Harry Heathcote of Gangoil | Page 6

which his house stood, but this he had done
simply to guard himself against other purchasers. These other
purchasers were the bane of his existence, the one great sorrow which,
as he said, broke his heart.
While he was speaking, a rough-looking lad, about sixteen years of age,
came through the parlor to the veranda, dressed very much like his
master, but unwashed, uncombed, and with that wild look which falls
upon those who wander about the Australian plains, living a nomad life.
This was Jacko--so called, and no one knew him by any other name--a
lad whom Heathcote had picked up about six months since, and who
had become a favorite. "The old woman says as you was wanting me?"
suggested Jacko. "Going to be fine to-night, Jacko?"
Jacko went to the edge of the veranda and looked up to the sky. "My
word! little squall a-coming," he said.
"I wish it would come from ten thousand buckets," said the master.
"No buckets at all," said Jacko. "Want the horses, master?"
"Of course. I want the horses, and I want you to come with me. There
are two horses saddled there; I'll ride Hamlet."

CHAPTER II
.
A NIGHT'S RIDE.

Harry jumped from the ground, kissed his wife, called her "old girl,"
and told her to be happy, and got on his horse at the garden gate. Both
the ladies came off the veranda to see him start. "It's as dark as pitch,"
said Kate Daly.
"That's because you have just come out of the light."
"But it is dark--quite dark. You won't be late, will you?" said the wife.
"I can't be very early, as it's near ten now. I shall be back about twelve."
So saying, he broke at once into a gallop, and vanished into the night,
his young groom scampering after him.
"Why should he go out now?" Kate said to her sister.
"He is afraid of fire."
"But he can't prevent the fires by riding about in the dark. I suppose the
fires come from the heat."
"He thinks they come from enemies, and he has heard something. One
wretched man may do so much when every thing is dried to tinder. I do
so wish it would rain."
The night, in truth, was very dark. It was now midsummer, at which
time with us the days are so long that the coming of the one almost
catches the departure of its predecessor. But Gangoil was not far
outside the tropics, and there were no long summer nights. The heat
was intense; but there was a low soughing wind which seemed to moan
among the trees without moving them. As they crossed the little home
inclosure and the horse paddock, the track was just visible, the trees
being dead and the spaces open. About half a mile from the house,
while they were still in the horse paddock, Harry turned from the track,
and Jacko, of course, turned with him. "You can sit your horse jumping,
Jacko?" he asked.
"My word! jump like glory," answered Jacko. He was soon tried. Harry
rode at the bush fence--which was not, indeed, much of a fence, made
of logs lengthways and crossways, about three feet and a half high--
and went over it. Jacko followed him, rushing his horse at the leap,
losing his seat and almost falling over the animal's shoulders as he
came to the ground. "My word!" said Jacko, just saving himself by a
scramble; "who ever saw the like of that?"
"Why don't you sit in your saddle, you stupid young duffer?"
"Sit in my saddle! Why don't he jump proper? Well, you go on. I don't
know that I'm a duffer. Duffer, indeed! My word!" Heathcote had

turned to the left, leaving the track, which was, indeed, the main road
toward the nearest town and the coast, and was now pushing on
through the forest with no pathway at all to guide him. To ordinary
eyes the attempt to steer any course would have been hopeless. But an
Australian squatter, if he have any well-grounded claim to the character
of a bushman, has eyes which are not ordinary, and he has, probably,
nurtured within himself, unconsciously, topographical instincts which
are unintelligible to the inhabitants of cities. Harry, too, was near his
own home, and went forward through the thick gloom without a doubt,
Jacko following him faithfully. In about half an hour they came to
another fence, but now it was too absolutely dark for jumping. Harry
had not seen it till he was close to it, and then he pulled up his horse.
"My word! why don't you jump away, Mr. Harry? Who's a duffer
now?"
"Hold your tongue, or I'll put my whip across your back. Get down and
help me