" Only for the Brave !"

Evening Post, Volume LXXXVI, Issue 53, 30 August 1913, Page 10

" Only for the Brave !"

> By W. H. OGILVIE. [L'l Rights Reserved.]

Betty Windred, young, impressionabfe, fondly hearted, was making her first acquaintance With Iho Australian Bush. "Only that morning she bad concluded the long journey from Sydney in company with her cousin and schoolfellow, JVlilly Bryan, and now she sat for the first time on * station verandah, in the .comfortable home of the Bryang, looking ►Out upon the weird shadow of the bush, listening to the crook of the bull-frogs S*n the lagoon, and the strange cry of a dughfc bird by the riverDinner was over, and the long veran-dah-chairs were drawn up cosily together. The men were smoking lazily, ' «Jd Mr. Bryan half asleep behind hw -.•meerschaum pipe; Archie Bryan puffing •dreamily at * cigarette, and Hartington, ttthe book-keeper, palling furiously at a silver-mounted briar. Mrs. 'Bryan, white-haired and motherly, had Mtlrawn her lounge close to that of Betty, mod was lying with her hand clasped !>«ver the girl's, and Milly, with feet against the creeper-covered '-jvire-rietting, seemed already asleep. No one spoke. It was sufficient entgoyment evidently to Ke at ease and f jevel in the coolness that had followed 3ttie glare and heat and dust of the long day. . .' Suddenly, Archie sftt up, listening. ( "A horseman," he said. His trained fcear had caught the far-off drum of hoofs /xjupon the baked ground. His mother ''moved a little in her chair. "I hope it is*no one travelling, and Jfiniending to stay the night here, for Ndinner is cleared away, and I'm sure itwe finished every bit of that tart, didn't hire, Milly?" , Milly yawned lazily. "It's probably one of the boundary Hfriders come in about something,, mother." The hoofs came nearer and nearer. < F ttTie horse-paddock gate clicked as the j lifted the latch, and a minute ! Water a cheery voice hailed from the .garden fence: "Anybody there?" "Huli^oa!" was the cheery answer, in a mix(ture of male and female voices. "Who is it?" asked Milly, in a whisjpef, of her brother. , "Bob Barfclett, I think. That you, fMobi Right! I'll come and show you 1 {where to put your horse. Mother, you'd tfcefcter fake up the remains of that peach tfjtatfc." And Archie strode down to meet i&ifl friend. "Who is he?" asked Betty,, aa the jgiris busied themselves in getting together some sort of a meal for their 'guest, and tossing fresh towels in the ijbathroom. "Bob Bartlett? Did I never tell you -about him? Well, he is the greatest «LMger in the world Don't laugh, Betty, .1* is perfectly true. I .believe he was coffered fabulous sums to go on the stage jattd sing in grand opera. He would not ■,~40 it. He lives alone on his station, £10arda Plains, twenty miles from here - jop the river. Unfortunately he drinks, - jforeftks out for days at a time, and is 'Absolutely impossible to meet at those periods. At other times he- is one of *he most delightful and , charming of i men, a. prince of good fellows. But you'll teee him for youiself ; he will stay here *4o»m'ght. ' There, he can't expect a bet- " *er dinner than that when he arrives at **ach an dnearthly hour!*' A spurred foot rang on. the verandah, land the girls scuttled back to their chairs in the shadow, while Archie piloted the j 1 guest to the bathroom, and, later on, i <«at wiih him while he ate a hearty meal j '^iri. the manner of a m*n who has ridden A&il d*y and has tasted nothing since daybreak. Soon the young 1 man, came out on to •the verandah, and Archie introduced his • igttest to his cousin. Betty,, strangely , *Fate#eeted in what she had heard of this ; *mau, rose and shook hands with him, jggtincing with admiration at the tall, 'i^well-toait figure and handsome face seen 4iknly in the shadows. - Bfitttlett drew » chair up -keeide her "tegd sat down, talking to her of the bash -•aid of-Sydneyi of London and the wider ■$S*r#,:fsterifl«ting her with his knowledge of men ana his wide outlook oil. art and literature. Music he never mentkffled. In less than half an hour a subtle sympathy, seemed to have been «st*bliabed between them— these two iwho had scarcely in the dim light seen each other's faces. She glanced at the handsome profile, and noted even now the lines that dissipation and perhaps remorse had drawn upon his forehead. He noted the willowy beauty of her .figure, the clean-cut ankle, the subdued laughter in her young voice, and became unknowingly her captive in the dark. Presently a move was made to the drawing room, and each took the first opportunity of carefully scanning tho tfeatui^*. of the other, and neither was disappointed. Bartlett saw a young iwoman, tallj willowy, fair, in the first -flash of glorious womanhood. Betty saw a man o? thirty-five or thereabouts, tall, sunburned, broad of shoulder, carrying in his greyish hair and lined yet handsome _ face, the unmistakable signs of fcwtt living and reckless disregard of self. Hi« eyes met Ws for a moment, and immediately he knew that Milly had told iris story. After some desultory conversation eomeorie asked Bartlett to sing. He went Id the piano at once, where Milly Bryan -was idly turning over her music. ► "What's it to be?" asked the guest .pleasantly. And then, without waiting 'tor an answer, he lifted the song which Jay on. the top of the heap, and which happened to be "Oft in the Stilly j ■Night," and set it up on the music- | holder.. A chord or two, and then the glorious voice rang out, such a voice as - Betty Windred had never heard in her hie; AtxA might never hear again. Thie man, who had been bribed with fabulous sums to sing to the Courts of Europe, gave of his best to the little ■family circle in which he found himself. The others had heard him many times before, but to Betty Windred the magnificent volume and sweetness of the «lvery tenor voice was a revelation and • delight greater than any she had ever experienced in life before. Spellbound^ she leaned and listened. Once, throwing back his head in the *bandon of his glorious jjower, he let his eyes rest upon this dainty girl who interested him strangely; and she, meeting his glance, read a passion that was partly born of the music, and was partly the soul of the man. Yet when he had finished and had returned to his seat beside her, she had ■nothing more to say than the conventional phrase of thanks which was being murmured around her, and which is the reward of the poorest singer ao it is of the best. With the boldness of youth. Archie Brytti followed with a rollicking bush «ong, and hi» fine robust bass might have been satisfying at any other time, but now the contrast was too evident, and 'Betty involuntarily shivered. A minute ego the room had been ringing with music and now it was merely filled with eound. Soon after the patty broke vp, ."How do you like Bob Bartlett's singing? " asked' Milly, as the girls sat foru&hing their hair in Betty's room. '^Ifr'fl » thousand pities that man drinks tu> he docs, isn't it? They say his voice is vtilj a. ,«badow of what it once was, .•even, now" , ', Betty did not answer, and MiUy Ranted m her direction, ~ ~ '

"Why, Betty," she said, surprised, "you're crying !" » * * # # "Better stay and give us a hand to run in the three-year-olds this morning, Bob !" said Archie Bryan at breakfast on the following morning; "the girls a*e going with us. They're wild as hawks — the colts, 1 mean ! There will be lots of galloping. I'll lend you a stunning good horse." Rather to his surprise, Bartlett consented ; Bartlett, who was generally such a stickler for hurrying home to his work after a day or two away from his station. At eight o'clock they set off: Archie Bryan, Milly, Betty, a couple oi stockmen, and Bob Bartlett. The horses were wild, and led the little .party a merry dance among the sandhills, but at last they were cut off from their feeding-ground and started in towards the river, the riders following them at a ha.nd gallop. Bartlett rode at Betty's rein, curbing the impatience of Archie's beautiful racing mare with the easy hand of the consummate horseman. "Isn't this grand?" said the girl. "Oh, 1 wish I lived always in the Bußh." "You think our bushland grand to live in?" he asked, looking at her with admiring eyes. "For some people, yes!" she said, meeting his glance fearlessly. "It is a country for strong men. It is no place for weaklings or those who cannot stand temptation. It is a splendid country for the brave!" He looked at her keenly. "Loneliness is sometimes hard to fight," he said presently, with a note of sadness in his musical, cultured voice. "Good women are few and far between in the bush. Most men would make a i big effort to go straight for the sake of a good woman." There was trouble in Betty's kind blue eyes. The mob had steadied down, ' and she and Bartlett were riding close | together at a foot-pace, with the others • some distance away. ' | "What have women to do with it?" she' asked. "A man has his own life to live, his own destiny to shape, his own rewards." | "There is no regard worth fighting for but the love of a true good woman, said the man slowly, as though impelled to the words by some power outside of himself, and fixing his fine eyes j upon the girl's beautiful face. | "Then if I were a man and afraid of myself, I would fight for it!" said I Betty, and touching her horse with her riding-switch she cantered on. A week latei the Barrington racemeeting took place, and the Bryans drove down and picnicked on the ground, both Archie and the book-keep-er having entered horseß which they were to ride themselves. Betty Windred, used to the well ordered lawnß and stands of Randwick and Flemington, scanned with interest and some amusement the primitive surroundings in which she now found hei- • self. A shed made of rough boughs sheltered some of the horses, another served as weighing and dressing-room, and still another as refreshment-bar. There Was no grand stand, no tea-room, j no paddock. The station people who j patronised the, meeting drew up their four-in-hand brakeß in shady spots near the course, tied up their horses to shrubs or trees, and picnicked gaily and irI responsibly on the grass. Racehorses stood about under trees | or were led up and down in the aun. i All was bustle and colour and movement, and the Sydney girl surveyed it all with interested, happy eyes. Old Mr. Byran drew her aside just in time to clear the leaders of a team which Was creeping on them with noiseless wheels upon the grass, and only a faint ! tinkle of harness to announce its approach. Betty looked up and saw that the driver was Bob Bartlett, of Gatda, and that there were two othei young men on the coach. Bartlett # saw her at once, and, shifting his reins into one hand, took off his cabbage-tree hat with a regal sweep. Archie won the first race and was jubilant. He also rode a friend's horse later on and was again successful, and th» girls rejoiced with him in his victories and picnicked happily in the shade of their coach, while many of the young people from the neighbouring stations came over to congratulate Archie and to be introduced to his pretty cousin. "I've never seen Mr. Bartlett since he first came on to the ground," said Betty to Stilly as they sat talking together in an interval between the races, "You are not likely to see him, Betty, my child,"- said her cousin. "Race days are generally chosen by him as the .days to 'play up,' and he never conies near us. He prefers to go drinking -with the young TOwnsends and that wild lot. Oh, it's such a pity, Betty ! That splendid fellow, to be knocking about with ignorant louts not fit to black his boots! How I wish he would marry or fall in love or somethingjust something that would keep him straight 1" Betty's lips quivered, and her blue eyes grew moist. She turned away and became suddenly interested in a man saddling a big chestnut horse not far from her. * A little later, she went with Archie to feed Tambourine, hie beautiful little race-mare, with cake and sugar. As i they were returning to the coach, they passed the fringe of a little crowd of I bushmen who were laughing and nudging j one another while straining to look over j each other's shoulders at some perform ance which was taking place within the circle which they formed. As Betty and Archie passed, the girl wae suddenly aware of a glorious voice that rang over the heads of the crowd, a voice majestic in power and sweetness— it was Bartlett, singing. At that moment the crowd parted a little, and the girl saw the man she had learned to' love standing on at upturned gin-case, flushed and untid}^ with his silk coat torn and his -collar loose, singing some reckless drinkingsong, now and then staggering on his narrow perch; and, almost faSing, recovering himself by an effort amid the ironical cheers of the loafers and drunkards who surrounded him. , Archie, muttering something under his breath, drew the girl quickly away, as soon as he had caught sight of the singer. But it was too late, Betty Witdred had seen wha.t she would have given ten years of her life to have escaped, and, trembling and unnerved, she leaned heavily on her cousin's arm. He noticed hsr agitation and mentally cursed the man who could thus wound her gentle, childish heart. Soon afterwards, Mr Bryan collected his party and drove them home to the station.' That night there was no rest or sleep foi Betty Windred. In her ears rang the music of that magnificent, throbbing, glorious voice. Before her eyes hovered the face of the handsome squatter, now calm in cultured repose, in kindliness and sympathy *, now flushed and lined and terrible in ribald recklessness. Hour after hour she tossed upon her bed, then, as the grey light of dawn came riding out of the east, she rose and went to her little writing-desk. Several sheets of note-paper she covered, and then tore across m nervous haste. At last thefo was one. which she did not r , Mb £ea4 and re-read and read

again, and then, with a- little sigh, half of relief and half of disappointment with her work, put it in an envolpe, which she addressed and sealed. Then she went back to bed, but not to sleep. In the late morning, she rose, heavyeyed and worn. The others were stocked at her appearance, and only Archie, who seemed to feel her arm still trembling against his own, guessed the cause of her sleepless night. Having given her letter to the mailman to carry up the river, she* pleaded a headache, and retired to her room. Up at Garda Flams, Bartlett, a little white and shaky as the result of his day of dissipation at the races, stepped out in his slippers to take the mailbag from the coach-driver. He returned to the dining-room and emptied out the "bag upon the table. A few business letters, the local paper, a bundle of illustrated papers from England, and — a note addressed in a woman's hand which h© did not recognise. He opened it, and read :— "Dear Mr. Bartlett, — I do not. know what you wjll think of me when you o^en and read this letter. I am only a girl, and I have known you onty a snort time. 1 suppose it is unconventional, wicked, immodest, for me to write to you like this. I saw you yesterday. I heard you singing to a crowd of bushmen. My heart simply bled for you. You are too brave and good and noble to live as you are doing. lam only a girl, and only a chance acquaintance, and I have no right to lecture you, but I ask you for your mother's sake, foi your manhood's sake, to promise me to be strong and fight your enemy. God haa given yon a glorious gift, and you are dragging it in the mire. Give me your word that you will go 'straight' from to-day on? "Your sincere friend, "Betty Windred." Baiilett's hand shook, and the lines 6f clear round writing danced up before him. "What does it matter to her?" was his first thought. Then he remembered her sweet, laughing, childish face. "For that woman I could give up everything," he said to himself. He laid down the letter, and hid his face in his hands. In a few minutes he got up and, going to hifi writing-table, took up pen and ink and wrote :—: — ''Dear Mies Windred,— l have your letter. You have every right to lecture me. „ I am grateful yom interest in me, and because you are interested, I will fight. The Bush, as you once said truly, is only for the brave. "Yours gratefully, "Robert Bartlett." This letter lie gave to a boundaryrider, and two hours later Betty Windred wa« reading it in her room, with tears that she could not suppress running down her cheeks. The cynic might have scoffed at this sudden change of front of a man confirmed in reckless habits, but to the girl of simple faith and trust, the simply worded promise was sufficient. And for a time it seemed that Robert Bartlett was as good as his word. For many weeks he eschewed his old companions, stuck steadily to work, and called often at Bryan's station, where he was a welcome guest, and where much, of his time was spent in Betty's company. At last, in the cool of the vine-clad verandah, he told her of his love, how* he, who had lived 60 long alone, could live no' longer unless this girl would come and share hi* home , and Betty, ha-ppier than ever before 'in her short, eunny life, gave him her promise on condition that for one more year he kept straight, and lived as he then was living. And Bartlett, sealing his promise with a kiss, renewed his pledges to the girl he loved. Then there came a night at Garda Plains when all the forces of his old enemy were drawn up against him. In spit© of himself, Some power impelled him to return to the path "which he had so long avoided. He had long since banished all drink from his house, and to-night he felt irresistible need of it. It was a clear moonlight night, but tbo peace of the sleeping Bush brought only restlessness and recklessness to his soul. He saddled his horse, and, mounting, rode half-way^ to Barrington township before the vuriofi of his betrothed rose appealingly before him. Contrite and ashamed, he turned off the road and through the grey moonlit paddocks, determining to ride home and stifle hie craving for drink. Almost unconsciously he turned, and found himself once more upon the main road, with the lights of the township gleaming through the myall trees in front of him. Impelled by some power, he rode slowly on. The lighted verandah of the nearest hotel was full of people. Am old boon-companion called to him, and the bushmen took up the cry : "Come on, Bartlett ! Come on, Bob!" Slowly he rode into the yard, and tied up hi& horse. The white roofs of the township, quiveTed and shimmered in the sunlight Up the broad red street betwen the pepper trees came a buggy covered witb dust. In it were seated *>ld Mr. Bryan and his niece. Betty's happy, shining eyes waaidered aimlessly towards the verandahs that flanked the road. Suddenly she drew herself up with a little cry, for there, close at hand, 6tood Robert Bartlett, her betrothed — Bartlett, thy great singer, with a flagon of beer in his hand —•Bartlett, the man she loved better than her life, flushed, dishevelled, muttering incoherent word's of blasphemy as the buggy wheels covered him in drifting dust. He looked up and saw her, and the goblet fell iroin hie phaking hand. With a fixed jaw and staring eyes he gazed after the woman he loved, the woman who held his promise. That night the Bush township rang with terrible news. Bartlett, the owner of Garda Plains, had been found in his room in the Royal Hotel wifch a revolver in his hand, shot through the forehead ; and almost at the same hour Betty Windred read a aote handed her by a bushman on a foaffi'Covered horse : "Good-bye. Remember me kindly. The Bush is ouly for the brave.— R.B. 1 '