The Second String, Nat Gould [top rated books of all time txt] 📗

suspicion about any of our transactions," said Barry.

After a long conversation it was decided to enter both Lucky Boy and Black Boy for the Sydney Cup, and to run them both in two or three races before that date.

"The Cup takes a tremendous lot of winning," said the trainer, "and I tell you candidly I do not think either of your horses good enough for it at present. They will improve, no doubt, at least I hope so, and probably Lucky Boy will be the better of the pair."

"What do you think of that?" said Barry, laughing.

"Time will tell," replied Jack. "I have a presentiment Black Boy will win the Cup outright."

"You are sanguine," said the trainer, smiling.

"I am, and if he wins I believe I shall also secure the black pearl," said Jack.

"You are more likely to secure the pearl than the Cup," said Barry.

It was not long after this that Barry Tuxford received a letter from Silas Filey telling him that the black pearl was safe in his keeping, that it was a beauty, one of the best he had ever seen, and he wished he owned it. He requested him to put a price upon it, or allow him to make an offer for it. He made no mention of Amos Hooker's death, as he was not aware of it. There were sundry private matters touched upon, but the gist of the whole letter was an endeavour to obtain the black pearl at a fair price.

Barry handed the letter to Jack, who was overwhelmed with delight at its recovery, and was for sending at once to Silas to forward it to Sydney, so that he could send it to Winifred without delay.

Barry laughed at his impetuosity, and replied that the pearl was far too valuable to pass through the post, and that he must possess his soul in patience until they returned to Fremantle.

"The best plan will be to let Silas value it, and then you can pay over the balance after deducting your share. He will put a fair marketable price upon it, that I will impress upon him."

"But will it be safe in his hands, he seems to covet it?" said Jack. "You say he is an old thief. I dare not trust him."

"He will not play me false for many reasons," replied Barry, "and you may rest satisfied the pearl is quite safe."

"I shall not be content until I handle it again," said Jack.

He wrote a long letter to Winifred, in which he gave her a full account of the adventures of the black pearl, which he one day hoped to place in her possession. He then went on to describe their doings in Sydney and told her about Black Boy and Lucky Boy, and what they intended doing with them. He asked her to tell Sir Lester that if Black Boy turned out well the horse would carry the black jacket and orange sleeves in the Cup. He made many inquiries about the old places at home, and at the end hinted at what lay nearest his heart. He wrote hopefully of the future, and said he felt certain of securing a considerable amount of money in the course of a year or two. "So far all my ventures have turned out well, thanks to my good friend and adviser, Barry Tuxford, and there is no reason why my good fortune should not continue. I long for the time when I shall see you again, and wonder if I shall find you changed in looks and sentiments towards myself. I lay the flattering unction to my soul that you do like me just a little bit more than other people," and so on.

If he could have seen Winifred's face when she was reading his letter he would have had no hesitation in taking her in his arms, as he did once before, and kissing her. Her eyes glowed with the growing love she had for him, and her joy was unbounded.

When her father returned home he laughed and said—

"There is no need to tell me you have had some good news, Win. Is it a letter from Jack. What does he say? How is he? Is he prospering? When is he coming home? Bless the lad, how I miss him."

Winifred laughed heartily as Sir Lester poured forth his string of questions.

"Give me time, father," she said, "and I will read you his letter."

They went out on to the terrace, and there she read him what Jack had written.

Sir Lester listened, and as she read his face softened.

She did not falter as she read the words of love which seemed to breathe between the lines. She was so very happy, she fancied it was his voice she heard, the paper was alive with a warm glow, she would not have been at all surprised had he suddenly appeared before her.

"I wish he would come back, Win," said her father, when she concluded, "we ought never to have let him go."

"It is for the best," she said, "and he will come back. Then, father—oh, then——" and she hid her face on his shoulder.

"What then, Win?" he asked, gently, as he stroked her hair.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD BARRY WAXES ELOQUENT

Barry Tuxford did not confine his attention to racing while in Sydney. He knew there were far more profitable games for making money, and being an old hand at most of them he speculated in various concerns, inducing Jack to follow his lead. They had no news of the pearling fleet, but this was not to be expected, as there were very few means of communication. There was, however, no cause for uneasiness with two such men as Danks and Hake in command, and Harry Marton to superintend.

Jack often thought of Harry and wondered what he was doing. He fancied it was rather like desertion to leave him, but Barry quickly dispelled this idea and said Harry was far more fitted for the task he was engaged upon than knocking about Sydney.

"It would not suit him here," he said, "and as you know, he has a horror of stocks and shares, which I do not wonder at, after the experiences his father had. I have more good news, Jack," he added, as he tossed him a letter to read.

Jack read it eagerly, and could hardly believe in his good luck. The Great Tom Mine had again struck it rich, and the shares had gone up by leaps and bounds; there was every prospect of his being a comparatively rich man in a very short time.

"And that's not all," said Barry, "I cabled to my agent in Perth, to buy every share he could secure at a certain price. That was before the new find, and he secured a nice parcel. You stand in of course."

"I could not think of it," said Jack, "it would not be fair, you have done too much for me already."

"Not at all; it is a pleasure to help a man like you; there are some fellows I would not lend a hand to at any price, but you are different. I am old enough to be your father, and damn me, if I don't feel something like that towards you," he added in an outburst of genuine feeling such as he seldom displayed.

Jack felt strangely drawn towards the bluff good-hearted Colonial. He had found out his true worth and knew him for what he was. There were men who almost hated Barry, but it was because he fought fair and square, and managed to beat them despite their underhand methods.

"I'm a lonely sort of man," went on Barry, "always have been, and I expect always shall be. I never 'cottoned' to a fellow as I have done to you, and I don't mind telling you, if you stick to me I'll see you all right, no matter what happens."

This was too much for Jack Redland. He grasped his friend's hand, and wrung it hard, but he did not speak. He could not. He knew every word Barry spoke he meant and there was a strange knocking at his heart as he looked at him.

"I'm an old fool, I know I am to rave like this," said Barry, "but I can't help it, and that's a fact. I've roamed about the world a lot, roughed it, and it's taken the gilt edges off, if there were ever any on; but you've knocked me all of a heap, Jack. Don't talk about my luck, it's yours that has stuck to me. I have had nothing but good fortune since I met you. My first pearling venture turned out a frost. You come along, and what do we get? We not only rummage out old Jacob Rank on his desert island, or whatever it may be, and rescue him, but we find a heap of pearls, a mighty lot of good shells, the best black pearl ever hauled out on the northern coast, and to cap all, we have a deal with that old shark, Silas Filey, that licks creation. Don't talk to me about luck, you're a regular living mascot, that's what you are."

The tension was relieved at this outburst, and Jack laughed heartily.

"Keep it up, skipper," he said, merrily. "Now you are under full sail let her go; I like to hear you, it does me good; it's as refreshing as a blow on the Sussex Downs. Don't let the wind drop yet, Barry, please don't."

"Stow your chaff and listen to me," said Barry, now thoroughly wound up. He was on the tide of a big success, and felt the force of it. "You came out here to make a fortune, and by Captain Cook, you shall get it. When you landed at Fremantle there was no hanky panky about you. Then you were a born gentleman, a swell. Oh, you needn't remonstrate! I'm not a wall-eyed kangaroo, or a burst-up emu. Oh, dear no! nothing of the sort! I'm Barry Tuxford, knockabout, good for nothing, up to everything, and I know a swell when I see one, although it has not been my fortune to meet many.

"I'm a Colonial, have always been fond of a rough life, but I know what it means for a man of your stamp to tackle a God-forsaken pearl fishing job. I liked you when you buckled to and never grumbled, and I admired your pluck when you planked down the money for those shares. I have seen men who call themselves swells do dirty mean tricks no straight man would be guilty of. They are not my sort. I couldn't sit down to eat my meals with a lot of swollen-headed nobodies. That's not my way. Let a man say what he thinks and speak out straight, then you know where you are. Judging from what I've seen, there must be some fine schools for liars in the old country; they seem educated up to it somehow."

He paused for a few moments, and Jack said—

"There are good and bad in every country. You must not judge us all by the worst samples."

"I forgive 'em since I met you," went on Barry. "In the old days on the gold fields we had a lively time, and no mistake. I was a lonely man there, although I had one good pal at first. He had a failing—he liked the drink and the girls, and any painted gazelle that came along could take all he had. But he was a thundering good pal to me."

Again he stopped, and a far-away look came into his eyes. He was recalling memories of the past, and they stirred him as they will always do men who have seen things and not gained their knowledge from talk.

Jack waited, and presently he went on—

"A real pal was Jake Morley, but as I said before, weak; and a perfect fool when the 'hell fire' they served out in the grog shanties was in