# Outlaw and Lawmaker/Chapter 27

CHAPTER XXVI
THE CORROBOREE.
Yet never had Elsie seemed sweeter, more womanly than at this time. All who remarked her observed that her engagement had greatly improved Miss Valliant. Blake watched her closely, and made up his mind that she was unhappy. But beyond the ordinary intercourse of a bush house, which necessarily implies a good deal of familiarity, he did not seek her society. And she made no effort to force his confidence, or to talk to him from the inner view of things. She only wondered within herself whether he and Trant had settled their differences as to the matter of that enterprise, whatever it might be, in which Blake's 'damned sentimentality' stood in the way. She speculated much upon the nature of that sentimentality, and even conjectured whether it could possibly have any relation to herself.
There was no lack of interest and amusement at the Dell. Lord Horace was a good host: and Ina in her quietude and gentleness made her guests happy. She was gentle and sweet to Mrs. Allanby. who must have been a serpent indeed could she have overtly prosecuted schemes for the undermining of poor Ina's happiness. As for the men, they had plenty to do. There was duck shooting on the creek, and an attempt at a shooting luncheon, which became a very scrambling picnic, in which no pair could apparently succeed in finding any other pair. The day after Jem Hallet's coming was signalized by the wild-horse chase, from which the ladies were naturally excluded, though Lady Waveryng pleaded hard to be allowed to risk her neck, hut in which Lord Waveryng joined with some trepidation, and the promise of a black boy in attendance to steer him home, should he find the country too rough. He came home, however, safe and sound, swinging a chestnut tail as a trophy, and full of Blake's feats of horsemanship and the magnificent performances of the Baròlin horses as bestridden ​by the two half castes, Pompo and Jack Nutty, and the stockman, Sam Shehan.
Never came across such fellows for sticking. They're like the what do you-call-'ems in the Greek mythology. And to see the places they went up and down, and the astonishing knack they had of disappearing over a precipice, and getting swallowed up in a gulley," Lord Waveryng said. "They seemed to know every inch of the country. I tell you what it is, I am not surprised at your failing to catch Moonlight's gang if it's made up of natives and colonials of the pattern of Mr. Sam Shehan and the half-castes."
He addressed Captain Macpherson, who had appeared almost simultaneously with the wild-horse party, only from an opposite direction. He had come from Goondi, where there had been what he called a "mining ruction."
Captain Macpherson had brought with him some police reports and subject matter for conference with his chief. The new Colonial Secretary, he informed Lord Waveryng, showed an extraordinary aptitude for the details of his department, and especially for those connected with the police force. In the matter of Moonlight, indeed, the instructions from headquarters had been unusually precise and frequent. The police had been sent hither and thither on what had turned out to be mistaken information. Anyhow, there had been two more robberies of gold escorts, and Moonlight was not yet captured. As he expatiated at dinner upon the zeal of his chief, Captain Macpherson wondered why Lord Waveryng laughed dryly, and why Blake himself seemed to see a sardonic jest where certainly none was intended. Macpherson resented, as an impertinence, Trant's somewhat Mephistophelian laugh.
"A distinct humour in the suggestion, eh?" said Lord Waveryng later, in the verandah, lighting his cigar, and looking curiously at Blake as he spoke. "Control of the police force! Seems odd, don't it?"
"Extremely odd," replied Blake, imperturbably. "I quite agree with you. There is a distinct humour in the ​situation. Possibly, my dear lord, a deeper humour than even you are aware of."
"How about my lady's diamonds?" asked Captain Macpherson, strolling out into the verandah.
"Oh, Captain Macpherson," cried Lady Waveryng, "do relieve me from the responsibility of these wretched things! How Briggs could have misunderstood me, and how she could have supposed that I should want my jewels in the Bush, I can't imagine. I never wore them except during that week with the Prince. She and Lord Waveryng's man had distinct orders that they were to be placed in the Bank."
"I am afraid, my dear, that your orders weren't very clear," said Lord Waveryng, rather grimly. "I never knew Prentiss misunderstand any order of mine."
"Where are the diamonds now?" asked Captain Macpherson.
"In the medicine chest, lying in the trays where lint and diachylon plaster and surgical appliances belong," said Lord Horace. "Fortunately, it's a large medicine chest. That is the only receptacle in the house that has a safe key, and they put a Bramah lock on it, on account of the poisons."
"Horace wanted us to put them in the sugar bin," said Lady Waveryng.
"No, Em. The flour bin, I said, it's deeper. And sugar is sticky, especially ration sugar, and the after associations might have been unpleasant. However, Waveryng preferred the medicine chest, which during the day is watched in turn by Miss Briggs and Mr. Prentiss, my lady's woman and my lord's man."
"And indeed," said Elsie, "it only needs candles and a pall to make one think that they are watching a corpse."
"Mr. Prentiss occasionally flourishes a pocket revolver," observed Lord Horace, "and Miss Briggs has, I believe, armed herself with a cutting-up knife from the meat-store."
"I am sure that it would be a brave robber who tackled Briggs," said Lady Waveryng.
"At night," continued Lord Horace, "Waveryng sleeps ​on the medicine chest, and keeps a carbine on his pillow. I warn any here who may be burglariously inclined that those diamonds are not to be filched without bloodshed."
"And my waking hours are made hideous by Lord Waveryng's reproaches for my carelessness," said Lady Waveryng plaintively: "and my dreams are haunted by troops of past and future Waveryngs bewailing the loss of those historic jewels."
"Are they really historic? and are they really so valuable, my lady?" put in Trant in that rather obsequious manner which had annoyed Elsie at first, and now jarred on Lady Waveryng.
"They are certainly historic," she answered, curtly; "though I can't say it is much to the credit of the family, since the finest of them were a present from Charles II. to a fair, but frail, Lady Betty, who was an ancestress of my husband's, and they are supposed to have been part of the Crown jewels. They are considered valuable by connoisseurs."
"Well," said Captain Macpherson, "if it will relieve your mind, my lady, I am expecting a company of four troopers from over the border to meet me here to night; and they'll take your diamonds in charge and start with them at daybreak to morrow for Goondi, where they will deposit them safe, in the Bank, till you go back to Leichardt's Town.—What is the matter, Trant?"
Trant had risen and was peering over the palisading of the high verandah out into the night, palely illuminated by a moon nearing its full.
"Only I thought I heard something in the creepers—a snake, perhaps. They are beginning to come out now. Are you quite wise, by the way, to talk openly about the diamonds and your plans for taking them to the Bank? How do you know, for instance, that Moonlight has not got a scout among the blacks that are hanging round for this corroboree?"
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Captain Macpherson. "That isn't likely." But he looked startled by Trant's suggestion, ​and annoyed at being convicted of an imprudence. "You are right," he added with native honesty, "I ought to have held my tongue. By Jove! there are the troopers now."
Four men in blue uniform rode up towards the Humpey, and gave a military salute. Captain Macpherson and Lord Horace hurried out to meet them at the back entrance to the Humpey.
"Oh, listen!" cried Elsie; "and look!"
There was a sudden blaze of camp fires illuminating strange fantastic forms, on the crest of the ridge opposite the Humpey. A barbaric rhythmic chant broke on the still air. It was the night of the corroboree.
Lady Waveryng started up. She did not want to lose any of the sight. Frank Hallett told her that he had made all the arrangements. They were to take up their position at a certain distance—not too near, and he would tell them when they must depart. They must not be shocked. He warned them that the dance might offend the squeamish.
"I don't suppose it can be worse than the Assassouis at Algiers," said Lady Waveryng; "I went to see that."
The ladies went off, and came back presently wrapped in dark ulsters. As they were leaving the house, Captain Macpherson joined them, and went up to Lord and Lady Waveryng, who were together.
"I've been talking to the sergeant," he said, "and they want to push on to-night. They want a bit of a rest now, as they were riding last night. If you'll have the diamonds ready and give them to me after the corroboree, say, they'll go off quietly and be at Goondi before morning."
Lady Waveryng went back to give some orders to the inestimable Briggs, and Trant and Blake waited for her while the others strolled slowly in the direction of the camp fires, which had only been a signal blaze, and were now dwindled to a circle of red spots against the background of gum trees. Frank Hallett had chosen a place of view, and led them to a fallen log, near which an assemblage of gins had congregated, at some little distance from the scene of the revel. This was a clear space for the fringe of scrub, ​marked out by the circle of ember-lights with a huge bonfire laid ready for lighting, in the centre, and behind it a gigantic and fantastically designed semblance of a human figure, of which the outlines could now be but dimly discerned. From the dense scrub at the back, shadowy barbaric forms now and then emerged, and strange wild sounds and the clash of weapons proceeded. These were the warriors preparing themselves for the dance. The gins were waiting for the signal, and crowded round the strangers, grotesque uncouth shapes, with naked bosoms and bare arms, and gleaming eyes, jabbering and gesticulating, and clamouring for tobacco and food. It amused Lady Waveryng to distribute figs of tobacco, cut into small pieces, which Blake handed her. Blake was in wild spirits. The excitement of the corroboree seemed to have infected him. He laughed, he chatted with the gins, he flung bits of tobacco for them to scramble after. His eyes shone, a mad gaiety possessed him. Trant, on the other hand, looked heavy and serious, as though his mind were preoccupied. Elsie observed that Sam Shehan and the two half-castes were also present, lounging in the back ground, the half-castes conspicuous in their white shirts and red handkerchief-belts and neckties, grinning and cutting capers in impish glee, but taking no part in the corroboree itself. Sam Shehan leaned against a tree, dour and unprepossessing, so much so that Elsie said to Trant,
"I can't imagine why you employ that man; he has such a horrid face, and you know people used to say he was a cattle-stealer."
Trant laughed. "He is a reformed character now, Miss Valliant, and he is devoted to me and Blake. You see we gave him his chance. A fellow can't help being born with a sour expression, can he? His appearance is against him. There isn't a better stockman than Sam Shehan on the Luya."
"The half-castes look as if they ought to belong to a pantomime," said Lady Waveryng. "I never saw such droll creatures, I'd like to take Pompo back with me. ​Will you let me have him, Mr. Trant? He shall be well treated, I promise you."
"Pompo would pine and die if he were parted from me," said Trant. "Do you know, Lady Waveryng, that I've got a sort of mesmeric power over that black boy? I believe if I told him to cut off his hand he'd do it."
"Is he as devoted to Mr. Blake?" asked Ina.
"No," said Blake; "it's fear keeps him in subjection, as far as I am concerned—fear and devotion to Trant. I haven't got Trant's knack with the blacks."
The gins pressed closer. The camp odour became objectionable, even in the fresh night air, and Lady Waveryng shuddered. Lord Horace came excitedly towards them. He had been in the scrub dressing-room of the warriors. He confessed to having plied them with rum. " Now look out, Em. They are going to begin."
There was a signal shout—a sort of Banshee cry, ending in a warwhoop. The gins scuttled off to gather up their boomerangs, and squatted in a semicircle in two rows along the line of the fires. Then sounded the music—a queer savage chant in long monotonous cadences, with something at once eerie and exciting in its strains. The gins in the front row sang, those behind swung their boomerangs together, keeping clanking time to the music. From the blackness of the scrub a cohort of grotesque forms came stealing. Suddenly the huge bonfire, which had been made of quickly inflammable material, blazed forth, and the circle of the corroboree was a glow of red light. The gigantic figure in the centre looked like some monstrous idol. It had a rough hewn painted head, gleaming white and dead black, cut out of new peeled bark and with withes of grey-green moss floating down its shoulders. "Baròlin, Baròlin," shouted the half-castes. It was a suggestion of the Waterfall rock, the legend of the great chief. The figure was built up in bark. Its solemn arms were extended as if for prey. Brilliant patterned handkerchiefs in crimson and yellow were drawn about its neck, and a red blanket concealed the lower part of the form. The red flames of the bonfire leaped, ​extinguishing the moon's rays, and throwing darting shadows among the tall gum trees, black-stemmed and hoary with moss. The gins leaned forward, their bare black bosoms palpitating, their arms swinging, their boomerangs and nullas clashing. White and red tipped spears quivered in the earth, making a sort of palisade against the scrub.
Then dancing began. Troop after troop of demoniac beings pressed from the scrub and ranged themselves round the centre idol. They were naked save for a belt about the loins. All were painted in white and red and yellow; some to represent skeletons, others had crawling snakes meandering upon their limbs, others fishes, others in a nightmare pattern meaning nothing; and on their heads were cockatoo feathers, white and pale yellow, and plumes from the parrot's breast. They danced round the idol, making all kinds of graceful silent gestures in time to the music, which changed as the figures of the dances varied.
Elsie sat as if in a dream. She had been seated between Frank Hallett and Blake. Her dress touched Blake. She was conscious almost of something electrical, highly charged in him—a suppressed agitation, though he sat perfectly still. An odd fancy struck her that he would not move lest he should lose the contact of her dress. Was it a dream—the hellish merriment, the savage gestures, the fiendish shouts and yells, in which there seemed a note of such unutterable melancholy? And the brassy glow rising and falling, the solemn idol with its staring painted eyes and outstretched arms, the circle of gins, women like herself—torn perhaps by love and longing, as she was torn now. ... And the wide silent Bush, and all the vast barbaric world. And here this little group of civilized beings, the old world and the new meeting. Lord and Lady Waveryng, Lord Horace, In a, Frank, Blake, Trant. She heard Trant speak at the moment. He was bidding good-bye to Lady Horace and Mrs. Jem Hallett, saying that he meant to take advantage of the moonlight and go back to the Gorge to meet a butcher he was expecting the first thing in the morning.
​"And fancy keeping a butcher waiting, Mr. Hallett, and for us poor beggars who don't sell a hundred head in the year! I couldn't trust Sam Shehan to soothe his wounded feelings."
"A butcher, Lady Waveryng, is the aristocrat of the bush," explained Jem Hallett. "We all bow down to him. Good luck to you, Trant! But what do you want with your paltry free-selection sales, and your partner Colonial Secretary of Leichardt's Land? It's incongruous."
Elsie laughed. Wasn't everything incongruous? She was thinking so while Trant pressed her hand and tried to put some meaning into his good-bye. ... The interlude was over. She went back upon her own foolish fancies. Yes, there they were, sitting side by side on that dead gum tree, all different types, all collected from different ends of the earth, and yet all so curiously linked together. Was she not beside the man who was to be her husband? And on her other side, touching her very skirt, was the man she loved. Oh, yes, she loved him, she loved him—If he would but take her in his arms now—before them all—as he had taken her that night, and press upon her lips kisses as hot and passionate, would she resent the kisses? Would they not seem very life of her life? ... Now there came a move. Ina called softly to Frank. She wanted to ask him a question, and he got up and went round to her, and then involuntarily as it were, and as though each had been tortured and oppressed by that other presence, Blake and Elsie turned to each other.
What was it that made his eyes so strange to-night? What spirit of recklessness and passion and wild yet restrained impulse leaped out of them, and kindled in her a well-nigh overmastering emotion? He seemed to draw a little closer to her, and then to check himself. The shouts grew louder and wilder. The gleaming forms went faster. The red lights became lurid. The acrid barbaric odour intensified. Elsie felt giddy and faint. She half rose in an unsteady swaying movement. Blake's arm touched her. They were at the very end of the log. He had risen and ​had noiselessly drawn her away, and before she knew what had happened they were apart from the rest in the night alone. He had supported her to a little clump of wattle growing close and making a kind of bower, which sheltered them from observation. Neither said a word. The hood of her ulster had fallen back, and her head was upraised and her eyes were meeting his, the gaze of both intense, beseeching, and terribly sad. Still neither said a word. But he drew her quite close to him as they leaned against the wattle tree, and bent his head to hers and their lips were joined.