thought that Willie Dennis would hardly be able to do the horse justice.
Although Abe Dalton was regarded as an outlawand a sort of social pariah, Dr Tom and the committee of the race club thought they could not exclude his entries from the races.
Dalton had done some desperate deeds in his time, but since his illness he seemed to have changed for the better.
'It will not last long. He is certain to break out again,' said Dr Tom, and he was right.
Abe Dalton entered a half-bred horse called The Captain for the cup, and two others in minor races.
No one knew much about The Captain, and when it came to handicapping him there was a difficulty.
The committee did the work of adjusting the weights, and great arguments they had over it at Dr Tom's house.
'If we accept Dalton's entries, as I take it we must, his horses shall be fairly weighted,' said the doctor.
'How can we weight a horse we know nothing about?' said the chairman. 'I say, give The Captain top weight, and if Abe Dalton does not like it let him do the other thing.'
'But The Captain is only a three-year-old. We ought not to give him top weight,' said the doctor.
'Some horses are better at three years than at any other age,' was the reply.
'The lowest weight is to be seven stone,' said Dr Tom; 'and I think if we say nine stone seven for top weight that will leave a sufficient margin.'
There was a lot of wrangling over the matter, but eventually First Class was weighted at nine stoneseven, and The Captain put on the same mark with Rodney Shaw's horses and Neptune, who were all to carry eight stone seven.
These comprised the first division, and the tail end were in the seven-stone list.
Considering the committee knew very little about some of the horses entered, the general opinion was that their work was well done, and Aaron Hyam soon found his book would be profitable, as most of the runners were backed.
Despite his weight, First Class, who was a fair public performer in the district, was favourite. Abe Dalton's horse was well backed by several members of his gang, who came into Swamp Creek for the purpose.
Rodney Shaw backed both his horses, Distant Shore for the most money, but Neptune was almost out in the cold, as Jim Dennis was contented to run for the stake and a few modest wagers.
Dr Tom was most enthusiastic, and went about the Creek, followed by Baalim, with an air of importance, as though greatness had been suddenly and unexpectedly thrust upon him.
A night or two before the day of the races the crowd at the Gum Tree Hotel was large, and Aaron Hyam was doing a brisk business both at the bar and with his book.
Abe Dalton had ridden in from Barker's Creek, and as he was somewhat the worse for liquor therewas every prospect of a row, for he was a quarrelsome fellow when in this state.
'I wish he'd go,' thought Aaron Hyam to himself, but dared not say anything to him.
Dalton was swaggering about his horse, and swore he would beat anything 'in these parts.' He offered to back The Captain against any other horse in the race for a hundred.
'Come, some of you fellows. Have you no pluck?' he said. 'He's only a three-year-old, but he'll beat the whole blooming lot.'
Dr Tom was in the bar and said quietly,—
'I'll bet you a score I name one to beat The Captain.'
'Bravo, doctor! Don't let him have it all his own way.'
'Done with you,' said Dalton. 'Name it.'
'Neptune,' said Dr Tom. 'How will that suit you?'
Abe Dalton gave a coarse laugh as he replied,—
'That will suit me very well. You've not much chance of landing that score with a little brat like young Dennis up.'
'You had better not let Jim Dennis hear you call his son a brat,' said Aaron Hyam.
'And why not? Who is Jim Dennis that I should be afraid of him?'
'He's more than a match for you and your crew,' said one.
'Is he?' sneered Dalton.
'He's proved it.'
'Has he?'
'Yes, and he'll prove it again if you ruffle him about his son.'
Abe Dalton swore, and looking at the speaker said,—
'I'll say what I like about Jim Dennis, or any other man; and as for that lad, why, he's only a half-caste. Ask black Sal if he isn't.'
Abe Dalton suddenly felt a pressure at the back of his neck, and he was swung round as though he had been on a pivot.
'You say that again, you cur, and I'll smash your face in!' said Dr Tom. 'If Jim Dennis heard you he'd screw your head off. Get away from me. You are not fit to touch!' and Dr Tom flung Dalton against the side of the bar, where he had to clutch at the railing to prevent himself falling.
There was a chorus of approval from those present, for Abe Dalton was hated as much as Dr Tom and Jim Dennis were liked.
A row seemed imminent, when Dr Tom said,—
'If he wants a fight he can have it, and I'm the man to take him on.'
Abe Dalton had no desire to tackle the doctor, and he growled,—
'If you hadn't saved my life I'd throttle you.'
Dr Tom laughed as he replied,—
'Don't let that trifle stand in your way. Come and try!'
'Let him alone, doctor. He's not worth troubling about,' whispered Aaron Hyam.
'I think you are right,' was the doctor's reply. Then, turning to Abe Dalton, he said,—
'I have offered to bet you twenty pounds Neptune beats The Captain, and I'll not go back on my word; but, mind you, if I win I will not touch your money. Aaron Hyam shall send it to the Bathurst Hospital,' and the doctor stalked out of the place amidst a volley of cheers.
Jim Dennis heard of the row at the Gum Tree Hotel, and he also heard of the cause.
Ned Glenn, who happened to be there, told him all about it when he pulled up at Wanabeen.
'You'd have laughed, Jim, to see the funk Dalton was in,' he said. 'I never saw such a blooming coward in my life. He's not fit to sew a button on his own shirt. He cowed down before the doc like a whipped kangaroo dog, and darn me if he even so much as swore when Dr Tom asked him out to fight.'
'But what was it all about?' asked Jim.
Then the story came out, with embellishments by Ned Glenn.
'And Abe Dalton said that about my lad?' said Jim.
'Yes, he did; but I wish I had never mentioned it; you look so ferocious.'
'You wait until I come across Dalton. He'll have to answer for it.'
'Leave him alone,' said Ned. 'Treat him as Dr Tom treated him. Let him slide.'
'And so it was Dr Tom who stuck up for me and mine,' said Jim.
'Didn't I tell you so?' exclaimed Ned; 'and I can tell you a bit more. It's through Dr Tom you have not been molested by Dalton's gang for the past few years. Don't you know the yarn? Why, every man in the Creek knows it.'
Jim Dennis said, 'You're—sure—it's—true?' He caught up his few words, and they seemed to stumble over each other.
'Certain. Gospel. I had it from Abe himself. It happened this way: Dalton was dying, and Dr Tom was called in under false pretences. Some blackguard of the gang told him a woman and child were dying. You know what the doc is in such cases. Well, he went. He drove out in that wretched ramshackle of his and he pulled up at headquarters—Abe Dalton's.
'All he heard in answer to his call was groans. He went inside—he's told this to me himself. He don't often give much away in that way do the doc, but he opened his big heart and let me have it; and, by gosh, as you know, Jim, I'm a good receptacle for news.'
Jim nodded; he was taking it all in—and a lot more.
'So the doctor did what?'
Ungrammatical, but it is what Jim said, and I have to record it. We are not all born grammarians.
'The doc did this for you, Jim, but don't let on or split to him, or he'd knock the life out of me. The doc says to Abe Dalton. "You're going to die, old man, and your sins will provide the fuel to roast you." From all accounts—there is only one account, but the doc gets a bit confused when he's on this track—the fact of the matter is that Abe Dalton was in a very bad state. Tom—I mean the doc—pulled him through on one condition; that condition was that you were not to be molested, or your belongings, for ever more.'
'And Dr Tom compounded'—it was a big word for Jim—'with a brute like Dalton? He saved his life at the price of shielding me from this gang? Wait until I see the doctor. I'll tackle him over this.'
'I'm going,' said Ned.
'About time,' answered Jim. 'I'll tell that story of yours to the little chap.'
'Don't. By gosh, Jim, don't,' said Ned, as he got to his horses' heads.
'I will. He ought to know black Sal, eh? Good-bye, Ned.'
Ned Glenn was on the box seat. He looked round at Jim, cracked the whip over his team's ears, and said,—
'I'll be back in time for the cup, my lad, and if Willie don't win on Neptune, s'help me, I'll chuck up the job.'
Jim Dennis's face cleared. The passing cloud haddrifted. The gloom was dispelled at the mention of the child. What little things, what small words, what rightly-spoken words can change a man's heart.
'Bah!'
It was an emphatic expression. Jim Dennis spat on the verandah, he kicked a chair over, he swung the hammock round and went inside.
'Sal, do you know what they have said about you? Do you know what Abe Dalton says?'
She shuddered.
'Sal, you have been a mother to my lad.'
She remained silent.
'Do you know what that scoundrel Dalton says?'
'No.'
'That Willie is your child.'
A wail came from her, a piteous, heart-rending wail. She fell on her knees at his feet. She put her head on his boots, and she cried—cried many bitter tears. It was hard for her. She loved this white man, the man who had helped her, had come into her life, picked her up when she was dying, starving, her tongue cleaving to her mouth from thirst, on his verandah steps. He was not a missionary, he never talked to her about God—and the devil. He never frightened her with unknown terrors, he had been good and kind and gentle to her, and they said these things about him!
She thought not of herself, her whole thoughts were for him, the man who had protected her.
'Willie, Willie!' she wailed.
She wished he belonged to her, that he were flesh of her flesh. She craved for that child as mothers crave for their own.
'Get up, Sal. I thought you ought to know,' he said.
She lifted her face to his, and the tears were streaming down her half-black cheeks.
'You have been more mother to Willie than his own,' he said.
With the quick motion always noticeable in the black races, she rose to her feet. She went to the door.
He watched her with wondering eyes.
She came back, caught him by the arm and peered into his face.
'You have a bad friend,' she said.
'Only one,' said Jim, with a smile, as he patted her on the head much as he would a dog.
She glanced to the right and then to the left.
'Do you know his name?' she said.
'Yes, Abe Dalton.'
She laughed, and he started.
'Abe Dalton!' she exclaimed. 'No! what has he to do with you? My people can guard you from him. It is not Dalton; it is—' she hesitated.
'Name him,' said Jim.
'Rodney Shaw!' she said.
He caught her by the wrist. He had met withtreachery in black blood before, and he half mistrusted her.
'What do you mean?'
She looked frightened.
His grip tightened.
'What do you mean?' he asked again.
'I am afraid of him, afraid for you, for myself, for Willie,' she said in a low voice.
'Some of your legends,' he answered roughly. 'You blacks are all alike, half-brutal, half-beast.'
She shrank from him. They were the hardest words he had ever said to her.
'I'm sorry, Sal. I forgot myself. Tell me what you mean.'
'You know the legend of our tribe,' she said. 'No white man's blood shall mingle with our own unless calamity—I was taught that word—befall us.'
'Tell me the story, I forget it,' said Jim, as he sat down.
'This is as it was told to me by King Charlie, the chief of our tribe. He rose from his meal and stood up alone, solemn, in the moonlight.'
Sal had posed for this effect, and Jim took it all in—but it was a genuine pose, which is not the case withposeursof the present day.
'He had eaten kangaroo and wallaby, and had supped well. You have seen King Charlie. True, he is only a black, but he has not the white man's curse upon him.'
Jim Dennis knew Sal in these moods, when the savage was uppermost.
'He looked upon me—I can see him now—a gaunt figure with the chain around his neck and the half-moon badge of his tribe on his chest. His hand was slowly raised, and he pointed at me. I will not give you the words of our tribe, it would be shame unto me, but I will tell you what he said.'
She raised herself to her full height.
'"You are cursed!" I can hear the words now. They hissed through my ears like a sound of running water at flood. "You are cursed!" Again he said it, and I shrank from him. What had I done, what fearful deed had I committed that I should be cursed?
'It was my mother's sin, not mine, and yet not hers. She was taken as a slave might be taken—and I was begot.
'"You are cursed!" It rang in my ears, it rings now. I can see the old king of our tribe rise up and cast me out.'
Jim Dennis watched her; he had never seen Sal in quite this mood before. She looked like a prophetess.
'And when he cast me out what did I reply? I defied him. I said the sin of my mother ought not to be visited upon me. I said that the white man's hand was strong in the land, and thatheought to suffer for his sins, not the poor "gin" that succumbed to him.
'I know King Charlie. He is a just man andgood. He has dreamed the dream of our race, and he has wonderful visionary powers. But because he cursed me I left the camp and wandered forth. I was weary and I fell—you know where I fell—on the steps there, and you took me in as you would a little child, and saved me.
'Rodney Shaw is your enemy—he is mine,' she went on. 'He has tempted me and I have urged him on.'
'You have?' said Jim.
'Yes, and why? I have tried him and tested him. He desires me. He says I am to him more than all his stations and cattle. But why does he say that? He is your friend. And they say—Abe Dalton says—I am the mother of your child. They lie—and we know it.'
He tried to calm her.
'But where is the danger to me, Sal? You must be mistaken,' he said.
'Shaw hates you. There is something in him I do not understand,' said Sal.
'Never mind, my girl, we can get level with Rodney Shaw any day. I'm just commencing to find things out,' said Jim.
At first Jim could hardly credit Sal's statement, but several things that had happened of late caused him to place credence in her words. Moreover, he knew she was truthful and would not deceive him.
He consulted Dr Tom, and that worthy man agreed with Sal; he had no special liking for Rodney Shaw. Constable Doonan had noticed Rodney Shaw coming from the direction of Barker's Creek on several occasions, and wondered what he had been doing in that quarter. Jim Dennis meant to have an explanation from the owner of Cudgegong; he did not mean to allow Rodney Shaw, or any other man, to insult Sal, or to prowl around his place during his absence. When the races were over he would have more time on his hands, and meant to inquire into these matters. He had no desire to quarrel with anyone before the cup was decided, because it might possibly put obstacles in the way of Neptune winning. The horse had been well tried, and had done a capital preparation, and Willie seemed to handle him with the skill of an old hand. The ladwas confident of winning, and when he saw the new yellow jacket his father had purchased for him he was delighted.
This jacket had been specially made in Sydney, and arrived in charge of Ned Glenn. 'There you are, Willie,' said Ned, as he handed him the parcel. 'You will find something in there that will please you, I reckon.'
Jim Dennis, Sal and Ned Glenn eyed the lad admiringly when he put the yellow jacket on, and he looked well in it, quite a model of a youthful jockey.
The day before the races Jim Dennis with his son and Neptune rode over to Swamp Creek and put up at the Gum Tree Hotel.
There was quite a crowd around the place waiting for the horse to arrive, and the comments passed on the appearance of Neptune were on the whole favourable.
There was a lot of wagering at night at the hotel, and, the township being full of visitors, many strangers were present.
Jim Dennis had taken special precautions that his horse should be well looked after, and Dr Tom's black boy was left on guard with strict injunctions not to leave the door of the box on any pretext whatever. There he sat like a black sentinel with old Baalim at his side, and the pair kept off all inquiring visitors.
Jim Dennis knew that Abe Dalton was bent uponwinning the race with The Captain, and would not stick at a trifle to accomplish the end. Most of the horses were backed, and there was every prospect of an exciting race. Willie was at Dr Tom's house and was to remain there for the night.
'He's better there than in the hotel. You never can tell what fellows like Dalton may get up to,' said the doctor, as he and Jim went round to the Gum Tree to see how the wagering was going.
The place was packed, and Aaron Hyam was doing a brisk trade behind the bar and also with his bookmaking. First Class was a hot favourite at three to one, and seemed likely to see a much shorter price.
Rodney Shaw was present, and backed Distant Shore freely, and offered to back his horse for a hundred against any one of the runners.
Jim Dennis had not met him since Sal had warned him that the master of Cudgegong was no friend of his. In his straightforward way Jim would have had it out with him there and then, but Dr Tom counselled patience, and Jim knew his advice was good. Shaw came up to them in a friendly way, and was evidently unaware that Sal had reported his misconduct or expressed any doubt about him.
He had been indulging somewhat freely and was in a boisterous mood.
'Now then, Dennis, I'll give you a chance,' he said. 'No one else seems willing to take it on.I'll bet you a level hundred, or any part of it, that Distant Shore beats Neptune.'
'Considering the odds, you ought to lay me a hundred to fifty,' said Jim. 'You have Madsley riding, and my lad has not his experience.'
'I'm not particular,' said Shaw. 'I'll bet you a hundred to fifty if you like that Distant Shore beats your horse.'
'Very well, it's a wager,' said Jim.
'I'll lay you a hundred to ten against Neptune,' said Aaron Hyam.
'That will suit me,' replied Jim.
'I'll take that too,' said Dr Tom.
The people crowded round them, and there was a lot of jostling and pushing in a good-humoured way.
Abe Dalton was there, but wisely kept in the background. He had no desire to risk an encounter with Jim Dennis.
Dalton would have given a good deal to ensure Neptune being beaten, and when he saw Dr Tom and Jim together it occurred to him that Willie Dennis was probably alone at the doctor's house.
He went out at the back and quickly made his way in that direction. He had no very distinct idea what he intended doing, but he was determined Willie Dennis must be incapacitated from riding.
'If the lad can't ride Neptune,' said Dalton, 'the horse will not run, because he won't be able to find another jockey.'
He had not forgotten his oath to Dr Tom, but he had kept it so long that he felt absolved from it, and to a man like Dalton oaths do not count for much.
He went stealthily as he neared the house, and, cautiously treading up the steps on to the verandah, he looked in at the open door.
Willie Dennis was asleep in a cane chair, and Abe Dalton, creeping round, saw one of the doctor's pestles, which he used for pounding various things in a mortar. He picked it up, and then, approaching the lad from behind, hit him a violent blow on the head.
Willie fell forward out of the chair, face downwards, on to the floor.
Abe Dalton rolled him over, and, looking at him, said to himself,—
'He'll get over it all right, but I reckon it's settled him for to-morrow.'
He put the pestle back in its place, and quickly leaving the house hurried back to the Gum Tree Hotel.
Constable Doonan happened to meet him, and Abe Dalton could not avoid him.
'You are in a hurry,' said Doonan. 'Going to back The Captain, I suppose?'
'Yes,' said Dalton, 'and I'd advise you to do the same.'
'I shall have my bit on Neptune,' said Doonan. 'I want to see young Willie Dennis win the cup.'
'He'll not win it,' said Dalton. 'He's had no experience. Take my tip and put your bit on The Captain,' and he went on his way towards the hotel.
'He'll not know where I have been,' said Dalton to himself. 'Lucky he did not meet me near the doctor's place or he might have suspected something.'
The hotel was still full, and Dalton again backed his horse with two or three bookmakers.
'You seem pretty sanguine of winning,' said Shaw to him.
'Yes, I am. He's a good horse.'
'I think mine will beat you, but I don't much care what wins if Neptune is out of it.'
'You seem to have a "down" on Dennis lately.'
'He's a precious sight too good for this world,' said Rodney Shaw. 'Thinks such a mighty lot of himself. I'll tell you what, Abe Dalton, I've a piece of work for you to do, if you care to undertake it. It will be a risky job, but you are accustomed to take risks, and I am accustomed to having my own way.'
'What is it?' asked Dalton. 'We can't talk here.'
They went out at the back, and Rodney Shaw said in a low voice,—
'I want that half-caste woman of Jim Dennis's. Can you get her for me? I'll give you a stiff price.'
Abe Dalton laughed as he said, 'She's not worth taking any risks about.'
'Oh, yes, she is, and I have taken a fancy to her. Can you get her?'
'Of course it could be done, but there would be the deuce to pay about it. Besides, you couldn't keep her when you had her. She would go back, and as likely as not Jim Dennis would shoot you or burn your place over your head.'
'I'll risk all that. Can you get her? Your gang ought to be able to manage it.'
'It's a difficult job, but it could be done. What's your price?'
'A hundred pounds when she is brought to my house,' said Shaw.
'I'll think it over and let you know, but you are a fool for your pains. Fancy risking so much for a black gin.'
'She is not a black gin, she is a very fine woman,' said Shaw.
Abe Dalton shrugged his shoulders and looked at the speaker with undisguised contempt, which was, however, lost upon him.
'Is it a bargain?' asked Rodney Shaw.
'I'll do my best. Money down, mind you, and you take all the blame,' said Dalton.
'Agreed,' said Rodney Shaw; 'and the sooner you kidnap her the better.'
'A little bit of "blackbirding" ashore,' laughed Dalton, and Shaw joined him in his mirth.
When Dr Tom and Jim Dennis had seen Neptune safely locked up for the night, with the black fellow inside his box, they walked home together.
'Willie's asleep,' said Jim, as he saw him lying on the floor.
'Funny little chap. Why didn't he lie on the couch?' said Dr Tom; then, with his practised eyes, he noticed how still and unnaturally calm the lad was. He stooped over him and gave an exclamation of surprise, with a tone of alarm in it.
Jim Dennis was down on his knees beside the boy in a moment.
'He must have fainted and fallen out of his chair,' said Dr Tom, picking him up and placing him on the sofa.
Jim Dennis was in an agony of fear. He seemed utterly helpless. Dr Tom felt Willie's head, and found a lump at the back where he had been struck with the pestle.
'Jim, he's been hit on the head, and a heavy blow it must have been. Keep quiet and I'll soon pull him round.'
Jim Dennis looked on half dazed. He could not realise what had happened.
In a short time, under Dr Tom's treatment, Willie came round, and, opening his eyes, looked about him.
'Oh, my head,' he said faintly, and seemed on the verge of going off again.
The blow was severe, but not so serious as might have been expected.
When he had recovered sufficiently, they questioned him as to what had happened, but he knew nothing about it, or how he had been struck.
'I went to sleep in the chair, and I remember nothing more,' said Willie.
'There's been some dirty work here,' said Jim. 'Let me find out who has done it, that's all.'
'Shall I be able to ride to-morrow?' asked Willie. 'My head seems to go round and round. Oh, I do hope I shall be able to ride Neptune.'
'Don't worry about that, Willie,' said his father.
'After a good night's rest you will feel better,' said Dr Tom. 'I think you will be able to ride. I'll fix you up with a good nerve tonic in the morning.'
Willie smiled faintly; his head was very painful and ached badly.
He was put to bed and a sleeping-draught given him; after which he rested peacefully.
'We must get to the bottom of this business,' said Jim. 'I should not wonder if Dalton had a hand in it. He'll find he has gone a step too far if I can sheet it home to him.'
'That blow might have killed him,' said Dr Tom. 'It must have been a heavy weapon he was struck with.'
'Is there any danger?' asked Jim, anxiously.
'No, you can rest assured of it; but the little chap has had a narrow escape,' said the doctor.