IN THE LAST STRIDE

Cromwell Argus, Volume LXX, Issue 3622, 29 May 1939, Page 2

IN THE LAST STRIDE

By ARTHUR WRIGHT

[All Rights ReservedJ

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued.) At last the prancing horses were still. A hush of expectation fell on the crowd. "Now he's got them, why doesn't he let them go?" cried an excited critic of the starter. A second of suspense. A small voice is heard calling anxiously, "One minute, sir, please," as Striker swung away again. Too late. The barrier flew up. The eager horses —all save one—bound forward with Lachlan in the van. Striker had been "left," but only for a moment did he pause. Straightening the unruly son of Carbine quickly, Curtis sent him after the field, hugging the rails as he went. Kite, on the favorite, had been first away, but, steadying Lachlan with difficulty, was now content to lie in a handy position, allowing Dancing Dolly to go to the front and set a merry pace. As the rushing horses swung around the bend leading out of the straight, an opportunity was given young Curtis, and the boy took full advantage of it. Dashing up on the inside, he gained ground. In a moment he was in the centre of the bunch and the disadvantage of the start was wiped out. Enid clasped her hands delightfully. "That was clever," she exclaimed. "I thought our chance was gone, but it'3 not all over yet, is it? I could hug that little jockey." "He wouldn't object, I'm sure," laughed Hudson. "I hope he does not get penned in altogether; if he wins now he'll deserve It." Now they were racing round the back, Dancing Dolly still showing the way, but Volcanic made a forward movement, and Lara also gave her few backers momentary hope. On they came, the pace improving as the home turn got nearer. As they raced for the turn, several changes took place, Lara fell back beaten, Dancing Dolly, too, had shot her bolt, and Volcanic, going strongly, showed the way into the straight. At last the multitude was aroused. A roar hailed the appearance of the big black horse at the head of affairs/ "Volcanic!" arose from Leger and Paddock, but a louder cry drowned the name almost Instantly. "Lachlan! Lachlan! Lachlan wins!" That was the burden of the noisy chorus as Kite was seen to be sending the favorite past the leaders. It was a winning run. "He's going to win after all," gasped Enid, seizing Hudson's arm. "Oh, I'm sorry I came here to see it. Where is Striker?" Another roar emitted by many throats answered her query. Stan Hudson grasped her hand to shake it vigorously. Look!" he cried. "The boy's a marvel. If he gets through he'll win!" "STRIKER! STRIKER!" but the shouts for Lachlan were still the loudest. Curtis, hugging the rails, had waited for an opening. At last it came. There was barely room to squeeze through, but the youngster chanced it. Dashing past the tiring horses he reached Lachlan's girth ere Kite had realised it. In a moment they were neck and neck. Kite was riding all out, but with never a punishing stroke Curtis called on Striker for the best that was in him, and the gallant son of a gallant sire responded right royally. Stretching himself for a final effort, with long, telling strides he left the game but beaten mare behind to pass the post a length to the good. As Curtis proudly rode the winner in to weigh, he was greeted with a salvo of cheers, for rider as well as horse deserved the victory. Striker looked around at the applauding crowd, with head erect 1 , proud, no doubt, that he had upheld the prestige of his illustrious sire. Stan Hudson did not release Enid's hand very quickly, and she, carried away by the moment's excitement, did not withdraw it. "It was glorious," she cried. "I am so glad." Then, as the cheering died away, she awoke to the situation. Blushing rosily, she snatched her hand away. "Are you glad, Enid?" asked Hudson, softly. "Yes," she faltered, of course I am, Mr. Hudson. I am sorry if, in the excitement, I made a fool of myself, I " Come and have a look at the hero," interrupted Stan. Youve got to hug your jockey, you know." My jockey!" cried Enid. Well, I promised you the horse, you know, and I am sure the boy won't object to going with him." Don't be silly," protested Enid. You'll'inake me sorry I ever met you." Hudson looked serious. "Ihope you will never be sorry for that," he said, CHAPTER XX. Hudson Returns After the shearing was over days at Mindah had been rather dreary, but Ike had come to the rescue and enlivened things by teaching the station hands the gentle science of fisticuffs. Many a lively mill was fought in the old shed, and Ikes fame as a boxer spread far and wide. The summer had passed quickly enough, and profitably to Alick and Ike Duggan. They had raced Sunlocks at all the registered meetings in the district, and so far the colt held unbeaten records. He had had very little In the way of proper preparation for racing, so,

Author of "Over the Odds" and, "A Game of Chance."

Published by Arrangement with N.S.W. Bookstall Co. Ltd

with a view to further victories of a more substantial nature the horse had been sent to Brisbane to undergo a course of training at the hands of James Davis, of Eagle Farm. The trainer was highly pleased with the latest addition to his string, and predicted a brilliant career for the son of Jeweller. He advised Alick to enter him for all the big events of the near future, both in Brisbane and Sydney, with a special eye to the Brisbane Cup. Winter was hovering near again. Hudson, senr., with his wife and daughters, had returned to the homestead after an extended visit to Brisbane, but young Hudson still tarried in the harbor city. Rumor had it that it was a lady who was responsible for his long absence. This, however, had not bothered Alick. Stan Hudson's love affairs were no concern of his, but he was pleased when word did at last arrive that the young man was returning. So one, Saturday morning, Wallace and Ike saddled up their horses and set off for Mindah township, Ike leading Stan Hudson's old grey mare. They were to pick up the young squatter, due to arrive that afternoon by the Dalby coach. It was early when they reached the town, and, after dining at the local hotel, Alick rode along the road to visit some acquaintances, while Ike lingered yarning at the bar. It was a bright afternoon in early winter. Football had begun again and a team from the Ipsyich district had come along to play the Mindah fifteen. It was just a jaunt for the visitors, a good practice match, but the locals took themselves seriously—thought they had a chance. When the teams appeared on the paddock Mindah was a man short. Their full-back had not turned up. "We'll have to play a pick-up," said the local skipper, who wore a worried look. But where to get one, that was the question. He looked anxiously around, to every point of the .compass. A good crowd had assembled, but no likely footballer did he see. A dark-bearded young man, mounted, had pulled up at the fence to look on. The captain knew him. It was Alf Wharton, book-keeper from the station. "What's up?" asked the onlooker. Man" short," returned the other. "Just our luck. Can't be helped, I suppose; have to struggle through somehow." The book-keeper laughed. "How would I do?" he asked. The -other grinned in return. Evidently he did not consider the idea seriously. "Ever play?" he asked. "Used to play at school," drawled Alick, "but that's more than a year or two ago." "Well, perhaps you could buck in with the forwards," said the captain, doubtfully. "You're weighty, if nothing else. Will you?" Alick dismounted, and tied up his horse. "I'll have a go," he said, "just for fun, you know." As he joined the Mindahs after having attired himself in an improvised costume, he was received rather hilariously, the town team dubbing him "Whiskers" from the kick-off. But what a shock awaited these bush champions. Within five minutes of starting, "Whiskers" was over the line, and then kicked an easy goal for Mindah. "Whiskers" dominated the game, while all men wondered. Supposed to be playing with the forwards, he picked his own position in the field and the astonished skipper was dumb. Again and again he demoralised the opposition with his dodgy runs and wonderful kicking, and the result of it was that Mindah routed the Ipswich lads ingloriously. Alick had entered the playing field in the first instance more aa a joke, but once the game had started, the fever of battle was on him., and, forgetting all else in the excitement of the game he loved, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the fray, finding intense satisfaction in once more dominating a football game, even against such' unworthy opponents.' • When the battle was over and he ran off to change, he began to cail himself a fool for thus revealing himself. Even in this out of the way place there might be some who had seen him play in Sydney and would guess his identity. "Where did you get him?" asked the Ipswich skipper, and the local captain explained, "Used to play with his college at home, I believe," he said, and the other shook his head sadly. "These bloomln' immigrants'll be rulin' the roost altogether presently," he growled. While the game was in progress, the coach had arrived, and the passengers, amongst whom was Stanley Hudson, became highly interested spectators. Hudson met Alick as he ran off the field. With outstretched hand and smiling face the returned one greeted him enthusiastically. "Well played, Mindah," he cried. "I'd no idea we had a crack footballer at the homestead." The two men's hands met in a hearty clasp, but in an instant Alick had withdrawn his as he realised that it was his employer he was greeting. "Welcome back, sir," he muttered;

then ran off to get ready for the road. Soon the three men were mounted, and on the road towards Mindah homestead. "I'm glad to see everything looking so well," declared Hudson as they cantered along. "And you, too, boys. By Jove, I'd no idea you could play football like that, Alf. I saw the last half of the game. It was great, or you were, I should say; you just paralysed 'em. Les Boden, one of the League selectors, was there. You gave him a shock, and no mistake. He's put your name down, and he'll be on your track before long.", "I'm not anxious to take up the game again—er—I mean I don't know much about the game. Luck, I suppose." "You're no mug," laughed Hudson, "you opened the eyes of our chaps right enough." "See any games in Sydney, sir?" inquired Ike Duggan. "A couple," said Hudson. "The League's the game there now, you know. I'm a sticker for amateurism, but I must say this new game's just the thing. I wouldn't be bothered looking at a Union game now." "You were a good while in Sydney, Mr. Hudson," said Alick! "must have had a good time." Hudson sighed. "Yes, Alf," he said, "a real good time." ...."■"We,, read about you winning the Rosehill Cup. That horse must be pretty good." "He is," declared Stan. "By Carbine, you know. Brought out here by a' fellownamed, Norton—Dudley Norton, one of the clever crowd. Humbugged the horse about till they soured his temper, and when the money was on he would see tbem hanged before he'd do his best. He'd been out of their hands a good while when I got him, and under a different trainer had improved wonderfully. He won handsomely, beating Norton, who had backed his mare, Lachlan, badly. I was glad to beat the bounder, I can assure you." "What have you done with him?" asked Ike. "Brought him up with you." "No; he's in his old quarters at Rosehill yet. I brought a couple of horses with me, though, Glenthorn and Raglan—two youngsters that I think will pay their way. I left them with Jimmy Davis. You've given him Sunlocks, I see, and, by Jove, he looks well. Jimmy says he's going' to win the Brisbane Cup. Do you think he's good enough for that, Alf?" "Of course he is," said Alf, "and for better than that." The young squatter shook his head and laughed. "Let us hope so," he said. "I'd like to have Striker in it, then we'd see something." "They might meet before long," declared Alick. "If Sunlocks shows good enough form at" Brisbane, he'll go south all right." "Good lad," cried Hudson, then he sighed again. "Yes," he said; "I was sorry to leave Sydney. It's a glorious place." "And the women are glorious," ventured Ike. "Some say that a Sydney girl had something to do with your long stay there, sir." "Wonderful how news travels," muttered Stanley Hudson, but the suggestion did not displease him. "Well, I'm not ashamed to own up. The loveliest and best little girl in the world! I must tell you boys about ber." "As bad as that, sir?" laughed Alick. "By all means let us hear about the charmer." "It's no joking matter for me," said Hudson, rather gloomily. "I know you fellows will sympathise with me; perhaps you've been disappointed in the same fashion yourselves. I was never more serious in my life than when I asked Enid King to marry me." "Enid King!" the words came involuntarily from Wallace. "You know her?" Hudson exclaimed in surprise. "No," stammered Alick. "Oh, not, not at all." Hudson eyed curiously, but Alick, the first surprise over, controlled himself perfectly. "Yes, asked her to be my wife," went on Hudson. "I had loved her from our first meeting, and I thought she was beginning to return my love, but she refused me with very little hope of a different answer some other time; but she is only a girl yet and I mean to try my luck again." "What's the objection?" asked Ike. "Surely a girl would be glad to jump at such a catch as a rich young squatter like yourself." "Do you think so, Ned?" smiled Stan. "Well, this particular girl is not so easy to capture. She has sufficient of the world's goods'herself, so that consideration did not have great weight, and, moreover, she has had already an unhappy love affair, which she has not got over yet. She told me the whole story. I see no harm in telling you fellows, as it is no secret." Letting their horses slow down to an easy walk, Alick and Ike listened to their companion's story, a story that they already knew much better than himself. "Of course, I did not know the story when I fell in love with her, but she soon told me all, and gave me no hope. She fancies herself in love with Wallace yet. Likes to think that he was not as bad as he was painted, and all that sort of thing. Talks of remaining single, but that's nonsense; she'll get over it in time. I'm not going to give up hope. I'll have to wait, that's all. I'll get her, sure enough. It won't be long before I'm back in Sydney, and then I hope my luck in love will be better. Come on, boys, lets shake it up a bit. I'm anxious to sight home once more." Letting their horses go, they were soon galloping briskly through the bush, Alick well in the lead, clearing all obstacles recklessly. As he watched him careering madly along, a thought flashed through the young squatter's

mind that almost caused him to reel in tho saddle. There was a man who had always been a mystery. He came from Sydney. He was a footballer. He showed agitation at the name of Enid King. What if he was the supposed drowned Alick Wallace? The more he dwelt on the idea, the more he became convinced that it was so. What should he do? That was a question he could not answer off-hand. Surely if Alf Wharton was really Alick Wallace, having heard his confession of love for Enid, he would make some move to set things in order. The man's secret would be safe with him. If Enid believed in him the man could not be very bad. He would wait awhile for the other to make the first move. If he did not do so, then he must act, for was not Enid's happiness at stake?

CHArTER XXI. Milton Peachey Makes a Discovery The defeat of Lachlan had been a hard knock for Dudley Norton. But for his share of the last opium haul he would have found it difficult to settle his betting transactions. Jimmy Lee had carried through his scheme to a successful conclusion, and had disposed of the opium profitably. The episode, like many another, was in a fair way to be forgotten. The identity of the "Lilac" had not been established, and though Constable Bundle had not given up yet, he was making no progress towards the capture of the smugglers. Fuming and cursing, Norton had blamed his trainer for his defeat. He should have known the strength of Striker. The row ended by the withdrawal of Norton's horses from Pratt's stable. That supposedly clever trainer was not very pleased, but was not really sorry to lose the patronage of a man like Norton, whose name was not regarded very highly by late of the racing authorities. Against Stanley Hudson Norton vowed vengeance. He had beaten him on this occasion, but never again; he would make sure of that. The young fool aspired to the hand of Enid King. He might as well give up that idea, for he swore that Hudson should never get the girl, although to outsiders it appeared as If an understanding had been come to between them. Norton was not greatly troubled by what he heard about the young people. He was not ready jet, but when the time came he would assert himself to some purpose. He had still an ally in King's house. One who was in mortal terror of him, and would do his bidding. She would assist him to regain his place in King's household, and make Enid his wife. That desirable end reached, nothing else would matter. Lena King had always been on the side of Dudley Norton, ready to force her niece into his arms. And though she had long since had her eyes opened to his true character, and, bitterly though she repented having championed his cause, his power over her had increased. For a time she stayed away from Sydney, wishing to be as far as possible from his influence, but lately she had ventured to return to "Mooubi."

With the young Queenslander, now such a constant visitor at "Moonbi," she was more than charmed. She watched with pleasure his friendship with Enid deepening into something more serious, and hoped that Norton would go his own way now and leave them all in peace. It was not to be, however, Stanley Hudson, being no laggard in love, had, without delay, asked Enid to be his wife, and that —to Lena—most peculiar girPhad refused him. Hudson went his way sadly back to the north, vowing that he would return and try again, and matters at ''Moonbi" resumed, for a time, their normal condition. One day a letter arrived for Aunt Lena; a letter at the very sight of which the poor lady shuddered, for it was addressed in the well-known writing of Dudley Norton.

Retiring to the solitude of a distant seat in the grounds of "Moonbi," she sat toying with the unwelcome missive, dreading the ordeal of opening it. To destroy it unread she did not dare. At last she managed to gather sufficient courage to open the envelope. As she ran her penknife tremblingly along the top, a shadow fell across her and she looked up to encounter the smiling face of Milton Peachey.

Bowing politely, Peachey requested the pleasure of a few moments' conversation.

Miss King was in no humor for a tete-a-tete with one of the male species, however ready she might be at a more opportune time. Still she did not resent the intrusion for it would delay the reading of Norton's letter.

Crushing the note in her hand, she motioned the detective to sit beside her, wondering what he could want with her. With another bow Peachey seated himself, still smiling pleasantly.

"Just an important little matter, Miss King," he said reassuringly. "1 would like a few minutes' chat, if you can spare the time." "Certainly, Mr. Peachey," faltered Lena. "I am at your service. I have plenty of idle time on my hands; what can I do for you?" (To be Continued.)