" Two hundred and fifty - not a penny more."
" She's worth more than that Fawcett."
" Bah ! she's handsome. I'll allow - uncommon handsome ; but she's got a temper that'll need breaking. Besides, I can't afford more."
" Very well then" - the assent was given rather sullenly - " two fifty and done."
The two men were seated in the verandah of an Australian timber built house, the elder a grey-haired, hard-visaged man about sixty, roughly dressed, but with a suggestion about him of having originally belonged to a better class than that which his present attire and surroundings indicated. His companion was not more than three or four-and-thirty, and, though fairly good-looking, was clearly neither born or bred a gentleman. His occupation it would be hard to determine, but his reckless look and air, his untrimmed beard and moustache, his sinister lip and eye at once keen and secretive might impress an experienced observer with the idea that his pursuits were not always lawful. He also was roughly dressed, and wore long riding-boots adorned with formidable spurs and a sombrero. Between his teeth was a huge cigar, at which he puffed while he talked.
The subject of his comfortably arranged bargain was not, as might have been imagined, a filly or a dumb animal of any kind, but a girl - a girl, who unseen in the growing darkness, was crouching beneath the verandah and overheard every word of the conversation.
" Right !" said Dick Fawcett. " I'll count out the notes in ten minutes, before I go, and the other half when the gal is handed over."
He spoke with a strong Australian twang, and sing-song. His companion's, accent was only slight, which showed that he was not a native of Australia.
" And that'll be to-morrow evening," replied the '" owner " of the " gal." " You'll marry her, Dick?" with a touch of anxiety in his tone.
Fawcett laughed. " Oh, yes ! I'll marry her all right," he said, as if he were yielding to some harmless whim. ''Salve your conscience for selling her, eh ?"
" I'm driven to that," said John Burwood, in pitiful excuse for his villainy. " I'm d - hard up, and there's no other way out of it."
" No, there ain't," said Fawcett, dryly. " Had to scoot from the old country, eh ?"
" That's so. I was a gentleman there " - he laughed harshly - " used to stake my thousands. There's a fellow I owe two thousand quid now. Lord, he was a punter, and always lucky, but square, mind you ! Came of a good county stock. Never mind him; it was other things drove me out here."
" Don't see how you can expect an up-country hostelry like this to pay" remarked Fawcett. " Nearest township forty miles away."
" It was better when the miners were at Wanee-Wanee ; now the mine's worked out and they're all gone. I can't even get away without money."
" Poor old fellow!" said Dick, half contemptuously. He rose as he spoke. " Well then, I'll come up to-morrow with the horses and three of my men and you'll hand over the gal."
They stepped through the open window into the sitting-room and the unseen listener crept noiselessly away, and by a side door entered the house. Nora Kermain, old Burwood's niece, was a slim, dark-eyed beautiful girl of nineteen. Ladyborn, refined, in every thought and feeling, no wonder , she shrank from the wooing, of Dick Fawcett, a coarse-minded uneducated man, even had he been an honest one, and Nora knew well that he was not. And now she was to be handed over, body and soul to this wretch ! Appeals to her uncle, the girl knew, would be in vain ; there was no help to be had ; the house stood almost in the bush ; escape was impossible by foot ; the country was open plain or impenetrable forest ; and there were two men on the premises besides old Burwood, villainous fellows, who would certainly give no aid to a helpless woman that would expose them to the vengeance of Dick Fawcett and his " gang " of cattle-raiders.
" There's one escape," Nora said to herself, with glittering eyes and bloodless lips, and that I'll take before I'll fall into Dick Fawcett's hands. I can kill myself !"
Presently Dick came out whistling; passed through the bar with a " Good night, my dear," to Nora, who made no answer, and vanished. Her uncle entered the bar the next moment, and was in the act of drinking some whisky, . when the stroke, of a horse's hoofs without made him pause, and a clear, ringing voice calling in crisp English, " Anyone within there?" caused him almost to drop his glass.
" Good Lord !" he gasped. " Wilmot Grahame's voice, as I live."
In through the open door strode, with clanking spurs, a tall, handsome man of perhaps thirty, deeply bronzed, with brilliant eyes and fine, clear-cut features. He looked picturesque enough, too, in his long tan , riding-boots, light loose coat and sombrero. His belt was garnished with a couple of revolvers. His eyes went straight to the girl with a flash of undisguised admiration, and his head was instantly bared. " Good evening," he said : courteously. Then he saw Burwood and his countenance changed. " By Jove !" he added, with a laugh. " You out here, Jack Burwood ! You owe me two thou over the last Derby !"
" And can't pay it my lad. What brought you out here?"
" Devilment - craving for change You know me of old." He glanced at Nora, a little puzzled it seemed.
" My niece," said Burwood briefly She looked singularly out of place Grahame thought in an Australian bar. His straight brows contracted.
" Well, I suppose I can stay here the night," he said.
" Yes. Nora, tell Joe to take Mr Grahame's horse" -
" By your' leave," said Grahame quickly, " I'll do that."
" Oh," said Burwood, roughly, " Nora's not a lady here."
" A lady is a lady everywhere," the other answered ; and calling the ostler, he gave the order himself. When he returned Nora had disappeared into the kitchen. Grahame said that anything in the house would do for him. " And after supper," said he, laughing, " I'Il win that two thou, Burwood."
" I haven't got as much," the old man replied. " I'm cursedly down on my luck."
Nora heard and set her teeth ; but without a word she carried the supper into the little parlour adjoining the kitchen. Grahame watched her covertly with deepening interest ; but he was silent.
" We can have a flutter with the cards if you like, by-and-by," said Burwood, turning to the door.
" All right ; I'll join you presently."
He went away and Nora came in to clear the supper things, and asked if anything else was wanted.
" Nothing, thanks." He had risen and was standing by the table. " This isn't the life for one like you," he said, involuntarily.
She flushed, but answered, quietly, " I know that. It won't last long."
" Are you going away ?"
" Yes."
" Home ?" 'Home', of course, meant England.
" Maybe," she answered, slowly, " but not the home you mean." She looked up into his face with a curiously penetrating gaze and added, " I have heard of you from uncle. He says you are a great plunger ; but you're not bad - as he is !"
" Heaven knows !" Grahame said. " I'm bad enough ; but gentleman always, I hope."
" I know that." She drew in her breath quickly, then glanced round her nervously. He went close to her and put his arm on her shoulder.
" What's the matter ?" he said, gently.
" A good deal; but you can't help me"
" Give me your, confidence, and we'll see. I can generally accomplish what I've a mind to."
" I can't get you into trouble sir."
" No 'sir ' to me, please, and no denial. I can tell you I don't like to see such as you in this place and in the care of a blackguard like John Burwood!"
" Care!" the girl repeated, bitterly. The next words were, half whispered. " There's a coarse and hateful cattle-raider in these parts, Dick Fawcett. Uncle has sold me to him for two hundred and fifty pounds, and he's coming to-morrow night with three of his friends to fetch me. I heard them strike the bargain this evening."
" Good, Heavens !" Grahame said, under his breath.
" That's all," Nora said, " and I am going to kill myself."
Grahame took the little hand in both bis own. " No, you won't," he said. " You'll trust to me - will you? Remember,' whatever happens, whatever I may say or do, you'll be as sacred to me as if you were a saint stepped down from its shrine."
She clung to the strong hand that held hers. " I do trust you," she said, " perfectly."
" Thanks." He kissed the little hand reverently and released her.
Wilmot Grahame dealt out the cards, as the two men sat down to play.
" I wonder," said the younger man, with a laugh, " if my old luck will cling to me ?"
" You're rich, eh ?"
" Oh, I've plenty, but not much with me." (" Would to Heaven I had!" was his inmost thought. " I could outbid Dick Fawcett." )
They played in silence for a few minutes. The stakes were not high, but Grahame won.
" You'll clean-me out," said Burwood hoarsely.
" And then you'll give me my quietus, and get it all back, eh ?"
" I'm not an assassin."
" You're none too good for most things, Jack Burwood. By the way your niece is a beautiful creature."
" You let her alone."
" I'm head over ears in love with her."
" Fudge!"
" Fact ! See here !" He bent forward. " I'll play you for her. If I win I'll hand you fifty pounds and the forty pounds I've won from you!"
" You're mad."
" I'm in sober earnest."
As he spoke Nora entered the room and paused.
" How dare you !" cried Burwood, in affected indignation, " make such a vile proposal ?"
" Vile, is it ?" Grahame rose and stretched out his hand to the girl. " Well, then, let her choose between Dick Fawcett, the cattle thief, and me !"
Burwood fell back in his chair ; Nora let Grahame draw her within his arm. There was a minute's pause as the two men faced each other.
" It's a lie," Burwood stammered at last.
" It's as true as you are false, you cursed villain ! You see she has made her choice she can trust my honour, at least. Now, make your choice. I'll give you a chance to win ninety pounds, and do the business quietly, and you can get off with your dastard life ; but if you refuse my terms, I'll simply empty one of my revolvers between you and your larrikins, and take your niece away without more ado. Will you play?"
Livid and trembling, Burwood gasped out, " But - if you lose " -
" I mean to win ! I'm always lucky ; the girl's mine whatever happens."
" I understand said Burwood, with a savage sneer. " She's over-heard and told you, and you've fixed it so that she'll have a claim on you I"
" Silence !" said Grahame, fiercely, " or I'll play you for her with bullets instead of cards."
Nora had recoiled, covering her burning face ; but Grahame caught her hand and draw her to his side. The manner, the touch, were chivalrous. The girl felt that whatever his claim might be he made none.
Then the play began. Burwood was agitated, Grahame sternly cool. Nora knelt with her face hidden ; and more than once her champion unconsciously pressed her closer to him. The stakes were his happiness as well as her honour.
" Euchred." It was Grahame's voice, low and clear. He rose up lifting Nora to her feet.
Burwood sat trembling;, breathing heavily. " Curse your luck !" he muttered ' Curse you !"
Grahame laughed ; his eyes were glittering.
" Here are the notes," he said slinging them on the table. " My winnings go away with me - tonight. If you're wise, Jack Burwood, you'll do your best to save yourself from Fawcett."
Without another word he led Nora into the adjoining room. " Go quickly," he said, " and get together a few things you may want. Come back to me here." " No, no ; the danger to you!"
" Hush ! I make for Stanhope Town ; then we can think what to do."
Nora left the room and speedily returned with a small s bundle in her hand. Then Grahame led her out to the stable and, made her stand in the shadow while he saddled and bridled his horse. In a minute he had mounted and swung Nora up before him, holding her firmly by one arm. A wild sense of triumph, a delicious sense of possession swept through him as he clasped the slight form to him.
Riding slowly until they were clear of the house, Grahame then broke into a swift trot. He could have wished the moonlight less brilliant, for some reasons, but it enabled him to discern the track more clearly, and, for the rest, Nora was his guide; she knew the country thoroughly Half an hour passed in silence; the hearts of both were too full for speech.
Suddenly Nora, able from her position to see the track behind them, said, hurriedly : " There's a horseman riding after us. It must be Dick Fawcett."
Grahame set his teeth and bent down with half passionate words. " Don't be afraid ! He shall not touch you,"
" But you - you - he will fire !"
" Let; him! He'll have to get in range first."
He put spurs to his horse and galloped on ; but his beast was tired, Dick Fawcett's quite fresh and the pursuer gained on the pursued. In a few minutes an angry shout came on the wind. It was evident that the cattle-raider, perhaps distrustful of Burwood had returned to the house only to discover Nora's flight. That he had shot the traitor, before pursuing the fugitive, there could be little doubt. A few minutes of breathless racing , then a bullet whizzed past Grahame's head.
" Cling, to me," he whispered, and slackening speed a little loosed his right arm, snatched one of the revolvers from his belt, turned in the saddle and fired as he rode. It was a splendid feat of marksmanship. There was a yell, from Dick Fawcett. He threw up his hands, reeled, and fell, and the frightened horse galloped wildly across the plain, dragging the dead or dying robber, whose foot was still in the stirrup. But Grahame for a moment drew rein, and in an uncontrollable impulse wrapped : the dear captive to his heart, and pressing his lips to her brow. " My darling ! My darling !" he said, brokenly.
The rest of that moonlight ride was like a happy dream to both. Arrived at Stanhope Town, Grahame took his precious charge to the principal " hotel" and placed her in the care of the landlady. Later in the day, he said (for it was dawn when they rode into the town) they could talk matters over. And by-and-by Nora came to her knight-errant in the hotel parlour. Her cheek flushed, her eyer, drooped as he took her hard, and asked her if she had any friends or relations in England or elsewhere. She knew of none, she said ; but maybe she could get something suitable in the way of employment in Stanhope Town. In colonies questions of caste didn't count for much as they do in the old country.
But Grahame shook his head. " I couldn't leave you here," he said, " and I can't bear to think of your doing hard work. Besides - Nora if you weren't so friendless, so unprotected, I would be silent ; but I can't now. No, no !" as she half recoiled, " it isn't pity or generosity ; I love you, you must have known it last night !" Her hand was in his again ; she did not resist, and so he took her right into his arms and kissed her on the lips, not once, but many times, Nora still yielding.
They went " home " together - husband and wife ; a brief wooing, truly; yet neither ever repented the day they met so strangely, on which Wilmot Grahame won a wife at cards
The world never knew the whole romantic truth ; for John Burwood lay dead on his own verandah on the eventful night of that thrilling ride and Dick Fawcett was found, days afterwards, in the bush, with a bullet through his heart. - The " Budget."
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