Dick Lester of Kurrajong

by Mary Grant Bruce

Dick needed no telling. Conqueror was already reefing and dancing with impatience. He went through the gate in a flash and settled into his stride across the next two paddocks, in a way that would have been impossible but for Mrs. Macleay's forethought in sending the gins ahead to open the gates. The wide Middle Plain spread before him, and he gave his head a little shake, taking the bit in his teeth. This featherweight on his back was as nothing; and the stretching plain, with its soft grass, was a galloping ground that he loved.

Dick had never ridden such a horse. On his father's station, while at odd times he might ride anything, as occasion demanded, his favourite mount was his pony, Tinker; here, he had ridden Agility, a horse full of fire and speed, but not big. Conqueror's huge bulk beneath him made him feel like an insect on an elephant. There seemed miles of great neck before him—iron-grey in colour, and hard as iron; and to pull at the huge head was like pulling at the side of a mountain. The massive hoofs seemed to fling themselves out, pounding the grass with earth-shaking thuds. Dick tried to get the horse in hand once, but realised that he had no chance whatever, Conqueror merely shook his head and galloped on.

Well, after all, to gallop was all Dick wanted. Luckily, the great horse kept to the faint wheel track, and that, presumably, was the line that Merle had taken. He ceased to try to steady Conqueror or to guide him, realising that all his energies would be needed for sitting still on the mighty, plunging bulk beneath him. Leaning forward, he scanned the plain eagerly for a glimpse of a little figure on a black pony; but there was nothing save open grass and blue sky, except for the scattered clumps of trees to right and left. She would not be in one of those, he thought, or if she were, the noise of thundering hoofs would make her show herself. He could do nothing but gallop ahead towards the long-blurred line of timber.

But he was cruelly tired. Each great bound under him seemed to shake him from head to foot. The spring had gone out of him; between hard riding and shock, his nerves had tightened almost to breaking point. Yesterday, riding out to revolver practice with the jackeroos, he had fancied himself almost a man; to-day he knew himself for a little boy, and a tired one at that. The thought of his mother came to him, and a sob rose in his throat.

Yet, when the line of timber grew near, and he knew that he must enter it, with all its stealthy peril, something of the clean pluck that was his inheritance came back to him. He sat erect, and tried to steady Conqueror; and to his surprise the mighty horse gave to the light fingers on his bit, and the stretching gallop steadied to the slow canter that his master declared was the easiest pace in the world. With the slackening of the pounding gallop relief came to Dick's overtaxed senses. Had it gone on, he had known that he must fall; now, that fear left him, and with it some of his weariness. He reined Conqueror to a walk as they reached the trees, peering into their dark recesses.

Nothing seemed stirring there. The wheel tracks lay before him, faint, yet clear enough; he was not bushman enough to say if other hoof-prints had stirred the soft grass. With a sudden impulse he coo'ee'd loudly, wondering immediately if he had done the wrong thing. There was no answer. He took his courage in both hands and rode into the forest.

Everything there was very quiet. Not even a bird seemed awake among the trees. So still was it that when a long trail of bark came fluttering down Conqueror jumped, and Dick felt himself turn cold. He realised that he was very badly afraid, and the knowledge brought with it an angry disgust of himself that did more to steady him than anything else could have done. He tried to keep himself from thinking of the hut ... of what had lain in it that the men had not let him see; but the thought came over him like a wave. The utter stillness of the bush was like a cold hand upon his heart. He rode on, deeper and deeper into the green silence.

Then, ahead, something crashed over some dry sticks; and Conqueror flung up his head and whinnied loudly. He thought he heard a cry. Then came galloping hoofs, and suddenly, down a long aisle of the trees, Olaf came into view, riderless and mad with fear. Conqueror plunged aside shivering with some sense more keen than Dick's; and the black pony flashed past them, his head low, his eyes glazed with terror, and right through his neck a long spear that hit the trees as he galloped. A moment and he was gone, and the silence of the bush was more profound than ever.

"Merle! Merle!"

Dick's cry shrilled through the forest. He took Conqueror by the head, and sent him at a sharp trot down the open space whence Olaf had come, glancing keenly from side to side, peering into the scrub. Again and again he shouted, as much in the hope that the blacks, hearing, might imagine that he was not the only new-comer as to warn Merle herself. But indeed, though he rode on desperately, he had but little hope. Surely, when the black pony lost his rider it was because the spears had found her first.