The Sweep Winner

Contents


_Chapter_ _Page_

I. THE GLITTERING WIRE 11
II. IN THE HUT 21
III. A STRANGE SITUATION 31
IV. "IT'S FOR A WOMAN" 41
V. WHY JIM CAME TO THE HUT 51
VI. "COME" 61
VII. THE FACE IN THE WATER 71
VIII. WAYS AND MEANS 81
IX. THE CHINAMAN'S SHOP 91
X. THE ACCUSATION 102
XI. JERRY, JOURNALIST 113
XII. IN SEARCH OF HORSES 123
XIII. LEIGH HEARS STRANGE THINGS 133
XIV. "A MAGNIFICENT BRUTE" 143
XV. THE BIG SHOW 153
XVI. MRS. PREVOST 163
XVII. JEALOUSY 173
XVIII. A QUESTION OF JOCKEYS 183
XIX. MRS. PREVOST'S DILEMMA 194
XX. THE DRAWER OF BARELLAN 205
XXI. LAME 215
XXII. SWEEP MONEY 225
XXIII. BEATEN 236
XXIV. AT FLEMINGTON 247
XXV. HE LOOKED AT HIS TICKET 257
XXVI. BARELLAN FALLS BACK 268
XXVII. WHAT A FINISH! 279
XVIII. A TERRIBLE SAVAGE 288
XXIX. MAN AND HORSE LAY SIDE BY SIDE 299
XXX. THE SWEEP WINNER'S HOME 311




The Sweep Winner




CHAPTER I

THE GLITTERING WIRE


A man on horseback shaded his eyes with his hands as he looked along the
glittering line of wire which runs for hundreds of miles between New
South Wales and Queensland, and forms the great rabbit-proof fence, of
which he was one of the keepers.

The blazing sunlight scorched all things living. Not a blade of grass
was to be seen. The baked ground gasped with thirst. The slight breeze
was like the breath from a huge furnace.

The wire was hot and dazzling. Millions of glimmering specks and
hundreds of thousands of electric sparks danced on it in revelry. Merely
to look at the shimmering wire blinded the eyes. The horse turned his
head away. He was dried, shrivelled, mere skin and bone. Yet he was
strong, enduring, capable of going long journeys; an heroic beast,
fighting a terrific battle against tremendous odds; a faithful
companion, a true friend--always reliable. There was a mute appeal in
his puzzled pathetic eyes, which questioned why such things were; why he
should be rewarded for his efforts with a parched throat, an empty
stomach, and a hot skin.

The man dismounted, carelessly placing his hand on the wire, then
snatching it back quickly, with a sharp oath.

"Everything burns in this cursed country," he muttered.

The horse rubbed his nose against the man's arm.

"Ping, old fellow, it's hotter than hell. Thirsty? of course; so am I.
We'll have to thirst until we reach the next hole."

The man was strong, well-built, six feet high; even the hard life had
not sapped his strength. His dark hair, moustache, and beard, gave him
a sombre appearance. His eyes shone fiercely under bushy brows. His
face, hands and arms were tanned a deep brown, as also was his chest,
where the shirt opened from the throat. He was no common man. His speech
was not that of the keepers of the fence, or the bulk of them, for there
were many and strange beings on these hundreds of miles of wire line.
The majority were old boundary riders, stockmen, tank sinkers, fencers,
teamsters. In another class were criminals, convicts and men whose hands
were against their fellows; who were dangerous sometimes, when they
scented betrayal, or suspected they were being tracked. The man looking
at the mirage in the distance belonged to none of these classes; he
stood out alone. They knew it, and gave him a show of respect, when they
met him, which was seldom.

There must have been some weighty reason for him to bury himself in this
solitude, and to accept an occupation from which any educated man must
shrink. He wanted to be alone. He could not have come to a better
place. Boonara, the nearest bush town, was fifty miles away from where
he stood, and a dozen less from his hut.

He descended upon Boonara at night, and waited for it to wake up.