Scarlett’s eyes involuntarily fixed themselves on the heavily-laden pack-horse.
“I should advise you to keep your weather eye lifted, constable,” he said.
“Bedad, an’ we’ll attend to that,” replied the Irishman, with a broad smile. “The escort’s as good as in Timber Town already. Thank you, sorr.” He handed back the matches. “Good morning t’you.” And lightly touching his horse with the spur, he passed on.
Disregarding Scarlett’s nod of recognition, Zahn followed the leader, without so much as a glance at the man whom he hated as his supposed supplanter in the affections of the beautiful Jewess.
The pack-horse and its leader, a stoutly-built man, went heavily by, and the rear-guard let his horse drink at the stream, but he was a man filled with the importance of his office, and to Jack’s greeting he replied merely with a mechanical nod, as though he would say, “Don’t speak to me: I’m exceedingly intent upon conveying this gold to Timber Town.”
“Strange crowd,” mused Jack, as the last hoof disappeared round the upper bend of the track; “riding loose in the saddle, their arms slung behind them. If I’d had a gun, I could have shot the first man before he saw me. Robbing escorts can’t be such a difficult matter as is supposed. If Zahn had been civil I’d have used the opportunity to warn him of the queer gang I met at the ford. They may be simple diggers—they look like it—but the man who whips out a pistol on the least provocation is to be guarded against when you’re in charge of five or six thousand ounces of gold.”
With these thoughts Jack mounted his horse, and rode away. The winding track at length led him into a deep valley, down which flowed a broad river whose glistening waters rippled laughingly over a shallow bed of grey boulders. Along its banks grew mighty pines, the rimu, the totara, and the broad-spreading black-birch, their trunks hidden in dense undergrowth and a tangle of creepers; while here and there beside the sparkling waters grew thick clumps of bright green tree-ferns.
But the track was now flat and straight, and putting his horse into a trot Scarlett covered the ground rapidly. After some ten miles of riding, he came to a ford where the track crossed the river, and entered rougher country. As he drew rein at the verge of the water to let his horse drink, he noticed that the heavens had suddenly become dark. Looking at the strip of sky revealed by the treeless stretch above the waters, he saw a phenomenon in the upper air. Across the tranquil blue expanse advanced a mighty thunder-cloud; its unbroken face approaching at immense speed, though not a leaf of the forest stirred, nor the frond of a fern moved. It was like the oncoming of a mighty army, sweeping across the still country, and leaving devastation in its track. Then the low rumble of the thunder, like the sound of cannon in the distant hills, heralded the commencement of the storm. A flash broke from the inky black cloud, and simultaneously a deafening thunder-clap burst upon the solitary traveller. Then followed an ominous silence, broken by the rushing of the wind among the tree-tops, and the high heads of the forest giants bent before the storm. The rain came down in a deluge, and shut from sight both hill and valley; so that instead of wandering through a leafy paradise, where birds sang and the sunshine glittered on a million leaves, Scarlett groped his way as in a maze, dark and impenetrable; his horse dejected, himself drenched and cold.