A LINDSAY 0' THE DALE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 13616, 9 December 1907, Page 3

A LINDSAY 0' THE DALE.

PUBLISHED BT SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY A. G. HALES,

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

" Tair the Apostate." etc., etc

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued.),.. Mother went to. the preacher, and talking him by the sleevo spoke to him in the sweet, silvery voice wc had not heard,since father died;'and she used tho dialect of her native dale..

The preacher listened, glowering at us all at first; then a'softer light came to his

eyes. ~ i "l'uir bairns,"' cried he; "puir, hunted, unlucky bairns, come y' ways in. A misdoot ma if tho marriage will hold good in the eyes o' the laws, since y'r ootsid© the pale o' the laws; but a'll mak ye niou an' wife the noo in the sight o' God."

" A fig for the laws of the land; Ave care not a rap for the lot of them, but that other one you spoke —yes, we care for that, else we had not troubled to ride here," answered my wayward lover. "But wo musthurry in, for Vernon and his gang of niggers are coming this way as hard as horseflesh can bring them." There must have been just a little bit of original sin left in the soul of the preacher, for when ho heard lia*il say that Vernon and his gang were riding hot-foot to attack the Killowens, he looked from under his'/ beetling brows in an admiring way, first at one, then at the other. . | " Ma certie," cried he, " yc air braw, brave laddies to bo thiukin' o' murryin' an' giviu' in marriage when death rides close behind yc." " Quickly we stood before the altar-rail, Basil audi I, Bryan and Mary, and in n. few minutes I was an outlaw's wife. Big, bearded men came forward and shook our husbands by the hand, and shyly wished us joy. Matrons, who had left their babies at home, crowded round us and kissed us; aud laughing girls, with tho tan of wind and sun on their cheeks, laughed in our faces and told us they envied us— husbands so handsome and fearless; and the old grey mother stood behind us and said never a word, but often she stroked my hair with a loving hand; and! I knew that her poor old 'heart was too full for words. We had to almost fight our way through the laughing, happy throng to the church door, and more than once a woman whispered in my ears, "If ever you want shel-. ter, come to me, my dear, we'll make, you welcome;" and I felt the tears running' down my cheeks, for more than one motherly woman kissed me.

X When at last we did get outside, we found our horses had been rubbed down and watered by some practical, kindly folk: and then we got to saddle, and Basil and I rode 6ide by side as man and wife. I was quite startled when one of the outlaws, touching his hat, said with a half smile "I think, Mrs. McAllister, that your saddle-girth is a little too slack for hard riding." Mrs. .McAllister—Mrs. McAllister! Everything just then seemed to my poor foolish fancy to bo crying i.v whispering j " Mrs. McAllister" ~ hoofbeats of the horses, the 'jingling of the rings' on the reins, the champ of strong teeth on steel bits, tho clashing of stirrup"- the whispering, of the wind through the grass— carried the same refrain, Mis. McAllister, Mrs. McAllister!" I doubt not that my dear sister (for she Mas my sister now 'by marriage) Mary heard a similar song, only to her ears fit sounded like—"Mrs. Killowen, Mrs. Killowen!"

Our husbands had made a plan to take us to one of their haunts in the hills for tho honeymoon.- because thoy 3meo : hVwon!#? never do for them to hang round our home after the marriage. When it-came to tho point where wo, were, to turn off into the- big timber, mother kissed' us all farewell. We begged her to come with us, hut she would not. " A oamia leave him 1 love lying lone under the gum-tree. A will gang to him. Go your ways, an' snatch what happiness ye may." ••' .. . s ~ ~ ~'■ With a wave of the hand. 1 she rode off but her figure had crumpled up. She was bowed and old, a lone old woman, riding on a |rac errand. The Mght of her bent form swaying in the sadd'ic to the motion of her horse exit me to tho heart. . "I cannot kt'hcr go like that," I cried. " Oh, Basil, let me go to her; she has no one now. At the cabin the fire will be black on the hearth, the old dog that used to follow her about is blind and toothless, the cabin will he lone and drear, and shewill sit out by that grave and eat her heart out. I cannot leave her now." My husband turned- in his caddie, and, in front of his men, drew my lace to him and kissed me. " You have spoken as I would haw my wife speak,"- he cried. "We will not let'lvor go away alon*>; we will ride with her, you and J, .sweet Kate. Bryan and the others can go to the hills." 1 was nil fear and trembling then in a moment for my husband. "If you come back, Vernon will get you, dear," I murmured. "Perhaps I'll get Vernon, sweet Kate," he chuckled. "You never know your luck in a game like this. Vernon has been wonderfully lucky.so far; but so have I, for that matter, and! I'm willing to wager my j luck against his." "You stay with Bryan until Vernon is killed, or until something happens," pleaded Mary. " I'll go with Kate ; she is right, we cannot let the poor old mother go alone to the cabin."

"By thunder, captain," put in the young man who had taken our Davie's place in the gang, "why can't we all go? Why should wo run before this doc; of a man? The Killow<nia have out-fought him) arid outwitted him many a time before to-day; why not have one more try at him? We are all ready and willing to stick to you." With careless laugh, Bryan turned his bridle-rein, and in a minute we were riding after that lonely figure away in front of us on the track. The outlaws put us in the middle, so as to screen us as much as possible. Bryan rode on one flank, Basil on the other. The man who was personating Davie rode ahead. •

We had got about a mile on our jour- j ney when out of the trees on our right '• stepped three blacks arid a white man. I knew him in an instant—it was Vernon. He called out an order to his blacks, and, lifting his rifle, ho and they all covered the man who looked so like . brother, Davie. There was a sharp rattle of rifles,;, and I saw the outlaw and his horse go headlong to the dust, shot to death, both of , them.

CHAPTER XV.

I RIDE TO SAVE MY HUSBAND.

Vernon uttered a yell of exultation, for he thought that at last he had done Dave Killowen to death.

Bryan was first to act on our side. I saw [ him half -lift his rifle and shoot from the', hip, and a black trooper who. was right" in front of Vernon pitched forward on • his face as still as a log of burnt wood. '-; "Come on, boys; we'll hunt this dingo down," shouted Bryan, and he dashedat full speed towards the enemy. ? " Go home, girls, at once,'" called Basil; ;, "our men will be near you night and day, you will be safe." He did not stay to say more, but,. rid-, ing like a whirlwind, he dashed forward. . Vernon and his party did not stop to j meet them, but, wheeling their horses, they rode away in the direction they had come as fast as horse-flesh could carry p. them. • '.'

They were only part of Vernon's force.. His main body had camped a few miles farther back, because the horses had shown signs of knocking up. Vernon had picked a few good men, and had gone on, and, meeting us, had (as he fancied) killed Dave Killowen; but those who rode with him that day soon found out, that it was bud business to push desperate men too for. They hunted Vernon and his possp so that, they could noli join their main body.

One by one they got to the black trackers and exacted stern vengeance for the comrade who lay dead with his horse on the track; but Vernon was an old'fox, and, besides, he was superbly mounted—he had taken care to bring with them a spare horse, of racing stock, a beautiful brown, that could gallop and stay; and though Bryan and Basil hung to 1 his trail like wolves on the slot, of a buck, they had not. brought him to bay when tho night fell. : ■•■'■■ • ■ ..-■'' •

Vernon knew what it was in the days that followed to be hunted for his life. He had a grand horse, and ho knew his way about that part of the country perfectly, and it was well for him that he did, for there was no mercy in the hearts of the men who pursued him. Any of them would have killed him like a dingo if they could havo come up with him. When he headed for one of the townships he always found himself cut off, for the gang had • split up and had got pretty well all round him. He was a thoroughly bad man, yet somehow he had attracted one of the black trackers to him, and this aboriginal proved the inspector's salvation. He led. him through the densest, bush; by using his unerring instinct. * Vernon very soon saw that his only hope of salvation lay in pushing into the wilds, for every time he turned his horse's head towards his main camp he came very near his death. The weather, which had been threatening for some time, now changed, and the rain and cold came on. Vernon had to camp out in this, and he had to live like a black, on roots .and ground vermin— frogs from the marshes, lizards, iguanas, and the big white grubs that bore holes in the peppermint trees. - ;'■ - Now and again his faithful black managed to drag an opossum from hollow limb, but:. he had to devour these things nearly raw-) because he dared not stay long bv a camp-fire. He knew how" skilful the men were who were hunting for his life, and he dared not take any chance. He must have suffered terribly, "for, at his time of; life,; the wet ground to sleep on and a wet sad-/ die to ride in meant racking pains in every limb. ' He got a touch of fever and ague, which , made his blood burn, whilst his >. teeth chattered in his head. ■ •. He must have possessed a fine, strong constitution, or he would have died like a rat under these privations. ' The one thing that kept life in him, was the thought that he had killed Dave Killowen. His hate made him happy to think that he had wrecked mother's life, slain lather, and. imprisoned dear Kenneth with the most awful' human creatures in all the world, and now had slain Dave. Somehow, he never seemed to hate my husband, Basi! McAllister, as he hated all of us. He would have spared .Mary, if he could have done so; but he hated ' me just as he hated all my brothers, and he would have 'brought-me to open s shame had he known how to do so. It was about ten days after the wedding, when a "telegraph" brought me the news that a strong reinforcement of police had come up, under a very able officer, to ioin forces with the men whom Vernon had left' iu camp. These latter fellows had not done much in the way of seeking for the outlaws after their leader's departure. Some of the black trackers came round our cabin and were saucy for a little time, but this soon ceased, for we had friends in the bush, though we seldom saw them. . .•; '"*■■'*■■-. :Y ; ,'!, Most of the' selectors' hated the . black i police heartily, and they did not,scruple ; to lift a gun" to 'any of them when they got a chance.!, They, knew that, "all: the I shooting would, nut on.the shoulders j of the Killowen gang, and this made them ready enough to help us, when they could do so without being drawn into the net. • When I heard of the. big party that had arrived, I made up- my mind that my brother and my husband would' have to" be warned at once, or they would be trapped. I know enough of their natures to know that they would be so busy hunting Vernon they would very likely omit, those wonderful precautions that had hitherto saved them from capture. The risk was so great that 1 dared not trust any of the ordinary telegraphs" to convey the 'news to the outlaws; the man i put faith an might-, find, his Jieart fail him, at the list moment-, and so I determined to ride on that wild quest myself. I had the iron-grey mare in the stable ; no one could take her from me, because -she had not a brand oh her body. . She was ' what-the. Bushmen ' called a "clear, skin." I have no doubt in my own mind • that she had' been stolen when at -foal, neither' had the : noli'ce-ofncers who had seen her. But it", was 'one thing to be morally certain of a thing, and '.quite another. to lie able to prove it in a court' of law. and there were a dozen selectors who would willingly have.come forward to swear that the marc was mine,. :; J ; ;, I told' mv 'news to my mother and to Mary; and "then one day ; I saddled the mare and cantered away from the cabin. I did not steer, for the spot where I.be-, lieved the. gang'. to be. because I fanciedthat the cabin was watched. I turned my marc's bead in just the opposite direction and ca-ntered off. Not once did I turn mv head to see if I was followed during the first two miles; I was riding straight .to a little hill :■ where- I knew a boundary rider was camped,- who- was one of our most intelligent ''telegraphs." ■■'I' I saw him mending a broken gate as I rode up, and as I drew bridle he took his ■short clay pipe from, his mouth, and, without so much as looking in the direction I had come from, be said— You're followed, miss." "How many';" 1 asked. _ _ Ho walked round my horse and picked up the off fore-hoof; he had too much iuI telligencc to give himself away by standing idly near me talking. ! "About a dozen black devils and two [•white troopers are behind you. They have hidden in "the trees now, but I saw them when they topped the rise at Folstam's Station; a,. man, can't, ride on the skyline and not be seen in daytime, you know"' - i "la that all you can tell me?" I queried. ■~ "No, miss."" He still called' me "miss," by fdrce of habit. • . "What else?" . , * "I saw two blackies rid© back a while ago; they we're steering for the main! po-lice-camp. They fancy you are heading away to tell your folks something, and they mean to follow you with a strong force ; at least that's how 1 read the signs." •' What "do you advise me to do?" I asked, for I knew he could' be trusted; we had tried him often. :- . ' ! I "Well," he answered, "it all depends. Are you going to try and find the gang?" ; "Yes." ,■■ , ■ ■ • .'■■ " Yo.ii know that you are heading the Wrong way now?" " '1, "Yes, 1 know that; but I can swerve away when it suits me, and then trust to the pace of my mare. She can gallop like a racehorse with my weight in the saddle.", " Good business," chuckled the " telegraph." "Well, miss, I'd wait until the other blackies come along, and the white police too. They'll all camp in those trees until you start." "Very well; what shall I do now?",. ..'■■ "Better get off the mare, and let^ me put a few stitches in the girth straps it will look like a, proper job. They don't suspect me yet, and I don't want 'em to:" (To be continued daily.)