CHAPTER XXIX
WYATT AGAIN
It was a morning in the middle of September. The Jacksons werebreakfasting. Mr. Jackson was reading letters. The rest, includingGladys Maud, whose finely chiselled features were graduallydisappearing behind a mask of bread-and-milk, had settled down toserious work. The usual catch-as-catch-can contest between Marjory andPhyllis for the jam (referee and time-keeper, Mrs. Jackson) hadresulted, after both combatants had been cautioned by the referee, ina victory for Marjory, who had duly secured the stakes. The hour beingnine-fifteen, and the official time for breakfast nine o'clock, Mike'splace was still empty.
"I've had a letter from MacPherson," said Mr. Jackson.
MacPherson was the vigorous and persevering gentleman, referred to ina previous chapter, who kept a fatherly eye on the Buenos Ayres sheep.
"He seems very satisfied with Mike's friend Wyatt. At the moment ofwriting Wyatt is apparently incapacitated owing to a bullet in theshoulder, but expects to be fit again shortly. That young man seems tomake things fairly lively wherever he is. I don't wonder he found apublic school too restricted a sphere for his energies."
"Has he been fighting a duel?" asked Marjory, interested.
"Bushrangers," said Phyllis.
"There aren't any bushrangers in Buenos Ayres," said Ella.
"How do you know?" said Phyllis clinchingly.
"Bush-ray, bush-ray, bush-ray," began Gladys Maud, conversationally,through the bread-and-milk; but was headed off.
"He gives no details. Perhaps that letter on Mike's plate suppliesthem. I see it comes from Buenos Ayres."
"I wish Mike would come and open it," said Marjory. "Shall I go andhurry him up?"
The missing member of the family entered as she spoke.
"Buck up, Mike," she shouted. "There's a letter from Wyatt. He's beenwounded in a duel."
"With a bushranger," added Phyllis.
"Bush-ray," explained Gladys Maud.
"Is there?" said Mike. "Sorry I'm late."
He opened the letter and began to read.
"What does he say?" inquired Marjory. "Who was the duel with?"
"How many bushrangers were there?" asked Phyllis.
Mike read on.
"Good old Wyatt! He's shot a man."
"Killed him?" asked Marjory excitedly.
"No. Only potted him in the leg. This is what he says. First page ismostly about the Ripton match and so on. Here you are. 'I'm dictatingthis to a sportsman of the name of Danvers, a good chap who can't helpbeing ugly, so excuse bad writing. The fact is we've been having abust-up here, and I've come out of it with a bullet in the shoulder,which has crocked me for the time being. It happened like this. Anass of a Gaucho had gone into the town and got jolly tight, andcoming back, he wanted to ride through our place. The old woman whokeeps the lodge wouldn't have it at any price. Gave him the absolutemiss-in-baulk. So this rotter, instead of shifting off, proceeded tocut the fence, and go through that way. All the farms out here havetheir boundaries marked by wire fences, and it is supposed to be adeadly sin to cut these. Well, the lodge-keeper's son dashed off insearch of help. A chap called Chester, an Old Wykehamist, and I weredipping sheep close by, so he came to us and told us what had happened.We nipped on to a couple of horses, pulled out our revolvers, andtooled after him. After a bit we overtook him, and that's when thetrouble began. The johnny had dismounted when we arrived. I thoughthe was simply tightening his horse's girths. What he was really doingwas getting a steady aim at us with his revolver. He fired as we cameup, and dropped poor old Chester. I thought he was killed at first, butit turned out it was only his leg. I got going then. I emptied all thesix chambers of my revolver, and missed him clean every time. In themeantime he got me in the right shoulder. Hurt like sin afterwards,though it was only a sort of dull shock at the moment. The next itemof the programme was a forward move in force on the part of the enemy.The man had got his knife out now--why he didn't shoot again I don'tknow--and toddled over in our direction to finish us off. Chester wasunconscious, and it was any money on the Gaucho, when I happened tocatch sight of Chester's pistol, which had fallen just by where I camedown. I picked it up, and loosed off. Missed the first shot, but gothim with the second in the ankle at about two yards; and his day'swork was done. That's the painful story. Danvers says he's gettingwriter's cramp, so I shall have to stop....'"
"By Jove!" said Mike.
"What a dreadful thing!" said Mrs. Jackson.
"Anyhow, it was practically a bushranger," said Phyllis.
"I told you it was a duel, and so it was," said Marjory.
"What a terrible experience for the poor boy!" said Mrs. Jackson.
"Much better than being in a beastly bank," said Mike, summing up."I'm glad he's having such a ripping time. It must be almost as decentas Wrykyn out there.... I say, what's under that dish?"
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