He jumped as if a dynamite cartridge had been exploded under his feet, and, while he was turning to look for the snake, I made a rush as hard as I could for the spot where his horse was standing. In less time than it takes to tell I had reached him, sprung upon his back, driven my heels into his sides, and was off across the plain at a racing gallop. When we had gone about fifty paces a carbine cracked in the air; but I was going too fast to be any sort of a mark for a bullet, so that did not trouble me very much. The shot, however, had one good effect; fast as my horse had hitherto been travelling, he now went even faster. Across the little open plain we dashed, into the thick scrub timber on the other side, and just as we did so I looked behind me. Short as the warning had been, two troopers were already scrambling into their saddles. Keeping well to the left, and having by this time secured the reins that at first had been flying loose about his head, I set the horse going in downright earnest. The ground was broken and by no means safe for galloping, but I trusted to be able to keep my pursuers at a distance until it was thoroughly dark, when I knew I should stand an admirable chance of giving them the slip altogether. As I left the timber, and emerged on to another bit of plain, I saw them descending the ridge behind me. What was worse, they had evidently cut a corner somehow, for now they were not more than a couple of hundred yards distant. My mind, however, was fully made up. I would risk anything, even my life, rather than be captured. If they came up with me, I was determined to fight to the death.
Once more I reached the security of the timber, but this time it was all down hill—broken ground, strewn here and there with big rocks, and the trunks of fallen trees. But if it had been paved with razor blades I believe I should have gone down it just as fast—for could I not hear the rattle of stones and the shouts of the men behind me. Suddenly my horse stuck his forelegs out and stiffened his whole body, and experience told me he had scented danger ahead. I looked over his ears, and there, straight before me, in the half dark, was a dry water-course, stretching away as far as I could see to right and left. In front it was at least thirty feet wide and sixty feet deep—a formidable jump, even on the best steeplechaser living. What was I to do? If I turned to the right or left, the men behind me would certainly head me off and capture me. If I went back up the hill I should come face to face with them; while, if I jumped, I might break my neck and so end my flight for good and all. But one thing was certain, to remain where I was meant certain capture, so at any cost I made up my mind to attempt the leap. Taking my horse by the head, I turned him round and rode him a little way up the hill. As I did so the troopers came into view, riding helter skelter, and making certain they had got me. The nearest was not more than half a dozen lengths or so from me, when I turned my animal's head down hill again.
'It's no good, Heggarstone,' he shouted, as he saw the ravine ahead. 'You can't escape, so throw up your hands.'
'Can't I,' I cried, and digging my heels into my horse's side, I set him going again at his top speed. He tried to pull off the jump, but it was no use, I'd got him too tight by the head for that, and I wouldn't let him budge an inch. He tried to stop, but I shouted at him and forced him to go on. So, seeing that there was nothing for it but to jump, he made a dash forward, gathered his legs well under him, and went at it like a shot out of a gun. With a snort he sprang into the air. I heard the little stones he dislodged go tinkling down to the bottom of the ravine, and next moment he had landed with a scramble on the opposite bank. It was a wonderful leap, and I thanked God from the bottom of my heart that I was safely over. As I reached terra firma, I turned and looked round. The two troopers had pulled their horses up and were standing watching me. One of them was raising his carbine, so I did not stop, but waved my hand to them and disappeared into the scrub. In ten minutes I had left them far behind me, and by the time darkness had fallen was far beyond their reach.
But though I had come so well out of my scrape, I was not safe yet by any manner of means. After spelling my horse alongside a pretty little creek for half-an-hour, I mounted him again, and set off in the direction I knew Barranda to lie. About nine o'clock the moon rose, and by her rays I was able to pick my path quite comfortably. I had fully planned my movements by this time. Come what might, I was going to make my way back to the township and see Sheilah once more, if only for the last time. If she cast me off and refused to have anything more to do with me—well, then, God help me, I would either kill myself or give myself up to the police and go back to serve my sentence with the additional punishment for escape, whatever it might be.
All that night I made my way through the scrub, keeping my eyes wide open for chance travellers' camps or station homesteads. Throughout the next day I lay hidden in a cave in the Ranges, hobbling my horse with his reins, so that he could not stray very far. Unfortunately I had nothing to eat, and by nightfall I was literally starving. As soon as it was dark I went on again, still keeping a constant watch about me. Towards midnight it seemed that I was on a definite track, and presently this supposition became a certainty. I could distinctly see wheel marks, and, for this reason, I knew I must be approaching a habitation of some sort. Then the outlines of a fence hove in sight, and after a little while the white roofs of buildings, glistening in the moonlight. It was a station; and, if I might judge by the number of huts and outhouses, a big one. Now, I told myself, if only I could get into the kitchen without exciting attention, I might be able to satisfy my hunger, and, perhaps, obtain a few provisions to carry along with me. Accordingly I got off my horse, and tied him carefully to the fence; then, stealthily as a thieving dingo, crept across the small paddock towards the building I had settled in my own mind was the kitchen. Every moment I expected some dog to bark and give the alarm, but all was quiet as the grave. I reached the hut, and crept round it, looking in at the side window to see if anyone slept there. I could not, however, distinguish a sign, so I went back to the door and turned the handle. It opened, and I crept in. Yes! I was right. It was the kitchen, and a fire was still glimmering on the hearth. A big, old-fashioned meat safe stood along one wall, and to this I made my way. A box of matches lay on the table, and having struck one I shaded it with my hand and commenced to explore. Cooked meat there was in abundance, and a loaf and a half of bread, which I took, with a knife I discovered in a box upon the dresser. Then out again I crept, softly closing the door behind me. A minute later I was back with my horse. Before unhitching him I had a good feed, and then stowed away the rest of my provender in my pockets. What a meal that was—never before had bread and meat tasted so good. Then, mounting and gathering up my reins, I went on again—to lie hidden all the day following and the day after that, in each case resuming my journey immediately the stars appeared. So far I had been fortunate almost beyond my expectations, but the nearer I approached the township the more afraid I became of being seen. At length, by the lay of the country, and by numerous land marks familiar to me from my youth up, I knew I could not be more than fifteen miles from my home; and accordingly I started that night almost at dusk, resolved to leave my horse in a bit of thick scrub, near where Sheilah had met with her accident the previous year, and to approach the house on foot. Reaching the timber in question, I accordingly turned my horse loose, and, after a short rest, made my way towards the homestead, which was now not more than three miles distant. Just as I reached it I heard a clock in the kitchen strike ten.
Little by little, taking infinite pains not to make a noise, I made my way along the garden fence, and then, crawling through it, went on under the old familiar pepper-trees into the verandah. A light was burning in the sitting-room, and when I was near enough, I craned my neck and looked inside. Sheilah, my wife, was there alone. She was sitting in her father's arm-chair, knitting—though, at the moment that I looked, her work lay in her lap, and she was staring into the empty fireplace. Her face was just as beautiful as ever—but, oh, so worn and sad. While I watched her she heaved a great sigh, and I saw large tears rise in her eyes. Something seemed to tell me that she was thinking of me, so creeping closer to the window I rapped softly with my fingers upon the pane. Instantly she sprang to her feet and ran to the door; another minute and she was in the verandah and in my arms.
'Oh, Jim, Jim! my husband! my dear, dear boy!' she whispered again and again. 'Thank God you have come back to me once more.'
The tears were streaming down my cheeks, and my heart was beating like a wheat flail against my ribs, but I had the presence of mind to draw her into the house and shut the door as quickly as possible. Then I disengaged myself from her arms and looked at her.
'Sheilah,' I said, 'you should not receive me in this fashion. I am not worthy.'