Part 21 (2/2)

'And Dr Tom compounded'--it was a big word for Jim--'with a brute like Dalton? He saved his life at the price of s.h.i.+elding me from this gang?

Wait until I see the doctor. I'll tackle him over this.'

'I'm going,' said Ned.

'About time,' answered Jim. 'I'll tell that story of yours to the little chap.'

'Don't. By gosh, Jim, don't,' said Ned, as he got to his horses' heads.

'I will. He ought to know black Sal, eh? Good-bye, Ned.'

Ned Glenn was on the box seat. He looked round at Jim, cracked the whip over his team's ears, and said,--

'I'll be back in time for the cup, my lad, and if Willie don't win on Neptune, s'help me, I'll chuck up the job.'

Jim Dennis's face cleared. The pa.s.sing cloud had drifted. The gloom was dispelled at the mention of the child. What little things, what small words, what rightly-spoken words can change a man's heart.

'Bah!'

It was an emphatic expression. Jim Dennis spat on the verandah, he kicked a chair over, he swung the hammock round and went inside.

'Sal, do you know what they have said about you? Do you know what Abe Dalton says?'

She shuddered.

'Sal, you have been a mother to my lad.'

She remained silent.

'Do you know what that scoundrel Dalton says?'

'No.'

'That Willie is your child.'

A wail came from her, a piteous, heart-rending wail. She fell on her knees at his feet. She put her head on his boots, and she cried--cried many bitter tears. It was hard for her. She loved this white man, the man who had helped her, had come into her life, picked her up when she was dying, starving, her tongue cleaving to her mouth from thirst, on his verandah steps. He was not a missionary, he never talked to her about G.o.d--and the devil. He never frightened her with unknown terrors, he had been good and kind and gentle to her, and they said these things about him!

She thought not of herself, her whole thoughts were for him, the man who had protected her.

'Willie, Willie!' she wailed.

She wished he belonged to her, that he were flesh of her flesh. She craved for that child as mothers crave for their own.

'Get up, Sal. I thought you ought to know,' he said.

She lifted her face to his, and the tears were streaming down her half-black cheeks.

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