He put himself in her way, little thinking she was also intent upon seeing him.

Sal was a woman of more than average intelligence and strength, and quite equal to Abe Dalton in cunning when desirous of pitting herself against such a man.

Jim Dennis was the only one who knew her worth and of what she was capable, and when she left him sitting with Willie in the buggy he had not the slightest doubt she had some scheme on hand for discovering the perpetrator of the a.s.sault.

'So you came to see your pet lad win?' said Abe Dalton, as he stood in front of her.

'He beat you and that fellow Jackson,' said Sal, exultingly.

Abe Dalton was still boiling over this defeat, and he had not much faith in Sal's sagacity, or in that of any man, woman, or child, with black blood in its veins.

'He never ought to have won. The horse won. Neptune is a good one, I can tell you. The little a.s.s was half dazed at the finish,' snapped Abe.

'So would you have been had you been struck on the head like he was the night before,' she retorted.

'So you believe that story, eh? Well, let me tell you, it's a lie, an undiluted lie, not a single thing to redeem it. Struck on the head!

Well, I'm blessed! And you believe it?'

'I not only believe it, but I know who did it,' was the unexpected reply.

In spite of himself he started, and she noticed it.

He laughed harshly.

'You think yourself----clever, I suppose?' he growled.

'Some of your men did it because you wanted The Captain to win,' she said.

He felt a sense of relief. She did not think he had done it.

'Who are my men?' he asked.

'Shall I tell you?' was her fierce answer.

'Go on, let's have it.'

'Your men are the worst lot yet unhung. They are the lowest of the low, and had not Jim Dennis taken me in I might have been herded with those outcasts from the tribe at Barker's Creek. Beware, Abe Dalton! King Charlie is not yet dead, and he never forgets. Some day Barker's Creek will run with blood. I can see it--see it now. Run with blood, I tell you, Abe Dalton--and your own will mingle with it, the black and the white together.' And she raised her hand as though she would strike him.

He left her without another word.

CHAPTER XX

DANGER AT HAND

After the races, Swamp Creek settled down into its usual quiet ways, and the excitement quickly subsided.

Most of the inhabitants won a trifle over Neptune's victory and were therefore gratified at the result of the cup.

Willie Dennis was none the worse for the blow he had received, but his father was desperately angry, and no steps appeared to have been taken by the police to ascertain who committed the outrage.

'They are a dunderheaded, sleepy lot,' he said to Sal; 'and Doonan appears to be no better than the others.'

'It is not his fault,' she replied. 'I know who did it, and so do you.

It was Abe Dalton. I could see it in his face when I tackled him at the races. The coward shrank from me.'

'I think he is the man,' said Jim; 'but we have no proof. I am going over to Barragong with Dr Tom. We shall not be away more than two or three days. You can look after things here. Willie will be able to attend to the hands, and see Neptune and the other horses are properly exercised. I will tell Silas Dixon to keep a watchful eye on everything, but I do not think there is anything to fear, and you will not be molested.'

'I am not afraid,' she said; 'and I can use a revolver as well as most men.'

'Yes, you are a good shot,' he answered her. 'I hope there will be no occasion for shooting.'

He rode over with Dr Tom Sheridan on a long-promised visit to Adye Dauntsey.

Jim Dennis was a regular stay-at-home, and never cared to be long away from Wanabeen.

The police magistrate, however, knew how to entertain such visitors, and he possessed a fund of anecdote, and had gone through a wide and varied experience, which enabled him to relate many stories of interest connected with the district.

Abe Dalton was not slow to learn that Jim Dennis was absent from Wanabeen, and he thought it would be a good time to attempt to get possession of Sal during his absence.

He laid his plans accordingly, and four of his men were allotted to undertake the task.

There were, however, in the blacks' camp at Barker's Creek, women who had come to loathe and hate Dalton and all his belongings, and who sometimes managed to escape the vigilance of his men and get away unseen, when they would visit Sal at Wanabeen, or search out their own tribe. They were bound to return to the Creek, or it would have gone ill with those remaining behind.

Dalton's men took but little heed of the blacks, talking freely in front of them, and it came to their knowledge that Sal was in some danger, so they determined to warn her. The nature of the danger they failed to understand, but that it existed they were certain.

At night one of the gins slipped away un.o.bserved and walked to Wanabeen, where she arrived at daybreak. These blacks knew the country well, and had they been treated in a decent manner would not have been slow to appreciate kindness.

Sal was always willing to give them a helping hand, and tried to persuade them not to go back to Barker's Creek when they came to Wanabeen, but without avail. They regarded her with a sort of awe, knowing her to be partially one of themselves and yet far superior. They could not understand how a woman who had once been in their tribe became as she was.

When Sal went outside she saw the black gin waiting on the steps of the verandah. She welcomed her and gave her food, and then questioned her.

She gathered that some danger threatened her from Dalton's gang, and that Jim's absence from Wanabeen was known at Barker's Creek.

She thought but little of herself, all her anxiety was for Willie and Jim Dennis's property.

Where was Constable Doonan? That was her first thought, for she knew he would help her, and the arm of the law was strong. In such a district it was a hard matter to know where the mounted police are to be found.

Constable Doonan was stationed at Swamp Creek, but he might not be there, and there was no time to lose.

She thought for a few moments, and then sent Willie to tell Dixon she wanted him. She knew she could trust Silas Dixon, although he was a surly, misanthropical sort of man.

Dixon came, and growled out something about being interfered with in his work, and that he wished the boss was at home and there was no women to meddle with him.

'So do I wish he was here,' said Sal, 'for danger is at hand. You must ride to Swamp Creek and seek out Constable Doonan, and if he is not there you must find him.'