Settling Day. Gould Nat

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ this letter. He was not much of a hand at letter writing, and his thoughts did not flow freely. Living his lonely life, he did not hear for a long time the story his wife had circulated in Sydney.

      She had not only deserted him, but she had cast aspersions upon his character. She had blackened his name and accused him of many sins. To hide her own shame she threw blame for it upon him. Nay, she even went so far as to repudiate her own son, and say he was not her child. No outrage to the feelings of such a man as Jim Dennis could have been worse. He heard faint rumours of such things, but he refused to believe them. However, the truth was forced home to him by a friend from Sydney, who thought it better he should know the facts and try to refute them.

      But Jim Dennis refused to do so. He bore his second blow as he did the first, in silence, but he brooded long and deep over his wrongs. He hardened his heart and cursed the mother of his child.

      He clenched his hands and swore a solemn oath the child should never hear its mother's name. Nay, more, he would, if necessary, uphold what his wife had said, and make Willie think he had another mother who was dead.

      At all events, the lad should never learn, if he could possibly guard it from him, of the disgrace that had been put upon them both. Time had softened the blow to Jim Dennis, but had not healed it, and he was thinking of the bitter past as he sat by the bedside of his son.

      Then old Ned Glenn's words occurred to him.

      'What was he to make of the boy?'

      Time enough for that, but still it had to be thought about. He had often mapped out an imaginary career for the little chap, but had never been able to satisfy himself the conclusions he had arrived at were for the best.

      Ned Glenn's remark:

      'I hope I'll live to see him on the back of a cup winner for his dad,' had sent off his thoughts in another direction.

      Jim Dennis was a splendid horseman, no man in the wild district in which he lived could compare with him.

      He had broken-in the most obstinate of buck-jumpers and took a delight in mastering their stubborn natures. If a neighbour had a particularly savage, untameable animal, he would send to him and ask him if he could 'make the brute manageable.'

      Nothing suited Jim better. He did not think it a trouble, but a pleasure, and regarded it more as conferring a favour upon himself than the other way about.

      He would ride miles to lend a hand at this 'amusement,' as he called it, and thought he risked neither life nor limb by undertaking the task.

      'You are the rummiest fellow I ever knew,' said Dr Tom to him. 'You never charge anything for your trouble, and, bless me, if you don't seem to regard risking your neck as legitimate sport.'

      'Is there anything I can do for you in the breaking-in line?' Jim asked with a smile.

      'Yes, there is. I have bought a brute that licks creation,' said the doctor.

      'Ah!' said Jim, expressively. 'Didn't try him before buying?'

      'No, not much.'

      'How long was the price?'

      'Only a fiver.'

      'You cannot expect much for that.'

      'But I got more than I bargained for. The seller said he was quiet enough,' said the doctor.

      'Have you had him in the buggy?'

      'Can't get him to look at the vehicle, and he has kicked down a portion of the stable already.'

      'It wouldn't take long to kick the lot down,' laughed Jim.

      'Don't abuse my property, or the next time you are ill I shall decline to attend you.'

      'You mean the first time I am ill. I have never troubled you for any medicine yet,' said Jim.

      'Only for whisky,' said the doctor, with a twinkle in his eyes.

      'How about this horse? Must I tackle him for you?' asked Jim, changing the subject.

      'If you will be so obliging.'

      Jim Dennis took the doctor's steed in hand, and in the course of a severe tussle, extending over several hours, completely cowed him.

      To such a man as Jim Dennis the thought of his son being a jockey came natural. With a critical eye he looked him over and thought, 'He is just cut out for it. He'll never be a heavy weight and he's the exact shape.'

      'He'll have to pretty well live in the saddle here,' thought Jim; 'and he may as well make the most of his skill if he has any in that direction.'

      The lad turned over and, opening his eyes, looked into his father's face.

      'Do you feel better now, Willie?' he asked tenderly.

      'Yes, dad, all the pain has gone.'

      Sal put her hand on his head and smoothed back his hair. 'You will soon be well, Willie,' she said.

      'Does Dr Tom say so?'

      'Yes,' answered his father.

      'I'm so glad, dad. I want to be a big man and help you. There's no one to look after you but Sal and me. We'll take care of you. I mean to be as good a rider as you are.'

      'That's right. I hope you will be even better.'

      'I could not be better, because you are the best.'

      'You must rest now, and keep quiet. Give him his medicine, Sal.'

      The woman measured out the dose and placed the glass to his lips.

      'That's not nasty. I like it,' he said.

      A low, rumbling sound was heard. 'We are going to have rain,' said Jim, and his face brightened, for they were sorely in need of it.

      'That will do good, dad.'

      'Yes, and cool the air for you. You are not frightened at storms, are you?'

      'No, not when you are here. I'm never frightened at anything when you are near me.'

      It was a great consolation in Jim Dennis's life when he heard his child speak like this. He almost forgave the mother for deserting them, because it left Willie entirely for himself.

      The only thing he was selfish in was the love of his son, and he could not bear that to be shared with anyone.

      CHAPTER V

      A REGULAR SAVAGE

      For days and weeks there had been no rain at Wanabeen or in the Swamp Creek district. Jim Dennis was not a rich man, far from it, and he had to depend upon his small station for his living. Everything depended upon the weather. Without rain the land became a mere barren waste, and the stock perished. There were no artesian bores then, no artificial or scientific means of drawing supplies of water from under the ground, although Jim had a shrewd suspicion, from observations he had made, that underground rivers existed. He wished such rivers above instead of beneath the surface, or that he could find some means to tap them.

      Owing to his boy's illness he had not been on his run for several days, quite an unusual СКАЧАТЬ