Next morning Amos Hooker was found stabbed to the heart, and Kylis had vanished.
Miah was questioned, but it was evident the terrified black knew nothing about the deed. Search was made for the murderer, but there was not much heart put into the work.
Some of the pearlers showed plainly they were not at all sorry Amos Hooker was gone from their midst. He had bullied everyone in the settlement and was generally disliked.
"I wonder what Kylis did it for," said one man.
"He had good reason for it, no doubt; Amos was a devil where blacks were concerned," answered another.
When Jack Redland and Barry Tuxford arrived in Sydney, it was arranged that the former should go to Randwick and ascertain if Joel Kenley would take charge of Lucky Boy.
"He will probably have received a letter from his brother about you," said Barry, "and that will serve as an introduction."
Nothing loath, Jack went by train and found his way to Joel Kenley's house.
The trainer's stables were at lower Randwick, where he had a comfortable house and about a score horse boxes. Jack was favourably impressed with his first glimpse of the "Newmarket" of New South Wales. He saw the racecourse as the train went past and wound at a steady pace up the hill. He had no difficulty in finding Joel Kenley's, for the first man he asked said, in reply to his question,—
"Know where Joel lives, I should say so, there's not many people hereabouts do not know him."
"A celebrated trainer, is he?" asked Jack.
"You may well say that. He's won nearly all our big races at one time and another, and he's about as clever as any man can be with horses."
Jack thought his informant looked like an old jockey, and was about to ask him if his surmise was correct, when the man saved him the trouble by saying with a smile,—
"I see you have sized me up. I was a well known rider fifteen years ago, but I got too old fashioned, it's the young 'uns get all the luck in these days."
"I was going to ask you if you were a jockey," said Jack. "It does seem rather hard lines that a man who has given the best part of his life to his work should be discarded when he is old. I suppose you made sufficient to live on?"
The man shook his head as he replied,—
"There was not much chance, I got a fair amount of riding, but the fees did not amount to much, it is different here to the old country, where a jockey can earn thousands a year."
"I suppose so," said Jack.
"You are a new arrival here?"
"I am, I came out to Fremantle some months back."
"Fremantle? Then perhaps you know Mr. Tuxford—Barry Tuxford?"
Jack laughed as he replied—
"I ought to, he came here with me, we arrived the day before yesterday."
"That's strange now, very strange. He'll know me if you mention my name—Bricky Smiles. I once rode a horse for him here, at Sydney, before he was sent to Western Australia; it won, and I believe he backed it to win a good deal more than he gave for it, at any rate I had a nice present, he was more liberal than some owners I could name."
"I shall certainly tell him I met you," said Jack, "but I must hurry on, I am anxious to see Mr. Kenley."
"I'll walk down the hill with you if you like," said Bricky.
"Do," replied Jack, "I shall be glad of your company."
There was a cool breeze blowing from Coogee Bay which made it pleasant and refreshing, and Jack contrasted his present surroundings with those of his pearl fishing experiences. He liked the look of the place, and thought, as many have done before him, that Randwick is especially favoured by Nature, and that a more suitable spot it would have been hard to find for training quarters.
His companion watched him keenly, thinking to himself, "He's a good bred one, I'll bet; a bit different to some of 'em we get out from the old country."
Bricky Smiles had met many men in his time, and experience taught him to pick and choose with discernment.
"That is Joel Kenley's house," he said, as they turned the corner at the foot of the hill, and faced the wide clean road with neatly trimmed hedges and pretty picturesque houses.
Joel Kenley's training stables were almost perfect in their appointment, and since he had taken over command, he had been careful to keep everything in order. Jack had seen many training establishments in the old country, far more extensive than this, but he thought he had never come across one that looked more business-like, or compact.
"I'll not go in with you," said Bricky, smiling. "Joel's a cut above me now, although there was a time when he would have been very glad for me to do him a turn."
"And has he forgotten that time?" asked Jack, in some surprise.
"No, I can't say he has; but as you are a visitor, he'll no doubt prefer to see you alone. I daresay we shall meet again."
"Sure to," replied Jack, "and if I can be of any service to you, I shall be only too pleased. I will not forget to tell Mr. Tuxford I met you."
They parted, and Jack walked up the path to the trainer's house. The front door was open and a couple of fox terriers barked a welcome, as well as a warning, for they quickly decided the visitor was a friend and not an enemy.
Jack thought it all looked very home-like, and the barking of the terriers recalled to mind his visits to The Downs, and the joyous capers of Winifred's dogs as they sprang up at him and then careered wildly round the lawn.
The trainer was sitting in the front room and came to the door before he had time to knock.
Jack recognised him by his resemblance to his brother, and said with a smile—
"You are Mr. Kenley, I think, I have not much hesitation in saying."
Joel Kenley held out his hand, and said—
"And if I am not mistaken you are Mr. Redland. I had a long letter from my brother, Caleb, about you some months ago; where have you been all this time? I have been expecting to see you, and wondered what had become of you; however, come inside and make yourself quite at home—that is, if you are Mr. Redland," he added, laughing.
"I am Jack Redland, and it is quite evident we meet as friends."
It was a pleasure to Jack to talk about the old places at home, and Joel asked many questions about his brother. "We have been parted a good many years," he said, "and our letters have been few and far between; a trainer's life does not leave him much leisure for correspondence. I recollect Lewes well, and also The Downs. Sir Lester Dyke was a fine English gentleman."
"He is one of my best friends," replied Jack, "probably the best, and your brother has been very successful in training his horses. He does not keep many, but what he has are usually of a good class, and pay their way."
"Which is more than can be said for the majority of racehorses," laughed Joel. "Caleb was always a cute fellow, even as a youngster, and got the better of me on many occasions."
"I rode a winner for Sir Lester just before I sailed for Fremantle," said Jack; "Topsy Turvy in the Southdown Welter; it was a lucky race for me in every way."
"My brother mentions it in his letter, in fact told me all about it, and also that you were one of the best amateur riders in England. We must try and get you a mount or two here, I suppose you have no objections?"
"On the contrary, I shall be only too pleased to be in the saddle again. I have been pearl fishing in Western Australia; it was all right for a time, very interesting as an experiment, but I should not care to stick at it long," said Jack.
Joel Kenley laughed as he replied—
"There's a vast difference between pearl fishing and horse riding, I am afraid you will require some practice. Come out into Randwick track in the early morning, and I will give you a mount on something that will take you along at a fair pace."
This suited Jack immensely, and he broached the subject of Lucky Boy, and of Barry Tuxford's desire for Joel Kenley to take him into his stable if he had room and no objections.
For a moment the trainer hesitated, then he said—
"I have several patrons, but I do not think any of them will mind my taking the horse. Owners have become ticklish of late, and do not care for strangers bringing an odd horse or two into their camp; however, I can make it all right with them, and Mr. Tuxford may send Lucky Boy here as soon as he likes. What sort of a horse is he?"
"I have ridden him in two or three gallops, and consider him a very fair horse indeed. He's a stayer and has plenty of pace, a good bay, four years old, full of bone and muscle; he's a trifle on the big side now, anyway I think you will like him. He may not be equal to taking the measure of your cracks, although Barry is sanguine he will."
Joel Kenley smiled as he said,—
"I have never seen a horse for that part of the Colonies that was capable of holding his own with our lot. If there is anything to work on in Lucky Boy, I'll get it out of him, you may rest assured of that. If I may venture on a word of advice, I think you ought to buy another horse to lead him in his work and act as a sort of second string in case Lucky Boy cannot run at any time."
"A very good idea," replied Jack. "I should like to buy a second string, as you aptly call it, if you will take charge of him—but that would be bringing another stranger into the stable," he added, laughing.
"Never mind that," replied the trainer. "When I have found out the sort of horse Lucky Boy is, I shall be better able to advise you what kind of a second string you require. I can arrange for trials with some of the other horses later on, but, in the first place, it will be better to have a companion for him in his work. I should not advise you to fly at too high game at first, take a feeler and see what we can safely do."
Jack recognised this advice as sound and agreed with it; he thought how Joel Kenley resembled his brother in his ways and mode of going to work—cautious, yet having plenty of pluck at the right time. After a round of the stables, where he saw some of the cracks of the Colony, he left again for Sydney, promising to be on the track next morning with Barry Tuxford.
Joel Kenley was very pleased with his visitor, and glad to make his acquaintance.
"There's grit in him," he thought. "He looks as though he could ride a determined finish, and when I see how he shapes at exercise, I'll take good care he has a mount on one that will do him credit. Barry Tuxford's a rum customer, and I have heard some funny tales about him; but he must be a straight goer, or young Redland would not take him on."
"Well, what luck?" asked Barry as Jack entered their room in the hotel.
"Good luck; could not be better. Joel Kenley is one of the right sort, he says he will take Lucky Boy into his stable and you can send him along as soon as you like."
"That's good," said Barry, well satisfied, "we shall know the horse is in safe hands."
Jack then explained what the trainer had suggested about a second string to lead Lucky Boy in his work, and also to run in races if necessary.
"A second string!" exclaimed Barry. "It sounds a bit like pearls, a string of 'em. I wonder if you will get hold of the black pearl for that charming young lady you think so much about. I have had a good many strings of pearls through my hands."
"I hope I shall get it," said Jack. "I have set my heart on having that black pearl, it will bring us luck, I feel sure."
"If anyone can recover it, it will be Silas. He's an old thief, but he'll be straight with me, and he knows how to handle such men as Amos Hooker; he will deal with him in a way of his own that will probably surprise us."
It would have surprised them had they known what had taken place at Shark's Bay, and the fate of Amos Hooker, also that the black pearl was safe in the hands of Silas Filey.
Almost at the moment they were conversing about it, Silas Filey had the black pearl in his hands, and his eyes were fixed upon it with a greedy fascination that was unmistakable. The pearl had been delivered into his keeping and it was not for sale. He had promised to get it for Jack Redland and Barry Tuxford, and had done so.
The spirit of the pearl buyer, the dealer, the judge of such precious treasures, was roused on him as he looked at it. He knew it to be a pearl of almost fabulous value, he had never seen one so perfectly flawless, and he desired to possess it with an intensity of feeling known only to the men who deal in such things.
He would not let it go without a struggle; he would offer a big sum for it, not as much as it was worth, but sufficient to tempt a man in Jack Redland's position. Barry Tuxford would probably ask him to place a value upon it for Jack Redland to pay; if so, it should be reasonable, allowing for him a substantial margin so that he could give a considerable advance upon it in case Jack was induced to sell it.
Silas Filey misjudged his man, he little knew Jack Redland's determined character, or his sterling honesty, which would forbid him, in any case, to profit at the expense of others.
Lucky Boy went into Joel Kenley's stables at Randwick, and no one raised any objection.
Strange to say, it was Bricky Smiles who took the horse to Randwick. Jack Redland found him hanging about the yards in Pitt Street, where the horse was boxed, and in the course of conversation mentioned that Lucky Boy was going into Kenley's stable.
"Is he sending for him?" asked Bricky with an eye to a job.
"No; we are to deliver him there," replied Jack.
"Will you let me take him? I will be very careful," said Bricky, "and I know how to handle horses better than the lads about here."
"Certainly," replied Jack, without any hesitation. He had taken a fancy to Bricky, and was glad to do him a turn, no matter how small. "You must be on your guard, for he's a bit skittish, and a trifle fresh and above himself just now."
"Leave it to me; I'll see he comes to no harm."
"We ought to have someone to look after him at Kenley's. I never thought of it at the time, and it will be hardly fair to ask him to lend us one of his lads. How would you like to do it? I don't suppose Mr. Kenley would have any objection."
Bricky's eyes sparkled. Here was a chance he had not expected, and he jumped at it. He thought he could induce Joel Kenley to let him remain if it was the desire of Lucky Boy's owner he should do so.
"I shall be very glad of the job," said Bricky. "It is a long time since I had such an offer, but I am used to the work, and will do my best for you."
"I am sure you will," replied Jack, "and I will write a letter to Kenley and name the matter to him."
This he did, and handed it to Bricky when he took charge of Lucky Boy.
The old jockey led the horse very carefully, and admired him when he saw how well he walked. As they passed through Randwick numerous stable boys looked at him, and recognising a strange horse, called out to Bricky and asked his name.
Bricky was not a favourite with the younger generation, and they were apt to tease him and make fun at his expense, forgetting that he knew a good deal more than they were ever likely to learn. He answered them sharply, telling them to mind their own business and find out.
This nettled them, and one lad more venturesome than the others shouted—
"So you've found somebody to trust you at last, Brick; I hope they'll not be sorry for it."
"Shut up, you young scoundrel," shouted Bricky. "If I could leave the horse I'd give you a hiding."
There was a general laugh of derision at this, which did not improve Bricky's temper, and another boy called out—
"I'll hold the horse while you give it him."
Bricky was moving on, out of the way of his tormentors, when someone threw a stone and frightened Lucky Boy. The horse plunged, and almost dragged the reins out of his hand. He tried to pacify him, but had some difficulty in doing so. It so happened that Joel Kenley was riding along at the time, and seeing what occurred he dismounted, handed his horse to a bystander, and before the lad who had thrown the stone was aware of it, he was in the trainer's grip.
The boy wriggled and endeavoured to get away, but it was not until he had received a sound thrashing that he was allowed to go. The trainer coolly remounted and rode after Bricky, leaving the small group of boys cowed and sullen, and vowing vengeance upon both of them.
"Whose horse is that?" he asked as he came up with him.
"Mr. Tuxford's, and I am taking him to your stables."
"That's curious; it was lucky I came up when I did, or he might have got away from you. So that's Lucky Boy, is it? He does not look a bad sort; a better quality than I expected."
The trainer watched the horse carefully as they went down the hill, and the more he saw of his movements the better he liked him.
When they arrived at the stables Bricky handed Jack's note to the trainer, and scrutinised his face as he read it.
"He wants you to stay and look after the horse," said Joel. "We have no room, but I daresay you can sleep out."
"I'll manage that if you'll allow me to attend to him," said Bricky eagerly.
"It is some time since you undertook work of this kind?"
"But you know I can look after a horse as well if not better than some of the younger ones."
"Yes, I think you can, and I would far sooner have you in my stable than a stranger. Bring him round to this box."
Lucky Boy was installed in comfortable quarters, and the head lad was informed that Bricky Smiles would look after him.
"And see that the lads do not chaff him," said the trainer. "If they do, report to me, and I will soon settle with them."
"Very good, sir," replied the head lad, who respected his master, and kept a firm hold over the boys.
Bricky at once set to work and strapped Lucky Boy well, and when he had finished his task, stood looking at him with much satisfaction.
Fred Manns, the head lad, smiled as he saw him, and said—
"You have not forgotten how to work, Bricky, and I daresay you have not forgotten how to ride. I know when I was a youngster you were considered the equal of any of our jockeys. You've had bad luck, old fellow; this may bring about a change if the horse turns out a good one. Where does he come from, and who owns him?"
It was evident Joel Kenley was not communicative, or there would have been no occasion to put these questions. As it was Fred Manns who asked them, Bricky was quite willing to supply the information, which he did.
"Comes from Western Australia!" said Fred in surprise. "That's a deuce of a way to bring a horse. I should have thought it would have paid better to race him there, much easier to win than it will be here."
"I do not think it is a matter of money with either Barry Tuxford or Mr. Redland. They brought the horse over because they are true sportsmen and want to see what he can do against some of our lot. I hope they will be rewarded for their pluck with a good win."
"So do I," replied Fred. "They are the sort of men we want about us; there's too much of the money-making about most of them, and when they get a haul it's precious little of it comes our way."
"Then you find your jobs not all pleasure and profit?" said Bricky smiling.
"It's anything but that. The boss is all right, a real good sort, but some of the owners are desperate skinflints."
"You'll find a difference with the owner of Lucky Boy if he wins a race," said Bricky. "I'm open to bet he gives tips all round if he has a win, and liberal ones too."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes, I rode a race or two for him years ago, but I have not seen him since he went away. Mr. Redland I only met quite accidentally as he was coming to see the boss, but I am sure he is a genuine good fellow. It was he gave me the chance to look after Lucky Boy."
The new arrival at Kenley's stables went out with the team to exercise at Randwick next morning, and Jack Redland and Barry Tuxford were on the course. After mutual greetings, the trainer suggested Jack should mount Lucky Boy and give him a canter, and then a fast mile spin with a couple of others.
Nothing loath, Jack was soon ready, and Joel Kenley's practised eyes quickly saw he had a good seat. The appearance of a strange rider, more especially an amateur, caused some comment amongst the lookers on, and there were many inquiries to learn who he was.
Lucky Boy moved somewhat stiffly, as this was his first exercise canter after the voyage, but it quickly wore off, and by the time the trainer gave instructions for the gallop the horse was eager to be off. The going was good, and Jack admired all the surroundings—the hills, the houses at Randwick, and the distant view of famous Botany Bay.
The horses sent out to accompany Lucky Boy were not of a very high class, but both had won handicaps at Moorefield, Canterbury, and elsewhere. Jack soon found he would not have much difficulty in beating them, and this he did comfortably and with judgment.
As they pulled up, Joel Kenley said to Barry Tuxford—
"I think you have a very fair horse, and I am sure your friend is a good rider. I shall have no hesitation in putting him up when I have an opportunity."
This pleased Barry, who said—
"I hope to win a good race with Lucky Boy, and I know Jack will be delighted to have a winning mount."
The boys who had ridden with Jack were not long in telling their stable companions that the new chum was "no slouch," and that he could ride "above a bit." As to Lucky Boy, they were not much impressed with his merits, as the horses they had ridden against him were not first class.
"The next thing we have to do is to purchase the second string," said Jack smiling.
"And I think I have hit upon the very horse for you if he can be bought," replied the trainer. "You see that dark brown over there cantering alongside Bowery?"
They looked in the direction pointed out, and saw the horses he alluded to.
"That's Black Boy. He's very useful; five years old, thoroughly reliable, no vice, and an excellent schoolmaster. If they'll sell him he is just the horse for you. He can win a welter race and you can ride him yourself."
They watched the horse as he went past, and Jack was favourably impressed. There was a "cut and come again" look about him that argued well for his courage.
"What is he worth?" he asked.
"They are sure to ask a stiff price if they know we want him. He's not in very good hands, and I have had my doubts about his running on more than one occasion lately. I am under the impression they have been bottling him up, and if I am correct, you might get a better race out of him than many people would anticipate. No blame would attach to us; the change of stables would account for the reversal of form; but, of course, if it is as I surmise, it will put his price up. Black Boy is honestly worth about three hundred; they will probably ask five, and you may get him for something over four hundred."
"Will you try and buy him?" asked Jack.
"I had better keep out of it. If they think I want the horse they will not sell. I am not in their good books, and have no desire to be; they are not my class, but that has nothing whatever to do with the merits of the horse."
"No, of course not," answered Jack, "but can you get anyone to approach them for us?"
"Why not let me try?" said Barry, laughing. "I generally succeed in my undertakings, and I fancy I can manage it. They'll probably take me for a greenhorn."
The trainer laughed as he replied—
"They will not do that."
"There's very little of the greenhorn look about you," said Jack, "but try if you wish, although I do not know how you will work it."
"Leave that to me," replied Barry. "I can always find out ways and means of becoming acquainted with anyone I wish to know."
It was decided that negotiations for the purchase of Black Boy should be left in Barry's hands, and he was not long in making a move in the desired direction.
The next day he told Jack he knew Abe Moss, the owner of the horse, that he was introduced to him in Tattersall's, and that in the course of a day or two he would broach the question as to whether Black Boy was for sale.
"I have given a hint that I wish to buy one or two horses, and I saw Moss took it; he's a keen hand, and thinks he'll make a bit out of me. We shall see," added Barry, with a wink.
Whatever Abe Moss's opinion of Barry Tuxford might be, that astute gentleman had his own way, and purchased Black Boy for four hundred and fifty pounds. Jack Redland was satisfied, so was Joel Kenley, who remarked that it was quite evident Barry Tuxford was fully equal to half a dozen men like Abe Moss.
"I'm not so sure of that," said Barry. "He's sharp enough, and I fancy he thinks he has got a good price for the horse. He asked me if I had any objections to letting him know when the horse was going out to win, and I said none at all, for the first time he started he would do his best."
"And what did Moss say?" asked the trainer.
"He smiled and looked cunning, as much as to say—
"'You need not tell that fairy tale to me, you are not the man to run a horse out when the money is not on.'"
"I think that is probably correct," laughed Joel; then seeing Barry's countenance change, he added quickly—
"I mean what Moss thought, not that his opinion was correct."
Black Boy was handed over to Barry Tuxford, and consigned to the care of Bricky Smiles, at Kenley's stables. Bricky commenced to feel important again, he had two horses to look after, and this was a move in the right direction.
Joel Kenley was amused at him, and satisfied with his work in every way, in fact he acknowledged to Jack that a better man could not have been found for the job.
"It has given him a new lease of life," said the trainer, "and he'll be quite a different man in a few weeks."
Joel Kenley was not long in ascertaining whether his surmise as to Black Boy having been "bottled up" was correct. He tried him well, and was surprised at the result. He kept his knowledge to himself until he had given the horse a "dust up" with Lucky Boy. Again the result was a surprise, for the Western horse won rather easily at level weights.
Joel was a trifle puzzled. He had discovered that Black Boy would probably be weighted at a stone below his proper form in the next big handicap, and he was quite sure Lucky Boy would be leniently treated, as handicappers usually, and sometimes foolishly, regarded these "outsiders" with a contempt that was not deserved.
The trainer chuckled quietly to himself as he contemplated the bringing off of one or two good coups. He dearly loved the excitement attending such proceedings, and although he would have scorned to order a horse to be "pulled," he had no objections to benefit by the hoodwinking of a handicapper.
Somehow Joel regarded handicappers as his natural enemies, and had frequently fallen foul of them, and asked for an explanation of the weights placed upon his horses. On several instances it was acknowledged that he had good grounds for his grievance, and this did not improve the temper of the handicappers.
Although his horses ran in and out, as most horses will, there was no suspicion against him, and his reputation for honesty stood high. It was different with Abe Moss, who was regarded as a very smart customer indeed, and when it became known that a new patron of Joel's stable had purchased Black Boy there was a general winking of eyes, and nodding of heads, amongst the "knowing ones."
The opinion of these would-be clever men was that Abe Moss would not have parted with Black Boy had the horse been any good. They were a little disappointed, because they had been carefully watching Black Boy's running, and had come to the conclusion some of his performances were "very hot" indeed, and they meant to reap the benefit of their observations when "the money was on." Their time had been wasted, their opinions must have been utterly wrong, for had Abe Moss been "keeping" Black Boy for a particular race he would not have sold him.
In this they were wrong. Abe Moss was by no means inclined to play shady games for the benefit of others. He had of late received several hints that if Black Boy suddenly showed greatly improved form he might be called upon to have an unpleasant interview with the stewards of the Jockey Club. Abe had a pious horror of stewards, he considered them superfluities, and said they were appointed to prevent honest men earning a decent living. As racing meant income to Abe Moss, he had no desire to be "warned off," and this was probably what would happen if Black Boy suddenly developed into a good handicap horse.
When Barry Tuxford came along with the avowed intention of purchasing a couple of horses, Abe Moss fancied he saw a way out of the difficulty. He argued that if he sold Black Boy to a new comer, and the horse won a big race he, knowing the true form, could back him, and yet not be called upon to explain. This was the reason he parted with Black Boy, and asked to be given the information as to when the horse "was going."
It was a surprise to Abe when he knew Black Boy had gone into Joel Kenley's stable. He had a great respect for Joel as a trainer, none for him as a man. He knew it would not take him long to find out that Black Boy was a great deal better horse than his form made out. Judging others by himself, he came to the conclusion that when Joel made this discovery he would keep it dark and profit by it, in which case he, Abe Moss, stood a very good chance of being left "out in the cold" when Black Boy won. He was half inclined to give a hint to Barry Tuxford as to the true state of affairs, but he did not know him sufficiently well, and it was not safe to run risks.
Joel Kenley had some inkling as to the truth of all this when he tried Black Boy. He surmised that Abe Moss had sold the horse, with a full knowledge of what he was capable of, in order to avoid serious consequences when he won. He told Barry Tuxford and Jack everything, and also what he suspected was Abe's object in selling.
"Then we have two much better horses than we expected," said Barry, "that is satisfactory, at any rate. I hope Lucky Boy will turn out the best."
Jack laughed as he replied—
"My purchase will beat yours, Barry; the second string will win."
"We shall see," he replied, good humouredly. "How would it be to run them both in a big race and let them take their chance?"
"There is not much to be gained by that," said Joel, "unless one is put in to make the running for the other. In any case, I would like to let Abe Moss down, he deserves it."
"No favourite of yours, eh?" asked Barry.
"No, he's about as big a rogue as we have on the turf. He bribes our young lads and ruins half of them, he's not fit to mix in honest men's society."
"In that case I have no objection to falling in with any plan you may suggest for keeping him in the dark, but we must play no games with the public."
Joel Kenley laughed as he replied—
"The public are apt to jump too quickly to conclusions, which are very often wrong and unjust, and when you commence to look after their affairs you take on a thankless task."
"Nevertheless, there must be no suspicion about any of our transactions," said Barry.
After a long conversation it was decided to enter both Lucky Boy and Black Boy for the Sydney Cup, and to run them both in two or three races before that date.
"The Cup takes a tremendous lot of winning," said the trainer, "and I tell you candidly I do not think either of your horses good enough for it at present. They will improve, no doubt, at least I hope so, and probably Lucky Boy will be the better of the pair."
"What do you think of that?" said Barry, laughing.
"Time will tell," replied Jack. "I have a presentiment Black Boy will win the Cup outright."
"You are sanguine," said the trainer, smiling.
"I am, and if he wins I believe I shall also secure the black pearl," said Jack.
"You are more likely to secure the pearl than the Cup," said Barry.
It was not long after this that Barry Tuxford received a letter from Silas Filey telling him that the black pearl was safe in his keeping, that it was a beauty, one of the best he had ever seen, and he wished he owned it. He requested him to put a price upon it, or allow him to make an offer for it. He made no mention of Amos Hooker's death, as he was not aware of it. There were sundry private matters touched upon, but the gist of the whole letter was an endeavour to obtain the black pearl at a fair price.
Barry handed the letter to Jack, who was overwhelmed with delight at its recovery, and was for sending at once to Silas to forward it to Sydney, so that he could send it to Winifred without delay.
Barry laughed at his impetuosity, and replied that the pearl was far too valuable to pass through the post, and that he must possess his soul in patience until they returned to Fremantle.
"The best plan will be to let Silas value it, and then you can pay over the balance after deducting your share. He will put a fair marketable price upon it, that I will impress upon him."
"But will it be safe in his hands, he seems to covet it?" said Jack. "You say he is an old thief. I dare not trust him."
"He will not play me false for many reasons," replied Barry, "and you may rest satisfied the pearl is quite safe."
"I shall not be content until I handle it again," said Jack.
He wrote a long letter to Winifred, in which he gave her a full account of the adventures of the black pearl, which he one day hoped to place in her possession. He then went on to describe their doings in Sydney and told her about Black Boy and Lucky Boy, and what they intended doing with them. He asked her to tell Sir Lester that if Black Boy turned out well the horse would carry the black jacket and orange sleeves in the Cup. He made many inquiries about the old places at home, and at the end hinted at what lay nearest his heart. He wrote hopefully of the future, and said he felt certain of securing a considerable amount of money in the course of a year or two. "So far all my ventures have turned out well, thanks to my good friend and adviser, Barry Tuxford, and there is no reason why my good fortune should not continue. I long for the time when I shall see you again, and wonder if I shall find you changed in looks and sentiments towards myself. I lay the flattering unction to my soul that you do like me just a little bit more than other people," and so on.
If he could have seen Winifred's face when she was reading his letter he would have had no hesitation in taking her in his arms, as he did once before, and kissing her. Her eyes glowed with the growing love she had for him, and her joy was unbounded.
When her father returned home he laughed and said—
"There is no need to tell me you have had some good news, Win. Is it a letter from Jack. What does he say? How is he? Is he prospering? When is he coming home? Bless the lad, how I miss him."
Winifred laughed heartily as Sir Lester poured forth his string of questions.
"Give me time, father," she said, "and I will read you his letter."
They went out on to the terrace, and there she read him what Jack had written.
Sir Lester listened, and as she read his face softened.
She did not falter as she read the words of love which seemed to breathe between the lines. She was so very happy, she fancied it was his voice she heard, the paper was alive with a warm glow, she would not have been at all surprised had he suddenly appeared before her.
"I wish he would come back, Win," said her father, when she concluded, "we ought never to have let him go."
"It is for the best," she said, "and he will come back. Then, father—oh, then——" and she hid her face on his shoulder.
"What then, Win?" he asked, gently, as he stroked her hair.
Barry Tuxford did not confine his attention to racing while in Sydney. He knew there were far more profitable games for making money, and being an old hand at most of them he speculated in various concerns, inducing Jack to follow his lead. They had no news of the pearling fleet, but this was not to be expected, as there were very few means of communication. There was, however, no cause for uneasiness with two such men as Danks and Hake in command, and Harry Marton to superintend.
Jack often thought of Harry and wondered what he was doing. He fancied it was rather like desertion to leave him, but Barry quickly dispelled this idea and said Harry was far more fitted for the task he was engaged upon than knocking about Sydney.
"It would not suit him here," he said, "and as you know, he has a horror of stocks and shares, which I do not wonder at, after the experiences his father had. I have more good news, Jack," he added, as he tossed him a letter to read.
Jack read it eagerly, and could hardly believe in his good luck. The Great Tom Mine had again struck it rich, and the shares had gone up by leaps and bounds; there was every prospect of his being a comparatively rich man in a very short time.
"And that's not all," said Barry, "I cabled to my agent in Perth, to buy every share he could secure at a certain price. That was before the new find, and he secured a nice parcel. You stand in of course."
"I could not think of it," said Jack, "it would not be fair, you have done too much for me already."
"Not at all; it is a pleasure to help a man like you; there are some fellows I would not lend a hand to at any price, but you are different. I am old enough to be your father, and damn me, if I don't feel something like that towards you," he added in an outburst of genuine feeling such as he seldom displayed.
Jack felt strangely drawn towards the bluff good-hearted Colonial. He had found out his true worth and knew him for what he was. There were men who almost hated Barry, but it was because he fought fair and square, and managed to beat them despite their underhand methods.
"I'm a lonely sort of man," went on Barry, "always have been, and I expect always shall be. I never 'cottoned' to a fellow as I have done to you, and I don't mind telling you, if you stick to me I'll see you all right, no matter what happens."
This was too much for Jack Redland. He grasped his friend's hand, and wrung it hard, but he did not speak. He could not. He knew every word Barry spoke he meant and there was a strange knocking at his heart as he looked at him.
"I'm an old fool, I know I am to rave like this," said Barry, "but I can't help it, and that's a fact. I've roamed about the world a lot, roughed it, and it's taken the gilt edges off, if there were ever any on; but you've knocked me all of a heap, Jack. Don't talk about my luck, it's yours that has stuck to me. I have had nothing but good fortune since I met you. My first pearling venture turned out a frost. You come along, and what do we get? We not only rummage out old Jacob Rank on his desert island, or whatever it may be, and rescue him, but we find a heap of pearls, a mighty lot of good shells, the best black pearl ever hauled out on the northern coast, and to cap all, we have a deal with that old shark, Silas Filey, that licks creation. Don't talk to me about luck, you're a regular living mascot, that's what you are."
The tension was relieved at this outburst, and Jack laughed heartily.
"Keep it up, skipper," he said, merrily. "Now you are under full sail let her go; I like to hear you, it does me good; it's as refreshing as a blow on the Sussex Downs. Don't let the wind drop yet, Barry, please don't."
"Stow your chaff and listen to me," said Barry, now thoroughly wound up. He was on the tide of a big success, and felt the force of it. "You came out here to make a fortune, and by Captain Cook, you shall get it. When you landed at Fremantle there was no hanky panky about you. Then you were a born gentleman, a swell. Oh, you needn't remonstrate! I'm not a wall-eyed kangaroo, or a burst-up emu. Oh, dear no! nothing of the sort! I'm Barry Tuxford, knockabout, good for nothing, up to everything, and I know a swell when I see one, although it has not been my fortune to meet many.
"I'm a Colonial, have always been fond of a rough life, but I know what it means for a man of your stamp to tackle a God-forsaken pearl fishing job. I liked you when you buckled to and never grumbled, and I admired your pluck when you planked down the money for those shares. I have seen men who call themselves swells do dirty mean tricks no straight man would be guilty of. They are not my sort. I couldn't sit down to eat my meals with a lot of swollen-headed nobodies. That's not my way. Let a man say what he thinks and speak out straight, then you know where you are. Judging from what I've seen, there must be some fine schools for liars in the old country; they seem educated up to it somehow."
He paused for a few moments, and Jack said—
"There are good and bad in every country. You must not judge us all by the worst samples."
"I forgive 'em since I met you," went on Barry. "In the old days on the gold fields we had a lively time, and no mistake. I was a lonely man there, although I had one good pal at first. He had a failing—he liked the drink and the girls, and any painted gazelle that came along could take all he had. But he was a thundering good pal to me."
Again he stopped, and a far-away look came into his eyes. He was recalling memories of the past, and they stirred him as they will always do men who have seen things and not gained their knowledge from talk.
Jack waited, and presently he went on—
"A real pal was Jake Morley, but as I said before, weak; and a perfect fool when the 'hell fire' they served out in the grog shanties was in him. What poison it was, brewed in the Devil's own vat, I should say, and it sent men wild and burned up both body and brains, when they had any. When Jake went I was lonely. He was as tender as a woman to me. I got sick, down with the fever, and there was precious little for us in camp, and what there was did more harm than good. Men fought and robbed, aye, and killed, too, for food in those days, and a man's life was not worth as much as a horse's. Jake stood by me all that time, some weeks, so I heard, and he got food somehow and somewhere. When I came round he made light of the whole thing, and went on a 'burst.' I didn't see him for days, when I found him he was at the bottom of a shaft with his neck broken. Drink, of course; that was what they put it down to, but I didn't. I had my own notions. A shove in the dark was easy, and he had enemies. I got even with one of them."
"Did you——" commenced Jack.
"No; I never killed a man, although I might easily have done so in self-defence, and no blame to me. There was gold then, heaps of it. The Great Tom Mine is a trifle to it; but it was harder to get, and there was no machinery.
"I did fairly well, but I soon sold out after Jake was gone; I couldn't somehow cotton to the others, thinking as I did one of them had done for him.
"But I was going to tell you we are in for a big thing—bigger than the Great Tom. I got off the track, my memory runs away with me at times; I hope you do not mind it?"
"I wish it would run away more frequently," said Jack smiling.
"I don't mind telling you things," said Barry, "but there are some men I would not open my mind to. Read that."
Jack took the paper; it was torn and dirty, and there was a lot of scrawling writing on it. With difficulty he made out the words, but failed to grasp the full extent of the meaning.
Barry watched him, smiling all the time, and said quietly—
"Hand it back, I'll translate it for you. It is from a man I employ to go out prospecting, and he's struck new ground about a hundred miles from the Great Tom Mine. It is rich, precious rich, and we are going to have the pitch, my friend. You can put all the 'ready' you have on to it, and I'll do the rest. Keep enough for your stay here, of course, but this is a big affair, and we must not miss it. I know my man, and can trust him; he never goes wrong, and he doesn't tell lies. He says the country is richer than the Great Tom. Do you know what that means?"
Jack gasped, "Richer than the Great Tom. Impossible!" he exclaimed.
"All things are possible in gold hunting," said Barry. "I shouldn't wonder if there was a nugget as big as a horse's head, only no one has had the luck to find it yet. It means hundreds of thousands of pounds, my young friend, it means that we are going to scoop the pool, and that we are not going to lose our heads, or go frantic, or howl out to the multitude how clever we are, and that other men are mere fools to us. Dear me, no, we are going to sit tight. I'm not even going to wire. I don't like wires, they leak," said Barry, with a laugh.
"Then what are you going to do? How are you going to communicate with him?" asked Jack.
"I am going myself," was the quiet reply.
"What!" exclaimed Jack.
"Fact; quite true, I assure you. There's a steamer leaves in the morning, and I'm off. We must not lose a chance, and I am the only man to attend to this affair. You can remain here and see after the horses, win the Sydney Cup; do what you like; but I must go. There's no help for it, and if you'll think for a moment you will see I am right."
Jack knew he was acting for the best, but he was sorry almost that the find had been discovered. He also knew what a keen disappointment it would be to Barry to miss seeing the horses run.
"It is a jolly shame," said Jack.
"Never mind that; I consider we are in luck's way. We shall be pulling the string at both ends and may land a big double. I would not miss this chance for anything. You want a fortune. You came out here for one, and by the powers you shall have it."
"Listen to me, Jack; you shall go home and marry the girl of your heart. I don't care whether her father is a Duke or a Marquis, or what he is. You shall have her, if we have to buy him over with thousands. There's more than that if this thing pans out all right, as it must. I'll go with you to beard the lion in his den; how will that fit in?"
"You mean it?" said Jack. "You will return to England with me?"
"Honour bright."
"Then I am glad this has happened. I would sooner have you as my companion on my return than any man, and Sir Lester will give you a hearty English welcome."
"He'll not take to a fellow like me."
"That he will. He's not a man to stand on his dignity where Barry Tuxford is concerned. You shall be my best man at the wedding, is that a bargain?"
"You're hurrying up," laughed Barry. Jack joined in his merriment and said—
"It is your fault, you are always hurrying; and I have got into your way."
"Don't forget while I am away to keep all this dark. You are sure to be asked hundreds of questions when they know I have gone. You'll have to rack your brains to concoct some cock and bull story for them, but I have no doubt you will succeed."
Barry was not long in making his preparations, and next morning he had left Sydney without anyone being aware of it.
Jack felt in the same condition as Barry had done when he lost his pal Jake—he was lonely.
Such a man as Barry Tuxford was quickly missed in the circles he frequented in Sydney, and twenty-four hours had not elapsed since his departure, when Jack Redland was bombarded with questions as to his whereabouts. He found some difficulty in answering them, but parried thrusts in such a clever manner as would have aroused Barry's enthusiasm. It was with Joel Kenley he had most difficulty. Barry's instructions were clear: "Tell no one where I have gone." This, of course, included the trainer, although Barry had probably not meant such to be the case. At first Jack was inclined to tell him everything, but on second thoughts abandoned the idea.
He explained, as well as he could, that Barry had been suddenly called away on business of importance and might not be back for some weeks, also that he had left him in sole charge of the horses.
"It seems strange," said Joel. "He might have told me he was leaving Sydney."
"He had no time," replied Jack, "or I am sure he would have done so. I quite understand your thinking it a strange proceeding, but I hope you have confidence enough in me to act as we may think best."
"Certainly I have," replied Joel. "I know more of you than Mr. Tuxford, but naturally my curiosity is roused, and I should like to know where he is; however, if you are not at liberty to tell me it makes little difference."
"Do me a favour," said Jack. "Ask no more questions about him, and whatever you think keep it to yourself."
This the trainer promised to do, and Jack said that in due time he should be placed in possession of all the facts concerning Barry's sudden disappearance. They then discussed the coming racing season, and finally decided Jack should ride Lucky Boy in the Welter race at Rosehill.
This was to be run on the following Saturday, and some very fair horses were entered. The race was for amateur riders, approved by the Stewards, and professionals were allowed to be put up with seven pounds extra.
Lucky Boy had done well during the short time he had been at Randwick, and Joel Kenley commenced to think he was a much better horse than he anticipated. The Rosehill Welter would give him a good line to go upon. He did not expect the horse would win, and candidly said so to Jack, but he expected him to make a creditable display.
"It will be a good mount for you at any rate," he said, "and you can keep your eyes open and see what the others are doing."
There was a big crowd at the popular suburban course, and when the Rosehill Handicap had been decided, the Welter was the next race on the card.
Considerable curiosity was aroused as to how the new arrival from Western Australia would shape, and also as lo how Jack Redland would handle him. He had decided to ride in Barry Tuxford's colours, cherry jacket, white sleeves, because he was anxious Sir Lester's jacket should be on a winner the first time they were out, and Lucky Boy did not hold a first class chance.
Where was Barry Tuxford, the owner of Lucky Boy? This was a question freely asked, but no answer was forthcoming. During his visit to Sydney, Barry had somewhat astonished the mining speculators by the cleverness of his transactions, and on more than one occasion it had been a question of the biter being bitten.
The popular opinion, amongst these men, was not very wide of the mark. They thought he had gone away to prospect, or to examine some new land up country, but they did not know he had sailed for Fremantle.
Had there been the slightest inkling as to Barry's destination, and the reason for his journey, there would have been a ferment of excitement, and probably a rush by the next boat to follow on his trail.
Abe Moss put the question straight to Jack.
"Where's Barry Tuxford?" he asked. "You may as well tell me, I am sure to find out in time."
"Then you can wait for that time," said Jack, "for you will gain no information from me."
"Precious clever you think yourselves, no doubt," growled Abe. "Did he tell you before he left that I was to be 'in the know' when your horses were having a try?"
"Our horses always try, no matter what yours may do," replied Jack.
Abe Moss laughed as he said—
"Oh, yes, we all know that. You are perfect saints in Western Australia, too good for this earth. Has Lucky Boy a chance to-day?" he asked, as though he had a perfect right to put the question.
Jack was irritated at the tone, and the man's impudence, or he would probably have given him a different reply. As it was he said—
"He has a very good chance."
"Worth backing?" asked Abe.
"Please yourself," said Jack, as he walked away, inwardly hoping Abe Moss would lose his money, or fail to back Lucky Boy if he won.
There were eight runners, and of this lot Random was a very hot favourite at evens, and as Smith had put up seven pounds extra to ride him the race was booked a good thing for him.
Random was a very useful horse, and more than once, when he had beaten Black Boy, Joel Kenley thought the latter could have won.
He took Jack aside before the saddling bell rang, and said—
"Watch Random closely, stick to him all the way. I do not think you can beat him, but I want to find out what Lucky Boy can do with him."
"Is there any other horse in the race to fear?" asked Jack.
"Only The Spot, and perhaps Tell Tale."
It was Jack's first appearance on an Australian course, and he was naturally anxious to create a favourable impression. Joel had told him that colonial riders had a very poor opinion of "new chums" in the saddle, and added—
"But I think you will cause them to change their opinion before the day is over."
Although Joel thought Lucky Boy had but a poor chance of beating a horse like Random, with a clever jockey in the saddle, he was not without hope that Smith would hold Jack Redland and his mount too cheap, and perhaps throw the race away. Dick Smith had one bad fault, he loved to "snatch races out of the fire," make a close finish of it, when perhaps his mount could have won by four or five lengths. It was for this reason Joel never put him up if he could help it, and when one of his patrons insisted upon it he told him he did it at his own risk.
Random dashed down the course, moving with such freedom that backers were content to lay slight odds on him, and before the flag fell he was a six to four on chance.
Smith thought the race was all over bar shouting, and at the post he smiled sarcastically, as Jack rode up on Lucky Boy, and said to the rider of The Spot—
"Old Joel's going a bit balmy if he fancies that thing has a chance."
"They say the chap on him can ride."
Smith laughed as he replied—
"I think they are well matched, neither of 'em are much to look at."
This was, no doubt, professional jealousy, as Jack cut a far better figure than Smith in the saddle. The race was run over a mile, and at the start Tell Tale went off with a clear lead. Round the back of the course The Spot went up to him, followed by Sandpiper. Jack watched Random, and knew the horse could race up to the leaders at any time.
Smith wondered why Jack stuck so close to his mount, was he a better rider than he imagined? At the half distance Random drew up closer with the leaders, Jack following on Lucky Boy. Two furlongs from the winning post Tell Tale shot his bolt, then The Spot fell back, and Random dashed to the front. Now was Jack's time. If Lucky Boy was to win an effort must be made.
To the surprise of the riders of The Spot and Tell Tale, the outsider, for such Lucky Boy was, shot past them easily and followed close on the track of Random.
When he reached the Leger stand, Smith felt certain the race was won, and eased his mount in order to "canter" home at his leisure. It was a foolish thing to do. To everyone who watched the race, and knew anything about the spot, it looked any odds on Random winning a furlong from home. Had Smith kept him going he could probably have won by half-a-dozen lengths, but this was just where the jockey failed. Jack Redland knew every move on the board in riding a race, and when he saw Smith drop his hands on Random he was sanguine about Lucky Boy's chance. His mount was going well, although he would never have caught Random had he been kept at his top.
Before Smith realised the danger he was in Lucky Boy was alongside him, and the astonished jockey lost further ground through sheer surprise. Instead of Random holding his own the backers of the favourite saw with dismay that Lucky Boy was a very likely winner.
Joel Kenley also saw what occurred, and smiled quietly at Smith's folly. Random, win or lose, ought to have easily beaten Lucky Boy, but a win was a win, no matter whether it came about through the misfortune of others.
Jack rode Lucky Boy hard, and although the horse was not thoroughly wound up he responded to the call and struggled on.
Smith savagely spurred Random, venting his spite on the horse for a fault that was entirely his own. The severity of the punishment caused Random to almost leap forward, and for a second or two he seemed likely to pass Lucky Boy. It was a vain hope on the part of his backers, for when the winning post was passed Lucky Boy had a couple of lengths to the good.
It was a miserable fiasco, this was the universal opinion. An odds on favourite that ought to have won by half-a-dozen lengths was beaten by a miserable outsider.
Smith's failure was so glaring that he came in for a volley of groans and hisses, which did not improve his already bad temper. He was accustomed to cheers, and the ominous sound jarred upon him.
Jack acknowledged he had a very lucky race and did not expect to receive a warm welcome from the crowd. Racing men, all over the world, however, are good natured, and they cheered the new comer heartily.
The owner of Random roundly abused Smith in the paddock, and threatened to call the attention of the Stewards to the spur marks, this, however, at the jockey's request, he did not do.
Jack was delighted at his success, and Joel said—
"You won, but Random ought to have beaten Lucky Boy easily. How did Random gallop?"
"Very well indeed, I think he is a good horse; he had the foot of Lucky Boy most of the way."
"In that case," thought Joel, "Black Boy must be pretty good. I think we are likely to have a bit of fun in the Sydney Cup, a surprise for some of the clever division."
Abe Moss did not take Jack's advice, but backed Random, and when the lucky winner said to him—
"I hope you took my advice, Moss," he replied, angrily—
"Much it was worth, Random ought to have romped home."
"From which I presume you backed him," said Jack. "If such is the case I am glad of it. I always like to see such men as you lose their money."
"What have you against me?" asked Moss angrily.
"Nothing at present," coolly replied Jack, as he walked away.
"He's one too many for you, Abe," said the man standing next to him.