The Bushranger's Secret

  CHAPTER V.

  DEADMAN'S GULLY.

  Gray reached Daintry's Corner before noon on the following day. Forsome miles before reaching his destination his road had lain through adeep narrow gorge, with gigantic walls on each side of almostperpendicular rock. Much of the rock was bare, and of a sullen,cheerless brown, but here and there trees sprang out of hollows andshowed green against the rock, and dark-leaved climbing plants flungtheir long arms from crevice to crevice, and hung in gloomy wreathsalong the broken ground.

  The morning had come with sunshine and gentle breezes, but no sunshinereached this frowning ravine, and the air there was damp, and heavy,and close.

  The ravine had run in an almost straight line for some miles, and Graywas beginning to weary for its end, when he suddenly checked his horsewith a start of amazement and dismay. Some few hundred yards beforehim the ravine apparently came to a full stop. A great precipice roseup before him closing up the end of the gorge--a precipice far toosteep for any track to run over it.

  Gray began to think he had come to a cul de sac, and that he should beobliged to retrace his steps, but before doing so he determined to rideon to the foot of the precipice before him and examine the groundcarefully.

  A new surprise awaited him there. He found that the gorge took asudden turn here, in fact, ran on at right angles to its former course,though considerably narrower and closed in by walls of rock higher andgloomier than ever.

  The bottom of this new part of the gorge was not open and grassy, butstudded thickly with enormous trees clad in dark heavy foliage. It wasa gloomy spot to enter, and Gray hesitated; yet it was evident thetrack went this way. There was the mark of a horse's footstep justbefore him, freshly made too!

  Gray's eyes fell on this as he was looking along the ground, and hesprang off his horse to more closely examine it. Some one hadevidently passed here quite lately. As Gray looked he saw that thefootsteps ceased a short way up the glen, and that when they ceased theground was slightly broken away as if horse and rider had tried toclimb the cliff. With a rush of sudden, unexplainable terror, Graylooked up the steep impassable wall of rock. Horse and rider had gonethat way! But how?--and for what purpose? He listened intently, butno sound came to his ear that spoke of a living presence. Anoppressive silence reigned on every side.

  Gray was no coward, but the blood forsook his cheek and his kneestrembled under him. Who was it that was haunting him thus? He darednot make any answer to himself. He dared not stay longer in that darkand silent spot. Taking his horse by the bridle he led him hastilyonwards, picking his way with difficulty through the mighty tree-trunksand among the wave-worn boulders that lay between them. The trees grewso near together that it was impossible to see more than a yard or soahead.

  Gray was stumbling blindly on, with the belief growing in him that thegorge was impassable, and that he would be forced to go back past thatspot in the cliffs which chilled him to think of; when suddenly thelight grew brighter through the trees, a keen breeze blew upon hisface; in a few steps, the trees ended, and the gorge ceased. Grayfound himself standing on a rocky platform commanding a glorious view.There lay the hills, rising range after range before him, bathed in thesunshine of early noon. It was a wonderful prospect--a sight to makeone's heart leap up; and Gray stood entranced, drinking in all itsbeauty, forgetting himself and his errand.

  But not for long. He had soon to consider his path; and, as he lookedround him with that purpose in his mind, all the glory seemed to dieout of the scene, and his pleasure in it passed away. For this must beDaintry's Corner, Gray concluded. He must be very near the end of hisjourney.

  He looked keenly along the ranges of hills in front of him, but hecould not see the towering battlements of Rodwell's Peak. That mustlie behind him. M'Pherson had directed him to a small settlement somemiles beyond Daintry's Corner. Gray could see the roofs of the housesover the slope of one of the lower hills to the right of him. Hedetermined he would spend the night there if he could reach it in time,but his first business was to find Rodwell's Peak, and then to searchfor Deadman's Gully. Once the exact spot was reached, he hoped soon tofind the treasure. Gray did not anticipate much difficulty in takingit away.

  The robbery of the Bank at Adelaide by Dearing had made a greatsensation at the time. He had carried off more than L30,000 in goldand notes; and he had managed to change much of the gold and all thenotes for Bank of England notes, whose numbers were not known. Thenotes Gray could easily carry away and much of the gold. The remainderhe had determined to leave behind him safely buried. It was better tolose a part than run the risk of discovery by weighting himself toomuch. A few hours would suffice for this, he thought, then hedetermined to go down to the settlement for the night, and make his wayto Adelaide by another route. Nothing should prevail upon him to goback the same way: he had long ago decided that, and recent events hadmade his determination more fixed than ever.

  But now to reach Rodwell's Peak! Gray carefully examined the ground,and made up his mind that his road lay along the rocky platform orterrace on which the gorge had ended, and which seemed to run along thehills through which the gorge had cleft its way. He made a roughcalculation, and then decided to follow the terrace in its westerlydirection. He called his horse, which had begun to graze on the shortsweet grass that clothed the gentle slopes above the terrace, and setoff on the road he had chosen.

  If he had looked backwards down the gloomy ravine he had just leftbehind him, he might have seen a face looking cautiously out throughthe dark boughs of the trees--an evil sallow face with reddish slantingeyebrows. But Gray did not look back. He was too excited at the nearfruition that awaited his hopes. All the fears that had assailed him,all the remorse that had been growing up in him disappeared as mistsdisappear before the morning sun. He mounted his horse and rode gailyalong the broad even platform, whistling as he went. The platform orledge continued for some time, sloping almost imperceptibly downwardstill it ended in a wide, grassy, meadow-like valley, with a gianteucalyptus in the midst of it. Through the valley a stream wentsinging--every ripple making a line of silver in the sunshine.

  Gray crossed the valley, stopping to let his horse drink at the stream,and to take a draught himself. The hills beyond the valley were strewnin places with great boulders, but it was easy to find a path, and Graymade good progress for a time. Then the way became rougher and moreprecipitous, but Gray pushed hurriedly on; for over the shoulder of thenext hill rose the jagged crest of Rodwell's Peak. He knew theknife-like edge of the lower summit, the towering outlines of the peakitself. Now a well-defined track began to disclose itself running ineasy curves down the hill and along the rocky bottom.

  Gray rode more slowly, his heart beating wildly. This must be thetrack Harding had spoken of, leading from the settlements below. Hekept a sharp look-out, but no sign of a gully disclosed itself, thoughRodwell's Peak rose well in front.

  The valley, at the bottom of which the track ran, had been wide atfirst, with sloping shelving sides, richly covered with foliage. Butnow it was narrowing fast; the sides were growing steeper and steeper,and the vegetation less abundant Gray rode slowly, stopping every nowand then to examine the rocks for an opening between them. It couldnot be far off. Looking down the valley the towering crest ofRodwell's Peak was all that could be seen. It rose at the mouth of thevalley like a mighty sentinel guarding the fortress of the hills. Butthough Gray carefully examined the rocks on either side, he could findno trace of a gully running between them.

  He rode on until he reached the point where the valley ended, and theland began to shelve upwards before him. He saw that the track ranacross the shoulder of Rodwell's Peak, but he did not follow it. Itwas useless to do that. He felt certain that the opening intoDeadman's Gully lay in the valley behind him.

  He turned his horse and rode backwards. As he turned, a sharp soundcaught his ears, and he checked his horse to listen. It ceasedinstantly, and though he stopped there for s
ome moments listeningintently it did not recur. The sound had been like the beat of ahorse's hoofs against hard rock. But there was no sign of horse orrider to be seen. The valley was silent, save for the hoarse cry of amagpie among the trees and the rush of a stream in the distance.

  Gray rode slowly back, but he did not pursue his search with anyvigour; he had been too much startled by that sudden sound. He triedto reason himself into believing that it was a mere hallucination ofhearing, that the fall of a stone down the steep hill had been mistakenby him for the clatter of a horse's feet. But reason as he would theconviction remained strong within him that it was a horse he had heard,and he was looking more carefully, as he rode down the valley, forother signs of a horseman's presence, than for the opening intoDeadman's Gully.

  It was quite accidentally that, about half-way down the valley, henoticed a crevice in the rocks, on his left hand, thickly hung withcreepers. It was more a crack in the rock than a crevice, so narrowwas it, and only by looking some distance up could it be seen at all,for its lower portion was entirely hidden by a curtain of hangingfoliage. But it was the only opening of any sort that Gray haddiscovered, and he determined to examine it more closely, though itseemed absurd to suppose that this could be the entrance he sought.

  He rode up to the bottom of the fissure and dragged aside the heavycreepers. A wild thrill went through him as he discovered that thecrack widened towards the ground into an opening just large enough fora man and horse to pass through. Gray could not see where the darkpassage before him led, for after a few yards it took a sudden turn tothe right, but he determined at once to make a thorough investigation.

  He got off his horse and cut away with some difficulty enough of thecurtaining foliage to allow an easy passage through. Then, with a longfearful look up and down the lonely valley, he entered the cleft. Hisentrance disturbed a vast number of bats, that flew shrieking out ofthe damp hollows of the rocks and whirled wildly round him. Theircries had an eerie sound well in keeping with the gloomy spot. ButGray pushed doggedly on, soothing his good horse with voice and hand,and becoming more and more convinced that he was on the right track.

  After some distance the passage widened, and he began to see broaddaylight ahead of him. A few yards more and he came out into a narrowvalley heaped with rocks.

  It was a gloomy, dreadful place, shut in by high, bare, precipitouscliffs. The passage by which Gray had just entered seemed to be theonly mode of access: no human foot could scale those dark overhangingcliffs. There was but little vegetation. Some coarse grass grew inthe hollows and on the ledges of the rocks, and a gray-leavedrepulsive-looking bramble spread its gnarled branches thickly along theuneven bottom of the gully.

  But Gray looked in vain for the mighty tree he had expected to see,towering up in the midst of the valley. There were no trees of anykind in the place. Yet Gray felt sure that he had reached the rightspot, and a discovery he made after a brief survey supported hisopinion. This was a ruined hut built under the shelter of a shelvingpiece of rock. It was a hut built of logs; the roof was partly off andthe roughly made door was lying rotting on the ground. This deserted,ruinous hut only added a new touch of desolation to the dreary gully.Gray involuntarily shivered as he stood before it and his horse tuggedrestlessly at the bridle.

  He fastened the horse securely to the door-post and stepped into thehut. The floor was of beaten earth. It was heaped up now with the_debris_ of the fallen roof, but Gray could see where the rude hearthhad been and where a half-smouldered log still lay. The walls wereintact. They were strongly built of heavy logs fastened securelytogether. The hut might have been built for a miniature fortress, sostrong were its walls.

  Who had built the hut? Where had the logs come from that formed itswalls? Gray carefully considered these questions. He remembered nowthat Harding had told him of some big trees that were in the gully whena gang of bushrangers, who had made the place their home, had beenbroken up. There were trees in the gully then. What had become ofthem?

  Gray stepped hastily out and carefully examined the ground. It did nottake him long to find the scarred trunks of a few trees hidden by thebrambles. He cut away the brambles, and tried by measuring to decidewhich had been the largest tree. But he could not decide. The trunkswere all about the same size. Either the trunk of the largest tree hadbeen taken away altogether, or it had not been much larger than thetrunks of the other trees.

  Wearied out by his search, Gray returned to the hut. He sat down onone of the fallen rafters of the roof and considered what it was bestto do next. He was beginning to feel hopeless. The direction hadseemed so clear on Dearing's map. He had been so certain that he wouldeasily find the treasure if he once could reach the gully. Yet here hewas, apparently as far off as ever from the attainment of his hopes.

  Some hours had now passed since Gray entered the gully. The afternoonwas drawing to a close. There were only a few hours of daylight beforehim.

  Gray had brought a little food with him, pressed upon him by the kindlyold Scotsman. He took down his knapsack and ate the food. It was nomatter of regret to him that he had only a sufficient store for onemeal. Nothing would have induced him to spend the night in the gully.Even now, in the broad daylight, an unreasoning terror was taking holdof him. Every little sound, the movement of his horse, the cry of abird as it flapped its way across the sky, the rustle of the long grassin the hollows of the cliffs, even his own footsteps as he moved to andfro, struck upon him with a sense of fear. He could have sworn oncethat he had heard a footstep that was not his own, a slow and waryfootstep, among the brambles. So sure was he, that he sprang to thedoor and looked out. There was nothing to be seen. And with a bitterlaugh at his own fears he went back and sat down. But he made up hismind there and then that he would not stay much longer in the gully.He would not have spent the night there for all the wealth the worldcould offer him.

  He had now to consider what was best to do in the short period ofdaylight that lay before him. It seemed a hopeless task to dig southof each of the trunks in the gully, yet what else was there to be done?It was best for him to set about it at once. He decided this, and yethe sat still. He could not make up his mind to go out into the gullyagain. The place was becoming a horror to him.

  As he sat thus on the broken rafter, thinking miserably of the taskbefore him, his eyes fixed themselves on the little window of the hut.It was the only window and was very small. It was, in fact, a holedrilled in one of the beams.

  With that strange power the mind has, of carrying on two trains ofthought at once, Gray found himself, in the midst of his weary thoughtsabout the hidden treasure, wondering why the window had been made sosmall and such an odd round shape. The explanation quickly occurred tohim. The hut had been built by men who were in daily fear of capture.It had been built not so much as a shelter from the weather, for therewere deep caves in the rocks that would have served that purpose, butas a means of defence. Safe inside the hut, with the door shut andthat small window guarded by a good rifle, one man might have defied ascore.

  Gray guessed, and guessed truly, that Dearing had built the hut. Thegang of bushrangers who had formerly used the gully for theirlurking-place had lived in the caves. The gully was an unknown placethen, and having once reached it all fear of detection was over. Butwhen once the place was discovered, some means of defence within it wasnecessary, and Dearing had built this place.

  Gray remembered Dearing's face as he staggered into the hut, the lookof abject horrible fear upon it. What days and nights he must havespent in this gully, watching, waiting, no rest, never safe for asingle moment!

  "Poor wretch!" Gray murmured to himself. "What a life to live!" Andhis thoughts went back, by force of sudden contrast, to the life ofanother lonely man. He remembered how M'Pherson had answered, with aglad, deep peace in his old face, "It's no lonely here. There's voiceseverywhere."

  Gray would not dwell on that. He rose, throwing back his head andstraigh
tening himself with a quick proud gesture. He told himself hehad no part or lot with the fears of Dearing, any more than with thatstrange faith that kept M'Pherson glad in his lonely old age. Therewas no need for him, he said to himself, to have the fear of man beforehis eyes; and if he need not fear man, what was there to fear?Nothing. He repeated it to himself. Nothing. It was only women anduneducated men who believed in the supernatural.

  Yet even as he said it his face turned an ashy white; the greatsweat-drops broke out upon his brow, his knees trembled under him. Hehad heard again the sound of a cautious footstep and the rustle of thebrambles as if some hand was moving them. He rushed to the door of thehut and looked round; but as before all was still and silent. He gavea loud shout, but no answer came, save the echo from the rocks. Hewaited there some moments, but he saw no sign of a human presence.

  Yet he was now absolutely certain he had heard a footstep. The veryhair began to rise on Gray's head, a freezing terror seized hold ofhim. A moment before he had feigned to disbelieve in the supernatural,but now, in an agony of mortal fear, he cried out to himself that itwas no living man who was dogging him thus. A living man he could havefaced, but not this mysterious visitant from the world beyond the grave.

  In a calmer moment Gray might have reasoned with himself, but he didnot stop to reason now. He felt he must escape from this horribleplace at once, or madness would come upon him. His horse was stilltied to the door-post, and was cropping the thin grass that grew upbetween the crevices in the rocky platform on which the hut was built.Gray hurriedly unfastened him and led him towards the entrance to thegully. He had gone a short distance when he remembered he had left hisknapsack and pistol-case on the floor of the hut. All the money hehad, a scanty store, was in the knapsack. He could not leave it behind.

  Still holding the horse by the bridle he went hurriedly back. He flungthe rein over the door-post and made one step into the hut. Then hefell back with a sharp and sudden exclamation. The hut was no longerempty. Leaning in an easy attitude against the window with a revolverin his hand stood Lumley, the ex-gardener of the Mortons.

  THE MEETING IN "DEADMAN'S GULLY"]

  There was a sardonic grin on his thin peaked face.

  "So you have come back of your own accord, Mr. Gentleman Gray," hesaid. "I was just about to order you back."