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CHAP. PAGE
SETTLING DAY
THE LITTLE CHAP
He was riding hard and fast, the thud of his horse's hoofs resounded from the sun-baked ground. He rode for a life, the life of his child, a little chap six years old. As he urged on his mare he fancied in every moan of the wind he heard a cry of pain. His face was set and his eyes were tearless, but his heart throbbed painfully, and each pulsation seemed to increase his dread of what might happen in the homestead during his absence. In the Australian bush doctors are few and far between, and many miles have to be covered before assistance in case of sickness can be obtained.
Jim Dennis's had not been a happy life. He was practically an outcast from society, a solitary man, living in a lonely spot in the wilds of New South Wales. He had been grievously wronged, and knew it, but others did not, and the world's judgment upon him had been harsh and unjust. He hated the world, so he said, and thought he meant, it; but there was one connecting link with the past that softened his heart, and that was the little chap who lay fighting for life while he rode at a mad pace to fetch aid so necessary to save him; and the mare, with that unerring instinct which horses possess, knew she was set no ordinary task. The sun was glowing down upon man and beast, and the ground felt like hot bricks. There was no grass, for the wretched substitute in the dried shrivelled blades that nodded faintly in the wind could scarcely be designated as such.
No trees afforded a cool shade, and a stagnant water-hole or two was no temptation to drink.
Jim Dennis had several miles to go before he reached Swamp Creek, the nearest township to his lonely station.
He urged the mare on, and faster and faster she went, taxing her strength to the uttermost, and yet never faltering, her courage still high, her spirit undaunted. Her nostrils were extended and fiery red, a few faint traces of foam were on the bit, but her mouth was dry and parched as the ground she galloped over.
Her breath came in short, quick sobs, and Jim Dennis knew she would be well-nigh spent in another hour. He was not a cruel man, and he had great affection for all animals. It was mankind that he warred against, not the brute creation.
'Poor old lass,' he murmured as he patted her hot neck. 'Poor old Bess. This is a hard day's work for you old girl; but don't think me cruel. You must save his life--my little chap's life. He's dying, Bess. Do you hear--? he's dying!' He almost shouted the last words in a long wail of agony.
The mare pricked her ears at the sound, and, noble beast that she was, stretched out in a final effort.
She almost flew over the ground and even Jim Dennis, who knew her so well, was surprised.
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