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''To the Vile Dust'' · Stingaree

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Chapter three of Stingery by E. W. Horning. This LibriVox recording is
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in the public domain. Read by Beeswax Candle to the vile dust. Van
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Heimert had been in many dust storms, but never in such a storm so
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far from the haunts of men. Awaking in his blanket with his mouth full
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of sand, he had opened his eyes to the blinding sting of a storm
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which already shrouded the very tree under which he lay. Other landmarks were there
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none, and the world was swallowed in a yellow swirl that turned browner and
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more opaque. Even as van Heimert shook himself out of his blanket and ran
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for the fence, as for his life. He had only left it in
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order to camp where his tree had towered against the stars. It could not
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be a hundred yards away, And along the fence ran that beaten track to
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which the bushman turned instinctively in his panic. In a few seconds he was
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groping with outstretched hands to break the violince so of a collision with invisible wires.
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In a few minutes, standing at a loss, wondering whether wires or
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he had got to whether it would not be wise to retrace his steps and
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try again, And while he wondered, a fit of coughing drove the dust
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from his mouth like smoke. And even as he coughed, the thickening swirl
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obliterated his tracks as swiftly as heavy snow speckled eyeball stood out of a sanded
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face. As van Heimert saw himself adrift and drowning in the dust, it
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was a huge, young fellow, and it was a great smooth face from
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which the gaping mouth cut a slice from jaw to jaw. Terror and rage,
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in an overpowering passion of self pity, convulsed the coarse features in turn.
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Then with the grunt of a wounded beast, he rallied and plunged to
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his destruction, deeper and deeper into the bush, further and further from the
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fence. The trees were few and mostly stunted, but van Heimert crashed into
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more than one upon his headlong course, the sense was choked out of him.
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Already he was fleeing on the wings of the storm of direction. He
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thought no more. He forgot that the run he had been traversing was at
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the best abandoned by man and beast. He forgot the spell that he had
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promised himself at the deserted homestead where he had once worked as a lad.
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He might have remembered that the paddock in which he was burying himself had always
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been the largest in the district. Was a ten mile block without subdividing fence
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or drop of water from end to end. The whole station was a howling
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desert, little likely to be stopped a second time by an enlightened man.
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But this was the desert's heart, and into it sped van Heimert, coated
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yellow to the eyes and lips, the dust fiend himself in visible shape.
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Now he staggered in astride. Now fell headlong to cough and sob in the
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hollow of his arm. The unfortunate young man had the courage of his desperate
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straight. Many times he arose and hurled himself onward with curse or prayer.
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Many times he fell or flung himself back to earth. But at length the
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storm passed over and over, his spent members, sand gathered by the handful
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on the folds of his clothes. The end was as near as end could
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be. It was just then that two riders, who fancied they had heard
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a voice, struck an undoubted trail before it vanished, and followed it to
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the great sprawling body in which the dregs of life pulsed feebly. The thing
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groaned as it was lifted and strapped upon a horse, A gurgled gibberish at
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the taste of raw spirits. Later in the same hour, twas high noon
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before van Heimert opened a seeing eye and blinked in the unveiled sun. He
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was lying on a blanket and a treeless hollow in the midst of trees.
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The ground had been cleared by no human hand. It was the little basin
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of barren clay, burnt to a brick and drained by the tiny water hole
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that sparkled through its thatch of leaves and branches. In the center of a
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natural circle. Van Heimert lay on the eastern circumference. It was the sun
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falling sheer on his upturned face that cut short a sleep of deep exhaustion.
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The sky was a dark and limpid blue, but every leaf within van Heimert's
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vision bore its little load of sand, and the sand was clotted, as
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though the dust storm had ended with the usual shower. Vanheimer turned and viewed
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the silver amphitheater. On its far side were two small tents and a man
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in a folding chair reading the Australasian. He closed the paper on meeting van
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Heimert's eyes went to one of the tents, stood a moment looking in,
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and then came across the sunlit circle with his newspaper in the folded chair.
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And how do you feel now, said he, setting up the chair beside
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the blanket, but still standing as he surveyed the prostrate man with dark eyes
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drawn together in the shade of a great straw sombrero. Fine, replied van
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Heimot huskily. But where am i? Many? Were you chaps rabbits?
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As he spoke, however, he searched for the inevitable strings of rabbit skins
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festooned about the tents and found them. Not if you like, replied the
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other, frowning a little at the immediate curiosity of the rescued man. I
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don't like, said van Heimot, staring unabashed. I'm a rabbit to myself,
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and I know too much. It ain't no game for abandoned stations.
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You don't go plan and top boots and spurs. Where's your skins? And
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where's your squatter to pay for em plucky rabbit, as you too, And
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he gazed across the open towards the further tent, which had just disgorged a
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long body and a black beard not wholly unfamiliar to Van Heibert. The dark
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man was a shade darker as he followed the look and read its partial recognition.
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But a grim light came with quick resolve, and it was with sardonic
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deliberation that an eyeglass was screwed into one dark eye. Then what should you
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say that we are now? Do I know? Cried Van Hymot, turning
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pale, for he had been one of the audience at Missus Clarkson's concert and
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Gullen Store, and in consecutive moments he had recognized first Howie and now Stingerree
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you know well enough, and the terrible eye glass covered him like a pistol.
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Perhaps I can guess, faltered Van Heymot, no small brain working in
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his prodigious skull. Yes, then there are tales about a new chum camping
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by himself. There is just with one man, and what object to get
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away from the world? Sir? And when did you hear these tales?
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All along the road, sir, the chasin turned the anxious countenance, the
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sudden rec horse to the servile monosyllable, when none of them lost on Stingery.
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But he himself had once set such a tail abroad, and it might
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be that the present bearer still believed it. The eyeglass looked him through and
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through. Van Heimert bore the inspection like a man, and was soon satisfied
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that his recognition of the outlaw was as yet quite unsuspected, congratulated himself on
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his presence of mind, and had sufficient courage to relish the excitement of a
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situation of which he also perceived the peril. I suppose you have no recollection
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of how you got here? At length, said Stingery. Not me hardly
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remember the dust storm, and van Heimert shuddered where he lay in the sun.
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But very grateful to you, sir, for saving my life. You
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are are? You have I cause to be, sir? Well? I
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dare say we did bring you round between us, but it was pure luck
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that we ever came across you. Now I should lie quiet if I were
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you. In a few minutes there'll be a pannikin of tea for you,
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And after that you'll feel a different man. Van Heimert lay quiet enough.
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There was much to occupy his mind. Instinctively, he had assumed a part,
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and he was only less quick to embrace the necessity of a strictly consistent
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performance. He watched Stingery in close conversation with Howie, who was boiling the
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billy on a spirit lamp between the two tents, but he watched them with
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an admirable simulation of idle unconcern. They were talking about him, of course,
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more than once they glanced in his direction, and each time Van Heymer
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congratulated himself the more heartily on the ready pretense to which he was committed.
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Let them but dream that he knew them, and van Heimert gave himself as
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short a shrift as he would have granted him their place. But they did
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not dream it. They were off their guard, and rather at his mercy
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than he at theirs. He might proved the immediate instrument of their capture.
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Why not the thought put van Heimert in a glow on the blanket where they
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had laid him. He dwelt on it without a qualm, and the same
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wide mouth watered for the tea which these villains were making and for their blood.
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It was Howie who came over with the steaming pannikin and watched Van Heimert
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as he sipped and smacked his lips, Whilest Stingery, at his distance,
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watched them both. The pannaquin was accompanied by a tin plate full of cold
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mutton and a wedge of baking powder bread, which between them prevented the ravening
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man from observing how closely he was himself observed as he assuaged his pangs.
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There was, however, something in the nature of a muttered altercation between the
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bush rangers. When how He was sent back for more of everything. Van
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Heimert put it down to his own demands and felt that Stingerye was his friend.
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When was he who brought the fresh supplies away? Said Stingery. Seating
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himself and producing pipe and tobacco is rough fair, but there's plenty of it.
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Oh won't ask you for no more, replied Van Heymot, paving the
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way for his escape. Oh yes you will, said Stingery. You'll get
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a camp with us for the next few days. My friend, why am
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I? Cried Van Heymot, aghast at the quiet statement, which had never
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occurred in to gainsay. The Stingery peared a pipe full of tobacco and rubbed
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it fine before troubling to reply. Because the way out of this takes some
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finding. And what's the use of escaping an unpleasant death one day if you
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go and die at the next. That's one reason, says Stingery. But
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there's another. The other reason is that now you're here, you don't go
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till I choose. Blue Wreaths of smoke went up with the words which might
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have phrased either a humorous hospitality or a covert threat. The dispassionate tone told
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nothing, but Van Heymot felt the eye glass on him, and his hearty
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appetite was at an end. That's real kind of you, said he I
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don't feel like running no more risks still long obliged. My nerves are shook.
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And if a born back blocker may make so bold, it's a far
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old trick to see a new chum camping out for the fun of it.
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You told you I was a new chum, asked Stingery, sharply, Nah,
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I remember, he added, nodding. You heard of me lower down
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the road, Van Hymot grinned from ear to ear I've known it without that,
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said he, what real bushmen will boil their billy on a spirit lamp
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with his wood, and to spare for a camp fire, and all sides
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of them. Now, van Heimert clearly perceived the superiority of smokeless spirit lamp
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to telltale fire for those in hiding. So he chuckled consumedly over this thrust
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was taking such excellent part by stingery as to prove him a victim to the
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desired illusion. It was the cleverest touch that van Heimot had yet achieved,
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and he had the wit neither to blunt his point by rubbing it in,
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nor to recall attention to it by subtle protestation of his pretended persuasion. But
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once or twice before sundown he permitted himself to ask natural questions concerning the old
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country, and to indulge in those genial gibes as the englishman in the bush
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learns to expect from the indigenous buffoon. In the night, van Heimert was
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less easy yet to sleep in Howie's tent, but it was some hours before
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he slept at all, for Howie would remain outside, and van Heimert longed
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to hear him snore. At last, the rabbiter fell into a doze,
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and when he awoke, the auspicious music filled the tent. He listened on
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one elbow, peering till the darkness turned less dense, and there lay Howie
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across the opening of the tent. Van Heimert reached for his thin, elastic
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sided bushman's boots, and his hands trembled as he drew them on. He
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could now see the form of Howie plainly enough, as it lay half from
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the starlight and half from the darkness of the tent. He stepped over it
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without a mistake, and the ignoble strains droned on behind him. The stars
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seemed unnaturally bright and busy as van Heimert stole into their tremulous light. At
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first Dick had distinguished nothing earthly. Then the tents came sharply into focus,
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and after them the ring of impenetrable trees. The trees whispered a chorus,
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myriad, strong in a chromatic scale, that sang but faintly. Of the
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open country. There were palpable miles of wilderness, and none other lodge.
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But this yet the psychological necessity for escape was stronger in Van heimert than the
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bodily reluctance to leave the insecure security of the bush ranger's encampment. It was
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the prisoner. Whatever they might say, the sense of captivity was intolerable.
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Besides, let them but surprise his knowledge of their secret, and they would
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shoot him like a dog. On the other hand, beyond the forest and
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along the beaten track lay fame and a fortune in direct reward. Before departure,
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Van Hymert wished to peep into the other tent, but its open end
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was completely covered in for the night, and prudence forbade him to meddle with
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his hands, and an even keener desire to steal one or other the horses,
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which he had seen before nightfall tethered in the scrub. But here again
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he lacked enterprise, fancied the saddles must be in Stingery's tent, and shrank
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from committing himself to an action which nothing, in the event of disaster could
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explain Away on foot he need not put himself in the wrong, even with
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villains ready to suspect that he suspected them. And on foot he went,
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indeed, on tiptoe, to the edge of the tree, was reached without
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adventure, and he turned to look his last upon the two tents shimmering in
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the starlight. As he turned again, satisfied that the one was still shut,
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that how he still lay across the opening of the other, a firm
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hand took van Heemot by either shoulder, otherwise he had leapt into the air.
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For it was Stingerree who had stepped from behind a bushes from another planet,
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so suddenly that van Heimot nearly gasped his dreadful name. I couldn't sleep,
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I couldn't sleep, he cried out, instead, shrinking as from a
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lifted hand, though he was merely being shaken playfully to and fro. No
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more could I, said Stingery. So I was going for a stroll,
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That was all I swear. Mister, mister, I don't know your name,
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quite sure, said Stingery, my oaf, how should I? You
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might have heard it down the road, not me. Had you heard of
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me? You know, not by name, my oaf. Stingery peered into
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the great face in which the teeth were chattering, from which all trace of
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color had flown. I shouldn't eat you for knowing who I am, said
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he. Honesty is still a wise policy in certain circumstances. But you know
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best. I know nothing about you and careless, retorted van Heimen, sullenly
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that the perspiration was welling out of him. Or came for a stroll because
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I couldn't sleep and I can't see what all this Barney's about. Stingery dropped
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his hands. Do you want to sleep? What blessed oaf? Then come
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to my tent and I give you a nobbler that may make you. The
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nobbler was poured out of a gallant jar under van Heimen's nose by the light
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of a candle which he held himself it. He smelt it furtively before trying
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it was his lips, and denied himself with gulp till he was reassured.
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But soon the pannaquin was held out for more, and it was the starless
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hour before dawn when Van Heymot tripped over Howie's legs and took a contented header
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into the corner from which he had made his stealthy escape. The tent was
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tropical when he awoke, but Stingery was still at his breakfast outside in the
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shade. He pointed to a buckle and a piece of soap behind the tent,
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and Van Hymot engaged in obedient ablutions before sitting down to his pannikin his
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slice of damper and his portion of a tin of sardines. Sorry there's no
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meat for you, said Stingery. My mate's gone for fresh supplies. By
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the way, did you miss your boots? The rabbit ha looked at a
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pair of dilapidated worsted socks and at one protruding toe. He was not sure
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whether he had gone to bed for the second time in these or in his
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boots. Certainly he had missed the latter on his second awakening, but had
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not deemed it expedient to make inquiries, And now he merely observed that he
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wondered where he could have left them on your feet, said Stingery. My
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mate has made so bold as to borrow them for the day. He's welcome
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to them, I'm sure, said Van Hymot, with a sickly smile.
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I was sure you would say so, rejoined Stingery. His own are reduced
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to uppers and half a hill apiece, but he hopes to get them sold
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in ivan Herb while he waits. So he's gone to Ivanhoe has he miss
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been gone three hours. Sure it's a long trip. Yes, we shall
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have to make the most of each other till sundown, said Stingery, gazing
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through his glass upon Van Heinbert's perplexity. If I were you, I should
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take my revenge by shaking anything of his that I could find for the day.
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With a cavalier nod. To clinch the last word on the subject,
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the bush ranger gave himself over to his kemp chair, his pipe, and
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his inexhaustible Australation. As for Van Heibert, he eventually returned to the tent
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in which he had spent the night, and there he remained a good many
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minutes, though it was now the forenoon and the heat under canvas was past
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endurance. But when at length he emerged as from a bath, Stingaree,
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seated behind his Australasian in the lee of the other tent, took so little
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notice of him that Vain Heibert crept back to have one more look at the
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thing which he had found in the old valise, which served Howie for a
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pillow. And the thing was a very workmanlike revolver, with a heavy cartridge
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in each of its six chambers. Van Heimert handled it with trembling fingers and
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packed it afresh in the pocket, where at least effected his personal contour,
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its angle softened by a big bandanna handkerchief, only to take it out again
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with a resolution that opened a fresh sluice, and every paw. The blanket
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that had been led to him and Howe's blanket both laid his feet, threw
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one over either arm with the revolver, thus effectually concealed, but grasped for
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action with finger on trigger, sallied forth. At last stingery was still seated
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in the narrowing shade of his own tent. Van Heimert was within five paces
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of him before he looked up so very quickly with such a rapid adjustment of
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the terrible eye glass that Van Heymert stood stopped still, and the butt of
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his hidden weapon turned colder than ever in his melting hand. Why what have
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you got there, cried Stingerye, And what's the matter with you? Man?
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He added, as van Heymot stood shaking in his socks only his blankets.
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Tess camp On the fellow answered hoarsely, you advise me to help myself?
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He quite right, so I did, But you're as white as the
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tent who tremble like a leaf. What's wrong my head, replied Van Heymot
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in a wine. It's it's going round and round, whether from what I
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hadn't the night, or lying too long and hot tend or one on top
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of the other. I thought i'd camp for a bit in the shade.
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I should, said Stingery, and bury himself in his paper with undisguised contempt.
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Vn Heimert came a step nearer. Stingery did not look up again.
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The revolver was leveled under one trailing blanket, but the trigger was never pulled.
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Then Hymot feared to miss, even at arm's length. So palsied was
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his hand, so dim his eye, And when he would have played the
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man and called desperately to the other to surrender the very tongue clove in his
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head, he slunk over to the shady margin of surrounding scrub and lay aloof
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all the morning, now fingering the weapon in his pocket, now watching the
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man had never once looked his way. He was a bush ranger in an
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outlaw. He deserved to die or to be taken. And then Hymot's only
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regret was that he had neither taken nor shot him at their last interview.
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The bloodless alternative was to be borne in mind. Yet in his heart he
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well knew that the bullet was his one chance for stingery. And even with
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the bullet he was horribly uncertain and afraid. But of hesitation on any higher
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ground, of remorse, or of reluctance, or the desire to give fair
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play, he had none at all. The man whom he had stupidly spared
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so far was a notorious criminal with a high price upon his head. It
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weighed not a grain with van Heimert that the criminal happened to have saved his
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life. Gome and eat shouted stingery at last, and van Heimert trailed the
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blankets over his left arm, his right thrust idly into his pocket, which
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bulged with a red bandanna handkerchief. Sorry it's sardine's again, the bushranger went
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on. But we shall make up with a square feed to night if my
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mate gets back by dark, if he doesn't have to tighten our belts till
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morning. Fortunately, there's plenty to drink. Have some whisky in your tea,
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van Heimert nodded, and with an eye. And the bushranger, who
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was once more stooping over his beloved Australasian, helped himself enormously from the gallant
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jar. And now for a siester yawned stingery, rising and stretching himself after
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the meal. Here here croaked van Heimot, his great face flushed, his
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bloodshot eyes on fire. I shall camp on the shady side of my tent,
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and all do ditter at the other. So long, then, so
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long, sweet repose to you, same to you, rasped van Heyment,
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and went off, cursing and chuckling in his heart. By turns, it
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was a sweltering afternoon of little air, and that little as hot and dry
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in the nostrils as the atmosphere of a laundry on ironing day. Beyond and
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above the trees, a fiery blast blew from the north, but it was
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seldom a wandering puff that stood to flutter the edges of the tents and the
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little hollow among the trees. And into this empty basin poured a vertical sum,
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as if through some giant lens which had burnt a hole in the heart
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of the scrub lulled by the faint, perpetual murmur of leaf and branch vout
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a sound from bird or beast to brook. It's soothing monotone. The two
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men lay down within a few yards, though out of sight of each other,
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and for a time all was very still. Then Van Hymot rose slowly,
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without a sound, and came on tiptoe to the other tent, his
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right hand in the pocket with a bandanna handkerchief had been but was no longer.
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He came up close to the sunny side of the tent and listened vainly
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for a sound. But Stingery lay like a log in the shade on the
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far side, his face to the canvas, his straw sombrero tilted over it,
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and so Van Hymot found him breathing with the placid res regularity of a
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sleeping child. Van Heimert looked about him. Only the ring of impenetrable trees
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and the deep blue eye of heaven would see what really happened. But as
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to what exactly was to happen, van Heimert himself was not clear. As
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he drew the revolver ready cocked, even he shrank from shooting a sleeping man
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what he desired, and yet feared, was a sudden start, the semblance
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of resistance, the swift, justifiable shot, and as his mind's eye measured
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the dead man at his feet, the live man turned slowly over on his
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back. It was too much for van Heimert's nerves. The revolver went off
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in his hands, but it was only a cap that snapped, and another
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and another. Is his step back, Firing desperately, Stingery sat upright,
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looking as treacherous enemy in the eye through the glass in which it seemed he
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slept, And when the sixth cap snapped as harmlessly as the other five,
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van Heimert caught the revolvl by its barrel to throw or to strike, but
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the raised arm was seized from behind by Howie, who had crept from the
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scrub at the snapping of the first cap. At the same moment Stingery sprang
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upon him, and in less than a minute van Hymot lay powerless, grinding
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his teeth, foaming and bleeding at the mouth, and filling the air with
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nameless imprecations. The bush rangers let him curse. Not a word did they
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bandy with him or with each other. Their action was silent, swift,
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concerted, pre arranged. They lashed their prisoners wrists together, lashed his elbows
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to his ribs, hobbled his ankles, and tethered them to a tree by
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the longest of the stoutest of their many ropes. The tree was the one
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under which Van Hymot had found himself the day before. In the afternoon,
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was exposed to the full fury of the sun. And in the sun they
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left him quieter already, but not so quiet as they It was near sundown
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when they returned to look upon a broken man, crouching in his toils like
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a beaten beast, with undying malice and his swollen eyes. Stingery, he
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sat at his prisoner's feet, offered him tobacco without a sneer, and lit
27:14
up his own when the offer was declined with a curse. When we came
27:18
upon you yesterday morning in the storm, one of us was for leaving you
27:22
to die in your tracks, began Stingery. He was immediately interrupted by his
27:26
mate. That was me, cried Howie, with a savage satisfaction. It
27:33
doesn't matter which of us it was, continued Stingery. The other talked to
27:37
him over. We put you on one of our horses, and we brought
27:40
you more dead than alive, to the place which no other man has seen
27:42
since we took a fancy to it. We saved your miserable life. I
27:48
won't set the risk of our own, but it risk enough even if you
27:52
had not recognized us. We were going to see you through, whether you
27:56
knew us or not. Before this, we should have set you on the
28:00
road from which you had strayed. I thought you must know us by sight,
28:03
but when you denied it, I saw no reason to disbelieve you.
28:07
It only dawned on me by degrees that you were lying. Though Howie here
28:11
was sure of it. I still couldn't make out your game. If it
28:15
was funk, I could have understood it. So I tried to get you
28:18
to own up in the night. I'll let you see that we didn't mind
28:22
whether you knew us or not. Yet you persisted in your lie. Then
28:27
I smelt something deeper. But we had gone out of our way to save
28:32
your life. Never struck me that you might go out of your way to
28:36
take ours. Stingery paused, smoking his pipe, but it did May cried,
28:44
Howie, We'll never admit taking your lives, muttered Vanheimen. I'll omit
28:48
taking you as you deserved. We scarcely deserved it of you, but that
28:55
is a matter of opinion. As for taking us alive, no doubt you
28:59
would have preferred to do so if it had seemed equally safe and easy.
29:03
You had not the pluck to run a single risk. You were given every
29:07
chance. I sent Howie into the scrub, took the powder out of six
29:11
cartridges, and put what anybody would have taken for a load of revolver or
29:14
but into your hands. I sat at your mercy, quite looking forward to
29:18
the sensation of being stuck up for a change. If you had stuck me
29:22
up like a man, said Stingery, reflectively, examining his pipe, you
29:29
might have lived to tell the tail. There was an interval of the faint,
29:33
persistent rustling of branch and leaf, varied by the screech of a distant
29:37
cockatoo and the nearer cry of a crow. As the dusk deepened into night.
29:41
As expeditiously as on the stage, Van Heinert was not awed by the
29:47
quiet voice to which he had been listening, elected the note of violence,
29:52
which he understood, even lulled into a belief that he would still live to
29:55
tell the tale. But in the dying light he looked up, and in
29:59
the fierce, un relenting face, made the more sinistered by its foppish furniture,
30:03
he read his doom. You tried to shoot me in my sleep,
30:10
said Stingery, speaking slowly with intense articulation. That's your gratitude. You will
30:18
live just long enough to wish that you had shot yourself instead. Stingery rose,
30:25
you ms WoT shoot me now, cried van Heymot, with a husky
30:29
effort. Shoot you. I am not going to shoot you at all.
30:33
Shooting's too good for scum like you. But you are to die, make
30:38
no mistake about that, and soon, but not to night. That would
30:44
not be fair on you, for reasons which I leave to your imagination.
30:47
You will lie where you are to night, and you'll be washed and fed
30:51
like your superiors in the condemned cell. The only difference is that I can't
30:55
tell you when it will be. It might be to morrow. I don't
30:59
think it will. But you may number your days on the fingers of both
31:03
hands. So saying, Stingery turned on his heel and was lost to sight
31:08
in the shades of evening. Before he reached his tent, but Howie remained
31:14
on duty with the condemned man. As such, Van Hymot was treated from
31:18
the first hour of his captivity. Not a rough word was said to him,
31:22
and his own unbridled outbursts were received with as much indifference as the abject
31:26
prayers and supplications which were their regular reaction. The ebbing life was ordered on
31:33
that principle of high humanity, which might be the last refinement of calculated cruelty.
31:38
The prisoner was so tethered to such a tree that it was no longer
31:41
necessary for him to spend a moment in the red eye of the sun.
31:45
He could follow a sufficient shade from dawn to dusk. His boots were restored
31:49
to him, a blanket was permitted in day and night, But night and
31:52
day he was sedulously watched, and neither knife nor fork was provided with his
31:57
meals. His fare was relatively not in theory to that of the legally condemned,
32:04
whose notorious privileges and restrictions served the bush rangers for a model, and
32:08
van Heimot clung to the hope of a reprieve with all the sanguine tenacity of
32:13
his ill starred class, though it did seem with more encouragement on the whole.
32:17
For the days went on, leach of the many mornings brought its own
32:22
respite till the next The welcome announcement was invariably made by Howie after a colloquy
32:27
with his chief, which Van Heymot watched with breathless interest for a day or
32:30
two. But thereafter, with increasing coolness, they were trying to frighten him.
32:37
It did not mean it any more. The stingery had meant to shoot
32:40
the new chum had the temerity to put a pistol to his head. After
32:45
the affair of the glen Ranold Bank, the case of Lucky Fergure's, justly
32:50
celebrated throughout the colony, was a great comfort to Van Heimott's mind. He
32:54
could see but little difference between the two. But if his treachery was the
32:58
greater, Sir Wall was the ordeal to which he was being subjected. For
33:02
in the light of a mere ordeal, he soon regarded what he was invited
33:07
to consider as his last days on earth, and in the conviction that they
33:09
were not began suddenly to bear them like a man. This change of front
33:16
produced its fellow in Stingaree, who apologized to Van Heymot for the delay,
33:21
which he vowed he could not help. Van Heimert was a little shaken by
33:24
his manner, though he smiled behind the bush ranger's back, and he could
33:29
scarcely believe his ears when the very next morning how He told him that his
33:34
hour was come. Rot, said van Heimert with a confident expletive. Now
33:40
all right, said Howie. Then if he don't believe me, I'm sorry
33:45
for you, then I was. He slouched away. Van Heimert had no
33:49
stomach for the tea and damper which had been left behind. It was unusual
33:52
for him to be suffered to take a meal unwatched. Something unusual was in
33:58
the air. Sting emerged from the scrub, leading the two horses. Van
34:04
Heimert began to figure the fate that might be in store for him, and
34:07
the horses saddled and bridled before his eyes were led over to where he sat.
34:13
Are you gonna shoot me before you go? He cried? Are you
34:15
going to leave me to die alone? Neither here, said Stingery. We're
34:22
too fond of the camp. It was his first brutal speech, but the
34:28
brutality was too subtle for van Heimert. He was beginning to feel that something
34:31
dreadful might happen to him. After all, the pinions were removed from his
34:36
arms and legs, the long rope detached from the tree, made fast to
34:39
one of stingery stirrups instead, and by it van Heimert was led a good
34:45
mile through the scrub, with Howie at his heels. A red sun had
34:50
risen on the camp, but in the scrub had ceased to shine, and
34:54
the first open space was as sunless as the dense bush. Spy of sand
35:00
kept whirling from earth to sky, joining other spinning spires, forming a monster
35:05
balloon of yellow sand, a balloon that swelled to it burst, obscuring first
35:09
the firmament and then the earth. But the mind of van Heimert was so
35:15
busy with the fate he feared that he did not realize he was in another
35:17
dust storm till Stingerey, at the end of the rope, was swallowed like
35:22
a tug in a fog. And even then van Heimert's peculiar terror of a
35:27
dust storm did not link itself to the fear of sudden death, which had
35:30
at last been put into him. For the moment of mental enlightenment was at
35:36
hand. The rope trailed on the ground. As Stingery loomed large and yellow
35:42
through the storm, he had dropped his end. Van Heimert glanced over his
35:47
shoulder, and how he loomed large and yellow behind him. You would have
35:52
perceived the reason for so many a days delay, said Stingery. I had
35:55
been waiting for such a dust storm as the one from which we saved you,
36:00
to be rewarded as you endeavored to reward me. You might perhaps have
36:04
preferred me to make sure to work of you. But on consideration you will
36:07
see that this is not only just but generous. Their chances are perhaps against
36:13
you, somewhat in favor of a more unpleasant death. That it is quite
36:16
possible that the storm may pass before it finishes you, and that you may
36:21
then hit the fence before you die of thirst. And at the worst we
36:24
leave you no worse off than we found you. And that I hold is
36:30
more than you had any right to expect. So long the thickening storm had
36:35
swallowed man and horse once more. Van Hymot looked round. The second man
36:40
and the second horse had also vanished, and his own tracks were being obliterated.
36:45
As fast as footmarks in blinding snow, end of chapter three,