There was the sound of feet, as if a person was springing over the ground, a shriek, and the crash of a weapon descending. Yes, he was certain it had struck his saddle-bags. The next instant, the wood igniting on the fire, a flame burst forth, revealing the figure of the maniac retreating across the glade in the direction of the old tree, where he had at first appeared. He must have just reached it when another flash of lightning came down in a zigzag course from the very clouds overhead.
It struck the huge tree, which was riven into several portions, and its knotted limbs scattered around. The thunder at the same moment crashed and rattled with almost terrific sound. He seized the tether rope of his horse, as the animal, having torn the pin from the ground, was about to dash off through the forest. The poor creature stood as his hand stroked its head, but trembled violently. He brought it up to the fire, looking round as he did so for his late assailant, but the maniac was nowhere to be seen. He had the greatest difficulty in keeping his horse quiet; for the storm continued raging as before, the rain came down in torrents, the wind howled and whistled, and the lightning flashed; the thunder roared and rattled, and the rending of boughs, and the crashing of falling trees was heard on every side, warning him of the danger of attempting to pass among them. As may be supposed, he did not again lie down: having saddled his horse and thrown his blanket over his shoulders, he employed the time in quieting the animal, throwing wood on his fire, and keeping a vigilant watch for the approach of the maniac. The most weary night must have an end. The storm ceased completely; the dawn came at last. He looked around. The sight which most attracted his attention was the blackened stump of that huge tree which had stood there the previous evening—the monarch of the forest glade. He approached it. Under one of the limbs lay a human form—it was the maniac’s body; life was extinct. He examined the features. There could be no mistake; though haggard by starvation and exposure, and distorted by his violent death, he recognised them as those of the former overseer of Warragong, the outlaw Basham. A small black mark on one side of his head showed that he had been struck by the electric fluid, and that his death must have been instantaneous, and must have immediately followed the attempt on his life. To bury the body of the wretched man was impossible. All he could do was to drag the heavier boughs of the trees torn off by the storm over it and leave it thus entombed, and then to escape from the scene. The rising sun showed him the direction he should pursue, and in half an hour he was out of the wood, and had regained the track with which he was acquainted. He reached a station in time for breakfast, when he narrated to the occupant what had occurred, and learned from him that Basham had more than once been there asking for food.
A rest of a few hours restored James’s strength; but instead of camping out as he had intended, he was glad to take shelter that night in another squatter’s hut. It was thus that the traveller in those days was able to traverse the province from one end to the other, with the certainty of finding food and shelter, and a welcome at any hut where he might call. He was most cordially received at Prentiss Town, where he arrived late in the evening; but he went to a house of mourning. Old Mr Prentiss, under the belief that his losses were far greater than was the case, and that the whole country was about to be ruined, had sunk broken-hearted into the grave. He had trusted in riches, and they had failed him. An apathetic indifference to everything around him had seized his eldest son, who had the same belief in the ruin impending over the colony.
Notwithstanding this, there was sunlight in the dwelling: there could not fail to be so, James thought, where Fanny and Emily Prentiss were to be found. They received him as an old and valued friend, and expressed their sorrow that his brother could not have accompanied him. He naturally expected that they would complain of the dulness of the life they must now lead in the country, and regret all the gaieties and amusements they had left behind in Sydney; but, on the contrary, they seemed much pleased at having escaped from its unsatisfactory frivolities. Everything in the country delighted them, and they had no fear of no having ample occupation. They proposed to study the natural history of the district—the trees and flowers, the birds and insects, and the wild animals, of which there were not a few; then the farm would of itself afford ample occupation, along with the improvements in the house, into which they were about to move, on another part of the estate, where a garden was also to be formed. And there were also several settlers with wives and grown-up daughters, who lived somewhat far off, to be sure; but the young ladies were good horse-women, and thought little of a ride of thirty miles or so. There were likewise numerous families of the lower orders, who had no means of obtaining religious or secular instruction. Among these they circulated books and tracts, and would often stop and read the Word of God to those who were unable to read themselves. Thus every moment of each day was fully occupied. James Gilpin could not fail to admire the manner in which his young hostesses spent their time, or to discover how many objects of interest they had in common. Even under ordinary circumstances he would have been interested in them. As it was, the interest he felt increased the longer he remained in their society. He was of much use to Mr Henry Prentiss in arranging the affairs connected with the property; and at length, with new hopes and aspirations, he returned to Warragong. The arrangements for the purchase of the cattle and sheep were soon complete. The brothers did not even now lay out all their capital, but allowed a portion to remain in the bank to meet any unexpected demands. They had from the first been allowed a percentage on the increase of the stock under their charge; but this, owing to the mismanagement of the persons employed, and the depredations of Basham and his associates, had hitherto been small. The boiling-down process at length being no longer necessary, and the management in every department being greatly improved, the increase was so much more rapid than at first, that they found themselves, a few years after landing in Australia, the owners of very considerable flocks and herds, while no men in the district were more respected. Their visits to Prentiss Town became more and more frequent; sometimes one brother went, sometimes the other—as they were unwilling to leave the station together—and they both met with a reception which made them wish to return. The Prentiss Town property was now divided, and the house inhabited by Mr Henry Prentiss was considerably nearer to them than that of his elder brother. They also had secured some runs lower down the Warragong river; and having fixed on a site for a house in that direction, somewhat similar, but far more picturesque than the spot where the old hut stood, they built a hut which they could inhabit till their new residence could be erected, leaving Craven in charge of that up the stream. This change enabled them to leave their own abode early in the morning, and to reach that of Mr Prentiss before sunset. There was the house of a new settler about half-way, and several huts where refreshment could be obtained, so that their visits became still more frequent and expected. Even in the bush gossip is not impossible, and it became pretty generally reported that the two Mr Gilpins were about to marry the two daughters of Mr Henry Prentiss.
Chapter Six.
The Gilpins had not attained to the prosperous condition they enjoyed without persevering toil and constant exertion both of mind and body. Some stirring incidents had occurred; but, at the same time months passed by in a comparatively monotonous manner. Every day they were in the saddle, sometimes from morning till night; but however delightful that style of life may be—and that it has its attractions to most men there can be no doubt—men of educated minds must at times feel an almost insupportable weariness, and earnestly long for a change. There can be but little social intercourse; some suffer materially from the want of public worship and religious instruction, and all must feel its absence. Still, those who are fitted for a life in the bush, and have led it for any length of time, quit it generally with regret, and return to it with satisfaction.
Never had the Gilpins been more busy. Their house was nearly finished. It was rather large for two bachelors, to be sure; but their ideas must have expanded of late. They had much more assistance than formerly rendered by Craven, their most efficient and active overseer, and his assistant, Larry. No one would have recognised the dispirited, almost broken-hearted hut-keeper in the fine, active, intelligent man he had now become. Gentlemanly even in his poverty, he had always been. He now looked more fit to set a squadron in order, and lead them against the foe, than to keep sheep; yet to superintend the keeping of sheep he was well content. He had greatly enlarged and improved the old hut, having converted it indeed into a comfortable house, with a flower-garden in front and one for vegetables in the rear.