“The Sundowner”

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume XIII, Issue 285, 17 November 1923, Page 10

“The Sundowner”

co:mplete short story.

By

Dorothy Goodfellow.)

IT WAS HOT, with all the blazing, sizzling heas of the Australian mid-sum-mer. but, as one urged by the goad of some strong purpose, the old man trudged on and on along the sun-scorched road. A chain away from him on either side stretched the bush — a dense lor e s growth, where the fluttertering. sun-splashed foliage dipped down over a green translucence of shade, over dim glades, and deep blueshadowed recesses, when* only the filmiest of flicker - ings gleamed on cool mists of fern and the pale, smooth columns of the gums. Tempting as was that shade to his glare-blinded eves, tantalising as was that spicy aromatic breath of busli to his dust-filled nostrils, the old man kept sturdily on. Endlessly the road unwound before him, endlessly his feet rose and fell between its dust-brim-med ruts; on and on he plodded, with no human presence but his own upon the interminable trail. A rock wallaby hopped to the edge of the road and stood in tremulous hesitancy; a brown mottled snake slithered across his path; a wattle bird called from some unseen retreat, and locusts

droned from the rough-barked tree No other signs of life were there.

Yet, as if fearful of some surprise, the ancient’s eyes uoved ever from side to side, probing the long bush vistas, searching each tangle of growth, swerving quickly, yet covertly, in the direction of each sound. They • were eyes that told of a spirit which ' had withstood the sapping of old age; they were keen and alert and youthful, so youthful as to seem incongruous set ; under that thatch of tousled white ' hair. But they were in keeping with the hale and hearty appearance of the old man. Evidently a bushman. one < whose days had been spent between wide blue horizons, whose nights j < beneath star-sown tents of the skies, i he had into old age the , husky vigour of outdoor life. He walked briskly, his rolled-up 1 swag across his shoulders, his battered , slouch hat pulled far down to shade his eyes from the glare; his grey ; flannel shirt bloused out loosely over the top of his moleskin trousers. A smoke-blackened billy, the invariable accompaniment of the man out-back, swung from his hand, but he had long since drained its contents. In spite of the glare and sweat and heat of the day, the old man’s thoughts" evidently did not travel the monotony that his feet trod. Now and again his lips moved in broken snatches of soliloquy. “I’ll get him! I’ll get him!” he brok,e out in audible tones, and smacked his hand in resounding emphasis upon his thigh. Then, as suddenly, he veered round and looked about him, as if afraid that his words had been overheard. His scrutiny satisfied him. he turned and plodded on again, on and on until the sun, descending to the level of the trees threw spindly shadows across the ■ road; on and wearily on, until. . through the thinning trees, the far-' flung golds and ambers of the sunset • could be seen burning low in the west. He came out through the dwindling! bush growths upon the margin of a j grassy plain, and found before him the substantial buildings of a homestead— i a house of stone, flanked by the men’s | quarters and the stables. Behind the i big earth-banked dam. at some dist- : mice from the house, stood the long line of shearing-sheds. And beyond • them lay the homestead paddocks, separated from one another by post-j and-rail fences—deep-grassed stretches i rolling away to the far horizon, their ■ level monotony broken only by the straggly shadows of isolated groups of gumtrees. There was a cheerful babble of life about the place, deep tones of masculine voices, clatter of horses’ hoofs, the clucking of hens, and the lowing of a cow. The noise was pleasant to i the ears of the sundowner, who in all , his day-long tramp had come across on i other habitation. His exertions in the heat had apparently exhausted him. for, as he turned into the homestead gate, his brisk step had become a weary slouch and his stooping shoul-

ders bore the full burden of his years. He paused at the rear of the house J and spoke to a station hand, who .J' to a stocky, ruddy-faced man I t at the other end of the yard—the 1 owner of the station. *r “There’s McLellan himself,” he ||_ said. As the old man dragged across the yard, the man who had directed him turned to one of his mates. c “The old .chap seems dead beat. J Wonder where he comes from? We 1 don’t get many sundowners on this T road.” ' • • » » It was the noon half-hour, sacred to c the soothing influences of the pipe, and ' the station hands, rouseabouts, and 1 stockmen, •boundary-riders (who had come in from their distant huts to the ] station for rations), drovers (who 1 waited to take on the flock of sheep ; that now bleated in one of the home 1 paddocks), all lounged into the shade { of the stableyard for a smoke and a yarn. Men typical of the Australian ’ bush they were, lean, muscular figures, 1 with every ounce of superfluous flesh worn away by ceaseless activity, their sun-bronzed faces wearing the frank open look of men who think straight 1 and act upon thought, for the bush brooks no subterfuges or evasions. As they slouched at ease, hats tipped rakishly upon the back of their heads, or set carelessly askew, skirts open at brawny thoats, and sagging loosely about lean waists, moleskins belted firmly about lank loins, there was about them an air of leonine laziness. Beyond their lounging figures, through the open doors of the box stalls, could be glimpsed the shining flanks and whisking tails of the homestead horses. As the men settled at their ease, an old man. bearing an armful of stove wood, disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, and, reappearing, crossed once more to the woodheap. “Who’s he?’’ drawled one of the boundary-riders. who sprawled in spreadeagle attitude on the old chop-ping-block. “New. ain’t hea? Queerlooking customer,” he added, doubtfully, trying to peer under the wide brim of the slouch hat that shaded the ancient’s face, and being rewarded only hy the sight of straggly locks of white hair and the rusty stubble covering the lower part of the man’s face. “Looks like Daddy Christmas,” broke in a drover. “Where’s he come from?” “Don’t know,” answered a station hand with characteristic brevity. He paused to pack the tobacco more closely in the bowl of his pipe, and puffed a moment before he explained. “He blew in here one night all tuckered out—had hoofed it all day. Asked the boss for a job and got it. It’s all I know. He don’t talk any.” “Rum old cuss,” offered another of the homestand hands. “Hangs round by himself all the time—dosses alone in that old hut by the shearing-shed. Bit touched. I think. Look at him now with that old hat of his rammed down over his face. No one ever sees him without it—he sleeps in it, I reckon.”

The men sucked at their pipes in silence, and the ancient crossed to the stable, and was swallowed up in the shadows. Then the boundary-rider began again. “Didn’t think the boss’d take a stranger on these times,” he said, aggrievedly; “not since that chap they took at Euroa turned out to be hand-in with the bushrangers, and helped the gang to hold up the homestead. It ain’t safe to have strangers about these times —not by a long shot.” “What’s biting you, Craig?” rallied one of the men. “D’yer bushrangers sprout on every stump? The old chap's harmless. He brought a letter to the boss from Trooper Hamilton. Trooper said he’d known the old buffer since he was a babe with his first beer bottle or something o’ the sort.” “Oh, he’s all right if Hamilton sent him,” conceded the boundary-rider, tipping back the block on which he sat in order to prop his long legs comfortably upon the kerosene case before him. He relapsed into the usual taciturnity of the Australian bushman. For a while the assembly smoked in luxurious silence. “Where’s Hamilton now?” asked a drover, suddenly awakening from his smoke-hazed reverie. “I. ain’t heard of him for a long spell—not since he rounded up Lee and his gang in Long Gully. What’s he doing now? “I heard he gone north after Lee,” volunteered a rouseabout. “They didn’t get all the gang that time. Lee and one of his men got away. Hamilton followed their trail until his horse gave out.” There was a general stir of indignation among the men. “It’s a darn ; shame what poor mokes the GovernIment gives the police,” one of the men expressed the sentiments of all. “No : wonder the bush-iangers get away with it; they’ve good horses and the I troopers haven’t. Stands to reason the f troopers get left.” The speaker re- ■ moved the pipe from his mouth to I give better play to his indignation, j “It’s a shame, I say. The GovernI ment ought to give the troopers horses ■ like the Thunderer there ” | A howl of derision greeted this statei ment. “ Where’d they get horses like him?” hooted the station hands. ; “There isn’t his like iq the State.” Their eyes followed the great thoroughj bred, which, led by the old man, paced slowly from the stable. “Ain’t he the horse, though? spoke one in eager admiration, The superb animal, as if conscious of their admiring glances, paced ; proudly on, his muscles rippling evenly. : under his tawny satin coat, every line 'of his supple body and beautifully ’ shaped head speaking his breeding, promising spirit and endurance and speed.

‘ ‘Like the wind when he gets going; 1 there’s not another horse in'the place that can keep his heels once he starts,” said the men proudly. The horse was the pride of all their horseworshipping hearts. They boasted of him at every’ gathering of bushmen and in every shearing-shed west of the Divide. “Speed and staying power he’s got ’em both. The best blooded horse in the State,” they affirmed. “Will you look at him?” began a drover as the horse drew level with the ancient, and playfully nuzzled his head against the old man’s arm. “I thought the Thunderer was stand off with strangers?” “Not with old Ben. The old fellow can do what he likes with him or any of them.. He’s no new chum among horses.” The speaker leaning back, puffed a ring of smoke into the air to the delight of one of the station children, a chubby, small boy, who had drawn close to watch a performance often given for his amusement. “Get your hat. sonny,” called one of the men, seeing the child advance bareheaded in the blazing sun. “Ah! Here’s Miss Anne.” The children’s governess, a pretty, bright-faced girl, came out to the end of the verandah, and looked about for the little fellow. The boy, foreseeing an enforced midday nap in the dull indoors, hated of his small soul, dodged with all the speed of his plump short legs for the shelter of the stable. But a hand caught him by the slack of his small garments, and old Ben carried him wriggling and kicking and protesting to the verandah, and delivered him into the hands of Miss Anne. As she turned away with the reluctant small truant, the old man’s eyes followed,her. The men. watching through the haze of tobacco smoke, saw that look. “He’s got an eye for a pretty face, old as he is.” laughed due. “You bet,” answered another. “He’s all there with the women. He carries the water for Mary, and the morning wood for cook, and keeps his spare eye on the kids for Miss Anne. Ijle’s quite sweet on her. They watched the old man as he crossed to fill the watertrough afresh for the Thunderer, who was sniffing daintily at the edge of it. “Now, if Lee the bushranger, had a horse like that he could show his ; heels to all the troopers in the State,” one of the men reflected aloud. “The wonder to me is he never tries to get j hold of him.” “Much chance he’d have.” scoffed i one of the station hands. “What’d we j lie doing while he made off with the ■ Thunderer? Him—not much! He I knows better.” There was a straighten- • ing up of husky figures and a sug--1 gestive fingering of whipcord muscles . that emphasised the words. “But you’re not always on the spot.” ’ contended the drover. “And Lee wants f I a horse, too. His Star, that he was 1 ' so proud of. got shot under him in a the last fight. It’d be Lee’s way tc • make for the best horse in the dis--1 i triet. You mark my words! He’ll trj I ' to get the Thunderer one of these s days.” I ' “If Hamilton doesn’t get him first [ That trooper is a real smart chap.”

While the men talked old Ben led the Thunderer back into his stall, tinkered about the stables for a bit, and then disappeared behind them in the direction of his hut. There was a general stirring then among the smokers, as they prepaired to move off io the work of the afternoon, a yawning and a stretching, a knocking out of pipe ashes, a hitching up of moleskins. “I wish Lee would come,” said one of the younger men. “I’d like some excitement. I’m spoiling for a scrap “Hands up!” Like the crack of a . whip, a voice sounded on the very heels of his words. “Eh—what?” ho stammered, and stood with mouth opening, staring in Judicious amazement. There came a laugh from the other men. The command, following so quickly upon those words of bravado seemed some practical joke. They looked up, expecting to find in that figure that had so suddenly stepped into view one of their own numbers. One glance at the frowning, turgid face, and the distinctly business-like revolver levelled at them was sufficient. All hands jerked promptly upward. A sunray flashed across the face of the new-comer revealed a white, scar jagging sinisterly along the aggressive chin. “It’s Lee l/imself! Talk of the devil!” breathed a cautious voice. The eye of Lee, glowering beneath his heavy brows, searched those stark, startled faces. No one moved. The bushranger had the reputation of shooting easily, and shooting to kill. All the men were unarmed. There came a commotion from the kitchen, and. dumfounded. the men saw the house-folks, McLellan and his wife, the cook and the maids, being marshalled out into the yard by another armed bushranger, “The storeroom.” Lee rapped out without turning his eyes, and the house group was herded along to the isolated stone building where the station stores were kept. At a command, snarled from Lee’s lips, the men rose and sheepishly slouched after the other party. That deadly-looking revolver was an argument that easily discountenanced any foolhardy attempt at disobedience. With groans of disgust at their own helplessness, they followed the women into the storeroom—a long, low room, with solidly-built air-gratings instead of windows. As the last man entered, the heavy door slammed to, and the key turned in the lock. Frightened women and astounded men looked at each other. The whole happening was incredible. “How long have we to stop here?” wailed an hysterical maid, while the men swore quietly but fluently. By the time they found a way out, Lee would be far away with the Thunderer. Outside Lee looked at his mate in triumph “That was easy,” he asserted. “Did you get all in the house?” “Got ’em all.” boasted the other. “They’ll Ik? safe there for a while,” Lee nodded towards the storeroom. “Better take the key. They can find their way out after we’ve gone. Now . you watch and I’ll get the horses. ; He walked to the stable door, and f there stood, searching the dimnes.s - inside before he entered. He found : the Thunderer standing saddled in readiness for his owner, McLellan. Leo untied the halter and pulled at the • thoroughbred’s head. The animal } followed him. but unwillingly, with . nervous tossing of his beautiful head, . his velvet nostrils sniffing as if in disgust. Evidently the horse disapproved of the man. but he suffered himself to ’ be led out and tied to the fenqe. “Go and pick yours,” ordered Lee, t and presently the other man led out ) a saddled horse, and tethered it near , the Thunderer. 3 “We’d better scatter the others, 3 hadn’t we?” he asked, and Lee nodded . assent, already on his way to the- > stable. Horse after horse he led out until the stables were empty. “Come and help,” he called to his i mate, and leaving the two animals they had selected tied to the fence, they drove the others through an opened a gate, and with a yell, a vigorous waving of hats and a furious clatter, > sent the startled horses careering to the opposite side of the paddock. j “What are you doing?” asked an indignant voice behind them. “The sliprails are down; the horses will get 3 out to the road. See there they go now.”

Miss Anne stood behind the two men. Coming straight out from the side bed room, one shut off from the noises of the house, where she had watched beside the small boy until he fell asleep, she had as yet no understanding of the situation. The absence of the station hands meant nothing to her. They had. she thought, dispersed for the afternoon’s work. But she was angry at the carelessness of these two whom she supposed to be two of the drovers unknown to her. But at the sound of her voice the bushrangers wheeled abruptly, hands whipping to the revolvers in their belts; and, at that, the young mouth stripped itself of anger and grew pale. The man with Lee, recovering from the start she had given him, looked admiringly at the pretty face before him. Upon his own face was a smile of insolent gallantry, and as suddenly as it had come the pallor of fear left Miss Anne’s cheeks. They flamed with fury at the impudence of the man’s gaze. “Who?” she began., “Stand over there and shut your mouth,” snarled Lee roughly, pointing to the store room wall. “Shall I lock her in?” asked the other, still gazing with insolent admiration at the furiously flushed face of the girl. “No,” jerked Lee impatiently. “Come on—let’s get away.” He moved towards the horses. But the other man turned to Miss Anne, and thrust his face close to the girlish one. “How about a kiss for good-bye.” he said, and bent forward. But Miss Anne had a spirit of her own. She struck out at the impudent face with furious clenched fists. “Don’t you dare,” she flamed. “Come on—quit fooling.” bawled Lee from the side of the Thunderer, where he stood, one foot in the stirrup, his body poised for the leap into the saddle. For a breath the Tableau remained—the long, cobbled yard, with the doors of the empty stables swinging open upon it—the great thoroughbred, with its nostrils showing red—one man in the act of springing into the saddle—the other trying to get past the guard of the girl’s fiercely protesting fists. Then precipitously into the picture stepped another figure.

“Hands up!” rang out a peremptory voice, and on the very echo of it there cam© a clatter, an oath, a thud. The amorous bushranger spun round from the sight of the warm red lips of Miss Anne and looked straight into the cold, threatening mouth of a revolver. For the merest fraction of a second he contemplated the possibility of wrenching the weapon from the hand that held it. But there was a steellike glint in the eyes of the aged one who held it that forbade any rashness. Up whipped the hands of the bushranger, and his eyes roved desperately in search of Lee. But Lee lay in an inert huddle upon the cobblestones, with th© Thunderer still rearing above him. The horse had swerved unexpectedly as he sprang for the saddle, and before he could regain his balance had reared up straight into the air, spilling him ingominiously to the ground. A glancing blow from those down-thudding lioofs as he strove to rise had knocked him into unconsciousness. “Steady boy,” said a welLknown voice, and the horse, recognising it dropped down upon four logs, and stood with muscles still twitching. “Miss Anne,” said the old man, nevei taking his gaze from the two. the on© with hands upraised and the huddled, motionless figure beyond the first, “Take the revolvers from his beft. Don’t bo afraid.” “I’m not,” affirmed the girl, still keyed up by her anger. When thu bushranger had so suddenly released her she had been sent back reeling against the wall, and had leaned there breathlessly watching old Ben’s mastery of the situation. She walked forward now. stooped calmly, and lifted the firearms from the man’s belt. “Now pick up the key and opien the storeroom door.” commanded the old man, never taking his ©yes from the bushranger Anne did as she was bidden, and the prisoners trooped into the yard, amazement upon their faces. “Tie him Up.” came the dominant voice of the old man. It was done and then th© ancient moved to the prostrate figure of Lee. He bent over him .«rd- examintd (inn ‘He’s not dead—only stunned.

He’ll com© round presently,' ho announced. They trickled brandy between lice's lips, and he opened hia • yes, gazed blankly about him, and then staggered to his feet, bis eyes vindictively upon the Thunderer. “That damned horse queered me,” he said savagely. But strong arms urged him towards the storeroom, where already his mate was. and the heavy door closed on them both. “If you’ll lend me horses. McLellan, I’ll take them in at once,’’ the old man addressed the owner of the station. “Take them—where?” returned McLellan bewildoredly. The ancient laughed. “What,” he queried, “don’t you know me?” His hands went up. and off came the old stouch hat he wore, and then the thatch of white hair, revealing a close, cropped dark head. “Now,” he prompted, , evidently expecting recognition. McLellan still looked mystified, though those smiling, youthful eyes were certainly familiar. “I’ve stooped so long that it has become habit; I forget I’m doing it,” offered the old man. as he straightened hig bent shoulders, flinging off, like a cloak, his appearance of age. He turned directly towards McLellan, clicking his heels smartly as he did so. “Hamilton,” rasped out the astonished McLellan. “By thunder it : s Hamilton himself!” “Hamilton! Well I’ll be damned,” exploded a rouseabout. “I always said that white hair looked like a wig,” he added, triumphantly. “Hamilton!” whispered Miss Anne, a pink and vastly becoming blush in her cheeks. None but herself knew how often the alert handsome face of the trooper and the well-known trim figure in the natty uniform of the mounted police had figured in her day dreaming* — the beauchevalier of girlish romance Her face, glowing like a pink rose, she drew shyly back behind the portly figure of the cook. . No one noticed her blushes} all attention was focussed upon Hamilton. They all drew about him. questioning, exclaiming. “But the stubble on your chin, man,” said one. “it is white.” Hamilton put his hand to the rusty white growth. “I bleached it,” he explained. “Had to look the part.” “I thought Lee would try to get the Thunderer since he needed a horse, and it seemed worth while to take a chance on it,” he offered beneath the bombardment of questions. ' “I went north to put him off the scent—came back along the road—tramped it all the way in this get-up.” He waved the slouch hat and the white wig aloft with an air of almost boyish triumph. “But,” he went on, “I was nearly caught napping all the same. If the clatter of horses’ hoofs across the paddstk had not brought me round to see what was wrong, they’d have got away.” “Horses’ hoofs across the paddock,” echoed many voices, and for the first time the men noticed the open stable doors and the empty stalls. “The Thunderer will soon turn them back; they won’t go far,” said McLellan. “But you’ll have to wait. Hamilton. till the men round up the horses. I’ll go in to the township with you myself,” he went on. “You may need help with these two. disarmed though they are.” “Come into the house,” h© added, as the stablemen dispersed after the missing animals. “Thanks,” responded the trooper as his eyes caught sight of a face behind the cook. “I’ll make the acquaintance of a razor first, and get into my uniform—brought it with me folded in niv swag.” “It’s a wonder to me that none of us recognised you,” said McLellan later in tho day as he and Hamilton—th© trooper shaved and uniformed, and his own jaunty self again—left the house. “But, as you say, the fewer who knew your plans the less likely they were to go astray. Anyway you were Johnny-ou-the-Spot all right,” he went on gratefully. “But for you I’d have lost the Thunderer.” “The Thunderer had a say in it himself.” interrupted Hamilton. ‘ “And Miss Anne. too. Isn’t she the game little pugilist. though?” ho said teasingly, smiling at Miss Anne’s pink cheeks where she stood in th© doorway beside Mrs. McLellan watching them go. “Good-bye.” h© called. “I’ll be coming sundowning this way soon again.” His lips addressed Mrs. McIxdlan. but his eyes spoke to Miss Anno. THE END.

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