The Sweep Winner

Garry was very much surprised one morning when Glen Leigh walked into his place and bade him the time of day as though he had seen him a few hours before. Leigh was a cool hand and never flustered, except on special occasions, when he knew he had been put upon, or someone tried to bounce him. When he flared up there were ructions, as more than one man on the fence had found out during his time there.

"You're about the last man I expected to see in Boonara," said Garry.

"I daresay I am. I'm here on business. I can put some money in your way if you'll help me. We were never very friendly, but that's all over. I daresay you have no objections to earning money?"

"None at all. We're most of us that way inclined," replied Garry. "As to being bad friends, don't you think that was mostly your fault?"

"No. There was a good bit of underhand work on the fence, sneaking, and so on. Joe Calder and you were pretty thick. I fancy Bellshaw got some hints, true or untrue, from the pair of you."

"He never got any from me, whatever he did from Joe."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'll try and believe it. Joe Calder paid for all the wrong he did."

"Do you know what some folks say about here?"

"No."

"That either you, or Jim Benny, shot him, and that's why you both cleared out."

"They say that, eh?"

"Yes."

"They're wide of the mark. Why didn't they say it before we left, not when our backs were turned?" asked Glen.

Garry smiled.

"It wouldn't do for a man to accuse you to your face of murder," he answered.

"Then you don't hold me responsible for Calder's death?" Glen queried.

"Not likely, is it?" answered Garry. "What's the business you're here on?"

"I want a dozen of the worst bucking horses in the district. It swarms with bad 'uns of all sorts," said Glen.

"You're right. I never saw such brutes in my life. Mintaro's overrun with them, if one could only find them."

"Would Bellshaw sell some?" asked Glen.

"I should say he'd be only too glad to get rid of any you cared to pick."

"You can manage it, can't you? You were always on good terms with him," said Glen.

"I'm not now," replied Garry.

Glen looked surprised. He thought Bellshaw found the money with which Garry bought Bill Bigs out.

"You don't mind me saying it, but Bill fancied Bellshaw found you the money for this place," he said.

"He did, but he only lent it me. It's since I bought it we quarrelled."

"Serious?"

"Rather, but we've agreed to drop it. Still, we're not on good terms."

"Then I'd better go and see him alone," said Glen.

Garry hesitated. There was no telling how Bellshaw might act, as Glen ought to have sent in his notice to him before he left the fence. He knew, however, that Glen Leigh was capable of taking care of himself, and that he was more than a match for the squatter.

"Perhaps you had," he agreed. "I can tell you where the best horses for your purpose are to be found. I never saw such beasts, regular savages, half wild, unbroken, not even handled, and some of them six years old. They're most of 'em by old Tear'em, as they call him. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

"I've heard the name, but nothing much about him except that he's a savage."

"So he is, and so are all his lot. Tear'em has accounted for more than one man's life," said Garry.

"Why doesn't Bellshaw shoot him?"

"That's more than I can tell. It strikes me he rather likes the horse. It suits his temperament."

"Where are these horses to be found?"

"At the Five Rocks most likely. Do you know where that is?"

"No."

"To the south of Mintaro, a good twenty miles."

"And how the deuce am I to get at 'em? I shall want assistance."

"If you get Bellshaw's permission to bag a dozen or two I'll go with you to get 'em and take half a dozen men from here."

"That's a bargain," said Glen. "I expect it will be tough work getting 'em into the trucks when we have driven them as far as Bourke, if ever we get 'em there."

"Never fear about that. I know how to handle them. What are you going to do with 'em when they reach Sydney?"

Glen explained, and Garry thought the idea splendid. He was quite sure it would pay. He said he'd like to be in it.

"So you shall, Garry," said Glen, who was one of the quick forgiving kind. "How much?"

"A couple of hundred or so."

"It's as good as done. Of course, I must consult Bill. He's the prime mover, the originator of the scheme."

"You'll stay the night?" Garry asked.

"I've no time to spare. I must return as soon as possible, so if you'll let me have a fresh horse I'll ride on to Mintaro at once."

"You can have the best I've got. It'll be nothing very grand, but I'll find one that will take you there."

He went out, leaving him in the bar.

Glen as he looked round vividly recalled the day he rode in from the hut to see Bill on behalf of the woman. He wondered what she was doing. Was Jim Benny with her? He did not like the idea of Jim seeing too much of her. Yet it was foolish of him. Why should he not see her as often as he wished? She was supposed to be his sister.

Garry returned and said the horse would be round in a few minutes.

"Don't ruffle Bellshaw," he counselled. "He's not been in the best of tempers since he came home from Sydney."

"Bill had a talk with him in Pitt Street, and I saw him. Where do you think he was going?"

"I don't know. He's a queer sort."

"Into a Chinaman's shop in Lower George Street. A fellow named Lin Soo. A beastly-looking Johnnie. I wonder what he went there for?"

Garry was glad Glen was not looking at him or he might have seen his agitation and wondered at it.

"He knows a lot of curious people," he answered. "Probably he went to buy tea."

"It wasn't a tea shop, although that is what Lin Soo pretends it is. I expect, from what Bill said, it's an opium den, or worse."

"There are lots of 'em in Sydney," said Garry with an assumption of carelessness.

"Plenty in that quarter. They ought to root the whole lot out. It wouldn't be a bad job if the places were burned down."

Glen went out, mounted, and had a parting word with Garry, who said, "Remember what I told you about Bellshaw. There's something wrong with him, I'm certain."

"In what way?"

"He talks a bit wild, and seems to have something on his mind; he sees things," and he told Glen about the verandah incident. "I put it down to the spree he'd probably been on in Sydney."

"I'll humour him," replied Glen laughing. "If he turns rusty I'll have to try and get the horses elsewhere. There are plenty of 'em, I expect."

"Heaps, but none half so good for your purpose as those at the Five Rocks, by old Tear'em, or one of his sons," said Garry.

Glen waved his hand as he rode away. Garry watched him until horse and man became specks in the distance. As he went inside he muttered, "I think I can guess why Craig Bellshaw went into Lin Soo's shop."

CHAPTER XIII

LEIGH HEARS STRANGE THINGS

Craig Bellshaw was in an ill humour. He had received a letter from Lin Soo which upset him. The Chinaman said he had changed his mind. He could not supply him with what he required, it was too risky; already he had been in trouble with the police, and he dare not undertake it. These were not the exact words, for the letter was illiterate, but Lin Soo made it plain enough to Bellshaw.

"He hasn't returned the money I advanced him, but he'll have to if he doesn't fulfil his part of the bargain. There's no risk, at least not much, and he's done it before. I can't live here without some sort of comfort."

His quarrel with Garry Backham made him vindictive. He was rather afraid of Garry after what he had said. The man knew too much about certain things at Mintaro, doings, which, if they came to light, would get him into serious trouble. He would have to give Garry the money he had lent him, but intended keeping him in suspense for a time.

Glen Leigh arrived at Mintaro in the evening. When Bellshaw saw who his visitor was he wondered what brought him there. It was bold conduct on Leigh's part to come and face him after deserting his post.

"Are you surprised to see me?" asked Glen as he dismounted, and Bellshaw came out.

"Yes, you're a cool hand."

"Why?"

"I suppose you know I can have you arrested for deserting?"

Glen laughed.

"Who is to arrest me?"

"I have the power."

"And who's to look after me if you arrest me?"

"I can easily manage that."

"But you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because it would only cause you trouble and worry."

"What have you come for?"

"To buy horses," replied Glen.

Bellshaw laughed as he said, "Turned horse-dealer, have you?"

"I'm on the look out for a dozen of the worst buckjumpers I can find," said Glen.

"What for?"

Glen explained. Bellshaw became interested. There seemed to be money in the idea.

"You'll find plenty here, but you'll have to sort them out yourself. I can't afford men to help you."

"I'm prepared for that. Garry Backham will find the men."

"Backham's behaved badly towards me; he's not to be trusted. I shouldn't advise you to have much to do with him."

"He'll not get round me. I've had a long talk with him. He tells me you put him into Bigs's place; it was good of you to help him."

"And he's repaid me by the basest ingratitude, but it's generally the way if you help a man."

"It's not my way," said Glen.

"You'll stop the night?" asked Bellshaw.

"Yes, if you'll put me up."

"There's heaps of room. You're welcome to some of it," answered Bellshaw ungraciously.

After dinner they talked about the horses, and Bellshaw agreed to let him have a dozen for a hundred pounds, which was quite as much, or more, than they were worth, but Glen had no desire to haggle over the affair.

He slept in a room near Bellshaw's. In the wooden homestead sounds carried far.

About the middle of the night Glen was roused by hearing someone walking on the verandah, pacing to and fro. The footsteps sounded stealthy and peculiar. He could not make it out; his curiosity was aroused. He got off the bed quietly, he was only partially undressed, and went to the door, which opened on to the verandah. It was not locked. He turned the handle, opened it cautiously, and looked out. There was a faint light, and at the end of the verandah he saw Craig Bellshaw coming towards him; he was, like himself, only partially dressed. He did not wish Bellshaw to think he was spying on him so he almost closed the door and listened.

The pad of his bare feet on the boards sounded strange in the stillness.

Bellshaw stopped when nearly opposite Glen's room. He was talking in a weird voice; it sounded unnatural. As Glen listened he came to the conclusion that Bellshaw was walking in his sleep; to make sure he opened the door wide. He could easily make an excuse that he heard someone prowling about and wanted to see who it was – if Bellshaw were not asleep.

The squatter faced him, his eyes wide open, but vacant. He stared fixedly at Glen but did not see him.

"He's fast asleep," thought Glen, and crept closer to him, not being able to restrain his curiosity.

"Don't struggle, you fool, or make that horrid row. I'll put you in that hole if you do. Bite, will you, you vixen? I've had enough of you; you've tired me out with your grumbling ways. Brought you here by force! It's a lie. You came of your own free will. You knew why you came to Mintaro."

Bellshaw clutched the air with his hands as though trying to strangle something. Glen watched every movement closely. He felt he was on the eve of a discovery. Bellshaw went down on his knees and pressed the boards with both hands.

"Keep still, will you! Keep still," he muttered, "or I'll crush the life out of you. She's quiet now. I'll leave her here. She'll die. There's no place for her to go to. She'll wander about until she drops, and then give up. That's the best way. No one can say I killed her. I'll leave you here. It will give you some sort of a chance if it is a poor one."

Bellshaw got up and began talking again. This time Glen knew he was speaking to his buggy horses.

Suddenly Bellshaw caught Glen by the arm. For a moment the shock staggered him. The awakening was dangerous; he seemed about to faint. With an effort he pulled himself together and glared at Glen Leigh.

"What the devil are you doing prowling about on the verandah at this time of night?" asked Bellshaw.

"I might ask the same question. I heard your footsteps. Naturally I wanted to see who it was. You were walking in your sleep. I thought it best not to wake you. I've heard it's dangerous," replied Glen.

Craig Bellshaw shivered. He was thinking of what he might have said or done, in Leigh's presence.

"I'm troubled with sleep-walking," he said, "and have been for some time. It's beastly. No doubt I do and say queer things for which I am not responsible."

Glen made no answer. He had heard sufficient to put him on what he thought was the right track, and he could have strangled Bellshaw without compunction. His hands itched to get at him, but he must bide his time, and make his punishment more severe. A quick death was too good for this man, if what he, Glen, surmised was correct.

"I advise you to go and rest," he remarked at last, "or you'll be fit for nothing later on."

"I'm always upset after this," said Bellshaw. "It unnerves me. If you want to get away early don't mind me. You can have as many buckjumpers as you care to take. Pick 'em where you like. I'll lend them to you. When you've finished with them you can return them, or sell them, and we'll divide the money."

He spoke feverishly, hurriedly, evidently with the intention of propitiating Leigh.

"No thank you," answered Glen. "I prefer to buy right out. I'll pick what I want, and a hundred pounds will more than cover it. A bargain's a bargain. Besides if I buy the horses I'm under no obligation to you, and I can do as I like."

Glen left him, went into his room, and shut the door.

Bellshaw walked to his room and sat down in a cane chair, cursing his luck that he should have walked in his sleep with Glen in the house.

What had he said?

This question kept on repeating itself with monotonous regularity. It sounded like the ticking of a clock in his head. On one occasion, when he woke up suddenly, and found himself on the verandah, it all came back to him how he acted in his sleep. He remembered it now. Had he said anything that Leigh could get hold of?

No, of course he hadn't. If he'd gone through the whole thing Leigh would not have understood what he meant. He laughed at his momentary fears. Glen Leigh might think him mad, but he would never guess at the truth; it was impossible. He started. Leigh had seen Garry Backham. Had Garry told him what he suspected? This was hardly likely. Why should he?

Glen Leigh did not lie down again. He was piecing the threads of a tragedy together, and Craig Bellshaw was depicted as a most hideous villain, a monster deserving of slow torture, if what he, Leigh, thought were true. He'd find out, get proof, and when there was sufficient to go upon, Craig Bellshaw had better beware. No mercy would be shown him. The scene when he found Clara Benny in his hut rose before him. He clenched his fists, raised them above his head, and vowed vengeance on Craig Bellshaw.

Taking a piece of paper he wrote in pencil in large letters LIN SOO. Dressing himself he went out. When he reached Bellshaw's door he pushed the paper underneath. He got his horse, saddled it, and rode towards Boonara.

CHAPTER XIV

"A MAGNIFICENT BRUTE"

It was late when Craig Bellshaw awoke from a restless slumber. His first thoughts were about Glen Leigh, and the happenings of the night. He wondered if he had gone. He hoped so; he had no desire to meet him again at present.

Opening the door he saw a piece of paper on the floor. Picking it up he read the name Lin Soo written in pencil in large letters.

He stared at it, wondering how it came there.

Glen Leigh must have slipped it under the door. But why? What had he to do with Lin Soo? Probably he had never heard of him, and yet there was no one else to do it.

Lin Soo. Supposing by some strange chance Glen Leigh had met the Chinaman. Even so, it was not likely Lin Soo would say anything about their transactions; he dare not. It flashed upon him he might have mentioned the name in his ramblings. If so, what had he said in connection with it? As he dressed he became nervous. If Glen Leigh had an inkling of what had happened there would be trouble brewing. He, and other keepers of the fence, had many grievances against Bellshaw which they would be only too glad to pay off. He must try and find out what had passed when he walked and talked in his sleep. It must be done warily.

"I'll see him before he returns to Sydney," he thought. "Even if he heard things he had no business to, I can silence him. Murder is not so easily shelved, and there's Joe Calder's death to account for."

Glen Leigh arrived at Boonara, and next day set out for Five Rocks, with Garry Backham and half a dozen good riders, used to the work, to round up a mob of horses and make a selection.

"The best plan will be," said Garry, "to drive 'em into the nearest yard, which is about half a dozen miles away, and test them. It will be a tough job, but the men who are going with us are used to that sort of work. They'll not mind how rough they are."

They did not ride near Mintaro, and Glen had no intention of going there again.

As he rode along with Garry, he mentioned about Craig Bellshaw walking in his sleep; he said he talked a lot and acted strangely.

"What did he say?" asked Garry.

"Something about leaving someone to die – a woman. He went through some curious antics, as though he were struggling with her. At the finish he said he'd leave her to wander about until she died. He must have committed some dastardly deed or he'd never rave like that," said Glen.

Garry was silent. Should he tell Glen how much he knew? There was no necessity for it, and he might be dragged into trouble if he did.

"I've never seen him walk in his sleep," he replied eventually, "but he's a queer fellow, and has more on his conscience than I'd care to carry."

"I've heard of strange doings at Mintaro when I was on the fence," said Glen.

"What sort of doings?"

"About women who came and stayed for a time and were sent away."

"I'd rather say nothing about it," answered Garry.

Glen did not press the subject; he could find out what he wanted later on. In case it were necessary, he would put a straight question or two to Garry.

It was late when they arrived at Five Rocks and camped for the night. The place was well named. Five large rocks rose from the ground in the strangest manner. They were conical, smooth, not many yards apart. Their formation was a strange freak of nature. They were probably the result of a fierce upheaval in some far distant age, when natives and wild animals were the only occupants of the vast territory.

There was a water hole in the centre of the group, fed from the rocks, and Garry said it was this which brought the horses round, for it was seldom dry.

The six Boonara men were strong sturdy fellows used to a life of hardships. They were not given to conversation and quickly rolled over, with their saddles for pillows, and went to sleep.

Garry and Glen talked for some time, but gradually they dropped off, and the silence of the night reigned round the eight recumbent forms.

As soon as daylight sprang upon them they were astir, and after a hasty, scanty meal they set out to round up the horses.

This was easier said than done. They traversed several miles before they sighted a mob, but were rewarded by seeing at least fifty.

"You'll be able to get what you want out of that lot," said Garry, "if we can get 'em into the yard."

"We'll manage that," answered one of the men. "I suppose the gates are always open?"

Garry said they were, and indicated the direction in which the horses should be driven.

The men set out to round them up on the side. Garry rode to the left, Glen to the right, so as to guide them in the right direction as they came along.

The horses quickly scented danger, and started off, but were headed back and driven at a wild tearing pace towards Garry and Glen.

The pace became faster and Glen watched the horses as he rode at top speed alongside them, and saw they were a good lot. He hoped their vicious propensities had never been checked. They were all practically unbroken. A few of them might have been handled and turned loose again, but it was improbable.

Towards the yards they went, the men shouting behind them. These yards were erected with a view to driving horses, or cattle, into them with the least trouble. They were at the end of a dried-up river between high banks, whose strange formation Craig Bellshaw had taken advantage of. The opening to the yards extended the whole width of the pass, and there were three large gates through which horses entering the cul-de-sac were bound to go. The difficulty was to head the wild horses into the opening. Once in they were easily driven into the yards.

As luck would have it, the leader of the mob headed direct for the spot, guided by Garry on the one side, and Glen on the other.

It was a stern chase, and it said much for the horses Garry supplied that they kept pace with the galloping mob. As the leader rushed into the narrow channel the rest followed him pell-mell. The men closed in after them, driving them along at full speed, rushing them through before they realised they were caught. When this happened the din was tremendous. The trapped horses gave vent to their feelings by kicking, squealing, and biting in an extraordinary manner.

The men rested themselves and their horses and watched them.

"There are pretty near fifty," said Garry. "They're a good-looking lot. It's the recent rain's done it. They've had more to eat than they've had for months past."

"It will make them the harder to mount," replied Glen.

"Suppose we give 'em a rest for a night, and try our luck to-morrow. They'll have been without food for about eighteen hours, and it may tame them down," Garry suggested.

This was agreed to and they camped for the night close to the yards.

Next morning business commenced in earnest. Likely looking horses were separated from the rest, and then the struggle began. The bulk of them were hard to saddle, still harder to mount, but it takes more than a savage, untamed buckjumper to conquer a man from the West.

There were some stiff fights, and now and again a horse more desperate than the rest managed to rid himself of his rider after a long struggle. He was at once selected by Glen as one of his lot.

Glen Leigh excited the admiration of the men by the way he rode a tremendous horse about six or seven years old. He was a rough untamed animal, probably a son of old Tear'em, Garry said. At any rate he was very like that incorrigible savage. He stood nearly seventeen hands, and had the strength of half a dozen ordinary wild horses.

It took them half an hour to get the saddle and bridle on, and Glen was another ten minutes before he got into his saddle.

The Boonara men never forgot that mighty struggle. They talked about it for years after, whenever buckjumpers were mentioned. It easily broke all records as far as they were concerned.

The huge animal was a prince among buckjumpers, and Glen had all his work cut out to keep his seat. The horse bounded up and down as though his legs were springs. One moment he was off the ground, on all fours, his back arched like a bended bow, the next his fore feet were planted firmly on the ground and his hind quarters elevated almost to the perpendicular. He twirled and twisted in an extraordinary fashion, lay down, crushed Glen's leg, rushed against the fence, did everything to throw his grim rider, but without avail. At last he stood covered in sweat, and quivering in every limb. It was then that Glen dismounted, but when he tried to get into the saddle he found the horse ready for another battle-royal.

"He'll do, Garry. If anyone can ride him in Sydney they'll earn any prize that may be offered. What a magnificent brute he is. If one could only tame him – but I expect that's impossible," said Glen.