CHAPTER V
A REGULAR SAVAGE
Table of Contents For days and weeks there had been no rain at Wanabeen or in the Swamp Creek district. Jim Dennis was not a rich man, far from it, and he had to depend upon his small station for his living. Everything depended upon the weather. Without rain the land became a mere barren waste, and the stock perished. There were no artesian bores then, no artificial or scientific means of drawing supplies of water from under the ground, although Jim had a shrewd suspicion, from observations he had made, that underground rivers existed. He wished such rivers above instead of beneath the surface, or that he could find some means to tap them.
Owing to his boy's illness he had not been on his run for several days, quite an unusual occurrence with him. He could not leave the lad while in danger. He would have lost everything sooner than do so. But now he was on the high road to recovery, he went about his ordinary duties as usual.
The low rumbling still continued, and he went outside the house to look at the sky and watch the signs of the approach of the welcome storm. In the distance he saw black masses of clouds, but they were a long way off, and he was fearful that, after all, the storm might not reach Wanabeen.
The cattle and horses already recognised the coming rain, and sniffed the air and looked around with eager anticipation.
'I'll saddle up and have a look round,' he said to himself. 'Willie will be all right.'
He stepped inside and found his son asleep. He beckoned to Sal and told her to look after him and that he would not be long gone.
He saddled his horse, a fine bay about six years old, and one he had bred himself. There was a certain amount of comradeship between Jim Dennis and his horses. They seemed to understand him as well as he did them. He rode out at the gate and went in the direction of the storm.
It was with a glad heart he heard the rumbling of the thunder, and from the various signs around him he knew the rain was near at hand. As far as he could see there was a peculiar haze in the atmosphere, dense, like falling rain.
The brown, bare earth, with here and there a scanty tuft of green, seemed to lie gasping for water. Big cracks appeared in the ground where it had been unable to stand the constant baking any longer, and so had given way. The trees were gaunt and well-nigh leafless.
He rode along keeping his eyes fixed on the clouds ahead. With surprising suddenness he felt a cool breeze commence to blow. It fanned his face and refreshed him, and his horse snorted and tossed his head as though he would say, 'This is a pleasant change. There will be a chance of a good feed soon.'
He reined in and waited; there was no occasion to ride on, for the storm was coming towards him fast. It was a thing to be welcomed, not avoided.
A few drops of rain fell, and he turned round to ride home. He had gone out to greet it and give it the welcome due to such a guest.
A dozen horses came galloping towards him, and he saw one of them was a strange animal and did not belong to him.
Jim Dennis knew there were lawless characters in the district who would be only too glad to get him into trouble. He was a straight goer and would have nothing to do with them, although he was credited with being hand and glove with the gang. The mounted police, too, had a 'down' on Jim, with one exception, Constable Doonan, who was his staunch friend. It was over the sticking up of the mail at Potter's Shanty and the robbery of the bank agent, that the police were strong against him. At that time Doonan was not in the district, but he had heard all about it, and when he came to know Jim Dennis he refused to believe he had a hand in it.
Sergeant Machinson, however, and the men who were engaged with him in investigating the robbery, wished to lay the blame upon Jim Dennis, and they, no doubt, honestly thought him the guilty party, or one of it.
Jim, however, was too many for them, and, managed to keep out of their clutches.
Sergeant Machinson had been called over the coals for not capturing the thieves, and he was wroth over the affair accordingly.
'That fellow Dennis was at the bottom of it, I'll be sworn,' he said to the other constables; 'or how did he come by the five-pound note? We must have him yet, my lads, but he'll take some catching. He's a smart fellow, but those very clever men often do some foolish act and it gives them away.'
As the bad characters in any district generally know what is going on, they soon discovered Sergeant Machinson and the bulk of his men had a 'set' against Jim Dennis. This helped them considerably in their dealings with the owner of Wanabeen.
Fortunately, however, for Jim Dennis, Constable Doonan was stationed at Swamp Creek, and looked after the district around Wanabeen.
Sergeant Machinson was quartered at Barragong, about ten miles away, and was in charge of a large tract of country. He had several men under him, amongst them Doonan. He would have removed Doonan elsewhere, as he knew he was partial to Jim Dennis, but had no ostensible reason for such a step.
When Jim Dennis saw the strange horse running with his own, his first thought was that some evil-disposed person had put it on his run in order to get him into trouble. Such things were often done out of spite or revenge, in fact Jim had narrowly escaped getting into trouble from this cause.
The rain was now coming down fast and the thunder crashed overhead with loud, startling cracks. The vivid lightning frightened the mob of horses, and they galloped at headlong speed in the direction of the homestead.
The strange horse was a splendid mover and soon headed the others.
Jim saw he was a thoroughbred, or nearly so, and thought to himself:
'By Jove! he can gallop. Mine are a fast lot, but he has given them the go-by. He's a stallion too. Wonder whose he is? I must make inquiries. This is no put-up job to get me into trouble. Abe Dalton and his gang never have horses like that to handle!'
He galloped after them and as he neared home saw the yard gates stood wide open.
'They'll go in,' said Jim to himself; 'and I must get up in time to shut them in.'
Faster and faster came the rain, and the hot ground steamed under the grateful cooling shower. In a few days the whole aspect of the country would be changed, and nature appear in a different form. Instead of the dull, dry brown would come a bright, refreshing green. The grass grows with remarkable rapidity in such regions and the scene changes as though by magic. The horses had gone under the sheds for shelter, and Jim, dismounting, closed the gates. Having unsaddled his horse, and peeped inside to see how Willie fared, he went to look at the stranger amongst his mob.
Already there was a fight on and the stallion was trying to savage his nearest neighbour. A battle royal seemed imminent, but Jim Dennis meant to stop that.
He went for a stock whip, and quickly gave the combatants to understand he was acting as referee and that he had called time.
Crack came the lash and caught the stallion on his flank. He jumped as though he had been shot, and stood still quivering. Crack came the whip again, and the other combatant galloped round the yard.
The strange horse stood looking at him with a fiery light in his eyes. He evidently did not understand this unceremonious treatment, and resented the lash of the whip.
'You try it on. Just you try it on. You'll savage me, will you? My boy, you don't know Jim Dennis.'
Jim stood bareheaded, with the rain pouring down upon him, and he revelled in the glorious shower bath. He had on a rough shirt, such as stockmen wear, a dullish red, it having seen some service, and his breeches fitted neatly into his riding boots. He was rather particular about such things for a bushman, and he may be called such without it being a misnomer.
The horse eyed Jim, and Jim kept his eyes steadily fixed on the horse.
There was a moment or two of uncertainty, and then, before the animal had time to plunge forward towards him, Jim Dennis whirled his whip round, and the lash came down on the horse's neck and curled.
With a jerk Jim had it freed again, and then the horse rushed at him.
He sprang on one side and escaped the furious attack. Quick as lightning, before the animal could turn, he had brought the lash down again on his back, and this time the horse did not turn, but galloped to the far side of the yard.
But the struggle was not ended.
The stranger again made an attack on the horse nearest him, and there was a general uproar and stamping of hoofs amongst the mob.
Jim returned to the attack and separated them. In doing so he became wedged in a corner against the fence, and the stallion came straight at him.
He had no time to use the lash, so, seizing it short in his hand, he twisted it round and raised the stock.
He struck the now infuriated horse a blow on the forehead, which dazed him for a moment but did not daunt him. The horse stood on his hind legs and commenced to strike at Jim with his fore feet.
Jim Dennis knew he had never been in such a tight fix before, and he commenced to wonder what would happen.
He struck the horse's fore legs again and again with the stock of his whip, but could not beat him off.
He heard the gate opened, but did not see who was there. Presently the stallion was attacked in the rear, and a vigorous lashing from a strong arm made him alter his tactics. He came down on all fours and then kicked furiously. Jim Dennis dodged round him, and, standing back to give himself more room, again plied his lash with effect.
The horse was now beaten, and took...
