WOODONGA: A TRAGEDY OF STATION LIFE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 66, 18 March 1905, Page 11

WOODONGA: A TRAGEDY OF STATION LIFE.

JESrr O W JdEET Slj&JCaLi. (A»«iie«rf^^l=iSEhM M -Fnwaihr « fa the Tr«fc «tc}

CHAPTER Kin. £TgE WOODOOXOA. TIiAGEDt. . fhe sound that had startled Gertie with a va-gun feeling of alarm , w as but, faintly heard inisde the house, and even the two or three couples that , ], a( l waiidererod into the garden remarked it as singular rathnr than suggestive of anything serious. It was , Jeard at the stables, indeed, for Tom, who was m 1 ting half asleep on a keg with his back resting in a corner. , moved uneasily and said "Hallo. Some . bloomin' hass must ha , 'ad too much of the Guvnor's champagne. Wot does 'c , «xpect to 'it in the dark, I wonder?" Jacky and Fuzzy were lying curled up on a heap of straw in a corner of the wood-shed, apparently asleep, but at tlie sound .Jacky raised his head like a wakeful dog, and glanced slowly and suspiciously in every direction. His little eyes sparkled like glow-worms in. the darkness, and his wide nostrils moved for a moment or two, and then he subsided as noiselessly as he had roused himself. The dogs, too, who, •ffere already enjoying a well-earned sleep after the unusual exertions of the day, moved uneasily where they ]ay, and old Trailer uttered one deep warning bark before he composed himself again to sleep. Even as far away as the men's quarters more than one pair of ears caught, the unusual sound, asd more than one growling rema.rk ■was passed from bunk to bunk as to the occasion of the shot. Far away on the top of the first ridge, from which ■Mr. Leslie'had a few days before pointed so proudly to the extent of Woodoonga, a solitary traveller who sat motionless on Ms horse, as he had sat ■for the better part of half an hour, •with his face turned towards the station he had left, heard the faint ring flf the report, like a whisper of trouble out of shadow land. He raised his head, which had been bent, and looked steadily into the darkness as if he expected an explanation; then, with a movement of the hand which had rested on his horse's neck, that might have meant farewell, he wheeled the and rode ;off into the darkness. One man—only one—knew what it 'meant, and could anybody have seeu ibim then he might have doubted whether even he was surf. It would hardly be possible to overestimate the annoyance with •which Moncrieff had accompanied Mr. Leslie down the garden path. Anger, which ~ 'for the moment was only the more bitter because it was so helpless, struggled with prudence, and left the man pale and speechless. Had even a very little less depended on keeping for the preterit, at least, on good terms with his "companion, he wouldn't have hesitated either to express his feelings or to refuse to go; but Moncrieff knew how shatters stood too well. Leslie's daughter/ which must mean Leslie's ihelp, or at least the-credit to be gained by the certainty of succeeding , to his wealth : '"an the future,'was the alternative to ,iuin financially, which, under the cir""''irainstances, would mean socially also. I'here was no alternative. Whatever it was that his prospective father-in-law Wanted to say before he would let him 'epeak to his daughter, he must submit to; he could at least make up for it afterwards. These, and a hundred other halfformed thought*, kept him silent till [they had reached the lower walk; then the natural audacity of the man assert*d itself again. Hα stopped, and faced 3iis companion. "'Now, sir," he exclaimed, in a voice jthat was low, and trembled slightly >ith anger—"Now, sir. I have come with you. What the devil is it you want ■\vifch mc? A nice fool I .shall loolc in Miss Leslie's eyes; perhaps she will overlook it when she hears whose fault -it was." "Perhaps so, sir. Perhaps so. There (are worse things than being a fool, let ,we tell you, Mr. Monerietf," was the grim reply. "Not many that I know of." • » '"Yes, sir, worse. A devilish sight Morse. It's worse to be a rognc, sir. A.low-down, njean lying rogue, sir; not fit to associate with honest men, or to speak to au honest girl." For just a moment there was silence between the men, and the breeze sighed gently through the lefty, tree-ferns ■overhead. 'What—what do you mean to imply, «r, by that?" The words came from Moncrieff in a low. fierce tone, so un2Jke his usual voice that it would have -Been hard indeed to recognise it. ''Imply, sir? I never imply things, 9et mc tell you. What I mean to say P-Sthat I look on you. sir—on you as a, 3wy scoundrel, sir; a fellow who isn't d>t to know my daughter—not to speak «f daring to ask her to marry him." "You are mad, sir—absolutely insane, *fr. Leslie," Monc-rieff almost gasped in Ws astonishment, too much astounded tfor the moment to feel or understand what all this mea,nt in its effect on his own prospects. "I would ask What you iiean, S j r) h ut j k now -; t would be useless. .1 can't stay to listen to any more of these ravings, however interesting they may seem to you, so I will just say good-night to Miss Leslie, and So, till you get better." Monerietf had recovered himself as he *cnt on. The superior tone of contemptuous sarcasm was there now. and «yen the high-bred suggestion of a wish IJo excuse oven the iuexeu.Sii.ble. He j™d turned sharply- on his heal as he ■washed speaking, when once more he el V lle §' ras P of his companion's hand his shoulder. that way. sir. The stables lie f>vev here." rMoncrieir shook his shoulder p&ssionffi y i . freein S it from the hand that "eld him back. ./Hands off," he growled. "No, sir; I *»'■■+* t0 m^self at lp£Lst to sa 7 goodJJJo Miss Leslie, oven if her father importunately lost his senses." fOU owe it to mc to leave the pla-ce, tw, ere ou v, ' ere received'as & genW "t and a frien <l—a-nd for this once I W * pay what y° n ovre ' Moncrieff. '■■£prL no black-legs at Woodoonga, * will have no scoundrels there '■• ; then ■ Ca ? tempt b °y s to their r" 1 "' and ■'•'■"cajiv m of thoir mone y- No rasfcte sK o ? l federate of Professional swind- • an? a v darkeu my doors or speak to g&ighter while I live." ! iWolfl a quick movement the owner of I . te vT on g a ha d passed his companion as War£V° Sp^aJv ' J and stood towering, BW™ ,broad > in his path to the house. . something threatening |~W:ifiJus.attitaßte, tatas along with

the low tones of concentrated anger, and withering contempt, to make any one hesitate before he attempted to force his way past him. For just a moment the two men stood thus facing one another—then, with a fierce oath the smaller man drew something from a pocket, and the sharp, clear ring of a pistol shot throbbed through the silence of the night. For a second or two more the men faced each other, like men turned into stone, and then, without a word or sound, the taller figure fell backwards on the grassy bank whicii sloped upwards to the terrace above. The eyes of the other had followed him as he fell, but he had never moved. .Like a man seen in dreams the tall man had fallen, and even now his eyes seemed to rest ou the other's fa'ee: like one who sees a vision, and knows it is a vision, the other returned the. fixed stare of those glittering eyes. To do him justice the crime had not been committed deliberately. Till a moment before he had drawn that pistol he had not even remembered that he, had a pistol: till one instant before he drew the trigger he had never thought of tiring. And now? Moments passed, and Moncrieff stood there still—his eyes fixed, his hand that held the pistol still outstretched, as when it had all but touched the breast of the man who had been I his friend. In a way he -was conscious too of where he was, and what he had done: in a strange, unreal way, that was infinitely ghastly. Yes, there was the figure on the grass, that lay so still, with the unclosed eyes fixed upon him with that stony glare: there was the pistol which even in the darkness seemed to glitter with a strange, persistent light; there was th,e faint film of smoke like some diappearing ghost, dying j away before his eyes, and the smell ol gunpowder in his nostrils that mixed and blended with the heavy scents of the magnolia, blossoms. It was aJI unreal; it, was all present to both mind and senses while the minutes passed. A clock far away in the. house struck eleven, and with the last stroke the music of a waltz began. Moncrieff started so violently that he dropped the pistol, whicii rolled against the foot of that silent, figure on the grass. His eyes foHowed it. and then he seemed for the first time to bo actually conscious of what had taken place. With the return of ordinary consciousness tlw glittering points he had taken for eyes had disappeared, and all he could see of the object that had magnetized and terrified him was a darker shadow on the grassy bank. An instinct seemed to tell him he must get the pistol, which had disappeared in the shadow. Cold drops stood out on his face as he stooped and felt for it in the grass. His hand touched something—it was tire heel of a shoe. He paused, trembling violently for a minute; then it came ljaek to him— he must secure tlhat pistol. He forced himself to stoop once more, while the drops ran down his face, and dropped one by one on the grass. He could have sworn he heard them fall. He got it at last, and even as he did so 'he leaped back from that still shadow, as H it had been a deadly snake. For a minute or two he stood, glancing from side to side, as if every moving shadow was an enemy, while his ears listened with trembling eagerness for some sound. There was nothing but the swaying of the trees and the soft rustle of the bamboo leaves close at hand, and in the distance the measured pulse of the dance music from the ballroom. Ten minutes might have passed when a growl from Trailer roused Tom from his doze to the perception that a footstep was coming towards the .".tablo across the yard, and a hand shook the lower half of the door, which was bolted inside. '• 'Old on a bit. sir. W'ich 'oss might you be arter?" ''My own, of course—Mr MoncriefPs." Tom shook himself. He certainly must be ha.lf asleep still not to have recognized a voice he knew' so well as Moncrieff's, but mindful of many handsome tips, he hurriedly put saddle and bridle on the new pirrchase. wondering sleepily what could be taking his owner off in such a. hurry. In another minute Tom had opened the doo>r and led the horse from the stable. '"Must ha' been 'nvin' a doze, sir," he said apologetically. "Why. I 'ardly knowed it were your voice, sir—seemed different some'ow. No more I shouldn't ha' thought o' you leavin : us so soon neither." Moncrieft" said something hastily, in which Tom made o>ut the words "confounded nuisance—engagement early tomorrow'—and , others which he was still too sleepy to follow or remember. In another moment the rein wns taken hastily from his hand—almost snatched, in-deed-the dark figure mounted hurriedly, and the horse had Ktarted at a canter, leaving Tom, for the first time in his experience? of Moueripff, without the. customary tip. For a minute or two he stood looking after him with a puzzled expression on his face: then he scratched his head slowly. "Well, if I ain't blowed, I ain't rightly sure as ever I were." he muttered to himself. "It were him, right enough: but wot this 'ere game means, I it up. Howsomever, gone r e is, and never a 'at to his 'cd. ,, Tom shook his head,, as thoughts of excessive drinfcs of chumpagne. or something stronger, floated through his puzzled brain; then lie turned to go bade again, and if possible finish, his doze- As he did so his eyes met two little shinin? orbs that seemed to peer at him out o"f the darkness. For a moment he started; then he recovered himself. "That you. Jacky?" he said. "Blessed if I didn't think it were another on 'em." Jacky made no reply, but with his great head bent forward he slipped away and disappeared in the shadows. CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH HORTON COMES BACK. A very few minutes had enabled Gertrude Leslie to recover from the unexpected shock of MoncrietFs apparently cool desertion. Had she really cared for the man it might have been different; but as it was, after the first moment or two of surprise, her feeling •was one of relief rather than annoyance. In lees than ten minutes she was back again with her aunt in the ballroom, keeping an interested eye on the various». couples as they found their way back to be in readiness for the next dance. There was still no sign of Moncrieff ■when the music began once more, and ! »q eager y.cKe, claimed h.ec promise

for the waltz. The music was good, and the new partner one of the best dancers present, and by the time the waltz was over she had almost forgotten the annoyance caused by the conduct of her eccentric admirer. There was plenty of fun and laughter between the dances, and a bewildering competition between claimants for the next dance, and it certainly wouldn't have flattered the self-esteem of the Hon. Charles Moncrieff could he have known that she had forgotten to look for his reappearance. For my own part I had been more than fortunate in securing several dances out of Elsie's very limited stock that were not claimed by somebody or other on the score of old promises. The distinction gained in the hunt toy my success on Tom-cat was, I could see, a far less envied one than that conferred by the younger Miss Leslie, and though she was careful in each instance to refer it to my victory, 1 persuaded myself without much difficulty that there might be just a little in it more personal to myself. At any rate i was enjoying myself as 1 had never done before, and for the moment 1 too had forgotten Moncrieff, and the still unsettled troubles connected with him. I was escorting my companion on a little promenade up and down the ballroom between dances, trying hard to entaugle her in a promise to grant mc still another, when we passed close to her sister. The musicians had just come back to their places after a short rest—probably not unmixed with refreshments—and were engaged in eliciting a few of those tones of' suffering which appear to be the lot of tuneful violins between their bursts of melody. '*oh, these terrible men," she exclaimed, "that's the noise that papa hates so much. In spite of all Gerty and I can say he will call it 'devilish,' you know, and really it almost might be, don't you think? But I wonder where he is? I don't believe I have seen him for ever so long. Oh. Gerty, have you seen papa lately?" "'No, I don't think so. He must be in the office somewhere, I suppose. But it, is strange; 1 never knew him stay so much away from a dance, before." The sisters looked at one another with that sort of mutual understanding I had noticed and admired in them wherever their father was concerned. "If you would like to know where he is," I said, glan-eing at my companion's face, "I could jxo and see." It seemed the right thing to ollc.r, but even while I did it 1 felt a strong liope that it would not be accepted. If I once left Elsie's side, even foi* a minute or two, the place would be hard to regain. Probably my face waa more sincere than my tongue, for my companion gave mc one- look that contained more amusement than many a lauffh. "Well, you really do deserve something for that magnanimous offer, Air Stevens."' she said; "just when the music ia going to begin, too. Let mc; see, what can I do to reward you? Oh yes, 1 know. If you don't mind piloti ing mc safely through the giddy throng. I'll go along with you. 1 can't think what he can have done with himself. Perhaps he's talking to Mr Moncrieff," she continued, in a lower tone as we turned away; "I'm sure I haven't seen him since supper time." We went into the hall and along the broad corridor, though I must admit that I was suffering from something like a cold chill as I thought of what such a conversation with Monerietf might mean to mc. If I had been alone I believe I should have hesitated to knock at the door, which we. found shut, but my companion had no such scruples. She turned the handle at once, and as she pushed it partly open, exclaimed, "Oh, papa, what are you doing? Gerty and I are both very angry that you haven't come near us to enjoy our triumphs. You really must, you know." There was no answer, and in a moment she had pushed the door wide open; the room was empty. "Oh," she exclaimed, "he must hava gone into the garden. I daresay they are both there." She took her hand from my arm, and almost ran forward 1o the window, which was open. Then she stopped suddenly, and started back a atep, with a little cry of alarm. I was by her side in a moment. "What is it—what's the matter?" ] asked eagerly. She pointed through the window. My eyes followed her hand, and saw, glittering in the light that streamed out on the verandah, and framed in a dark background ol! shadow, the most hideous face I had ever seen in I my life. It seemed to be human, too, j for no monke3 r was ever half so ugly I as that. I glanced at my companion, and then back again at that face,! which even as T jooked came nearer, j till it looked in through the opening. "Ja-cky!" my companion gasped, in a voice in which alarm was tempered with relief. As she spoke 1 seemed to recognise him—it really was the "■black" after all. 'but so much more hideous than usual that I could hardly believe it. The huge head of rusty black hair, indeed, wasn't altered, though the ugly flat face with the broad nostrils, the rows of great white teeth, and the little glistening eyes, looked a thousand times uglier, now that they were adorned with bars and circles of ghastly livid white, which i seemed to bring each feature out into} a frightful relief. And now that he stood in the window we could see he was all but naked, and the same ghastly devices were repeated on his breast and arms. He stood motionless for a minute in j the opening, as'if fully conscious of the ( impression he had made, and anxious to make the most of it. Then suddenly Elsie recovered her presence of, mind. "Jacky!" she repeated indignantly. "What Jacky mean? What Jacky want? Look all-the-same-pig.' J For a fraction of au instant a kind [ of spasm passed over the black's hideous face. Then a new and fiercer light came into his little eyes, as he stretched I out his right hand in front of him, showing that it held the shapeless looking weapon which Mr Leslie had made him show mc a day or two before, and had told mc was a boomerang. Ho raised and shook the savage looking weapon for an instant, as he replied in a wild sing-song tone. "Come, Missy, come! Jacky paint war. Missy come sec what for." Then he beckoned solemnly to us, as he stepped backward from the. window, as if to let us follow. I suppose one ought to have laughed; but somehow I couldn't at the moment. It might be only a ghastly joke, but it was too real and ; impressive at the moment. I turned I and looked questioningly at my compan- ! ion once more. It had impressed her j too, I could see, for she had turned j strangely pale in the last few moments. ! "What do you suppose he means?" I asked. "He means that he wants to show us something. I am sure it is something horrilale X have not an ide^

what it can be. I never thought I should mind anything, but I'm afraid to go with him now." "Let mc go," I exclaimed, as I stepped towards the window. "Don't you come; there might be some danger—perhaps some treachery." '•From Jacky: Oh. no. Jaekjrs been with us for years and years: he loves papa like a dog." "Your father," I exclaimed impulsively," could there be anything wrong with him? ,, "With papa?" she gasped, as if the idea, had just struck her with special sibnitjeanee. "Ob, surely, not with papa. But come; let us sec what Jacky means.' . She had kid her hand on my arm as she spoke, and there was something in the feeling that she had instinctively appealed to my help at the moment which gave mc a new feeling of personal i interest in Elsie. Leslie which the adi miration I had felt for her, and the. pleasure I «ad found in her company hitherto, had failed to give. In another moment we had passed out of the window and stood on the verandah. Behind us the music had struck up, and the dance had begun; in front there was the clear stillness of the night, and the ghost-like shadow of Jacky, as he stood, boomerang in hand, at the top of the steps. Elsie paused for an instant, and I thought she shivered. I held out my hand which she took with a quick, nervous grasp in her own, and so we went together into the shadows. Jacky seemed to flit rather than walk before U3, as we went slowly down the terraced walks, and it seemed to mc that the sense of something impending — some dreadful calamity to which we could give no name—affected us both more and nwrre the farther we went. We were in the lowest walk at last, and the soft Whispering ilow of the water in the creek could be heard, like some voice that told the story of a mystery. I looked up. and in the clear darkness 1 recognised the moving tops of the bamboo clump where Horton .and I had talked on just such a nig-ht as this. Suddenly I felt my companion's hand close on mine with a sharp little pressure,, and she seemed to hesitate. What was it? 1 glanced at her. and it seemed to mc even in the pale shadowy light of the stars I could tell that ! she had sem something. I, too, peered into the darkness ahead. Yes, Jacky had stopped at last. He had stopped, and he was facing us now, standing with his boomerang raised above his head in a strange, savage, yet solemn attitude that was as impressive as it was new. I think we both stopped for a few seconds, and then that ghostly figure raised his other hand and beckoned us forward. I don't know that I had ever felt quite so unwilling to face anything before, but it was impossible io hesitate with the feeling of that small hand in mine, now grown cold, And trembling a little. There was no time to he lost; 1 drew her gently forward. We were within three or four yards of Jacky's silent and motionless figure when suddenly he lowered his boomerang and pointed to the sloping bank close beside us. Our eyes followed his motion, but for a moment 1 could sec nothing but an apparently deeper shadow. Then, with a cry, so shrill and full of terror that I shall never forget the tone. Elsie enatched her hand from mine, and threw herself on her knees beside the body of her father. For an instant I felt paralysed, and could only stare helplessly at the stnmge, shadowy, dead face, which, even while I looked at it seemed to come out into clearer and stronger relief. Then I recovered enough to go on my knee beside him and try to raise his head. Elsie had seized his hand in both of hers, but now she gasped out the words. "No. Oh, no. It is useless." As she spoke she let the hand she had held sink slowly on th« grass, and covering her face with both hands burst into so wild a. passion of sobs that 1 was terrified. I looked around helplessly for assistance, but only the motionless figure of the "black" was to be seen. 1 sprang to my feet. t- 'Go. Jacky!" I exclaimed. "Quick; go fetch man—plenty man." "Jaeky kill man plenty quick now," he said proudly as he raised ihis boomerang. "Yes, Jaeky," I shouted at him. "Yes by and by kill man. Fetch man plenty quick now." For a moment he stared at mc as if he scarcely understood mc; then, as if it had dawned on him, he sprang past mc up the path by which we had just come, with a succession of wildly piercing yells that rang through the silence, and even penetrated to the ball-room where the dance was at its height. Help came quickly in answer to my shouts after Jacky 'had attracted attention, and the body of the owner of Woodoonga was carried up and laid on the couch in the room he had called his office. It was not till this had been done tihat a tall, elderly man, with grey hair and the bearing of an old soldier, pushed his -way quietly through the crowd of men that nearly filled the room, and waving them back from the couch bent over the figure lying there and looked closely at the face and then at the breast or his friend of quarter of a century. A dozen pairs of questioning eyes besides those of the two girls who knelt beside the couch followed hhs movements, and seemed to hang on his lips for a decision. "Shot in the breast by a pistol not a yard away, , ' the old soldier muttered. Then he glanced at the hand of the dead man—it was closely clenched. '"'There was no pistol beside'-him ?" he asked, glancing at the faces round him"Xot a -sign of a weapon, major." ''Who oould save done it " he said, in an astonished whisper. "Leslie had not an enemy in the world. Horton—" he continued after a pause—while every eye in the room seemed to glance at every other with a look that was half questioning and half suspicious— "Horton—has anybody gone for him? He's the man to arrange things. I must hold an inquiry in the morning." "Mr. 'Orton, sir, *c rode off arter hark, and as ' c was a-goin' "c says to mc 'Good-bye, Tom,' sez 'c, 'I ain't acomin' • back to Woodoonga no more,' sez 'c, Major Baker." Everybody had started when Tom's voice had answered the Magistrate from the doorway where he was standing, and a. sudden blush had rushed into the cheeks of Gertrude Lesile before she hid her face once more in her hands and bowed it on the couch. There was an astonished pause of some moments at the sta.bleman's strange announcement, coming so suddenly after the Major's statement that nobody had anything against the dead man. Then, the Magistrate spoke again: <r Not coming back! You must have misunderstood. Horfcon isn't the nian to leave at a moment's notice." "Dunno about that, Major, only 'c sez, sez 'c, I hain't a-comin' hack to Woodoonga no more, Tom." There was a silence in the room in which you could hear men breathe, while eyes turned slowly one. to~*noth.tr in wordless tjefistioning.

Through the silence there came suddenly the quick beat of a horse's hoofs, and next instant the deep baric of a dog. The hush that had fallen on the room seemed to deepen—not a man moved. The sound of galloping ceased behind the hpnse, and Trailer's bark changed suddenly to a note of welcome. "Blowed if that ain't J im back again. E* took Challenger, and I'd know 'is 'oofbeats anywhere." Gertrude Leslie must have known them too, I thought, for she had raised her head, and though her cheeks were deadly pale again there was a strange light in her eyes as she listened. 'j.nen, as if involuntarily, she looked strangely at the still face of her father. A minute more, and the sound of a strong rapid footfall sounded on the gravel, and ascended the steps of the verandah. It was a characteristic footfall—l knew it already. Whatever he might have said to, Tom, Horton had come back to Woodonga. (To be Continued next Saturday.)