The Sweep Winner

"There's no telling," declared Glen gloomily.

The Buckjumping Show was a huge success, and a large ground had been taken for it in Melbourne for a month, during which time the Caulfield and Melbourne Cups would be decided.

Glen was surprised when his share was calculated by Bill Bigs. It was far more than he had expected in his most sanguine moments. Jim Benny was given a bonus with which he was more than contented. Nearly all Jim's spare time was spent with Clara, who was in perfect health, and had developed into a very pretty woman. Her mind, however, was still a blank as regards everything before she came to Glen Leigh's hut. Glen thought some sudden shock might restore the lost memories. At the same time the effect might be serious. Probably it would be better for her peace to remain as she was. Glen's feelings towards her were difficult to analyse. He knew by the way she always greeted him that she regarded him as a father. At first he thought he loved her, but gradually this feeling lessened, and he knew it was pity and compassion that had grown in him, not love. He was more solicitous towards her than he had ever been, spoke kindly, looked after her every comfort, and she trusted and idolised him – but not as a lover.

With Jim it was different. He was younger than Glen, and there was no doubt about his affection for her. She treated him differently from Glen, was more reserved, never kissed him; she shrank away when he came too near, and was nervous in his presence.

Jim noticed all this and misunderstood. He thought her love was all for Glen Leigh, and this embittered him. He had not the strength of character of the elder man, could not stand trials so well, was soon cast down and dispirited. He had seen her kiss Glen when they met – she always did – and yet when he came near her she shrank away.

Glen seemed to get the best out of life, while he, Jim, had hardly anything to look forward to.

He forgot what Glen had done for him. A growing jealousy rose against his comrade; such feelings were easily roused in him.

"I must know what he means, what she means," said Jim to himself. "It's torturing me. I can't stand it – I won't."

CHAPTER XVIII

A QUESTION OF JOCKEYS

Craig Bellshaw's life at Mintaro was a burden to him; if his time had not been occupied there is no telling what might have happened. During the day he was constantly out of doors, but at night, his lonely dinner ended, he sat down and brooded. There were many actions in his life that would not bear the searchlight. He did not regret them; he was hardened. What he missed was the presence of a woman. It could not be called companionship, because he never gave his friendship fully to anyone. It would soon be time for him to go to Sydney and see his horses do their work for the big Victorian Meeting. He had great hopes of Barellan winning the Melbourne Cup, and thought Flash had a chance in the Caulfield Race. He heard from his trainer regularly, and the reports were favourable. Letters for Mintaro were left at Boonara by the mail coach which came twice a week.

He read the account of the buckjumping exhibition, and begrudged Bill Bigs and Glen Leigh their success. They were his horses; why had he not thought of such a show and run it himself? He always begrudged fortune's favours to others.

He had been uneasy ever since he found the piece of paper with Lin Soo written on it pushed under his door. He tried to persuade himself it meant nothing, but he knew different. It was a warning and he wondered how much Glen Leigh knew. Then there was Garry Backham. He must see him before he went to Sydney and find out how the land lay in that quarter.

His man brought the post-bag and placed it on the table. Craig unlocked it and took out the letters and papers. He opened one from Ivor Hadwin, who gave favourable accounts of the progress of all his horses, and prophesied a successful campaign in Victoria. Barellan was specially mentioned. No horse could be doing better; he had come on by leaps and bounds and was at least ten pounds better than when he ran at Randwick.

"If he is he'll win the Cup," said Craig.

He placed the letter on one side to answer; the post-bag had to be at Boonara next day. There were several bills, some circulars, newspapers, and one or two packages. A letter, directed in a lady's hand, claimed his attention. He knew the writing; it was from Mrs. Prevost.

"She wants more money, I suppose," he muttered. "She'll have to want. I've been too openhanded with her, and she's not a bit grateful. Women never are."

As he read the letter his face became gloomy: it was not pleasant to look at. The contents angered him. She expressed her intention of severing all connection with him, said she had no desire to see him again, and much more to the same effect.

Craig Bellshaw was in a rage. He considered Mrs. Prevost a useful adjunct to his visits to Sydney. There was always a house to go to, where he could be sure of comfort, and the presence of a woman who was good to look upon; and now she coolly said she had no desire to see him again. There were no words of apology or respect. She repudiated the bargain, or what he considered the bargain, between them. There must be some solid reason for it, and the only one he could think of was another man. She would find he was not to be treated in this cavalier fashion. Some men might stand it; he would not.

He made up his mind to go to Sydney at once. There were plenty of hands at Mintaro, and his new overseer would look to things. He announced his intention of going next day.

He started in the early morning, arriving at Boonara about eleven o'clock; from there he would take the coach to Bourke. He went to Garry Backham's, and asked him if there was anything he could do for him in Sydney.

"He's mighty polite," thought Garry, "there's some mischief afoot."

They talked for some time, and Craig said. "About the money I lent you to buy this place, I've thought it over; you're welcome to it. You were always reliable when you were with me and did your work well."

"He's changed his tune," thought Garry.

"You can consider yourself free of that debt," said Craig.

"I thought you'd come round to my way of thinking," replied Garry, who knew well enough why he had suddenly become generous.

"It was always my intention to make you a present of it," Craig declared.

"Then why didn't you do it at first?"

"Because I wished to see what sort of man you were, and how you'd take it."

"Glen Leigh and Bill Bigs have done well in Sydney with the show," said Garry.

"It's lucky they got some of my horses. He seems to have picked out the right sort."

"Trust him for that. The fellow they call The Savage is a ripper. He's by old Tear'em, I'll swear. I never saw such a brute, but Leigh mastered him as soon as he was yarded."

"Everybody seems to think he's a wonderful man," said Craig.

"So he is. They're few and far between," answered Garry. "I see your horses are doing good work for the Cups. Do you fancy them?"

"Barellan and Flash both have chances."

"I've got a couple of tickets in the sweep on the Melbourne Cup," said Garry.

"If you draw Barellan I shall expect you to stump up a good round sum out of your lot," Bellshaw told him.

"You'll get nothing out of me if I draw him, but it's about a million to one I don't," retorted Garry.

"Whoever draws him will have to give me a cut out of the sweep or they'll stand a poor chance of getting a run for their money," said Craig.

"You don't mean to say you'd scratch Barellan for a race like the Melbourne Cup merely because you were not offered anything out of the sweep?" Garry asked.

"I would. No man shall get the better of me. It's only fair. I have all the expense incurred over the horse."

"Then you're not much of a sportsman."

"Just as good as anyone else," returned Craig.

"Well, if I happen to draw him you can scratch him. You'll not get me to lay you anything," said Garry.

When Bellshaw arrived in Sydney he went to Hadwin's house at Randwick, where there was always a room for him. The trainer would have preferred his staying elsewhere, but could raise no objections. The horses pleased him, Barellan especially. He seemed in rare fettle, and the trainer said no horse could possibly have done better.

"You'll have to look out for a jockey soon, or they'll all be snapped up. There is likely to be a big field, thirty runners or thereabouts," said Ivor.

"What about Nicholl?"

"He'd be all right if you could get him."

"Is he engaged?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then what's to prevent me engaging him?"

Hadwin hesitated, then said, "He'll want a big fee."

"And can't I pay it?" thundered Bellshaw.

"You can pay it. The question is will you?" said the trainer.

"If it's reasonable. What will he want?"

"A hundred at least."

"Then he'll not get it. I'm not going to pay any jockey a hundred, win or lose. If Barellan wins it's a different matter."

"Shall I see him about it or will you?" asked Ivor.

"You'd better see him. If he asked me that figure there's no telling what I'd say to him," Bellshaw answered.

Hadwin saw Nicholl on the training ground next morning. Bellshaw was there, standing some distance away.

"Will you ride Barellan in the Melbourne Cup?" asked Ivor.

"What sort of a chance has he?"

"A winning chance. You can have the leg up on him this morning; he's just coming out."

"All right," agreed Nicholl.

"Then come with me," said the trainer.

When Barellan came out with Nicholl up there was a stir among the watchers. Luke Nicholl was one of the best jockeys. There were few to equal him, and it was known he had not a mount in the Cup, as he declined to tie himself down. His appearance on Barellan at once set tongues wagging as to the possibility of his riding the horse in the Cup. Nicholl liked the way Barellan moved. He knew he was a good game animal, and 8st. 7lb. was a nice weight. He could do it comfortably.

"He moves well," said Nicholl, when he dismounted.

"You'll find him a far different horse in a race. He's not a track horse," said Ivor. "Will you accept the mount?"

"It all depends."

"What on?"

"The amount to be paid me."

"What do you want?"

"A couple of hundred."

"Win or lose?"

"Yes."

"He'll never give that. I doubt if he'll give a hundred, but come over to my place and talk it over. I'd like you to be on him, Luke, because I think he'll just about win," said the trainer.

"You can't expect me to ride him without I get a good fee," answered Nicholl. "I'm worth it, eh?"

"You are, and if I had the arranging of it I'd give you fair terms. You'll just suit Barellan; he wants a lot of riding. He's a lazy beggar, and you know how to handle such horses."

"When shall I come over?"

"After breakfast."

"I'll be there soon after nine," said Nicholl, "but you can tell him I must have my price. I've not worked my way to the top of the ladder without trouble, and I mean to get what I'm worth."

"I'll do my best, but don't be hasty over it, or you'll regret it," replied Ivor.

Something in the trainer's earnest manner appealed to the jockey.

"We've always been friends," he said. "I'd like to ride a big winner for you."

"Then ride Barellan. He's one of the best horses I ever saw," said the trainer.

CHAPTER XIX

MRS. PREVOST'S DILEMMA

There was a tough skirmish when Nicholl met Craig Bellshaw at Hadwin's, but eventually the owner of Barellan gave way, mainly owing to his trainer's representations and persuasion, and settled with the jockey to ride both his horses, Flash at Caulfield, and Barellan at Flemington, for two hundred, win or lose, five per cent. on the stakes, and five per cent. on any sweep money that might be forthcoming. Having fixed this up, with a good deal of grumbling, Bellshaw set out for Manley to see Mrs. Prevost, who was not aware he was in Sydney.

Bellshaw was in a bad temper. Things were all awry, and even the thought of winning the Melbourne Cup with Barellan did not soothe him. It was a disagreeable surprise to Mrs. Prevost when she heard who her visitor was.

Bellshaw made no bones about the matter. He asked her what she meant by writing him such a letter after all he had done for her; he upbraided her in no measured terms, used harsh names, and behaved somewhat brutally. It was his way with women.

She resented his conduct and replied forcibly. He saw she was determined, and this angered him still more. There was a scene, they lost their tempers, and mutual recriminations were the result. Mrs. Prevost was expecting Glen Leigh for lunch and wished to get rid of Bellshaw before he arrived. She dreaded their meeting, not on his account, but for the effect it might have on Leigh, and her influence with him. Bellshaw, however, did not seem in any hurry to go. He was loth to give her up; in his way he liked her.

"The fact is," he said, "you've taken up with someone else. I warn you he shall know all about you."

"You are cad enough to do that?" she asked.

"You can call me names if you wish; I don't care, but I'll make it mighty unpleasant for you," he said.

There was a ring at the front door. Mrs. Prevost was at her wits' end how to act. It was no doubt Glen Leigh.

She left the room hurriedly, and opened the door herself. It was Glen Leigh. She took him into the front room, and said her maid had just gone out; she promised to return in a few minutes, and left him.

Glen thought this strange. She was agitated; something must have upset her. He wondered what it was.

Craig Bellshaw also wondered why she had gone out of the room. He heard her open the door, and someone come in. Who was it? The voice sounded like a man's.

She gave him a hint that he had better be going.

"Not until I have seen who your visitor is," he said.

"If I have a visitor it is no business of yours," she retorted.

"It is. I am still interested in you even if you treat me badly," he said.

What was she to do? How could she prevent a meeting between him and Glen Leigh? She cudgelled her brains but was at a loss to find a plan. Bellshaw did not seem inclined to move.

Glen Leigh waited a quarter of an hour and became restless. What detained her? He heard voices in the next room, but could not distinguish who was speaking. Perhaps she had a visitor. If so, why did she not tell him?

"I must ask you to leave my house," she said desperately.

Bellshaw laughed.

"Your house?" he sneered.

"Yes, mine. You did not know I had bought it."

"Have you paid for it?"

"I have, if that's any consolation to you."

"And you wish me to believe that? I wonder where you got the money from?"

"It was my money. I am not without means," she answered indignantly.

He laughed as he got up, but there was an evil look in his eyes.

"I'll go. I don't wish to interfere with your pleasures, or any conquests you may make, but I've not done with you, I promise you that," said Bellshaw.

He took up his hat and opened the door. She followed him. Would he go into the front room?

Her heart beat fast. She felt faint. It was a trying moment.

Glen Leigh might see him leave the house, but he would not know who he was; if Bellshaw saw him there was no telling what might happen.

Bellshaw passed the door of the room, opened the front door, and walked away without saying another word, or even raising his hat. It was a tremendous relief now he was gone; she waited a few minutes to regain her composure, and then with a faint smile, entered the front room.

Glen Leigh was looking out of the window; he recognised Craig Bellshaw and was so astonished he did not hear her open the door. Scores of questions crowded into his mind as he saw the owner of Mintaro walking away; the main questions were how came he to Mrs. Prevost's, and for what purpose?

She saw Glen with his back turned to her, and knew he had seen her visitor; she was not aware Leigh knew him, and of his doings elsewhere of which she was in ignorance; she had, as yet, no conception of the depths of infamy to which Bellshaw had sunk.

"I am sorry to keep you waiting so long, but I had a visitor," she said.

"I saw him leave the house," said Glen, turning sharply round.

"He's an old friend; I have known him many years." She could not make him out. He was looking at her steadily; his eyes seemed to pierce her.

"I know him," said Glen quietly. "I did not expect to see him in your house."

"You know him!" she exclaimed aghast, the colour deserting her cheeks.

"Yes. Do you know him well?" he asked.

"Yes, but why do you ask in such a strange way?"

"I do not think you know what Craig Bellshaw really is. I am sure you do not. If you did he would never have been admitted to your house," said Glen.

What was she about to hear? She must learn more; how was she to excuse herself to him? What if he and Bellshaw met? There would be revelations, her backsliding would be magnified a hundred times; she must have the first say no matter what it cost her.

"What is he?" she asked.

"A bad man, almost a murderer. I dare not tell you what has happened at Mintaro. You would be overwhelmed with shame to think you ever had dealings with, or ever took the hand of such a man," said Glen seriously.

She looked very charming in her distress. Even Glen Leigh would have been very dense had he failed to see the appeal in her eyes, or to recognise that she liked him very much indeed.

No woman had ever appealed to him quite in the same way as Mrs. Prevost; he had thought a good deal about her since he saw her last.

"Tell me about him," she said.

"What was he doing here?" asked Glen who doubted everything where Craig Bellshaw was concerned.

"He came to see me, not at my request, but I was not surprised. I had written to him at Mintaro telling him – " she hesitated.

Glen waited. Should he help her out? He thought he could. Rage was surging up in him, not against Mrs. Prevost, but against Bellshaw. Was she another of his victims?

That was hardly possible; yet there were unmistakable signs of acute distress at the situation in which she was placed. As Glen thought, a sudden wave of feeling overwhelmed him, and would not be beaten back. He loved this woman. By some strange fatality Bellshaw was connected with her as he had been with the other woman. He felt a mad desire to rush after Bellshaw and kill him. This passed in a few seconds; then he said, in answer to her hesitation, "Telling him you never wished to see him again."

She looked at him in great surprise, feeling intense relief. This man understood her, because he knew Craig Bellshaw for what he was. Already he had forgiven her without the asking. He did not blame her, but the man. In that case he guessed some of the truth and the rich blood crimsoned her cheeks. She bowed her head; then she looked straight at him and said, "That is what I wrote him – that I never wished to see him again. I ordered him to leave the house, my house, when you saw him go. I will never admit him again."

"I am glad of that," said Glen. "Very glad. When did you write to him?"

It was the truth she would tell him.

"The day after you came here with Jerry," she said.

Glen smiled.

"What decided you to write?" he asked.

"You did."

Again he smiled.

"I wonder how that happened?" he said.

"Can't you guess?" she answered in a low voice.

"No, at least not yet. Later on I'll try – with your permission."

"You have it now. I want a friend – like you."

"You don't think he'd dare to come here again?" asked Glen savagely.

"There is no telling what he might do. Try and avoid him."

"Why should I?"

"He's a dangerous man."

Glen laughed.

"I'm more than a match for him in many ways," he replied.

After lunch she asked him to tell her about Craig Bellshaw.

"I will tell you one terrible thing which I believe to be quite true," he said. "I am waiting to find out. It is a matter of time, and you must promise not to repeat what I tell you."

She readily gave her promise and he told her in a graphic narrative all about the woman who came to his hut, what happened there, and since her recovery. He concealed nothing, not even about Lin Soo. He thought, in justice, she ought to know what manner of man Craig Bellshaw was.

As she listened, horrified, believing every word, she felt deeply humiliated when she thought what Bellshaw had been in her life; she shuddered with repulsion.

"Bring her here," she said. "Let her be my companion. I may be able to call back her lost memories. I will love her for all she has suffered. You will trust her with me, will you not?"

CHAPTER XX

THE DRAWER OF BARELLAN

They decided to allow Clara to go to Mrs. Prevost's, and Glen took her there. She was given a kindly welcome. Mrs. Prevost was glad to have her, liked her at once. The feeling was mutual. Glen felt he had left her in good hands, that she would be happy and comfortable.

"Don't let Bellshaw see her if by any chance he calls," said Glen, "but he will be going to Melbourne for the Cup meetings, and our show leaves to-morrow. I shall not see you again for several weeks."

"I shall look forward to your return. I hope you will do well there," she answered.

"I think we shall. There is no reason why we should not do even better than in Sydney."

As Glen was leaving, having bid good-bye to Clara, he said, "On my return I may have something to tell you; something which I hope will be for our happiness."

She smiled brightly, guessing what he meant. There was a prospect of sailing into a peaceful harbour after a stormy life. Glen Leigh was indeed a man. He had not even questioned her about the past, or her relations with Bellshaw.

The horses, and all the paraphernalia of the show, went to Melbourne by steamer, Glen and Jim going with them. During the short voyage Glen thought Jim taciturn and ill-tempered. He asked him the cause.

"I'm sick of life," said Jim, "I never seem to get anything out of it. You and Bill have all the luck."

"I don't think you've done so badly," objected Glen, "and now you have a share in the show. What more do you want?"

"A good deal more. I want happiness, and I don't seem in the way of getting it."

"Why not? What troubles you? Tell me, lad; I may be able to help you."

Then, as they sat on deck, Jim poured out the vials of his ill-tempered wrath on Glen's head. He told how he loved Clara, but that she avoided, shunned him. He complained that it was very hard lines he, Glen, should come between them. For a long time he went on grumbling, and Glen listened to him patiently not saying a word. He let him exhaust himself before he made any reply.

"Jim, you're a fool," said Glen. "When she first came across my path and found her way to my hut, as I sat and nursed her back to life, you helping me, I thought I loved her. I was sure of it. That same feeling possessed me when we came to Sydney. It remained with me until something happened which opened my eyes, something totally unexpected. She put her arms round my neck and kissed me."

"I know," said Jim. "I know. She always does. She loves you."

Glen smiled as he said, "You're a bit shallow, Jim. You can't see far. I knew when she kissed me she would never love me like that, so I gave it up. She regarded me as a father, that was all, and I'm quite contented she should. I've found out the feeling I had for her was not that of a lover. I love her, I always shall, because I rescued her from death. It's only natural. You've no need to fear me as a rival. I love another woman, not her."

Jim's face brightened. He knew Glen spoke the truth; he always did. It clouded again as he thought how she avoided him.

"The reason she doesn't kiss you," said Glen, "is because she feels different towards you. She doesn't think it would be right. I've watched her, and I think if she does not love you now she will in days to come. She'll miss you when you are away from her in Melbourne. Probably she'll talk to Mrs. Prevost about you. Wait till you come back and then see how the land lies. She's not fit to marry yet, not strong enough. It will be better to wait until she recovers her memory."