Timber wolves

Dedication

“TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER”

I

Foreword

T HE characters in this book are entirely fictitious. The most that may be claimed for them is that they are true to type. Of the incidents recorded herein some few, at least, rest upon a foundation of fact.

Vice and virtue flourish alike in town and country. The aphorism that one half the world does not know how the other half lives may well find its application here. So long as men continue to gather together in odd corners of the land, so long will be found in their midst some whose presence owes itself to the fact that civilization will no longer tolerate them openly. Such men admit no ties but those of self interest; claim no kinship beyond the common origin. In the seclusion of the outback they are at liberty to revert to grossness unspeakable. For the character of Tom Login, therefore, it is felt that no apology is needed.

The Author.

*

Chapter I

I T was on a bleak day of late winter that news of old Richard Moyes’ death reached his solicitors, Messrs. Colvin and Heritage of Queen Street, Melbourne.

The city was bathed in a cold, steady rain that set the gutters awash and sprayed icily against the lowered faces of the hurrying pedestrians. From the window of his room Robert Colvin looked down on the crowd of shivering workers, smiling contentedly as he noted the comfortable contrast afforded by his own surroundings. A coal fire was burning in the grate set at a corner of the room. Under foot a thick, if well-worn carpet, gave a pleasant feeling of warmth to the feet. Across the door leading into the outer office a curtain of thick tapestry was drawn, effectively blocking any remote possibility of draught. Draught was Colvin’s bugbear. In his way, he was something of a molly-coddle; a fact amply attested by the muffler around his neck and the carpet slippers encasing his feet. In appearance Colvin was tall and thin, with overlong limbs and rounded shoulders. He was at that period of life most easily described as elderly. From behind spectacles his small twinkling eyes regarded his fellows with speculative, though not unkindly interest. His voice was smooth and even, and curiously expressionless, even in moments of excitement. Taken altogether, he presented the not uncommon picture of comfortable, easy-going, none too shrewd middle age.

Crossing to the fire Colvin bent above it for a minute, warming his hands before settling himself at his desk. This done, he placed one lean finger on the bell-push at his elbow. The door opened and a clerk entered.

“ Mr. Heritage come in yet, Seton? ”

" Just come into the office, Mr. Colvin. Shall I say you wish to see him ? ”

i

“ As soon as he can conveniently manage it, please. And, by the way, bring me everything you can find in the way of papers relating to the estate of Captain Moyes. The mail this morning brings news of his death, Seton. He died last week in some out-of-the-way corner of Queensland; up in the Gulf country, I believe. Possibly you remember the Captain ? Eh.? ”

“ I think most of us in the office would remember Captain Moyes, sir,” said the clerk, with a slow smile. “A jolly, open-handed old fellow, was the Captain, in spite of his rather rough manners. I’m sorry to hear that he’s gone.”

“ Well, well — it happens to us all,” answered the solicitor rather absently. He dismissed the clerk with a little nod and taking a flat tin box from a drawer of his desk began to busy himself with the contents. Glancing at several papers he finally selected one and laid it on his desk. The rest he returned to the box, which l.c then immediately locked. Hardly was the operation completed than his partner entered the room. Colvin looked over the top of his glasses with a little smile of welcome.

“ Well, Johnnie? So here you are at last, eh? Lord, it’s cold enough in all conscience. Stir the fire, will you, and then come and sit down here. I want to have a chat with you.”

The most noticeable difference between the partners was the disparity of age. Heritage was still short of thirty, a fine erect figure of a man, presenting a striking contrast to the thin, invalidish form of the senior member of the firm. In the sense of actual prepossession he was not good looking. At the same time, his features held that almost indefinable expression which denotes a charm of character altogether apart from mere facial attribute. His eyes and hair were brown ; his mouth large but firm lipped ; his chin square and determined looking. When he smiled, which was not unseldom, he disclosed two rows of perfect teeth. In repose his face was strong and compelling, but relieved from actual sternness by the tiny lines of jovial humour which wrinkled the corners of his eyes. For the rest, he was an ordinary clean-living, healthy-minded youngster, possessed of average intelligence and singularly free from any suspicion of snobbery.

As Heritage drew his chair up to the desk Colvin smiled again genially. “ You’re not looking altogether up to the mark, John, my son. If I didn’t know you so well I should begin to suspect the dissipation which appears inseparable from present-day youth. Heigh-ho! how the time flies! Well, what’s the matter? Fagged, eh? ”

Heritage grinned. “ I could do with a holiday, of course. But then so could you. So could everybody, in fact. Spending money instead of earning it, eh? The working man’s dream. Seton said you wanted to see me. Anything special ? ”

Colvin’s expression had sobered. He looked at his friend earnestly a few seconds before replying. “Johnnie, I’ve been having a heart to heart talk with myself. The result of my communings I pass on to you. My son, as a man and a gentleman, I find in you much to admire and love ; as a lawyer, however, I have come to regard you with something approaching horror. I despair of ever seeing you take an intelligent interest in your chosen profession.”

Heritage stared at him open-mouthed. “ Well, I like that. What’s the matter with me? What have I done now? ”

“That’s it. What have you done? Nothing — literally and in solid fact, nothing. Your heart’s not in your work. If it were not approaching a blasphemy to suggest it, I might easily infer that you loath the study of the law because it is the law. You . . .”

“ Well, so I do,” admitted the younger man, relapsing once more into his cheerful grin. “ I hate and detest, and abominate the law and everything connected with it. Now be fair, Bob. You said just now that it was my chosen profession, and you know it is nothing of the kind. Left to myself I should have qualified for a pirate or a bushranger, or something jolly of that sort. I took up this abominable grind just to please the poor old mater, God bless her sweet memory.”

“ So you did, so you did,” conceded Colvin, rather hastily. “ The fact is, no matter how you come by it, that you don’t fit. You’re the square peg in the round hole. Now, Johnny, don’t get your back up. Wait till you hear what I have to suggest.” He took a paper from his desk and spread it open. “You remember old Cappy Moyes, eh? Well, he’s dead. I’ve just the barest particulars so far, but enough to go on. Remember the instructions he left with us to be carried out in the event of his dying ? ”

“ Generally speaking, I do,” said Heritage. “ I’m hazy about the details though. So old Moyes is dead, is he? Now I’m sorry to hear that, Bob. There was something in that old chap that always made a strong appeal to my sentiment, supposing me to possess such a feminine attribute. Spin the yarn, there’s a good fellow. Oh, and I say, you don’t mind if I light a fag? Hang office rules. What’s the use of making a martyr of yourself, even if you are a dry-as-dust lawyer? Fire away! ”

Colvin pursed his lips disapprovingly but made no protest. He tapped the paper in his hand. “ I can’t tell you anything much about Captain Moyes that you don’t already know. My recollection of him goes back about ten years. You were not with me then. Moyes came into my office one day and asked me to take entire charge of his affairs. He was a rich man even at that time. Certain speculations, which I flatter myself were suggested and carried out by myself, converted him into one of the wealthiest men in this or any other state. I am not absolutely sure of the figures but from memory I should say he leaves real estate and personal effects to the value, roughly, of about £50,000.”

Heritage withdrew the cigarette from his lips with a whistle of astonishment. “ God bless my soul ; as much as that? I always knew, of course, that he was beyond the ordinary, but I never even suspected those figures. Who inherits ? ”

“ I have the Will in my hand. You can read it for yourself, later. It’s sufficient to say now that, with the exception of a few charitable bequests, the whole of the estate goes to one Peter Philip Barkley, of parts unknown but dimly suspected. Moyes was never married and it appears that he has neither kith nor kin of his own. Barkley was an old shipmate of the Captain’s.”

“ I see. By the way you say ‘ Peter Philip Barkley of parts unknown.’ Does that mean that you don’t know where to find him ? ”

Colvin made a little gesture with his hands. “ It does. For all Moyes knew to the contrary, Barkley may have been dead these fifteen years or more. The two men were firm friends at one time ; they appear to have been inseparable.

Yet I know for a fact that they separated years ago and never met afterwards. There is a good deal of mystery attaching to the whole business, if you ask me. They separated. Moyes travelled north and Barkley south. They appear never to have made any attempt at correspondence; which, considering I have the Captain’s word for it that they were as David and Jonathan, I take to be exceedingly strange. And yet reticence of a kind, especially as touching the sentimental, would be a natural trait in such characters. They were essentially men of action. Their friendship had been cemented by the adventuring together through a score of years. Each had on occasion saved the life of his friend. How they ever consented to part is a mystery to me. Yet there was no severance of personal friendship. They simply parted. Why, God knows. No doubt their reasons were good and sufficient.”

Heritage made no comment. Colvin rose jerkily from his chair and began to pace the room. His eyes held a far-away look. Even a lawyer can respect romance. Presently he checked his stride and took up a position before the fire. He looked quizzically across at his partner.

“ It is an idle speculation doubtless,” he remarked, in his expressionless tones, “ but can you suggest a probable reason for such remarkable behavior? I tried more than once to draw the old Captain but he refused point-blank to gratify my curiosity. I am as little curious as any man, but really ”...

Heritage stirred sympathetically. “ I know. It does set one to thinking, doesn’t it? Well, if you ask me, I say some woman was at the bottom of it. The old cynical suggestion, eh? Cher ches la femme? God bless me, the world doesn’t change in essentials, for all this latter day talk of advancement.”

“ I can understand that it might have been so,” said Colvin. “ Suppose both men to have been in love with the same woman. Nothing unusual in that, eh? Obviously she couldn’t accept them both. So being firm friends they let the best man win and played the game with each other. Well, we know Moyes never married, if Barkley did. And yet I don’t know. Perhaps the woman — if there was a woman — held views of the future which included neither of them. You never can tell what a woman will do.”

“ Supposing we can’t trace Barkley? ” suggested Heritage, after a moment’s silence.

“ In that case the hospitals benefit,” said Colvin testily. He began to drum on his desk with long nervous fingers.

“ For the present we need not discuss the contingency. We are allowed two years in which to find Barkley — long enough, surely. Now this brings me to my point. Under instructions we begin to search for Moyes’ heirs at this very minute. Some one must therefore take the matter up right away. For obvious reasons I cannot do so myself. There remains yourself. Is there any reason — private reason, I mean — why you should not give this matter your own personal attention; make it your own particular business, as it were? Expenses, I may say, are to be charged up to the estate. That is understood, of course. Well, what do you say ? ”

“ Why not ? ” said Colvin patiently. “ I should have supposed you would jump at the chance. In this matter of tracing Moyes’ heirs there is contained all the elements of mystery and romance. Were I ten years younger and not addicted to catching such infernal colds I should certainly reserve the opportunity for myself. Besides, you will be quit of the office for an indefinite time. That, in itself, should be an inducement. As a lawyer you leave much to be desired. As a sleuth hound you may surpass yourself. Joking apart, will you take the thing up for us? ”

“ Well, I don’t know.” Heritage’s face betrayed his sudden interest. “ It’s worth thinking about. I shall have to take a course of Sherlock Holmes. The trouble with me would be that I shouldn’t know where to begin. It strikes me that looking for this man Barkley will be very much like hunting the proverbial needle.”

“ I can help you a little there, I think,” said Colvin thoughtfully. “ Your haystack, supposedly containing the needle Barkley, is Tasmania. That much I learned from Moyes. In fact, I can give you the name of a definite locality in which to begin your search. The name of it is Timber Bend, and it is situated, I understand, somewhere on the northwest of the island. Ever hear of the place, Jack?” “ Can’t say I have. What sort of a place is it? ”

Colvin smiled faintly. “ I believe it is a region principally devoted to cattle-raising, lumbering, skin running (whatever that may mean) and sly-grog selling. Imports, unsuspecting new chums with well lined pockets ; exports, said new chums minus anything but a consuming desire to put as many miles between themselves and that part of the coast as they possibly can. From all accounts the natives are a tough lot. Don’t let me frighten you.”

“ Carry on,” said Heritage briefly. “ Any other recommendations ? ”

“ None that I know of. Unless you include their pleasant habit of cordially hating a stranger at first sight. At the same time, I do not think you need fear active cannibalism. The people are hardly far enough advanced for that as yet.”

Heritage grinned dubiously. “ Quit joshing, Bob. I must say you make the thing attractive. I think I’ll take the job on if only to disappoint you. After all, I could do with a holiday and I quite agree with you that I don’t seem to be making a startling success in the office. Where did you get all this terrifying information from?”

“ I ran against Gordon Stewart at lunch one day,” said Colvin. “ His firm have a timber concession near The Bend, as they call it. Gordon has never been to the place himself, but he says it’s quite common knowledge that some of the finest timber in the Commonwealth is to be found inland of the coast thereabouts. The big timber firms have had their eyes on the spot for a long time. Some of them are actually operating on the ground already.”

“They are, are they? By jove, I wonder now, if Mr. Frame could tell me anything about the place,” exclaimed Heritage. “ He’s the big fellow in the timber trade, you know, Bob. I’ll take a run round to his house one night soon and ask him a thing or two. As it is, you can put me down on the pay roll right away as this firm’s private sleuth. I take the job.”

“ That’s all right,” assented his friend, a shade abruptly it seemed. He fidgetted a little in his chair. “ Go ahead and see Sam Frame all you want to, if it pleases you. Only see here, my son, keep your business to yourself. I’m not — well to put it bluntly, as between friends, I don’t love Frame over much. I’d sooner run blind, as the saying is, on this matter.”

Heritage protested. “Hang it, Bob, Eve known Frame since I was so high. Winifred Frame and I went to the same school. Sam Frame may be something of a hard character but I think he’s straight. Come, now.”

“ I know, I know,” said Colvin pacifically. “ Only in matters of business, you know, it’s best to be on the safe side. In a thing of this sort there is ample room for imposture. We can’t be too careful.”

Heritage looked at him curiously. “ I know you don’t like the Frames, especially the old man. Why is that? What have you got against him, anyhow ? ”

“That’s just it — I haven’t anything against him; nothing definite, that is.” The accuracy of his own admission gave Colvin an absurd feeling of annoyance. While it was true he did not like Sam Frame, it was likewise undeniably true that he could point to no concrete illustration in justification of his animus. It was simply that he felt Frame was in wrong somewhere. Behind the almost aggressive friendliness of the big timber man Colvin had more than once thought to sense an indefinable spirit of hostility, as if Frame secretly sneered at the gullibility of those who took him at his face value. To the elderly lawyer, versed as he was in the psychology of his fellows, it had seemed too that Frame, for all his robust composure, had upon his mind something in the nature of a burden, some echo of past history that explained the nervous pucker of his heavily lidded eyes, the almost hunted expression of his square jowled face. Colvin thought of these things but he did not utter them aloud. Instead, he brought the conversation back to the matter in hand.

“Let me see — this is July. Suppose you made a start about the first of the month. That gives you plenty of time to formulate your plan of campaign and attend to any little private matters which may be on your hands. I’ll have Seton set to work to draw up a precis of Moyes’ instructions. He can also make arrangements for your expenses. Since you may be away for six months you had better open an account at the Bank nearest to Timber Bend. Other details can be arranged as they present themselves. What do you say ? ”

“ Suits me all right,” said Heritage, his momentary huff forgotten. “ Do you know, the more I consider this trip the more the notion appeals to me. Well, I’ll get along to Frame’s as soon as I can. If the old man knows anything of the place he’ll tell me without any fuss. And, since you ask it, I’ll be mum over the real reason for my trip. All the same, I think you are slightly unreasonable, Bob.”

Colvin settled himself at his desk without further comment. He thought he understood perfectly the attitude of the younger man towards the Frames, father and daughter. He had more than a suspicion that Heritage fancied himself in love with Winifred Frame. Colvin might have found it in his heart to condone this fact if it were not for his distrust of the girl’s father. He knew Frame to be intensely proud of his daughter. The timber man’s ambitions would certainly fail to include a young and impecunious lawyer, however otherwise estimable. Yet Colvin knew that it is the privilege of youth to be optimistic beyond all reason.

Heritage himself was, at times, sadly puzzled as to his real feelings towards Winifred Frame. He was conscious of an odd feeling of restraint whenever he thought of her, a condition which annoyed him intensely because he failed utterly to understand from whence it arose. It was as if some sixth sense were calling a halt to the promptings of his youth and inexperience ; some hitherto unsuspected intuition which warned him to distrust the seeming fairness of his eager judgment. And this the more extraordinary in view of his entirely matter-of-fact nature.

It was not till a fortnight later that he found an opportunity to visit Frame’s house. He chose a Saturday afternoon for the call, knowing well enough that at such a time he must find the timber man at home. If Frame had a passion beyond his chosen business, it was for his garden. His spare time, if such a man could be said to have spare time, he occupied among his lawns and flower beds. Here it was that Heritage found him. Frame looked up hastily at the young man’s greeting.

“Why, how are you, Jack?”

Sam Frame was nearly fifty years old, though in actual appearance he might easily have passed for ten years younger.

His eyes were large and deep-set, with a curiously direct gaze. His hair, slightly flecked with gray, was coarse and bristling, cropped close to the temples. His face was square jowled, the cheekbones high and of a purple tinge by reason of the heavy growth of beard beneath. His neck was short and thick, showing at the right side a broad band of livid flesh, the scar of a wound evidently received at some period of an adventurous youth. At ordinary times this disfiguration was distinctly visible; in moments of excitement it swelled to a conspicuousness little short of repulsive. Taken altogether Frame’s features were those of a man of obstinate determination, almost vindictive will; a man careless of his own or others’ feelings so he triumphed in his ambitions. Yet his voice was smooth-spoken and his eyes not unkind.

“Well, where have you been this week or so?” he continued. “ Too busy to come and see your friends occasionally, eh? Win was saying at breakfast this morning that you seemed to have deserted us altogether.”

“ I have been busy, Mr. Frame,” said Heritage, shaking the big man’s hand. “ As a matter of fact, I’ve just dropped in to say good-by for a week or two. I’m taking a run across to Tasmania in about a week’s time. I may be away a week or six months. I can’t say yet with any certainty.”

There was a barely perceptible pause before Frame replied, “Tasmania, eh? And what takes you over there? Holiday making, I suppose. I don’t know how you young men manage to combine business with pleasure in the way you do. I never could get the knack of it myself. So you’re tired of lawyering, is that it? and mean to have a fling away from the office?”

“ It’s just a matter of business,” said Heritage, flushing a little. He wanted to tell the old man the reason for his trip but his promise to Colvin forbade it. Frame was eyeing him a trifle expectantly, he thought.

“Well, well — just business, eh?” said the timber man good-naturedly. “ You do quite right to keep the matter to yourself. There, it’s all right. I’m not offended in the least. The essence of business is privacy. Tut ... no need to make excuses, man. Come along to the house and have a look at the new paneling I’ve just put in the hallway. Every splinter of it is seasoned myrtle. So far there ain’t a sign of borers anywhere.”

Frame’s devotion to the timber trade was almost fanatical.

ii

He never wearied descanting on the superiority of the home-grown article as opposed to imported timbers. It was his pride that every stick contained in his own home was Australian born. He seldom lost an opportunity to proclaim the fact. He mounted his hobby now.

“ Look at that flooring, Jack. Nothing the matter with that, eh? I got that Jarrah sent over from the West in the log and had it sawn on my own benches. Show me the Baltic Pine that can stand alongside of that. Been down a dozen years, and I’ll give a pound for every warp or buckle you can find. I tell you that one day the folks in this country will wake up to the fact that we can grow timbers ahead of anything the old world can show/’

“Of course we can,” agreed Heritage sympathetically. He had heard all this many times before, yet the repetition never bored him. While not holding such decided views as did the timber magnate, he yet understood enough of the value of Australasian timbers to enable him to take a decided interest in the matter. “ Of course, Mr. Frame, that is so. But, you know, a prophet is without honor in his own country. You say people won’t listen to you when you try to point out just what an asset this country has in her forests. Well, what else can you expect? We have the imported mania pretty badly just now. Whether it’s a State Governor or a tin of jam we don’t think we’re getting our due unless we fetch them from overseas. It’s all part of the snobbery of Free Trade.”'

Frame gave him a quick glance from his heavily lidded eyes. “That’s it. But where is the sense of the thing? I tell you it nearly drives me wild when I consider the folly of our present administration. Look at those mantles. Anything wrong with the graining ? Any rot ? Any warp ? Don’t they look well ? Ain’t they solid enough ? And what are they, anyway? Imported woods ? Maple or mahogany maybe? No, sir. They’re just plain ordinary old stringy-bark, or messmate, as some call it, from Australian hill country. It gives me a pain in the head to hear the way some of the local fools talk. To hear them you’d think our timbers rotted in a week. I’d like to shove some of these little Australians in coffins made of Australian threeply, and let them take their chance of busting out. They’d be there till the crack of doom, and six months after that. Let me tell you that you don’t need to look outside of this country for any quality of timber you like to name.”

They stayed a minute in the hall to admire Frame’s new paneling. It was of polished red myrtle, every grain smooth and sound as a bell. “ That come from Tasmania,” said Frame. “ I’m still a bit doubtful of its value outdoors ; I ain’t certain it will stand the weather. But put it in under cover and there ain’t its equal for wear and finish. And yet there are plenty of men in the trade that try to make out that myrtle hasn’t any market value. Bosh ! ”

“ Don’t they use myrtle for tramway rails? ” asked Heritage.

“ In some parts, yes. The wood grinds as hard as iron after a time. I was talking of joinery though. No, we can suit all comers. Take that match making firm that set up in business here a year or two ago. Didn’t see how they were going to keep up the supply of Norway pine for their matches. Reckoned we had nothing over here that could be worked easy enough. Well, what wood are they using for their matches now? I’ll tell you. Their substitute is Queensland hoop pine, and I ain’t heard any complaints yet.”

“ One day others must think as you do, Mr. Frame,” said the young man, as they entered the dining-room. “ Once our Forestry Department organizes sufficiently to stop the waste of raw material that is going on all over Australia, and insists on a right value being placed on the home-grown article, then I fancy we shall be on the road to success. Get practical men into the Administration ; that’s the first step.”

Frame smiled grimly. “ When that time comes (about the millennium, I should say), you’ll find me waiting on the doorstep. I’m keen on the attitude I’ve taken up, but I don’t try to make myself believe I’m anything of a philanthropist. I’m out for business. And when they start looking round for the timber they can’t do without, it’s going to be Sam Frame they’ll have to come and ask it of.” He broke off abruptly. “ Hallo, here’s Win ! Blest if she ain’t been to sleep in her chair. Lazy little puss. Here, Chicken, wake up and shake hands with Jack. He’s crossing to Tasmania in a day or so and wants to say good-by.”