'They cannot well be ahead of us,' said Doonan. 'I have seen no one about.'
'Precious good care they would take you did not see them,' answered Silas.
'We must make the best of our way back,' said Willie, and set the pace faster than Constable Doonan's horse cared to go.
'I shall be left if you go at that rate,' he shouted to Willie.
As Wanabeen came in sight all appeared quiet and safe, and they anticipated nothing had happened there. They were mistaken.
Abe Dalton had laid his plans well. Together with three of his men he had been on the watch for some hours. By a mere chance the absence of the black gin from the camp had been discovered, and Dalton had found brutal means to find out where she had gone.
'It will cost her her life,' he muttered, and then he cursed his men for talking of such matters in front of the blacks. Sal being warned, as he expected would be the case, no doubt either WillieDennis or one of the hands would be sent to Swamp Creek for assistance.
Dalton at once decided to ride in the direction of Wanabeen and keep a sharp lookout. He knew every inch of the country and every place of concealment.
Not far from Wanabeen homestead was an old disused boundary rider's hut, and it was here he meant to hide and keep a sharp lookout.
Luck favoured him. With some difficulty the horses as well as the men were packed inside, and no signs of them could be seen.
Abe Dalton caught sight of Willie and Silas Dixon riding away at a fast pace, and knew they must have been put on their guard, but he was surprised at the direction in which they were going, as it did not lead to Swamp Creek.
'What's their little game?' he wondered. 'Perhaps they are on the lookout for Doonan. I shall have to make an example of him. He hangs around Barker's Creek too often for my liking. That fool Sharp; I must get rid of him, or he'll land us in some trouble. He'll have to be fired out and take his chance. There is no help for it.'
When Willie and Silas Dixon were out of sight, the party emerged from their hiding-place, and, quickly mounting, rode as fast as the horses could gallop to Wanabeen.
Sal heard them as they drew near, and looking out at the door saw it was Abe Dalton and his men.
Her heart almost failed her, but she was courageous, and quickly slamming the door, locked and bolted it. Then she fastened the windows, and, taking up the revolver, resolved to defend herself until help arrived. The black gin was crouching in a corner, quivering with terror, for she knew Dalton would show her no mercy when he found her there. It was useless for Sal to ask her to assist in the defence, the poor creature was helpless from sheer fright.
Dalton reached the house first, and banging at the door with the butt end of his whip, shouted,—
'Open the door, my black beauty. No harm shall come to you if you go with us quietly, but we mean to have you.'
She made no answer, and Dalton, becoming impatient, sent a couple of his men to the rear of the house, where they commenced to smash in a window.
The crack of a revolver was followed by a cry of pain, and the smashing of glass ceased.
'She's got a revolver,' said Dalton. 'We must be careful, but she cannot attend to both the back and the front of the place.'
He saw a heavy axe standing in the yard and called to the man who was minding the horses to bring it him. The fellow put the horses in the yard and then brought him the axe; it was one used for splitting logs and was very strong. Dalton brought it down with a crash on thedoor, and the wood splintered. He put his hand inside to unlock it, or to pull back the bolt, when Sal fired at him, but missed.
Nothing daunted, Dalton stepped back and again raised the axe. The door, not being strongly built, was soon forced open, and as it fell inwards there was a crash heard at the back of the house, where Dalton's men had also forced a way in. Sal was so intent upon taking aim at Abe Dalton that she did not hear one of the men steal quickly up behind her. He hit up her arm as she fired, and this saved Abe Dalton's life, as the bullet went through his hat.
She was at once pinioned and her arms strapped behind her.
'That was a near shave, Sal,' said Dalton; 'and if you belonged to me I'd damage that face of yours. As it is, I'll leave that for your new master to operate on when he's tired of you.'
'My new master!' she said. 'What do you mean?'
'A very nice man has fallen in love with you, Sal, and we are going to take you to him.'
'You will suffer for this. Wait until Jim Dennis returns,' she said.
Sal knew it was useless to offer resistance; she must escape by some other means when out of Dalton's hands.
Where were they taking her to? It could notbe Barker's Creek. Then she recollected what Rodney Shaw had said to her, and shuddered. Would he dare to risk this outrage, with the assistance of such men as Dalton and his gang? A man in his position dare not do it.
She little knew of what Rodney Shaw was capable.
They took her outside and strapped her on one of Jim Dennis's horses.
The black gin cowering in the corner had escaped notice until, unfortunately for her, as Dalton was leaving the room he caught sight of her.
'There you are!' he said with a savage scowl. 'I'll teach you to play the spy, you black devil!'
He rushed at her and hit her across the face and head with his whip. She howled with pain, a piteous cry, almost like that of a dying animal, a long wail that caused Sal to shudder.
'I'll teach you,' he said, and, picking up Sal's revolver, he shot her through the head with no more compunction than he would have done a dingo.
'You will tell no more tales,' he said as he kicked her body away from him. 'I'll leave you here for the boys to clear away when they return.'
The party were soon on their way to Cudgegong, and they kept a lookout in every direction for signs of Willie Dennis and Dixon.
'We shall leave them on the left,' said Dalton. 'I don't think there is any danger of our being seen.I hope you are comfortable, Sal,' he added with a grin.
She made no reply. She was busy thinking how she would act, for she knew they were going in the direction of Cudgegong.
It was a long, tedious ride, and the men were in a bad humour. They thought Abe Dalton a fool for being mixed up in a job like this.
'Did you shoot that black gin?' one of them asked.
'Yes; she will tell no tales,' he answered.
'There'll be a lot of trouble over it, and with Seth Sharp's bungling piece of work the Creek will be too hot to hold us.'
'If you are afraid to stay there you know what to do,' growled Dalton.
'Clear out, I suppose. You are mighty fond of telling some of us that. Mind we don't clear you out.'
'Yes, I'll mind that, and I'll not forget what you have said. That's your gratitude after I have kept you all these years,' said Dalton.
'Kept me!' echoed the man. 'Come, I like that. It's me that's helped to keep you, and more fool I have been to do it.'
Sal was in hopes they would quarrel and give her a chance to escape, but, although Dalton and some of his men were always falling out, their mutual interests were too inseparable for any really serious quarrel to arise.
Rodney Shaw was awaiting their arrival at Cudgegong, for Dalton had sent him word the previous day that he might expect them. He was in an excited state, and had been screwing up his courage with his favourite liquor. He knew he was doing a rash and cowardly act, one that would not only get him into trouble possibly, but would cause everyone to regard him as a scoundrel.
He was, however, a man who cared little for such things, and, if the worst came to the worst, he could clear out from Cudgegong. He had come to hate the place, and there were other matters connected with it, memories that haunted him and caused him to have many sleepless nights. He thought in time Sal would settle down with him, as she had done with Jim Dennis, and that she would be company for him. Until such time arrived he meant to keep her safe and do as he liked with her.
He little knew the task he had set himself or the woman he had to deal with. There was much of the cunning of the black in Sal, and she was not a woman to submit tamely to indignities. When Abe Dalton and his party arrived at Cudgegong Rodney Shaw at once had Sal taken to the room prepared for her.
'You will soon be happy and contented here,' he said to her; 'and you will not find me a bad master. You would not come to me of your own free will, so I thought I would send for you.'
Sal gave him a fierce look from her big dark eyes, and said, as she faced him,—
'You are a coward, not a man. Jim Dennis will throttle the life out of you when he finds out what you have done.'
'He will not find out, because he will never suspect you are here,' he replied.
She made him no answer. She felt Jim Dennis would know what had befallen her.
He left her and went to settle with Dalton.
'You will find yourself in a nice mess over this,' said Dalton.
'I'll take the risk. I have the woman, that is what I wanted. Here is your money.'
'It was a stiff job,' said Abe Dalton, 'and we have run a big risk. Can't you make it a trifle more?'
Rodney Shaw swore at him, and said a bargain was a bargain, but he eventually gave him twenty pounds over the sum agreed upon.
When they were gone he went again to Sal. He meant to try and coax her into a good humour. He succeeded ill, and, losing his temper, said,—
'Remember I am your master now, and you will have to obey me. Think it over during the night, and make up your mind to be contented.'
With that he left her, and she looked round for some means of escape. The one window was heavily barred, and the door was fastened on the outside.
Rodney Shaw had taken every precaution, so he thought, to secure her; but he did not anticipate she would try to attempt what seemed impossible, and escape. He did not know Sal. She meant to try every means in her power to get out of that room.
The house was, as usual, built on thick wooden piles and was some height from the ground. As Sal walked round and round she heard a board creak, almost in the same spot, each time she passed over it. She knelt on the floor and felt closely round the skirting. To her joy she discovered the white ants had been busily at work on one of the piles and that they had penetrated the skirting board of the room. She tapped it, and the sound told her it was hollow inside, crumbling away. So great was her joy that she had much difficulty in restraining herself from testing her plan at once.
She knew, however, it would be safer to wait until it was dark and all was still. The time passed slowly, but at last she determined to risk it.
She pressed her hand heavily on the board, and, as she expected, it gave way and crumbled to pieces. It was an easy matter for such a powerful woman to rip the rotten portion away, but a more difficult task awaited her when she attempted to pull up the flooring boards, and she had to be very careful not to make much noise. Her handswere cut and bleeding, but she heeded it not. She pulled and tugged with all her strength, and at last one board gave way, but the space made was not wide enough for her to squeeze through. The second board did not take so long to raise, and this gave her a sufficient opening.
She slipped through and found herself underneath the house, free, if she could only manage to get away unobserved or without rousing any of the dogs.
She crawled along the ground, hardly daring to breathe, until she reached the fence, which she quickly climbed.
Once outside she commenced to run for her life, and as she was fleet of foot she soon put some distance between herself and Cudgegong. She knew in which direction Wanabeen lay, and could tell by the star-lit heavens that she was on the right track.
All night long she struggled on, until at last she could go no further, and, falling from sheer exhaustion, she was soon in a deep sleep.
As Willie Dennis and his friends drew nearer to the house they saw their first conjecture was wrong and that something serious had taken place during their absence.
As they reined in their horses Constable Doonan said,—
'Let me go in first,' and, drawing his revolver, he walked cautiously into the house.
There he saw the black gin huddled up in the corner, a pool of blood round her and a bullet wound in her head.
'Sal!' he shouted. 'Sal, where are you?'
There was no answer, everything was ominously quiet.
Willie Dennis and Silas Dixon followed the constable, and were horrified at what they saw.
'There has been a desperate scene here,' said Doonan, 'and Sal is gone. They may have taken her away. We must send a messenger at once for your father, my lad.'
'I'll go,' said Willie. 'I am a light weight and can ride fast. You and Silas must search for Sal.'
'That will be the best plan,' said Doonan.
'I'll start now,' said Willie. 'We can clear up here when we return.'
'We must leave everything as it is until I have made my report to Sergeant Machinson,' said the constable. 'He will have to make a move against Dalton's gang this time.'
Willie was soon on his way to Barragong, his blood boiling with rage at the outrage that had been committed at Wanabeen, and he wondered what had become of Sal.
In the meantime, Constable Doonan and Silas Dixon were scouring the country in search of the missing woman.
At the hut where Dalton and his men had been in hiding Doonan examined the place and found the members of the gang had been concealed there.
'They must have seen you and Willie ride away,' he said; 'and in that case they would have a long start of us.'
They camped out that night near a creek, and ate the food they had brought away with them from Wanabeen. They were used to roughing it and to lie on the bare ground with the saddle for a pillow.
They were astir early in the morning, and rode round in a wide circle, looking for tracks or any signs of Sal. At last Constable Doonan thought he saw an object lying on the ground which resembled a human being. It was too far distant for him to discover clearly, but he knew it was not an animal.He rode towards it, and, with a shout of joy, roused Sal, who was still asleep where she had fallen, and at the same time it recalled Silas Dixon.
When Sal saw who it was she could hardly believe in her good fortune. At first she thought it was Rodney Shaw who had overtaken her.
Doonan was off his horse and at her side very quickly, and knelt down to support her, for she was still very weak. He moistened her lips from his flask, and, when she had recovered somewhat, questioned her.
Sal gave him a brief account of all that had taken place, and when Doonan heard who was the instigator of the outrage he could hardly credit it.
'Rodney Shaw!' he exclaimed. 'A man in his position! He must be mad. Rich man as he is, he shall suffer for it, Sal. He need not think he can do as he pleases, even in this lonely place. I pity him when he gets into Jim Dennis's clutches; he'll about settle him.'
He put Sal on his horse and walked by her side. They had several miles to go before reaching Wanabeen.
'Who was it shot the black gin?' asked Doonan.
'Abe Dalton. The other men were outside, he was alone in the house. I heard her cry out when he lashed her with his whip, then followed the shot, and she cried no more. Dalton killed her,' said Sal.
'He shall swing for it,' said the constable, savagely.
They proceeded for some distance in silence, and then Doonan said, in a tone of admiration,—
'You were clever to escape from Cudgegong, Sal.'
'I meant to get away somehow. Had I not escaped I would have killed myself rather than be in Shaw's power. He is a wicked man.'
'There are not many worse,' said Doonan. 'I never had much opinion of him, but I did not think he was such an out-and-out "rotter."'
Next morning the party arrived from Barragong, accompanied by Adye Dauntsey, Sergeant Machinson and half a dozen mounted police.
When Jim Dennis heard how Abe Dalton had acted, and that Sal had been taken to Cudgegong, his whole body trembled with rage and excitement.
Had he not been persuaded to act otherwise, he would at once have ridden to Cudgegong and, taking the law into his hands, have called Rodney Shaw to account.
Both Dr Tom and the police magistrate, however, restrained him.
'Leave it to me,' said Adye Dauntsey. 'I'll see they all meet with their deserts.'
'If Sergeant Machinson had done his duty this would not have happened, and poor Ned Glenn would have been alive.'
Dr Tom's dog Baalim caught sight of the dead woman and howled piteously, and the sound was so weird it started them all.
The police magistrate questioned Sal as to whathad taken place, also Constable Doonan, Willie Dennis and Silas Dixon. He took their depositions and then called Sergeant Machinson on one side.
'We must act at once, sergeant. The sooner the better,' he said. 'Dalton and his gang ought to have been rooted out of Barker's Creek years ago. I am afraid there has been some neglect of duty here. Take my advice and make up for it now by extra vigilance and alertness in securing these men. You understand me. I have no wish to do you an injustice or injury, but I must report this matter as I see it. Let your conduct now wipe out any defects of the past, and then all will be well. I shall state what I think in my report, and I hope I may be able to add something to the effect that any mistakes you have made in the past have been amply atoned for by your activity and bravery at Barker's Creek.'
The P.M. spoke kindly yet firmly, and Sergeant Machinson was well aware that much of his conduct in connection with Abe Dalton's gang would not bear investigation. He had sense enough to see that the course Mr Dauntsey advised him to take was the best. He knew he could trust the magistrate in every respect. He was surprised at his firmness on this occasion, because he had not 'put his foot down' before. Sergeant Machinson also knew that recent events could not be passed over, and that in future it would be impossible for him to shield Abe Dalton in any way. What he dreadedmost was the thought of Dalton being taken alive, in which case he would be likely to 'let out' some curious business transactions in which the sergeant had been mixed up.
'It is very kind of you, Mr Dauntsey, and you may rely upon me to follow your advice to the best of my ability. I think you will have no cause to complain of me when all is over.'
'That's right, sergeant, the proper way to look at it. I am sure you and your men will do your duty. I am also sure of one other thing, that you will freely acknowledge you have done Jim Dennis a gross injustice. You can see now he has never had any dealings with Abe Dalton's gang, quite the reverse. The manly course for you to take is to tell Dennis you have been mistaken.'
Sergeant Machinson did not relish this, although he knew it was but just.
'I'll do it,' he said at last. 'He deserves it.'
Adye Dauntsey was well pleased that he had put matters on such a good footing before the attack on the camp at Barker's Creek commenced.
He knew there would be a desperate resistance and much danger, and he was resolved to share in it.
Sergeant Machinson went up to Jim Dennis and said,—
'May I have a word with you?'
Jim looked surprised, but replied,—
'If you wish; but you can have little to say to me that I shall be pleased to hear.'
This did not lighten the sergeant's task or make it more pleasant, but he resolved to go through with it.
'I wish to state that I have done you an injustice and that my suspicions have been unfounded. I am sorry for what has happened and I know you have had nothing whatever to do with Dalton's gang. I will do all in my power to bring them to justice for making this attack on your place, and I hope you will lend us a hand in securing them. It will be a tough struggle, and some of us may not come out of it alive. Will you shake hands?' said Sergeant Machinson.
Jim Dennis had a kindly nature. He shook the sergeant's hand heartily and said,—
'I like to hear a man own up when he has been in the wrong. You have been hard on me, sergeant, but we will forget that. I will help you all I can. I have a score to settle with Abe Dalton and Rodney Shaw; they can be classed together now.'
A council of war was held at Wanabeen, after things had been put fairly straight, at which Adye Dauntsey presided.
He thought they had better lose no time, but attempt to take Abe Dalton and his gang at once. 'They will not leave Barker's Creek,' he said. 'It is their only safe place. There are eight of the police and four of us, if Silas Dixon will join us.'
'Five,' said Willie, who was present. 'What about me?'
Adye Dauntsey smiled as he replied,—
'You must ask your father about that, Willie.'
'He can go with us if he wishes,' said Jim, looking at him admiringly.
'I can shoot well,' said the lad.
'You can,' said Dr Tom. 'You beat me at revolver practice the last time we met.'
'That settles it,' said the magistrate. 'We will include Willie. Now, how many men are there at Barker's Creek?'
'A score or more,' said Jim, 'and all desperate characters. We need not reckon the blacks.'
'They like a fight sometimes,' said Dr Tom.
'Dalton's men have ill-treated them. They are more likely to turn on his gang than attack us,' said Jim.
'That is probable,' said Dauntsey. 'What do you think, sergeant?'
'The best plan would be to surround the place to-night and attack them when there is light enough. If we can conceal ourselves, and they do not know of our presence, we might take them unawares. It is not probable, for they are sure to be on the watch, but it is just possible the rush could be made through the blacks' camp by four or five of us, and the remainder must ride straight for Dalton's house and the men's shanties. Of course, if they are prepared for the attack we can change our plans accordingly.'
'Constable Doonan and Dr Tom know theplace very well,' said Jim Dennis. 'What do they think?'
'Sergeant Machinson's plan is all right,' said Dr Tom; 'but I think you may be quite sure they will be ready to receive us. Abe Dalton, when he considers it over, will know an attempt will be made to disperse his gang and he will not be caught napping.'
Constable Doonan agreed with Dr Tom and said,—
'When Rodney Shaw discovers Sal has escaped he may go to Barker's Creek to see Dalton. We might get him there, and if he is caught with the gang it will be the worse for him.'
'I cannot think whatever possessed him to commit such an act of criminal folly,' said Dauntsey. 'He can have hardly realised the consequences of his conduct.'
They finally resolved to go to Barker's Creek that evening and attempt to secure Dalton and his gang next day.
They had a tough task to accomplish, and they knew it, but they were all eager to match their strength against Dalton and his men.
They made a move when the sun went down and the atmosphere became cooler. There was sufficient light for them to see their whereabouts, but the darkness increased in a short time.
This was, however, desirable for the work they had in hand.
Sergeant Machinson with the police magistrate, Jim Dennis and Dr Tom, rode together, Willie being close behind them with Constable Doonan, and two of the mounted police went on some distance ahead. The remainder of the little force brought up the rear.
Soon after their departure Sal heard a soft footfall outside; it startled her at first, but she knew it was a black fellow and she had no fear. She was pleased when she saw it was old King Charlie and that he was alone.
The old man had heard of the doings of Dalton's gang and was determined to find out if Sal was safe. He almost reverenced her, for she had always been kind to him and understood him, and listened to his weird tales with attention and belief.
He had a strange imagination this old black king, and a wonderful love for and knowledge of nature, curious in one so ignorant.
'You here, Charlie?' she said. 'Come in and rest.'
King Charlie hated houses; he preferred to remain outside and said so.
Sal brought him something to eat and drink, and watched him with kindly eyes. She guessed why he had come.
'You are safe. It is well,' he said in the peculiar way the blacks speak, and which is necessary to put into English as nearly as possible to convey their meaning. 'It came to me that you had been carried away by that wicked man who is steeped in every crime.'
'And it was true, King Charlie. He carried me off, but the good spirit saved me, and I am here safe and well,' she replied.
'They laid rough hands upon you, they beat you with sticks, lashed you with their whips, called you vile names. Is it so?'
'No, they did not beat me. They stole me for another man—Rodney Shaw,' she said.
King Charlie stood up and called down the wrath of all the powers and spirits he knew upon that gentleman's head, then squatted down exhausted and beat his hands.
She soothed him and said, 'The white men aregone to Barker's Creek and they will kill Dalton and his gang.'
'It is good,' said King Charlie. 'We will go too.'
Sal thought for a moment, and it occurred to her that King Charlie and his tribe might be of use to them. She knew these blacks, the best of the whole tribe, could fight, and were hardy, tough men. They would do anything King Charlie told them, for they were wont to obey.
'It is far and you are weary,' she said. 'Where is the tribe?'
'Woolloola,' he said, and pointed with his hand.
Sal knew Woolloola was the name given to one of their camping grounds; there were no houses there, it was not a township, merely a black fellows' camp.
'They take the gang to-morrow early,' she said. 'You will not be in time.'
'The fight will be long. We shall be in time,' was the reply.
'Follow me,' she said.
She got an old lantern and, lighting the candle, went out into the paddock. Standing still she took his arm and pointed to a mound of newly-turned earth.
'The black gin from Barker's Creek who gave me warning lies there. Abe Dalton shot her through the head. Thus was she repaid for trying to save me.'
She felt him tremble, and he raised his hand and shook it as though brandishing a spear.
'She shall be avenged!' he muttered. 'Blood shallbe spilled for her. The tribe will avenge her and King Charlie will lead them on. Come!'
The old black walked before her with a peculiar dignity that would have been amusing had it been assumed, but it was not, it came natural even to this savage.
'Give me food and I will go,' he said.
'You are weary; rest.'
'I am no longer weary. She shall be avenged.'
He left her, and Sal knew he might prove a friend in need to the white men who were attacking Dalton's gang.
King Charlie, although a great age, was still active, and walked many miles a day. Leg weary he seldom was, but long fasting and starvation caused him bodily weakness. In a case such as this he was stirred on by thoughts of vengeance on Dalton and his gang, who had so bitterly wronged him. He went swiftly and surely in a direct line for his Woolloola camp, and arrived there before Sergeant Machinson and party reached the outskirts of Barker's Creek.
King Charlie harangued the tribe and roused them from their accustomed apathy. It was long since they had been in conflict with white men, but they were nothing loath to try their strength with such natural enemies as Dalton and his men. They knew every member of the gang, from bitter experience, and were not likely to make mistakes in the conflict.
They were quickly on the march, and travelled rapidly, leaving their women wailing behind.
The party from Wanabeen had no conception of what had happened, and they were only to find out later on, much to their surprise and that of Dalton's men.
On their arrival in the dense country round the Creek it soon became evident there was to be no surprising of Barker's Creek or a bloodless victory.
As they were consulting the best plan to adopt, a shot was heard, evidently a signal from one of Dalton's men who had by some means discovered their whereabouts.
'They must have had spies out in different parts of the country,' said Jim Dennis. 'We are in for a warm time, depend upon it. I don't see why you or Dr Tom ought to risk your lives over this job,' he added, looking at Mr Dauntsey and then at the doctor.
'Look here, Jim Dennis, I'm not in the habit of turning my back on the enemy, and it's a trifle mean of you to suggest such a thing.'
'No one doubts your courage, doc,' said Jim; 'but you ought to take care of yourself, because your professional services may be required.'
'And the doctor's duty is in the thick of the fight, where all the blood is being spilt. What do you say, Mr Dauntsey?'
'I am going to take my part and you will take yours, so there is an end of it; but Dennis meantwell in what he said. If anyone ought to be kept out of harm's way it is Willie,' answered the magistrate.
'He will not run any risk. Will you, my lad?' said his father, anxiously.
'No, dad; but if there is a chance of potting one of the gang I'll try how I can shoot,' he replied.
It was growing light, and in half an hour there would be sunshine and no chance of further concealment.
They had decided to spread out in a circle, and make for the centre of the Creek at a signal to be given by Sergeant Machinson.
They separated, Willie keeping near his father.
It was impossible to see whether anyone was concealed in the bushes, and they had to keep on the alert in case shots were fired.
They had not long to wait, for in a few moments the crack of rifles was heard in the bush. A bullet whizzed past Jim Dennis, and he called out to Willie to follow him and galloped on some distance.
'Why does not Machinson give the signal?' he thought. 'It is not much good hanging around here to be shot at; I want to get at close quarters.'
A shrill whistle sounded, and Jim Dennis charged straight through the bush, followed by his son.
A shot from Jim's revolver was followed by a heavy fall, and he shouted,—
'Winged him, Willie; he's down. Come on!'
In a few minutes the little party were insideBarker's Creek, and they then saw Abe Dalton's plan of defence.
From Dalton's house, and the others near it, came a regular hail of bullets, and a mounted policeman threw up his arms and dropped out of his saddle like a stone.
One of his comrades dismounted, placed him across his horse, then sprang up behind and followed the others, Sergeant Machinson calling out,—
'Back! back for your lives! We have no chance in the open.'
It was a wise order, for there was nothing in standing to be shot at by men who were so well sheltered.
They halted in the bush out of rifle shot distance, and Dr Tom attended to the wounded man.
After a brief examination he said,—
'He'll pull round if there is no inward bleeding. He has been hit in the chest.'
'Your work has commenced early, doctor, bad luck to it,' said Jim Dennis. 'We'll make them pay for this later on. My advice is, fire them out.'
'We cannot get close enough,' said the sergeant.
'Fire the bush in their rear,' said Jim. 'It is dry, and the flames will soon spread.'
'What about the blacks? There's a lot of them around there.'
'We must tell them to clear out. If they do not go they will quickly move when they smell fire. I guess some of them know what a bush fire means.It is our best chance. Those fellows are all well armed,' said Jim.
'We must capture Abe Dalton and Seth Sharp alive,' said Mr Dauntsey, 'and as many of the others as possible. Shooting is too good a death for them; they must be hanged.'
'I will fire the bush and give the blacks warning,' said Jim Dennis. 'Let me go alone.'
'You are taking on a big risk,' said the doctor. 'They will not leave the rear unprotected and you'll get shot.'
'I wish to go,' said Jim.
'Let me go with him, sergeant,' said Doonan.
'Very well; only remember we cannot afford to lose a man, so run no risks that you can avoid,' replied Machinson.
They rode away and took a wide circuit round the Creek. They reached the rear of Dalton's house safely, and Jim dismounted while Doonan held his horse.
They were, however, seen from the shanties, and fire was at once opened upon them, and they retreated.
'I must crawl through the bush, snake fashion,' said Jim, 'and when I have the wood fairly alight run back as fast as I can.'
'It is a terrible risk; think of the lad,' said Constable Doonan. 'Let me go. I have no belongings.'
'I said I would do it, and I will,' said Jim.
'Wait a while; they may think we have returned, and it will give you more chance.'
They remained in their position for a considerable time, when Jim Dennis assumed a listening attitude. His solitary life had caused him to be quick at distinguishing sounds.
'What's up, Jim?' asked the constable.
Jim Dennis held up his hand to ensure silence.
Doonan watched his face, and saw his expression change to one of triumph.
'By the Lord, we have 'em now,' he said. 'Listen! Can you hear that noise?'
Doonan was all attention.
'It's a humming kind of sound. I have heard it before.'
'You have. It is blacks on the march, and they are coming here. If it's King Charlie and his tribe we will catch these scoundrels like rabbits in a net. Come with me, we will ride to meet them.'
When the blacks, more than a hundred in number, saw Jim Dennis and Constable Doonan riding towards them, they halted, not being sure as to who they were.
King Charlie, however, recognised them, and went forward to meet them.
'How came you here?' asked Jim.
'Sal said you were on the war-path. I heard of the attack on your house and went to see if she was safe,' said Charlie.
'And you thought you would come on here and help us?'
'Yes.'
'And so you shall. We will give you plenty of work. Are your fellows armed?' said Jim.
'We have spears and boomerangs, and nullah nullahs and stone hatchets,' said Charlie.
'I think they will come in handy at close quarters,' said Jim with a smile. 'We shall have no occasion to fire them out. We can capture the lot alive.' Then, looking at Charlie, he said,—
'Listen to me. When you hear shots fired rushthrough the bush and attack the rear of the houses. We shall be in front, and they will not suspect any assault at the back. Creep close up, and hide in the bushes until you hear the signal. There are a lot of blacks over there to the right, and they will probably join you when the fight commences.'
The old man was all attention, and signified that he understood what was required and would carry out the orders.
'My revenge is near,' he said. 'They stole my people and made dogs of them, and they shall die.'
'We want to take them alive,' said Jim. 'Do not kill if you can secure them.'
Charlie struck his spear on the ground and said savagely,—
'Blood for blood, and we spare them not!'
Jim Dennis saw it was useless to argue with him, and he knew if any of Dalton's men fell into King Charlie's hands they would not have an easy death.
They rode back to their comrades, and King Charlie and his men advanced into the bush unseen.
'Back again so soon?' said Mr Dauntsey. 'Anything fresh to report?'
'The best of good luck has befallen us,' said Jim, excitedly. 'Charlie and his tribe are here. The old fellow heard from Sal what we had afoot, and came on here to help us and take his revenge. There's over a hundred of them, and they are by this time concealed in the bush at the back of the houses.When we advance in front and fire they will make a rush in the rear, and I promise you they will not be slow about it.'
'This is splendid,' said Mr Dauntsey. 'What do you say, sergeant?'
'It is the best thing that could have happened, but we shall have to be quick or those black fellows will kill them all. They will show no mercy to any of the gang,' said Machinson.
'We had better all advance in line, about a dozen yards apart,' said Mr Dauntsey, and to this the sergeant agreed.
No time was lost; the wounded man was left in as comfortable a position as possible, and they moved ahead.
'All fire quickly,' said Machinson. 'If you see no one, aim where the smoke is, on the off chance of hitting.'
In a few minutes, when Dalton and his men saw them again advancing, the firing recommenced, and it was sharply returned.
Above the crack of the rifles, however, was heard a terrific yell, which completely drowned the sound of the firing. There was a tremendous crashing in the bush at the rear of the houses and the cries of many blacks.
Dalton and his gang were surprised, and when they realised what had happened were almost in despair. They knew no mercy would be shown them by the blacks and preferred to risk capture at thehands of the police. They did not mean to give in without a desperate struggle, for their lives were at stake.
In Dalton's house, besides himself, were six of his men, including Seth Sharp and Rodney Shaw.
When Shaw discovered Sal had escaped, his rage knew no bounds, and he acted like a madman, so much so that his manager thought he had lost his senses.
Benjamin Nix tried to calm him and partially succeeded.
'Why make such a fuss over her? She's far better away from here,' said Nix.
'I'll be even with her,' replied Shaw; and there and then made up his mind to ride to Barker's Creek and bribe Dalton to scour the country for her.
When he arrived at Dalton's he found affairs had reached a crisis.
Abe Dalton was in no mood to be trifled with or to stand upon ceremony.
'This comes of meddling in your affairs,' he said savagely. 'Curse you and the girl too! You have ruined us all, yourself included, you blundering fool!'
Rodney Shaw commenced to realise the extent of the scrape he had got into, but he did not mean to be beaten.
When Abe Dalton explained to him what had happened, and that his spies had brought in news that an attack was to be made on Barker's Creek Rodney Shaw said,—
'I'll stay with you and see it through. I'd like to get a chance of putting a bullet in Jim Dennis.'
'There's more than you would give a good deal for such a chance,' said Dalton. 'If you mean to stay, well and good; I'm not going to stop you; but let me warn you it will be putting your neck in a noose to be found here. You had better clear out and do the best you can for yourself.'
Rodney Shaw, however, decided to remain. He thought Dalton and his men would easily repulse any attack made upon them, and Dennis might be killed in the struggle. He meant to have a shot at him if possible, for he had learned something during the past week that had caused him to tremble whenever he thought of the owner of Wanabeen. What that something was will be related later on.
This was how Rodney Shaw came to be at Barker's Creek, which was the worst place he could possibly be found in.
'These blacks will do for us,' said Dalton, savagely; 'and it is all the fault of you fellows keeping the gins here.'
'We must fight it out,' said Shaw. 'Curse the blacks!'
He took a steady aim and fired at Jim Dennis, but missed.
The tumult was tremendous. The black fellows, now they were let loose and had a chance of revenge, were so many infuriated savages. They yelled and danced, brandishing their spears, and rushedupon the houses, heedless of the shots fired at them.
In the blacks' camp at the creek there was a regular pandemonium. The gins shrieked with terror and thought their end was at hand, and so it was for many of them. Some of these black women had left behind in King Charlie's camp husbands and brothers, and they now took their revenge by spearing or clubbing them. It was a horrible scene, but King Charlie took no heed of it, nor did he attempt to stay the slaughter. In his savage way he regarded it as an act of justice, and he may have been right.
Round Dalton's house the fight was fierce. At the rear the blacks were forcing an entrance, at the front the police had already battered in the door.
All were on foot now and it soon became a hand-to-hand conflict.
Seeing the game was up, Rodney Shaw thought of his own safety.
At the back of the house several horses were stabled, and these had not been injured, although they were frightened. Shaw thought if he could make a rush for it he might reach them and gallop off. They were all saddled and bridled ready for an emergency.
The blacks were now swarming into the house, and Dalton's men kept them back with their revolvers.
Passing into a side room, Shaw saw a chance of escape.
The attack was mainly confined to the other part of the house, where a desperate stand was being made. Squeezing himself through the small window, Rodney Shaw managed to reach the ground safely.
Clutching his revolver, he hurried across to the horses. He was kicked and jostled by the excited animals, but escaped serious injury.
Mounting one he had fairly under control, he was riding away when some of the blacks saw him and with a yell rushed after him.
Constable Doonan also saw him, and, making for his horse, was quickly in pursuit.
Shaw, however, was too far ahead, and Doonan, halting, pulled out his carbine, took a steady aim and fired.
His shot he saw took effect, but Rodney Shaw did not fall. 'I hit him,' said Doonan. 'That will prove he was here.' Then he rode back, dismounted, and drawing his revolver, rushed into the fighting mob.
Blood flowed freely and many blacks lay dead, but still Dalton and his men held out.
From the other houses the members of the gang came out and joined in the fight, for they knew it was their last chance.
Dr Tom was busy looking after the wounded.
Jim Dennis was hit in the fleshy part of the arm, but went on fighting.
Two of the constables were mortally wounded, and the doctor was doing what he could for them.
Willie Dennis had accounted for one man, and from a distance watched the fight.
'Help me, Willie,' said the doctor. 'You will be more use here than over yonder.'
Ten of Dalton's men were killed by the blacks, and the remainder were nearly all wounded.
Dalton fought like a tiger, and when he saw Sergeant Machinson and another constable rushing upon him to seize him, he shouted,—
'So you have done for me at last, sergeant. Take that!'
He fired his revolver, and the unfortunate man fell dead, shot through the heart.
Adye Dauntsey saw him fall, and fired at Dalton, hitting the hand in which he held his revolver, and shattering it. He was at once secured.
There was no resistance now except on the part of Seth Sharp, who fought like a wild beast, but he was eventually beaten down and firmly bound.
The house presented the appearance of a shambles.
The body of Sergeant Machinson was carried outside, and Dalton said as they passed him, as he lay bound on the floor,—
'That's how I treat men who play me false. He's better dead. He was false to his trust and false to me.'
Adye Dauntsey heard him, but made no remark.The sergeant, whatever his misdeeds, had paid for them with his life while doing his duty.
They were all tired and worn out after the struggle. Many blacks had been killed, and King Charlie and his tribe set about burying them by Mr Dauntsey's orders.
The attacking party had lost two constables and Sergeant Machinson, and nearly all of them bore marks of the severe encounter.
Seth Sharp and Abe Dalton were firmly secured, and only five other men of the gang were taken alive. The blacks had already set fire to the houses and humpies, and Barker's Creek was in flames.
'They have settled the difficulty for us,' said Mr Dauntsey, 'and I think it is the best thing that could have happened. Barker's Creek will be wiped out at last.'
The affair at Barker's Creek caused a great sensation, and the Sydney and Melbourne papers had long accounts of it, chiefly supplied by Adye Dauntsey and Dr Tom Sheridan. The latter took care to let it be known how Rodney Shaw had acted, and his report was the cause of a startling and unexpecteddénoûment.
A week after the fight Jim Dennis had retired for the night. He was alone in the house with Sal, as Willie had gone to Barragong for a change. He had been out all day, and, being thoroughly tired, slept soundly.
During the night a woman might have been seen toiling with weary steps across the lonesome land. She was footsore and hungry, well-nigh starving. She had been at Swamp Creek and found there no rest or shelter. She seemed to shrink from contact with everyone, and had it not been for the doctor's dog she would have gone on without food or drink. Baalim was sniffing round his master's house as usual, on the lookout for a canine encounter, when he saw this woman. Baalim knew every man, woman andchild in Swamp Creek, and he perceived she was a stranger. Such an important fact must be communicated to the doctor.
The dog bounded into the house barking furiously, and Dr Tom, coming out to administer a caution to him, saw the woman standing, uncertain, outside in the street.
'She looks deuced tired and hungry,' he thought, and without hesitation called to her.
'My good woman, you look tired,' he said. 'Have you come far?'
'From Sydney,' she said in a weak voice.
Dr Tom was staggered and incredulous. Sydney was some hundreds of miles away.
'A team-master gave me a lift as far as Barragong,' she explained. 'I have walked from there.'
'Come in and rest, and I will find you something to eat,' said the worthy doctor.
She hesitated, but he insisted, and she came inside.
'She's seen better days,' thought Dr Tom, but delicately forbore questioning her, although he wondered what she could want at Swamp Creek if she had no friends, which seemed probable.
She ate like a famished woman, and he was sorry. When she had finished she thanked him and left, and he made no effort to detain her; he had no right to do so.
He watched her walk wearily down the street and leave the town.
'Poor soul!' he said to Baalim as he patted hisugly head. 'She's seen trouble, old dog; and, by Jove! she must have been a handsome woman once. What a pity! Where the deuce can she be going to?'
Her meal at Dr Tom's had given her strength, and under the starlit sky she struggled on. She followed the coach track and at intervals sat down to rest.
Towards morning she came in sight of Wanabeen and stopped. For fully half an hour she stood and looked at Jim Dennis's home. Her eyes filled with tears which coursed down her sunken cheeks, and she sank down upon her knees and tried to pray.
The words could not come, for there was a great sin upon her soul. Her breath came in sobs and gasps, she panted like a wounded creature. Staggering to her feet, she pushed on hurriedly, fearing her strength would fail, and at last sank, exhausted, on the steps of Jim Dennis's house, much as Sal had done years before.
Then she passed into a fitful slumber, and as Jim Dennis had found Sal, so the half-caste found her.
Sal rubbed her eyes and looked.
'A white woman!' she exclaimed, and then felt afraid.
What could a white woman want here? How did she get there?
Sal looked at her long and earnestly, and something in the woman's face seemed familiar to her.
Where had she seen a face like that?
She must call Jim Dennis and let him act as he thought best.
She roused him and he started up.
'Is it late, Sal?'
'No, early, about five'
'What has happened?' he said sharply, noticing the scared look on her face.
'There's a woman asleep on the steps—a white woman.'
Jim Dennis clutched her arm.
'A white woman,' he repeated in a hoarse voice.
'Dress and go out to her,' said Sal.
Jim Dennis put on his clothes mechanically; he dreaded he knew not what.
'A white woman,' he muttered, 'and she has tramped it here.'
He went out in a hesitating kind of way.
'What is she like?' he asked quietly, but she noticed the tremor in his voice.
'Go and see. She is asleep. You can look at her face.'
He had not pulled on his boots, and he went quietly outside. He looked at the sleeping woman and staggered back as though he had been stabbed. He put his hand to his face to shut out the sight.
What a flood of memories rushed over him.
Sal watched him. She knew now where she had seen such a face before. It was like Willie's face when he was at the point of death.
Jim Dennis looked at the sleeping woman again, and his features became hard and stern; his mouth was cruel and his eyes flashed ominously.
Yes, it was Maud come back. The woman who had so deeply wronged him and blighted his name, the woman who had disowned her own son—he could have forgiven her, perhaps, but for that.
He went inside and took up his revolver.
Sal looked at him, terrified, then she darted forward and held him by the arm.
'No, no, not that, master, not that. I know her. It is Willie's face. You found me there half dead and carried me in your arms and restored me to life. You cannot kill her. She is Willie's mother!'
He still held the revolver and shook her off.
'It is murder, murder—and a woman in her sleep. Jim Dennis, you are a coward for the first time! Deal with the man who wronged her and you. Have a settling day with him first.'
She had roused him. The taunt struck home.
'By God! I will, Sal. Settling day with him. It will be a heavy one.'
Out on to the verandah he went again, and when the woman opened her eyes she saw the man she had so deeply wronged looking down upon her like an embodiment of the spirit of vengeance.
So terrified was she at his look that she fainted and rolled on to the ground.
Sal went to her assistance.
'She comes not into my house again,' said Jim.
'What of the man?' asked Sal.
'She can come in,' answered Jim.
'Carry her in.'
'No.'
'Then I will,' and Sal lifted the light form in her arms and placed it on her own bed. 'What you did for me I do for her,' she said.
Maud Dennis, for such it was, although she bore no right to the name, gradually recovered.
Sal was at the bedside and smoothed her hair.
'Who are you?'
There was a faint suspicion of jealousy in the tone of her voice.
'I am Sal, Jim Dennis's housekeeper.'
'Not his wife?'
Sal looked at her with contempt as she answered,—
'No, not his wife.'
'Forgive me. I loved him so much long ago.'
'Then why did you leave him? It was cruel,' said Sal.
'It was kind. I should never have made him happy,' she said.
Jim Dennis came in.
'Leave us alone,' he said to Sal.
'You'll not hurt me, Jim? You'll not kill me?' said the wretched woman. 'Oh, if you knew how I have suffered! I am dying, Jim, and I have come to tell you all.'
'No, I will not kill you, and you deserve to suffer. I want to hear nothing, only one thing—his name,' said Jim Dennis.
'You must hear. I was tempted, tried. I did not tell him who I was, and he would never have knownbut when he deserted me in London, I meant to follow him some day and denounce him for the villain he is. He knows now, and let him beware of you. He ill-treated me. I lived a wretched life, and then when he had tired of me he cast me off. I wronged you past forgiveness, but how have I suffered for my sins? I worked and slaved day and night until at last I had to fall still lower.'
She shuddered, and he turned his face from her. This was the mother of his Willie! The lad should never know it, never see her. He must send to Barragong at once and have him detained there until he could act.
'I scraped enough money together to pay a passage to Sydney in a sailing vessel, one of the poorer class, and the miseries of that long voyage I shall never forget. In Sydney I found my parents were dead. I had no friends, very little money. I started to walk here. A team-master gave me a lift to Barragong.'
Jim Dennis started. Willie was there. Then he recollected the lad would not have known her had he seen her.
'From Barragong I walked to Swamp Creek, where a kindly man gave me food and rest.'
'Had he a big dog?' asked Jim.
'Yes, it was the dog attracted his attention to me.'
'Dr Tom, just like him,' thought Jim. 'He little thinks who she is.'
'Then I came on here. Let me die here, Jim. I have not long to live. You cannot thrust a dying woman out.'
He made no answer.
She moaned piteously.
'Let me die here, Jim. Let me see Willie before I go and ask him to forgive his wretched mother.'
'You may die here,' said Jim, harshly; 'but you shall never see my boy. You disowned him and he thinks you are dead.'
She was crying bitter tears of repentance, but they had come too late, and she was afraid to die without forgiveness on earth.
'Jim!' she said suddenly as she caught his arm. 'Jim, I dare not die without your forgiveness.'
There was such a look of horror in her eyes that even he was softened, and said quietly,—
'I will forgive you, Maud, freely forgive you; but you must never let Willie know, and he shall not see you.'
'Not even when I am dead?' she asked.
'No, not even then.'
She sobbed bitterly, and Sal, hearing her, felt the tears well up into her eyes.
'I never knew him to be cruel before,' said Sal to herself.
'One thing more,' said Jim Dennis. 'Who was the man?'
'Your friend, Jim. Your black-hearted, treacherous friend,' she answered.
'I had no friends,' he said.
'A man who called himself your friend. He was in Sydney. I met him. He was going to England, and offered to take me and spend his wealth with me, marry me when it was possible.'
Light was dawning upon Jim Dennis, and his hands clenched so that the nails bit into the flesh.
'It was Rodney Shaw,' she said.
Jim Dennis sprang up with an oath.
'By God! can such a villain live?' he cried.
'He had not seen me at Wanabeen, you recollect; he had gone to Sydney before I came here, and lived there some time before he went to England. He is a cruel, heartless man, and ruined our lives. He deserves no pity.'
'He shall have none from me,' said Jim Dennis. 'I will flog him like a cowardly cur and then shoot him.'
'He is a dangerous man,' she said.
Jim Dennis laughed harshly. He was not afraid of such a man or a dozen of them.
'Sal,' he called, 'there is work for me to do before it is too late. Send Silas Dixon for Dr Tom as soon as he comes in.'
'Where are you going?' she asked.
'To kill the man that wronged me and tried to ruin you.'
'Rodney Shaw?' she exclaimed in horror.
'He is the man. Settling day has come at last.'