FOUR years had elapsed since we had become the owners of Montalta, and never once throughout that time had either Flaxman or I found occasion to regret either our bargain or our partnership. Our good luck, which had brought us the place, continued to abide with us, and in consequence we were making money fast. If I had a grievance at all it was that we could not become the owners of the adjoining station, for O’Donoghue, to everyone’s surprise, was still playing his old game--that is to say, one month tottering on the brink of insolvency, and the next spending money like water in the nearest township. Where it came from was a riddle which everyone asked, and none could answer. His wife, who was of the same extraction as himself, dressed like a peeress of the realm; his daughters rode the best horses in the district; while he himself was in a state of hopeless inebriation for weeks at a time. On the occasion of one of these outbursts he came within an ace of burning himself out of house and home, and doubtless would quite have done so, but that a man, camped in the scrub behind his house, saw the flames in time and sounded the alarm. Even then the miserable owner had to be carried out by the overseer and one of his own daughters, singing “Lannigan’s Wake” at the top of his voice, and hitting out wildly at everyone who came near him. The fire had originated in his office, where he had been drinking alone. Strange though it may appear, this near thing did not induce him to mend his ways; on the contrary, he became worse than ever, until the whole district made up its mind that the end must shortly come. And come it surely did. His eldest daughter, Kate, a wild, brazen hussy of five and twenty, who spent the best part of her time flirting with the men about the place and quarrelling with her mother and sisters, took it into her head to run away from home with the ne’er-do-well son of the township’s chief publican. O’Donoghue perceiving a chance of a row, and bent upon making a fool of himself, immediately he discovered it, rode off to interview the youth’s father, taking enough liquor with him to make sure that he should be in proper fighting trim by the time he arrived there. The owner of the hotel (save the mark!) had been similarly occupying himself, and a battle royal ensued. The greater part of the population turned out to witness it, and the story of the encounter is told to this day. Fortunately, but small damage was done, mainly by reason of the fact that neither man was in a condition to control his own movements, much less to direct them against his adversary. Eventually they were separated by their respective friends, induced to allow bygones to be bygones, and three hours later parted company so affectionately that some people found it difficult to believe that they had ever quarrelled. The result was inevitable. Mrs. O’Donoghue, never too amiable, upbraided her husband in no measured terms for his behaviour, attributed her daughter’s flight to his disgraceful conduct as a parent, commented on the fact that they were ruined, that the bank had called up the mortgage on the property, and then left him to reflect upon the situation. He did so, with the assistance of that devil’s agent, the demi-John, and to such good purpose that by midnight he was ripe for anything. Accustomed though he was to heavy drinking, he had reached the limit at last. He took a gun from a corner and loaded it with ostentatious care, muttering to himself as he did so. It was an ancient muzzle-loader, and perhaps for the reason that he had not used it for some considerable time, he made the mistake of giving each barrel a double charge. It took him some time to find caps for the nipples; after which he opened the door and went out into the passage. A flood of light streamed from the sitting-room, the door of which was open. He crept towards it to find his wife there, sitting at the table staring straight before her out into the dark verandah.

“Ellen, my honey,” he said, in a wheedling tone, “here’s your loving husband come to see ye, with a pretty little toy in his hand which ye’ll be afther admirin’, when ye know the use of it.”

She looked round, saw what he carried, and took in the position at a glance. Whatever else she may have been, she was as brave as a lioness. She did not scream or beg him to put it down. She merely remarked that he’d get no ducks on the lagoon if he did go out, and then rose and walked quietly towards him. He was afraid of her as a rule, and even now he might have succumbed to her influence, but for the devil that was inside him.

“And shootin’ ducks on the lagoon is it ye’d have me be afther?” he cried, flourishing the weapon as he spoke. “Sure, I’ve got me own duck at home, an’, by the Merry Piper, I’ll make her dance to me tune--so hark to that, my darlin’. None of your tantrums for me, ye Jezebel. Who put me children on to hate me? Who drove me gurl into runnin’ away from home and her lovin’ father? Look at this now, and say your prayers, for ye’ll be wantin’ ’em all before I’ve finished with ye. If ye but make a sound I’ll shoot ye that minute.”

The wretched woman must have realised by this time in what a terrible position she stood. He was mad with the drink and crazy with the hatred he had long felt for her.

“Dennis,” she said, “ye would not shoot your own wife, the girl ye used to say ye loved?”

“Isn’t it shoot ye, ye mean?” he answered. “And why not? We’re ruined, are we? Then ye’re better dead; ’tis a pity, for sure, that we have not Father Callaghan with us now to give ye a kindly partin’, but there was no time to arrange it, seein’ the way these little divils wid the green eyes has been followin’ me about. Never mind, I’ll beat them yet, or my name’s not Dennis O’Donoghue.”

As he said this he looked wildly round, and immediately gave a spring backwards as if to escape from something that was pursuing him. His eyes were nearly out of his head with terror and the perspiration was streaming down his face. A death watch was ticking in the woodwork of the wall, and in the silence that followed, the blood curdling howl of a wild dog reached them from the darkness outside.

“Look, look,” he cried. “Holy St. Pathrick, look at thim. Thousands of them, all twisting and curling and curling and twisting like divils of the pit. Oh, save me, save me, they’re crawlin’ all over me. Down, down ye divils or I’ll fire. Ye won’t, won’t ye, thin here goes.”

Whether he really meant to fire or not, I cannot of course say, but the fact remains that he did so, either by accident or design. The result, seeing the way in which the rusty old weapon was loaded could scarcely have been otherwise. Both barrels burst, the man was killed instantly, while his wife fell to the floor with half her left side blown away. So Dennis O’Donoghue came by his end.

The noise of the explosion roused the house and brought the overseer flying in from his quarters, which were close by. There was nothing to be done for the man, but between them they carried the dying woman to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. A messenger was despatched post haste for the doctor, who lived in the township twenty miles away, but they might have spared themselves the trouble, for the case was hopeless, and an hour or so before daylight she, too, had said good-bye to the troubles and misfortunes of this mortal life. A month later the children were sent South to relatives, the bank had taken possession of the station, and it and the stock were for sale. Unfeeling though it may seem to say so, our opportunity had come at last. We immediately placed ourselves in communication with the bank, made the necessary enquiries, and looked forward to the time when we should be able to turn the two properties into one.

Winter was just commencing when we commenced our negotiations with the bank, and I was anxious, if possible, to get matters in proper trim before the rainy season properly set in. Times out of number did we anathematise the delay; banks, like the law, will not be hurried. Everything must be done according to precedent, and as slowly and with as much red tape as possible. However, like most other things, it came to an end at last, and the firm of Tregaskis and Flaxman were registered as the proprietors of the Stations Montalta and Condalba. It was a proud day for us, as you may suppose, more especially for your humble servant, whose ambition it had ever been to unite the two properties. The next thing to be done was to dispose of the cattle that remained and to stock it in their place with sheep. Then there would be a woolshed to build in readiness for the next season, a large amount of fencing to be done, boundary riders’ huts to be built, and an efficient staff to be engaged, under the direction of a head overseer, who would reside at the homestead which had seen the tragic end of the O’Donoghues, man and wife. At first we had thought of dividing our time between the two places, but Flaxman had put his veto on the arrangement. Nothing, he declared, would ever induce him to pass the night in that melancholy house; and from this attitude I could not get him to budge. I have not hitherto mentioned that among his other peculiarities he was strangely superstitious--believed implicitly in visitants from the other world, and even carried his fancy to such extremes that it made him uncomfortable to go into a dark room; saw winding sheets in the candle, mysterious faces in the fire, and would no more have thought of sitting down thirteen at table than he would have thought of smoking a cigar in a powder magazine. In all my experience I do not think I have ever met a man so thoroughly saturated with superstition. At one time I used to chaff him on the subject, but finding that he took it to heart, I abandoned it and permitted him to continue undisturbed in his belief in spirits, wraiths, portents, and other mysterious denizens of the other world.

One morning in early spring I returned from a long ride that I had been obliged to undertake into the back country to find that a black boy from Condalba had ridden over with a note from Ellicott, the overseer, for which he required an answer. It appeared that he was anxious to see me concerning a tank we were about to commence, and which was to be used for conserving the water on the western boundary of the run. He had discovered, it appeared, what he considered to be a better spot for it, and was desirous of consulting with me about it. In reply, I scribbled a note to the effect that I would come as early as possible on the following day without fail, and sent the boy back with it. According to my promise I set off next morning soon after daylight, intending, if possible, to return the same night. Ellicott received me, and we inspected the new site together. I agreed with him that it was an improvement on the old, and bade him set to work on it as soon as possible. The afternoon was spent in visiting the wool-shed, then in course of erection, planning some new drafting yards, and trying to induce a fencing contractor to realise the fact that spending half his time in the township was not only bad for his health, but also detrimental to his business, so far as I was concerned. So quickly did the time pass, that it was four o’clock before I was ready to start for home. Ellicott endeavoured to persuade me to remain for the night, but this I did not wish to do, for the reason that I had arranged a meeting with a drover for the following morning, and wanted to have a look at some of the stock before he should put in an appearance.

“I think you would be well advised to stay,” said Ellicott. “I fancy we’re in for a heavy storm. Those clouds look very threatening, and you’ll be pretty sure to find it dark in the scrub.”

But I would not listen. Having made up my mind I was determined to stick to it. I accordingly mounted my horse, bade him good-bye, and rode off, devoutly hoping it would not rain before I reached home. My hopes, however, were not destined to be realised, for I had not gone five miles before it began to descend upon me. I prayed that it might soon stop, but instead of doing so it became steadily worse, until at last it came down a veritable deluge. Worse than all, it was growing so dark that it was only with difficulty I could see my way ahead of me. The track, if by that name it could be dignified, had not been used for many years until we came into possession of the station, and for that reason was barely decipherable at the best of times. In the dim light by which I was now travelling it was every moment becoming more and more a matter of pure guess work. Indeed, at last I came to the conclusion that I had lost it altogether. I dismounted and looked about me, only to have my supposition confirmed. There was no sign of it to be discovered, look where I would. The rain was pelting down in true tropical fashion, and as I had not come out prepared for it I was soon in that pleasant condition generally described as being “wet to the skin.” A pretty plight I was in, to be sure--a thick scrub, pouring rain, almost total darkness, wet through, unable to light a fire, no blankets, and not a mouthful of food to eat. What a fool I was not to have accepted Ellicott’s advice. Had I done so I should have spent a warm, comfortable evening; instead of which I was to wait in misery and utter discomfort as best I might until it should be light enough for me to continue my journey. I was experiencing one of the most uncomfortable phases of Bush life, and anyone who has ever done so will corroborate me when I say that there is nothing more miserable than a wet camp, even when one is provided with the most approved coverings. But, as the saying has it, “what can’t be cured must be endured,” so I unsaddled my horse, hobbled him with a stirrup leather, and prepared to put in the night as best I could. Fortunately I had my pipe to comfort me, which was better than nothing; otherwise I don’t know how I should have beguiled the tedious hours.

Towards midnight the rain ceased for a time and a heavy thunder storm set in, the lightning was almost incessant, while the thunder boomed and rattled overhead as I had never heard it do before and hope I never may again. How devoutly I wished I were out from among the timber, I must leave for you to imagine. I never knew from minute to minute what might happen. In the intervals between the flashes the darkness was so dense that it was quite impossible to see one’s hand before one’s face. Then for a second all would be lit up with a blue glare and I could see the trunks of the trees around me, the rocky side of the hill round which the track ran, or should have run, and, occasionally, my horse, standing head up, ears pricked, amazed at the wildness of the night. Then all would be Cimmerian darkness once more. During one of these brief periods of light I caught a glimpse of a large rock some fifty or sixty feet distant from where I was standing. I waited for the next flash to come and then started for it, groping my way over the rough ground to the accompaniment of the thunder. At last I found it and sat myself down on the warmest side of it, if either of them could by any stretch of imagination be so described. Would the night never pass, I continually asked myself. Every minute seemed an hour, and every hour an eternity. To amuse myself I repeated every word of poetry I could recall, not once, but dozens of times; tried to sing, but gave up the effort when I discovered that it only added to the misery of the night. Once during a lightning flash I saw a dingo slinking by not a dozen paces from my shelter. Whether he saw me or not I cannot say, but he went his way up the hillside, and a quarter of an hour or so later, during a temporary lull, I heard him raising his melancholy voice in lamentation a quarter of a mile or so away. If you have never heard a dingo howl, pray that you never may. It is the most blood-curdling sound with which I am acquainted--the cry of a screech-owl, or of a dog baying the moon, is as nothing compared with it.

Another hour went by, and yet another, and still the storm did not abate one jot of its violence, nor did there seem to be any prospect of its doing so. It would not be daylight for at least another three hours, and how I was to put in the time I could not, for the life of me, imagine. I dared not move about among the timber, for more than once a heavy crash had told me that some giant of the forest had succumbed to the fury of the tempest, and bad as my present condition was I had not the least desire to make it worse to the extent of a broken arm or leg, or possibly a severe crushing from a falling tree. I accordingly remained where I was and thought of my warm bed at home and the fool I was not to have started a couple of hours earlier from Condalba.

After what seemed an eternity I struck a match, and screening it with my hand examined my watch. The time was just ten minutes to three. As I replaced it in my pocket a vivid flash of lightning lit up the little open space in which the rocks stood. Startled by it I looked up and saw a sight I shall never forget as long as I can remember anything. I had only time to see it and it was gone again, but not the impression it had produced upon me. I don’t mind confessing that my first feeling was one of complete surprise; my second of absolute terror; and I would defy you, my reader, to have felt otherwise than I did under the circumstances. Let me tell you why, and you can judge for yourself.

In the first place I knew, or at any rate felt positive, that I was alone as far as human beings were concerned on that part of the run, the nearest boundary rider’s hut being some eight miles distant to the east, with no one at all to the west. Yet, standing not a dozen paces from me the lightning now showed me the figure of a woman, dressed in some dark fabric. I was as sure as I could be of anything that it was not a creation of my imagination, and, as if to prove it, another flash came swiftly after the other and showed her to me again. She was looking directly at me, and now her arms were stretched out to me as if in supplication. Recovering from my surprise I sprang to my feet, but the light had gone again and I could see nothing of her.

“Who are you?” I cried at the top of my voice, for the howling of the wind would otherwise have rendered me inaudible. “And what is the matter?” As I spoke, I took a step or two forward in the hope of finding her. She did not answer, so I called again. Then there was another flash, and I found myself within two or three yards of her. This time I saw her quite distinctly. Her hat was gone, if she had ever possessed one, and her long hair was streaming in the gale. She looked more like some strange spirit of the night than a human being. Again darkness closed down upon us, and again I called. This time she answered by imploring me to save her. A moment later I felt her touch me, and, cold as I was myself, her hand on mine was like a lump of ice.

“Help me, help me,” she shrieked. “I am terrified. For God’s sake, help me. If you leave me, I shall die.”

Without answering I seized her by the arm and dragged her, rather than led her, in the direction of the rock, where I had been sheltering myself up to that time. Once there I shouted to her to seat herself, and took my place beside her. She was trembling violently, and cried out at intervals like a mad woman. What had produced it all--I mean, of course, apart from the storm--I could not imagine, and it was some time before she could tell me. Side by side we sat waiting for the violence of the storm to abate and for day to break--two things which I felt inclined to believe would never come to pass. More than once she tried to rise, and struggled fiercely with me when I sought to detain her, which struck me at the time as being in perfect keeping with the whole extraordinary affair. If I had been told when I bade Flaxman good-bye at Montalta on the previous morning that I should be sitting beside a rock in the middle of the next night, in a raging tempest, with a woman of whom I knew nothing, driven crazy with fear, beside me, I should have laughed my informant to scorn. Yet it was quite true. It was more than that; it was most disagreeably and abominably true.

At last, thank Heaven, the darkness began to lift and a faint grey light to appear in the sky. The wind was as fierce as ever, but the thunder and lightning had ceased with the rain. Presently I was able to distinguish objects about me. My mysterious companion I could not see very plainly, and for the reason that she had found a shelter in a hollow between the two rocks in which the shadow still lingered. It was not long, however, before I was able to make her out, and to note the piteous picture of dumb despair her attitude suggested. She was seated with her back against the nearer rock, in a huddled up position, her head bent forward as if she were studying some object before her on the ground, and her hands dropped upon her knees. Her long black hair lay thick upon her shoulders, and so covered her that I could not see her face. At first I thought she was asleep, but while I looked she turned towards me, and for the first time I realised what she was like. How to describe her to you I do not know. To do justice to the subject I should require a greater skill than I possess, or am ever likely to possess. Yet, having in view what is to come, I must make an attempt to enable you to see her as I saw her then.

I am able now to state that at the time of our first meeting she was exactly twenty years of age; but had I judged from her appearance as I saw her then, I should have added to it at least another ten or possibly more. That, under happier circumstances, she would be beautiful admitted of no doubt, but at present she was too haggard and terrified to appear to any advantage. Her pallor, whether natural or the result of her night’s exposure, was certainly unusual, and contrasted strangely with her dark eyes and raven hair. Her hands and feet were small and shapely, and I noticed that she wore no ring. Her dress was old and much torn. Possibly it might once have boasted some pretence to style, but I am not sufficiently well up in such matters to be able to form an opinion upon that point.

For a moment we looked at each other, then I rose, and she hastened to follow my example. It was then that I discovered how tall she was. At a rough guess, she could not have stood much under five foot eleven. Her figure was lithe, and properly dressed would doubtless be graceful. As it was it did not show to the best advantage. What her nationality was I could only conjecture from her English, but that she had some foreign blood in her veins struck me as being more than probable. Her dark eyes and raven locks said as much, as did the graceful way in which she carried herself, the like of which I had never seen before.

“You saved my life,” she cried impulsively, holding out her hand to me as she did so. “I shall never forget it. My God! what should I have done had I not met you. I was mad with fear. Oh, this awful night, I shall never be able to rid myself of the memory of it!”

She covered her face with her hands as she spoke, as if to shut out the picture from her mind.

“Time will do that,” I answered. “I am thankful, indeed, that we came across each other. Had you been wandering long before we met?”

“An eternity,” she replied, clenching her fists and looking straight before her as she spoke, though why she did so I could not understand. “I believe I must have gone mad for the time being. I can only remember running on and on, striking against trees, falling over large stones, and shrieking with terror at the lightning, which, I believed was chasing me like an evil spirit to slay me. Then I saw you, seated beside this rock. At first I thought it was only my madness come back again. Then I heard your voice and believed that I was saved. Who are you, sir, and how is it that you happen to be here? I thought there was not a human being within miles.”

“I might ask the same question of you,” I replied. “A lady was the last person I expected to find out here. As for myself, my name is Tregaskis, and I am one of the owners, of this and the next station. I lost my way in the dark, and not being able to proceed, was perforce compelled to remain where I was and to await the coming of daylight before continuing my journey. Hence my good fortune in being able to render you this small service. Surely you are not alone out here? You must have friends somewhere whom you have lost. Is that not so? This is a wild part of the world for a girl to be alone in. I wonder whether I could manage to find your party while you wait here in the shelter of this rock. If you can give me any idea of the direction, I would find my horse and set out in search of them at once. Doubtless they are not very far away.”

“I am alone,” she answered, and I cannot hope to give you any idea of the way she said it. “I had a companion, but he is dead. God knew him for the villain he was, and sent the lightning to kill him. I hated him so that I was glad at first, but I grew frightened later and ran through the forest for my life.”

“Do you mean that your companion was struck by lightning and killed?” I cried, looking at her in amazement. “Surely you don’t mean that? Your terror must have made you believe it.”

“It is true,” she cried, stamping her foot as if in anger at my contradicting her. “It’s as true as that I am speaking to you now. The devil sent him into the world to wreck my life, but God was on my side and killed him to save me. I can see that you do not believe what I say. Come with me, then, and see for yourself. I ran in the dark, knowing nothing of where I went, yet I will take you straight to the spot where he lies. Call it magic--call it what you will, but you will find that I am telling you the truth. Come.”

By this time I was becoming more and more convinced that the terror of the night had deprived her of her reason. She saw what was passing in my mind and laughed scornfully.

“Have no fear,” she cried, “I am as sane as yourself. But you must see him. You are a man, I challenge you to accompany me.”

After that there was nothing for it but for me to go with her on what I felt sure could only prove to be a wild goose chase.