Ghost Camp — Chapter V part 2

“That means you saw somebody.

Who was _she_, I wonder?

Men are all alike, gentle and simple.

I believe I could give a guess, as we heard you went down the river.

” To this day Blount declares that he never enjoyed a better meal; he certainly never had a better appetite.

And as the sun rising higher in the heavens irradiated the meadows, the hurrying water of the creek, the brilliant green of the opening buds of the great elms and poplars that fringed that streamlet, he admitted that the landscape was almost worthy of the memorable meal.

After a leisurely assimilation of the journals of the day, and a smoke in the verandah, he ordered the cob to be brought round, being of opinion that gentle exercise would be advantageous to his legs, which the last day’s work might have tried unfairly.

They certainly had puffed, but there was no sign of lameness, and his owner decided that daily exercise would meet the complaint.

Hearing that the Sergeant was at home he resolved to look up that gallant officer, and gather from him what rumour had asserted as to Little-River-Jack, the O’Haras, Mr. Bruce, and lastly himself, if rumours there were.

He found the ex-guardian of the peace, and, so to speak, warden of the marches, weeding his garden, a trim, well-ordered plot, which, like the remainder of his little property, was a standing object lesson to the surrounding homesteads.

Putting down his hoe, the veteran advanced with an air of great cordiality, and welcomed him.

“Sae you have won back frae the Debatable Land, as they ca’ed Nicol Forest in my youth.

There have been wars, and rumours o’ wars, but the week past; warrants to be issued for Phelim and Patrick O’Hara, and one Little-River-Jack (went by the name of John Carter), forbye ‘Tumberumba Dick,’ and a man known as Jack Blunt (_alias_ Valentine Blount) seen in company with the above on the 20th of August last.

Ay!

it was openly said, and I was lookin’ to see you arrive, maybe with the bracelets on.

What think ye of that?

” “That I should have had good cause of action for false imprisonment,” answered the tourist.

“But why didn’t they issue the warrants?

” “Maybe they were no that sure aboot the evidence.

There’s neecessity, ye ken, that there should be full and aample proof in thae ‘duffing’ cases, as the country people ca’ them.

A bush jury winna convict as lang’s there a link short o’ the Crown Prosecutor’s chain o’ evidence.

” “And was there?

I feel personally much obliged to the Department of Justice for their scruples, which do them honour.

” “Weel, ye ken, though Mr. Bruce o’ Marondah deposed on aith that he saw an E. H.

B.

bullock, his property, with a J. C.

brand put freshly on, there was nae witness who saw John Carter or any ither carle do it or the like.

He missed cattle, sure enough, and Black Paddy led him and two troopers to a deserted claim known as the ‘Lady Julia,’ near which was a stockyaird wi’ fresh cattle tracks baith in and oot.

They didna gang in their lane.

A’body kens that.

But wha saw them gang in or gang oot?

Strong presumption, clear circumstantial evidence, but next to nae proof.

Sae the airm of the law was stayed—a great peety, wasna it?

” “Really, it seems like it.

Fine paragraphs, lost to the local press.

Capture of cattle-stealers, a leading butcher implicated.

A gentleman lately from England arrested.

Damages laid by him for false imprisonment at £10,000. Really, I might have bought a station with the money, and been rich and respected.

Many a big squatter, Dick told me, had begun that way, but he _had_ stolen the cattle or sheep, and served sentence for it, before he turned his talents to better purpose.

” “Dick’s no to lippen to,” replied the Sergeant, “nor nane o’ thae kind o’ folk.

They’ll tell lees by the bushel, gin ye stay to believe them.

When a’s said and done, laddie, ye’re well oot o’ it.

Ye’ll maybe tak’ heed o’ chance companions anither time.

” “Very possibly, Sergeant.

It does appear as if I had been a trifle imprudent.

I must curb my spirit of adventure, which has led me astray before now.

I nearly got shot in Spain through joining a band of smugglers, they were such joyous dogs; and Manuela—ah!

what eyes!

what a figure!

It was rash, no doubt, I must ask for references, another time.

Ha!

Ha!

” Mr. Blount treated the escape which he perceived he had narrowly missed of being hauled before the bar of justice, with apparent levity, but in his own mind, he was conscious that affairs might have taken a permanently disagreeable turn, and seriously compromised him socially, however it ended.

What would the Bruce family think of him?

What could Imogen believe?

Either that he shared the ill-gotten gains of the O’Haras and their associates, or that he was so inconceivably dense, and unsuspicious that any amount of dishonesty might go on before his face, without his being aware of it.

On either assumption, he was between the horns of a dilemma.

Adjudged guilty of folly, or dishonesty.

His vexation was extreme.

However, he exhibited no outward signs of remorse, and concluded his visit by thanking the Sergeant for his information, and begging him to join him at dinner if he had no lingering suspicion of his moral character.

“Na!

na!

I’d pit ma haill trust in thee, if matters luikit as black again.

The glint in thae grey ’een werena given thee for naught; we’ll hae mair cracks before a’s said and done; the spring’s to be airly, I’m thinking.

” The season was more advanced than when Blount first entered Bunjil, the warmer weather had made it apparent that “the year had turned.

” The meadow grasses had grown and burgeoned, the English trees always planted near the older settlements in Australia, many of them the growth of half a century, were nearly full leaved, putting to shame with their brilliant colouring, and opulent shade, the duller hues of the primeval forest.

The water-fowl in flocks flew and dived and swam in the great lagoons, which marked the ancient course of the river.

The cattle and horses browsing in the lanes and vacant spaces, were sleek of skin, and fair to behold.

All nature spoke of abundance of pasture.

In this fertile valley there was no hint of the scarcity, which once, at any rate, within the recollection of men then living had been known to overspread the land: when this very spot, now running over with plenteousness, the vine, the olive, the fig, peaches, and plums, apples, and pears, in full leaf and promise of fruit, was bare and adust, the creek even dry, between the great water-holes, for half a mile at a stretch.

Mr. Blount on returning from his ride found a large assortment of letters and newspapers awaiting him.

Among them was a telegram marked _Urgent_.

This bore the postmark of a neighbouring colony and had been forwarded by private messenger, at some expense.

Thus ran the magic message:—“Hobart, 20th.

Come over at once.

No delay.

Great news.

Credit unlimited, Imperial Bank, Melbourne.

” Walking straight into his bedroom, he threw the letters on to the counterpane of his bed, and drawing forward a chair, proceeded to open his correspondence seriatim.

After noting date and signature, he returned the greater portion of them to their envelopes, postponing fuller examination to a more convenient season.

The last two, which bore the postmark of the nearest post-office to Marondah, he retained.

Of its name he was aware, having heard the ladies asking that the post-bag should be delayed for a few minutes on account of their unfinished letters.

He did not linger over the first, addressed in a strong, clear, masculine hand.

There was no difficulty in mastering its tone and tenor.

“SIR,—I feel justly indignant that I should have extended hospitality to a person who, while assuming the outward appearance of a gentleman, has proved by his conduct to be unworthy of recognition as such.

“As an associate of the O’Hara brothers and two others, who, under pretence of mining, have in concert with a well-known gang of cattle stealers, preyed on my herd and those of neighbouring stations, for the last two years, you have laid yourself open to grave suspicion.

I cannot be expected to believe that you were, although a new arrival, so unsuspicious as to have no knowledge of their dishonest ways.

In a stockyard near the claim, branding as well as concealment of stolen cattle had been carried on.

“You were present when I pointed out my E. H.

B.

bullock, on which a new brand had been recently placed.

You knew that I suspected dishonesty in that neighbourhood.

Was it not your plain duty to have informed me of any suspicious proceedings?

Not only did you fail to do so, but, while accepting my hospitality, you suppressed the fact of your living as a mining mate with the O’Hara brothers, and other suspicious characters, as well as that the notorious ‘Little-River-Jack’ was a member of the same precious company.

I believe that warrants have been applied for at the instance of one of my neighbours.

Should you find that you are included in the arrest, you will only have yourself to thank for incredible folly, or criminal carelessness, as to the distinction between _meum_ and _tuum_.

“I remain, faithfully yours, “E. HAMILTON BRUCE.

” “Very faithfully, indeed,” quoth the recipient of this plain-spoken epistle.

“Under the circumstances I don’t wonder at the wrath of this Squire of the South.

It is but too natural.

Fancy a game-preserving English country gentleman, discovering that a recent guest, free of croquet and morning walks with his charming wife and daughters, had been sojourning with poachers—partaking, peradventure, of his host’s own stolen pheasants!

‘Six months’ hard’ would have been the least, and lightest penalty, that he would have dropped in for, and but for having a friend or two at court, or out of it, Valentine Blount, late of Her Majesty’s F. O.

, by courtesy the Honourable, and so forth, might have ‘done time’ for the heinous offence of having concealed on his person certain beefsteaks and portions of the ‘undercut’ for the possession of which he could give no reasonable account—moreover defied the peace officer to take them from him.

This of course is bordering upon a joke, and a very keen jest it was like to have been.

Maybe yet, for all I know.

What d—d fools men are sometimes!

This I take to be a feminine superscription—the contents less logical, and perhaps—_perhaps_ only—more emotional, and less lenient of sentence.

I wonder what Mrs. Bruce and the fair Imogen think of the agreeable stranger (I have been thus described, ere now), who tarried within their gates.

I feel distinctly nervous, however.

” Here Mr. Blount carefully opened the envelope, and was slightly reassured by the “Dear Mr. Blount” which introduced the subject-matter.

“We are afraid, Imogen and I, that Edward has written you an extremely disagreeable, not to say threatening letter.

He was furiously angry, would hear neither reason nor explanation, when the O’Hara stockyard mystery was unveiled.

You _must_ confess that explanation _was_ difficult, not to say embarrassing for your friends.

_We_ are certain that there has been some great mistake which needs clearing up without delay.

It will never do for you to lie under this accusation—false as we believe it to be—of living with dishonest people, and with the knowledge of their malpractices; of course, you may not know that no men are more artful in hiding their true characters than our bush cattle and horse thieves (or ‘duffers’) to use a vulgar expression.

They are _not_ coarse ruffians—on the contrary very well-mannered, hospitable, even polite, when compared with the labourers of other lands; good-natured, and most obliging, outside of their ‘profession.

’ Indeed I heard a story from a nice old priest, that visited our station, when I was a girl, which explains much.

A bushman was dilating on the noble qualities of a comrade.

‘Jack’s the best-hearted chap going; good-natured?

why, he’d lend you his best horse, if you was stuck for one on the road.

If he hadn’t a horse handy, why, he’d _shake_ one for you, rather than let you leave the place afoot!

’ Of course the situation _looks_ bad, on the face of it, but Imogen and I will _never_ believe anything against your honour.

You have a friend at court, perhaps two.

” Besides this—there was a tiny scrap inside the envelope, apparently pushed in _after_ the letter had been closed.

“Don’t believe you _knew_ anything.

—IMOGEN.

” Mr. Blount read this soothing epistle twice over and put away the scrap in his pocket-book very carefully.

Having done this, he sat down and wrote hard until summoned to lunch, after which he packed up carefully all his belongings, leaving out only such as might be wanted for an early morning start.

He was more grave than usual at that comfortable meal, and it was with an effort that he replied to Sheila’s query whether he’d received bad news.

“Not bad, no!

only important, which comes almost to the same thing.

You have to think over plans and make up your mind, perhaps, to start off at a moment’s warning, which is always distressing.

” “Oh!

nonsense,” said Sheila, who seemed in better spirits than usual.

“I often wish I were a man; how I would wire in when there was anything to do, even if it was only _half_ good.

Men do too much thinking, I believe.

If they’d only ride hard at the fence, whatever it is, they’d get over, or through it, and have a clear run for their money.

” “But suppose they came a cropper and broke a leg, an arm, or their neck, as I see one of your steeplechase riders did at Flemington the other day, what then?

” “Oh!

a man must die some time,” replied the cheerful damsel, who looked indeed the personification of high health, abounding spirits, and as much courage as can be shown by a woman without indiscretion, “and you get through nine times out of ten: the great thing is to go at it straight.

‘Kindness in another’s woes, courage in your own,’ that’s what Gordon says.

” “Who is Gordon, may I ask?

” “Why, Adam Lindsay, of course, our Australian poet.

Haven’t you heard of him?

I thought everybody had.

” “And do you read him?

” “Yes.

Every Australian man, woman, and child, if they’re old enough, knows him by heart.

” “I think I’ve caught the name.

Was he born here?

” “Is he dead?

Perhaps you’ve heard of Mark Twain?

” said Sheila scornfully, who seemed to be in rather a reckless humour.

“Well!

he is.

No!

he was not born here, more’s the pity, for he knows us cornstalks better than we know ourselves.

He was the son of a British officer, the family’s Scotch.

I’m half Scotch, that’s partly why I am so proud of him.

But it would have been all the same whatever country owned him.

I

find my tongue’s running away with me, as usual—the unruly member, as the Bible says.

But you take my tip, Mr. Blount, ‘never change your mind when you pick your panel’ (that’s Gordon again), it’s the real straight griffin, with horse or man.

” “This _is_ a wonderful country, and you’re a wonderful young woman.

I

haven’t time to analyse you, just now, for my affairs, which I had intended to treat to a short holiday, are conspiring to hurry me up.

At what hour can I leave in the morning?

” “To-morrow?

” said the girl, and her face changed.

“You don’t mean to say you’re going away to-morrow?

” “Sorry to say I must; you saw that I got a telegram, and if I don’t _clear_, as your people say, I may lose thousands, perhaps a fortune.

” “The coach goes at six, sharp; and gets to the railway-station at the same hour the next morning.

You’d like breakfast first, I suppose?

” “It’s too early to ask you to have it ready—anything will do.

” “Oh!

I daresay.

You’ve had some decent meals here, haven’t you?

” “Never better in my life.

” “Well, you’ll go away to-morrow, fit and ready for as long a day’s work as ever you did.

It’s almost a pity you’re having the Sergeant to dine.

However, he’ll not stay late.

I’ll send over and take your coach tickets.

You’d better have everything packed and ready this afternoon.

Cobb and Co. wait for nothing and nobody.

” “There’s no doubt (Mr. Blount told himself) that the conditions of life in Her Majesty’s colonies tend to the development of the individual with a completeness undreamed of in our narrow and perhaps slightly prejudiced insular life.

What a difference there is between this young woman and a girl of her rank of life in any part of Britain.

What energy, intelligence, organising power she has; I feel certain that she could rally a wavering regiment on a pinch, drive a coach, ride a race, or swim a river, in fact do all sorts of things, as well as, ay, better than, the ordinary man.

This is going to be a great country, and the Australians a great people—arts of war and peace, and so on.

How good-looking she is, too,” concluding his reflections with this profound observation, which showed that in spite of his subjective turn of mind, the primary emotions still held sway.

Mr. Blount betook himself to his packing with such concentration, that by the time he had finished his letters, nothing remained of his impedimenta, but such as could be easily carried out and packed in the coach, while he was finishing a distinctly early breakfast.

These said letters required much thought and preparation, it would appear.

First there was a vitally necessary answer to Mr. Bruce’s warlike communication.

To this he concluded to reply as follows: “BUNJIL HOTEL, _September_—.

“DEAR SIR,—While fully admitting that appearances are against me, I think that you might with propriety have suspended judgment, if not until the offences charged against me were proved, or, at least, until you had heard my explanation, which I give seriatim.

“No. 1. As a matter of fact, I did live with the O’Haras and two other men on the ‘Lady Julia’ claim.

They were hardworking, and well-conducted miners.

For all that I saw, they might have been the most honest men in Australia.

I knew that cattle were brought to the stockyard late, and taken away early.

I judged it to be the custom of the country, and accepted their statement that they were bought and sold in the ordinary way.

I was cautioned not to go near the yard for fear of frightening them.

I did not see a brand, or look for one—nor should I have known its significance if I had.

As to the O’Haras, and their ‘mates,’ whatever might have been their previous history, no men could have worked harder, or more regularly; they could not have _actively_ assisted in the cattle trade without my noticing it.

“No. 2. That I did not inform you of my position in the claim.

“It would certainly appear to have been my duty so to do under ordinary circumstances, after I knew of your suspicions.

But the circumstances were _not_ ordinary.

“And the question arises, Should I have been justified in betraying—for that would have been the nature of the act—the _suspicious_, merely suspicious circumstances, which I observed during my involuntary comradeship with these men?

I had eaten their salt, been treated with respect, and in all good faith shared their confidences.

Moreover—and this is the strongest point in my defence—the man known as Little-River-Jack—of his real name, of course, I am ignorant—certainly _saved my life_, on the dizzy and narrow pass, known locally as ‘Razor Back’—of that I feel as certain as that I am writing at this table.

In another moment, my frightened horse, unused to mountain travelling, would have assuredly fallen, or thrown himself over the precipice, which yawned on either side of him, while I was equally unable either to control him or to dismount.

By this bushman’s extraordinary quickness and resource, I was enabled to do both.

Was I to give information which would have driven him into the hands of the police?

“As a citizen, I may have been bound to assist the cause of justice.

But as a _man_, I felt that I could not bring myself to do so.

“3. For the rest, I dissociated myself without more delay than was absolutely necessary to collect my effects, and return the borrowed horse, from such compromising company.

I was offered my ‘share’—not a very small amount—of the last gold won, but declined it, and riding late, reached this hotel at midnight of the day we parted.

I heard that the senior constable of the nearest police station had instructions to take out warrants for the persons referred to, including _myself_, but, from some alleged defect in the evidence, that course was not persevered with.

“Circumstances (wholly unconnected with this unfortunate affair) compel me to leave to-morrow morning for Tasmania.

I have entered fully into the ‘case for the defendant.

’ If the jury consisting of yourself, with your amiable wife and her sister—whose kindness I can never forget, and on whose mercy I rely—do not acquit me of all evil intent, I can only hope that time may provide the means of my complete rehabilitation.

Meanwhile I can subscribe myself with a clear conscience, “Yours sincerely, “VALENTINE BLOUNT.

” Having with much thought, and apparent labour, concocted this conciliatory epistle, of which he much doubted the effect, he commenced another which apparently did not need the same strain upon the mental faculties.

This was addressed to Mrs. E.

Hamilton Bruce, Marondah, Upper Sturt, and thus commenced: “DEAR MRS. BRUCE,—To say that for your kind and considerate letter I feel most deeply grateful, would be to understate my mental condition lamentably.

After reading Mr. Bruce’s letter, it seemed as if the whole world was against me; and, conscious as I was of entire innocence, except of an act of egregious folly (not the first one, I may confess, which a sanguine temperament and a constitutional disregard of caution have placed to my account), my spirits were lowered to the level of despair.

There seemed no escape from the dilemma in which I found myself.

“I stood convicted of egregious folly, or dishonour, with the sin of ingratitude thrown in.

I could not wonder at the harsh tone of your husband’s letter.

What must he—what must you all—think of me?

was the inexorable query.

Suicide seemed the only refuge.

Moral _felo-de-se_ had already been committed.

“At this juncture I re-read your letter, for which I shall never cease to bless the writer, and, may I add, the probable sympathiser?

Hope again held up her torch, angel bright, if but with a wavering gleam.

I

regained courage for a rational outlook.

I think I gave a sketch of my imminent peril and the rescuer to Miss Imogen, as we rode away from Marondah on that lovely morning.

Her commentary was that it was not unlike an incident in _Anne of Geierstein_, except that the heroine was the deliverer in that case.

We agreed, I think, in rating the book as one of the best in the immortal series.

“I have fully explained the position in which I stand, to Mr. Bruce in my letter, which you will doubtless see, so I need not recapitulate.

I

have been recalled on important business (unconnected with this regrettable affair) to Hobart, for which city I leave early to-morrow.

Meanwhile, I trust that all doubts connected with my inconsistent conduct will be cleared up with the least possible delay.

“In which fullest expectation, “I remain, “Very gratefully yours, “VALENTINE BLOUNT.

” The writer of these important letters, after having carefully sealed them, made assurance doubly sure by walking to the post-office, and placing them with his own hands in the receptacle for such letters provided.

He further introduced himself to the acting postmaster, and ascertained that all correspondence—his own included—which were addressed to the vicinity of Bunjil, would be forwarded next morning soon after daylight, reaching their destination early on the following morning.

“It’s only a horse mail,” said that official, “the bags are carried on a pack-horse.

But Jack Doyle’s a steady lad, and always keeps good time—better, for that matter, than some of the coach-contractors.

” The rest of Mr. Blount’s correspondence was apparently easily disposed of, some being granted short replies, some being placed in a convenient bag, and others unfeelingly committed to the flames.

About the time when the Sergeant and dinner arrived, Mr. Blount held himself to be in a position of comparative freedom from care, having all his arrangements made, and, except Fate stepped in with special malignity, everything in train for a successful conclusion to a complicated, unsatisfactory beginning.

His city address was left with the acting postmaster aforesaid; all letters, papers, &c. , were to be forwarded to Valentine Blount, Esq.

, Imperial Club, Melbourne.

He would probably return in three weeks or a month; if not, full directions would be forwarded by his agent.

The dinner was quite up to the other efforts of the Bunjil Hotel _chef_, an expatriated artist whom advanced political opinions had caused to abandon “la belle France.

” So _he_ said, amid the confessions, indirect or otherwise, made during his annual “break-out.

” But his cookery was held to confirm that part of his statement, as well as a boast that he had been _chef_ at the Hôtel du Louvre in Paris.

Whatever doubt might be cast on his statements and previous history, as related by himself, no one had ever dreamed of disparaging his cookery.

This being the case, and the time wanting nearly three months to Christmas, which was the extreme limit of his enforced sobriety, neither Mr. Blount nor any one else could have complained of the banquet.

Nor was “the flow of soul” wanting.

The Sergeant was less didactic than usual; he drew on his reminiscences more and more freely as the evening grew late, and the landlord contributed his quota, by no means without pith or point, to the hilarity of the entertainment.

The Sergeant, however, completely eclipsed the other _convives_ by a choice experience drawn from his memory wallet, as he turned out that receptacle of “tales of mystery and fear,” which decided the landlord and his guest to “see him home” at the conclusion of the repast.

This duty having been completed, Mr. Blount was moved to remark upon the fineness of the night.

It was certainly curiously mild and still.

“Quite like spring weather.

” Mr. Middleton looked up and expressed himself doubtfully as to its continuance.

“It’s too warm to be natural, sir,” he said, “and if I was asked my opinion, I’d say we’re not far from a burst up, either wind or rain, I don’t say which, a good way out of the common.

If you’re in a hurry to get to Melbourne, you were right to take your passage by Cobb and Co. , or you might not get away for a week.

” “I wouldn’t lose a week just now for a hundred pounds.

” “Well, of course, it’s hard to say, but if the creeks and rivers come down, as I’ve seen ’em in a spring flood, and we’re close on the time now, there’ll be no getting to Warongah in a week, or perhaps a fortnight on top of that.

But I think, if you get off to-morrow morning, you’ll just do it, and that’s all.

” When they returned all traces of the symposium had been removed, and the cloth laid ready for the early breakfast, which Blount trusted nothing would occur to prevent him from consuming.

On the plate at the head of the table, near the fire-place, was a half-sheet of notepaper, on which was written in bold characters: “DEAR SIR,—The groom will call you at five sharp, breakfast at 5. 30. Coach leaves at six.

I’ve got you the box seat.

“Yours truly, “SHEILA.

” “That’s a fine girl,” said the landlord, “she’s got ‘savey’ enough for a dozen women; and as for work, it’s meat and drink to her.

The missus is afraid she’ll knock herself out, and then we’ll be teetotally ruined and done for.

I hope she won’t throw herself away on some scallowag or other.

” “Yes!

it would be a pity.

I take quite an interest in her.

But she has too much sense for that, surely?

” “I don’t know,” answered the landlord, gloomily, “the more sense a woman has, the likelier she is to fancy a fool, if he’s good-looking, that’s my tip.

Good-night, sir.

I’ll be up and see you off.

Old George will call you.

” “Oh!

I shall be up and ready, thank you.

” The landlord, however, having exceptional opportunities of studying human nature, warned old George to have the gentleman up at 5 a. m.

sharp, which in result was just as well.

For Blount being too excited from various causes to sleep, had tossed and tumbled about till 3 a. m.

, when he dropped into a refreshing slumber, so sound that George’s rat-tat-tat, vigorous and continued on his bedroom door, caused him to dream that all the police of the district, headed by Mr. Bruce and Black Paddy, had come to arrest him, and were battering down the hotel in order to effect a capture.