Part 85 (1/2)
Chapter XLI
WIDDERIN SHOWS CLEARLY THAT HE IS WORTH ALL THE MONEY SAM GAVE FOR HIM.
The Sergeant, as I said, broke in upon us with the fearful news as we sat at wine. For a minute no man spoke, but all sat silent and horror struck. Only the Doctor rose quietly, and slipped out of the room unnoticed.
Desborough spoke first. He rose up with deadly wrath in his face, and swore a fearful oath, an oath so fearful, that he who endorsed every word of it then, will not write it down now. To the effect, ”That, he would take neither meat, nor drink, nor pleasure, nor rest, beyond what was necessary to keep body and soul together, before he had purged the land of these treacherous villains!”
Charles Hawker went up to the Sergeant, with a livid face and shaking hands; ”Will you tell me again, Robinson, ARE THEY ALL DEAD?”
The Sergeant looked at him compa.s.sionately. ”Well, sir!” he said; ”the boy seemed to think Mrs. and Miss Mayford had escaped. But you mustn't trust what he says, sir.”
”You are deceiving me,” said Charles. ”There is something you are hiding from me, I shall go down there this minute, and see.”
”You will do nothing of the kind, sir,” said Mrs. Buckley, coming into the doorway and confronting him; ”your place is with Captain Desborough. I am going down to look after Ellen.”
During these few moments, Sam had stood stupified. He stepped up to the Sergeant, and said,--
”Would you tell me which way they went from the Mayfords'?”
”Down the river, sir.”
”Ah!” said Sam; ”towards Captain Brentwood's, and Alice at home, and alone!--There may be time yet.”
He ran out of the room and I after him. ”His first trouble,” I thought,--”his first trial. How will our boy behave now?”
Let me mention again, that the distance from the Mayfords' to Captain Brentwood's, following the windings of the river on its right bank, was nearly twenty miles. From Major Buckley's to the same point, across the plains, was barely ten; so that there was still a chance that a brave man on a good horse, might reach Captain Brentwood's before the bushrangers, in spite of the start they had got.
Sam's n.o.ble horse, Widderin, a horse with a pedigree a hundred years old, stood in the stable. The buying of that horse had been Sam's only extravagance, for which he had often reproached himself, and now this day, he would see whether he would get his money's worth out of that horse, or no.
I followed him up to the stable, and found him putting the bridle on Widderin's beautiful little head. Neither of us spoke, only when I handed him the saddle, and helped him with the girths, he said, ”G.o.d bless you.”
I ran out and got down the slip-rails for him. As he rode by he said, ”Good-bye, uncle Jeff, perhaps you won't see me again;” and I cried out, ”Remember your G.o.d and your mother, Sam, and don't do anything foolish.”
Then he was gone; and looking across the plains the way he should go, I saw another horseman toiling far away, and recognised Doctor Mulhaus.
Good Doctor! he had seen the danger in a moment, and by his ready wit had got a start of every one else by ten minutes.
The Doctor, on his handsome long-bodied Arabian mare, was making good work of it across the plains, when he heard the rush of horses' feet behind him, and turning, he saw tall Widderin bestridden by Sam, springing over the turf, gaining on him stride after stride. In a few minutes they were alongside of one another.
”Good lad!” cried the Doctor; ”On, forwards; catch her, and away to the woods with her. Bloodhound Desborough will be on their trail in half-an-hour. Save her, and we will have n.o.ble vengeance.”
Sam only waved his hand in good-bye, and sped on across the plain like a solitary s.h.i.+p at sea. He steered for a single tree, now becoming dimly visible, at the foot of the Organ hill.
The good horse, with elastic and easy motion, fled on his course like a bird; lifting his feet clearly and rapidly through the gra.s.s. The brisk south wind filled his wide nostrils as he turned his graceful neck from side to side, till, finding that work was meant, and not play, he began to hold his head straight before him, and rush steadily forward.
And Sam, poor Sam! all his hopes for life now brought down to this: to depend on the wind and pluck of an unconscious horse. One stumble now, and it were better to lie down on the plain and die. He was in the hands of G.o.d, and he felt it. He said one short prayer, but that towards the end was interrupted by the wild current of his thoughts.
Was there any hope? They, the devils, would have been drinking at the Mayfords', and perhaps would go slow; or would they ride fast and wild?
After thinking a short time, he feared the latter. They had tasted blood, and knew that the country would be roused on them shortly. On, on, good horse!