The Sweep Winner

CHAPTER XIII
LEIGH HEARS STRANGE THINGS

Craig Bellshaw was in an ill humour. He had received a letter from Lin Soo which upset him. The Chinaman said he had changed his mind. He could not supply him with what he required, it was too risky; already he had been in trouble with the police, and he dare not undertake it. These were not the exact words, for the letter was illiterate, but Lin Soo made it plain enough to Bellshaw.

"He hasn't returned the money I advanced him, but he'll have to if he doesn't fulfil his part of the bargain. There's no risk, at least not much, and he's done it before. I can't live here without some sort of comfort."

His quarrel with Garry Backham made him vindictive. He was rather afraid of Garry after what he had said. The man knew too much about certain things at Mintaro, doings, which, if they came to light, would get him into serious trouble. He would have to give Garry the money he had lent him, but intended keeping him in suspense for a time.

Glen Leigh arrived at Mintaro in the evening. When Bellshaw saw who his visitor was he wondered what brought him there. It was bold conduct on Leigh's part to come and face him after deserting his post.

"Are you surprised to see me?" asked Glen as he dismounted, and Bellshaw came out.

"Yes, you're a cool hand."

"Why?"

"I suppose you know I can have you arrested for deserting?"

Glen laughed.

"Who is to arrest me?"

"I have the power."

"And who's to look after me if you arrest me?"

"I can easily manage that."

"But you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because it would only cause you trouble and worry."

"What have you come for?"

"To buy horses," replied Glen.

Bellshaw laughed as he said, "Turned horse-dealer, have you?"

"I'm on the look out for a dozen of the worst buckjumpers I can find," said Glen.

"What for?"

Glen explained. Bellshaw became interested. There seemed to be money in the idea.

"You'll find plenty here, but you'll have to sort them out yourself. I can't afford men to help you."

"I'm prepared for that. Garry Backham will find the men."

"Backham's behaved badly towards me; he's not to be trusted. I shouldn't advise you to have much to do with him."

"He'll not get round me. I've had a long talk with him. He tells me you put him into Bigs's place; it was good of you to help him."

"And he's repaid me by the basest ingratitude, but it's generally the way if you help a man."

"It's not my way," said Glen.

"You'll stop the night?" asked Bellshaw.

"Yes, if you'll put me up."

"There's heaps of room. You're welcome to some of it," answered Bellshaw ungraciously.

After dinner they talked about the horses, and Bellshaw agreed to let him have a dozen for a hundred pounds, which was quite as much, or more, than they were worth, but Glen had no desire to haggle over the affair.

He slept in a room near Bellshaw's. In the wooden homestead sounds carried far.

About the middle of the night Glen was roused by hearing someone walking on the verandah, pacing to and fro. The footsteps sounded stealthy and peculiar. He could not make it out; his curiosity was aroused. He got off the bed quietly, he was only partially undressed, and went to the door, which opened on to the verandah. It was not locked. He turned the handle, opened it cautiously, and looked out. There was a faint light, and at the end of the verandah he saw Craig Bellshaw coming towards him; he was, like himself, only partially dressed. He did not wish Bellshaw to think he was spying on him so he almost closed the door and listened.

The pad of his bare feet on the boards sounded strange in the stillness.

Bellshaw stopped when nearly opposite Glen's room. He was talking in a weird voice; it sounded unnatural. As Glen listened he came to the conclusion that Bellshaw was walking in his sleep; to make sure he opened the door wide. He could easily make an excuse that he heard someone prowling about and wanted to see who it was – if Bellshaw were not asleep.

The squatter faced him, his eyes wide open, but vacant. He stared fixedly at Glen but did not see him.

"He's fast asleep," thought Glen, and crept closer to him, not being able to restrain his curiosity.

"Don't struggle, you fool, or make that horrid row. I'll put you in that hole if you do. Bite, will you, you vixen? I've had enough of you; you've tired me out with your grumbling ways. Brought you here by force! It's a lie. You came of your own free will. You knew why you came to Mintaro."

Bellshaw clutched the air with his hands as though trying to strangle something. Glen watched every movement closely. He felt he was on the eve of a discovery. Bellshaw went down on his knees and pressed the boards with both hands.

"Keep still, will you! Keep still," he muttered, "or I'll crush the life out of you. She's quiet now. I'll leave her here. She'll die. There's no place for her to go to. She'll wander about until she drops, and then give up. That's the best way. No one can say I killed her. I'll leave you here. It will give you some sort of a chance if it is a poor one."

Bellshaw got up and began talking again. This time Glen knew he was speaking to his buggy horses.

Suddenly Bellshaw caught Glen by the arm. For a moment the shock staggered him. The awakening was dangerous; he seemed about to faint. With an effort he pulled himself together and glared at Glen Leigh.

"What the devil are you doing prowling about on the verandah at this time of night?" asked Bellshaw.

"I might ask the same question. I heard your footsteps. Naturally I wanted to see who it was. You were walking in your sleep. I thought it best not to wake you. I've heard it's dangerous," replied Glen.

Craig Bellshaw shivered. He was thinking of what he might have said or done, in Leigh's presence.

"I'm troubled with sleep-walking," he said, "and have been for some time. It's beastly. No doubt I do and say queer things for which I am not responsible."

Glen made no answer. He had heard sufficient to put him on what he thought was the right track, and he could have strangled Bellshaw without compunction. His hands itched to get at him, but he must bide his time, and make his punishment more severe. A quick death was too good for this man, if what he, Glen, surmised was correct.

"I advise you to go and rest," he remarked at last, "or you'll be fit for nothing later on."

"I'm always upset after this," said Bellshaw. "It unnerves me. If you want to get away early don't mind me. You can have as many buckjumpers as you care to take. Pick 'em where you like. I'll lend them to you. When you've finished with them you can return them, or sell them, and we'll divide the money."

He spoke feverishly, hurriedly, evidently with the intention of propitiating Leigh.

"No thank you," answered Glen. "I prefer to buy right out. I'll pick what I want, and a hundred pounds will more than cover it. A bargain's a bargain. Besides if I buy the horses I'm under no obligation to you, and I can do as I like."

Glen left him, went into his room, and shut the door.

Bellshaw walked to his room and sat down in a cane chair, cursing his luck that he should have walked in his sleep with Glen in the house.

What had he said?

This question kept on repeating itself with monotonous regularity. It sounded like the ticking of a clock in his head. On one occasion, when he woke up suddenly, and found himself on the verandah, it all came back to him how he acted in his sleep. He remembered it now. Had he said anything that Leigh could get hold of?

No, of course he hadn't. If he'd gone through the whole thing Leigh would not have understood what he meant. He laughed at his momentary fears. Glen Leigh might think him mad, but he would never guess at the truth; it was impossible. He started. Leigh had seen Garry Backham. Had Garry told him what he suspected? This was hardly likely. Why should he?

Glen Leigh did not lie down again. He was piecing the threads of a tragedy together, and Craig Bellshaw was depicted as a most hideous villain, a monster deserving of slow torture, if what he, Leigh, thought were true. He'd find out, get proof, and when there was sufficient to go upon, Craig Bellshaw had better beware. No mercy would be shown him. The scene when he found Clara Benny in his hut rose before him. He clenched his fists, raised them above his head, and vowed vengeance on Craig Bellshaw.

Taking a piece of paper he wrote in pencil in large letters LIN SOO. Dressing himself he went out. When he reached Bellshaw's door he pushed the paper underneath. He got his horse, saddled it, and rode towards Boonara.

CHAPTER XIV
"A MAGNIFICENT BRUTE"

It was late when Craig Bellshaw awoke from a restless slumber. His first thoughts were about Glen Leigh, and the happenings of the night. He wondered if he had gone. He hoped so; he had no desire to meet him again at present.

Opening the door he saw a piece of paper on the floor. Picking it up he read the name Lin Soo written in pencil in large letters.

He stared at it, wondering how it came there.

Glen Leigh must have slipped it under the door. But why? What had he to do with Lin Soo? Probably he had never heard of him, and yet there was no one else to do it.

Lin Soo. Supposing by some strange chance Glen Leigh had met the Chinaman. Even so, it was not likely Lin Soo would say anything about their transactions; he dare not. It flashed upon him he might have mentioned the name in his ramblings. If so, what had he said in connection with it? As he dressed he became nervous. If Glen Leigh had an inkling of what had happened there would be trouble brewing. He, and other keepers of the fence, had many grievances against Bellshaw which they would be only too glad to pay off. He must try and find out what had passed when he walked and talked in his sleep. It must be done warily.

"I'll see him before he returns to Sydney," he thought. "Even if he heard things he had no business to, I can silence him. Murder is not so easily shelved, and there's Joe Calder's death to account for."

Glen Leigh arrived at Boonara, and next day set out for Five Rocks, with Garry Backham and half a dozen good riders, used to the work, to round up a mob of horses and make a selection.

"The best plan will be," said Garry, "to drive 'em into the nearest yard, which is about half a dozen miles away, and test them. It will be a tough job, but the men who are going with us are used to that sort of work. They'll not mind how rough they are."

They did not ride near Mintaro, and Glen had no intention of going there again.

As he rode along with Garry, he mentioned about Craig Bellshaw walking in his sleep; he said he talked a lot and acted strangely.

"What did he say?" asked Garry.

"Something about leaving someone to die – a woman. He went through some curious antics, as though he were struggling with her. At the finish he said he'd leave her to wander about until she died. He must have committed some dastardly deed or he'd never rave like that," said Glen.

Garry was silent. Should he tell Glen how much he knew? There was no necessity for it, and he might be dragged into trouble if he did.

"I've never seen him walk in his sleep," he replied eventually, "but he's a queer fellow, and has more on his conscience than I'd care to carry."

"I've heard of strange doings at Mintaro when I was on the fence," said Glen.

"What sort of doings?"

"About women who came and stayed for a time and were sent away."

"I'd rather say nothing about it," answered Garry.

Glen did not press the subject; he could find out what he wanted later on. In case it were necessary, he would put a straight question or two to Garry.

It was late when they arrived at Five Rocks and camped for the night. The place was well named. Five large rocks rose from the ground in the strangest manner. They were conical, smooth, not many yards apart. Their formation was a strange freak of nature. They were probably the result of a fierce upheaval in some far distant age, when natives and wild animals were the only occupants of the vast territory.

There was a water hole in the centre of the group, fed from the rocks, and Garry said it was this which brought the horses round, for it was seldom dry.

The six Boonara men were strong sturdy fellows used to a life of hardships. They were not given to conversation and quickly rolled over, with their saddles for pillows, and went to sleep.

Garry and Glen talked for some time, but gradually they dropped off, and the silence of the night reigned round the eight recumbent forms.

As soon as daylight sprang upon them they were astir, and after a hasty, scanty meal they set out to round up the horses.

This was easier said than done. They traversed several miles before they sighted a mob, but were rewarded by seeing at least fifty.

"You'll be able to get what you want out of that lot," said Garry, "if we can get 'em into the yard."

"We'll manage that," answered one of the men. "I suppose the gates are always open?"

Garry said they were, and indicated the direction in which the horses should be driven.

The men set out to round them up on the side. Garry rode to the left, Glen to the right, so as to guide them in the right direction as they came along.

The horses quickly scented danger, and started off, but were headed back and driven at a wild tearing pace towards Garry and Glen.

The pace became faster and Glen watched the horses as he rode at top speed alongside them, and saw they were a good lot. He hoped their vicious propensities had never been checked. They were all practically unbroken. A few of them might have been handled and turned loose again, but it was improbable.

Towards the yards they went, the men shouting behind them. These yards were erected with a view to driving horses, or cattle, into them with the least trouble. They were at the end of a dried-up river between high banks, whose strange formation Craig Bellshaw had taken advantage of. The opening to the yards extended the whole width of the pass, and there were three large gates through which horses entering the cul-de-sac were bound to go. The difficulty was to head the wild horses into the opening. Once in they were easily driven into the yards.

As luck would have it, the leader of the mob headed direct for the spot, guided by Garry on the one side, and Glen on the other.

It was a stern chase, and it said much for the horses Garry supplied that they kept pace with the galloping mob. As the leader rushed into the narrow channel the rest followed him pell-mell. The men closed in after them, driving them along at full speed, rushing them through before they realised they were caught. When this happened the din was tremendous. The trapped horses gave vent to their feelings by kicking, squealing, and biting in an extraordinary manner.

The men rested themselves and their horses and watched them.

"There are pretty near fifty," said Garry. "They're a good-looking lot. It's the recent rain's done it. They've had more to eat than they've had for months past."

"It will make them the harder to mount," replied Glen.

"Suppose we give 'em a rest for a night, and try our luck to-morrow. They'll have been without food for about eighteen hours, and it may tame them down," Garry suggested.

This was agreed to and they camped for the night close to the yards.

Next morning business commenced in earnest. Likely looking horses were separated from the rest, and then the struggle began. The bulk of them were hard to saddle, still harder to mount, but it takes more than a savage, untamed buckjumper to conquer a man from the West.

There were some stiff fights, and now and again a horse more desperate than the rest managed to rid himself of his rider after a long struggle. He was at once selected by Glen as one of his lot.

Glen Leigh excited the admiration of the men by the way he rode a tremendous horse about six or seven years old. He was a rough untamed animal, probably a son of old Tear'em, Garry said. At any rate he was very like that incorrigible savage. He stood nearly seventeen hands, and had the strength of half a dozen ordinary wild horses.

It took them half an hour to get the saddle and bridle on, and Glen was another ten minutes before he got into his saddle.

The Boonara men never forgot that mighty struggle. They talked about it for years after, whenever buckjumpers were mentioned. It easily broke all records as far as they were concerned.

The huge animal was a prince among buckjumpers, and Glen had all his work cut out to keep his seat. The horse bounded up and down as though his legs were springs. One moment he was off the ground, on all fours, his back arched like a bended bow, the next his fore feet were planted firmly on the ground and his hind quarters elevated almost to the perpendicular. He twirled and twisted in an extraordinary fashion, lay down, crushed Glen's leg, rushed against the fence, did everything to throw his grim rider, but without avail. At last he stood covered in sweat, and quivering in every limb. It was then that Glen dismounted, but when he tried to get into the saddle he found the horse ready for another battle-royal.

"He'll do, Garry. If anyone can ride him in Sydney they'll earn any prize that may be offered. What a magnificent brute he is. If one could only tame him – but I expect that's impossible," said Glen.

"By Gad, you can ride above a bit," was Garry's admiring comment.

CHAPTER XV
THE BIG SHOW

The horses selected were safely railed to Sydney. Bill Bigs had secured stabling for them; such as it was it answered the purpose. They bore the journey better than might have been expected, but there was some danger and difficulty in getting them through the streets to Redfern. Once they were safely housed Glen felt a difficult task was well done.

He went to see Clara Benny. She welcomed him in her usual way, with a smile and a kiss. These constant kisses embarrassed Glen, but he liked them. They showed she had faith in him, and that gave him hope. He told her where he had been, and what for, watching her closely all the time, but there were no signs of recognition. Her memory in that direction was still a blank.

He had no doubt, after what he had heard and seen, that she was at Mintaro with Craig Bellshaw, and that he had driven her away, after a struggle with her, and left her to die a terrible death, which would have happened had she not found her way to the hut. For this Bellshaw should pay in full when the time came. Glen, however, had such a lot of work in hand with the horses that he had no time for anything else. It took a month to get them in hand so that they could be saddled quickly, but their bucking propensities were encouraged in every way. They were given full scope in this direction. Jim and Glen were constantly in the saddle. The big horse threw them both more than once, until Glen fairly mastered, but could not tame him.

He was a big bay horse with a savage-looking head, and his strength was great.

They called him The Savage, which was appropriate, and he did not belie his name.

There were fourteen horses in all, and a cheque had been sent to Craig Bellshaw for them.

Jerry Makeshift came to a private exhibition, and was enthusiastic about it. He gave the show valuable assistance in "The Sketch," spoke to many of his press friends, and the buckjumpers were boomed well, so that public excitement about them was roused to the highest pitch.

The building was well adapted for the purpose. A ring was formed and fenced in with stout posts and rails so that there would be no danger to the spectators. On the opening night the place was packed. A challenge had been issued. Two hundred pounds would be given to anyone who could sit The Savage for ten minutes; assistance would be given to mount. Fifty pounds was offered for riding half a dozen others, ten pounds for the remainder, all ten minutes' spells.

There were scores of men in Sydney and the surrounding districts who thought they were equal to the various tasks set.

Six well-known riders sent in their names. Two of them came from Wagga with big reputations, and one from Bathurst. They all tried The Savage. The horse had an easy task, for he was no sooner mounted than he shot riders through the air like rockets. Not one of them made the semblance of a fight with him.

Then Glen Leigh's turn came. He sprang into the saddle without assistance and the battle commenced. Round and round the ring The Savage bucked in a series of furious leaps. He kicked, squealed, fought desperately, tried to bite Glen's leg, but all in vain; he stuck to his seat in splendid style. The Savage finding these tactics of no avail, threw himself down. Glen slipped out of the saddle. As the horse struggled to his feet he sprang on again amidst a hurricane of applause. At the end of a quarter of an hour he concluded his exhibition, and when he stood in the ring holding The Savage tight by the bridle, the people cheered him to the echo, and the building rang with the shouts. The other riders were exciting, but paled before the performance of Glen Leigh and The Savage.

As the crowd left the building everybody was asking who Glen Leigh was, and where he came from. He was the most wonderful rider they had seen.

Jerry Makeshift had not given Glen away. He reserved the account he intended to publish for the issue following the opening night. He made good use of the material he had in hand. It so happened that "The Sketch" came out in the afternoon of the next day, and a full account of the "keeper of the fence" was given and the manner in which he had captured the horses and brought them to Sydney.

It was the genuineness of the show that attracted the people, and the place was crowded every night. Money came rolling in and the promoters were in high spirits.

Ivor Hadwin, Bellshaw's trainer, had been a great rider of rough, unbroken horses on his father's station, before they fell on evil times, were ruined by drought and moneylenders, and came to Sydney. On the station he had ridden the worst of buckjumpers, and he thought with a little practice he might be able to stick on The Savage for ten minutes and win the two hundred pounds. For four nights running he succeeded in riding the horses for the lowest prizes. Then he won one of fifty pounds, and Glen Leigh complimented him.

"You'll have to try for the two hundred," he said to Ivor.

"That's what I mean to do."

"Will you allow us to advertise it?" asked Glen.

"Certainly," answered Hadwin. "I've no objections. You've treated me well, and paid me the money I have won."

"We shall always do that, and I hope you have to draw the two hundred, but I warn you The Savage is a demon, and you'll have to keep your eyes open," said Glen.

"I believe at one time I could ride as well as you, but training has made me a bit soft," replied Hadwin.

Strange to say Glen Leigh did not know Hadwin was a trainer. No one told him, probably taking it for granted that he knew.

"You train racehorses?" asked Glen.

"Yes, at Randwick. Come and see me one day."

"With pleasure," said Glen. "Who do you train for?"

Ivor Hadwin smiled.

"I wonder someone has not told you about me," he said.

"I never asked. There is such a heap of things to do I've had no time, and it matters little who wins the prizes," returned Glen.

"I train for Craig Bellshaw," said Ivor.

Glen started. This was strange, especially as the horses all came from Mintaro.

"I know him," he said.

"So do I, too well," answered Ivor. "He's a hard man to please."

"I daresay he is," Glen agreed.

Someone called him away and he left Hadwin, saying he would call and see him next morning.

"I'll be there. Come about eleven," said Ivor.

"What night will you attempt to ride The Savage?" asked Glen, looking back.

"Saturday."

"That's the best night for us, thanks."

Glen told Bill what had passed between them when he reached The Kangaroo.

Jerry Makeshift was there. "You mean to say you didn't know until to-night who Ivor Hadwin was?" he asked.

"No."

"And you made no enquiries?"

"It didn't interest me. It was part of the show."

"And no one enlightened you?"

"No."

"Well, I'm blessed. That's funny; everybody knows Hadwin. I'm told he's likely to win the Caulfield Cup, or the Melbourne Cup, or both, for Bellshaw," said Jerry.

"Has Bellshaw some good horses?" enquired Glen.

"Yes, about a dozen in all, I think, and four or five above the average, but I don't go in for racing much. Tom Roslyn, of 'The Racing Life,' told me. He's the best turf judge we have on the press, and he can pick out good horses as easily as I can a bottle of wine."

"Then he must be an uncommon judge," laughed Bill.

"What's the name of the Cup horse?" asked Glen.

"Barellan. He's five years old now, and has a nice weight, so Tom says. I forget what it is," Jerry answered.

"Here's Nick Gerard's list," put in Bill. "Barellan, 8st. 7lbs., in the Melbourne Cup, 8st. 10lb. in the Caulfield Cup."

"I'll ask Hadwin to let me have a look at him when I go there in the morning," said Glen.

"Have you bought a ticket in the big sweep on the Melbourne Cup yet?" asked Jerry.

"No, I forgot all about it," replied Glen.

"I'll get one for you if you like," said Jerry.

"I wish you would. Here's the money," and he handed him a sovereign.

Jerry tossed it, "Heads a horse, tails a blank," he called.

The coin fell on the table head up.

"That's a fair start, anyhow. Let's hope it will be a good 'un you draw."

Glen laughed.

"I haven't much faith in sweeps. I was never tempted to throw money away in them."

"Have one in the Caulfield Cup as well?" suggested Jerry.

"No, that will be sufficient," returned Glen. "It's a sovereign gone to the bad."

"Don't be too sure about that; it's your maiden effort, and may prove successful," said Jerry.

"Get me a ticket at the same time," said Bill.

"All right, and I hope when I call here with them it will bring luck to The Kangaroo," answered Jerry.

"I can do with the cash," said Glen laughing, "Bill's got heaps."