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The Villain-Worshipper · Stingaree

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Chapter nine of Stingery by E. W. Horning. This Librovox recording is
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in the public domain. Read by B. Space Candle the villain worship there
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was no more fervent admirer of Stingare and or bush Rangers than George Oswald Abernethy
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Melvin. Despite this mellifluous maenclature, young Melvin helped his mother to sell dance
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music, ballads, melodeons and a very occasional pianoforte in one of the several
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self styled capitals of Riverina. And despite both facts the mother was a lady
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of the most gentle blood, the son could either teach or tune the piano
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with a certain crude and idle skill. He endured a monopoly of what little
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business the locality provided in this line, and sat superior on the music stall
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at all the dances he had once sung tenor and Bishop Methfin's choir, but
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offended by a word of wise and kindly advice, was seen no more in
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surplice or in church. It will be perceived that Oswald Melvin had all the
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aggressive independence of young Australia, without the virility which leavins the truer type Yet
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he was neither a base nor an unkind lad. His bane was a morbid
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temperament which he could no more help than a sallow face and weedy person.
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Even his vanity was directly traceable to the early influence of an eccentric and fectless
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father with experimental ideas on the upbringing of a child. Twas a pity that
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brilliantly unsuccessful man had not lived to see the result of his sedulous empiricism.
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His wife was left to bear the brunt, a brave exile whose romantic history
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was never likely to escape her continent lips. None even knew whether she saw
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any or one of those aggravated faults of an only child which were so apparent
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to all her world. Yet the worst of Oswald Melvine was known only to
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his own morbid and sensitive heart. An unimpressive presence in real life, on
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his mind stage, he was ever in the limelight, with a good line
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on his lips. Not that he was invariably the hero of these pieces.
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He could see himself as large with the noose round his neck, as in
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coronet or halo. And though this inward and spiritual temper may be far from
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rear, there had been no one to kick out of him its outward and
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visible expression. Oswald had never learned to gulp down the little lie which ensures
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a flattering attention. His clever father had even encouraged it in him as the
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nucleus of imagination. Imagination he certainly had, but it fed on strong meat
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for an unhealthy mind. It fattened on the sordid history of the earlier bush
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rangers. Its favorite fare was the character and exploits of Stingery. The sallow
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and eurotic face would brightened with morbid enthusiasm at the bare mention of the desperado's
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name. The somewhat dull, dark eyes would lighten with borrowed fires. The
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young fool wore an eyeglass in one of them. When he dared sting Array,
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he would say, is the greatest man in all Astridia. He had
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inherited from his father a delight in uttering startling opinions, But this one he
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held with unusual sincerity. It had come to all ears, and was the
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subject of that episcopal compliment which Oswald took as an affront. The impudent little
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choristers supported his loss by calling sting Array after him in the street. He
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was wise to keep his eye glass for the house there, however, with
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a few even younger men who admired his standpoint and reveled in his store of
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criminous annals, or with his patient, inscrutable mother. Oswald Melvin was another
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being. His language became bright and picturesque, his animation surprising. A casual
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customer would sometimes see the side of him and carry away the impression of a
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rare young dare devil. And it was one such who gave Oswald the first
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great moment of his bush life. Not been down for the back blocks for
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three years, he had asked, as he showed a tremulous and leopardated bushman
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how to play the instrument that he had bought with a few shillings remaining out
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of his check. Been on the spring and going back to drive a whim
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till you've got enough to go at another Hell. I wish you'd tell that
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to our high and bitey lord Bishop of all the back Blocks. I should
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like to see his face and hear him of the subject. But I suppose
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he's news since you'd been down here last, never come across him. Eh,
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But of course you heard how good old Stingery scored off in the other
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day after he thought he'd scored off Stingery. The wim driver had heard something
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about it. Young Melbourne plunged into the congenial narrative an emerged minutes later on
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a dusky glow. That's the man for my money, he perorated Stingery,
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Sir, it's the greatest chap in all these colonies. It deserves to be
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viceroy when they get federation. Thunderbolt, Morgan, ben Hold and ned Kelly
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were not a circumstance between them. Distingery and the silly old Bishop's a silly
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old fool to him. I don't care. Tuppen's about right and wrong.
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That's not the point. The ones are force and the other isn't. The
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dawn saw it too much force to my mind, observed the wind driver with
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some warmth. You don't take my meaning, The superior youth pursued, it's
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a question of personality, A bit more personal than you think, was the
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dark rejoinder. How do you mean Melbourne's tone had altered in an instant.
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I know too much about him at firsthand, the youth asked, with baited
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breath. Double first returned the other with a muddled glimmer of better things.
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You never knew him, did ye, whispered Oswald? Knew him? Or
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have been taken prisony by him, said the whim driver, with the paws
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of a man who hesitates to humiliate himself, but is lost for the sake
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of that same sensation which Osward Melbourne loved to create. Missus Melvin was in
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the back room, wistfully engrossed in an English magazine sent that evening from Bishop's
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Lodge. The bad blood and the sun had not affected Doctor Methan's keen but
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tactful interest in the mother. She looked up in tolerant consternation as Oswald pushed
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an unsavory bushman before him into the room. But even through her gentle horror,
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the mother's love shone with that steady humor which raised it above the sphere
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of obvious pathos. He's a man who's been stuck up by stiggerree, he
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cried, boyish enough in his delight. Do keep an eye in the show,
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mother, and let him tell me all about it, as he's good
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enough to say he will. Is there any whiskey nought for me? Put
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in? The wim driver with a frank shudder, or should like a drink
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of tea out of a cup if I'm to have anything, missus Melvin left
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them with a good humored word beside her promise. She'd given no sign of
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injury or disapproval. She was not one of the windsing sort, and a
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tremulous tramp was in her own chair before her back was turned. Now fire
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away, cried the impatient Oswalde. It's a long story, said the wim
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driver, and his dirty brows were knited and thought, let's have it coaxed
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the young man, and the other's thoughtful creases vanished suddenly in the end,
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very well, said he, since it means a drink of tea out of
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a cup. It was only the other day, in a dust storm away
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back near the Darling, as bad a one as ever I was out in.
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I was bushed and done for, gave it up and said my prayers.
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Then I practically died in my tracks and came to life in a sunny
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clearing. Later in the day the storm was over. Two coves had found
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me and carried me to their camp, and as soon as I saw him,
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I spotted one for Howie and the other for Stingaree. The narrative went
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nor father for a time, the thrilling youth I had question and leading question,
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like a cross examining council, and a fever to concluder's case. The
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tea arrived that the whim driver had to help himself. His host neglected everything
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but the first chance he had ever had of hearing of Stingaree or any other
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bushranger at first hand. In how long we there a bird? A week?
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What happened? Then the wim driver paused, and doubt renewed, you
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will never guess. Tell me They waited for the next dust storm, and
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then cast me adrift. In that Oswald stared he would never have guessed.
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Indeed, the unhealthy light faded from his sallow face. Even his morbid enthusiasm
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was a little damped. You must have done something to deserve it, he
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cried. At last, Who did? Was the reply, with hanging head.
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I I tried to take him, take your benefactor, take him prisoner,
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Yes, the man who saved my life. Melbourne sat staring twas a
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stare of honestly incredulous disgust. Then he sprang to his feet. A brighter
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youth than ever, his depression melted like a cloud. His villainous hero was
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a heroic villain, after all. His heart of hearts, which was not
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black, could still render whole homage to Stingery. He no longer frowned on
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his informer as on a thing accursed. The creature had wiped out his original
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treachery distingery by replacing the uninjured idol in its Niche in this warped mind,
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Oswald, however, had made his repugnance only too plain. He was unable
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to elicit another detail, and in the very few minutes, Missus Melvin was
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back in her place, though not before flicking it with her handkerchief, undetected
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by her son. It was certainly a battered and hand dog figure that stole
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away into the bush. Yet the creature straightened as he strode into starlight,
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undefiled by earthly illumination his paws. He left him presently as he went,
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and began fingering the new Melodeon in the way of a man who need not
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have sought elementary instruction from Oswald. Melbourne and our shining disk filled one unwashed
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eye. Stingery lay a part of that night beside the milkwhite mare that he
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had left tethered in a box clump quite near the town. At sunrise,
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he knelt and shaved on the margin of a government tank, before breaking the
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mirror by plunging in. Before the next stars paled, he was snugly back
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in his older harns, none knowing of his descent upon those of men there
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or thereabouts. Hidden like the needle in the hay, and yet ubiquitous in
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the stag, the bush ranger remained for months. Then there was an encounter,
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not the first of this period, but the first in which shots were
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exchanged. One of these pierced the lungs of his melodion, an instrument more
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notorious by this time than the musical box before her, was still greater treasure
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to Stingery. That was near the full of a certain summer moon. It
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was barely waning to the eye when the battered buyer of melodions came for a
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new one to the shop in the pretty bush town. The shop was closed
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for the night, but Stingery knocked at a lighted window under the verandah,
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which Missus Melbourne presently threw up. Her eyes flashed when she recognized one of
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against whom She now harbored a bitterness on quite a different plain of feeling from
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her former repulsion. Even to his first glance shooked an older and harder woman.
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I am sorry to see you, she said, with a soft vehemence
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plainly foreign to herself. I almost take the sight of you. You have
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been the ruin of my son, his ruin. Stingery forgot the speech of
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the unlettered stockman, but his cry was too short to do worse than warn
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him. Come round, continued missus Melbourne, austely, I will see you.
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Who shall hear what you have done? In another minute he was in
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the parlor where he had sat aforetime, never dreamt of sitting now. But
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the lady took her accustomed chair as a queen her throne? Is he ruined,
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asked Stingery, not irrevocably, not yet. But he may be any
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moment. He must be before long. But but what ails in Madam finnin
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worship? Cried the lady, with a tragic face, stripped of all its
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humor and bare without it as his winter's tree. I remember, yes,
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I understand he was mad about STINGERYE it is madness now, said the bitter
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mother, tis only a stupid hair brained fancy then, but now it is
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something worse. You are the first to whom I have admitted it, She
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continued, with I logical indignation, because it's all through you, all through
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me. You told him a tale. You made that villain a greater hero
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in his eyes than ever. You made him real. He is real enough,
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God knows, but you made him so to my son. The keen
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eyes softened for one divine instant before they filled and and I I am talking
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my own boy over with with Stingery stood, and two for old embarrassment?
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Did you know, after all, who he was and what he had said
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he was the time before? A lowestuff alowe, he answered, with a
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twitch of his unshaven lips. No you were not that, or rah not
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whatever you may say you, she hesitated sweetly, You have been unsteady when
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you were here before. He twitched again, imperceptibly. I am thankful to
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see that you are now more like what you must once have been. I
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can bear to tell you of my boy, Oh sir, can you bear
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with me? Stingery twitched, no more rich as the situation was, keenly
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as he had savored its unsuspected irony. The humor was all over for him.
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Here was a woman still young, sweet and kind and gentle as a
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childish memory, with her fine eyes full of tears. That was bad enough
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to make it worse. She went on to tell him of her son him
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and outlaw him a bush ranger with a price upon his skin, as she
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might have outlined the case to a consulting physician. The boy had been born
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in the trouble of her early exile. He could not help his temperament,
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yet countless virtues, she extolled him in beaming parentheses. But he had too
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much imagination and too little balanced. He was morbidly wrapped up in the whole
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subject of romantic crime, and no less than possessed with the personality of this
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one romantic criminal. I should be ashamed to tell you of the childish lengths
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to which he is gone, she went on, if he were quite himself
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on the point. But indeed he is not his stingery in his heart,
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stingery in his dreams. It is as debasing a form as mental and temperamental
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weakness could well take. Yet I know who watch over him half the night.
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He is an eye glass. He keeps revolvers. He's even bought a
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white mare. He can look extremely like the portraits one a scene of the
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wretched man. But come with me one moment. She took the lamp and
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led the way into the room where Osward Melbourne slept. It slept in it
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from that boyhood in which the brave woman had opened this sort of shop entirely
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for his saying, music was his only talent. He was obviously not to
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be a genius in the musical world, but it was the only one in
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which she could foresee. The selfish, self willed child figuring with credit,
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and her foresight was only equaled by her resource. The business was ripe and
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ready for him when he grew up, and this was what he was making
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of it. But Stingaree saw only the little bed that had once been far
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too large. The Bible was still by its side, read or unread,
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the parents pour trades overhead. The mother was looking in an opposite direction.
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He followed her eyes, and there at the foot where the infatuated four could
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see at last thing at night and first in the morning, was an enlarged
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photograph of the bush ranger himself. It had been taken an audacious circumstances.
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A year or two before, a traveling photographer had been one of yet another
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coach load, turned out and stood in a line by the masterful, masterless
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man. Now you may take my photograph. The police refused to know me.
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When we do meet, give them a chance. And he had posed
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on the spot with eye glass up and pistols pointed, as he saw himself
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now not less than a quarter life's size, in a great gaudy frame.
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But while he stayed, missus Melbourne been rummaging in a drawer, And when
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he turned, she was staring in her turn with glassy eyes and her hands
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was an empty mahogany case with velvet molds, which ought to have been filled
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by a brace of missing revolvers. He kept it, not he kept them
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in it, she gasped. He may have done it this very night.
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Done what stuck up the den on Quinn Mail. That is his maddest dream
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I have heard of. Boast of it to his friends, the brainless boys
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who alone look out. They have even heard and rave of it in his
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dreams. Stingery was heavy for a moment with mental calculation. His head was
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a time table of Cobb's coaches on the Riverina road system. He nodded it
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as he located the imperiled vehicle. The dream it shall remain, said he.
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But it was not a moment to lose. Do you propose to follow
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and stop him? If he really means it? He may not. He
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will ride at night. He is often out as late, coming and going
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at about the same time. Yes, now I think of it. Then
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his courage must affair and hitherto, and it probably will again. But if
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not, I will cure him. But it must go at once. I
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have a horse not far away. I will gallop and meet the coach if
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it is still safe, as you may be sure it will be, I
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shall scour the country for your son. I can tell him a fresh thing
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or two about stinger Ee. You'll bless you leave him to me. Oh,
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may God bless you always. His hands were in a lady's hands once
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more. Stingaree withdrew them gently, and he looked as last into the brave,
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wet eyes raised gratefully to his The villain worshiper was indeed duly posted a
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certain belt of trees through which the coach route rang, but half way between
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the town and the first stage south. It was not his first nocturnal visit
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to the spot. Often, as his prototype divined, had the mimic would
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be Desperado, sat trembling on his hoary screw revolver was ready, while the
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red eyes of the coach dilated down the road, and, as often had
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the cumbrous ship pitched passed unscathed. The weak neeed and weak minded youth was
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too vain to feel much ashamed. He was biding his time. He could
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pick his knight. Oh, one was too dark, another was not dark
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enough. He had always some excuse for himself when he regained his room,
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still unstained by crime, and so the unhealthy excitement was deliciously maintained to night.
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As always when he sallied forth the deed should be done. He only
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wished there was a shadeless moon, and wondered whether he might not have done
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better to wait. But as usual, the dye he was cast. Indeed,
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he was quite a new complication that deterred this poor creature for the last
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time. He was feverishly expecting the coach when a patter of hoofs smote his
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ear from the opposite quarter. This was enough to stay in older in a
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bolder hand, Oswald tucked in his guns with unrealized relief. It was his
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last instinct to wait and see whether the horseman was worth attacking. For his
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own sake. He at room for few ideas at the same time, and
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his only new one was the sense of a new danger, which he prepared
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to meet by pocketing his pistols as a child bolts stolen fruit. There was
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no thinking before the act, but it was perhaps as characteristic as the naturally
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honest man as of the coward. Stingery swept through the trees at a gallop,
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the milk white mare flashing in the moonlit patches. At the sight of
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her, Oswald was convulsed with a premonition as to who was coming. His
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heart palpitated, as even his heart had never done before. And yet he
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would have sat irresolute, inert and let the man pass, as he always
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let the coach, had the decision been left to him. The real milk
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white mare affected the imitation in its turn, as the coach horses never had,
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and Oswald swayed and swam upon a winning steed. I thought you was
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stingaree. The anticlimax was as profound as the weakling's relief. Yet there was
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a strong dash of indignation in his tone. What if I am, but
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you're not. You're not half smart enough. You can't tell me anything about
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stingaree. He put his eye glass up with an air. Stingery put up
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his You, young fool, said he. The thoroughbred mare, the eye
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glass, a peeping pistol were all superfluous evidence. There was the far more
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unmistakable authority of voice and eye and bearing. Yet the voice, at least
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was somehow familiar to the ear of Oswald, who stuttered as much when he
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was able. I must have heard it before, or have I dreamt it
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or thought a good deal about you, you know? To do him justice.
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He was no longer very nervous, though still physically shaken. On the
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other hand, he began already to feel the elation of his I do know
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you've thought your soul into a pulp on the subject, and you must give
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it up, said Stingery, sternly. Oswald sat aghast. But how on
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earth did you know? I've come straight from your mother? You're breaking her
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heart? But how can you have come straight from here? I've come down
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for another Melodeon. I've got to have one too. Another at Osward Melvin,
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you was drunken whim driver for what he had really been. The arn
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I told you about myself was true enough, continued Stingery, and the names
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were altered. As they say it happened to the other fellow, not to
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me. I made it happen. He is hardly likely to have lived to
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tell the tale. Did he really try to betray you? After what you've
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done for him? More or less he looked on me as fair game,
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But you had saved his life. Stingery shrugged. We rowed across him,
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and you think he perished at dust and thirst. Stingery nodded in torment.
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Din he got what he jolly will end. Anything less would have been too
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good for him, cried Osborne, and with a boyish, uncompromising heat which
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spoke to some human nature in him. Still, but Stingery frowned up the
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moonlit track. There was still no sign of the coach. Yet time was
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short, and the morbid enthusiast was not to be disgusted. Indeed, he
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was all enthusiasm now, and a less unattractive lad than the bush ranger had
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hoped to find him. He looked the white Screw and Osward up and down
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as they sat in their saddles in the moonshine seemed like sunlight on that beaming
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fall. And you think of commencing, bush ranger, do rap it.
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It's a hard life, while at lasts in a nasty death to top up
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with. They don't hang you for it. They might hang me for the
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man I put back in the vile dust. From whence he sprung that?
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Hang you in six months. You've too many nerves. You'd pull the trigger
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every time. A short life and a merry one, cried the reckless Oswald.
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I shouldn't care, but your mother would, retorted Stingery, sharply.
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Don't think about yourself so much. Think about her for a change. The
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young man turned dusky in the moonlight. He was wounded where the bishop had
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wounded him, and Stingery was quick to see it, as quick to turn
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the knife round in the wound. What a bush ranger, he jeered.
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Put your plucky little mother in a side saddle, and she make two of
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you, ten of you, twenty of a puny namby pamby conceited a young
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idiot like you by my word, Melbourne, if I had a mother like
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you, I should be ashamed of myself. I never had, I may
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tell you, Or I shouldn't have come down to a dog's life like this.
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The bush ranger paused to watch the effect of his inside tis not quite
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what he wanted. The youth would not hang his head, and if he
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did not answer back, he looked back doggedly enough, for he could be
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dolled in a passive way, twas his one hard quality, the knot,
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and a character of green deal stingery glanced up the road once more, but
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only for an instant. The dog's life, he went on, whether you
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believe it or not, but it takes a bull dog to live it.
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And don't you forget it. It's no life for a young poodle like you.
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You can't stick up a better man than yourself, not more than once
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or twice, requires something more than a six shooter, and a good deal
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more than was put into you, my son. But you shall see for
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yourself. Look over your shoulder. Oswald did so, and started in a
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fashion that set the bush range in nodding his scorn, twas only a pair
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of lamps still close together in the distance up the road the couch, exclaimed
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the excited youth exactly said Stingery, and I'm going to stick it up.
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Excitement grew to frenzy in a flash. I'll help you. You do no
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such thing that you shall see how it's done, and then ask yourself candidly
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if it's nice work, and if you are the man to do it.
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Ride a hundred yards further in. Tether your horse quickly in the thickest scrub
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you can find. Then run back and climb into the fork of this gum
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tree. You'll have time if you're sharp. I'll give you a leg up,
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but I sha'n't be surprised if I don't see you again. There is
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no saying what Oswald might have done, but for these last words certain it
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is that they set and galloping with an oath, and brought him back panting
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in another minute. The coach lamps are not much wider apart. Stingery awaited
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him, also on foot, and quicker than the telling. Osward was ensconced
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on high where he could see through the meager drooping leaves with very little danger
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of being seen. And if you come down before I'm done and gone,
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if it's not to glory. I'll run some lead through you. You'll be
28:07
the first. Oswald perched. Reflecting on this final threat and the scenes soon
28:14
enacted before his eyes was viewed as usual through the aura of his own egoism.
28:18
He longed all the time to be taking part in it. He could
28:22
see himself so distinctly at the work safe for about a minute in the middle,
28:27
when for once in his life, he held his breadth and trembled for
28:30
other skins there been no unusual feature. The life sized coach lamps had shown
28:37
their mountain range of outside passengers against moonlight, sky or trees. Cigar paled
28:41
and reddened between the teeth of one plain Wreaths of smoke floated from his lips.
28:47
With but an instant's break. When Stingery rode out and stopped the coach,
28:52
the three leaders reared, the two wheelers were pulled almost to their haunches.
28:59
The driver was dosed. Indeed, though profane and word and Stingarey himself
29:03
discovered a horrifying vocabulary out of keeping with his reputation. In incredibly few minutes,
29:10
driver and passengers were formed in a line and robbed in rotation or but
29:14
two ladies who were kept inside unmolested. A flagrant irishman declared it was the
29:18
proudest day of his life, and Oswald's heart went out to him, although
29:22
it rather displeased him to find his own sentiments shared by the vulgo. The
29:27
man with a cigar kept glowing all the time. The mail bags were not
29:30
demanded on this occasion. Stingery had no time to waste on them. He
29:36
was still collecting purse and watch. When Oswald's young blood froze in the stiffening
29:41
limbs, he dared not move. One of the ladies had got down from
29:45
the coach on the off side, and beheld was a man wrapped in a
29:51
rug, which dropped from him as he crept round behind the horses at their
29:56
heads of the Lily Mare as if doing her own nefarious part by her own
30:00
kind, and a twinkling the mad adventurer was on her back. And all
30:04
this time Osborne longed to jump down, or at least to shout a warning
30:10
to his hero, but as usual, his desires were unproductive of word or
30:14
deed. Then Stingarey saw his man did not fire, did not shift sight
30:19
or barrel for a moment from the docile file before him. Barmaid, barmaid,
30:26
my pet, he cried, and hardly looked to see what happened.
30:30
But Osbalde watched the bare stop prick her ears under the hammering of unspurred heels,
30:36
spin round, bucking as she spun, and toss her rider like a
30:40
bull. There in the moonlight. He lay like a lead with leaden face
30:45
upturned to the shuddering youngster in the tree. Oh one of you, a
30:49
doctor, asked Stingery, checking a forward movement of the file. Oh yam,
30:56
the cigar was paling between finger and thumb. Then you come here and
30:59
have an at him. The rest of you move at your peril. Stingery
31:03
led the way, stepping backward, but not as far as the injured man,
31:07
who sat up ruefully as the bush ranger sprang into the saddle another yard
31:14
and might have grabbed your ankles, said the man on the ground. You
31:17
are a start fellow, but I know more about this game than you,
31:21
the outlaw answered, riding to his distance and reining up. If I didn't
31:25
you might have had me. But you must think of something better for Stingery.
31:30
He galloped his mare into the bush and Oswald clung in lonely terror to
31:34
his tree. A snatch of conversation called him to attention. The plundered party
31:40
were clambering philosophically to their seats, while the driver blasphemed delightedly over the integrity
31:47
of his males. It wasn't stinger Ring, said one, you bet it
31:52
was, how much he hardly ever worked so far south, and his nuts
31:56
on males. But if it wasn't Stingery, who was it? It was
32:00
him? All right? Look at the mere she and the only white horse
32:06
ever foaled, remarked the driver, sorting his fistful arrains. But who else
32:10
could it have been? The driver uttered an inspired imprecation. I could tell
32:16
you, oh, I chanced to live in this year township we are coming
32:21
to all And second thoughts, I'll keep it to myself till we get there.
32:28
And he cracked his whip osward himself rode back to the township. Before
32:32
the moon went down. He was very heavy with his own reflections. How
32:37
magnificent it had all surpassed his most extravagant imaginings, in audacity, in expedition,
32:46
and simple or mastery of the mutable, many by the dominant one.
32:52
He forgave Stingery as gibes and insults could have forgiven a horse whipping from that
32:57
king of men. Stingery had been his imagined god before he was a realized
33:01
ideal from this night forth, and the reality updid the dream. But the
33:08
fly of self must always poison this young man's otment. Tonight there was some
33:14
excuse from his degenerate point of view, he must give it up. Stingery
33:20
was right. It was only one man in thousands who could do unerringly what
33:24
he had done that night. Osward Melbourne was not that man. He saw
33:30
it for himself at last, but it was a bitter hour for him life
33:36
and the music shop would fall very flat. After this. He would be
33:39
dishonored Before his only friends, the unworthy hobbedehoys who were to have joined his
33:45
gang. He could not tell them what had happened, but at least until
33:50
he invented some less inglorious part for himself, and that was a difficulty in
33:54
view of newspaper reports of the sticking up. Could scarcely tell them a true
34:00
word of what had passed between himself and Stingaree. If only he might yet
34:05
grow more like the master if only he might still hope to follow so sublime
34:10
a lead, Thus aspiring vainly as now he knew Osward Melbourne rode slowly back
34:16
into the excited town and passed the lighted police barracks in the innocence of that
34:22
portion of his heart. But one had flown like the wind ahead of him,
34:28
and two in uniform followed by that. One dashed out on Osward,
34:31
and the old white screw Sir render sang out, one in the queene name,
34:38
added the other. Call yourself Stingaree, panted the runner. Our egoist
34:45
was quick enough to grasp their meaning, but quicker still to see and to
34:49
seize the chance of a crazy lifetime. Always acute where his own vanity was
34:53
touched, his promptitude was for once on a par with his perceptions. Add
34:59
your eye on me long, he inquired, delightfully, as he dismounted.
35:04
Long enough, said one policeman. The other was busy plucking loaded revolves from
35:09
the desperado's pockets. A crowd had formed. If you're looking for the loat,
35:15
he went on, raising his voice. From the benefit of all you
35:19
may look. I shan't tell you it will take you all your time.
35:24
But a surprise was in store for prisoner and police alike. Every stolen watch
35:30
and all the missing money was discovered no later than the next morning, in
35:32
the bush, quite close to the scene of the outrage. There'd be no
35:37
attempt to hide them. The len a heap dumped from the saddle with no
35:40
more depreciation than a broken watch glass. True to his new character, Oswald
35:46
learnt this development without flinching. His ready comment was in the next day's papers.
35:53
There is nothing worth heaving, he had maintained, and did not see
35:57
the wisdom of the boast until a lawyer called and pointed out that it contained
36:01
the nucleus of a strong defense. Oh defend myself, thank you, said
36:07
the inflated fool. Then you will make a mess of it and deserve all
36:09
you'll get. Nor be a pity to spoil such a good defense. What
36:15
is the defense? You did it for a joke, of course, Oswald
36:20
smiled inscrutably and dismissed his visitor with a lordly promise to consider the proposition and
36:25
that lawyer's claims upon the case. Never was such triumph tasted in guilty immunity,
36:32
as was this innocent man's under cloud of guilt so apparent as to impose
36:37
on every mind, yet but carried out a notorious intention. For his few
36:43
friends were the first to betray their captain, albeit his bul bearing and magnanimous
36:47
smiles, when an admiration which they had never before vouch safety in their hearts.
36:52
He was indeed a different man. He had lived to see stingerly in
36:57
action. Now he modeled himself from life. The only doubt was as to
37:01
whether, at the last of that business he had actually avowed himself stingery or
37:06
not. There might have been trouble about the horse, but fortunately for the
37:09
enthusiastic prisoner, the man who had been thrown was allowed to proceed an oppressing
37:14
journey to the barkou. There was a plethora of evidence without his Besides,
37:20
the hide and bone mare was called Barmaid after the original, and it was
37:23
known that Oswald had tried to teach the old creature tricks. Above all,
37:28
the prisoner had never pretended to deny his guilt. Still, this matter of
37:31
the horses kept him a certain sense of insecurity in his cozy cell. He
37:37
had awakened to find himself not only deliciously notorious, but actually more of a
37:42
man than in his heart of hearts he had dared to hope. The tenacity
37:45
and consistency of his pose were alike remarkable, even in the overweening cause of
37:51
egoism. He had never shown so much character in his life. Yet he
37:55
shuddered to realize that, given the usual time for reflection before his greap,
38:00
that moment might have proved as mean as many another. And the spirit had
38:04
been wine and the flesh water. There was in fine but one feature of
38:09
the affair which even Osward Melbourne, drunk with notoriety, in secretly sanguine of
38:14
a nominal punishment, could not contemplate with absolute satisfaction. That feature followed the
38:21
others into the papers which kept him intoxicated, and a bundle of these papers
38:25
found their adventurous way to the latest fastness of stingery in the malley. The
38:30
real villain dropped his eye glass, clapped it in again, and did his
38:35
best to crack it with his stare. Student of character as he was,
38:38
he could not have conceived such a development, and such a character. He
38:43
read on more enlightened than amused to think he had the pluck. He murmured
38:50
as he dropped that austelation and took up The next weeks he was filled with
38:54
admiration. But soon a frown than an oath came to put an end to
38:59
it. A little beast, he cried, He'll kill that woman. He
39:04
can't have kept it up. He sorted the papers for the lightest of all
39:09
his sinful publican saved them for him, and therein read that Oswald Melbourne had
39:14
been committed for trial, and that his only concern was for the condition of
39:19
his mother. Twas still unchanged, and seemed latterly to distress the prisoner very
39:22
much. Oh distress him, roared Stingery to the malley, I'll distress him
39:30
if we change places for it. Riding all night as much as he dared
39:35
by day for some hundred hours before he paid his third and last visit to
39:38
the Melbourn's music shop. He rode boldly to the door, but he rode
39:43
a pie board mare, not to be confused in the most suspicious mind of
39:45
the no more conspicuous barmaid. It is true the brown parts smelt and condies
39:52
fluid, and were at once strange and seeming a little tender to the touch.
39:57
But Stingery allowed no Medley with his mount. Only a very sinful publican,
40:01
very many leagues back, was in the secret. There were no lighted
40:06
windows behind the shop. To night, the whole place was in darkness and
40:10
stingery knocked in vain. A neighbor appeared on the next Verandah, who is
40:16
it you want? He asked Missus Melvin. It's no good knocking for her.
40:22
Is she dead? Not that I know of, But she can't be
40:25
long for this world? Where is she now? Bishop's lodge? They say,
40:30
Miss Bethan's with her day and night, For it was in the days
40:34
of the bishop's daughter, who had a strong mind but no sense of humor,
40:37
and a heart only fickle in its own affairs. Miss Methan made an
40:42
admirable, if somewhat to assiduous dictorial nurse. She had, however, a
40:46
fund of real sympathy with the afflicted, and Missus Melvin's only serious complaint,
40:52
which she intended to die without uttering, was that she was never left alone
40:55
with her grief by day or night. It was Miss Methie who, sitting
41:00
with rather ostentatious patience in the dark at the open window till her patient should
41:05
fall or pretend to be asleep, saw a man ride a piebald horse in
41:09
at the gate, and then, half way up the drive suspiciously dismount and
41:15
lead his horse at a tempting shrubbery. Stingery did not often change his mind
41:21
at the last moment, but he knew the man on whose generosity was about
41:24
to throw himself, which was to know further that that generosity would be curved
41:29
by judgment, and to reflect that he was at least likely to be deprived
41:31
of a horse whose whereabouts was known only to himself. There was but one
41:37
lighted room where he eventually stole upon the house, and had a veranda to
41:42
itself and the bright frame of the French windows which stood open. Sat the
41:45
bishop with his Bible on his knees. Yes, I know, you,
41:51
said, he putting his marker in the place. As Stingery entered, boots
41:53
in one hand and something else in the other. I thought we should meet
41:58
again. Would do you mind putting that thing back in your pocket? You
42:02
promised not to call a soul. Oh dear, yes, you weren't expecting
42:07
me, were you, cried Stingery suspiciously. I've been expecting you for months,
42:13
returned the Bishop. You knew my address, but I hadn't yours.
42:16
We were bound to meet again. Stingerey smiled as he took his revolver by
42:22
the barrel and carried it across the room to doctor Methan. What's that for?
42:27
I don't want it. Put it in your own pocket. Least I
42:30
can trust you not to take my life in killed blood. The bishop seemed
42:35
nettled and annoyed. Stingerey loved him. I didn't come to take anything,
42:40
much less life, he said. I came to say that, if it
42:44
is not too late, to save life here in your house. But whom
42:51
do you know of my household? Missus Melvin. I've had the honor of
42:54
meeting her twice. The beach time. She was unaware of the dishonor of
42:58
meeting me. The last time, I promised to try to save her unhappy
43:01
son from himself. I found him waiting to waylay the coach, told him
43:07
who I was, and had ten minutes to try to cure him. In
43:08
He wouldn't listen to reason, insult ran like water off his back. I
43:13
did my best to show him what a life it was he longed to lead.
43:15
Now much more there was in it than a loaded revolver. He wouldn't
43:19
take my word for it, however, so I put him out of harm's
43:22
way up in a tree. When the coach came along. I gave him
43:24
as brutal an exhibition of the art of bushrangering as I could without spilling blood.
43:30
I promise you it was for no other reason. What did I want
43:32
with watches? What were a few pounds to me? I dropped the lot
43:37
that the lad might know. The Bishop started to his gaited legs. And
43:44
he's actually innocent all the time of the deed, as the babe unborn.
43:49
Then why in the wide world Doctor Methvan stood begg at a further speech.
43:55
His mind was too plain and sane for immediate understanding of such a type as
43:59
Allward Melbourne. But the bush ranger hit off that young man's character and half
44:04
a dozen trenchant phrases. You must be let out, and it may save
44:08
his mother's life if you were mine, exclaimed the Bishop, who would rather
44:14
he had done the other deed? What about you, he added, suddenly,
44:19
his eyes resting on his sardonic visitor, who had disguised himself far less
44:22
than his horse. For me in giving yourself up no, you know me,
44:29
you can spread what I have told you. But the Bishop shifted uneasily
44:31
on his hearth rug I may not see my way to that, said he
44:37
besides, must have run a lot of risks to do this good action.
44:42
How do you know you haven't been recognized already? I should have known you
44:45
anywhere, But you have undertaken not to raise an alarm, my lord,
44:50
and I shall not break my promise. There was a grim regret in the
44:53
bishop's voice. Stingery thought he understood it. Thank you, he said,
44:59
don't thank me, pray. Doctor Methford could be quite testy on occasion now
45:05
of other duties than to you, you know, and I only answer for
45:07
my actions during the actual period of our interview. There are many things I
45:12
should like to say to you, my brother, the gentle voice went on,
45:15
But this is hardly the time for me to say them. But there
45:20
is one question I should like to ask you for the peace of both of
45:22
our souls, and for the maintenance of my own belief in human nature.
45:27
He threw up an episcopal hand dramatically. If you earnestly and honestly wished to
45:31
save this poor lady's life, and there word. No other way would you
45:36
then be man enough to give yourself up? Do you give your liberty for
45:39
her life? Stingery took time to think. His eyes were brightly fixed upon
45:45
the bishop's. Yet I saw a little bedroom just as plain, an English
45:50
lady standing by the empty bed at its foot, a portrait of himself,
45:53
armed to the teeth for hers, said he yes, like a shot.
46:00
I am thankful to hear it, replied the bishop, with almost fervent relief.
46:06
Only wish you could have the opportunity, But now you never will,
46:10
my brother. If you look round, you will see why. Stingrey looked
46:15
round without a word the bishop's eyes. At the last instant he had learned
46:20
what to expect. A firing party of four stocking souled at constables were drawn
46:25
across the opened French windows, their leveled rifles poking through the Bushranger looked over
46:32
his shoulder with a bitter smile. You have done me, after all,
46:37
said he, and stretched out empty hands. It was done before I saw
46:42
you, the bishop made answer. I had already sent for the police.
46:46
One had entered excitedly by an inner door, and he didn't do you at
46:52
all, cried the voice of high hysteria. It was I who saw you,
46:55
twas I who guessed who it was. Oh father, why have you
46:59
been talking so long to such a dreadful man? And made sure he would
47:02
shoot you, and you'd still be shot at the head. To shoot him,
47:06
Move, Move, move. Stiggery looked at the strong minded girl,
47:09
shrill with her triumph, quite carried away by her excitement, all undaunted by
47:15
the prospect of bloodshed before her eyes. And it was he who moved with
47:21
but a shrug of the shoulders, and gave himself up without another sign.
47:27
End of Chapter nine.