An Outback Marriage | Page 3

just to show which was right."
"And what did Gordon do after he was sold up?"
"Died, and didn't leave a penny. So then Bully Grant wheeled round
and gave Gordon's widow a station to live on, and fixed the two sons
up managing his stations. Goodness knows how much he's worth now.
Doesn't even know it himself."
"And has he no children? Was he ever married?"
The lawyer lit a cigarette and puffed at it.
"He went to England and got married; there's a daughter. The wife's
dead; the daughter is in England still--never been out here. There's a
story that before he made his money he married a bush girl up on the
station, but no one believes that. The daughter in England will get
everything when he dies. A chance for you, Gillespie. Go home and

marry her--she'll be worth nearly a million of money."
"I'll think about it," said the globe-trotter.
As he spoke a buttony boy came up to the Bo'sun.
"Gentleman to see you, sir," he said. "Mr. Carew, sir."
The Bo'sun hurried off to bring in his guest, while Pinnock called after
him--"Mind your eye, Bo'sun. Be civil to him. See that he doesn't kill a
waiter or two on the way up. Not but what he'd be welcome to do it, for
all the good they are here," he added, gloomily, taking another sip of
his sherry and bitters; and before he had finished it the Bo'sun and his
guest entered the room.
They had expected to see a Hercules, a fiery-faced, fierce-eyed man.
This was merely a broad-shouldered, well-built, well-groomed youth,
about twenty-three years of age; his face was square and rather stolid,
clean-shaven, brown-complexioned, with honest eyes and a firm-set
mouth. As he stood at the door he adopted the wooden expression that a
University man always wears in the presence of strangers. He said
nothing on being introduced to Pinnock; and when the globe-trotter
came up and claimed acquaintance, defining himself as "Gillespie of
Balliol," the stranger said he didn't remember him, and regarded him
with an aspect of armed neutrality. After a sherry and bitters he thawed
a little, and the Bo'sun started to cross-examine him.
"Mr. Grant of Kuryong wired to me about you," he said. "I suppose you
came in the Carthaginia?"
"Yes," said the stranger, speaking in the regulation English University
voice, a little deeper than usual. "I left her at Adelaide. I'm out for some
bush experience, don't you know. I'll get you to tell me some place to
stop at till I leave, if you don't mind."
His manner was distinctly apologetic, and he seemed anxious to give as
little trouble as possible.

"Oh! you stop here," said the Bo'sun. "I'll have you made an honorary
member. They'll do you all right here."
"That's awfully good of you. Thanks very much indeed."
"Oh! not at all. You'll find the club not so bad, and a lot better than
where you're going with old Grant. He's a regular demon to make
fellows work. It's pretty rough on the stations sometimes."
"Ah! yes; awf'lly rough, I believe. Quite frightened me, what I heard of
it, don't you know. Still, I suppose one must expect to rough it a bit. Eh,
what!"
"Charlie Gordon will he here in a minute," said the Bo'sun. "He can tell
you all about it. Here he is now," he added, as the door swung open and
the long-waited-for guest entered the room.
The newcomer was unmistakably a man from Far Out; tall,
wiry-framed, and very dark, and so spare and lean of figure that he did
not seem to have an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere. His face was
as hard and impassive as a Red Indian's, and looked almost black by
contrast with his white shirt-front. So did his hands. He had thin
straight hair, high cheek-bones, and a drooping black moustache. But
the eyes were the most remarkable feature. Very keen and piercing they
were, deep-set in the head; even when he was looking straight at
anyone he seemed to be peering into endless space through the man in
front of him. Such eyes men get from many years of staring over great
stretches of sunlit plain where no colour relieves the blinding
glare--nothing but dull grey clumps of saltbush and the dull green
Mitchell grass.
His whole bearing spoke of infinite determination and self-reliance--the
square chin, the steadfast eyes, telling their tale as plainly as print. In
India he might have passed for an officer of native cavalry in mufti; but
when he spoke he used the curious nasal drawl of the far-out bushman,
the slow deliberate speech that comes to men who are used to passing
months with the same companions in the unhurried Australian bush.
Occasionally he