An Outback Marriage · Chapter 6 (2/2)

Hugh Gordon drove the wagonette down to pick up the party when they landed. The scene on the bank would have made a good picture. The horses, dripping with water and shaking with cold, were snorting and staring, while the coachman was trying to fix up some gear out of the wreck, so that he could ride one of them. The priest, his broad Irish face ornamented by a black clay pipe, was tramping up and down in his wet clothes. Blake was helping Miss Grant to wring the water out of her clothes, and she was somewhat incoherently trying to thank him. As Hugh drove up, Blake looked up and caught his eye, and there flashed between the two men an unmistakable look of hostility. Then Hugh jumped from the wagonette, and walked up to Miss Grant, holding out his hand.

“I’m Hugh Gordon,” he said. “We only got your father’s letter today, or I would have been down to meet you. I hope you are not hurt. Jump into the trap, and I’ll run down to the Donohoes’, and get you some dry things.” Then, turning to Blake, he said somewhat stiffly, “Will you get in, Mr. Blake?”

“Thanks,” said Blake, equally stiffly, “I can ride one of the mail horses. It’s no distance. I wont trouble you.”

But the girl turned and put her hand into Blake’s, and spoke with the air of a queen.

“I am very much obliged to you⁠—more than I can tell you. You have saved my life. If ever I can do anything to repay you I will.”

“Oh, nonsense,” said Blake, “that’s nothing. It was only a matter of dodging the stumps. You’d better get on now to Donohoe’s Hotel, and get Mrs. Donohoe to find some dry things for you.”

The mere fact of his refusing a lift showed that there was some hostility between himself and Hugh Gordon; but the priest, who had climbed into the Kuryong vehicle as a matter of course, settled the matter offhand.

“Get in the trap,” he said. “Get in the trap, man. What’s the use for two of ye to ride the mail horses, and get your death o’ cold? Get in the trap!”

“Of course I’ll give you a lift,” said Hugh. “Jump in, and let us get away before you all get colds. What will you do about the coach and the luggage, Pat?”

“I’ll borry them two old draught horses from Martin Donohoe, and they’ll haul it out. Bedad, some o’ that luggage’ll be washed down to the Murrumbidgee before night; but the most of it is strapped on. Push along, Mr. Gordon, and tell Martin I’m coming.”

With some reluctance Blake got into the wagonette; before long they were at Donohoe’s Hotel, and Mary Grant was soon rigged out in an outfit from Mrs. Donohoe’s best clothes⁠—a pale-green linsey bodice and purple skirt⁠—everything, including Mrs. Donohoe’s boots, being about four sizes too big. But she looked by no means an unattractive little figure, with her brown eyes and healthy colour showing above the shapeless garments.

She came into the little sitting-room laughing at the figure she cut, sat down, and drank scalding tea, and ate Mrs. Donohoe’s cakes, while talking with Father Kelly and Blake over the great adventure.

When she was ready to start she got into the wagonette alongside Hugh, and waved goodbye to the priest and Blake and Mrs. Donohoe, as though they were old friends. She had had her first touch of colonial experience.