CHAPTER XXII.

WHAT BECAME OF ALEC.

Leaving Geordie lying for dead, Alec turned his back upon Wandaroo, and surrounded by the gang of bushrangers, with whom he knew it was useless for him to attempt to cope, he rode along he knew not whither. At first he hardly noticed which way he was being taken; his grief was so keen at the loss he had just undergone, and his chagrin at the frustration of all their hopes, when so near their fruition, so bitter, that all other feelings seemed withered up. A little later came the remembrance of those at home, and with the desire of being useful to them and helpful in the now quickly approaching time of their difficulties came a new wave of feeling which seemed to rouse him from the mental apathy into which he had fallen.

Without showing signs of his awakened observation, he began to take note of their route. He knew the whole country about Wandaroo so well that he recognised his position almost at once, although it was night. They had left the Wandaroo run behind them, and were then on Taunton's run, a great tract of land that had been allowed to slip back to a state of wildness years before, when the owner and his only son had been murdered by the _myalls_. Many of the outlying stations had been permitted to revert in this way some years ago when times were at their worst in Queensland, and when the unprotected pioneer families were often butchered by the blacks.

The party must have been riding for fully an hour when Alec shook off the cloud of lethargy that had enveloped him, for they were then many miles from Wandaroo. For some time past Alec had heard the sound of the men's voices as though he were in a dream, and without paying attention to them, but at last he distinguished Starlight's voice; he was speaking to Wetch, his worthy lieutenant.

"They'll be tracking us to-morrow, and as there is no reason that we should let on where we are to be found, I think we had better get on to the Dixieville road, where our traces will be trodden out by the next flock of sheep that passes along."

This plan was carried out, and with the result that Starlight hoped for, as it was at this very place that the Wandaroo black boys, who tracked them next day, were thrown off the scent.

After riding for some distance along the rough, dusty, and ill-made track that did duty for a road between Bateman and the decaying little township of Dixieville, the party turned aside again, and continued its southerly direction. The appearance of the country began to be wilder again, and the fences, and whatever signs there were that the land had at one time been occupied, were broken and rotting away. These signs of decay and failure of purpose made the scene more desolate than it would have been had it never been touched, for there are few things sadder than to see a tract of country that has once been under cultivation, or turned to some useful purpose, reverting to its former state of wildness.

Alec judged from the talk and behaviour of the men that they were approaching the place that, for the time being, they considered their headquarters, and which they dignified with the name of home. They had now been riding continuously for more than two hours since they had left the neighbourhood of Wandaroo, and this part of the country was new to Alec, although he had ridden once or twice along the Dixieville road. The land had evidently been thickly wooded at one time, and in places there were still great belts and patches of bush standing in all its primeval majesty and gloom. Once or twice their road lay through these wooded depths, and there the path was so dark that Alec did not attempt to guide his horse. The moon had not yet set, but the silver radiance which flooded all the topmost boughs failed to penetrate to the depths below, and the track lay all in darkness, which was the more profound in contrast with the patches of starlit sky that sometimes could be seen through openings in the roof of shade above. Alec was an old enough bushman to know that his horse would best find the way for itself; indeed the creature seemed to know the road well enough without guidance.

Shortly after passing through one of these stretches of bush they came upon a low, rambling building, from the open door of which a feeble light shone out. Alec had long given up hopes of seeing any signs of habitation thereabouts, and noticing this light, he instinctively turned his head to look at it, thinking that perhaps there was a chance of rescue for him there. Starlight, who was always near him, seemed to divine his thoughts, for he laid his hand on Alec's arm to attract his attention, and with a backward nod of his head towards the house, he said--

"You needn't look there. It is no go. They are friends of ours--and neighbours too, for we have nearly come to the end of our journey--not openly friends, you know, but in a quiet way. They have given us many a useful hint and timely warning before now, and we, on our part, have been able to do many things for them. They often dispose of things for us that we have stolen. You see I make no stranger of you."

The cool way in which he talked, and the perfect openness of his speech--hiding nothing of his own villainy, and not trying to make himself out anything but what he was--might at another time, and under different circumstances, have amused or interested Alec, but he could not think of him in any other light than that of the murderer of his brother, and every time that he spoke he raised Alec's anger and hatred again to boiling point.

Very soon after passing this building, which Alec heard one of the men speak of as "Lingan's," the party, at a slackened pace, began to climb the slightly ascending opening between two dark hills which gave the name of Norton's Gap to the place. The ground was covered with coarse tall grass, and the young scrub that springs up over all lands that are deserted for any length of time. Towards the end of this flat and open sort of valley, in a very dreary-looking corner, out of sight of Lingan's, and shut in from the world of men by the black and low bare hills, were the crumbling ruins of a once large homestead.

The outer timbers of which the house was built were still standing, and some sort of door hung between the heavy, rough-hewn posts, but in many places the shingle roof had fallen in, pieces of the weather boarding were torn away, and the one chimney was tottering to its fall. Here and there great pieces of the bark which had once covered the walls were flapping backwards and forwards in the soft night breeze, like the dark wings of some foul carrion bird. No smoke rose from the wide, old chimney, and no light shone out a welcome to them from the crazy doors or windows. The whole place was the picture of squalid discomfort and neglect; yet this house was the nearest approach to a home that any of these wretched men could ever expect to possess. For a life of danger, discomfort, wickedness, and squalor, with an occasional spell of foul indulgence and debauch, had these men outlawed themselves from the society of their fellows.

"Here we are, back again, minus two of our number, Pearson and Kearney, but I expect Kearney will turn up again. I don't think he was hurt," said Starlight, as the gang, having crossed what had once been the paddock, passed through a gap in the rotting fence into the yard.

"Yes, and a beastly hole it is to come back to," grumbled one of the men. "Not a soul about the place, and not a spark of fire alight. I wonder where that idiot Foster is."

It was evident that the men were sullen and out of humour at the ill success of their expedition, on which they had been absent for several days. They dismounted in silence, and each man, after unsaddling his horse, led it to a small paddock, the fence of which had been repaired in a hasty, untidy way, and turned it loose.

Starlight led Alec to the house, and kicking open the ill-hung door, shouted out--

"Foster!"

They were standing in a dark, close sort of passage, very unlike the usual entrance to a Queensland squatter's house, and Alec could see absolutely nothing but Starlight's black figure outlined against the grey space of sky that feebly shone through the open doorway. Como had followed him into the house, and he could feel the dog close by him. The presence of the dog, which kept quite close to his master, was a comfort to Alec; he could not feel quite alone as long as the faithful creature was there to thrust his cold muzzle into his hand, or to lay his great paw up on his knee from sheer love of companionship. Upon Starlight calling out a second time, they heard some one moving in a room close by them, then the sound of a match being struck, and the next minute a door was thrown open, and a blowsy, dishevelled-looking man appeared, holding a flaring tallow candle above his blinking eyes.

"I didn't hear you. I was asleep. So you've got back, have you?" said he, in a high, thin voice.

"Bless the man! I should think you could see that for yourself. Look alive now, we are all hungry, and want something to eat in less than no time."

Starlight led the way into the room as he spoke, and Alec followed, and all the men speedily were collected there, for Australians do not trouble themselves about grooming their horses or making them comfortable. They soon had a fire blazing, for there was a stack of dry wood in one corner of the room, and it was not unpleasant, though the night was far from cold. Foster brought in damper and part of a sheep, which some of the men proceeded to cut up and cook in a rough and ready method at the fire. A short time served for this, and when it was ready, Starlight turned to Alec with an air of the greatest politeness, and said--

"May I offer you a little of your own mutton, Mr. Law? It comes from Wandaroo, as we all of us prefer your strain of sheep to any other about here. Not so large as some, but of a finer flavour."

Although so sick at heart, and so thoroughly wretched, Alec could not help smiling at the cool impudence of the man, and he accepted a piece of his own sheep in a thankful spirit, for it was long since he had eaten, and he was completely worn out. Directly that supper was finished--it did not take Foster long to clear away--pipes were lighted, and a small keg of whisky being brought out from underneath a sort of rough side table, on which were piled the men's hats, pistols, and whips, the men began to smoke and drink and, what they called, "enjoy themselves." It appeared to Alec to be a poor sort of enjoyment that they experienced, for there was a furtive look of watchfulness on the faces of all of them, although they tried to hide this expression, and to wear a look of ease. He could see this eager look intensified if there were any unusual or sudden noise. Once when the faint sound of a dog barking down at Lingan's was carried to them on the quiet night air, two or three of the men sprang quickly to their feet and looked out in a way that spoke plainly enough of the constant state of painful strain their minds must be in.

Very little more was said to Alec that night about the gold seeking he was known to have been away upon. Starlight was trusting to Crosby's powers of persuasion to get the information that he wished for from the boy, so that he had not questioned him again himself. Since Crosby had spoken his little message of friendship to Alec he had not dared to talk to him again; he had, indeed, studiously avoided approaching him so that the men might have no cause for suspicion.

Although he tried hard to keep awake, nature was too strong for Alec, as she is for all of us, and soon after he had ended his supper he nodded where he sat. The grief and excitement that he had suffered that day, and the enormous fatigue he had endured, had quite worn him out, and he felt that if his life depended upon it he could not keep awake. Wetch, whose gloomy face was brightened for a time by the combined influence of whisky and tobacco, was the first to notice Alec's condition, and in, for him, a not unkind voice, he said--

"That chap there, Law, 'll be rollin' over into the fire before long if he don't go and lie down. Where shall we putt him, Boss?"

"'E can hev' my room on t'other side of the pessage," said one of the men, a little fellow, sallow and thin, whom they called "the cobbler," or "snob," indiscriminately.

"Thank you," said Starlight, in his most affable tone, "but I prefer to have that rather slippery young gentleman under my own eye. You can have that corner of the room if you like," said he, turning to Alec, who was blinking like an owl. "There is a blanket there, and perhaps you will excuse us going on with our conversation."

The poor lad was only too glad to accept this offer, and rising from the overturned box on which he had been sitting, he stumbled across the room to the corner that Starlight indicated, and throwing himself down on the dirty blanket which was lying there, he instantly fell into a profound, deep sleep.