The Tale of Timber Town

But as the chairs stood a long way off against the wall, old Mr. Crewe and Jack only glanced at them.

“I’ve come to ask,” continued Scarlett, “that you will establish a branch of your Bank on Bush Robin Creek.”

The Manager looked first at Scarlett and then at Mr. Crewe. “You’re very good,” he said. “Establish a branch on the diggings? Gentlemen, do be seated.” So saying, he journeyed to a far wall, and returned with a couple of chairs, which he dragged after him to where his visitors stood.

“It would be a great convenience to the diggers,” said Jack, “to sell their gold on the field, and receive drafts on your Bank. Then, they would travel with more safety and less fear of being robbed.”

“It’s worth thinking of,” said the Manager, when he had seen that both Scarlett and Mr. Crewe were seated.

“It should be profitable to the Bank,” said Mr. Crewe, “and that, sir, is your main consideration.”

“The track will be completed in a few days,” Scarlett remarked, “and your agent couldn’t possibly lose his way in the bush.”

“Could not lose his way? Exactly. It would be very awkward if he were to get lost, with £20,000 in his possession.”

“I can imagine what sort of a losing it would be considered,” said Mr. Crewe, laughing.

“How far is it to the field?” asked the Manager.

“As the crow flies, about forty miles,” replied Jack, “but by the track, some eight or ten miles more.”

“The difficulty will be the escort,” said the Manager. “There must be an escort to convey gold to town. If the police, now, would give assistance, it could be managed.”

“Failing them,” said Jack, “the diggers would be only too glad to provide an escort themselves.”

The banker smiled. “I was imagining that the Government might undertake the transportation.”

“This is a detail,” said Mr. Crewe. “It could be arranged when your agent wished to come to town with all the gold he had bought on the field.”

“I make the proposal to you on behalf of the syndicate which I represent,” said Jack. “There is a demand for a branch of your Bank on Bush Robin Creek: communication is now easy, and the field is developing fast.”

“I shall see to it, gentlemen; I shall do my best to oblige you.”

“And to benefit your institution,” interjected Mr. Crewe.

The Manager smiled the sycophantic smile of one who worships Mammon. “I shall endeavour to meet the difficulty, Mr. Crewe. We shall see what can be done.” He rang his bell, and a clerk appeared. “Mr. Zahn is not at the counter to-day,” he said.

“No, sir,” said the clerk; “he is buying gold.”

“Very good; send him to me,” said the Manager, and Isaac was quickly summoned.

“I shall require you to proceed to the diggings at Bush Robin Creek,” said the Manager, addressing the gold-clerk. “These gentlemen have made representations to me which show that there is considerable business to be done there by buying gold. You will hold yourself in readiness to start in a couple of days. Does that suit you, sir?” he added, turning to Scarlett.

“Admirably,” replied Jack. “I’ll return to-morrow, and shall tell the diggers that your agent is coming.”

“But why should you not travel together?” said the Manager. “You could show Mr. Zahn the way.”

Isaac looked at Scarlett, and Scarlett looked at him.

“I think I could find my way alone,” said Zahn.

Jack smiled. “I shall be only too glad to give any assistance I can; but if Mr. Zahn prefers to travel by himself, of course there is the bare chance that he might get off the track and be lost.”

“I’ll risk it,” said the Jew. “I’d rather get lost than be thrown over a precipice.”

“Dear me, dear me,” said Mr. Crewe, his voice and gesture expressive of the utmost astonishment. “This looks bad, Jack; this is a very bad beginning.”

“You mean that you don’t quite appreciate this gentleman’s overtures?” asked the Manager.

Zahn was silent.

“We had a small difference in a hotel,” said Jack. “But for my part I am quite willing to let bygones be bygones.”

Zahn scowled. “That may be so,” he said, “but I should prefer to travel alone.”

“Dear, dear; well, well,” said the Father of Timber Town. “But, after all, this is a mere matter of detail which can be settled by and by. If you go to the diggings, sir” – he turned his benignant gaze on the clerk – “you will not only be in a most responsible position, but you will be able to do such profitable business for your Bank, sir, that you will probably earn promotion.”

“It’s settled,” said the Manager. “We shall send a representative, and I hope that the arrangement will be satisfactory to all parties. I hope you are contented, Mr. Crewe.”

“Perfectly, my dear sir, perfectly,” said the Father of Timber Town.

“Then you may consider the thing done,” said the Manager; and ushering his visitors from the room he conducted them to the garish street.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Signal-Tree

“I jest walked in,” said Dolphin, “an’ I says, ‘About thisyer gold-escort: when does it start?’ I says. The shrivelled party with the whiskers looks at me acrost the counter, an’ e’ says, ‘What business is that of yours, my man?’ ‘None,’ I says, ‘’xcept me an’ my mate is nervous of swaggin’ our gold to town ourselves.’ ‘Don’t you bother about that,’ ’e says. ‘All you’ve got to do is to sell your gold to our agent on the field, and leave the rest to him.’ The escort will leave reg’lar, accordin’ to time-table; so we can stick it up, sure as Gawd made little apples.”

“And what about goin’ through the Bank?” asked Sweet William.

“Now I ask you,” said Dolphin, “what’s the use of messing with the Bank, when we can clean out the gold-escort, an’ no one the wiser?”

“Same here. My opinion,” said Gentleman Carnac.

“I’m slick agin letting the Bank orf,” growled Garstang. “Why not let the escort get its gold to the Bank, and then nab everything in the show. The original plan’s the best.”

“I gave you credit for more sense, Garstang.” The leader of the gang looked darkly at his subordinate. “I gave you credit for knowing more of your trade.”

“More credit, eh?” asked the man with the crooked mouth. “For why?”

The four rascals were in the cottage where they had met before, and the room reeked with the smoke of bad tobacco.

“Why?” replied Dolphin. “Because you’re the oldest hand of the lot, an’ you’ve been in the business all your life.”

“Jes’ so,” said Garstang, with an evil smile. “’Xcept when I’ve bin the guest of the Widow.”

“Which has been pretty frequent,” interjected Sweet William.

“To clean the Bank out is easy enough,” said Dolphin: “the trouble is to get away with the stuff. You ought to see that with half an eye. To stick up the escort requires a little skill, a little pluck; but as for gettin’ away with the gold afterwards, that’s child’s play.”

“Dead men don’t tell no tales,” remarked Sweet William.

“But their carcases do,” objected Garstang.

“You beat everything!” exclaimed the leader, growing almost angry. “Ain’t there such a thing as a shovel? No wonder you were copped pretty often by the traps, Garstang.”

“You two men wrangle like old women,” said Carnac. “Drop it. Tell us what’s the first thing to do.”

“To go an’ look at the country,” answered Dolphin.

“That’s it… Go it… Dolphin controls the whole push… Jest do as ’e tells.” Garstang was evidently annoyed that the leadership of the murderous gang, which had once been his, had passed out of his hands.

Dolphin took no notice of the remarks. “We shall have plenty time to get to work, ’cause the Bank can’t bring the gold to town till it’s bought it, and it can’t begin to buy it till the agent reaches the field, an’ he only started to-day.”

“Every blessed thing’s ready,” chimed in Sweet William, who was evidently backing the new leader strongly. “Carny an’ me’s bin through the guns, an’ they’re all clean an’ took to bits ready for putting in the swags. When they’re packed, not a trap in the country but wouldn’t take us for the garden variety of diggers, 2 dwts. to the dish, or even less. Quite mild, not to say harmless, gruel-fed, strictly vegetarian – a very useful an’ respectable body of men.”

Dolphin smiled at the young man’s witticism. “It doesn’t need for more than two to go,” he said. “There’s no use in making a public show of ourselves, like a bloomin’ pack-train. Two’s plenty.”

“I’ll stop at ’ome,” growled Garstang. “It’s your faik, Dolphin – you planned it. Let’s see you carry it out.”

“I’ll go,” volunteered William. “Carny can stop behind an’ help keep Garstang’s temper sweet.” In his hilarity he smacked the sinister-faced man on the back.

“Keep your hands t’ yerself,” snarled Garstang, with an oath. “You’re grown too funny, these days – a man’d think you ran the show.”

“Lord, what a mug!” Young William grimaced at Garstang’s sour face. “But it’ll sweeten up, ole man, when the gold’s divided.”

“We’re wasting time,” broke in Dolphin. “We must be getting along. Pack your swag, William: mine’s at The Bushman’s Tavern.”

“Matilda is ready,” exclaimed the youthful member of the gang, picking up his swag from the floor, and hitching it on to his shoulders. “Gimme that long-handled shovel, Carny – it’ll look honest, though it weighs half a ton. Well, so-long.”

He shook the bad-tempered Garstang, slapped Carnac on the back, and followed Dolphin from the cottage.

While this ominous meeting was being held, Jake Ruggles might have been observed to be acting in a most extraordinary manner in the back-garden of Tresco’s shop. In the middle of a patch of ill-nourished cabbages which struggled for existence amid weeds and rubbish, he had planted a kitchen chair. On the back of this he had rested a long telescope, which usually adorned the big glass case which stood against the wall behind the shop-counter. This formidable instrument he had focussed upon the pinnacle of a wooded height, which stood conspicuous behind the line of foot-hills, and, as he peered at the distant mountain-top, he gave vent to a string of ejaculations, expressive of interest and astonishment.

Upon the top of the wooded mountain a large tree, which he could distinguish with the naked eye, stood conspicuous; a tree which spread its branches high above its fellows, and silhouetted its gigantic shape against the sky-line. Directing his telescope upon this remarkable giant of the forest, by aid of its powerful lenses he could see, projecting from the topmost branch, a flag, which upon further observation proved to be nothing less than the red ensign employed on merchant ships; and it was this emblem of the mercantile marine which so amazed and interested the youthful Ruggles.

“The ole beggar’s got his pennant out,” he exclaimed, as he smacked his lean shanks and again applied his eye to the telescope. “That means a spree for Benjamin. The crafty ole rascal’ll be comin’ in to-night. It means his tucker supply’s given out, an’ I must fly round for bacon, tea, sugar, bread, flour; an’ I think I’ll put in a tin or two of jam, by way of a treat.”

He took a long look at the signal, and then shut up the telescope.

“It’s quite plain,” he soliloquised: “the old un’s comin’ in. I must shut up shop, and forage. Then, after dark, I’ll take the tucker to the ford.”

But, as though a sudden inspiration had seized him, he readjusted his instrument and once more examined the conspicuous tree.

“Why, he’s there himself, sittin’ in a forked bough, an’ watchin’ me through his glass.” Placing the telescope gently on the ground, Jake turned himself into a human semaphore, and gesticulated frantically with his arms. “That ought to fetch ’im,” and he again placed his eye to the telescope. “Yes, he sees. He’s wavin’ his ’at. Good old Ben. It’s better than a play. Comic opera ain’t in it with this sort o’ game. He’s fair rampin’ with joy ’cause I seen ’im.” Shutting up his instrument, Jake gave a last exhibition of mad gesticulations, danced a mimic war-dance, and then, with the big telescope under his arm, he went into the house.

It was a long stretch of tangled forest from the big tree to Tresco’s cave, but the goldsmith was now an expert bushman, versed in the ways of the wilderness, active if not agile, enduring if still short of breath. His once ponderous form had lost weight, his once well-filled garments hung in creases on him, but a look of robust health shone in his eye and a wholesome tan adorned his cheek. He strode down the mountain as though he had been born on its arboreous slopes. Without pause, without so much as a false step, he traversed those wild gullies, wet where the dew still lay under the leafy screen of boughs, watered by streams which gurgled over mighty boulders – a wilderness where banks of ferns grew in the dank shade and the thick tangle of undergrowth blocked the traveller’s way.

But well on into the afternoon Tresco had reached the neighbourhood of his cave, where his recluse life dragged out its weary days. His route lay for a brief mile along the track which led to the diggings. Reaching this cleared path, where locomotion was easier, the goldsmith quickened his pace, when suddenly, as he turned a corner, he came upon two men walking towards him from Timber Town.

In a moment he had taken cover in the thick underscrub which lined each side of the track, and quickly passing a little way in the direction from which he had come, he hid himself behind a dense thicket, and waited for the wayfarers to pass by.

They came along slowly, being heavy laden.

“I tell yer I seen the bloke on the track, Dolly, just about here,” said the younger man of the two. “One moment he was here, next ’e was gone. Didn’t you see ’m?”

“I must ha’ bin lookin’ t’other way, up the track,” said the other. “I was thinkin’ o’ somethin’. I was thinkin’ that this place, just here, was made a-purpose for our business. Now, look at this rock.”

He led his companion to the inner edge of the track, where a big rock abutted upon the acute angle which the path made in circumventing the forest-clad hill-side. Placing their “swags” on the path the two men clambered up behind the rock, and Tresco could hear their conversation as he lay behind the thick scrub opposite them.

“See?” said Dolphin, as he pointed up the track in the direction of Timber Town. “From here you can command the track for a half-a-mile.”

Sweet William looked, and said, “That’s so – you can.”

“Now, look this way,” Dolphin pointed down the track in the direction of the diggings. “How far can you see, this way?”

“Near a mile,” replied William.

“Very good. We plant two men behind this rock, and two over there in the bush, on the opposite side, and we can bail up a dozen men. Eh?”

“It’s the place, the identical spot, Dolly; but I should put the other two men a little way up the track – we don’t want to shoot each other.”

“Just so. It would be like this: we have ’em in view, a long while before they arrive; they’re coming up hill, tired, and goin’ slow; we’re behind perfect cover.”

“I don’t see how we can beat it, unless it is to put a tree across the road, just round the corner on the Timber Town side.”

“No, no. That’d give the show away. That’d identify the spot. There’re a hundred reasons against it. A tree across the track might stop the diggers as well, and the first party that come along would axe it through, and where would our log be then? It would never do. But let’s get down, and have a drink. Thank Gawd, there’s a bottle or two left in my swag.”

Tresco saw them clamber down from the rock, and drink beer by the wayside. Only too quickly did he recognise these men, who looked like diggers but behaved so strangely; but the sight of the liquor was almost more than he could bear, yet not daring to stir a finger lest he should be discovered he was forced to see them drink it.

Indeed, they made quite a meal; eating bread and cheese, which they washed down with their favourite beverage. When the bottles were empty, Dolphin flung them into the bushes opposite to him, and the missiles, shivering into hundreds of pieces, sprinkled the goldsmith with broken glass.

He stifled a wordy protest which rose to his lips, and lay still; and shortly afterwards he had the pleasure of seeing the undesirable strangers hump their “swags” and retrace their steps towards Timber Town.

When they had disappeared, Tresco came from his hiding-place. He looked up and down the track. “Just so,” he soliloquised, “half-a-mile this way, a mile that. Good cover… Commanding position. What’s their little game? It seems to me that there are bigger rascals than Benjamin in Timber Town.” And with this salve applied to his conscience, the goldsmith pursued his way towards his dismal cavern.

CHAPTER XXVIII

The Goldsmith Comes to Town the Second Time

Tresco stood in the yellow light of the paraffin lamp, and gazed in wonderment at Gentle Annie. He was a tattered and mournful object; his boots worn out, his trousers a marvel of patchwork, his coat a thing discoloured and torn, his hair and beard unshorn, himself a being unrecognisable by his former friends.

Gentle Annie’s attitude betokened the greatest surprise. With her hands on her bosom, her lips parted, her cheeks pale, her eyes frightened, she stood, and timidly returned the gaze of the strange man before her.

“What do you want?” she asked, so soon as she could find her voice. “Why do you come here?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” said Benjamin reassuringly. “First, let me tell you that I’m your friend and protector. Do you forget Tresco the goldsmith?”

Gentle Annie gave vent to a little cry of astonishment.

“I am an outlaw,” – he spoke as if he were defending himself before his peers – “an outcast, a hunted dog. My own house is unsafe, so I came here for protection and a little comfort.” He dropped suddenly into quite a sentimental tone of voice. “I haven’t spoken to a soul, save my lad, for over six weeks. I’m a bit lonesome and miserable; and I badly need a well-cooked meal.”

“But if you stop here” – Gentle Annie’s ample bust rose and fell with agitation – “the police will catch you.”

“They’d think of looking for me in the moon before they came here, my dear; besides I have no intention of stopping. I only want rest and food.”

“I’ll do what I can for you, but you must go almost directly.”

“Why, certainly.” Tresco sat down, and drew a deep breath. “It’s good to look at a wholesome woman again – it seems years since I saw one.”

A smile passed over Gentle Annie’s face, and her eyes twinkled with merriment. “I see you’re not cured of your old weakness,” she said.

“No, my dear; and I hope I never shall be.” Benjamin had rallied from his depression. “On the contrary, it increases.”

They were a strange couple – the wild-looking man on one side of the table, and the fine figure of a woman who emitted a faint odour of patchouli, on the other.

“I suppose you know I’m my own mistress now.”

“It looks like it. I understood something of the kind from Jake.”

“I objected to be pulled about indiscriminately, so I left The Lucky Digger. A rough brute cut my arm with a broken glass.” She rolled up her sleeve, and showed the scar of the newly-healed wound.

Benjamin took the soft, white arm in his hand, and gave it just the suspicion of a squeeze.

“I wish I’d bin there, my dear: I’d ha’ chucked him through the window.”

“Mr. Scarlett – who has been so lucky on the diggings – kicked him out of the house on to the pavement.”

“Ah! but did he do the thing properly, scientifically?”

“I think so. And when he found the boss blaming me for the row, he turned on him like a tiger. But afterwards old Townson gave me the office, so I’ve retired into private life. Do you like my rooms?”

“A trifle small, don’t you think?” said Benjamin.

“Cozy.”

“My dear, where you are it can’t help being cozy.”

“After that I’ll get you something to eat. What do you say to grilled steak and onions?”

“Delicious! Couldn’t be better.”

Gentle Annie bustled out to the safe, at the back of the house, and returned with a dish of red and juicy meat.

“And to follow, you shall have stewed plums and cream.”

“Better than ever,” said Benjamin; his mouth watering behind his ragged beard.

“I believe I understand mankind,” said Gentle Annie, going to a cupboard, whence she took a big bottle, which she placed on the table.

“If all the women in the world understood men as you do, my dear, we should have Arcadia here, instead of Gehennum.”

“Instead of what?”

“Gehennum, my dear; a place where they drive men into the wilderness and cut them off from supplies, and they rot in damp caves, destitute of bread, beer, and even tobacco.”

“No; I really can’t supply that last. If I let you smoke, some old cat would come sniffing round to-morrow morning, and say, ‘Phew! a man has been here.’ Good food and drink you shall have, but no tobacco.”

“But you’ll let me wash?”

“Certainly. Cleanliness is next to godliness. If you can’t have the one, I wouldn’t bar you from the other.” She led him to the door of her bedroom, and said, “Walk in.”

The room was a dainty affair of muslin blinds and bed-hangings. To Benjamin it was a holy of holies dedicated to the sweet, the lovely, the inscrutable. All the feminine gear lying around, the little pots of powder and ointment, the strange medicaments for the hair, the mirrors, the row of little shoes, the bits of jewellery lying on fat pincushions, the skirts and wrappers and feminine finery hanging behind the door, these and fifty other things appealed to the softest spot in his susceptible nature. He took up the ewer, and poured water into the basin; but he was ashamed to place his dirty coat on a thing so clean as was the solitary dimity-covered chair, so he put the ragged garment on the floor. Then he took up a pink cake of soap, and commenced his ablutions.

A strong and agreeable odour tickled his olfactory nerves – the cooking had begun. Though his ears were full of lather, he could hear the meat frying in the pan, and the spluttering of the fat.

“What punishment do they give to people who harbour malefactors?” Gentle Annie called from over her cooking.

“Who’s a malefactor?” called Tresco from the middle of a towel with which he was drying his roseate face.

“What are you then?”

“I’m a gentleman at large, my dear. No one has charged me with anything yet, let alone convicted me.”

“But there’s a warrant out against you, old gentleman.”

“Maybe. I haven’t seen it.”

“But what’s my position?”

“You’re accessory after the fact, if there is a fact.”

“What am I liable for?”

“That depends on the judge, my dear. It might be two, three, or more kisses. If I was on the bench, the sentence would be as heavy as possible, and I’d insist on executing it myself.”

A laugh came from over the frying-pan.

“If you’re not careful, old party, you’ll have some of this hot fat on your head.”

Benjamin had finished his toilette, and walked into the other room.

The small, square table was spread with a white cloth, and a place was set for one.

“But, my dear, won’t you partake?” said Benjamin, eyeing the arrangement of the table.

“I’m not hungry,” the girl replied. “I’ll watch the lion feed.”

The little room was filled with the smell of cooked viands, and Tresco seated himself in readiness to eat.

The smoking steak, garnished with fried onions and potatoes, was placed before him.

“For what I am about to receive, my dear, I thank you.” Gently squeezing the ex-bar-maid’s hand, he kissed it.

“Now, that’ll do. You’re getting giddy in your old age – it must be the effect of the steak. Cupboard love, cupboard love!”

Tresco drew the cork of the big bottle, which he handed to Gentle Annie.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“You pour it out, my dear. It’ll make it taste so much sweeter.”

“You gay old deceiver: you’re like the rest of them.”

“No, my dear: they’re imitation; I’m the genuine article.”

Gentle Annie filled his tall glass deftly, so that the froth stood in a dome over the liquor. She was about to replace the bottle on the table, when Tresco took a tumbler from the dresser, and filled it for her.

“Keep me company,” he said. “It looks more comfortable.”

“But stout’s so fattening.”

“My dear, a lean woman is a reproach to her sex.”