The Girl Whod Helped Ned Kelly

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 762, 7 September 1929, Page 28

The Girl Whod Helped Ned Kelly

By

CHARLES L. TAYLOR

I Copyright 1

(CHAPTER XXIX.-—-Continued) “So I had heard,” said Jack. “You and Joe were in a few scrapes together, weren’t you?” Sherritt nodded a smiling affirmative. “I wonder you don't join up with the gang. Sherritt seemed to he searching for an effective answer. At last he said, "Don’t know that I won’t yet.” “That’d be pretty risky, Aaron,” Jennie interposed. “I’m not afraid of risks. I’ve been taking them all my life.” “Yes, but not quite like the risks the boys are taking. The police are getting more cunning, and some people round about are getting greedier.” Sherritt’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean to say you think they’d sell the boys to the police?” “Some people’d do anything for money. I’d be sorry for anyone that Ned caught trying it on!” “Yes,” he agreed with a mirthless | smile, “it wouldn’t be good for him, would it? It's a pity Jennie’s so sweet | on Ned,” he added, when she had left the room. I “Is she sweet on him? If she is, I | don’t know when they see one another. Again Sherritt showed the surprise he felt. “You must have seen him here,” he exclaimed. “Here?” laughed Briant. “Good Lord! You don’t think he’d take a risk like that? I’ll bet the gang are far away in some safe hiding place.” The other man did not speak for a while. He was thinking deeply. “I can’t understand why you're siding with the boys,” he said at last. “Jack looked round cautiously and lowered his voice. “Strictly in confidence, I’m scared of them. I don’t think they’d hesitate to put a bullet through anyone who- showed them a point. I’m not keen on going out that way, are you?” “N-no, I’m not” —with a startled inflection in his voice. “A thousand pounds a man’s a big reward, isn’t it? There’ll be plenty out after that, I’ll bet.” "Yes, a fellow with that much could clear out of the country and get a big ! start somewhere else.” Jack looked at him intently. “I | say, I wonder whether anyone would j get real pleasure out of money earned that way?” I Sherritt wheeled round sharply. I “Could you?” "I —I don’t know. I suppose in i time one would forget it had blood ! on it. Evidently you couldn’t,” he added as he noticed that Sherritt j shuddered perceptibly. “But then, it’s different in your case—you’ve been so friendly with Joe.” I After a pause, during which Sherritt j showed no inclination to speak, Jack I continued, “I wonder why we’re talking like this?” “I don’t know,” was the hesitant response. “It’s funny the thoughts that come to you, when you’ve got nothing to do but lie and think. Dreams, too. I j had a queer one the other night. The gang robbed another bank. 1 saw [ bags and bags of sovereigns. Ned ! dropped one. and when the sovereigns j ran away each one turned into a policeman. Ned threw another bag - down, and each sovereign became a sympathiser. They began blazing at one another, and dozens were killed One man on Ned’s side was a traitor. He fired at Ned’s legs and brought him down. Then all the sovereigns ! in the other bags seemed to fall on j him, and he was drowned in'the golden flood. Curious, wasn’t it? I J said it was a curious dream,” he re- | peated. when there was no reply. “Y—yes, it was.” ! “Do you believe in dreams?” Briant i asked. “Personally, I think there’s something in them—at least there has I been in some of mine. I remember as a kiddie I dreamt that I saw an i uncle of mine swimming. Soon after that we got word that he had been drowned at sea.” “Was —was your dream about the I sovereigns very clear—l mean, could j you see any faces?” Sherritt inquired. “Oh, yes, but I don’t remember re- | cognising any. Ido remember, though, that the fellow who shot Ned was j young and tall. It’s a wonder to me j why everyone round here isn’t a nerj vous wreck, the police included. Just then the kitchen door closed ! with a bang, and Sherritt jumped from his chair. | “By jove! That gave you a start!” J laughed Briant. “It almost sounded i like a shot, didn’t it? I say, what’s \ your idea about the gang's chances? j Of course, being a friend of Joe’s, your | opinion’s likely to be prejudiced in | their favour, but if you were just an | ordinary sympathiser, what would you : think?” | “I wouldn’t give them much of a | chance” —after a moment’s silence. I “If I’d been in Ned’s place I’d have J had a big try at leaving Australia altogether. It’ll get harder as the police get more used to the country, don’t you think?” The other man nodded. “Some of the troopers seem decent enough.” “Oh. yes. They're not all like Fitzpatrick—or Costello.” Jack laughed. “I suppose you heard of my lucky guess about Costello?” “It seemed too sure for just a guess.” Briant smiled again. “Oh, I say, you don’t believe I'm in with the police, do you?” “If you are, I don’t understand your game. O’Donnell would not have you here if he thought that, unless he had some sort of reason for it.” Jack remained silent, and Sherritt looked at him as if expecting an answer. “I wonder,” said Briant at last, with lowered voice, “If that tree fell on me by accident? I mean,’’ he added, noticing the other’s surprise, “could O’Donnell have arranged it? If he had any doubt about me, it’d be a good idea to lay me up for a few weeks,

wouldn’t it? Do you—do you think you could find out for me—sound him a bit, and get an idea of how he feels?” This show of confidence evidently flattered Sherritt, who said he’d do his best. “That’s jolly good of you, old man. If you do this, I won’t forget you. I might be able to do you a good turn some day." Sherritt leaned forward as if he intended to say something, but appeared to think better of it. A little later he left, promising to come back for another yarn at the first opportunity. Jennie looked round the door, and when certain that Jack was alone, came in with beaming face. “You did that fine, Jack. Aaron came here to ask questions, and you didn't, give him a chance. You’ve got him thinking, I'll bet.” “Did you hear all we said?” “Every word. That was a good bit about Dad dropping the tree on you” —with a merry laugh. “I’m an awful liar, aren’t I? What’s the strength of this chap?” The girl’s face became serious again. “We’re not sure. He’s been hanging around Mrs. Byrne's a lot lately, and you know the police are watching her place pretty close.” “Y'es, but then lie’s going to many Joe’s sister.” “That’s all right. Still, the boys are suspicious. Aaron’s just the sort of fellow who’d have joined them if he’d been all he makes out to be. I know Joe doesn’t like the look of things.” “But he’s a particular friend of Joe’s, isn’t he?” “He was, but —you never can tell. Joe’d shoot him for sure if he thought he was in with the police. And I wouldn’t blame him, either, would you?” “I—-I don’t know. It’d be pretty galling to find your friend a traitor, yet-—-yet- ” “Yet what” she asked, surprise giving her voice a higher pitch. “Shooting a man’s a pretty serious business.” “And isn’t spying a serious business?” she demanded, her eyes blazing. “I’d shoot anyone for that myself.” Jack was pondering deeply over what Aaron Sherritt had said when he heard the welcome voice of Nita in the next room. * She ran to him and he kissed her rapturously. “Nita, you darling!” he whispered. “Why, what’s the matter, girl of mine?” as she turned her head away. “Jack,” she said, “I’m unhappy!”

He took her hands in his. “What has happened to make you feel like that? “I know it’s silly of me, but I can’t help it. I’m jealous.” “Good gracious, who is there to be iealous of?” She did not reply, but turned her head in the direction of the kitchen, from which came the sound of Jennie O’Donnell, softly singing an Irish song. . "You don’t mean Jennie? he gasped. She let her head fall upon his shoulder, and he stroked her silken hair. “But that’s nonsense, dear. Jennie’s nothing to me but the kindest and most considerate of friends.” “That’s just it,” she said, without looking up. “I’m jealous of the attention, she gives you. She’s with you all the time, and I only see you now and then. I hate the idea that she’s waiting on you while I'm at home doing nothing for you.” “You don’t wish you were here any more than I do,” he -assured her. “All the same, I’m glad you’re jealous.” She regarded him with a hurt- look in her eyes. “If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t be jealous.” “Surely it isn’t necessary for me to be jealous to prove it.” “No, but it makes me doubly sure.” “Am I interrupting?” asked -Jennie, coming into the room. “Not a word to her,” Nita whispered. “Of course not, Jennie.” The three of them talked of many things, and Jennie mentioned Aaron Sherritt’s visit. “I don’t like that man!” cried Nita, impulsively. “What do you think of him. Jack?” “I’m not sure. But what makes you dislike him?” “Just something I can’t explain. I don’t believe he’s straight. For one thing, I know he’s spending a lot of time round Mrs. Byrne’s, and I don’t think he’s giving it all to Joe’s sister. The police are simply swarming around. They think the gang, or at least Joe, is sure to go there.” “It’s hard to think that Aaron would give away his best friend,” remarked Jennie, “but you never can tell!” CHAPTER XXX. THE JERILDERIE ROBBERY Anxiously, Jack Briant looked forward to the time when he would be about again. He hated the inaction of a bed-ridden patient, and the idleness which made him a burden on the bighearted O’Donnells. Many times he had spoken to the old Irishman about it, but O’Donnell had merely smiled, and assured him that really he was doing very well, as there was always something over from the little delicacies which his friends brought along when they paid their frequent ( visits. Jennie, too, lightly brushed aside ! his misgivings. “Why, you’re no bother at all, Jack. I’ll feel quite [ lonely when you get up. and lonelier I still when you go away.” Go away! Yes, he would have to do [ .hat. He would have to find some work I hat would give him sufficient money I :o repay them for all their kindness. j Ned Kelly had called a number of imes, and invariably he had stopped I or a yarn. Lately Jack had noticed ; i certain restlessness about him that j

i seemed to indicate another coup was being planned. He had observed, too, that Jennie had become a little more serious and thoughtful, as if doubtful of the result of the exploit. Briant was out of bed and hobbling about on sticks when the absence of the bushranger and the suppressed excitement of Jennie told him that the adventure, whatever it might be, was near at hand. He questioned her, but, beyond admitting that “something big” -was about to take place, she was uncommunicative. Once he had remarked, “Another bank?” and the look in her eyes told him that he had guessed correctly. The little bush township of Jerilderie SO miles across the border of New South Wales, was dark and silent on the night of February 8, 1579, when the gang rode . through its deserted streets. They went straight to the police station and knocked loudly. Constable Devine, blinking at the candle which he held in his hand, opened the door. “Quick!” cried Ned. “A man has been murdered at Davidson's Hotel!” Hearing excited voices, Constable Richards also made his appearance, “Are there only two of you here?” Ned asked. “There’s a man raving mad at the pub, and he'll take some handling.” “We’re the only ones here,” replied Devine, “but we’ll manage him all right.” He was about to rush for his clothes when a peremptory demand of “Put up your hands!” checked him. The excited man, who had begged his assistance in an instant had become cool and stern, and the revolver which he pointed at the two troopers was as steady as a rock. “By God! The Kellys!” exclaimed Richards. “A good guess!” smiled Ned, as he indicated the presence of his three companions, each of whom held a pistol. “What do you want with us?” asked Devine, a little shakily. “Nothing very much,” replied the bushranger. “Get something on you. We’re going to lock you up in your own cells.” "But my wife—” “You needn’t worry about her—she'll be all right.” Mrs. Devine, who had been aroused by their voices, uttered a terrified scream as she saw her husband and his fellow officer under the subjection of four desperate-looking armed men. “You needn’t be frightened,” Ned assured her. “Nobody’s going to be hurt. You go back to your bed.” Afraid to disobey, she went into her room, casting one fear-filled glance at the intruders as she shut the door. “Never been locked up before, I . suppose?” quizzed Ned, as he followed the troopers to the cells. “I have, so I know what's it’s like. A taste of your own medicine won’t hurt you.” “Hey, that’s a good joke!” laughed Dan, as the key clicked in the lock. “What now?” asked Steve Hart. “Sleep. You keep watch while we get a bit of rest.” “What are you going to do with the woman?” queried Dan. “Nothing!” Ned shot him a glance at him which showed that, whatever thought might have prompted the question, it did not meet with favour. So, while Jerilderie Slept, its police station housed the men who,- of all Australia’s inhabitants, were least likely to be found there. In spite of their curious quarters, the three outlaws passed a restful night. Hart might have slept also for all the danger there was, but he never blinked an eyelid. An unpleasant experience with Ned on a previous occasion when he had failed to remain as alert as he was expected to be, was well remembered. Realising that they were absolutely in the hands of their captors, Devine and Richards showed no resentment when they sat down to breakfast next morning, although Devine’s face clouded and his hands twitched when Dan Kelly spoke gruffly to his wife, who waited upon them. The bushrangers were in excellent spirits. They laughed and joked freely, and although the troopers put the best possible face on it, it was clear that they were less appreciative of the humour of the situation. ! "We’ve been bushrangers for a long time,” remarked Ned during the morning, “but today we’re going to be troopers. We're going to be new constables sent up to help you capture the Kellys!” And, when Ned and Dan had donned uniforms, there was nothing in their appearance to suggest that they were not what they represented themselves to be. They took Richards for a walk, through the township in order lo familiarise themselves with its layout. He was warned that if anyone spoke to hint the outlaws were to be introduced as police reinforcements. But no one seemed curious. Joe Byrne filled in the time by having their horses shod by the local blacksmith, who, noticing the brands on the animals, became suspicious, but kept his mouth shut. Transferring the two troopers once more to the security of their own cells, the gang strolled over to the Royal Hotel, and, drawing their revolvers, locked everyone present into the dining-room, which was locked, and guarded by Joe Byrne. “Who the divil are ye, to be orderin’ people about like this?” demanded a little fat man with a projecting jaw. "My name is Kelly,” laughed the outlaw leader. “Ever heard of me?” “Ned Kelly, be the livin’ Moses!” was the astonished reply. “ ’Ere, wot ye doin’ in Noo South Wales?' Vic’s, where ye belong." “Just come to pay a friendly visit. Here, you. keep away from that window!” as a rough, bearded man allowed his fingers to stray to the catch. (To be continued on Monday.)