Tom Gerrard by George Lewis Becke (fastest ebook reader TXT) 📖

Gerrard was satisfied that the four horsemen were diggers, bound for that spot, and Tommy agreed with him.

But he was wofully mistaken in his conclusions.

Cheyne was one of the cleverest bushmen in Australia, and when Forreste and his party reached this spot, they too had stopped, at Cheyne's bidding.

"Gerrard has a nigger with him who most likely will see our tracks. If we turn off here, and cross the clay pans, he will think we are going to Frenchman's Cap. It will mean us making a half circle of sixteen miles, but we will get to Rocky Waterholes a long way ahead of him."

"How do you know he'll camp there?" asked Forreste.

"He's sure too, even if only for an hour or two to spell his horses, and we'll get him as easy as falling off a log."

Forreste moved uneasily in his saddle. He knew what "get him" meant Barney Green turned on him, and savagely asked if he was "funking" again.

"No," was the sullen reply, "I'm not. I've given my promise, and I'll keep it. But you must remember that the policeman's tracker got away from us, and Gerrard's nigger may do the same."

"I'll see to that," said Pinkerton. "If there is one thing that I can't miss when I shoot, it's a nigger. If I had been with you that day, I guess that that tracker wouldn't have got away."

The plan they had arranged was a very simple one. The Rocky Waterholes were deep pools situated in the centre of a cluster of wildly confused and lofty granite boulders and pillars, covered with vines and creepers and broken up by narrow gullies. Cheyne knew the place, and knew almost to a certainty the particular spot at which Gerrard would camp, either for a few hours or for the night. It was in an open grassy space, almost surrounded by giant boulders. It was their intention, after disposing of Gerrard and the black boy, and securing the gold, to strike across country for Somerset, and there await a steamer bound for either London or Hongkong. At that place, where the steamers only remained for an hour or two, they would attract no more than the casual notice taken of lucky diggers; at Townsville or Port Denison they might be recognised. Already they had nearly a thousand ounces of gold between them--some little of it honestly earned from their own claim at Hansen's, but most of it gained by robbery; and with the two thousand pounds' worth that they knew were in Gerrard's possession, they calculated that they might leave the hardships of mining life, and enjoy themselves for a considerable time in England or America--without, however, the society of "Snaky" Swires, who had left them at Cooktown, fearful of being arrested in connection with the robbery on the _Gambier_.


CHAPTER XXX


"What a lovely spot!" thought Gerrard, as he caught sight of the Rocky Waterholes, whose calm, placid surfaces were gleaming like burnished silver under the rays of the sinking sun.

It was indeed a beautiful scene, for the five pools were surrounded by noble Leichhardt and wattle trees, the latter all in the full glory of their golden flowers, the sweet perfume of which scented the air for miles around. Close in to the bank of the largest pool were a number of teal feeding on the green weed, and chasing each other over the shining water. As they caught sight of the intruders, they rose with a whir and disappeared, followed a few seconds later by a pair of snow-white cranes, which, however, merely flew noiselessly upward, and settled on the branches of a Leichhardt.

The day had been intensely hot, and now, as the sun sank, there was presage of a thunderstorm, and Gerrard and Tommy quickly unsaddled, hobbled, and turned out the horses to feed upon the thick buffalo grass that grew in profusion around the bases of the vine-clad rocks which overlooked the pools. Then they hurriedly collected some dead wood for their camp fire, and threw it, together with their saddles, blankets, etc., under an overhanging ledge which would afford them complete shelter from the coming downpour.

A fire was soon lit, and whilst Tommy attended to making the tea, his master unrolled his own blanket and spread it out; then, from mere force of habit, he took his revolver from his saddle and strapped it to his belt, placed his Winchester and Tommy's Snider against the side of the rock, where they would be within easy reach, and then told the black boy that he was going to have a bathe before supper.

"No, no, boss!" cried Tommy, energetically, "baal you bogey longa that waterhole. Plenty fellow blue water snake sit down there--plenty. One bite you little bit, you go bung quick. Plenty fellow myall go bung longa baigan."{*}

* "Do not bathe in that waterhole. Many blue water-snakes
live in it. If one bit you, even a little, you would die
quickly. Many wild blacks have been killed by the baigan"

Gerrard could not repress a shudder. He had often seen the dreaded "baigan"--a bright blue snake which frequented waterholes and lagoons, and whose venom equalled that of the deadly fer-de-lance of Martinique and St Vincent. Years before he had seen a cattle dog swimming in a lagoon attacked by a "baigan," which bit it on the lip, and, although a stockman, as soon as the animal was out of the water, cut out a circular piece of the lip, it died in a few minutes.

"Very well, Tommy. I'll wait till after supper and have a bogey in the rain."

As he spoke, the low rumble of thunder sounded, and deepened and deepened until it culminated in a mighty clap that seemed to shake the foundations of the earth, then followed peal after peal, and soon the rain descended in torrents, beating the waters of the pools into froth, and making a noise as of surf surging upon a pebbly beach.

For twenty minutes the downpour held; then it ceased suddenly, and, like magic, a few stars appeared. The fire was now blazing merrily in the cave. Tommy had made the two quart pots of tea, and Gerrard was taking the beef and damper out of his saddle-bag when the black boy started.

"What is it, Tommy?"

"Horse neigh!"

Gerrard listened. The boy was right, for he, too, heard a second neigh, and their own horses, which they could see standing quietly under a big Leichhardt tree, undisturbed by the storm, pricked up their ears and raised their heads.

"Quick, take your rifle, Tommy!" and Gerrard seized his own, then taking up the two quart pots of tea, he threw the contents over the fire, and partly extinguished it--not a moment too soon, for almost at the same moment a volley rang out, and he knew he was hit; and Tommy also cried out that he was shot in the face. Seizing him by the hand, Gerrard dragged him outside, stooping low, and bullet after bullet struck the wall of the cave. As he and the black boy threw themselves flat on the ground a few yards away, they both saw the flashes of rifles less than a hundred yards distant, and knew by the sound of and the rapidity of the firing that their unseen foes were using Winchesters.

"Keep still, Tommy, don't fire. Wait, wait!" said Gerrard in an excited whisper. "Let them go on firing into the cave. Can you make out where they are?"

Pressing his hand to his cheek, which had been cut open by a bullet, the black boy watched the flashes.

"Yes, boss, I see him--four fellow altogether. You look longa top flat rock, they all lie down close together."

But keen as was his sight, Gerrard could see nothing but the flat moss and vine-covered summit of a huge granite boulder, from which the flashes came. Presently a bullet struck a piece of wood on the still smouldering fire, and scattered the glowing coals, then the firing ceased, and they heard voices.

"Keep quiet, Tommy. Don't move, for God's sake, or they'll see us. They are reloading. They think they have killed us. Is your Snider all right?"

"Yes, boss," was the whispered and eager reply, "rible and rewolber too."

"Are you much hurt, Tommy?"

"Only longa face, boss."

"And I'm hit too, Tommy, but not much hurt." A bullet had ploughed through the lower part of his thigh, and as he spoke he tore two strips from his handkerchief, and bidding Tommy watch their hidden foes, cut open his moleskin pants, and hurriedly plugged the holes. As he was doing this, the firing again began, and they could hear the bullets spattering against the granite rock, or striking the saddles. After about thirty shots had been fired it again ceased.

"Be ready, Tommy," whispered Gerrard; "they'll be here presently. Don't fire till they are quite close, then drop rifle and take pistol."

"All right, boss. Look, look! You see one fellow now stand up--there 'nother, 'nother--four fellow."

The increasing starlight just enabled Gerrard to catch a brief glimpse of four figures moving about on the top of the boulder, then they disappeared, and he clutched his Winchester.

Five anxious minutes passed, and then one by one the four forms appeared coming round from the other side of the boulder. For a few moments they halted, then came boldly out of the shadows into the starlight, and then a deadly rage leapt into Gerrard's heart as he recognised two of them. First the man whom Kate's father had handled so roughly on board the _Gambier_, and then the tall, imposing figure of Forreste.

"Can you see their horses anywhere?" said the man who was in advance of his three companions, and they again stopped and looked about them.

"Oh, they are all right," said a second voice; "well find 'em easy enough in the morning. They're both hobbled, and won't be far away. Now come on, Pinky, and show us your nigger with the top of his head off. You're a great gasser, I know. Strike a match, Barney, and I'll get a bit of dry ti-tree bark to give us a light."

Gerrard pressed Tommy's arm. "Wait, Tommy, wait. Let them get a light. All the better for us. Listen!"

"I suppose they are properly done for, Cheyne?" said Forreste, who had a revolver in his hand.

"Oh, put your flaming pistol back into its pouch, you funky owl," snarled Barney Green, "they both dropped at the first time, as I told you. Gerrard fell on to the fire, and you'll find him cooking there, and that both of 'em are as full of holes as a cullender. We've wasted a hundred cartridges for nothing, but I daresay we'll get some more. He had a forty-four Winchester, and the nigger a Snider."

A match was struck, and the two motionless watchers saw Cheyne go to a ti-tree, which grew on the edge of the large pool, tear off the outer thin and wet bark, and then make a torch of the dry part, which lit easily. Pinkerton waved it to and fro for a few moments, and then held it up. It burst into flame.

"Now, Tommy, quick! Take the big man," and as Gerrard spoke he covered Green.

The two rifles rang out, and Forreste and the Jew fell. Pinkerton dropped the torch and tried to draw his revolver, but a second shot from Gerrard broke his leg, and he too dropped. Cheyne sprang off towards