The Sweep Winner Part 3

"What's it for?"

"I can't tell you. I will before long, but not now."

"Then it's a fake. You want it for yourself."

"I do not."

He fancied he could hear her moaning, becoming restless, and if he got what he wanted and hurried back she might have a chance. It exasperated him.

"Why not tell me the reason?" asked Bill, fairly enough.

"There's somebody ill in my hut."

"Oh, that's it, one of your mates. Do you think I'm going to help him after last night's work? Not me."

Glen wanted to conceal that it was a woman, but he was wasting precious time. Could Bill be trusted to keep it to himself? He had no desire for the township to know until he had found out all about her.

"It's not one of my mates. I'd not ask it for him after that," and he waved his hand round. "You'll not say a word, but keep it dark?"

"It depends on what it is you tell me."

"I can't tell you. Bill, we've been what folks call friends, as far as it goes here. Promise me. It's a matter of life and death. You'll not be sorry. You'll have done a good action, and saved a life."

Bill saw he was in deadly earnest. He knew Glen Leigh had always gone straight with him.

"Out with it then. I'll promise, so help me I will, but I don't say I'll let you have what you want."

Glen saw he was yielding. Again his thoughts went back to his hut, and he groaned at the loss of time.

"It's for a woman. She's got fever, and is delirious. She'll die if she doesn't have some stimulant. For G.o.d's sake, Bill, let me have it."

Bill stared at him. There was a genuine, even pathetic ring in his voice. But a woman! He couldn't be expected to swallow that yarn.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In my hut."

Bill laughed. He couldn't help it. The thing was so ridiculous.

"Who's the lady?" he asked with a grin.

Leigh's hands clenched. He was becoming dangerous.

"I haven't time to tell you lies. I don't know who she is, or where she comes from. All I can say is I found her in there lying on my shakedown, dying," and he told the whole story as rapidly as possible to the astonished Bill.

"It's as true as gospel, and Jim Benny's with her waiting my return.

Think of the time I've wasted here. I may be too late. Ping's none too fast, but he's sure. For heaven's sake, Bill, let me have it, and some tinned stuff, soup, anything you've got. There's nothing at my place for her."

He spoke rapidly, excitedly. He was strung to the highest pitch as he thought how long he had already been away.

"It's the rummiest yarn I ever heard, but I don't see as how you could make it up. I wonder who she is?"

"That's what I've got to find out. If she dies, her secret goes with her. Help to save her, then we'll get to know," begged Glen.

Bill thought of his girl at work in Adelaide. Supposing she was in such a plight? The mere idea made him shiver.

"I'll do it, Glen. d.a.m.n it, man, if you'd outed with it at first the thing would have been settled in five minutes."

He disappeared. Glen knew if he had fired the story at him straight away it would not have been believed at all. Bill also knew it as he dived into the bowels of the earth beneath his bar.

"He's worked me cleverly," he muttered. "He saw I was cut up rough when he came in, and he handled me well. It's a queer go, a very queer go, but I believe him. He's not given to lying, and in any case I can go and see for myself in a day or two. If he's put up a game on me, I'll--No, he'd never do it. He's too much of a man. And his face! It might be his sweetheart the way he looked."

Bill was rummaging about. Selecting two bottles he took them with him.

As he went back through his storeroom, he collected some tinned milk, soup, and biscuits.

He packed them all carefully so that there would be no risk of breakage, then went back to the bar.

Two men had come in during his absence. One was "on the fence," and as usual they had selected a bottle of alleged whisky, and were helping themselves. Glen had refused to join them. He was called a sullen bounder.

"Get out of this," yelled Bill when he saw the rider on the fence.

"You're one of the devils who caused all this mess."

"I'll pay for it--at least my share," answered the man.

"Then out with it," said Bill, putting his package down.

Glen eyed it greedily. He ought to have had it an hour ago and been well on his way back to the hut. Here was more delay. Would she be alive?

Would she be alive? Was Jim with her? Yes, he'd wait. He was sure of it.

The man pulled out some greasy pound-notes and handed Bill a couple.

"That's more'n my whack. It'll have to stand good for this," and he placed his hand on the bottle.

"And mind, if I see any signs of strife brewing you'll not get away so easily next time," warned Bill, as he stuffed the dirty notes in his pocket, only too glad to get anything in payment for the damage.

He beckoned to Glen, picked up the package and went outside.

"You'll find all you want here; at least as much as I can give you."

"I'll never forget it, Bill. One of these days I may be able to do you a good turn. I'll see you are paid in full, and more."

"Never mind about that. It's something to my credit that I've faith enough in a man to believe such a dodgasted yarn as you've spun me."

"You do believe it?"

"Yes. Shake. You'll not mind me driving over? I'll not come empty-handed, and not to act the spy, but it's such a stretcher that I'd just like to see for myself."

Glen smiled as he mounted Ping, and Bill handed him the parcel.