Settling Day

The house was, as usual, built on thick wooden piles and was some height from the ground. As Sal walked round and round she heard a board creak, almost in the same spot, each time she passed over it. She knelt on the floor and felt closely round the skirting. To her joy she discovered the white ants had been busily at work on one of the piles and that they had penetrated the skirting board of the room. She tapped it, and the sound told her it was hollow inside, crumbling away. So great was her joy that she had much difficulty in restraining herself from testing her plan at once.

She knew, however, it would be safer to wait until it was dark and all was still. The time passed slowly, but at last she determined to risk it.

She pressed her hand heavily on the board, and, as she expected, it gave way and crumbled to pieces. It was an easy matter for such a powerful woman to rip the rotten portion away, but a more difficult task awaited her when she attempted to pull up the flooring boards, and she had to be very careful not to make much noise. Her hands were cut and bleeding, but she heeded it not. She pulled and tugged with all her strength, and at last one board gave way, but the space made was not wide enough for her to squeeze through. The second board did not take so long to raise, and this gave her a sufficient opening.

She slipped through and found herself underneath the house, free, if she could only manage to get away unobserved or without rousing any of the dogs.

She crawled along the ground, hardly daring to breathe, until she reached the fence, which she quickly climbed.

Once outside she commenced to run for her life, and as she was fleet of foot she soon put some distance between herself and Cudgegong. She knew in which direction Wanabeen lay, and could tell by the star-lit heavens that she was on the right track.

All night long she struggled on, until at last she could go no further, and, falling from sheer exhaustion, she was soon in a deep sleep.

CHAPTER XXII

DETERMINED MEN

As Willie Dennis and his friends drew nearer to the house they saw their first conjecture was wrong and that something serious had taken place during their absence.

As they reined in their horses Constable Doonan said, —

'Let me go in first,' and, drawing his revolver, he walked cautiously into the house.

There he saw the black gin huddled up in the corner, a pool of blood round her and a bullet wound in her head.

'Sal!' he shouted. 'Sal, where are you?'

There was no answer, everything was ominously quiet.

Willie Dennis and Silas Dixon followed the constable, and were horrified at what they saw.

'There has been a desperate scene here,' said Doonan, 'and Sal is gone. They may have taken her away. We must send a messenger at once for your father, my lad.'

'I'll go,' said Willie. 'I am a light weight and can ride fast. You and Silas must search for Sal.'

'That will be the best plan,' said Doonan.

'I'll start now,' said Willie. 'We can clear up here when we return.'

'We must leave everything as it is until I have made my report to Sergeant Machinson,' said the constable. 'He will have to make a move against Dalton's gang this time.'

Willie was soon on his way to Barragong, his blood boiling with rage at the outrage that had been committed at Wanabeen, and he wondered what had become of Sal.

In the meantime, Constable Doonan and Silas Dixon were scouring the country in search of the missing woman.

At the hut where Dalton and his men had been in hiding Doonan examined the place and found the members of the gang had been concealed there.

'They must have seen you and Willie ride away,' he said; 'and in that case they would have a long start of us.'

They camped out that night near a creek, and ate the food they had brought away with them from Wanabeen. They were used to roughing it and to lie on the bare ground with the saddle for a pillow.

They were astir early in the morning, and rode round in a wide circle, looking for tracks or any signs of Sal. At last Constable Doonan thought he saw an object lying on the ground which resembled a human being. It was too far distant for him to discover clearly, but he knew it was not an animal. He rode towards it, and, with a shout of joy, roused Sal, who was still asleep where she had fallen, and at the same time it recalled Silas Dixon.

When Sal saw who it was she could hardly believe in her good fortune. At first she thought it was Rodney Shaw who had overtaken her.

Doonan was off his horse and at her side very quickly, and knelt down to support her, for she was still very weak. He moistened her lips from his flask, and, when she had recovered somewhat, questioned her.

Sal gave him a brief account of all that had taken place, and when Doonan heard who was the instigator of the outrage he could hardly credit it.

'Rodney Shaw!' he exclaimed. 'A man in his position! He must be mad. Rich man as he is, he shall suffer for it, Sal. He need not think he can do as he pleases, even in this lonely place. I pity him when he gets into Jim Dennis's clutches; he'll about settle him.'

He put Sal on his horse and walked by her side. They had several miles to go before reaching Wanabeen.

'Who was it shot the black gin?' asked Doonan.

'Abe Dalton. The other men were outside, he was alone in the house. I heard her cry out when he lashed her with his whip, then followed the shot, and she cried no more. Dalton killed her,' said Sal.

'He shall swing for it,' said the constable, savagely.

They proceeded for some distance in silence, and then Doonan said, in a tone of admiration, —

'You were clever to escape from Cudgegong, Sal.'

'I meant to get away somehow. Had I not escaped I would have killed myself rather than be in Shaw's power. He is a wicked man.'

'There are not many worse,' said Doonan. 'I never had much opinion of him, but I did not think he was such an out-and-out "rotter."'

Next morning the party arrived from Barragong, accompanied by Adye Dauntsey, Sergeant Machinson and half a dozen mounted police.

When Jim Dennis heard how Abe Dalton had acted, and that Sal had been taken to Cudgegong, his whole body trembled with rage and excitement.

Had he not been persuaded to act otherwise, he would at once have ridden to Cudgegong and, taking the law into his hands, have called Rodney Shaw to account.

Both Dr Tom and the police magistrate, however, restrained him.

'Leave it to me,' said Adye Dauntsey. 'I'll see they all meet with their deserts.'

'If Sergeant Machinson had done his duty this would not have happened, and poor Ned Glenn would have been alive.'

Dr Tom's dog Baalim caught sight of the dead woman and howled piteously, and the sound was so weird it started them all.

The police magistrate questioned Sal as to what had taken place, also Constable Doonan, Willie Dennis and Silas Dixon. He took their depositions and then called Sergeant Machinson on one side.

'We must act at once, sergeant. The sooner the better,' he said. 'Dalton and his gang ought to have been rooted out of Barker's Creek years ago. I am afraid there has been some neglect of duty here. Take my advice and make up for it now by extra vigilance and alertness in securing these men. You understand me. I have no wish to do you an injustice or injury, but I must report this matter as I see it. Let your conduct now wipe out any defects of the past, and then all will be well. I shall state what I think in my report, and I hope I may be able to add something to the effect that any mistakes you have made in the past have been amply atoned for by your activity and bravery at Barker's Creek.'

The P.M. spoke kindly yet firmly, and Sergeant Machinson was well aware that much of his conduct in connection with Abe Dalton's gang would not bear investigation. He had sense enough to see that the course Mr Dauntsey advised him to take was the best. He knew he could trust the magistrate in every respect. He was surprised at his firmness on this occasion, because he had not 'put his foot down' before. Sergeant Machinson also knew that recent events could not be passed over, and that in future it would be impossible for him to shield Abe Dalton in any way. What he dreaded most was the thought of Dalton being taken alive, in which case he would be likely to 'let out' some curious business transactions in which the sergeant had been mixed up.

'It is very kind of you, Mr Dauntsey, and you may rely upon me to follow your advice to the best of my ability. I think you will have no cause to complain of me when all is over.'

'That's right, sergeant, the proper way to look at it. I am sure you and your men will do your duty. I am also sure of one other thing, that you will freely acknowledge you have done Jim Dennis a gross injustice. You can see now he has never had any dealings with Abe Dalton's gang, quite the reverse. The manly course for you to take is to tell Dennis you have been mistaken.'

Sergeant Machinson did not relish this, although he knew it was but just.

'I'll do it,' he said at last. 'He deserves it.'

Adye Dauntsey was well pleased that he had put matters on such a good footing before the attack on the camp at Barker's Creek commenced.

He knew there would be a desperate resistance and much danger, and he was resolved to share in it.

Sergeant Machinson went up to Jim Dennis and said, —

'May I have a word with you?'

Jim looked surprised, but replied, —

'If you wish; but you can have little to say to me that I shall be pleased to hear.'

This did not lighten the sergeant's task or make it more pleasant, but he resolved to go through with it.

'I wish to state that I have done you an injustice and that my suspicions have been unfounded. I am sorry for what has happened and I know you have had nothing whatever to do with Dalton's gang. I will do all in my power to bring them to justice for making this attack on your place, and I hope you will lend us a hand in securing them. It will be a tough struggle, and some of us may not come out of it alive. Will you shake hands?' said Sergeant Machinson.

Jim Dennis had a kindly nature. He shook the sergeant's hand heartily and said, —

'I like to hear a man own up when he has been in the wrong. You have been hard on me, sergeant, but we will forget that. I will help you all I can. I have a score to settle with Abe Dalton and Rodney Shaw; they can be classed together now.'

A council of war was held at Wanabeen, after things had been put fairly straight, at which Adye Dauntsey presided.

He thought they had better lose no time, but attempt to take Abe Dalton and his gang at once. 'They will not leave Barker's Creek,' he said. 'It is their only safe place. There are eight of the police and four of us, if Silas Dixon will join us.'

'Five,' said Willie, who was present. 'What about me?'

Adye Dauntsey smiled as he replied, —

'You must ask your father about that, Willie.'

'He can go with us if he wishes,' said Jim, looking at him admiringly.

'I can shoot well,' said the lad.

'You can,' said Dr Tom. 'You beat me at revolver practice the last time we met.'

'That settles it,' said the magistrate. 'We will include Willie. Now, how many men are there at Barker's Creek?'

'A score or more,' said Jim, 'and all desperate characters. We need not reckon the blacks.'

'They like a fight sometimes,' said Dr Tom.

'Dalton's men have ill-treated them. They are more likely to turn on his gang than attack us,' said Jim.

'That is probable,' said Dauntsey. 'What do you think, sergeant?'

'The best plan would be to surround the place to-night and attack them when there is light enough. If we can conceal ourselves, and they do not know of our presence, we might take them unawares. It is not probable, for they are sure to be on the watch, but it is just possible the rush could be made through the blacks' camp by four or five of us, and the remainder must ride straight for Dalton's house and the men's shanties. Of course, if they are prepared for the attack we can change our plans accordingly.'

'Constable Doonan and Dr Tom know the place very well,' said Jim Dennis. 'What do they think?'

'Sergeant Machinson's plan is all right,' said Dr Tom; 'but I think you may be quite sure they will be ready to receive us. Abe Dalton, when he considers it over, will know an attempt will be made to disperse his gang and he will not be caught napping.'

Constable Doonan agreed with Dr Tom and said, —

'When Rodney Shaw discovers Sal has escaped he may go to Barker's Creek to see Dalton. We might get him there, and if he is caught with the gang it will be the worse for him.'

'I cannot think whatever possessed him to commit such an act of criminal folly,' said Dauntsey. 'He can have hardly realised the consequences of his conduct.'

They finally resolved to go to Barker's Creek that evening and attempt to secure Dalton and his gang next day.

They had a tough task to accomplish, and they knew it, but they were all eager to match their strength against Dalton and his men.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE ATTACK ON BARKER'S CREEK

They made a move when the sun went down and the atmosphere became cooler. There was sufficient light for them to see their whereabouts, but the darkness increased in a short time.

This was, however, desirable for the work they had in hand.

Sergeant Machinson with the police magistrate, Jim Dennis and Dr Tom, rode together, Willie being close behind them with Constable Doonan, and two of the mounted police went on some distance ahead. The remainder of the little force brought up the rear.

Soon after their departure Sal heard a soft footfall outside; it startled her at first, but she knew it was a black fellow and she had no fear. She was pleased when she saw it was old King Charlie and that he was alone.

The old man had heard of the doings of Dalton's gang and was determined to find out if Sal was safe. He almost reverenced her, for she had always been kind to him and understood him, and listened to his weird tales with attention and belief.

He had a strange imagination this old black king, and a wonderful love for and knowledge of nature, curious in one so ignorant.

'You here, Charlie?' she said. 'Come in and rest.'

King Charlie hated houses; he preferred to remain outside and said so.

Sal brought him something to eat and drink, and watched him with kindly eyes. She guessed why he had come.

'You are safe. It is well,' he said in the peculiar way the blacks speak, and which is necessary to put into English as nearly as possible to convey their meaning. 'It came to me that you had been carried away by that wicked man who is steeped in every crime.'

'And it was true, King Charlie. He carried me off, but the good spirit saved me, and I am here safe and well,' she replied.

'They laid rough hands upon you, they beat you with sticks, lashed you with their whips, called you vile names. Is it so?'

'No, they did not beat me. They stole me for another man – Rodney Shaw,' she said.

King Charlie stood up and called down the wrath of all the powers and spirits he knew upon that gentleman's head, then squatted down exhausted and beat his hands.

She soothed him and said, 'The white men are gone to Barker's Creek and they will kill Dalton and his gang.'

'It is good,' said King Charlie. 'We will go too.'

Sal thought for a moment, and it occurred to her that King Charlie and his tribe might be of use to them. She knew these blacks, the best of the whole tribe, could fight, and were hardy, tough men. They would do anything King Charlie told them, for they were wont to obey.

'It is far and you are weary,' she said. 'Where is the tribe?'

'Woolloola,' he said, and pointed with his hand.

Sal knew Woolloola was the name given to one of their camping grounds; there were no houses there, it was not a township, merely a black fellows' camp.

'They take the gang to-morrow early,' she said. 'You will not be in time.'

'The fight will be long. We shall be in time,' was the reply.

'Follow me,' she said.

She got an old lantern and, lighting the candle, went out into the paddock. Standing still she took his arm and pointed to a mound of newly-turned earth.

'The black gin from Barker's Creek who gave me warning lies there. Abe Dalton shot her through the head. Thus was she repaid for trying to save me.'

She felt him tremble, and he raised his hand and shook it as though brandishing a spear.

'She shall be avenged!' he muttered. 'Blood shall be spilled for her. The tribe will avenge her and King Charlie will lead them on. Come!'

The old black walked before her with a peculiar dignity that would have been amusing had it been assumed, but it was not, it came natural even to this savage.

'Give me food and I will go,' he said.

'You are weary; rest.'

'I am no longer weary. She shall be avenged.'

He left her, and Sal knew he might prove a friend in need to the white men who were attacking Dalton's gang.

King Charlie, although a great age, was still active, and walked many miles a day. Leg weary he seldom was, but long fasting and starvation caused him bodily weakness. In a case such as this he was stirred on by thoughts of vengeance on Dalton and his gang, who had so bitterly wronged him. He went swiftly and surely in a direct line for his Woolloola camp, and arrived there before Sergeant Machinson and party reached the outskirts of Barker's Creek.

King Charlie harangued the tribe and roused them from their accustomed apathy. It was long since they had been in conflict with white men, but they were nothing loath to try their strength with such natural enemies as Dalton and his men. They knew every member of the gang, from bitter experience, and were not likely to make mistakes in the conflict.

They were quickly on the march, and travelled rapidly, leaving their women wailing behind.

The party from Wanabeen had no conception of what had happened, and they were only to find out later on, much to their surprise and that of Dalton's men.

On their arrival in the dense country round the Creek it soon became evident there was to be no surprising of Barker's Creek or a bloodless victory.

As they were consulting the best plan to adopt, a shot was heard, evidently a signal from one of Dalton's men who had by some means discovered their whereabouts.

'They must have had spies out in different parts of the country,' said Jim Dennis. 'We are in for a warm time, depend upon it. I don't see why you or Dr Tom ought to risk your lives over this job,' he added, looking at Mr Dauntsey and then at the doctor.

'Look here, Jim Dennis, I'm not in the habit of turning my back on the enemy, and it's a trifle mean of you to suggest such a thing.'

'No one doubts your courage, doc,' said Jim; 'but you ought to take care of yourself, because your professional services may be required.'

'And the doctor's duty is in the thick of the fight, where all the blood is being spilt. What do you say, Mr Dauntsey?'

'I am going to take my part and you will take yours, so there is an end of it; but Dennis meant well in what he said. If anyone ought to be kept out of harm's way it is Willie,' answered the magistrate.

'He will not run any risk. Will you, my lad?' said his father, anxiously.

'No, dad; but if there is a chance of potting one of the gang I'll try how I can shoot,' he replied.

It was growing light, and in half an hour there would be sunshine and no chance of further concealment.

They had decided to spread out in a circle, and make for the centre of the Creek at a signal to be given by Sergeant Machinson.

They separated, Willie keeping near his father.

It was impossible to see whether anyone was concealed in the bushes, and they had to keep on the alert in case shots were fired.

They had not long to wait, for in a few moments the crack of rifles was heard in the bush. A bullet whizzed past Jim Dennis, and he called out to Willie to follow him and galloped on some distance.

'Why does not Machinson give the signal?' he thought. 'It is not much good hanging around here to be shot at; I want to get at close quarters.'

A shrill whistle sounded, and Jim Dennis charged straight through the bush, followed by his son.

A shot from Jim's revolver was followed by a heavy fall, and he shouted, —

'Winged him, Willie; he's down. Come on!'

In a few minutes the little party were inside Barker's Creek, and they then saw Abe Dalton's plan of defence.

From Dalton's house, and the others near it, came a regular hail of bullets, and a mounted policeman threw up his arms and dropped out of his saddle like a stone.

One of his comrades dismounted, placed him across his horse, then sprang up behind and followed the others, Sergeant Machinson calling out, —

'Back! back for your lives! We have no chance in the open.'

It was a wise order, for there was nothing in standing to be shot at by men who were so well sheltered.

They halted in the bush out of rifle shot distance, and Dr Tom attended to the wounded man.

After a brief examination he said, —

'He'll pull round if there is no inward bleeding. He has been hit in the chest.'

'Your work has commenced early, doctor, bad luck to it,' said Jim Dennis. 'We'll make them pay for this later on. My advice is, fire them out.'

'We cannot get close enough,' said the sergeant.

'Fire the bush in their rear,' said Jim. 'It is dry, and the flames will soon spread.'

'What about the blacks? There's a lot of them around there.'

'We must tell them to clear out. If they do not go they will quickly move when they smell fire. I guess some of them know what a bush fire means. It is our best chance. Those fellows are all well armed,' said Jim.

'We must capture Abe Dalton and Seth Sharp alive,' said Mr Dauntsey, 'and as many of the others as possible. Shooting is too good a death for them; they must be hanged.'

'I will fire the bush and give the blacks warning,' said Jim Dennis. 'Let me go alone.'

'You are taking on a big risk,' said the doctor. 'They will not leave the rear unprotected and you'll get shot.'

'I wish to go,' said Jim.

'Let me go with him, sergeant,' said Doonan.

'Very well; only remember we cannot afford to lose a man, so run no risks that you can avoid,' replied Machinson.

They rode away and took a wide circuit round the Creek. They reached the rear of Dalton's house safely, and Jim dismounted while Doonan held his horse.

They were, however, seen from the shanties, and fire was at once opened upon them, and they retreated.

'I must crawl through the bush, snake fashion,' said Jim, 'and when I have the wood fairly alight run back as fast as I can.'

'It is a terrible risk; think of the lad,' said Constable Doonan. 'Let me go. I have no belongings.'

'I said I would do it, and I will,' said Jim.

'Wait a while; they may think we have returned, and it will give you more chance.'

They remained in their position for a considerable time, when Jim Dennis assumed a listening attitude. His solitary life had caused him to be quick at distinguishing sounds.

'What's up, Jim?' asked the constable.

Jim Dennis held up his hand to ensure silence.

Doonan watched his face, and saw his expression change to one of triumph.

'By the Lord, we have 'em now,' he said. 'Listen! Can you hear that noise?'

Doonan was all attention.

'It's a humming kind of sound. I have heard it before.'

'You have. It is blacks on the march, and they are coming here. If it's King Charlie and his tribe we will catch these scoundrels like rabbits in a net. Come with me, we will ride to meet them.'

CHAPTER XXIV

A FIERCE FIGHT

When the blacks, more than a hundred in number, saw Jim Dennis and Constable Doonan riding towards them, they halted, not being sure as to who they were.

King Charlie, however, recognised them, and went forward to meet them.

'How came you here?' asked Jim.

'Sal said you were on the war-path. I heard of the attack on your house and went to see if she was safe,' said Charlie.

'And you thought you would come on here and help us?'

'Yes.'

'And so you shall. We will give you plenty of work. Are your fellows armed?' said Jim.