Читать книгу The Squatter's Ward - Edward S Sorenson - Страница 5

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The industrious Sam had breakfast prepared by candle-light next morning, and the stars had not yet disappeared from the sky when the search parties set out from the station.

Shortly afterwards Mumby trotted up to the garden gate, leading a big bay horse, ready saddled, for Merton. Mumby was a short, thick-set, adolescent black, and his smartness and intelligence made him a favorite with Richard Merton. He had the eye of a white hawk, and the cunning of a dingo, and was considered the best tracker on Tipparoo. He was equal to any bloodhound, and his taciturnity and 'cuteness were essential qualities that well fitted him for the post. He had tracked down many a cattle-duffer and horse-stealer, and bore a scar on his cheek from the bullet of a flying thief.

Confident of further distinguishing himself this day, he smiled with delight as Merton approached, and sprang from his saddle with an agility born of long practice.

"Do you see these tracks, Mumby?" said Merton, pointing to Wahwon's footprints with the butt of his stockwhip handle.

Mumby grinned. "That blackfeller walk about," he said.

"How do you know that not blonga white man?" asked Merton.

"Baal white man foot like it that. Only black feller walk um that way."

"Well," said Merton, "I want you to walk after him and see where he went to. You understand?"

"Yowie."

"Don't let him see you, you know. Only find out where he camp; see?"

"Yowie."

"I'll bring some tucker out and meet, you at the Fig-tree. Do you hear?"

"Yowie," said Mumby for the third time.

"Off you go, then, and if you lose that track I'll make tracks on you. So look out for yourself—and don't go to sleep. I won't be far behind."

Throwing the reins over his horse's head, Mumby mounted and started off on the track of his countryman, a shaggy-coated dog trotting along before him. The track led him for some distance in the direction of Badginbilly, when it suddenly veered to leftward, and followed a thick belt of scrub that clothed a long range running to the north of Goolgolgon, through which it required the sharpest eyes to see a track.

Richard Merton, riding along an hour or two later, did not fail to detect where Mumby had turned off, and he opined it would be some hours before the tracker could get round to Fig-tree—a watering place on the Bargo. Goolgolgon was not more than six miles from Tipparoo, and, being a hard rider, it was not long before Merton drew rein in front of a dilapidated bark hut, standing on the slope of a sandy hill, and facing the narrow winding stream above named. He found Jediah Roff, the supposed owner, stretched full length on his bunk, engrossed in a fascinating yellow-back. He jumped up at once, and looked somewhat disconcerted for a "free selector" on recognising his visitor.

I thought you'd be boundary-riding this morning, Jed," said the latter, looking up from under his bushy brows.

"Oh, the fences are all standing. I was round them last month," Jed answered. He tumbled off the bunk, and threw down the yellow-back.

"Have you nothing else to do?" asked Merton. "I think I could find plenty of work here."

"I've been ringbarking in the top paddock all the morning. Just came in for breakfast a while ago."

"Rather a late hour for breakfast, isn't it?"

"Well, it's not what you might call early," said Jed. I like to work while it's cool."

"I see! Hem! Where is Mrs. Roff?"

"Gone down to Coraki for a day or two."

"Oh!" said Merton, with a hasty glance round the walls of the hut. Then he proceeded to question the man concerning Wahwon and the mysterious woman, guardedly at first, then more openly; but failed to add to his stock of information.

"I suppose," said Jed, when Merton was about to remount, "I suppose you're aware that my five years on this place is up?"

"Oh, is it? I had quite forgotten the date. Well, you'd better stop on a bit longer. I want those paddocks finished. They ought to have been done long ago."

"I'd like a day off to-morrow to fetch the missus back," said Jed. "I'll want some money this evening, too."

"What's to-morrow—Saturday? All right; come in to the station to-night."

"So be it!" Jed Roff muttered when he was left alone. "To-night—not this evening! Very well, it'll be the last cheque you'll draw out for me, Dick Merton. Looking for Wahwon, are you? I like your chance. . . . It takes a smart man to run down a wild aborigine."

From Jed Roff's hut Richard Merton went to two or three aboriginal camps along the Bargo, and for an hour or so he amused himself at rooting out a litter of young dingoes from a hollow log and killing them at Back Coorawynbah, the one-time site of a big sheep station. Many such sites are to be met with about the Richmond—small, clear plots, often dotted with Scotch thistle, where the early pioneers had dwelt, and tended their flocks over wooded hills where the sheep's plaintive tremolo is now a strange sound. By many of them there are graves of murdered whites and slaughtered blacks, telling how the cattle runs had been won from the savage kings.

Merton next rode across to Badginbilly, the residence of Jabez Gegg, another selector. Not being a reading man, Mr. Gegg was hard at work digging out a dam to hold water for stock in dry weather.

"Well, Gegg," said Merton, "what sort of a claim have you there?"

"A darn stiff 'un," said Gegg. "This stuff sticks worse'n patent plaster." He gave his legs a shake to dislodge the viscous clay from his boots.

"I think you're pretty near deep enough. There's room there for a few thousand gallons, but you want to ease the batters a bit. They'll be rather steep for cattle when it's slippery the way you've got 'em."

"I'm goin' ter slope them a bit. How's the day goin'? Must be near chuck-time by the look o' the sun."

"A quarter to one," said Merton, referring to his watch.

"Time my damper was out," said Gegg. "Better hook your nag up an' 'ave some dinner. Be ready as soon's the billy boils."

Merton did so; and while Gegg put on the billy, and scooped a damper out of the ashes and dusted it, he pursued his inquiries, and was rather dumfounded at certain pieces of news that Gegg imparted, insomuch as he had expected to hear nothing from this man.

"I seen jes' the sort o' nigger as you describe," he said, "a-goin' up ter Jed Roff's hut 'bout sundown yesterday. I'd been ridin' up the crick lookin' for a roan heifer that ud got out o' the paddock. I didn't take much notice of him, as there's allers plenty of 'em pokin' about the bush lookin' for sugarbags, an' they often come to the huts cadgin' tobaccor; but I ken swear to his togs an' the humpy shoulders."

"Jed Roff told me distinctly that no black had been near his place."

"That jes' shows there's somethin' crooked. Yer can't take much notice o' wot he says, anyhow. Atween you an' me, he's as big a liar as ever walked in boots. S'elp me gob, he's that used to it that it gives him a sort o' surprise when he's found out in a truth. His past wouldn't stand lookin' into neither, take it from me. He's one o' the oughter-be's."

"What do you mean?" asked Merton, knocking the ashes from his pipe.

"Wal, I'll tell yer summat as I've never let on to anyone else," said Gegg, leaning with his hands on the table. "I knew Jed Roff up at Quirindi. We worked together on that way a good while; though Jed never opens his mouth about them days when we made the big cheques at shearin'. Good reason why. We was drinkin' one night at a pub after finishin' up a pretty good clip. We'd been keepin' straight a good while up to this time, an' was pretty well in for stuff; so we reckoned on havin' a real good spree. We started in, an' I s'pose we'd 'ad seven or eight rounds when in walks Charlie Mant. I don't s'pose you know him—a little shearer bloke as used ter knock about Boggabri an' them places. He was half boozed, an' there bein' some old scores atween him an' Jed, a few words brings up a row, an' they comes ter blows in the bar. The publican parted 'em, 'an they kep' quiet for a bit; but you know wot a cove is when he's shickered. You might's well talk to a post as to try an' reason with him. Mant begins maggin' ag'in, an' Jed gets his monkey up in no time, an' at it they goes 'ammer an' tongs. I drags Jed away this time, an' the publican gives Mant the kick-out. He staggered off up the road, an' not long after Jed Roff follers im. I didn't try ter argerfy him out o' goin', for I knowed bloomin' well if I did he'd want ter fight me. So I let him rip. I had plenty o' gonce, an' a man wot's got that needn't look long for a pot-mate. Wal, he was never heard of no more; but Mant was found next mornin' dead under a tree, an' a stone was picked up near him as they proved at the ingkwest he was killed with. Ev'rybody knew Jed Roff done it, an' a warrant was out for him; but he'd cleared, an' they've never found him yet."

"If this is true, and you knew all along where the man was, why have you never reported him?" asked Merton, who could not credit what he had heard.

"Wal, I didn't want ter hang the man. Let the traps hunt him out. It's their work, not mine—an' I ain't goin' ter be no informer."

"He could not have escaped this long if he was known as Jed Roff at Quirindi?" said Merton.

"He went be the name o' Fred Woolley up there," Gegg answered.

"You are sure he is the same man?"

"I wish I was as sure of a fortune."

"If I'd known this in time he wouldn't have lived on Goolgolgon."

"His time must be jes' about up, if I reckerlect."

"Yes . . . . he'll soon be out of it . . . . I think it would be well, though, unless you are prepared to prove your assertion, to say nothing about it now, or you may get yourself into trouble. It's a serious charge."

"I'm not likely ter blab. As I said afore, you're the only one as I've ever mentioned it to. It might come o' use to you in siftin' that bis'ness yer mentioned."

"Do you think he has any connection with it?"

"Hard ter say. Yer don't know wot that man is, or wot he's got ter answer for. One thing certain, he's a black sheep an' worth keepin' an eye on."

"I've often thought him eccentric. I could never understand him."

"Why," said Jabez Gegg, pausing in his occupation of wiping the tinware, and resting his knuckles on the slab table, "look at his missus! They say she's a real lady. But who knows, anything about her? She's shut up in that shanty as if she was a gorilla in a menagerie. Maybe she's sort o' shy an' not been runnin' long in double 'arness. Licks me all ter bits, anyway. I've only got 'bout two squints of her since I've been on Badginbilly. Once was when I was crossin' the crick at th' bottom corner. She was out at the clothes-line, an' it was the things she was hangin' up wot struck me more'n anything."

"What things were they?" asked Merton.

"Baby's clothes," said Gegg.

"You must have been mistaken," Merton returned. "They have no children."

"I dunno as they 'ave; but I ken take my 'davy them was baby's clothes—long 'uns too. Seein' them, I reckoned there must 've been a hincrease in the family."

"On what terms are you with Jed Roff? Have you any prejudice against him?" asked Merton. He thought it likely enough that Gegg had some ill-feeling against Roff, and wished to have him shifted from Goolgolgon.

"Wal," said Gegg, resuming operations, "I can't say as there's any love lost atween us; for all that, I ain't got any down on him. He leaves me alone, an' I never trouble him! In fact, we haven't spoke for a twelvemonth. But that comes of him not bein' one ter mix with people. He's a sort o' hermit, an' likes ter live alone from wot I ken make out. It's only since the Quirindi racket, though, that he's been took that way. He was another man altogether them days, allers full o" life—when he wasn't full o' liquor. He's turned sober now."

"Humph!" said Merton. "I never knew so much of Jed Roff before."

The conversation was continued through dinner, and much of the afternoon had waned before Merton's thoughts reverted to Mumby. The tracker had waited impatiently for his promised dinner, and when it arrived at Fig tree he was coiled up among the roots fast asleep; while his dog watched the horse as it wandered about in search of herbage. Merton's whip fell heavily across his legs, and he sprang up with a startled yell.

"I thought I told you not to go to sleep?" Merton demanded.

"You been berry long time bring um dinner," Mumby returned, rubbing his legs and eyes alternately.

"Did you find that blackfellow, then?"

"Me find where he been go."

"Where was that?"

"He go throo scrub round Goolgolgon, an' longa creek—sometime longa water hide um track. He go dis way, an' dat way—all wobble about like goanna. Den he leabe um creek au' yan longa hut."

"What hut?"

"Where Jed Roff sit down."

"You sure?"

"Yowie. Me track um longa door while Jed Roff been yan top paddock ring um tree. Then me think it Wahwon yan Pine Mountain."

"Well, look here," said Merton, "you hide your horse in one of these thickets here, and watch Jed Roff till he leaves the hut to-night. Dog him everywhere. Do you understand?"

"Yowie," said Mumby, dexterously catching the parcel Merton took from his saddle-pouch and threw to him. Merton now shaped his course homeward, well satisfied with his day's work, though, in sooth, he had discovered comparatively nothing in the way of proving the parentage of the child Edith. Ralf Havelock and the other men were even less successful, having no tidings whatever to communicate on their return. Ralf had merely gleaned that no woman had been called to her last bourne within the last nine months at Wyrallah; neither had there been any elopements or husband desertions.

The more Richard Merton reflected on the intricate problem, the stronger grew his belief that Jed Roff possessed the key of solution. He never took for granted all he heard, and was always slow to arrive at conclusions; but, though he did not credit all that Jabez Gegg had told him, he could not doubt the truth of what he had said in relation to Wahwon and the peculiar habits and proceedings of the Roff family, as this was in part confirmed by Mumby the tracker. He now required proof as to whether Mrs. Roff had really gone to Coraki, or whether Jed's assertion of such was a falsehood; and to carry this out he determined to have the selector's movements watched on Saturday. This might be productive of something that would ultimately reveal the extent of his connection with Edith, if any.

For Edith's sake, however, he hoped the investigation would show Jed Roff to be wholly unconcerned, as a man shadowed with the suspicion of a terrible crime was not a desirable associate. He saw with apprehension that each passing hour increased the ominous clouds that hung over little Edith, and he feared that she would yet become a thorn in his side.