Harry Heathcote of Gangoil | Page 7

pull a log away. The horses couldn't see where to put their
feet." Jacko did as he was bid, and worked hard, but still grumbled at
having been called a duffer. The animals were quickly led over, the
logs were replaced, and the two were again galloping through the
forest.
"I thought you were making for the wool-shed," said Jacko.
"We're eight miles beyond the wool-shed," said Harry. They had now
crossed another paddock, and had come to the extreme fence on the run.
The Gangoil pastures extended much further, but in that direction had
not as yet been inclosed. Here they both got off their horses and walked
along the fence till they came to an opening, with a slip panel, or
movable bars, which had been Heathcote's intended destination. "Hold
the horses, Jacko, till I come back," he said.
Jacko, when alone, nothing daunted by the darkness or solitude, seated
himself on the top rail, took out a pipe, and struck a match. When the
tobacco was ignited he dropped the match on the dry grass at his feet,
and a little flame instantly sprang up. The boy waited a few seconds till
the flames began to run, and then putting his feet together on the
ground stamped out the incipient fire. "My word!" said Jacko to
himself, "it's easy done, anyway."
Harry went on to the left for about half a mile, and then stood leaning
against the fence. It was very dark, but he was now looking over into an

inclosure which had been altogether cleared of trees, and which, as he
knew well, had been cultivated and was covered with sugar-canes.
Where he stood he was not distant above a quarter of a mile from the
river, and the field before him ran down to the banks. This was the
selected land of Giles Medlicot--two years since a portion of his own
run, which had now been purchased from the government--for the loss
of which he had received and was entitled to receive no compensation.
And the matter was made worse for him by the fact that the interloper
had come between him and the river. But he was not standing here near
midnight merely to exercise his wrath by straining his eyes through the
darkness at his neighbor's crops. He put his finger into his mouth to wet
it, and then held it up that he might discover which way the light breath
of wind was coming. There was still the low moan to be heard
continually through the forest, and yet not a leaf seemed to be moved.
After a while he thought he caught a sound, and put his ear down to the
ground. He distinctly heard a footstep, and rising up, walked quickly
toward the spot whence the noise came.
"Who's that?" he said, as he saw the figure of a man standing on his
side of the fence, and leaning against it, with a pipe in his month.
"Who are you?" replied the man on the fence. "My name is Medlicot."
"Oh, Mr. Medlicot, is it?"
"Is that Mr. Heathcote? Good-night, Mr. Heathcote. You are going
about at a late hour of the night."
"I have to go about early and late; but I ain't later than you."
"I'm close at home," said Medlicot.
"I am, at any rate, on my own run," said Harry.
"You mean to say that I am trespassing?" said the other; "because I can
very soon jump back over the fence."
"I didn't mean that at all, Mr. Medlicot; any body is welcome on my
run, night or day, who knows how to behave himself."
"I hope I'm included in that list."
"Just so; of course. Considering the state that every thing is in, and all
the damage that a fire would do, I rather wish that people would be a
little more careful about smoking."
"My canes, Mr. Heathcote, would burn quite as quickly as your grass."
"It is not only the grass. I've a hundred miles of fencing on the run
which is as dry as tinder, not to talk of the station and the wool- shed."

"They sha'n't suffer from my neglect, Mr. Heathcote."
"You have men about who mayn't be so careful. The wind, such as it is,
is coming right across from your place. If there were light enough, I
could show you three or four patches where there has been fire within
half a mile of this spot. There was a log burning there for two or three
days, not long ago, which was lighted by one of our men."
"That was a fortnight since. There was no heat then, and the men were
boiling their kettle. I spoke about it."
"A log like that, Mr. Medlicot, will burn for weeks