John Tincroft, bachelor and benedict

by George E. Sargent

The traveller was clad in homely garb, such as indicated a probable connection with farming and grazing, and behind him was strapped a tolerable-sized portmanteau, most likely containing necessary or desirable conveniences for his journey; while a haversack suspended over his shoulder showed that he had provisioned himself against one of the inconveniences of desert travelling—a lack of hospitality on the road. This was likely enough to be his experience.

He had left a township where he had passed the preceding night, some forty miles behind him, with the expectation of having to camp out after sundown, or when his horse and himself should be too tired to proceed further; and he had journeyed on all day without any signs of human life. He had been told, indeed, that there was a station near the road where he might possibly obtain accommodation; but the character given of its owner was not sufficiently inviting to induce him to turn aside from his course.

He had only recently rested on the bank of a narrow creek, or streamlet, or irregular watercourse, where he had refreshed himself and his steed, and guided partly by the direction of that stream, partly by a pocket compass, was steadily renewing his journey, when a loud, long-continued cry smote suddenly upon his senses. New as he evidently was to bush life in the colony, the young man might have mistaken the sound for the far-off call of some strange bird or beast if it had not been repeated with greater distinctness, which enabled him to recognise in it the far-extending call of a human voice, peculiar, we believe, to the Australian world in the prolonged shout of "Coo-ee."

A tightening of the bridle brought the obedient horse to a standstill, while the rider listened again to hear the sound, but this time in fainter tones, and accompanied by a shriller shriek, as of one in agony or bodily fear. The traveller did not hesitate any longer, but turning his horse's head in the direction whence the sounds seemed to come, he applied spurs and whip, and was the next minute galloping towards the summit of the irregular incline on the left hand, which, as we have said, had, shut out any distant prospect in that direction.

Arriving at the summit, he beheld, at the distance of some quarter mile beyond, a scene which quickened at once his pulse and his movements. Two horses were running loose on the open plain, others were hobbled near a clump of trees, and were consequently unable to enjoy the same liberty. Close by this clump of trees, also, a desperate struggle seemed to be in progress—as far as the stranger could make out—between three men, one of whom was desperately resisting the combined efforts of the other two to bear him to the ground. Besides these a female appeared to have been taken captive by a fourth man, who was dragging her by the arm towards the hobbled horses.

In much less time than it has occupied in telling, the young traveller had taken in the whole of these details, and was hastening to the rescue as rapidly as the impetus of whip and spur could act upon the frightened animal he bestrode.

Fast as he rode, however, the changes in the strange drama on which he kept his eye fixed were outstripping him. In one of these changes, the report of a pistol-shot reached his ear; and a puff of smoke for a moment veiled the woman and her assailant. Only for a moment, and when it had passed, greatly to his astonishment, the spectator perceived that the man was staggering backward and falling, and that the female, instead of making her escape, was in the act of springing forward to the help of the one who, in the part of the scene first described, was evidently on the point of being overcome in the odds that were against him.

There was no time for reflection; and once more applying the spur, the traveller, ere three minutes had passed away, added another to the fierce conflict. What occurred then, he never afterwards remembered consecutively.

He knew only that, first throwing himself off his horse and then into the fray, he received a heavy blow on his head, which, thanks to the felt that he wore, did not stun, though for an instant it confused him; that by this time, one of the two men—who might be rogues or honest men for anything he knew, all his knowledge being that they were two to one—had been stricken by him to the ground, and that the female, whoever she might be, was calling to him for help, but impeding his free action by her unconsciously clinging to him for protection; and that, in a short space of time, as it seemed to him, he and this unknown fair one in distress were apparently master and mistress of the field—two of the combatants having retreated to the trees, unhobbled two of the horses, mounted, and ridden fast away, while two others lay on the turf, at a little distance apart, hors de combat, at any rate for the time being.

We left the bush traveller in a rather awkward state of confusion, but he had sufficient gallantry to commence offering some respectful attentions to the female he had rescued, and whom he perceived to be young, though her countenance—now that the excitement was over—had become deadly pale, when she pointed to one of the men on the sward, and hurriedly begged the unknown to render any aid in his power. He therefore turned his attention to this benevolent purpose, and while thus employed, the young woman stood at a little distance, watching his proceedings with anxiety, but apparently without fear; for her colour soon returned, and she stood firm, and even employed her hands in readjusting some disordered folds in her stout riding dress, still keeping her gaze fixed on the stranger.