Home > Authors Index > Horatio Alger > In A New World; or, Among The Gold Fields Of Australia > This page
In A New World; or, Among The Gold Fields Of Australia, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
||
Chapter 12. The Home Of The Bushrangers |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XII. THE HOME OF THE BUSHRANGERS On a slight rise stood a collection of huts, covered with sheets of the bark of the gum-tree, held on by ties of bullock hide. For the most part they contained but one room each. One, however, was large and, the boys afterward learned, was occupied by the captain of the bushrangers. Another served as a stable for the horses of the party. This Harry judged to be the home of the outlaws, for no sooner had they come in sight of it than they leaped from their horses and led them up to the stable, relieving them of their saddles. Then the bushrangers sat down on the ground, and lounged at their ease. The attendants forthwith made preparations for a meal, appropriating the stores which had just been taken from Obed and the boys. The captives were not sorry that there was a prospect of a meal, for by this time they were hungry. They followed the example of their companions, and threw themselves down on the ground. Next to them was a young bushranger, apparently about twenty-two years of age, who had a pleasant face, indicative of good humor. "How do you like our home?" he asked, turning to Harry with a smile. "It is a pleasant place," answered Harry. "How would you like to live here?" "I don't think I should like it," Harry replied honestly. "And why not? Is it not better than to be pent up in a city? Here we breathe the pure air of the woods; we listen to the songs of the birds; we are not chained to the desk or confined from morning till night in a close office." "That is true, but are there not some things you do not like about it?" asked Harry significantly. "Such as what?" "Is it not better to earn your living, even if you are chained to a desk, than to get it as you do?" Harry felt that he was rather bold in asking this question, but he was reassured by the pleasant face of the young outlaw. "Well," admitted the latter, "there are some objections to our life." "It would not do for all to get their living as you do." "That is true. Some must work, in order that others may relieve them of a portion of their property." "Are you not afraid of being interfered with?" "By the mounted police?" "Yes." "We are strong enough to overcome them," said the bushranger carelessly. "What is the name of your captain?" asked Harry. "Stockton. No doubt you heard of him in Melbourne." Harry shook his head. The outlaw seemed surprised. "I thought everybody in Australia had heard of Ben Stockton," he said. "He has a great name," he added with evident pride. "He is as strong as a lion, fears nothing, and his name is associated with some of the most daring robberies that have ever taken place in this country." "And still he is free," said Harry suggestively. "The authorities are afraid of him. They have offered a reward for his capture, but it doesn't trouble him. He only laughs at it." They were far enough away from the rest of the party to carry on their conversation unheard--otherwise, neither Harry nor his informant would have ventured to speak with so much freedom. At this eulogium, however, Harry scanned, with some curiosity, the face and figure of the famous bushranger, who was sitting about three rods distant. He was a man of large frame, powerfully built, with hair and beard black as night, and keen, penetrating eyes that seemed to look through those upon whom they were fixed. He had about him an air of command and conscious authority, so that the merest stranger could not mistake his office. About his mouth there was something which indicated sternness and cruelty. He was a man to inspire fear, and Harry, after a steady examination, felt no surprise at the man's reputation. "How long has he been captain?" asked Harry. "Ever since I joined the band," answered the young man. "I don't know how much longer." "How long have you been a member of the band?" "Five years." "You must have been a mere boy when you joined." "I was seventeen. I am twenty-two now." "I should like to ask you a question, but you may not like to answer it." "Go on! If I don't care to answer, I will tell you so." "What induced you to join the bushrangers?" "I will tell you," said the young man, showing neither offence nor reluctance. "I was employed in Melbourne in a business establishment. One of my fellow-clerks stole some money, and, to screen himself, managed to implicate me by concealing a part of the stolen money in my coat pocket. I knew no way to prove my innocence, and my employer was not a man to show pity, so I escaped from Melbourne and took refuge in the bush. There I fell in with Captain Stockton, who offered me a place in his band. I accepted, and here I am." "But for the act of your fellow clerk you would have been an honest business man today, then?" "Very likely." "What a pity!" said Harry regretfully, for he was much attracted by the open face and pleasant manners of the young man. "So I thought at first, but I became used to it. After a while I grew to like the free life of the bush." "I don't call it free. You can't go back to Melbourne for fear of arrest." "Oh, yes, I have been there several times," said the young man carelessly. "How did you manage it?" asked Harry, puzzled. "I disguised myself. Sometimes the captain sends me on special business." "Like Fletcher?" asked Harry quickly. "No; I shouldn't like that work. It suits him, however." "I never should have taken you for a bushranger. You look too honest." The other laughed. "I think I was meant to be an honest man," he said. "That is, I am better suited to it. But fate ordained otherwise." "Fate?" "Yes; I believe that everything that happens to us is fated, and could not have been otherwise." "You think, then, that you were fated to be a bushranger?" "I am sure of it." "That, then, accounts for it not troubling you." "You are right. We can't kick against fate, you know." "I shouldn't like to believe as you do," said Harry earnestly. "You'll come to believe it sooner or later," said the outlaw, with an air of conviction. "Then what is the use of trying to lead a good and honorable life?" "That's just what I say. There isn't any use." Harry had never before met anyone holding such views of fate. He was interested, but repelled. He felt that he could not and would not accept any such idea, and he said so. "You'll change your mind after you become one of us," said his companion. "After what?" ejaculated Harry. "After you become one of us." "But that will never be. How can you think such a thing!" "Because I know it is to be. Why do you think the captain brought you here? He had your money, and couldn't get any more out of you." "Do you really mean what you say?" asked Harry, his heart filled with a sickening apprehension that this might be true. "Of course I do. The captain likes young people. You two boys are smart and bright, and he is going to make you members of the band." "He can't! I'll die first!" exclaimed Harry with suppressed energy. "You will see. But hush! don't speak so loud. For my part I shall be very glad to have you among us. You will be companions for me. You are only about a year younger than I was when I joined." At this moment their companion was called away, and Harry, bending toward Jack, whispered in his ear: "I am afraid he is right about the captain's intentions. We must try to escape as soon as there is any chance." "I'm with you," Jack whispered back. _ |
||