_ CHAPTER LXIX. CAPTURE OF THE GHOST
At the sound of the voice, and more especially the hearty English oath, Mr. Brown sprang to his feet, drew his knife, and rushed towards the late supposed spiritual visitant.
All thoughts of fear were banished in an instant, as soon as we discovered that we had flesh and blood to deal with instead of grave-clothes and pithless bones.
"Surrender or die!" was the exclamation of Mr. Brown, as we neared the object of our late fears.
"Die be d----d! what do you mean?" was the question asked by the interesting individual who attempted to scrabble from the hole which he had been digging, but did not succeed before the ex-inspector was upon him.
"Stand back, or I'll let daylight into you," shouted the fellow, drawing a long knife, and acting upon the defensive, and the way he handled the reaper showed that he was in earnest.
We both hesitated for a moment, for the purpose of better addressing the person who was so peremptory in his threats, but first I took the precaution of possessing myself of a long smooth-bore gun which was lying near him, and which he had forgotten to seize upon being surprised.
The man before us was about six feet high, (when he appeared in the character of a ghost, we thought he would measure nine,) with long hair, and beard of fiery red, which seemed as though it had not felt the touch of comb or scissors for months. Two little eyes almost concealed, and overhanging eyebrows, glanced suspiciously at us, and watched our movements, with an evident impression that we intended mischief, and that if such was the case their owner was to be counted in for a fight.
Upon the back and person of the red-haired man were sheepskins, made to fit his body, with the wool outside. These we had imagined were grave-clothes, and had nearly broken our necks to escape from the wearer. We could not refrain from indulging in a hearty laugh at our late flight and the occasion of it, but our mirth made no impression upon the mysterious being before us.
"No ye don't," he shouted, brandishing his knife before our eyes as though we intended to entrap him into some snare. "You mustn't think that ye is goin' to fool an honest man who is digging for roots by the full of the moon."
"You dig rather deep for roots," said Mr. Brown, stepping to the edge of the excavation, and looking down in spite of the threatening appearance of the red-haired individual.
"I'll dig as deep as I please," he answered quickly.
"Of course I would," returned Mr. Brown. "Who knows but you may find a buried treasure there if you keep on digging?"
"Is that what you coveys was arter?" demanded the red head, with a degree of interest which he had not shown before. "I 'spected it when I seed you yesterday crossing the Lodden, and I determined to watch."
"What are you doing in this part of the country?" asked Mr. Brown, rather sternly, "as a recollection of the loss of his bottle of liquor the night before began to dawn upon his mind.
"You have no right to question me any more than I have you," was the sulky response.
"Who are you then?" the other asked, somewhat impatiently.
"That's for you to find out the best way you can. If confidence is wanted, why, tell me who you are," and the red-haired genius seated himself on the edge of the excavation, as though awaiting an answer, although he still kept in sight his long and dangerous looking knife.
"I know who you are," my friend said, at a venture; "you are a shepherd on the Hawkswood estate. We are officers of the law from Ballarat."
"It's a lie," was the brief rejoinder. "I don't believe any thing of the kind."
"You d----d vagabond," cried Mr. Brown, snatching the long gun from my hand and presenting it to the fellow's heart, "I have a strong desire to blow your liver out."
"You wouldn't shoot a fellow with his own gun, would you?" the impudent scamp asked, without manifesting any serious apprehension of our doing so.
"Well, no, I hardly think that would be just," replied Mr. Brown, lowering the muzzle of the gun, and beginning to think that he had met with a strange customer, whom it was better to conciliate than to cross.
"Come, tell a feller who you is," the red-haired genius remarked "do you belong to Buskin's gang, or is you on your own tramp?"
"Neither suggestion is correct--we are not bushrangers, and never expect to be. We are men of the law. Now tell us who you are," my companion said, calmly seating himself near the stranger, and lighting his pipe,--a proceeding that appeared to interest him intensely, for he snuffed the burning tobacco like a war horse within sight of a battle field.
"Just give me one draw of that 'ere pipe first," pleaded the would-be ghost, and his request was gratified.
"Real 'bacco, and a real clay pipe, by the bloody jingoes," he exclaimed. "It's many a day since I've had a taste of 'em afore."
In fact the tobacco appeared to open his heart amazingly, and in a short time we had his whole history.
"My name," the stranger said, "is Day Bly, although I'm commonly called Day, for short. I was dragged up in London, and when I was twelve years of age I was apprenticed to an undertaker. I used to take care of the shop, clean the hearse, and sleep in a coffin, with old pieces of mouldy velvet thrown over me to keep me warm in the night time.
"When I ate my meals, it was brought out of master's house by one of the servant girls, and set on a pine coffin, such as we used to furnish the poor devils who hadn't got much money, and who couldn't afford to go the expensive ones. When we had a holiday, such as Christmas, I'd slyly move the grub to one of the polished silver-plated affairs, and imagined that I was seated at a real mahogany table, and I tell you things use to taste better.
"I kept that up until one day I had a dish of meat, that, by some mistake, never satisfactorily accounted for, was really warm, and it took the polish from the slap-up affair, and left a white mark. For that I got licked, and rebuked for my presumption to aristocracy. I didn't mind a flogging in those days, 'cos I was use to 'em, and let me tell you that London 'prentices, as a general thing, get more blows than holidays."
"That's so," muttered Mr. Brown, who appeared to deeply sympathize with the speaker in that portion of his narrative.
"I grew up," continued the red-haired individual, whose cognomen was Day, "quite fond of corpses."
I shuddered, and turned my head to see if there were any lying near, for I didn't consider that the subject was a very proper one to talk about at that time of night, and under the circumstances I should have prepared a more agreeable topic.
"The gentleman needn't be afeard," muttered the fellow, with a sneer; "corpses won't hurt a feller, 'cos I've tried 'em."
He had seen me flinch at the word, and improved his opportunity to show his hardihood.
"In fact, as I growed older," Day continued, "I was quite useful in my way, and got trusted by master with some important jobs. I could lay out a poor covey, who hadn't any money, with as much despatch as any 'prentice in London, and when you come to the mourning part I was really terrible. I could groan more unearthly and oftener than any mute that master employed."
"Did you not give us a specimen to-night?" I asked.
"Well, yes, I think that I did pretty well to-night, but I was too anxious to frighten you off to pay particular attention to my business. I'll show you what I can do, if you'll just listen."
But I declined to hear him, and the undertaker's ex-apprentice continued his story:
"I used sometimes to be borrowed by rival undertakers just 'cos I could groan so beautiful, and had I been contented to have worked my way up in the world, until I got the position of head mute, I shouldn't be here, surrounded by this d----d cloud of mosquitoes, and not a particle of tobacco to put in my pipe, and no friend to offer me a bit."
The hint was so strong that I could not refuse to gratify our new acquaintance with a small piece of the weed, which was received with a grunt, expressive of gratitude.
"As I was saying," continued Day, filling his pipe while talking, "I was always an ambitious cuss, and used to like plenty of money to spend on dress and cheap jewelry, but I couldn't always get it; one day my fellow 'prentice made a proposal, which he stated would fill our pockets and enable us to sport 'round nights in great style. I was ready to listen to any thing that he had to offer, and then I learned that a doctor that lived next street wanted us to supply him with subjects, for which we were to receive two pounds each.
"Well, we used to go out nights with a cart, drive up to some burying ground, where we had planted a feller the day before, whip him out of his coffin, and be off in less than fifteen minutes. In that way we used to make a pretty good thing of it, and we had so much money that we could keep drunk about two thirds of the time. At length some meddling old fool suspected us, and one night we were caught by the police, with a body in our charge. We tried to shake the bloody swabs off, but it was no go. We were jugged, and the first thing I knowed my companion, who had put me up to the work, peached, and saved his precious carcass from being transported."
"How long was you sent for, Day?" asked Mr. Brown.
"Ten years--four of 'em I passed at hard labor, and then I got a ticket of leave, and came out here as a shepherd. I have been here two years last February, and should like well enough if I had plenty of 'bacco and rum. Them 'ere things is hard to get in this part of the world, and I haven't tasted a drop of rum for two months afore last night, when I got a sup out of your pack."
Mr. Brown ground his teeth with suppressed emotion.
"How dared you meddle with our property?" demanded my companion.
"'Cos, how did I know it was yourn. I found the pack covered with bushes, and I 'spose a man is entitled to what he finds in this part of the country?"
"That depends upon circumstances," replied Mr. Brown, with a cautious glance at the place where Day had been excavating. "For instance, if you have found a quantity of gold dust where you have been digging, it would not belong to you but to the lawful owners, or the agent of the owners, sent to recover it."
"I don't know about that," cried the red-headed genius, with a cunning glance from his little eyes, "but I do know that if I find any thing here I shall hold on to it until somebody stronger than myself comes along. I 'spose you would do so, and I shall."
"Before we quarrel on that point," I said, "perhaps you will inform us how you knew we were in search of hidden gold?"
"But I didn't know till I saw you begin to dig. I was lying under a palm tree when you crossed the Lodden yesterday, and I strongly suspected from your looks that you were bushrangers in search of a dish of mutton, in which case I should have tacked your bodies with a ball from my gun. I followed you a few steps, and then crossed your trail, skirted Mount Tarrengower, and from the summit of a gum tree I watched your motions until dark, when I stole towards your camp for the purpose of listening to your conversation. I heard 'enough to convince me that you were in search of hidden treasure, but before I could make out your plans you moved your camp to the Lodden, but left your pack behind, for which act of thoughtfulness I am much your debtor."
"And to defeat our plans you turned ghost," I said.
The red-haired genius chuckled as he answered,--
"I thought that the easiest way to get rid of you, for I have tried the character before with some success. Many a bushranger, anxious for a supper of fresh mutton, have I frightened into fits, and by that means my flocks are not molested near as much as my neighbors, ten or twelve miles from here. I like to play the ghost, too, for it reminds me of the time when I was living with plenty of half and half, and lots of 'bacco at my control. Wasn't my groans beautiful? People say that they is quite unearthly."
We felt ashamed to say that we considered them in that light, and therefore dropped the subject, although we encouraged him to relate the further history of his exploits.
"I got my sheepskins all ready during the day, 'cos I saw that you was idling round doing nothing, and I 'spected that the evening would be selected to begin work.
"I hunted up my old bullock's head, with the horns on, and which has seen some service, although I don't think that I shall be able to wear it again, 'cos your confounded pistol shot about used it up. Here it lays at your feet--examine it."
I found that the head had been cut and trimmed off, and then lined with pieces of old clothes, until it fitted the cranium of Day like a huge helmet.
The shot from my revolver had shattered the dry bones so that it was ready to tumble apart, and had to be handled quite carefully. I no longer wondered at our mistaking Day for the devil, and I congratulated myself that I was not frightened worse than I really was.
"I could hardly keep from yelling with laughter when I saw you two running, and then when I heard one of you tumble into the bog, I thought to myself that's an end of him. Now, Day, you jist go along and get the money that they expected to, and be a rich man for life."
"Then you knew that I was struggling for life, and would not come to my assistance?" asked Mr. Brown.
"Why should I?" demanded Day, with great _sang froid_. "I didn't know you or care for you. All that I desired was to drive you off as fast as possible, and d---- me if I didn't do it!"
"What did you think when you saw us return the second time?" I inquired.
"Well, the fact of it is, you rather started me then, 'cos I had no idea of the thing. I thought if I couldn't frighten you away with groans, my time as a ghost was 'bout over. You couldn't pay me for the head which you destroyed, could you?"
We declined to do so, and advised him to be thankful that he did not lose his life in his attempt to assume a character that did not belong to him; but Day treated our advice with neglect.
"If I couldn't hit a man at a distance of ten rods, ghost or no ghost, I'd never shoot again. Why, my old gun, that you hold on to as though you feared it would go off, can knock over a kangaroo at thirty rods distance, and never miss once out of a dozen shots. I tell you I have had to practise shooting since I have been a shepherd. The only thing my proprietor is liberal in furnishing is powder and lead."
I was just about requesting Day to remove his person from the place where he had been digging, to allow us to make an examination for the concealed treasure, when we heard the discharge of a gun in the direction of the mountain, separated from us by several valleys, where immense flocks of sheep were feeding.
The shepherd started to his feet, and looked eagerly in the direction of the sound; but nothing was to be seen.
"What is the meaning of that?" asked Mr. Brown.
"It means that Buskin's band of bushrangers is all the more alarmed at the sound of your pistol. They will search every inch of ground between here and the Lodden, but they will find out the occasion of the firing, and if you are men of the law, as you say, the highest tree in this section will serve for your gallows to-morrow."
"You know the members of the gang?" asked Mr. Brown.
"I never exchanged a word with one of them in my life," cried the shepherd, with an air of sincerity, "although I have often held short communion with them in my assumed character."
He pointed to the bullock's head, and grinned as he spoke.
"How do you know that the firing was done by bushrangers?" I asked, suspiciously.
"For two reasons--first, a bushranger will never kill more game than he wants to eat at one time; and, secondly, the gang has been absent from these parts for two weeks, and undoubtedly want to rest and recruit. They can't do that until they know that the whole of this section is free from stragglers and spies. Me they care nothing about, and will not molest unless I am too inquisitive."
"How do we know that this is not a trick of yours to get us to leave this island?" I asked.
"'Cos I shall advise you to do no such thing. The only safe place for you is on this island, where you must stay until the woods between here and the Lodden have been searched, and the gang is confident that the parties who were in this vicinity have escaped."
"But why not escape now? Our horses are fresh and fast," I added.
"Because I suppose that a dozen men are watching the fords of the Lodden, and a bullet in your back would probably be the first intimation of the presence of a party of skulkers. No, sirs, unless you can skim over the surface of this bog, and then scale Mount Tarrengower, your only place of safety is on this island. Trust to me."
"And then lose our horses," I replied. "I suppose that the bushrangers would like no better plan; but I for one will not consent to that?"
"Which is the most valuable to you, your lives or your animals?" asked Day, bluntly.
"Can we not save our horses as well as ourselves?" Mr. Brown inquired, turning to me for advice.
I confess that I could see no way to preserve them; and I still insisted that we had better trust to the speed of the animals than remain in a state of inactivity and siege on the island.
My plans were overruled, however, by both Mr. Brown and the shepherd, on the ground that it would be impossible to escape before daylight, at which time the bushrangers would probably retire to the heart of the woods for rest and sleep, and all their outposts would then be withdrawn.
I was at length reluctantly compelled to yield my opinion to the others, although I could not help, as I did so, wishing for the presence of Fred and Smith, and I thought how different would be our conduct.
All idea of finding the buried treasure was at an end; and I began to feel as though I should be grateful if I escaped back to Ballarat with my life, minus the gold which was so great a temptation for us to undertake the journey.
"Well," asked the shepherd, "what have you concluded upon?"
"To remain on the island, I suppose," returned Mr. Brown, rather sulkily, "although I don't see how we are ever to get back to town if we lose our animals. I wouldn't walk to Ballarat for half of Australia."
"Can't we manage to make the horses walk the bridge, and keep them on the island with us?" I asked.
"A good idea," cried the red-haired genius, suddenly starting up, "and the only wonder is I never thought of it. There is some danger in the attempt, but nothing compared to stealing a body in a graveyard in the heart of London." _