The Sweep Winner

CHAPTER IV
"IT'S FOR A WOMAN"

"Hello, what brings you here?" said Bill Bigs, as Glen Leigh entered his house. The tone was not encouraging. Bill was in an ill-humour, and it was not difficult to discover the cause. The bar was in a state of wild confusion. Broken bottles, bits of wood, splinters from the rough furniture, and jagged pieces of glass lay about. There was every sign of a fight.

Glen took it all in at a glance. Although he was in a desperate hurry he knew the best way to succeed would be by humouring him.

"Bit of a skirmish, eh?" began Glen.

"Two of your fence fellows began it. I never saw such beasts in my life. They all are."

Glen's eyes glittered.

"Does that include me?" he asked.

"No. I can't say it does, but there's no telling what may happen. You'll break out some day. Flesh and blood can't stand your job," replied Bill.

Here was an opening. Glen was holding himself in leash wonderfully well. All the time he was thinking, "What's she doing? What's he doing?"

He wanted to hurry back. Ping would have to hustle when he made a start.

"You're right," he agreed, "if it wasn't for a nip of your good stuff now and again, Bill, I'd go under."

"I see. So that's what you're here for. Well, I can't gratify you this time. I've run out."

Bill was husbanding his resources; it was his habit. Glen knew there was a tough job before him.

"I must have some of the best, Bill, I'm run down," persisted Glen.

Bill laughed.

"Must have it? I like that. Look around. Do you think I'm going to stand that sort of thing from your fellows without paying somebody out? As you happen to have come along first I'll pay you out. You'll get nothing from me to-day."

"I must have it, Bill. I'll pay double price for it."

"When?"

"In a month. I can't do it now."

"A month! Six months you mean, and then it's uncertain."

"Not with me."

"I'll not deny you're a good payer, and straight, but you've got to suffer for the sins of others. You're one of 'em," returned Bill.

Glen Leigh leaned over the counter, his face close to Bill's.

"If you knew what I wanted it for you'd give it me without payment," he said.

Bill looked hard at him. Glen's face was quivering. His mouth twitched. His eyes glared. He was thinking of the woman. How should he get the brandy if Bill persisted in refusing, for he meant having it at any cost?

"What's it for?"

"I can't tell you. I will before long, but not now."

"Then it's a fake. You want it for yourself."

"I do not."

He fancied he could hear her moaning, becoming restless, and if he got what he wanted and hurried back she might have a chance. It exasperated him.

"Why not tell me the reason?" asked Bill, fairly enough.

"There's somebody ill in my hut."

"Oh, that's it, one of your mates. Do you think I'm going to help him after last night's work? Not me."

Glen wanted to conceal that it was a woman, but he was wasting precious time. Could Bill be trusted to keep it to himself? He had no desire for the township to know until he had found out all about her.

"It's not one of my mates. I'd not ask it for him after that," and he waved his hand round. "You'll not say a word, but keep it dark?"

"It depends on what it is you tell me."

"I can't tell you. Bill, we've been what folks call friends, as far as it goes here. Promise me. It's a matter of life and death. You'll not be sorry. You'll have done a good action, and saved a life."

Bill saw he was in deadly earnest. He knew Glen Leigh had always gone straight with him.

"Out with it then. I'll promise, so help me I will, but I don't say I'll let you have what you want."

Glen saw he was yielding. Again his thoughts went back to his hut, and he groaned at the loss of time.

"It's for a woman. She's got fever, and is delirious. She'll die if she doesn't have some stimulant. For God's sake, Bill, let me have it."

Bill stared at him. There was a genuine, even pathetic ring in his voice. But a woman! He couldn't be expected to swallow that yarn.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In my hut."

Bill laughed. He couldn't help it. The thing was so ridiculous.

"Who's the lady?" he asked with a grin.

Leigh's hands clenched. He was becoming dangerous.

"I haven't time to tell you lies. I don't know who she is, or where she comes from. All I can say is I found her in there lying on my shakedown, dying," and he told the whole story as rapidly as possible to the astonished Bill.

"It's as true as gospel, and Jim Benny's with her waiting my return. Think of the time I've wasted here. I may be too late. Ping's none too fast, but he's sure. For heaven's sake, Bill, let me have it, and some tinned stuff, soup, anything you've got. There's nothing at my place for her."

He spoke rapidly, excitedly. He was strung to the highest pitch as he thought how long he had already been away.

"It's the rummiest yarn I ever heard, but I don't see as how you could make it up. I wonder who she is?"

"That's what I've got to find out. If she dies, her secret goes with her. Help to save her, then we'll get to know," begged Glen.

Bill thought of his girl at work in Adelaide. Supposing she was in such a plight? The mere idea made him shiver.

"I'll do it, Glen. Damn it, man, if you'd outed with it at first the thing would have been settled in five minutes."

He disappeared. Glen knew if he had fired the story at him straight away it would not have been believed at all. Bill also knew it as he dived into the bowels of the earth beneath his bar.

"He's worked me cleverly," he muttered. "He saw I was cut up rough when he came in, and he handled me well. It's a queer go, a very queer go, but I believe him. He's not given to lying, and in any case I can go and see for myself in a day or two. If he's put up a game on me, I'll – No, he'd never do it. He's too much of a man. And his face! It might be his sweetheart the way he looked."

Bill was rummaging about. Selecting two bottles he took them with him. As he went back through his storeroom, he collected some tinned milk, soup, and biscuits.

He packed them all carefully so that there would be no risk of breakage, then went back to the bar.

Two men had come in during his absence. One was "on the fence," and as usual they had selected a bottle of alleged whisky, and were helping themselves. Glen had refused to join them. He was called a sullen bounder.

"Get out of this," yelled Bill when he saw the rider on the fence. "You're one of the devils who caused all this mess."

"I'll pay for it – at least my share," answered the man.

"Then out with it," said Bill, putting his package down.

Glen eyed it greedily. He ought to have had it an hour ago and been well on his way back to the hut. Here was more delay. Would she be alive? Would she be alive? Was Jim with her? Yes, he'd wait. He was sure of it.

The man pulled out some greasy pound-notes and handed Bill a couple.

"That's more'n my whack. It'll have to stand good for this," and he placed his hand on the bottle.

"And mind, if I see any signs of strife brewing you'll not get away so easily next time," warned Bill, as he stuffed the dirty notes in his pocket, only too glad to get anything in payment for the damage.

He beckoned to Glen, picked up the package and went outside.

"You'll find all you want here; at least as much as I can give you."

"I'll never forget it, Bill. One of these days I may be able to do you a good turn. I'll see you are paid in full, and more."

"Never mind about that. It's something to my credit that I've faith enough in a man to believe such a dodgasted yarn as you've spun me."

"You do believe it?"

"Yes. Shake. You'll not mind me driving over? I'll not come empty-handed, and not to act the spy, but it's such a stretcher that I'd just like to see for myself."

Glen smiled as he mounted Ping, and Bill handed him the parcel.

"I can't wonder at it. I can hardly believe it myself. Come and see. You'll be welcome. You always are, but not a word to a soul."

"I'll keep it dark, you bet. I'm with you in finding out all about her. It'll be a bit of a change from that filthy work," and he jerked his thumb in the direction of the bar.

As Glen was riding away, the man who had paid Bill the two notes rushed out and yelled, "Expect you've not heard that Joe Calder's been found shot dead on his track!"

CHAPTER V
WHY JIM CAME TO THE HUT

Joe Calder shot dead on his track!

Glen had no time to waste or he would have gone back to hear more. He must hurry on. Ping felt there was need for haste. His master seldom pushed him as he was doing now.

Joe Calder done for at last! Glen had warned him it would come some day, for the man was a brute. He had no human feeling, and how he earned promotion over his fellows was one of those things no man could understand.

Glen was overseer on his track, as Joe Calder was on the other, and the two men often met, but they were as wide apart as the poles in every respect.

Calder was a sneak. The men under him hated him. More than one threatened to do for him, but he was a big powerful man, and dangerous. He was one of the worst characters, and when he went to Boonara even Bill Bigs fought shy of him. There was no doubt he was a criminal. His face, his shifty eyes, the backward glances, his fear of being followed and tracked down betrayed it. But he must have had a friend somewhere, or he would never have got his post.

Glen was surprised, and yet he was not. The news was shot at him unexpectedly, but he believed it, and wondered who had rid the world of a scoundrel, and the track of a desperate man. Ping travelled well, his head bound for home, such as it was, and every horse knows the way to his stable. Mile after mile was traversed, until Glen saw a faint speck in the distance and knew it was his hut. A townsman would have seen nothing, but Glen's eyes were used to looking long distances, and were almost as powerful as a glass in distinguishing objects.

"Go on, Ping. We'll soon be there," and the horse put on another spurt.

The tension in the hut was not relaxed for a moment. Hour after hour passed, and still the dog stood on guard and eyed Jim. If the man moved there came an ominous growl.

Two or three times the woman groaned, and Spotty pricked his ears wonderingly. Such sounds were unfamiliar. Jim watched him. The dog seemed half inclined to spring on the bed. Thinking better of it he settled down again with his eyes fixed as before.

A drowsy feeling crept over Jim. He was fearful of going to sleep. He had been sitting like a statue for the Lord knows how long and he had no idea of the time.

He listened. Not a sound, except a few melancholy notes from a passing bird. What was Glen doing all this time? He had promised to watch, but Glen had not promised to come back. Jim's mind was in a chaotic state, and he was hardly responsible for it.

Spotty pricked his ears. Jim accepted this as a sign that he heard something, and listened intently.

The dog gave a short, sharp bark, a true signal this time.

In his great sense of relief Jim stood up. He could bear the strain no longer.

Spotty flew at him, straight at his throat. Jim caught him with both hands and held him, the dog growling, snarling, trying to wrench himself free to bite his hands. Jim held on. He heard the hoof-beats. It was Glen returning and all would be well, but he was tired and cramped with the strain, and Spotty was a ferocious dog, and strong.

The woman moved and half sat up; then she sank back again. He was thankful.

Ping halted. Glen got out of the saddle with the precious burden and strode into the hut. Unstrung as he was, the sight that met his gaze caused him to drop the package. With a cry of despair he caught at it, just breaking its fall.

Spotty, seeing his master, ceased struggling. Jim let go his hold and fell on the floor in a dead faint.

"Get out," almost yelled Glen, and the dog shot through the opening like a fox bolting from hounds, dashing under Ping's belly and scouring across country at top speed. Yet he had only guarded his master's hut, and his doggy brain resented the injustice.

Glen opened the package before attending to Jim. There was no damage done, and he had never felt so like offering up a prayer before – supposing, after all, he had gone through, the precious bottles had broken? He knelt down beside Jim, summing up the situation, and wondering how long he had been subjected to the strain caused by the dog. Opening one of the bottles, he poured a small quantity down Jim's throat, being careful not to spill a drop.

Presently Jim sat up, looked round in a dazed way, and then seeing Glen said, "It was a near go. The dog watched me for hours. I dared not move for fear he would savage me or her, but when I heard you coming I could stand it no longer. I got up, and he flew at me. She's been like that ever since you left. What have you brought?"

"Many things, but I'd a job to work round Bill. There'd been a row in his shanty. Two of your fellows smashed things up, and he was in a towering rage. Fetch some water. It's funny we can get it nice, cool, clean and fresh. We haven't done that for months, have we?"

As he spoke he was busy with the package placing the things carefully on the floor. Bill had made amends after all, and opened his heart. He was a dashed good sort, and should be repaid.

Jim staggered out for the water. The tank was overflowing into sundry water-catchers. It was far too precious to waste, although many times the quantity would have been used to wash up after a single meal in a big hotel.

Glen made the mixture weak, then, taking a bit of rag, he moistened her lips with it, squeezing a little into her mouth.

He was glad she was alive. A tremendous sense of relief came over him, and with it relaxation from the strain he too had gone through. He could have lain down on the floor and slept for many hours.

"Get some rest, Jim. You need it," he said.

"Not so much as you."

"Yes, your struggle was greater than mine. Sleep, man; then you can watch when I give up."

Jim lay down. He was in a dead slumber in a minute or two.

Glen sat looking at the woman. A slight colour came into her cheeks, her lips were not so blue, a warmth spread over her body; he could feel it as he touched her bare arm. Then a curious thing happened. He bent down and kissed her, not like Jim Benny, on the lips, but on her forehead, reverently, tenderly, like a father would a child – and he was the most reckless rider on the fence. Both men were among the legion of the lost, why was only known to themselves, but they had given this woman what many a one of her sex in a great city would have been thankful for – human kindness.

"Sleep's best for her," he thought, as he moistened her lips again. "She's been hot and cold, but there's a nice glow on her now. It's healthy. She'll pull through. I'll bet she pulls through, and we'll have done it, Jim, and I, and Bill. He's had a big share in it. I should say the three of us will be able to look after her and find out all about her."

Jim had his rest. Glen roused him when he found sleep would overcome him whether he willed it or no.

"Wet her lips with it when they're dry. Place your finger on and feel."

Jim nodded. He thought how he had placed his lips to hers when Glen was away. He was ashamed of it; somehow he thought he ought to tell him. He'd think it over while he slept.

In the midst of nature's great silent solitudes these three were working out their fate. It was so still that to most people the silence would have been worse than the noise and rush of traffic. Outside, Ping, neglected after his long journey, unsaddled, was finding refreshment. The horse was weary, leg tired, but his heart was in the right place. He was the sort that never gives in until something snaps.

Spotty called a halt when he had gone a couple of miles, and considered the question of the unjustness of his master. He must have arrived at some conclusion for he retraced his steps slowly. Near the hut he encountered Ping, so nosed round him as though apologising for the sudden bolt under him. Ping and Spotty were chums. They were both mongrels, but there is often a lot of good to be found in such animals. Eventually when Ping lay down Spotty curled up close to his back; the silence was unbroken.

When Glen awoke he saw at a glance the woman was coming round. She began to mutter. They listened but could make out no words.

"She's pulling through. I reckon she'll mend now. We've all of us got to get her round."

"All of us?"

"Yes, you and Bill and me."

"And what about the fence?" asked Jim.

"Damn the fence," answered Glen fiercely, "I've done with it."

"Then so have I," echoed Jim almost gladly.

"Good boy. It's a cursed job. Keepers of the fence. I tell you, Jim, it's slow murder. I'd as lief have solitary confinement."

"I guess we'd get better tucker in prison," said Jim.

The word murder recalled to Glen's mind the death of Calder.

"Jim!"

"Well?"

"Joe Calder's been shot dead on the track."

"Serves the brute right," replied Jim in a hard voice.

"You haven't told me yet what brought you here," said Glen looking at him.

"That was it."

"What?"

"The Calder business."

"You – ?"

Jim nodded.

"I shot him."

CHAPTER VI
"COME"

Glen asked no questions. If Jim Benny had shot Calder he must have had good reason for it. He waited to hear if he would say more.

"Do you want to know why?" asked Jim.

"Please yourself."

Jim pulled off his shirt, or tried to. It stuck.

"The water," he said faintly.

Glen gave him a damp cloth. Jim bathed the shirt, near his breast. For the first time Glen noticed a deep red mark.

"That's better," said Jim, as he felt the shirt give, and pulled it off. Then he went on, "He did that with his knife, and I shot him."

"It served him right," returned Glen.

"We quarrelled, not for the first time. He said brutal things to me, and called me names no man would stand, so I struck him between the eyes. He whipped out his knife, and I had it before I could think. I pulled my revolver from my belt, and shot him through the heart. He fell like a log. I left him there. I never even looked at him, but came on here."

"Why did you come here?"

"Because I thought I could depend upon you, and you would give me good advice. I didn't tell you at first, because of her. One thing at a time's enough."

"You can depend upon me. I'll help you if there's trouble, but no one knows you shot him, and there'll not be much fuss made over him," declared Glen.

The woman opened her eyes, and looked at them. Then a faint smile spread over her face.

"Are you better?" asked Glen.

No answer.

"Do you feel stronger, my lass?"

She pressed her hand over her forehead feebly, and a vacant look came into her eyes.

"She's weak. She's had no food. Warm some of that milk, Jim."

When it was ready Glen gave it to her with a spoon. She took it greedily. In a few minutes she dozed again.

"Her head's sure to be bad for a time," said Glen.

There was a brief silence, then Jim said, "While you were away I did something."

"What?"

"I kissed her on the lips. I couldn't help it. Something prompted me."

Glen started. For a moment he felt angry, then muttered, "When you were outside I kissed her on the forehead."

These kisses were characteristic of the men and showed the difference between them.

They said no more about it. Both thought it strange, and the subject dropped.

The woman progressed slowly but surely. As she recovered some strength they found her memory had gone; she did not know her name, or where she came from. She appeared to imagine she had been there all her life.

Bill Bigs arrived in his buggy, and did not come empty-handed; there was an ample supply stowed away in the back.

"That's her, eh?" he asked.

"Yes. Do you believe me now?" replied Glen smiling.

"I believed you before, but I wanted to see her. I say, Glen, she'll be a grand-looking woman when she's picked up and filled out a bit. Where the deuce did she come from? It's miles away from everywhere here," said Bill.

"It'll be hard to find out. She's lost her memory; she fancies she's been here all her days, but she's sane enough. She'll talk all right in a bit," replied Glen.

"Jim Benny!" exclaimed Bill.

"He's been here ever since she came. It was funny he should turn up almost at the same time."

Jim came into the hut and greeted Bill.

"I never expected to see you here," exclaimed the latter.

"He came to consult me. We're going to throw it up," Glen told him.

"Throw what up?"

"The fence. We've done with it; we're sick of the whole thing. It's too much for flesh and blood to stand."

Bill stared.

"Going!" he cried. "Why you're the best man on the job."

"Am I?" answered Glen. "I'm glad to hear someone has a good opinion of me."

"I always had," pursued Bill. "I'm not surprised. I've often wondered why you came. I remember the first time I saw you in Boonara. I thought you'd dropped from the clouds. Have you sent in your resignation?"

"No. What does it matter. Let 'em find out. You can drop a line to the overseer when we're gone."

"And the fence?" asked Bill "We don't want those cursed rabbits to get through to our side."

"There are plenty to look after it; men are always disappearing. There are good and bad among us. Some fellows are there fighting down the drink curse. I don't blame 'em; it's their only chance. I know two of 'em, good men in their way, but I can tell how it would be with them if they went back to a town life. They'd go under quick. I've been in many a jag myself, but that's not why I came out. I can stifle it; it's only a matter of will," declared Glen.

"I don't know so much about that. I've had a lot of experience in that line. Some of the poor beggars can't help themselves," said Bill, and then added, "They've buried Calder. There'll be no inquiry. Most people think he shot himself. Anyhow we've shovelled him away in Boonara. If any trouble is made they can dig him up again and call him as witness. He's the only one who could give evidence. All your fellows are glad he's gone."

Jim listened in silence, with a feeling of relief; he did not in the least regret what he had done. He regarded it as a righteous act.

The woman sat up. When she saw Bill she asked, "When did he come?"

This was almost the first sentence she had spoken correctly. Hitherto her words had come disjointedly – in jerks.

"Me, my lass? I've just dropped in to see my friend, Glen. He told me you were here."

"I've been here a long time. Oh, such a long time. I must have been sleeping for weeks. I've forgotten which is Glen," she answered.

"I'm Glen – Glen Leigh," he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"How silly of me that I didn't remember, but I shall not forget again. You have been very good to me. Have I been very ill?"

"Yes, for a long time," replied Glen humouring her.

She looked at Jim, and Glen said, "He's Jim Benny, another good friend. And that's Bill Bigs, one of the best of friends. We're all going to look after you."

She smiled.

"Do I want looking after?"

"You'll not be too strong for a good while yet," replied Glen. "When you are strong we're going away from here."

She looked at him wonderingly.

"Going away from home?" she asked.

"You'll want a change when you get stronger."

This put a different complexion on the matter, and she smiled again, nodded, and lay down once more.

"That's the first attempt at conversation she's made," said Glen. "We're getting on."

"You boys – where are you going when you leave here?" asked Bill suddenly.

Glen did not hesitate.

"Sydney," he answered.

Bill remained silent a few minutes, then said slowly, as though still thinking it out, "Sydney! I've a good mind to go with you, I'm sick of Boonara. It's the last place that was ever put up on this earth."

Glen jumped up from his seat, so did Jim. They took a hand each and almost pulled Bill's arms off.

"Do it!" cried Glen. "Do it! We want you. If the three can't make headway in Sydney we're not the men I fancy we are."

"Yes, come with us," put in Jim heartily.

"Stop, you fellows, stop," said Bill. "It's easier said than done. I'll tell you something. I've had an offer for my shanty, a damned good offer, more than it's worth. I can't think why he's made it, or where he's got the money from. I never knew Craig Bellshaw to give much money away, and I don't see where else it could have come from."

"Craig Bellshaw!" exclaimed Glen in surprise, "has he made a bid for it?"

"Not likely. What'd he want with a place like mine? It's Garry Backham, Bellshaw's overseer. He came into my place and wanted to know if I'd sell out. He said he wanted the place and was tired of Mintaro. I was never more surprised in my life. You could have pushed me over with a blade of grass."

"I met him several times. He seems a taciturn sort of man, sullen, bad tempered – not one of my sort," said Glen.

"I fancy he's had a roughish time at Mintaro," Bill surmised, "but he must have saved money. Bellshaw wouldn't lend it him in hundreds."

"He was a pal of Calder's; about the only one he had," Jim remarked.

"I never knew that," said Bill.

"They used to meet on the track, and talk and smoke. He bought Calder drink at times," explained Jim.

"Birds of a feather," said Glen.

"He made no fuss about Calder being shot," Bill commented.

"It was no use. He's dead and gone, and there's no proof that he was shot; he probably did it himself as you have said," decided Glen.

The woman stirred, murmuring some words in her sleep; with a start she sat up, stared at the group, stretched out her arms, and in a pleading voice uttered the one word, "Come."