Robbery Under Arms by Rolf Boldrewood (epub read online books TXT) 📕

bushrangers were supposed to be in the neighbourhood they went out with them themselves, lying out and watching through the long cold nights, and taking their chance of a shot as well as those that were paid for it.

Now there was a Mr. Whitman that had never let go a chance from the start of running their trail with the police, and had more than once given them all they knew to get away. He was a native of the country, like themselves, a first-class horseman and tracker, a hardy, game sort of a chap that thought nothing of being twenty-four hours in the saddle, or sitting under a fence watching for the whole of a frosty night.

Well, he was pretty close to Moran once, who had been out by himself; that close he ran him he made him drop his rifle and ride for his life. Moran never forgave him for this, and one day when they had all been drinking pretty heavy he managed to persuade Wall, Hulbert, Burke, and Daly to come with him and stick up Whitman’s house.

“I sent word to him I’d pay him out one of these fine days,” he drawled out, “and he’ll find that Dan Moran can keep his word.”

He picked a time when he knew Whitman was away at another station. I always thought Moran was not so game as he gave himself out to be. And I think if he’d had Whitman’s steady eyes looking at him, and seeing a pistol in his hand, he wouldn’t have shot as straight as he generally did when he was practising at a gum tree.

Anyhow, they laid it out all right, as they thought, to take the place unawares. They’d been drinking at a flash kind of inn no great way off, and when they rode up to the house it seems they were all of ’em three sheets in the wind, and fit for any kind of villainy that came uppermost. As for Moran, he was a devil unchained. I know what he was. The people in the house that day trembled and shook when they heard the dogs bark and saw five strange horsemen ride through the back gate into the yard.

They’d have trembled a deal more if they’d known what was coming.

XXXIX

When we found that by making darts and playing hide and seek with the police in this way we could ride about the country more comfortable like, we took matters easier. Once or twice we tried it on by night, and had a bit of a lark at Jonathan’s, which was a change after having to keep dark so long. We’d rode up there after dark one night, and made ourselves pretty snug for the evening, when Bella Barnes asked us if we’d dropped across Moran and his mob that day.

“No,” says I. “Didn’t know they were about this part. Why, weren’t they at Monckton’s the day before yesterday?”

“Ah! but they came back last night, passed the house today going towards Mr. Whitman’s, at Darjallook. I don’t know, but I expect they’re going to play up a bit there, because of his following them up that time the police nearly got Moran.”

“What makes you think that? They’re only going for what they can get; perhaps the riding-horses and any loose cash that’s knocking about.”

“Billy the Boy was here for a bit,” says Maddie. “I don’t like that young brat, he’ll turn out bad, you take my word for it; but he said Moran knew Mr. Whitman was away at the Castlereagh station, and was going to make it a warning to them all.”

“Well, it’s too bad,” said Bella; “there’s no one there but Mrs. Whitman and the young ladies. It’s real cowardly, I call it, to frighten a parcel of women. But that Moran’s a brute and hasn’t the feelings of a man about him.”

“We must ride over, boys,” says Starlight, yawning and stretching himself. “I was looking forward to a pleasant evening here, but it seems to me we ought to have a say in this matter. Whitman’s gone a trifle fast, and been hard on us; but he’s a gentleman, and goes straight for what he considers his duty. I don’t blame him. If these fellows are half drunk they’ll burn the place down I shouldn’t wonder, and play hell’s delight.”

“And Miss Falkland’s up there too, staying with the young ladies,” says Maddie. “Why, Jim, what’s up with you? I thought you wasn’t taking notice.”

“Come along, Dick,” says Jim, quite hoarse-like, making one jump to the door. “Dash it, man, what’s the use of us wasting time jawing here? By ⸻, if there’s a hair of her head touched I’ll break Moran’s neck, and shoot the lot of them down like crows.”

“Goodbye, girls,” I said, “there’s no time to lose.”

Starlight made a bow, polite to the last, and passed out. Jim was on his horse as we got to the stable door. Warrigal fetched Starlight’s, and in half a minute Jim and he were off together along the road full split, and I had as much as I could do to catch them up within the next mile. It wasn’t twenty miles to Whitman’s place, Darjallook, but the road was good, and we did it in an hour and twenty minutes, or thereabouts. I know Starlight lit a match and looked at his watch when we got near the front gate.

We could see nothing particular about the house. The lights shone out of the windows, and we heard the piano going.

“Seems all right,” says Starlight. “Wonder if they came, after all? They’ll think we want to stick the place up if we ride up to the hall door. Get off and look out tracks, Warrigal.”

Warrigal dismounted, lit a couple of matches, and put his head down close to the soft turf, as if he was going to smell it.

“Where track?” says Starlight.

“There!” says Warrigal, pointing to something we couldn’t see if we’d looked for