Jim Ottaway's Substitute. A Tale of Australia.

Free Lance, Volume III, Issue 139, 28 February 1903, Page 12

Jim Ottaway's Substitute. A Tale of Australia.

(B\ J. Y. Solomon, ion thl FivM Lo>ce )

THK dance seemed to contain no mteicst for Netty to-night. She danced with one, and with the other. Her talk was mechanical, her manner restless. In short, she was worrying about Jim Ottaway, the man who for years past- had piloted the ma.il coach from Bouga Bouga to Yuiiba, and v.horn she had learnt to love. The course of true love had run very smoothly until Polly, the new waitress, had turned up as a dark cloud on the horizon of Netty's love affair, She had hitherto had no experience of ma 4 s fitful fancies. Jim was the sunshine ot "rjntd'the advent of Polly, Netty had never had occasion to doubt his fidelity. Netty Saunders was housemaid art tihe Bulimba hostelry, and Polly had barely seen a month's service as waitress However, she had made very good use of that month. In point of beauty, she rather eclipsed Netty, her chief attraction lying in the depths of her lustrous eves eyes that she used to perfection, and to evident advantage on JimOttaway. Of late, Netty had been forced to "acknowledge within herself that Jim had not been as attentive to her as had been his wont previously m fact, she was sure he had shown a preference for Polly- Sitting out a dance, she watched the pair waltzing together. She saw the tell-tale look in their eyes— she saw she was losin- Jim Otboway. "I see the Gilberts are here to-night, said her partner, a lanky youth from a neighbouring run. "Yes," she replied, carelessly Are they not fine men ?" ''As to looks, yes, as to characterwell, there are queer rumours about vie "It eleven, o'clock, Netty decided to leave the ball. She had seen quite enough. It was quite evident that Jim Ottaway was paying more attention to Polly than ever, and, worse still, people were beginning to notice it. Wrapping herself up well, she stole away, and wandered meditatively down the stony road that leads to the Bouga Bouga Hotel. , p , , She had not proceeded far, when she was roused from her meditations by the sound of men's voices, and instinctively she hid behind an adjacent tree. The night was perfectly still, and as scraps of conversation fell upon her ears, she grew suspicious. Presently, three men passed by her hiding-place, and, guessing from their stature that they were the Gilberts, she decided to follow, and if possible ascertain what fresh mischief they were up to. She moved along under cover of the night at a safe distance behind the men, and at last saw them enter a cottage some little distance off the roadside. Creeping warily to the door, she put her ear to the key-hole, and listened. For a while there was no sound except the striking of matches. Presently however, tihev began to talk, not very loudly but just loud enough for the girl at the door "to hear every word they uttered. That youth was right. These men were bushrangers. She listened, with every nerve strained. The perspiration stood out in beads on her forehead. Presently, a chair scraped along the floor, and Netty slipped back into the darkness. She trembled from head to foot They had planned to rob the coach that Jim was" going to drive to Yuhba that night, and Jim, who would nevei sunender, would perhaps be shot. Oh. what was she going to do — how could she prevent it? She must give the alarm at once. The coach was delayed until one o'clock, and the Gilberts were leaving now. She grew calmer. If she let Jim go without telling what she had heard, he might be shot, and then Polly would lose him after all. She hesitated, but only for one brief moment A better, a brighter idea came to her, and she decided to act on it. She wended her way to the hotel, and spnt half an hour hunting; for a small phial of morphia she had once procured to alleviate a raging toothache She knew Jim would take his usual drink before starting, so she sat up in her room waiting for las apcsaianco under the dull light above the fiont door. She was almost asleep when the athletic figure approached the inn. He wore a heavy tweed coat, reaching almost to the ground, and in his* hand he carried the coach-whip he had wielded for so long a time. Slipping downstairs, she intercepted the barman, and offered to carry in the drink, an offer readily accepted bv the tired ronseabout. She emptied a poison of the phial into the liauor. In ten minutes after drinking the liquor the drug had done its work ami Jim slept. Even his constitution was unable to withstand morphia.

It ua.s the work ot a tew minutes for Netty to dnest lnm of his long coat and telt hat She made good use ot a, ralso heaid she had at 0110 time used in Bouga Bouga theatricals, and with the w hip m her liaud .she made a capital picture ot Jim Ottaway tne driver No one would identity her in the daikness. She bent and kissed the sleeping man tenderly, then, closing the dooi gentK she lett lmn. Jj. T- — In about a^n horn's, time, Jim Ottawa^ opened his eyes, and looked abouti lnm ni a dazed, uncertain way. However, suddenly realising his position, he sprang to Ins feet, m alarm. His hat was gone, his. coat, his whip. What did it all mean? He rushed off, and found that the ooaoh had left sometime previously. All kinds of feais came into his head. He hurried to the stables, woke the stableman, amd got the best horse m the place. Then, he set off in puisuit ot his coach. His blood boiled. He was so uncertain of the cause of this ■strange happening, yet so suspicious of foul play. On, on he raced. It wa.s a good fifteen miles to Tatura, the first stage of the Tourney. Perhaps. he would get news there. His horse failed him after going a,bout eleven miles but he got another from a wayside farmhouse. Mile after mile he traversed, and at last arrived at Tatura, only to find that the coach had papsed through with barely a stoppage He ke°ut to the same horse, and hurried on. Who was driving the coach ? That was the_ question that continually recurred to his mind. He felt his horse tiring beneath him, and urged the animal to greater pace. Suddenly he fancied he could hear voices. He turned a bend sharply, and in the grey of the summer morning he beheld a scene that almost stspped his heart. Bailed up ' Two horses lay stretched out upon the ground, and the dead body of a woman lay upon the lonely road. Jim Ottaway hurried to the scene. It was the face of Netty that he looked down unon that brought teais to the rouffih man's eyes. "Poor Netty," he murmured huskily. "And this) for me' God rest you, mv braye girl '" and a. sob shook the strong man's frame. ¥■ * ¥■ At the foot of the Old Man Range there is a little stringy bark hut A broken-down "hatter," who has fossicked for tucker for ten veairs past lives there. Travellers who duirm thejr swags at the "hatter's" door find little encouragement to etav from the mad occupant. Someday, neihaps the police will get the old message "Man found dead in the bush," and Coachdriver Jim will have crossed his last ford.