Adventurous Seven

by Bessie Marchant

  CHAPTER XVII

  In the Thick of It

  A hundred miles or more from Mostyn, right out on the sandy plains,beyond the gap in the mountains which they called the Devil's Bridge,there had been a gold find. A gold prospector had been found lying inthe mulga scrub with a big nugget in his hand, while his swag, whenunrolled, had shown a whole handful of lesser nuggets.

  The poor wretch had found gold, but had died of thirst, and those whofound him came perilously near to sharing the same fate, so keenlyanxious were they to make the dead yield up the knowledge of his find,by tracing his poor wandering footprints round and round and in and outamong the hillocks of sand, the clumps of spinifex, and the mulga scrub.

  But one man, more human than the rest, elected to dig a grave where thedead might rest secure from the ravages of the wandering dingo, andalthough the others laughed at him, calling him names, and going awayleaving him to do his work of mercy alone, he stuck grimly at his task,probing down between the roots of the mulga bushes to make a hollow deepenough to form a decent resting place for the nameless dead.

  He was quite alone now, save for the quiet figure on the ground and ahoodie crow which was perched on a swaying branch at a little distance,watching the living and the dead with anxious beady eyes.

  Down under the top layer of sand the ground was stony, and the man whodug was weak from long tramping in search of the gold he could not find.Of choice he would have gone away and left the still figure where he hadfound it, but it might be that some day he too would lie like this, withstaring eyes that could not see the sun, and then, surely, it would begood if some kind hand would make a hole in the hot, dry ground, wherehis body might lie at rest until the day of days, when the dead shallrise and the earth and the ocean give back that which they have taken.

  What was that?

  The prospector's shovel struck something hard, something which was somuch heavier than ordinary stone, and that had a peculiar ring whenstruck by the shovel.

  He leaned forward then, and picked it up, casting a scared look round,fearful lest any of his chums had repented and come back to help him.But no, he was alone, save for the dead; even the hoodie crow had flownaway because it did not seem of any use waiting any longer, and instincthad told the creature that a horse was dying by a dried-out water-holesome two miles away.

  The man dug another hole after that, at some little distance, and,dragging the body there, gave it decent burial, even kneeling withclasped hands and closed eyes for a few minutes when his task was done,trying to remember "Our Father", which was the prayer he had learned athis mother's knee many years before. It was the only prayer thatoccurred to him then, and it was not so inappropriate as it seemed. Thenhe went back to the first hole that he had dug, and, carefully fillingit in, made a little cross of plaited sticks, which he planted at thehead of the grave that held no dead.

  "I guess that will about do," he muttered to himself, and then, with afinal look round, he picked up his swag, and, hoisting it to his back,set his face towards the hills and civilization once more. Tucked awayin his belt he carried fragments of the stone he had taken from thatfirst grave he had started to dig, and he meant to raise money on hisexpectations, then come back with horses and tools to dig up thefortune upon which he had stumbled when performing that act of mercy tothe nameless dead.

  He was worn out and half-starved; he had been so near to despair, too,that this tremendous find proved too much for him, and when three dayslater he staggered into the main street of Latimer, which was a townshipsome fifty miles from Mostyn, he was too ill to tell anyone of what hehad found, or even to get the help for himself that he so sorely needed.

  Most likely he would have lain on a dirty bed at the one hotel until hedied, and so the secret of that empty grave on the sandy plain wouldhave never been revealed; but it so fell out that two other men in thetownship were ill with a mysterious disease which looked so much likesmallpox that a doctor was sent for in all haste because of the dangerto other people.

  The nearest medical man lived at Mostyn, and he had not been there long,and was indeed on the point of going somewhere else, because the peopleof Mostyn seemed to have no use for doctors, and only died of drinkingbad whisky.

  With so little chance of work the doctor was in a fair way of beingstarved out; so when the call came for him to go to Latimer, eagerthough he was for work, he had to admit that he had no horse to ride andno money with which to hire one.

  But when men are desperate enough to ride fifty miles on the off chanceof finding a doctor it is not likely that a trifle of this kind willturn them from their purpose. A horse for the doctor was quicklyforthcoming, and he rode out of Mostyn in the company of his escort,just as the cart which was bringing the weekly mail entered the town.

  "Would you like to wait and claim your mail, doctor?" asked the man whorode on his right hand.

  "No, thanks; I do not expect any letters," replied the man of medicine,and a pang stole into his heart as he thought of the big family of sevenmotherless children in far-away England, whom he had virtually cast off,just because he was writing himself down a failure, and would not be anobject of pity to his friends and relations.

  If only he had known it, there was a letter for him by that mail, aletter which had come from England, written by Mr. Runciman, and postedon the very day the children sailed for Sydney. The writer confessedthat he ought to have followed his first letter with a second longbefore this; perhaps he ought to have waited until a letter came fromDr. Plumstead before letting the children start, but there had been somany difficulties in the way of taking care of them in England, and soon, and so on, which in plain English meant that as Mrs. Runciman wasnot willing to have them under her roof, the harassed guardian had notknown what to do with them.

  But it was a long time before that letter really reached the hands forwhich it was intended, and then it was Nealie who handed it to herfather, and at his request read it to him.

  It was a horrible journey for the doctor and his escort. The demondrought was stalking through the land, there were wicked littlewhirlwinds to raise the sand and fling it in blinding showers on to theunlucky travellers, water-holes had dried to mud puddles, and the broadlagoons, beloved of waterfowl, were thickets of wilted reeds, with nevera trace of moisture to be found anywhere.

  The travellers pressed on as fast as they could go, for who could tellwhat grim tragedies were taking place in Latimer since the two hadridden forth to find a doctor? There were stories of whole townshipshaving been wiped out in ten days or a fortnight by smallpox, when nodoctor had been forthcoming to tend the patients and insist on isolationand sanitation, with all the other precautions that belong to law andorder.

  "There are only eight hundred people all told in Latimer, and we mayeasily find half of them dead," said one man, with a pant of hurry inhis voice, as the tired horses toiled up the last long hill intoLatimer.

  "But how many sick did you say there were when you left the town on theday before yesterday?" asked the doctor, who privately believed the mento be panic-stricken.

  "There were two that had spots, and then there was that prospector whocame in from the track across the sandy plain. He dropped like a felledox in front of Jowett's saloon, and so they took him in there, becauseJowett had a bed to spare and there was not another in the township,"said the other man, who was tall and gaunt, and only about half asfrightened as his companion, who was a small fat man with a tendency toprofuse perspiration.

  "Had he--this prospector, I mean--any spots on him also?" asked thedoctor, frowning heavily. He had had more than one fight with smallpoxin mining camps, and he knew by sad experience that the terror was worseto combat than the disease.

  "I don't know. Folks were too scared to look, I fancy; but old MotherTwiney, who doesn't seem to be afraid of anything, said that she wouldsee that he had food and drink until we got back, and Jowett will letthe man have houseroom, for the simple reason that he is afraid to turnhim out," returned the tall man.
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br />   Fully half the population of Latimer gathered to welcome the doctor whenat last he rode up to the open space in front of Jowett's saloon, andhalf of these demanded that their tongues should be looked at and theirpulses felt without delay.

  But the doctor had always been impatient of shams; indeed more than onecandid friend had told him that in this matter he had done himself muchharm from a professional point of view, as a doctor who wants to get oncan do it most quickly by trading upon the fears of the foolish.

  Pushing the candidates for examination to right and left as he went, hesternly demanded to be taken at once to the sick--those who had thedreaded spots most fully developed--and, as he was not a man to begainsaid or put aside, old Mother Twiney was at once pushed forward totake him to the patients.

  Snuffy and dirty though the old crone was, there was a gleam of truekindliness in her eyes hidden away behind bushy grey eyelashes, and shehobbled off in a great hurry to a wooden building standing remote fromthe houses, and which had formerly been used as a store for miningplant.

  "Are all the patients here?" asked the doctor, as he followed her acrossthe parched and dusty grass.

  "All but the man who was taken into Jowett's, your honour," sheanswered; then, sidling a little closer to him, she said in anundertone: "It is not smallpox at all; I am quite sure of it. Why, thetwo men are not even ill, only nearly scared to death."

  "Then why was I sent for such a long way, and for nothing too?" he askedangrily, knowing well that his fee would be according to the need therewas for his services.

  "Hush!" breathed the old woman, and now there was keen anxiety in hermanner. "Whatever you do, don't let anyone know for a few days that itis not smallpox. These men are not ill, and the spots are only a sort ofheat rash, I think, but the poor fellow at Jowett's is real bad, and hewould have died if he could not have had a doctor. He may even die now,in spite of all you can do. I knew that no one in the town would sendfor a doctor to come so far on account of a man who was ill from acomplaint that was not infectious, so when I saw the other two with thespots, I just made the most of it, and because all the well people wereafraid that they would catch the disease, there was no time lost insending for you. Now you must just put them into strict quarantine, andmake as much fuss as possible; then they will let you stay here longenough to pull the poor fellow round who is lying at Jowett's, and theywill pay you according to the trouble you put them to," said the oldwoman, with a sagacious nod of her head.

  The doctor frowned, but there was sound reason in her arguments, and hedecided to see all the patients before committing himself to any courseof action concerning them.

  The two men with spots were in a state of terror that was pitiable tosee, and from outward appearances might be said to be suffering from avery bad form of the dreaded scourge. True to the lines he had laid downfor himself, however, he said nothing to allay their fears, only lookedvery grave, issued a hundred commands for safeguarding the rest of thecommunity, and then demanded to be taken to the other sick man, who waslodged at Jowett's.

  The prospector's quarters were not sumptuous. He was merely laid in ashed recently tenanted by calves, and which had been hastily cleared forhis use. The man was very ill, and Mother Twiney had not exaggeratedabout the gravity of his condition.

  Here indeed was scope for the doctor, and instead of wearing a face ofgloom, as when he examined the men with spots, his face was bright, andhis tone so brisk and cheerful that it looked as if he were going toenjoy the tussle that was in front of him.

  "Can you pull me through, Doctor?" asked the sufferer, looking at thedoctor with lack-lustre eyes.

  "I am going to try, but I don't mind admitting that I shall have myhands full," replied the doctor, who had never been in the habit ofhiding from his patients the gravity of their condition.

  "Well, if you do get me on my feet, I promise you a 10-per-centcommission on all I can make during the next year," said the sick man,with a sudden burst of energy, and then he called on the old woman towitness to what he had said, after which he sank into a condition ofapathy, looking as if he might die at any moment.

  Never since he was a young man and just starting in his profession hadthe doctor worked harder than for the next few days. He was happier,too, than he had been for years, and in the hush of the quiet nights,when he watched alone by the man who was really ill, he thought of hischildren and resolved that no longer would he shut them out of his heartand out of his life just because he had been a victim to circumstances.

  He was thinking of them one night, as he strode across to the shed wherethe two victims from spots were beginning to recover, when suddenly henoticed another odour on the hot air; usually it was the pungent smellof eucalyptus leaves, but now it was the reek of burning timber thatsmote upon his senses, and turning sharply in the track he saw to hishorror that there was a red glow in the sky over Jowett's. The place wason fire.

  "It will blaze like matches," he groaned, and then turned to run,thinking of his patient.

  But, despite his haste, the flames were shooting out through the holesin the roof of the shed where the sick man lay, by the time the doctorturned the corner by the store.

  He tried to shout a warning, and to call for help, but it was as if hisvoice had dried up in his throat.

  No one else appeared aware of the danger. The place seemed solitary andsilent, save for the hiss and crackle of the fire.

  Then he heard a cry for help. It came from the inside of the shed, anddashing forward, regardless of his own danger, he groped his way inthrough smoke and flame, then, seizing the sick man, turned to carry himout to safety, but even in that moment was stricken to the ground withthe burden he bore, and pinned there by a fall of roofing.