G. B. Lancaster

“ Now we'll talk nonsense for a little while, and then we'll go in, or brother Douglas will be locking us out."
"If you two could only be friends!" She touched the close-cropped dark head with wistful fingers. "Harry . . . if you could only be friends!"
"Dear, we can't. You must let that go. I took something of his . . . stole it, if we want to be quite correct. And do you think he will ever, forgive me for that? He who has never stolen anything—not even a kiss."
"You don't know that!"
"I do! His very face blazons it. Lil, do you see that big red star swinging low on the horizon? ”

“ More than one voice swore high that it was Harry, and a rush of men swirled Douglas into a corner, where his wisdom kept him. Then Harry's voice rode clear on the blast of sound:
"On the bar. Put 'em on the bar! If they won't fight by lamplight, they shall do it in the dark. ”

“ The mad life among the men out-back that he had exulted in dropped from him, and instead there were Lil's soft lips and Lil's blue child-eyes wide with love.
Red dawn brought him to the edge of the tussock plain; and in the cool beauty of early morning he reined up by the dam, tripped among the long grass, and lay there. ”

“ Harry spoke first.
"You've always been a devil to your men," he said. "Perhaps I did this to teach you a lesson. Perhaps I did it for other reasons. You don't know, and you're not going to know. Now . . . what do you mean to do?"
Douglas wheeled from him, and the riding-whip was broken in his hands. "I will see you in the morning," he said. "You can go."
Harry went back to his cards with a light in his eye that gave the men suspicion; and Douglas picked Lil out of his veranda chair, where she had fallen asleep, and carried her to her room. ”

“ The Queensland winter gave swiftly to spring, to the red heat of summer, and yet no word from Harry came out of the west where the wild hearts make their playground. Douglas spoke to Lil once in the twilight of the veranda, with his hands holding hers very close. ”

“ There ain't no grass don't grow under Harry's feet. Goin' 'ome, that's what he said. If I ain't blest . . ."
And there, in the dirty little street, with the noisy bar behind and the great dim distances whither Harry had gone before him, Douglas gained some faint understanding of the breed that carries the brand of the wild. Harry had not forgotten; and since it could be but a message from Lil had brought Douglas out-back, Harry had gone to find it out for himself. Gone alone, unasking one word from the man who had given him hate only from the beginning. ”

“ At Kiarabilli Douglas received the first authentic news of Harry. He had been there with a mate a week back, driving cattle to the north.
"An' I give ye my word they made the town hum, the pair on 'em," said the barman. "Devilment, that's what it is—an' pluck what don't belong to no sane man. They was goin' over the Warrebee Range, an' they orter be along ter Buroggy be now—if they ain't stuck up a bush-pub somewheres, an' tuk it ter pieces." ”

“ He was going out to the end of the run.
"He has got to earn his living, Lil, like the rest of us. That's the way he has chosen."
"He mustn't do it!" The agony on Lil's white face stung Douglas. "Stop him! Douglas, you must stop him! He was nearly killed last time, and—and—"
"One of those colts is worth three hundred, well broken. And there isn't another breaker like Harry in Queensland. You mustn't be so silly, Lil."
She had her arms round him where he stooped to his boots.
"Douglas—you used to love me once—"
"Ah-h! Don't, Lil! It isn't I who have ceased loving." ”

“ That's Harry. Never no 'alf-an'-'alf wi' him. You knows best why 'e's bin foolin' round 'ere this six months, an' now 'e's bustin' 'is mare an' 'isself ter git 'ome—"
"I don't," said Douglas, curtly.
Binnie shrugged his shoulders and grunted.
"You wasn't born on the aidge o' airth an' sky where the winds are," he said, and spoke no more until they off-saddled at a bush-cutters' camp for feed. It was golden afternoon, with the magpies singing in the gum-scrub, when they passed Kiarabilli and came to the little side-track that ran down from the Never-tire. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1945, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 77 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”