Settling Day

CHAPTER XI

'TRY WILLIE'

A few years quickly pass by, and very little change is noticeable in such places as Swamp Creek and on stations like Wanabeen and Cudgegong. The life there was monotonous enough, but there was a kind of fascination about it, and Jim Dennis would not have changed places with any man.

When he had thoroughly recovered from his illness Willie Dennis rapidly became strong, and now at twelve years of age was a fine, healthy lad.

Like his father, he was a good horseman, and already, even at this early age, he could ride any horse on the station. He had, as it were, been born and bred in the saddle, for ever since he could remember he was accustomed to ride about with his father.

It was the lad's ambition to be a jockey, and win a good race for his father. He did not mean to ride for everyone, there was no occasion for that; all he wanted was to be on the back of his father's horses when they ran in races.

Jim went in for breeding blood stock during the past few years, and had several promising youngsters by Seahorse, and Rodney Shaw was rather jealous at Dennis's stock turning out better than his own.

'I was a fool to allow him to mate those mares with Seahorse. I ought to have kept the blood for myself, especially after the trouble it cost me to procure it.' He forgot that, had it not been for Jim Dennis, he would probably have lost the horse altogether.

Rodney Shaw had been to Wanabeen several times, and of late his visits had been more frequent. He was an unprincipled man, and once he coveted anything he tried all in his power to possess it.

Of one thing he envied Jim Dennis, and that was his possession of the half-caste woman Sal. Rodney Shaw laughed at the idea of this woman living under Dennis's protection and being sacred to him. He had been assured such was the case by people who knew the life the owner of Wanabeen led, but he laughed at the assurance and said he knew better than that.

On one occasion he had, in a roundabout way, asked Jim Dennis if he would part with her, and hinted at a consideration. The look Dennis gave him made him quail, and he stammered out a lame excuse that he meant no offence, and that, of course, a black woman could not be regarded in the same light as a white.

'Black Sal has been more faithful to me than the white woman, and for no recompense. She has been a mother to my boy ever since my wife left me.'

Rodney Shaw started, and looked uneasily at the speaker. He had heard but little of Jim Dennis's past life, and the owner of Wanabeen seldom alluded to his troubled matrimonial experiences.

'I did not know you had been married,' he said.

'Yes,' replied Jim, bitterly, and then unburdened himself of his wretched story. It did him good to talk about it sometimes, relieved his feelings and revived his desire for vengeance on the man who had wronged him.

'It would go hard with that man if you came across him?' said Rodney Shaw.

'Yes, it would go hard with him.'

'Perhaps he did not know she was a wife – your wife. She may have deceived him, as she did you.'

'Make no excuses for him,' said Jim Dennis. 'Wife or no wife, he must have wronged her, because he could not marry her. That is enough for me. Only let me come across him, anywhere, and at any time.'

Rodney Shaw was glad he was not that man.

Young Willie Dennis had ridden over to Cudgegong many times, and Rodney Shaw made him welcome. He seemed to like the lad, and enjoyed his prattle. He learned a good deal of the life they led at Wanabeen from him, and gathered that black Sal was indeed a mother to the lad.

In his heart, however, he wished to possess her, and wondered how best to accomplish his end. It would be difficult to attain, but he had in his life overcome many such difficulties, and his victims rued the day they met him.

Country race meetings in those days were carried on with an amount of enthusiasm the ordinary phlegmatic race-goer of to-day would fail to understand.

The whole district for miles round was roused, and there was earnest rivalry between owners of horses to win events for which only a few pounds, or a cup of small value, were given as a stake.

It was mainly through the exertions of Jim Dennis, backed by Dr Tom Sheridan, who acted as secretary, that the Swamp Creek races had become so popular and successful. Two meetings were held during the year, and five events decided on each occasion. The chief interest, however, centred in the Swamp Creek Cup, and this year it was to be of the value of two hundred pounds, and a silver cup.

Rodney Shaw had increased his popularity by giving half this stake, and it had been a comparatively easy matter for the enthusiastic Dr Tom to collect the money necessary to provide for the other event. Jim Dennis had a laudable desire to win this cup, and he had a horse he thought possessed a first-rate chance, if properly and carefully trained.

The difficulty at these meetings was to obtain a good rider, and Jim Dennis wished his son had been a year or two older, and had more experience, so that he might have the mount on Neptune, the horse he thought might win.

Neptune was by Seahorse, and his dam, La Perouse, was one of Jim's best mares. He was a grey, a beautiful colour, and uncommon in race-horses.

'There are not many good greys,' said Jim; 'but once you do get a good one that colour he is generally an out and outer.'

He thought this description applied to Neptune, whose fault was that he inherited a good deal of the temper his sire displayed on a memorable occasion at Wanabeen.

The grey stood sixteen hands high, or a shade over, and was powerfully built, and no fault could be found with his shape in any respect. He was fast as the wind, and, moreover, could stay, and was sound in wind and limb.

If carefully handled he seldom displayed much temper, but it was in him all the same, and great caution had to be exercised to keep it in check.

Neptune had taken a great fancy to Willie, and the lad could do almost anything with him.

It gladdened Jim Dennis's heart to see his boy perched on the grey's back, and he watched them with pride as Neptune went a long, striding gallop with his light burden.

'If I could only persuade myself Willie would not lose his head in the race, I would let him ride the horse, but it is too much to expect a lad of his age to keep cool in the midst of so much excitement. If I put Ben Madsley up, he's as likely as not to ruffle the horse's temper, and then farewell to all chance of winning. I have a good mind to put Willie up and risk it, although I shall be laughed at and called a fool. If he won, the laugh would be on my side, I reckon.'

It wanted a month to the day of the races, and Neptune was doing splendid work, being ridden each day by Willie Dennis.

Jim rode over to Swamp Creek to consult Dr Tom. That worthy man of many occupations was, as usual, glad to see Jim. Since the day he saved Abe Dalton from death, the leader of the gang had kept his word, and Jim Dennis and his belongings had not been molested.

Jim was surprised at this, because he knew how Dalton would feel about him in the matter of rescuing Rodney Shaw's horse from his clutches. He did not know he owed this immunity to Dr Tom, and the doctor took good care he should not learn it from him.

'Well, Jim, and what's the news? How does Neptune fare, and is Willie all right?' said Dr Tom.

'Everything is going on splendidly,' said Jim. 'The horse could not be doing better, and Willie's as fit as a fiddle. I'm in a bit of a fix, though.'

'Not short of money surely?' said Dr Tom.

'No, not that,' laughed Jim. 'There is not much chance of throwing money about freely at Wanabeen.'

'I suppose not,' replied the doctor. 'In Swamp Creek there would not appear to be much chance of spending to the casual outsider's vision, but it's wonderful how the money goes even here. I'm always hard up, and blessed if I know how it happens. What do you think Alf Sniggers asked me this morning?'

'I don't know, could not even make a guess at it,' said Jim. 'He's a funny chap is Sniggers.'

'He owes me an account, and he wanted to know if I'd take a bullock in payment. Now what the deuce is the good of a bullock to me? I couldn't sell it – everyone round here wants to sell, not to buy. There's no chance of eating it, and, being of the wrong sex, there's no milk to be got out of it, and, in fact, it would be on my hands and a perfect nuisance. I explained these little facts to Sniggers, and what do you think he said?'

'Out with it,' laughed Jim.

'The beggar said that any doctor who wouldn't swop a few dirty drugs for a real live bullock must be a fool, and he "wouldn't have nothing more to say to him." Upon my word, Jim, he went away in a high state of indignation, for all the world as though I had done him an injury.'

'Did he settle the account?' asked Jim, laughing.

'Not he. I have put it down in my third volume of bad debts,' said Dr Tom, mournfully. 'But what's your trouble? I was forgetting about that.'

'It's not exactly a trouble, it's a difficulty,' said Jim. 'I don't know who to put up on Neptune in the race. Madsley will ride for me, but he's got a queer temper, and a rider with a nasty temper and a horse with a nasty temper generally have differences. If Madsley and Neptune happened to differ in the race, or just before it, and commenced to argue the matter, there would be no cup or two hundred sovs. for me.'

Dr Tom looked thoughtful, and shook his head.

'I don't think I'd risk putting Madsley up.'

'But who the deuce am I to put up?'

'Willie. Try Willie. Give the little chap a chance. By Jove, Jim, he'll win it, I feel it right here,' and he banged his chest with his fist.

CHAPTER XII

MAINLY CONCERNING A DOG

'It's asking too much of the lad,' said Jim Dennis, in reply to the doctor's suggestion to 'Put Willie up.' 'He's only twelve, and you can't expect him to have the head of a man.'

'But that is just what he has when he is on a horse,' commented Dr Tom. 'The little chap is a splendid rider, and as cool as his dad, which is saying a lot. He'll take a pride in riding Neptune, and Ashworth himself would not frighten the little chap. No, Jim, you can take my word for it, he has an old head on his young shoulders, and if you put him up he will do both himself and the horse justice.'

The doctor's argument coincided with Jim's inclinations, and he did not require much persuading.

'Ride back with me to Wanabeen,' said Jim, 'and we'll break it gently to him. It will be great news for him. He'll not believe it at first.'

'Oh, yes, he will,' said Dr Tom. 'Not believe it! He'll be only too proud to believe it. There's only one thing I envy you of, Jim, and that is the possession of such a lad as Willie. I'm not a marrying man, but I would give a good deal to possess a little chap like him.'

'Shocking, doctor. You ought to know better. Consider your morals,' laughed Jim.

'Oh, you dry up. You know exactly what I mean. I want a companion, such as the lad is to you. I sit and talk for hours at a stretch at my medicine bottles and old Baalim down there,' and he pointed to a sleepy-looking old dog snoring in a corner, half-dingo, half-kangaroo dog, and a dash of other breeds thrown in.

'I'll find you a better dog than that,' said Jim, with a quiet smile, knowing that any reflection cast upon Baalim's character would be indignantly repudiated by his owner.

'Find me a better dog!' exclaimed Dr Tom. 'Where is there a better dog? I wouldn't part with Baalim, not for money down to the extent of volume one of my bad debts library. That dog, let me tell you, Jim Dennis, is a marvel of intelligence. He's a humorous dog. He's about the only dog I ever knew who appreciated my violin playing. I have never known him howl when I am manipulating that instrument.'

'He must be extraordinarily patient,' said Jim. 'Perhaps he has no ear for music.'

'I have no wish to quarrel with you, Jim Dennis,' said Dr Tom, with a lordly air. 'Perhaps you have not heard my latest composition,' and he went off in the direction of his violin-case.

'I am afraid I must be going,' said Jim, innocently.

Dr Tom turned round sharply and said, —

'I'm sure you will like it.'

'I'll take it for granted,' said Jim. 'Please don't rob Baalim of his legitimate amusement. If that dog can stand your violin playing, Dr Tom, I'd never part with him; no other member of the canine race would ever put up with it.'

'I have composed an "Ode to Spring,"' said Dr Tom.

'I should have thought you were owed quite enough without piling up additional debts,' said Jim.

'Seize him, Baalim,' shouted the doctor.

Baalim raised his head, yawned, licked his fore paws one by one, turned over and snarled.

'How long have you had that dog?' questioned Jim, anxious to keep the doctor away from the violin-case.

'Several years. He arrived here one morning casually, on his own account. I shall never forget the inquiring look on his face as he came up those steps. It was the sort of look which conveyed the impression that he was thinking, "I wonder what kind of boots he wears and if he kicks hard?" It was not exactly a frightened look, but the glance of a dog that had seen a good deal of the slings and arrows, I think – the arrows of outrageous fortune. He didn't ask to remain, but he demanded his breakfast in such an appealing manner that I fed him. From that day to this he has never left me. He is a faithful companion, and his breed may be defined as "various." Moreover, he is an ass of a dog, that's why I call him Baalim.'

'Has he many good qualities?' asked Jim.

'He's full of good qualities, but he's a fool to himself. Instead of seeking repose on his mat, he circulates round the Creek on knight-errant adventures. He has fought every dog in Swamp Creek singly and in batches. He not only gets himself into trouble, but he drags me into it along with him. The number of excuses I have made for that dog's behaviour would surprise you. I believe he is grateful. Baalim, are you grateful?'

The dog slowly rose from his recumbent position and waddled up to Dr Tom. He placed his big, shaggy head on the doctor's knee, and looked up into his face. If ever a dog wished to express gratitude in a canine way it was Baalim at that moment.

'What an ugly beggar he is,' said Jim; 'but he looks a real good dog.'

Baalim was ugly, and he seemed to glory in it. He was unlike all other dogs. He had a dirty, yellowish-brown coat, his hair was uneven, it seemed to stick out of him in shreds and patches. His body was long and his legs were short, stumpy, and out of proportion. His tail was useful for whipping off flies, and it resembled the thick part of a stock whip lash. His head was wolfish in shape, and when he smiled, as dogs will smile at strangers, his teeth were ominous. His eyes were the best part of him. They were expressive, and he talked to Dr Tom with them, or, to be more correct, through them, in a most interesting way.

Baalim was a shrewd dog, and he was a bit of a diplomatist. He was an adept at the art of creating quarrels and of patching them up. In his perambulations round the Creek with Dr Tom he found much to interest and amuse him.

When the doctor was attending a patient, Baalim attended to the patient's dog, and these attentions generally ended in a dispute.