The GIRL WHO HELPED NED KELLY

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 748, 22 August 1929, Page 5

The GIRL WHO HELPED NED KELLY

By

CHARLES It. TAYLOR

[ Copyright ]

CHAPTER XII.— (Continued* Suddenly he crouched behind a tree. The sound of horses’ hoofs smote his ears. Creeping forward on his hands and knees, he reached a rise from which the light of Kelly's house was visible. Four ghostly mounted figures emerged from the bush to his right. Good God! Were they the Kellys? Had his scheme miscarried after all? Trembling in every limb, he raised the gun to his shoulder. Two shots thundered on the night air, and reverberated from the hills. He had just time to see the horsemen stop dead before he had commenced to run. Crashing through the scrub, heedless of the noise he made he reached Jacobson’s back fence. Carefully he made his way to the shed and replaced the gun. Halfway across the yard he halted, sick with doubt. Hurriedly re-entering the shed, he searched with matches until he found an old rag. With it he wiped out both barrels, and carefully cleaned the nipples. Then he threw the rag in a corner and piled a number of bags over it. Like a man in a dream he stumbled to his bunk and threw himself upon it. If they were the Kellys would his shots have warned them? If they were police, would the firing explain the non-arriva'i of tile gang where Kate and her sister w ere supposed to be waiting for them? He lay there for a long time, and then crept round the house and down the path to the gate. After what seemed an eternity a horseman appeared, and he recognised him as Jacobson. He ran out to meet him. “Did you get him?" he asked, in a voice husky with mingled hope and fear. “No, damn it!” Jacobson cried. Someone fired two shots, and they didn't turn up. Didn't you hear them ?” “I’m afraid I was too excited to hear anything," he replied. “Didn’t you see them at all?” “Not a sight of them I ” “What did the police do when they heard the shots?” “What could they do?” asked

Jacobson bitterly. "They didn't want to run into an ambush." "You certainly had bad luck.” “Damn bad luck!” echoed Jacobson, as he led his horse toward the stable. When he had unsaddled it. he did not enter the house right away. Instead, he lit a lantern, and went to the shed where the guns were kept. He counted the cartridges in the box and examined the breech-loader. Next he picked up the muzzle-loader and smelt the barrels and the nipples. Then, with a snarl like a wild beast deprived of its prey, he blew out the lantern and went inside. CHAPTER XIII FRIENDS FORGATHER Kelly's house was quiet that night. One of the troopers who had crept up to the window and looked in saw the two sisters sewing. Kate’s keen ears caught the sound of his soft footsteps, “The hoys can't be coming,” she said, in a voice loud enough for the listening man to hear. “Well, Ned said they were all tired, and might stay in the ranges to rest. They’ve a long ride ahead of them tomorrow, you know.” her sister responded. The eavesdropper pricked up his ears. “I don't know why they want to go to New South Wales at all,” said Kate. "They’re safer here.” “Ah!” The policeman could not help the ejaculation. “Ned knows best,” returned Mrs. Skillion. They lapsed into silence, and the trooper crept away. Over the hill he rode, to where five other horsemen awaited him. “Hear anything, Costello?” Macguire asked. “Yes. The gang's crossing the Murray tomorrow. Kate said so.” This was news indeed, and the troopers galloped back with it to Benalla. The telegraph wires were busy that night, and there was great activity in all the police stations further north. At last they had something definite to go upon. If the bushrangers adhered to their programme their capture seemed certain. While Macguire and his companions were speeding toward Benalla with what they believed to be information of first importance, four men and a girl rode leisurely toward Manton’s hut

in another direction. One of them halted his horse and jumped from the saddle. The girl, who had ridden by his side, also alighted. “You’ll be careful, won't you, dear?’’ she said. He put his arms about her. “Don’t -worry. We’re safe tonight. Nothing can happen.” He bent down and kissed her. “Oh, don’t take any risks, Ned,” she said, as she raised her face to his again. He held her tightly for a moment. AVhen he released her. she remounted and galloped away in the direction from which she had come. A mile or two along the track, where it junctioned with another bush road, she drew roin. Some noise she had heard caused her to jump from her horse and lead it behind a thick clump of bushes, through which she peered anxiously. For a long time she waited, rein in hand and horse’s head turned in Manton’s direction, ready for instant flight if occasion demanded it. But nothing happened, and with a sigh of relief she remounted and turned into the track that led over the hill to Jacobson’s. Manton came to meet the men as they neared his dwelling. “So you’ve given ’em the slip tonight, Ned?” he big voice boomed. “Yes, I think so,” the first horseman replied. “Did all the boys turn up?” “Every man Jack of ’em. The sharity’s bulgin’ with ’em." Which was not far from the truth. Through the haze of tobacco smoke faces loomed up in every corner. Every man rose as the four newcomers and Manton came in. “Take this seat, Ned.” “Here you are, Dan.” “There’s room here, Steve.” “This box’ll hold you, Joe.” Ned Kelly and his companions accepted the seats that were offered them, while Manton busied himself with the bottles on the table. Ned looked round him. He kuew them all—Tom Stevens, with his long beard and short cutty pipe; Red Regan, his shirt open, revealing his great hairy chest; Angus McCullagh. saying little, but thinking a lot; Mephan Robertson, the storekeeper, who had brought with him a generous supply of provisions: Paddy O’Rourke, of the bush shanty over the rise, who also had not come empty-handed; John Cavendish, the sedate, aquilinefeatured schoolmaster; Harry Young, a stripling, whose hero-worshipping eyes rarely left Ned Kelly’s face: Guido Spirelli. whose tangled hair and piercing black orbs contrasted strangely with the flaxen locks and blue eyes of Gottlieb Jaensch, the young German farmer from Big Hill; Jim Kerry, the burly blacksmith, who had ridden 20 miles to be present; Charlie Wicks, the stationmaster from down the line; and old Sam Jackson. “It's a treat for sore eyes to see you all again.” said Ned, his face lighting up with pleasure. A chorus of reciprocal greeting answered him.

“You must all be dry," cried Manton. “Be upstandin’, all of you!” Eagerly they seized the cups and pannikins, »jars, and other 'vessels which had been filled with beer. The big man rapped for silence. “To the Kelly gang. Long life' to ’em!” Never was a toast more wholeheartedly honoured. They raised their cups and pannikins and jars above their heads, and most of them drank the contents at one gulp. Amid the shouts the big voice of Manton was heard in the opening bars of “For They Are Jolly Good Fellows!” The others took up the refrain, which was sung with a vigour that compensated for its lack of harmony. “Fill ’em up again, boys!” Again they lifted their drinking cups. Manton was about to speak, when Regan cut in. “To the police—may they never be where they're wanted!” With shouts of laughter they drank again. "Speech, Ned!” Harry Young called. “Yes, come on, Ned. Up on your hind legs!” The shrill voice of Sam Jackson rose above the din. It was a curious scene—the more remarkable when it was realised that the men whose health they had been drinking were the proclaimed enemies of society, outlaws with prices on their heads. “Three cheers for Ned!” someone shouted. Their roar made the rafters ring. “Thanks, boys,” said the bushranger. “We owe a lot to you. You don’t know what a night like this means to us. We’re not likely to be disturbed, because the police are somewhere else. When you’ve been hunted day and night for months it’s fine to feel you can let up. They’ve kept us on the move, I can tell you. If any of you’ve been away in the bush for long stretches, you know what it means to get back, even for a little while, to your friends. It makes up for a lot. If it hadn’t been for your help they'd have had us long ago.” “They’ll neve- get you, Ned!” shouted Stevens. “Hear, hear!” they chorused. Ned smiled a twisted sort of smile. I hope not, Tom. We’re planning something big, but I can’t let you know what it is yet. When it comes off it'll show Hare and Standish and Sadlier that we’re not done yet. Anil it’ll show them that the people are behind us—they don’t hold with police persecution.” “you're right there!” cried McCullagb. “’Course he's right!” yelled Young. "You've all stuck to us up to now,” Ned resumed, “and we re looking to you to keep ou. You’ve shown that none of you want to get rich out of blood money." . “Anyone what did that’d make it warm for himself!” exclaimed Jaensch. w (b an ugly grimace. "A\ e ve been out for months now,” Ned continued, “and you boys have fed us and put the troopers off the scent. " “Huh! ” cried Young. "They couldn't Pick up the scent of a paddock full of dead horses!” "Don't make any mistake about

that,” counselled Cavendish, the schoolmaster. “There are many brave and clever men among the police. If we value Ned’s safety we mustn’t underrate them.” “You're right there, John,” Ned agreed: “they’ve given us a taste of their quality before now. We’ve had some close shaves, I can tell you, and once or twice it’s been where things looked pretty safe. There’s some fine bushmen among them. It doesn’t do to get too cocky. The way you've all stuck to us has been grand, and some day we hope to 3how you in another way what we think of it.” “We’re only too glad to be able to help you—aren't we. boys?” said Wicks. The roar of assent that went up left no doubt in the minds of Ned and his men as to the sincerity of their queerly assorted allies. "TUere’s one thing I'd like to tell you," the outlaw leader added. "The police know of the plant near the Big Bend and at Clancy's Crossing. Don’t leave anything more there. I’m not sure about Shelly's. but anyone who takes anything there wants to keep his eves about him.” Once more they drank success to the gang. Dan Kelly drained his pannikin at a gulp and held it up for more.

“That enough, Dan!” cried his brother. “Git away wid yez! " cried O'Rourke. "A dhrop more won’t hurt the bhoy.” "He’s bad enough." There was a commanding note in the outlaw's voice. Dan scowled, and O’Rourke put down the bottle. Steve Hart and Joe Byrne, whose mugs were about to be replenished, at once refused another drink. Ned's leadership amounted to a dictatorship. His word was law with his three associates,,, from whom he exacted implicit obedience. During a temporary lull in the conversation one of the horses outside whinnied. Instantly every man was on the alert. “D’ye hear that?” asked O’Rourke. Manton laughed. “It’s all right. Nobody can get within coo-ee of this i place while Larry’s about. Did you ! hear anything Larry?” A big shaggy dog rose from a corner of the room, and put its nose on Mantou’s knee. “He wouldn't let anyone come near without letting us know—would you, old boy?” Larry's tail wagged in a way that showed if he didn't know exactly what was said he had some idea of what his master meant to convey. “You ought to have a dog like that with you, Ned,” someone suggested. The bushranger shook his head. "No; a dog’s dangerous—the best of them. He’s likely to talk at the wrong time.” "Anyone seen Jacobson lately?” McCullagh inquired. “I called there a day or two ago,” Steve Hart replied. “They tell me there’s been, a hell

of a lot of troopers round his place lately,” McCullagh continued. “It's just as well to watch him.” “I don't believe he’s square,” Tom Stevens announced. “What makes you think that?” Ned asked. “Well, as Mac says, the police is gettin’ too friendly with ’im.” “We’re lookin’ after Jacobson,” Jackson told them. Then he related how- he had induced Jack Briant to take a job there. “That’s the boy I met in the bush,” said Ned. “He’s all right.” Are you sure?” Cavendish inquired. “I’d bank on that boy,” Ned retorted. “Yes, but Jacobson’s got two girls, and you never know how a girl can get round a young fellow.” A smile flickered round the corners of Steve Hart’s mouth. “Did you see this young chap the other day?” Cavendish turned to Steve. “He was there when I got some matches.” “How did he strike you?” “Oh, all right.” “Of course he’s all right!” snapped Jackson. “Didn’t he work for me best part of a week?” “I know we can trust him,” said Ned, with such confidence that they expected something further, but the bushranger said no more. Larry pricked up his ears and emitted a low growl. InEtantly every eye was on the dog

“What is it, boy?” Mauton asked, a little anxiously. Larry growled again. "Stay here, boys,” said the bis fellow. as, accompanied by the dog, h* went outside. The bushrangers exchanged glances and instinctively the right handß of Dan Kelly and Joe Byrne went to their revolver holsters. Ned's easy confidence was less apparent, and into Steve Hart’s dark eyes there crept a look that signified defiance more than dismay. “We’ve been making too much row.” remarked Robertson, fearfully. “Let ’em come!” boasted Harry Young. “We’d give ’em a go for it!” “Don’t talk like a fool!” admonished Cavendish. “The police aren’t likely to come tonight.” All the same, there was a trace of anxiety in Ned’s voice. “You never know when they'll come,” retorted Cavendish. “We can’t be too careful.” “Let’s go and have a look,” suggested McCullagh. With several others he moved to the door, but before they reached it Mauton burst into the room, his eyes dilated with excitement. “Ned’s horse is gone!” Without a word Ned Kelly rushed from the hut. with the others at his heels. “By God, they’ve been here after all!” cried McCullagh. An angry bark from Larry added to the general alarm. An examination by lantern of the spot where the horse was tied to a tree gave them no clue. ja, (To be conlinutd tomorrow )