<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter 16 </h2>
<p>When we got home it was pretty late, and the air was beginning to cool
after the hot day. There was a low moon, and everything showed out clear,
so that you could see the smallest branches of the trees on Nulla
Mountain, where it stood like a dark cloud-bank against the western sky.
There wasn't the smallest breeze. The air was that still and quiet you
could have heard anything stir in the grass, or almost a 'possum digging
his claws into the smooth bark of the white gum trees. The curlews set up
a cry from time to time; but they didn't sound so queer and shrill as they
mostly do at night. I don't know how it was, but everything seemed quiet
and pleasant and homelike, as if a chap might live a hundred years, if it
was all like this, and keep growing better and happier every day. I
remember all this so particular because it was the only time I'd felt like
it for years, and I never had the same feeling afterwards—nor likely
to.</p>
<p>'Oh! what a happy day I've had,' Aileen said, on a sudden. Jim and I and
her had been riding a long spell without speaking. 'I don't know when I've
enjoyed myself so much; I've got quite out of the way of being happy
lately, and hardly know the taste of it. How lovely it would be if you and
Jim could always stay at home like this, and we could do our work happy
and comfortable together, without separating, and all this deadly fear of
something terrible happening, that's never out of my mind. Oh! Dick, won't
you promise me to stop quiet and work steady at home, if you—if you
and Jim haven't anything brought against you?'</p>
<p>She bent forward and looked into my face as she said this. I could see her
eyes shine, and every word she said seemed to come straight from her
heart. How sad and pitiful she looked, and we felt for a moment just as we
did when we were boys, and she used to come and persuade us to go on with
our work and not grieve mother, and run the risk of a licking from father
when he came home.</p>
<p>Her mare, Lowan, was close alongside of my horse, stepping along at her
fast tearing walk, throwing up her head and snorting every now and then,
but Aileen sat in her saddle better than some people can sit in a chair;
she held the rein and whip together and kept her hand on mine till I
spoke.</p>
<p>'We'll do all we can, Aileen dear, for you and poor mother, won't we,
Jim?' I felt soft and down-hearted then, if ever I did. 'But it's too late—too
late! You'll see us now and then; but we can't stop at home quiet, nor
work about here all the time as we used to do. That day's gone. Jim knows
it as well as me. There's no help for it now. We'll have to do like the
rest—enjoy ourselves a bit while we can, and stand up to our fight
when the trouble comes.'</p>
<p>She took her hand away, and rode on with her rein loose and her head down.
I could see the tears falling down her face, but after a bit she put
herself to rights, and we rode quietly up to the door. Mother was working
away in her chair, and father walking up and down before the door smoking.</p>
<p>When we were letting go the horses, father comes up and says—</p>
<p>'I've got a bit of news for you, boys; Starlight's been took, and the
darkie with him.'</p>
<p>'Where?' I said. Somehow I felt struck all of a heap by hearing this. I'd
got out of the way of thinking they'd drop on him. As for Jim, he heard it
straight enough, but he went on whistling and patting the mare's neck,
teasing her like, because she was so uneasy to get her head-stall off and
run after the others.</p>
<p>'Why, in New Zealand, to be sure. The blamed fool stuck there all this
time, just because he found himself comfortably situated among people as
he liked. I wonder how he'll fancy Berrima after it all? Sarves him well
right.'</p>
<p>'But how did you come to hear about it?' We knew father couldn't read nor
write.</p>
<p>'I have a chap as is paid to read the papers reg'lar, and to put me on
when there's anything in 'em as I want to know. He's bin over here to-day
and give me the office. Here's the paper he left.'</p>
<p>Father pulls out a crumpled-up dirty-lookin' bit of newspaper. It wasn't
much to look at; but there was enough to keep us in readin', and thinkin',
too, for a good while, as soon as we made it out. In pretty big letters,
too.</p>
<p>IMPORTANT CAPTURE BY DETECTIVE STILLBROOK, OF THE NEW SOUTH WALES POLICE.</p>
<p>That was atop of the page, then comes this:—</p>
<p>Our readers may remember the description given in this journal, some
months since, of a cattle robbery on the largest scale, when upwards of a
thousand head were stolen from one of Mr. Hood's stations, driven to
Adelaide, and then sold, by a party of men whose names have not as yet
transpired. It is satisfactory to find that the leader of the gang, who is
well known to the police by the assumed name of 'Starlight', with a
half-caste lad recognised as an accomplice, has been arrested by this
active officer. It appears that, from information received, Detective
Stillbrook went to New Zealand, and, after several months' patient search,
took his passage in the boat which left that colony, in order to meet the
mail steamer, outward bound, for San Francisco. As the passengers were
landing he arrested a gentlemanlike and well-dressed personage, who, with
his servant, was about to proceed to Menzies's Hotel. Considerable
surprise was manifested by the other passengers, with whom the prisoner
had become universally popular. He indignantly denied all knowledge of the
charge; but we have reason to believe that there will be no difficulty as
to identification. A large sum of money in gold and notes was found upon
him. Other arrests are likely to follow.</p>
<p>This looked bad; for a bit we didn't know what to think. While Jim and I
was makin' it all out, with the help of a bit of candle we smuggled out—we
dursn't take it inside—father was smokin' his pipe—in the old
fashion—and saying nothing. When we'd done he put up his pipe in his
pouch and begins to talk.</p>
<p>'It's come just as I said, and knowed it would, through Starlight's cussed
flashness and carryin's on in fine company. If he'd cleared out and made
for the Islands as I warned him to do, and he settled to, or as good,
afore he left us that day at the camp, he'd been safe in some o' them
'Merikin places he was always gassin' about, and all this wouldn't 'a
happened.'</p>
<p>'He couldn't help that,' says Jim; 'he thought they'd never know him from
any other swell in Canterbury or wherever he was. He's been took in like
many another man. What I look at is this: he won't squeak. How are they to
find out that we had any hand in it?'</p>
<p>'That's what I'm dubersome about,' says father, lightin' his pipe again.
'Nobody down there got much of a look at me, and I let my beard grow on
the road and shaved clean soon's I got back, same as I always do. Now the
thing is, does any one know that you boys was in the fakement?'</p>
<p>'Nobody's likely to know but him and Warrigal. The knockabouts and those
other three chaps won't come it on us for their own sakes. We may as well
stop here till Christmas is over and then make down to the Barwon, or
somewhere thereabouts. We could take a long job at droving till the
derry's off a bit.'</p>
<p>'If you'll be said by me,' the old man growls out, 'you'll make tracks for
the Hollow afore daylight and keep dark till we hear how the play goes. I
know Starlight's as close as a spring-lock; but that chap Warrigal don't
cotton to either of you, and he's likely to give you away if he's pinched
himself—that's my notion of him.'</p>
<p>'Starlight 'll keep him from doing that,' Jim says; 'the boy 'll do
nothing his master don't agree to, and he'd break his neck if he found him
out in any dog's trick like that.'</p>
<p>'Starlight and he ain't in the same cell, you take your oath. I don't
trust no man except him. I'll be off now, and if you'll take a fool's
advice, though he is your father, you'll go too; we can be there by
daylight.'</p>
<p>Jim and I looked at each other.</p>
<p>'We promised to stay Chris'mas with mother and Aileen,' says he, 'and if
all the devils in hell tried to stop us, I wouldn't break my word. But
we'll come to the Hollow on Boxing Day, won't we, Dick?'</p>
<p>'All right! It's only two or three days. The day after to-morrow's
Chris'mas Eve. We'll chance that, as it's gone so far.'</p>
<p>'Take your own way,' growls father. 'Fetch me my saddle. The old mare's
close by the yard.'</p>
<p>Jim fetches the saddle and bridle, and Crib comes after him, out of the
verandah, where he had been lying. Bless you! he knew something was up.
Just like a Christian he was, and nothing never happened that dad was in
as he wasn't down to.</p>
<p>'May as well stop till morning, dad,' says Jim, as we walked up to the
yard.</p>
<p>'Not another minute,' says the old man, and he whips the bridle out of
Jim's hand and walks over to the old mare. She lifts up her head from the
dry grass and stands as steady as a rock.</p>
<p>'Good-bye,' he says, and he shook hands with both of us; 'if I don't see
you again I'll send you word if I hear anything fresh.'</p>
<p>In another minute we heard the old mare's hoofs proceeding away among the
rocks up the gully, and gradually getting fainter in the distance.</p>
<p>Then we went in. Mother and Aileen had been in bed an hour ago, and all
the better for them. Next morning we told mother and Aileen that father
had gone. They didn't say much. They were used to his ways. They never
expected him till they saw him, and had got out of the fashion of asking
why he did this or that. He had reasons of his own, which he never told
them, for going or coming, and they'd left off troubling their heads about
it. Mother was always in dread while he was there, and they were far
easier in their minds when he was away off the place.</p>
<p>As for us, we had made up our minds to enjoy ourselves while we could, and
we had come to his way of thinking, that most likely nothing was known of
our being in the cattle affair that Starlight and the boy had been
arrested for. We knew nothing would drag it out of Starlight about his
pals in this or any other job. Now they'd got him, it would content them
for a bit, and maybe take off their attention from us and the others that
were in it.</p>
<p>There were two days to Christmas. Next day George and his sister would be
over, and we all looked forward to that for a good reminder of old times.
We were going to have a merry Christmas at home for once in a way. After
that we would clear out and get away to some of the far out stations,
where chaps like ourselves always made to when they wanted to keep dark.
We might have the luck of other men that we had known of, and never be
traced till the whole thing had died out and been half-forgotten. Though
we didn't say much to each other we had pretty well made up our minds to
go straight from this out. We might take up a bit of back country, and put
stock on it with some of the money we had left. Lots of men had begun that
way that had things against them as bad as us, and had kept steady, and
worked through in course of time. Why shouldn't we as well as others? We
wanted to see what the papers said of us, so we rode over to a little post
town we knew of and got a copy of the 'Evening Times'. There it all was in
full:—</p>
<p>CATTLE-LIFTING EXTRAORDINARY.<br/></p>
<p>We have heard from time to time of cattle being stolen in lots of
reasonable size, say from ten to one hundred, or even as high as two
hundred head at the outside. But we never expected to have to record the
erecting of a substantial stockyard and the carrying off and disposing of
a whole herd, estimated at a thousand or eleven hundred head, chiefly the
property of one proprietor. Yet this has been done in New South Wales, and
done, we regret to say, cleverly and successfully. It has just transpired,
beyond all possibility of mistake, that Mr. Hood's Outer Back Momberah run
has suffered to that extent in the past winter. The stolen herd was driven
to Adelaide, and there sold openly. The money was received by the robbers,
who were permitted to decamp at their leisure.</p>
<p>When we mention the name of the notorious 'Starlight', no one will be
surprised that the deed was planned, carried out, and executed with
consummate address and completeness. It seems matter of regret that we
cannot persuade this illustrious depredator to take the command of our
police force, that body of life-assurers and property-protectors which has
proved so singularly ineffective as a preventive service in the present
case. On the well-known proverbial principle we might hope for the best
results under Mr. Starlight's intelligent supervision. We must not
withhold our approval as to one item of success which the force has
scored. Starlight himself and a half-caste henchman have been cleverly
captured by Detective Stillbrook, just as the former, who has been
ruffling it among the 'aristocratic' settlers of Christchurch, was about
to sail for Honolulu. The names of his other accomplices, six in number,
it is said, have not as yet transpired.</p>
<p>This last part gave us confidence, but all the same we kept everything
ready for a bolt in case of need. We got up our horses every evening and
kept them in the yard all night. The feed was good by the creek now—a
little dried up but plenty of bite, and better for horses that had been
ridden far and fast than if it was green. We had enough of last year's hay
to give them a feed at night, and that was all they wanted. They were two
pretty good ones and not slow either. We took care of that when we bought
them. Nobody ever saw us on bad ones since we were boys, and we had broken
them in to stand and be caught day or night, and to let us jump on and off
at a moment's notice.</p>
<p>All that day, being awful hot and close, we stayed in the house and yarned
away with mother and Aileen till they thought—poor souls—that
we had turned over a new leaf and were going to stay at home and be good
boys for the future. When a man sees how little it takes to make women
happy—them that's good and never thinks of anything but doing their
best for everybody belonging to 'em—it's wonderful how men ever make
up their minds to go wrong and bring all that loves them to shame and
grief. When they've got nobody but themselves to think of it don't so much
matter as I know of; but to keep on breaking the hearts of those as never
did you anything but good, and wouldn't if they lived for a hundred years,
is cowardly and unmanly any way you look at it. And yet we'd done very
little else ourselves these years and years.</p>
<p>We all sat up till nigh on to midnight with our hands in one another's—Jim
down at mother's feet; Aileen and I close beside them on the old seat in
the verandah that father made such a time ago. At last mother gets up, and
they both started for bed. Aileen seemed as if she couldn't tear herself
away. Twice she came back, then she kissed us both, and the tears came
into her eyes. 'I feel too happy,' she said; 'I never thought I should
feel like this again. God bless you both, and keep us all from harm.'
'Amen,' said mother from the next room. We turned out early, and had a
bathe in the creek before we went up to the yard to let out the horses.
There wasn't a cloud in the sky; it was safe to be a roasting hot day, but
it was cool then. The little waterhole where we learned to swim when we
were boys was deep on one side and had a rocky ledge to jump off. The
birds just began to give out a note or two; the sun was rising clear and
bright, and we could see the dark top of Nulla Mountain getting a sort of
rose colour against the sky.</p>
<p>'George and Gracey 'll be over soon after breakfast,' I said; 'we must
have everything look ship-shape as well as we can before they turn up.'</p>
<p>'The horses may as well go down to the flat,' Jim says; 'we can catch them
easy enough in time to ride back part of the way with them. I'll run up
Lowan, and give her a bit of hay in the calf-pen.'</p>
<p>We went over to the yard, and Jim let down the rails and walked in. I
stopped outside. Jim had his horse by the mane, and was patting his neck
as mine came out, when three police troopers rose up from behind the
bushes, and covering us with their rifles called out, 'Stand, in the
Queen's name!'</p>
<p>Jim made one spring on to his horse's back, drove his heels into his
flank, and was out through the gate and half-way down the hill before you
could wink.</p>
<p>Just as Jim cleared the gate a tall man rose up close behind me and took a
cool pot at him with a revolver. I saw Jim's hat fly off, and another
bullet grazed his horse's hip. I saw the hair fly, and the horse make a
plunge that would have unseated most men with no saddle between their
legs. But Jim sat close and steady and only threw up his arm and gave a
shout as the old horse tore down the hill a few miles an hour faster.</p>
<p>'D—n those cartridges,' said the tall trooper; 'they always put too
much powder in them for close shooting. Now, Dick Marston!' he went on,
putting his revolver to my head, 'I'd rather not blow your brains out
before your people, but if you don't put up your hands by——I'll
shoot you where you stand.' I had been staring after Jim all the time; I
believe I had never thought of myself till he was safe away.</p>
<p>'Get your horses, you d——d fools,' he shouts out to the men,
'and see if you can follow up that madman. He's most likely knocked off
against a tree by this time.'</p>
<p>There was nothing else for it but to do it and be handcuffed. As the steel
locks snapped I saw mother standing below wringing her hands, and Aileen
trying to get her into the house.</p>
<p>'Better come down and get your coat on, Dick,' said the senior constable.
'We want to search the place, too. By Jove! we shall get pepper from Sir
Ferdinand when we go in. I thought we had you both as safe as chickens in
a coop. Who would have thought of Jim givin' us the slip, on a barebacked
horse, without so much as a halter? I'm devilish sorry for your family;
but if nothing less than a thousand head of cattle will satisfy people,
they must expect trouble to come of it.'</p>
<p>'What are you talking about?' I said. 'You've got the wrong story and the
wrong men.'</p>
<p>'All right; we'll see about that. I don't know whether you want any
breakfast, but I should like a cup of tea. It's deuced slow work watching
all night, though it isn't cold. We've got to be in Bargo barracks
to-night, so there's no time to lose.'</p>
<p>It was all over now—the worst HAD come. What fools we had been not
to take the old man's advice, and clear out when he did. He was safe in
the Hollow, and would chuckle to himself—and be sorry, too—when
he heard of my being taken, and perhaps Jim. The odds were he might be
smashed against a tree, perhaps killed, at the pace he was going on a
horse he could not guide.</p>
<p>They searched the house, but the money they didn't get. Jim and I had
taken care of that, in case of accidents. Mother sat rocking herself
backwards and forwards, every now and then crying out in a pitiful way,
like the women in her country do, I've heard tell, when some one of their
people is dead; 'keening', I think they call it. Well, Jim and I were as
good as dead. If the troopers had shot the pair of us there and then, same
as bushmen told us the black police did their prisoners when they gave 'em
any trouble, it would have been better for everybody. However, people
don't die all at once when they go to the bad, and take to stealing or
drinking, or any of the devil's favourite traps. Pity they don't, and have
done with it once and for all.</p>
<p>I know I thought so when I was forced to stand there with my hands chained
together for the first time in my life (though I'd worked for it, I know
that); and to see Aileen walking about laying the cloth for breakfast like
a dead woman, and know what was in her mind.</p>
<p>The troopers were civil enough, and Goring, the senior constable, tried to
comfort them as much as he could. He knew it was no fault of theirs; and
though he said he meant to have Jim if mortal men and horses could do it
he thought he had a fair chance of getting away. 'He's sure to be caught
in the long run, though,' he went on to say. 'There's a warrant out for
him, and a description in every "Police Gazette" in the colonies. My
advice to him would be to come back and give himself up. It's not a
hanging matter, and as it's the first time you've been fitted, Dick, the
judge, as like as not, will let you off with a light sentence.'</p>
<p>So they talked away until they had finished their breakfast. I couldn't
touch a mouthful for the life of me, and as soon as it was all over they
ran up my horse and put the saddle on. But I wasn't to ride him. No fear!
Goring put me on an old screw of a troop horse, with one leg like a
gate-post. I was helped up and my legs tied under his belly. Then one of
the men took the bridle and led me away. Goring rode in front and the
other men behind.</p>
<p>As we rose the hill above the place I looked back and saw mother drop down
on the ground in a kind of fit, while Aileen bent over her and seemed to
be loosening her dress. Just at that moment George Storefield and his
sister rode up to the door. George jumped off and rushed over to Aileen
and mother. I knew Gracey had seen me, for she sat on her horse as if she
had been turned to stone, and let her reins drop on his neck. Strange
things have happened to me since, but I shall never forget that to the
last day of my miserable life.</p>
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