The Girl Who Helped Ned Kelly

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 757, 2 September 1929, Page 5

The Girl Who Helped Ned Kelly

By

CHARLES E. TAYLOR

I Copyright ]

CHAPTER XXIV. (Continued). "Oi don’t know so much about that. Joe only joined the gang for the excitement av it. A broth av a bhoy is Joe, believe me. Ned’s head is worth three av ’em put together.” Jennie, flushed with pleasure, stroked her father’s scanty locks. They talked on for an hour or so, and then went to bed, Jack being given a shakedown in a little cubby off the kitchen that served as a storeroom. The possums seemed to be holding a race meeting on its tin roof, but the noise they made troubled him very little, and he was soon asleep. "Oi was thinkin’,” said O'Donnell next morning, “that Oi could do wid yer hilp for a day or two if ye haven’t anything better.” Briant accepted the offer with grateful eagerness. He wished to learn more of Ned Kelly, and Jenny was the most likely source of information. For several reasons he was not anxious to go back to Jacobson’s. For one thing, he felt he hadn’t been quite fair to Nita. For another, Jacobson’s treachery angered him, and during the last few days he was there he found It increasingly difficult to be civil to him. Jennie made no secret of her pleasure when he announced his intention of staying. She was a bright girl, in spite of the sorrow that at times made her silent and depressed. She was easier to understand than Nita, whose moods were as changeable as the weather.

During the morning, as he was assisting O’Donnell with a line of fencing a swirl of dust along the track heralded the approach of visitors. There were two of them, both women, and Jack noticed, with a slight quickening of his pulses, that one was Kate Kelly Mrs. Skillion, her sister, accompanied her. He noticed, too, the packs in front of their saddles, which indicated either that they were tak ing something to the gang, or that they had made provision to stay av whatever destination they had chosen. Jennie ran out to meet them, and O’Donnell dropped his tools and walked to the sliprails. They talked for some time, and then, to Briant s surprise, he saw Kate dismount and walk in his direction. He hurried to meet her. , “So you’ve changed your quarters. she smiled. „ , , “Yes, moving on again, he replied. “Have you seen Ned lately? “Yesterday, and I’ll see him again tomorrow night, please God. Her manner showed the excitement which she was trying to suppress. „ “There’s something afoot, I take it, “-iSSSSS, Mr.” “Something that will give the police a lot to think about.’ “Well I hope it comes off. leii him. will you. that I’ll have The Ledge ready for him when he comes back “You’re very good, but you mustn t take °a U ny risks. There’ll be a bigger hunt than ever after Listen. Briant strained his ears, but could not detect a sound murmur of voices at the slip rails.

“Horses!” cried Kate. “Troopers most likely. It won’t do for them to see you talking to me. Good-bye!” Keeping the hut between her and the track for most of the way, she rejoined her sister and the O’Donnells. It was several moments later when Jack heard the hoofbeats that had caught the girl’s sensitive ear. Her surmise was correct. One of the horsemen was Constable Martin, but the other was a stranger. “Good morning!” said Jennie genially, as they came up. “Trust you fellows for knowing when there’s tea about. We’re just going to have a cup, so you’d better come inside.” Martin and his companion, who had been very interested in the saddle packs of the two Kelly girls, expressed their thanks and followed the others into the hut. "Come on, Jack—tea-oh!” Jennie called, and Briant promptly obeyed the summons. “You look hot, Mr. Briant,” remarked Martin. “Digging postholes isn’t the softest job in the world, believe me.” "There’s not many soft jobs round these parts,” remarked the stranger, a tall, wiry fellow, whom Martin introduced as Constable Fuller. From the kitchen came the clatter of crockery and the sound of three womanly voices. Jack, who was seated opposite the door, looked up to see Jennie making signs which he interpreted as instructions to keep the troopers talking. He turned to Fuller. “Weren't you the policeman who jumped off a bridge and rescued a woman from the Yarra five or six months ago?” “That was my brother,” Fuller announced with a flush of pride. “Did you see it?” "Yes. I was one of the crowd that looked oft. Too cowardly to do anything, I suppose. It was the pluckiest thing I ever saw. Is your brother still in the force?” Fuller’s face clouded. “No. He’s dead —stopped a bullet in a street row.” "I’m sorry to hear it. He was too good a man to end up like that. Still, I suppose stopping a bullet is a danger that faces every policeman.” Martin and Fuller exchanged glances. ‘Wes, I suppose so,” assented the latter. "Did either of you ever know Big Jack Doolan?” “He was one of the most popular policemen in Melbourne some years ago, before my time, but I’ve often heard my father speak of him. He, too, went out to a bullet fired by a dirty weedy little foreigner from a window in Fitzroy during a brawl. Big Jack once arrested four men from the middle of a drink-maddened mob. He just ploughed his way through the crowd, hitting every head that came his way. He was the fellow, too, who went into a burning shanty in Little Bourke Street, and rescued three stupefied Chinamen. There were fine men in the force in those days—just as there are today.” Martin and Fuller acknowledged the tribute by gratified smiles. “I won’t keep you waiting long,” said Jennie, putting her head round the door.

“That’s all right, we’ve plenty of time,” Martin assured her. sound of voices in the kitchen was interspersed with merry peals of girlish laughter. Presently Jennie emerged, carrying a huge teapot in one hand while she balanced several cups in the other. “The fire was cranky, but I coaxed it,” she announced. She returned for more cups, which she proceeded to fill. Martin jumped up. “Where’s the Kelly girls?” Jennie looked around in well-simu-lated surprise. “They just went outside. Kate! Kate!” Martin rushed to the door, followed by Fuller. The only horses in sight were their own! “By God, they’ve tricked us!” he cried, red with rage. “Aren’t you staying for a cup of tea after I’ve gone to the trouble of making it?” asked Jennie in an injured tone. “No!” snorted the trooper, as he dashed from the hut with his companion at his heels. Briant took the girl’s hands in his. “Jennie, you’re the cleverest woman I’ve ever met! Your brain works much quicker than a policeman’s. How long were you talking and laughing to yourself after Kate and her sister left?” “Oh, just for a minute two.” “Mr. O’Donnell,” said Jack, “you ought to be proud of a daughter like that! ” “And be the powers, there’s no man prouder!” he declared, drawing the girl to him. “She has the brains av her mother —God rist her sowl!” CHAPTER XXV. BRIANT’S MISGIVINGS “Well, I guess we’ve given them the slip.” Mrs. Skillion reined her horse and looked back through the timber, a break in which revealed a ribbon of track many feet below them. “Martin’ll be roaring mad,” Kate laughed. They rode on through the scrub, which was so dense in places that they had to zig-zag to find openings. Once Kate’s horse reared oil its haunches with a frightened snort, and a big black snake glided into the bushes. “A six-footer, I should say,” the bushranger’s sister remarked quite casually, patting the neck of her still panting steed. “They ought to be at the bank abotrt now,” said her sister. “I hope their haul’s worth while,” Kate remarked. “Sure to be. God knows, some of us could do with it! Look out! Someone putting on the pace. Perhaps it’s Martin.” Both girls turned their horses behind a thick clump of timber and through the foliage looked down on the track, along which a man galloped at breakneck speed. Twenty paces behind him came another horseman. “Looks like him and the other trooper. Martin’s a good bushman. Lucky we were careful getting off the road.” Before Kate Kelly and her sister left the track they circled their horses so as to leave a maze of hoofprints selected a hard piece of roadside, dismounted, and led their hacks for a short distance, and then rode straight into the bush. Their tracks were plainly visible up to the point where they criss-crossed the soft surface of the road, but it was impossible to say what direction they had then taken—whether they had ridden to the right or to the left. With a smile on their lips they watched Martin and Fuller stop, get off their horses, and closely examine the ground. Once Martin pointed in their direction, and instinctively they crouched closer to the bushes. Then the policemen walked to the other side of the road. For a while they

stood, as if undecided which way to proceed, and finally rode straight ahead. “That’s funny,” remarked Mrs. Skillion. “Martin’s a cunning devil, so we’d better watch out.” “You stay here for a while, and I’ll see if I can spot them from the top of the hill,” said Kate, handing, her reins to her sister. Carefully she made her way to the crown of the rise, always keeping herself well hidden from the track. From the hilltop the road was visible at intervals for a mile or two. There was no sign of either trooper. Presently she uttered a muffled cry of surprise, and hurried back to Mrs. Skillion. “I saw them through the trees making for Carter's. We can’t go there now.” “That’s awkward. Let’s go on-. If we hide near the three big gums we can see whether they stay. At any rate, the boys won’t be along for a good while yet. If the worst comes to the worst we can give them the signal when they reach the ford, and then they can go to Thorpe’s. I’m not so sure that isn’t the safest place after all.” “I think you’re right,” Kate laughed. “Billy’s a wonder the way he bluffs the police.” "He’s all that and more,” assented her sister. Thorpe, a farmer with a considerable holding, a man of substance compared with most of his fellowsettlers, was one of the most valued of the bushrangers’ allies, because he appeared to be the most violent of their enemies. Several times he b reported the loss of horses, and each time he had accused the Kellys of stealing them. He never neglected an opportunity of publicly vowing vengeance for the wrongs he had suffered at the outlaws’ hands. “I wouldn’t talk too freely if I were you,” Superintendent Hare had once warned him. “The Kellys and their friends have a way of making things uncomfortable for those who are known to be against them.” Thorpe laughed at his fears. “I’m not frightened of them. They know if they came to my place they’d get a warm reception. There isn’t a better shot in all Victoria than my Tom, and Sam isn’t far behind him.” “All the same, I think I’d be more discreet,” replied Hare. “Oh, that’s all right!” remarked Thorpe, with an amused twist at the corners of his mouth. The objective of the Kelly girls was a little knoll, on which three giant gums grew in inspiring majesty, topping ail their fellows by twenty or thirty feet. On the hillside across the gully, in the centre of a small clearing, stood a hut, typical of the rude homesteads which sheltered the big-hearted men and women who, unmindful of hardship, were fighting a grim battle with Nature for the right to live. Kate Kelly’s surmise was correct. Martin and Fuller were going to Carter’s. From their vantage point the girls watched them approach the hut from the opposite sides, tether their horses, and shoo off the dogs that snarled at their approach. A short man came out of the hut and they followed him inside. Half an hour elapsed without their reappearing. The sun had long since set, but their horses could still be disi cerned across the darkening gully, j “I wonder what's keeping them,” j said Kate, with a trace of anxiety in ! her voice. “Supposing I go over, and j see what they’re doing?” I’ll find a | way of letting you know if it’s bet- [ ter for the boys to go to Thorpe’s.” I “Right.” | Both packs were transferred to the \ saddle of Mrs. Skillion, who rode off in j thi direction of the road, while her ! sister’s horse picked its way uner- ! vingly down the rough hillside toward 1 Carter's hut.

There was a light inside when she reached it. Warned by the barking I of the dogs, Carter came to the door, i The look of fear in his eyes partly vanished as Kate whispered, “Everything’s all right.” The two troopers were astonished to see the outlaw leader's sister, and made no effort to conceal it. Both looked at her intently without speaking. “I didn’t know you had visitors till I saw the horses outside,” she observed. "That reminds me,” said Martin, going to the door, “that nag of mine gets a bit restless when lie’s tied up for any time. I’ll just slip out and see if he's all right.” Kate laughed to herself. She knew that he wanted to see what was in her saddle pack, and she chuckled as she thought how disappointed he was going to be. Martin went straight to her horse, and when he saw that the pack which had excited his suspicions earlier in the day had disappeared, he relieved his feelings by cursing loudly. “Hdrse all right?” asked Kate, as he re-entered the hut. “Yes,” he gruffly responded. “I don’t suppose you noticed whether mine was well tied?” Martin’s expression was eloquent of the anger he felt, but Ee did not make any reply. One penny a dozen is all it costs to put down eggs with S’narland's Egg Preservative. 1?

“Where’s Mrs. Carter”. asked Kate, looking round. “Our gal over the ranges ain't too well,” the old man replied, “so she went across there this mornin.’ ” “That's a pity. I wanted to see her.” ! “If it's very partic'ler—” “Oh, no; nothing very important. I may come over again tomorrow.” I "We’d better be moving. Fuller,” ; said Martin. ; “I'm goin’ to 'ave a bite to eat presl ently, and I thought you might stay,” ! | invited Carter. j “No, thanks; time we were off.” | Carter stood at the door and | watched them ride away. Then he i I hurried in to Kate. | “My God. When you came I thought I it was the boys!” he exclaimed, j “I wonder if they know anything?” she said, a trifle apprehensively. | “The boys—” S "They’ll go to Thorpe's. My sister i will signal them at the ford. I've got | to let her know. Martin's going to | watch me, and I'll have to give him I the slip. They’ll be back in a few I minutes, listening, so we must be ! careful what we say. If you’re going J to have something to eat. I’ll get it for you.” While she was busying herself over the fire a low growl from one of the dogs caused her to glance significantly at the old man. “There's something about that chap Martin I like.” she announced a little later. “He’s up against my brothers,” still he’s a man.” “I like him, too,” responded Carter,

raising his voice for the benefit of tho eavesdroppers. “I don't s’pose ’e’ll worry Ned very much, seein’ as the boys 'as gone to Noo South Wales.” “No, 1 don't suppose so. Ned didn't tell me much before he cleared out. but he's going to write me from Sydney. I wonder why those policemen came here. They must know that if you are friendly to our family you can’t do anything to help the gang.” “Of course I ain’t able, but I suppose you can't blame ’em. They’ve got their job to do, same as other people.” them.” “That's right, and some of them are pretty decent about it, but not all of them.” (To be continued tomorrow) I—