Among the Ashes; or, Doomsday (with illustration) (Christmas Supplement) [pp. A001-A032]

12
AAlOiYU TffL~ ASHES.
[C~nisv~As~
"Get the supper soon, Lizzie," said
her father. "We must just make the
best of things, lass."
The moment the steak was cooked,
nnd while Jingling Geordie was intent
on ravenously devouring it, his revolver
cocked by lii side on the table, and the
fire-arms of the house stacked safely in a
corner behind the sofa on which be sat
Lizzie ran back to the kitchen, opened
the cupboard-door, and called in a low
voice to Kitty
"Kitty," she said, "you must drop
out of the window here, and go in search
of John. If be is not at Jerry Lot's he'll
be at the wood-shed out beyond the last
clearing by the Gelt Creek. You'll know
your way when the moon rises. Tell him
we're in danger here, but lie must not
come near the place to-night, or the
wretch will murder us all. It is Jingling Geordie, tbe hushranger, for whom
government has offered two hundred
pounds, dead or alive. John must watch
tbis window, and if there is awful need
for him I wiil hang out a whfte handkerchief; mind, if I do not do that be must
not come near us. Will you remeniber
all this, Kitty?"
"Yes, Lizzie, I am ready. Whatever
happens I'll do whatever you tell me."
Softly, on tiptoe, the two sisters crept
to the window, first softly closing the
door. The little girl was then quickly
lowered by Lizzie. She had scarcely deseeiided before Geordie entered, pistol
in hand.
"Why do you shut that door," he
said, "when I told you not? You take
care, young woinan, or I shall get rough.
I don't half like your looks. Come into
the parlor, d'ye hear; no nonsense with
me."
Again he looked out of the window,
but Kitty had cowered down under shelter; he shut it, and closed and bolted the
shufters. "If I thought you was carrying on any tricks, I'd shoot you like a
dog. Conie, lass," he said, as he threw
himself on the sofa, and mixed a glass of
brandy-and-water, "you play us a tuneyou look like one of the musical sort.
Play`Let me Kiss Him for His Mother,'
or the`Mocking Bird.' I used to sing
them, when I was a lad, to my young
woman. Ali, she little thought I should
ever be a lag out here, no more cared for
than a dead dog on a dunghill."
"Take some more brandy, messmate,"
said old Arnistrong with an almost h~perceptible glance at Travers, who was
smoking with the most rueful face possible, and casting constant and frightened
glances at the pistol.
Geordie leaped up, snatched the bottle
from Armstrong's hand, and dashed it on
the floor. "You try that on again," lie
said; "you get your fingers once more
as close as that to my six shooter, and
I'll fire a barrel straight into both of you.
Don't fancy, old buffer, you'll catch a
weasel like me asleep. I want no more
of your drink. If I'd often drunk, I should
have been at the wrong end of a rope
long ago. Come, to business. Have you
got any good horses, old man?"
"Not one; only rough horses for
hauling tiniber."
"That's a lie," said Geordie, beating
his fist on the table. —" Keep on playing,
lass -something sentimental, mind. Tb at's
a big lie; you've forgotten Fan, the fastest chestnut mare this side of Melbourne.
~Yell hear me now. I want her early toniorrow, and her I'll have whatever I do
for it," and lie gripped his pistols.
I see you've heard of my mare,"
said Armstrong, wfth a sigh, "but she's
too slight for your work —she's almost a
racer, and nearly thorough-bred.''
"I always ride racers when I can get
them.-Play on, lass; play us`I am
Leaving Thee in Sorrow, Annie`-that's a
good song, that is. My sister Nelly used to
sing that. —Your girl plays well, old man.
Mind, the first thing to-morrow you drive
the horses into the corral, and I'll see if
there is any thing better than the mare."
"You niust take what you like, we
are at your niercy," said Armstrong.
"And as for you," said Geordie to
Travers, who was too frightened to speak,
"you haven't a word to throw to a dog.
Come, drink a tunibler of that brandy,
or, by the Lord, I'll force it down your
throat. I dare say you'd have been a
lag yourself before now if you'd only had
the courage."
Lvery now and then Lizzie took a
frightened but steady look at the man, to
see if fatigue was overcoming him determining, upon the instant he fell asleep, to
hang out the signal in the moonshine.
The deserted hut to which John would
have gone was a mile off along the wood.
Kitty would have reached there by this
time. A quarter of an hour more, and
~ohn would be watching tiie window.
But nothing could disarm the man 5 suspicions, though from time to time he
grew.j ovial, and struck in with a rough
chorus to the popular tunes Lizzie played,
with affected readiness.
"Whenever you like to go to your
room, mister, it is ready," said Arnistrong.
"Thank you, cap'en," he said, stretching his dirty bo~s on the neat sofa;
"you may go when you like, this'll do
for me. I Mways sleep, mind, with one
eye open, and all my friends ready
round me." As he said this, he put a
six-shooter by him, on the table, wfth
half a dozen cartridges, and placed a second under tlie sofa-cushion.
"Thanks, my darling, for your music.
Don't be afraid of me. We old lags don't
often get a treat in the bush like that.
Take my advice; don't you go and niarry that dandy county-jumper there; lie
hasn't the pluck of a mouse. Leave all
your doors open, and we shall do very
well. Be off with ye. Breakfast at fivethirty please, and, if you don't wake, I'll
stai~t yer."
"If John had been here, and I hadn't
been so harsh toward hhu," said Armstrong to his daughter, as they parted for
the night, "things might have gone different. As for that fellow Travers, he's
the greatest skunk that ever crawled, and
he shouldn't have you now if he was the
only man left in the world. Ah, if we
could only have drugged that rascal's
tea!
"No more talking up there," shouted
a fierce voice from the parlor. "Go to
bed. You've got to turn out early."
What a night of agony Lizzie spent,
lying awake in the nioonlight that
streamed over her bed, and hstening to
every sound! Once, when all was still,
she almost resolved to steal down, barefooted, to tlie kitchen, and listen at the
window if she could hear John. Then a
dreadful'thought seized her that he might
have riddeii far away, and never met
Kitty at all. She might never see him
again. He was proud and high-spirited,
and would never brook an insult. Then,
as she sat up and listened, she heard
some night-bird call, and the man below
rose, strode to the kitchen, opened the
window, and looked out! Suppose he
saw John, and fired at hiin! It seenied
endless, that night of miserable, anxious
watching.
But she was not forsaken. All that
night John, whom Kifty had found
lighting a fire in tlie desolate lint, preparatory to starting early in the morning,
was watching the house from a clump of
trees some~wo hundred yards offi Sometimes he resolved, unarmed-for he had
no revolver-to go up boldly, knock at
the door, and, when the man came, to
at once grapple with him. Then the certainty of this scheme being fruitless made
him roll in anguish on the grass. All at
once a sudden thought seized hini. He
remembered that Wilson, when they both
started for the bush, had hidden away an
old duck-gun in the roof of the hut they
used to occupy. He scarcely knew what
use the gun could be against a man like
Jingling Geordie, triply armed, and ready
for niurder; hut in the dim light, for the
moon was now setting, lie went back and