Chapter V: The Black Horse and His Rider

“Wake up, dear,” said Mrs. Henderson the following morning, stooping and gently kissing her cousin’s white arm as it nestled against the coverlet, the dainty sleeve of muslin and cobweb-lace having slipped over the delicately curved elbow.

Iris opened her deep blue eyes and looked with troubled wonder at her companion.

Mrs. Henderson explained. “You must get dressed at once, dearie; Miss Smith has just called me. Mr. Rees sent her up to ask if we would care to go with him to a place--I forget the name--but there are to be sports in aid of some charity; I was too sleepy to take in the details--only Miss Smith said it would be such a lovely drive through a part of the country we have never seen, and you said last night you would like some more trips. Mr. Rees has to go, they are to have jumping, and he has been asked at the last minute to ride one of the horses; the owner is not well enough, or, as Miss Smith put it, he has ‘funked’ it, and wants Mr. Rees to take his place. It appears they are all anxious to get him as he is such an excellent rider. But we have to start early; the place is twenty miles away and the sports commence at twelve o’clock; there are some other people from the township going too, so Mr. Rees is taking the wagonette. I suppose we shall have the front seats as usual.”

An hour afterwards they were on their way.

It was a lovely morning. The cloudless sky was the clear blue of baby eyes. The hills lay wrapped in dreamy gossamer haze. The air throbbed with warmth and golden sunlight. Flocks of chattering parrots flew in and out of the silver wattle trees and honey-eaters twittered merrily in bottle-brushes.

The horses danced along the road. They were very fresh and enjoyed being allowed to gallop up the numerous hills. The wagonette was filled with people gaily attired for the holiday. Mrs. Henderson and Miss Dearn were in their usual places, and Iris arranged that her cousin should sit next to the driver, for, in spite of her promise the night before, she still felt distinctly uncomfortable in his presence. She was not only ashamed of her conduct, but there was another curious emotion blending with her mortification which made her still more uneasy when she was near him. It was a strange feeling, making her want to avoid him and at the same time feel restless if she kept out of his way. That morning when he greeted her she felt her pulses beat unaccountably fast, and it was this inexplicable embarrassment which made her choose the seat farthest away from him.

Mrs. Henderson was always bright and talkative, and kept up a constant conversation with the driver. She asked a great many questions and he answered them all more extensively than usual. After they had been driving for an hour it dawned on Mrs. Henderson that her cousin had said very little that morning and she at once remarked on it. “Iris,” she said suddenly, “what is the matter with you? You have hardly said a word all the way, and, now I come to think of it, you have been rather quiet the last few days--whatever is wrong?”

“Have I been quiet?” Miss Dearn replied with light composure, opening her parasol; but, before she could proceed, Rees had begun to tell Mrs. Henderson a thrilling story of bushranging days, which held her attention for the rest of the journey.

When they arrived at the sports ground it was already swarming with people; the adjacent paddocks were dotted with vehicles and horses tied to fences and shady trees. Other buggies and carts were constantly arriving. Whole families stowed away in traps were suddenly released from their tight imprisonment. Babies cried, children laughed. Men shouted country witticisms to each other. Women chattered.

Rees soon secured a programme, which he brought to Mrs. Henderson, pointing out the items of greatest interest; then, telling her where to get lunch, and explaining that he would be occupied for the rest of the day, as the Committee had asked him to help in judging the various races and other items, he left them.

As Mrs. Henderson and her cousin crossed the road to enter the festive grounds, they glanced back and saw the driver helping a woman with a baby out of a big cart. He was holding the infant in one arm and assisting the rather massive farmer’s wife out with the other hand.

“That poor man will have his work cut out to-day, I can see,” remarked Mrs. Henderson as they handed their tickets to a very important looking official standing at the entrance to the enclosure. “Poor fellow, he must be tired after being up half the night with the invalid. It is a good thing Mr. Green is better this morning, and it is to be hoped he will keep all right, so that Mr. Rees can have a good sleep to-night.”

“Yes,” replied Iris, a luminous softness coming into her eyes; “he deserves it.” Then she added in a different tone: “When is he going to ride?”

Her cousin consulted the programme. “Not till four o’clock. Come,” she continued, “he told us not to miss the first item; it is a sack race! Men look so funny in sack races; they always look to me as if they were trying to hop like kangaroos. I notice they call it the Wallaby Race; I am sure the Committee must have a sense of humour!”

A band began to play a gay two-step.

Iris and her cousin followed the crowd towards the opposite side of the ground, where a large area had been roped in for the coming sack race. The men were ready to start, standing in a straight line looking very ungainly in their potato bags. Presently a pistol was fired and the competitors commenced their cumbersome flight, looking more like a flock of penguins flopping along their ice-fields than swift marsupials bounding through the bush.

After this item followed running and walking races for men and boys. It was a very hot day and all the competitors had very red and moist faces, especially those who had just taken part in the first race.

It was half-past one before Mrs. Henderson and Miss Dearn made their way to one of the long, low sheds where lunch was obtainable. Meals were served all the time and the tables were constantly filled.

As the two ladies entered the rough wooden building Rees came up; he had reserved seats for them, and, when he saw they were being well looked after, hastened away again, reminding them of the chopping match at half-past two.

Mrs. Henderson was very hungry after the long drive, and the first course, consisting of cold ham and chicken, was most appetising. The tables were laden with all kinds of home-made cakes, scones, mince-pies and tarts. The floral decorations were rather crude; huge bunches of Canterbury bells, dahlias and snap-dragons had been bound tightly together and pressed into jam-jars with uncompromising firmness.

When Mrs. Henderson had finished a second portion of chicken the girl who waited on them brought two plates piled high with delicious raspberries and a jug of thick cream. “Mr. Rees told me to save these for you,” she explained as no one else was having fruit at the table. “We had a few for the Committee and the riders, and Mr. Rees thought you might like them.”

“Isn’t he the most wonderful man you ever came across!” Mrs. Henderson exclaimed when the waitress had gone. “How juicy and sweet the berries are! I am afraid this means he has gone without any himself.”

“I don’t suppose he will have time for meals at all--he seems to be wanted everywhere,” replied Iris evenly, looking at a youth sitting at the opposite side of the table, who had evidently lavished much care on his toilet that day. He wore a blue serge suit, a new straw hat with a vivid pink band, and a tie of the same hue. But the sleeves of the apparently ready-made clothes were much too short, and the waistcoat was distressingly tight across the chest. However, he was ideally happy talking to a girl with red hair in a saffron-coloured dress and a white silk hat smothered with purple roses. They were both very young, both evidently heart-whole, but seemingly anxious to experience the first sweet clamours of love.

Mrs. Henderson and Iris were at the chopping match in time to see the competitors arrive with their axes slung over their strong, firm shoulders, the axe-heads most carefully wrapped in coloured handkerchiefs or protected by leather covers. These were removed with great care and the shiny blades, sharp as razors, anxiously felt.

At a given signal the men mounted the logs they were to chop and stood ready with the weapons in position to deal the first telling blow. They were all thinly clad; some wore cream or striped cotton jerseys, others only vests or shirts with running pants, displaying finely developed limbs. They were also bare-headed, and one good-looking youth with chestnut hair had a long curl hanging coquettishly over his left eye.

The pistol was fired. Ten shiny axe-heads blinked high in the sunlight and the next second pierced into the barked eucalyptus wood. Other strokes followed with lightning rapidity; strokes well aimed, cutting clean--great chips were separated from the blocks and flew about in all directions.

Each competitor was surrounded by his own circle of admirers, who shouted, cheered, gave advice and urged on the glittering strokes from the flashing blades.

When the logs were nearly through the excitement became intense. The shouts grew louder, the cheering wilder. From the ground rose a babel of voices. Friends gesticulated and moved their bodies and arms in uncontrollable agitation, pressing in upon the choppers till they were almost within reach of the relentless axes.

At last, after moments of acutest suspense and frenzied commotion, the first block was divided and the hero thunderously applauded. Other heats followed and the final winner was the youth with the chestnut curl. He was evidently a great favourite with the girls, and was now thronged by pink-, green- and white-robed figures, holding out bare or cotton-gloved hands to him. One girl, more enterprising than the rest, brought him a huge buttonhole, and others who had not been so thoughtful had to content themselves by plucking the roses they were wearing and pelting him with the soft petals.

Iris all at once felt very tired. The drive had been long, and it was stiflingly hot on the sports ground. She sighed for a little rest in some shady, cool spot. She had a curious desire to be alone--a desire she did not in the least understand.

At any other time this gay, motley Australian country crowd would have interested her immensely. It was so happy, so full of spontaneous life and irrepressible vitality. It was so enchantingly fresh and youthful. It reminded her of a little girl who had dressed in grown-up clothes and then suddenly forgotten the long skirts and given herself up to the wild frolics of childhood. The air throbbed with laughter, merry voices, the bark of hilarious dogs and the gay music of the exuberant band. The Australians knew how to enjoy a holiday. They gave themselves up to the pleasure of the moment with an abandonment that was almost grand in its naïve simplicity. But the moving, jostling, excited throng could not hold Iris Dearn’s interest just then. She had noticed that at the upper end of the ground there was a small pine grove on a gentle slope and making some excuse to her cousin she walked to this secluded spot.

When she had reached the delicious solitude of the grove, she seated herself on the carpet of pine needles and leant against a firm dark brown tree. She was dressed in soft wedgewood-blue with a black waistband and hat, on which a velvet flower, matching the gown, lay gently against the brim in the one place where it added balance and beauty to the general effect. As she rested against the dark tree-trunk she closed her eyes. Her face was unusually pale and her heavy black lashes accentuated the ivory whiteness of her soft curving cheeks. She sat for some minutes absolutely still. The band was playing in the distance and a melodious waltz floated up to her from the plain.

She did not hear approaching footsteps.

The driver had mounted the rise and was standing a few yards away, regarding her pale, lovely face with a strange look in his sad, grey eyes. Then he came nearer and spoke--

“Miss Dearn, are you not well--what is the matter?” he asked, and there was suppressed concern in his voice.

She opened her eyes with a start and they seemed extraordinarily dark and velvety in contrast with the delicate whiteness of her skin.

“I am sorry if I frightened you,” Rees continued; “I saw you coming up here and I was afraid you were not well--you were not yourself this morning.”

As she felt his eyes upon her a wave of colour mounted to her cheeks. “Thank you, I am quite well--quite all right--only a little tired,” she answered hurriedly, looking with sudden interest at the pine needles beside her.

There was a short silence. Then she heard the driver sigh.

“You are not worrying over that--other matter?” he asked anxiously.

“No--not that.”

“Something else then?”

She did not reply. She was picking up small dry needles with her slim white fingers and arranging them in a pile.

“Has it anything to do with--that afternoon?” he inquired after a slight pause.

She looked out into the soft light filtering through the great over-hanging branches, in thoughtful silence.

“Yes, I think so,” she said, still gazing into space.

“And it makes you--sad?”

“Yes----”

“Only sad--nothing else?”

“No, it doesn’t only make me sad,” she replied with a sudden fine frankness.

He took a few steps away from her. Then he came back to the spot where he had stood before, as he said, “Miss Dearn, I should not have asked--please forgive me.”

She looked up at him now. “Why shouldn’t you ask? That afternoon was yours as much as mine,” she said steadily.

As their glances met, they became strangely entangled and she could not draw her eyes away from his for several seconds.

“Ah, here you are!” said Mrs. Henderson, making her way through the pines; and, catching sight of the driver, she added: “Glad to see you having a little respite after the way you have been slaving all the time, Mr. Rees. But why don’t you sit down and rest properly while you are about it?”

“Thank you--but I must not stay. I really came up to see if I could get Miss Dearn some tea. Most people are having it early as the jumping commences at four o’clock. May I bring some for you both?”

“No indeed, thank you! Do you think we should allow you to carry it all this way? We won’t be quite so selfish; we shall go to the refreshment stall and have some presently.”

The driver then asked if they would care to look at the horse he was to ride, and, after arranging where to meet, he left them.

“I suppose he saw you come up here,” said Mrs. Henderson after he had gone. “Nothing escapes that man, and see how he is in demand everywhere--he is really most remarkable.”

At the appointed time Mrs. Henderson and her cousin arrived at the place of meeting. Rees was already there. He was looking very handsome in a brown corduroy velvet riding suit and long brown riding boots, revealing his straight, well-shaped limbs.

He greeted them with friendly gravity and then took them to see his beautiful mount. Prince was tall, with long, slender legs and a jet-black satiny coat. As the ladies came up, he put out a soft velvet muzzle to greet them.

“You beauty!” exclaimed Mrs. Henderson, patting his glossy neck.

“Isn’t he lovely?” said Iris, stroking his inquisitive, friendly nose.

“Yes, he is a beautiful racer,” said Rees; “the finest I have seen for a long time.”

“You _must_ win,” cried Miss Dearn with a flush of enthusiasm.

“I shall do my best,” replied the driver, evidently pleased at her eagerness.

It was time to get into the saddle now. Mrs. Henderson had already turned away. Suddenly Iris pulled a deep red rosebud from the spray she was wearing and gave it to Rees, smiling with lips and eyes. “Take it, and may it bring you victory,” she said with gracious impulsiveness; then she followed her cousin.

The jumping commenced.

A high four-railed fence had to be cleared.

A big grey hunter with powerful shoulders led the way. After followed a stylish bay; then a number of horses in quick succession flew past the spectators towards the high test. Some of them were soon disqualified, the dull thud of iron striking wood denoted the top rail had been touched--sometimes it even rattled to the ground.

There were some magnificent animals competing and most of them were ridden by their owners, who wore picturesque riding suits.

It seemed a long time to Iris before Rees appeared. But at last the black thoroughbred and his handsome rider came in sight. The horse tossed his splendid head impatiently. The eyes were not docile now; they glittered with fiery eagerness, and the velvet nostrils were dilated till their red tinge gleamed in the sunlight. His muscles quivered with excitement, but his rider kept him gently back, saving his pace.

Rees had a fine seat. He was perfectly at home in the saddle. He rode with a refined grace, a distinguished air, which set him at once apart from his rivals in the field.

A loud cheer broke from the crowd as he cantered towards the fence. He came up to it quietly, leant a little forward, allowed the horse to attain the necessary speed, then lifted him over the obstacle as gently as he had approached it. Louder applause followed. It was the neatest jump on the grounds that day.

Iris watched with glowing interest.

Then an interminable succession of horses followed before the jet-black racer appeared again. Once more he went over the fence like a bird, and was vociferously cheered by the enthusiastic onlookers. Prince was clearly the favourite.

Three-quarters of an hour went by. Some of the horses were showing signs of fatigue and many had already fallen out. But the black thoroughbred cantered towards the fence with arched neck and without the least show of weariness.

Mrs. Henderson and her cousin were terribly excited; such a small number of horses were left in now and after a few more rounds only the big grey hunter, the light bay and the black favourite remained. All three seemed inexhaustible; they went round, cleared the barrier, time after time, and it seemed as if it would have to be a draw between them.

At last the bay touched the rail, and only the black and the grey were left.

The excitement was at fever-heat now, the applause was thunderous. But Rees kept very calm, he held his hands low and there was no trace of agitation in his manner, only in his eyes burned a daring, eager determination.

For some rounds there was no change in the position; then the big hunter suddenly stumbled just before it was to take the final leap. His rider turned him far enough back to get up speed again and made another attempt to clear the fence, but the grey was tired and brought down the top rail to the hard ground with a loud rattle.

The remaining horse with his wonderful greyhound stride followed, cleared the obstacle as easily as before and passed the judges amid the frantic acclamations from the vast crowd of spectators.

The black, with Rees up, had won!

The main road was lined with cars, smart buggies and traps, belonging to the squatters and large estate owners of the surrounding districts, who had come out to watch the jumping which was a special feature of these annual sports; many of them had horses competing, and their sons and friends were riding.

The whole road rang with uproarious cheers. Rees was surrounded by congratulating friends, he could hardly move for thronging admirers.

“Let us go and congratulate him too,” said Mrs. Henderson to Iris; “didn’t he ride perfectly? The way he managed that horse was masterly.”

But it was nearly six o’clock before they could get an opportunity of speaking to the driver.

“We are so awfully proud of you; let us congratulate you most heartily,” said Iris, a wonderful light in her blue eyes as she held out her hand to him.

He pressed it gently. “Thank you,” he said with unmistakable pleasure; “you told me I must win, so of course I had to. But,” he added, “won’t you come and give a little of your appreciation to Prince, too?”

Mrs. Henderson said she was rather tired and would return to the refreshment shed for a rest; so Iris followed Rees to the farther side of the enclosure where the horses were tied to the strong fence.

The girl stroked the silky neck of the docile racer. “You darling!” she cried under her breath, pressing her own soft cheek against his smooth, shining coat. “You were just lovely--I should like to buy you and keep you always, you dear, beautiful thing!”

The rider had stepped a little nearer; and, while he fondled the thoroughbred’s sensitive, inquiring head, he drew it gently against his shoulder.

An odd feeling came over Miss Dearn as she saw him caressing the docile animal and she thought how nice it must be for the horse to have the driver’s hands stroking it and drawing it to him. Then her thoughts flew back to the afternoon in the cave. She too had rested against his shoulder; she too had felt his arms round her, and the memory of it thrilled her now with a strange exaltation. There was no longer shame nor mortification at the thought; it was no more a thing for hot, impetuous tears and regret. It had become beautiful--something for which the future would be guarded, hedged about, only approached with shoeless feet and hushed tones; something which for the rest of her life would be enshrined in memory’s sacred temple. She instinctively felt it was the biggest, the loftiest, the sweetest and the purest thing which had ever touched her life. She was suddenly aware of this as she stood beside the lovely horse and his handsome rider.

When she left them she seemed to be walking in some wonderful dream. She held her head high; her starlike eyes burned with dazzling splendour. As she moved towards the shed where she was to meet her cousin, people turned and stared at her--they had stared at her all day--her remarkable beauty, splendid bearing, air of breeding; her exquisite clothes, simple, but stamped with luxurious elegance, had attracted attention wherever she moved. But now there was something about her even more enchanting, which made people exclaim involuntarily as she passed.

But Iris was utterly unconscious of the interest she aroused and the admiration she excited. She walked in exultant abstraction, unaware of what took place around her. She did not know that the man she had just left glanced after her with a long, wistful look in his large grey eyes, and that when she was out of sight he put his arms round the horse’s black, shiny neck and pressed his lips against the glossy coat where her cheek had rested.