Australian Tales and Adventures.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume XX, Issue 2061, 29 April 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

Australian Tales and Adventures.

No. 23.

A. SNAP SHOT.

By an Old Squatter. It is not so long ago, after all, but it was before the North Eastern Railway ruined all (he townships on the Sydney read and when I say “ ruined,” 1 mean what 1 say. Wangaiatta was a big place a few years ago, I can tell you—a taro old coaching town, and about the warmest liquoring shop 1 ever came across. So were Benalla and other places on the road, that are now regular sleepy hollows. However, in the good times I speak 01, 1 owned a small cattle station close to Wangaratta. It was a pretty rough country then, and some curious characters were knocking about, as for the matter of that, so there are now, if all is true I’m told. But since the Kelly mob were knocked out, things seem to be pretty well settled down. Anyway, in my time, you had to keep your eye skinned. For miles the country was a perfect network of tracks leading! to smali| reMere’ ‘ homes,— " forty seconders,” as we used to call them—and in many oaeea also, leading to nowhere in particular. The country was a puzzle to the best bnshman that ever took op a cattle trail; nothing but mountains, ravines, and gorges—regular traps for those who didn’t know tha lay of the country, and it was a matter of considerable education, I can tell you, to get at that. There was one place we used to call Hell’s Corner (it is now known as the Rose river) because it was said, and confidently believed, all around, that if a man got mixed up on the banks ol this tortuous stream, the chances were a hundred to one he’d ever come ont safe. One part of the river tuns right through the mountains—right through, si r and comes out the other side, and I’ve heard say a man could go right through on a raft or boat—aye, and have daylight twothirds of the way. But I never heard that any man ever tried it. For my pait, I’d as as soon think of shooting the falls of Niagara, as those fools in America have been doing lately. I was thinking of this place, as I threaded my way along a circuitous mountain track between Myrtleford and Oxley, onepouring wet day at the time I speak of. I knew I wasn’t far from the Ovens Biver, and consequently close to Oxley. Once there I should be all tight, and could easily push on to the station near Wangaratta the same evening. Well, there is an old saying that a short out is the longest road, and so I found it in this instance. Thinking to save a couple ol miles, I crossed a mountain ridge around whioh the toad turned, with the idea ol striking it on the other side. But I came out on an old bullock dray track. It seemed a very old track, and as though it hadn’t been used for many a long day ; but I thought it ran my way, and so, without any apprehension, followed it np. At last it led me up to the loot of a mountain, and there it spelled out altogether. Well, ol course I turned back, not in the best of tempers you may be surekeeping to the westward. But there was no sun to guide me, the rain was falling steadily, the trees dripped with a splash on the track, and the wind, which had now risen, moaned dolefully np the gullies. To make matters worse, my horse being beaten, so that was anything but shadows night about my only ohanee country, as my way I So at last came whose waters could itself oould a good broad track, to pluck np spirit, as and pushed down the after going for about a mile, or saw a light, and presently ended, rough weatberto my surprise and to be an inn. When I I mean it. What on eartl^^^^^Binduced any man to open a right under a big moontain, all settlement, and on a I judged, was not traversed by twelvemonth? But then wM a *jp®°* thonwhich stand, tha the borders of all settled unwary. enough to strike this myself an object of some evident appreand b‘ 9

at me as though they thought me an appati' tion—some ghostly habitant of (he mountain' that had suddenly checcndcd upon them; while the man in the bar appeared so taken, aback, that he Jet (all a tumbler he he'd as I entered, and with mouth op:n, gaped at roc aghast. However, I secured shelter (or the night, my horse being placed in a rough shed, and some grass bay supplied to him. Then the woman set bah rj tro n piece of salt meat in a tin dish, a damper, and a huge tin pet o( tea. Meanwhile, I took eft' coat and vsst and set them before the roaring fire to dry. Fr 1 ntly, a man came to the fire, and fisfcel out a foal to light his pipe, lie vas aeh rt, tbio | e; fellow, wilh red hair, r.nd but one eye. Ahl that eye I—lt was a piercer. It glowed like the fire itself. It fixed its go; e ■pun me as though it would bore a hole right through me. Never have I seen such an ey o in bumen head before or since. Add to this, that the owner of this remarkable optic possessed a mouth which stretched from cat to aar, and which when distorted by a sinister grin revealed the toothless gums within it, e.nd yon may gather some idea of the aspect of this personage. lam not by any means of nervous, or rather nerveless temperament, but I tell you, (hat when I looked up to find this eye fixed upon me, 1 or aid not forbear from a shudder. Another man fibw joined this fellow—a tall, snnbnrnt, shaggy looking fellow, powerfully built. He also, was pleased to regard me with interest. The two exchanged a few words in low tonee. At last the man with the eye addressed me. " Come far to-day mister?" said he. " Porepnmha," I answered. “ Where are you making for ?’’ PI" Wangaratta," and they both laughed—- " Wall, you’re pretty well out of your reckoning," said the tall man. “ Why,” I answered—'• what place is this ?’’ “ This is the Hose River,” said the one eyed man." "Ho Iho I" " And where does this track lead to." "Nowhsres 1 It ends just here. This here is tbc limit of civilisashun," remarked (be tall man, and (ben they laughed again, as did the landlord and his wife, who bad now come into the room, evidently impelled by an overmastering curiosity. " Well," I said—"it can't be helped. It’s better being here anyhow, than on the mountains. " Tho man with the one eye laughed. I was uneasy, and it struck mo that there was something peculiarly unpleasant in that laugh. However, I mentally pooh-poohed this idea, and went on with my meal. " See any cattle on the spars 7" said the landlord. “A few—but too for to make out the brands," I answered. Then I noticed the trio exchange glances. I was in a cattle-duffing country, I knew, and could understand what, they thought and meant.

My supper finished, I also lighted my pipe end told the landlord to bring in drinks for the crowd. This seemed to move them to something like cordiality, and a jerky sort of conversation was initiated, in the course of which, however, I plainly perceived that I was being quietly pumped. I took out my purse, which mi pretty full, to pay for the drinks, careful to turn aside as I did so; for I did not wish to tempt the cupidity of these fellows. As I did this, I happened to glance upwards. My eyes fell upon a looking glass hong against the wall, and I saw there the reflection of my friend’s face with the one eye. That terrible eye, evil, glaring with hungry avarice, was fixed upon the purse. It you believe me, 1 felt as though a snake were crawling along my spine. I took no notice, and chatted away with the rest concerning matters of local interest, cattle, country gossip end so forth. In the eonrae of conversation, however, allusions were made and anecdotes related (stimulated by the grog) which informed me that, if the people I had fallen in with were not scoundrels themselves, they were on terms of familiarity and good fellowship with men who were notoriously such. All this did not serve to render me more comfortable. I was careful not to drink the liquor brought to mo, pleading that I was under the doctor's cere, and I saw that this did not appear to please them. At least, so I fancied ; and the idea added to my apprehensions, for I judged that it I drank the stuff with which I had been served, I should speedily find myself hoeussed, and at the mercy of the crew. At last I asked to be shown to my bed, and the landlady lighted a candle and bade me follow her. We had to pass outside the house, into the room in which I was to sleep —a rough Alab apsrtmcnt, with a small window at one end. and with many a crack and erevioe in the wails, through which the wind whistled dolefully. A rough bush bedstead stood in one corner, upon which was a stuffy looking mattrass and some grimy blankets. 41 It’s the best we can offer you, sir,” said the woman, apologetically. 44 We’ve very seldom travellers our way, and so we ain 4 t prepared. 44 I said that it didn't matter, and that at anyrats it was better than camping outside, 44 1 don't know about that 1” she mattered as she tamed to go, and then, as she gained the door, she said : 41 Mister, if I was you, I wouldn't sleep. Hush t” she went on, 44 1 can’t say more. But —” and here the landlord's voice was heard calling her. With a swift glance and gesture she departed. Now here was a pretty fix 1 1 went to the door, there was no lock, no bolt, no means of fastening it. Uy nerves were strung to hysterical point. I am no coward, and would hate faced the whole three men there and then. But this suspense, this awaiting a peril whose form or method I could not conjecture was enough to quail the stoutest. For a moment I thought of making a run for it. But 1 did not know where my horse had been ■tabled, and there were half a dozen dogs about the place that would have instantly sounded the alarm. I went to the window. So far satisfactory. No man could get through that. Then I resolved upon moving the bedstead, if I could, and placing it against the door. This happily, I managed to accomplish without making much noise; then I felt better, I bad a six-shooter with me, and so far enough to account for my men if I were attacked. With all my nervousness I was terribly sleepy. When I had blown out the light, and placed the candle beside me, I sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed and with my back against the slabs of the room. Thus situated, I faced the window, protected however by the bedstead which stood between me and it. In spite of all effort I dozed off to sleep—a fitful semi slumber in which my natural weariness straggled hard with my nervous fears. How long I remained thus, I know not. But I awoke with a start, to note that an effort had been made to force the door. I had however, managed to jamb one end of the bedstead against an upright whiuh supported a cross beam, and so effectually barred all entrance. I heard some muttered curses, and then the person or persons without, ceased to push. , Naturally my gaze turned to the window. It was now moonlight; the wind and rain had ceased. Suddenly 1 saw the face of the fellow with the eye, flattened against the panes. My heart stopped beating. A weird, uncanny feeling stole over me, as I felt that the eye was fixed upon me as I sat with my back against the slabs, looking fearfully across the bedstead npon the little window. The face disappeared. I gripped my pistol, fitting as I did so, a little to the left—why I know not ; possibly because I felt the cold draught which rushed between the slabs. Anyhow, it wao providential that I did move. As 1 rested baek, a knife, driven with tremsnMI

dons force, was passed through tho crack against which I had bum loaning, hardy escaping my neck. A moment sooner and it would have pinned mo by the throat. Tilled with rC-V, and thatjfi ar which, finds a desperate courage in its extremity, I phe-.1 the muzzle of my 11-rringrr under the kni'e. and fired upwards, through the crack. A smothered yell, ft gto wling curse, the rapid palter of re'r:r.) in;; I-v't'-tcp.'-, and a’.l was stiil. The knife had fallen, half through the slab, upon tbc Well, I thought I was in for it now, and prepared to light. I had three spare cartridge?, and at one a reloaded tho empty chamber of my revolver. Tarn 1 awaited events. I knew not whether the murdirous wretches were supplied with firearm". If they were, rev position w*n pet Hour indeed, since they could c iver me from bait a n’t /en point;-.. All I could do, was to cowvr beneath the bed, pilingmattrass and piilo.vs before me. And ho 1 waited. This ia what tries tire pluck of a roan. If you have a tangible danger to face, that ia nothing; you know what is before you. But to await attack, uncertain when or how it will come, or what form it will take, is to pass through an ordeal such as well tcM the courage of the bravest. The foui hours 1 passed in this suspense seemed four years in duration. 1 seemed to grow old under the •strain. I felt sick with anxiety and nervous apprehension. But no movement was made. Tub dawn broke, —oh blessed hour, how thankfully I hailed it 1 Presently the prey light of mornii;;’ swept away the gloom of night. I arose, pistol jn_hand, determined to face the worst. SvitiTy"d r»":' ; "g aside tho bed, and with my hc.vt, I conte-H, jn rov throat, I threw open the door, stepped forth 4rtf! faced • around pistol ready. Tho dogs set np a fierce barking, and (lew towards me, but 1 kicked them aside, and they shrunk back, growling. Still there was no movement in the house. I crept around tho gable end, from which the attack had been made, and picked up the knife—a butcher’s killing knife, a (earful weapon. As I did so 1 saw three pieces of llesh or gristle —they were portions of human fingers, severed at the third joint. 1 bad marked my man. It was with a kind of savage exultation I picked these ghastly members up, and wrapping them in ray hsnkcrcbief placed them in my pocket. Then I sped to a shed, seventy yards or so from the house. There was my trusty horse. The saddle and bridle had net been removed. You may guess 1 was on his back in less time than it takes to tell you. i I struck into the track at cnee, following I the cause of the river. When 1 bad got some hundred yards away 1 turned in my saddle I and looked back. At the door of the hut ! stood the landlord, peering after roc. Tor ! tho life of me I could not contain my indigI nation. Halting, I fired a shot at the fellow, which made him bob bis bead in smartly. [ Of course there was no chance of hitting j him, but it satisfied me to depart with this shot of defiance and triumph. Well, I soon struck the proper track, I and that evening rode into Wangarratta. Thera I interviewed the police and told my | story, and exhibited my trophies of ihreo ■ fingers acd a butcher s knife. 1 was warmly { congratulated and informed 1 bad expert--1 cnced a lucky escape. The place was well I known to the police as a rendezvous far all i the evil characters of the district. Two murders had been committed there, in past times, for which a former landlord had been sentenced to imprisonment for fife: end others were known to have occurred there, but were not traceable. All this news made mo consider myself as having been exceptionally fortunate. Tho next day, and as coon as I had rosteu’ I swore an information, and accompanied by two troopers returned to the house. It was empty—at any rate of inhabitants. “Just as I expected” said trooper Jenkinson. “ T’wasut likely tho birds would stay to be caged. However, they’re sure to bs nabbed sooner or later. Ha 1 what’s this.” He had stepped on an old stool, and felt along the bearers of the roof. The first thing ho found was a watch, end soon after fe 1 upon a purse, then an old pocket-book. This was all we discovered then, but it was quite euflicicnt, since tbc pocket-book continued | papers which were traceable ns the former ! property of a men who had missed for I inrue years past.

i _ “ The cursed place must be pulled down" growh d the trooper, ( 'I guarantee wc should find enough evidence to hang the let ” i And this was afterwards done, with the result that under the huge !ireplace before which I had stood that fateful night, human bones were found. And hidden in odd places, other things were discovered, some of which ; pointed to crimes committed man; years ' before. I shuddered as I- learned all this; and realised upon what a horrible den 1 had 1 happened, and how neat 1 had come to ghar- ! ing the fate of the unfortunate unknown who i bad been done to death in the accursed : place. ! That's all. Stay, perhaps you'd I’ke to see ! the fingers. Here they are—nailed over the ! mantel shelf. Ha I you’d never think those ; claws had onoe served a human being and ' gripped a murderous knife. And talking j about that, some six years age, I happened to be at Berrima. The grist show there is the ! gaol. I was allowed to inspect it. and i among other interesting matters that I saw ' there, was myjgcntleman of the eye. Yes, there he was, taking exercise in the cage—his mask removed for the time bring. I looked at him steadfastly through the bass. Presently he turned and faced me, that fearful bloodshot eye fixed upon me. 1 raised my left hand, and with my right forefinger made a gesture indicating the loss Oi three fingers. Instantly the brute knew me. He stood speechless for a moment. Then the foam frothed from his mouth ; he shrieked, and fell forward on his face, in a fit of epilepsy. Making enquiry I found he was there for life, for murder. The others 7 Ob well,'you'll flot believe me. But on my honor it is true. Years afterwards in a certain New Zealand township 1 attended a public ball. 1 had the honor of dancing with the mayoress, an elderly lady, very pleasant and chatty. Aa we talked, a feeling grew upon me that I had met hj r before, but where 1 could not conceive. 1 r.skci her if she had ever been iu Victoria. .She answered promptly in (he nega'ive; looking at me with a quick startled air. I saw her face suddenly change, and presently she made some excuse to break eff our conversation. I watched her, as she quietly approached a stout, burly, red-faced man who was talking to three or four notables of the place. She said a few words, apart, to him. He glanced up quickly at me. The mist instantly disappeared. All was clear. The Mayor of and his lady wife were roy entertainers of more than twenty veara before in that dismal but on the Hose Itiver. A queer rencontre truly. And the other, the big f. How with the shaggy b-'ard ? Well sir, I pave the follow threepence the other night in Bourke-=trcet. He|is stone blind, an old man,—and a beggar. Queer how thingx turn out is'ot it. Help yourself and pass the bottle. You’ve had my story of a Snap Shot.