Part 7 (2/2)

Whether or not Jane was in any way concerned at this, she let no one discover. Mark came oftener than ever, boasting that he should soon become a stockholder on a large scale, and that he intended to introduce great improvements in the management of cattle in Australia.

Where cattle are so apt to stray, as in the Australian bush, herds of different proprietors may occasionally get mingled, and therefore it is necessary to brand them carefully. When this operation is to be performed, the animals are driven into a pound. Ropes are then cast over the horns and legs of the bullock to be first marked, he is thrown to the ground, and the hot iron is applied. This is often a work of no little danger; for when a young bull, who has been roaming at liberty since his calfhood, finds himself thus treated, he is apt to turn on his tormentors, and to attempt to retaliate. A considerable mob of cattle had to be branded at Warragong, and all the hands who could be collected were employed in driving them into the pound. To get them there was difficult; to hold them quiet while being marked was still more so. One young and very powerful bull had resisted all the attempts made to catch him, when Mark Withers--who at that instant caught sight of the Miss Gilpins riding by--declared that he could manage the animal; and, leaping over the paling, la.s.so in hand, approached it with unexpected hardihood. The animal's rage appeared excited to an ungovernable pitch at seeing him, and, lowering his head with a loud roar, he dashed towards him. While attempting to spring on one side, the unfortunate man's foot slipped, and before he could recover himself, he was transfixed by the animal's horns. The bull then, lifting up his head, bore his victim as if in triumph round and round the pound. In vain Withers struggled to release himself, and shrieked for help. James and Arthur and Willie, followed by several men, leaped into the pound, regardless of the risk they ran of being set on by other animals.

”Oh! horrible! Save him! save him!” simultaneously cried the Miss Gilpins, who had ridden up.

At that moment Craven, who heard their cry, rode up, and, seeing the state of affairs, ordered the gate to be opened, and dashed in. The next instant he had thrown the la.s.so over the bull's head, clearing the man, and while he drew it tight round the creature's neck, the rest of the party came up and were able to get theirs round his legs and to bring him to the ground. Mark breathed, but had received some severe injuries. Whether they might prove fatal it was difficult to say.

”Oh! Mr Craven, we are indeed grateful for the way in which you released that poor man from his horrible position,” said Jane, in a sweet, yet unfaltering voice, as, on riding out of the pound, Craven bowed stiffly to the sisters.

He looked at Jane's countenance earnestly, and then rode up alongside her horse.

”I have some slight surgical skill, perhaps I may be of service,” he said quietly.

Withers was being carried at this time towards the house.

”Oh! try what you can do. My brothers will be most thankful. It would be dreadful were he to die in his present, as I fear, unprepared state,”

she replied.

Craven drew a deep breath. Susan echoed her sister's words. They were approaching the house.

Craven's skill was not very great, but he was gentle and patient, and contributed to relieve the sufferings of the injured man. Many hours pa.s.sed before the surgeon, who had been sent for, arrived. In the mean time, Craven was as a.s.siduous in his attention as he could have been had Mark been his dearest friend. The surgeon would not p.r.o.nounce a decided opinion as to the case. Though the injuries were severe, if the man's const.i.tution was good he might recover, but if not, they would probably prove fatal. James, as a true friend, felt that it was his duty to tell Mark the truth.

The injured man groaned and muttered, ”Yes, it was good; but I have done my best to destroy it.”

James spoke to him earnestly, and urged him, without delay, to make his peace with G.o.d, through the only means open to sinful man--the blood of His dear Son.

Mark listened, but a veil seemed on his understanding. ”The fact is, old fellow, I haven't thought about the matter, and I would rather not now,” he replied. ”I don't intend to die just yet, if I can help it; and who knows but what I may take up your notions of things, and become as good as you are? You mean me well, I know you do; but just let me alone.”

But a faithful man is faithful in all things. Arthur persevered, and at length a perceptible change took place in Mark's manner when he spoke of sacred matters. The fear of death in him became great. More than once Arthur heard him muttering to himself those awful words: HEREAFTER!

ETERNITY! At length the surgeon began to speak more favourably of Mark's condition. He thought he would recover, he said, but would be a cripple to the end of his life. It was a heavy blow to Mark, and caused him many bitter tears, although it was evident that it was a wonderful relief to his mind to be told that G.o.d had given him time for repentance, and not cut him off in the midst of his sins. Arthur was by his bedside continually, and it filled him with deep joy to be able to believe that Mark was a changed man. He spoke penitently, sorrowfully, of the past, but cheerfully and hopefully of the future. One day, as he was lying on a sofa, to which he had been lifted from his bed, he said to Arthur, ”I remember long ago, in the old country, Arthur, when you and I were discussing what was the object in life most worthy of our aim, I thought wealth, for the sake of spending it on pleasure--on myself. I could not make out exactly what your aim was; but you and your brothers seem to me to have got all you can desire to make life pleasant, while I have lost all I had, and gained nothing.”

”I held, I believe, that all we should aim at is to do our duty, and that openings for the employment of our energies will always be found for us,” answered Arthur. ”We certainly have found this to be true in our own case.”

”Yes, that you have,” said Mark, without, however, any bitterness in his tone. ”I should have called it luck once, but I won't now. I will try, by G.o.d's mercy, poor helpless creature that I am, to find some means of usefulness, that so I may not be a mere c.u.mberer of the earth, but may repay in any way that may offer itself some little portion of the kindness of my benefactors.”

The Gilpins had truly been fruitful fig trees. All they undertook prospered.

Far and wide they were a blessing to their neighbours, for as such they looked upon all those--rich or poor--whom they could reach.

Through their efforts and instrumentality the glad tidings of great joy were carried to all around them, many of whom would never otherwise have heard the Gospel sound.

The contrast between the career of the brothers and their quondam friend was great, but not greater than will usually be found between those who set the Lord always before their eyes, and seek him early while yet He may be found, and those who turn aside from His ways and refuse to follow them.

Craven declared that it was impossible any one could reap more benefit from his friends than he had. It seemed probable, indeed, that, but for them, he would have remained a hut-keeper to the end of his days. As it was, he became not merely an upright man in the eye of his fellow-men, but also a sincere Christian. He married Jane Gilpin, and with this event we close our narrative.

THE END.

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