Robbery Under Arms - Rolf Boldrewood (most important books of all time .TXT) 📗

Just before I turned in I went up to the table. They looked as keen at it as if they’d just began, and I heard Starlight say, “I owe you a hundred now. I’ll play you double or quits.” So I left them to it. I could see they were not on for bed just then. Both men were cool enough, but I could see that Starlight (and I’d never known him to touch a card before) was one of those men that would never rise from the table as long as he had a shilling left, and would stake everything he had in the world upon the turn of a card.

We all slept sound, but most of us were up at sunrise. It doesn’t do for chaps in our line to be caught napping, and the police might have got wind where we were at work. We had our horses to look to, and to give a look round in a general way to see if things were right.

Starlight and Mr. Knightley didn’t turn out, they took it easy, perhaps they’d been up later than us; anyhow, they didn’t show till breakfast, when they both made pretty fair time over the eatables.

My word! it was a breakfast, though we’d got a bit tired waiting for it. The old cook had hashed up the turkey; it was stunning, almost better than the day before. Then bacon and eggs, grilled steak, fresh bread and butter, coffee and tea, watercresses. Really, I thought we never should stop. It was lucky the police didn’t come, or we shouldn’t have done much in the fighting line, or the runaway either. As it turned out, Sir Ferdinand wasn’t so very far off the line, but he took another road. He never had any luck somehow in following us up, though he had some first-rate chances. Moran was off his feed, and wouldn’t come in. He took a nip and walked down to the creek. We were all glad enough to get shut of him.

After breakfast and a turn round the stables, blest if Starlight and Mr. Knightley didn’t have out the cards again, and at it they went as fresh and keen as ever. We didn’t know what in the world to do with ourselves till it was time to start to ride out to the Black Stump, where we were to meet the doctor and collar the £500. They didn’t waste a minute of their time, till about half-past twelve Starlight puts down his cards very gently, and says he⁠—

“I’m afraid we have no more time to spare. I’ve enjoyed the play more than I have done anything for years. I leave you £100 now in notes, and you must take my I.O.U. for the balance. What bank shall I pay it into?”

“The Australian,” says Mr. Knightley. “At your convenience, of course.”

“Within a month,” says Starlight, bowing. “And now a glass of wine and a biscuit, it’s time to be off.”

We had something as good, nearer the mark than that, and Moran sat down too, and played a good knife and fork. He’d come to, after his booze, and was ready for any fresh villainy, as usual. He didn’t let on to be nasty, but he looked sulky enough, and I saw his eye fixed on Mr. Knightley and Starlight now and then as if he’d have given a good deal to have had them where they hadn’t so many at their backs.

We ate well and drank better still at the lunch, although we had such a regular tuck-out at breakfast time. Mr. Knightley wouldn’t hear of any of us shirking our liquor, and by the time we’d done all hands were pretty well on. Moran himself began to look pleasant, or as good a sample of it as I’d ever seen in him. Mr. Knightley could get round the devil himself, I believe. I never saw his equals at that business; and this particular time he was in great feather, seeing that he was likely to get out of an ugly business all right. He was as sure of the £500 in notes being there at the appointed hour as he was of the sun setting that particular evening.

“I think it’s a fair thing,” says Starlight at last, looking at his watch. Mr. Knightley wasn’t the first to speak, no fear. “Take us all our time to get to the Black Stump. We shall have to ride, too.” Moran and Wall got up and fetched their horses. Mr. Knightley’s was led up by one of his men. He was a big handsome roan, in top condition, and the man was riding a black horse with a tan muzzle that looked a trifle better, if anything. Mr. Knightley turned out in boots and breeches, with a gold fox’s head on his scarf, swell hunting fashion, as they do it at home, Starlight said.

When Starlight’s horse came up he was as lame as a tree, couldn’t put his foot to the ground; got a kick or a strain, or trod on a glass bottle or something. Anyhow he had only three legs that he could rise a move out of. Starlight looked rather glum. He wasn’t his second best or his third best either. All the same, a horse is a horse, and I never saw the man yet that a lame horse didn’t put out a bit.

“Confound it,” says he, “what a nuisance! It’s just the way with these infernal half-bred brutes; they always let me down at the wrong time.”

“Look here, old fellow,” says Mr. Knightley, “leave him behind and take this black horse the boy’s on; he’s one of the finest hacks you ever crossed. I refused sixty guineas for him the other day from Morringer.”

“Thanks, very much,” says Starlight, brightening up a bit; “but I hardly like to deprive you of him. Won’t you want him yourself?”

“Oh, I can manage without him,”