CHAPTER VII.
BLACK DARNLEY'S VILLANY.—THE CONVICT STOCKMAN.
A brighter sun never shone upon the barren plains and fertile valleys of Australia, than that which appeared above the horizon on the morning after the murder and deed of violence committed by Black Darnley and his gang of bushrangers. Our party had not closed their eyes in sleep during the night, yet not one of us felt the least fatigue or desire to rest, until the woman, who was under our protection, had been placed beneath the shelter of her father's roof, humble as it was, and removed from all society and scenes of civilization.
As we supported the unhappy woman towards the habitation of the convict, and spoke words of encouragement which fell upon listless ears, we thought of a parent's love, and how strong it must exist in the heart of that old man, who had grown morose under his wrongs, yet still clung to the recollection of his child, and fancied her a girl, instead of a full-grown woman, and the mother of a family.
We had no doubt that her reception by her father would be warm; but we dreaded to know how he would deport himself upon the news of the harsh treatment which she had received being explained to him. He was represented to us by Smith as a man of quick passions—bold and fearless, or he would never have accepted the situation to which he was attached—surrounded, as he was, with dangerous neighbors—convicts, who cared no more about shedding the blood of a man than they did for the lamb which they slaughtered when hungry—wild beasts, who prowled around the fields at night, and skulked near during the day, and who, if urged by starvation, would attack the shepherds, provided they interposed between them and their prey.
This was the kind of man that was to be told that his daughter had suffered at the hands of men whom he had spoken with weekly for months, and who respected him only because they knew him to be no coward, and a convict like themselves.
Our walk across the prairie was slow and laborious. We were compelled to govern our pace with that of the woman, and as she was half-dead with grief, and insensible to our words of encouragement, we concluded to let her cry without hindrance on our part, and only hoped that our wagon might escape pillage during our long absence.
It was about nine o'clock when we reached the place where we were camped the night before. The wagon remained where we had left it; but it needed no tongue to tell that it had been visited, while we were away, and that a portion of the load was removed. Boxes of goods were overturned, and tops wrenched off, bales were cut open, and their contents scattered upon the ground; and, upon a near examination, we found that the impudent robbers had used our dishes to feast from, and that there were still smoking brands upon the fire where they had boiled their coffee, as though they knew we should be absent all night, and had plenty of time to enjoy themselves before our return.
For a few minutes, after Smith had seen the havoc which the bushrangers had made with his cargo, he seemed to need as much comforting as the unfortunate female under his charge. But he was a man, and had seen too much of the world's trials to get discouraged, so he proceeded to gather up his goods in the most philosophical manner, although an occasional oath did escape him as he missed some article of value which he knew could not be replaced except in Melbourne.
While Smith was occupied with his cargo Fred and myself proceeded to cook breakfast, a meal which we stood very much in need of, considering the labors of the night; but before we did so, our female friend was placed upon blankets and screened from the hot sun. She refused all offers of nourishment, and would not drink even a cup of strong tea which we proffered her. Coffee, we unfortunately had none, as the bushrangers had taken a fancy to the few pounds which were on the cart, and carried it with them, rejecting with seeming contempt the green leaves of China, of which there was a large box undisturbed.
Even the flesh of the kangaroo which we had hung upon the limb of a tree was saved; but our store of salt pork was gone, also the few vegetables, worth almost their weight in gold at the mines, which had been treasured until we should arrive at our destination.
Fred uttered a curse when he found that there was not a single potato left; but, after he had vented his displeasure, he applied his energies to the matter before him with all his usual determination.
Fred's clothing and my own, contained in one small canvas bag, was gone, and we stood in all that we owned. That did not distress us, however, for we were not likely to go into society where a change of dress was expected, but we did growl when we found that the scamps had carried off all our powder, excepting what our flasks contained.
"Whose work is this?" asked Fred, who was broiling a piece of kangaroo on a stick, and in a very artistic manner, for the purpose of tempting the poor woman's appetite.
Smith, to whom the question was addressed, straightened his stout form, and held up a number of flannel shirts, which he was taking to the mines on a venture. They had been cut with knives in the most wanton manner, and hardly a square inch had escaped.
"There is evidence enough of the perpetrator," replied Smith, pointing to the holes.
"Well, who is he?" cried Fred, sprinkling a little salt upon the burning flesh.
"There is but one gang of bushrangers in these parts who inflict wanton injury upon the goods of carriers. That gang is Darnley's!"
"And yet you pardoned him once when he was in your power," I said.
"True; and had I been here my cargo would have escaped molestation. He little thought that he was injuring me. I will do him the justice of saying that."
"He and his gang should be swept from the face of the earth," cried Fred, who, having cooked and seasoned the meat to his satisfaction, now approached the woman, who was lying upon a blanket, apparently unconscious of what was going on around her.
He had but uttered the words when she started to her feet, grasped his arm with a vehemence utterly at variance with her previous docility, and exclaimed—
"You are right, Kill the monster! Kill him, for he is unfit to live. Kill him, for he has wronged an unprotected woman, and committed outrages that will condemn him to eternal punishment in the next world."
She released her grasp of Fred and fell to the ground, where she sat rocking her body to and fro, uttering moans of anguish. But she no longer shed tears, and her eyes looked wild and threatening, as though her troubles had affected her reason.
"Who talks of killing?" cried a deep voice. "That is God's prerogative, not man's nor vain woman's."
We started, and turning saw that the convict stockman had approached us unawares, and was leaning on his long gun, keenly scanning the features of the unfortunate woman.
"There are some crimes which God designs man to punish," answered Smith, desisting from his occupation of gathering up his traps. "I think that the scoundrels who robbed my team deserve hanging, and I don't want to wait until they are dead to know that they are receiving punishment in the next world."
"The world to come is one of darkness to us mortals, and who can pierce its blackness. But God has promised light, and behold the angel of the Lord will reveal all things, for so sayeth the Book of all books."
"I don't know what you mean," replied Smith, who had listened attentively to the wild, rambling speech of the convict without comprehending its import; "but this I do know, that I would mash the heads of the bushrangers who robbed my cart, if they were within the reach of my axe."
"Trust in God for vengeance, for to him does it belong," exclaimed the convict, drawing a dirty