In
an old bark hut on a mountainside
In
a spot that was lone and drear
A
woman whose heart was aching sat
Watching
from year to year.
A
small boy, Jim, her only child,
Helped
her to watch and wait
But
the time never came when they could go free,
Free
from the bond of hate.
For
McConnel was out on the mountainside
Living
without a hope
And
seeing nothing before him now
But
death by a hangman’s rope.
Hated
and chased by his fellow men,
To
take him alive or dead,
An
outlaw banned by the world was he
With
five hundred pounds on his head.
A
message had come that evening which said
“Now,
Jim, you mustn’t wait,
If
you want to save your father, or
By
heaven, you’ll be too late.
“He’s
out at Mackinnon’s Crossing, they say,
The
track is rough, old man,
But
if any here can do it—why
It’s
you and old Darky can.”
And
Jim knew well what the message meant,
As
he brought his horse to the door!
While
away through the gathering darkness came
The
sound of the river’s roar.
But
the brave little heart never faltered as
He
stooped to kiss her good-bye
And
said, “God bless you, Mother dear,
I’ll
save Dad tonight or I’ll die.”
The
old horse answered the touch of his hand
And
galloped away from the door;
He
seemed to know ‘twas a journey for life—
Well,
he’d done such journey’s before.
Out
from the firelight, and through the rails,
Out
through the ghastly trees,
While
all the time the warning roar
Of
the river came back on the breeze;
Steadily
down the mountainside
He
rode, for his course was plain,
Though
his heart was heavy, though not with fear,
But
because of that brand of Cain.
The
boy thinks over his mother’s last words:
“I’ll
love him as long as I live!
He
must have time for repentance on earth
But
surely God will forgive.”
As
he glanced back over his shoulder there
She
stood by the light of the door
Trying
to pierce the darkness in vain,
Thinking
she’d see him no more.
Then
as he looked she bowed her head
And
slowly turned away,
And
the boy knew that the noble wife
Had
knelt by the bed to pray.
Mile
after mile, hour after hour,
And
then just ahead, shining and white,
Was
the foam of Mackinnon’s Crossing—
What
a jump for old Darky tonight!
And
then Jim thinks of the long, lone years
And
the hopes that are crushed and dead;
And
a woman whose heart is as true as steel,
As
true as the day she was wed.
As she loved him then in the years gone by
When
the future held promise in store,
So
she loved him today when the future held
Naught
but death by his country’s law.
Jim
pressed his knees to the saddle flap
And
tightened his hold on the rein;
They
had jumped the river last summertime,
How
he hoped they would do it again!
Then
a voice rang out through the darkness there,
“Hold,
now hold, stand still!
We
know you, lad, it’s too late to run;
Hands
up or we’ll shoot to kill!”
Then
he knew that the police were around him,
In
the darkness they moved to and fro;
For
an instant he pulled on the bridle-rein,
But
he’d promised his mother he’d go.
And
he thought of the poor, sad woman alone,
Kneeling
in prayer by the bed;
So
he loosened the reins on old Darky’s neck
And
rushed at the river ahead.
Then
a volley rang out through the forest dark—
A
fall in the roaring flood;
And
the darkness hid from all human eyes
The
form that was stained with blood.
The
horse struggled hard, the waters rushed on;
He
sank to rise no more.
But
the boy fought the flood in silence, inch
By
inch to the other shore.
Slowly
and sadly, but bravely on,
Brshing
away the tears;
He
was leaving behind in the river’s flood
His
friend and companion for years.
And
all the time the blood trickled down,
O
God! what a hot burning pain!
And
he knew he was doing is duty clean
He
would never come back again.
Struggling
on o’er the tough dark track,
A
horrible pain with each breath;
Till
he came to the hut in the ranges
Where
his father lay, and the faint firelight
Showed
through the ghostly gloom.
Staggering in through the yielding door
Into
the cold dark room
Where his father lay, and the faint firelight
Showed
through the ghostly gloom.
The
bushranger sprang to his feet in alarm
And
levelled the gun at his head
And
his loud voice demanded, “Who are you?
Speak
quick, or you are dead.”
And
then a weak little voice made answer,
“It’s
me; Mother sends you her love;
The
police are back at the crossing now,
So
clear out and meet Mother above.”
Then
McConnel placed his gun by the wall
And
knelt on the cold hard floor;
And
somehow the tears came rushing down
As
they never had before.
His
arms went around the brave little lad,
He
nursed his head on his breast;
He
seemed to know that the end was nigh
And
Jim would soon be at rest.
And the boy was speaking feebly at last,
“They
shot me back at the creek,
And
old Darky is dead and gone, Dad,
And
oh, I’m so tired and weak.”
Then
his voice fell away in a whisper soft,
So
faint it could scarce be heard,
“Oh
Dad,, clear out, they are coming fast;
Tell
Mother, I kept my word.”
Quickly
in silence the police gathered around,
They
had captured the beast in his lair;
The
outlaw sat with his boy in his arms,
He
semed not to heed nor to care.
He
was thinking now of the seed he had sown,
He
was tasting its bitter fruit,
When
the sergeant stepped to the door and said,
“McConnel,
bail up or I’ll shoot.”
Then
the sergeant placed a lamp by the door,
The
rifles gleamed out in the light;
But
the outlaw said, “Sergeant O’Drady,
Let’s
have no more shooting tonight.
“You
can take me now to the judgement seat
As
God has taken this lad;
You’d
die to take my life, you men—
He
died to save his dad.
“I
want you to help me dig his grave,
And
perhaps you will say a prayer;
Then
you can take me and hang me dead—
It’s
my wife, or I wouldn’t care.
“Carefully
now. . . Oh thank you, men,
Lay
him as best you can;
The
policeman is shown by his coat, of course;
But
the tears—well, they show the man.”
Then
the party went back to the old bark hut
As
the sun was mounting the hill;
No
smoke arose from the chimney cold
And
all was silent and still.
The
sergeant opened the creaky door,
And
lifted his cap with a start,
…Ah,
McConnel had broken the country’s laws
And
broken a woman’s heart.
Anon