THE LOST EARL - - OF ELLAN. A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. CHAPTER XXIII.— MICK'S SHAFT.

Otago Witness, Issue 2722, 16 May 1906, Page 63

THE LOST EARL - - - OF ELLAN. A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE.

CHAPTER XXIII.— MICK'S SHAFT.

PART from the personal consolation of Susan, Brian's arrival ut Narrawan was opportune, for it relieved the tension of suspense that had followed upon the receipt of the mail, and forced Mr Galbraith out of his dreary brooding in the "office" to welcome his guest. Susan's fdtlver had gathered easily enough what Brian's visit portended, and perhaps nothins short of a suitor for the hand of his i^vo ; aiite child vouM have made- him put aside for- -the moment the futile speculations loused by Mr KirWs letter, or. have aiv«n him a, short respite from the gnawinga of self-reproach. As the dinner hour drew on, however, he began to worry over Oora's absence, and sent for Tommy George to ask if anything had bestt seen of PintgoU "Jkea it

appeared that the horse Oora had ridden to Iron Bark Camp was running lame in the home paddock, * and that Gipsy Girl | and two other hacks were missing,- so that when Mr Galbraith came in, angry and alarmed, to consult Patsy, Susan was obliged to tell him part of what had happened. So she related how Oora, having heard a story from the blacks of a sick white man whom a Bundah tribe had brought down w.ith them from the north, and who was now in the native camp at the foot of the range, had foolishly insisted on going off at once to see into the matter, in case tfliis unknown white man could possibly be Harry, and how, as Susan was seeing her start, they had met Wolfe at the Bunyip's waterhole on his way to the house. Here Susan became confused and. reticent, and Brian came clumsily to her c rescue, explaining that Mr Wolfe had evidently considered it unfit for a young lady to be riding at that hour through the bush with no better company than a black boy, and had very properly given her his escort. There was nothing very extraordinary in the latter part of the tale, except, indeed, the coincidence of Wolfe's unexpected arrival ;* and that, after all, was what Mr Galbraith had been hoping would happen, for he had taken it badly that Wolfe should have repaid his kindness with, apparently, such ingratitude. He was now glad to think he had misjudged him, and also extremely glad to think that he had got an efficient stockman back again. ' It was perfectly natural, *too, that Wolfe should have taken upon himself the responsibility of guiding Oora, seeing that he knew the wild country beyond Iron Bark Camp, having mustered cattle and hunted brumbies on the lower spur of the range. Mr Galbraith was therefore mollified concern- • ing Wolfe, and commended his action ; , but the others bad to listen to some severe condemnation of Oora's reckless impulsive- , ness and madcap ways. Why, the boss , asked querulously, must she be always runnine after single-handed adventure? Why couldn't she have consulted him, and then they might have gone sensibly into the business : have questioned the blacks ; made suitable preparations, and. in short, have- done all the things Oora had been anxious to avoid. Still Oora was Oora, and, as Patsy good-naturedly tried to ( point out, there was no use in expecting j her to do anything after the manner of an , ordinary girl. She was a half wild crsvf ture, and whether on the sea or in the bush she was bound to be as much at ■ home as a fish or a -kangaroo. <&&;-' A-~\ Nevertheless, dinner was no^^|t6 : ''] gether a sociable meal, though -felt far too content at the succes4^p£^# | own love affair not to try and -^&p>ar I cheerful ; and painfully embattfassed though he had been at some of Susan's , confidences, he did his best to entertain ( the little company with an account of the , CLytie's recent voyagings along the"' coast, j But everyone else was more ox less pie- j occupied. Even the Picaninny, as- a rule j the most conversational of mortals, sat . silently staring at the newcomer- r with ; solemn black eyes, shadowed by elf locks, - that hung down over her nightgown, in which she usually appeared at this hour. She was puzzled and awed by this ''new feller Benjamin belonging to Susan"— as to her sister's intense discomfiture she described Brian, having divined T"th the sharp intuition common to children and to the blacks that he was Susan's lover. | When the meal was over, Patsy retired to put her children to bed, and the boss went back to the office and his solitary self-communings, while Susan took Brian to the verandah, and thence into the moon-lit garden. She had already opened out her heart to him, and found delicious silve for her wounded feelings in his tenderness and consideration, which were greater to-day than ever. He would have liked to ask her a good many questions concerning this James Wolfe, of whom he had just heard so much at Narrawan, for a certain letter in hie pocket from Craies, the solicitors, who had got on the track of his missing cousin, had intensified Brian's suspicion that the lost Earl of Elian, James Wolfe, and Jarms Robinson were one and the wime individual. Now, judging by what Brian learnt from Susan, it seemed to him an undoubted fact tfhat this James Wolfe was the James Robinson whom he had seen at Thursday Island, and' also that he was really James Wolfe Cordeaux. But though Susan in her firet indignant confidences, sobbed out on Brian's shoulder down by the waterhole, had told him enough of Oora's acquaintance with the man to make this clear tc Brian, she shrank from personal questions concerning Wolfe, and Brian wisely determined not to press her in the matter. Thus he never quite knew the rights of Susan's share in this story, nor ho\v> she had once believed that she' loved James .Wolfe.

Of Harry Galbraith, Brian, of course, knew nothing ; but when Susan sobbingly recounted Wolfe's confession that he had killed her brother, Brian was deeply dismayed, and could not forbear showing close interest in the matter. But Susan, blinded by her own grief, supposed that his evident distress was entirely on her behalf. It never occurred to her that the trouble could concern Brian except through her. And as things were, he did not care to tell ncr who he supposed James Wolfe to be. Better to wait, he thought. Susan had been through enough already, and further suspense and uncertainty would but add to the load she had to bear. Then there was the chance of the recovery of Harry Galbraith, which would relieve James Wolfe, >r Jem Cordeaux— as he might be— from the terrible stigma of murder, for Susan had told Brian all about Ooi'a's wild project to Geek out the Bundah tribe %>f bl?cks, who were camped at the .edge of Razor-back' Gully. And though Susan still profesed disbelief in the possibility of Harry being among them, the idea had begun to take some hold upon her, and she talked over it unceasingly with her lover. Thus, though Brian looked unusually grave, and certainly considered the whole situation veri serious

indeed, he was nevertheless inwardly happy as far as he himself was concerned at xhe turn affairs had taken. It was a glorious night, the moon almost bright enough to 'read by, yet casting fantastic and deceptive shadows that made trees and shrubs seem things of, a dream. The lagoon below, with its silvery reflections, and the ghostly trunks of the white gums surrounding it, looked like some enchanted lake. The dim stretch of plain, and clumps of sandalwood and eucalyptus upon it: the mournful gidya forest growing towards it, and the strange night calls of the bush — the screeching of water-,!-fowl, the wail of curlews, the distant howlings of dingoes, the cry of the morepork, ■ and all the many eerie sounde — added to the sense of weirdness and illusion. Susan and Brian strolled along the garden paths, between orange trees and aromatic shrubs, which were pale pillars of blossom. Here were stumps twined with monstrous cactus plants, and a nightblooming cerus opened 1 its enormous white heart to the moonbeams. The night was heavy with perfume, and the scent of the gardenias and stephanotis blending witb other tropic odours was almost overpowering. But there were many mosquitoes amidst the greenery, so she took him by a gate set in the passion creepers that covered the gardea paling .out on -to the open ff&th leading to the slip-rails. While they were leaning upon the paddock fence and looking overt the plain, they saw a man riding towards them. He was alone, and irom the" movement of his horse they v could tell that the animal was dead beat-^ The rider— came straight to the slip-rails, and bWore dismounting looked steadily up to the cluster of buildings on the hill brow, evidently taking stock of the head station. He had not noticed Brian and Susan, who were in the shadow of a, thick clump of sandalwood trees that grew close to the fence, and who, being in black, did not readily attract attention. Moreover, the stockman, as he seemed, would scaicelv have expected to meet a lady in a dinner dress and a gentleman in a lounge suit so far from- the Koflse at this time ot the evening. It was' not till he had put down the slip-rails that he saw | there was somebody there. '•Hello !" he ' cried, and, retreating a step, he took off his cabbage-tree hat in cdfrfusion. <j d evening, miss. I'm on the look-out "' He stopped suddenly, Brian, who had followed Susan "oul 'of the circle of the shadow. ''Oh, my word ! I'm dashed if this isn't the sailor 'gentleman. G'd day, mister.; it's a rum -fiart seem' you here," he added", with his "drawling colonial laugh. "Good evening, Mr Flinders Dick," returned Brian. "Yes, people in the bush do seem to have a queer knack of turning up several hundred miles away from where you might expect to see them. Last time we met ,was at- ThßEsday Island:.* ' ■ Flinders Dick seemed embarrassed at the recollection^ ancE occupiecT'fiirriseif in ! trpng r to,persuad.e.his horse to,_walk over the slip-rails, which v were lowered at one i end, but the beast seemed stupefied from j having* been over-ridden, and shied at the | shadows" of the "poles on" the ground. Susan' moved aside from its heels.

" Don't you be afraid, missr TJie poor old crawler hasn't got a kick in him. He wants to lie Cjwn. that's all." ' "Have you come from Wooralba with a telegram?" she asked. "Wooralba ! No fear. ' I reckon I've come more'n ninety miles further than that, riding hard, and soldiering a horse wherever I got the chance. A cattle boat took .me to Rockingham Bay. I couldn't wait for the steamer, so I overlanded the rest from Card well.''

"Miss Galbraith, I see you're not acquainted with my friend, Mr Flinders Dick," said Brian, genially.

"At your service, iriss. I'm pleased to see you, for maybe you can tell me if my mate has been up this way." "Your mate?" asked Susan. "What is his name?"

Flinders Dick found himself confronted with an unexpected difficulty. He looked sheepishly at Brian. How was he to say James Wolfe, when Wolfe had announced himself to Cordeaux as James Robinson, and hac* warned Dick against disclosing his identity? "Wa-al, I dunno — it's a bit awkward to explain," he stammered. "It's this way, miss. My horse* is knocked up, and I wanted to get on to the Jvonbark Bore, which is seven miles away, I b'lieve — I—lI — I haven't been, up in tfiis part lately.". "Bub why dc you want to go to the Bore?" asked Susan. "It's not being worked now, and there's no one at the humpy." "My mate wired me from Townsville that I should find him there, and that if I didn't he'd leave word where he was gone," said Flinders Dick. Susan suddenly guessed who his mate was. Her face stiffened and her vjice changed as she asked in a constrained man ncr :

"Is it Mr Wolfe that you want?" Again Dick hesitated- * Brian, remembering the interview at Thursday Island, struck in :

"James Wolfe, or as he sailed himself when we met. James Robinson. You need not mind speaking out before me, Flinders Dick, if there's anything yru wish to say. I shan't harm your friend I understand his reason foi preferring to use a different name, and I fully sympathise with it."

Flinders Dick glanced at Cordeaux gratefully. He shifted bis weights from one. foot to the other in a puzzled way. "I see you've got the hang of something beyond me, mister," he saici simply. "Btu I reckon it's ar> all-right mix, for as far as I can- tell, nothin' can make any crds neow. Jem can spit out the whole hack lot. and chuck this thundering old show, and) clear to England if he jolly well pleases, and float the Shark's Tooth Gold Mine Company, and keep half the shares. Queer name to choose, ain't it, mister, but a shark's tooth brought him luck,, d'ye see?"' Neither of the other two sjjoke*

"My mate 'ull be a rich man," went oar Dick. "It's another Mount Morgan, X b'lieve. D'ye understand?" % "I. understand .that you, must have struck gold," answered Brian stiffly. There seemed something in Flinders Dick's levity that jarred upon both Susan and Cordeaux. Then a wild hope sprang up in Susan's, breast. Was it possible that Oora was . right after all? Could thx. blacks' story be tnie? ■ • • • "Mr Flinders Dick," she said tremu* lously, "I* don't think .you could spfeak hkf that if you knew everything. You couldn'f. seen? so glad aboutyour mate if yott understood what Mr Wolfe told me himself to-day about— about " Her voice died off sadly. Dick only caught the murmured words "my brother." . *In a moment he was subdued and utterly remorseful. "I've done it now '" he cried bitterly. "I'm a blunderin' jumpt ;■• brute. I- deserve a hidbV for my dasiitH ' keerlessness. I was carried off my head for the minute, and I clean for,g< that pool Harry the Blowei was your brother, miss." Susan turned, sobbing, away . * Brian put his arm" round her. 1 "Don't you let her fret, mister, yn;>^ Dick anxiously. "So fer as I can" m.J:-. - out pore Hajry's. all^ right. Least- • :\vays-,. "V '■■;.' -^ /- -- : "You cannot lie aware," interrupted' Brian", "that only ,an hour or two ago - Miss Galbrith had the terrible shock of hearing from vTem^s-^-rrom yofir mate's-— , own- lips that he had killed h?v V other."* -' "Neow, neow!" exclaimed Flinders Dick. "Jem didn't know, himself what I've -come all this. way,, quick as I could, to tell bin*" and the rest of you people here. I've got a lot to explain to the- boss. But first I ' want to know is my mate up there?" He jerked his thumb towards the head station. "No, he isn't." answered Brian. > "Up there they don't know anything about him." "Where is he then?" asked Flinders Dick, excitedly. -'The police haven't caught him, have they? I know they have been put on to him,, but I reckoned £d be in time to set things straight. Where is Jerp?" „ "He has gone vrith Miss Oora Galbraith to the blacks' camp, at a place called Razor-back Gully, in search of a sick" whiteman, whom they beard had bee' brought down there by the natives." Flinders ' Dick threw out his long, loosejointed arms in jubilation. "Oh, Jimmy! they've got hold of him. That's- fine. Dash me, if it isn't Harry himself?" "We don't know that it is. We ion'fc know anything except that one of tiie blacks in this neighbourhood declared that this white man was something like Harry GaHvaith," interposed Brian. "Blow me if it* isn't Hapy ! It must be. Harry !" cried Flinders -Dick. "The olacko were" making' .for Narrawan. But" who could ha' that they would ?»v«j turned'up to "time like this." ■ Susan appealed to him agitatedly. • i"For God's, sake tell me what' -ma kno»% ;Do v you really think that my [».ji i^ . brother' is not dead, and thafiie 5s •* r>n the blacks? It seems- incredible. Tell ire ; what- makes you think.it." " j "Wa'-;'aJ;. miss, I got oc the track of hinv "; outside'C^iTdwell — all of a sudden. It was -s a ' Hinclnnbrook Island boy — one of the , Bundah' blacks. — and he told me his tribe hadallgone on the walk about- up Nari-a - way to the bunya country, and that they'd ' got Harry Galbraith with them. He was • alive all "right then, but a bit queer »v - his head, the black boy told me— said be v , talked 'like it lil feller picaninny.'" Susan looked eagerly at Brian. 1 told I you how Birraboi told Oora that the white ! man had got scrub madness — but surely ; that couldn't mean that he was really ouo of his mind. He mitrht have had a bad attack of fever. Oh. Brian, Oora may have been right after all."' "You can take mv.oath, miss, Jilt sc far as I know at this minute what Ivo said is Gospel truth," broke in Dick. "I£ I was to begin giving the whole ole-ised lay-out I'd have to start a .good way back, and it seems to me I'd best get hold of Imy mate first. If the boss will let me have : a fresh horse straight away I'll tell him I while they are changing saddles as much I as will set his mind at rest, and then { I'll ride like blazes after Jem- How do I j know that the troopers haven't spotted . him through the telegrams we sent? Dang mv stupidity, I ,only thought of that afterwards, .and they may .be, making to th* Bore same as me. By gosh! Listen!'^ j Flinders Dick's trained bush 'ars w<re on the alert -in an instant, and li e tJcelike eyes strained irto the night'; Lut it was several seconds before either iM.san or Brian could hear the muffled sound of , horses' hoofs approaching the head station from the opposite direction — that of the Bunvip's waterhole and the Bore track. - As the sounds came nearer it was easy to tell that they were made by a company of horses going at the quick, steady pace . of mounted and well-ridden beasts. 9?ne men who rode them were drilled men; the horses knew their work. There wae jnc mistaking the even hoof-thuds. Only a band of troopers could ride like that. Flinders Dick pulled the bridle off .his own iaded beast, and guided it gently over the lowered end of the -slip-rails,' but" with the instinct of the " bushman he.

stopped to lift the top rail, and -slid it back into the morticed holes, and then with a quick jerk fixed the lower one.

"ily word!" he said, "there's the troopers, sure enough, but they ain't ridin' *s if they'd got their man. They're ip too great, a hurry for that."

(To be continued-.)