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diff --git a/78420-h/78420-h.htm b/78420-h/78420-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..64fb953 --- /dev/null +++ b/78420-h/78420-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4898 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + Bush studies | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} +h1 { margin: 1em 5% 1em; + font-size: 180%;} +h2 { margin:2em 5% 1em; + font-size: 150%;} +h3 { margin: 2em 5% 1em; + font-size: 120%;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +p { text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; +} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} +.p2un {text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 2em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em;} +.p4un {text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 4em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em;} +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-style: normal; font-variant: small-caps;} +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} +em {font-style: italic;} +.smaller {font-size: 83%;} +.muchsmaller {font-size: 75%;} +.muchlarger {font-size: 180%;} +.ls {letter-spacing: .25em; + margin-right: -0.25em;} +strong {font-weight: bold;} +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +a { border:none; text-decoration:none; font-variant:normal; } +abbr { border:none; text-decoration:none; font-variant:normal; } + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +ul { list-style-type: none; } +li { + text-indent: -2em; + padding-left: 2em; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +.tdl {text-align: left; padding: 1em 0 0 0;} +.tdr {text-align: right; padding: 1em 0 0 3em;} + +.pagenum { visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} +.illowp50 {width: 50%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp50 {width: 100%;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78420 ***</div> +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="cover" style="max-width: 107.75em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Front cover of the book. It is dark green fabric. The title is centered, surrounded by a box. Below that in another box is the author's name above a sketch of a tree on a hillside. At the bottom is a third box surrounding the words 'Duckworth's Greenback Library,' centered. All three boxes are fit within another box that runs about an inch inside each edge of the cover."> +</figure> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1 class="ls"> +BUSH STUDIES +</h1> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="right"> + <span class="u">BARBARA BAYNTON</span> +</p> +</div> + +<p class="p2un muchlarger">BUSH STUDIES</p> + +<p class="p4 center x-ebookmaker-important"> +<span class="allsmcap smaller">BY</span><br> +<span class="ls">BARBARA BAYNTON</span> +</p> + +<p class="p4un muchsmaller">LONDON<br> +DUCKWORTH & <abbr title="Company">CO.</abbr>,<br> +3, HENRIETTA STREET, <abbr title="Western Central">W.C.</abbr></p> + +<p class="p2 center smaller"> +<abbr title="1902">MDCCCCII.</abbr> +</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center muchsmaller"> +PRINTED BY R. FOLKARD AND SON,<br> +22, DEVONSHIRE STREET, QUEEN SQUARE, BLOOMSBURY,<br> +LONDON, <abbr title="Western Central">W.C.</abbr> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +<span class="smaller">TO</span><br> +<span class="ls">HELEN McMILLEN</span><br> +<span class="smaller">OF SYDNEY<br> +NEW SOUTH WALES</span> +</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS. + </h2> +</div> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdr smaller" colspan="2">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdl">A Dreamer</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#A_DREAMER">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">Squeaker’s Mate</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#SQUEAKERS_MATE">15</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">Scrammy ’And</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#SCRAMMY_AND">44</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">Billy Skywonkie</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#BILLY_SKYWONKIE">79</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">Bush Church</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#BUSH_CHURCH">106</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdl">The Chosen Vessel</td> + <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_CHOSEN_VESSEL">142</a></td></tr> +</table> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center"> +NOTE.<br> +<br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">Scrammy ’And.</span><br> +“Scrammy” indicates malformation of either hand or foot.<br> +<br> +<span class="smcap">Billy Skywonkie.</span><br> +“Skywonkie” signifies weather-prophet. +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="A_DREAMER"> + A DREAMER. + </h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">A swirl</span> of wet leaves from the night-hidden +trees decorating the little station, beat against +the closed doors of the carriages. The porter +hurried along holding his blear-eyed lantern to +the different windows, and calling the name of +the township in language peculiar to porters. +There was only one ticket to collect.</p> + +<p>Passengers from far up-country towns have +importance from their rarity. He turned his +lantern full on this one, as he took her ticket. +She looked at him too, and listened to the sound +of his voice, as he spoke to the guard. Once she +had known every hand at the station. The +porter knew everyone in the district. This +traveller was a stranger to him.</p> + +<p>If her letter had been received, someone would +have been waiting with a buggy. She passed +through the station. She saw nothing but an +ownerless dog, huddled, wet and shivering, in a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2"></span>corner. More for sound she turned to look up +the straggling street of the township. Among +the sheoaks, bordering the river she knew so +well, the wind made ghostly music, unheeded by +the sleeping town. There was no other sound, +and she turned to the dog with a feeling of kinship. +But perhaps the porter had a message! +She went back to the platform. He was locking +the office door, but paused as though expecting +her to speak.</p> + +<p>“Wet night!” he said at length, breaking +the silence.</p> + +<p>Her question resolved itself into a request for +the time, though this she already knew. She +hastily left him.</p> + +<p>She drew her cloak tightly round her. The +wind made her umbrella useless for shelter. +Wind and rain and darkness lay before her on +the walk of three bush miles to her mother’s +home. Still it was the home of her girlhood, +and she knew every inch of the way.</p> + +<p>As she passed along the sleeping street, she +saw no sign of life till near the end. A light +burned in a small shop, and the sound of swift +tapping came to her. They work late to-night, +she thought, and, remembering their gruesome +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3"></span>task, hesitated, half-minded to ask these night +workers, for whom they laboured. Was it someone +she had known? The long dark walk—she +could not—and hastened to lose the sound.</p> + +<p>The zigzag course of the railway brought the +train again near to her, and this wayfarer stood +and watched it tunnelling in the teeth of the +wind. Whoof! whoof! its steaming breath +hissed at her. She saw the rain spitting viciously +at its red mouth. Its speed, as it passed, +made her realise the tedious difficulties of her +journey, and she quickened her pace. There +was the silent tenseness, that precedes a storm. +From the branch of a tree overhead she heard a +watchful mother-bird’s warning call, and the +twitter of the disturbed nestlings. The tender +care of this bird-mother awoke memories of her +childhood. What mattered the lonely darkness, +when it led to mother. Her forebodings fled, +and she faced the old track unheedingly, and +ever and ever she smiled, as she foretasted their +meeting.</p> + +<p>“Daughter!”</p> + +<p>“Mother!”</p> + +<p>She could feel loving arms around her, and a +mother’s sacred kisses. She thrilled, and in her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4"></span>impatience ran, but the wind was angry and +took her breath. Then the child near her heart +stirred for the first time. The instincts of +motherhood awakened in her. Her elated body +quivered, she fell on her knees, lifted her hands, +and turned her face to God. A vivid flash of +lightning flamed above her head. It dulled her +rapture. The lightning was very near.</p> + +<p>She went on, then paused. Was she on the +right track? Back, near the bird’s nest, were two +roads. One led to home, the other was the old +bullock-dray road, that the railway had almost +usurped. When she should have been careful +in her choice, she had been absorbed. It was a +long way back to the cross roads, and she dug +in her mind for landmarks. Foremost she recalled +the “Bendy Tree,” then the “Sisters,” +whose entwined arms talked, when the wind was +from the south. The apple trees on the creek—split +flat, where the cows and calves were +always to be found. The wrong track, being +nearer the river, had clumps of she-oaks and +groups of pines in places. An angled line of +lightning illumined everything, but the violence +of the thunder distracted her.</p> + +<p>She stood in uncertainty, near-sighted, with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5"></span>all the horror of the unknown, that this infirmity +could bring. Irresolute, she waited for another +flash. It served to convince her, she was wrong. +Through the bush she turned.</p> + +<p>The sky seemed to crack with the lightning; +the thunder’s suddenness shook her. Among +some tall pines she stood awed, while the storm +raged.</p> + +<p>Then again that indefinite fear struck at her. +Restlessly she pushed on till she stumbled, and, +with hands out-stretched, met some object that +moved beneath them as she fell. The lightning +showed a group of terrified cattle. Tripping +and falling, she ran, she knew not where, but +keeping her eyes turned towards the cattle. +Aimlessly she pushed on, and unconsciously retraced +her steps.</p> + +<p>She struck the track she was on when her +first doubt came. If this were the right way, +the wheel ruts would show. She groped, but +the rain had levelled them. There was nothing +to guide her. Suddenly she remembered that +the little clump of pines, where the cattle were, +lay between the two roads. She had gathered +mistletoe berries there in the old days.</p> + +<p>She believed, she hoped, she prayed, that she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6"></span>was right. If so, a little further on, she would +come to the “Bendy Tree.” There long ago a +runaway horse had crushed its drunken rider +against the bent, distorted trunk. She could recall +how in her young years that tree had ever +after had a weird fascination for her.</p> + +<p>She saw its crooked body in the lightning’s +glare. She was on the right track, yet dreaded +to go on. Her childhood’s fear came back. In +a transient flash she thought she saw a horseman +galloping furiously towards her. She +placed both her hands protectingly over her +heart, and waited. In the dark interval, above +the shriek of the wind, she thought she heard a +cry, then crash came the thunder, drowning her +call of warning. In the next flash she saw nothing +but the tree. “Oh, God, protect me!” +she prayed, and diverging, with a shrinking heart +passed on.</p> + +<p>The road dipped to the creek. Louder and +louder came the roar of its flooded waters. +Even little Dog-trap Gully was proudly foaming +itself hoarse. It emptied below where she must +cross. But there were others, that swelled it +above.</p> + +<p>The noise of the rushing creek was borne to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7"></span>her by the wind, still fierce, though the rain had +lessened. Perhaps there would be someone to +meet her at the bank! Last time she had come, +the night had been fine, and though she had +been met at the station by a neighbour’s son, +mother had come to the creek with a lantern +and waited for her. She looked eagerly, but there +was no light.</p> + +<p>The creek was a banker, but the track led to +a plank, which, lashed to the willows on either +bank, was usually above flood-level. A churning +sound showed that the water was over the +plank, and she must wade along it. She turned +to the sullen sky. There was no gleam of light +save in her resolute, white face.</p> + +<p>Her mouth grew tender, as she thought of the +husband she loved, and of their child. Must +she dare! She thought of the grey-haired +mother, who was waiting on the other side. +This dwarfed every tie that had parted them. +There was atonement in these difficulties and +dangers.</p> + +<p>Again her face turned heavenward! “Bless, +pardon, protect and guide, strengthen and comfort!” +Her mother’s prayer.</p> + +<p>Steadying herself by the long willow branches, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8"></span>ankle deep she began. With every step the +water deepened.</p> + +<p>Malignantly the wind fought her, driving her +back, or snapping the brittle stems from her +skinned hands. The water was knee-deep now, +and every step more hazardous.</p> + +<p>She held with her teeth to a thin limb, while +she unfastened her hat and gave it to the greedy +wind. From the cloak, a greater danger, she +could not in her haste free herself; her numbed +fingers had lost their cunning.</p> + +<p>Soon the water would be deeper, and the support +from the branches less secure. Even if they +did reach across, she could not hope for much +support from their wind-driven, fragile ends.</p> + +<p>Still she would not go back. Though the roar +of that rushing water was making her giddy, +though the deafening wind fought her for every +inch, she would not turn back.</p> + +<p>Long ago she should have come to her old +mother, and her heart gave a bound of savage +rapture in thus giving the sweat of her body for +the sin of her soul.</p> + +<p>Midway the current strengthened. Perhaps +if she, deprived of the willows, were swept down, +her clothes would keep her afloat. She took +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9"></span>firm hold and drew a deep breath to call her +child-cry, “Mother!”</p> + +<p>The water was deeper and swifter, and from +the sparsity of the branches she knew she was +nearing the middle. The wind unopposed by +the willows was more powerful. Strain as she +would, she could reach only the tips of the opposite +trees, not hold them.</p> + +<p>Despair shook her. With one hand she +gripped those, that had served her so far, and +cautiously drew as many as she could grasp +with the other. The wind savagely snapped +them, and they lashed her unprotected face. +Round and round her bare neck they coiled their +stripped fingers. Her mother had planted these +willows, and she herself had watched them grow. +How could they be so hostile to her!</p> + +<p>The creek deepened with every moment she +waited. But more dreadful than the giddying +water was the distracting noise of the mighty +wind, nurtured by the hollows.</p> + +<p>The frail twigs of the opposite tree snapped +again and again in her hands. She must release +her hold of those behind her. If she could make +two steps independently, the thicker branches +would then be her stay.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10"></span></p> + +<p>“Will you?” yelled the wind. A sudden +gust caught her, and, hurling her backwards, +swept her down the stream with her cloak for a +sail.</p> + +<p>She battled instinctively, and her first thought +was of the letter-kiss, she had left for the husband +she loved. Was it to be his last?</p> + +<p>She clutched a floating branch, and was swept +down with it. Vainly she fought for either bank. +She opened her lips to call. The wind made a +funnel of her mouth and throat, and a wave of +muddy water choked her cry. She struggled +desperately, but after a few mouthfuls she ceased. +The weird cry from the “Bendy Tree” pierced +and conquered the deep throated wind. Then a +sweet dream voice whispered “Little Woman!”</p> + +<p>Soft, strong arms carried her on. Weakness +aroused the melting idea that all had been a +mistake, and she had been fighting with friends. +The wind even crooned a lullaby. Above the +angry waters her face rose untroubled.</p> + +<p>A giant tree’s fallen body said, “Thus far!” +and in vain the athletic furious water rushed +and strove to throw her over the barrier. Driven +back, it tried to take her with it. But a jagged +arm of the tree snagged her cloak and held her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11"></span></p> + +<p>Bruised and half conscious she was left to her +deliverer, and the back-broken water crept tamed +under its old foe. The hammer of hope awoke +her heart. Along the friendly back of the tree +she crawled, and among its bared roots rested. +But it was only to get her breath, for this was +mother’s side.</p> + +<p>She breasted the rise. Then every horror +was of the past and forgotten, for there in the +hollow was home.</p> + +<p>And there was the light shining its welcome +to her.</p> + +<p>She quickened her pace, but did not run—motherhood +is instinct in woman. The rain had +come again, and the wind buffeted her. To +breathe was a battle, yet she went on swiftly, for +at the sight of the light her nameless fear had +left her.</p> + +<p>She would tell mother how she had heard her +call in the night, and mother would smile her +grave smile and stroke her wet hair, call her +“Little woman! My little woman!” and tell +her she had been dreaming, just dreaming. Ah, +but mother herself was a dreamer!</p> + +<p>The gate was swollen with rain and difficult +to open. It had been opened by mother last +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12"></span>time. But plainly her letter had not reached +home. Perhaps the bad weather had delayed +the mail boy.</p> + +<p>There was the light. She was not daunted +when the bark of the old dog brought no one to +the door. It might not be heard inside, for there +was such a torrent of water falling somewhere +close. Mechanically her mind located it. The +tank near the house, fed by the spouts was running +over, cutting channels through the flower +beds, and flooding the paths. Why had not +mother diverted the spout to the other tank!</p> + +<p>Something indefinite held her. Her mind went +back to the many times long ago when she had +kept alive the light while mother fixed the spout +to save the water that the dry summer months +made precious. It was not like mother, for such +carelessness meant carrying from the creek.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she grew cold and her heart trembled. +After she had seen mother, she would +come out and fix it, but just now she could not +wait.</p> + +<p>She tapped gently, and called “Mother!”</p> + +<p>While she waited she tried to make friends +with the dog. Her heart smote her, in that +there had been so long an interval since she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13"></span>saw her old home, that the dog had forgotten +her voice.</p> + +<p>Her teeth chattered as she again tapped softly. +The sudden light dazzled her when a stranger +opened the door for her. Steadying herself by +the wall, with wild eyes she looked around. +Another strange woman stood by the fire, and a +child slept on the couch. The child’s mother +raised it, and the other led the now panting +creature to the child’s bed. Not a word was +spoken, and the movements of these women +were like those who fear to awaken a sleeper.</p> + +<p>Something warm was held to her lips, for +through it all she was conscious of everything, +even that the numbing horror in her eyes met +answering awe in theirs.</p> + +<p>In the light the dog knew her and gave her +welcome. But she had none for him now.</p> + +<p>When she rose one of the women lighted a +candle. She noticed how, if the blazing wood +cracked, the women started nervously, how the +disturbed child pointed to her bruised face, and +whispered softly to its mother, how she who +lighted the candle did not strike the match but +held it to the fire, and how the light bearer led +the way so noiselessly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14"></span></p> + +<p>She reached her mother’s room. Aloft the +woman held the candle and turned away her +head.</p> + +<p>The daughter parted the curtains, and the +light fell on the face of the sleeper who would +dream no dreams that night.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="SQUEAKERS_MATE"> + SQUEAKER’S MATE. + </h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> woman carried the bag with the axe and +maul and wedges; the man had the billy and +clean tucker bags; the cross-cut saw linked +them. She was taller than the man, and the +equability of her body contrasting with his +indolent slouch, accentuated the difference. +“Squeaker’s mate” the men called her, and +these agreed that she was the best long-haired +mate that ever stepped in petticoats. The +Selectors’ wives pretended to challenge her right +to womanly garments, but if she knew what +they said, it neither turned nor troubled +Squeaker’s mate.</p> + +<p>Nine prospective posts and maybe sixteen rails—she +calculated this yellow gum would yield. +“Come on,” she encouraged the man; “let’s +tackle it.”</p> + +<p>From the bag she took the axe, and ring +barked a preparatory circle, while he looked for +a shady spot for the billy and tucker bags.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16"></span></p> + +<p>“Come on.” She was waiting with the +greased saw. He came. The saw rasped +through a few inches, then he stopped and +looked at the sun.</p> + +<p>“It’s nigh tucker time,” he said, and when +she dissented, he exclaimed, with sudden energy, +“There’s another bee! Wait, you go on with +the axe, an’ I’ll track ’im.”</p> + +<p>As they came, they had already followed one +and located the nest. She could not see the +bee he spoke of, though her grey eyes were as +keen as a Black’s. However she knew the man, +and her tolerance was of the mysteries.</p> + +<p>She drew out the saw, spat on her hands, and +with the axe began weakening the inclining side +of the tree.</p> + +<p>Long and steadily and in secret the worm had +been busy in the heart. Suddenly the axe blade +sank softly, the tree’s wounded edges closed on it +like a vice. There was a “settling” quiver on +its top branches, which the woman heard and +understood. The man, encouraged by the +sounds of the axe, had returned with an armful +of sticks for the billy. He shouted gleefully, +“It’s fallin’, look out.”</p> + +<p>But she waited to free the axe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17"></span></p> + +<p>With a shivering groan the tree fell, and as +she sprang aside, a thick worm-eaten branch +snapped at a joint and silently she went down +under it.</p> + +<p>“I tole yer t’ look out,” he reminded her, as +with a crow-bar, and grunting earnestly, he +forced it up. “Now get out quick.”</p> + +<p>She tried moving her arms and the upper part +of her body. Do this; do that, he directed, +but she made no movement after the first.</p> + +<p>He was impatient, because for once he had +actually to use his strength. His share of a heavy +lift usually consisted of a make-believe grunt, +delivered at a critical moment. Yet he hardly +cared to let it again fall on her, though he told +her he would, if she “didn’t shift.”</p> + +<p>Near him lay a piece broken short; with his +foot he drew it nearer, then gradually worked +it into a position, till it acted as a stay to the +lever.</p> + +<p>He laid her on her back when he drew her +out, and waited expecting some acknowledgment +of his exertions, but she was silent, and as +she did not notice that the axe, she had tried to +save, lay with the fallen trunk across it, he told +her. She cared almost tenderly for all their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18"></span>possessions and treated them as friends. But +the half-buried broken axe did not affect her. +He wondered a little, for only last week she had +patiently chipped out the old broken head, and +put in a new handle.</p> + +<p>“Feel bad?” he inquired at length.</p> + +<p>“Pipe,” she replied with slack lips.</p> + +<p>Both pipes lay in the fork of a near tree. He +took his, shook out the ashes, filled it, picked up +a coal and puffed till it was alight—then he +filled hers. Taking a small firestick he handed +her the pipe. The hand she raised shook and +closed in an uncertain hold, but she managed by +a great effort to get it to her mouth. He lost +patience with the swaying hand that tried to +take the light.</p> + +<p>“Quick,” he said “quick, that damn dog’s at +the tucker.”</p> + +<p>He thrust it into her hand that dropped +helplessly across her chest. The lighted stick +falling between her bare arm and the dress, +slowly roasted the flesh and smouldered the +clothes.</p> + +<p>He rescued their dinner, pelted his dog out of +sight—hers was lying near her head, put on the +billy, then came back to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19"></span></p> + +<p>The pipe had fallen from her lips; there was +blood on the stem.</p> + +<p>“Did yer jam yer tongue?” he asked.</p> + +<p>She always ignored trifles he knew, therefore +he passed her silence.</p> + +<p>He told her that her dress was on fire. She +took no heed. He put it out, and looked at the +burnt arm, then with intentness at her.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were turned unblinkingly to the +heavens, her lips were grimly apart, and a strange +greyness was upon her face, and the sweat-beads +were mixing.</p> + +<p>“Like a drink er tea? Asleep?”</p> + +<p>He broke a green branch from the fallen tree +and swished from his face the multitudes of +flies that had descended with it.</p> + +<p>In a heavy way he wondered why did she +sweat, when she was not working? Why did +she not keep the flies out of her mouth and +eyes? She’d have bungy eyes, if she didn’t. If +she was asleep, why did she not close them?</p> + +<p>But asleep or awake, as the billy began to +boil, he left her, made the tea, and ate his dinner. +His dog had disappeared, and as it did not +come to his whistle, he threw the pieces to hers, +that would not leave her head to reach them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20"></span></p> + +<p>He whistled tunelessly his one air, beating his +own time with a stick on the toe of his blucher, +then looked overhead at the sun and calculated +that she must have been lying like that for +“close up an hour.” He noticed that the axe +handle was broken in two places, and speculated +a little as to whether she would again pick out +the back-broken handle or burn it out in his +method, which was less trouble, if it did spoil the +temper of the blade. He examined the worm-dust +in the stump and limbs of the newly-fallen +tree; mounted it and looked round the plain. +The sheep were straggling in a manner that +meant walking work to round them, and he +supposed he would have to yard them to-night, +if she didn’t liven up. He looked down at +unenlivened her. This changed his “chune” +to a call for his hiding dog.</p> + +<p>“Come on, ole feller,” he commanded her dog. +“Fetch ’em back.” He whistled further instructions, +slapping his thigh and pointing to +the sheep.</p> + +<p>But a brace of wrinkles either side the brute’s +closed mouth demonstrated determined disobedience. +The dog would go if she told him, +and by and bye she would.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21"></span></p> + +<p>He lighted his pipe and killed half an hour +smoking. With the frugality that hard graft +begets, his mate limited both his and her own +tobacco, so he must not smoke all afternoon. +There was no work to shirk, so time began to +drag. Then a goanner crawling up a tree +attracted him. He gathered various missiles +and tried vainly to hit the seemingly grinning +reptile. He came back and sneaked a fill of +her tobacco, and while he was smoking, the +white tilt of a cart caught his eye. He jumped +up. “There’s Red Bob goin’ t’ our place fur +th’ ’oney,” he said, “I’ll go an’ weigh it an’ get +the gonz” (money).</p> + +<p>He ran for the cart, and kept looking back as +if fearing she would follow and thwart him.</p> + +<p>Red Bob the dealer was, in a business way, +greatly concerned, when he found that Squeaker’s +mate was “avin’ a sleep out there ’cos a tree +fell on her.” She was the best honey strainer +and boiler that he dealt with. She was straight +and square too. There was no water in her +honey whether boiled or merely strained, and in +every kerosene tin the weight of honey was to +an ounce as she said. Besides he was suspicious +and diffident of paying the indecently eager +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22"></span>Squeaker before he saw the woman. So +reluctantly Squeaker led to where she lay. +With many fierce oaths Red Bob sent her lawful +protector for help, and compassionately +poured a little from his flask down her throat, +then swished away the flies from her till help +came.</p> + +<p>Together these men stripped a sheet of bark, +and laying her with pathetic tenderness upon it, +carried her to her hut. Squeaker followed in +the rear with the billy and tucker.</p> + +<p>Red Bob took his horse from the cart, and +went to town for the doctor. Late that night at +the back of the old hut (there were two) he and +others who had heard that she was hurt, squatted +with unlighted pipes in their mouths, waiting +to hear the doctor’s verdict. After he had given +it and gone, they discussed in whispers, and +with a look seen only on bush faces, the hard +luck of that woman who alone had hard-grafted +with the best of them for every acre and hoof +on that selection. Squeaker would go through it +in no time. Why she had allowed it to be taken +up in his name, when the money had been her +own, was also for them among the mysteries.</p> + +<p>Him they called “a nole woman,” not because +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23"></span>he was hanging round the honey tins, but +after man’s fashion to eliminate all virtue. They +beckoned him, and explaining his mate’s injury, +cautioned him to keep from her the knowledge +that she would be for ever a cripple.</p> + +<p>“Jus’ th’ same, now then fur ’im,” pointing +to Red Bob, “t’ pay me, I’ll ’ev t’ go t’ town.”</p> + +<p>They told him in whispers what they thought +of him, and with a cowardly look towards where +she lay, but without a word of parting, like +shadows these men made for their homes.</p> + +<p>Next day the women came. Squeaker’s mate +was not a favourite with them—a woman with +no leisure for yarning was not likely to be. After +the first day they left her severely alone, their +plea to their husbands, her uncompromising independence. +It is in the ordering of things that +by degrees most husbands accept their wives’ +views of other women.</p> + +<p>The flour bespattering Squeaker’s now neglected +clothes spoke eloquently of his clumsy +efforts at damper making. The women gave +him many a feed, agreeing that it must be miserable +for him.</p> + +<p>If it were miserable and lonely for his mate, +she did not complain; for her the long, long days +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24"></span>would give place to longer nights—those nights +with the pregnant bush silence suddenly cleft by +a bush voice. However, she was not fanciful, +and being a bush scholar knew ’twas a dingo, +when a long whine came from the scrub on the +skirts of which lay the axe under the worm-eaten +tree. That quivering wail from the billabong +lying murkily mystic towards the East was only +the cry of the fearing curlew.</p> + +<p>Always her dog—wakeful and watchful as she—patiently +waiting for her to be up and about +again. That would be soon, she told her complaining +mate.</p> + +<p>“Yer won’t. Yer back’s broke,” said Squeaker +laconically. “That’s wot’s wrong er yer; injoory +t’ th’ spine. Doctor says that means +back’s broke, and yer won’t never walk no more. +No good not t’ tell yer, cos I can’t be doin’ +everythin’.”</p> + +<p>A wild look grew on her face, and she tried to +sit up.</p> + +<p>“Erh,” said he, “see! yer carnt, yer jes’ ther +same as a snake w’en ees back’s broke, on’y yer +don’t bite yerself like a snake does w’en ’e carnt +crawl. Yer did bite yer tongue w’en yer fell.”</p> + +<p>She gasped, and he could hear her heart beating +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25"></span>when she let her head fall back a few +moments; though she wiped her wet forehead +with the back of her hand, and still said that +was the doctor’s mistake. But day after day +she tested her strength, and whatever the result, +was silent, though white witnesses, halo-wise, +gradually circled her brow and temples.</p> + +<p>“’Tisn’t as if yer was agoin’ t’ get better t’morrer, +the doctor says yer won’t never work no +more, an’ I can’t be cookin’ an’ workin’ an’ doin’ +everythin’!”</p> + +<p>He muttered something about “sellin’ out,” +but she firmly refused to think of such a monstrous +proposal.</p> + +<p>He went into town one Saturday afternoon +soon after, and did not return till Monday.</p> + +<p>Her supplies, a billy of tea and scraps of salt +beef and damper (her dog got the beef), gave +out the first day, though that was as nothing to +her compared with the bleat of the penned sheep, +for it was summer and droughty, and her dog +could not unpen them.</p> + +<p>Of them and her dog only she spoke when he +returned. He d——d him, and d——d her, and +told her to “double up yer ole broke back an’ bite +yerself.” He threw things about, made a long-range +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26"></span>feint of kicking her threatening dog, then sat +outside in the shade of the old hut, nursing his +head till he slept.</p> + +<p>She, for many reasons, had when necessary +made these trips into town, walking both ways, +leading a pack horse for supplies. She never +failed to indulge him in a half pint—a pipe was +her luxury.</p> + +<p>The sheep waited till next day, so did she.</p> + +<p>For a few days he worked a little in her sight; +not much—he never did. It was she who always +lifted the heavy end of the log, and carried the +tools; he—the billy and tucker.</p> + +<p>She wearily watched him idling his time; reminded +him that the wire lying near the fence +would rust, one could run the wire through +easily, and when she got up in a day or so, she +would help strain and fasten it. At first he pretended +he had done it, later said he wasn’t goin’ +t’ go wirin’ or nothin’ else by ’imself if every +other man on the place did.</p> + +<p>She spoke of many other things that could be +done by one, reserving the great till she was +well. Sometimes he whistled while she spoke, +often swore, generally went out, and when this +was inconvenient, dull as he was, he found the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27"></span>“Go and bite yerself like a snake,” would instantly +silence her.</p> + +<p>At last the work worry ceased to exercise her, +and for night to bring him home was a rare +thing.</p> + +<p>Her dog rounded and yarded the sheep when +the sun went down and there was no sign of +him, and together they kept watch on their +movements till dawn. She was mindful not to +speak of this care to him, knowing he would +have left it for them to do constantly, and she +noticed that what little interest he seemed to +share went to the sheep. Why, was soon demonstrated.</p> + +<p>Through the cracks her ever watchful eyes +one day saw the dust rise out of the plain. +Nearer it came till she saw him and a man on +horseback rounding and driving the sheep into +the yard, and later both left in charge of a little +mob. Their “Baa-baas” to her were cries for +help; many had been pets. So he was selling +her sheep to the town butchers.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the next week he came from +town with a fresh horse, new saddle and bridle. +He wore a flash red shirt, and round his neck a +silk handkerchief. On the next occasion she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28"></span>smelt scent, and though he did not try to display +the dandy meerschaum, she saw it, and heard +the squeak of the new boots, not bluchers. +However he was kinder to her this time, offering +a fill of his cut tobacco; he had long ceased to +keep her supplied. Several of the men who +sometimes in passing took a look in, would have +made up her loss had they known, but no word +of complaint passed her lips.</p> + +<p>She looked at Squeaker as he filled his pipe +from his pouch, but he would not meet her +eyes, and, seemingly dreading something, slipped +out.</p> + +<p>She heard him hammering in the old hut at +the back, which served for tools and other things +which sunlight and rain did not hurt. Quite +briskly he went in and out. She could see him +through the cracks carrying a narrow strip of +bark, and understood, he was making a bunk. +When it was finished he had a smoke, then came +to her and fidgetted about; he said this hut was +too cold, and that she would never get well in it. +She did not feel cold, but, submitting to his mood, +allowed him to make a fire that would roast a +sheep. He took off his hat, and fanning himself, +said he was roastin’, wasn’t she? She was.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29"></span></p> + +<p>He offered to carry her into the other; he +would put a new roof on it in a day or two, and +it would be better than this one, and she would +be up in no time. He stood to say this where +she could not see him.</p> + +<p>His eagerness had tripped him.</p> + +<p>There were months to run before all the +Government conditions of residence, etc., in +connection with the selection, would be fulfilled, +still she thought perhaps he was trying to sell +out, and she would not go.</p> + +<p>He was away four days that time, and when +he returned slept in the new bunk.</p> + +<p>She compromised. Would he put a bunk +there for himself, keep out of town, and not sell +the place? He promised instantly with additions.</p> + +<p>“Try could yer crawl yerself?” he coaxed, +looking at her bulk.</p> + +<p>Her nostrils quivered with her suppressed +breathing, and her lips tightened, but she did +not attempt to move.</p> + +<p>It was evident some great purpose actuated +him. After attempts to carry and drag her, he +rolled her on the sheet of bark that had brought +her home, and laboriously drew her round.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30"></span></p> + +<p>She asked for a drink, he placed her billy and +tin pint besides the bunk, and left her gasping +and dazed to her sympathetic dog.</p> + +<p>She saw him run up and yard his horse, and +though she called him, he would not answer nor +come.</p> + +<p>When he rode swiftly towards the town, her +dog leaped on the bunk, and joined a refrain to +her lamentation, but the cat took to the bush.</p> + +<p>He came back at dusk next day in a spring +cart—not alone—he had another mate. She +saw her though he came a roundabout way, +trying to keep in front of the new hut.</p> + +<p>There were noises of moving many things from +the cart to the hut. Finally he came to a crack +near where she lay, and whispered the promise +of many good things to her if she kept quiet, and +that he would set her hut afire if she didn’t. +She was quiet, he need not have feared, for that +time she was past it, she was stunned.</p> + +<p>The released horse came stumbling round to +the old hut, and thrust its head in the door in a +domesticated fashion. Her dog promptly resented +this straggler mistaking their hut for a +stable. And the dog’s angry dissent, together +with the shod clatter of the rapidly disappearing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31"></span>intruder, seemed to have a disturbing effect on +the pair in the new hut. The settling sounds +suddenly ceased, and the cripple heard the +stranger close the door, despite Squeaker’s assurances +that the woman in the old hut could not +move from her bunk to save her life, and that +her dog would not leave her.</p> + +<p>Food, more and better, was placed near her—but, +dumb and motionless, she lay with her face +turned to the wall, and her dog growled menacingly +at the stranger. The new woman was +uneasy, and told Squeaker what people might +say and do if she died.</p> + +<p>He scared at the “do,” went into the bush +and waited.</p> + +<p>She went to the door, not the crack, the face +was turned that way, and said she had come to +cook and take care of her.</p> + +<p>The disabled woman, turning her head slowly, +looked steadily at her. She was not much to +look at. Her red hair hung in an uncurled bang +over her forehead, the lower part of her face had +robbed the upper, and her figure evinced imminent +motherhood, though it is doubtful if the +barren woman, noting this, knew by calculation +the paternity was not Squeaker’s. She was not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32"></span>learned in these matters, though she understood +all about an ewe and lamb.</p> + +<p>One circumstance was apparent—ah! bitterest +of all bitterness to women—she was younger.</p> + +<p>The thick hair that fell from the brow of the +woman on the bunk was white now.</p> + +<p>Bread and butter the woman brought. The +cripple looked at it, at her dog, at the woman. +Bread and butter for a dog! but the stranger +did not understand till she saw it offered to the +dog. The bread and butter was not for the dog. +She brought meat.</p> + +<p>All next day the man kept hidden. The +cripple saw his dog, and knew he was about.</p> + +<p>But there was an end of this pretence when +at dusk he came back with a show of haste, and +a finger of his right hand bound and ostentatiously +prominent. His entrance caused great +excitement to his new mate. The old mate, who +knew this snake-bite trick from its inception, +maybe, realised how useless were the terrified +stranger’s efforts to rouse the snoring man after +an empty pint bottle had been flung on the outside +heap.</p> + +<p>However, what the sick woman thought was +not definite, for she kept silent always. Neither +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33"></span>was it clear how much she ate, and how much +she gave to her dog, though the new mate said +to Squeaker one day that she believed that +the dog would not take a bite more than its +share.</p> + +<p>The cripple’s silence told on the stranger, +especially when alone. She would rather have +abuse. Eagerly she counted the days past and +to pass. Then back to the town. She told no +word of that hope to Squeaker, he had no place +in her plans for the future. So if he spoke of +what they would do by-and-bye when his time +would be up, and he able to sell out, she listened +in uninterested silence.</p> + +<p>She did tell him she was afraid of “her,” and +after the first day would not go within reach, +but every morning made a billy of tea, which +with bread and beef Squeaker carried to her.</p> + +<p>The rubbish heap was adorned, for the first +time, with jam and fish tins from the table in +the new hut. It seemed to be understood that +neither woman nor dog in the old hut required +them.</p> + +<p>Squeaker’s dog sniffed and barked joyfully +around them till his licking efforts to bottom a +salmon tin sent him careering in a muzzled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34"></span>frenzy, that caused the younger woman’s thick +lips to part grinningly till he came too close.</p> + +<p>The remaining sheep were regularly yarded. +His old mate heard him whistle as he did it. +Squeaker began to work about a little burning +off. So that now, added to the other bush +voices, was the call from some untimely falling +giant. There is no sound so human as that +from the riven souls of these tree people, or the +trembling sighs of their upright neighbours +whose hands in time will meet over the victim’s +fallen body.</p> + +<p>There was no bunk on the side of the hut to +which her eyes turned, but her dog filled that +space, and the flash that passed between this +back-broken woman and her dog might have +been the spirit of these slain tree folk, it was so +wondrous ghostly. Still, at times, the practical +in her would be dominant, for in a mind so free +of fancies, backed by bodily strength, hope died +slowly, and forgetful of self she would almost +call to Squeaker her fears that certain bees’ +nests were in danger.</p> + +<p>He went into town one day and returned, as +he had promised, long before sundown, and next +day a clothes line bridged the space between two +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35"></span>trees near the back of the old hut; and—an +equally rare occurrence—Squeaker placed across +his shoulders the yoke that his old mate had +fashioned for herself, with two kerosene tins +attached, and brought them filled with water +from the distant creek; but both only partly +filled the tub, a new purchase. With utter disregard +of the heat and Squeaker’s sweating +brow, his new mate said, even after another trip, +two more now for the blue water. Under her +commands he brought them, though sullenly, +perhaps contrasting the old mate’s methods +with the new.</p> + +<p>His old mate had periodically carried their +washing to the creek, and his mole skins had +been as white as snow without aid of blue.</p> + +<p>Towards noon, on the clothes line many +strange garments fluttered, suggestive of a taunt +to the barren woman. When the sun went +down she could have seen the assiduous Squeaker +lower the new prop-sticks and considerately +stoop to gather the pegs his inconsiderate new +mate had dropped. However, after one load +of water next morning, on hearing her estimate +that three more would put her own things +through, Squeaker struck. Nothing he could +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36"></span>urge would induce the stranger to trudge to +the creek, where thirst-slaked snakes lay waiting +for someone to bite. She sulked and pretended +to pack up, till a bright idea struck Squeaker. +He fastened a cask on a sledge and harnessing +the new horse, hitched him to it, and, under the +approving eyes of his new mate, led off to the +creek, though, when she went inside, he bestrode +the spiritless brute.</p> + +<p>He had various mishaps, any one of which +would have served as an excuse to his old mate, +but even babes soon know on whom to impose. +With an energy new to him he persevered and +filled the cask, but the old horse repudiated such +a burden even under Squeaker’s unmerciful +welts. Almost half was sorrowfully baled out, +and under a rain of whacks the horse shifted it +a few paces, but the cask tilted and the thirsty +earth got its contents. All Squeaker’s adjectives +over his wasted labour were as unavailing as the +cure for spilt milk.</p> + +<p>It took skill and patience to rig the cask +again. He partly filled it, and just as success +seemed probable, the rusty wire fastening the +cask to the sledge snapped with the strain, and +springing free coiled affectionately round the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37"></span>terrified horse’s hocks. Despite the sledge (the +cask had been soon disposed of) that old town +horse’s pace then was his record. Hours after, +on the plain that met the horizon, loomed two +specks: the distance between them might be +gauged, for the larger was Squeaker.</p> + +<p>Anticipating a plentiful supply and lacking in +bush caution, the new mate used the half bucket +of water to boil the salt mutton. Towards noon +she laid this joint and bread on the rough table, +then watched anxiously in the wrong direction +for Squeaker.</p> + +<p>She had drained the new tea-pot earlier, but +she placed the spout to her thirsty mouth +again.</p> + +<p>She continued looking for him for hours.</p> + +<p>Had he sneaked off to town, thinking she had +not used that water, or not caring whether or no. +She did not trust him; another had left her. +Besides she judged Squeaker by his treatment +of the woman who was lying in there with wide-open +eyes. Anyhow no use to cry with only +that silent woman to hear her.</p> + +<p>Had she drunk all hers?</p> + +<p>She tried to see at long range through the +cracks, but the hanging bed clothes hid the billy. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38"></span>She went to the door, and avoiding the bunk +looked at the billy.</p> + +<p>It was half full.</p> + +<p>Instinctively she knew that the eyes of the +woman were upon her. She turned away, and +hoped and waited for thirsty minutes that +seemed hours.</p> + +<p>Desperation drove her back to the door, dared +she? No, she couldn’t.</p> + +<p>Getting a long forked propstick, she tried to +reach it from the door, but the dog sprang at the +stick. She dropped it and ran.</p> + +<p>A scraggy growth fringed the edge of the +plain. There was the creek. How far? she +wondered. Oh, very far, she knew, and besides +there were only a few holes where water was, and +the snakes; for Squeaker, with a desire to shine in +her eyes, was continually telling her of snakes—vicious +and many—that daily he did battle +with.</p> + +<p>She recalled the evening he came from hiding +in the scrub with a string round one finger, and +said a snake had bitten him. He had drunk the +pint of brandy she had brought for her sickness, +and then slept till morning. True, although +next day he had to dig for the string round the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39"></span>blue swollen finger, he was not worse than the +many she had seen at the “Shearer’s Rest” +suffering a recovery. There was no brandy to +cure her if she were bitten.</p> + +<p>She cried a little in self pity, then withdrew +her eyes, that were getting red, from the outlying +creek, and went again to the door. She +of the bunk lay with closed eyes.</p> + +<p>Was she asleep? The stranger’s heart leapt, +yet she was hardly in earnest as she tip-toed +billy-wards. The dog, crouching with head between +two paws, eyed her steadily, but showed +no opposition. She made dumb show. “I want +to be friends with you, and won’t hurt her.” +Abruptly she looked at her, then at the dog. +He was motionless and emotionless. Beside if +that dog—certainly watching her—wanted to +bite her (her dry mouth opened), it could get her +any time.</p> + +<p>She rated this dog’s intelligence almost human, +from many of its actions in omission and commission +in connection with this woman.</p> + +<p>She regretted the pole, no dog would stand +that.</p> + +<p>Two more steps.</p> + +<p>Now just one more; then, by bending and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40"></span>stretching her arm, she would reach it. Could +she now? She tried to encourage herself by remembering +how close on the first day she had +been to the woman, and how delicious a few +mouthfuls would be—swallowing dry mouthfuls.</p> + +<p>She measured the space between where she +had first stood and the billy. Could she get anything +to draw it to her. No, the dog would not +stand that, and besides the handle would rattle, +and she might hear and open her eyes.</p> + +<p>The thought of those sunken eyes suddenly +opening made her heart bound. Oh! she must +breathe—deep, loud breaths. Her throat clicked +noisily. Looking back fearfully, she went swiftly +out.</p> + +<p>She did not look for Squeaker this time, she +had given him up.</p> + +<p>While she waited for her breath to steady, to +her relief and surprise the dog came out. She +made a rush to the new hut, but he passed +seemingly oblivious of her, and bounding across +the plain began rounding the sheep. Then he +must know Squeaker had gone to town.</p> + +<p>Stay! Her heart beat violently; was it +because she on the bunk slept and did not want +him?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41"></span></p> + +<p>She waited till her heart quieted, and again +crept to the door.</p> + +<p>The head of the woman on the bunk had +fallen towards the wall as in deep sleep; it was +turned from the billy, to which she must creep +so softly.</p> + +<p>Slower, from caution and deadly earnestness, +she entered.</p> + +<p>She was not so advanced as before, and felt +fairly secure, for the woman’s eyes were still +turned to the wall, and so tightly closed, she +could not possibly see where she was.</p> + +<p>She would bend right down, and try and reach +it from where she was.</p> + +<p>She bent.</p> + +<p>It was so swift and sudden, that she had not +time to scream when those bony fingers had +gripped the hand that she prematurely reached +for the billy. She was frozen with horror for a +moment, then her screams were piercing. Panting +with victory, the prostrate one held her +with a hold that the other did not attempt to +free herself from.</p> + +<p>Down, down she drew her.</p> + +<p>Her lips had drawn back from her teeth, and +her breath almost scorched the face that she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42"></span>held so close for the starting eyes to gloat over. +Her exultation was so great, that she could only +gloat and gasp, and hold with a tension that +had stopped the victim’s circulation.</p> + +<p>As a wounded, robbed tigress might hold and +look, she held and looked.</p> + +<p>Neither heard the swift steps of the man, and +if the tigress saw him enter, she was not daunted. +“Take me from her,” shrieked the terrified one. +“Quick, take me from her,” she repeated it +again, nothing else. “Take me from her.”</p> + +<p>He hastily fastened the door and said something +that the shrieks drowned, then picked up +the pole. It fell with a thud across the arms +which the tightening sinews had turned into +steel. Once, twice, thrice. Then the one that +got the fullest force bent; that side of the +victim was free.</p> + +<p>The pole had snapped. Another blow with a +broken end freed the other side.</p> + +<p>Still shrieking “Take me from her, take me +from her,” she beat on the closed door till +Squeaker opened it.</p> + +<p>Then he had to face and reckon with his old +mate’s maddened dog, that the closed door had +baffled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43"></span></p> + +<p>The dog suffered the shrieking woman to +pass, but though Squeaker, in bitten agony, +broke the stick across the dog, he was forced to +give the savage brute best.</p> + +<p>“Call ’im orf, Mary, ’e’s eatin’ me,” he +implored. “Oh corl ’im orf.”</p> + +<p>But with stony face the woman lay motionless.</p> + +<p>“Sool ’im on t’ ’er.” He indicated his new +mate who, as though all the plain led to the +desired town, still ran in unreasoning terror.</p> + +<p>“It’s orl er doin’,” he pleaded, springing on +the bunk beside his old mate. But when, to +rouse her sympathy, he would have laid his hand +on her, the dog’s teeth fastened in it and pulled +him back.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="SCRAMMY_AND"> + SCRAMMY ’AND. + </h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Along</span> the selvage of the scrub-girt plain the +old man looked long and earnestly. His eyes +followed an indistinct track that had been cut by +the cart, journeying at rare intervals to the distant +township. At dawn some weeks back it +had creaked across the plain, and at a point where +the scrub curved, the husband had stopped the +horse while the woman parted the tilt and waved +goodbye to the bent, irresponsive old man and +his dog. It was her impending motherhood that +made them seek the comparative civilisation of +the township, and the tenderness of her womanhood +brought the old man closer to her as they +drove away. Every week since that morning +had been carefully notched by man and dog, and +the last mark, cut three nights past, showed that +time was up. Twice this evening he thought he +saw the dust rise as he looked, but longer scrutiny +showed only the misty evening light.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45"></span></p> + +<p>He turned to where a house stood out from a +background of scrub. Beside the calf-pen near +it, a cow gave answer and greeting to the penned +calf. “No use pennin’ up ther calf,” he muttered, +“when they don’t come. Won’t do it +ter-morrer night.” He watched anxiously along +the scrub. “Calf must ’ave got ’is ’ed through +ther rails an’ sucked ’er. No one else can’t ’ave +done it. Scrammy’s gorn; ’twarn’t Scrammy.” +But the gloom of fear settled on his wizened +face as he shuffled stiffly towards the sheep yard.</p> + +<p>His body jerked; there was a suggestion of the +dog in his movements; and in the dog, as he +rounded up the sheep, more than a suggestion +of his master. He querulously accused the dog +of “rushin’ ’em, ’stead er allowin’ Billy (the +leader) to lead ’em.”</p> + +<p>When they were yarded he found fault with +the hurdles. “Some ’un ’ad been meddlin’ with +’em.” For two pins he would “smash ’em up +with ther axe.”</p> + +<p>The eyes of the sheep reflected the haze-opposed +glory of the setting sun. Loyally they +stood till a grey quilt swathed them. In their +eyes glistened luminous tears materialised from +an atmosphere of sighs. The wide plain gauzed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46"></span>into a sea on which the hut floated lonely. +Through its open door a fire gleamed like the +red, steaming mouth of an engine. Beyond the +hut a clump of myalls loomed spectral and +wraith-like, and round them a gang of crows +cawed noisily, irreverent of the great silence.</p> + +<p>Inside the hut, the old man, still querulous, +talked to the listening dog. He uncovered a +cabbage tree hat—his task of the past year—and +laid upside down, on the centre of the crown, a +star-shaped button that the woman had worked +for him.</p> + +<p>“It’s orl wrong, see!” The dog said he did. +“’Twon’t do!” he shouted with the emphasis +of deafness. The dog admitted it would not. +“An’ she done it like thet, ter spile it on me ’er +purpus. She done it outer jealersy, cos I was +makin’ it for ’im. Could ’ave done it better meself, +though I’m no ’and at fancy stitchin’. But +she can’t make a ’at like thet. No woman could. +The’re no good.” The dog did not dispute this +condemnation.</p> + +<p>“I tole ’er ter put a anker jes’ there,” he continued. +He pointed to the middle of the button +which he still held upside down. “Thet’s no +anker!” The dog subtly indicated that there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47"></span>was another side to the button. “There ain’t,” +shouted the old man. “What do you know +about an anker; you never see a real one on a +ship in yer life!” There was an inaudible disparaging +reference to “imperdent kerloneyals” +which seemed to crush the dog. To mollify him +the man got on his knees, and bending his neck, +showed the dog a faded anchor on the top of the +cabbage tree hat on his head. A little resentment +would have served the dog, but he was too +eager for peace.</p> + +<p>Noting this, the old man returned to the button +for reminiscences. “An’ yet you thort at fust +a thing like thet would do.” There was a sign +of dissent from the dog. “Yer know yer did—Sir. +An’ wot’s more yer don’t bark at ’er like +yer used ter!”</p> + +<p>The dog was uneasy, and intimated that he +would prefer to have that past buried.</p> + +<p>“None er thet now; yer know yer don’t.” +Bending the button he continued, “They can’t +never do anythin’ right, an’ orlways, continerally +they gets a man inter trouble.”</p> + +<p>He had accidently turned the button, he reversed +it looking swiftly at the dog. “Carn’t +de nothin’ with it. A thing like thet! Might +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48"></span>as well fling it in the fire!” He put it carefully +away.</p> + +<p>“W’ere’s ’e now?” he asked abruptly. The +dog indicated the route taken by the cart.</p> + +<p>“An’ ’ow long as ’e bin away?” The dog +looked at the tally stick hanging on the wall. +“Yes, orl thet time! What does ’e care about +me an’ you, now ’e’s got ’er! ’e was fust rate +afore ’e got er. Wish I ’ad er gorn down thet +time ’e took their sheep. I’d er seen no woman +didn’t grab ’im. They’re stuck away down there +an’ us orl alone ’ere by ourselves with only ther +sheep. Scrammy sez ’e wouldn’t stay if ’e wus +me. See’s there any signs er ’em comin’ back!”</p> + +<p>While the dog was out he hastily tried to fix +the button, but failed. “On’y mist, no dust?” +he asked, when his messenger returned. “No +fear,” he growled, “’e won’t come back no more; +stay down there an’ nuss ther babby. It’ll be a +gal too, sure to be! Women are orlways ’avin’ +gals. It’ll be a gal sure enough.”</p> + +<p>He looked sternly at the unagreeing dog. +“Yer don’t think so! Course yer don’t. You +on ’er side? Yer are Loo!”</p> + +<p>The dog’s name was “Warderloo” (Waterloo) +and had three abbreviations. “Now then, War!” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49"></span>meant mutual understanding and perfect fellowship. +“What’s thet, Warder?” meant serious +business. But “Loo” was ever sorrowfully +reminiscent. And accordingly “Loo” was now +much affected and disconcerted by the steady +accusing eyes of the old man.</p> + +<p>“An’ wot’s more,” he continued, “I believe +ye’ll fool roun’, ye’ll fool aroun’ ’er wusser nor +ever w’en she comes back with ther babby.” At +this grave charge the dog, either from dignity or +injury, was silent. His master, slowly and with +some additions, repeated the prophecy, and again +the dog gave him only silent attention.</p> + +<p>“’Ere she comes with ther babby,” he cried, +flinging up his arms in clumsy feigned surprise. +Loo was not deceived, and stood still.</p> + +<p>“Oh I’m a ole liar, am I? Yit’s come ter +thet; ez it? Well better fer I ter be a liar ’n +fer you ter lose yer manners,—Sir.”</p> + +<p>In vain Loo protested. His master turned +round, and when poor Loo faced that way, he +drew his feet under him on the bunk and faced +the wall. When the distressed Loo, from outside +the hut, caught his eye through the cracks, +he closed his own, to stifle remorse at the +eloquent dumb appeal.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50"></span></p> + +<p>Usually their little differences took some time +to evaporate; the master sulked with his silent +mate till some daring feat with snake or dingo +on the dog’s part mollified him. Loo, probably +on the look out for such foes, moved to the end +of the hut nearest the sheep. Two hasty squints +revealed his departure, but not his whereabouts, +to the old man, who coughed and waited, but +for once expected too much from poor Loo. His +legs grew cramped, still he did not care to make +the first move. It was a godsend when an undemonstrative +ewe and demonstrative lamb came in.</p> + +<p>Before that ewe he held the whole of her +disgraceful past, and under the circumstances, +“er imperdence—’er blarsted imperdence—” +in unceremoniously intruding on his privacy +with her blanky blind udder, and more than +blanky bastard, was something he could not and +would not stand.</p> + +<p>“None er yer sauce now!” He jumped +down, and shook his fist at the unashamed, +silent mother. “Warder,” he shouted, “Warder, +put ’em out!”</p> + +<p>Warder did so, and when he came back his +master explained to him that the thing that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51"></span>“continerally an’ orlways” upset him was +“thet dam ole yeo.” It was the only sorrow he +had or ever would have in life. “She wusn’t +nat’ral, thet ole yeo.” There was something +in the Bible, he told War, about “yeos” with +barren udders. “An’ ’twarn’t as though she +didn’t know.” For that was her third lamb he +had had to poddy. But not another bite would +he give this one. He had made up his mind +now, though it had been “worritin’” him all +day. “Jes’ look at me,” showing his lamb-bitten +fingers. “Wantin’ ter get blood outer a +stone!”</p> + +<p>He shambled round, covered the cabbage-tree +hat and the despised woman-worked button +carefully; then his better nature prevailed. +“See ’ere!” and there was that in his voice +that indicated a moral victory. He took off the +cloth and placed the button right side up and in +its proper place. “Will thet do yer?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>After this surrender his excitement was so +great, that the dog shared it. He advised War +to lie down “an’ ’ave a spell,” and in strong +agitation he went round the sheep yard twice, +each time stopping to hammer down the hurdles +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52"></span>noisily, and calling to War not to “worrit; +they’s orlright now, an’ firm as a rock.”</p> + +<p>Through these proceedings the ewe and lamb +followed him, the lamb—lamb fashion—mixing +itself with his legs. He had nothing further to +say to the ewe, but from the expression of her +eyes she still had an open mind towards him. +Both went with him inside the hut. Were they +intruders? the dog asked. He coughed and +affected not to hear, went to the door, looked +out and said the mist was gone, but the dog re-asked. +“I think, War, there’s some er that +orker’d little dam fool’s grub lef’” he said, +gently extricating the lamb from between his legs, +“an’ it’ll on’y spile. ’Jes this once ’an no more, +min’ yer, an’ then you skiddy addy,” he said to +the ewe. He carried the lamb outside, for he +would not finger-suckle it that night before +Waterloo.</p> + +<p>From his bunk head he took an axe, cut in +two a myall log, and brought in half. He +threw it on the fire for a back-log, first scraping +the live coals and ashes to a heap for his +damper.</p> + +<p>He filled and trimmed his slush lamp, and +from a series of flat pockets hanging on the wall +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53"></span>he took thread, needle, and beeswax. He hung +a white cloth in a way that defined the eye of +the needle which he held at long range; but +vary as he would from long to longest the +thread remained in one hand, the needle in the +other. Needle, thread, light, everything was +wrong, he told War. “Es fer me, thenk a Lord +I ken see an’ year’s well’s ever I could. Ehm +War! See any change?” War said there +had been no change observable to him. “There +ain’t no change in you neither, War!” he said in +gratitude to the grizzled old dog. But he felt +that War had been disappointed at his failure, +and he promised that he would rise betimes +to-morrow and sew on the button by daylight.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, War; like ter see ’em after supper?” +Comradeship was never by speech +better demonstrated.</p> + +<p>From the middle beam the old man untied +two bags. Boiled mutton was in one, and the +heel of a damper in another.</p> + +<p>“No blowey carn’t get in there, eh?” the +dog looked at the meat uncritically, but critically +noted the resting place of two disturbed +“bloweys.”</p> + +<p>“No bones!” He had taken great care to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54"></span>omit them. “Neow!” As ever, War took his +word; he caught and swallowed instantly several +pieces flung to him. At the finish his master’s +“Eny?” referred to bones. War’s grateful +eyes twinkled. “Not a one.” “Never is neow!” +had reference to a trouble War had had with +one long ago.</p> + +<p>It was now time for his own supper, but after +a few attempts he shirked it. “Blest if I evven +fergot t’bile th’ billy; funny ef me t’ ferget!” +He held his head for a moment, then filled the +billy, and in a strange uncertainty went towards +and from the fire with it, and in the end War +thought there was no sense at all in putting it +so far from the blaze when it had to boil.</p> + +<p>“Tell yer wot, War, w’ile it biles us’ll count +’em. Gimme appertite, ehm, War?”</p> + +<p>War thought “countin’ ’em” was the tonic. +Then together they closed the door, spread a +kangaroo skin on the floor, and put the slush +lamp where the light fell on it. The man sat +down, so did War, took off his belt, turned it +carefully, tenderly, and opened his knife to cut +the stitching. This was a tedious process, for it +was wax thread, and had been crossed and re-crossed. +Then came the chink of the coins falling. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55"></span>The old man counted each as it rolled +out, and the dog tallied with a paw.</p> + +<p>“No more?” Certainly more, said War. A +jerk, tenderly calculated, brought another among +the seductive heap.</p> + +<p>“All?” no—still the upraised paw. The old +man chuckled.</p> + +<p>“Ole ’en gets more b’ scratchin’.” This was +the dog’s opinion, and a series of little undulations +produced another, and after still further +shaking, yet another.</p> + +<p>War was asked with ridiculous insincerity, +“All?” and with ridiculous sincerity his solemn +eyes and dropped paw said “all.” Then there +was the honest count straight through, next the +side show with its pretence of “disrememberin’,” +or doubts as to the number—doubts never laid +except by a double count. In the first, so intent +was the man, that he forgot his mate; though +his relief in being good friends again, had made +him ignore his fear.</p> + +<p>But the dog had heard an outside sound, and, +moving to the door, waited for certainty. At +this stage the man missed his mate’s eyes.</p> + +<p>He lay face downward, covering his treasure, +when he realised that his friend was uneasy. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56"></span>And as the dog kept watch, he thrust them back +hurriedly, missing all the pleasure and excitement +of a final recount.</p> + +<p>With dumb show he asked several questions +of his sentinel, and took his answers from his +eyes. Then, when Warder relieved began to +walk about, the old man with forced confidence +chaffed him. He sought refuge from his own +fears by trying to banish the dog’s, and suggested +dingoes at the sheep yard, or a “goanner” +on the roof. “Well ’twas ’possum,” he said, +making a pretence of even then hearing and distinguishing +the sound.</p> + +<p>But round his waist the belt did not go that +night. Only its bulk in his life of solitariness +could have conceived its hiding place.</p> + +<p>He bustled around as one having many tasks, +but these he did aimlessly. With a pretence of +unconcern he attempted to hum, but broke off +frequently to listen. He was plainly afraid of +the dog’s keen ears missing something. But +his mate’s tense body proclaimed him on duty.</p> + +<p>“I know who yer thort ’twas, Warder!” +They were sitting side by side, yet he spoke +very loudly. “Scrammy ’and, Ehm?” He had +guessed correctly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57"></span></p> + +<p>“An’ yer thort yer see ’im lars’ night!” He +was right again.</p> + +<p>“An’ yer thort ’twas ’im that ’ad bin ramsakin’ +the place yesterday, when we was shepherdin’. +An’ yer thort ’t must ’ave bin ’im +shook the tommy!” The dog’s manner evinced +that he had not altered this opinion. The old +man’s heart beat loudly.</p> + +<p>“No fear, Warder! Scrammy’s gone, gone +’long ways now, Warder!” But Warder’s +pricked ears doing double duty showed he was +unconvinced. “’Sides, Scrammy wouldn’t ’urt +er merskeeter,” he continued. “Poor ole +Scrammy! ’Twarn’t ’im shook the tommy, +Warder!” The dog seemed to be waiting for +the suggestion of another thief having unseen +crept into their isolated lives, but his master had +none to offer. Both were silent, then the man +piled wood on the fire, remarking that he was +going to sit up all night. He asked the dog to +go with him to the table to feed and trim the +slush lamp.</p> + +<p>Those quavering shadows along the wall were +caused by its sizzeling flare flickering in the +darkness, the dog explained. “Thort it mighter +bin ther blacks outside,” the man said. “They +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58"></span>ain’t so fur away, I know! ’Twar them killed +ther lamb down in ther creek.” He spoke unusually +loudly. He hoped they wouldn’t catch +“poor ole one-’anded Scrammy.” He said how +sorry he was for “poor ole Scrammy, cos +Scrammy wouldn’t ’urt no one. He on’y jes’ +came ter see us cos ’e was a ole friend. He was +gone along ways ter look fur work, cos ’e was +stoney broke after blueing ’is cheque at ther +shanty sixty miles away.”</p> + +<p>“I tole ’im,” he continued in an altered voice, +“thet I couldn’t lend ’im eny cos I ’ad sent all +my little bit er money (he whispered ‘money’) +to ther bank be ther boss. Didn’ I?” Emphatically +his mate intimated that this was the case. +He held his head in his shaking hands, and complained +to the dog of having “come over dizzy.”</p> + +<p>He was silent for a few moments, then, abruptly +raising his voice, he remarked that their master +was a better tracker than “Saddle-strap Jimmy,” +or any of the blacks. He looked at the tally +stick, and suddenly announced that he knew for +a certainty that the boss and his wife would return +that night or early next morning, and that +he must see about making them a damper. He +got up and began laboriously to mix soda and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59"></span>salt with the flour. He looked at the muddy +coloured water in the bucket near the wall, and +altered his mind.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bile it first, War, same as ’er does, cos +jus’ neow an’ then t’ day I comes over dizzy-like. +See th’ mist t’s even! Two more, then +rain—rain, an’ them two out in it without no +tilt on the cart.” He sat down for a moment, +even before he dusted his ungoverned floury +hands.</p> + +<p>“Pint er tea, War, jes’ t’ warm ther worms +an’ lif’ me ’art, eh!”</p> + +<p>Every movement of the dog was in accord +with this plan.</p> + +<p>His master looked at the billy, and said, +“’twarn’t bilin’,” and that a watched pot never +boiled. He rested a while silently with his +floury hands covering his face. He bent his +mouth to the dog’s ear and whispered. Warder, +before replying, pointed his ears and raised his +head. The old man’s hand rested on the dog’s +neck.</p> + +<p>“Tell yer wot, War, w’ile it’s bilin’ I’ll ’ave +another go at ther button, cos I want ter give +’im ther ’at soon as he comes. S’pose they’ll +orl come!” He had sat down again, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60"></span>seemed to whistle his words. “Think they’ll +orl come, Loo?”</p> + +<p>Loo would not commit himself about “orl,” +not being quite sure of his master’s mind.</p> + +<p>The old man’s mouth twitched, a violent effort +jerked him. “Might be a boy arter orl; ain’t +cocky sure!” His head wagged irresponsibly, +and his hat fell off as he rolled into the bunk. +He made no effort to replace it, and, for once +unheeded, the fire flickered on his polished head. +Never before had the dog seen its baldness. The +change from night-cap to hat had always been +effected out of his sight.</p> + +<p>“War, ain’t cocky sure it’ll be a gal?”</p> + +<p>The dog discreetly or modestly dropped his +eyes, but his master had not done with concessions.</p> + +<p>“Warder!” Warder looked at him. “Tell +yer wot, you can go every Sunday evenin’ an’ +see if ’tis a boy!”</p> + +<p>He turned over on his side, with his face to the +wall. Into the gnarled uncontrolled hand swaying +over the bunk the dog laid his paw.</p> + +<p>When the old man got up, he didn’t put on his +hat nor even pick it up. Altogether there was +an unusualness about him to-night that distressed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61"></span>his mate. He sat up after a few +moments, and threw back his head, listening +strainingly for outside sounds. The silence +soothed him, and he lay down again. A faded +look was in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Thort I ’eard bells—church bells,” he said +to the dog looking up too, but at him. “Couldn’t +’ave. No church bells in the bush. Ain’t ’eard +’em since I lef’ th’ ole country.” He turned his +best ear to the fancied sound. He had left his +dog and the hut, and was dreaming of shadowy +days.</p> + +<p>He raised himself from the bunk, and followed +the dog’s eyes to a little smoke-stained bottle on +the shelf. “No, no, War!” he said. “Thet’s +for sickness; mus’ be a lot worser’n wot I am!” +Breathing noisily, he went through a list of diseases, +among which were palsy, snake-bite, +“dropersy,” and “suddint death,” before he +would be justified in taking the last of his painkiller.</p> + +<p>His pipe was in his hidden belt, but he had +another in one of those little pockets. He tried +it, said “’twouldn’t draw’r,” and very slowly and +clumsily stripped the edge of a cabbage tree +frond hanging from the rafter, and tried to push +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62"></span>it through the stem, but could not find the opening. +He explained to the intent dog that the +hole was stopped up, but it didn’t matter. He +placed it under the bunk where he sat, because +first he would “’ave a swig er tea.” His head +kept wagging at the billy. No, until the billy +boiled he was going to have a little snooze. +The dog was to keep quiet until the billy boiled.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily he murmured, looking at his +mate, “Funny w’ere ther tommy’awk’s gone +ter!” Then he missed the axe. “My Gord, +Warder!” he said, “I lef’ the axe outside; +clean forgot it!” This discovery alarmed the +dog, and he suggested they should bring it in.</p> + +<p>“No, no!” he said, and his floury face grew +ghastly.</p> + +<p>He stood still; all his faculties seemed paralyzed +for a time, then fell stiffly on his bunk. Quite +suddenly he staggered to his feet, rubbed his +eyes, and between broken breaths he complained +of the bad light, and that the mist had come +again.</p> + +<p>One thing the dog did when he saw his +master’s face even by that indifferent light, he +barked low, and terribly human.</p> + +<p>The old man motioned for silence. “Ah!” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63"></span>His jaw fell but only for a moment. Then a +steely grimness took possession. He clung to +the table and beckoned the dog with one crooked +finger. “Scrammy?” cunningly, cautiously, +indicating outside, and as subtly the dog replied. +Then he groped for his bunk, and lay with his +eyes fixed on the billy, his mouth open.</p> + +<p>He brought his palms together after a while. +“’Cline our ’earts ter keep this lawr,” he +whispered, and for a moment his eyes rested on +the hiding place, then turned to the dog.</p> + +<p>And though soon after there was a sinister +sound outside, which the watchful dog immediately +challenged, the man on the bunk lay +undisturbed.</p> + +<p>Warder growling savagely went along the +back wall of the hut, and despite the semidarkness +his eyes scintillating with menace +through the cracks, drove from them a crouching +figure who turned hastily to grip the axe +near the myall logs. He stumbled over the +lamb’s feeding-pan lying in the hut’s shadow. +The moonlight glittering on the blade recalled the +menace of the dog’s eyes. The man grabbed +the weapon swiftly, but even with it he felt the +chances were unequal.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64"></span></p> + +<p>But he had planned to fix the dog. He +would unpen the sheep, and the lurking dingoes, +coming up from the creek to worry the lambs, +would prove work for the dog. He crouched +silently to again deceive this man and dog, and +crept towards the sheep yard. But the hurdles +of the yard faced the hut, and the way those +thousand eyes reflected the rising moon was disconcerting. +The whole of the night seemed +pregnant with eyes.</p> + +<p>All the shadows were slanting the wrong way, +and the moon was facing him, with its man +calmly watching every movement. It would be +dawn before it set. He backed from the yard +to the myall’s scant screen. Even they had +moulted with age. From under his coat the +handle of the axe protruded. His mind worked +his body. Hugging the axe, he crept towards +some object, straightened himself to reach, then +with the hook on his handless arm, drew back +an imaginary bolt, and stooping entered. With +the axe in readiness he crept to the bunk. +Twice he raised it and struck.</p> + +<p>It was easy enough out there, yet even in imagination +his skin was wet and his mouth was +dry. Even if the man slept, there was the dog. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65"></span>He must risk letting out the sheep. He covered +the blade of the axe and went in a circuit to the +sheep, and got over the yard on the side opposite +to the hut. They rushed from him and huddled +together, leaving him, although stooping, exposed. +He had calculated for this, but not for +the effect upon himself. Could they in the hut +see him, he would be no match for the dog even +with the axe. Heedlessly, fear-driven, he rushed +to where he could see the door, regardless of +exposing himself. Nothing counted now, but +that the dog or the old man should not steal +upon him unawares.</p> + +<p>The door was still closed. No call for +“Warder!” came from it, though he stood +there a conspicuous object. While he watched +he saw an ewe lamb make for the hut’s shelter. +He stooped, still watching, and listened, but +could hear nothing. He crept forward and +loosened the hurdles. Never were they noisier, +he was sure. He knew that the sheep would +not go through while he was there. He crept +away, but although the leader noted the freed +exit, he and those he led were creatures of +habit. None were hungry, and they were +unused to feeding at night, though in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66"></span>morning came man and dog never so early they +were waiting.</p> + +<p>Round the yard and past the gateway he +drove them again and again. He began to feel +impotently frenzied in the fear that the extraordinary +lightness meant that daylight must be +near. Every moment he persuaded himself +that he could see more plainly. He held out +his one hand and was convinced.</p> + +<p>He straightened himself, rushed among them, +caught one, and ran it kicking through the opening. +It came back the moment he freed it. +However it served his purpose, for as he +crouched there, baffled, he unexpectedly saw +them file out. Then they rushed through in an +impatient struggling crowd, each fearing to be +last with this invader.</p> + +<p>When he “barrowed” out the first, he +had kept his eyes on the hut, and had seen +an old ewe and lamb run to it and bunt +the closed door. But if there was any movement +inside, the noise of the nearer sheep +killed it.</p> + +<p>They were all round the hut, for above it +hung the moon, and they all made for the light. +He crept after them, his ears straining for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67"></span>sound, but his head bobbing above them to +watch the still closed door.</p> + +<p>Inside, long since, the back-log had split with +an explosion that scattered the coals near +enough to cause the billy to boil, and the blaze +showed the old man’s eyes set on the billy. The +dog looked into them, then laid his head between +his paws, and still watching his master’s face, +beat the ground with his tail. He whined softly +and went back to his post at the door, his eyes +snapping flintily, his teeth bared. Along his +back the hair rose like bristles. He sent an +assurance of help to the importunate ewe and +lamb. As the sheep neared the hut, he ran to +the bunk, raised his head to a level with his +master’s, and barked softly. He waited, and +despite the eager light in his intelligent face, +his master and mate did not ask him any +questions as to the cause of these calling +sheep. Why did he not rise, and with him +re-yard them, then gloatingly ask him where +was the chinky crow by day, or sneaking +dingo by night, that was any match for them, +and then demand from his four-footed trusty +mate the usual straightforward answer? Was +there to be no discussion as to which heard +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68"></span>the noise first, nor the final compromise of a +dead-heat?</p> + +<p>The silence puzzled the man outside sorely; +he crouched, watching both door and shutter. +The sheep were all round the hut. Man and +dog inside must hear them. Why, when a +dingo came that night he camped with them, +they heard it before it could reach a lamb. If +only he had known then what he knew now! +His hold on the axe tightened. No one had +seen him come; none should see him go! Why +didn’t that old fellow wake to-night? for now, as +he crept nearer the hut, he could hear the +whining dog, and understood, he was appealing +to his master.</p> + +<p>He lay flat on the ground and tried to puzzle +it out. The sheep had rushed back disorganised +and were again near the hut and yard. Both +inside must know. They were waiting for him. +They were preparing for him, and that was why +they were letting the dingoes play up with the +sheep. That was the reason they did not openly +show fight.</p> + +<p>Still he would have sacrificed half of the +coveted wealth to be absolutely certain of +what their silence meant. It was surely almost +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69"></span>daylight. He spread out the fingers of his one +hand; he could see the colour of the blood in +the veins. He must act quickly, or he would +have to hide about for another day. And +the absent man might return. To encourage +himself, he tried to imagine the possession of +that glittering heap that he had seen them +counting on the mat. Yet he had grown cold +and dejected, and felt for the first time the +weight of the axe. It would be all right if the +door would open, the old man come out and +send the dog to round up the sheep. It was +getting daylight, and soon shelter would be impossible.</p> + +<p>He crept towards the hut, and this time he +felt the edge of the axe. Right and left the +sheep parted. There was nothing to be gained +now in crawling, for the hostility of the dog told +him that he could be seen. He stood, his body +stiffened with determination.</p> + +<p>Mechanically he went to the door; he knew +the defensive resources of the hut. He had +the axe, and the stolen tomahawk was stuck in +the fork of those myalls. He had no need for +both. The only weapon that the old fellow +had was the useless butcher’s knife. His eyes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70"></span>protruded, and unconsciously he felt his stiffened +beard.</p> + +<p>He breathed without movement. There was +no sound now from man or dog. In his +mind he saw them waiting for him to attack +the door; this he did not debate nor alter. +He went to the shutter, ran the axe’s edge +along the hide hinges, pushed it in, then +stepped back.</p> + +<p>Immediately the dog’s head appeared. He +growled no protest, but the flinty fire from +his eyes and the heat of his suppressed breath, +hissing between his bared fangs, revealed to +Scrammy that in this contest, despite the axe, +his one hand was a serious handicap.</p> + +<p>With the first blow his senses quickened. The +slush lamp had gone out and there was no +hint of daylight inside. This he noted between +his blows at the dog, as he looked for his +victim. It was strange the old fellow did not show +fight! Where was he hiding? Was it possible +that, scenting danger, he had slipped out? He +recalled the dog’s warning when his master was +counting his hoard. The memory of that chinking +belt-hidden pile dominated greedily. Had +the old man escaped? He would search the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71"></span>hut; what were fifty dogs’ teeth? In close +quarters he would do for him with one blow.</p> + +<p>He was breathing now in deep gasps. The +keen edge of the axe severed the hide-hinged +door. He rushed it; then stood back swinging +the axe in readiness. It did not fall for the bolt +still held it. But this was only what a child +would consider a barrier. One blow with the +axe head smashed the bolt. The door fell across +the head of the bunk, the end partly blocking +the entrance. He struck a side blow that sent +it along the bunk.</p> + +<p>The dog was dreadfully distressed. The +bushman outside thought the cause the fallen +door. Face to face they met—determined battle +in the dog’s eyes met murder in the man’s. +He brandished an axe circuit, craned his +neck, and by the dull light of the fire searched +the hut. He saw no one but the dog. Unless +his master was under the bunk, he had +escaped. The whole plot broke on him quite +suddenly! The cunning old miser, knowing +his dog would show his flight by following, +had locked him in, and he had wasted all this +time barking up the wrong tree. He would +have done the old man to death that minute +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72"></span>with fifty brutal blows. He would kill him by +day or night.</p> + +<p>He ran round the brush sheep yard, kicking +and thrusting the axe through the thickest parts. +He had not hidden there, nor among the myall +clump where he had practised his bloody plot. +The dog stood at the doorway of the hut. He +saw this as he passed through the sheep on his +way to search the creek. He was half minded +to try to invite the dog’s confidence and cooperation +by yarding them.</p> + +<p>He looked at them, and the moonlight’s +undulating white scales across their shorn backs +brought out the fresh tar brand 8, setting him +thinking of the links of that convict gang chain +long ago. Lord, how light it must be for him +to see that!</p> + +<p>He held out his hand again. There was no +perceptible change in the light. There were +hours yet before daylight. He moulded his +mind to that.</p> + +<p>The creek split the plain, and along it here +and there a few she-oak blots defined it. He +traversed it with his eyes. There were no likely +hiding places among the trees, and it would be +useless to search them. Suddenly it struck him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73"></span>that the old man might be creeping along with +the sheep—they were so used to him. He ran +and headed them, driving them swiftly back to +the yard. Before they were in he knew he was +wrong. Again he turned and scanned the creek, +but felt no impulse to search it. It was half a +mile from the hut. It was impossible that the +old man could have got there, or that he could +have reached the more distant house. Besides, +why did the dog stay at the door unless on +guard? He ran back to the hut.</p> + +<p>The dog was still there, and in no way +appeased by the yarding of the sheep. He +swore at the threatening brute, and cast about +for a gibber to throw, but stones were almost +unknown there. A sapling would serve him! +Seven or eight myall logs lay near for firewood, +but all were too thick to be wielded. There was +only the clump of myalls, and the few stunted +she-oaks bordering the distant creek. To reach +either would mean a dangerous delay. Oh, by +God, he had it! These poles keeping down the +bark roof. He ran to the back of the hut, cut a +step in a slab, and putting his foot in it, hitched +the axe on one of the desired poles and was up +in a moment. He could hear the cabbage fronds +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74"></span>hanging from the rafters shiver with the vibration, +but there was no other protest from inside.</p> + +<p>He shifted a sheet of rotten bark; part of it +crumbled and fell inside on the prostrate door, +sounding like the first earth on a coffin, in a way +that the dog particularly resented. He knelt +and carefully eyed the interior. The dog’s glittering +eyes met his. The door lay as it had +fallen along the bunk. The fire was lightless, +yet he could see more plainly, but the cause was +not manifest, till from the myalls quite close the +jackasses chorused. From his post the dog sent +them a signal. Quite unaccountably the man’s +muscles relaxed. “Oh, Christ!” he said, dropping +the pole. He sprang up and faced the +East, then turned to the traitorous faded moon. +The daylight had come.</p> + +<p>The sweat stung his quivering body. Slowly, +he made an eye circuit round the plain; no +human being was in sight. All he had to face +was a parcel of noisy jackasses and a barking +dog! He would soon silence the dog. He took +the pole and made a jab at the whelping brute. +One thing he noticed, that if he did get one +home, it was only when he worked near the +horizontal door. His quickened senses guessed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75"></span>at the reason. He could have shifted the door +easily with his pole, yet feared, because, if the +old man were under, he would expose himself to +two active enemies. He must get to close +quarters with the dog, and chop him in two, or +brain him with the axe.</p> + +<p>He ripped off another sheet of bark, and +smashed away a batten that broke his swing. +Encircling a rafter with his hooked arm, he lay +flat, his feet pressing another just over the bunk, +because only there would the dog hold his +ground. One blow well directed got home. He +planted his feet firmly, and made another with +such tremendous force that his support snapped. +He let go the axe and it fell on the door. He +gripped with his hand the rafter nearest, but +strain as he would he could not balance his body. +He hung over the door, and the dog sprang at +him and dragged him down. In bitten agony, +he dropped on the door that instantly up-ended.</p> + +<p>It was daylight, and in that light the power of +those open eyes set in that bald head, fixed on +the billy beside the dead fireplace, was mightier +than the dog. His unmaimed hand had the +strength of both. He lifted the door and shielded +himself with it as he backed out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76"></span></p> + +<p>But that was not all the dog wanted. At the +doorway he waited to see that the fleeing man +had no further designs on the sheep.</p> + +<p>It was time they were feeding. Though the +hurdles were down, even from the doorway, the +dog was their master. He waited for commands +from his, and barked them back till noon.</p> + +<p>Several times that day the ewe and lamb came +in, looked without speculation at the figure on +the bunk, then moved to the dead fire-place. But +though the water in the billy was cold, the dog +would not allow either to touch it. That was +for tea when his master awoke.</p> + +<p>There was another circumstance. Those blow +flies were welcome to the uncovered mutton. +Throughout that day he gave them undisputed +right, but they had to be content with it.</p> + +<p>Next day the ewe and lamb came again. The +lamb bunted several irresponsive objects—never +its dam’s udder—baaing listlessly. Though the +first day the ewe had looked at the bunk, and +baaed, she was wiser now, though sheep are +slow to learn. Around that dried dish outside +the lamb sniffed, baaing faintly. Adroitly the +ewe led the way to the creek, and the lamb +followed. From the bank the lamb looked at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77"></span>her, then faced round to the hut, and baaing +disconsolately, trotted a few paces back. From +the water’s edge the mother ewe called. The lamb +looked at her vacantly, and without interest descended. +The ewe bent and drank sparingly, +meaningly. The lamb sniffed the water, and unsatisfied, +complained. The hut was hidden, but +it turned that way. Again the ewe leisurely drank. +This time the lamb’s lips touched the water, but +did not drink. Into its mouth raised to bleat a +few drops fell. Hastily the mother’s head went +to the water. She did not drink, but the lamb +did. Higher up, where the creek was dry, they +crossed to tender grass in the billabong, then +joined the flock for the first time.</p> + +<p>Through the thicker mist that afternoon a +white tilted cart sailed joltingly, taking its bearings +from the various land marks rather than +from the undefined track. It rounded the scrub, +and the woman, with her baby, kept watch for +the first glimpse of her home beyond the creek. +She told her husband that there was no smoke +from the nearer shepherd’s hut, but despite his +uneasiness, he tried to persuade her that the +mist absorbed it.</p> + +<p>It was past sun-down, yet the straggling unguarded +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78"></span>sheep were running in mobs to and from +the creek. Both saw the broken roof of the hut, +and the man, stopping the horse some distance +away, gave the woman the reins and bade her +wait. He entered the hut through the broken +doorway, but immediately came out to assure +himself that his wife had not moved.</p> + +<p>The sight inside of that broken-ribbed dog’s +fight with those buzzing horrors, and the reproach +in his wild eyes, was a memory that the +man was not willing she should share.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BILLY_SKYWONKIE"> + BILLY SKYWONKIE. + </h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> line was unfenced, so with due regard to +the possibility of the drought-dulled sheep +attempting to chew it, the train crept cautiously +along, stopping occasionally, without warning, +to clear it from the listless starving brutes. In +the carriage nearest the cattle-vans, some drovers +and scrub-cutters were playing euchre, and +spasmodically chorusing the shrill music from +an uncertain concertina. When the train +stopped, the player thrust his head from the +carriage window. From one nearer the engine, +a commercial traveller remonstrated with the +guard, concerning the snail’s pace and the +many unnecessary halts.</p> + +<p>“Take yer time, ole die-ard,” yelled the +drover to the guard. “Whips er time,—don’t +bust yerself fer no one. Wot’s orl the worl’ to a +man w’en his wife’s a widder.” He laughed +noisily and waved his hat at the seething bagman. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80"></span>“Go an’ ’ave a snooze. I’ll wake yer up +ther day after termorrer.”</p> + +<p>He craned his neck to see into the nearest +cattle-van. Four were down, he told his mates, +who remarked, with blasphemous emphasis, that +they would probably lose half before getting +them to the scrub country.</p> + +<p>The listening woman passenger in a carriage +between the drover and the bagman, heard a +thud soon after in the cattle-truck, and added +another to the list of the fallen. Before dawn +that day the train had stopped at a siding to +truck them, and she had watched with painful +interest these drought-tamed brutes being driven +into the crowded vans. The tireless, greedy +sun had swiftly followed the grey dawn, and in +the light that even now seemed old and worn, +the desolation of the barren shelterless plains, +that the night had hidden, appalled her. She +realised the sufferings of the emaciated cattle. +It was barely noon, yet she had twice emptied +the water bottle, “shogging” in the iron +bracket.</p> + +<p>The train dragged its weary length again, +and she closed her eyes from the monotony of +the dead plain. Suddenly the engine cleared +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81"></span>its throat in shrill welcome to two iron tanks, +hoisted twenty feet and blazing like evil eyes +from a vanished face.</p> + +<p>Beside them it squatted on its hunkers, placed +a blackened thumb on its pipe, and hissed +through its closed teeth like a snared wild cat, +while gulping yards of water. The green slimy +odour penetrated to the cattle. The lustiest of +these stamped feebly, clashing their horns and +bellowing a hollow request.</p> + +<p>A long-bearded bushman was standing on the +few slabs that formed a siding, with a stockwhip +coiled like a snake on his arm. The +woman passenger asked him the name of the +place.</p> + +<p>“This is ther Never—Never,—ther lars’ place +Gord made,” answered one of the drovers who +were crowding the windows.</p> + +<p>“Better’n ther ’ell ’ole yous come from, +any’ow,” defended the bushman. “Breakin’ +ther ’earts, an’ dyin’ from suerside, cos they lef’ +it,” he added derisively, pointing to the cattle.</p> + +<p>In patriotic anger he passed to the guard-van +without answering her question, though she +looked anxiously after him. At various intervals +during the many halts of the train, she had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82"></span>heard some of the obscene jokes, and with it in +motion, snatches of lewd songs from the drovers’ +carriage. But the language used by this bushman +to the guard, as he helped to remove a ton +of fencing wire topping his new saddle, made +her draw back her head. Near the siding was +a spring cart, and she presently saw him throw +his flattened saddle into it and drive off. There +was no one else in sight, and in nervous fear +she asked the bagman if this was Gooriabba +siding. It was nine miles further, he told her.</p> + +<p>The engine lifted its thumb from its pipe. +“Well—well—to—be—sure; well—well—to—be—sure,” +it puffed, as if in shocked remembrance +of its being hours late for its appointment +there.</p> + +<p>She saw no one on the next siding, but a +buggy waited near the sliprails. It must be for +her. According to Sydney arrangements she +was to be met here, and driven out twelve miles. +A drover enquired as the train left her standing +by her portmanteau, “Are yer travellin’ on yer +lonesome, or on’y goin’ somew’ere!” and another +flung a twist of paper towards her, bawling unmusically, +that it was “A flowwer from me angel +mother’s ger-rave.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83"></span></p> + +<p>She went towards the buggy, but as she +neared it the driver got in and made to drive +off. She ran and called, for when he went she +would be alone with the bush all round her, and +only the sound of the hoarse croaking of the +frogs from the swamp near, and the raucous +“I’ll—’ave—’is—eye—out,” of the crows.</p> + +<p>Yes, he was from Gooriabba Station, and had +come to meet a young “piece” from Sydney, +who had not come.</p> + +<p>She was ghastly with bilious sickness,—the +result of an over-fed brain and an under-fed +liver. Her face flushed muddily. “Was it a +housekeeper?”</p> + +<p>He was the rouseabout, wearing his best +clothes with awful unusualness. The coat was +too long in the sleeve, and wrinkled across the +back with his bush slouch. There was that +wonderful margin of loose shirt between waistcoat +and trousers, which all swagger bushies +affect. Subordinate to nothing decorative was +the flaring silk handkerchief, drawn into a sailor’s +knot round his neck.</p> + +<p>He got out and fixed the winkers, then put his +hands as far as he could reach into his pockets—from +the position of his trousers he could not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84"></span>possibly reach bottom. It was apparently some +unknown law that suspended them. He thrust +forward his lower jaw, elevated his pipe, and +squirted a little tobacco juice towards his foot +that was tracing semi-circles in the dust. +“Damned if I know,” he said with a snort, “but +there’ll be a ’ell of a row somew’ere.”</p> + +<p>She noticed that the discoloured teeth his bush +grin showed so plainly, were worn in the centre, +and met at both sides with the pipe between +the front. Worn stepping stones her mind +insisted.</p> + +<p>She looked away towards the horizon where +the smoke of the hidden train showed faintly +against a clear sky, and as he was silent, she +seemed to herself to be intently listening to the +croak of the frogs and the threat of the crows. +She knew that, from under the brim of the hat +he wore over his eyes, he was looking at her sideways.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he withdrew his hands and said +again, “Damned if I know. S’pose its alright! +Got any traps? Get up then an’ ’ole the +Neddy while I get it.” They drove a mile or +so in silence; his pipe was still in his mouth +though not alight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85"></span></p> + +<p>She spoke once only. “What a lot of frogs +seem to be in that lake!”</p> + +<p>He laughed. “That’s ther Nine Mile Dam!” +He laughed again after a little—an intelligent +complacent laugh.</p> + +<p>“It used ter be swarmin’ with teal in a good +season, but Gord A’mighty knows w’en its ever +goin’ ter rain any more! I dunno!” This was +an important admission, for he was a great +weather prophet. “Lake!” he sniggered and +looked sideways at his companion. “Thet’s +wot thet there bloke, the painter doodle, called +it. An ’e goes ter dror it, an’ ’e sez wot ’e ’ll +give me five bob if I’ll run up ther horses, +an’ keep ’em so’s ’e ken put ’em in ther picshure. +An’ ’e drors ther Dam an’ ther trees, +puts in thet there ole dead un, an’ ’e puts +in ther ’orses right clost against ther water +w’ere the frogs is. ’E puts them in too, an’ +damned if ’e don’t dror ther ’orses drinkin’ +ther water with ther frogs, an’ ther frogs spit +on it! Likely yarn ther ’orses ud drink ther +water with ther blanky frogs’ spit on it! Fat +lot they know about ther bush! Blarsted +nannies!”</p> + +<p>Presently he enquired as to the place where +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86"></span>they kept pictures in Sydney, and she told him, +the Art Gallery.</p> + +<p>“Well some of these days I’m goin’ down ter +Sydney,” he continued, “an I’ll collar thet one +’cos its a good likerness of ther ’orses—you’d +know their ’ide on a gum tree—an’ that mean +mongrel never paid me ther five bob.”</p> + +<p>Between his closed teeth he hissed a bush tune +for some miles, but ceased to look at the sky and +remarked, “No sign er rain! No lambin’ this +season; soon as they’re dropt we’ll ’ave ter knock +’em all on ther ’ead!” He shouted an oath of +hatred at the crows following after the tottering +sheep that made in a straggling line for the +water. “Look at ’em!” he said, “Scoffin’ out +ther eyes!” He pointed to where the crows +hovered over the bogged sheep. “They putty +well lives on eyes! ‘Blanky bush Chinkies!’ I +call ’em. No one carn’t tell ’em apart!”</p> + +<p>There was silence again, except for a remark +that he could spit all the blanky rain they had +had in the last nine months.</p> + +<p>Away to the left along a side track his eyes +travelled seachingly, as they came to a gate. He +stood in the buggy and looked again.</p> + +<p>“Promised ther ‘Konk’ t’ leave’im ’ave furst +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87"></span>squint at yer,” he muttered, “if ’e was ’ere t’ +open ther gate! But I’m not goin’ t’ blanky well +wait orl day!” He reluctantly got out and opened +the gate, and he had just taken his seat when +a “Cooee” sounded from his right, heralded by +a dusty pillar. He snorted resentfully. “’Ere +’e is; jes’ as I got out an’ done it!”</p> + +<p>The “Konk” cantered to them, his horse’s +hoofs padded by the dust-cushioned earth. The +driver drew back, so as not to impede the newcomer’s +view. After a moment or two, the +“Konk,” preferring closer quarters, brought his +horse round to the left. Unsophisticated bush +wonder in the man’s face, met the sophisticated +in the girl’s.</p> + +<p>Never had she seen anything so grotesquely +monkeyish. And the nose of this little hairy +horror, as he slewed his neck to look into her face, +blotted the landscape and dwarfed all perspective. +She experienced a strange desire to extend +her hand. When surprise lessened, her mettle +saved her from the impulse to cover her face +with both hands, to baffle him.</p> + +<p>At last the silence was broken by the driver +drawing a match along his leg, and lighting his +pipe. The hairy creature safely arranged a pair +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88"></span>of emu eggs, slung with bush skill round his +neck.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t yer goin’ to part?” enquired the +driver, indicating his companion as the recipient.</p> + +<p>“Wot are yer givin’ us; wot do yer take me +fur?” said the “Konk” indignantly, drawing +down his knotted veil.</p> + +<p>“Well, give ’em ter me fer Lizer.”</p> + +<p>“Will yer ’ave ’em now, or wait till yer get +’em?”</p> + +<p>“Goin’ ter sit on ’em yerself?” sneered the +driver.</p> + +<p>“Yes, an’ I’ll give yer ther first egg ther cock +lays,” laughed the “Konk.”</p> + +<p>He turned his horse’s head back to the gate. +“I say, Billy Skywonkie! Wot price Sally Ah +Too, eh?” he asked, his gorilla mouth agape.</p> + +<p>Billy Skywonkie uncrossed his legs, took out +the whip. He tilted his pipe and shook his head +as he prepared to drive, to show that he understood +to a fraction the price of Sally Ah Too. +The aptness of the question took the sting out of +his having had to open the gate. He gave a +farewell jerk.</p> + +<p>“Goin’ ter wash yer neck?” shouted the man +with the nose, from the gate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89"></span></p> + +<p>“Not if I know it.”</p> + +<p>The “Konk” received the intimation +incredulously. “Stinkin’ Roger!” he yelled. In +bush parlance this was equal to emphatic disbelief.</p> + +<p>This was a seemingly final parting, and both +started, but suddenly the “Konk” wheeled +round.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy!” he shouted.</p> + +<p>Billy stayed his horse and turned expectantly.</p> + +<p>“W’en’s it goin’ ter rain?”</p> + +<p>The driver’s face darkened. “Your blanky +jealersey ’ll get yer down, an’ worry yer yet,” he +snarled, and slashing his horse he drove rapidly +away.</p> + +<p>“Mickey ther Konk,” he presently remarked +to his companion, as he stroked his nose.</p> + +<p>This explained her earlier desire to extend her +hand. If the “Konk” had been a horse she +would have stroked his nose.</p> + +<p>“Mob er sheep can camp in the shadder of +it,” he said.</p> + +<p>Boundless scope for shadows on that sun-smitten +treeless plain!</p> + +<p>“Make a good plough-shere,” he continued +“easy plough a cultivation paddock with it!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90"></span></p> + +<p>At the next gate he seemed in a mind and body +conflict. There were two tracks; he drove along +one for a few hundred yards. Then stopping, +he turned, and finding the “Konk” out of sight, +abruptly drove across to the other. He continually +drew his whip along the horse’s back, and +haste seemed the object of the movement, though +he did not flog the beast.</p> + +<p>After a few miles on the new track, a blob +glittered dazzlingly through the glare, like a +fallen star. It was the iron roof of the wine +shanty—the Saturday night and Sunday resort +of shearers and rouseabouts for twenty miles +around. Most of its spirits was made on the +premises from bush recipes, of which blue-stone +and tobacco were the chief ingredients. +Every drop had the reputation of “bitin’ orl +ther way down.”</p> + +<p>A sapling studded with broken horse-shoes +seemed to connect two lonely crow stone trees. +Under their scanty shade groups of dejected +fowls stood with beaks agape. Though the +buggy wheels almost reached them, they were +motionless but for quivering gills. The ground +both sides of the shanty was decorated with +tightly-pegged kangaroo skins. A dog, apathetically +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91"></span>blind and dumb, lay on the verandah, lifeless +save for eyelids blinking in antagonism to +the besieging flies.</p> + +<p>“Jerry can’t be far off,” said Billy Skywonkie, +recognising the dog. He stood up in the buggy. +“By cripes, there ’e is—goosed already, an’ ’e +on’y got ’is cheque lars’ night.”</p> + +<p>On the chimney side of the shanty a man lay +in agitated sleep beside his rifle and swag. There +had been a little shade on that side in the morning, +and he had been sober enough to select it, +and lay his head on his swag. He had emptied +the bottle lying at his feet since then. His swag +had been thoroughly “gone through,” and also +his singlet and trouser pockets. The fumes from +the shant-grog baffled the flies. But the scorching +sun was conquering; the man groaned, and +his hands began to search for his burning head.</p> + +<p>Billy Skywonkie explained to his companion +that it was “Thet fool, Jerry ther kangaroo-shooter, +bluein’ ’is cheque fer skins.” He took +the water bag under the buggy, and poured the +contents into the open mouth and over the face +of the “dosed” man, and raised him into a sitting +posture. Jerry fought this friendliness +vigorously, and, staggering to his feet, picked up +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92"></span>his rifle, and took drunken aim at his rescuer, +then at the terrified woman in the buggy.</p> + +<p>The rouseabout laughed unconcernedly. “’E +thinks we’re blanky kangaroos,” he said to her. +“Jerry, ole cock, yer couldn’t ’it a woolshed! +Yer been taking ther sun!”</p> + +<p>He took the rifle and pushed the subdued +Jerry into the chimney corner.</p> + +<p>He tilted his hat, till, bush fashion, it “’ung on +one ’air,” and went inside the shanty. “Mag!” +he shouted, thumping the bar (a plank supported +by two casks).</p> + +<p>The woman in the buggy saw a slatternly +girl with doughy hands come from the back, +wiping the flour from her face with a kitchen +towel. They made some reference to her she +knew, as the girl came to the door and gave her +close scrutiny. Then, shaking her head till her +long brass earrings swung like pendulums, she +laughed loudly.</p> + +<p>“Eh?” enquired the rouseabout.</p> + +<p>“My oath!” “Square dinkum!” she answered, +going behind the bar.</p> + +<p>He took the silk handkerchief from his neck, +and playfully tried to flick the corner into her +eye. Mag was used to such delicate attentions +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93"></span>and well able to defend herself. With the dirty +kitchen towel she succeeded in knocking off his +hat, and round and round the house she ran +with it dexterously dodging the skin-pegs. He +could neither overtake nor outwit her with any +dodge. He gave in, and ransomed his hat with +the “shouts” she demanded.</p> + +<p>From the back of the shanty, a bent old +woman, almost on all fours, crept towards the +man, again prostrate in the corner. She +paused, with her ear turned to where the girl +and the rouseabout were still at horse-play. +With cat-like movements she stole on till within +reach of Jerry’s empty pockets. She turned +her terrible face to the woman in the buggy, as +if in expectation of sympathy. Keeping wide of +the front door, she came to the further side of +the buggy. With the fascination of horror the +woman looked at this creature, whose mouth +and eyes seemed to dishonour her draggled grey +hair. She was importuning for something, but +the woman in the buggy could not understand +till she pointed to her toothless mouth (the mission +of which seemed to be, to fill its cavernous +depths with the age-loosened skin above and +below). A blue bag under each eye aggressively +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94"></span>ticked like the gills of the fowls, and the sinews +of the neck strained into bassi relievi. Alternately +she pointed to her mouth, or laid her +knotted fingers on the blue bags in pretence of +wiping tears. Entrenched behind the absorbed +skin-terraces, a stump of purple tongue made +efforts at speech. When she held out her claw, +the woman understood and felt for her purse. +Wolfishly the old hag snatched and put into her +mouth the coin, and as the now merry driver, +followed by Mag, came, she shook a warning +claw at the giver, and flopped whining in the +dust, her hands ostentatiously open and wiping +dry eyes.</p> + +<p>“’Ello Biddy, on ther booze again!”</p> + +<p>The bottle bulging from his coat pocket made +speech with him intelligible, despite the impeding +coin.</p> + +<p>He placed the bottle in the boot of the buggy, +and turning to Mag, said “Give ther poor ole +cow a dose!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, one in a billy; anything else might +make her sick!” said Mag. “I caught ’er jus’ +now swiggin’ away with ther tap in ’er mug!”</p> + +<p>He asked his companion would she like a wet. +She asked for water, and so great was her need, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95"></span>that, making a barricade of closed lips and +teeth to the multitude of apparently wingless +mosquitoes thriving in its green tepidity, she +moistened her mouth and throat.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say, Billy!” called Mag as he drove +off. Her tones suggested her having forgotten +an important matter, and he turned eagerly. +“W’en’s it goin’ ter rain?” she shrieked, +convulsed with merriment.</p> + +<p>“Go an’ crawl inter a ’oller log!” he shouted +angrily.</p> + +<p>“No, but truly, Billy.” Billy turned again. +“Give my love to yaller Lizer; thet slues yer!”</p> + +<p>They had not gone far before he looked round +again. “Gord!” he cried excitedly, “Look at +Mag goin’ through ’er ole woman!”</p> + +<p>Mag had the old woman’s head between her +knees, dentist-fashion, and seemed to concentrate +upon her victim’s mouth, whose feeble impotence +was soon demonstrated by the operator releasing +her, and triumphantly raising her hand.</p> + +<p>What the finger and thumb held the woman +knew and the other guessed.</p> + +<p>“By Gord. Eh! thet’s prime; ain’t it? No +flies on Mag; not a fly!” he said, admiringly.</p> + +<p>“See me an’ ’er?” he asked, as he drove on.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96"></span></p> + +<p>His tone suggested no need to reply, and his +listener did not. A giddy unreality took the +sting from everything, even from her desire to +beseech him to turn back to the siding, and +leave her there to wait for the train to take her +back to civilization. She felt she had lost her +mental balance. Little matters became distorted, +and the greater shrivelled.</p> + +<p>He was now more communicative, and the +oaths and adjectives so freely used were surely +coined for such circumstances. “Damned” +the wretched, starving, and starved sheep looked +and were; “bloody” the beaks of the glutted +crows; “blarsted” the whole of the plain they +drove through!</p> + +<p>Gaping cracks suggested yawning graves, +and the skeleton fingers of the drooping myalls +seemingly pointed to them.</p> + +<p>“See me an’ Mag?” he asked again. “No +flies on Mag; not a wink ’bout ’er!” He +chuckled in tribute. “Ther wus thet damned +flash fool, Jimmy Fernatty,” he continued “—ther +blanky fool; ’e never ’ad no show with Mag. +An’ yet ’e’d go down there! It wus two mile +furder this way, yet damned if ther blanky fool +wouldn’t come this way every time, ’less ther +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97"></span>boss ’e wus with ’im, ’stead er goin’ ther short +cut,—ther way I come this mornin’. An’ every +time Mag ud make ’im part ’arf a quid! I wus +on’l there jus’ ’bout five minits meself, an’ I +stuck up nea’ly ’arf a quid! An’ there’s four +gates (he flogged the horse and painted them +crimson when he remembered them) this way, +more ’n on ther way I come this mornin’.”</p> + +<p>Presently he gave her the reins with instructions +to drive through one. It seemed to take a +long time to close it, and he had to fix the back +of the buggy before he opened it, and after it +was closed.</p> + +<p>After getting out several times in quick succession +to fix the back of the buggy when there +was no gate, he seemed to forget the extra distance. +He kept his hand on hers when she gave +him the reins, and bade her “keep up ’er pecker.” +“Someone would soon buck up ter ’er if their +boss wusn’t on.” But the boss it seemed was +a “terrer for young uns. Jimmy Fernatty ’as +took up with a yaller piece an’ is livin’ with ’er; +But not me; thet’s not me! I’m like ther boss, +thet’s me! No yeller satin for me!”</p> + +<p>He watched for the effect of this degree of +taste on her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98"></span></p> + +<p>Though she had withdrawn her hand, he kept +winking at her, and she had to move her feet to +the edge of the buggy to prevent his pressing +against them. He told her with sudden anger +that any red black-gin was as good as a half chow +any day, and it was no use gammoning for he +knew what she was.</p> + +<p>“If Billy Skywonkie ’ad ter string onter yaller +Lizer, more ’air on ’is chest fer doin’ so,” (striking +his own). “I ken get as many w’ite gins as +I wanter, an’ I’d as soon tackle a gin as a chow +anyways!”</p> + +<p>On his next visit to the back of the buggy she +heard the crash of glass breaking against a tree. +After a few snatches of song he lighted his pipe, +and grew sorrowfully reminiscent.</p> + +<p>“Yes s’elp me, nea’ly ’arf a quid! An’ thet +coloured ole ’og of a cow of a mother, soon’s +she’s off ther booze, ’ll see thet she gets it!” +Then he missed his silk handkerchief. “Ghost!” +he said, breathing heavily, “Mag’s snavelled it! +Lizer ’ll spot thet’s gone soon’s we get ’ithin +cooee of ’er!”</p> + +<p>Against hope he turned and looked along +the road; felt every pocket, lifted his feet, <a id="chg3"></a>and +looked under the mat. His companion, in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99"></span>reply, said she had not seen it since his visit to +the shanty.</p> + +<p>“My Gord!” he said, “Mag’s a fair terror!” +He was greatly troubled till the braggart in him +gave an assertive flicker. “Know wot I’ll do ter +Lizer soon’s she begins ter start naggin’ at me?” +He intended this question as an insoluble conundrum, +and waited for no surmises. “Fill ’er +mug with this!” The shut fist he shook was +more than a mugfull. “’Twouldn’ be ther first +time I done it, not ther lars’.” But the anticipation +seemed little comfort to him.</p> + +<p>The rest of the journey was done in silence, +and without even a peep at the sky. When +they came to the homestead gate he said his +throat felt as though a “goanner” had crawled +into it and died. He asked her for a pin and +clumsily dropped it in his efforts to draw the +collar up to his ears, but had better luck with a +hair-pin.</p> + +<p>He appeared suddenly subdued and sober, and +as he took his seat after closing the gate, he +offered her his hand, and said, hurriedly, “No +’arm done, an’ no ’arm meant; an’ don’t let on +ter my missus—thet’s ’er on the verander—thet +we come be ther shanty.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100"></span></p> + +<p>It was dusk, but through it she saw that the +woman was dusky too.</p> + +<p>“Boss in, Lizer?” There was contrition and +propitiation in his voice.</p> + +<p>“You’ve bin a nice blanky time,” said his +missus, “an’ lucky fer you: Billy Skywonkie ’e +ain’t.”</p> + +<p>With bowed head, his shoulders making kindly +efforts to hide his ears, he sat silent and listening +respectfully. The woman in the buggy thought +that the volubility of the angry half-caste’s tongue +was the nearest thing to perpetual motion. Under +her orders both got down, and from a seat under +the open window in the little room to which +Lizer had motioned, she gave respectful attention +to the still rapidly flowing tirade. The +offence had been some terrible injustice to a respectable +married woman, “slavin’ an’ graftin’ +an’ sweatin’ from mornin’ ter night, for a slungin’ +idlin’ lazy blaggard.” In an indefinable way +the woman felt that both of them were guilty, +and to hide from her part of the reproof was +mean and cowardly. The half-caste from time +to time included her, and by degrees she understood +that the wasted time of which Lizer complained +was supposed to have been dissipated +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101"></span>in flirtation. Neither the shanty nor Mag had +mention.</p> + +<p>From a kitchen facing the yard a Chinaman +came at intervals, and with that assumption of +having mastered the situation in all its bearings +through his thorough knowledge of the English +tongue, he shook his head in calm, shocked surprise. +His sympathies were unmistakeably +with Lizer, and he many times demonstrated +his grip of the grievance by saying, “By Cli’ +Billy, its a bloo’y shame!”</p> + +<p>Maybe it was a sense of what was in his mind +that made the quivering woman hide her face +when virtuous Ching Too came to look at her. +She was trying to eat when a dog ran into the +dining-room, and despite the violent beating of +her heart, she heard the rouseabout tell the +boss as he unsaddled his horse, “The on’y +woman I see was a ’alf chow, an’ she ses she’s +the one, an’ she’s in ther dinin’-room ’avin’ a +tuck in.”</p> + +<p>She was too giddy to stand when the boss +entered, but she turned her mournful eyes on +him, and supporting herself by the table, stood +and faced him.</p> + +<p>He kept on his hat, and she, watching, saw +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102"></span>curiosity and surprise change into anger as he +looked at her.</p> + +<p>“What an infernal cheek <em>you</em> had to come! +Who sent you?” he asked stormily.</p> + +<p>She told him, and added that she had no intention +of remaining.</p> + +<p>“How old?” She made no reply. His last +thrust, as in disgust he strode out, had the effect +of a galvanic battery on her dying body.</p> + +<p>Her bedroom was reeking with a green heavy +scent. Empty powder boxes and rouge pots +littered the dressing table, and various other aids +to nature evidenced her predecessor’s frailty. +From a coign in its fastness a black spider eyed +her malignantly, and as long as the light lasted +she watched it.</p> + +<p>The ringing of a bell slung outside in the +fork of a tree awoke her before dawn. It was +mustering—bush stocktaking—and all the station +hands were astir. There was a noise of galloping +horses being driven into the stockyard, and the +clamour of the men as they caught and saddled +them. Above the clatter of plates in the kitchen +she could hear the affected drawl of the Chinaman +talking to Lizer. She trod heavily along +the passage, preparing the boss’s breakfast. This +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103"></span>early meal was soon over, and with the dogs +snapping playfully at the horses’ heels, all rode +off.</p> + +<p>Spasmodic bars of “A Bicycle Built for Two” +came from the kitchen, “Mayly, Mayly, give me +answer do!” There was neither haste nor +anxiety in the singer’s tones. Before the kitchen +fire, oblivious to the heat, stood the Chinaman +cook, inert from his morning’s opium. It was +only nine, but this was well on in the day for +Ching, whose morning began at four.</p> + +<p>He ceased his song as she entered. “You +come Sydiney? Ah! You mally? Ah! Sydiney +welly ni’ place. This placee welly dly—too +muchee no lain—welly dly.”</p> + +<p>She was watching his dog. On a block lay a +flitch of bacon, and across the freshly cut side +the dog drew its tongue, then snapped at the +flies, “That dog will eat the bacon,” she said.</p> + +<p>“No!” answered the cook. “’E no eat ’em—too +saw.”</p> + +<p>It was salt; she had tried it for breakfast.</p> + +<p>He began energetically something about, “by-an’-bye +me getty mally. By Cli’ no ’alf cas—too +muchee longa jlaw.” He laughed and +shook his head, reminiscent of “las’ a night,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104"></span>and waited for applause. But, fascinated, she +still watched the dog, <a id="chg1"></a>who from time to time +continued to take “saw” with his flies.</p> + +<p>“Go ou’ si’, Sir,” said the cook in a spirit of +rivalry. The dog stood and snapped, “Go ou’ +si’, I say!” No notice from the dog “Go ou’ +si’, I tella you!” stamping his slippered feet +and taking a fire stick. The dog leisurely sat +down and looked at his master with mild reproof. +“Go insi’ then, any bloo’y si’ you li’!” +but pointing to their joint bed-room with the +lighted stick. The dog went to the greasy door, +saw that the hens sitting on the bed were quietly +laying eggs to go with the bacon, and came +back.</p> + +<p>She asked him where was the rouseabout who +had driven her in yesterday.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy Skywonkie, ’e mally alri’! Lizer +’im missie!” He went on to hint that affection +there was misplaced, but that he himself was +unattached.</p> + +<p>She saw the rouseabout rattle into the yard +in a spring cart. He let down the backboard +and dumped three sheep under a light gallows. +Their two front feet were strapped to one behind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105"></span></p> + +<p>He seemed breathless with haste. “Oh, I +say!” he called out to her. “Ther boss ’e tole +me this mornin’ thet I wus ter tell you, you wis +ter sling yer ’ook. To do a get,” he explained. +“So bundle yer duds tergether quick an’ lively! +Lizer’s down at ther tank, washin’. Le’ss get +away afore she sees us, or she’ll make yer +swaller yer chewers.” Lowering his voice, he +continued: “I wanter go ter ther shanty—on’y +ter get me ’ankerchief.”</p> + +<p>He bent and strained back a sheep’s neck, +drew the knife and steel from his belt, and skilfully +danced an edge on the knife.</p> + +<p>She noticed that the sheep lay passive, with +its head back, till its neck curved in a bow, and +that the glitter of the knife was reflected in its +eye.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BUSH_CHURCH"> + BUSH CHURCH. + </h2> +</div> + +<h3><abbr title="One">I.</abbr></h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> hospitality of the bush never extends to +the loan of a good horse to an inexperienced +rider. The parson bumping along on old Rosey, +who had smelt the water of the “Circler Dam,” +was powerless to keep the cunning experienced +brute from diverting from the track. With +the bit in her teeth, her pace kept him fully +occupied to hold his seat. At the edge of the +Dam, old Rosey, to avoid the treacherous mud, +began, with humped back and hoofs close +together, to walk along the plank, that pierwise +extended to the deeper water. The parson’s +protests ended in his slipping over the arched +neck of the wilful brute, on to the few inches of +plank that she considerately left for him. The +old mare drank leisurely, then backed off with +the same precaution, and stood switching the +flies with her stunted tail. The parson followed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107"></span>her and thankfully grabbed the reins. After +several attempts to get up on the wrong side, +he led the exacting animal to a log. He removed +the veil he wore as a protection from the sticky +eye-eating flies, so that Rosey might recognise +him as her erstwhile rider. It was at this stage +that “flash” Ned Stennard, always with time +to kill and a tongue specially designed for the +purpose, rode up and gave him lurid instructions +and a leg up.</p> + +<p>He had come to their remoteness, he told +Ned, as they rode along, to hold a service at a +grazier’s homestead some miles distant. Under +Ned’s sympathetic guidance he pulled up at the +sliprails of a cockey’s selection to announce +these tidings. It was Ned’s brother’s place, +but Ned, who was not on speaking terms with +his sister-in-law, rode on and waited.</p> + +<p>A group of half-naked children lay entangled +among several kangaroo pups, in a make-believe +of shade from a sickly gum tree. A +canvas bag, with a saddle strap defining its +long neck, hung from a bough, and the pups +were yelping mildly at its contents, and licking +the few drops of blood that fell. The parson +saw the children rub the swarming flies from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108"></span>their eyes and turn to look at him. An older +girl, bare-footed and dressed in a petticoat and +old hat, was standing near a fire before the wide +opening that served as a doorway to the humpy. +She had a long stick, and was employed in +permitting an aged billy-goat to bring his nose +within an inch of the simmering water in the +bucket slung over the fire.</p> + +<p>“Are your parents in?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“You aint ole Keogh?” said the girl.</p> + +<p>When he admitted that he wasn’t, he saw her +interest in his personality was gone. “Are +your mother and father in?”</p> + +<p>The thirsty billy was sneaking up again to +the water, and she let him advance the prescribed +limit before she made the jab that she enjoyed +so thoroughly. “Mum’s gorn ter Tilly Lumber’s +ter see t’ ther kid, and ther rester them’s gorn +ter ther Circler Dam.”</p> + +<p>He made known his mission to the girl, but +she didn’t divide her attention. The water +would soon be too hot for the billy to drink, +and there was no fun to be got out of the pups. +For when she took the salt pork out of the +canvas bag and put it in the bucket, they +wouldn’t try to get it out of boiling water.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109"></span></p> + +<p>Doubtful of his success, the parson rejoined +Ned, and along the dusty track they jogged. +The parson’s part in the dialogue was chiefly +remonstrative as to the necessity of Ned’s +variegated adjectives. And he had frequently +to assure the bushman that it would be useless +for him to search in his clerical pockets for +tobacco, as he didn’t smoke.</p> + +<p>At the Horse Shoe Bend they overtook hairy +Paddy Woods of eighteen withering summers. +Paddy was punching and blaspheming a nine +mile day out of his bullocks. These were straining +their load along with heads bent close to the +dust-padded track, silent, for all the whip weals, +but for a cough to free their mouths and nostrils +from dust. Old Rosey, an inveterate yarner, +pulled up abruptly; but Paddy, who had his +day’s work cut out to a minute, gave a voiceless +side-long nod in recognition of the parson’s +greeting, and went on driving his team. Probably +his share of the conversation, mainly catechismal, +would have been yea and nay nods, but for +catching Ned’s eye when the parson asked if he +were married. Paddy struck an attitude of +aged responsibility, and, tipping Ned an intelligent +wink, made a pretence of searching +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110"></span>through a dusty past, and replied that he thought +he was. The parson, giving him the benefit of +the doubt, enquired if there were any children +for baptism. Paddy, still with an eye on Ned, +reckoned that the number of his offspring was +uncertain, but promised that as soon as he +delivered his load of wool he would have a day’s +“musterin’ an’ draftin’ an’ countin’ an’ ear-markin’” +and send him the returns. Ned’s loud +laugh and “Good old Paddy” had not the +effect on its young-old recipient’s well-filled +tobacco pouch that he had hoped. The disgusted +parson was trying to urge Rosey onward, but +Rosey refused to leave her pleasant company +till Ned brought his switch across her back.</p> + +<p>Ned stayed with Paddy long enough to tell +him that, in his opinion, the black-coated parson +was “nothin’ but a sneakin’ Inspector, pokin’ an’ +prowlin’ roun’ fur ole Keogh”—the lessee of the +run, and their common enemy. He added that +the green veil he wore over his eyes was a “mast” +(mask), but that it didn’t deceive him. Tobaccoless +Ned tried further to arouse practical admiration +from pouch-full Paddy, by adding that +he would ride after this disguised Inspector, +“pump ’im dry as a blow’d bladder, an’ then +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111"></span>’ammer ’ell outer ’im.” But even this serious +threat against the parson’s stock-in-trade had +no fruitful result, and putting his empty pipe +back he galloped after his companion.</p> + +<p>As they rode along, the parson in admiration +watched the wiry little bushman dexterously +winking both eyes to the confusion of the flies, +and listened to the substitution of words of his +own coinage dropped red hot into the conversation +in place of the sulphurous adjectives. Soon +there was but little unknown to Ned’s listener +of the inner history—and with such additions as +contrasted unfavourably with his own—of every +selector on this sun-sucked run. In order of +infamy Ned placed the lessee first; a good +second came the Land Agent in the little township +whence this pilgrim parson had come. But +this fact was made clear to him, that were the +lessee ten times richer, the Land Agent ten +times more unscrupulous, were “dummy” selectors +occupying every acre, Ned was more than +a match for them all.</p> + +<p>At a later stage of their journey, when he +turned again to the narratives of his cockey +brethren, another circumstance stood out. It +was only when Ned had exhausted the certainty, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112"></span>probability, and possibility of increase among +the mares, cows, ewes, and nannies of his and +the other cockeys’ flocks and herds, that he +would descend to the human statistics, and the +parson found that impending probability and +possibility entered largely into Ned’s computation +of these.</p> + +<p>From time to time they sighted the cockeys’ +humpies, but Ned, intent on making the most +of his amazed listener, kept him on the track to +his destination by promising to call at all the +selections on his way back, and tell them that +there was to be a service to-morrow morning. +To emphasise his thoroughness, he added, with a +wink of bush freemasonry, that he would “on’y +tell two sorts—them wot arsts me, an’ them wot +don’t.” And this clerical brother, newly initiated +into the mysteries of bush craft, could not +have found a better messenger. But the wonder +expressed in his eyes, as he watched this new +labourer in the vineyard cantering briskly away +to bear the glad tidings, would have changed to +awe could he have heard the varied versions +Ned gave to the scattered families as to the need +of their being at the grazier’s homestead the +first thing next day. Moreover, most of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113"></span>conversation related by Ned as having taken +place between the parson and him would have +been as new to the former as it was to Ned’s +audience. For the adjectives with which he +flavoured the parson’s share proved him to have +readily and fluently mastered the lurid bush +tongue.</p> + +<p>It was shearing time, and being also the +middle of the week, most of the men were away. +Those who were at home left their dinners, and +came outside to talk to him. A visitor at meal +times is always met outside the humpy, and the +host, drawing a hand across a greasy mouth, +leads the way to the nearest log. The women +of the bush have little to share, and nursing the +belief that how they live is quite unknown to +one another, they have no inclination to entertain +a caller. Two of the daily meals consist +mainly of sliced damper dipped in a pan of fat, +that always hangs over the fire. Mutton at +shearing time is a rarity, as the men feed at the +sheds. Wild pigs caught and killed by the +women make the chief flesh food, but these are +often scarce in the dry season.</p> + +<p>And in addition Ned was no favourite among +the women. This was partly from his being +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114"></span>“flash,” but more from his reputation for +flogging his missus. Ned, moreover, had tried to +force his example on the male community by impressing +upon them his philosophy, that it was +the proper thing to hit a woman every time you +met her, since she must either be coming from +mischief or going to it. As to his flashness, he +considered he had something to be flash about. +He had been twice to Sydney; and not only could +he spell by ear, but, given an uncertain number +of favouring circumstances, he could use a pen to +the extent of putting his name to a cheque. +Certainly before he would attempt this, Liz, his +missus, had to pen up the goats, shut the hut, +and, with the dogs and the kids, drive the fowls +a mile from the house, and keep them there till +Ned fired a gun. Left to himself, Ned would +tear out a cheque, lay it on the table, place a +block of wood on the bottom edge of the paper, +to keep his hand from travelling off it to the +table below. Then he had to tie his wrist to +the left side of his belt—he was left-handed—in +such a manner that his hand could not stray to +the foreign region above the cheque, ink the pen +with his right hand, and place it in the left. But +even then the task was often unaccomplished. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115"></span>Sometimes he would be so intent on trying to +keep the <span class="smcap">Edward</span> on the line, that it would run +to the end of the paper, excluding the <span class="smcap">Stennard</span>, +and, despite Ned’s protests anent insufficient +space, the bank did not approve of part +of the signature being placed on the back of the +cheque. When he tried to write small and straight, +the result generally seemed satisfactory till a +careful analysis showed a letter or so missing. +Or, just as success seemed probable, his cheque +book would give out, or his pen break. It was +bad for Liz and her own boy Joey when either +of these accidents occurred, for he would fire no +gun, and, despite all the perspiring activity of +Liz, the kids, and the dogs, some of the fowls +would make their way home to roost on the hut +when night came. For allowing him to be disturbed +“jes as I wus gettin’ me ’and in” he would +“take it outer” Liz, or, what was worse to her, +“outer” Joey.</p> + +<p>But on this occasion Ned, ever resourceful +and now hungry, refused to be led to a log. +His reputation for startling discoveries was +against him, but he knew that many of them +must have seen him riding past with a black-coated +stranger, and he trusted to that to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116"></span>support the story his ingenious imagination had +ready for them. Authoritatively he demanded +in each case to see the missus. They came +ungraciously, but after his dark, bodeful hints +as to the necessity of their attending service +at the grazier’s homestead next day, he was +invited inside and a place was cleared for him +at the table. Quite recklessly they plied him +with pints of tea and damper and dip, sprinkled +with salt, and in some extravagant instances +with pepper. And Ned took these favours as +his due, though he knew he was no favourite.</p> + +<p>Flogging and flashness were lost sight of by +these anxious women, as they listened to all he +had to say. They coaxed him to wait while +they searched among the few spare clothes in +the gin cases with hide-hinged lids, for land +receipts, marriage lines, letters from Government +Departments, registered cattle brands, +sheep ear-marks, and every other equipment +that protects the poor cockey from a spiteful +and revengeful Government, whose sole aim +was “ter ketch ’em winkin’” and then forfeit +the selection. All of these documents Ned +inspected upside down or otherwise, and pronounced +with unlegal directness that “a squint +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117"></span>et them ’ud fix ’im if thet’s wot ’e’s smellin’ +after.” He told them to bring them next day. +Those of the men who had swapped horses +with passing drovers, without the exchange of +receipts, were busy all afternoon trumping up +witnesses.</p> + +<h3><abbr title="Two">II.</abbr></h3> + +<p>Next morning the minister was sitting in the +rocking chair on the verandah of the grazier’s +house. He had a prayer book in one hand and +a handkerchief in the other, with which he +lazily disputed the right of the flies to roost on +his veil. This gave an undulating motion to +the chair which was very soothing after old +Rosey’s bumping. He saw a pair of brown +hands part the awning enclosing the verandah. +Then a black head, held in the position of a +butting animal, came in view. Free of the screen, +the head craned upwards. He saw a flat, +shrewd face, with black beady eyes set either +side of a bridgeless nose. A wisp of dried grass +hung from the wide mouth.</p> + +<p>“Sis wants er ride in thet ther cock ’orse yer +in,” said the mouth, ejecting the grass with considerable +force in his direction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118"></span></p> + +<p>Sis’ had worked her head in by this. She was +fair, with nondescript hair and eyes, and she +was “chawrin’”.</p> + +<p>“Wer’s ther cock ’orse, Jinny?” she asked, +for the chair was not rocking.</p> + +<p>“Ridey it an’ let ’er see it; an’ undo this,” +commanded Jinny.</p> + +<p>“Come round to the front,” said the minister +mildly, and pointing to the opening opposite the +door.</p> + +<p>They came in and walked up to him, with +hoods hanging by the strings down their +backs.</p> + +<p>“Have you come alone?”</p> + +<p>“The ether uns er comin’. Me an’ Sis giv’ +’em ther slip; we didn’ wanter ’ump ther dash +kid.”</p> + +<p>“How far have you walked?”</p> + +<p>“Yer parst our place yesserday mornin’. +Didn’ yer see me an’ ther billy? Gosh, we nigh +bust oursels at ther way yer legs stuck out. +Fust I thort yer wus ole Keogh. Yer rides jes’ +like er Chinymun.” The dark one did all the +talking.</p> + +<p>“Our Sis wants er ride in this,” she continued. +She gave the chair a lurch that sent the parson’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119"></span>feet in the air. To avoid the threatened +repetition he gripped both sides and planted his +feet firmly on the boards.</p> + +<p>The younger one poked a stem of dried grass +from her mouth through the mesh of the veil in +a line with his left ear. Thoroughly routed, he +sprang up, and the elder child leapt in.</p> + +<p>“’Ere they cum, Jinny,” warned Sis.</p> + +<p>Jinny peeped through the awning. “So they +is. You gammon ter them we aint cum, w’en +they arsts yer,” she said to the parson, “an’ +we’ll sneak roun’ ther back. Eh, Sis?”</p> + +<p>Mammy and Daddy—commonly called “Jyne” +and “Alick” even by their offspring—came in +with four children, all younger than Jinny and +Sis. Jyne carried the youngest “straddled” +across her hip.</p> + +<p>The most pronounced feature of Jyne’s face +was her mouth, and it seemed proud of its teeth, +especially of the top row. Without any apparent +effort, the last tooth there was always visible. +She was a great power in the bush, being styled +by the folk themselves “Rabbit Ketcher,” +which, translated, means mid-wife. And the +airs Jyne gave herself were justifiable, for she +was the only “Rabbit Ketcher” this side of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120"></span>township. To bring a qualified mid-wife from +civilization would have represented a crippling +expenditure to these cockies. Jyne’s moderate +fees were usually four-legged.</p> + +<p>“D’y ter yous,” said Alick, blinking his bungy +eyes, and smiling good-naturedly at the parson +and at the grazier and his wife. He sat down +without removing his hat. Jyne’s teeth saluted +them but without any good nature. Jinny and +Sis sneaked in behind their mother.</p> + +<p>“You young tinkers,” cried Jyne, “tyke this +chile this minute.” Her voice, despite the size +of her mouth, came through her nose. She put +the baby on the floor, and, taking off her hood, +mopped her face with the inside of her print +dress.</p> + +<p>“We wus lookin’ fer you an’ Alick,” said +Jinny to her mother, and winking at the parson.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you wus,—with ther ’ook,” answered +Jyne.</p> + +<p>Without further introduction she slewed her +head to one side, shut one eye knowingly, and +said to the staring minister, “Ther ain’t a wink +about Jinny.”</p> + +<p>The unblinking daughter instantly offered an +illustration of her wakefulness. “Yer orter +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121"></span>seen me an’ gran’dad th’ ether mornin’. ’E wus +milkin’ ther nannies, an’ ther billy you seen ’e +wus jes close agen ’im. I sneaks up to ther +billy an’ gives ’im er jab. Lawr ter see ’im rush +et ole Alex an’ bunt ’im! ’E’d er killed th’ ole +feller on’y fer me. Wou’dn’ ’e, mum?”</p> + +<p>“Yer a bol’ gal,” said mum in a proud voice.</p> + +<p>The bewildered minister, to turn the conversation, +took a vase of wild flowers.</p> + +<p>“They belong to the lily tribe, I think,” said +the hostess. “They are bulbous.”</p> + +<p>“Wile hunyions,” sniffed Jyne, making no +attempt to conceal her contempt for this cur of a +woman, who thought so much of herself that +she always brought a nurse from town.</p> + +<p>Then came Alick’s brother, “Flash” Ned; +they were as unlike as brothers sometimes are. +Ned greeted the parson with bush familiarity. +He had his hat on one side, and was wearing a +silk Sydney coat that reached to his heels. He +was followed by Liz with their family of five. +Joey stayed outside, and from time to time +dexterously located his step-father. He was +Liz’s child by an early marriage—at least, she +always said she had been married.</p> + +<p>Perched on Liz’s head was a draggled hat +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122"></span>that a month ago had been snow white. This +also was one of Ned’s Sydney purchases. It +was the first time Liz had worn it, but she and +the children had overhauled it many times and +tried it on. This privilege had been extended +to all the women whose curiosity and envy had +brought them to Liz’s place. Jinny had called +on her way to church, and the missing end of +the white feather, after being licked of its ticklesomeness, +was now in her safe keeping.</p> + +<p>Jyne, catching sight of Joey, invited him +inside. But the boy, at a warning glance from +his mother, slunk further back. He had run in +the wrong horse for his step-father that morning, +and was evading a threatened hiding that was +to remove both skin and hair. Liz would +gladly have taken the hiding herself in place of +Joey, but her interference, as she knew to her +cost, would mean one for herself without saving +the boy.</p> + +<p>But for all this Liz thought she was fairly +happy. For it was not every day that Ned +tried to sign a cheque or that the sheep got +boxed, or that his horse refused to be caught. +Nor did it always rain when he wanted it fine. +Things did not go wrong every day, and he did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123"></span>not beat her or Joey unless they did. A pound +of lollies for her and the kids from a dealer’s +cart when one came round, would make her +think him the best husband in the world.</p> + +<p>There was between Jyne and Ned the opposition +that is instinctive between commanding +spirits. Liz yielded obedience first to Ned then +to Jyne.</p> + +<p>“Ow’s Polly?” enquired Liz, her countenance +showing the gravity of the question.</p> + +<p>“Arst ’im,” snarled Jyne, baring her fangs +and looking at uneasy shuffling Alick. “Makin’ +’er dror three casts er worter ten mile, an’ er +thet way. Wil’ pigs eatin’ ’er as I cum along.”</p> + +<p>“No!” said Liz, though she had known it +all yesterday. News of such catastrophes soon +spread in the bush.</p> + +<p>“Better corl me a liar at onct,” snapped +Jyne.</p> + +<p>Next to arrive were Jyne’s mother and Alick’s +father, both of whom lived with Jyne. The old +woman rode on a horse astride a man’s saddle. +The old man led it. She had Jyne’s mouth, or +rather Jyne had hers, but the teeth were gone. +The old man greeted the parson reverently, +blew with his breath on the seat, and wiped it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124"></span>carefully with the handkerchief he had taken +from his hat. Even then before sitting he +raised the tails of the coat he had been married +in so long ago. Until Ned’s Sydney purchase his +had been the only decorative coat in the district.</p> + +<p>Tilly and Jim Lumber, with their ten-days-old +baby, followed. Jim was the champion concertina +player and bullock driver in the district. +He came as the representative of the several +families across the creek, whom energetic Ned +had rounded up the day before. He had been +chosen by them for his size and strength to do +battle on their behalf. Ned’s effort to frighten +those women whose husbands were away shearing +into the necessity of attending service had +over-reached itself, and they had been afraid +to come. But they had entrusted their precious +documents to Jim’s powerful keeping. He had +his own registered brand tied up in a spotted +handkerchief. This he dropped with a clank +beside him as he sat sheepishly and gingerly on +the edge of a chair. He was over six feet, but +he sat with his head almost between his knees, +till he resembled a quadruped. His shirt front +bulged like a wallet with his clients’ papers. +He slyly took stock of those assembled. Spry +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125"></span>little Tilly got the credit of having done all the +courting. Even after marriage she had always +done his share of the talking.</p> + +<p>“Ow’s ther kiddy maroo?” said Alick to Jim, +lisping from the size of the plug he had just +bitten. He had a fatherly interest in all Jyne’s +“rabbit ketchin’.”</p> + +<p>Jim, who never used his voice except to drive +his bullocks, answered with a subterranean +laugh.</p> + +<p>“Noo bit er flesh,” said Ned, nodding at the +baby.</p> + +<p>“Ow’s Polly this mornin’?” gravely enquired +Tilly, as she took a seat near Jyne.</p> + +<p>“Ah, poor Polly,” quavered Jyne’s mother, and +sparing Jyne by telling of Polly’s untimely end.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m blest; what a lorse!” said the +sympathetic Tilly. She repeated a well-known +story of the bu’stin’ of a poley cow last year.</p> + +<p>Jyne took the baby, and began to rate the +mother mildly for “walkin’ seven mile ser soon,” +but Jyne’s mother interposed with a recital of +“wot I dun w’en Jun (John) wur two days old.” +John was present, fully six feet of him, grinning +with a mouth bigger than Jyne’s, but mercifully +hidden by a straggled moustache.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126"></span></p> + +<p>However, Jyne was not to be outdone even +by her own mother, and the narrative of her +last, assisted in many minor details by Jinney, +aged eleven, left little to be desired in the way +of hardihood.</p> + +<p>Liz kept her teething baby respectfully silent +by industriously rubbing its lower gum with a +dirty thumb. She expressed her surprise at +Jyne’s phenomenal endurance by little clicks +of the tongue, shakes of the head, and other +signs indicative of admiration and astonishment. +When Jyne finished, she began eagerly on an +experience of her own. “Well, w’en I wus +took with Drary (short for Adrarian), think I +could fin’ ther sissers?”</p> + +<p>Jyne, who knew that the recital of a daring +feat was coming, enquired, “W’en yer wus took +with Joey?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Liz, stopping short with a nervous +click in her voice, and looking at Ned.</p> + +<p>The next item was ventriloquising by Jyne +per medium of Tilly’s uneasy baby. “My +mammy, she sez, yer dot me all o’a hoo, she sez. +No wunny, she sez, me can’t keep goody, she +sez, ’ith me cosey all o’a hoo, she sez.” She +had been examining the baby’s undergear, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127"></span>at this stage her tone of baby banter suddenly +changed to one of professional horror. “My +Gawd, Tilly!” she cried, the drooping corners +of her mouth nearly covering her upper teeth. +“Look w’er er little belly-bands is—nearly +un’er ’er arms,” she explained, probably to the +company, but looking directly at the clergyman. +And, with true professional acumen, she intimated +that had she not been on the spot, an intricate +part of the little one’s anatomy in another +minute would “’a bust out a bleedin’ an’ not all +ther doctors in ther worl’ couldn’ astoppt it.”</p> + +<p>The minister was very busy, meanwhile, +blushing and getting his books in order, +and with this congregation of ten adults and +eighteen children he began, “Dearly beloved +brethren——”</p> + +<p>Jim Lumber gripped his bullock brand, took +a swift look at him and turned to Tilly. It had +been settled between them that she was to do +the talking. Alick, who, despite his father’s +efforts to enlighten him as to the nature of a +church service, and encouraged by Jyne’s remark +that “they’d eat nothin’,” had also brought his +valuable documents in his shirt front, thrust in +a groping hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128"></span></p> + +<p>For a few minutes the adults listened and +watched intently, but the gentle voice of the +parson, and his nervous manner, soon convinced +them that they had nothing to fear from him. +Ned had been ’pokin’ borak’ at them again; +they added it to the long score they owed +him.</p> + +<p>The children wandered about the room. Jinny +and Sis invited their little sister to “Cum an’ +see ther pooty picters in the man’s book,” and +they assisted the minister to turn over the leaves +of his Bible.</p> + +<p>Alick’s father, who was from the North of +Ireland, and, for all his forty years in the bush, +had not lost his reverence for the cloth, bade his +grand-daughters beseechingly to “quet,” whereupon +Jinny showed him quite two inches of +inky tongue. Ink was a commodity unknown +in Jinny’s home, and all the unknown is edible +to the bush child.</p> + +<p>“Woman!” he said, appealing to Jinny’s +mother, “whybut you bid ’er to quet?”</p> + +<p>“You orter be in er glars’ ban’ box w’er ther +ain’t no children; thet’s w’er you orter be,” +answered Jyne.</p> + +<p>He beckoned to one straggler, a girl of six, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129"></span>with Alick’s face, who came to him promptly and +sat on his knee.</p> + +<p>Presently her brown hand stroked his old +cheek. “Gran’ dad,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Choot, darlin’,” he whispered, reverently.</p> + +<p>The child looked at him wonderingly. “I +says you’s gran’ dad,” she repeated, “not ole +Alick.”</p> + +<p>He laid his white head on hers.</p> + +<p>“Gran’ dad, ole Tommy Tolbit’s dead.”</p> + +<p>Turning his glistening face to Liz in momentary +forgetfulness, he said solemnly, “The +knowledge of this chile!”</p> + +<p>“Ole Talbert” had been dead for two years, +and the knowledgable child had been surprising +him so, at least twice a week.</p> + +<p>“We have erred and strayed from Thy ways +like lost sheep,” murmured the minister.</p> + +<p>The smaller children wandered in and out of +the bedrooms, carrying their spoils with them. +But Jinny and Sis had drawn the now disabled +rocking chair up to the window, and were +busy poking faces at two of Liz’s children, who +were standing on the couch inside. One of +these made a vicious smack with a hair-brush +at Jinny’s tongue, flattened against the glass. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130"></span>The ensuing crash stopped even the parson for +a moment.</p> + +<p>Bravely he began again. He paused occasionally +for a sudden subterranean laugh to +cease or to put one book after another on the +shelf behind him out of the children’s reach. +Just as he read the last line of the Te Deum, +“Oh Lord in Thee have I trusted, let me never +be confounded,” one of Liz’s children tugged at +his trousers, with a muzzled request that his +teeth might be freed from a square of pink soap. +Another offered to the baby Liz was nursing a +pincushion she brought from the bedroom.</p> + +<p>“Jyne,” called Jinny from the verandah, +“’Ere cums young Tommy Tolbit by ’isself. +You wus right, Jyne; she ain’t cummin’!”</p> + +<p>Even Jyne’s gums gleamed; she looked +triumphantly at Alick her husband, at Liz, then +at all but Ned.</p> + +<p>In shambled Tommy, moist and panting. +He had been a drover, and had recently taken +up a selection on the run. He was a bridegroom +of a month’s standing. His missus had +been a servant at one of the hotels in the township.</p> + +<p>“Made a start!” he remarked. His voice +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131"></span>gave the impression that he did not mind their +not waiting for him.</p> + +<p>“Missus ain’t comin’?” enquired Alick, trying +to atone to Jyne for overloading Polly.</p> + +<p>“Not ter day,” said the bridegroom, but his +voice intimated that in all probability she would +have been able to come to-morrow.</p> + +<p>“No!” said Jyne, putting him under fire, +and trying to keep the crow out of her voice.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t very well, is she? Didn’ eat a very +’earty breakfuss this mornin’?” And a further +remark suggested that even if the meal had +been hearty, the usual process of assimilation +had not taken place.</p> + +<p>“Ow’s Polly?” he enquired.</p> + +<p>“Cooked,” said Jyne, instantly diverted.</p> + +<p>“Go on!” said the bridegroom, with well +feigned astonishment. His breathless and perspiring +state had been caused by his “going +on” to capture one of the wild suckers that had +been eating Polly.</p> + +<p>“Let us pray,” said the minister. His host, +hostess, and Alick’s father knelt, but the rest sat +as usual.</p> + +<p>The knowledgable child, considering the +grandfather’s position an invitation to mount, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132"></span>climbed on his back. Making a bridle of the +handkerchief round the old fellow’s neck, and +digging two heels into his sides, she talked +horse to him. The protesting old man bucked +vigorously, but it was no easy task to throw +her.</p> + +<p>The clergyman gave out his text, and the +sermon began.</p> + +<p>Jyne’s children commenced to complain of +being “’ungery” and a fair-sized damper was +taken from a pillow-slip. This, together with +two tin tots and a bottle of goat’s milk, was +given to Jinny and she was told to do “ther +sharin’.”</p> + +<p>The hostess asked Jyne in a whisper to send +them to the verandah, and for a time there was +comparative quiet. Such interruptions as +“Jinny won’t gimme nun, Arnie” (Auntie) +from Liz’s children being checked by Jyne with +“Go an’ play an’ doan’ ’ave ser much gab, like +yer father.”</p> + +<p>“Thet greedy wretch uv er Jinny is guzzlin’ +all ther milk inter ’er, Jyne,” from her own +children, was appeased by her promise to “break +ther young faggit’s back w’en I get ’ome.”</p> + +<p>There was a wail of anguished hunger from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133"></span>Liz’s empty children that aroused paternal +sympathy in Ned. “Sep me Gord,” he said, +“some wimmen is like cows. They’ll give ther +own calf a suck, but if anyone else’s calf cums +anigh ’em they lif’ their leg an’ kick it ter +blazes.”</p> + +<p>Jyne tossed her head and, with a derisive +laugh, expressed the opinion that “It ’ed fit +sum people better if ther munny wasted in +buyin’ flash coats an’ rediclus ’ats wus spent in +flour bags.”</p> + +<p>For a short space only the voice of the +preacher sounded, as, in studied stoicism, he +pursued his thankless task. Occasionally they +looked at him to see “’Oo ’e wus speakin’ ter,” +but finding nothing directly personal, even this +attention ceased.</p> + +<p>Liz leant across to Tilly Lumber and asked, +“Fowl layin’?”</p> + +<p>“Ketch ’em er layin’ et Chrissermus.”</p> + +<p>Ned told how he had brought home a number +of law books from Sydney, and that he and an +old man he had picked up “wus readin’ ’em.” +It was his intention to absorb such an amount +of knowledge that all he would have to do with +the lessee of the run—an ex-barrister—would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134"></span>be to put him in a bail. What would follow +was graphically illustrated by Ned’s dropping +his head, gripping an imaginary bucket between +his knees, and opening and shutting his hands +in rhythmic up and down movements. Some +of his audience, remembering his threats and +warning against the parson, thought this pantomime +must have an ominous meaning for the +preacher.</p> + +<p>But sceptical Jyne was not impressed. “Upon +me soul,” she said, “sum people is the biggest +lyin’ blowers that ever cockt er lip.”</p> + +<p>Alick, always for peace, stepped into the +breach. “Comin’ along jes’ now,” he said, +shifting his plug of tobacco from one side to +the other, and aiming at the flies in the fireplace +with the juice, “we ’as a yarn with Mick +Byrnes. ’E ’as ther luck of er lousy calf. ’E +sez ’e got eightpence orl roun’ fer ’ees kangaroo +skins. Damned if I can.”</p> + +<p>“Now a good plan ’ed be,” said Ned, “ter +get a good lot, sen’ ’em down ter them Sydney +blokes. Slip down yerself, go ter ther sale, +don’ let on ’oo yer are, an’ run ’em up like +blazes. Thet’s wot I’ll do with my wool nex’ +year.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135"></span></p> + +<p>This plan seemed commendable to Alick. +“By Goey,” he said, his mild eyes blinking.</p> + +<p>Jyne never, on any occasion, showed the +slightest interest or attention when Ned was +speaking, unless to sniff and lay bare her bottom +teeth, but here she remarked, “Sum people ’ud +keep runnin’ ter Sydney till ’e ’asen’ er penny +ter fly with.”</p> + +<p>“If sum people with ser much jawr, an’ ’er +mouth ’es big ’es ’er torn pocket, belonged ter +me,” said Ned, “I’d smash er ugly jawr.”</p> + +<p>Jyne slewed hers to an awful angle in his +direction, “I’d like ter see yer try it.”</p> + +<p>A look of agony came into the eyes of the +grazier’s wife as she heard the door of the +dining-room open. The children were so quiet, +that she knew they were up to mischief.</p> + +<p>She heard Jinny’s hoarse whisper. “Orl of +yez wait an’ I’ll bring yer sumsin’.” On the +dining-room table was the cold food prepared +for the clergyman’s dinner. She looked across +at her husband with dumb entreaty. He, with +eyes devoutly on the carpet, was listening +intently to Ned’s account of how he nearly made +the squatter take a “sugar doodle” (back somersault) +when he heard that he had been to Sydney.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136"></span></p> + +<p>“’Day Keogh,” sez I.</p> + +<p>“’Oo ’ave I ther ’oner of speakin’ ter?” +sez ’e.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Stennard,” I sez.</p> + +<p>“Oh indeed,” ’e sez, “very ’appy ter make yer +acquaintance, Mr. Stennard, Esquire,” ’e sez.</p> + +<p>“Never mind no blarsted acquaintance,” I +sez, “w’en are yer goin’ ter take yer flamin’ +jumbucks orf my lan’?” I sez.</p> + +<p>“Your lan’,” ’e sez, “I didn’ know you ’ad +any lan’ about ’ere,” ’e sez.</p> + +<p>“Oh, didn’ yer,” I sez, “you ner ther Lan’ +Agent won’ frighten me orf,” I sez, “gammonin’ +I’m on er reserve,” sez I, “I’ve paid me deposit, +an’ I’ve been ter Sydney,” I sez, “I put me name +ter a cheque,” sez I, “an’ ——”</p> + +<p>Jyne ceased sniffing, to laugh long and loudly. +“Gawd, eh!” she said, with her eyes on the +ceiling and apparently appealing to the flies. +“Wot ’erbout sech game cocks plantin’ under +ther dray w’en old Keogh kem bullyin’ w’en we +fust kem out ’ere?”</p> + +<p>Ned went hastily out at the front door “ter +squint at ther jumbucks,” three miles away. +Joey, who had been peering round that door, +now appeared at the back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137"></span></p> + +<p>“Come in, Joey,” snorted Jyne. “No one +ain’t game ter ’it yer w’en I’m ’ere.”</p> + +<p>The minister still preached, but he had only +old Alick for a listener.</p> + +<p>The hostess’ mental picture of Jinny “sharin’” +her dinner for three among that voracious brood +was distracting. Only the fear of suffering in +the clergyman’s mind as one of “them” kept +her to her seat. She could give the sermon no +attention, but listened to Sis licking her fingers, +and wondered if it was the vinegar or the wine +that caused Jinny’s cough. Presently Jinny set +that doubt at rest by coming in odorous, and +with the front of her dress wine-stained.</p> + +<p>“Little ’un snoozin’!” Jinny remarked, lurching +giddily towards her to merrily twirl her fist +in the snoozer. The snoozer’s mother wondered +if they had shut the dining-room door. Soon +the noise of the fowls scattering the crockery +told her they had not.</p> + +<p>“Thum busted fowls is eatin’ orl yer dinner,” +said Jinny dreamily.</p> + +<p>“’Unt ’em out an’ shet ther door,” said sympathetic +Jyne.</p> + +<p>“You go, Sis, I’m tired.” Jinny laid her +giddy head on the floor, and went to sleep.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138"></span></p> + +<p>“Liz,” said Jyne, maliciously, for she immediately +grudged Sis’ efforts to chase the fowls out +of the dining-room. “Wot’s thet there flower?” +pointing to the vase.</p> + +<p>“Wile huniyon,” said Liz, promptly.</p> + +<p>“Er, is it? Thet’s orl yer know. Thet’s a +bulbers, thet is. Thet’s ther noo name fer it.” +She looked at the grazier’s wife and laughed +ironically.</p> + +<p>“Bulbers! yer goat,” said Liz, laughing dutifully.</p> + +<p>The sermon was over, and the worried minister +began the christening.</p> + +<p>The naming of the hostess’ baby was plain +sailing. He then drew towards him a child of +about two years, and asked, “What is this +child’s name?”</p> + +<p>“Adrarian,” said Liz. An old shepherd reading +to her a love story had so pronounced the +hero’s name. It staggered the minister, until +his hostess spelt “Adrian.”</p> + +<p>“What is its age?”</p> + +<p>“About two year.”</p> + +<p>This was too vague for him, and he pressed +for dates. But for these dwellers in the bush +the calendar had no significance. The mother +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139"></span>thought it might be in November. “Cos it wus +shearin’, an’ I’d ter keep Teddy at ’ome ter do +ther work.” Teddy was “about ten.” From +these uncertainties the clergyman had to supply +the dates for his official returns to the Government.</p> + +<p>“But Lawd,” as Jyne remarked to ease his perplexity, +“wot did it matter fer a brat of er boy.” +She had a family of six, and all were girls.</p> + +<p>There was much the same difficulty with all +the others, an exception being Tilly Lumber’s +baby of under a fortnight. A cowardly look +came into the minister’s eyes as he turned to this +grotesque atom already in the short coat stage. +He remembered Jyne’s awful discovery of a +little while back, and shirked the duty of holding +it even for a moment.</p> + +<p>The christening was a matter that had some +personal interest for the elders, and they grouped +round the minister. Bridegroom Tommy, striking +the mossy back of Alick’s old father, suggested +that he and Jyne’s mother should get +spliced, and he expressed the opinion of the +fruitfulness of such union within record time as +a set-off dig at Jyne.</p> + +<p>She instantly balanced matters between herself +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140"></span>and the incautiously smiling Liz and the +laughing unfilial Ned, “Stop scratchin’ yer +’ed, miss; anyone ’ud think there wus anythink +in it,” she said to Liz’s eldest girl, who was +brushing the christening water from her hair. +Ned’s stepson she invited to come nearer, and +tell her who had blackened his poor eye. She +advised the silent lad “ter get a waddy ther +nex’ time anyone bigger’n yer goes ter ’it yer.” +And she gave him directions by twirling an +imaginary waddy swiftly, its circuit suddenly +diverting in a line with Ned’s skull.</p> + +<p>It was long past noon when the ceremony was +ended. The minister drained his glass of water, +mopped his face, and heaved a deep sigh. As +the whole congregation still sat on, he gave them +a hint that “church” was out, and their presence +no longer required. He spoke with a show +of concern of how very hot they would find the +walk home, and to further emphasise his meaning, +he shook hands with all the adults, and +walked to the verandah. Without the slightest +concern they sat on, listening intently to the +sounds the hostess made in trying to scrape +together a meal for the clergyman. Apparently +they all meant to stay the day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141"></span></p> + +<p>The grazier’s wife appeared for a moment to +beckon him to go round the house into the +dining-room. He sat down to the remains of +the dinner the children had left.</p> + +<p>At that moment Jinny, who had been awakened +for the christening, looked round the door. “Our +Sis wants ter know w’en’s ’er supper’s goin’ ter +be!” she said.</p> + +<p>This perhaps was an acknowledgment that +Sis had already dined.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142"></span></p> + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_CHOSEN_VESSEL"> + THE CHOSEN VESSEL. + </h2> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">She</span> laid the stick and her baby on the grass +while she untied the rope that tethered the calf. +The length of the rope separated them. The +cow was near the calf, and both were lying +down. Feed along the creek was plentiful, and +every day she found a fresh place to tether it, +since tether it she must, for if she did not, it +would stray with the cow out on the plain. She +had plenty of time to go after it, but then there +was baby; and if the cow turned on her out on +the plain, and she with baby,—she had been a +town girl and was afraid of the cow, but she did +not want the cow to know it. She used to run +at first when it bellowed its protest against the +penning up of its calf. This satisfied the cow, +also the calf, but the woman’s husband was +angry, and called her—the noun was cur. It +was he who forced her to run and meet the +advancing cow, brandishing a stick, and uttering +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143"></span>threatening words till the enemy turned and +ran. “That’s the way!” the man said, laughing +at her white face. In many things he was +worse than the cow, and she wondered if the +same rule would apply to the man, but she +was not one to provoke skirmishes even with +the cow.</p> + +<p>It was early for the calf to go “to bed”—nearly +an hour earlier than usual; but she +had felt so restless all day. Partly because it +was Monday, and the end of the week that +would bring her and baby the companionship +of its father, was so far off. He was a shearer, +and had gone to his shed before daylight that +morning. Fifteen miles as the crow flies +separated them.</p> + +<p>There was a track in front of the house, for +it had once been a wine shanty, and a few +travellers passed along at intervals. She was +not afraid of horsemen; but swagmen, going +to, or worse, coming from the dismal, drunken +little township, a day’s journey beyond, terrified +her. One had called at the house to-day, and +asked for tucker.</p> + +<p>Ah! that was why she had penned up the +calf so early! <a id="chg2"></a>She feared more from the look +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144"></span>of his eyes, and the gleam of his teeth, as he +watched her newly awakened baby beat its +impatient fists upon her covered breasts, than +from the knife that was sheathed in the belt +at his waist.</p> + +<p>She had given him bread and meat. Her +husband she told him was sick. She always +said that when she was alone, and a swagman +came, and she had gone in from the kitchen +to the bedroom, and asked questions and replied +to them in the best man’s voice she could assume. +Then he had asked to go into the kitchen to boil +his billy, but she gave him tea, and he drank it +on the wood heap. He had walked round +and round the house, and there were cracks in +some places, and after the last time he had +asked for tobacco. She had none to give him, +and he had grinned, because there was a +broken clay pipe near the wood heap where he +stood, and if there were a man inside, there +ought to have been tobacco. Then he asked +for money, but women in the bush never have +money.</p> + +<p>At last he had gone, and she, watching +through the cracks, saw him when about a +quarter of a mile away, turn and look back at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145"></span>the house. He had stood so for some moments +with a pretence of fixing his swag, and then, +apparently satisfied, moved to the left towards +the creek. The creek made a bow round the +house, and when he came to it she lost sight +of him. Hours after, watching intently for +signs of smoke, she saw the man’s dog chasing +some sheep that had gone to the creek for +water, and saw it slink back suddenly, as if +the man had called it.</p> + +<p>More than once she thought of taking her +baby and going to her husband. But in the +past, when she had dared to speak of the dangers +to which her loneliness exposed her, he had +taunted and sneered at her. She need not +flatter herself, he had coarsely told her, that any +body would want to run away with her.</p> + +<p>Long before nightfall she placed food on the +kitchen table, and beside it laid the big brooch +that had been her mother’s. It was the only +thing of value that she had. And she left the +kitchen door wide open.</p> + +<p>The doors inside she securely fastened. Beside +the bolt in the back one she drove in the steel +and scissors; against it she piled the table and +the stools. Underneath the lock of the front +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146"></span>door she forced the handle of the spade, and the +blade between the cracks in the flooring boards. +Then the prop-stick, cut into lengths, held the +top, as the spade held the middle. The windows +were little more than portholes; she had nothing +to fear through them.</p> + +<p>She ate a few mouthfuls of food and drank a +cup of milk. But she lighted no fire, and when +night came, no candle, but crept with her baby +to bed.</p> + +<p>What woke her? The wonder was that she +had slept—she had not meant to. But she was +young, very young. Perhaps the shrinking of +the galvanized roof—yet hardly, since that was +so usual. Something had set her heart beating +wildly; but she lay quite still, only she put her +arm over her baby. Then she had both round +it, and she prayed, “Little baby, little baby, +don’t wake!”</p> + +<p>The moon’s rays shone on the front of the +house, and she saw one of the open cracks, quite +close to where she lay, darken with a shadow. +Then a protesting growl reached her; and she +could fancy she heard the man turn hastily. +She plainly heard the thud of something striking +the dog’s ribs, and the long flying strides of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147"></span>animal as it howled and ran. Still watching, +she saw the shadow darken every crack along +the wall. She knew by the sounds that the +man was trying every standpoint that might +help him to see in; but how much he saw she +could not tell. She thought of many things she +might do to deceive him into the idea that she +was not alone. But the sound of her voice +would wake baby, and she dreaded that as +though it were the only danger that threatened +her. So she prayed, “Little baby, don’t wake, +don’t cry!”</p> + +<p>Stealthily the man crept about. She knew he +had his boots off, because of the vibration that +his feet caused as he walked along the verandah +to gauge the width of the little window in her +room, and the resistance of the front door.</p> + +<p>Then he went to the other end, and the uncertainty +of what he was doing became unendurable. +She had felt safer, far safer, while he was +close, and she could watch and listen. She felt +she must watch, but the great fear of wakening +baby again assailed her. She suddenly recalled +that one of the slabs on that side of the house +had shrunk in length as well as in width, and +had once fallen out. It was held in position +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148"></span>only by a wedge of wood underneath. What if +he should discover that! The uncertainty +increased her terror. She prayed as she gently +raised herself with her little one in her arms, +held tightly to her breast.</p> + +<p>She thought of the knife, and shielded her +child’s body with her hands and arms. Even +its little feet she covered with its white gown, +and baby never murmured—it liked to be held +so. Noiselessly she crossed to the other side, +and stood where she could see and hear, but not +be seen. He was trying every slab, and was +very near to that with the wedge under it. Then +she saw him find it; and heard the sound of the +knife as bit by bit he began to cut away the +wooden support.</p> + +<p>She waited motionless, with her baby pressed +tightly to her, though she knew that in another +few minutes this man with the cruel eyes, lascivious +mouth, and gleaming knife, would enter. +One side of the slab tilted; he had only to cut +away the remaining little end, when the slab, +unless he held it, would fall outside.</p> + +<p>She heard his jerked breathing as it kept time +with the cuts of the knife, and the brush of his +clothes as he rubbed the wall in his movements, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149"></span>for she was so still and quiet, that she did not +even tremble. She knew when he ceased, and +wondered why. She stood well concealed; she +knew he could not see her, and that he would +not fear if he did, yet she heard him move +cautiously away. Perhaps he expected the slab +to fall. Still his motive puzzled her, and she +moved even closer, and bent her body the better +to listen. Ah! what sound was that? “Listen! +Listen!” she bade her heart—her heart that +had kept so still, but now bounded with tumultuous +throbs that dulled her ears. Nearer and +nearer came the sounds, till the welcome thud of +a horse’s hoof rang out clearly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!” she cried +for they were very close before she could make +sure. She turned to the door, and with her +baby in her arms tore frantically at its bolts and +bars.</p> + +<p>Out she darted at last, and running madly +along, saw the horseman beyond her in the distance. +She called to him in Christ’s name, in +her babe’s name, still flying like the wind with +the speed that deadly peril gives. But the distance +grew greater and greater between them, +and when she reached the creek her prayers +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150"></span>turned to wild shrieks, for there crouched the +man she feared, with outstretched arms that +caught her as she fell. She knew he was offering +terms if she ceased to struggle and cry for +help, though louder and louder did she cry for it, +but it was only when the man’s hand gripped +her throat, that the cry of “Murder” came from +her lips. And when she ceased, the startled +curlews took up the awful sound, and flew +shrieking over the horseman’s head.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“By God!” said the boundary rider, “its +been a dingo right enough! Eight killed up +here, and there’s more down in the creek—a ewe +and a lamb, I’ll bet; and the lamb’s alive!” +And he shut out the sky with his hand, and +watched the crows that were circling round and +round, nearing the earth one moment, and the +next shooting skywards. By that he knew the +lamb must be alive; even a dingo will spare a +lamb sometimes.</p> + +<p>Yes, the lamb was alive, and after the manner +of lambs of its kind did not know its mother +when the light came. It had sucked the still +warm breasts, and laid its little head on her +bosom, and slept till the morn. Then, when it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151"></span>looked at the swollen disfigured face, it wept and +would have crept away, but for the hand that +still clutched its little gown. Sleep was nodding +its golden head and swaying its small body, and +the crows were close, so close, to the mother’s +wide-open eyes, when the boundary rider galloped +down.</p> + +<p>“Jesus Christ!” he said, covering his eyes. +He told afterwards how the little child held out +its arms to him, and how he was forced to cut +its gown that the dead hand held.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It was election time, and as usual the priest +had selected a candidate. His choice was so +obviously in the interests of the squatter, that +Peter Hennessey’s reason, for once in his life, +had over-ridden superstition, and he had dared +promise his vote to another. Yet he was uneasy, +and every time he woke in the night (and it was +often), he heard the murmur of his mother’s +voice. It came through the partition, or under +the door. If through the partition, he knew she +was praying in her bed; but when the sounds +came under the door, she was on her knees before +the little altar in the corner that enshrined +the statue of the Blessed Virgin and Child.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152"></span></p> + +<p>“Mary, Mother of Christ! save my son! +Save him!” prayed she in the dairy as she +strained and set the evening’s milking. “Sweet +Mary! for the love of Christ, save him!” The +grief in her old face made the morning meal so +bitter, that to avoid her he came late to his +dinner. It made him so cowardly, that he could +not say good-bye to her, and when night fell +on the eve of the election day, he rode off +secretly.</p> + +<p>He had thirty miles to ride to the township +to record his vote. He cantered briskly +along the great stretch of plain that had nothing +but stunted cotton bush to play shadow to the +full moon, which glorified a sky of earliest +spring. The bruised incense of the flowering +clover rose up to him, and the glory of the night +appealed vaguely to his imagination, but he was +preoccupied with his present act of revolt.</p> + +<p>Vividly he saw his mother’s agony when she +would find him gone. At that moment, he felt +sure, she was praying.</p> + +<p>“Mary! Mother of Christ!” He repeated +the invocation, half unconsciously. And suddenly, +out of the stillness, came Christ’s name +to him—called loudly in despairing accents.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153"></span></p> + +<p>“For Christ’s sake! Christ’s sake! Christ’s +sake!” called the voice. Good Catholic that +he had been, he crossed himself before he dared +to look back. Gliding across a ghostly patch +of pipe-clay, he saw a white-robed figure with +a babe clasped to her bosom.</p> + +<p>All the superstitious awe of his race and +religion swayed his brain. The moonlight on +the gleaming clay was a “heavenly light” to +him, and he knew the white figure not for flesh +and blood, but for the Virgin and Child of his +mother’s prayers. Then, good Catholic that +once more he was, he put spurs to his horse’s +sides and galloped madly away.</p> + +<p>His mother’s prayers were answered.</p> + +<p>Hennessey was the first to record his vote—for +the priest’s candidate. Then he sought the +priest at home, but found that he was out rallying +the voters. Still, under the influence +of his blessed vision, Hennessey would not go +near the public houses, but wandered about the +outskirts of the town for hours, keeping apart +from the towns-people, and fasting as penance. +He was subdued and mildly ecstatic, feeling as +a repentant chastened child, who awaits only +the kiss of peace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154"></span></p> + +<p>And at last, as he stood in the graveyard +crossing himself with reverent awe, he heard in +the gathering twilight the roar of many voices +crying the name of the victor at the election. +It was well with the priest.</p> + +<p>Again Hennessey sought him. He was at +home, the house-keeper said, and led him into the +dimly-lighted study. His seat was immediately +opposite a large picture, and as the +housekeeper turned up the lamp, once more the +face of the Madonna and Child looked down +on him, but this time silently, peacefully. The +half-parted lips of the Virgin were smiling with +compassionate tenderness; her eyes seemed to +beam with the forgiveness of an earthly mother +for her erring but beloved child.</p> + +<p>He fell on his knees in adoration. Transfixed, +the wondering priest stood, for mingled +with the adoration, “My Lord and my God!” +was the exaltation, “And hast Thou chosen +me?”</p> + +<p>“What is it, Peter?” said the priest.</p> + +<p>“Father,” he answered reverently, and with +loosened tongue he poured forth the story of his +vision.</p> + +<p>“Great God!” shouted the priest, “and you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155"></span>did not stop to save her! Have you not +heard?”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Many miles further down the creek a man +kept throwing an old cap into a water-hole. +The dog would bring it out and lay it on the +opposite side to where the man stood, but would +not allow the man to catch him, though it was +only to wash the blood of the sheep from his +mouth and throat, for the sight of blood made +the man tremble.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="back_cover" style="max-width: 43.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/back_cover.jpg" alt="Back cover of the book. It is dark green fabric; in the lower left corner is an embossed image, in black, of vines surrounding two fleur-de-lis."> +</figure> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter transnote"> +<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> + +<p>Words +may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in +the text. These have been left unchanged, as were jargon, dialect, +obsolete and alternative spellings. Final stops missing at the end +of sentences were added. Duplicate words at line endings were removed. +Punctuation was standardized. Four misspelled words were corrected. +Unprinted letters were added to three words:</p> + +<ul> + <li>‘... who from time to <a href="#chg1">t[ime]</a> continued to take ...’</li> + <li>‘... She <a href="#chg2">[fea]red</a> more from the look of his eyes,...’</li> + <li>‘... and <a href="#chg3">[l]ooked</a> under the mat ...’</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78420 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |