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before he came to the point. "I been spyin' as usual. Hasn't been much good
lately, till tonight. But I always keep sayin' it'll come some day. An' we got
nothin' but time on our hands. Gosh, Leslie, what date is it, anyhow?"
"My journal says December fourth."
"Jumpin' Jehosaphat!" ejaculated Red. "Near Christmas!"
"Maybe it'll please you to know that this Christmas I can remember last
Christmas--and be far happier," said Sterl.
"Please me? Wal! All I can think of now is Gawd bless Leslie!"
"Me! Why should God bless me?" inquired Leslie. Intuitively she divined that
she had taken the place of another woman.
Red gave her no satisfaction. Then seriously: "Sterl, I was snoopin' about
early after supper, an' I heahed Ormiston talkin' low to Bedford. Near as I
can remember heah's their talk word for word. Ormiston first: 'Tom, I tell you
I won't go any farther with Dann than the forks of this river.' An' Bedford
asked, 'Why not?' An' Ormiston said: 'Because I don't know the country across
toward the Warburton River. It's two hundred odd miles from the head of the
Diamantina through the mountains to my station. If the rains don't come we'll
lose all my cattle.' An' Bedford said: 'Why not go on with Dann till we make
sure of Hathaway's mob? An' also till the rains do come?'
"'I'll have his mob an' some of Dann's--you can lay to thet,' says Ormiston.
"'In thet case it's all right. Jack an' Morse have been kickin'. They want to
make sure of more cattle. They came in on this because of a stake
worthwhile--somethin' thet they could end this bush-rangin' on.' Then Ormiston
stopped him for fear somebody was listenin'. He left, an' I seen him later
with Beryl. How do you figger it?"
Sterl's speech flowed like running water. "Ormiston and his drovers have been
rustling, in a two-bit way, until this Dann trek. Now they're playing for big
stakes. Ormiston is the boss. He fooled the Danns. His drovers are all in it,
aiming to lead some of Dann's men to their side. Old stuff. You remember how
cheap, easygoing cowboys used to fall. How many have we seen hanged? They
murdered Woolcott, got his mob. They have Hathaway's, and will do for him,
sure as I know rustlers. Ormiston has a range somewhere over the mountains
east of the head of the Diamantina. The pot will boil over up at the forks of
this river. Ormiston means to get more cattle by hook or crook and then shake
us. Damn it, the thing looms bad!"
"Pard, I should snicker to snort. We've never met its equal, let alone its
beat. Bet you haven't figgered Beryl. Where's she comin' in?"
"Thunder and blazes! I forgot Beryl,"
"Yeah. But I haven't. An' I say she's the pivot on which this deal turns.
Ormiston's outfit haven't that hunch yet, I reckon. But we have."
"You bet. Red, that hombre will persuade Beryl to go with him--or he'll take
her anyway."
"Do you reckon he can persuade her?"
"I hate to think so--but I do."
Red's voice sank to a whisper. "Hey--I see someone comin'!" He peered like a
nighthawk into the gloom up the riverbank. "Holy Mackeli, talk about the
devil! It's Beryl an' Ormiston. Let's hide. Heah, this way!"
In another moment Red had himself and comrades under the bank, where a ledge
ran out a few feet, and some long plumed grasses obscured it from sight above.
A rustle of weeds above, a footfall, and then Beryl's rich voice: "Here, Ash,
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this is far enough. I'd like to hear the corroboree."
"Yes, you like those damned niggers. I smell cigarette smoke! Somebody has
been here," came in Ormiston's voice, guarded and low.
"Well, they're gone. And all I smell is cooking meat."
"Hazelton has been here with that damned little baggage," growled Ormiston.
"Hazelton is no good. Like as not he's one of those American gunmen. A killer!
Jack saw six notches cut on his revolver. That means the blighter has killed
six men, at least. I'd be a fool to provoke him further."
"Indeed you--would be, Ash," she said. "He has made himself valuable. Dad has
come to rely upon him."
"The Yankee is a help, I'm bound to admit that. But, Beryl, I can't stand your
praising him. I see him watching you. He is as fascinated by your beauty as
that redheaded churn of his. Their eyes just gloat over you. Beryl, you are so
lovely! I'm mad over you. I love you beyond reason!"
"Oh, Ash--do you, darling?" she murmured. "Ash--you!--must not..." she
remonstrated, but it was the remonstrance of love, that invites rather than
repels. That next tense moment, with its murmurings, must have been a dreadful
ordeal for Red Krehl. Sterl's heart was heavy for his comrade.
"Ash, darling, we came away to talk seriously," said Beryl, evidently
regaining composure. "I must not stay much longer. Tell me."
"Yes, we must settle it," he rejoined, in a deep low voice, without a trace of
hesitation. "Beryl, I'm leaving this trek at the forks of this river, not many
days from here."
"Ashley! Not going?--Oh!"
"No. We can't get along. Your father will never cross the Never-never! He will
be lost."
"We dared that risk," replied the girl. "Somehow Father has imbued me with his
wonderful faith. We'll win through."
"I doubt it. I almost know it. This interior outback grows impossible west of
the Warburton. I'm no pioneer--no empire builder."
"Ash, I promised to marry you. I will. But come with us to the Kimberleys.
Make a home there."
"No. You come with me. Stanley Dann will go on that interior trek without his
brother and Hathaway and me. Beryl, come!"
"Oh-h Ash! How I would love to! But I will not betray my father. I will go on,
even if they all desert him."
"They will, sooner or later."
"Never! Not Hazelton! Not that droll Red Krehl! Not Leslie, or her family.
They will go. And I will go, Ash!"
Her voice had begun low and rich with emotion, then gathering power and
passion, ended with the ring of a bell.
"But Beryl--you love me!" he cried huskily.
"Yes, I do. I do! But Ash, I beseech you--give up this selfish blind purpose
of yours. For my sake, Ash, reconsider!"
"Darling, I will, despite my better judgment," Ormiston made haste to reply.
Presently she was whispering brokenly, won over anew, if not to complaisance
then surely to belief. They moved away from the log.
Red sat with drooping head. He heaved a long sigh.
"Pard, in the pinch heah she saved me my belief in her honor," he said, his
voice trembling.
"She did, Red, she did, and I feel like a coyote--like a low-down greaser,
spying on her."
"Me, too. But my hunch was true. Sterl, Leslie, if it wasn't for you both, an'
a hellbent somethin', I'd walk right in this heah river!"
But Leslie was in no condition to answer. She clung to Sterl, weeping
convulsively.
CHAPTER 15
On the morning of December twenty-fourth, the day before Christmas, Stanley
Dann's trek toiled and limped into camp at the forks of the Daimantina, there
to be stranded until after the rainy season.
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Owing to waterholes lying in deep cuts almost inaccessible to the cattle,
dragging sand and terrific heat, the last fifty miles of that trek turned out
to be all but insurmountable. Smoke signals still preceded the drovers and
aborigines still followed them.
Dann selected his permanent camp site on the west side of the main river,
above the junction of the several branches, which were steep-banked, deep, dry
beds of rock and sand, with waterholes dispersed at widely separated points.
The heat was fast absorbing the water. Animals and birds ringed the pools in
incredible numbers. They would be dry in a few weeks. But below this junction
the main waterhole was a mile-long, narrow, partly shaded pool that would last
until the next rainy season. Except in sandy patches, grass grew abundantly.
Dann was assured of the cardinal necessities for man and beast for as long a
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