CHAPTER XXI.

YESSLETT PREPARES TO ACT.

The lamps were lighted at Wandaroo, and all the people about the station had come in for the night; the men had finished their tea, and were sitting about the place smoking their short, black pipes, and the horses were all turned out and were cropping the young, sweet grass of the paddock. Man and brute alike were aware that work for the day was ended, and in their different ways each was enjoying his well-earned rest. The large general room of the house at the head station was quiet, for tea was cleared away, and, the kerosine lamp having been turned up, Mrs. Law and Margaret were sitting with their sewing in that busy idleness which women find so restful after a long day's work. Yesslett Dudley was in the room, quiet, too, for a wonder, for he was making one more attempt to finish a long delayed and often interrupted letter to his old home. Every now and then sounds of life could be heard from the kitchen, and the work of the ladies made slight rustlings as they moved it, but otherwise, except an occasional word from Mrs. Law and Margaret, the room was quite quiet. Yesslett went on with his writing steadily for five or ten minutes, an unprecedented period of repose for him; the ladies could hear him dipping his pen savagely into the ink-pot, and then he would go on writing again. At last, between his impatience at the ink and his distaste to silence, he had to speak.

"I say, Margaret, this beastly ink-pot has dried itself up again. I never saw such a place for ink as Australia is. I believe the flies drink it as well as bathe in it," said he, fishing out the body of a drowned house-fly on the end of his pen.

"You must remember that it is more than a week since you last wrote, Yess, and that you didn't put the top on the ink-pot when you left off."

"Oh, how you do notice things, Maggie," said the boy, looking up with a smile. "Is it a week really since I wrote this page?"

"Yes, it is, Mr. Restless, and if you don't go on it strikes me it will be another week before you get that one done."

This speech of Margaret's was prophetic, for it was much more than a week before Yesslett ended that letter.

"Why, what is the day of the month, Maggie? I never can remember since I've been here; there is nothing to remind one."

"The 16th."

"Is it! By Jove, we shall have the boys back in a day or two. They said that they should not be gone more than a month or five weeks at most."

"I wish they would come," said Mrs. Law, letting her hands fall on to her lap; "I am beginning to get so anxious about them. Those horrid _myall_ blacks in the north-east country are so cruel and savage."

"Oh, don't trouble about them, aunt," said Yess leaving his place and sitting down on the edge of the table by the side of Mrs. Law, where he instantly began what he called "arranging" her work-basket. "Both Alec and Geordie are careful fellows, and they are well armed and well mounted. And those two black chaps, Prince Tom and What's-his-name, aren't bad fellows, and will look after them."

Ever since his cousins had gone away Yesslett had assumed the position of the man of the house. He was Macleod's right hand man in the working of the run, and had developed qualities of diligence and trustworthiness that astonished those who had only known him as the rollicking boy he had been aforetime. The two ladies grew to love him very dearly in these anxious weeks, and began to place confidence in him and rely upon him, as women will do, unconsciously perhaps, upon a man, however young a one he may be, if only he show signs of trustworthiness and steadiness. He was just the same gay, light-hearted fellow that he had been before, but under this there was a budding manliness of purpose and temper that spoke well for his future character. Chief of all his functions was that of comforter to his aunt, and right well did he fill it, for his heart was in the work. His dead father had filled the boy's mind with generous thoughts of deference and courtesy to women, and these good old-world notions of kindness and chivalry, which none appreciate more keenly than women, had gained Yesslett the name of Chevalier, with which the two ladies had dubbed him.

"Yes, the boys can take care of themselves, and I trust they are all well," said Mrs. Law, taking up her work again and resuming it with that pathetic patience which women, forced to inactivity, often show. "They may be safe, but I want my boys back again for more reasons than one." Mrs. Law was referring to the debt on the run, which had to be paid in less than two days from that time, or the mortgage would be foreclosed by Crosby, and the run would pass out of their possession.

Knowing of what her mother was thinking, Margaret tried to divert her thoughts to the business of the present hour, so she said--

"Where has Macleod gone to-day, mother?"

"To Bateman. He left soon after breakfast. He wants to find a man in the place of that Keggs. I always disliked that man, and Macleod says that he is sure he has been out all night several times lately, riding one of the horses. He doesn't know what it means, but it looks suspicious, and we want to get rid of him."

"I saw him leaving the bachelor's hut with a bridle on his arm as though he were going to catch one of the horses, an hour or so ago," said Yesslett.

"Did you?" asked Mrs. Law. "I wonder what he is after. I wish the lads were back."

"Surely, mother, you don't think that Keggs' going out with a bridle on his arm is likely to do them any harm?" said Margaret.

"No. Oh, no, certainly not. But I should like them to be here, or else I should like to be with them sharing their dangers," said Mrs. Law, turning to Yesslett, a little flush mounting to her cheeks as she spoke. "You did not think your old aunt had so much spirit, did you, Chevalier mine?"

"I always thought you were everything that a brave lady should be," said Yess.

"Ah, you don't know mother yet," said Margaret. "Did you never hear how, when father was away once, she defended Wandaroo from the _myalls_, soon after she first came here, and when the station was quite a tiny place?"

"No, I've not heard about that. You ought to have told me, aunt."

"It is so many years ago, before Margaret was born, and you know what an old lady she is getting," said Mrs. Law with a smile, "that I begin to forget all about it."

"But I don't," said Margaret. "Just you listen to this, Yess, and you will hear how brave and calm a woman can be in the very midst of danger."

Margaret had drawn her thread through her work, and was, in her excitement at the memory of the story, holding it tightly stretched out to its full limit. She looked very beautiful as she turned her brown richly-coloured face towards Yesslett, with the bright lamp-light falling on her shapely head with its regal coils of black hair, and Mrs. Law, with that unselfish pride which mothers feel in their daughters' beauty, was thinking more of her comeliness than of what she was saying. Yess, too, noticed how the girl's fine eyes glowed with her enthusiasm, and was a little surprised to find how strong and bold a spirit burned in these two women, whom he had only seen when engaged in the quiet round of their daily toils.

Perhaps he guessed then whence his own greater courage flowed. Daily in the presence of these brave-souled ladies he had grown valorous and more strong. Their intrepidity had slain the old nervousness he once had felt. No man, or boy either, could live with two such women without being raised to their high level, more especially when he felt that he was their defender and protector, and was called upon to make every effort on their behalf.

"The _myalls_ were very numerous and wild about here when mother first came to Wandaroo, and once, when father had to leave her for two days quite alone, they began collecting in large numbers about the head station. The natives had not been dispersed in those days, and they were----"

Here the girl's low voice suddenly ceased, and for a moment a startled silence fell upon the room. The two windows were thrown wide open to the night, and the cool odorous breeze just stirred the light curtains that hung before them.

What was it they had heard?

From far away, from beyond, the end of the great paddock, there came the sound of a single pistol shot. It was the shot that Starlight had fired at Alec when Crosby had knocked up his arm. The noise of the two barrels that Alec had emptied at Keggs had not reached the house. The report was faint, but the night was so still that sound could travel far. They all looked up. For a moment no one spoke.

"What was that?" said Mrs. Law, in a low, intense whisper, laying her work down, and with the palm of her right hand unconsciously drawing off the thimble from her finger, as though preparing for action.

In two silent strides Yesslett reached the window, and was leaning out intently listening. Far away down the gully a morepork was calling. Nothing more. Then came a muffled laugh from the kitchen, and the sound of a chair pushed back. They had not heard it there.

Both the ladies had grown pale, but on neither face was seen the shadow of a fear.

"It was a pistol shot, I'm sure," said Yess.

"It cannot be the boys," said Mrs. Law; "they would know it would alarm us too much."

"What about Keggs?" said Margaret, making one of those intuitive leaps at the truth which are so characteristically feminine. "You know that Yess said he owed them a grudge."

And now had come Yesslett's time for action. He certainly felt one pulsation of his old nervousness at his heart, but the new courage that came of his new strength and spirit instantly repressed it, and he himself was surprised to find how calm he felt. He was standing at the window where the moonshine fell into the room and mingled with the yellow lamp-light. His fair, fluffy hair, moved by the tiny breeze, shone like a halo where the light glowed in it. One hand rested on the low window-sill as he turned and said quickly, but in a quiet voice--

"They may be in danger. I feel sure it is the boys. I will go straight on across the paddock. Margaret, you run round by the bachelor's hut and tell any of the men that are there to follow me as quickly as possible to 'the Dip,' just beyond the end of the paddock; that's where the sound came from."

Without another word Yesslett leaped through the window, and dashing across the garden scrambled over the fence into the yard; crossing that at a run, he got into the paddock without losing time by going round to the bachelor's hut. As he entered the paddock he saw Margaret's white figure darting diagonally across the yard to the men's quarters. He hurried along at a break-neck speed over the dewy grass, the startled horses looking up and moving away as the boy dashed past. He had travelled half-way across the paddock without slackening speed, for his healthy out-door life in Australia had given him all the strength of limb he wanted when he was in England, and he now was as long winded as either of his two cousins. He was just on a level with a little patch of wooded shade, called the "Gum clump" on the station, when he saw a figure, a thin, black figure, running towards the house as swiftly as he himself was from it.

It was useless for him to attempt to hide, for he had been seen; so he stood where he was till the man came up. It was a black boy; but Yess could not tell whether it was one from the blacks' camp or a _myall_; he did not know Murri well enough to recognise him in the deceptive moonlight. He was not left long in doubt, for the man rushed up to him and said in the most excited voice and in so great a hurry that Yess could hardly understand him--

"Make um great haste, Missa Yessley. Come along o' me. Plenty much white fellow ride quick, cotch us. Um chewt Missa Law dead bong; um take Alec along ob um."

All this was unintelligible to Yesslett, but it sounded very terrible, and he could see that the man was in deadly earnest; so, without a second's delay, he said that he was ready to go with him. He knew, directly that the man began to speak, that he must be one of the two black fellows that had gone with Alec and George, but he could not tell which one.

Murri turned at once, and started again at a swift pace to run towards "the Dip," as it was called, at the end of the paddock. Yesslett managed with difficulty to keep up with him. They climbed over the fence together, and, straight as an arrow to its mark, Murri led the way to the charred tree trunk, across the roots of which George had fallen. Murri had had the sense to move the boy's body from the awkward position in which it had fallen, and to raise his head a little.

Yesslett darted to what seemed to be the lifeless body of his cousin. Geordie's eyes were closed as though in a heavy sleep; his face was deadly white, except where the blood that had poured from his nostrils, when he was flung to the ground, had stained it with its awful stain. At first Yesslett could detect no signs of life in the motionless body before him, but slipping his hand beneath Geordie's open shirt, and placing his hand above his heart, he thought he could detect a faint, faint fluttering there. Yes; hurrah! there was a tiny movement, and bending his cheek down to Geordie's pale lips he could just feel the lightest breathing on it.

"You get um water?" he said, with excitement ringing in every tone of his voice, as he turned to Murri.

"Bail water bong along o' this place," said Murri; shaking his head. "All um water up at station." Then, as a sudden idea seemed to strike him, he sprang up and said, "Mine go cotch um _yarroman_. Plenty much water in um bockle."

When Alec had ridden up alongside of Pearson, and leaped from his horse on to the bushranger's, Amber had turned, and getting out of the _mêlée_ had joined the horse from which Murri had so quietly slipped at the beginning of difficulties. The bushrangers had not stayed to catch them, but had swept on to overtake Alec and Pearson, and the two Wandaroo horses had stopped not very far from where Geordie lay, and were quietly grazing as well as they could with their bits in their mouths.

Murri succeeded in catching Amber without much difficulty, and brought a tin bottle of water to Yesslett, who opened it and found that there was a little water swilling about at the bottom of it. With this the boy wetted George's lips and sprinkled his face, and he had the satisfaction of seeing a faint look of life return to the face that gleamed so white and ghastly in the moonlight. Fearing that the sight of blood would alarm Margaret and his aunt when they got back to the house, he washed it away with the rest of the water.

A few minutes afterwards Yesslett heard the welcome sound of voices and hurrying footsteps, and in another moment three or four men from the station and the white-clad figure of Margaret, who had managed to keep pace with the men, her awful anxiety giving her strength, were with him.

Margaret's great force of character stood her in good stead just then. She turned deathly pale when she saw her brother lying there, but she repressed all other expression of her emotion. The girl threw herself down by the side of the senseless boy, and raising his head laid it against the heart that was beating so strongly with love for him. She chafed his hands, and lifting back the moist hair from his forehead fanned him with a fold of her white skirt; but as his eyes remained closed and he gave no further sign of life she turned to her cousin, and in an agonised voice cried out--

"Oh, Yesslett, is he dead? Geordie, my poor Geordie!"

"No, he is not dead, I think he is only stunned. We must get him back as quickly as possible to the house. Aunt will know best what to do. I think he must have fallen from his horse, for I can find no sign of a wound about him."

"Where is Alec? What does it all mean?" asked Margaret, who now seemed to remember that her other brother was not present. "It is something very terrible, I'm sure, for Alec would never leave Geordie in this way. He must be dead, for as long as he drew breath he would never desert his brother."

"We thinks it is rather terrible, Miss," said Balchin, one of the men who had been questioning Murri whilst Margaret was attending to her brother, "From what we can make out of this black chap, Miss--it's Murri, Miss, as went with Mr. Alec and George--they've been set on by them bushrangers. He says, Murri do, that there was 'plenty much' of 'em, and that Mr. Alec shot wone of 'em dead, he was that mad like at seeing of Mr. George being throwed, and that then they ups--yes, Miss, the bushranger fellers--and takes Mr. Alec off along with them. That was the way he says they went, Miss," ended Balchin, pointing with a rough, red hand to the south.

"Yew can see there's bin a many 'osses 'ereabouts, by the way the gress is cut up," said one of the other men, pointing to the trampled turf.

"Yes," said Yesslett, "but we can't do anything in the matter of following them till morning, and we must get George home as quickly as possible."

As Yesslett spoke, two or three of the men stooped and picked up the senseless boy. These great rough fellows showed the utmost gentleness and care in the work, for they all were fond of the bright, cheery lad; indeed, Balchin, who had been on the run for many years, and had known him from the time he was a tiny child, could not make his voice steady as he spoke, try as he might.

Just before they came to the boundary fence of the paddock, Margaret's quick eyes saw something lying quite motionless, at some little distance away, in the shade of the great green tree. She pointed it out to Balchin, and fearing, she hardly knew what, she asked him to go and see what it was that lay so strangely there.

"You stay here, Miss, don't you move," said the man, fearing that the sight might be too awful a one for her to see; "I'll come back and tell you, Miss."

He started off at the heavy, slouching trot that was peculiar to him, which looked so slow and ungainly, but which covered the ground so quickly. Two snarling dingoes started up and sneaked away from the body as the man approached. He rolled the dead man over with his foot, looked once at the face, and returned to where the little party waited for him by the gleaming fence.

"It be that thief Keggs, Miss, he've got what he deserves; yes, sir," said he, turning to Yesslett to include him in his remarks, "a bullet through the heart. He it were as brought them bushrangers here, I'll swear."

Slowly and sadly the little procession moved on its way to the house. Margaret was quite quiet; she walked along, dry-eyed, by the side of her brother, holding in her warm one his cold and heavy hand. Yesslett had dropped behind, and was trying to get every bit of information about Alec's capture that he possibly could from Murri. The black boy had not seen or understood all that had taken place, and his account of what had happened to, and been done by, the elder Law was so confused as to be of little assistance to them in forming plans for Alec's rescue.

One of the men had caught Amber and the horse that Murri had been riding, and had taken them to a place, a little way along the fence, where there were slip-panels, and getting them into the paddock, followed the rest of the party to the yard. Vaulty, Geordie's horse, was found next day, by one of the men on the station, a mile or two away from the place where his rider had been thrown.

The night was very calm, so calm that Mrs. Law, standing at the entrance to the paddock from the yard, could hear the steps of the horses and the low voices of the men before she could see the party that was approaching her. She could not rest in the house, and had felt compelled to come out of doors, though her limbs were trembling beneath her to such an extent that she could not stand without support. She could do nothing, for her agony of mind was not mitigated by activity of body; all that she could do, poor soul, was to wait until the search party came back, whilst all the time her mother's heart was torn and racked with an agony of fear. The first words that she heard were these--it was Margaret who spoke.

"Run on, Yesslett, and try to prepare poor mother."

Hearing those words she seemed to know the worst. She could not cry out, her parched lips refused to move, but she grasped the top rail of the fence with her icy hand to support herself. She could not get her breath, and the warm air, that was heavy with the aromatic scent of the gum trees, seemed to suffocate her. When Yesslett came upon her, as she stood near the gate to the yard, she could not speak; she only lay her trembling hand upon his shoulder and waited for him to begin.

"It is Geordie, aunt; he is not dead but badly hurt," stammered poor Yess, who was quite unprepared for seeing his aunt so soon.

"Oh, thank Heaven for that," gasped the poor lady, bursting into tears, natural tears, that relieved her from the strain of her suspense.

Yesslett let her sob for a moment, and then, knowing that the best way to soothe her was to call for her assistance, he said--

"But it all depends upon you, aunt. You must be calm and tell us what to do, for Geordie is insensible, and we don't know how to act for the best."

"You are right, Chevalier. I am glad no one but you has seen me in my weakness," said Mrs. Law resolutely, and making a determined effort she became her own calm self again, and by the time the men carrying Geordie arrived at the gate she was composed and gave her orders with a steady voice.

In this way, senseless, powerless, and death-like, George Law returned to the home he had left so full of life and brightness and hope only a few short weeks before.