Denis Dent Part 12

"Now for your mate," said Denis. As he spoke, the fellow could be heard shouting that their bird was flown; thereupon the three withdrew behind trees. "And remember," said Denis, who went last with the revolver, "if you make a sign to send him back you'll be the first."

They had not a minute to wait. Their second victim came back cursing their first for sitting so unmoved over the fire. Denis peeped and saw the lean, ascetic face advancing white-hot with pa.s.sion; in the last ten yards he stopped, suspicious, but not yet of the truth, for the untended fire had declined to a mere red and white remnant in his absence.

"Good G.o.d, man, are you dead?" he cried, and then came running at the thought. At the same instant Denis stepped from behind his tree.

"Throw up your hands before I fire!"

And up they both went, but one barked and flashed on the way, and the ball whispered in Denis's ear as he took deliberate aim and shot the scoundrel down.

"Take care!" he shouted to the others, rushing up. "I aimed low. He isn't dead. Don't trust him an inch!"

But the man had been drilled through the sciatic nerve, and he leaped where he lay like a landed fish. He had let fall the pistol in his pain, and Moseley had the pleasure of picking up his own.

"Has anybody any brandy?" asked Denis, for the wounded man looked ghastly, writhing in the starlight, and he was bearing his torments without a word; but when Moseley produced a flask, and Denis held it to him, the unbeaten brute only seized the opportunity of s.n.a.t.c.hing at the revolver in his other hand.

"The blackguard!" piped Doherty, as Denis disengaged without a shot.

"I'd finish him for that!"

"No, you wouldn't, Jimmy; but if he wants to grin and bear it, why, he's welcome--till they come for him! Come on, Moseley," added Denis, as that placid person characteristically took his time, under the gagged man's nose, over his stolen belongings. But in a few moments the three were off at the double, and in a few more the contents of a third revolver followed them without effect.

"I expected that," said Denis as they ran. "But what a fine villain! Not a word in his pain. Educated man, I should say."

"Mean to put the police on 'em to-night or in the morning?" called Moseley, with languid interest, as he jogged along last.

"Not at all," said Denis.

"Not at all?" panted Doherty.

"We want to get to the diggings, not to cool our heels in this nice place. We've winged one and taught them both a lesson, and wasted quite enough time on such carrion as it is."

They were now in full view of the lights of Canvas Town. Moseley, far behind, pet.i.tioned for a more civilized pace in the most strenuous tone the others had yet heard from him. And while they waited Denis returned the revolver to its rightful owner.

"I'm heartily ashamed of myself, Jimmy," said he: "first I blame you for buying the one thing we want more than another, and then I take it from you and use it myself! But the credit's every bit of it yours; but for you those villains would have gone scot-free with this fellow's fortune; but for you he would be a poor man to-night, and he's got to know it. I hope you recovered everything?" added Denis, as Moseley came up with them at his leisure, and all three proceeded toward the lights.

"I don't know," was the reply. "I ought to have thirty-eight pound, twelve and six, but there's over a pound of it in silver, and you didn't give me time to count it."

A few paces were covered in silence; then Denis gave a grim little laugh. "So we've all risked our lives for thirty-eight pounds odd!"

"It was my all," said Moseley, rather hurt. "I never said it was much, and never asked you to risk your lives."

Denis took his arm with a heartier laugh.

"My dear fellow, we weren't going to let you risk yours alone, and I wouldn't undo it if I could. It wasn't a question of amount, either; if you had told us the figure it would have made no difference. But you did say it was your pile, you know, that you were taking back to England!"

"It wasn't much of one, certainly," the other admitted on reflection, with his own ingenuous candour. "I am not so sure, now, that it would have paid my pa.s.sage home. I never thought of that before. So you two are going up to the diggings, just as I come down?" he added rather wistfully, after a pause.

"We start to-morrow if we can."

"Much capital, may I ask?"

"Not much more than half your pile between us, I'm afraid."

"It needs more capital than you'd think," said Moseley, in a pensive way.

"I dare say."

And Denis sighed.

"Ballarat or Bendigo?"

"I thought of tossing for it."

They were back again on the foul fringe of the sail-cloth suburb.

Moseley stood still in the mud. And the bright southern stars discovered a pleasing diffidence in a wholly amiable face.

"Have you really no choice?" he asked.

"Absolutely none."

"Well, then, I hardly know how to put it," stammered Moseley; "but I've some experience, if I haven't much to show for it; and if Ballarat would do for you--I should be sorry to turn up again in Bendigo; I'm afraid I did pretend I'd done a little better there--but Ballarat's really the place, and if you could do with a third--well, there's my poor little pile, it would go into the pool, and--well I don't mind saying I should be proud, after the way you've stood by me to-night."

"So should I!" cried Denis, seizing Moseley's hand. His warm heart was touched. "So would Jimmy," he added, for the lad was standing aloof as he always would when they were three. "It's the natural thing, and your experience will be more valuable than even your money, not that we can take more than your share of that. Come, laddie, and give him your hand on it, too; and then for the best three beds we can afford, and three good gla.s.ses of ale to seal the partnership."

Doherty turned to Denis rather quickly when he had shaken the new partner's hand. "You see," he said, "it is a case of beds, after all!"

But his tone was reproachful rather than triumphant, as though Denis might have listened to him before.

CHAPTER XI

STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

The firm of Dent, Moseley, and Doherty, gold-diggers, was formally established next day, in a clump of trees a few miles out of Melbourne.

Denis had experienced no difficulty in obtaining his paltry dues from the shipping agents, but even so he and Doherty could not muster twenty pounds between them. Moseley, on the other hand, was for putting in nearly double this amount, and yet only receiving his one-third of the profits. He argued that but for the others he would have had nothing to put in at all. It was long before Denis would listen to him, and Doherty took no part in the discussion. But eventually a compromise was agreed upon, and thus entered by Denis in a new pocketbook purchased for the nonce:--

October, 19, 1853. s. d.

Dent and Doherty Cash 19 12 10 Moseley " 19 14 6 " Loan to Company 18 10 0 ---------- 57 17 4 ----------

This pocketbook, with its blue-lined sheaf of glorious possibilities, represented Denis's one disburs.e.m.e.nt in Melbourne beyond bed, board, and the gla.s.ses of beer overnight. A rigid economy was his watchword; they must walk to Ballarat; so let their packs be light, and if kits were dearer on the diggings, they would still have saved.

Doherty agreed with every word; but as they resumed their journey, and Moseley fell a few paces behind, he reminded Denis of the nuggets which Bullocky had forced upon them at the inn.

"I said we'd keep them for luck," replied Denis; "but, of course, I could only speak for myself; you must do what you like with yours."

"I do what you do," said the boy.