The Gold-Stealers, Edward Dyson [best selling autobiographies .txt] 📗

corners of the district. Harry Hardy joined in the hunt throughout Tuesday. He had a feverish desire for employment--occupation for his mind which, in spite of the efforts he made to dwell upon the villainies of Ephraim Shine and the wrong he had done Frank, and the good reasons he had to hate him, would revert again and again to Christina; and then a wish, a cowardly wish, traitorous to his brother, cruel to his mother, and false to himself, stole into his heart, and he felt for one burning moment a hope that the searcher might escape for her sake, for the sake of sweet Chris, whose victory over him he acknowledged and nursed in secret with a wealth of feeling that amazed him, with a passion he had never dreamed himself capable of. He fought this wish furiously, as if it had been a tangible thing: grappling with it, choking it in his heart, and stirring up in his soul a wilder hatred for his enemy.

Harry saw Chris for a moment on the morning after the arrest of Joe Rogers; the change in her startled him, his love flamed up, and pity tore at his heart strings. His triumph must mean suffering and shame for her. Had he stood alone he would ten thousand times rather have borne what misfortune might have fallen to his lot than see her shamed and sorrowing. It was thoughts like these that rose up to make him his brother's enemy, and they were conquered in sweat and agony; and since his loyalty to his own kin could only be maintained at a fever heat, he stood forth as the most bitter and implacable foe of Ephraim Shine.

Coming from Mrs. Hardy's gate on that night at about nine o'clock, Dick Haddon collided with a breathless boy running at top speed in the direction of the Drovers' Arms, and the two went down together. When Dick had quite recovered he recognised the other, whom he had gripped with 'vengeful intentions, as Billy Peterson.

'Lemme go,' cried Billy. 'Quick, can't yer! I'm goin' fer the troopers.'

'Who for?' asked Dick, hanging to his friend.

'Find out.'

'Oh, right you are; but you won't go, that's all.'

'Well, I'm goin' to tell 'em that Tinribs is up at his house.'

'How d'yer know?'

'I was sneakin' round to get a shot at a cat, an' I heard 'em. Lemme go 'r he'll be gone, you fool.'

'Won't,' said Dick, masterfully. 'You ain't goin'.'

'Who'll stop me?'

'I will.'

'Tain't in yer.'

A struggle commenced between the boys and rapidly merged into a stand-up fight. When Harry Hardy appeared on the scene, attracted by their cries, he found the combatants locked in a fierce embrace, each clinging desperately to a handful of the other's hair and hammering vigorously at his opponent's ribs. Harry pulled them apart as if they had been terriers.

'Here, here, what's all this about?' he cried.

'Dick stopped me goin' fer the troopers,' said Billy indignantly.

'The troopers?'

'Yes, fer Mr. Shine. He's up in his house. I heard him--he was talkin' to Miss Chris in the dark.'

'Stop!' said Harry; but Billy, who had broken away, picked up his heels and ran.

Harry did not linger, but turned and sped off to wards Shine's home, leaving Dick cowering against the fence. The young man had no defined intention--he did not know what he should do if he found Shine in the house. His divided interests left his mind confused at the crucial moment, but he did not relax his speed until he was within a few yards of the searcher's door. Then, to his astonishment, he found lights burning in the house, and Christina confronted him in the doorway as he was about to enter. He drew back a step and his eyes sought the ground. He stood panting and speechless.

'What do you want, Harry?' she asked.

Had she been bitter or angry it might have been easier for him, but her voice was low and kindly, and he was abashed. He was compelled to force himself to his purpose, as he might have pushed a backing horse at a stiff fence.

'I want your father. He is here.' His voice was harsh and strained.

'My father is not in here.'

'He has been seen. Let me pass.'

'No, Harry, you have no right.' She barred the way, tall and calm and strong.

'No right? No right to take the man who has gaoled my brother--who would have murdered me?' His blood had mounted to his head; he had put aside his love as something that tempted him to evil, put it aside by an almost heroic effort of renunciation. 'I will have him,' he cried; 'the would-be murderer, the thief.'

'No,' said Christina firmly facing him.

'Then he's here--he is here?

'No.'

'You lie thinking to save him, but the troopers are coming.' He pointed back into the night. From where he stood the back door was visible, and he watched it intently.

'The troopers are the officers of the law. I can not deny them, you I can. Harry, you are fierce and cruel--fierce and unforgiving.' The reproach was not spoken fretfully; it was quite dispassionate, but it struck him like a blow and he bent before it, conscious of its injustice but not daring to deny it. They remained so in silence for a few minutes, and then heard the rush of the troopers' horses coming up the grass-grown back road at a gallop.

'They're coming,' said Harry in a low voice.

Christina neither stirred nor spoke, and Monk at the head of four horsemen swept up to the house.

'To the front, Donovan and Keel,' cried Monk. 'He may make for cover in those quarries if he bolts.

Casey, stay here. Managan, follow me.'

He dropped from his horse and led the animal to Harry, to whom he threw the rein. Christina did not attempt to bar his passage, and he and Managan passed into the house. Chris stood by the door jamb, facing Harry, erect and pale; Harry leant against the big galvanised-iron tank, absently fondling the head of the trooper's horse. Suddenly, a moment after the troopers had entered the house, he heard right at his elbow the sound of something striking upon the iron of the tank inside. He started forward with a low cry, and his eyes flew to the face of the girl. She, too, had heard the sound, and their eyes met. The terror in hers told him that he had discovered the truth.

'He's there,' he whispered.

Christina staggered back, supporting herself against the wall, and fell into a seat under the window, the light from which streamed upon her fair hair and illumined her as she sat, crushed by her misery into an attitude of profound despair, her head bowed upon her breast, her clasped hands thrust out rigidly be yond her knees.

Harry stood silent and motionless, his eyes fixed upon the grief-stricken figure of the girl, his brain in a tumult. His heart was driving him to forget everything but that he loved her, to take her in his arms and swear to shield her and cherish her, come what might. At this moment Sergeant Monk came from the house.

'Not a sign of him,' he said. 'Did you see any thing of him, Hardy?

'Not a glimpse,' answered Harry mechanically.

'Did you go inside?'

'No; Miss Shine refused admittance.'

'Why are you here, miss?' asked Monk, turning sharply to Christina.

'I am here because it is my home,' she answered unsteadily.

'But don't you live with the Summers family?'

'People may not care to shelter the daughter of--of one suspected of robbery and almost murder.' The girl's head sank lower still and a convulsive sob shook her frame; but she controlled herself with a brave effort of will and sat immovable.

Monk's horse was nosing in the bucket under the tap of the tank, and Harry stooped and turned the tap. The water ran swiftly, filling the bucket in a few seconds. While the horse drank the sergeant gave whispered orders to Casey; and Christina, with steadfast eyes and locked fingers, sat waiting for Harry to speak the dreaded words, wondering at his silence. Monk moved round the house, peering into all the corners, and came to the tank again. It stood on a small platform raised on four uprights, and all was open underneath. The sergeant examined it. He climbed to the top, removed the lid and, striking a light, looked in. The tank was full of water.

'I am going to hunt over the quarries,' said the trooper in a low voice, as he mounted. 'Donovan and Keel are taking a run in the paddock, Casey will try the houses about here. You might keep your eyes open, Hardy. Perhaps that boy was mistaken, but we mustn't miss a chance.'

Harry nodded, scarcely comprehending what the man said, and Monk rode off leaving the two alone. For a minute or more they continued in the same position; then Harry stole to Chris, and kneeling in the shadow by her side took her hand firmly in his.

'He is there,' he whispered.

'What are you going to do?' she added in a strange voice.

'Why don't you get him away?'

'Away?' she murmured vaguely.

'Yes, yes; I will help you.' His left arm clasped her closely, and his breath was on her cheek.

She turned her face towards him, and there was a new hope in it, another spirit in her glorious eyes.

'You are not going to give him up.'

'I can't--I can't do it!'

'Thank God!' she murmured, and there was some thing more than relief for her father's sake in her tone. He had made a revelation that filled her with a passion of joy which for a moment drove out the fears and anxieties that had possessed her heart.

'I love you--I love you, dear,' he continued in a voice ardent, caressing; 'an' I can't bear to see you suffer.'

She let her face sink to his and kissed him on the mouth, and he clasped her to his breast and held her, repeating again and again expressions of his devotion that love made eloquent. Her pale face turned to him seemed luminous with the ecstacy of the moment. For a brief sweet minute she abandoned herself to that ecstacy and forgot everything beside.

'I have always loved you, my darling! my darling!' she whispered--' always. That night at the gate I thought you cared and I was happy, but afterwards I was afraid. I thought you might hate me for his sake, and I was wretched.'

'I did try to, Chris--I tried to hate you. I was a fool. I couldn't do anything but love in spite of myself, an' now I'll help you, dear.'

'No, no, no, Harry; no--you must not!' She put him from her with her strong arms. 'It is wrong. I cannot let you. It is right that I should fight for him--he is my father. He has been a good father to me, and I have loved him and believed in him. It is my duty to fight for him, but you must not, my dear love. In you it would be a wrong, a crime.'

'He is your father--I love you!

'Yes, yes, and oh, I am glad you love me; but you must leave me to do what I can alone. It is not