Читать книгу The Squatter's Ward - Edward S Sorenson - Страница 6

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WHEN Mumby had finished his dinner his first object was to ride to the lower end of Goolgolgon and conceal his horse in a clump of bushes. A small field of oats was growing not far from the spot he chose, and, stealing over, he cut a huge armful for his horse, so that the animal would be more contented when left alone. He then picked his way along the creek towards where he had seen Jed Roff at work in the morning; and guided by the sound of the axe, he climbed a steep hill, from which coign of vantage he watched the man cutting the fatal rings round the spotted gum trees along the slope below him. For an hour or so the axeman applied himself vigorously to his task, and then threw his axe down at the butt of a tree, and himself alongside it, Mumby was sufficiently versed in the ways of these men to know that Jed intended to indulge in a nap till the cool of the afternoon. He allowed half an hour to lapse, then betook himself to the hut. This was easy of access, the only fastening to the door being a wooden peg. He looked carefully around to ascertain that he was not observed, and remarked that the wood-heap had been shifted from its customary place by the galley and stacked against the back of the house. He gazed at this a few minutes, wondering; then shoved the door back and unceremoniously entered the domicile of Jed Roff.

'It contained four small rooms, in three of which he found nothing worthy of note, except a rough pine cupboard in the corner of one. The sight of a cook or a cupboard had a remarkably sharpening influence on Mumby's appetite; and before going further, he regaled himself at Jed's expense. The door of the fourth room was secured with a strong padlock and chain, and for a time baffled his attempts to open. He finally gained his end with the aid of a crowbar he found under a bunk, remarking to himself that no one would know who did the damage. The chain was snapped in twain, and the door flew back. Contrary to his expectations, the room was completely destitute of furniture. But it was not empty. It contained enough to surprise the sagacious black. Behind the door stood a rifle and a package of cartridges, whilst on the floor under the closed shutters was a pack saddle with full strappings; and four large swags, apparently containing clothing and blankets, lay near it. It occurred to Mumby, as a reason for his being employed as detective, that Jed Roff had committed some offence, and was making active preparations to abscond. He did not know that Jed had been granted a day's leave to go to town on the morrow. He had half a mind to unpack the swags and examine their contents. It might be the means of exposing something important to his boss.

He was debating this question when the sound of footsteps passing round the house fell on his ears and filled him with alarm. His first impulse was to arm himself with the rifle as an effective means of defence should the person, whom he had no doubt was Jed Roff, be inclined to show hostilities. A cursory inspection of the room, however, served to banish this thought. A few slabs had been placed for some purpose across the angle of the wall-plates, and he perceived in these a favorable retreat from the enemy. A batten was nailed anglewise on the wall, which rendered the ascent to the stage a facility. The agile black had mounted it in a trice, and concealed himself by crouching under the sloping roof. The position was extremely uncomfortable; but Mumby wasn't expecting luxuries just then. He had not long to wait before his interrupter walked into the room.

Great was Mumby's astonishment on perceiving that the man was not Jed Roff, but Jabez Gegg! What did this mean? It was palpable that his object was spoliation. He advanced to the swags, and without a moment's hesitation unrolled each one and overhauled its contents. These, as Mumby expected, consisted mostly of clothing, though one included several small wares—such as cutlery, toilet requisites, writing materials, letters, papers, tobacco, and so forth. The letters received particular attention from him, all of which he perused, and was so interested in one as to thrust it into his pocket. He also appropriated the tobacco and a few small articles; and leaving the things strewn about in disorder, went in search of more plunder. There was an air of indifference and coolness about him, and he exhibited a steadiness of purpose and a thoroughness in his operations that might have called for admiration in a better cause—the result of long experience, perhaps, in the craft of Bill Sikes and Co.

Shuffling round the room, his greedy eyes detected the rifle, which he was quick to lift. He examined it with the air of a connoisseur, and, apparently satisfied with its make and calibre, tucked it under his arm with the package of cartridges and left the room—and soon after the house.

Mumby remained in concealment until the sound of his retreating footsteps died away, when he hastily descended, and watched him through a crack in the wall until he disappeared from view. He looked regretfully at the plundered baggage, and, actuated by the fear of being inculpated for the thefts, made haste to leave the hut while the opportunity remained of escaping detection. He stole back to the ridge, at times crawling on his hands and knees where the sparse wood afforded him but little shelter, and was much relieved, on reaching his former post, to see Jed Roff still reposing in the shade of the gum tree. Indeed, the sun was drawing towards the western skyline, and the russet valley was mantled in one broad shadow, before he roused himself from his lethargy. He stretched himself and yawned, and, throwing the axe over his shoulder, strolled leisurely homewards. Mumby did not follow in his footsteps, but as soon as he was out of sight ran down to the creek, and back to the place where his horse was champing his bit and pawing the ground with growing impatience.

Jed Roff had gone into the hut, but presently came out again, manifesting signs of rage and agitation. The robbery had been discovered, and the manner of the victim boded ill to the perpetrator. He went slowly round the place, with his eyes fixed on the ground, til he stood a little in front, when he looked across the hills that lay betwixt him and Badginbilly, and shook his fist menacingly in the air. Mumby chuckled to himself, knowing that he was safe, for he had taken the precaution to cover his tracks. Jabez Gegg had not been so discreet, and Jed Roff had no difficulty in comprehending the situation.

It has often been remarked that these settlers reside for years in their huts without making one solitary track in their comings and goings. In this respect the habitation of Jed Roff was an exception, for the soil hereabouts was loose and sabulous, and many sinuous tracks diverged from the doors—to the front sliprails, to the cultivation, to the creek, and to the back part of the selection. Jabez Gegg, despite his experience and rustic sapience, had been imprudent enough to follow the track to the slip-rails, and so it was easy to track him down.

It may have been delight at the good haul he had made that caused him to so far forget himself as to ignore the fact that his huge hobnail boots left a clear and unmistakable impression in the soft sand behind him. No doubt he was even now gloating over his dishonestly acquired treasures in fancied security, while the indignant Jed re-collected his chattels and fumed over his loss. His horses came up from the paddocks, and stood waiting outside for their accustomed feed. Two big bays were shut up in the cockatoo yard and given a bucket of corn and chaff in a wooden trough. One of these was saddled about dusk, and Jed Roff, now apparelled in a neat black suit, mounted and rode down to the sliprails. Mumby thought he was bound for Badginbilly to settle accounts with Jabez Gegg, and at once made up his mind to be near at hand to see the scrimmage. But he was soon to be undeceived, for Jed Roff took the road leading to Tipparoo.

When the shadows had sufficiently deepened to render objects indistinct, Mumby vaulted lightly into his saddle and followed. On reaching the road he thought he saw a horseman on the brow of a hill to his left, where a faint glow yet fell from the fading crimson of the sky. It vanished almost instantly, and Mumby took no further heed, but jogged along the track, peering ahead of him, and now and again calling his dog behind as it ran in front in its eagerness to get home.

About two miles away the road passed between several sandy mounds, beyond which was a bit of brush to the right. Here the night lay dark as pitch, and Mumby, though keeping close up, could not see the man before him, and was only guided by the hoofbeats of the quick-striding bay. But here was a long stretch of thick sand which deadened the sounds, and Mumby was quickening his pace when he heard the cracking of twigs to rightward. He reined in and listened. At first he could faintly hear what resembled the tramping of a horse; then something ran swiftly through the dry grass and into the brush. Thinking it but some nocturnal animal, Mumby pressed on, for the foremost horseman by this time had obtained a good lead, and Mumby was anxious not to lose sight of him.

He had reached about the middle of the brush, when suddenly the sharp report of a rifle rang out on the night air, and Mumby, with a faint moan, dropped forward and fell from his saddle. The horse, terrified even more than the birds that flew from their perches with loud cries and flapping of pinions, galloped furiously up the road, with the dog panting closely at its heels. Then followed a rustling and oscillation of bushes, and a dark form emerged from the thicket and stood in the open. For a moment he remained in a hearkening posture, then beat a hasty retreat as a horseman came trotting down the path. The horse stopped short and snorted when it came to the spot where Mumby lay still and silent on a bed of sarsaparilla vines. The rider dismounted and struck a match, and an exclamation of horror escaped him on espying the body of Mumby, lying with his arms spread out and his face turned to the sickly stars. He gazed long and steadfastly at the rigid features, but shrank from any contact with it. A thin stream of blood was flowing from a wound in the head, and no signs of life were perceptible. Poor Mumby's days were numbered, and his shadow would never again flit in the wake of Jed Roff. It was he who stood there wondering who had fired the fatal shot. He gazed around him, but the gloom was so impenetrable that he could not distinguish objects within reach. A thought seemed to enter his mind that the murderer might be lurking in the wood, and would shoot him also; for on a sudden he mounted his horse and departed at a hand-gallop.

The man who had first appeared again emerged from his hiding place and approached the body, carrying in his hands a heavy link chain and a coil of rope. It was clear that the crime and its location had been premeditated; for the vines on which Mumby lay were growing on the very brink of a deep, stagnant pool. Into this the body was rolled after being carefully weighted with the chain, and it sank with a gurgling sound. All this was performed in the dark, the villain fearing to produce a light lest it should lead to his discovery.

"There," he muttered when his gruesome task was complete, "that job's done an' Jed Roff will trouble me no more. He was the only one as knowed my secret, an' there was no tellin' when he might put a feller away. But he's silenced now. 'Dead men tell no tales.' It was a good shot considerin' it was that dark I could scarcely see him, though I was almost close enough to've touched him with the barrel. Wonder who the cove was, though, as come up an' went back ag'in? Some un from the station, perhaps, as was comin' out, an' now gone back ter report. Wish I'd put a plug in him, then no un would a' knowed wot become o' Jed Roff."

He little thought that Jed Roff was at that moment at Tipparoo.