Running it Off: or, Hard Hit

Front matter

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Chapter I. The Squatter's Daughter

" She's the best rider this side Sydney ! Just look at her, Bill ! Whoa ! you brute ! Ah ! that's it. Let go her head, Miss. AVhat a seat! Firm as a rock.! There's nobody like our Miss Tilly ! " These ejaculations came in jerks and starts from Fred Martin, head man at Yeronga Station, the property of the Hon. Robert Briscoe, M.L.C., better known as Bob Briscoe, and in former times even as Yeronga Bob. The subject of these remarks was a fine handsome girl of eighteen, seated on a coal-black mare that en deavoured in every possible way that entered her splen did head to unseat her fair burden. The girl sat the mare splendidly. With a bound that would have thrown many a practised bush-rider out of the saddle, Coal Queen made a last attempt to unseat her rider. The effort was futile, and the mare, with flanks heaving, nostrils wide, and blowing hard, her sides reeking with lather, and dashing the white froth from her mouth, stood panting but not tamed, waiting for a fresh oppor tunity to obtain the mastery.

"There's nobody like our Miss Tilly," said Fred Martin, and he spoke the truth. The pet of the station, the idol of the Hon. Robert, the most daring horsewoman in the west of sunny New South Wales, the envy of her sex when she deigned to appear in town. There sat Tilly Briscoe, patting the arched, reeking neck of the beautiful, but wilful animal she had recently had such a tussle with. A beautiful girl. Glowing with health, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and her rosy lips parted in a winning smile, disclosing pearly white teeth, and below a small, dimpled chin. Her hat had come off in the struggle, and her nut-brown hair floated in the breeze for a few moments and then settled in graceful folds, until it swept the mare's back. Lovely hair ! It could not be bought at any price. Nature had adorned Tilly Briscoe with a lavish hand.

Her bright eyes, blue as the skies above, were shaded by long, silken lashes — destined to do much execution if ever eyes were. Her neat, compact figure, set off to perfection in her tight fitting habit, and a ringing voice that thrilled its listeners. This is but a faint picture of the squatter's daughter. Tilly Briscoe was the idol of her father, and she was his only child. The Hon. Robert loved her as he had never loved human being before. Her mother died when she was two years old, and she had been brought up under the watchful eye of her father and a demure but accomplished governess, who also acted as house keeper at Yeronga. The Hon. Robert Briscoe was credited with being a wealthy man. He owned thou sands of acres of land in the West, and he had valuable properties in Bathurst, Sydney, and elsewhere.

He had worked hard in his young days, and had succeeded mainly by his own exertions and indomitable perse verance. He became a man to know and respect, and the Government half a score years before the commence ment of this story had made him a member of the Upper House. He accepted the honour for his daughter's sake, but he did not think much of it. He had an idea that the honourable gentlemen of the Upper House were rather a sleepy, harmless, insignificant body that never did much harm, and certainly did very little good. His first appearance in the Legislative Council caused a sensation. He spoke his mind with a vigour and disregard for the opinions of his colleagues that was quite new and refreshing. It startled the Upper House senators, and made them disposed to humour the Hon. Robert in order to prevent such outbursts in the future.

To be actually told to their faces by one of their own number that they were neither use nor ornament was a new sensation, and not of a pleasant kind. Moreover, several members — those who had consciences — felt that there might be seme grounds for the accusation. This did not make the unpleasant speech the more palatable. If the truth must be told, Robert Briscoe detested the Upper House, and never went near it when he could possibly stay away. In this respect he was not alone. It pleased his daughter, however, that he should occupy the position, so he groaned and sighed when he had to leave her at Yeronga and journey to Sydney. Yeronga Station was a magnificent property, and its situation within easy distance of the western city of Bathurst made it the more valuable. The homestead was in a lovely spot, secluded, quiet and peaceful.

In a hollow it lay nestled and surrounded with rich pasture land, whilst in the distance could be seen range after RUNNING - IT OFF. 10 range of rocky mountain peaks .and undulating forest land. The hospitality of Yeronga was I proverbial. Strangers visiting the place received a hearty welcome. Friends came and went as they pleased. Life was by no means lonely at Yeronga. Sportsmen knew what they could get there, and the wild duck shooting was the best in the district. On the marsh land hundreds of these birds congregated, and the result of a day amongst them generally meant a good bag. The black mare Tilly Briscoe was riding was the gift of a neighbouring squatter, who admired the Hon. Robert's daughter, although she treated him in the most off-hand manner. A thoroughbred beauty was Coal Queen, and Tilly was proud of the new acquisi tion to her stud.

" Nearly had the better of me, Fred," she said as almost out of breath she laughed at Fred Martin, who stood looking at her with undisguised admiration. "She'd have a job to do that, Miss Tilly," said Fred. " But she's a dangerous customer, although she is a beauty. You handled her splendidly. There's not another girl in the West could sit that mare like you do, Miss Tilly," he went on enthusiastically. " Don't pay compliments, Fred. There are plenty of girls can ride quite as well as I can, but for all that I'd like them to have a try at Coal Queen." " Shall I help you, Miss Tilly," said Fred. "Thanks," she said, and putting one hand on the strong man's shoulder, she leapt lightly down, whilst an attendant caught hold of the mare's head. Not tall by any means Miss Tilly Briscoe. As she patted the mare she looked quite small beside her.

But such a dainty figure. As she gathered up her riding habit and took the hat Fred handed to her the man thought he had never seen such a picture of healthful youth and beauty in his life. He sighed as he thought some fortunate swain w7ould one day receive her heart. All the hands on the station were respectfully in love with Miss Tilly. She had no false pride about her. Some town-bred, over-schooled, and over-pampered girls would have called her bad style, and have said she was too fast and forward. Tilly was nothing of the kind. She was an open-hearted, free-handed, generous girl of eighteen, with a liberal idea of the rights of others, and a wish to make all around her happy. Not a thought of evil ever Crossed the girl's pure mind. She was heart free, and no man had as yet even aroused the maiden feelings within her.

She hated town life, and loved the pure country air. To gallop a score miles at high speed, inhaling the breeze and feeling the high-mettled steed bounding under her, was the delight of Tilly's heart. She had no fear. She rode for miles completely alone, and without a thought of harm coming to her. It would have gone hard with the man that attempted to stop Miss Briscoe if she had her heavy whip with her, which she knew so well how to use. An athletic girl, and with muscles well tempered by constant, vigorous exercise. She could shoot, and she could ride a jumper over a five-barred gate. She could play " crib," with the Hon. Bob, and ride round a mob of cattle. She could play the piano well, and sing with her pure, fresh voice in a half-cultivated style. At pistol shooting she was also able to hold her own, and Fred declared that if it were necessary to swim a creek she'd do it, and chance the consequenees.

Her accom plishments were perhaps rather out of the ordinary routine of a young lady's education, but they suited her, and she was none the worse, but all the better for them. Society dowagers held up their hands in horror when they heard her discourse coolly about " setting Coal Queen at the log fence " or " potting a duck first barrel," or " scouring round the country with Fred, the stock man." These pious dames with marriageable daughters thought Miss Briscoe a very forward young woman indeed. " Makes herself too free with the men, you know," was their remark. Perhaps she did in their eyes, but she never asked to be put up for auction and sold to the highest bidder as some of these same society dames did with their daughters. Lady Worthington said Tilly Briscoe was " a fine girl, but it was a pity she allowed men to take liberties with her.

Poor child, she has no regard for the proprieties of society." And Lady Worthington was a judge, because she treated her legal lord like a dog, and her liaisons with fashionable men were well known. Tilly knew none of these things. She was always in a hurry to return to A^eronga, and very often her father went to Sydney alone. " Where have you been, Tilly ? " said a tall, well-made woman, who had been handsome once, as the girl came singing into the house. " I declare you frightened the life out of me. A'ou'll break your neck some day. I don't know what your father will say. He made me promise I would not let you ride that mare." " Did he, indeed ? Well, you dear, darling, good old dumps, you see I have ridden the mare, and fancy you attempting to stop me," said Tilly, laughing. " Good gracious !

Tilly, do behave," said Miss Rowton. " How can you pull me about in this fashion ? Recollect you are not a child now." "Yes I am, dumps, I'm a real infant. You can take me in hand once more, Rowy. Don't look glum. You're the best creature in the world, bar the Honourable Robert, and you know I mean it," said Tilly. Miss Rowton held up her hands in horror. " Tilly, I beg of you not to speak of your father in that manner. What horrid words you use. 'Rowy,' dumps,' ' bar.' Really, Tilly, one would think I had sadly neglected your education. It's that horrid man, Fred Martin. He uses dreadful slang." " No, he doesn't, Rowy dear," said Tilly. " Fred's a real good fellow. He says I'm the best rider out West, and there's nobody to beat our Miss Tilly." " That's just it, my dear. The man encourages you.

I shall have to speak to your father about it," said Miss Rowton. " Tell dear old dad. Why, he'll laugh at you, Rowy,*' said Tilly, as she gave a slight waltz round. " I believe he would, my dear," sighed Miss Rowton. " He takes very little notice of anything I say w,hen it concerns you ; but he's a good man is Robert Briscoe, although I say it." " He is ! he is ! he is ! You dear, delightful Rowy,' and Tilly placed her arm around the waist of her com panion, and whirled her around the room. " Stop, please, Tilly. Really, I'm quite out of breath. Let me go. Oh ! " said Miss Rowton, as she sank into a chair exhausted. " You'll be the death of me, Tilly, I know you will. I'm not so young as I used to be." " Listen to me, Rowy," said Tilly, with a merry twinkle. in her eye. " I believe Fred Martin's hit.

I'm sure of it Why don't you give the man a chance ? " ' 'I presume, Tilly, you are alluding to myself in connection with Fred Martin. I'm ashamed of you. Don't mention such things, you silly girl," said Miss Rowton. Tilly pursed up, her pretty lips and gave an unmis takable whistle. " I'll not offend you, Rowy, indeed I won't. When will father be home ? " " To-morrow, Tilly. The post came while you were out. He only sent a few lines. Said he would be here in the morning, and that he's bringing a 'new hand' with him." ■ " AVhat's .that for ? " said . Tilly. " I didn t know we wanted any more hands. I suppose he's an extra good one. Well, I . hope he rides well and that he's not an awful bore." , " I have no doubt your father will choose a respectable man," said Miss Rowton. " Probably, Miss Demure, but I like real good fellows about.

They're all the better with a dash of the scamp in them," she laughed. " I hope we shall have no scamps about here, Tilly," said Miss Rowton. " Look, look," said Tilly, excitedly pointing towards the door. ' Miss Rowton looked and saw that Coal Queen refused to be unsaddled, and was plunging and rearing about the yard in the most extraordinary manner. Fred Martin had hold of her head, and a man attempted to' ungirth her. It was no. use, the mare was becoming more and more savage. " I'll soon settle her," said Tilly. "I beg you will not go near that dangerous animal, Tilly," said. Miss Rowton, alarmed.. " But I shall,"; said Tilly, as she gripped her heavy hunting-whip, and with a firm step went into the yard. " Let me have her, Fred ; she knows me," she said. " Don't come near her, Miss," said Fred.

" She's just fit to lash a man's brains out. Dash the brute," he shouted, as the mare hit out with her forefeet and struck him down all of a heap. In his fall he let go of the bridle. The mare turned on the fallen man like a tiger, and in another moment would have had her teeth in his arm. Quick as a bird Tilly rushed in, and raising her whip struck the mare a heavy blow between the eyes with the butt. She stood over the prostrate form of Fred Martin like a perfect Diana. The mare staggered, looked dazed, and then made a second attempt to reach Fred. Down came the heavy whip again, and this time it kept Coal Queen at bay. Tilly went up to the mare and took hold of the bridle. The mare looked at her savagely for a moment and then quieted down, and her mistress led her away to the stable. Fred scrambled to his feet.

He felt stiff and sore, but was not much hurt. He met Tilly, and respectfully put out his hand. " May I shake hands with you, Miss Tilly. I believe you saved my life. Thank you," he said simply. She gave him a tiny hand, which he clasped with a fervent pressure in his heavy fist. How soft and warm it felt, and yet a minute before it had struck a terrible blow. " It was nothing, Fred," she said. " \A>u were in no danger. Don't thank me at all. It was a mercy I was there, though." "Miss Tilly, you're a noble girl. No wonder we call you the 'pride of the station-,'" he said. "Do they call me that, Fred"? AVell, tell all hands that I'm proud of the title, and will always endeavour to deserve it," she said, with a glow of pleasure on her handsome face. " Tilly, I thought you were killed," said Miss Rowton.

" That fearful animal ! You must never ride it again." " Don't talk nonsense, Rowy. You need not tell father about this, it would only trouble him," said Tilly. It is my duty to tell him," said Miss Rowton. " It is your duty, Rowy, to save my father from anxiety about horse affairs. You won't tel' him, will you, Rowy, dear ? " this with an affectionate kiss. " Promise you won't do it again," said Miss Rowton. "With pleasure, for I don't expect I shall ever have such another opportunity of distinguishing myself," laughed Tilly. Fred Martin watched Tilly's pretty figure until it disappeared inside the house. He turned away with a sigh as he murmured, " There's nobody like her. There never was a girl like our Miss Tilly."

Chapter II

A NEW HAND. CURIOUS men in curious positions are to be found in Australia. Men who have had reverses of fortune in the old land and come out to the new to retrieve them. Wild, harem-scarum sons, well bred, well educated, shipped first saloon by a P. and O. steamer to Australia, with a draft for a couple of hundred in their pockets with ■which to start life. They generally start by havino a " new-chum spree" and getting speedily rid of the lot. They then turn to and find work. And some of these idle, ne'er-do-wells at home turn out real good fellows. They work with a will, and don't object to what the work is. Rare hands at mining some of them ; useful hands on a station others. There are, of course, men who will never do well anywhere ; men who have a decided disinclination for work, and who go from bad to worse.

The colonies want none such, they want the best Inen 'England can spare them. The habitual loafer is a nuisance. He's a pest swarming on society with as much destruction as a swarm of caterpillars in a vine yard. You can see the " loafer" any day in Sydney or Melbourne. He's always got some spare cash. Perhaps he gets a remittance from home, and more shame to those who sent it him. Drink is his God, and mankind — no, not mankind, he hasn't the nerve for that — but womankind, are his lawful prey. There are men in the big Australian cities really hard up, and desirous of work and unable to find it ; men who have seen better days in the old land, and perhaps, through no fault of their own, come to grief; men who have been hard hit, so to speak, and are unable to make a recovery. Refined, well-educated men, some of them ; hiding under a shab bily dressed exterior the feelings of a gentleman.

Men who would scorn to do a mean action or take undue advantage of a fellow man. These men may be scarce, but there are such ; and Rolf Standish was one of them. He came of a good family. His father had been a great Manchester merchant prince, a cotton lord. But the crash came. In the collapse of a great house many minor houses were ruined, and Standish & Co. had to go to the wall. The big house which caused so many failures, was thought to be as financially secure as the Bank of England. False safety. The great house of c Collier & Co. toppled over, and with it came Standish & Co. and several smaller firms. And then the bubble burst. Collier & Co. were swindlers, men who had lived like princes and given banquets at which Nero would have smiled or the beautiful, lascivious Cleopatra bidden Antony come and feast.

Men who drove magnificent horses and spent fabulous sums of money. Creditors might howl with rage, families might be ruined. No matter, Collier & Co. must have their fling. And when the crash came they were missing. Liabilities three millions, assets a mere trifle. Gone, clean gone ! The senior partner bolted with enough spoil to keep him in luxury, and he never was found. Old Randolph Standish could not stand the disgrace that fell upon his house. He tried to bear up. He gave up all he possessed to his creditors. He beggared himself and his family, and people said he was a fool. Randolph Standish was no fool, he was an honourable man trying to pay his just debts. And he did it. He paid the uttermost farthing. Had his creditors waited he might have weathered the storm. But they would not wait.

Collier & Co. had been quite enough for them. Standish & Co. might serve them a similar trick. So these insatiable creditors, the half of which would probably have swindled Standish by selling him inferior goods if they could, determined to bring matters to a crisis. Randolph Standish met them like a man. He explained that, through no fault of his own, this blow had come upon his house. They could take all he had. They should be paid pound for pound. And they were paid, and the Standishes were ruined. The old man did not long survive the blow. He died of a broken heart, and was buried in a quiet spot in a pretty country churchyard. Rolf Standish, as he stood over, the "rave vowed a solemn oath that if ever he met the man who had ruined his father it should go hard with him. At the moment he would, without remorse, have consigned the whole Collier family to perdition.

Rolf hardly knew what to do. A distant relative took charge of his sister, Maude Standish, but said it was clearly Rolf's duty to shift for himself. Rolf acknowledged it was, but said he hardly knew how to commence. " Go to Australia, and try your fortune there," was the advice his relative gave him. " I'll pay your passage, my lad, and give you a few pounds to start with. You've been hard hit, Rolf, but you'll get over it. Pull yourself together, lad. There never was a Standish yet that did not succeed." Rolf took the money as a loan and sailed for Melbourne. He had a rough time of it there, and could make no headway. Too much of a gentleman most people thought as they looked at him when he asked for work. He came on to Sydney, but had no better luck. Try as hard as he could, and heaven knows he tried hard enough, no work could he obtain.

Week after week passed and still no work. His funds were exhausted. What must he do ? He went down Macquarie Street and watched the members going to Parliament House. Why he went there it would have been difficult to say. Probably, because like many of our legislators he had nothing to do. If he'd been asked to legislate at the rate of three hundred per annum he'd have accepted the offer straight off and thought it no disgrace. He wasn't ashamed of hard work, and he might, in his ignorance, have fancied he would have had to work hard for his money. Rolf lolled against a lamp-post. He was not seedy looking, but there was a pinched expression about his face that meant hunger if it meant anything. c The Hon. Robert Briscoe was coming to the house. He was inwardly muttering strong language because he had to be there at all.

He'd have given a fiver to stop at his club. But he was wanted for a division. It was important the President said, and the Hon. Bob must be in his place. " But hang it all," said the irreverent, yet Hon. Robert Briscoe, " if I do come and we do win, what on earth's the use. If we throw out the Bill those beggars in the other place (ye gods ! what an insult), will just send it back again and tell us if it's not passed they'll sit and twiddle their thumbs and do no business until it is." The President remonstrated. He didn't think it was as bad as that. "But I tell you it is," said the Hon. Robert. "Well, I'll -come. But mind you, I clear to-morrow. No more delays. If that Bill don't get thrown out to-night I shan't stop to help throw it out. I don't know exactly what it's about. It is a measure, I understand, you don't approve of.

Well, I'll vote straight, blest if I don't, and then to-morrow I pack up and once more make for Yeronga and Tilly.' And so the Hon. Bob is prevailed upon to do his duty manfully. He strolled down Macquarie Street. Sud denly he stopped. " Dash it all, I don't believe I brought any money out with me." He felt in his trousers pocket. None there. Then in his breast coat pocket. He opened his pocket-book. Something fluttered to the ground. He didn't see, but he had got nearly opposite to Rolf Standish and he saw it. " What a nuisance. Haven't a red cent. I'll borrow some of ' Rockey.' Rolf picked up the paper and opened it mechanically. It was a hundred-pound note. Wealth. What wealth to a starving man. A hundred pounds. What could he not do with it. The thoughts were put back in a second. With the note in his hand he hurried after the Hon. Bob.

" Excuse me, sir, you dropped this." " Eh," said Robert Briscoe. " Dropped what ? " " This, sir," said Rolf, handing him the note. The Hon. Robert took it. He looked at the note and then at Rolf. " It fell out of your pocket-book I fancy, sir," said Rolf. " You're an honest fellow. Why didn't you keep it ? " " Because it was not mine, "You found it?" " Yes, but I knew the owner." " Here's a . Hang it all, I've no change," "said the Hon. Robert. " Probably you think that's a cram mer. Well, it isn't. Bob Briscoe, of Yeronga Station, without a sov. for a stranger." And he laughed at the idea. " I would not accept anything, sir," said Rolf. " I merely did my duty." He staggered a little as though he was faint ; and, truth to tell, he was, for he had eaten very little all day. "What ails you, man?" said Briscoe.

"Blest if I don't think it's hunger," he muttered, as he looked at the wan face. " I'm not well," said Rolf. " No, you're not. Here, come inside with me," and the Hon. Robert Briscoe led the way to the bar of the house — not the great bar, but the refreshment bar. He forced a couple of glasses of brandy into Rolf, and was about to speak when a gentleman came rapidly in and whispered to him. " 'Gad, I forgot. Stay here a minute." And off he ran, leaving Rolf alone. He was back in a very short time. " Just did it," he said. " Near go, by Jove ! " But I threw it out. Blest if I didn't throw it out." " Throw what out ? " mildly enquired Rolf. " The Bill, man. The Bill." " Oh," said Rolf, with a vacant look. He fancied the Hon. Robert must be a little off it. " My vote did it. Majority of one. Come along."