Doonan related how Jim Dennis had taken Seahorse from Dalton's men and restored him to Rodney Shaw.

'Just like Jim. He's the best fellow in the world,' said the doctor. 'We must see him through this. Why does not Machinson clear the whole lot out?'

'That's what I would like to know,' answered Doonan. 'It's not my place to interfere.'

'Something will have to be done soon,' said Dr Tom. 'The gang is a regular pest, and gets worse and worse every week.'

'You go to Barker's Creek sometimes, I think?' questioned the constable.

'Yes. I cannot refuse to attend a sick woman or child even amongst such a crowd, but I have told Abe Dalton I would not go near him or his men if they were dying.'

'You have plenty of pluck,' said Constable Doonan, admiringly.

Dr Tom waved his arm in a gesture of disdain as he replied,--

'There's not much pluck wanted to beard a fellow like Dalton. I'm going to Barker's Creek to-morrow to see a woman and her child. One of the ruffians came in here to-day to ask me. I gave him a bit of my mind, you may bet. I'll go, and if I see Abe Dalton, I'll tell him in the midst of his gang that if he harms Jim Dennis, or anything belonging to him, I'll make him suffer for it.'

'It will only make matters worse for Jim,' said Doonan.

'Nothing of the kind. Dalton knows as well as I do that I am the only man around here that can help him when there is sickness at Barker's Creek, and such men are terribly afraid of diseases and fevers. If an epidemic broke out at the Creek it would not be an unmitigated evil, but I would do my best for the women and children all the same. As for Dalton and his curs, they ought to die in a heap, like rabbits in a drought.'

Constable Doonan had seldom seen Dr Tom so much in earnest, and he was almost sorry he had mentioned Jim Dennis in connection with the gang, for he knew that he had roused the worthy man.

'Shall I go with you to-morrow, doctor?' he asked.

'No. You would do harm, not good. A constable at Barker's Creek is like a red rag to a bull. They would rush you, Fred, my lad--rush you.'

CHAPTER X

A FRIGHTENED SCOUNDREL

Barker's Creek was several miles from Swamp Creek, and next morning Dr Tom's black boy, aged about forty, and looking ten years older, hitched the ill-groomed horses to the worse-kept buggy.

It was indeed a remarkable turnout, and so the doctor thought as he examined the 'joins' of the harness to see if it would hold out.

The black boy contemplated the whole thing with ludicrous pride, evidently under the impression he had done his duty by both horses and buggy.

The doctor stowed his bag under the seat, together with a suspicious-looking flask, and clambered into the buggy. His weight caused it to heave over in an alarming manner, and when the start took place Dr Tom appeared to be in danger of being hurled from his seat.

He drove slowly, and it was well on towards noon when he arrived at Barker's Creek, and looked around him with an air of disgust.

'What a hole,' he muttered, 'and what beasts these men are.'

Barker's Creek was not an inviting place by any means. It lay in a hollow and was surrounded by a rough, uncleared bush country. Tall, gaunt trees, branchless until near the tops, towered round the place like huge scaffold poles. Their appearance at night was weird, as they were of a slaty white colour, and resembled huge, gaunt spectres. The shanties in which the men lived and the humpies of the blacks were not visible until the visitor was close on to the spot. It was secluded, cut off from the world, and fittingly so.

Some terrible orgies took place here, and the howls and cries of the black gins, when Dalton's men were amongst them, denoted that scenes of brutality were being enacted.

The blacks were herded together like animals, and their humpies were made of the branches of trees suspended, tent-like, on poles, and their resting-places were on the ground.

Numerous stray curs were prowling around, playing with the naked little black children, who had no more intelligence, if so much, as the dogs.

The men of the gang had better accommodation, but it was poor enough, and the only really decent house in the place was Abe Dalton's. It was before this house that Dr Tom pulled up his horses, and, getting out of the buggy, went up the steps on to the verandah. The house, like all the others, was built on piles, and stood a considerable height from the ground; in fact horses were often sheltered beneath.

'Are you in, Abe Dalton?' shouted Dr Tom.

'Yes; come in,' said a gruff voice.

Dr Tom entered and found Abe Dalton lying on a camp bed, groaning and tossing from side to side.

He was a big, powerful man, with a coa.r.s.e face that would have been red had not constant exposure to all winds and weather made the skin as brown as parchment. His hair was long, black, and ill-kept, and his big hands and feet denoted the coa.r.s.e blood in his veins.

Dr Tom looked at him, and it dawned upon him that he had been summoned to Barker's Creek under false pretences. It was not a woman and child who needed his aid, but Abe Dalton himself.

'So it was a lie,' he blurted out.

'What's a lie?'

'That hound you sent to me, said a woman and child were ill.'

'Don't you call my men hounds,' growled Dalton.

'I call them by their proper names. Perhaps curs would be better,' said Dr Tom.

Even Abe Dalton winced at the cutting tones.

'I'm devilish bad, doctor,' he said, 'and I was afraid you would not come if I sent for you to attend me. Now you are here, it is not worth while going back without trying your hand on me,' said Dalton.

'You will get no a.s.sistance from me,' said Dr Tom. 'I would prefer to kill rather than cure you, and the country would be well rid of you.'

'But I am real bad,' groaned Abe Dalton. 'Can't you see I'm bad?'

'Yes. I never saw a man in a worse state of fever, and other complications. I shall not be at all surprised to hear of your death in a day or two; and, mind you, it will not be an easy death. You will not fall asleep and pa.s.s out of the world peacefully. Oh, dear, no. You will struggle and fight and gasp for breath, and eventually choke and go black in the face, but your looks will not matter where you'll go to.

It's precious hot at Barker's Creek, but it's a mere trifle to the oven you'll be put into.'

A volley of oaths came from the tormented man, and Dr Tom chuckled to himself.

'I think I have frightened him,' he thought, 'made him a trifle uneasy.

He's not as bad as all that, but it will do him good to make him think he is going to peg out.'

'I can cure you, Abe Dalton, but I am not going to try. Not I. I'm not the man to cheat the devil, or anyone else, of his due. You are not a picturesque object now, but this is nothing to what you will be in a day or two. You'll be such a horrible sight that no one will come near you, not even a black gin. And you have a real good, thirsty fever on you, and you'll not be able to get a drop of water. I'll tell you what will happen before the end comes. You'll see things, shadows of your victims, and they'll sit all round you, grinning, and waiting for the end. You are in for a good time, Abe Dalton, and I'll leave you to it,'

and Dr Tom moved towards the door.

Abe Dalton was thoroughly frightened and cowed. The perspiration stood in big drops on his grimy forehead, and after lingering there a few moments, started to race down his face like raindrops on a window-pane.

He swept them away with his great, h.o.r.n.y hand and, turning over with a groan of pain, called out,--