'I expect not,' answered the woman gloomily, as if talking to herself.
'Now look here, Billy Dykes,' she said suddenly, walking up to the man and looking into his face as if her flashing eyes could see his inmost thought, 'you and I knowed each other this years; you tell me all you heard about Larry, and keep nothing back, as you're a man.'
The young fellow seemed for the moment to have fallen completely under the spell of this fierce woman, whose burning eyes and passionate speech were for the moment suggestive of a disordered brain. He stared at her for a moment, and then replied--
'There ain't a lot to tell, Mrs. Trevenna; but I expect you have a right to hear it. He's no man to leave you like this, and there's more than me thinks it. He's gone to Melbourne, that's what's up. Barker, the storekeeper, told me.'
'Any one gone with him?'
'No; not as I heard on.'
'You're keeping something back, Billy Dykes. Don't try and humbug me, or I'll----In God's name, tell me everything. Was there a woman in it?'
'Well, she didn't go with him, they said, but, in a manner of speaking, it was all the same. He followed her, and a regular tip-top young lady, by all accounts.'
'Did you hear her name?'
'Miss Chalmers, or Challner; something like that. Not long from England.'
'_That English girl!_ the _cousin_, of course,' she murmured, in a strange, low-toned, hesitating voice. 'So she's come out after all.
You're mistook, Billy, old man; it was Lance Trevanion they seen--Mr.
Trevanion, I mean--an Englishman, and very like Larry. They came out in the same ship. He was to marry this young lady, his cousin. And I know _he_ was at Omeo.'
'That makes it all right then. You've no call to fret, Mrs. Trevenna, and I'm dashed glad of it. Only what was old Bredbo doing there? _I saw him_, and couldn't be mistook. No fear. I know every hair in his tail.'
'It _is_ queer,' said the woman, whose countenance had cleared wondrously, 'but, law, she may have got away from him on the road and turned up at Omeo. Anyhow, I'll ride over and have a look. You eat your dinner now, while I go down the paddock and catch my little mare.'
The bushman addressed himself to the cold beef and damper with a sigh of relief as he watched his hostess pick up a bridle and walk rapidly across the horse-paddock.
'She's a hot 'un, by the Lord Harry,' he said to himself, as he filled a pannikin of tea from the camp-kettle near the fire. 'I wouldn't be in Larry's shoes for a trifle if he's working on the cross with her. It's a bloomin' mixed-up fakement, anyhow. I heard as Ballarat Harry at Omeo was that like him you couldn't scarce tell 'em apart. And of course it must be him as went down with the girl. But how does Bredbo come to be there? and old Caleb Coke handy too--like an eagle-hawk shepherding a dead lamb. It looks "cronk" somehow.'
He had finished a satisfying meal, providing against future contingencies after the fashion of Captain Dugald Dalgetty (formerly of Marischal College), of happy memory, when his hostess rode up, sitting lightly yet erect on her barebacked steed, with an instinctive poise, as in the side-saddle of the period, such as only the practice of a lifetime could impart.
CHAPTER XXIV
Accustomed from earliest years to hasty departures, the nomadic Australian housewife was not long in making her simple preparation for a hundred mile journey.
The roan mare was carefully saddled and tied up to a tree. A leather valise was strapped on. Finally the child, dressed for the road, was brought out and placed upon the side-saddle, where with inbred sagacity he sat steadily and looked around with a pleased expression. Then Kate Trevenna, leading the mare to a log, lifted the child, mounted without assistance, and gathered up the loose bridle-rein.
'We're going different ways, Billy,' she said to her visitor. 'You're bound for Monaro, and I'm going to be in Omeo to-morrow, if Wallaroo here stands up. I'll stop with Mrs. Rooney to-night at the Running Creek, and leave the boy there till I come back. She's awfully fond of children, and will do for him if it's a month. I'm going to find out the rights of this business before I come back. I don't know what to think of it, and so I tell you. If Larry's left me, it's the worst day's work he ever did in his life. I've got a horrid thought in my head. I can't hardly bear to think of it. If it hadn't been for you seeing old Bredbo there I'd have known it was Trevanion. I seen him nigh hand there one day last month. But _only one of 'em_ at Omeo, and him off to Melbourne after that girl! There's something that wants taking out of winding. God send it ain't as black as I fear it is. Well, so 'long.'
Thus they parted. The bushman filled his pipe mechanically while she was talking, and rode meditatively adown the well-worn track which ran towards the east; while the woman, giving her bridle-rein an impatient shake, started off at a fast amble, which her spirited hackney seemed only awaiting the signal to change into a stretching canter. She held her boy upon her knee, resting and partly supported against her right arm. Like bush children generally, he had a natural love for all sorts and conditions of horse-flesh, and as his baby fingers closed upon the rein, he seemed contented, even exhilarated by the motion, crowing and laughing with infantine delight. As for his mother, she appeared to take little heed of his childish ways, gazing straight before her with a far-off look in her eyes and an occasional shudder, as some darker imagining crossed her brooding brain. Occasionally she varied the fast amble at which her mare slipped along the forest track by a smart canter not far removed from a hand-gallop, but which, thanks to the easy gliding stride of the gallant little animal which carried her, did not render her living burden one whit less safe or easy to carry.
The sun was low when she sighted the paddock fence of the humble homestead where she proposed to pass the night.
The fence ran across a broad green flat or meadow, which had gradually widened from the upper portion of the gurgling mountain stream which traversed it. There were no gates. They were of infrequent occurrence in those days. But the slip-rails--three in number, and fairly substantial--showed where means of ingress had been provided.
Scarce half a mile from the primitive entrance, which necessitated her dismounting, was the hut, or homestead cottage, standing upon a sort of forest cape high above the rippling creek.
As she rode up to the door of the unpretending building, walled with slabs and roofed with bark, Kate gave a sigh of relief and stopped her horse. No one appeared for a minute or two. Then she raised her voice, in the high-pitched Australian call--originally borrowed from the blacks, but since heard (unless modern novelists lie) in the streets of London--ay, even in the 'Eternal City' itself.
Before she had finished the second call, a young woman came running out from some building at the rear, and with many exclamations made haste to welcome her.
'The saints presarve us, and sure 'tis Mrs. Trevenna and her darlin' boy wid ye. 'Tis yourself is the moral of a good neighbor to be coming over to see me. And yees will stay the night--the Lord be good to us. It's no time to be travelling after dark. We'll have to take the saddle off ourselves. Sure we haven't half a man about the place, or as much as a dog. It's himself is away, and thim all afther him.'
'I'm come to stay the night,' Kate made answer, 'and I want to leave my boy with you for a day or two while I go to Omeo on business. Now you have the whole story, Mrs. Rooney. How does that suit you?'
''Tis what I do be praying for,' replied the handsome young Irishwoman, who lifted down the child without more ado and fondled him effusively.
'Here's my beauty-boy; sure I'll look after him as if he was a young governor waiting to grow up. It's the darlin' of the world he is; the finest boy betwane here and Monaro. Come in and tell us your news, alanna. And the saints be good to us, whatever are ye doing wid the horse. Are yez going to hobble him, and the paddock the best grass between here and Gipp Land?'
'I don't doubt that, Mrs. Rooney, but I must be off while the stars are in the sky, and so I must make sure of Wallaroo. She can spell afterwards, but she must travel to-morrow, if she never does again. I'll tell you all about it as soon as I've put Harry to bed.'
'Come in; arrah, don't be standing talkin' there; come in, for the sake of all the blessed saints. And you looking pale and tired like! Wait till I get you a cup of hot tay.'
'All right, Mrs. Rooney; I'll be glad to have one. I feel thirsty enough, though the evening's chilly. But while the kettle's boiling, I'll take the mare down to the creek for a drink, and then she won't be rambling about half the night looking for water. I want to be able to lay my hand on her at daylight, or before. There's a long day before us to-morrow, and perhaps Omeo won't be the end of it.'
'Saints above!' exclaimed Mrs. Rooney, who, an emigrant not long out from the Green Isle, and newly married to an 'Irish native,' was filled with daily wonder at the manners and customs of the bush,--'sure and ye does be taking terrible rides in Australia. And do ye be telling me ye'll be at Omeo by this time to-morrow? But hurry now, and I'll have a cup of tay and an egg and a buttered scone ready for ye whin ye come back.'
The saddle had been taken off and placed on a wooden stool in the verandah. Kate led her palfrey down to the clear, fast-flowing streamlet and watched her drink her fill. She then plucked a few handfuls of the strong tussac grass which lined the little flat and rubbed dry the marks on back and girth. This, with a slight general application of the improvised currycomb, completed in her eyes all necessary grooming.
Slowly, and with eyes on the ground, she retraced her steps, coming close up to the house before she unloosed the throat-strap of the bridle.
'Have you got a bell, Mrs. Rooney?' she said. 'I shall know where to look for her if it's dark.'
'To think of your wanting that now! 'Tis clivir of ye, so it is. Sure Mick left one here before he went away. Here it is now, and a good strong strap.'
The bell was fastened round the docile animal's neck, and then only was she suffered to depart, short-hobbled and quietly munching the tall gray-green grass, and looking as if no thought of wandering could ever enter her head. None the less was it probable, as her mistress well knew, that if slip-rail or panel was down she would be at her old home by morning light.
The two women sat long over the fire, talking about things new and old, the baby boy sleeping peacefully the while. Nor did Kate Trevenna find rest when at length she sought her pillow. An hour before daylight she dressed and prepared for the road, caught and saddled her horse, which she fastened to the fence in front of the hut. Taking a cup of tea and a crust of buttered bread from her warm-hearted hostess, and kissing her child again and again, she rode away in the darkness ere the first streak of dawn-light illumined the eastern sky.
'Sure and she's the fine woman,' soliloquised Mrs. Rooney, as she listened to the sharp hoof-strokes which rang clearly on the rocky track; 'she has some great sorrow on her entirely, or she'd never leave the darlin' babe this way. Anyhow, I'll be the mother he's lost, and maybe more, till she comes back. The saints be between us and harm,'
with which pious utterance the kind, simple soul betook herself back to bed.
No grass grew under the roan mare's feet. Mile after mile she threw behind her; now striking out freely at half speed, now pulling up for a down-hill mile or so, over which she went at her fast, clever amble. Ere the sun was well up Kate was miles away from her resting-place of the night. A long day lay before her, for the journey would need every hour and every minute of the time. Long and tedious was the ride to Omeo. But the good mare had ere now known many a journey when the saddle had not been off her back between dawn and dark--far into the night, indeed. The Kate Lawless of old days was tireless as a forest doe. Some change in nerve and constitution had doubtless taken place since then. None the less was she still a woman of exceptional energy and courage. And with bitter wrongs ceaselessly corroding in her heart, and the haunting fear of a dark and bloody deed uprearing itself before her in that lonely ride, she defied alike fatigue and womanly weakness with passionate disdain.
Mile after mile, over rough track and smooth, as the narrow winding but still plainly marked bridle-path led, with but rare and momentary halts, the brave roan mare, with her stretching, gliding pace, at times a hand-gallop, at times even faster still, swept on. An occasional drink in a mountain runlet--a half trot up or down the steeper hills--yet all unflinching, unswerving, the pair held onward their rapid way.
The day was far spent when the straggling tents and red-streaked mullock-heaps around the Tin Pot Reef came in view.
'Here it was,' she thought, 'where I saw poor Lance last. It isn't far to his claim--near the old dead urabba log. There it is! I'll go over and have a look.'
She rode to the spot. The reef was not abandoned. The claim was in work.
The raw-hide bucket was ascending and descending with its gold-besprinkled load, as so many a time at Ballarat and other places she had watched it before.
'Curse the gold,' she said aloud, 'and all that belongs to it! It was a bad day for the country when the first speck was found.'
'Halloo! mate,' she said to the miner above ground who was pensively turning out the broken quartz on the 'paddock' side of the shaft. 'How are you doing? Ground pretty good?'