A LINDSAY O' THE DALE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 18609, 30 November 1907, Page 3 (Supplement)

A LINDSAY O' THE DALE.

BY A. G. HALES,

Author of " The Watcher on the Tower," " Driscoll, King of Scouts." " McGlusky,"

" Jair the Apostate." etc., etc.

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER XII. THE FLIGHT TO JAPAN.

The boundary rider gave a glad cry as soon as he recognised the two outlaws, for this rough fellow bad become devotedly attached to all thi'co of his comrades. "What brings you here?" demanded Davie. " We thought you were safe aboard ship with Bryan and the horses." "So I was," came the ready answer; " and we were waiting, for you two, when the captain of the .vessel got an inkling that the South Australian authorities were watching his ship rather more closely than he liked, and he refused to postpone his depart any longer. He said ho had 110 desire to sample tbo inside of an Australian r>v??on. ~ . "Br-yn -ould not got him to change his i-nd neither of us would leave the cui'.try without you. " * it my Timor pcuy-vr»are off the v*..;-i»' > l>ul Bsyi«a cculd not get bis blood mare; - !k. hat got;.* with the rest to California- " . ~ "So we' lost the horses, have we 7 queried Basil McAllister, a little angrily. " No; one of the ship's people paid Bryan a good price for the horses before the ship put off. I don't think I'd blame the caplain, if I were you. He had to go or be overhauled, and if they had overhauled him they would have found a lot of stolen gold and opals on board, besides one or two fellows who were taking French leave of the country. Our horses would have had to be accounted for, and we might have been recognised by the description that has been sent all over Australia. ' " What has become of my brother?" asked Davie. "Your brother is all right; he is hiding not far from here. I will take you to him. H«i has ell the money stowed away; it is quit" sale. We have lost nothing except ►he passage to California." The three men talked for a long, long f'/n". that night, and the boundary rider v . • quite grieved when he heard of the death of Tame Hawk, for ho as one of those men who soon learn to love a real good horso almost as much as they love a man. " Has my brother got a plan of any kind, do vou know?" queried Davie. "'Yes,' he has a plan; but I'm doubtful about it myself. He says that now you have all got into South Australia, the best | plan will be to push around to the northern [ coast, to a place sailed Wallaroo Bay."

" Why Wallaroo Bay? Has lie any reasons' for choosing that spot?" Well, he " told mo the skipper of the ship we.. were to have sailed on advised him to go there, because it is a place known to very few. It is used principally as a port where copper ore is : shipped from. There are some good copper mines close by, and every now and again a Japanese vessel puts in there and takes a cargo of cop per ore to Yokohama, one of the Japanese ports. Bryan's plan is very simple. - -Ho says that if there is no Jap. ship in the bay when we get there, we can all go and get work as copper miners until one does put in an appearance, then we can slip off quietly. But I know this, Davie, if "once Honeyball comes tinder the eyes of a police-officer he will be recognised in a moment, for there arc beautifully coloured pictures of him stuck up wherever you go. Vernon must have had an idea in his head at one time that you might try and sell the old horse in one of the cities. He had a lot of lithographs made from an oil painting that some racecourse artist had worked "off, and every police-station in Australia has a litho.- of Honeyball, and a whole lot of hotels as well. ' He's such a grand-looking old warrior that he'd give himself and us away in a moment. He can't even walk like an ordinary horsehe puts his hoofs down and, picks 'em up again as if his fetlocks were made of elastic.'

"He does show his quality, and that's a. fact," mused Davie; and * it's wonderful too, isn't it, in a horse of his age? Why, not ouo horso in a million could raise, a gallop with as many years on its back as old Honeyball carries, and yet ho is as full of life as a two-year-old." Tho nest day tho boundary rider took the two outlaws to join Bryan, and the meeting was a joyful one. After the first handgrips were over, Bryan said, in his stem way: —

" Brother Davie, everything you do you do like a-gentleman. The papers were Ml of your attack upon Vernon's camp, and I can tell you I was proud of the way yoil evened up matters with tho enemy of our house. It was dono in a way worthy of; our breeding; it is the way our ancestors settled their quarrels when they lived on the Scottish borders. You are worthy of your blood, Davie; no Lindsay o' the Dale ever did a finer thing." Now, I want to say here that only a very, few folk know that Vernon was not dead. The police had sent word oat that he was killed, when Davie shot him, because at the time they thought it was true. I wish to heaven it had been, for it would have saved much misery to me, and to those I love hod tho viuain died that day. As soon as Vernon rallied from his wounds, ho commanded mat the rumour of his death should not be contradicted. " Let them think me dead and dono with," said he; "then I may have a better chanco of getting even with them." His hate of tfR only grew with the years ; age did not cool it. We at home heard of Davie's doings, and thought Vernon was dead ; and Mary McAllister and I were looking forward eagerly to the time when we could slip off to America. Strangely enough, Kenneth did not appear to want to go across the sea, nor did mother; but she would not break her word to her boy. "A wull gang wi' ye, lassie," she would say. "But oh! ma heart is sair. A wad sooner dee, lassie, a wad sooner dee, an' bo laid by the side o' him a lo'ed. A canna gang awa an' leave him lying lone in the drear, wild bush. Ho woulana-leave me Iving lone, lassie. Ho wouldna leave me lone."

Mary and I comforted her with all the skill in our power, telling her that if she remained in Australia Davie would surely come from .over tho seas to her, and then he would most likely be caught or killed. So,-for Davie's sake, she consented { though when Mary and I wero packing our belongings, she would neither help nor.heed, but all day, and often at night, she would sit by father's grave under tho old gum-tree, crooning to herself, with her elbows on her knees, and her withered chin in the palms of her hands.

Kenneth was with her almost always; J the lad had grown moody. He would never sing for anyone but mother, and it used to ; make me shiver, to listen to him singing to 1 her, for he had made our family history into a kind of wild song, and he never tired of singing it to her, nor she of listening to it. When ho sang of the wild l rides ] of the bushrangers, ho sang in such a way that we who listened could almost hear the hoof-beats of the horses, and the wild cries of tho fighting men, and it made the blood run*., riot in our veins, for <ho had all the old Scots troubadours' gift of conveying sights by sound. When he sang of father's death, it seemed to us as if even the trees were moaning in sorrow, and tho tears would rain down our cheeks. But when he > sang of the shooting of Vernon, his voice used to vibrate with passion, and I used to wonder how one so young could hnte so terribly. He often sang the deeds of Davie and Basil' McAllister, but" it was of dark-eyed, sternfaced Bryan that, be loved best to chant; for in his boyish eyes Bryan was a demigod, just a he had been when Kenneth was only a baby., * Mary "and I made all sorts of plans for our future life in "America. Wo knew that we would have a long sea-voyage, because wo would have to go to England first, this being part of . Davie's plans to throw the police off the scent. We were to give out that we were going home to some relations, to end our days in peace. But after a little while we were to go to New York, and there an agent of Davie's would meet us and conduct us to the spot where wo were in reality intending to spend the rest of our lives. We only knew that this was ' place called Kentucky; Davie having decided that it would not be wise, or safe, for us to journey to California and meet those we loved, because we might be traced, as detectives were constantly going there from Australia to search for escaped convfcts» Wo were in quite a little fever of joyous excitement "over our plans, when an agent brought us word from Mr. Thompson that the party had not escaped from Australia. Kenneth was the only one who was not surprised. "I knew it!" he exclaimed in an eerie whisper; "1 knew it. And, what is more, I don't believe my brother Bryan will ever escape from Australia." Poor Mary McAllister began to sob as she listened to him with white cheeks: and I grew angry, for the lad puzzled me in those days. "Why do you say such things, Ken?" It is not manly to frighten women," I stormed.

He looked at. mc without* anger. " I don't .want to frighten you, or Mary, sister Kate," said he; "but I seem to know two things. One is that Vernon is not dead, tho other is that Bryan will die in tho bush."

At that saying I turned &» cold as a; stone, and I expect I was as white as Mary, for often of late mother had more than hinted that Kenneth bid the Scots gift of second sight; buf we had not paid much attention to mother's sayings, because it seemed to tie ihai her terrible troubles had driven her crazed to some extent. "Why do you tbhjk Ternon is alive?" I put the question in a. 'r t; ring voice, for fear was chokis*. n»n. He looked at me i; «, €,-caniy fashion, like one who was not quite awake. "Sister Kate," said he, "Vernon comes to mo when 1 am singir.g by father's grave. I have seen him there three or four times lately. He is worn with pain, his hair is vory white, and he stoops as he walks, and he has to use a stick to get about with." "Ken," X cf«=d, "you are fey." "I am not icy, sister Kate. I know what I am talKng about. Vernon is not dead ; we :.k;il see him again as sure as we stand together in this room. I only hope that I fret the chance to sec him before be does more mischief," added the laddie, in his quiet voice; bub I noticed that his hand was on the butt of a pistol he carried inside the front of his shirt, all the time he was speaking. After that, somehow, there always seemed to be a heavy load of dr<v>d upon "my heart, and I took no more joy in the ('hinge that used to please me. I was always expecting to hoar that our dear on had been captured: p.md what capture would mean for them I knew well. Bub they were not destined to fall into the hands of their uremics just then, if ever. They followed the plan laid down bv Bryan, making their way slowly, and with wonderful care, towards Wallaroo Bay. At last there came a time when they had to decide what should be done with Honeyball, for they all knew that it was like putting their necty. into- a noose to take the . horse to, the coast. It was -Davis who broached the matter one night

at camp. *' We Will be near the ; coast settlements in two'more days,"! said he 5 " and the time has come for me to say good-bye to the best horse that ever carried a freebooter, either in the new world or the old." ■ / " What will you .do with tho old beauty queried Basil McAllister. " These ranges are wild, they are covered with timber, and' there is grass and water in plenty. Why not bury the saddles -and bridles, »and let him roam 1 free with • the Timor pony mare for a mate ? If 'no one comes near the pair, of them for a month they will " take a liking to the wild life, as all horses do, and the man who catches Honeyball in these hills is welcome to him,' whispered Davie. Good fighting man though he was, it hurt him like parting with one of his own flesh to leave the horse he had ridden so often in desperate places. • He's your horse, do what you like with him,, Dave Killowen,". cried Basil McAllister but. if he were mine I'd shoot him, so that no other man should ever throw a leg over him." At this instant the boundary, .rider, who had been fidgeting a lot during the talk,. spoko up abruptly: — ' " Look"here,", said he, "I want to tell you . that I have no fancy for this seavoyage.' I know the bush, know ail that a man can know of its ways; I-should never be happy out.'of it; If wo go away together I Know that I shall come back to-it. I have" tho bush in .my blood, and the : bush would call me, and I. would hear the call and come." . . : (To be continued daily.#

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]