CHAPTER XXI
A CLEVER ESCAPE
'They cannot well be ahead of us,' said Doonan. 'I have seen no one about.'
'Precious good care they would take you did not see them,' answered Silas.
'We must make the best of our way back,' said Willie, and set the pace faster than Constable Doonan's horse cared to go.
'I shall be left if you go at that rate,' he shouted to Willie.
As Wanabeen came in sight all appeared quiet and safe, and they anticipated nothing had happened there. They were mistaken.
Abe Dalton had laid his plans well. Together with three of his men he had been on the watch for some hours. By a mere chance the absence of the black gin from the camp had been discovered, and Dalton had found brutal means to find out where she had gone.
'It will cost her her life,' he muttered, and then he cursed his men for talking of such matters in front of the blacks. Sal being warned, as he expected would be the case, no doubt either Willie Dennis or one of the hands would be sent to Swamp Creek for assistance.
Dalton at once decided to ride in the direction of Wanabeen and keep a sharp lookout. He knew every inch of the country and every place of concealment.
Not far from Wanabeen homestead was an old disused boundary rider's hut, and it was here he meant to hide and keep a sharp lookout.
Luck favoured him. With some difficulty the horses as well as the men were packed inside, and no signs of them could be seen.
Abe Dalton caught sight of Willie and Silas Dixon riding away at a fast pace, and knew they must have been put on their guard, but he was surprised at the direction in which they were going, as it did not lead to Swamp Creek.
'What's their little game?' he wondered. 'Perhaps they are on the lookout for Doonan. I shall have to make an example of him. He hangs around Barker's Creek too often for my liking. That fool Sharp; I must get rid of him, or he'll land us in some trouble. He'll have to be fired out and take his chance. There is no help for it.'
When Willie and Silas Dixon were out of sight, the party emerged from their hiding-place, and, quickly mounting, rode as fast as the horses could gallop to Wanabeen.
Sal heard them as they drew near, and looking out at the door saw it was Abe Dalton and his men.
Her heart almost failed her, but she was courageous, and quickly slamming the door, locked and bolted it. Then she fastened the windows, and, taking up the revolver, resolved to defend herself until help arrived. The black gin was crouching in a corner, quivering with terror, for she knew Dalton would show her no mercy when he found her there. It was useless for Sal to ask her to assist in the defence, the poor creature was helpless from sheer fright.
Dalton reached the house first, and banging at the door with the butt end of his whip, shouted, —
'Open the door, my black beauty. No harm shall come to you if you go with us quietly, but we mean to have you.'
She made no answer, and Dalton, becoming impatient, sent a couple of his men to the rear of the house, where they commenced to smash in a window.
The crack of a revolver was followed by a cry of pain, and the smashing of glass ceased.
'She's got a revolver,' said Dalton. 'We must be careful, but she cannot attend to both the back and the front of the place.'
He saw a heavy axe standing in the yard and called to the man who was minding the horses to bring it him. The fellow put the horses in the yard and then brought him the axe; it was one used for splitting logs and was very strong. Dalton brought it down with a crash on the door, and the wood splintered. He put his hand inside to unlock it, or to pull back the bolt, when Sal fired at him, but missed.
Nothing daunted, Dalton stepped back and again raised the axe. The door, not being strongly built, was soon forced open, and as it fell inwards there was a crash heard at the back of the house, where Dalton's men had also forced a way in. Sal was so intent upon taking aim at Abe Dalton that she did not hear one of the men steal quickly up behind her. He hit up her arm as she fired, and this saved Abe Dalton's life, as the bullet went through his hat.
She was at once pinioned and her arms strapped behind her.
'That was a near shave, Sal,' said Dalton; 'and if you belonged to me I'd damage that face of yours. As it is, I'll leave that for your new master to operate on when he's tired of you.'
'My new master!' she said. 'What do you mean?'
'A very nice man has fallen in love with you, Sal, and we are going to take you to him.'
'You will suffer for this. Wait until Jim Dennis returns,' she said.
Sal knew it was useless to offer resistance; she must escape by some other means when out of Dalton's hands.
Where were they taking her to? It could not be Barker's Creek. Then she recollected what Rodney Shaw had said to her, and shuddered. Would he dare to risk this outrage, with the assistance of such men as Dalton and his gang? A man in his position dare not do it.
She little knew of what Rodney Shaw was capable.
They took her outside and strapped her on one of Jim Dennis's horses.
The black gin cowering in the corner had escaped notice until, unfortunately for her, as Dalton was leaving the room he caught sight of her.
'There you are!' he said with a savage scowl. 'I'll teach you to play the spy, you black devil!'
He rushed at her and hit her across the face and head with his whip. She howled with pain, a piteous cry, almost like that of a dying animal, a long wail that caused Sal to shudder.
'I'll teach you,' he said, and, picking up Sal's revolver, he shot her through the head with no more compunction than he would have done a dingo.
'You will tell no more tales,' he said as he kicked her body away from him. 'I'll leave you here for the boys to clear away when they return.'
The party were soon on their way to Cudgegong, and they kept a lookout in every direction for signs of Willie Dennis and Dixon.
'We shall leave them on the left,' said Dalton. 'I don't think there is any danger of our being seen. I hope you are comfortable, Sal,' he added with a grin.
She made no reply. She was busy thinking how she would act, for she knew they were going in the direction of Cudgegong.
It was a long, tedious ride, and the men were in a bad humour. They thought Abe Dalton a fool for being mixed up in a job like this.
'Did you shoot that black gin?' one of them asked.
'Yes; she will tell no tales,' he answered.
'There'll be a lot of trouble over it, and with Seth Sharp's bungling piece of work the Creek will be too hot to hold us.'
'If you are afraid to stay there you know what to do,' growled Dalton.
'Clear out, I suppose. You are mighty fond of telling some of us that. Mind we don't clear you out.'
'Yes, I'll mind that, and I'll not forget what you have said. That's your gratitude after I have kept you all these years,' said Dalton.
'Kept me!' echoed the man. 'Come, I like that. It's me that's helped to keep you, and more fool I have been to do it.'
Sal was in hopes they would quarrel and give her a chance to escape, but, although Dalton and some of his men were always falling out, their mutual interests were too inseparable for any really serious quarrel to arise.
Rodney Shaw was awaiting their arrival at Cudgegong, for Dalton had sent him word the previous day that he might expect them. He was in an excited state, and had been screwing up his courage with his favourite liquor. He knew he was doing a rash and cowardly act, one that would not only get him into trouble possibly, but would cause everyone to regard him as a scoundrel.
He was, however, a man who cared little for such things, and, if the worst came to the worst, he could clear out from Cudgegong. He had come to hate the place, and there were other matters connected with it, memories that haunted him and caused him to have many sleepless nights. He thought in time Sal would settle down with him, as she had done with Jim Dennis, and that she would be company for him. Until such time arrived he meant to keep her safe and do as he liked with her.
He little knew the task he had set himself or the woman he had to deal with. There was much of the cunning of the black in Sal, and she was not a woman to submit tamely to indignities. When Abe Dalton and his party arrived at Cudgegong Rodney Shaw at once had Sal taken to the room prepared for her.
'You will soon be happy and contented here,' he said to her; 'and you will not find me a bad master. You would not come to me of your own free will, so I thought I would send for you.'
Sal gave him a fierce look from her big dark eyes, and said, as she faced him, —
'You are a coward, not a man. Jim Dennis will throttle the life out of you when he finds out what you have done.'
'He will not find out, because he will never suspect you are here,' he replied.
She made him no answer. She felt Jim Dennis would know what had befallen her.
He left her and went to settle with Dalton.
'You will find yourself in a nice mess over this,' said Dalton.
'I'll take the risk. I have the woman, that is what I wanted. Here is your money.'
'It was a stiff job,' said Abe Dalton, 'and we have run a big risk. Can't you make it a trifle more?'
Rodney Shaw swore at him, and said a bargain was a bargain, but he eventually gave him twenty pounds over the sum agreed upon.
When they were gone he went again to Sal. He meant to try and coax her into a good humour. He succeeded ill, and, losing his temper, said, —
'Remember I am your master now, and you will have to obey me. Think it over during the night, and make up your mind to be contented.'
With that he left her, and she looked round for some means of escape. The one window was heavily barred, and the door was fastened on the outside.
Rodney Shaw had taken every precaution, so he thought, to secure her; but he did not anticipate she would try to attempt what seemed impossible, and escape. He did not know Sal. She meant to try every means in her power to get out of that room.
The house was, as usual, built on thick wooden piles and was some height from the ground. As Sal walked round and round she heard a board creak, almost in the same spot, each time she passed over it. She knelt on the floor and felt closely round the skirting. To her joy she discovered the white ants had been busily at work on one of the piles and that they had penetrated the skirting board of the room. She tapped it, and the sound told her it was hollow inside, crumbling away. So great was her joy that she had much difficulty in restraining herself from testing her plan at once.
She knew, however, it would be safer to wait until it was dark and all was still. The time passed slowly, but at last she determined to risk it.
She pressed her hand heavily on the board, and, as she expected, it gave way and crumbled to pieces. It was an easy matter for such a powerful woman to rip the rotten portion away, but a more difficult task awaited her when she attempted to pull up the flooring boards, and she had to be very careful not to make much noise. Her hands were cut and bleeding, but she heeded it not. She pulled and tugged with all her strength, and at last one board gave way, but the space made was not wide enough for her to squeeze through. The second board did not take so long to raise, and this gave her a sufficient opening.
She slipped through and found herself underneath the house, free, if she could only manage to get away unobserved or without rousing any of the dogs.
She crawled along the ground, hardly daring to breathe, until she reached the fence, which she quickly climbed.
Once outside she commenced to run for her life, and as she was fleet of foot she soon put some distance between herself and Cudgegong. She knew in which direction Wanabeen lay, and could tell by the star-lit heavens that she was on the right track.
All night long she struggled on, until at last she could go no further, and, falling from sheer exhaustion, she was soon in a deep sleep.
CHAPTER XXII
DETERMINED MEN
As Willie Dennis and his friends drew nearer to the house they saw their first conjecture was wrong and that something serious had taken place during their absence.
As they reined in their horses Constable Doonan said, —
'Let me go in first,' and, drawing his revolver, he walked cautiously into the house.
There he saw the black gin huddled up in the corner, a pool of blood round her and a bullet wound in her head.
'Sal!' he shouted. 'Sal, where are you?'
There was no answer, everything was ominously quiet.
Willie Dennis and Silas Dixon followed the constable, and were horrified at what they saw.
'There has been a desperate scene here,' said Doonan, 'and Sal is gone. They may have taken her away. We must send a messenger at once for your father, my lad.'
'I'll go,' said Willie. 'I am a light weight and can ride fast. You and Silas must search for Sal.'
'That will be the best plan,' said Doonan.
'I'll start now,' said Willie. 'We can clear up here when we return.'
'We must leave everything as it is until I have made my report to Sergeant Machinson,' said the constable. 'He will have to make a move against Dalton's gang this time.'
Willie was soon on his way to Barragong, his blood boiling with rage at the outrage that had been committed at Wanabeen, and he wondered what had become of Sal.
In the meantime, Constable Doonan and Silas Dixon were scouring the country in search of the missing woman.
At the hut where Dalton and his men had been in hiding Doonan examined the place and found the members of the gang had been concealed there.
'They must have seen you and Willie ride away,' he said; 'and in that case they would have a long start of us.'
They camped out that night near a creek, and ate the food they had brought away with them from Wanabeen. They were used to roughing it and to lie on the bare ground with the saddle for a pillow.
They were astir early in the morning, and rode round in a wide circle, looking for tracks or any signs of Sal. At last Constable Doonan thought he saw an object lying on the ground which resembled a human being. It was too far distant for him to discover clearly, but he knew it was not an animal. He rode towards it, and, with a shout of joy, roused Sal, who was still asleep where she had fallen, and at the same time it recalled Silas Dixon.
When Sal saw who it was she could hardly believe in her good fortune. At first she thought it was Rodney Shaw who had overtaken her.
Doonan was off his horse and at her side very quickly, and knelt down to support her, for she was still very weak. He moistened her lips from his flask, and, when she had recovered somewhat, questioned her.
Sal gave him a brief account of all that had taken place, and when Doonan heard who was the instigator of the outrage he could hardly credit it.
'Rodney Shaw!' he exclaimed. 'A man in his position! He must be mad. Rich man as he is, he shall suffer for it, Sal. He need not think he can do as he pleases, even in this lonely place. I pity him when he gets into Jim Dennis's clutches; he'll about settle him.'
He put Sal on his horse and walked by her side. They had several miles to go before reaching Wanabeen.
'Who was it shot the black gin?' asked Doonan.
'Abe Dalton. The other men were outside, he was alone in the house. I heard her cry out when he lashed her with his whip, then followed the shot, and she cried no more. Dalton killed her,' said Sal.
'He shall swing for it,' said the constable, savagely.
They proceeded for some distance in silence, and then Doonan said, in a tone of admiration, —
'You were clever to escape from Cudgegong, Sal.'
'I meant to get away somehow. Had I not escaped I would have killed myself rather than be in Shaw's power. He is a wicked man.'
'There are not many worse,' said Doonan. 'I never had much opinion of him, but I did not think he was such an out-and-out "rotter."'
Next morning the party arrived from Barragong, accompanied by Adye Dauntsey, Sergeant Machinson and half a dozen mounted police.
When Jim Dennis heard how Abe Dalton had acted, and that Sal had been taken to Cudgegong, his whole body trembled with rage and excitement.
Had he not been persuaded to act otherwise, he would at once have ridden to Cudgegong and, taking the law into his hands, have called Rodney Shaw to account.
Both Dr Tom and the police magistrate, however, restrained him.
'Leave it to me,' said Adye Dauntsey. 'I'll see they all meet with their deserts.'
'If Sergeant Machinson had done his duty this would not have happened, and poor Ned Glenn would have been alive.'
Dr Tom's dog Baalim caught sight of the dead woman and howled piteously, and the sound was so weird it started them all.
The police magistrate questioned Sal as to what had taken place, also Constable Doonan, Willie Dennis and Silas Dixon. He took their depositions and then called Sergeant Machinson on one side.
'We must act at once, sergeant. The sooner the better,' he said. 'Dalton and his gang ought to have been rooted out of Barker's Creek years ago. I am afraid there has been some neglect of duty here. Take my advice and make up for it now by extra vigilance and alertness in securing these men. You understand me. I have no wish to do you an injustice or injury, but I must report this matter as I see it. Let your conduct now wipe out any defects of the past, and then all will be well. I shall state what I think in my report, and I hope I may be able to add something to the effect that any mistakes you have made in the past have been amply atoned for by your activity and bravery at Barker's Creek.'
The P.M. spoke kindly yet firmly, and Sergeant Machinson was well aware that much of his conduct in connection with Abe Dalton's gang would not bear investigation. He had sense enough to see that the course Mr Dauntsey advised him to take was the best. He knew he could trust the magistrate in every respect. He was surprised at his firmness on this occasion, because he had not 'put his foot down' before. Sergeant Machinson also knew that recent events could not be passed over, and that in future it would be impossible for him to shield Abe Dalton in any way. What he dreaded most was the thought of Dalton being taken alive, in which case he would be likely to 'let out' some curious business transactions in which the sergeant had been mixed up.
'It is very kind of you, Mr Dauntsey, and you may rely upon me to follow your advice to the best of my ability. I think you will have no cause to complain of me when all is over.'
'That's right, sergeant, the proper way to look at it. I am sure you and your men will do your duty. I am also sure of one other thing, that you will freely acknowledge you have done Jim Dennis a gross injustice. You can see now he has never had any dealings with Abe Dalton's gang, quite the reverse. The manly course for you to take is to tell Dennis you have been mistaken.'
Sergeant Machinson did not relish this, although he knew it was but just.
'I'll do it,' he said at last. 'He deserves it.'
Adye Dauntsey was well pleased that he had put matters on such a good footing before the attack on the camp at Barker's Creek commenced.
He knew there would be a desperate resistance and much danger, and he was resolved to share in it.
Sergeant Machinson went up to Jim Dennis and said, —
'May I have a word with you?'
Jim looked surprised, but replied, —
'If you wish; but you can have little to say to me that I shall be pleased to hear.'
This did not lighten the sergeant's task or make it more pleasant, but he resolved to go through with it.
'I wish to state that I have done you an injustice and that my suspicions have been unfounded. I am sorry for what has happened and I know you have had nothing whatever to do with Dalton's gang. I will do all in my power to bring them to justice for making this attack on your place, and I hope you will lend us a hand in securing them. It will be a tough struggle, and some of us may not come out of it alive. Will you shake hands?' said Sergeant Machinson.
Jim Dennis had a kindly nature. He shook the sergeant's hand heartily and said, —
'I like to hear a man own up when he has been in the wrong. You have been hard on me, sergeant, but we will forget that. I will help you all I can. I have a score to settle with Abe Dalton and Rodney Shaw; they can be classed together now.'
A council of war was held at Wanabeen, after things had been put fairly straight, at which Adye Dauntsey presided.
He thought they had better lose no time, but attempt to take Abe Dalton and his gang at once. 'They will not leave Barker's Creek,' he said. 'It is their only safe place. There are eight of the police and four of us, if Silas Dixon will join us.'
'Five,' said Willie, who was present. 'What about me?'
Adye Dauntsey smiled as he replied, —
'You must ask your father about that, Willie.'
'He can go with us if he wishes,' said Jim, looking at him admiringly.
'I can shoot well,' said the lad.
'You can,' said Dr Tom. 'You beat me at revolver practice the last time we met.'
'That settles it,' said the magistrate. 'We will include Willie. Now, how many men are there at Barker's Creek?'
'A score or more,' said Jim, 'and all desperate characters. We need not reckon the blacks.'
'They like a fight sometimes,' said Dr Tom.
'Dalton's men have ill-treated them. They are more likely to turn on his gang than attack us,' said Jim.
'That is probable,' said Dauntsey. 'What do you think, sergeant?'
'The best plan would be to surround the place to-night and attack them when there is light enough. If we can conceal ourselves, and they do not know of our presence, we might take them unawares. It is not probable, for they are sure to be on the watch, but it is just possible the rush could be made through the blacks' camp by four or five of us, and the remainder must ride straight for Dalton's house and the men's shanties. Of course, if they are prepared for the attack we can change our plans accordingly.'
'Constable Doonan and Dr Tom know the place very well,' said Jim Dennis. 'What do they think?'
'Sergeant Machinson's plan is all right,' said Dr Tom; 'but I think you may be quite sure they will be ready to receive us. Abe Dalton, when he considers it over, will know an attempt will be made to disperse his gang and he will not be caught napping.'
Constable Doonan agreed with Dr Tom and said, —
'When Rodney Shaw discovers Sal has escaped he may go to Barker's Creek to see Dalton. We might get him there, and if he is caught with the gang it will be the worse for him.'
'I cannot think whatever possessed him to commit such an act of criminal folly,' said Dauntsey. 'He can have hardly realised the consequences of his conduct.'
They finally resolved to go to Barker's Creek that evening and attempt to secure Dalton and his gang next day.
They had a tough task to accomplish, and they knew it, but they were all eager to match their strength against Dalton and his men.