The Gold-Stealers | Page 9

meant by that, Mr. Shine?'
The widow, flushed of face, with her work thrust forward in her lap and
a steely light in her fine eyes, regarded the searcher steadily.
'An offer of marriage to yourself is meant, Mrs. Haddon, ma'am.'
Shine's eyes came sliding up under his brows till they encountered
those of Mrs. Haddon; then they fell again suddenly. The little widow
tapped the table impressively with her thimbled finger, and her breast
heaved.
'Do you remember Frank Hardy, Ephraim Shine?'
'To be certain I do.'
'Well, man, you may have heard what Frank Hardy was to me before he
went to--to--'
'To gaol, Mrs. Haddon? Yes.'
'Listen to this, then. What Frank Hardy was to me before he is still,
only more dear, an' I'd as lief everybody in Waddy knew it.'

'A gaol-bird an' a thief he is.'
'He is in gaol, an' that may make a gaol-bird of him, but he is no thief.
'Twas you got him into gaol, an' now you dare do this.'
Shine's slate-coloured eyes slid up and fell again.
''Twas done in the way o' duty. He don't deny I found the gold on him.'
'No, but he denies ever havin' seen it in his life before, an' I believe
him.'
'An' about that cunnin' little trap in his boot-heel, ma'am?'
'It was what he said it was--the trick of some enemy.'
Mr. Shine lifted his right boot as if trying its weight, groaned and set it
down again, tried the other, and said:
'An' who might the enemy ha' been, d'ye think?'
I do not know, but--I am Frank Hardy's friend, and you may not abuse
him in my house.'
'You have a chance o' a respectable man, missus.' Mrs. Haddon had
risen from her seat and was standing over her visitor, a buxom
black-gowned little fury.
'An' I tell him to go about his business, an' that's the way.' The gesture
the widow threw at her humble kitchen door was magnificent. 'But
stay,' she cried, although the imperturbable Shine had not shown the
slightest intention of moving. 'You've heard I went with Frank's mother
to visit him in the gaol there at the city; p'r'aps you're curious to know
what I said. Well, I'll tell you, an' you can tell all Waddy from yon
platform in the chapel nex' Sunday, if you like. 'Frank,' I said, 'you
asked me to be your wife, an' I haven't answered. I do now. I'll meet
you at the prison door when you come out, if you please, an' I'll marry
you straight away.' Those were my very words, Mr. Superintendent, an'
I mean to keep to them.'

Mrs. Haddon stood with flaming face and throbbing bosom, a tragedy
queen in miniature, suffused with honest emotion. Ephraim sat
apparently absorbed in his left boot, thrusting his finger into the hole in
the sole, as if probing a wound.
'You wouldn't think, ma'am,' he said presently with the air of a martyr,
'that I gave fourteen-and six for them pair o' boots not nine weeks
since.'
Mrs. Haddon turned away with an impatient gesture.
'If you've said all you have to say, you might let me get on with my
work.'
'I think that's all, Mrs. Haddon.' The searcher arose, and stood for a
moment turning up the toe of one boot and then the other; he seemed to
be calculating his losses on the bargain. 'You hand over the boy
Richard, I understand, ma'am?'
'I'll do what is right, Mr. Shine.'
'The Committee said as much. The Committee has great respect for you,
Mrs. Haddon.'
Ephraim lifted his feet with an effort, and carried them slowly from the
house, carefully and quietly closing the kitchen door after him. About
half a minute later he opened the door again, just as carefully and as
quietly, and said:
'Good night, ma'am, and God bless you.'
Then he went away, his hands bunched behind him, walking like a man
carrying a heavy burden.
CHAPTER IV
DICK HADDON and Ted McKnight were still at large next morning,
and nothing was heard of them till two o'clock in the afternoon, when

Wilson's man, Jim Peetree, reported having discovered the boys
swimming in the big quarry in the old Red Hand paddock. Jim, seeing a
prospect of covering himself with glory, made a dash after the truants;
but they snatched up their clothes and ran for the saplings up the creek,
all naked as they were, and Jim was soon out of the hunt--though he
captured Ted's shirt, and produced it as a guarantee of good faith.
That night three boys--three of the faithful--Jacker McKnight, Phil
Doon, and Billy Peterson, stole through Wilson's paddock carrying
mysterious bundles, and taking as many precautions to avoid
observation and pursuit as if they were