<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter 40 </h2>
<p>At last father got well, and said he didn't see what good Aileen could do
stopping any longer in the Hollow, unless she meant to follow up
bush-ranging for a living. She'd better go back and stay along with her
mother. If George Storefield liked to have 'em there, well and good;
things looked as if it wasn't safe now for a man's wife and daughter, and
if he'd got into trouble, to live peaceable and quiet in their own house.
He didn't think they need be afraid of any one interfering with them for
the future, though. Here dad looked so dark that Aileen began to think he
was going to be ill again. We'd all start and go a bit of the way with her
next day—to the old stockyard or a bit farther; she could ride from
there, and take the horse back with her and keep him if she liked.</p>
<p>'You've been a good gal to me,' he says to her; 'you always was one; and
your mother's been a good woman and a good wife; tell her I said so. I'd
no call to have done the things I have, or left home because it wasn't
tidy and clean and a welcome always when I came back. It's been rough on
her, and on you too, my gal; and if it'll do her any good, tell her I'm
dashed sorry. You can take this trifle of money. You needn't boggle at it;
it's honest got and earned, long before this other racket. Now you can go.
Kiss your old dad; like as not you won't see him again.'</p>
<p>We'd got the horses in. I lifted her up on to the saddle, and she rode
out. Her horse was all on the square, so there was no harm in her taking
him back with her, and off we went. Dad didn't go after all. We took it
easy out to the old stockyard. We meant to camp there for half-an-hour,
and then to send her on, with Warrigal to keep with her and show her the
way home.</p>
<p>We didn't want to make the time too short. What a lovely day it was! The
mountain sides were clogged up with mist for an hour after we started;
still, any one that knew the climate would have said it was going to be a
fine day. There wasn't a breath of air; everything was that still that not
a leaf on any of the trees so much as stirred.</p>
<p>When we came to the pass out of the valley, we none of us got off; it was
better going up than coming down, and it would have tired Aileen out at
the start to walk up. So the horses had to do their climbing. It didn't
matter much to them. We were all used to it, horses and riders. Jim and I
went first, then Warrigal, then Aileen and Starlight. After we got up to
the top we all stopped and halted a bit to look round.</p>
<p>Just then, as if he'd waited for us, the sun came out from behind the
mountain; the mists lifted and rolled away as if they had been gray
curtains. Everything showed clear out like a playhouse, the same Jim and I
used to see in Melbourne. From where we stood you could see everything,
the green valley flats with the big old trees in clumps, some of 'em just
the same as they'd been planted. The two little river-like silver threads
winding away among the trees, and far on the opposite side the tall gray
rock-towers shining among the forest edges of the high green wall. Somehow
the sun wasn't risen enough to light up the mountain. It looked as black
and dismal as if it was nightfall coming on.</p>
<p>'Good-bye, old Hollow!' Aileen called out, waving her hand. 'Everything
looks bright and beautiful except the mountain. How gloomy it appears, as
if it held some dreadful secret—doesn't it? Ah! what a pleasant time
it has been for me. Am I the same Aileen Marston that went in there a few
weeks since? And now I suppose there will be more misery and anxiety
waiting for all of us when I get back. Well, come what will, I have had a
little happiness on this earth. In heaven there must be rest.'</p>
<p>We all rode on, but none of us seemed to care to say much. Every step we
went seemed to be taking us away from the place where we'd all been so
happy together. The next change was sure to be for the worse. What it
would be, or when it would come, we none of us could tell.</p>
<p>Starlight and Aileen rode together most of the way, and talked a good
deal, we could see. Before we got to the stockyard she rode over to Jim
and cheered him up as much as she could about Jeanie. She said she'd write
to her, and tell her all about him, and how happy we'd all been together
lately; and tell her that Jim would find some way to get down to her this
spring, if he could manage it any road.</p>
<p>'If I'm above ground, tell her I'll be with her,' says poor old Jim,
'before Christmas. If she don't see me then I'll be dead, and she may put
on black and make sure she's a widow.'</p>
<p>'Oh, come, you mustn't talk like that, Jim, and look to the bright side a
bit. There's a good chance yet, now the country's so full of diggers and
foreigners. You try your luck, and you'll see your wife yet.'</p>
<p>Then she came to me, and talked away just like old times.</p>
<p>'You're the eldest, Dick,' she said, 'and so it's proper for me to say
what I'm going to say.' Then she told me all that was in her heart about
Starlight. He and she had made it up that if he could get away to a
foreign country she would join him there, and take mother with her. There
was to be no marrying or love-making unless they could carry out that
plan. Then she told me that she had always had the same sort of feeling
towards him. 'When I saw him first I thought I had never seen a man before—never
one that I could care for or think of marrying. And now he has told me
that he loves me—loves me, a poor ignorant girl that I am; and I
will wait for him all my life, and follow him all round the world. I feel
as if I could die for him, or wear out my life in trying to make him
happy. And yet, and yet,' she said, and all her face grew sad, and put on
the old look that I knew so well, so hopeless, so full of quiet bearing of
pain, 'I have a kind of feeling at my heart that it will never be.
Something will happen to me or to him. We are all doomed to sorrow and
misfortune, and nothing can save us from our fate.'</p>
<p>'Aileen, dear,' I said, 'you are old enough to know what's best for
yourself. I didn't think Starlight was on for marrying any woman, but he's
far and away the best man we've ever known, so you can please yourself.
But you know what the chances are. If he gets clear off, or any of us,
after what's been done, you're right. But it's a hundred to one against
it.'</p>
<p>'I'll take the odds,' says she, holding up her head. 'I'm willing to put
my life and happiness, what little there's left of it, on the wager.
Things can't well be worse.'</p>
<p>'I don't know,' I said. 'I ought to tell you—I must tell you
something before we part, though I'd a deal rather not. But you'll bear it
better now than in a surprise.'</p>
<p>'Not more blood, more wickedness,' she said, in a half-whisper, and then
she looks up stern and angry-like. 'When is this list of horrible things
to stop?'</p>
<p>'It was none of our doing. Moran and Daly were in it, and——'</p>
<p>'And none of you? Swear that,' she said, so quick and pitiful-like.</p>
<p>'None of us,' I said again; 'nor yet Warrigal.'</p>
<p>'Then who did it? Tell me all. I'm not a child. I will know.'</p>
<p>'You remember the man that was rude to you at Rocky Flat, and father and
he fired at one another?'</p>
<p>'Of course I do, cowardly wretch that he was. Then Moran was waiting for
them up the gully? I wondered that they did not come back next day.'</p>
<p>'They never came back,' I said.</p>
<p>'Why, you don't mean to tell me that they are all dead, all four?—those
strong men! Oh, surely not, Dick?' and she caught hold of my arm, and
looked up into my face.</p>
<p>'Yes, Aileen, all. We came after and followed up dad, when we got home;
it's a wonder he did it by himself. But we saw them all four lying
stretched out.'</p>
<p>She put down her head and never spoke more till we parted.</p>
<p>. . . . .<br/></p>
<p>We turned back, miserable enough all of us, God knows. After having Aileen
to make the place bright and pleasant and cheer us all up losing her was
just as if all the little pleasure we had in our lives was dropped out of
them—like the sun going out of the sky, and the wind rising; like
the moon clouding over, and a fog burying up everything—dark and
damp, the same as we'd had it many a time cattle-driving by night. We
hardly spoke a word to one another all the way home, and no wonder.</p>
<p>Next day we all sat about, looking more down on our luck, dad said, than
any day since we'd 'turned out'. Then Starlight told him about him and
Aileen, how they'd made it up to be married some day or other. Not yet, of
course; but if he could get away by Melbourne to some of these places—the
islands on the Pacific coast, where vessels were always sailing for—he
didn't see why his luck shouldn't change. 'I have always thought your
daughter,' he says to father, 'one of the grandest women I ever met, in
any degree, gentle or simple. She has had the imprudence to care for me;
so, unless you have some well-grounded objection—and I don't say you
haven't, mind you, I should if I were in your place—you may as well
say you're contented, and wish us luck!'</p>
<p>Father was a long time before he said anything. He sat there, looking very
sullen and set-like, while Starlight lit a cigar and walked quietly up and
down a few paces off.</p>
<p>Dad answers at last. 'I don't say but what other lads would have suited
better if they'd come off, but most things goes contrary in this world.
The only thing as I'm doubtful of, Captain, is your luck. If that's bad,
all the trying and crying won't set it right. And it's great odds as
you'll be caught or shot afore the year's out. For that matter, every one
of us is working for Government on the same road. But the gal's a good
gal, and if she's set her fancy on you I won't block her. You're a pair of
dashed fools, that's all, botherin' your heads with the like at a time
like this, when you boys are all more likely to have a rope round your
necks than any gal's arms, good or bad. Have your own way. You always
managed to get it, somehow or other, ever since I knowed ye.'</p>
<p>After this father lit his pipe and went into the cave.</p>
<p>By and by he comes out again and catches the old mare.</p>
<p>'I ain't been out of this blessed hole,' he says, 'for a month of Sundays.
I'm dead tired of seeing nothin' and doin' nothin'. I'll crawl over to old
Davy's for our letters and papers. We ain't heard nothing for a year,
seems to me.'</p>
<p>Dad was strong enough to get about in the saddle again, and we weren't
sorry to get shut of him for a bit. He was that cranky at times there was
no living with him. As for ourselves, we were regular wild for some sort
of get away for a bit of a change; so we hadn't talked it over very long
before we made up our minds to take a run over to Jonathan Barnes's and
have a bit of fun, just to take the taste out of our mouths of Aileen's
going away.</p>
<p>We had to dress ourselves very quiet and get fresh horses—nags that
had nothing particular about them to make people look, at the same time
with a bit of go in them in case we were pushed at any time.</p>
<p>No sooner said than done. We went to work and got everything ready, and by
three o'clock we were off—all three of us, and never in better heart
in our lives—for a bit of fun or devilment; it didn't matter which
came first.</p>
<p>When we got to Jonathan's it was latish, but that didn't matter to us or
to the girls neither; they were always ready for a bit of fun, night or
day. However, just at first they pretended to be rather high and mighty
about this business of Hagan's.</p>
<p>'Oh! it's you, is it?' says Bella, after we walked in. 'I don't know as
it's safe for us to be knowing such dangerous characters. There's a new
law against harbouring, father says. He's pretty frightened, I can tell
you, and for two pins we'd be told to shut the door in your faces.'</p>
<p>'You can do that if you like now,' says I; 'we shan't want telling twice,
I daresay. But what makes you so stiff to-night?'</p>
<p>'Why, Hagan's business, of course,' says Maddie; 'four men killed in cold
blood. Only I know you couldn't and wouldn't be in it I'd not know any of
ye from a crow. There now.'</p>
<p>'Quite right, most beauteous Madeline,' says Starlight; 'it was a very
dreadful affair, though I believe there was some reason for old Ben being
angry. Of course, you know we weren't within miles of the place when it
was done. You remember the night we were here last?'</p>
<p>'Of course we do, Captain, quite well. Weren't you going to dance at
Bella's wedding and all? You'll have to do that sooner than we expected,
though.'</p>
<p>'Glad to hear it, but listen to me, my dear; I want you to know the truth.
We rode straight back to the—to where we lived—and, of course,
found the old man gone away from the place. We tracked him right enough,
but came up when it was all over. Daly and Moran were the chief actors in
that tragedy.'</p>
<p>'Oh, we said it was Moran's work from the first, didn't we, Bill? It's
just the line he's cut out for. I always think he ought to have a bowl and
dagger. He looks like the villain on the stage.'</p>
<p>'On or off the stage he can support the principal part in that line most
naturally,' says Starlight; 'but I prophesy he will be cut off in the
midst of his glorious career. He's beastly cunning, but he'll be trapped
yet.'</p>
<p>'It's a pity Jim can't stay a few days with us,' says Maddie; 'I believe
we'd find a way of passing him on to Victoria. I've known more than one or
two, or half-a-dozen either, that has been put through the same way.'</p>
<p>'For God's sake, Mad, lay me on!' says poor Jim, 'and I'll go on my knees
to you.'</p>
<p>'Oh! I daresay,' says Maddie, looking saucy, 'but I like a man to be fond
of some woman in a proper way, even if it isn't me; so I'll do what I can
to help you to your wife and pickaninny.'</p>
<p>'We must get you into the police force, Maddie,' says Starlight, 'or make
you a sort of inspector, unattached, if you're so clever at managing these
little affairs. But what's the idea?'</p>
<p>'Well,' says she, settling herself in a chair, spreading out her dress,
and looking very knowing, 'there's an old gentleman being driven all the
way overland in a sort of light Yankee trap, and the young fellow that's
driving has to find horses and feed 'em, and get so much for the trip.'</p>
<p>'Who is it?' says I.</p>
<p>'Oh! you know him,' says Maddie, looking down, 'he's a great friend of
mine, a steady-going, good-conducted chap, and he's a little—you
understand—well, shook on me. I could persuade him a bit, that is——'</p>
<p>'I don't doubt that at all,' says I.</p>
<p>'Oh! you know him a little. He says he saw you at the Turon; he was
working with some Americans. His name's Joe Moreton.'</p>
<p>'I remember him well enough; he used to wear a moustache and a chin beard,
and talk Yankee. Only for that he was a good deal like Jim; we always said
so.'</p>
<p>'Do you see anything now, Dick, you that's so sharp?' says Maddie.</p>
<p>'Bless my soul,' says Starlight, 'of course, it is as clear as your
beautiful eyes. Jim is to shave his beard, talk like a Yankee, and go in
Joe Moreton's place. I see it all. Maddie persuading Joe to consent to the
exchange of duties.'</p>
<p>'But what will his employer say?'</p>
<p>'Oh! he's as bad as bad can be with the sandy blight,' says Maddie, 'wears
green goggles, poor old gentleman. He'll never know nothing, and he'll be
able to swear up for Jim if the police pull him anywhere this side of the
Murray.'</p>
<p>We'd told Maddie that money needn't stand in the way, so she was to
promise Joe the full sum that he was to get for his contract would be paid
to him in cash that night—Jim to pay his own expenses as he went,
the same as he was to do himself. Of course she could get the money from
old Jonathan. A word from us then was worth a deal more than that'd come
to. Money wasn't the worst thing we had to care about.</p>
<p>They would have to change clothes, and he'd tell Jim about the horses, the
stages, and how to answer the old cove, and what to do to humour him as
they went along. If he'd had his full eyesight he might have noticed some
difference, but as it was, it was as much as the poor old chap, she
believed, could see there was a driver at all. His eyes was bound up
mostly; he had a big shade over 'em, and was half the night swabbing and
poulticing, and putting lotion into 'em. He'd got sandy blight that bad it
would take months to get right. Once you get a touch like that it's a
terror, I can tell you. I've had it that bad myself I had to be led about.</p>
<p>After a lot of talking, that Jim was to try his luck as the Rev. Mr.
Watson's coachman, he was mad to get away somehow, and such another chance
might never turn up in a month of Sundays. He would have plenty of time to
shave his beard and make himself look as like as ever he could to Joe
Moreton. Maddie said she'd see after that, and it would be as good as a
play. Lucky for old Jim we'd all taken a fancy at the Turon, for once in a
way, to talk like Arizona Bill and his mates, just for the fun of the
thing. There were so many Americans there at first, and they were such
swells, with their silk sashes, bowie knives, and broad-leafed
'full-share' hats, that lots of the young native fellows took a pride in
copying them, and could walk and talk and guess and calculate wonderful
well considering. Besides, most of the natives have a sort of slow, sleepy
way of talking, so it partly came natural to this chap, Joe Moreton, and
Jim. There couldn't be a better chance, so we thought we'd stay a day and
give Jim a send off all square and regular. It wasn't no ways too safe,
but we wanted a bit of a jollification and we thought we'd chance it.</p>
<p>That night we had a regular good ball. The girls got some of the young
fellows from round about to come over, and a couple or two other girls,
and we had no end of fun. There was plenty of champagne, and even Jim
picked up a bit; and what with being grateful to Maddie for giving him
this lift, and better in spirits on the chance of seeing Jeanie again, he
was more like his own self. Maddie said he looked so handsome she had half
a mind to throw over Joe Moreton after all.</p>
<p>Joe came rather latish, and the old gentleman had a cup of tea and went to
bed at once, leaving word for Joe that he wanted to start almost before
daylight, or as soon as he could see to drive, so as to get half-way on
their stage before the sun was hot.</p>
<p>After Joe had seen to his horses and put the trap away he came into the
house and had a glass or two, and wired in with the rest of us like a good
'un. After a bit we see Maddie corner him off and have a long talk, very
serious too. After that they went for a walk in the garden and was away a
good while. When she came back she looked over at Jim and nodded, as much
as to say, 'It's all right,' and I saw poor old Jim's face brighten up as
if a light had passed over it.</p>
<p>By and by she came over and told us all about it. She'd had a hard matter
to manage it, for Joe was a square sort of fellow, that had a place of his
own, and at first didn't like the notion of being mixed up with our crowd
at all. But he was regular shook on Maddie, and she went at him as only a
woman can, and I daresay, though she didn't tell us, made it part of the
bargain, if she was to marry him, to help Jim in this particular way. He
was to be well paid for this journey by old Mr. Watson, and he wanted a
bit of money before harvest or he wouldn't have taken the job at all.</p>
<p>The end of it was that Jim and Joe sat up ever so late, pretty well on to
daylight, smoking and yarning, and Joe practising Jim in all the things he
was to do and say, giving him a kind of chart of the stages, and telling
him the sort of answers he was to give to the old chap. It was just before
daylight when they knocked off, and then Joe goes and peels off his duds
and hands 'em over to Jim, rough great-coat and all—up to his chin
and down to his toes.</p>
<p>Joe takes Jim's togs. They fitted him all to pieces, and Jim hands him
over his horse, saddle, revolver, and spurs, and tells him the old horse
is a real plum, and he hopes he'll be good to him. Then Jim shakes hands
with us all round. Blessed if the girls wasn't up too, and had some coffee
smoking hot for us. 'We can sleep when you're all gone,' says Maddie, 'and
perhaps we shan't see old Jim any more' (this was said when Joe was out of
the room), 'so here's good luck; and when you've got your wife and child
again don't forget Maddie Barnes.' Then she shook hands with him, and made
a quick bolt to her own room. Queer things women are, my word.</p>
<p>When old Jim drove round to the front with the pair of horses, setting up
square with his big coat and Joe's 'full-share' hat on him, we all bursted
out laughing. He'd first of all gone to the old gentleman's room and sung
out, 'All aboard, sir, time's up,' just to liven him up a bit. Joe kept
away down at the stable.</p>
<p>Well, presently out comes the old chap, with a veil on and his green
goggles, winkin' and blinkin' as if he couldn't see a door from a window.
He drinks off a cup of coffee and takes a munch of bread and butter, makes
a kind of bow to Bella, and shuffles into his carriage. Jim touches up the
horses and away they go. We rose a bit of a cheer. Maddie waved her
handkerchief out of the window. Jim looked round and raised his whip. That
was the last sight any of us had of him for many a day. Poor old Jim!</p>
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