Adventurous Seven

by Bessie Marchant

  CHAPTER XIII

  In Sight of Hammerville

  It was the next day but one, and Rockefeller was toiling along the heavyroad outside Pomeroy, when a man in a cabbage-tree hat, red flannelshirt, and long boots rode up to Hutton's store, which stood on theoutskirts of the town, and, seeing the van coming, dismounted, threw hishorse's bridle over the fence, and walked towards it.

  "Are you the Plumstead lot?" he asked, with a jerk of his hat towardsNealie, which was meant for politeness and accepted in the same spirit.

  "We are," she answered, with a bow, wondering nervously if he were abushranger, of which she had read so much during the voyage and yet hadnot set eyes on since landing.

  "Which is Dalrymple Plumstead?" demanded the red-shirted individual,fixing a ferocious gaze on Rupert, who flushed and turned a trifle pale,wondering what could be the matter.

  "I am Dalrymple," said Rumple, dodging round from the shady side of thewagon, where he had been walking and trying to compose blank verse aboutAustralian roadside scenery, but not succeeding over-well.

  "Why, you are only a kid!" exclaimed the man in ludicrousdisappointment, falling back a step and surveying Rumple with anexpression of bewildered surprise.

  "It is a fault that will mend with time," replied Rumple, with suchcrushing dignity that Sylvia, who was sitting behind Nealie in thewagon, gurgled and choked.

  The red-shirted person threw back his head with a great burst oflaughter, then, thrusting out a brown, hairy hand, cried eagerly: "Well,you are plucky anyhow, every ounce of you! Shake, will you? I'mdownright proud to make your acquaintance, sir, and if you have come tothese parts to settle, all I've got to say is that we are proud to haveyou among us."

  This was quite too much for Sylvia, who choked so badly that Duckythought she had a bone in her throat, and patted her with great concern.

  But Rumple flushed up in an offended fashion, for he thought that he wasbeing laughed at, and it made him angry, although, as a rule, he wasremarkably even-tempered.

  "Perhaps I should understand better if you explained your business withme," he said, puffing out his chest in what Nealie called his bestpigeon manner, and which caused her to turn her head abruptly to gaze atthe fence on the other side of the road, so that the stranger should notsee that she was laughing so much.

  "Well, I take it that you are the young gentleman that stalked thecattle thieves out by Russell Downs, and kept them from getting clearaway with five hundred head of my cattle; and if that is not cause forthankfulness I don't know what is," said the man, gripping Rumple hard,and sawing away at his hand much as if it were a pump handle and thewater was hard to fetch.

  "Oh, they were your cattle that stampeded, and bowled our wagon over inthe dead of night!" exclaimed Nealie, while Rumple turned pink withpleasure at the thought of being so much appreciated.

  "No, Miss, I should say it was the other lot, which belong to Tom Jonesof Hobson's Bottom, and if you want to make any claim for damages youhad better send it in to him, seeing that he is much better off than Iam, and his cattle are the wildest lot in the New South Wales boundary,"said the red-shirted person, with such an air of wriggling out of itthat the whole seven burst into a shout of laughter, and then promptlyapologized for their apparent rudeness.

  But he waved his hand in an airy fashion, and begged them to have theirlaugh out.

  "And it does me good to see young things so lively," he exclaimed,taking his hat right off and bowing to right and left, as if he hadreceived an ovation. "My name is Tim Callaghan, and I am Irish on myfather's side, though I never saw old Ireland, and am never likely to."

  "We are very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Callaghan, and weare quite sure that it must have been Mr. Jones's cattle that knockedour wagon over, so we will give his address to Messrs. Peek & Wallis, ifthere is any complaint of damage made to us about the wagon when it isreturned to the owners," said Nealie; and then she asked in aninterested tone; "But how did you hear anything about it? Were youhelping to drive the cattle?"

  "No; if I had been I would have taken good care that there was a betterwatch set," replied Tim Callaghan. "I couldn't leave because my wife wasill, but I heard through the police, who sent me word that I should befined for letting my cattle stray to the danger of other people'sproperty, and that I should have doubtless lost the greater part of mymob for good and all if it had not been for a Mr. Dalrymple Plumstead,who rode after the thieves and gave warning to the police. There is onecomfort about it, and that is that Tom Jones will be fined too, and itwill do him a world of good to be taken down a peg or two. And now whatcan I do for you, ladies and gentlemen?"

  "You might tell us which is the best place in Pomeroy to buy food, forour provision box is nearly empty, and things are so dear in thesecountry places," said Nealie rather wistfully, for her money was runningvery low, and there was always present with her the dread that she wouldnot have enough to keep them going until they reached Hammerville.

  "You had better come along with me to Gil Addington's; he is about asreasonable as anyone in Pomeroy, and we are having a deal over some pigsthat may help me to pull his prices down a bit for you, and they willstand a little paring off at most times," said Mr. Callaghan, who wasuncommonly glad to pay his debt of gratitude in this fashion, since thecost would fall upon someone else.

  "We ought to have some corn for Rockefeller too, if we can manage it,"said Nealie rather anxiously. She knew that it was the poorest sort ofeconomy to let the good horse go underfed, and ungrateful as well,seeing what a useful beast it had been. But corn for horses was atremendous price in most of the little towns through which they hadpassed, and food for Rockefeller had become a very big item in theexpenses.

  "Want some corn for the hoss, did you say?" demanded Mr. Callaghan in abreezy tone. "Well, I don't know as I can't let you have half a bushelfree, gratis, and for nothing, as they say in the old country. My wagonis in the town now, I believe, and the corn is in it safe enough, unlesssomeone has stolen it, which isn't likely."

  A queer, choky feeling came into the throat of Nealie as she drove Rockyalong the main street of Pomeroy, with Mr. Callaghan riding on ahead.How kind people were to them! Of course she did not know that in commondecency Tim Callaghan should have paid Rumple fifteen shillings or asovereign for the service rendered in caring for the cattle, and that healso should have paid something towards the damage sustained in theoverturning of the wagon. Ignorance was certainly bliss in her case, andshe esteemed the Irishman a benefactor indeed, when as a matter-of-facthe was doing his level best to shuffle out of his obligations.

  However, he beat Gil Addington's prices down to a figure so low thatNealie worried considerably as to whether she would not be a party to afraud if she took the goods at Mr. Callaghan's valuation, and was noteven consoled when he whispered to her in a loud aside that Gil wasquite sharp enough to make the next customer run up his profits forhim.

  Still, it was an amazing comfort to find the provision box full oncemore, to know that there was enough corn to last Rocky to the end of thejourney, and to feel that she had still a little money left in herpurse. On shipboard there had seemed to be no anxieties at all, but eversince landing she had carried a very heavy load indeed.

  There were a good many miles yet to travel, and the worst of it wasthat, although they had a very good map of the route, which Mr. Wallishad marked for them, they had several times made mistakes, and had gonemiles out of their way in consequence. And in a journey like theirs suchthings tell seriously in the mileage.

  The weather had grown very hot again, and everyone, including the horse,was feeling the effects, while Rupert and Ducky, the most delicate ofthe party, were almost in a state of collapse. Rupert, according to hiswont, made no complaint at all, but Ducky, who had less self-control,enquired fifty times a day how soon it would be before they could livein a nice cool house again, and have beds with sheets to them.

  Sylvia did her utmost to keep these plaints from reaching the ears ofNealie, for
surely the elder sister had more than enough of worry andcare. Sylvia had never troubled herself about things of this sort in thedays at Beechleigh, when she had been as irresponsible in her way aseither Don or Billykins, but the long journey and the sense ofresponsibility in being so peculiarly on their own had steadied her anddeveloped her character in quite a wonderful manner.

  She rigged Ducky up a little shelter at the back of the wagon, becauseit was cooler there, and the dust was less. Then she would walk behindfor miles, finding all sorts of things to interest the petulant littlemaiden, and beguile her from fretting, while Rupert sat on the frontseat and drove.

  By this time the boots of the most active members of the family began toshow signs of heavy wear and tear; but that really mattered very little,as the weather was for the most part dry, and they had all a spare pairto put on if those in active use became too aged to be worn.

  One day which followed a succession of other hot days Sylvia paused at alittle wooden house by the roadside to interview a woman who had eggsand milk to sell. Even after the purchasing was completed she lingeredtalking to the woman, while the wagon lumbered on along a winding roadthat gave peeps of exquisite beauty here and there, where a river valleyopened to view.

  Presently she came running to overtake the wagon, crying, in an excitedfashion: "Nealie, Nealie, what do you think?"

  "I think a good many things when I have time, but I have not had muchlately, and so the thinking has not been done," replied Nealie, who wasriding this morning because she had stockings to darn. They washed theirstockings most nights, and hung them on the tilt of the wagon to dry inthe morning, and then it was Nealie's business to darn them, whileRupert drove; and as so much walking induced holes and thin places inevery direction, the task was one of magnitude.

  "The woman at the house yonder told me that when we reached the top ofthe next high ground we should see the smoke of the Hammervillefactories right away in the distance."

  "Hurrah!" cried Nealie, forgetting her occupation, and clapping herhands, with the result that she stuck her needle into her finger withsuch violence that it brought the tears to her eyes and made her wince.

  "And she says that last winter, when her little boy was ill, a Dr.Plumstead came out from Hammerville to see him," chanted Sylvia,whirling round on the tips of her toes in the dusty track, and flingingup her hands like an Italian dancing-girl, which made Rocky snort andplunge as if he wanted to join in the fun.

  "Steady there, steady, old fellow, we don't want you bolting at thistime of day!" called Rupert in a warning tone. "Control yourtransports, Sylvia, for the sake of Rocky's nerves, or we shall have theold fellow developing a temperature, and then what shall we do?"

  "You look as if you had a temperature yourself. Do you feel bad,Rupert?" asked Sylvia, coming closer to the wagon, and speaking soanxiously that Nealie glanced quickly up from her stocking-darning tolook at her brother's face.

  "Oh, I'm right enough!" he answered quietly. "I feel a bit heavy, butthat is because of the weather. I think we shall have a storm beforenight."

  "Oh, I hope not!" cried Nealie in a tone of dismay.

  "It would cool the air, and that would be a blessing. Don't you think itis very close this morning?" he asked, wiping his face with the handthat was not occupied with the reins.

  "It is hot certainly, but so it is every day," she said, glancing up atthe sky, and feeling relieved to see that there were no storm cloudshovering in sight. "Give me the reins, Rupert, and do you go astern andlie down beside Ducky. You will be cooler there, and these stockings canwait."

  "I think that it is a great mistake to mend stockings at all in weatherlike this, for holes are much cooler than little lumps of darningcotton," remarked Sylvia.

  "I don't see the use of wearing them at all. I am comfortable enoughwith bare feet in my shoes, and so would you be if only you were used toit," said Rumple, coming up with a sackful of grass for Rocky's middayfeed on his back. The younger boys took it in turns to provide Rocky'sluncheon, and to-day was Rumple's turn.

  "Sylvia and I are not boys, you see, and so the same rules do not applyto us, for girls always have to observe the conventions," said Nealie,with the prim little air which she sometimes put on for the sake of herjuniors.

  "What are they?" demanded Billykins, who at this moment ran up from theother side. But Nealie was spared a lengthy explanation by the timelyarrival of Don upon the scene, calling shrilly upon the others to comeand see a snake which was swallowing a frog, and getting choked in theprocess.

  "I suppose we ought to kill the snake," said Rupert wearily. "Butpersonally I would rather not."

  "That is how I feel; for after all we have no quarrel with the snake,and it may be a very harmless creature after all," said Sylvia. "Don'tyou remember that Mrs. Warner told us a great many people keep a snakein their houses in preference to a cat, just to keep the mice down."

  "Well, there is no accounting for tastes," said Nealie, and then shedeftly guided Rocky on to the side of the road, drawing rein under thedrooping branches of a lightwood tree, where they could rest for two orthree hours until the fiercest heat of the day was past.

  They were not as merry as usual to-day. The heat was so great that theyall wore a more or less wilted appearance.

  Presently a breeze sprang up and moaned its way through the trees, andNealie decided, with nervous haste, that it was time to be moving on.She had a great horror of thunderstorms, although she mostly kept it toherself, and to-day she was vaguely oppressed by a brooding sense ofcoming disaster, which was doubtless the effect of the electricity inthe air.

  The way at this part was very solitary. Once they passed a bark-roofedhut standing close to the road; but when they knocked at the door theyfound that no one was at home, and so went on their way, by no meanscertain that they were taking the right direction, for although theroute lay clear enough before them on paper, in actual fact it was veryhard to find, especially here, where there were so many roads andbeginnings of roads that did not show upon the map.

  After some consultation they took the road which seemed the best and themost used, and, following it, arrived in time on very high ground, fromwhence they had a fine view over a great stretch of country, dottedhere and there with little townships and solitary stations, a rich andfertile land apparently, most of it being under close cultivation.

  Thunder grumbled in the west, and the lightning played fitfully alongthe distant horizon.

  "There is Hammerville!" cried Sylvia, flinging out her hand in thedirection where tall chimneys stood outlined against a copper-hued sky.

  "What a long way off!" cried Nealie, with a new note of dismay in hervoice. She had thought that it would be possible to reach the goal oftheir journeying before the storm broke, but those chimneys were atleast eight or ten miles away, and Rocky was showing signs of beingnearly done up, for the hills had been heavier than usual, and the heathad been enough to try the mettle of the strongest horse.

  "We had better camp for the night in the first convenient place, andthen to-morrow we can arrive in style," said Sylvia, who was quite pinkwith excitement at the thought that when those distant chimneys werereached she would see her father again.

  "I suppose that will be better; but, oh, I had so hoped that we shouldhave reached home to-night, so that Rupert would not have to sleep onthe ground any more! I am so worried about him," said Nealie, who hadjumped down from the wagon, and was standing in the road trying to makeup her mind which was the best pitch for a camp, always a time ofanxiety for her since that night when the stampeding cattle had bowledthe wagon over in their mad rush down the steep hillside.

  "Let the boys have the wagon to-night, and we will sleep underneath. Ishould love it!" cried Sylvia, clapping her hands and whirling round onthe tips of her toes, bowing to an imaginary audience, then giving asideway skip to show the lightness of her poise.

  But at that moment there was a crackle of thunder right above theirheads, a blaze of lightning, and then a downpour of
rain, as if the rollof the thunder had opened the floodgates of the clouds. It was no longera question of where to camp or where to sleep. They just had to crowdinto the wagon and stay there until the tempest had spent itself.