Page:In bad company and other stories.djvu/154

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
142
MORGAN THE BUSHRANGER

shed—a fiend incarnate—permitted to carry terror and outrage into peaceful homes, until his appointed hour of doom. This was the manner of it.


Morgan's Death, told by the Manager.

Peechelbah Station, on the Murray, was a big scattered place, a regular small town. There was the owner's house—a comfortable bungalow, with a verandah all round. He and his family had just come up from town. My cottage was half a mile away. I was the Manager, and could ride or drive from daylight to midnight, or indeed fight, on a pinch, with any man on that side of the country. I was to have gone up to the 'big house' to have spent the evening. But it came on to rain, so I did not go, which was just as well, as matters turned out.

I was writing in my dining-room about nine o'clock when a servant girl from the house came rushing in. 'What's the matter, Mary?' I said, as soon as I saw her face. 'Morgan's stuck up the place,' she half whispered, 'and he's in the house now. He won't let any one leave the room; swore he'd shoot them if they did. But I thought I'd creep out and let you know.'

'You're a good lass,' I said, 'and have done a good night's work, if you never did another. Now, you get back and don't let on you've been away from your cups and saucers. How does he shape?'

'Oh, pretty quiet. Says he won't harm nobody. They're all sitting on the sofa, and he's got his pistols on the table before him.' And back she went.

Here was a pretty kettle of fish! Many things had to be done, so I pulled myself together, and set about to study the proper place for the battle. It was no use trying to rush the house. There were a lot of hands at work on the place and in the men's huts. But in those days you couldn't be sure of half of them. I had a few confidential chaps about, and I intended to trust entirely to them and myself. I was a good man in those days, as I said before.

But here was Morgan in possession—one of the most desperate, bloodthirsty bushrangers that had ever 'turned out' in New South Wales or Victoria. Nothing was surer than, if we made an attempt to besiege the house, he would at once